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 Posted: Tue Oct 03, 2006 2:03 pm
"Please, try to avoid killing." Andre called after Fenrys, replacing the brick and ducking into the stairwell as the wall sealed itself.
The journey down was very unlike the time he had spent in the castle. Instead of constant shouting and the clashing of blades, the stairwell was completely soundproof. There was only the echoing of his footsteps against the hard castle wall. "I hope they don't have to kill many more... Andre spoke aloud, his voice keeping himself company in the otherwise silent and dark stairwell. He knew full well that the odds of the casualty count not continuing to rise was slim to none. He also knew that, unlike most people, he was primarily concerned with keeping everyone alive, instead of embroiling himself in nonsensical post-apocalyptic politics and religion.
Andre cried out as he attempted to grasp for the railing, his left arm succeeding in locating it, painful though it was, and his right failing to move entirely, as it hung lifeless at his side. Such was the cost of keeping Fenrys and all his opponents in that room from dying--at least for the moment. The young man could feel a pulse in both his arms, though, so he knew that he was safe for now, and should be fine if he limited exertion of his right arm.
He quickly became faced with another concern, however: As he reached the end of the underground passageway following the stairwell, and opened the doorway, revealing an exit to a forsaken, winter-taken part of the city, fortunately far from the populated center, he realized his robes were a dead giveaway. Though they were plain, it was also obvious that they were nothing a common townsperson would have the means to acquire, and his appearance was already suspicious, as he appeared much healthier than either the typical castle-dweller or clergy member, save for his battered and atrophied arms. Discarding his robe, he retrieved the ink from it and pocketed it in the the tunic he had been wearing underneath. Fortunately, his clothing had come in multiple parts and layers, despite his lack of a need for multiple layers of clothing in winter, and he managed to look ordinary, wearing relatively inconspicuous brown pants, tan sleeved tunic (both of which seemed a little too small) and a dark, hooded cloak, large enough to conceal and protect his arms.
Andre made his way into the streets, which were surprisingly busy for this time of year, and moved towards the church. "I have no idea what will happen when I get there," he thought to himself "But I have no choice. This is just one stepping stone towards my goal, but it must be taken"
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Posted: Wed Oct 04, 2006 5:35 am
Wilhelm felt a shove to his back, seeing the woman that attempted to rescue him fall to the floor as well. He couldn't help but do the same, but also noted that a sprawling of vines covered the floor, and his face was met by a gray haze.
Then all was dark, even before he fell to the floor.
After a few moments, Wilhelm was almost certainly the first to wake, and looked behind him, seeing Sharde. He grabbed the woman that tried to rescue him, but then remembered his orders. He had to escape, no matter what the cost. It was certain that this woman was fine on her own.
So, he turned and fled through the maze-like castle, thankfully avoiding the guards, as they were a mere distance away from the entrance to begin with. He still held the scroll that contained the scanty demon information in his hand. He made for the Cathedral, as it was probably the only safe place left in Zatalia, at least for him.
Things were not going exactly as he predicted; he expected to catch the Royal Guard off-guard, but found them as spry and flexible as ever, though their number was reduced by at least fifteen or so. He had noted, also, a burn mark on the far wall, where a fireball had impacted. Obviously the mistress mage had sought to burn them, only to have her plans foiled by a sleep spell. Whoever cast that, though, was anyone's guess, as far as Wilhelm was concerned.
Hopefully he wouldn't get too much of a scolding if leaving behind the woman was a mistake. He couldn't remember who she was for the life of him, but then again, he had made it a point not to get to know anyone here too well. Just well enough...
Wilhelm, outside the Cathedral, inspected his rapier, making sure it was in fine condition. It was, as it always had been. He nodded, sheathed it, and entered the Cathedral door.
(Yup. Sucky post, because it's early in the morning.)
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RogueKazimeras Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Oct 05, 2006 5:02 pm
When Fenrys left the secret staircase and ventured back into the gray haze, he took a moment hidden behind the painting and the gas to assess the situation. Wilhelm Godfrey had disappeared, most guards were still asleep, but Fenrys was sure that wouldn't last long. The thing that truly worried Fenrys was the very thing he had willed not to be so. Commander Sharde Shanara was only yards away, blades drawn, and what was worse was that he was standing directly over the person Fenrys meant to save
Wonderful. Fenrys thought to himelf, trying to concoct a plan. He would almost certainly lose a 1 on 1 duel with Shard in his current state (he wasn't sure he could do it, even completely healthy), and the guards would inevitably awaken and end even hopes of that succeeding fairly shortly. Though it was only seconds, it felt like an eternity, and Fenrys, for the life of him, could not formulate a plan, until one dauntingly obvious choice came to him.
Fenrys pulled buckles and belts located all over his armor, loosening them, releasing them, and removing his armor as quietly as he could. when he was finished, he was left with only his left gauntlet (Fenrys was left handed) and a layer of leather padding designed to keep his armor from chafing or cutting him (as well as a tunic and pants designed to prevent nakedness). When he removed his last piece of armor (his left greave) and set it quietly on the floor. Fenrys crouched, and readied himself for a sprint. He would have one chance at this plan, and a subsequently swift death should it fail.
Leaping from his crouched position his right arm still draping his cloak over his mouth and nose, Fenrys raised his left plated fist, and lined it up with Shard's head. Emerging from the cloud of gas in a gray blur, Fenrys coldcocked Shard with all his might, feeling a satisfying crunch as the metal met with Shard's jaw. When he saw that he had caught Shard by surprise, he wished he could adminster a coup de grace, but he noticed that he'd quite blatantly missed that the First Magus was also standing nearby, someone who didn't need a sword to kill him. Swiftly scooping up Sapna and hoisting her over his shoulder, Fenrys turned back from whence he came and ran. He made a furious sprint back to the hidden stairwell, and didn't let his pace relent until he at last came once more to the outside world. Feeling he was safe, for the moment being at least, he set Sapna gently on the ground, propping her up against the wall, and promptly passed out making visible a large number of cuts and bruises he had acquired trying to fight off a hundred or more people.
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Posted: Thu Oct 05, 2006 5:49 pm
A creeping sense of danger crawled under Sapna’s skin, and when she stole a glance to the happenings behind, her mind had frozen in fear at the sight of the incandescent sphere, dancing through the hallways as if it had a mind of its own. Her teeth closed shut, clenched and grinding, and she prepared herself to bolt at full speed, but she felt something press against her back. Her feet spun beneath her at first, but then flew high into the air as she was knocked into the ground.
“Wauugh!” She let out, more like the sound of a deflating bag than an actual utterance. Her breath was cut short, lungs crushed by the sheer weight and force of the commander, Sharde. In her mind, something snapped.
“Get off me! Get off! Get off! GET OFF!”
That the blazing fires had missed her by a hair’s breadth, that thickets of vines and brambles had erupted from the walls and released soporific spores, putting to sleep all those in proximity, she hadn’t processed - nor did she care. Even as she fell deep into slumber, the storm in her eyes roared on, unabated.
When she awoke, her first reflex was to twitch and shake off, feeling the rippling of muscles against her stomach. She had nigh on retched, and would have if she hadn’t recognized the commander’s face. He had doffed his armor and was carrying her in rather unseemly way. They were outside, moving across the layers of snow. Unable to retain her consciousness, Sapna slumped back against the commander, unconscious.
The powdery crunch of snow grew louder where the Enforcer and her superior lay, limp and broken. Cloth shuffled en masse, the immaculate folds and gilded tracings rustling against the white dust. Garbed in the same fabric as the veil that now swathed Zatalia, three priests of the Church towered above the wounded bodies.
“Hoist them up and bring them back to the church. Make haste, and do not allow yourselves to be seen," came the silent command, its ring dead and cold in the silence of the streets. Men of much greater stature than commonly expected from priests silently executed the task, and disappeared in the dark alleyways like men of cloak, not cloth. Left alone was Sati Sarasvati, a white maiden peering into the shadows of the palace, eyes gleaming like midnight ice.
“So much for protection…” She sighed, and vanished into the same winding alleys her associates had taken.
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Posted: Sat Oct 07, 2006 1:08 pm
Andre had been standing in the cathedral for some time now. Where worshippers and clergymen alike had been offering prayers to the gods, now they watched him suspiciously, edging away should he come close.
"I must have more notoriety than I thought..." whispered Andre to himself. Arm still dangling lifelessly by his side, he waited for the tension in the building to subside. Candles flickered, barely maintaining their flame, while the setting sunlight filtered through an enormous and intricate stained glass design, gracing the altar, upon which many offerings had been placed, ranging from coins to day-old bread ears. The light from the sun was such that the patterns of the stained glass played majestically over the altar, making it and the offerings appear almost blessed.
Andre had never personally been inside a religious building, lacking any faith on his part, but he knew this to be the most intricately designed of the churches in Zatalia that remained in service. The ceiling was paneled exquisitely and with exceeding attention to detail, and the entire structure was internally supported by gilded and monumental caryatid statues and arches that graced the sloping ceiling. The young courtsman, alien to such a place, was left to wonder how much resource was spent on maintaining such luxury, instead of being spent on improving the lives of others, improving the ability to scavenge farmable land from the wastes, and otherwise contributing to humanitarian aid.
He stood in place, looking in rare form, as he was both in a cathedral, a member of the royal court, and wearing only a single layer of clothing in the harsh climate that also failed to match up in quality with his noble lineage. After a long pause, during which the Cathedral doors opened and closed, letting a single individual, from the sound of it, into the building, Andre broke the silence.
"Sati Saras...vati." He called, his voice echoing incomprehensibly in the chambers. He paused for a moment halfway through her last name, partly out of surprise that the cathedral would have such terrible acoustics, given its uniquely aesthetic visible nature, but also because he had been hurried and was unsure of her last name.
"Is she here?" He continued, lowering his voice, in an attempt to allow others to hear, but without the disturbing echo. "Fenrys Mystblade instructed me to talk with her. Please, if she is here..."
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Posted: Sat Oct 07, 2006 4:50 pm
When the cathedral doors yawned wide, a pair of burly, muscular men crept inside as silent as shadows. Only the reverberation of heels upon cold stone preceded the clanging seal of the gates. Even if the sun still permeated the rosette, its orange shafts grossly brushing the ornate plinth at the chancel. Orange candlelight flickered upon the intricately frescoed walls, depicting the downfall of ancient cities, as well as the twisted acquittal of Zatalia. Time-raught and washed out, most churchgoers would overlook these historical depictions, fancying the golden tracings and aurous plated ribbing overhead, as well as the restoration of Angelus’ masterpiece, painted over a century ago onto the arched ceiling, ‘The Garden of Thorns’. Revered as his greatest work of art, the depiction of iridescent flowers and verdant abundance, sprinkled with inconspicuous spatters of blood, symbolizes the fate of blasphemers, and of beauty forever wasted. The priestess regarded the piece with unexpurgated aversion. Angelus was a fool.
She roved, following the nave past the aisles of redwood pews, thoroughly ignoring the man who had so crudely called out her name. She had seen his thin layers of clothing, recognizing him as a noble and a fool, at the risk of sounding redundant. Only one who wasted away his life in a tepid, dusty room under mounds of empty ink bottles and debilitating paperwork would amble through the city streets garbed like that. Even she had outerwear, and she wasn’t particularly sensible to the cold. The brutish looking duo followed suit, hovering past the man, eliciting not his hearing but his sight, for Fenrys Mystblade was uncouthly thrown onto one of their shoulders, whereas a familiar woman was snugly nestled in the other’s rippling arms. They padded along, bound the stair that lead the altar and veered right, efficiently disappearing behind the cherry curtains that hid away the clergy vestry.
A moment later, Sati Sarasvati emerged from under the red folds, a thoroughly annoyed look on her face. “Are you blind? If you actually need me to explain the situation, then I’d rather you stay here and suffer. A lot. If not, then please, do get your patrician buttocks moving. I haven’t all day.” With this, she vanished behind the drapery, but her hackled demarche still echoed in the distance.
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Posted: Sun Oct 08, 2006 12:04 pm
Really, Andre hadn't expected much better a response than that. In fact, he had taken some time before entering the building to consider whether or not his death would be considered not as advantageous to the church as to compensate for the spilling of blood on "holy ground." For the moment, such was the case, although the gradually increasing discomfort of all in the building and the unwillingness of some to move from the doorway upon entering meant this could change at any given moment.
Andre was further troubled by his dislike for religion. He had never expressed anti-theistic beliefs on the record, but he could never be sure what people knew. The community had become a closely knit group of elements many and diverse and he had no way of knowing for sure what rumors had been spread. The only thing he knew for sure was that most of the people who witnessed or even had heard about his ability to alter and accelerate the growth of plant life were Fenrys, and some others who may even still be asleep, a side effect of inhaling the unusual, corrosive mist that any plant he affected would release.
However, it was plainly obvious to anyone paying any attention that he was injured, now. Darkly colored blood was dripping down his right arm. Moreover, it was also clear that he had been doing something unusual to his body, as the sleeves of his tunic were noticeably shorter than those of his discarded robes, and revealed a rune bearing similarity to an equal sign on the back of his left hand, and another rune looking like a plain but thickly outlined circle on his right.
"How prejudicial." called Andre, after the quickly departing Sati, although he was unsure what her reaction would be to this, if she had one at all. "I suppose I really have no choice then..." he continued at a lower timber, speaking mostly to himself, as most others kept a distance from him that would have prevented them from hearing ordinary talking volume. Andre wiped his bloody hand on the front of his tunic (manipulating it with his other arm) and stepped out of the small pool of sticky, red fluid, tarnishing the otherwise ostentatiously decorated flooring. He appeared to have stopped bleeding already, likely having manipulated his own body to clot the area where he had been losing this blood. The young, improperly clothed, and wildly inappropriately placed man approached a man of the cloth attending to the altar.
"Excuse me, father," he requested, not knowing if "father" were a proper title, "But barring the offer of healing services, I must immediately visit the mausoleum of my family, buried in the catacombs beneath this church." He awaited no permission, however--as he would have ignored denial of it in any case--and pushed past him, opening the altar top, and stepped inside, closing it behind him, as he walked down into the dark passageway, taking and lighting a torch on the wall beside him.
Andre dropped the torch, almost immediately, and clutched his head in pain, as he heard that ever familiar, but impossibly anonymous and barely comprehensible female voice ringing through his head.
".e ca....l! No. everyth... is as .. app...s! Some ..emies ... ...... f.ie...! Don't .o.e!" was the message, accompanied with visions of the church burning and tendrils of thorny vines breaking through the walls.
This same voice had delivered many prophecies to him in the past, with the same degree of corruption in the message, but why it manifested itself as a female voice, and why the messages were so difficult to interpret were beyond him. Andre recovered his balance and continued down the passage as if nothing had happened, though. What he could glean from this message was nothing he could judge as reason not to enter the catacombs, which aside from the burning of his torch and the beat of his feet, was deathly silent.
It would only take a few moments to retrieve that object he desired, and then he would be able to seek healing from someone not professionally affiliated with the church, although his worries that such healing might break the protection he placed on his newly functional runes on his hands were not assuaged by the need to seek out an inferior healer.
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Posted: Sun Oct 08, 2006 2:01 pm
Before Sharde had time to turn around, out of no-where came a sickening 'CRUNCH!' then, blinding pain, and blackness as he succumbed to unconciousness. His last thoughts before darkness sufficiently spilled in were.. 'what the he....' then he was gone.. his mind swimming in a sea of bleakness.
Misha, seeing the whole thing, wasn't able to cast a spell on the religious commander quick enough, her net hitting the door just as he dodged through it, the impact slamming the door closed, and knocking splinters from the heavy wood. Then, with a cry, she ran over to the fallen Sharde, dropping to her knees as she quickly cast a critical eye over him. Calling to a half-groggy guard just arising to fetch a healer, she took off her cloak, folding it and putting the thick cloth underneath the commander's head.
"Stupid idiot.. going getting himself knocked out.." She muttered half-heartedly as she went about checking everything out, assessing him with a knowledgable eye untill the healer came.
She cursed herself for not having the ability to heal... only to destroy..
Then Queen however, just managed to make it into the room just as Fenrys slipped out the door with a woman slung over his shoulder, she saw her commander on the floor as well as her best friend run over to him. Also, off in the distance she saw a guard bolting in the direction of the healer's quarters.
Leaning against a wall, Eliza slumped down, her skirts poofing out as she put her head in her hands and wept. Wept for what was about to happen to them all.
And just then, the King walked in.. he had an apple in his hand, and bit into it, freezing in that posture as he noticed the carnage about him, as well as the guards all returning to conciousness.
"What in the Gods names happened here?!" He said, his eyes finding his wife a royal wreck.
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Posted: Tue Oct 10, 2006 12:58 am
"Castle hallways are so small," Ardus thought to himself. "...and the walls so short. They seriously think that those things can keep people out?" The monster of a demon swept silently through the halls of the castle, avoiding guards with unusual ease. The recent commotion, likely caused by an agent of his, but of whose identity he was currently uncertain, was such that the castle guard was much tighter in security, but was also very unfocused. Assuming the appearance of a gangly new recruit was child's play, especially with everyone's minds in a weakened state, given the tensions that abounded, thick enough to be cut with a knife. It was hardly difficult at all in an ordinary case. Ardus' presence was so terrifying, that the need for people to cope with it was often so strong, that he could subconsciously alter that desire and make it appear as though he were a perfectly ordinary citizen. He had been in town for a fortnight yet, and no one had noticed.
As the young recruit clad in ill-fitting armor approached the scene of a room covered with vines, stinking of decay, and filled with unmoving bodies, and royalty in distress, he brushed off his shoulders surreptitiously, straightened his back, with some odd difficulty, the origin of which had not been readily apparent (though truth be told, Ardus was afraid of smashing his real head on the ceiling) and approached the king and queen, before genuflecting in their presence. The room carried an unusual odor, as the aforementioned stench of decay carried with it also the distinct, but faint odor of blood and sweat.
"Your royal majesties, milord, and milady," the recruit spoke in a pubescent, cracking voice. "A message from the church of Zatalia." He indeed, had a small envelope bearing the seal of the church, which he placed on the ground before the queen, with a shaking hand. Ardus had to stop himself from smirking at this particular point, as he considered it to be a clever addition to the act. He knew that fear of royalty became commonplace amongst the people since the edict declaring that weaker citizens be put to death for the sake of the stronger. What foolishness! They would all meet death at the hands of the demons in due time.
The guard backed away, still on his knees, and stood several feet away, adding in a trembling voice, "Farewell. I must be returning to my post." and he disappeared around a corner, just as a castle healer appeared and began attending to the wounds of an important-looking man lying in the arms of an equally important-looking woman.
Once over the wall and hidden from sight Ardus stopped maintaining the illusion. Unlike most illusory spells, this one did not actually transform him, or merely bend light to produce the appropriate image. He had to actively concentrate on the minds of everyone in the area, making them see what he wanted. It was an unfortunate hindrance, but came with the sometimes helpful ability to make different people in the same area report seeing someone different in his place. Investigation into the "demon threat" proved far less effective when one person reported a murder committed by a comely waitress and another reporting the same murder done by a gruff castle guardsman.
A cold breeze blew past him, lightly massaging his aching body and soothing the cramps afflicting him from being in such a confined space for such a long period of time. His initial guess that the king and queen would be in the throne room proved incorrect, and getting lost in the castle cost him precious minutes. Still, he had succeeded in delivering the exquisitely forged message from the church stating that they had kidnapped Councilor Majahual and desired as ransom that all royalty and courtsman stand down in place of a new theocracy--a devious lie, as Majahual had gone to the cathedral of his own accord, but one that would only be substantiated by the observations of his presence by any spies currently in place in the church. His ridiculously circuitous plan would soon see a very befitting close, probably much more effective than he had anticipated, having underestimated the enmity between church and state in Zatalia.
After catching his breath and slowly taking in what amount of fresh air and space he required of the outside world after his journey into the cavernous castle, the leader of the demons assumed the appearance of the woman he had seen, Misha, and sped towards the cathedral.
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Posted: Tue Oct 10, 2006 11:45 am
When Fenrys awoke, someone had already bandaged him, so he didn't bother to attempt healing himself in anyw ay. His abilities as a healer were not only inferior to most priests, but they also manifested in a different way that made most people nervous. Where most magical healers exerted energy through their palms or performed incantations, Fenrys' eyes would disappear behind some form of bristling white energy and he would simply stare at the wound he was trying to heal until he saw an improvement. This made it tremendously difficult to heal himself (he could not, despite his best efforts, heal wounds that he could not see, even with the aid of mirrors. Furthermore it was painful to heal wounds he had to bend limbs to see, mostly because that limb was already injured and had quite enough abuse.) and even others if they were particularly embarassed about the region Fenrys was trying to heal.
He took a moment to say a small prayer (with very little heart, it was more out of habit, despite his position Fenrys wasn't notably religious) as thanks for still being alive, after which he devoted a few moments to standing up. With considerable screaming from his muscles, he accomplished the task, but his entire body still had to wonder why Fenrys would be so silly as to let an angry mob with sharp pointy metal sticks lambast him, and then want to do something so ludicrous as stand on his own two legs.
A swift glance around the room revealed that Fenrys was back safe within the Grand Cathedral, although he had to rack his foggy memory to recall events that would have led him here. When his eyes fell upon the Sarasvati sisters, one still unconcious, Fenrys uttered feebly "Is she all right?" before plopping weakly back into the cushions from whence he rose.
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Posted: Tue Oct 10, 2006 3:05 pm
The priestess sat cross-legged, deep in brooding, her aimless eyes lost beyond the bricked window, into the thickening night. She had her arms crossed over her abdomen and her lips were set in a frown, marring her uncared beauty with a dour mien. Next to her, set to simmer atop a wooden table, was a worn crucible, with its bubbling contents seeping a wispy effluvium, smelling of roots and herbs. The infusion would take a few more minutes before the wounded man, whoever he was, could sup it without danger, for various poisons were still diluted within it. She had seen from the aspect of his wounds that he had dabbled with magic that somewhat exceeded his knowledge, but he seemed to fare well enough otherwise. Still, he would need further healing through daily sessions and ingestions of her renowned mixtures. All of this, of course, if he even deigned show his face. Sati had realized her prior austerity, but seeing as how her sister was knocked unconscious and the man who had promised her… Oh, she was seething with anger. Their wounds seemed more alarming than they actually were, and she had only needed the wrap them up where required, and slathered their necks with a rather mephitic balm. Sati, in her warped caring, had added superfluous unction to the man’s nose.
The commander awoke. How vicious her new-fangled smile. “How do you feel, master Mystblade?” she crooned in her patented, dulcet intonation. She saw his feeble attempt at rising to his feet, tipping her porcelain head to the side as would a mother about to scold her unsuspecting child. When he had slumped back to his bed of straws, she sat up, paddind with clicking heels to the middle-aged man’s bedside. “She… will be fine.” That was all she could muster as an answer to his query. She had enough of a hard time keeping herself composed.
“Now,” Sati asked as she fell at his left, her voice now a rasping baritone, warning him that his answer might bring forth a sudden feverish sickness for the next three weeks. “Tell me what happened.” That she didn’t give a mule’s arse about speaking out of order, the Commander of the Zatalus Enforcers surely knew.
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Posted: Tue Oct 10, 2006 10:10 pm
((Music: The Fray - How to Save a Life))
Fenrys had expected as much from Sati. Outside the Archbishop, whom Fenrys reported to daily, the Sarasvati twins were probably the people Fenrys spent the most time with in the world. It was a horrifying balancing act for him, however, as Sati loved nothing more in the world than her twin sister, and consistently looked to Fenrys to keep her safe. Fenrys respected and understood this wish, no longer having a family of his own, but it was momentously difficult to see through. For one, Sapna was a very gifted Enforcer, and she knew it. Fenrys had to use his authority to restrict Sapna from more dangerous assignments, and she more often than not viewed this as prejudicial and discriminatory. It wasn't helpful at all that both of the Sarasvati sisters were hot-headed and Sati would chide him for sending Sapna into danger, and Sapna was very vocal about Fenrys' "lack of faith" in her abilities. No matter how Fenrys played the game, he lost quite spectacularly, and when he did, he lost in a stereo of furious glares, and shrill rants.
It was with all this in mind that Fenrys finally answered, letting out a belabored sigh before speaking
"What happened is that your sister artfully sabotoged my best laid plans to avoid full scale war, and in the process nearly got myself and another Enforcer killed, but only after setting fire to the most complete archive of information on anything." Fenrys stood again; it was readily apparent that he'd fought well beyond the physical and mental limits his body could tolerate today, but he refused to remain still, standing and moving about gave him a convenient excuse not to continually maintain eye contact with Sati. "She disobeyed orders Sati, because she is stubborn, and she knows it was her I wanted in that castle this morning. She's quicker, and more subtle, but I obeyed your wish. I protected her. And because of it, hundreds of Enforcers foolish enough to call me their commander are probably going to die." Fenrys' throat blocked up. It felt extremely awkward to be the one doing the berating, having been on the receiving end for so many years. It was more than that though. Despite their feelings for Fenrys only being describable as a fiery passionate disdain for him, the Sarasvatis were the closest things he had to friends left, and it hurt him to have to say this. "The worst part? Is that I'm not angry at her. I can't be; not in the least. She went to save a fellow Enforcer from a situation that was too much to handle." Fenrys paused again, rallying himself for the final stretch, and to make sure his back was turned to the priestess for his last words. ".....She did the right thing Sati. We both know she did, so I fought with every fiber of my being to protect her. So you may sit there with that tone in your voice, implying that I've let you down, because you know I'd have died for any of my Enforcers, much less Sapna." Fenrys looked back over his shoulder, his face was almost expressionless, but the waver in his eyes gave away his true emotion. "You wanted me to protect her Sati. This one final time, I will honor that request. You may tell your sister that she has been relieved of her post in the Zatalus Enforcers, effective immediately. Given your station in the church, I welcome her to retain her quarters here in the cathedral, but I would advise against it, after the events in the castle this morning, we aren't likely to be safe here much longer." His mind spoken, Fenrys turned away once more and limped slowly from the chamber, every aspect of his being now completely wracked with pain.
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Posted: Wed Oct 11, 2006 1:17 am
Emerging from the altar top once more, with many clergymen scowling at him, muttering things that sounded like "defile sacred ground" and "disturb the peace of the departed," Andre hastily put out his torch and hung it where he had found it, and pocketed a small, round object of which no one had gotten a good look. Brushing off some dust that had accumulated on his pants, he turned about and resealed the entrance to the mausoleum, after which the looks of rebuke dissipated and everyone turned to go about their business.
Andre was glad, actually. His family had not been emtombed further inside, where the catacombs stretched in a serpentine and labyrinthine manner sure to confound even the most well-planned graverobber, but the stagnant air inside was not something to be desired. Stepping back into the cathedral was like leaving a sephulchral and confined building designed for people curiously smaller in stature and breaking out into a magnificently gilded outer world. Andre took a moment to compose himself and allow his eyes to adjust to brighter light. What light there was originated now from candles spread throughout the edifice, and while it was dim by daylight's standards, it was most certainly brighter than a single torch in a tomb.
Andre was pressed for time. He didn't have the option of seeking out someone with the ability to heal outside the church if he wanted to get back to the castle and keep his absence unnoticed, and he certainly could not afford for that to happen, especially given the state of things, and the likelihood that someone affliated with the crown would notice his presence. The castle's healers were excellent, to be certain, but only the church staffed individuals as skilled in that discipline as would suit his needs. After this brief moment of reflection, and another few moments noticing the particular enforcer whose pyromaniacal tendencies seemed quite evident in the castle archives--he was purposefully milling around the cathedral, apparently carrying out some trivial errands--Andre carried himself in pursuit of Sati and similarly disappeared past a curtain-like drape into a side corridor. His search was initially stymied by an unwillingness to peer into individual chambers, for fear of interrupting the privacy of their inhabitants, but shortly down the hallway, he saw Fenrys emerge from one, and knew with utmost certainty that Sati would be inside, given the disposition of the commander.
As he passed Fenrys, he nodded in acknowledgement, but said nothing, and paused outside. Andre took note that Fenrys seemed mostly unharmed, albiet in pain and limping, but that the damage could have been significantly worse, had he not intervened. He hoped for his sake that Fenrys might have taken the liberty to mention his assistance, as that might offer him some sway in dealing with Sati.
"Miss Sarasvati," the young man ventured after a second's delay. "I...was wondering if I could have a moment of your time." Andre was speaking carefully. He was completely certain that now would be an emotional time for Sati, and offending her would be no way to start things off. "You see, Fenrys referred me to you specifically. I really could use your help."
Andre stepped forward slightly into room, brushing aside a heavy cloth curtain placed to act like a door. The room was small, but filled with cushions and beds that may have served as a treatment area for the sick. Sapna remained unconscious on the bed, looking better for wear than Fenrys. This room seemed even more dimly lit than the corridor from which he had just come, although it may well have been a trick of the light.
Bowing, Andre continued, this time with a tone of some urgency in his voice, but keeping himself polite and his words deliberate. "Please understand. I in no way support or condone the recent decisions of the Royals, especially that concerning the mandatory execution. However, I cannot leave their side, as they offer resources that aid in my research. Yes, I know. I may seem like an overzealous researcher, willing to pursue knowledge at all costs in this, but my purpose is not knowledge itself," he added, not wanting to appear the part of the mad wizard. "I merely wish for as many people to be able to survive as possible through these times, and I need to be able to continue my research if I am going to be able to further this goal."
Genuine concern graced his voice, and not unsurprisingly. While he often was forced to misrepresent himself in order to bargain in the council chambers, he was telling nothing but the absolute truth now. "I may have been rude before, and for that I apologize, but please... I can help no one with my body like this."
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Posted: Wed Oct 11, 2006 3:23 pm
That was not Misha. No, he could smell it.
"My lord." A mannish voice called from the dark alleys, only a few meters away from the church. "I know it is thee, my lord, and I come bearing great news." The demon lord could hear a chuckle, a raspy thing.
He beckoned with a shadowed hand, refusing to step into even the tiniest shaft of light, and called the head of the demons within whisper's range.
"The documents concerning our existence have been all but destroyed, sire, and the one sole parchment containing the most useless facts is to be given to the head of the Zatalus Enforcers, simply to make...one of our number look like they did their job." The demon spoke carefully, not knowing if he would be heard by others or not.
It was difficult to tell much about this 'demon,' being that he was in the shadows. He seemed a normal man's height and of a normal man's build, and was obviously cloaked.
"I, Raaz, will be out of communication with you for some time, I am afraid. Our um...contact," he said, speaking carefully once again, "will be as well. Hopefully, ...they will be able to do the rest of their job. If all goes as planned, then the Zatalus Enforcers will be routed before the week is out!" Came Raaz's hissing laughter.
"Now, if you will excuse me, milord, there is no time to waste..."
And with that, the demon was gone.
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Wilhelm was late. Abnormally late, even for him. His eyes narrowed as he stalked down the halls of the cathedral. Perhaps he shouldn't have tarried so long... but business was business, after all, and was to be handled as such.
It was not long before his footfalls carried him to the limping, shuffling form of Fenrys Mystblade. "Sir!" Wilhelm said, holding a curled up parchment in hand. "Sir, I found what documents I could spare. Regrettably, this was the only one I could save from the fire." He held up the parchment, having already read it.
It said little. Most of the record was about other things, and only a small portion regarded the demon phenomenon. It only confirmed their existence, but gave no hint of a location or even a description of their race, not cutting off but ending on an even sentence, the writer having started another page afterwards. Wilhelm handed it over to Fenrys, and did not even let his eyes show his lies. Thank the gods he wasn't the queen...
"Anything else, sir?" Wilhelm asked, coughing slightly. He shook his head. "Must be that damned gas that knocked us out..."
(Suxx0rz!)
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RogueKazimeras Vice Captain
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Posted: Wed Oct 11, 2006 9:42 pm
Fenrys took the document with another heavy sigh and scanned its contents. It did, at least, verify the existence of demons for him, but aside from that, it was useless. He certainly didn't say as much to Wilhelm, as he'd nearly sent him to his death for the document, but it didn't help him formulate a new battle plan at all.
"Thank you Godfrey. You did well. You're dismissed." He began limping away, but he stopped after two steps and turned to face Wilhelm. "What I did today was reckless Wilhelm. Very much so. If it weren't for Sapna Sarasvati you might be dead. We might both be dead. That being the case, you should probably go express your thanks to her, or at least, her sister. When you're done, I'm extending my offer to leave the Enforcers penalty free to you one more time. I shouldn't have put you in an impossible situation like that, and if you'd rather not I send you to your death again, I understand. Come see me after you've talked with the Sarasvatis." Fenrys' mood only worsened having discovered what had transpired today was quite literally for naught, so he limped on to his quarters, heavy with several burdens.
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