Arcanaut — Roleplayer Guild

Heat fractured the air causing the mixture of of sand and blood to congeal into static bubbles of red glass, terraforming the ground into a macabre beauty that starkly contrasted with the litter of broken bodies, livestock and crates. Malik slowly made his way across the dune, his hands fleetingly grabbing at anything heavy enough to pull him forward. Every bone, every muscle, every fiber of his being screamed at him to lay down and die. And yet he continued. He went on and on until he made it to the shade of what was formerly a covered wagon. Pulling himself up, he used his tattered scarf to wipe away the blood in his eyes several times before he realized that there was a large gash that ran across his dark forehead. Applying pressure to it he leaned backwards with a wince, the movement agitating the large piece of shrapnel that was embedded in his side. What had happened?Who were these men? Where did they get the technology that they possessed? It was farther than any he had heard of, let alone seen by quite a large margin. And even more concerning, was the fact that they had known WHERE they were. It seemed that the brotherhood had been compromi-

"Where have they gone?" 

Malik lifted his then drooping head. If he had any energy left, he would have jumped at the sudden appearance of this stranger. A tower of a man stood above him, his face obscured by the blazing light that came down from the midday sun. Was this man with the others who had attacked his convoy? If that were the case wouldn't he know where they would rendezvous?
"W-why..." Malik tried to ask, but the words were soon drowned out by fits of coughing that seemed to drive the shrapnel further in. The figure cocked their head inquisitively before crouching down to meet Malik at eye level, mere inches from his face.At such a distance even Malik could not mistake that this wasn't just a man, but a demon. An immortal. The creature's wolf-like no, cat-like eyes seemed to go through his own brown ones and straight into his soul. A chill colder than the moonless nights crept through his chest as Malik realized, This is it. This demon is going to drag me to hell for my sins. For doubting the brotherhood! I will not go silently into the night, I will fight with every last breath!
With what little strength he had, Malik grabbed onto the nearest shard of metal with his left hand and with all his might attempted to stab the abomination right in the throat, but it was in vain. Without even breaking eye-contact it had grabbed his wrist mid swing. It didn't squeeze, it didn't attempt to wrench the metal away it simply continued to stare, while its other hand was busy unfastening...a canteen? The immortal proffered it to Malik and despite his mind protesting him to stay away from anything this beast would offer, he couldn't help but reach out for it, dropping his makeshift weapon as he guzzled down the water, hold its container like a babe with its bottle. Finally breaking free of it so that he could get some air, Malik handed back the nearly drained canteen to the immortal, his assuaged throat making him forget about his wounds. At least for the moment. "Why do you help me, demon?" The cat-eyed man gave a wry but not unkind smile and replied, his voice deep and languid. "Well, to be honest, I'm not too sure myself. I reckon' it stems from my belief that a man should be as comfortable as possible as he passes on."

For a long time the two were silent, the only sound being that of shifting sands and crackling flames. It was an uncomfortable truth, one that brought tears to Malik's eyes. Despite his vows to greet death not with enthusiasm or with fear, to move from one state of nature to the next. He knew from the teachings that there must be equality in all, a balance that had now been offset. And so he clamped down on his fears, he pushed down his uncertainty and against all instinct made his request. "Before I pass, I must ask- no beg one last request."

"Name it."

"The ones who did this. They took something important. Important to my people. I want you to retrieve it and bring it back to my abbey. It is of no worth to anyone else."

"I'd be quite the sunabitch to turn down a dyin' man but seein' as I'm one man and what I'll due could not so erroneously be considered suicide there will be a price."

Malik swallowed. He knew that such a creature couldn't truly be altruistic. No one in this land was. And that's why we must exist, thought Malik to drive back the darkness of this world, 'to bring light to the moonless nights' to allow for everyone to have a chance at frothy happiness, even at the cost of the self. "Name it."

The demon smile was a sinister one as he asked the dying man, "Answer me this. What is best in life?"

Malik's eyes widened as he realized who it was that had happened upon him. No wonder his last moments would be so bizaare. It seemed fitting in its own way, really. The master would not be surprised that this is who he'd meet at death's door. "That is easy, Waishishi. To share a drink with a friend."

The demon nodded sagely. "That's nice. I like that. We'll have to talk more about that when I get back. In the mean time, hold onto this bottle of whiskey for me. I need the room in my pack." Standing up, the demon pulled back the hood revealing hair that seemingly to have been spun from ash and air. With his feature obscured by the sun that formed a halo behind his head Malik's last thoughts as The Waishishi left were, Oh, how unlike an angel is he.

************

It was dusk by the time Roland had found them. With how late to the scene he had been most tracks were destroyed by the wind and local animals, but in time he had found those who had ambushed the convoy. Hidden in a cave system to the north it wasn't too hard to see how they had been able to cause such destruction. Whether they got it from an outpost or a former city, the war party had crates upon crates of Motum Diversium weaponry. While Roland had been nowhere near Russel City when The Fall had happened, even he had felt the repercussions of it. Ironically enough, it was in the form of his life being better- well akin to what it was before. With the chaos left in the faction's nigh destruction and the roads being that much more dangerous, people needed protection- and were often desperate enough to hire a desperado such as himself, as well as those who had been in the caves. That is until Roland had showed up. 

There was hardly a scream as Roland made his way through their camp. In the twilight of dusk they had only started turning on generators to light the area, and with his particular type of eyes Roland was able to easily see them clearly while he worked his way through them. Some would call what he did a reaping, removing the chaff of life and while he would certainly protest it, Roland did find a certain thrill in striking in causing fear in his prey, in watching them cry out in rage and fear as he picked them off one by one. If he had more time he would perhaps even step out of the shadows and let them try shooting at him for all it would do them, but he had restrained himself, (or perhaps it was Uriel's doing) and spent the majority of the time he was there absentmindedly picking up rounds until he found tossed in a corner his true quarry; a simple puzzle box. Burning time by fiddling with the confounded thing, Roland was able to unlock it with equal parts luck and skill to make quite the discovery. The monk it had seemed, lied to Roland. Not only could this be important to everyone, the contents of the box could save all that walked this land for generations to come. Resealing the box, Roland couldn't help but smile. 

************

It was hard to say when Roland had finally made it back to the monks remains. His head lolled forward and the half-drunk bottle of whiskey stuck in his grasp Roland was able to discern that he had died while Roland as still searching for the bandits. For a long moment Roland stood there, arms folded as he listened to the flies buzz about the body before finally deciding to wave them away and pick up the remains, being careful not to spill any of the whiskey that the corpse still held onto. Putting him down about fifty yards away Roland took a nearby piece of shrapnel and -tying it to an extended Longinus- made an impromptu shovel where he started to dig a grave the only sound his voice as he sang a tune he couldn't quite recall where he had picked up. 

I set my sail
fly the wind it will take me
back to my home, sweet home

Lie on my back
clouds are making way for me
I'm coming home, sweet home

I see your star you left it burning for me
Mother, I'm here

The job had been surprisingly laborious in the sandy surroundings, large in part to it collapse while he still dug. Still, the demon pressed on, never using his powers despite how much easier to would make the process; perhaps because of it. And so by the time he was done it was late enough where the beginning of a hollow swarm was awakening near the horizon yet he did not let it deter him as he drove a marker down at the head of the grave where with his Bowie knife carved, Here lies a holy man who knew what was best in life was to share a drink with a friend.

With his job completed Roland brushed off his hands, and began to walk again.

************

Roland was still walking when the sun finally rose, its light warming the expanse of sand that he continued to cross, and several leagues away, a hollow swarm continued to follow. He was tired. He was sore. He was almost regretting his generosity. He was experiencing another average day. While he didn't like the thought of it, he knew he had enough rounds to get himself a room in the town that he should be near, but eversince he lost sight of the stars he was having trouble navigating the endless wastes in his sleep-addled mind even without the sand being kicked up by the wind. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Roland stopped to drink from his canteen when out from the sand that obscured his sight came roaring a monolithic black car. Operating on pure reflex, Roland jumped straight into the air and landed on the roof, rolling as it passed underneath him before he dug his fingers into the metal as he was jerked along with the car that showed no signs of slowing down.  Well shit,  thought Roland, sons o' bitches made me spill my water. 

************

Moments earlier, a politician and her most trusted secretary discuss matters of the utmost importance.

A professional looking, black-haired Japanese woman, one of the few people living to be both in her 30's and shorter than Lucania blushed. "I-I'm not a bad kisser..." She looked away from Lucania, who was cradling one of the woman's hands between her own.

"I don't recall using the exact word 'bad' to describe it, Nui..." With a gentle smile, Lucania brushed away the bangs blocking Nui's eyes from the light, revealing a white eye-patch, "I believe, that while you might not be the most technically skilled... you have this.... energy, and inexperience that make you incredibly endearing..." Lucania's hand lingered near Nui's cheek, with several fingers lightly touching the skin near her lips.

Nui's eye chanced a nervous gaze into Lucanias, she gave a gentle sigh, before breaking out into a full smile and lightly hitting Lucania on the chest. "You're such a fucking politician! Gosh!"

Feigning an injury to the heart, Lucania dramatically collapsed on the leather seat of the limo, her head falling gently on Nui's lap. "You wound me, Miss Miller... I have a disease! Each day I descend further and further into the never ending purgatory of Dust's 'political landscape.'" She hissed 'political landscape' and if the words themselves hurt her.

"Ohhh," Nui gave a faux concerned expression, "I know honey, you just want to rule it all. We'll get you there one day."

"I'm not so crass as to desire rule! I think history's already shown us what becomes of crazed despots. I just want to ensure we've got competent people in positions of power!"

"Mhmm."

"And of course those people should listen to my counsel."

"Of course, honey."

"People can handle themselves when they're from a healthy culture," Lucania ranted, with Nui mimicking her words silently, "crime is but a tool for advancement in any given society. Those in power shouldn't deal with doling out moral compasses, that is the culture's responsibility. Those who govern should only be handling gold and maintaining that culture in whatever way possible. That is their responsibility." Lucania's eyes wondered as she thought,  "With properly handled gold..."

"...and tradition, it'd be like the Family in it's prime--" Nui finished Lucania's thought, "Something like that right?" She leaned down to kiss her goldeneyed paramour as she crossed her arms, "I love it when you talk about the future, Lucia, but honestly, I'd also like to spend a little time focusing on the things we need to get done today." She pulled out a pen and a pad, "Like, for instance, did Vladimira have anything useful to report?"

Lucania sighed as she sat up, "All work and no thought makes Nui a dull girl."

Nui grinned, "I thought the idiom was talking about 'play'?"

Lucania met Nui's grin with her own, "Actually, it's a proverb."

Before more pretentious banter or smug laughter could be held between the two, a rough thud shook the entire limo. Adrenal began pulsing through their bodies as the women looked toward it's source, and seeing the horrifying sight of two hands gripping the black reinforced metal of the roof. Lucania's mind immediately shot back to her first near-fatal assassination attempt. The laughter of the man-- how she had stepped toward him, scared even though she'd fought him easily the night before. That momentary fear of death. The voice that was not her own telling her to do something as she fell to the ground.

The voice was not here now. Vladimira wasn't here now. Her Windcaller... her Fire Dancer... her Sworn Guardian were up front. Too far away. The only thing here was Nui, who she needed to protect. 

Fear.

Panic.

Pain pulsed from the left side of her face, swirling like hurricane of metallic fire around her eye, a migraine froze the left hemisphere of her brain, and her left arm felt the bullet wound anew. Without thinking, in spite of the pain, she clasped open her purse and within second she was firing her snubby toward... whatever... had come for her on the roof.

Nui's eyes widened as she realized what Lucania was doing, but all she could get out was a "No, Luc--" before the five explosions deafened her ears in the echo-chamber that was the sound-proof limo. Of course, Lucania would be unphased by it, but knowing what would follow the shots, Nui tackled her employer and lover into the seat and shielded her with her body.

The five bullets ricocheted around the metal cabin, against the bullet-proof windows.

Nui pressed her body against Lucania's, holding her down with strength one may not have gleamed from her appearance as Lucania seemed to shake with a post-traumatic experience.

After what seemed like an eternity's father, but was probably only about 30 seconds, the 'pangs' of bouncing bullets stopped, and the limo screeched to a halt. The migraine remained, but the pain and panic seemed to be dissipating, she realized then that the fear she felt would always be with her. The pair opened their eyes, to quickly discover that each shot had apparently horribly missed the mark of the gripping hands on the roof. Even stranger, each of the five bullets had finally come to rest in the leather of the seats, each just inches away from their limbs and heads.

Nui laughed in disbelief, "You know, if your friend Vladimira was here I think she'd say we just rolled a 20!"

Lucania couldn't even bring herself to fake a smile, and instead simply looked up at Nui, silent tears streaming down her face. She couldn't stop herself from shaking, Nui's smile softened as she leaned down to embrace the only woman who cried tears of honey from an eye of gold. 

The pair were exchanging a soft kiss on the seat, as a knock came on the window, summoning their full attention, there stood a man leaning one arm against the window frame, his other hand on his hip as he waited for them to roll down the window. 
tap tap tap came the noise again as the man gestured with his free hand to roll down the window.

"Uhh," Lucania wiped any stray tears away as she glanced at Nui and was met with a confused shrug, "Just a second." She said, sliding over to the door, realizing as she began to roll down the bullet damaged window that the limo was soundproof. Lucania rolled down the window just low enough to expose her would-be assasin's eyes.

He was very casual for someone that had supposedly been sent to kill her. She observed the rugged man warily,scanning for any indication of who he may be working for. Meeting his eyes with her own, she spoke, "Hello?"

"Afternoon, ma'am." Replied the stranger in a surprisingly curteous manner. "I'd hate to stop you as you evacuate the premises, but in the process of hitting my with your car you happened to spill my drink." He said slowly, "In the process of being afixed to the roof of this vehicle and further inspection upon this meeting I have surmised that there were bullets fired upon me." Looking towards the far off hollow swarm the man brushed his nose absent mindedly before turning back to her. "Now what you do in your own property on your own time is your perogative but when I have bullets fired upon me, I tend to take offense." Scratching his chin the man continued, "Now I don't want my words being misconstrued. I'm just informing you of this as in the process of being hit I may have done some damage to this mighty fine limosine you have and hope that we both walk away, even steven like. Sound good?"

Lucania looked inside the limo; Nui was still shrugging, and the separator had been rolled down and now Carmela, Octavia, and Cullen could see the exchange, and all three shrugged with equal intensity. Lucania turned back to the man, manufacturing a polite smile to greet the stranger with, "You have my sincerest apologies, sir on the behalf of myself," She shot a glare to her incompetent drivers three seated in the front of the limo, "and of my drivers, I may need to find more competent ones soon..."

The purple woman lurched forward to defend herself, "I HAVEN'T DRIVEN A DAY IN MY LIFE! I THINK IT'S AMAZING THIS CAR IS STILL INTACT!" Octavia yelled, flapping her arms for exaggeration.

"Yes, indeed, thank you for that, Octavia..." Lucania turned her attention back to the man, "As I said, I'm fully responsible for their actions," She raised her voice "And whomever they choose to drive, for what are supposed to be professional, low-key trips."

Cullen, The Old Windcaller shrugged, "Thought goin' in turns might be a good idea, boss..." 

"And clearly it wasn't." By Nui's expression Lucania realized she may be beginning to damage their ears, she turned again to the stranger, straining to maintain a kind demeanor. "As you can see, I'm a... Well, I'm rather on edge. Someone lands on the roof of my limo, with the strength to tear it open... I suppose I leaped to the conclusion you might be trying to kill me!" 

Rolling down the window completely, she continued, "That was my lapse in judgement, and again, I apologize. I would like for us both to depart this dreadful encounter on terms that are... as you put it, 'even steven like.'" Poking her head out of the car, she observed the hollow swarm's rapid approach, "Were you headed anywhere in particular?"

"Just away from that." The man replied not taking his eyes off of her, indicating the obvious cataclysm with a point of his thumb."But whether or not I get inside this car of yours depends on one thing." The man said, his voice suddenly solemn.

Lucania leaned forward, intrigued, "And what, sir, might that one thing be?"

"Tell me. What is best in life?"
Arcanaut Member

when you lose your 500 word post

Status

Recent Statuses

Bio

Most Recent Posts
