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War in Lürga Lazda; Arcturus
Topic Started: Oct 2 2009, 08:15 PM (394 Views)
Hacyothar

The corpse impacted the wall at speeds the human body was never meant to withstand, instantly crushing most of the man's remaining bones and pulverizing any remaining appearance of humanity. The stone wall was made of tougher stuff and escaped his fate, but it was not left completely unscathed; a light indentation belief the sheer force at which he had struck it, and a trail of some viscous, acidic liquid ate into the wall as it followed the corpse downwards.

Cy simply stood in the same position she had been since before the fracas began, breathing heavily as another of the would-be thieves writhed in unbearable agony, impaled on both feeding tendrils as they ripped every semblance of life from his body. More corpses surrounded the scene, and the splatters of blood and organs all across the walls and ground revealed the brutality of the mercifully short sight even more than the brutalized corpses - even those not already drained were decapitated, torn asunder, as thoroughly broken as possible.

It wasn't her fault that they had decided to try to mug her, she decided, but the poor quality of their life force made this entire farce a waste of time. True, it would keep her body from decomposing for another day or two, but her last Legend consort had disappeared more than a week ago in that damn cave, and if he wasn't dead, he had fled - portalled out, most likely, leaving her behind. Cy was running out of options and ideas, not to mention disappointed at the complete lack of Legends in the area. What the hell kind of magic city was this... weak?
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Arcturus
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Fear no man.
Finally. Lürga Lazda. Home of the bearer of the crown of all Autry. Station to thousands of gifted magi and brilliant mortals; starting point to even Legends. A place packed to the metaphorical brim with history, if the monolithic libraries and academies (not to mention the libraries inside the academies) were anything to gauge such a thing by. Strolling casually with his eyes scanning every building which stood in their paths, Arcturus felt his mind buzz, stimulated by the expansive network of intertwined energies charging the air above and ground below. It was a marvelous feeling, and pulled from Arcturus a feeling of nostalgia, drawing distant images contrastingly foreign and familiar. He shooed the pestering images from his thoughts, opting to return his focus to finding this palace.

The sun hung lazily toward the west, reluctantly retreating from its noon roost as it left a brilliant blue in its wake. The weather itself was of the rather comfortable sort. Breezes kept the air from turning stale every so often, and while ominous clouds encroached from northern and eastern flanks, the air wasn't wet enough to permit much complaint. Considering his reason for being here, rain would prove quite the obstacle in the very near future.

He drew a deep breath, idly coupling the subsequent exhalation with a pair of sparks from his right fingers, perhaps to reassure himself of his ability. Considering pyromancy second nature would be an understatement now; hell, redundant. Keeping himself on edge at all times proved useful. Arcturus listened to his feet plod unenthusiastically against the aged stone. His hands stretched out as he went over the routines he had developed; while much of his memories had faded, years of practicing the same methods of distributing energy and of kinetically aiming its product had ingrained the motions into his core. Pyromancy was to him as walking was to man; it'd take a goddamn stroke to fuck it up.

Over the horizon, finally Arcturus spotted a structure that dwarfed its neighbors; undoubtedly housing the corrupt head of this moral blemish. Ar-
-SLAM-
What was-?
A sickening crack resonated from mere meters away. It was one Arcturus could recognize - the sound of bones breaking. Granted, the sound itself wasn't a dead giveaway, but the vocal complaint of the resulting pain sealed the deal. Typically, Arcturus couldn't care less whether some weakling hadn't the foresight to train and prepare himself properly for a mugging, but here in Lürga Lazda, crime wasn't precisely prevalent. Two cylindrical buildings created an alleyway between them, and it was from there the sound seemed to originate. Unsure of what to expect, and keeping his inner energies at the ready (read: focusing them into his hands), Arcturus' pace quickened as he rounded the corner.

The gruesome sight he then beheld put a dead stop on his stride. Stood with his arms and legs slightly spread in preparation for any sort of hostility, Arcturus' eyes involuntarily widened . The walls that granted the scene inconspicuousness were decorated with a fresh coat of a familiar crimson liquid, and dotted here and there with bits of gore. Foregoing details, however, Arcturus' intense stare found itself resting upon the only figure that still stood - and its small form made the situation that much more confusing.

A vague familiarity tugged at the back of Arcturus' brain as he took the creature's form in, but again the notion was dismissed. Judging from the powerful aura he could sense, what stood before him was no mortal. At least, far from your average one. For a second, Arc's eyes fled to scan the scene again, greeted with a melting corpse that bathed in some sort of acid. Sure to quash his moment of weakness, his focused stare returned again to this figure, this girl. The girl, the sight, the smell; this had all happened before. But when?
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Hacyothar

Cy was annoyed at herself for not even noticing the newcomer, but he didn't seem to be in the process of screaming, trying to kill her, or calling the local military, so there didn't seem to be much of a reason to include him in the slaughter. Not yet, anyways - he was in a combat-ready stance, and while she couldn't tell if he was a Legend, the chances were either that or mage. Either would be fine by her; magi tended to have much purer energy and therefore would provide an excellent dessert, while a Legend meant adventure, interesting occurrences, and a most excellent dessert. One that didn't involve horrible murder, which was always a nice thing.

She turned halfway towards the red-haired newcomer, holding the sheet closer around her body as both tendrils continued to tear every remnant of life from two of the remaining corpses, and glanced at the rapidly-mummifying faces of the victims before looking back up at Arcturus with a look of curiosity on her face. Her patience was rapidly growing thin with the lack of Legends to be found, but she could spare a bare modicum of civility to the newcomer, if for no better reason than to at least show she was capable of it. If it turned out that he was a Legend, it would be better for her start off on as good a footing as possible, and what he had just seen would make that harder.

"Slave traders."

Cy shrugged, not particularly repentant about the brutality of the last thirty seconds, and immediately changed topics to the only particularly important topic at hand. "Mage or Legend?"
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Arcturus
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Fear no man.
It was rare that Arcturus had ever found himself outright confused. Here stood a cute little creature absently sucking the life from alleged slavers as she inquired of his status in this world, her expression a further testament to the rather nonchalant approach. Arcturus relaxed a bit, slightly hesitant - a quality he'd never admit to owning even once - to react. The situation was fragile, as it were. He knew not of this one's power, and knew not if one of those tendrils would prove a death sentence.

In war, it was common knowledge that one must know their enemy. And it was universal that one should know their allies. So, whether her intentions were sound or otherwise, Arcturus opted to answer honestly. Fighting verbal hesitation, he gave a slight nod - more of a dip of his chin, really - and replied, "I am unsure. I should presume you to be the latter."

Even her voice rang a distant bell. But it didn't really matter; time was a resource, for once, that Arcturus could spare, and a sense of genuine curiosity soon befell him.
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Hacyothar

...It made her job so much easier just assumed she was Legend. Much easier than trying to explain she was a baleful, maddened elder god whose real name flayed mens skin from their bones and whose name in the parlance of men was still long enough to bore people to death - even the short version had an annoying tendency to stretch on for half a dozen words and summon vague images of some adorable slime monster eating cake or something. Cy had learned a very long time ago to not talk about the whole Great Old One thing unless she couldn't bullshit her way out of it, and hey, some vague explanation along the lines of "flesh golem" usually convinced people well enough.

But enough of that. He was familiar, she realized, tentatively searching through untold thousands of years of memories in a futile effort to pick a single mortal or legend out of it, though to little avail. Maybe he'd noticed her some time ago and she'd never seen him or maybe she was just getting old. Older. It should have been a joke, she decided, but it was about as amusing as what had just happened here, and so she dropped it from her mind without another thought. One tendril, finished with its grisly meal, fully retracted; the remaining one sucked out the last bit of fluids from the man, then coiled around her protectively, the tip coiled around her neck with the tip nuzzling her cheek. One of the problems with having sentient limbs; they tended to dosome really damn weird things. If she'd realized it was drooling a touch of blood on her face, Cy might have done something to stop it; as it stood, she had no idea, and didn't bother exerting any control.

"What tipped you off, I wonder?" A thin smile graced her lips, and she stepped over a rivulet of blood, endeavoring to remain untouched and unbloodied from the holocaust of gore around her. "I would have preferred to talk it out, but humans can be quite unreasonable when they commit themselves to something. I suppose few of them thought that I might be able to defend myself. No tears will be shed for their loss, but perhaps another's life saved by ending those of these scoundrels." Bare footed. God dammit. She should have found some shoes somewhere, mortals seemed to like them for some reason.

"So, where are we headed?"
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Arcturus
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Fear no man.
Almost instantly, Arcturus shot back, "We?"

There was a dab of venom on the tip of his tongue made apparent in his tone. While she did have an odd charm to her, this creature would pose a threat should she decide to stab his back. Which she could quite literally do, the scene reconsidered. Her voice was confident and words sound, which contrasted harshly against the melting cadavers feet away. Arcturus allowed his body to relax as he considered his options. While it was foolish to trust a stranger to assist his task, he may end up needing the help - Legend or not, magi weren't the easiest beings to kill. Furthermore, when the shit did hit the fan, it would be best to not have a Legend to fight.

In short, Arcturus found himself hesitating. A grave mistake in any environment. Settling to make an ally rather than an eventual enemy, he jerked his head in the direction of the palace that now stood 180 degrees behind him, an obvious motion to follow. He slowly turned and began his pace, speaking with confidence that the girl would follow: "We are headed to the royal palace. To find the king. To attempt diplomacy."

A bridge stretched before the duo, reaching from their current bank of the river to a central, circular wall, behind which towered what would appear to be said destination. The plan, for now, was simple, though he would only explain as requested: infiltrate the building or seek open audience with the king, learn of his motives and the intensity of his corruption, and from there decide whether a purging is needed. If all went well, the magnificence of Lazda would not be reduced to smoldering ashes, and solace would be brought to the people rather than burned into them. No doubt the tyrant would surround himself with the best of the best of bodyguards; somehow even less doubt that their numbers should be small. That said, not only would a purging be challenging, it'd likely be...fun. Arc wasn't a big fan of killing needlessly, but when absorbed in the heat of battle, there is no greater thrill.

Arcturus knew to choose his words carefully; while his actions existed under the diction of no specific memory, something told him not to trust everyone who follows.
Edited by Arcturus, Oct 4 2009, 10:34 AM.
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Hacyothar

"You seem to be a bit on edge for 'diplomacy,' I think. Very few Legends would be so on edge for a simple mugging scene in a mortal city unless they had other, much larger matters in mind - matters involving their own particular brand of 'diplomacy,' no doubt."

Cy shrugged, a motion that seemed to have been repeated enough times in the last few minutes that she was starting to worry her shoulders would be permanently stuck in that position. "Though I doubt that any mortal bodyguards could prove a match for a Legend with combat experience, which I assume you have, given your posture a few moments ago. I wonder if we might run into someone, or to be more accurate, something on the way there."

Cy ceased her pointed monologue as they reached the bridge, pausing for a moment to take in the views. She'd be damned if every once in a while something about a new shard didn't surprise her, and while she had seen more than her share of gorgeous views, this one definitely ranked up there; rays of golden sunlight spilling from the setting sun over a sea of clouds. They WERE pretty high up, she supposed, but hadn't really been paying all that much attention to the scenery in the last few hours. What the hell, you only lived once. Even if that 'once' was actually 'forever' and even death was just a minor relocation, not that she was convinced she could actually die given that two legendary legends, including one of the greatest masters of sealing the omniverse had ever seen, had been hard pressed enough to lay a flawed, decaying seal on her.

...But that was then, and this was now.

"Quite the view, isn't it? I've seen more than a few incredible views over time, but I would rate this one fairly well out of the lot of them. I suppose mortals don't necessarily destroy everything they touch - immediately, anyways. Just give them a few years, if all this silliness about approaching civil war is true."
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Arcturus
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Fear no man.
As though her speech from their initial encounter hadn't proven her wit enough, her deduction of Arcturus' trained state of awareness by simple recognition of a stance or two sure did. Associations with the little physical shell this Legend bore were quickly fading as he analyzed her speech a bit further; her words held not only the eloquence, but the weight of experience with them. It was an interesting, to say the least, experience - and he was increasingly reassured that allying himself with this...being was a good choice.

He couldn't resist the tugging smirk to follow as she denounced his use of the classic d-word, seeing through the farce rather well. Still, better to say 'conduct diplomacy' than 'blow up the entire city', intent notwithstanding. Furthermore, she was absolutely positive that Arcturus was a Legend, for whatever the title was worth. Flattering, if anything.

Abruptly his ears took note of the absence of one stride, prompting him to stop with his head mounting his shoulder, granting him a sort of peripheral view of his companion as she spoke. She was as taken with the sky of Lazda as he had been, it seemed. The universal beauty of the city and its environment indeed seemed to transcend most barriers, aesthetic or otherwise. It was, however, her final pair of cynical thoughts that prompted Arc's brow to lower a bit.

"Just give them a few years," she began, her gaze still absorbing the image of the darkening sky, "If all this silliness about approaching civil war is true."

So simply said, and with a lack of real fear or even doubt. Apparently, words of coming strife had already been spread throughout Lazda, and had no doubt reached the land's monarch - meaning that the political tension would no doubt trigger heavier security. So, this meant in turn that Arcturus' job would be that much more difficult. Shouldn't, however, be a problem - after all, he might be a Legend.

Arcturus resumed his walk, stepping the first few meters across the bridge with a stolid "Right."
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Hacyothar

"So, 'strong and silent' type? I guess this is one of those times where that sort of outlook pays off. Especially if the guards aren't particularly keen on the idea of letting an armed man in to talk with the king in the midst of this turmoil, even as a civil war is brewing. Speaking of which, have you heard the rumors? Supposedly the rebel warlord was once the king's right-hand man, but they had a falling out a decade or two ago. No one knows what they disagreed on, though I heard a few rumors about black magic, demon summoning, corruption, all the usual; stereotypical explanations that commoners tend to come up with.

Cy didn't bother mentioning that it would have been more accurate to say that "I ripped the memories and selves of those men from their screaming bodies before annihilating every sense of self and absorbing their memories," since while it was an ability that only worked on weak-minded mortals, it had an odd tendency to keep Legends from letting her feed off of them. It wasn't like she could DO anything to them even if she tried, but apparently the very concept of mind reading was so terrifying that they rarely bothered approaching it on a logical level.

She managed to restrain herself from shrugging, resuming her quiet walk along the hard, dusty bridge. Both tendrils had long since vanished, so she didn't look like much other than some street urchin with a deathwish and a guardian or relative of some sorts. Even if the red-haired magus was an unsociable mute. It always annoyed her just a touch when people took these things so seriously; it was a LEGEND against a bunch of humans. Whether or not he would win was not in question if he had so much as an inkling of what he was capable of. True, it could very well just be the remnants of his military career pre-exaltation, she supposed, but... ugh. Humans and their emotional baggage. Determined to distract herself, Cy piped up again, already bored with the silence.

"So, what's the brilliant plan? A poorly-executed and very boring stealth sequence, fancy words and mind tricks to get past the guards, or just some death and then a whole lot more death? Any of them could work, I suppose, but I'm not the crack military - ex military? - supersoldier, so I'll defer to your doubtless vast expertise."

The best part was that not even she was sure if that was patronizing sarcasm or (at least to some degree) honest, so there was no way in hell that- well, whatever the hell his name was would. What the hell was his name, anyways?

"By the way, I'm Cy. What's your name?"
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Arcturus
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Fear no man.
Arcturus found his brow lowering by a millimeter for every sequential word that did flow from little Cy's mouth. He was tempted to mention that he'd known of the 'plot' to this possible uprising, civil war, what have you, yet decided to disallow as much knowledge of his reason to her as he could. After her first bout of relatively idle speak, Arcturus considered an affirmative grunt, but the idea was quickly drowned in another pool of words.

It was a simple question, really: what was the plan?
Well, what was the plan?
Truth be told, Arc hadn't enough knowledge of the customs around here to know whether his plea for audience would be welcomed or spat upon. The best option would be to annihilate from the inside out; best to know the face of one's opponent before melting it off. That, and it would present the option for some last-minute reconciliation on the part of one crown-bearing over-privileged king.

All this thought was stayed, however, as the final few syllables left Cy's deceptively delicate body, each letter doused with a subtle venom made obvious by tone. Arcturus abruptly stopped and narrowed his eyes a bit, reaching around his shoulder with his head to look his new companion in the eyes. He didn't expect her to be fazed in the slightest. Which was good. 'Cause she wasn't.

He continued walking.

"By the way," she continued, her voice cutting through the apparently abhorrent silence like a floodlight in a dark room, "I'm Cy. What's your name?" With his eyes scanning the wall which they approached, its arched doorway yawning before them to reveal the entrance into the palace even further ahead, protected by the usual pair of armored guards. However, instead of their hands clasping to spears like squealing infants to an unfortunate mother's lock of hair, the guards stood firmly with their hands at their sides. Magi.

The door into the towering palace, an ornate building of unusual architecture - even for Lürga Lazda - drew slightly closer. By modern measurement, they stood around 100 feet, a number which drew closer to zero as their pace continued. It wouldn't be much longer now. With his eyes refusing to cease their cautious study, he replied, "Arcturus."
Edited by Arcturus, Oct 4 2009, 09:38 PM.
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