GoldenCat/DanceOfSilence
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Dance of Silent Winds
Blue Wind...
The enchanting streets of Windia are past. Like in Iselsis’ Manse, the song of the windmills is now but a whisper. But not just from the distance. It also seems... muted, somehow. Away from the city, walking down stone stairs along the mountain, seeing the road used to transport goods to it. Still in the city, but Windia had more sense than to let slums fill up spaces such as this within its walls.
The maidens do not shine overhead, and neither does Luna – snow falls graciously, far, far from what a northerner would consider harsh a time... but leaving Iselsis only with the distant lights of Windia, and the few lanterns in Blue Wind...as the stairs end, and she looks at the small naighborhood.
A wide street opens in front of Iselsis – looking so much like a small town, only paved. Houses line both sides of it, with three... or more.. major streets running up the mountain, to continue the neighborhood above. The temple where Whisper mentioned the Shadowland would be is nowhere to be seen – pehaps at the end of the mist, at the end of the main road like in most small towns... or secluded somewhere up the mountain. Of course, with the thick mists on the place, all she can see of things above are fireflies in the mist, of the laterns on streets and houses above... and in front of her.
And of course, it is quiet. Too quiet.
Iselsis: A ghost town, how lovely... like she hadn't seen this - albeit in smaller forms - a million times before. The dead were truly without creative inspiration. Always the same...
She pulls her hat lower, and slinks closer to one side of the building, the light drizzle of rain bouncing off her and leaving her unphased, though she still silently cursed the clamminess of it all. She doesn't really attempt to hide as such, she just sticks to the shadows and blends in, while she's still there, someone might simply overlook her form and be convinced nothing was there. She was an expert at blending in to a point where the thickness of crowds were no longer a necessity: all she needed are some shadows.
- Nothing seems to see her. It is still quiet... all around. The mists hang lower and lower, and she seems to see forms within it... and above her...
Iselsis: She stops, seeing shifting forms in the thick mists.
The welcome wagon, so soon? I thought they'd lead me on at least a little longer...
Still, nothing to worry about, it might just be some ghostly special effect made to scare off those of lesser nerve. She stopped and tipped her hat up slightly, peering up at the skies to see if she could divine an answer to this question. Didn't even bother to draw her guns yet, confident as ever.
- She sees the forms... in the mists, they look like dogs. But iselsis notices their shapes are slightly misshapen... larger than they should be... especially the trunk, and the head. Not quite the right shape... and stunted, broken remants of wings adorn the back of the sillhouettes. They are very much solid.
- They are not natural, that is for sure. And probably are not dogs. Even from afar, she cannot discount they are constructs of sorcery - or, more probably, necromancy. The way they walk does have some of the stiffness of an animated corpse...
Iselsis: Fuck, I wanted to smoke a cig before the party started...
Not being someone who lets others foil her schedule she steps out into the open road, producing a cigarette, unphased by the light drizzle of rain, and blows on it, lighting the tip, probably producing the most vivid color this place had seen in a while now. Meanwhile her hidden features grow dark, gaunt, foreboding...
She takes a contented puff of her cigarette and exhales slowly, then letting it drop, crushing the little thing under her boot before facing in the direction of the dogs.
Her scarf is pulled away from her face, hat flung to the side for now, her coat opening to make room for her black, leathery wings.
"Come, beast of the underworld, face your executioner.", and if there was one thing more unsettling than a righteous executioner, than it had to be a gaunt looking demon, standing calmly - unarmed - awaiting the advance of their foes with a deadly calmth.
- The things begin to come out of the mist, towards her.... old men and women past rigor morties, their bodies very well preserved - still keeping the tinge of life in them, their bodies shifted around, misshapen legs cut in half, misshapen arms like legs, becoming hounds whose paws are clawed hands. Crooked teeth sharp as jaws, a posture that seem totally misshapen - not quite as a dog, almost like a hand moving on the ground.... and with shining red eyes, as they snarl to the Dragon-Blooded... five of them, then two more, seven...
Iselsis: She stands calmly, regarding the... corpses surrounding her. Remind me to not slight the dead about their creativity again, that kinda thing backfires, she notes to herself.
And yet she stands there, waiting for the misformed things to make their first move. She did love toying with her quarry.
- Then... the things jump on her. Snarling, five of the old creatures jump on Iselsis....
Iselsis: Her wings stretch audibly, the soft creaking of leather, right before the supposed impact. In an instant her form blurrs and shoots up into the skies, her guns somehow finding their way into her hands. Her wings keep her airborne as she takes a single potshot at one of the creatures.
Too slow, they're always too slow.
- All of the 'hounds' stop dead on their tracks, and try to just... /survive/ the bullets that come their way...
The hounds whimper one last time, before being put out of their mysery. Three fall down, burnt by the bullets, and move no more.
Four are left, barking in the voices of old men, to the devil flying above... having no way of coming to her.
Iselsis: She takes her time, seeing the dead failed to give their minions any way to reach her. How silly, what an oversight.
She reloads the three empty chambers slowly, knowing the 'hounds' will stay compelled to face her, regardless of being able to get to her. Pigs to the slaughter. She lines up her shots, and fires again, four shots this time.
- Only one is left. But, one dead thing, still barking the thing that is not a bark, looking up... its red eyes cursing Iselsis.
Iselsis: She floats down, putting one of the guns away and grins, facing the hound, letting it come for her.
- .... and then, Iselsis feel it, hitting her back hard! Out of nowhere, like a sledge hitting her spine...
Iselsis: Her eyes widen as the suckerpunch hits, the first time in ages anything had gotten a one-up on her...
Fuck, that hurt, bastards!
She takes no changes, a spray of drizzle and the audible sound of beating wings carry her forwards, turning in the middle of her flying jump, the blurry form procuring her other plasma repeater and aiming her shots at whatever it was that hit her... quickly putting a few dozen feet of distance between her and whatever it was.
- Iselsi looks, and sees.... nothing. There is nothing there, but a slight swirl in the mist. It is as if the mist itself had hurt her.
Iselsis: Must be spirits. She focusses and her eyes pierce the veil between the material and the spirit world. If it was a spirit, she should see it now.
- ... and then she sees, behind where she stood, the ghost with the hammer, ruined wings on his back. And not just one... two, three.. who were just waiting for her to come down, it seems. And above the buildings... shapes in the mist... dead eyes shining in an undifferentiated white and looking up....
- The others... probably did not know the Arcanoi the one that hit her did - the ability to touch the real like he did. Elsewise, she would have been pounded even harder as soon as she hit the ground!
Iselsis: Pull out if there's too much to handle, that's what she said...
Her survival instincts welled up, trumping her ever confident demeanor. She'd run away, to fight another day! But first...
Her air anima sparks in it's full glory, shadowy winds start whipping around her form. She sails back and up, attuning herself to the spirit world while her plasma repeaters start to shimmer with essence and dissapear, one sleek, shotgun like plasma repeater rifle now in one hand, as circles start coalescing around the spirit that got a punch in on her... as the path becomes clear, the bullet fires, time slows down, stopping for a moment right before it strikes its mark, indicated by the azure abbacus.
Yes, she'd lost this battle and would run away, but first that spirit would pay for it's insolence.
Iselsis: As the shotgun of essence dissipates and her plasma repeaters reform, smoldering, she watches the spirit's demise. Then, having satisfied herself in getting revenge on it, her wings beat and she carries herself off, swift like the wind, and aided by magic and the speed that is only seen in those not entirely of Creation, back to "headquarters".
- Though the mists, she sees....at the end of the street... a dark-skinned lady, clad in soulsteel and bone. She sees the lady, a hollow circle in her forehead - one of the Wretched. And with her... nemessaries, armed with Soulsteel and Jade, dancing through the shadows... a commando team. They were up for something tonight.
- Closer to Iselsis, a few of the ghosts open their palms... and their corpus begins to swirl, opening like it was regurgitating something through their palms... and a black mass begins to come out, coalescing in bats, swarms of bats becoming part of the night and towards the devil lady...
Iselsis: One of the Wretched and nemessaries... running was a good idea. The dead were trying to stop her, but it was futile, between her perfect air anima, her coat and the speed inherent to her because of her spirit nature she quickly flees, leaving the shadowland as far behind her as she can before even thinking of slowing down. This was bad, very bad. DoublePLUSbad.
Faina: Faina stands atop a balcony, waiting. Covered in a stylish fur coat that, unfortnately, fails to cover her wings, making them twitch slightly, as shivers doubtless run up her spine. It is not raining there, in Upper Windia, as it is on Blue Wind - above that cloud, at least. She gathers a handful of snow on her hand, wondering... a thousand questions on her mind...
And then, as Iselsis comes, most of them are answered. "Iselsis! That was fast! What happened to you?"
Iselsis: She touches down on the balcony, her composure regained, and again the paragon of togetherness. That is until she factually touches down and winces audibly, slumping slightly to protect her body where the spirit had sledged her. She straightens slowly with a soft groan, fishing a cigarette out of her pocket with her good side, and blowing on it softly to light it. She keeps Faina waiting a few moments longer as she takes a few much needed puffs of it, slowly exhales, then...
"We're gonna need the cavalry on this one..."
Faina: She steps foward, a wisp of her clear blond her sticking to her face... sweat. She was that worried. She almost holds Iselsis' arm, urgent...
"What happened to yo --"
Then stops herself, as her fingertips touch her jacket, taking a step back, regaining her composure, remembering herself to be professional.
"That bad, is it? Details, please."
Iselsis: Inwardly she sighed of relief, that Faina decided to not baby her. She would have none of that, but considering how worried the woman looked, she would've felt guilty to smack her hand away. "Spirits. Lots of them... well, minus seven..." she allows herself to grin "That's not half the problem though. I could've maybe taken them but..." she falls silent for a moment "You said, don't get in over my head. So I didn't. Good thing too, considering what I saw when I fled the scene."
Faina: She trembled a bit, then took a metal lid from her coat - a cigarette box, holding it to Iselsis.
"Got a light?"
"Lots, eh? No sign of the Windian troops that should be there? And what did you see?"
Iselsis: She raised an eyebrow. Faina smokes? She never smokes. Nonetheless she takes one out and blows on it gently to light the tip, before offering it back to Faina. "One of the Wretched, along with nemessaries decked out in soulsteel and jade. The nasty kind they get out when they need lots of firepower."
She eyes Faina oddly for a moment or two "Since when do you smoke? I thought vile habbits were my prerogative."
"As for the troops, they're probably undead corpse-hounds or whatever those things are called now. Quite creative, you know, for the dead."
Faina: "Inside Windia..."
Are you serious? is not even something she could ask of Iselsis.
She brings the cigarette to her lips, taking a long breath before speaking, letting the words carry the smoke, "Oh, I take one every couple years. When I need it."
She hides the box again... and on the corner of her eye, Iselsis notices that, yes, that box hasn't been sold in ten or so years - and that is still a original from the box.
"A wretched. Elite Nemessaries. Artifacts. Probably more... that... we will need to call Valencia on that. What do you mean, Hounds?"
Iselsis: Her mouth opens to describe in detail those things that most people would probably find horrific, but she catches herself at the last moment. "Trust me, you're better off without the details."
She walks over to the edge of the balcony, leaning on it with her elbows as she takes another few puffs of her cigarette. "Why are you so nerve-wracked anyway?"
... "I left my hat back there. Need a new one." she adds offhandedly, a total non sequiter.
Faina: "Reports. Intelligence. The Celebrant seems to have been stopped, but then this... it is inside Windia. I have never seen this happen before."
"Maybe they have more Deathknights. Whiteshield fell on a single night, remember."
She begins to gesture then, incantations Iselsis has seen before, to summon others...
"... we go shopping later..." She whispers, amidst the gestures...
Iselsis: The cigarette slowly coming up on its butt, she crushes it out on the balcony's rail. "Yeah. Inside Windia. Looks like we're all up shit's creek without a paddle. Just bloody lovely. And you just know if there's one of those on the loose, it's not just an isolated incident, they're up to something."
She didn't like the idea of Valencia and her elites trampling in. For one, there was no indication they'd be succesful in even destroying everything in there. Second, big guns tend to trample all over crucial hints of a plot.
Nemessary: Above a windmill, below Faina and Iselsis, the devil girl notices...
She has been followed.
They land, hands reaching to bow, intent on assassinating them before any message is sent...
Iselsis can even see their lips forming curse words for having taken so long that a message was about under way... but ready to stop the casting.
Iselsis: She does the only thing she can think of. Faina is the closest thing she has to a friend, so running would be preferable, but she has no indication she'll be able to outrun them this time, apparantly she didn't do such a great job of it last time.
So, she interposes herself between them and Faina. Taking out her guns and reloading them, while activating her principle of motion.
"Faina, don't look now, but we got company. I'm all out of juice, I don't know how long I can hold them off, but you have to get that spell off."
Iselsis: She reloads her guns as she waits for what was coming.
This is gonna hurt...
Nemessary: The Nemessaries snarl, readying the bows... sculpted mahogany in the shape of screaming faces. In fact, the string... is a moliated ghost in itself! The undead templars ready their bows... and let them cross the night, arrows going straight to Iselsis' heart... to make her fall, and stop the sorcery!
Iselsis: Like a dream...
That was the only thing it felt like, a dream. She refused to let the arrows hit her, and by the force of her will, it would be so!
Balancing in that space between supreme consciousness and awareness and seeing yourself from a distance. That feeling everyone gets when their willpower is all that stands between them and certain death. She sees the arrows, ripples of displaced air behind them. She hears them scream vividly, even though in her mind's eye they move slowly...
She sees Faina, chanting her spell as quick as she can. And, she sees herself, weaving her plasma repeaters in intricate patterns, a feat even she would never have considered herself capable of. She sees them deflect, snap and generally miss their mark time and time again. And then this round of dancing is over, and she returns to the vivid reality of the now, staring down the nemessaries with more supreme confidence in her own abilities than she'd ever had before...
Sweat lined her brow, but she wasn't done yet... not done yet.
Faina: And then, she finished the incantation. An immaculate creature of light appeared on the palm of her hand, six wings shining in patterns of essence, forming the songs of the windmills... and Faina spoke, letting it go, her words echoing strangely within the being, etching themselves in its essence pattern.
’Countess Silverstar, I am sorry to disturb you, but it is of the utmost importance. This is Faina, from the Eye of Myria. The unthinkable has happened, Countess.’
’Blue Wind has not been cleansed. Somehow, the dead have subverted our men – Blue Wind is not being cleansed, but became a breeding ground for the Undead! Dead hounds walk its streets, and my agent has seen a force massing there – a force of nemessaries clad in Jade and Soulsteel! Lead by one of the Wretched!’
'‘They are here, countess, despite our greatest efforts. A team of assassins is here right now... if you hear not from me anymore, I leave it on your hands.’
‘For Windia’
The Cherub flies away, its light becoming indistinct in the snow and mist...
Iselsis: The corners of her lips quirk up in an almost feral grin, and within moments she's dived off the balcony and launched herself at one of the nemessaries. Now she wasn't handbound to protect Faina, she could damn well hurt them, and hurt them good...
With a blast of upwards drizzle and wet snow she lands on top of the Windmill, near one of the nemessaries and sweeps her foot out, trying to knock it off its feet. Sure she didn't use it too often, but she was still a martial artist, and her prowess in melee not to be underestimated!
Iselsis: The corners of her lips quirk up in an almost feral grin, and she glances at Faina "Get yourself to safety, I'll hold them off.", staying in their path of arrows, but allowing herself more freedom of movement she swoops up overhead, unleashing a barrage of shots on a single one of them.
Nemessary: The Nemessary sees it coming.... trying to jump away from the shots, to hide in the windmill....
Iselsis: Her plasma repeaters fire true, as invigorated as she is by her latest triumph, she shouts down at the other two - knowing she's still out of juice while they may not - "Return to your mistress! You've been foiled!"
Nemessary: The shots go through the nemessary, inflaming his cloak, making the corpse catch fire as it falls from the windmill, towards the charms and streets far below...
The other two, however, were not there to fail. One nooked another two arrows, sending them towards Iselsis.... while another jumped. Letting go of the bow in mid-air, he took a lance of soulsteel, the faces within screaming as he came closer...
Faina: Fain rushes within the house, a scream living her lips,
"Whisper!!!!"
She begins another incantation, then, aiming at the Nemessary that had just fallen over the balcony...
Emerald words in Old Realm flaring around her.
"Hold them off, Iselsis, I have a plan!"
Iselsis: "Well hurry up! "
Nemessary: The Nemessary lifted the lance, being above Iselsis...
"It has already begun, pawn of life. Without your Silver Angel, you are doomed."
He flares, then.
And then... he is everywhere.
Reality melts like wax...
.... and he is below Iselsis.
And at her right.
And at her left.
And behind.
He flows around the devil, but his strikes come always from above, forcing her back...
Iselsis: She closes her eyes, the nemessary has taken that avenue from her. She can't see where he is anyway, but she can feel it's unearthly presence, chilling her heart. Guided by this, she weaves away from the strikes, one narrowly missing her.
Faina: Faina finishes her incantation...
And, beneath Iselsis' feet, she sees the creeping plants on the balcony stir.
Oh, mighty Sextes Jylis... heed my call.
Creatures of darkness, creatures outside of the cycle, creatures inimical to all you are, dirty your mother's world.
Great elemental of Wood... heed my call! Lend me your strength! Give me the power of Emerald, the power of your children, to crush those foul creatures!
The vines push up, then, like small dragons of emerald, around the Nemessary, crushing the life out of him...
Nemessary: The Nemessary begins to cut at them, trying to step away, wings of bone flapping, trying to get away, cutting at the ever-growing vines...
... however, to no avail. The Nemessary is held in bondage, taken to the ground, writhing on the balcony at Iselsis' feet...
On the distance, the remaining Nemessary takes something... and attaches to an arrow, ardding a red dragon's head to the arrow, preparing it....
Swift Whisper: The doors to the room open up, as the feline girl walks in, in a hurry, her voice almost becoming a mewling in the urgency...
"What is going on?!?"
Faina: "Nemessaries! Iselsis found out the worst possible... I took one, there is still an archer out there!"
Swift Whisper: "On it!" She says... and passes as her namesake through Faina, through Iselsis, jumping out....
Jumping towards the Nemessary on the windmill.
Iselsis: In midair she swoops around, aiming her guns at the archer. Firing four shots in rapid succession. Maybe she'd hit and kill it, but for now she would just lay down cover fire for Whisper.
Nemessary: Still shooting... how could she have so many shots? No firewand could...
No matter, he thought, all he needed was to send that last shot...
But not dying before he could!
And so, he begun to dance away from the shots, holding the arrow nooked on the bow...
... but he fails, taking the shots, losing his balance....
And he is hurt. Badly. But had to use the arrow, one more time...
And so, he did all he could.... took flight, slower, holding the arrow pointed towards the balcony, in his hand, dispensing the bow, going there himself....
Iselsis: She almost had it... so close, so close! She knew whatever that thing was, it was no good. For all she knew it was some magical device that was going to explode and incinerate three of the black ops at once. She couldn't let that happen! So with that she lined up one, last shot, hoping it would be sufficient, and if it wouldn't be, it was up to the others.
Nemessary: The shot goes....
And, that close, hits the arrow, before going throguh it, and the Nemessary's body, setting it aflame.
This close, Iselsis recognizes it - it was a Firedust bomb.
And it explodes, in front of them, sending the feather-light air aspect backwards, hitting the ground as the fireball hits the balcony...
Iselsis: Someone set us up the bomb! And it exploded, damn near in her face, knocking her back across the balcony and into the wall, bouncing off it and dropping on her hands and knees on the balcony. She was already drenched in sweat. She'd given all she had to give, and there was barely anything left in her to stay awake. She reassures herself with one last, blurry glance to make sure the others are safe and... collapses, as the world goes black.
Swift Whisper: And then, it holds to the balcony. Screeching, amidst the fire... dead eyes still moving...
Until something hits it. Colorless. Chaos. Iselsis does not see it as it consumes the flames... and Whisper lands on the balcony, over the corpse, now only smoking on the rain...
"My. Is she a nice shot..." is the last thing Iselsis can hear...
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