Of Deceptive Intentions - (Celestial x Scout)

[Celestialvortex]

In her moment of weakness, the whelp's hand gripped her own throat, its firm digits sifting through her fur to grasp at that which gave her life. With a soft sigh, and spark of entertainment in her eye, Ciscera brought forth the sapphire blade, lifting it up between them calmly, the silver flashing in the sun's bright rays. She twisted it softly, as if admiring its bloodstained surface, but in reality her turquoise eyes were locked with his, nearly as firmly as the standstill they were now at. Her ears barely perked at his words as she calmly, thoughtfully even, brought its sharpened surface upon the silver fur of his neck. Though the connotations of his words brought evoked despaired, pleading thoughts, his inflections revealed nothing but a monotonous persuasion. But after the dice were rolled, the pot was hers, regardless of what the dice thought.

The crowd had quieted itself in the commotion, only the soft murmuring of betting soldiers easing its way into the growing tension. Would she kill the foul outsider, who had nearly brought her to her end? Or, as was considered the more likely option, how would she kill him? Would she simply lop his head off, or would she do it more painfully... an arm first perhaps, or a leg? Would she even use her sword at all, or ferally utilize the claws that had torn through his hands mere moments ago? From her position atop the defeated wolf, her options were nearly endless, and he was completely at her mercy. The tension amplified as she moved her face closer to his, regarding his possible sincerity, pondering her options. A sharp intake of breath was held by the group when she pulled herself back, adjusting her arm upon the blade...

And she laughed.

In her place of power, she laughed. It rang with tones of victory, dominance, pride. But deeper, far deeper within the snickers, inflections of surprise, relieved success, and insecurity curdled at the edges of the triumph. Glee, in its truest form, was not present. She laughed for a few long seconds, then, using her own hand, pulled his hand away from her thoat with ease. " You've entertained me, Shar..." She began, stepping off of the wolf but leaving her blade at his throat. "I give you that much for one born of such disgrace as Tunay'ruk has become. " A signal with her hand, and a dove darted forward, picking up the wolf's fallen blade in its white feathered grasp. " And for this entertainment, I will gift you with your life. You will travel as a prisoner of war to meet our king, and be given a chance to reveal your use to our military leaders. And if you shall not, what better place for the citizens of Riverslade to meet the devils we fight than to see them hanged upon the doorstep of our own sovereign!" She cried out, taking a step back to allow two scouts to lift up the wolf cautiously, tying his wrists behind him with tightly bound wraps of leather, whilst the rest of the company cheered at her words and the final confirmation of their enemies' decimation. She motioned to another individual, and a lizard strode forward, steel tools ignited in his left hand and a steel box in his right. The two scouts held the wolf firm as a steel band was placed about his neck and fused together with heat, a technique that had proven impossible to escape so far. But the band was utilized with disdain, as upon its surface lied the insignas of multiple symbols, those that cut off a practiced wizard's connection to the magical arts. Furthermore, It caused headaches in even non practicing individuals, hence the ill regarded box.

Satisfied that Shar was incapacitated, she called out again "Bring in all survivors of the conflict, and secure them! They will all be brought back for public execution, a public display to our king! But keep this one separate, " She finished, motioning to Shar. "He stays under 24 hour guard, by Zephyr team. As for the rest of you, Prepare the supply transports for a great feast, in honor of another decided victory against our foes!" Great cheers cried out again, followed by the sounds of drums and even the melodies of a few woodwinds and lyres brought with them upon the battlefield. She left Shar in the company of her greatest warriors, and half heartily offered and accepted congratulations, war taunts, praises and commendations on the way to her own raised tent. It was simple, with a few of the furs of lesser animals folded in a bed, a table, two chairs. She collapsed into one of these chairs, her panting body moving raggedly with her equally struggling breath. She had denied treatment for her wounds, and now, in solace, wrapped them in black silk, reminiscent of the clothing she had warn in the other world.

She did not know why the great Bladed Fist had denied her characteristic blow to the stranger, he who had tried to kill her as she had tried to kill him. The prophesy from the strange beings - who could just as likely be simply illusions, creations of her mind... or Shar's imposed upon her own... - still settled uneasily in her head as she sat there, collapsed against the wooden furniture. It didn't seem likely, not at all. The idea that beasts could be buried beneath them right now, with other monsters brooding in the mountains? A pathetic use of imagination, and probably a likely result of the insanity that had claimed their emperor.

Yet, in the back of her head, a small voice asked what if it was true? What if the creatures were really preparing to sic themselves upon her nation, bring it falling to it's knees. If it was but a ploy to get her to spare the canine, a ploy to distract her, why was his own city brought down? Why did he too act hostile to the aspects of his mind he had so brought forth? It didn't make sense.... but she wasn't going to sacrifice her loyalty for her country on a fool's errand. She was needed on the battlefield, or the curs might actually be able to get a small advantage in this game of death and sacrifice.

An hour or two passed before Ciscera brought herself up from the chair and removed her battle armor, instead clothing herself in a tan tunic and dark brown shorts, her silver emblem still present and gleaming as she aquired a dark cloak and strode back into the outside world. A setting sun fought a roaring fire for attention as attendants prepared the massive feast, great hunks of lesser meat being seared upon open flame, captured edibles, greens and brought delicacies being prepared for the loyal warriors of the king. And though soldier after soldier crowded around the chefs, awaiting the moment they would eat and enjoy the fruits of their success, Ciscera did not pursue her own honored place at the fire, not yet. Instead, her path brought her farther to the side, in a cul de sac created from the barrack tents, where an armed guard sat away from the festivities, bows and swords still active as the few dozen POW's sat huddled together. Many had been injured, though few had accepted the offered medical service customarily offered by the medics. Their arms were bound by leather binds, while rope loops wrapped around their necks, binding them to each other as they sat upon a bundle of furs. But these pathetic warriors were not what garnered her attention. Instead, she pushed back the door to a leather tent, taking a look upon it's inhabitants.

Like her own tent, it was simple. No furniture, little, in fact, besides a pad of fur and a creature upon his knees, hands bound behind. Two guards stood to either side of him, though his binds now connected to stakes in the ground, ensuring no escape. Upon his neck lay the signature collar, it's runes pulsing slightly with a soft amber light. A motion to the guards and they retreated to the outside of the tent, leaving the two alone. With an almost casual demeanor, she sat down a few feet before him, folding her legs, but not saying anything as she regarded the prisoner who had nearly cost her her life.

[101 Scout1]

Shar knew that look... It was the very skepticism that had earned Ciscera her place among her army. However, he felt her draw away, allowing her to revel in the cries of her barbaric people. The wolf began to rise of his own accord, his blade not in his hand, but two of the scouts came and lifted him. He yanked his arms away from them, "I can stand on my own, whelps," He informed them, his voice dripping in malice as he voluntarily put his hands behind his back, knowing they would be bound. However, the equipment that followed was unexpected as it was fastened around his neck. He had had no plans to escape, but he felt the collar fasten tightly around his neck and then a headache came about. He groaned at the surprising pain, which would not relieve itself. They had cut off his magic... The bastards. Though he expected them to do something of the sort, he did not expect it in such hypocrisy.

"You bitch," He spat at the ground of the tigress as he was being pulled away. "Let my men go! You have no need for them! Those are lives which you toy with! To take them as some sort of form of entertainment for your lord... Absolutely wretched! You unrefined scum!" However, he could feel himself and Ciscera growing distant as the scouts pulled him. His head was in too much pain and he was fatigued from the recent events as well. His wrists were staked to the ground in a tent away from the majority of the others. He knew not how much time was spent in there, but the guards on either side of him were vigilant. There was a little bit of banter about the men in the next tent... Shar's men... the ones who had been unable to escape. He wondered if any magicians were in hiding over there... It was impossible to know now. Though, he was beginning to think about how he might manipulate the situation to his advantage. These men could laugh and call his own pathetic when they were bound... But how would they react if they knew of how their comrades would also beg for their lives before being put down humanely, not as some show, but as a mere action. Executions were not something which were publicized in Tunay'ruk.

The wolf closed his eyes... He wasn't going to fall asleep, but he was certainly not going to try to stay awake either. The colonel was staring at the ground, sitting back on his feet tiredly, leveling his breaths. The fury welling up inside of him, the passion that burned for his men, was difficult to quell, but he had to keep his wits. The canine had to tune out the discussion around him... The sounds that were obviously his own men nearby. He heard the clinking of armour as the guards left and looked up to see Ciscera in more casual clothing. He still had on his medium-weight armour and his cloak with the crest and trimmings. He had no plans to part with it soon, either, as the crest was not a symbol of his country, but rather of his family. His pendant rested against his chest beneath the armour, and it was the only thing he could take solace in.

Ciscera sat down and his eyes opened as he tried to ignore the throbbing in his head, "Good evening, ma'am... I suppose that you are the better warrior between us, officially now," He said with a small, teasing smirk, his entire demeanor screamed 'I know something you don't know.' She could take away his physical power, his magical power, his military power, all of the power she wanted... But what she couldn't take was his sense of self-worth. She was an excellent leader and a speaker to be reckoned with, but Shar was proud and knew that he was not some joke. Most everything he did was for a reason, and rarely were they short-term reasons. "So... What? The plan is to go in front of your king, emperor, or whatever his title is... And you will assess me, to see if I'm worthy of joining your ranks or advising your men, to see if I should remain a prisoner, to see if I will give you my own king's secrets, to see if I should be beheaded or allowed to live..." He said slowly, as if laying out Ciscera's own plan to her. It was very smug, his tone was arrogant as he held that small, knowing smile which he was so well known for. "But that isn't why you let me live, Bladed Fist... You and I both know why we're here right now, why your throat isn't open and why my head is still upon my shoulders," Lykos lifted himself from his sitting position to raise his chest, make himself larger, though he was still forced to kneel.

He had to admit, however, he did admire her determination. She was strong-willed and could make snap-decisions very well. It made her an excellent fighter, Shar knew. There was something... elegant, about her ferocity. The wolf's dark green eyes held fast against her icy blue ones before his smile spread a little more and he began to laugh slightly. His brow furrowed a little bit at her in a devilish grin, "So, I must ask as well, why do you take dozens of prisoners, only to behead them for your leader? I only want to see if I'm correct... You see, my own hypothesis is that you are so full of self-doubt, Arduous Arrow, that you crave this sense of power it gives you to kill mere boys. Boys who were drafted into a war that they did not even start... Boys who were given half the training of your men, but who have three times the heart," He insisted, still smiling calmly as his words remained level. "You're power-mad, tigress... You crave the thrill that comes when you destroy multitudes of those smaller than you..."

The wolf shook his head, clearing his throat. "But, now... Here we are... I live... and why, Ciscera?" He asked, raising a single brow quizzically, as if he didn't know the answer to the question. Part of him wanted her to react... Not in a violent manner, but just one that provoked a real reaction, some sort of feeling... Any kind of feeling.

[Celestialvortex]

The tigress smiled slightly as he spoke, and offered no other reaction but to idly drag her hands against the dirt, catching up the small particles of soil in her fur and letting them fall out of her spread fingers. The ground met the ground in a soft cloud of dust, whirling with the movement of her hands and settling down on the furs beneath Shar's knees, as well as the edges of her dark cloak. And, just as it had landed, it was brushed away with soft white fur, much like his words. They were accusations of a trapped man, statements meant to rile when she, quite literally, held the power. He could act as if he was different, as if he was powerful and secure in some deep secret. But for all the mess it could create, a clear mind could wipe away the infuriating prospects, and return as if neither dust nor vocabulary had ever settled.

It was easy to make claims about power when at the mercy at one who wielded it, of course. But she had already spared him once today. He had earned all the sentiment she was going to give. She didn't need to rise up, to be riled to show her power. In this tent, a single word could bring him to his knees... if he wasn't already. Jibes held no weight here. Not anymore. Not if she didn't want it.

When he had finished, she waited a few seconds, letting the last few pebbles drop as she looked him in the eye. "It is a fine evening, isn't it... pet..." her smile broke into a smirk as she addressed the collared being. "A fine evening for a feast on the bones of your dead. You will attend, of course, when the festivities begin, albet in an hour or so of time." Ciscera then stood up slowly, standing over the canine and beginning a circular walk about him. "Do not worry about your men, they will join in the feast as well. *They too will be free to eat and drink of our finest selection, probably better than *they will have eaten in their whole lives. They have been informed of the rules, however. They will be courteous to our warriors. *Any sign of magic, and the perpetrator, as well as the two closest to him, will be slain. Simple enough." she finished, behind the wolf now. "You will have rules too, of course. Any act of defiance, any attempt at rebellion or escape, and every single one of your precious soldiers will be killed before you.... Creatively." Removing a knife hidden in her boot, she grabbed his cloak, and, with a fluid motion, cut it from his back with a slick turn of her wrist. The crested cloak draped over her hands like a dead animal for a few seconds, before she draped it over her own. "Staked, starved, drawn and quartered, shot, perhaps cut piece by piece from the sides in? *lovely cloak by the way. Not the embroidering of Tunay'ruk, though? Your Clan crest, perhaps, or symbol of your homeland?" Ciscera stood before him now, smiling mischievously. He felt a powerful connection to his men, she could tell. Green thumbed, the only thing their "heart three times that of her own" did was give a bigger target. Her men knew the risks, but all fought willingly for honor her country granted their warriors. They knew the price asked from them in the direst moments... And agreed to comply. Weaklings who went back on their word were left with the foes they crushed. She didn't have the weakness the wolf did, as she knew when sacrifices must be made. Never stopped her from interacting with them though, she just made sure to remember the faces never lasted... Except Varasco. Tough like she was, he had probably endured as many battles as she. She didn't need to worry about him. Not with the way the wolf was steadfastly loyal to his pups. It would be his undoing here, and her trump card.*

* "However, you are right, I did come here for a reason. Not those you may think, however. You who were dishonorable enough to cast illusions upon us during the war, fake your surprise, and try to sway pity from an imaginary quest. What are you, a hopeless romantic, seeking to live tales passed down from senile elders? I did not come to begin a quest or speak about the devil beings. Fabrications don't fool me, and if you sought a change of heart from them, know you have failed. I did not come to answer your questions, though I may humor you if i feel the want. " She stroked the side of the cloak, feeling its weight, bringing further emphasis to the fact he was missing it. "You are mine, Shar. What did you say your first name was....? Not that it matters now. You are insignificant, a brute, the level of the lesser beasts as long as you have worth. *And, when your use expires, know this.." her voice was a whisper now, as she approached, tantalizingly out of reach, a sly grin on her face as she looked him in the eye again, as if a cobra waiting to strike, "when your use expires....be assured that you. Will. Die.

With a glitter in her felinoid eyes, she stood up, brandishing the two cloaks upon her shoulders. A small clap and the two guards slithered back into the room, one a replacement from changing shifts. "Remember, A single ill move and your company dies, Colonel. I'll see you in an hour.

With a small smirk, the tigress pushed apart the cloth door flaps, striding confidently back into the company of her people. There were still a few finishing touches to be done for the festivities tonight, and sure as hell the knight *wasn't going to leave herself out!

[101 Scout1]

That word... Shar physically winced at the sound of it, his lip pulling back in a soft snarl as his brow furrowed. However, he did not speak, as she moved onto a new subject. His men were on the line, now, and they would look to him for how to act in the situation. He debated his options now... But the number of ways she listed killing them only caused his eyes to go dark. "Foul bitch..." He muttered quietly, looking down and deflating slightly. His cloak fell away from his body... He could feel the weight melt away, and with it his anger only grew. He cocked his head to look at her, "'Tis the Shar family crest... And it is my finest cloak," He explained, his fists balling up behind him. She could take anything she wanted... even his blade... But that cloak and his pendant were all he had left of his family. The crest, the only thing that tied him to who he was. He was the last Shar alive, now, and the amulet around his neck was still hidden beneath his armour.

As she accused him of foul warfare once more, he shook his head, "Dishonourable? That's a joke coming from the feline who burned my ranks alive with a smith's liquid flame and threatened to kill my men in ways that only the foulest of the world's dictators would," He pointed out venomously. "I will not sit here and argue whose tactics were worse, because war is war, and people die. You call magic foul because you do not understand how it works. It is the most natural power in the world, and to harness it is only an advantage my own people have over you... But I digress, for a fool will not listen to reason, a blind follower will reject all philosophy that is not their own," He said with a shake of his head.

He then decided to address her later question, taking a few deep breaths to level his voice, "Lykos is my first name. Furthermore, to fabricate an illusion and force another to believe it to be valid are absolutely ludicrous concepts. Magic is not a toy, it is a tool; it is complex, you ignorant whelp. The mind of intelligent beings is difficult to alter. Influence is one idea, but to use that with illusions... It is nearly impossible, truly, it would take more than a score of masters to even discover how such a manifestation would be created, or even to carry it out," He explained to her with that small smirk returning, shaking his head. However, she merely left, his cloak upon her shoulder... His father's cloak, his father's father's cloak... And his father's cloak before him, and so on, for nigh on seven generations, Lykos was the eighth first-born son to be in possession of that item, and she stole it now, as if she had the right.

He had one hour before he had to stand before an army and dozens of his own men... And pretend to have even a modicum of respect for the other brutes. His fighting was dishonourable because he used the resources that he had and took advantage of it. Ciscera, if anybody, was the dishonourable one... She was cruel and had even taken advantage of the prophecy to defeat him. He could have killed her... He could have crushed her esophagus before she overpowered him. But of course she would not listen to reason, she was a skeptic.

The colonel looked to the guards who entered the room... Of the Zephyr squad, if he had heard correctly before. They were known for their abilities, of course. The canine looked up at them as they seemed to ignore his existence. One of them looked strikingly familiar... He was a cheetah, and Shar looked at him for a moment before speaking. "You wouldn't happen to know Felorin Rik'shaw, would you?" He asked. The cheetah before him did not respond, but he faltered only slightly. Shar gave a small smirk, "He was part of your squad a few months ago, I believe... I remember meeting him on the battlefield... I only ask because he looks strikingly like you, though he seemed a bit older, a little stronger too. He was one fast fucker though... Almost hamstringed me, actua-"

"Shut up!" The cheetah snarled, looking down, his eyes like daggers as he struck the back of Shar's head with a hand covered by a gauntlet.

"Ow!" He called out, giving a small snarl as he cracked his neck, knowing it didn't help his headache. "Fine, fine..." He muttered, looking down and smirking. He had killed this man's brother, and he knew it. Ciscera prided herself on her men's composure, but the cheetah above him knew that acting out as such would reflect poorly upon himself. "I was merely commending him on his abilities. Fact of the matter is that he was a great warrior, and you should be proud to be related to him. I mean, he was good for a Riversladian, at the very least..." The wolf said, clearing his throat. The cheetah was clearly trying to hold himself back from acting out again, because the panther on his other side shot him a warning look and was trying to keep his comrade level-headed. The Colonel looked at the panther, "Well, I can't rightfully go out to your feast dressed as I am, can I? Would it not be disrespectful to be dressed informally at such a festival? Besides, walking about in my armour, dirty and bloodied from the battle, would be ludicrous. That much harder to drive a knife through me, no?" He was ignored, so he merely rolled his eyes and stared ahead.

An hour to wait. His cloak was in the possession of a brute with his falcata. Ridiculous... She knew that whatever danger existed would destroy it all if they did not work together. How could she truly believe that the prophecy was meant as a distraction? He could have easily ended her without it and it was truly the undoing of their battle. He wondered how time had passed in the vision... How much time they had for her to realize the amount of trouble they were in. He would merely have to wait... That was all he could do at this point. Having his men killed would create more problems than it fixed and his escape would only make him a wanted man.

[Celestialvortex]

It was getting quite dark now, the natural light quickly fading as Ciscera made her way back to her tent. The sky hung as if a rich fabric from the royal palace, slowly being pricked with needles to let out the celestial light from the deepening hues. And all around her, the shadows began to fade away now that the sun crawling on its last legs, and her soldiers returned to their tents to prepare themselves, squires running amok as they rushed fanciful items for the feast or hustled after articles for their superiors. A rustling of robes alerted her to the presence of an approaching anthro, so she ducked quickly to the side, a young goat landing upon his rump as he attempted to avoid the tigress. She growled menacingly, and he quickly apologized, gathering his items and fleeing as fast as his hooves could carry him. The annoyance gone, Cicera's smile returned once more, her canines flashing in the fading light as she re entered her tent.

A small candle had been lit for illumination, but even the tentative light did little to brighten the ebony stripes of the hulking being settled down in the now minuscule chair. Huge scythes of claws gleamed in the candlelight, idly sharpening themselves as he waited. Blood still oozed from a few wounds, but she knew that the gemstone broadsword on his back had certainly carved out a great many more foes than had been able to touch him. Nevertheless, his clotted fur and gashed arms sent reminiscent pulses of pain along her own wounds, a feeling she quickly shrugged off as his single eye opened in the soft illumination. "Ciscera."

"Varasco." It was the simplest greeting, yet the most profound. The badger grunted softly, then lifted himself slightly out of the chair. Even from a sitting position, he was domineering, fierce; the respect he gained from such was remarkable. But that respect didn't come from a politician's viewpoint, no, it stemmed from his complete and utter lack of toleration of bullshit. A lack she knew he was ready to express.

"You know that this victory wasn't anything major. You know the men don't need it. And the feast will make a critical hit to our rations. " "Right," the tigress replied, walking over to the chest within. The badger raised his eyes, the question obviously implied. She didn't answer at first, instead choosing to open the container in front of her.

With careful precision, her white furred fingers grasped the velvet wrapped object, bringing the bundle into the candlelight. Like a mother and her kit she unwrapped the parcel, revealing an ornate golden sheath from its cloth resting place. The precious metal was wrought into the many arms and eyes of the legendary Bar'khuuu, a fabled creature once said to have been the direct spawn of the greed and horror of sentience, it's long tendrils and numerous claws wrapping itself around two dagger hilts. "you know of the Bar'khuuu, Varasco." she began, running her fingers over the metal as she spoke."It was a story, a tale from the priests and their deluded followers, a side effect of our bringing forth upon the world. My father used it as his emblem, and fought with its eyes garnishing the blood upon his sword. But he never revealed to the public that the creature existed, in the grounds of the old world, before the great exploration. His father before him claimed to have slain it singlehandedly, before the creature dissolved into the ground, back into the oblivion where it spawned. Very, very few were ever told of this incident, and the hunting of these creatures became his sole motivation through the rest of his life. "

Ciscera took a few seconds to stare at the sheath, then slammed it down on the table, the force of the impact jarring the candlelight and shaking the visage of both her and the badger before her as she hissed furiously,"That's because it didn't exist! My grandsire was cast down from his noble position as a soldier, and lived his life chasing ghosts of an encounter he dreamed in his sleep, gone insane with the delusion of grandeur he imagined. He lived his olden years repeating his story to himself until the words marked that of his grave. There was no more talk of this particular Bar'khuuu, and my father eventually garnered his own respect from its visage on his armor."

"Your father was an honorable man, and his father was a fool," the badger agreed, his voice rumbling out like a stampede of lesser creatures. "but this has nothing to do with the festivities you have planned tonight."

"of course not," the tigress responded idly, a soft purr lacing her breath with her father's memory. He had certainly been a valiant man, and many foes had fallen to his blade. She had been his squire long ago, as the only family she had ever had. "but when he died, it was from a bloody sorcerer. And when I ran to his side, where he had been left to bleed out, his bloody foe not even having the decency to slay him, his burned eyes were frantic with visions and his mouth was cursed with the repetition of the foul mythos' name. I later tracked down the jackrabbit that had stolen his blade and slit his throat, but this was on his body as well..."

With a small shudder, she reached for both handles and drew the blades. The first one was a beauty of carved crystal, small veins of diamond twirling through its otherwise clear interior. But the other slid out with a grinding sound, the dagger not having a smithed blade at all, but having the appearance of a bestial sickle, as if it was

"a claw of a Bar'khuuu..." the badger growled as he eyed the blade warily. "so they want you to think," Ciscera finished, placing both daggers within the doubled hilt and replacing them in the box. "the object reeks of magic, to the point where it might be created solely from it. Our feral foes have plagued us for generations, yet we do not understand. How many other soldiers have died from magicka such as this, yet we have no counter? During our duel the whelp of a colonel created such a world to persuade my thoughts against killing him, while the whole time his figment lasted he held a dagger to my throat. There were creatures in the spirit world that he seeks to use against me, and the rest of us. The feast is to halt us long enough to meet with up with the neighboring reinforcements by morning, and move the rest of our troops upward to their primary location of assault. Beginning tomorrow I will personally head back to our capital to bring him to be tortured and this strange ability understood and countered, before their magics take us down from the inside. "

Triumphant, she turned around from where she had been staring, only to meet with cold black badger eyes staring sadly back at her. "be warned that the war has not gotten to you, Ciscera," he mumbled sadly, rising from his seat and turning to the door. "War does terrible things to those who remain too long." opening the door, he tapped his eyepatch somberly as the last few words rumbled back into the tent...

"and not all these are physical..."

Ciscera sighed, falling back Into the empty chair across from where Varasco had just sat with a large huff. She knew she wasn't insane. If this was all a move by that damn wolf... Well, she would certainly find his intentions soon enough. When he got back to the palace, she was going to personally interrogate the flea bitten rogue, and make him plead for a mercy he wasnt ever going to receive. Perhaps she should send a messenger ahead of her to gather all the trophies she had personally collected from his lineage, break him down bit by bit by beautiful, bloody bit...

"You know, he's not going to be the only one who think's you're bloody crazy, right?"

Ciscera jumped up from her seat, drawing her sword before her as she turned to greet an empty tent. The lanterns that flickered outside offered no condemning shadows, nor did a fur patch of any color make itself known. "Reveal yourself!" Ciscera shouted, eyeing every corner available, and twisting to find the source of the voice. As silence was her only reply, she called out the signal to her guards, who should be in the nearby tents.

"They can't hear you, dearie. Consider yourself trapped in time again. Nothing exists outside this tent as long as time is frozen within."

The voice was powerful, yet playful, and annoyingly so. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, like the voice from Shar's land of specters. But... It couldn't be. He was incapacitated by the collar!

"Begone foul demon!" she shouted again, waving her sword in front of her menacingly, hoping to shoo off whatever ghost was plaguing her now. He must have had another magician then...they would have to die, before they made any more mischief!

"You hurt me darling. To think I'm a demon, psssh." the ground began to fog up slightly, clearly revealing the glow from her pendant, which had since illuminated brightly. "Those haven't been by these parts for years! Not that you would know, but I do." it muttered, spectral glow flowing out from the ground, and from her necklace, as an image began to emerge behind Cisceras covered face. "But to think a mere mortal like Shar could summon me? Not yet, he can't. We'll certainly see about the future though." Ciscera's mouth gaped wide in awe As the creature was finally revealed, its massive, glowing form still rambling on as it solidified fully into the room....

It was nothing less than a gryphon.

It stood about the height of a bear, piercing cyan eyes glittering down from an eagle's head. A lush mane of feathers and fur fell like liquid gold, to where it reached the large brawny backside of a *lion, save the fore feet. But it was impossible! They didn't exist!

"Ouch, Ciscera. The first time I visibly appear to you and you think I'm still not real? What more do you need to prove my existance, oh bladed fist?"

"Get the hell out of my head," Ciscera grumbled, bringing her sword back up threateningly.

"You can't kill your own familiar, dear," He spoke with a sigh, turning himself to face her at last. When her eyes raised, he sighed again, bringing himself down to a laying position that lowered his head down to her level. "By the gods, my mortal has to be the damned most hardheaded feline in the army. Is that better?" She opened her mouth to respond, but he continued eagerly,"Good. You better start paying attention to the signs, young one, or you're going to find yourself out of time. My name is Aze't'thunsheth, and we are going to be getting quite familiar with each other. You need to be getting back to your feast, but I have one piece of advice: Sometimes, things are as they seem."

What? What did he mean, and what the hell was he doing here? Ciscera thought bitterly as she looked back at the beast, but it had already vanished. She shook her head silently, as she tried to process the information, to no avail. Why now, and why at all? Was this a dream, or....it was probably another illusion! That was the only explanation! For if time was stopped....then why did he cut out to the feast, the sounds and poems of which were clearly eminating from the central tent location? It still had an hour before it would be prepared! Certainly she slept, or something. The use of magic was impossible. She would have to pay the prisoners a visit later, and remedy this problem before it grew to a full fledged storm. As the gryphon stated, whether or not he was real, she had a feast her men would be waiting upon her to begin. Donning her ceremonial gear—silver and obsidian like her armor—, straightening the Shar family cloak, and placing her helmet upon her head, she strode out of her tent, her confident swagger belaying none of the fear that had begun to grow within her bones.


But all this was put behind her as the feast came into view, and her eyes glittered with anticipation. Before her lay the ful might of her army, gathered around a central fire that reached up so far as to touch the sky. Wood was arranged around this fire in a snake down the tent line, tendrils slithering out into pockets where food was prepared. The rich aromas embraced her, the scents of livestock hams laced with honey, stews frothing into clusters of herbs, exotic fruits sliced and cooked into fireside born pastries, sweet tree nuts roasted and garnished, oils that dripped from the tender meat of gigantic smoking fish, corns laced with the smoothest butter, vegetables of a hundred different descriptions... The chefs had outdone themselves this time, which was good. The group was going to need to move fast to meet up with the assault in a few days, and the absence of such supplies would lighten the load considerably.

The food wasn't the only spectacular thing about the event, no. Fiery circles formed rings of poets embellishing war tunes or literature of old, rings of sparrers seeking a friendly match, musicians providing tunes with percussion and wind and string. Each of the knights had their own larger arena of people and performers, but as the commander of the past battle, and unofficially of the legion, hers was the largest, and at the center of the spiraling line of conflagration, the massive bonfire at her company's back. The prisoners, many outside her company, would be kept apart from each other, in the company of her men. They could participate in the festivities as they wished, but at the sign of a gong all would be eliminated by their guards, regardless of the company they were residing with. the more important looking individuals were offered to the higher ranking knights, but no one was allowed the possession of Shar but her. In fact, she had two others of his men in her company as well, the only company with more than one. But she knew they would behave, or things would be interesting. Interesting indeed.

She motioned to a quad of the many guards who had volunteers to take a shift away from the feast, indicating for her *guests* to be brought from their tents, before choosing her place in the circle of her men, a space beside her clearly left for the colonel as she awaited their arrival.

[101 Scout1]

Time ticked slowly... Waiting was perhaps the most incessant form of passing time, especially when one is bound to the floor with two very stoic, unmoving guards on either side. It was as if he was being babysat, like a cub... It was sickening. Eventually, a very large bear came in, wearing very ornate armour of a light metal. He signaled for the other two guards to leave before throwing a set of robes to the ground in front of the colonel, a low growl in his voice, "You may be scum, but we can't have you ruining our festivities because you come from a nation of cowards and dirty ingrates, understood?" The chains which fastened the wolf to the ground were taken off of him, at which point his numb limbs caused him to fall forward onto his forearms, scowling at the floor for a moment.

What had all of this come to..? How had he fallen so low as to let his guard down? The leader of the Riverslade forces tried all she could to leave him bare and broken, but he would do anything to keep his troops alive. He changed slowly as he stretched out, replacing his dirtied ankle wrappings with the fresh, black ones. He also pulled the pants which he was given up over his hips and then the shirt and jacket, though his collar still showed. There was also a plain, white cloak which fastened over his shoulder, dropping down to his right hip, around just the right half of his body. The wolf reached into the top of his shirt and pulled his pendant out to rest against his chest over the shirt. It glowed a soft red, and he furrowed his brow to stare at it for a moment... It had never been that way... He wondered why his pendant had been missing in that strange vision that he and Ciscera had shared, but the fact that it glowed now caused him to wonder what exactly was happening... The colonel looked at the bear with a furrowed brow and strong posture; his men would not see him beaten, not until his head rolled and his body was left mangled in a final stand.

"Do I look presentable, brute?" He asked facetiously, crossing his arms.

The bear laughed a little bit too hard, and Shar merely looked at him as though he were stupid before the bear stopped suddenly. "You have the gall to name me brute? At least I have a modicum of respect for my comrades and I don't hide behind fancy illusions and mind tricks."

The wolf shook his head, "You're only proving my point... You and your people are ignorant to the ways of magic... The amount of energy required to create an illusion is believed to be impossible... No, what we do is very real and very potent. Tapping into the powers of nature is not some alien force, it is being one with the world, only a select few can do it, you should respect and find those people in your country, not stifle them in ours."

The bear shook his head and pushed the wolf forward, "Keep walking, you'll be under special watch by the Bladed Fist this evening, you should feel honoured."

"Oh, I'm flattered," Said Shar, who continued on to roll his eyes and shake his head, muttering to himself. He wanted desperately to remove the collar, if only to remove the pain of having it around his neck... He looked about the camp to see his men, enlisted and officer alike, under watch as they participated and were fed... At the very least, he was happy that they were being treated like people, even if they were being watched over as cubs. He spotted very few of them with collars like his and he cursed the air...

"Hey! Pay attention, whelp!" Said the bear angrily, grabbing his arm roughly and tugging him back over. Apparently, the wolf had begun to walk off the path without noticing... He was still dizzy and had a headache from the collar, and so he hadn't noticed that he was slowly losing the path. However, at the rough grip on his arm, he yanked himself away from the bear's grip and snapped at him.

"Get your grimy paw off me," He snarled, his eyes turning to daggers at the bear. He felt a soft pulse emanate from his bicep at the pull, forcing the bear from him... But, what caused it? The bear clearly hadn't noticed, but Colonel Shar had been around magic for years; he knew exactly what it felt like when it released from his, or even somebody else's, body, unintentional or otherwise. The wolf scowled and looked down to his hand... his headache didn't get worse, and the magic had actually taken effect... He took a deep breath and released it, shaking his head and continuing on, knowing that the bear wished to do far worse things to him, if only his authority allowed him to. The colonel on the other hand, looked out the corner of his eye at the bear while they walked before staring ahead again and focusing... how had he not used an incantation to harness the air around his arm..? It had been so sudden, had he muttered it out of instinct..? No...

The wolf focused strongly on the words he wanted, but didn't move his lips... Nothing... He shook his head, feeling the headache grow stronger as he fell to his knees, panting, "Gah... F-fuck!" He cursed, staring down, his hands on the grass as the bear above him stopped and laughed.

"Trying to use magic already? Figures you wouldn't learn..." He muttered and Shar looked up to him with a scowl as the headache felt as though it was going to cause his head to implode. His gaze moved to the ground again as he fought the pain, pulling himself back onto his feet... Perhaps it was just in his imagination. The wolf brought his now-free hand up and rubbed his head.

"No... It was still in pain, I already had a fucking headache before you put this shit on me," He informed the bear sharply, lying through his teeth as he finally reached Ciscera's chair. He was pushed down into the one by her side, his gaze snapping to her sharply, "Ciscera..." The wolf greeted her venomously, deciding that she was too stubborn to listen to him explain once more that he had not the power of illusion. The wolf had realized that her determination and strong will were traits that he was initially wrong about... she was merely stubborn and close-minded; she had been stuck in her ways for too long and nothing he said would change her mind.