Welcome to Gaia! ::

The pale man only nodded as he listened. Yes, he knew what had become of Barton. Yes, it was more or less captured. What was unspoken was the information that he was privy to; there were several tons of armor on the ground just waiting.

Waiting for a massive amount of reinforcements. Deity Regulars that were in reserve a place too far away to be immediately recalled as those first few had been.

Turning to face the man now, the suit spoke shortly, "This can be done." He knew that Barton would belong to Deity within the hour, with, or without the cooperation of the presently occupying undead force. An opportunity like this just promised the prize at a fraction of the price and seeds for further opportunies.

The pale man had been a part of many of said back alley arms deals. While there were no governing bodies to regulate this kind of thing, it was basically the same. Standing in a hallway with lingering dead, without a single name being mentioned.

The man had been through less conventional deals before.

"I have in mind something that may suit your needs." That ever-polite smile on his angular face became more seemingly friendly, like a car dealer at a value lot.

Gamma had stopped listening completely. He was nearby, down the hall, gawking at one of the zombies. Giving it a stiff nudge in the shoulder with two fingers, while his right hand went to a pocket to retrieve cigarettes.

The pale man would follow as always. Gamma trailed loosely, in some erratic orbit around his smaller counterpart. With the exception now that he had a burning cigarette in hand.

"I have a small cache of automatic weapons that are unregistered--" If that meant anything here, "without owners, or serial numbers. Rifles mostly, older than myself and out of production where I come from for decades."

This probably wouldn't sound very appealing, because weaponry didn't always age like wine.

"But." The pale man punctuated with a raised finger. "Nothing is quite made like they once were. No weapons are thought to be as tough or capable of functioning in as many adverse conditions. More importantly, nobody knows they exist."

Not that it was expected that a literal undead army would worry about the Cops tracing illegal weapons back to them, or anything. Of course, selling things this way was more-or-less basic instinct for the arms dealer.

From behind the two men, there'd be a

"Holy s**t."

Nobody would have to think hard at what Gamma just said. A statement of honest, naked surprise and greed. The pale man, though, kept the polite grin. Nothing short of a smack to the mouth would chip at the impassable poker-face facade he wore. Never show surprise or awe, because it could only lead someone to manipulate it.

As Gamma brushed passed the pair into the vault, it left only one variable.

"How much do you need?" Small caches of sundry armaments hidden all over the surrounding cities were one thing. But bringing up a full scale army may take more time than digging up boxes of guns.

The pale man had to consider the logistics involved. Two thousand was a great many to arm 'modernly.' Even for him, obtaining Deity common arms was difficult to do privately. So for a while, he too calculated.

This was a step up from transforming angry militias of peasants into revolutionary armies with simple bullets and guns.

Giving a blink as his back straightened to like that of iconic posture, he stood moment to watch Gamma kneel before a vase in the vault.

Even while considering things, there were issues he knew to an absolute.
"It is not possible to commit a large Deity force. As a company, it cannot publicly fund or back one side. Deity will not willfully show itself as a proponent to a party the public eye finds..."

He searched for an appropriate word on living/undead relations.

"Controversial."

He began again. "There are, however, those that report to me before the company. Those that I know are trustworthy."

One of them was squatting in a pile of gold before them both, wearing a crown he had found.

Sort of. Deity was not here in the capacity of a nation per se. That's not to say that Barton might not end up as a province under Deity's rule.

"I will supply what I can offer comfortably."

He just finished saying Deity wasn't there in full support. And so, naturally, he wasn't going to give them an entire regiment of powered infantry. It's rather conspicuous if an army of magic-wielding zombies marched on a city with state of the art Deity technology.

No bother, though. This was not the first deal of this nature the pale man had made.

Gamma would continue to peruse the treasury at an interested pace. He wasn't listening, and digging through gold and valuables was infinitely more entertaining than standing around.

"I would need some time to organize my assets."

Suddenly a drow wizard appeared at the doorstep to Sorrow's Keep. He was very much dead, rest assured, and dressed in the fine robes of an archmage, which seemed to float around his form more than drape off of it. His dry, obsidian skin was pulled tight across his features, cracked and speckled in places where his bone structure angled sharply, and his stark white hair was brushed back, falling between his shoulders. His eyes were pits of black with a pinprick of light glowering from within. He wore a gold, jewel-encrusted circlet around his head, and each bony finger was adorned with a ring.

"I am Valas Zauviir," the drow rasped to the air, "Archmage of Necropolita and Chosen of Darshendros. I have come to request audience with your master."

Ooo, someone who knew their way around these parts. Well, safe to say that no shades would appear to halt him and speak and all that. His business was to speak with the bossman, so then to speak with the bossman he would do.


Well, if the guests were going to make a longterm stay, then they'd have to be shown to some quarters or something, which sadly, would not exactly be well organize dlike a hotel where all the rooms are lined up nicely and all. The underground was made up of caverns and tunnels, so rooms were sometimes quite a bit of distance from others, not to mention outright confusing since everything almost looked the same and there was hardly any way to tell one direction from the next. Of course, if they so wished, they could always take up residence in the ruined keep above ground. That works too.

He didnt remember ever issuing an order of withdrawal. In fact, the drow which came out of the bloodworks were still in the buildings holding the civilian popuation hostage against... well, against themselves apparently. In case someone decided to do something rash.

But that wasnt the point.

"Oh, but we are sir." he began, "It is but a mere veil we put in front of the eyes of many. For who would want anything to do with a city over-run with undead?"

Oh, so true. How quickly would the living population decrease if there was no real order and undead were allowed to run rampant in the streets? And then how quickly would the rest of the world steer clear of the area, creating another isolated space?

No, it was much more rewarding in the long run to have everything appear normal; where visitors and travellers would enter and leave the city, not neccessarily in the same fashion of course, and the world would be content with what they see rather than what they dont see underneath the curtains.

Barton simply served as a strategic location at the moment. It was in the center of the world, the heart of gaia, and such a place was excellent for trade with access to all other points of the world, yet at the same time, if it were to appear as a threat, would easily be surrounded by everything else. Its terrain providing little to no tactical advantages at all.

Besides, who was on who's payrole at the moment? Deity was given control of the city as a display of human rule for the public eye to see wash their fears away. However, what about the things people do not see? What of the underground where the drow had come from? A place already being worked into a network.

Decruda would explain these points to the visitor, of course, in a way that sounded less like a narrative but more liike a conversation, because the author is lazy like that and doesnt feel like changing everything into dialogue.

Speaking of Decruda, he'd also point out the poisoning of the reservoir by one of their mutual partners, which of course, only lead to controlling the populace once again. He made a mental note to commend her on that, and perhaps send a gift when he had time.

Anyway, back to the matter at hand. What about Barton? Oh right, strategic location.

Well, he also had to build an army somewhere, and where and how better than to do it in a place controlled by the company which would be helping them, disguised as a taking precautions to future attacks by amassing arms and stationing soldiers to keep the peace?

Occupied? Suppose Deity did appear to occupy the city. It kept order in the streets. Meanwhile, the puppet masters pull the strings.