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NeoEschaton [M]
That strife was not inglorious.... The bloody light of the sun blazes through the ancient stained-glass windows of Lord Zaccheus' chamber of audience, defracting into eerie hues of mottled gold and deep azure, casting the Celestrine in baleful shadows. He sits impassive on a graven throne, watching the entrance to the hall and awaiting the arrival of those he has summoned. He wears a simple white cassock and clutches in his hand the Iron Scepter of Morning, its gunmetal luster clashing with the bedazzling pearl set in its crown. Troubling news has reached the Celestrine, and he has called on mercenaries and allies from throughout Thyat'ria to investigate the disturbance, unwilling yet to commit his own armed forces to what could very well be a mission of suicide. Diogenes stands in the shadows behind his lord's throne, breathing perhaps once a minute as he awaits his latest orders. It has been some time since he has joined one of Zaccheus' strike teams, and that the Lord Celestrine feels his services will be required speaks profoundly of the opposition the group may encounter. His cybernetic eyes remained focused on the doorway, ready to analyze the capabilities of any who emerge to answer the call. He is fully prepared for the mission, whatever it is, armed and armored, his mind rested and alert. He has not spoken since arriving at his master's side. |
The black-clad man glared through unseeing eyes at the sun and its agonizing sunlight, mentally willing it to give way to the moonlight. Light which, at the very least, wouldn't be doing its best to singe the skin off-- |
Lev Gurevich strode arrogantly through the foyer of Zaccheus' Synod. After the outside, it felt good to be indoors. The heat was something he was used to, but comforts were still comforts. He wore several layers, and the weight of his many possessions did nothing to ease the warmth and sweat. He wore a rather thick duster to keep himself protected from the elements, but layers of dirt and bullet holes had found their way in to the tattered flight suit he wore underneath. His chest rose and fell as he sucked in the slightly cooler air, pressing against the ragged kevlar vest he wore underneath it all. The vest was rather new, something he had stolen away from a very recent victim he had caught unaware. Using the nail of his finger, he picked a bit of skin from between his teeth. He wiped what was left of that person on his leg, and continued inward.
Each step he took caused a faint clinking sound of metal brushing metal, due to the sheer amount of armaments on his person. Various belts, straps, and holsters draped across his body, each tucking a sidearm or packet of ammunition away on his person. They continued on down to his legs, where the pockets on his tattered flight suit bulged with various objects. A large bolt-action rifle strapped to his back hung at a slight angle, the butt of the gun knocking against the more compact sub-machine gun at his waist. To put it short, the man was a walking arsenal. Lev ran a calloused hand through his shaggy brown hair. It had been a while since he had found a way to cut it, and it was starting to grow to a length longer than he was okay with. Hard eyes looked up and down the foyer, searching for the appropriate chamber that he had been told to come to. Finding the audience chamber, he casually entered. He paused for a moment after he entered, taking the scene in. He was not familiar with this 'Lord Zaccheus' that had issued the call to all hired hands, and the man that sat before him in odd clothing was not what he had expected. He cleared his throat, listening to the odd sound of his voice as he spoke. It had been some time since he used his voice. "Nasikia kuna kazi? Er...I hear there is work? Um, Ya slyshal, chto yest rabota?" He spat out the question in the languages he knew, just to be safe. The words felt odd coming out of his mouth, as if he knew what they meant out of memory instead of 'knowing' them so quickly, like everyone else did. Language had always been odd to him. In his mind it was simpler, he could think to himself, and it was easier to communicate there with who he did know. He chuckled quietly to himself, as if he had just heard someone say something funny. He showed the slightest of a smile, and then it was gone. |
The Celestrine eyes this newcomer impassively for a long moment that would become rather awkward were not everyone in the room a hardened killer trying to take the other's measure.
At last, he bows his head and addresses Lev. His words are grave, fraught with obvious trepidation. "There has been... an incident. I will speak more when the others have arrived." |
Dante stepped through the massive doors as he finished tying his tattered scarf around him waist, to some degree hiding the weaponry length of silver chain stashed in his belt. |
Ei’lycia sat in an alcove high above everyone else within the chamber, restlessness creasing her face as she watched a pair of unfamiliar characters enter the vast room one after the other. As she peered through her sunglasses at each individual, instinctively activating her x-ray-like vision, she fought back a gasp as she noticed how the first person was covered from head to toe with various weapons and armour. Biting her lip, the trepidation coursing through her body temporarily stifled, for the most part. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea at all, everyone here’s so strong.
Behind her sunglasses, her crystal blue orbs flickered across the room scanning the rest of its inhabitants. Gripping her surroundings tighter, her palms sweating up as she briskly wiped them on the hem of her shirt. Her heart was racing, her mind whirling and her face pale. She took several deep breaths before raising her head once more and looking for the quickest way down. If she were to chicken out, it’s not like anyone would be able to catch her anyways. Extending her metal claws, she latched onto the walls, keeping as silent as possible while slowly making her way down. Within ten minutes, she had scaled down the wall and was walking toward the centre of the room. Maybe I could get some training out of this... |
Still utterly still, Diogenes noted the odd presence of mind descending from above. It was of little matter; surely his lord was aware as well, and if it presented any threat, well, Zaccheus hardly required protecting. He had felt the unearthly might of the Iron Scepter many times before, and there were none here who could hope to resist its dominance if the Celestrine chose to employ it.
The other figure to enter the chamber elicited slightly more of a reaction from the assassin. The man literally blazed with aggression and murderous impulse. Diogenes had met many veteran killers in his tenure as Zaccheus' prize slayer, but none could match the sheer ferocity emanating from the Russian man who was now addressing his master. As Zaccheus began to give answer to the man's demand, Diogenes turned all of his attention to the Celestrine, intent to learn the details of this assignment. "I have received word that the church at Smyrna, overseen by the prelate Jethro, my brother in God, has been... desecrated. Jethro was given Eternity's Crown by our LORD and sleeps in endless rapture. I fear... I fear a demon has infiltrated his dreams. It may be that Hell itself, and all its infernal powers, has established a foothold in our world. I do not know what you will discover there, but if there is any demonic presence to be found, it must be eradicated. Utterly. I place my trust in the divers skills you all possess, and will reward your service with anything that is within my power to provide. My chaplain Thomas will head the expedition, and a squadron of seven of my finest soldiers will accompany you. Are there any questions?" |
Lev raised his hand in to the air, balling it in to a relaxed fist to call Zaccheus' attention.
"One. Do you have an estimate on what is to be encountered, and if so called 'demons' can be dealt with by conventional means. And two..." He stopped, looking around the room again to see the motley sort of crew that had gathered. He frowned as he sized each one up, pausing as he eyed Dante. After a while he looked back towards Zaccheus, addressing him once again. "Nevermind. I am told this is no matter. I am ready, if these...others, are." |
"I cannot even begin to speculate what terrors of Hell have crawled forth, if indeed some sort of rift is present. The infernal pit is deep, and filled with myriads of horrors beyond count. If it is merely some band of renegade angels, count yourselves lucky. For with the rending of the planes, no longer is Hell sequestered from Ancient Night, and abominations beyond the ken of mortal minds have made new dominion in the blasted realms. My people... have engaged such creatures. Many were driven mad by merely the sight of them, and powers they commanded.... good luck to you, truly. I hope only you can save my brother from whatever it is that haunts him."
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The Chaplain, Thomas, speaks up as his master falls silent.
"A company of ten, then?" he asks, nodding to indicate Diogenes in the recess of the hall. "I had thought we'd be greater. Will no one else lend us their aid? A mechanized armor-transport has been provided for this mission, easily capable of holding thrice our number." He neglects to add, and if need be, we shall raze Smyrna to the ground with steel and flame. If this is to be my final crusade, I shall see it won. "Regardless," he continues, "we depart at dawn tomorrow. Bring with you every weapon that you can, we cannot possibly over-prepare for the peril we will face. All other provisions, and additional, armaments, will be stocked in the vehicle. May God help anything that chooses to stand in our way." The priest catches himself, and corrects, "No. God cannot help anyone any longer. As such, we will PERSONALLY damn them all, with the sword, the cannon, and with atomizing rain if they choose to test our conviction. We are mankind's devils for salvation. Let them fear us." With that, the aging, unassuming man falls quiet once more, giving no outward sign of the zealous fury that burns within him. If any of them think him a burden to the mission, they will quickly learn why the lord has left him in charge. |
As she listened to the Celestrine speak, Ei’lycia’s face contorted with confusion before shifting to a blank stare, followed by twisting to rage. Something isn’t right. I can feel it, but what is this feeling?
Of course you do, you don’t belong here. You’re weak and you know it. You should just leave while you’re ahead. The voices were ba–Besides you felt it, that man’s probably hiding something from you. It’s likely he’ll even tell the others once you’ve left the room. She clenched her fists and bit down hard on her lips, drawing blood, desperately trying to stifle the screams that fought to fly out of her mouth. She battled to regain control of her head as a partial stream of sight seeped into her mind with the scene that some sort of final orders had been given. Everyone was preparing to leave the hall, or so it seemed. With a strangled cry, she shout out, “Wait!” |
Oh. There's someone I didn't notice...? Dante glanced around, trying to find the apparently-overlooked source of the voice that had cut through the whispering crowd in front of him. He must have missed her from focusing too much on Lev. |
At the sound of the intruding voice, Thomas the Chaplain whirls around, reaching within the breast of his robe to draw out a concealed sub-machinegun, aiming it squarely on the girl approaching.
"Who are you to command the obedience of this council?" he demands. Taking a single step to the left to clear his avenue of fire around the mercenary dominating the center of the room, Diogenes too draws one of his guns, aiming with his psychic sight and ready to send a .45-caliber high-explosive round through the girl's brainpan if he senses even the slightest hostile intent from her. The turmoil radiating from her thoughts is troubling, a palpable wave of chaos crashing telepathically against his own stilled mind again and again, but it seems more of pain and confusion, than malice. He has not yet decided she is a threat. Evidently, Zaccheus agrees with his assessment as his voice cracks over them like a thunderhead. "Stand down, both of you, Thomas, Diogenes. The devil himself could not assay me in this chamber, this, the heart of my earthly power. Your protection is appreciated, but needless." He fixes his gaze on the intruder, and asks, "For what would you have us hold, child? Hell-fires burn against a near horizon, and we can ill-afford delay. Speak." His command is absolute. |
You’ll never be good enough. Just leave. Now. It’s true, you don’t belong here. Heck, everyone’s already thinking it. The voices persisted as she struggled to push through the voices and maintain her grip upon reality. She clutched and clawed at her head in hopes of scraping the voices away as she sensed the movement of others, whirling her head around and noticing the weapons pointed toward her. An eddy of fire swirled around Ei’lycia surrounding her small frame in a frantic fury; her psychic powers rising of its own accord in response to the potential danger before her. No one truly wants you here. It’s all just a ploy to get rid of you for good. Besides, what can you do? You’re a mere seventeen-year-old child.
Once the leader’s voice commanded a retreat of sorts from the others, she felt the fire — her powers — recede in return. Upon hearing the question asked by the one in charge, she said calmly, “I was wondering if I could get some training throughout this mission. I know, if properly trained, I’m sure I can be stro—” She stopped suddenly, spun to her right, her narrowed eyes shifting across every individual in the room as she shrieked out, “Stop talking about me!” Just as she barely finished yelling, her eyes clenched shut as she dropped to the ground and tightly curled up in fetal position, rocking herself gently. Her hands were pounding the floor, the air, even her head — everywhere — as she desperately sought to get rid of the voices that lingered still. Her lips trembling as words fell out quickly and in a barely audible mumble. “No. Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop. Just please stop. I don’t want you here anymore. Just go away.” |
Lev eyed the newcomer in a way that a dog might eye an untrustworthy animal. He silently made notes on her appearance, face remaining unchanged as she melted in to a mental wreck upon the floor. He whispered under his breath, as if debating with someone yet again.
"The mind is gone but the meat can be re purposed." He bent down, grabbing the crazed woman by the back of her neck. He lifted her up to his level, letting her dangle while he spoke to her. "Stop. He speaks to me, not you." He turned her around, holding her in front of Zaccheus as if she was some prize he had won at a fair. He spoke in a casual manner to the man, as if what he said was simple fact. "I am taking this with me. It could prove...useful." |
In the sudden silence, Dante felt the shock and greed that rippled through the girl and Lev respectively. Half of him wanted to march up to Lev and demand that he let her go, but the other more rational half refused to walk straight into trouble. |
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