Post by EmperorMyric on Dec 16, 2017 20:13:06 GMT
It shimmered. It all shimmered.
From a few hundred feet away, we would have been nearly invisible I think, to the naked eye at least. Invisible for me is probably a bit different than invisible for you, but I use a simple definition for your sake here. After all, to be truly unperceived is almost akin to not being; it takes an awful lot of practice to not be, you know, and I like to think I've had my fair share of practice. But from a few hundred feet away, I doubt you could have seen me, for the thermals distorted the air and the light that past through it warped and warbled under the mortal gaze of three vast and foreboding red suns.
Perhaps, some many miles away, the mirage might have shown you the strange scene. Had you seen it, I doubt your sanity would have been coherent enough to appreciate the surrealist scene before you; where I was was almost six hundred miles from the nearest outpost of humanity. I like these remote worlds, you know; these dying footholds, these dry bones colonies where nothing of any significance will come from, and very little will choose to come and die there on account of the obscurity of it all.
The desert was flat, parched and cracked like an old man's skin. Tanned like dead skin. Too flat for shadows, there was no vegetation to show signs of life. And in the middle of this dead place, this flat land belonging to paintings where clocks should warp and melt, sat two chairs and a table. I sat in one of these, sweating as I considered all pertinencies, and ogling the condensation covered pitcher of ice water in the table's center. The ice was rapidly dwindling.
I opened my mouth, and spoke briefly. Cordially. Always start cordially, my mother used to say.
For a few moments, it seemed like nothing would happen. There was silence until a cold wind suddenly shot through the desert, an unseen presence could be felt, watching, waiting, curious. Then, a series of dark clouds began to gather in the sky, blocking the unforgiving sun for what would seem to be a blessing to the less understanding observer. The wind began to pick up, dry and cold, biting at the skin.
The scorpion I’d found nestled itself into my sleeve, protected from the cool breeze that cut through the inhumane environment; never the less, I willed it out just enough so that she could reach out to the pitcher by sight alone, and so I poured the cups; the ice clinking in the glasses as the breeze blew in. Almost as an afterthought, I pour a little on the back of my hand, and then tilted my arm up gently, letting the tiny rivulet work its way back to the creature, which I bade to drink.
The scorpion retreats up my sleeve as I grasp the glass and take a sip; the water is cool, frigid in comparison to what dominates this land. Above us, though I cannot see them as you could if you were there, clouds billowed in confusion, rising rapidly in billows as the cold air struggled with the fire that graced this place.
It was good water. My people, they have a connection to it, spiritually. They see it as the ultimate symbol of change.
A sudden voice breaks the silence, its source from no known point in the desert save for the bitter cold wind itself.
"Do you seek peace?” The voice asks gravely in a deep tone. “Because that name shall bring you none, thief, murderer, manipulator, traitor, liar."
I pause in hesitation, an eyebrow over an eye no longer fully there quivering infinitesimally higher than where it normally resides.
"I wouldn't know what his regards would be, of course. Only that he'd send them if he had the chance." I rock the glass slowly in my hand, listening to the ice clink, as the scorpion's many legs move sideways in order to stabilize itself atop my arm.
At least we share the same opinion on him.
I am, of course, referring to Nagaetros; I mentioned him during the summoning, for I know one thing above all else: curiosity brings us all forward.
"Liberator, executioner, diplomat, expatriate. I lie very little if at all."
The wind howled before his reply.
"Reason with yourself however you wish, decieve yourself further if you must. It makes no difference to me, mortal."
A vortex of sand and what appeared to be snow began to form several yards in front of me, and as it swirled about dramatically a form began to appear in its center, facing me at my table.
The scorpion, while displeased with the environment, crept out onto the back of my hand; I rolled my arm over slowly until there was a place for him in my palm. I was not watching the sand, so much as I was marveling at how time and space was rippling as it accommodated the newcomer.
Standing in front of me was a tall, wolf-like drake with black fur and deer-like antlers dressed in a leather jacket, tattered jeans, and a gauntlet of chains and spikes as long as my forearm. From where I sat I spied two shotguns holstered on his back. A large red mark crossed his face, eye to eye shaped like a crescent moon, a bright ruby on his forehead. Unlike Nagaetros, he showed no signs of joy, instead of a smile a scowl crossed his face.
I felt the mildest hints of a smirk, which I carefully subdued, at his grim expression. Judge, jury, executioner... such serious business, justice. Here stood, in his own mind at least, the spirit of the law.
"Greetings. Please, sit." I gesture with my free hand, the gauntleted hand, towards the wicker chair sitting in the middle of nowhere. "I poured you a glass. Thought you might be thirsty in a place like this."
The draconian took a step towards me as another gust of freezing cold wind tore across the desert. The glass of fresh water i had offered him had suddenly iced over, almost frozen solid. When he had reached just a couple of feet in front of me, there was a constant cold in the air, almost unbearable.
"I’m not interested in your offer, mortal. It would do me no good anyway." He kneeled down in order to look me in the face.
I wonder what he thought of it, really. The blindfold over the wounded eyes was fresh; I changed it for the appointment. I still hadn't found a change of clothes from the cemetery as yet, so I imagine I was a bit of a mess there; torn and dirtied by conflict. Then again, if he was trying to intimidate by physical proximity, it was lost on me; from my angle, his chin loomed more prominently than anything else.
"Not in the offer, no. But you are interested in something, aren't you?" I take a last and rather pointless sip from the glass now frozen, before setting it down on the table.
This is the man who in a few short weeks will attempt to exact judgment upon my people. Sinners or not, I won't debate; they are not as noble as they imagine, surely. But I have sworn myself as a patron to their cause, to what they need more than what they deserve. Already, I have taken steps to minimize the damage; not in present tense, of course, but in the near future. Nasty business.
Overhead, thunder cracks as hot and cold air merge.
"You are the one who tore the mind of the soul eater in half. You have gazed upon the secrets of the shadow god and lived. I will humor your summoning me, but know that you are meddling in the affairs of something much greater than you think, time traveler." The draconian sniffed at me with his dog like nose and bared his fangs ever so slightly in a sneer.
I smile politely, imagining my breath hanging as a cloud in this cold air.
"I don't think my intents ought to offer you the least discomfort." The words hang in the air as the scorpion watches for me. "And I thank you for recognizing my credentials. Most of the time my resume doesn't come into play with people." The humor there echoes in the vastness of this place, and the smile fades.
"I take it I would not be overestimating you to posit that you know what motivates a soul like mine to make mischief with deities. You then must know why I did what I did to Nagaetros."
A chuckle passed the draconian's lips.
"You did so in an attempt for Shaw Haust. A failed attempt that left you no better off than before. These are actions you will regret even more so in the future, even in your current state."
His reference to the wounds I've born seems almost condescending, but I prefer to chalk that up to the mentality of anyone who's called himself, been called, and likely is a god. It gets into your head, after a while.
"I am surprised with you. To bleed for a cause is righteous, as is self-sacrifice. I may have lost a few..." a bitter lie boils now, and I continue pleasantly as I gesture towards my face, the scorpion carefully keeping balance on my hand.
"...aesthetic nonessentials," I murmur as I think about the color of my eyes, "but I have gained insight, and I move closer towards an appointed time. To imagine you consider losses accepted in order to further my quest as regrettable seems unbecoming. It is he, you know surely, that I asked you here to speak of."
A thin layer of snow and ice started covering the desert floor despite the lack of moisture in the air and ground.
"I rarely deal with those who deserve the title of noble or righteous. Not in this universe. Your sacrifices led to no good. Saw Haust still roams this galaxy, and the soul eater is not as inactive as you think. You may not see it now, but your sacrifices were in vain."
"Yet I've done more against him than you have." The words settle into the cold quite comfortably; the scorpion in my palm retreats with my begrudging approval into my sleeve to escape from the cold. "Whereas you conspire with him. Is that not an irony?"
There’s a little bit of a snap to my words now. Perhaps it is the cold air, but the draconian’s grating personality is already beginning to rub on me. Sacrifice. I doubt he knows all too much about sacrifice. But I still my thoughts there in an effort to perpetuate a calm and even handed disposition.
The thunder cracks above us loud, echoing over the flat wastes and adding an ominous undertone to our dialogue.
We are, after all, forces of nature here.
"You are wrong, mortal. I do not and have not conspired with the soul eater and his servants. Your accusations hold no ground." He replied.
Again, the eyebrow rises.
Oh. Oh this is interesting. He doesn't know yet. Well, that or he's lying; I find that doubtful. He doesn't strike me as the lying sort, and I don't smell deceit on his breath. Shaw must pull one over on him to get him to attempt to cause harm upon my people. Yet another reason Shaw must be put down.
"If you were to find out you were... hypothetically, mind you, as a deity of your caliber would clearly not be so simply tricked by the likes of Chaw'Haust....working in accordance with his wishes, would you try and correct the wrong? Do right by those grieved in error?"
Another sneer crossed his muzzle, a light growl under his breath.
"Only the deserving shall meet their end by my power and the likes of Shaw Haust shall never have control over me."
"But if he does," I persist, lamenting the frost I feel beginning to build up on my wicker chair, and equally thankful that I chose one of the hottest deserts in this galaxy for our meeting (Fenris is effectively a walking air conditioner), "if he does... you would of course have to avenge the wrong you were tricked into committing, would you not?"
I wish I had the benefit of eye contact here, as having him stare at a scorpion really doesn't come close to what can be conveyed by human eyes. Perhaps he is not as sharp as the legends made him out to be; to not connect the question asked with my occupation and the nearly prophetic accuracy of what I am saying is almost disillusioning. Disappointing, actually. That would be a more accurate word.
Fenris tilted his head, smirking.
"I know what you seek, but it's not that simple. While I cannot judge for actions that have not yet occured, Shaw Haust has not escaped my sights. What he has already done is well deserving of my attention, but as long as he serves the soul eater, he is protected from whatever I attempt...unless, you wish for a contract on his carcass."
The contradiction at the end of his sentence puzzled me. Protected, unless... what an odd notion.
"Who he serves has not given him protection from me. Why does it give him protection from you?"
A lone, fat, warm raindrop lands on the top of my head; it feels much like a warm summer rain as a warm summer rain should, but it is likely the first droplet of moisture to fall in these skies in centuries.
Fenris growled
"There are rules which I must follow when dealing with other draconian. I cannot hunt him down of my own free will and succeed, as no matter what I do his master will undo it. But, if I were under a strong enough contract, I would be granted the power to lay judgement despite his master's wishes."
Thunder rumbled in the sky like drums.
Thunder, incidentally, has a marvelous sense of humor. Always it rumbles away when plots are concocted, crimes committed, passions put into play. Very rare is the day full of dark clouds and no significance, and fairly put this was true here as well.
But there were many reasons to decline.
"He has prophecy on his side. Only one who is a chaw'sah'voh," I say, while considering the alternative as well, "will be able to undo him. It would take more than righteous fury to unseat him from his unnatural throne."
A chaw'sah'voh. A Chaw, a great traveler, without a name. It would either be I, or it would be Chassovo, the name from which the word is derived. Or it would be both.
And then I pause, hesitant for a brief moment, before speaking softer.
"...and he has not yet committed the act which commits me to my calling. To end him now would not be justice for me. Contracts tie me to people, to places... it is not my method. But if we share a mutual objective in seeing Chaw'Haust held to account for his deeds, I would be pleased to assist you, so long as the final deed is left to me."
Draconians have a thing with deals. Naga offered one, which was rather poorly placed given my gutting at his hands. Now Fenris offered his. I think it entertains them, personally; they can do well enough without us mortals. Mortals. He loves calling us that, too. Arguably I have existed just as long as he has, perhaps longer; yet still, mortal.
"Prophecy means little to me as a god of chaos, and punishments for his like rarely include the release of death." He sniffed at me once more.
"It doesnt matter. One soul is not enough for the likes of him. You would be only one of many, and not nearly pure enough. This offer sadly lies stagnant."
Another drop; another crack of thunder. It was beginning to rain.
I smile uncertainly; oh, of course I'm not pure. I don't think anyone is, to be honest. You live long enough and you'll end up dirty; live longer still and you'll end up without eyes talking to gods in the middle of a desert thunderstorm. It tends to work that way in my experience.
"It's not as if I could offer you payment for a contract anyway. All I have is myself and whatever trinkets I happen to come across." Mind you, gambling while seeing the future tends to be rather profitable, but that's neither here nor there...
Fenris' ear twitched.
"I'm not interested in your money." He clearly wants me to ask what it is he is interested in, but I…I already know.
"If you truly wished Chaw'Haust to face judgment, I think you'd be more keen for my help. You can't lay a finger on one of the most evil men to have ever breathed, and I need more than my two hands to end his life. I'm working, you know, towards that end. The man's employer, who you evidently fear, is proof enough of his malice, but technicalities hold you back. I know more than anyone else I think you'll meet in a long while how to overcome technicalities. Now I'm not asking for you to do the job because it's personal, to me. I think it's a fair vendetta to hold, don't you?"
The rain is beginning to splash down on us, and quite frankly given the temperature I don't believe I care to sit out in a rain that freezes so quickly after striking my skin.
"Now I am going to get to him. I think you know that well enough. It will be a very long while, potentially, but we share a common interest in him. I never offered my soul as collateral to you for the deed, though I do suppose it would not match the weight he carries on his shoulders."
He stood up straight and looked down at me. Imposing figure, I admit; he must be a sight to behold when he’s coming for you.
"Perhaps we could work together for this common goal when the time comes. But until then, nothing is changed."
I nod. It's to be expected. In the next few weeks Fenris will strike, wittingly or not, against the Flux Ascendancy. I will return to him after that, to see if his heart has changed after he begins to suspect whatever machinations Chaw'Haust uses upon him in order to compel the deed.
I pause, looking upward, feeling the rain on my face. As the scorpion scurries farther up my arm, I reach up gently and untie the blindfold over my non-existent eyes. The drops sting slightly as they hit the partially healed wounds, but it is a pleasant bitterness. It is cleaning.
"You know, we're... well, I at least," I correct, not deeming myself in a position to speak on the nature of gods, "I'm a lot like water. Each and every drop... do you know the history they hold? So many creatures drown in any given drop of water over eternity; so many sips are taken, so many bodies float... water has history, and will always have history. Solid, liquid... it's all the same."
"Good hunting to you, Fenris." I murmur the words, and then without flash or sound, I again press on into the black.
--oOo—
John Triarch woke up in a pitch black room. He had no idea where he was however he had some inkling into how he got here. His last memory was being kidnapped by the Sicarii bastard who had wanted his armour back, he knew his people were searching for him but for a Sicarii to kidnap him... he knew they would never find him. The question was why was he here and why was he still alive...
"I know your there..." John said into the darkness to get some sort of reply.
'Do I scare you?' said a voice from the darkness.
John could hear shifting in the shadows, but he thought his mind maybe playing tricks on him.
John smiled. "You wish man of darkness." He laughed slightly.
A blade suddenly appeared to Johns neck spilling some blood.
'You are an enemy of the Union and you will comply; that’s if you value your planet.'
John smiled.
"Of course i am... Didn’t you know they betrayed us? Kicked us out of the Union? Even declared us traitors?" He said wanting to see if the Sicarii knew the truth.
'That maybe the case, but I am allied with the union and not you.... what makes you so unafraid of death?'
'You will tell me how you can cheat death' Ed said while pushing his blade even deeper.
"And why should I do that? You could kill me... but then you would have to find me and kidnap me again, and so on which is very boring. But otherwise what can you do?" John smiled.
John smiled too much, perhaps.
'I can leave you here keeping you alive...barely, how does that sound?' Ed walked into the light revealing himself
"True" John grinned, “Fine I shall tell you. John Triarch is legion. Back in Vulkan there are billions of clones of me, each one made so that if I die my consciousness will be transferred into one of those clones. And before you think about trying to destroy them it will be far harder than you think."
In addition to smiling too much, John Triarch talked an awful lot too.
'And why is that?' Ed said while leaning towards John getting on one knee to John's level.
"Because it is guarded with Ancient technology i... 'aquired' so to speak" He said still confident and smiling, a small trickle of blood coming down from where the knife had pieced the small bit of skin on his throat.
'And you think 'ancient means good? Give me the co ordinates if you think so highly of it' Ed said while disengaging his armour.
'Worried you’re wrong?' Ed asked mockingly.
"No. But why would I reveal such a thing? Besides there are others who want me dead far more than you do."
'All I ask is those coordinates, unless you want to stay here forever?' Ed finished taking off his armour.
"You know I could give you the coordinates to jump into the heart of a star for all you know?" John replied.
'Because all I would have to do is relay the coordinates and see if it is.' Ed stands up and starts pacing around John.
"I already told you where it was. Maybe you should of been listening" Triarch replied.
--oOo--
She'd watched, quietly.
There were two people there. There was this one who called himself John, for starters, and he was many evidently.
And then there was the newcomer. She did not know his name, but she could feel the time rolling off of his footprints. He was the one she was looking for. She was moderately unsettled, watching the soon to be time traveler so brazenly torture his captive. There was no dignity to it. But the other man, this John Triarch, seemed suspect to her as well.
"Vulkan." She says the word softly, letting it slip through her lips.
John smiled, in a way which reminded the intruder of a Cheshire cat.
"Your friend here was listening."
She watched-though not entirely as she wished she could-the time traveler look back into the shadows at her. At least his armor was off, and he was making no moves to retrieve it or to arm it.
"It is cruel to only partially kill a man." She continued, her voice neither forceful nor at all ignorable. "You grieve him. Why?"
'In this case that's all I can do.' Ed said softly but still not looking in the direction of the voice. He pondered to himself about when the newcomer was going to reveal themselves. She on the other hand had no intent to do so anytime soon.
It was a strange situation then. The man called John, strapped to the table. The time traveler with the blade, toying and circling him. Then the watcher in the shadows, with her almost powerless sort of voice.
"Well this is interesting, trying to get some business sorted with Capitol and suddenly I find myself being given a forceful day out." Triarch said annoyed.
She said nothing. What she was interested in was the man with the blade; John Triarch was peripheral to this. Now that the man in the blade had the answer to his question, the bald woman considered carefully what he would do. How messy would he make it?
Ed dropped his blade to the ground within reach of John.
'You should have less faith in money.' Ed said to John slowly turning towards the newcomer’s voice.
Evidently messy, the bald woman thought to herself quietly.
"Why should I? Money makes the galaxy go round, i can bring empires to their knees when I break their stock shares. And inevitably it all comes down to me and my influence. Because of money." Triarch replied.
It was evident. The man with the knife had set it down well in reach of his prisoner, and had deliberately turned his attention away. Now as he competent, she reckoned, and as he was an individual whose name was unfamiliar to her furthermore, he was no fool. He was still playing with the man on the table, and she looked back at him with skepticism.
"You are not unseen here. If your work here is finished, it would be wise to move forward before they arrive." She did not know really if she should be helping this man, what with the way he gently stabbed and toyed with the wounded. But her people, if she could still call them that, traditionally hunted for the unwary time casters, and they surely were coming. They came like shadows when sun falls, and... and having been hunted herself by Naga's minions, she felt a degree of sympathy.
'You think me an enemy?' Ed stepped into the darkness and vanished like a ghost, he was invisible and he knew being in the darkness was in his advantage if things were to get messy even if it was against his will to do so.
Ed thought back to his memory's, he was once the prestigious warrior and now here he was pulling information from a nobody.
Meanwhile like the daft man he was, Triarch laughed.
"An enemy... you attacked my people and kidnapped me... what do you think?" He replied into the darkness.
It all reminded her of an old film she had seen, but in the dark. It had been, for the most part, two men on opposite ends of the street, who stared at each other for a considerable while until one or the other acted. Only here, the staring was into nothing. She could watch her own fate though, a trick she well appreciated in blindness, and so she kept rapt attention for any signs that some agency outside of her own attempted to effect her life through that means.
The man who'd held the blade had faded into the shadows admirably, but as with all things to the eyes of a time traveler there were small ripples that indicated his passing; here, it was like the ripples of a shark's fin when just below the surface. She could not tell thus precisely where he was, but she knew within perhaps a quarter of the room where he could have been found, had lighting been better. Not that the lighting really mattered anyway, with her blindness and all.
Her hand twitched idly, and the gauntlet's plates slowly swung around her wrist, silent as the grave, as she considered the scene.
She was also considering her own position. Just as the people were coming for the man who'd held the blade because of what he could do, they would try and end her too if she waited here too long.
"It is not wise to play games now." She added wistfully, the plates slowly rolling in narrow circles, alternating directions like a cat's tail when it's stalking a mouse.
Ed admired this newcomer but he couldnt help thinking about why she was here and he did not even know how he could tell it was female but he felt like he knew her, maybe unlocking his inner self has triggered something more than just advanced combat powers, his mind suddenly felt omnipotent as he thought he could see the air move in the darkness but he disregarded it.
Ed looked at his own hands in the darkness and moved them around and was surprised to be able to see ripples from where they had been, what was happening to him?
He then heard her voice again.
'Games are for children, and discussions are for humans and I am neither'
Ed thought he should just be blunt as thinking was taking too much time.
'What's your purpose here?'
"Uh... Hello? Are we done playing who is the creepiest of them all? I kind of have things to attend to you know." John announced with irritation.
In the dark, an eyebrow was raised.
Discussions are for humans. She repeated the words in her mind. His confidence was certainly more traceable than his body, that much was certain. Whether his body was in a condition to be confident against what she was trying to warn him of was an entirely other matter.
"I said to you that you are not unseen," she repeats delicately, not knowing what John Triarch is involved with and not wishing to speak too deeply in his presence, "and that the people who see you are coming. If you're business here is completed, you should make yourself scarce."
'You came to warn me? Is that your purpose here? Believe me when I say I have no intention of killing John or keeping him from his people, family and having people is a too valuable thing to leave behind.'
Ed flashed back to his brothers and sisters and felt emptiness.
Precious moments were passing. If it was as simple as telling him that in all likelihood a crack hit-team of Heraldic guards, trained from birth explicitly to hunt time casters, was moments away from storming the room, then perhaps Ed would have understood the quietly understated urgency in her advice. Unfortunately for her, strait answers were not a luxury she could offer at this hour. More importantly, she had to be moving on before the guards arrived.
"Do not waste time here," she warned again, as she began clocking up the gauntlet for a jump. It was time to hurry forward, for her; to remain unseen required constant movement, and it had been a risk for her to intervene on behalf of this man. Hopefully it had been worthwhile.
Ed's harbinger lingered only a moment more, a figure well obscured by the poor lighting of the place. Had he been able to see her in that light, he would have seen a disturbingly wounded woman’s face change from quiet amusement to strong disapproval. The gauntlet was clocked up to speed now, and she looked back towards the region of the room where the man who'd held the blade likely resided in.
She frowned as she spoke one last word.
"Flee."
And then nothingness swallowed her. Her disappearance was not witnessed of course, but in the instant between instants, the bald woman vanished soundlessly. There was no flash of light, no distinctive sound, not even the smell of ozone that comes after lighting strikes; just the briefest, most imperceptibly minute of breezes as the air filled in the vacuum that existed the moment after her body slipped... elsewhere.
--oOo--
From a few hundred feet away, we would have been nearly invisible I think, to the naked eye at least. Invisible for me is probably a bit different than invisible for you, but I use a simple definition for your sake here. After all, to be truly unperceived is almost akin to not being; it takes an awful lot of practice to not be, you know, and I like to think I've had my fair share of practice. But from a few hundred feet away, I doubt you could have seen me, for the thermals distorted the air and the light that past through it warped and warbled under the mortal gaze of three vast and foreboding red suns.
Perhaps, some many miles away, the mirage might have shown you the strange scene. Had you seen it, I doubt your sanity would have been coherent enough to appreciate the surrealist scene before you; where I was was almost six hundred miles from the nearest outpost of humanity. I like these remote worlds, you know; these dying footholds, these dry bones colonies where nothing of any significance will come from, and very little will choose to come and die there on account of the obscurity of it all.
The desert was flat, parched and cracked like an old man's skin. Tanned like dead skin. Too flat for shadows, there was no vegetation to show signs of life. And in the middle of this dead place, this flat land belonging to paintings where clocks should warp and melt, sat two chairs and a table. I sat in one of these, sweating as I considered all pertinencies, and ogling the condensation covered pitcher of ice water in the table's center. The ice was rapidly dwindling.
I opened my mouth, and spoke briefly. Cordially. Always start cordially, my mother used to say.
For a few moments, it seemed like nothing would happen. There was silence until a cold wind suddenly shot through the desert, an unseen presence could be felt, watching, waiting, curious. Then, a series of dark clouds began to gather in the sky, blocking the unforgiving sun for what would seem to be a blessing to the less understanding observer. The wind began to pick up, dry and cold, biting at the skin.
The scorpion I’d found nestled itself into my sleeve, protected from the cool breeze that cut through the inhumane environment; never the less, I willed it out just enough so that she could reach out to the pitcher by sight alone, and so I poured the cups; the ice clinking in the glasses as the breeze blew in. Almost as an afterthought, I pour a little on the back of my hand, and then tilted my arm up gently, letting the tiny rivulet work its way back to the creature, which I bade to drink.
The scorpion retreats up my sleeve as I grasp the glass and take a sip; the water is cool, frigid in comparison to what dominates this land. Above us, though I cannot see them as you could if you were there, clouds billowed in confusion, rising rapidly in billows as the cold air struggled with the fire that graced this place.
It was good water. My people, they have a connection to it, spiritually. They see it as the ultimate symbol of change.
A sudden voice breaks the silence, its source from no known point in the desert save for the bitter cold wind itself.
"Do you seek peace?” The voice asks gravely in a deep tone. “Because that name shall bring you none, thief, murderer, manipulator, traitor, liar."
I pause in hesitation, an eyebrow over an eye no longer fully there quivering infinitesimally higher than where it normally resides.
"I wouldn't know what his regards would be, of course. Only that he'd send them if he had the chance." I rock the glass slowly in my hand, listening to the ice clink, as the scorpion's many legs move sideways in order to stabilize itself atop my arm.
At least we share the same opinion on him.
I am, of course, referring to Nagaetros; I mentioned him during the summoning, for I know one thing above all else: curiosity brings us all forward.
"Liberator, executioner, diplomat, expatriate. I lie very little if at all."
The wind howled before his reply.
"Reason with yourself however you wish, decieve yourself further if you must. It makes no difference to me, mortal."
A vortex of sand and what appeared to be snow began to form several yards in front of me, and as it swirled about dramatically a form began to appear in its center, facing me at my table.
The scorpion, while displeased with the environment, crept out onto the back of my hand; I rolled my arm over slowly until there was a place for him in my palm. I was not watching the sand, so much as I was marveling at how time and space was rippling as it accommodated the newcomer.
Standing in front of me was a tall, wolf-like drake with black fur and deer-like antlers dressed in a leather jacket, tattered jeans, and a gauntlet of chains and spikes as long as my forearm. From where I sat I spied two shotguns holstered on his back. A large red mark crossed his face, eye to eye shaped like a crescent moon, a bright ruby on his forehead. Unlike Nagaetros, he showed no signs of joy, instead of a smile a scowl crossed his face.
I felt the mildest hints of a smirk, which I carefully subdued, at his grim expression. Judge, jury, executioner... such serious business, justice. Here stood, in his own mind at least, the spirit of the law.
"Greetings. Please, sit." I gesture with my free hand, the gauntleted hand, towards the wicker chair sitting in the middle of nowhere. "I poured you a glass. Thought you might be thirsty in a place like this."
The draconian took a step towards me as another gust of freezing cold wind tore across the desert. The glass of fresh water i had offered him had suddenly iced over, almost frozen solid. When he had reached just a couple of feet in front of me, there was a constant cold in the air, almost unbearable.
"I’m not interested in your offer, mortal. It would do me no good anyway." He kneeled down in order to look me in the face.
I wonder what he thought of it, really. The blindfold over the wounded eyes was fresh; I changed it for the appointment. I still hadn't found a change of clothes from the cemetery as yet, so I imagine I was a bit of a mess there; torn and dirtied by conflict. Then again, if he was trying to intimidate by physical proximity, it was lost on me; from my angle, his chin loomed more prominently than anything else.
"Not in the offer, no. But you are interested in something, aren't you?" I take a last and rather pointless sip from the glass now frozen, before setting it down on the table.
This is the man who in a few short weeks will attempt to exact judgment upon my people. Sinners or not, I won't debate; they are not as noble as they imagine, surely. But I have sworn myself as a patron to their cause, to what they need more than what they deserve. Already, I have taken steps to minimize the damage; not in present tense, of course, but in the near future. Nasty business.
Overhead, thunder cracks as hot and cold air merge.
"You are the one who tore the mind of the soul eater in half. You have gazed upon the secrets of the shadow god and lived. I will humor your summoning me, but know that you are meddling in the affairs of something much greater than you think, time traveler." The draconian sniffed at me with his dog like nose and bared his fangs ever so slightly in a sneer.
I smile politely, imagining my breath hanging as a cloud in this cold air.
"I don't think my intents ought to offer you the least discomfort." The words hang in the air as the scorpion watches for me. "And I thank you for recognizing my credentials. Most of the time my resume doesn't come into play with people." The humor there echoes in the vastness of this place, and the smile fades.
"I take it I would not be overestimating you to posit that you know what motivates a soul like mine to make mischief with deities. You then must know why I did what I did to Nagaetros."
A chuckle passed the draconian's lips.
"You did so in an attempt for Shaw Haust. A failed attempt that left you no better off than before. These are actions you will regret even more so in the future, even in your current state."
His reference to the wounds I've born seems almost condescending, but I prefer to chalk that up to the mentality of anyone who's called himself, been called, and likely is a god. It gets into your head, after a while.
"I am surprised with you. To bleed for a cause is righteous, as is self-sacrifice. I may have lost a few..." a bitter lie boils now, and I continue pleasantly as I gesture towards my face, the scorpion carefully keeping balance on my hand.
"...aesthetic nonessentials," I murmur as I think about the color of my eyes, "but I have gained insight, and I move closer towards an appointed time. To imagine you consider losses accepted in order to further my quest as regrettable seems unbecoming. It is he, you know surely, that I asked you here to speak of."
A thin layer of snow and ice started covering the desert floor despite the lack of moisture in the air and ground.
"I rarely deal with those who deserve the title of noble or righteous. Not in this universe. Your sacrifices led to no good. Saw Haust still roams this galaxy, and the soul eater is not as inactive as you think. You may not see it now, but your sacrifices were in vain."
"Yet I've done more against him than you have." The words settle into the cold quite comfortably; the scorpion in my palm retreats with my begrudging approval into my sleeve to escape from the cold. "Whereas you conspire with him. Is that not an irony?"
There’s a little bit of a snap to my words now. Perhaps it is the cold air, but the draconian’s grating personality is already beginning to rub on me. Sacrifice. I doubt he knows all too much about sacrifice. But I still my thoughts there in an effort to perpetuate a calm and even handed disposition.
The thunder cracks above us loud, echoing over the flat wastes and adding an ominous undertone to our dialogue.
We are, after all, forces of nature here.
"You are wrong, mortal. I do not and have not conspired with the soul eater and his servants. Your accusations hold no ground." He replied.
Again, the eyebrow rises.
Oh. Oh this is interesting. He doesn't know yet. Well, that or he's lying; I find that doubtful. He doesn't strike me as the lying sort, and I don't smell deceit on his breath. Shaw must pull one over on him to get him to attempt to cause harm upon my people. Yet another reason Shaw must be put down.
"If you were to find out you were... hypothetically, mind you, as a deity of your caliber would clearly not be so simply tricked by the likes of Chaw'Haust....working in accordance with his wishes, would you try and correct the wrong? Do right by those grieved in error?"
Another sneer crossed his muzzle, a light growl under his breath.
"Only the deserving shall meet their end by my power and the likes of Shaw Haust shall never have control over me."
"But if he does," I persist, lamenting the frost I feel beginning to build up on my wicker chair, and equally thankful that I chose one of the hottest deserts in this galaxy for our meeting (Fenris is effectively a walking air conditioner), "if he does... you would of course have to avenge the wrong you were tricked into committing, would you not?"
I wish I had the benefit of eye contact here, as having him stare at a scorpion really doesn't come close to what can be conveyed by human eyes. Perhaps he is not as sharp as the legends made him out to be; to not connect the question asked with my occupation and the nearly prophetic accuracy of what I am saying is almost disillusioning. Disappointing, actually. That would be a more accurate word.
Fenris tilted his head, smirking.
"I know what you seek, but it's not that simple. While I cannot judge for actions that have not yet occured, Shaw Haust has not escaped my sights. What he has already done is well deserving of my attention, but as long as he serves the soul eater, he is protected from whatever I attempt...unless, you wish for a contract on his carcass."
The contradiction at the end of his sentence puzzled me. Protected, unless... what an odd notion.
"Who he serves has not given him protection from me. Why does it give him protection from you?"
A lone, fat, warm raindrop lands on the top of my head; it feels much like a warm summer rain as a warm summer rain should, but it is likely the first droplet of moisture to fall in these skies in centuries.
Fenris growled
"There are rules which I must follow when dealing with other draconian. I cannot hunt him down of my own free will and succeed, as no matter what I do his master will undo it. But, if I were under a strong enough contract, I would be granted the power to lay judgement despite his master's wishes."
Thunder rumbled in the sky like drums.
Thunder, incidentally, has a marvelous sense of humor. Always it rumbles away when plots are concocted, crimes committed, passions put into play. Very rare is the day full of dark clouds and no significance, and fairly put this was true here as well.
But there were many reasons to decline.
"He has prophecy on his side. Only one who is a chaw'sah'voh," I say, while considering the alternative as well, "will be able to undo him. It would take more than righteous fury to unseat him from his unnatural throne."
A chaw'sah'voh. A Chaw, a great traveler, without a name. It would either be I, or it would be Chassovo, the name from which the word is derived. Or it would be both.
And then I pause, hesitant for a brief moment, before speaking softer.
"...and he has not yet committed the act which commits me to my calling. To end him now would not be justice for me. Contracts tie me to people, to places... it is not my method. But if we share a mutual objective in seeing Chaw'Haust held to account for his deeds, I would be pleased to assist you, so long as the final deed is left to me."
Draconians have a thing with deals. Naga offered one, which was rather poorly placed given my gutting at his hands. Now Fenris offered his. I think it entertains them, personally; they can do well enough without us mortals. Mortals. He loves calling us that, too. Arguably I have existed just as long as he has, perhaps longer; yet still, mortal.
"Prophecy means little to me as a god of chaos, and punishments for his like rarely include the release of death." He sniffed at me once more.
"It doesnt matter. One soul is not enough for the likes of him. You would be only one of many, and not nearly pure enough. This offer sadly lies stagnant."
Another drop; another crack of thunder. It was beginning to rain.
I smile uncertainly; oh, of course I'm not pure. I don't think anyone is, to be honest. You live long enough and you'll end up dirty; live longer still and you'll end up without eyes talking to gods in the middle of a desert thunderstorm. It tends to work that way in my experience.
"It's not as if I could offer you payment for a contract anyway. All I have is myself and whatever trinkets I happen to come across." Mind you, gambling while seeing the future tends to be rather profitable, but that's neither here nor there...
Fenris' ear twitched.
"I'm not interested in your money." He clearly wants me to ask what it is he is interested in, but I…I already know.
"If you truly wished Chaw'Haust to face judgment, I think you'd be more keen for my help. You can't lay a finger on one of the most evil men to have ever breathed, and I need more than my two hands to end his life. I'm working, you know, towards that end. The man's employer, who you evidently fear, is proof enough of his malice, but technicalities hold you back. I know more than anyone else I think you'll meet in a long while how to overcome technicalities. Now I'm not asking for you to do the job because it's personal, to me. I think it's a fair vendetta to hold, don't you?"
The rain is beginning to splash down on us, and quite frankly given the temperature I don't believe I care to sit out in a rain that freezes so quickly after striking my skin.
"Now I am going to get to him. I think you know that well enough. It will be a very long while, potentially, but we share a common interest in him. I never offered my soul as collateral to you for the deed, though I do suppose it would not match the weight he carries on his shoulders."
He stood up straight and looked down at me. Imposing figure, I admit; he must be a sight to behold when he’s coming for you.
"Perhaps we could work together for this common goal when the time comes. But until then, nothing is changed."
I nod. It's to be expected. In the next few weeks Fenris will strike, wittingly or not, against the Flux Ascendancy. I will return to him after that, to see if his heart has changed after he begins to suspect whatever machinations Chaw'Haust uses upon him in order to compel the deed.
I pause, looking upward, feeling the rain on my face. As the scorpion scurries farther up my arm, I reach up gently and untie the blindfold over my non-existent eyes. The drops sting slightly as they hit the partially healed wounds, but it is a pleasant bitterness. It is cleaning.
"You know, we're... well, I at least," I correct, not deeming myself in a position to speak on the nature of gods, "I'm a lot like water. Each and every drop... do you know the history they hold? So many creatures drown in any given drop of water over eternity; so many sips are taken, so many bodies float... water has history, and will always have history. Solid, liquid... it's all the same."
"Good hunting to you, Fenris." I murmur the words, and then without flash or sound, I again press on into the black.
--oOo—
John Triarch woke up in a pitch black room. He had no idea where he was however he had some inkling into how he got here. His last memory was being kidnapped by the Sicarii bastard who had wanted his armour back, he knew his people were searching for him but for a Sicarii to kidnap him... he knew they would never find him. The question was why was he here and why was he still alive...
"I know your there..." John said into the darkness to get some sort of reply.
'Do I scare you?' said a voice from the darkness.
John could hear shifting in the shadows, but he thought his mind maybe playing tricks on him.
John smiled. "You wish man of darkness." He laughed slightly.
A blade suddenly appeared to Johns neck spilling some blood.
'You are an enemy of the Union and you will comply; that’s if you value your planet.'
John smiled.
"Of course i am... Didn’t you know they betrayed us? Kicked us out of the Union? Even declared us traitors?" He said wanting to see if the Sicarii knew the truth.
'That maybe the case, but I am allied with the union and not you.... what makes you so unafraid of death?'
'You will tell me how you can cheat death' Ed said while pushing his blade even deeper.
"And why should I do that? You could kill me... but then you would have to find me and kidnap me again, and so on which is very boring. But otherwise what can you do?" John smiled.
John smiled too much, perhaps.
'I can leave you here keeping you alive...barely, how does that sound?' Ed walked into the light revealing himself
"True" John grinned, “Fine I shall tell you. John Triarch is legion. Back in Vulkan there are billions of clones of me, each one made so that if I die my consciousness will be transferred into one of those clones. And before you think about trying to destroy them it will be far harder than you think."
In addition to smiling too much, John Triarch talked an awful lot too.
'And why is that?' Ed said while leaning towards John getting on one knee to John's level.
"Because it is guarded with Ancient technology i... 'aquired' so to speak" He said still confident and smiling, a small trickle of blood coming down from where the knife had pieced the small bit of skin on his throat.
'And you think 'ancient means good? Give me the co ordinates if you think so highly of it' Ed said while disengaging his armour.
'Worried you’re wrong?' Ed asked mockingly.
"No. But why would I reveal such a thing? Besides there are others who want me dead far more than you do."
'All I ask is those coordinates, unless you want to stay here forever?' Ed finished taking off his armour.
"You know I could give you the coordinates to jump into the heart of a star for all you know?" John replied.
'Because all I would have to do is relay the coordinates and see if it is.' Ed stands up and starts pacing around John.
"I already told you where it was. Maybe you should of been listening" Triarch replied.
--oOo--
She'd watched, quietly.
There were two people there. There was this one who called himself John, for starters, and he was many evidently.
And then there was the newcomer. She did not know his name, but she could feel the time rolling off of his footprints. He was the one she was looking for. She was moderately unsettled, watching the soon to be time traveler so brazenly torture his captive. There was no dignity to it. But the other man, this John Triarch, seemed suspect to her as well.
"Vulkan." She says the word softly, letting it slip through her lips.
John smiled, in a way which reminded the intruder of a Cheshire cat.
"Your friend here was listening."
She watched-though not entirely as she wished she could-the time traveler look back into the shadows at her. At least his armor was off, and he was making no moves to retrieve it or to arm it.
"It is cruel to only partially kill a man." She continued, her voice neither forceful nor at all ignorable. "You grieve him. Why?"
'In this case that's all I can do.' Ed said softly but still not looking in the direction of the voice. He pondered to himself about when the newcomer was going to reveal themselves. She on the other hand had no intent to do so anytime soon.
It was a strange situation then. The man called John, strapped to the table. The time traveler with the blade, toying and circling him. Then the watcher in the shadows, with her almost powerless sort of voice.
"Well this is interesting, trying to get some business sorted with Capitol and suddenly I find myself being given a forceful day out." Triarch said annoyed.
She said nothing. What she was interested in was the man with the blade; John Triarch was peripheral to this. Now that the man in the blade had the answer to his question, the bald woman considered carefully what he would do. How messy would he make it?
Ed dropped his blade to the ground within reach of John.
'You should have less faith in money.' Ed said to John slowly turning towards the newcomer’s voice.
Evidently messy, the bald woman thought to herself quietly.
"Why should I? Money makes the galaxy go round, i can bring empires to their knees when I break their stock shares. And inevitably it all comes down to me and my influence. Because of money." Triarch replied.
It was evident. The man with the knife had set it down well in reach of his prisoner, and had deliberately turned his attention away. Now as he competent, she reckoned, and as he was an individual whose name was unfamiliar to her furthermore, he was no fool. He was still playing with the man on the table, and she looked back at him with skepticism.
"You are not unseen here. If your work here is finished, it would be wise to move forward before they arrive." She did not know really if she should be helping this man, what with the way he gently stabbed and toyed with the wounded. But her people, if she could still call them that, traditionally hunted for the unwary time casters, and they surely were coming. They came like shadows when sun falls, and... and having been hunted herself by Naga's minions, she felt a degree of sympathy.
'You think me an enemy?' Ed stepped into the darkness and vanished like a ghost, he was invisible and he knew being in the darkness was in his advantage if things were to get messy even if it was against his will to do so.
Ed thought back to his memory's, he was once the prestigious warrior and now here he was pulling information from a nobody.
Meanwhile like the daft man he was, Triarch laughed.
"An enemy... you attacked my people and kidnapped me... what do you think?" He replied into the darkness.
It all reminded her of an old film she had seen, but in the dark. It had been, for the most part, two men on opposite ends of the street, who stared at each other for a considerable while until one or the other acted. Only here, the staring was into nothing. She could watch her own fate though, a trick she well appreciated in blindness, and so she kept rapt attention for any signs that some agency outside of her own attempted to effect her life through that means.
The man who'd held the blade had faded into the shadows admirably, but as with all things to the eyes of a time traveler there were small ripples that indicated his passing; here, it was like the ripples of a shark's fin when just below the surface. She could not tell thus precisely where he was, but she knew within perhaps a quarter of the room where he could have been found, had lighting been better. Not that the lighting really mattered anyway, with her blindness and all.
Her hand twitched idly, and the gauntlet's plates slowly swung around her wrist, silent as the grave, as she considered the scene.
She was also considering her own position. Just as the people were coming for the man who'd held the blade because of what he could do, they would try and end her too if she waited here too long.
"It is not wise to play games now." She added wistfully, the plates slowly rolling in narrow circles, alternating directions like a cat's tail when it's stalking a mouse.
Ed admired this newcomer but he couldnt help thinking about why she was here and he did not even know how he could tell it was female but he felt like he knew her, maybe unlocking his inner self has triggered something more than just advanced combat powers, his mind suddenly felt omnipotent as he thought he could see the air move in the darkness but he disregarded it.
Ed looked at his own hands in the darkness and moved them around and was surprised to be able to see ripples from where they had been, what was happening to him?
He then heard her voice again.
'Games are for children, and discussions are for humans and I am neither'
Ed thought he should just be blunt as thinking was taking too much time.
'What's your purpose here?'
"Uh... Hello? Are we done playing who is the creepiest of them all? I kind of have things to attend to you know." John announced with irritation.
In the dark, an eyebrow was raised.
Discussions are for humans. She repeated the words in her mind. His confidence was certainly more traceable than his body, that much was certain. Whether his body was in a condition to be confident against what she was trying to warn him of was an entirely other matter.
"I said to you that you are not unseen," she repeats delicately, not knowing what John Triarch is involved with and not wishing to speak too deeply in his presence, "and that the people who see you are coming. If you're business here is completed, you should make yourself scarce."
'You came to warn me? Is that your purpose here? Believe me when I say I have no intention of killing John or keeping him from his people, family and having people is a too valuable thing to leave behind.'
Ed flashed back to his brothers and sisters and felt emptiness.
Precious moments were passing. If it was as simple as telling him that in all likelihood a crack hit-team of Heraldic guards, trained from birth explicitly to hunt time casters, was moments away from storming the room, then perhaps Ed would have understood the quietly understated urgency in her advice. Unfortunately for her, strait answers were not a luxury she could offer at this hour. More importantly, she had to be moving on before the guards arrived.
"Do not waste time here," she warned again, as she began clocking up the gauntlet for a jump. It was time to hurry forward, for her; to remain unseen required constant movement, and it had been a risk for her to intervene on behalf of this man. Hopefully it had been worthwhile.
Ed's harbinger lingered only a moment more, a figure well obscured by the poor lighting of the place. Had he been able to see her in that light, he would have seen a disturbingly wounded woman’s face change from quiet amusement to strong disapproval. The gauntlet was clocked up to speed now, and she looked back towards the region of the room where the man who'd held the blade likely resided in.
She frowned as she spoke one last word.
"Flee."
And then nothingness swallowed her. Her disappearance was not witnessed of course, but in the instant between instants, the bald woman vanished soundlessly. There was no flash of light, no distinctive sound, not even the smell of ozone that comes after lighting strikes; just the briefest, most imperceptibly minute of breezes as the air filled in the vacuum that existed the moment after her body slipped... elsewhere.
--oOo--