Synthorian

'Misthophoroi' - A Sci-Fi Mercenary RP

@Tsar Gatto I do have a custom race in mind that would suit this wonderfully. Tylons are soldiers from birth, so seeking war for them is second nature. Money, not so much. They don't understand how virtual numbers or paper notes have any value.

'Misthophoroi' - A Sci-Fi Mercenary RP

Great! So assuming from what I read of the Ooc Op, custom races are A-OK?

'Misthophoroi' - A Sci-Fi Mercenary RP

Hello gents. This RP looks like what I have been craving for for a while. I have checked over all the open positions on the ship, but I see a lack of Security post/resident brawler.

⊰Manifest Anima: Planes Divided⊱

Hidden Backup

---

Time

Day 2~Night

Location

Cedarvale Apartment Complex in the Lobby-Entertainment District, Ominar

---

Casually a dark skinned woman, dressed in a black leather capris and lacy, loose tank, pushed the door open. She stepped into the lobby of Cedarvale’s Apartments despite knowing no one was around. Her thick soled boots clicked across the tile floor as she moved deeper in, her dark eyes moved about the scene for any signs of life. At first she didn’t see anyone causing her lips to smile in comfort. Gently she lowered herself into a crouching position and opened her large hand bag’s top.

About six small rodents scampered out, then spread out to complete their preprogrammed task. Each vanished from sight quickly while she rose upright, pretending to have just arrived and wait patiently for additional information. In her wake, a week old cat skirted toward her. His half chewed ear rubbed against Afua’s leg then followed the motion with the rest of his bloated body. From an observer’s standpoint, he appeared to be over fed but on closer inspection they would noticed he was more overripe and seemed ready to spill out at any moment. Feeling the wiry fur brush against her leg, the necromancer lowered once again to pet the corpse affectionately.

As she casually looked towards the front entrance through the pane glass of the door, she could see 2 large black vehicles park in front of the building. Their headlights remained on, as the truck in front trembled as something huge disembarked from the back. It's massive figure slowly walking towards the entrance. The door opened, and a sudden thud made the undead cat turn and hiss in alarm.

“Ow…” The massive wolf-like creature rubbed its head, grimacing. Clearly, it hit its head against the doorframe.

From what she could see though the now open door, the beast covered the entire doorframe and then some, as she could no longer see the street on the other side. Its black fur was pristine, glistening against the dull light of the lobby’s lights. It wore a t-shirt that was probably oversized by human standards, a 6XL, that fit the creature perfectly, with a custom made shoulder holster containing a large hand cannon under the beast’s left armpit.

“I take it, Mr. Crowley might be not much for subtlety?” Afua pointed to the large weapon in the Canine Licenti’s holster, placed on display for everyone to see and likely assume the worst. There was only three individuals that knew where Ms. Patel was: Darius, Mr. Cortes, and Mr. Crowley. It was very slim he was a local in the apartment because she seriously doubted he was stupid enough to forgot about the low door frame and the ledger’s last recorded new tenant was nearly a month ago, plenty of time to get use to it. Mr. Cortes wasn’t accustomed to hiring Licentia due to his racial views so he was the least likely. Darius wouldn’t have sent someone else unless she was made aware and with good reason, her phone silent since she arrived.

That left only one plausible option for the Shetani (demon).

She casually rose upright and turned to face the werewolf, her cat still hissing in irritation at being startled. Her arms crossed over as she then added, “What are you here for?”

The wolf squeezed himself through the door with some effort, he was far too big to just walk through, so he bent his head down and slid in right shoulder and head first. As the ceiling was reasonably high in the lobby, he could stand somewhat upright. Afua could only guess, but it seemed that his height was around 10 feet fully upright.

“If he wanted subtlety, he would have had Mr. Cortes removed by now.” Rubbing his scalp again, he paused on how to word his following sentence. “The men that have decided to get out of bed today and follow through with Mr. Cortes’ orders are to be taken away for interrogation, presented to Mr. Cain in person as a gesture of goodwill in account for an earlier encounter.” He almost dictated that from memory.

“Not without stepping on Darius’ paws,” Afua commented quietly. Darius did his best not to step on Mr. Crowley’s toes in the business district, through he could’ve easily used his connections and contract with Mr. Crowley to create an underground black market. It was something she had wondered about until the Fox told her it was out of respect and understanding that if he fucked with another’s territory, he should expect the same gesture in kind and he didn’t desire an internal war of the wills.

“The gist of it is…” The wolf interrupted Afua’s thoughts. “He wants us to work together to bring those clowns back alive.”

She noted the mention of gesture for an earlier encounter, her eyebrow raised and a dark scowl crossed her expression, “Might you be telling me that Mr. Crowley is partly or fully responsible for the baas’ condition?”

“I don't really know the details about what happened down there, all I know is that he feels partly responsible for something.” The wolf replied, shrugging his shoulders.

Afua inhaled, her feet kicked the floor a moment then placed her hands into her pockets, “There’s better ways to make up for an incident than gift wrapping thugs. Namely if Cortes’ hand is forced, him end up pulling his hand before the baas has any chance for damage control. In the underworld, that’s outright dangerous not to follow your own rules and expect others to, could create more issues than needed.”

She ran her fingers through her dreadlocks a moment then added, “So you’ve got orders to capture them? I’ve been told to merely keep them from hurting a Ms. Vorobyova rather than stop them escaping. Mainly if they are captured, then Mr. Cortes assumes we’re onto his game and springs it early. This way, they can keep their cards hidden until we’re ready.”

A tumbling was heard coming from upstairs, and the Wolf’s ears twitched, focusing on the sounds above. “It seems like they already started…”

“Oh they started already,” Afua said, cryptically, as she eyed the roof area. Her eyes went completely white and hazed over the pupil, adding to her undead motif theme, “My little pet sees them in the kitchen. Ms. Vorobyova be trying to make the scene calmer and warn them off, but they aren’t quite buying it. Oooo, she be a shapeshifter like Mr. Cain too.”

“They’re thugs. They aren’t going to calm down.” Rex replied casually as he drew his revolver.

Afua nodded in agreement, her hand raised out and warned him to pause, “Not yet. They haven’t touched her and Mr. Cain told me to make note of her actions.”

The wolf grumbled. “Fine… I just wanna get this over with, I can’t leave my wife on her own…”

“Sounds you are insecure, through being a bielie I don’t see how-” Afua stopped mid sentence as her eyes widened and she abruptly took off up the stairs, her voice shouting back to Rex, “Come on!”

⊰Manifest Anima: Planes Divided⊱

A Walk into the Shadows

♤ Darius M Cain ♤, Ｓ z a y e i s, & Logan Crowley

---

Time

Day 2~Just After Midnight

Location

Underground Tunnels (The Abyss)-Lower District, Ominar

---

‘No...no, he can’t be here,’ Darius mentally screamed when he felt the flare of energy. He could only describe it as dark and cold as the sensation numbed him, its powerful grip swelled upon his being and caused him to still in fear. The kitsune barely felt the Russian mage lift his arm and wrap it over the thicker man’s neck, Boris’ figure pressed against Darius to support the petrified fox. It took a moment for the human to notice that Darius hadn’t moved, drawing his eyes to look at his boss and become completely confused.

Darius, his breathing heavy and deep, had lifted his golden eyes to stare at the nightwalker who had materialized in front of him. His ears pinned back and black lips curled back to give him a more feral appearance than the intelligent creature he usually presented himself to be in public. His fur bristled as his expression tightened into aggression, though it wouldn’t do him any good in his state.

He hated that look as memories surfaced whenever it appeared. It was often connected to disappointment, but the source varied either from his past attempts to outfox the nightwalker to whenever Szayeis saved him from being killed. Usually the source determined the aftermath that followed and that put Darius on edge. It had been three years since they had met face to face. For some humans, that was considered a long time but for most Licentia… that was more akin to a week than years.

The more recent ones, one being six months and another a year, were more distant means of communication which put him more at ease. They never made him feel like the frightened, weak child he did now.

It was Boris’ questioning voice that broke the reaction Darius had slipped into and rip the kitsune back into the present, “Who’s this, Darius?”

Golden eyes shifted to the Russian and observed him a moment, all aggression curled into ash when realization crossed his features. Then Darius returned to face Szayeis. How to answer the question was the most difficult task for him. Benefactor? No. Tormentor? Sometimes. Father? That would require love, according to any human that knew the definition and something Darius slightly doubted existed in the nightwalker. At least not the type that one would consider narrow and straight.

“That’s… a complicated question,” whispered Darius as he tried not to lean heavily into the metal mage. He knew Mr. Crowley was still lurking about and would show up when it was convenient for him, which Darius hoped never came. The last thing he wanted was Logan meeting Szayeis while he was in his wounded state. It took several moments to steady his racing heart and calm the raging instinct to either fight or flight, before his found his voice. He had no doubt Szayeis would’ve noted it, “I was hoping you would’ve arrived at a more… convenient time.”

Expression largely unchanged at seeing his son’s response, Darius would note a slight glint in the nightwalker’s eyes, a subtle expression of amusement at the Kitsune’s response to his presence. Terror, hatred, and unwilling subservience. “I save your life, time and time again, boy and yet, every time you see me you become an ugly, primal…” he gestured at Darius as if to indicate the entirety of his expression and body language, “...thing.”

He shook his head again and as he looked up at the Fox his expression had shifted, now slightly bemused. He began to circle Darius, the act of a predator surveying its prey, something that he knew was sure to draw forth caution in the Fox, while also stirring his hatred far more.

Darius’ head jerked to follow Szayeis’ movements as he watched the nightwalker circle. Every nerve ending in his brain tried to tug him into running, but that was an action that never ended well. Not then, and certainly not now. His tails hugged tightly to his figure physically showing what he desperately wanted to hide, his head able to only go so far, hindered by Boris who was still holding him upright and didn’t understand what was going on. Or why, for the first time, he was witnessing fear in Darius.

“I had intended to come offering gifts and the potential for better business, but you seem to have other ideas. Or am I to interpret that differently?” He again gestured at Darius, but this time specifically at his face. He stopped stalking, and held up a finger, “Don’t answer that.” It was not a request, but an order, something which the Fox’s subordinate was unlikely to pick up on--though the man would almost certainly detect the condescension in his words.

“If you’d rather I leave you alone, I suppose I could...given certain circumstances,” he smiled, displaying the malice, charisma, and devious manipulative intelligence that dwelled within him for the first time in their conversation. The expression, despite the nightwalker’s current form, was barely human.

To reinforce the impression, he raised his cane, and struck it once against the ground, eliciting an echo and causing a silent and invisible--but quite detectable--eruption of vis, which shot straight into the rubble of the collapsed tunnel. A distinct grinding coupled with a strange hum became immediately audible, and as it did Szayeis smirked at the two, before looking away from them and returning to his stalking. The moment he did so, the sounds ceased and the rubble settled back into place, “Or you could perhaps attempt to be civil, instead of acting like the feral Kitsune I found all those many years ago. Unless you’d like to end up like your father,” he shot Darius a glance, before looking away again, his words implying not just a descent into insanity for the Fox, but likely also death--after all, Szayeis had killed the Kitsune’s birth parent to save him.

At the threat, Darius cringed. All aggression slipped from his posture as his ears continued to be pinned back and head turned away, unable to continue the eye contact. It was a look Szayeis had witnessed numerous times. One of submission, acceptance and even realization that the nightwalker held the leash. Every bit of that threat Darius knew Szayeis could and would make happen the moment he was of no use to the nightwalker. It was a fear he couldn’t escape.

“Unless, of course, you have some kind of alternative, mmm?” He stopped, his position in the middle of the tunnel, opposite the rubble, his presence effectively blocking off their retreat. Yet, his demeanor made it seem as if he wasn’t even aware he had done it, implying an effortless sort of analysis, not to mention an ability to do just exactly what needed to be done in most situations.

Indeed, as manipulative men went, Szayeis was a fine specimen, and one day, he would have the world admit him as the best of them.

One day.

But that was a thought for later. For now, it was the impudent little Fox he had to deal with and honestly, that suited him just fine. After all, licentia lived forever so he was hardly short on time.

“Forgive me, I…overreacted,” Darius spoke, his ears still pinned to his skull through the growling tone had ceased. His head lifted to look at the ‘monster’ that raised him, his eyes still having difficulty in holding contact, as he continued, “I’m not my best when I’m wounded and instincts tend to be hard to control at the unexpected, a fact you will undoubtedly remember. I was hoping I wouldn’t be a mess when we met face to face and I could be able to present proper hospitality.”

‘And time to collect then brace myself against you,’ Darius added silently, his eyes still lowered in case Szayeis wasn’t satisfied with his attempt to be civil.

“I see,” he said, no amusement in his expression, making it impossible for Darius to tell if his apology had been accepted or not. After a long silence, he chuckled, “Very well,” he replied. “So, tell me, have you done anything in regards to the pestilence in your city?” When he uttered the word, it was as if an intense disgust came over him--but it was for but a brief second that it appeared before vanishing once more. Darius would know that the only beings that could invoke such disgust in the nightwalker were the prae.

Meanwhile, Boris would remain quite confused.

Darius remained still, his figure trying to rein everything he felt, as he listened to the nightwalker. His eyes careful to retain whatever contact he could stand before he spoke, carefully phrasing his words, “It’s been slow progression, mainly to avoid their attention. Each time I raise to a position they feel is unsuitable, they find ways to put me back to where they feel I belong. Sometimes I’ve gotten lucky enough to find loopholes that require they play nice, but as I’ve said it’s slower than expected.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth. He had been following the path with the least collateral damage, the primary reason that his progression was slow and painfully lacking effect upon the prae. Boris, unsure what to do, twisted a bit then pressed a hand against the wound that started to seep a trickle of blood down the fox’s side.

“Hmm, I see, I suppose that is to be expected. They may be scum, but they are not complete idiots,” he paused, tapping a finger against the top of his cane, looking as if in thought. “Any particular notable developments of late?”

“Yes…” A voice came from behind Szayeis. “Me…” Logan Crowley always had this strange uncanny ability to show up at the worst moments. Something Darius grew to dislike overtime, but it was unavoidable. Crowley was like a mosquito, an annoying constant buzz in Darius’ ear, and impossible to get rid of. But it sure as hell was a better alternative to the Nightwalker, whether Darius liked the idea or not.

“I was always curious about Mr. Cain’s adoptive daddy. And now I finally get to meet him.” Logan’s purple irises inspected the creature before him, a sharp exhale escaping through his nose as a smirk emerged on his face. “Your reputation for ridiculous fashion sense proceeds you.” He was clearly mocking the Licentia, obviously unimpressed.

A presence shifted into existence just behind him and while his first instincts were to raze everything in his vicinity or shadow walk to gain distance, neither option would make him appear strong. Instead, he moved not at all, but kept his senses at peak performance so he could react if needed. However, it appeared to be one of the boy’s acquaintances, how disappointing.

He raised an eyebrow, but did not move in the least, his body betraying not even the slightest line of tension. He didn’t even turn to look at the man, instead using his unique senses to observe the man without overt notice.

His visage was familiar and it brought a small smile to his lips. “Ah, Mr. Crowley,” he said, his tone one addressing an old friend or rival, “...your reputation precedes you. I had intended to meet with you, but not so soon. I must be quite important for you to have dragged yourself from your home into these sewers.” All the while, he maintained the smile, his eyes locked on the Fox’s as if to say ‘You have some explaining to do, little one.’

“Or, perhaps Darius has garnered your attention, as he should. I taught him well.” His grin widened almost imperceptibly, as the look in his eyes shifted again. The nightwalker did not appear to care if Logan saw his expression for some reason.

Nothing, in Darius’ mind, screamed pawn or gnat like being caught between hungry, and dangerous giants in a game he was still learning. It was the nature of manipulation and shadows after all to continually shift and change hands. The Fox swallowed at the verbal conversation between the two as he caught Szayeis’ eyes focused on him. His arm tightened about Boris, the Russian still distracted by trying to stop the blood, and tried to not give anything away to betray he knew this whole ordeal would end terribly.

“I’m here to discuss with Darius how disappointed I am with his performance with dealing with his current problem, you know her very well.” Logan casually walked around Szayeis, placing himself in between the fox and the Licentia, hiding the Kitsune from the being’s view. “Krysta.”

“You see, I have been observing the situation for a while. And I have noticed something quite annoying.” Logan’s face turned into a scowl. “I assume this is how you teach your children. Force them to battle it out and see which is the strongest. That’s how you always presented Darius’ challenges. Contracts. You are very good at those.” He paused to let his tone and message sink in.

“You see. Your little… challenge, is causing some issues with my contract. Issues that are costing me time and money. Now when I have found out that you were the one handing out the cards, it made things a little more complicated. I was going to give Darius another chance, but now…” He looked back at Darius, the disappointment in his face was gut wrenching. “But now, I have to take matters into my own hands. Krysta is no longer the problem, you are. You are playing a very dangerous game by stepping on my toes…”

His head turned back to Szayeis, seemingly in thought. “Getting rid of you right here and now would be too easy, and damn boring. So, how about a wager? Your shard contract is the prize.”

“Ah, I see, so your influence has gone to your head,” he said, smile still present as the man stepped between him and his Kitsune. He sighed, shook his head, and rubbed his temples before letting his hand fall back to the cane that stood planted between the floor and his hands just before him.

It was odd, he had outright ignored 90% of what the man had said. As his head rose to regard the man again, his smile had faded and he looked rather serious. “You look down on those who regulate the darker recesses of human society and you idealistically think they can be removed in time. I have lived over one thousand years and have numerous records and first hand accounts of human civilization. I can tell you that this is simply not how their psychology works. Of course, you humans have a tendency to see either the best or the worst in your own so I do understand your bias.” He paused a moment, as if taking the measure of the man, “Nonetheless, you have done well for yourself. Too well in too short a time. Building wealth takes time, and you’ve not had enough of it. What is it you really want, Mr. Crowley?”

He had heard the man’s earlier conversations with Krysta’s minions, after all, he’d watched the entire encounter and had had reason to. Beyond that, Ominar had always been something of a point of interest--what with his son living there--and when the prae had arrived he had been driven to do as much research on the players of the city as he could.

He’d found odd things about Crowley then and, in typical licenti fashion, he had not forgotten a single detail. It was with this knowledge and the knowledge of the experience of many humans and licentia before him that he asked his question and made his argument.

Of course, on the inside, he found one thing strange: Why was it that the human made him almost treat him as an equal simply by being?

“Let’s not kid ourselves here Szayeis, we both have been watching each other for a long time. My long term interests do not concern you, but my current ones do. We both want the the Prae out of Ominar, for similar reasons. Your methods, however, are getting in my way.” Logan responded with the primary point. The Licenti didn’t need to know anything other than that.

“If you think my methods impede yours by design or in general, then you are foolishly not paying enough attention, besides, I just got here yesterday.” He flashed the man a smile, before letting it fade.

“That you did, but your strings expand beyond Licentia. And that concerns me.” Logan stared into the Licenti’s eyes. “My wager still stands, wanna know the winning conditions?”

He sighed, “I suppose I can humor you.” Something had subtly shifted about his demeanor, as if he was swiftly losing interest.

“Bored already? Then what I’m about to say should make things interesting. Whoever undermines the Prae the most, while also undermining his opponent, wins. We can use any means necessary, both against each other, and the Prae.

“You win? Darius is all yours, and you can deal with what’s left of the Prae as you wish, I won’t stop you. Now if I win, I become Darius’ contractor, and take your place. Anytime you attempt to even step foot on Medius, I will send you back, and if you continue to try, then I will personally kill you.” Logan put his hand into his trench coat, and pulled out what appeared to be a scroll, which he hung above his head to let it unravel. “This is the contract between us for our little game, stating the terms and the conditions of this match…” The contract was written in pure vis, each word written in Licentian. Logan’s signature, written in vis, rested at the bottom of the scroll. “You don’t have to sign it, but know that if you don’t, I will kill you right here and now.”

The boredom slipped away, there was no smile, no expression, and not even any telling body language. He opened his mouth slightly, a frown forming, then slipping away again as his mouth closed. He sighed, “You are perhaps the least intelligent businessman I have ever encountered.”

“If you wish to test that theory, then don’t sign the scroll. I wouldn’t threaten you if we didn’t stand on equal footing” Logan was serious. This wasn’t a simple threat, but a warning.

Darius growled, deep and bared his teeth at the threat Mr. Crowley presented, “Logan Crowley, I would kindly appreciate it if you recall the contract’s legal applications. Voiding it will hurt you more than benefit or get your point across. In addition, if you know kitsune as well as you seem to then you know I can’t allow that…”

“When presenting a game, you make the win conditions equal on both sides, not stilted in your favor. Otherwise, all involved will not wish to play as there is no real gain from doing so. Additionally, I would like to inform you of something. My life has no value.”

“You see, if you could actually destroy me, I would have made that a winning condition.”

Szayeis sighed, “If you kill me, everything you are fighting for will be meaningless. You will feel self satisfied for a brief time, and then, as the dominoes fall, your small victory will turn to ash in your mouth and you will know what it means to be beaten.” He paused a moment, looking at the scroll, “You may kill me if you wish, but I will simply not sign a contract whose losing conditions involve either my death or permanent exile from an entire realm, loss me a son and numerous other assets and even friendships, I dare say, while it’s win conditions give me nothing I could not have had without the deal.”

He lifted one hand from his cane, letting it rest at his side, “Furthermore, I can see that there is no love lost between you and I, as you humans say. Yet, I find it funny, for while that applies to you, I simply do not care. My life is as much a tool as everyone I arrange across the board, and having thought you would be...more intelligent, I had planned to work alongside you, even let you in on the finer attributes of my scheme. Except, here you stand, threatening my life, my freedom, and my happiness whilst giving no equally good alternative.”

“I would work with you, not against you, but I see--in your eyes--that the only thing you wish to do with me is fight, and then kill me. You are not just a terrible businessman, but you are a foolish man. if you are indeed a man at all.”

Szayeis tapped his cane against the ground once, but nothing happened.

Darius’ head twisted about behind him, his eyes narrowed on the tunnel and the warped metal. There was likely only one way to prevent this conflict and likely be heard by the ‘titans’ independently. However, he mentally hated the idea as he gashed his teeth over it a moment. It meant someone, him and possibly Boris, were going to have to risk dying when this ploy paid off.

Leaning into Boris, knowing that Szayeis would hear, the kitsune spoke quietly, “Open the tunnel behind us, now.”

“What?” Boris asked, his eyes widened and looked terrified at the notion of letting in the Djinn, “That thing will kill us-”

Just as Boris questioned Darius’ order, gunfire erupted from behind the rubble. “I’m sorry Darius.” Logan said. “But this is between me and him, let's keep it that way.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Logan…” Darius’ eyes tightened and his fur edged on end, his figure stepped from Boris’ support.

He immediately turned, cold air forming around his arm, outstretched, sending a bolt of ice towards Darius’ and Boris’ feet. They both could quickly feel the coldness crawl up their legs and towards their torso. They were freezing solid.

Without moving at all, Szayeis stared. The rubble turned to dust and the ice shattered and then dissolved into puddles on the floor.

The Djinn stumbled back into the tunnel, in completely solid form, wounded and bleeding as magnetically accelerated steel bolts ripped through its body, its wounds attempted to heal quickly, but it couldn’t keep up with the sheer firepower. As it stumbled and fell on its back, its left arm was ripped clean off, one of the bolts just passing by both Logan and Szayeis, leaving them to feel the shockwave of the rogue round, making Logan’s coat move with the gust of air.

“Ugh, fine.” Logan grunted, raising his arm again.

However, before he did anything, Szayeis glanced at him and smiled, “Teleport that man, and he will come out the other side in shreds.”

His hand quickly shifts to Szayeis. He knows, it won’t do anything major, but it will disorient him. Szayeis suddenly felt like he was coming apart, his body dismantling atom by atom, and coming back together again, right in front of Logan.

The slipped out of his fingers as it was quickly kicked aside, clangs echoing throughout the tunnel as the cane skirted across the concrete. Logan’s hand shot out and grabbed Szayeis by the throat. He knew it was momentary, as the Nightwalker could easily slip through his fingers if he wanted to, unless he had already accepted his fate.

The cane slid across the floor of the tunnel, and then dematerialized. One of Szayeis’ hands moved up and wrapped its fingers around the wrist of the seeming human. His other arm drew back, as if holding a spear, and thrust forwards. Something wild had come into the nightwalker’s eyes, like a mixture of remembered fear, hatred, disgust, and rage.

As Logan noticed it, the cane would already be impaled through his torso, below his heart, not hitting anything vital. The nightwalker exhaled slowly, and as he did so the tension in his body slowly seeped away and the look in his eyes first became a dull flame, then embers, before extinguishing.

“Let go, Logan,” he said, as if his throat was not being crushed, his voice entirely unaffected. “You wish to fight, but you have already lost. Besides, if you kill me, you lose far more, and as I said, I will not be signing your contract.”

The cane’s head pulsed inside the ‘human’s’ body, emitting slowly escalating sound waves. “In approximately 5 seconds I will liquify your body. Withdraw.”

During all this, Darius had been focusing on his magic. He ignored the pain coursing through his veins and continued, his shadow twisting then shifting. It raced up his legs and darkened his usually brightly orange fur as it swallowed him. Sounds of bones cracking and breaking were heard causing Boris to step back in worry, the Kitsune’s figure taking a new shape. He was on all fours with his fox like form covered with what appeared to be spiky fur and a larger head, the gaps in mass filled in by shadow like canvas covering the holes.

With no thought in his head, Darius lunged forward at Logan’s seemingly exposed back. His large muzzle dipped with teeth flashing then went to sink into the shoulder.

Logan took the cane with his free hand, and slowly pushed it out, teetering on the 5 seconds as the head of the cane came out and the hole began to heal itself. “Go ahead. Do it.”

“I take no joy from this,” he said, and then promptly he reorganized the spell matrix of his spell, liquified both of Logan’s arms and blasted him back, straight at Darius’ mouth. He landed on his feet and tapped the cane against the ground, immediately feeling his entire body relax as his form returned to its more...malleable natural state, though it retained the same appearance.

Instead of landing in Darius’ mouth, what was left of Logan’s body exploded in a shower of blood and gibs, sending shards of bone matter into Darius’ mutated face as he passed through the cloud of blood.

Darius’ jaws snapped down on nothing. Cuts of where the bone sliced into him gave a crimson taint to his dark fur and scratched at his eyes, digging one stubborn piece out. His haunches were still raised while his head turned about in alert, seeing anything besides Szayeis to rip into pieces.
Boris stepped forward, his eyes narrowed on the beast before him, “Darius…”

The fox’s head jerked about and settled on the human mage, his teeth still displayed in a feral fashion. Darius’ paw took a step towards Boris.

Unfazed by the gore, Szayeis lifted the cane and tapped Darius’ nose and, in a gesture that Aeris was sure to feel, drew on the girl’s unique healing power and weaved it with an illusion. The fox would feel an overwhelming wave of calm and relief suffuse him, and any primal rage that remained would find no one ‘cept Szayeis, to target, as Boris had become invisible, hidden by an illusion. “Wake, child,” he said firmly, yet, his senses kept track of his surroundings. After all, the man had talked up his abilities and this had felt too easy.

Darius shuddered and his eyes settled on Szayeis, darkness swirling and breaking the usually golden irises. The ripples of shadow embedded and gradually faded when the energy of the healing caused it to retract back, no longer present. Awareness and intelligence took its place causing Darius’ figure to begin to crack, shift and revert back to his original shape. The kitsune was on his knees as he trembled quietly, weakened by his push past his limits, and still covered in whatever bone attached itself to his flesh. Usually it would’ve been healed when he shapeshifted back, but even the wound from the arrow by Krysta hadn’t vanished.

“Is… is he gone?” Darius asked in a raw and shaken voice.

The cloud of blood from Logan’s explosive exit remained suspended in the air. Suddenly, the sickening sound of twisting meat echoed within the tunnel. Within the cloud, a body was forming, very rapidly.

The torso formed first along with the head, its dead eyes staring deeply into Szayeis’ as its limbs grew. Clearly, Logan was not human. At least in the natural sense of the word. “I’m disappointed.” Its voice gargled as the organs were still forming. “I was hoping that we would use good old fists instead of vis…” As he spoke his voice became more and more normal until the end of his sentence, when he fully formed.

“But… this does conclude my test…” Logan said with a smile, his clothes reforming from the shreds left by his own suicide. “You would make quite the asset for Armax. You held your ground despite the possibility of death, and called out an unfair contract. Well played, Mr. Aka’Aeria.” Logan seemed far more polite than before. Was this a test? Or was he trying to fool Szayeis?

Szayeis’ eyes shifted over to what would be a gruesome sight for most, but was sadly not for him. “Ah, so my instincts were correct, you’re not human,” he said, as if it was common sense. Of course, he couldn’t help but wonder what the man really was. “I see, so you expect me to ally with you, now that you’ve attempted to kill me? Amusing.”

However, while he said the word, he did not smile, instead he glanced at Darius, “No, but it appears the conflict has been solved, in a fashion.” Sighing a moment he shook his head and then, finally, smiled slightly--something occurring to him. “It’s rather funny that you felt it necessary to test me. You’d think the fact that I’m an internationally recognized criminal and threat to human society would be enough to convince you. Especially considering the fact that I still roam free despite having accrued the hatred of so many.”

“Nonetheless, well played. However...” he began, trailing off. As he did so, his cane slipped down in his hand and struck the ground again. The smile remained on his face as he met Logan’s eyes. For a very brief moment an excruciating pain would resound throughout the inhuman man’s body, before--as swiftly as it had appeared--subsiding. “...it appears you have taken in a spell matrix.” His smile widened.

Logan winced slightly at the nudge of pain, his hands still in his pockets. “I guess I deserve that for playing you.” He took a hand out of his pocket, and placed it on his chest where the cane originally stabbed him. A strange purple light beamed on the spot, and the matrix was dismantled. “But there is a cure for everything.”

“Now… to the real reason I’m here.” Logan walked up to the trio. “We both want to get rid of the Prae, but we have different ideas as to how we can go about that. Darius and I, wish to avoid needless casualties, you wish to make it hurt for them, no matter the cost. What if we could combine our efforts, and find a middle ground?”

“I’m listening,” he said, his smile shifting to a considerably more conservative look of amusement. It appeared that the businessman was in fact capable of speaking his language. Granted, he’d almost been told how to. Testing him had truly been a waste of time, but no matter.

“Apologies for the needless violence. But there are a few… imitators out there. Wanted to make sure you were the real thing, even if it did take some time off your busy schedule.” He took a look at Darius for a moment, realizing his suit was practically destroyed. “Need to send this man a nice suit…” He said seemingly to himself.

“So, back on topic. I have the information network that you need to get your hands on the right Prae, while you have the manpower to get the job done. I have the hardware you need, and you have the influence to spread the resistance’s cause. Etcetera and etcetera.” Logan paused as he thought on what to say next. “But let’s not bore each other with the details. My conditions are that we avoid innocent casualties. I’m assuming that yours, are to find the Prae responsible for your unfortunate run in with the Prae…” He watched Szayeis’ reaction. “Apologies if I have brought up bad memories. But your past isn’t exactly hidden away. I came across some Licentia that mentioned your name when asked about their previous encounters with the Prae. I can find and get you the people responsible. How you deal with them, is up to you.”

Initially, he was receptive nodding thoughtfully and listening whilst keeping a close eye on Darius’ condition. It was surely a good thing he’d left Aeris at the Fox’s mansion, the thought made him smile slightly, but it didn’t last, for in the next moment words he hadn’t heard from any human mouths were uttered. His vis surged, his jaw muscles tightened, and he forced himself to breath deeply in an attempt to disperse the cocktail of dangerously explosive, negative emotions. Through gritted teeth he responded, “I would ask, that you never speak of that again,” the nightwalker said as--slowly--his vis retreated from the environment around them.

“Fair enough.” Logan nodded casually. He thought it would trigger him, but there was no way around mentioning it. It was the core of his motivations, and it was an important thing to note. His motives were tied heavily to his emotions, and that’s something he wished to test in their little squabble. He saw his eyes and how his rage manifested. Logan could tell it would be far worse for the Prae he would hand over to Szayeis in the future.

Taking another moment or two to calm himself, Szayeis took in deep breaths until he could, properly converse without having the constant urge to KiLL, he winced slightly at the intrusive thought, his mind clearing of red. He cleared his throat, “Regardless, I do think that sounds far more reasonable than your prior suggestion. I would like to...” he gave Logan a look before continuing, “...that what we are doing is still effectively treason and rebellion. These things tend to get messy.”

He paused again and then sighed, managing a slightly weak chuckle, something that made him irritated though he showed it not at all. “I can temper the vast majority of my plans to...minimize casualties, but I’ll have you know there will be chaos. As to your offer.”

He paused for emphasis, his pupils narrowing to slits, “I do not need help, dealing with the prae.” The words said, Szayeis’ expression lightened and he nodded his head to the man, before he knelt down and, in a rare gesture of kindness, placed his hand on Darius’ side and gave the Fox a considerable pulse of vis. When he was done, he spoke again, “Boris, get to ground and call ahead to the mansion, he’ll be needing treatment when he arrives. Find a way back on your own, I’m taking Darius, he’s too weak to walk.”

Boris looked undecided as he watched the exchange between the Fox and the stranger, but nodded, “Alright, just...nevermind.”

Shaking off everything that happened, he began to rush past the bizarre man that literally been blown apart and reformed like some inhuman thing. In moments his figure vanished into the darkness toward the surface.

Meanwhile, Darius’ figure quivered at the touch on reaction then eased up. His golden eyes, dancing with confusion and curiosity, hadn’t left Szayeis as if staring at the nightwalker might yield information. However, nothing came naturally. When the vis pulsed, Darius let out a soft, vulpine whimper which sounded more like a squeak then focused on ignoring the pain. His breathing was heavy as he listened to Szayeis, acknowledging the holder of his pact’s will.

“I can deal with all the paperwork that comes up from our meddling.” Logan said as Boris made his way out. “And I don’t doubt your ability with dealing with the Prae. Like I said, I’m leaving that up to you. But of course, not all the Prae. That falls under the needless casualties part. But I can explain the reasons at another, more appropriate time.” He reached into his trench coat, and handed Szayeis his business card. “Give me a call when you are ready and have plenty of time in your schedule. We must discuss plans.”

“You and I will have a discussion over your… methods later,” Darius managed to force out at Logan, his tone showed his irked mood over the whole situation.

“That we will, Darius…”

With things more or less squared away, Szayeis simply nodded to the man and took the card, using more basic vis manipulation to slip it into a pocket somewhere. “Noted,” he said in acknowledgement, before he stood and then began pulling shadows from their surroundings. Boris appeared to already be gone, surely finding a way to call the mansion.

Szayeis sighed as he looked down at Darius, before shaking his head and continuing the process it took for him to properly transport the Fox to his home. After all, normal beings were not built to shadow walk in the normal fashion as nightwalkers were.

A crack of lightning was heard as a Rift ripped open in front of Szayeis and Darius. “Save yourself the vis. Call it a small part of me making it up to both of you for earlier events.” On the other side, they could see the bedroom of Darius’ mansion.

Szayeis’ eyes widened almost imperceptibly, his senses analyzing the rift for a moment, “Hmm, very well,” he said, and rather than engulf them, the shadows merely picked Darius up and carried him through the portal, after which Szayeis followed, vanishing into a shadow.

Briefly, he used his senses and the dark of night to notify him of Darius’ status, finding him safely in his mansion. Content with this, he departed entirely, heading off to recuperate and take care of other business. It was going to be an interesting day.

⊰Manifest Anima: Planes Divided⊱

Twist and Turns into the Abyss

♤ Darius M Cain ♤ & Logan Crowley

---

Time

Day 2~Just After Midnight

Location

Underground Tunnels-Lower District, Ominar

---

The Abyss.

It was adapt name for Ominar’s old, underground sewer that laid on top of the very city’s fountain. Nowadays it housed criminals and those abandoned by society, most Licentia kin chased down into it's depths by the Prae’s relentless prejudice and fear they might vanish in the night. Numerous hovels collected over the last year and half creating ghetto areas where everyone scraped by in filth and desperation together. Here the strongest survived and if you weren’t careful than you often became a corpse in some unknown gutter.

Things had become rather crowded within the last few months as individuals, from Licentia to humans, had edged their way deeper into the wounding underbelly left to fester and rot on its own. Secret and filth became the alternative to prison, a fact many loathed to their core under the Prae’s ruling, the system weaving itself through the concrete to nearly anywhere in Ominar. This made tracking their numbers difficult since navigation was a hassle without advance technology or magical assistance.

Even for the Prae.

Deep in an unexplored tunnel, one of many, three individuals causally strolled through an old subway tunnel. Their feet walked along the tracks voided of any electrical energy that once filled it. The slum activity faded behind them the farther they wandered as a single humanoid fox lead the pair of humans deeper. Darius lifted the flashlight and waved over the scene, chasing away the shadows back into their isolated corners. Water drip mingled with each footstep that echoed off the metal walls in the tight confinements, the only life beside them were the scritching and scratching claws of several rats.

Afua, Darius’ employed necromancer, idly stroked the half decayed rat riding her shoulder. The dangling flesh left a slimy trail she didn’t bother to notice while her eyes darted into the shadows. Each time the torch passed in her vision, only the reflective lights of rat’s eyes glowed back at them. She smiled at the display and reached up to trace the ridged corpse’s back of her little pet a little more. While Afua and Darius verbally didn’t protest over the conditions, Boris had no trouble bitching about it.

“What are we doing here?” The Russian mage asked, his tone echoed briefly off the walls causing Darius’ head to snap toward the rear.

He grinded to a pause while his expression became cross at the impatient and rather low intelligent goon. His flashlight faced forward, Darius had been about to reply when Afua beat him to the quick.

“You be a mighty edgy like a rat trapped in a dark place, bru,” her tone was light and teasing, through her eyes gleamed with intention to provoke. Her hand lowered to her necklace, her Focus, before giving an idle hum from her native country of Africa. She had migrated over a year ago and her accent had retained its thickness in her roots, sometimes making it difficult to understand, “We be in here to find Krysta, Darius’ little thorn in his paw. Be not that right, baas?”

“Yes,” Darius commented, his eyes returned to tunnel’s end as they drew nearer, “According to the information of one of her friends, I believe she’s having a slight meeting to rally an attack on one of my casinos. I can’t condone that or allow it.”

Boris just snorted, his thick arms crossed over his chest, and followed in the fox’s wake. They walked in silence for a bit longer until they reached a large, roomy cavern of the train tunnel. Darius gestured for the pair to come to a stop as they drew a confused look at each other. Cautiously, he pointed to his ear that flicked with the sounds of the surface, muffled slightly, ringing in his attention before he made a request of Afua.

“She is close. Afua, would you so kindly send your little pets to flush them out?”

Afua smirked and crouched down, her arm reached out to allow her pet to step down onto the floor. Gradually her stachel at her waist wiggled furious as she opened the flap and in moments twenty cobbled together rats swarmed out into the sewer’s floor. Their partly decayed features, all in different stages, twitched and sniffed then became abruptly still. Grasping her Focus, Afua poured her Vis through it to make her orders clear.

“Now, my little ones. Fan out and search every little crevice for our little guests, if any resist then kill them,” with those last words, she waved her hand for them to scatter into the darkness. Her dreadlocked head, bunched into a ponytail, turned to Darius at the task being done, “It will take a few minutes and if anyone is within my area, they will be flushed out or killed. Satisfactory, baas?”

Darius nodded his approval then silence washed over them. Everything seemed to go back to normal with the water continued to drop in a steady beat and faint sounds of traffic above, the flashlight the only light peering through the shadows in the underground. Idly Darius’ yellow eyes slid from the right to the left to absorb any unsettling hints to an ambush. Gun fire broke out in the untouched darkness drawing a smirk from the fox’s muzzle and his attention turned over his shoulder when he made his orders.

“Afua, Boris let’s go now,” Darius barked. His right foot shot forward and immediately his paw flipped the light off in one motion, pocketing it. Underneath him, his shadow warped and twisted like a living thing. It jerked along his leg up to his arm then into his hand. The quivering and excited mass extended from his rib side into the outline of another arm. In its grip was a sharp, dangerous katana designed to slice through a body easily. Meanwhile his actual fingers reached into his holster then tightened about the handle of his glock. He drew into his real hands and looked for a target immediately.

Voices became clearer the closer they got as figures, illuminated by a dim glow light, came into view.

“You’re such an over sized baby, Rufus. It’s just a rat like I said,” came a female voice, mocking her companion.

“Easy for you to say, the damn thing didn’t bite you. And look, it brought filthy friends.”

A female redhead, dressed in a duster and baggy pants hunched over Afua’s deceased pets. A disgusting, thick pile of about ten to fifteen rats were riddled with bullets. Their patch quilt bodies were easily blown to pieces then scattered across the shit covered ground.

Picking one of the corpses up the tail with her gloved hand, Angela Reeds then continued, “Looks like it’s actually been dead for some time. I wonder what made it move about on its own?”

“Does it fucking matter?” Rufus snapped, the thicker giant like human shifted to retreat deeper into the tunnel, “Come on all already, Krysta will not be happy to be kept waiting.”

“Yeah, yeah don’t get your boxers in a knot. I’m commin’.”

“I think you’ll be making her wait a little bit longer,” came Darius’ voice slithering from the darkness and emerged into the dim light. The katana held in an extra set of arms that extended enough to prevent crippling his gun hand that rotated the glock to face the pair.

Angela grinned a wickedly dangerous one, “Well, shit looks the boss and his lackeys decided to pay us a visit. Krysta won’t like this in the least, but if we kill you before she knows then all will be forgiven.”

Her brown eyes turned to Rufus to retort to his earlier comment, “Still don’t think it matters now genius?”

Without another word, her hand whipped out a an FNP handgun. The muzzle flashed when the bullet exited the muzzle and darted the Kitsune as Boris reacted. The Russian man lifted his hand, the wristband on his thick hand and hidden under his jacket, glowed with a lifting gesture of his hand. A rumble then the metal screeched up to erect a wall in the way. The bullet pinged then rocketed to the side where it embedded into the wall causing the woman to frown in disappointment.

“Fucking metal mage,” her hand jerked to the side to take out Afua.

The illusion smiled when the bullets hit air, the image vanishing into thin air. Meanwhile, the necromancer hadn’t been lazy while she focused her Vis into a fist size gem and brought it into a bright glow, illuminating the tunnel in deep red. A decaying and patchwork beast materialized when its Vis, stored within the device, as she reached down to give it ‘life’ from her own magic. It wasn’t true life but an extent of her own. Binding the creature to her own Anima through a Vis string, she fed it energy and an understanding that it lived solely to serve her. An ancient magic, it had been rarely practiced by the public and in her hands it was a dangerous magic.

Bones and muscles were a mixture of a canine and tigerlike features, the corpse rose upright onto its feet.

A pair of purple irises emerged from the darkness, observing the exchange in silence as a violent confrontation is about to begin. A humanoid silhouette attached to those eyes steps forth, quite casually despite the current situation. It’s steady steps echoing the abandoned train tunnel with the clacks of expensive dress shoes.

To Darius, the face behind the silhouette, and the striking purple eyes were recognisable. He had seen it many times in the media, and it only became clearer as the man stepped into the dull red light of Afua’s crystal. The hell was a man like him doing in a place like this?

“Now, now…” The voice was smooth as silk, yet held an aura of intimidation and judgement over the two parties as the eyes looked upon Darius and his crew first, and then turning to Angela last. “I’m sure your little squabbles can be solved in a less violent manner. The last thing I want to see is such potential wasted on either side. So how about we all have a little chat, hmm?”
Angela laughed. Her sound echoed off the wall as she faded it into a smirk, her eyes twinkled in a murderous streak at the newcomer then flipped over to Darius, “Friend of yours? If I had known a few failed assassin attempts would’ve gotten your attention so easily then I would’ve done it ages ago.”

Her gun twitched, the only warning, when she jerked it up to fire at Darius.

The gun went off, the bullet leaving the barrel seemingly in slow motion as the necromancer and the mage attempted to react, but they would be too slow regardless, and if not stopped, the bullet would penetrate Darius’ skull. Though the bullet didn’t even get to travel very far.

As soon as Angela blinked, she heard the sound of ruffling clothes, and as her eyes opened again, the bang of the bullet bouncing around the tunnels walls, the unknown man stood before her, his pose relaxed with a fist placed just before the barrel of her gun. A metal wall rose behind him in the distance where Darius stood, and the undead creature under the necromancer’s employ reeled back at the sudden change of the man’s position.

His eyes stared intensely into Angela’s, as his fist opened into a palm, to reveal the crushed bit of lead gently resting on the skin of his hand. “Two…” The man muttered under his breath. Counting something in his mind. “Are you sure you do not wish to talk… Angela?” The man uttered her name. How the fuck did he know?

Darius watched the fear seep into the woman, her hand trembling as she reached for another weapon on instinct. The Kitsune doubted she would get very far. He barely blinked or moved, a fact because he didn’t need to since he had once witnessed this particular man’s combative skill personally. A test to ensure he wasn’t easy to kill should the Prae wanted to overcome an obstruction in their way and try to make him ‘vanish’ was needed before the contract had been signed.

His golden eyes looked to a shock Boris and Afua, both rattled by the speed, then made his comment, “Counting down to when your patience wears down, Mr. Crowley? Boris, Afua would you be kind enough to put your toys away for the moment? I believe our unexpected guest has everything in hand.”

With that, he let his black katana and arms dissolve back into the dark shadow at his feet then suck right into him. His other hand holstered his glock to prevent any misfire, despite the odd look both employees gave him. Grudgingly, Boris spat then cursed under his breath in Russian before placing his Focus away. Afua, idly, petted her frankenstein creation then hunched over to place it back into the gem with a bright light. The immediate call out then return had taken a lot of Vis that would quickly replenish if she didn’t use anymore magic for the time being.

Angela, who’s nervousness grew, tightened her finger on her trigger held in the man’s hand. Her eyes looked rattled and wild as Rufus debated on his next move. The half Licenti had been surprisingly quiet during the whole outbreak of conflict. On closer look, his skin gave off a rocky coloring showing his magical talents. He was part rock giant and that meant strength, durability and height were his advantage. It explained his form being about seven foot tall compared to the others within the tunnel.

“Angela, I think we should leave now.”

“I’m not done with this bastard-”

“Do you talk to your mother with that mouth, Angela, let alone your employers?”
“I cut ties with my family a long time ago. I enjoyed putting a bullet through someone’s head a bit too much and she thought something was wrong with me. As for Kystra, she condones it,” Angela scoffed, her finger tightened a bit more. Another bullet slide in the chamber and her adrenaline filled her veins, the idea of killing something that might provide a challenge made her grin widen even when the fear tried to drown it out.

“Angela…” Rufus cautioned, his half giant figure began to approach.

“And what if I tell you that there are better places to kill than in a train tunnel, or crawling through sewers for a low life criminal. Better pay, lifestyle, and challenging targets… hmm?” The man’s gaze turned to the stone ogre. “And what about you? Is this really worth the money Kystra is paying you? I’m sure you’re talents could be used wisely.”

“Money doesn’t concern me, you can keep it. It’s the thrill and bragging rights to killing someone that is impossible or view to be beyond it. The idea of being on the edge of a blade where your own life might be cut short or rise beyond the human limits is an experience I can’t get enough of. That’s all that matters to me and Kystra is the fastest way I can get it,” Angela answered as her eyes turned to Rufus, noting his feet come to a halt.

Her ally’s blue eyes studied the faster than the naked eye being before him, then absorbed what was said, “It’s not the thrill or money I’m interested in. People I loved have gone missing and I know friends that have suffered a similar loss. It’s to prevent that hurt and learn why is my reason. I don’t expect you to understand it,. Kystra’s right that Mr. Cain is going too slow on overcoming the Prae control and that something I want to change.”

Rufus inhaled, “Even if we have to rip the Fox and his organization apart to do it, leaving everything in ashes.”

“You will destroy Ominar and the good people in it. Doing the very thing you are trying to prevent. But there are other ways… Ones that will prevent more casualties.” He looked back at Angela. “If challenge is what you seek, then I can easily provide it. The only thing Kystra can provide is merely momentary satisfaction. That adrenaline rush… your endless thirst for combat. You are the wolf that I seek.”

“And you, Rufus, your heart is in the right place, yet I can see that you doubt yourself, doubt the path you're taking.” He paused for a moment, reaching into his elegant trench coat to pull out a pair of business cards. “I think it’s time for both of you to leave. But please, consider my offer. Feel free to give a call at anytime.” He placed a business card on top of Angela’s gun perfectly, and handed the other to Rufus.

On the card it stated:

Logan Crowley - CEO
Armax Innovations and Investments International
0-805-564-5897

Angela recognised the name. AIII was the proprietary owner of a renowned private military company, Armax Security. Their mercs are the best in the business, and see constant action around the world. While Rufus, recognised them for Aegis Real Estate Interdimensional. A massive real estate company that also does charity work by providing Licenti refugees with free homes on Medius.

Rufus narrowed his eyes at Logan, his height advantage caused him to lower himself in order to look into Logan’s, “I don’t know how a mafia boss could do anything to ensure law and order. He’s nothing more than a parasite feeding off the helpless and desperate to gain a foothold over them. It’s disgusting and I can’t see how any good comes from it.”

His head lifted upright and straightened up to continue, “I think I’ll stick with Kystra. At least she’s not willing to work with the Fox.”

Angela, on the other hand, had been brushing her thoughts over the card. Her face debated on the opportunity to take on things like Logan or even get a lucky shot into the back of the man’s head. Another smile crossed her lips when she replied, surprising even Rufus, “Why not? Kystra has kept me on a short leash since I tried to kill ol’ Foxy over there and I’m still twitching to end him.”

The man nodded to Angela. “Good. Then we shall meet later today to speak terms. And as itchy as your trigger finger is, you will get to scratch it very soon. Go along now, get yourself refreshed, and rearmed with something...” He inspected her handgun, and seemed a little disappointed. “...with more punch. Wanna make yourself presentable for the interview.”

Angela raised her eyebrow, “Easier said than done. I’m not exactly made of money and not many are willing to add more punch to a powder keg.”

“Then here is an advance.” The man handed her what appeared to be a Credit Chit, with more than enough cash to set her up with some serious hardware.

Rufus gave Logan a look that asked if he was really willing to set fire to all of Ominar until the man moved.

He stepped past her towards Rufus, and clasped him by the shoulder to walk him over out of earshot of Darius. His strength was surprising, capable of dragging Rufus over even if he attempted to resist, “Now, Rufus. Me and the Kitsune have a small agreement. But it does not mean we are allies. You see, when he dies, I take all of his properties, preventing the Prae from taking over that little district. He is playing the long game, while I am playing a more… forceful one, though discrete. While I haven’t got anything against the people of Priscus, I do have a lot against their leaders. They are the problem here, and I seek to resolve that particular issue as quickly, and as quietly as possible. And the reasons for that are quite obvious, don’t you think?”

“Aye, but the fox is poison and what happens after you get the Prae out?” Rufus asked, his eyes assessing the reaction to his question and sought to determine his would be answer.

“We avoid war. The criminal underworld can keep it in shit holes like this,” He gestures to the tunnel they were in. “while the surface and the hard working prosper. Even if Darius is a rotten apple, he is sadly needed. He keeps other like him check. And we don’t want more individuals like him. Better to have only one, than several.”

Rufus huff at the thought, his head twisted at the fox who idly stood there. His vision heated in hot, burning hatred and blame before trying to argue farther, “And who do you think makes them in the first place?”

“Think about it realistically” Logan began. “People come from all kinds of lives, parents, childhoods. But we all know that this stems from desperation and poverty. You know the slums, right? Desperate people, just trying to survive, from the crime, and the OCPD raids. That desperation leads them to work for people like him. I plan to eliminate that desperation, that poverty. With that out of the way, crime dwindles, and dies. When you live in comfort, what reason do you have to commit atrocities?”

Rufus inhaled, “Fine, we’ll see where your path leads but do me one favor. Don’t let Darius outlive his usefulness. When he is no longer doing whatever the shit you want him to or steps out of line, don’t let him get away with it.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. His time is short regardless. Now go get yourself some sleep. You could use it…” He the Licenti go, and watched him hesitantly leave, looking back at Darius with a glare of hatred.

With both now former agents of Kystra gone, Logan casually strolled over to Darius and his people, his dress shoes clicking against the cold ground. “Darius… attempting clean up your mess, I see.”

“If I didn’t, would you think I would’ve lasted this long? After all, while I might thrive in chaos… it brings unsettling memories best avoided,” He waved off both Afua and Boris, sending them to walk back to the exit where they stood alert and nervous, “From that look Rufus gave me, I take it you make it clear our truce was temporary and likely something else in regards to my life? He wouldn’t go so easily unless he knew I would be killed at some point.”

“Everybody dies eventually Darius. We all do. Whatever the circumstances may be.” Logan pause to regard the fox for a moment before continuing. “Being part owner means that I have to worry about every little detail. It’s my job to do so. You could have told me you were having some issues, they would have been resolved quickly.”

“Not everyone is that patient and Kitsune aren’t known for their short, natural life spans. I’m not very happy with how far I let things get, but I’ve been distracted with news of an old friend in town. I’m currently waiting for him to pay a visit,” Darius spoke, leaving out the identity. His paws fitted themselves into his pockets and hung there loosely in a calm manner even with the conversation leaning on death, “Now what do you intend on doing?”

“Well, I would like to fix your problem, but since my business partner is being a little uncooperative, I guess I will leave him to it.” Logan stated. “You have a free path to Kystra now, the rest is up to you. Keep in mind that I will be watching very closely. I’m interested to see how this all turns out. Good Luck, Darius. Hope you can broker some sort of resolution without causing another mess.”

With that, The Director of AIII walked away towards the exit behind Darius, leaving him to listen to the man’s footsteps and think on his words carefully.

Essence of the World: Cadence [Always Open]

Assembly

Unknown Date and Time

Ein stepped through the massive wooden doors and into the north Aula's warm core.

The space was majestic, meant to hold and teach a total of 150 students, half of the institution's intended students. Of course, a few hundred years after the Academy’s establishment, its growing prestige as a top-ranked musical school and later importance as a paramilitary organisation had led to an increase in population which necessitated the creation of a new Aula at the center of the south wing. It was admittedly bigger, more modern and better equipped for the various activities tutors engaged in besides speaking.

But the old auditorium remained, harboring the charm of old architecture which many of the more sentimental staff preferred. The north Aula carried on the tradition of the late nineteenth century in placing an elevated stage near the door and an amphitheatrical design of the long wooden benches and desks spreading outwards and up . It was an old-fashioned room, coated in oak from floor to ceiling with relatively small windows covering one of the walls. That, along with the grey autumn skies obstructed by wooden shutters made the space seem darker than it actually was.

Of course, it wasn't the usual place for an Assembly and it wasn't really perfect for one either. It was far from the Peacekeepers moot hall and it was far too big for it's current residents, numbering only eleven. What wasn't explicitly said was that the Academy was one of the most secure places in the world, even better protected than most Parliaments. It was also omitted that just a few hours prior, the wooden walls and shutters were treated with a thin layer of onyx to effectively render the space a magic-free zone and thus allowing maximum privacy by restricting any magical interferences.

Today they were faced with very special circumstances. Hence why only Ein and Hazumi wore their official Assembly robes. The Peacekeepers had been called in with very little time to respond which left them unable to retrieve their own gowns. As a result, the nine representatives of the three races were left boasting their regular clothes: an interesting sight providing some insight into the personalities they usually concealed.

Hazumi followed Ein in, closing the door behind them. She followed the principal to the podium, glancing at each of the Peacekeepers but not actually staring. Tradition meant that Ein would speak for her as the person deemed to be the Essence’s keeper, and he would have the ‘pleasure’ of letting the rest know what had happened over the past two weeks. Hazumi didn’t mind, and in fact she was grateful for it. The hellion’s halo was making slow circles above his head revealing only the slightest animation - a feat she herself couldn’t muster. Standing beside him, Hazumi stared into the fire and tried to detach herself from what she was about to hear and fake her own composure.

“Dear Peacekeepers, thank you very much for responding to my request on such short notice. Without further ado, please let me proceed to explain the reason for this emergency meeting. As you have heard and can now see for yourselves, the Essence of the World is back with us.
She disappeared on the twelfth of september, just over two weeks ago, and everyone’s best efforts yielded no results in finding her. However less than twenty-four hours ago she awoke in a demon’s residence here in Loom and was able to return to us.

The location of her disappearance was Heaven which she vaguely remembers reaching on her own on the twelfth, after which an agony overcame her that she compares with the moment of her inception during which the Fleshshaper knit together the souls of millions of victims of the Great War. The Essence does not remember why she went to Heaven or what happened with her while she was there. She claims the pain was so overwhelming it was impossible to keep track of time or space, and that all her attempts but one in communicating her whereabouts were futile.

She also has no recollection of how she awoke back in Loom. However, as some of you might notice, she did not come back complete.” Ein turned to the angels and humans in the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am afraid our Essence has lost her divine powers. She is incapable of perceiving and manipulating essence and our doctors have observed that she now bleeds like a regular human being with no magical abilities whatsoever. Of course, the heart of Heaven’s Gatekeeper still beats in her chest but as that was the organ originally planted inside her current human body, it is reasonable to say that it is impossible to extract that without Hazumi’s complete and utter demise in physical terms. No signs of violence, torture, or invasive surgery were found on her body, but she does report feeling weak, fatigued and disoriented, probably as a result to seeing the World in a new way.

So far, the only people to know of the Essence’s condition are us, her partner, doctor Fiera. As the information is very sensitive and has the capacity to shake the Peace in an unprecedented way, we have asked you to assemble and decide how to proceed. Should we make the matter public, and if yes, whom should we tell and under what conditions?”

The first voice to respond came from one of the human representatives. The human was in his late forties with light blonde hair and a slightly distracted demeanor. Maximilian Gent, the Founder and CEO of one of the world's bleeding edge technology companies and notorious for his slightly radical tendencies. The man's seat on the council was all but bought and paid for by his insights into essence through a modern lens but it also paid dividends for the council as he was also a practical man.

“Why would we ever tell the public? The world got along just fine before the creation of the Essence is my understanding. Are we so afraid that we think we need a weapon that was created for the purpose of subjugation just to do our job?” The man had been reading what appeared to be profit margins reports prior to Ein entry with Hazumi in tow. Now he folded them and set them aside, all business in a nicely pressed light grey business suit.

“We step up our boots on the ground, make our execution of murderers more public and we show the masses there is nothing wrong, Hazumi is back, everyone can rejoice.” His tone was bleeding sarcasm “We already exist in an orwellian world so I hardly think a little more deception to keep the rates down for now is a problem. Besides if she still has the gatekeeper’s heart beating in her chest it seems to me there is no reason why she can't get her powers back. That and it hardly seems like she's in danger…”

Maximilian was of course referencing the hair raising sight of The Herald in the hallway outside of the room. Having walked passed the necromancer on his way in he'd gotten a good look at the pair of massive zombie mastiffs flanking their master who was waiting patiently for the meeting to be over.

“More importantly, unless or until she does get her powers back, what exactly is the point of this little coalition?” Pierce was characteristically blunt as always, a petite woman with a shock of peroxide hair cut in an angled bob. In her robes she was an elect of the council same as any other, dignified and professional, but in a red hoodie four sizes too large and a pair of high top sneakers she didn’t exactly look the part. Still, she watched the others evenly over laced fingers, her voice as wry as the businessman’s had been. She’d been an easy choice when it came to choosing a representative for the Peacekeepers--her clairvoyance was impressive even by the standards of her limited kin and she wasn’t at all afraid to cut to the heart of the matter.

“The Peacekeepers are predicated on our ability to prevent demons from doing what demons do; without the ability to know if they do it, how exactly do you think we can expect to maintain any sort of legitimacy? We can lie about it all we want, but if we’re flying blind it doesn’t change the fact that it will come out and we will be looking at a significant percentage of the world’s population whose entire existence is based on devouring the rest. I’m surprised we’re not calling for an evacuation.” Flicking her eyes to the other angels on the council, her sharp little hummingbird wings gave a nearly subsonic flutter before returning flat to her back as before.

Ceri was silent, listening to the discussion and wondering just how long this could go on for. Years, if they allowed it. Hours certainly. She studied her companions, contemplating each and every one of them. These were the people she had to work with, to help maintain peace, yet as the discussion began, Ceri wondered if they had always seemed so stupid, or if something about her had changed. Probably the latter. She closed her eyes, and shifted, breathing in and out slowly, as if trying to maintain her patience. Ceri was normally known for her patience, yet lately it seemed that just about anything had her a step away from exploding. With a heavy sigh, Ceri decided she couldn't maintain her silence.

"Maximillian, the problem with that is by becoming more strict, we risk people seeing us as unreasonable. Oppressed people bring about more venomous thoughts, and ultimately bring out a revolt that will leave the population sorely depleted. Think of what a war could do, and the statistics that could very well bring about-life loss, land destroyed. The general population are happy to think that we keep the dirty laundry hidden, throw it out, and there will be problems. And sooner or later, it will be noticed by many Hazumi's lack of power.

Yes, the world has survived without an Essence before, but having an Essence is essential in maintaining the peace." She shook her head, smoothing her dress of imaginary wrinkles, looking to Pierce now. Maybe he assumption about he comrades becoming stupider than they had been was correct. "the point of this is to develop ideas about what we can do to ensure chaos does not rain. It's so we can get a handle on this situation before things get out of hand." She brushed back her curly red hair from her face, wondering if she should have put the long, difficult to maintain hair up in a bun, anything to have the semblance of a well-maintained appearance, yet the well-built young woman did certainly leave a striking impression. Pale skin that seemed to glow, nails painted a shocking, vibrant red, a tight dress that showed off her curves, yet tantalisingly hid her chest, and brilliant green eyes that seemed to pierce the soul.

"Calling for an evacuation will cause a mass panic. We can do something about this situation, we just have to figure out what."

Dilgar, a Hellion who had lived most of his life in Hell, scoffed loudly and then raised his hand sarcastically as if it was necessary at all. He wasn't ancient but he seemed to really believe in the superiority of his mind.. and consider it an excuse to behave like a jerk. Sadly, his physical power meant he rarely met sufficient opposition. Peacekeepers were chosen democratically and apparently many demons though he was the model bureaucrat.

“Excuse me, but am I the only one who doubts what Hazumi says?”

The woman's eyes focused on the room. She didn't like it when he addressed her by name on those meetings. It meant it was a personal accusations. After all, she was both Hazumi and the Essence. Hazumi was the weaker part.

She didn't flinch. But she couldn't help it when the suggestion to read her mind left his mouth. Instantly her blood was boiling.

“Are we really going to accept that half-assed explanation of what happened? Do you remember Judas? And even before that, I heard she wiped out a ton of Academy students back in 2012.” Hazumi's mouth opened to protest but he continued. “So what's to say she hasn't done it again? Went and gave the next dictator a gift. For all we know, the Essence is indestructible, the Instruments still exist… so where is that power?”

The woman stared at him violently, clenching her jaw shut. The halo over Ein’s head was picking pace. If it came to it, would he protect her?

“So I suggest we read her mind. See for ourselves exactly what happened.”

“I'm sorry, as I have no powers left I also have no means of showing you…” Hazumi hissed through gritted teeth. “Oh it's ok, I'm sure we'll find someone who can break in, as things are.”

“Outrageous!” Hazumi exclaimed, unable to take it any longer. “Are you insinuating you don't trust me?! That your faith in me was entirely predicted on my powers alone?! I have made mistakes, and so have you. All of you! Are you saying that's reason enough to violate my mind?!”

“Why would you consider it a violation? It doesn't have to be, if you're willing. After all, you serve the people, right?” He smirked. A cold wave passed through Hazumi. He had her.

“I serve the people. Not you. I'll comply with what's decided.” She said. Lied. There was no way she'd let them. If she could help it.

“How about you still your tongue, Dilgar… Before I cut it out and force it down your throat…” Garvagh was ancient, enormously tall, with horns that could puncture the weaker Hellion’s face with ease should she wish to do so. She is the daughter of the once Warden of the Northern Realm, Corvax, Mephistopheles’ right hand and advisor, before the Demon Lord was cut down by the infamous Solus Grim.

Having been forced into this meeting without formal preparations, she was still brandishing her massive SawBlade and Qun Armor.

“We will not resort to manipulating the soul of ANYONE.” Her armored hands clutched into fists, ready to pummel the pompous fool into oblivion. Her breath heaved, and molten ashes escaped the mouth of the helmet as she attempted to contain her rage. That was the trouble with the Qun. They were bred for war, and were constantly consumed by rage and a lust for combat. Hence her position as the current Commander and Chief of the Black Guard. Despite her genetic vices, she still has a tactical head on her shoulders. Investigation and wisdom came first, but sometimes, like in Dilgar’s case, a good backhanded strike that would send the demon across the room would be more that satisfactory. This, however, was not the time.

“We need to think about the now. What’s done is done.” Her armoured head turned to Hazumi and addressed her directly. “What about Sameda? Would it be a suitable replacement under a capable wielder while you search for your lost power?”

Maximilian's eyes bulged at the suggested violation of the Essence; it was amazing how savage these beings were. For all their magic and their superiority complex they were incredibly crude in their execution of...well everything really. As Dilgar continued the vein on Max’s temple pulsed as he bit down on his tongue doing his best to continue keeping the veneer of the cool multi-billionaire CEO.

It went rather well and then the leader of the Blackguard opened her mouth and said everything that Maximilian wanted to say. Settling back Max folded his arms with a rather smug look on his face until the word Sameda came out of Garvagh’s mouth. It went without saying that there were lots of people and lots of things that lived in and around Loom which were fully capable of doing a fair bit more than the council of Peacekeepers were comfortable with. Some of them were the relics of Judas’ age much like the necromancer in the hallway. Some were newer and more unstable and some predated all of them. The problem was the vast majority of them were unstable and dangerous. Surprisingly for all her power the Essence had proved to be the least deranged of a long list of beings on Maximilian’s list of ‘Things to attend to’. Sameda rated somewhere near the bottom third of the list in terms of stability and somewhere above the 50th percentile in power.

“And who the hell do you think we are going to place Sameda in the hands of pray tell? There isn’t a single musician I can think of who is trustworthy enough to respond to this council’s wishes and who is sufficiently skilled enough to reign Sameda in. So run that by me one more time? Why are we considering letting something that rabid off the leash in the middle of a crisis? In all honesty you’re better off releasing Sathanus’ essence back into the care of The Herald and then asking him nicely not to level the other half of Loom. Any more bright ideas?”

There actually was one who came to mind but it would be like handing an unhinged huntsman the leash to a rabid dog. Sure the huntsman could probably use the dog but you were never quite sure who was going to be on the receiving end of the dog’s bite.

It took Max a long moment to realize what he’d said and whom he’d said it to. When it dawned on him, he visibly blanched but that was all. The CEO was many things but a coward was not one of them. At least he wasn’t afraid of demons; humans had stopped fearing them in the 1800s and rightly so. Technology was the solution to the vast majority of humanity's problems and Maximilian was the conductor of the particular train. Still. One did not [i]lightly[/] imply the leader of the Blackguard was being dense.

“Dawton Gray…” The demon replied matter-of-factly. “Sameda’s primary, controlling soul is that of Samantha Beat, a now deceased musician who sacrificed herself in order to keep the instruments out of Lashiel’s hands. Her and Dawton were close, and he is the only one who can wield Sameda to its fullest, and safest potential.” The demon paused as she inspected the corporate man. “Or would you rather sit and watch as the Three Races tear down the very foundation of peace while Hazumi is weak?”

Maximilian rolled his eyes at the comment “I somehow doubt that the races will be at each other's throats that quickly. Hazumi is back which is the notable feature of this discussion. Until someone actively figures out that the Essence has no teeth so to speak we have Time. Better to think this through fully before jumping to a rash decision. Not only that you are suggesting putting Sameda in the spotlight. A merged musician and instrument. I can think of about a dozen people off the top of my head who will react poorly to us parading some thing who shouldn’t exist. As for Mr. Gray I have my own reservations.” Max trailed off as he contemplated the implications of the proposed plan. It appeared that most or all of the control he might have had was predicated on them listening. There was no doubt in his mind that they were being driven largely by fear at this point; this whole meeting was going to end with an incredibly poor choice.

The Academy’s headmaster kept quiet during the short alteration, quite impassive about the whole thing. If he had an opinion about any of what was said, he didn’t let it show. Then again, he was known to be a very reasonable, albeit occasionally very narrow-minded man. The only things that concerned him were his Academy, his students and his Essence. If he could even call her that. Either way, he was… pleased… that Hazumi wouldn’t need to be examined by those people, even though he did see the logic behind Dilgar’s questions.

He glanced at his watch – a big thing with a brilliantly red body so as to stand out from the Hellion’s near-black scales, and considered the progression of the meeting. They had much to talk about and a consensus seemed increasingly unlikely. They would probably need to decide things with a popular vote in the end.

Then he glanced at the Ess-- at Hazumi, giving her a small nod. After all, she was addressed before this whole thing happened. The woman frowned slightly at him, probably irked by the etiquette but it didn’t matter. Perhaps they would listen to her, even if she was almost as good as worthless now.

“To address Garvagh’s question…. While Sameda is indeed powerful, it is in no way comparable to what I was capable of. Indeed, it is a fraction of myself and as such, capable of assimilating foreign essence, but that would require sacrifice – willing or not. As you know, I myself would be capable of growing my strength but refrain from doing so for moral and practical reasons. In contrast, Sameda knows little restraint and I wouldn’t trust it not to act out, even if our current system of controlling it seems capable. I wouldn’t be comfortable entrusting Sameda on anyone. I am not willing to put any of my students in such risk.

As far as Dawton is concerned…. Yes, they were indeed close. Yes, he might be capable of controlling her. But to what end? Sameda is a weapon – she will want to cut. And Dawton…. Is a demon. And one who was presumably in love with her. What do you think he would do with her?

I believe Sameda would be a good display of power and authority. But the only way I can see this happen is if we erase his memories of her…. Or employ someone to actively control him while he controls her.” She left the implication hang in the air.

Maximilian pursed his lips before picking a device up off the arm of the chair where he was sitting. The item was about the size of a small tv remote depressing one of the buttons on its surface and pointed it at the wall. The device projected an image onto the wall; it was the beginning of a video of a room. The whole room was a collection of masks under cases. Hitting play on the device the video rolled forward. After a few moments a demon entered the room with two individuals in tow. One was immediately recognizable as the female they were talking about; the original owner of Samantha Rule's body. The second was a male with short black hair and the build of a soldier or perhaps a martial artist. Pausing the video here Maximilian turned to address the rest of the peacekeepers.

“Can anyone explain to me who this is?” The tech company CEO didn’t actually need the question answered but it seemed like this was an opportunity to see which members of the peacekeepers had any clue what was going on in the streets of Loom right now.

Not waiting for an answer Maximilian switched the feed from the mask room to a cut from the Academy tragedy. It was a feed from just before Solus showed up to start the rescue; although rescue was a stretch given that by that time the vast majority of Lashriel’s forces had already made off with the students they were after. This footage however was focused on a part of the room that also included the original owner of Sam’s body. Once again the younger man appeared in the footage but this time he was armed with an automatic rifle and as the footage rolled forward he shot three of the angels near Sam to death in quick order before making a beeline for her through four or five other students to make sure she was okay.

Pausing the feed again Maximilian turned and held up his hands as though to say: help me out?

“It would seem to me that there were other individuals in Sameda’s life besides Mr. Gray. In all honesty this individual” Maximilian pointed to the man in the video feed “Seems far more stable than Mr. Gray.” Max never thought the words stable would come out of his own mouth when describing the Academy’s black sheep but it was better than unleashing Sameda under the direction of Dawton Gray. The CEO had really hoped to avoid this conversation all together as Mr. Snyder had been obsessive in his search for Sam after she’d merged with the weapon.

“So” His gaze turned to Ein. “Care to enlighten us as to who he is?”

“And where are your facts regarding Dawton’s stability?” The demon interrupted the human. “The man was trained by Solus Grim himself, and was recently been selected for Black Guard recruitment. What, if you mind telling me, makes you think he is incapable?”

Ein cleared his throat and cut in, hopeful to at least partially cool the tempers.

“The man in the video is Ian Snyder, a highly valued asset in our fight against Lashiel’s forces, among others. If I'm allowed to express an opinion, I would say I consider him too valuable to be wasted in an experiment. Thus far we have taken precaution not to allow his mental health to degrade any further by meeting with Sameda in its present state.”

“May I remind you that the question isn't who but if we need to use Sameda at all?” Hazumi said, visibly annoyed by Ian’s mention. The man had a special place in her heart which was hardly a secret. “If you have decided to do so anyway, may I suggest we request that Zadkiel become part of a team, dedicated on controlling her? One person wouldn't be enough and can think of nobody better to serve as a safety net. He has been loyal to us this far, and if he puts up any resistance we can always use Lucien’s name to make him comply.”

Ein looked at Hazumi with a slight surprise in his eyes. A bold proposition to raise at the keepers of peace. Could she really be hiding something?

Garvagh responded, positively. “One one condition. We will only touch Dawton’s memories should he become dangerous. If we do so before he acquires Sameda, we will have a useless zombie controlling the instrument instead. I have recommended him based on his skill, and wiping his memories will render him incapable of doing the job in the first place.”

Ceri stayed silent as the rest argued what would be pointless in the long run. The simple fact to Ceri was that something needed to be done, and done now. Max, to Ceri, was fooling himself if he didn't think the races wouldn't be at each others throat without the Essences guidance. You simply had to look at history to know. "Those that don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it" She murmured to herself. Were they doomed to repeat the endless mistakes of their predecessors? Yes, this wasn't the same situation as in history, yet this constant back and forth could very well lead to a bad decision.

They were going to be here for a while, and Ceri settled back, content for now to listen. If she had to be the voice of reason, she would be. For now though, they could wear themselves out by this bickering. Something stuck with her though, and she frowned over it.

Trust.

If they couldn't trust the musicians that had been trained, that were being trained, then what was the point of the whole thing? If they couldn't trust Hazumi, as some seemed to think wasn't wise, questioning her as they had, then why were they here? She had some doubts about the group actually trusting each other. So. Why were they here? Were they deluding themselves that they were in control, when in fact they weren't?

Finding herself rising, she spoke loudly "You state that Zadkiel is loyal. And yet earlier Maximilian said that there isn't a single musician that is trustworthy enough. Why do we demand trust from them, but don't give it in return? Many of you questioned Hazumi mere moments ago, whether she herself could be trusted because you didn't like the explanation of what had happened. So there is no single musician we will trust, but a group of them is enough? Why, because there will always be someone watching someone else? Because that has worked so well for us?" she shook her head, and sighed wearily, "Yes, there needs to be a group for this to work. Yes, it probably has to happen. But we are speaking of lives as if they are things to throw away. Take a moment to seriously think, instead of trying to prove who has the biggest balls. This arguing will get us no where. Because there is always going to be a reason not to do something. But if we don't do something here, now, then its not going to matter. So i think the question is not who, but how we will get this to work with as minimal loss of life as possible"

She reflected on her words a moment, nodding to herself as if satisfied. "Because if we screw up, it doesn't matter. Everything we do to prevent disaster won't matter, because it will happen anyway. This has to be done. But we can't be stupid about it. Zadkiel is a good choice to help in control, potentially destroying Snyder is not-perhaps the only logical choice is Dawton, and yes, we cannot take his memory simply because it would be easier for us, only if the threat is there. Sometimes you have to take the harder road to get the results you need." And that was it, that was all she had to say. Ceri sat down, knowing she'd stay silent from here on out, unless a vote was required.

“Thank you…” Garvagh said first. “Finally, a voice of reason.” Her and Ceri agreed on such matters often. And the fact that an angry Demon Princess turned Military Commander for the three races, and the cool, collected human who, frankly, is far more mature and considerate than the rest of the people here, actually agreed of something, would have been a surprise on it’s own. But such agreements between them are almost predictable.

Garvagh was an individual of fast action and response, while Ceri, was logical and calculated, and had the patience of a Saint. Garvagh gave the young woman a curt nod, and definitely appreciated her insight. She articulated Garvagh’s point far better than she herself could.

While Hazumi scowled at the insinuation that any of what she suggested was “throwing lives away”, she had to admit the meeting went better than expected. For herself, anyway. The Peacekeepers nowadays were different from the ones she’d had to deal with some hundred years ago – people lusting power and dominance, people like Dilgar who would have rather had her remain a mindless object of unimaginable power than what she had become over time. As usual, agreement was hard to reach and required sacrifices, but the sacrifices the people standing before her now were willing to make were entirely different from the ones she was used to. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if things went smoothly – for Sameda to be free but tame in Dawton’s hands, for Zadkiel to accept their request with no complaints, for her power to be found, returned, with no problems.

Wouldn’t the world be a nice place if that’s how things worked.

But that’s why you had politicians and you had executives. The two rarely mixed. Garvagh was an interesting example in that respect. If her idealistic opinions came from anyone else, they might have been considered ridiculous but the Black guard general had proven her worth. Now if she could only smash that bastard Dilgar’s nose on the way out….

“Well, as much as it pains me to agree with Miss Garvagh, I certainly support staying away from the soul of one of our own. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen, right?” The demon in question grinned at Ein who caught himself before letting an expression escape him, even if a spark flew off his halo.

The rest of the Peacekeepers remained silent, apparently having reached an agreement. With nothing more to say the meeting was quickly disbanded, and the old aula was left silent once again. It was the ominous quiet left to fill the gaping hole of a space where history was made.

It matched Hazumi’s feelings well.

Essence of the World: Cadence [Always Open]

Trade-offs

Day 9, Morning
Azel, Hazumi, Solus
Collaboration between Synthorian and Wild Wind

Azel wasn’t used to receiving visitors of the divine kind. In fact, in his safe-house under Fleet Street, he wasn’t used to receiving any guests at all.

But Loom was a strange place and if the proverb “anything could happen” was true anywhere in the world, it would be here. For one, he’d somehow ended up a custodian to the Essence of the World - an event purely driven by chance and with minimal effort on his part. So a man materialising in a room that was supposed to be protected, both physically and magically, felt like an almost natural progression to a considerably stranger week than most.

Some hundred years ago, he might have been scared. But he’d grown since he’d come to the Surface. Matured, perhaps. He had learned to recognise danger even better than before. And learned to avoid it masterfully. Really, life was just a roll of the dice, when one thought about it objectively. Fate was a whimsical little whore but you had no choice but to deal with her.

So the stranger was met with well-polished calm and only a slight look of surprise. As a second ticked by and he still wasn’t attacked, he assumed it safe to start talking.

“Well hello there. I wasn’t expecting any guests but given your rude entry I don’t suppose you really care about what I expected.” He looked the man up and down curiously, wondering what his business was here. More than certainly it was Hazumi and not himself. So the question he should start thinking about was probably “is he here to help or use her”? “Harm” was unlikely, she was too valuable not to be used. The man was in his fourties, bearded, wearing a smart casual polo-neck and a black tailored jacket. The smart casual outfit meant he could be either a thug or a businessman. Interesting.

“If you consider bypassing your invasive security measures to be rude, then no, I really don’t care what you expected.” The man stated matter-of-factly, putting his lit cigar between his lips as he walked past Azel towards the door that led to Hazumi’s unconscious body.

The demon followed curiously, his slippers dragging lazily along the polished wooden floor to the next room. “What are you?” He asked, deducing that the man could see essence well enough to find the little princess that nobody yet knew about. “And after, what do you intend on doing with her?”

The man placed his hand on the door handle and turned to Azel. “Hazumi can answer both those questions in about…” He looked down at his watch. “38 seconds and counting.” He smiled at him and proceeded to open the door into Hazumi’s resting place.

Azel whistled and leaned against the door frame. During his infrequent visits to the safe house over the past week he’d tried everything he could think of trying to wake Hazumi up, with little success. She didn’t always seem as dead as today, sometimes she would moan or twist in her sleep but for all he’d seen, she hadn’t once opened her eyes. Interesting coincidence it should happen exactly when his security system failed.

The man took one look at his old rival and friend, and cracked a small smile. “Been a while, Haz…” He lifted up his hand and clicked his fingers. Hazumi’s eyes began to flutter as she began to wake from her restless coma. “See? Right on the dot.” He said to Azel.

The other man couldn’t stop a chuckle (not that he tried) and pointed out it was better than a kiss. Hazumi’s eyes were open but unseeing. It took another few moments for the haze of confusion to completely lift from her eyes and for a frown to settle on her face. Then suddenly she sat up and stared at the two men in panic. Azel had helpfully reverted to the appearance she knew him in, so he had no doubt she’d recognize him. Interestingly, that didn’t seem to calm her.

The woman’s mouth opened but no words came out until the second try. “What’s… going on?”

“You were out cold… for a long ass time.” The man replied. “Your friend here took you in to keep you hidden while you were unconscious.”

Hazumi’s voice was rough and raw. As if someone had ripped the vocal cords out of her throat and put them back wrong, coiled. It hurt to speak. It also hurt to see – the light hurt her eyes. But then again, her whole existence hurt, even if there were no visible signs.

“How long is “long”?” She asked gripping her hands together to stop them from trembling.

“Two weeks.” The man replied.

Two weeks.... a small sigh escaped her. It could be worse. Back in the prison of her own flesh it had felt like an eternity of pain and anguish with little hope of escape. Now that it was over, it turned out it had lasted far less than she had assumed it would. For one, she had woken up.

“What has happened in that time?” She asked, not only because she was dreading the answer itself. She was also dreading a question.

“Not as much as you might think.” Azel spoke up, seeing how the other man was in no hurry to answer. Interestingly, the demon still couldn’t figure out what his motives were for being here given how he didn’t attempt to obtain or even manipulate the Essence just yet. The thought of manipulating her himself was mildly tempting, but Azel wasn’t one to temper with such power in a direct fashion, and especially not under the observation by a free radical. Truth it is, then.

“Murder and hate crime have increased but because your disappearance isn’t common knowledge it’s not as bad as one could expect. However something is going wrong with essence manipulation and it’s affecting magic, the Academy and even some more arcane-prone chimeras. You might want to look into that.” Unsurprisingly, he was in no rush to mention Lucien’s latest cock-up and the ensued Blackguard mobilisation.

Hazumi nodded stoically, trying to ground herself in the moment and forget the entirety of the last few days. Replace the worries for herself with worries for others. It usually worked well enough.

She wasn’t about to ask about Lazarus. She was a queen, and whatever the circumstances, she had to appear strong and impartial. Even when she wasn’t.

“In that case, I should be off.” She nodded to the ground and pushed herself to her shaky feet. Her body definitely remembered.

“Where are heading? I'll drive you.” The man suggested.

Hazumi glanced at the man but didn't see any reason to object despite having no idea who he was. “Thank you. The location is Lazarus’ place… can you…” she hesitated, looking over to Azel wearily. “Can you please call him? I need to know where he is.”

The demon kept his expression mild but on the inside his excitement was growing. The situation was turning more and more interesting by the minute. Who was this man? What had happened to the Essence? And what was about to happen from now on? Something was clearly wrong with her but what? And would he ever find out, or would she simply disappear from existence, leaving him the last person to see her alive?

That could be troublesome. Or intriguing. Either way, he wasn't bothered. Azel gave a small bow and went to talk to Lazarus in the other room after asking about his number. Not asking why she couldn't do it herself was a small token of respect for the time she'd protected him from Lucien all those years ago.

---

“Engaging Autopilot.” The computer of the car chirped as the steering wheel compressed into a smaller wheel. It began to move with no noise at all, and the ride was awfully smooth. No bumps or pothole affected the comfort of the drive. Hazumi has never seen such a vehicle before.




The car was sleek and gleamed in the light of the sun like a jewel. Hazumi couldn’t help but notice that this thing was just barely touching the ground, or perhaps it wasn’t even touching the ground at all…

The interior was just as lavish. Black with gold trimming along smooth lines that traced the shape of the dashboard, dim holograms gently lighting up the inside of the vehicle.
Such vehicles weren’t easy to come by and even in Loom they were reserved for some very, very special individuals. It was certainly eye-catching, impressive even. Yet it wasn’t something Hazumi could appreciate right now. Having grown up as an angel, she was never one for artificial means of transformation to begin with and while she tolerated cars, she didn’t like them.

However over time she had learned to recognise people’s infatuation with them. For humans, angels and demons alike, transport was a sign of authority. And this car’s owner definitely had a high status.

When she sat down with a tired sigh, she wasn’t thinking about any of this. Anxiety was gripping her throat tight and leaching all her energy from her. She probably should be worried about waking up in Azel’s apartment and allowing what she presumed to be one of his employees to drive her to Lazarus. But in truth she couldn’t find it in her to care. The physical pain had ceased but her world hadn’t stopped from crumbling. The nightmare hadn’t stopped and the culmination was yet to come.

“So…” The unnamed man began as the car entered traffic and began to head towards the highway. “You have been in a coma for a little while. Not much has changed, but things are beginning to brew under the surface with your absence. Heading for the Herald's Keep was a wise decision.”

Hazumi scoffed slightly and gave the man a grim look. “That's my role as Essence. You all expect me to be wise, don't you?”

Not her usual benign response.

“Oh, I know you far better than that.” The man chuckled. “The people expect you to be wise, being a Demigod and all. The Elite view you as a tool to puppet the world. I see you as someone who didn’t want this job in the first place.”

“Oh?” A hostile spark appeared in her eyes, now trained on him. “You seem to know a lot. Or think you do, anyway.”

“All that power and pressure was placed on your shoulders by politicians to keep people in control after the Purging War. You are… Were, a weapon, a method of keeping the population docile. Made by a Demon with a ridiculous vision for a future world, and used like a dirty dishrag for the benefit of a certain few. You keep telling yourself that it’s to save all these lives. But even you know that the chaotic nature of sentient life can’t be controlled or ruled over.” The man sighed and looked Hazumi right in the eyes. “But we have had this conversation already.”

Hazumi’s expression changed like the colours of the rainbow. Intrigue, anger and then shock. The final stage was when she finally understood the truth of the man's identity. Really, she should have figured it out long ago.

Her hand found her forehead and rubbed it helplessly. “What do you want, Solus?” Her voice trembled, suddenly a like she was on the verge of tears. It was impossible to hide anything from this man - a bitter truth she couldn't deny even when she knew her life hung in the balance and a secret was her last protection.

“What… No “Hi, Solus. How are things?”?” The Terminus shook his head, a little disappointed. “But then again, I do always show up when the shit hits the fan. And this is no exception.” The car had now smoothly glided onto the highway and increased in speed to keep up with traffic. “You know… your reaction is more appropriate for a visit from a Djin.” He pause for what seemed like an eternity in Hazumi’s mind. Seconds ticked away as Solus processed his thoughts. “I don’t want anything from you, Haz. Ever since I went… up there-” He gestured towards the ceiling offhandedly. “-I saw a chance to fix this mess of a planet. All that power under my fingertips, and yet I’m sat here pretending to be human in a place where supernatural shit is a common occurrence.”

Solus signed to himself, frustration showing on his face. “I want to help, but Aaurus has tied my hands.”

Well, at least it didn't seem like he wanted to kill her this time. Much unlike the first time they met after Judas’ War, shortly after she became the Musicians’ patron. Back then he had made it obvious he wouldn't hesitate to kill her given the chance. Since then he'd have many but somehow it never came to it. They'd struck an uneasy balance over time and learned to tolerate, and even respect each other.

But 'Haz’ was new. Was he saying it to reassure her? She didn't feel strong enough to look him in the eye yet but she appreciated him being more sensitive than usual. Perhaps people did change after all.

“That's sad. This time we really could use with your help.” She admitted, slowing past the lump in her throat.

“He wants to wipe this world clean, you know…” Solus said solemnly. “Start over.”

“Is that why?” Hazumi muttered and finally looked at him seemingly feeling a bit calmer. “And you can't do a thing? I'm sorry. It must be hard.” She said sincerely but continued, knowing Solus didn't appreciate sympathy. “So why are you here?”

“To help in whatever way I can without drawing Aaurus’ attention. Influence things a little.”

A small smirk twitched at the corner of Hazumi’s lip. “Now we’re talking. You never were one to sit still. I think it’s the first time I appreciate it.”

Essence of the World: Cadence [Always Open]

Solace

Themerlinhawk and Synthorian

Loom- Afternoon

Pushing the front door of the town house open Lazarus peered into the kitchen. Shaylee was nowhere to be found and when he peered through the woodwork with his essence sight the rest of the people staying in the house were also nowhere to be found. Frowning he absentmindedly locked the door and walked through the kitchen. Pausing he picked up the disk Shay had left on the counter earlier and examined it.

The young woman was far more in his business than he’d expected but that was just what made her a fine mage. Taking the disk and her computer he walked up stairs and set them both on her bed. Scrawling a note he left it for her on top of the two before retrieving the rest of the box the disk had come from and setting it on her bed as well. With the task complete he pursed his lips and started down the stairs. Flicking his finger at the teapot he boiled the water instantly. It was an awful use of magic as it made him complacent but there really wasn’t much time for that. The lab needed to be checked before he went to the Academy to get his bag and tea was required. Adding free leaves from a jar on the counter he poured water into the mug and picked it up.

Trotting down the stairs he pushed open the door to the basement. Crossing it in quick strides he picked up Dracul and tucked it under his arm as he disengaged the locks on the other side of the stone wall that partitioned the basement. A door in the brickwork swung open and he crossed through it. Flicking on the light he made a beeline for his desk. The inside of the room was lined on three sides with large protruding metal shelving units with closed fronts. Some fifty or so hatches adorned the fronts of the shelves.

It was small army he had kept on hand since the tragedy and he never failed to maintain it. There was another sub basement below which housed some of the artifacts he’d felt safe moving to Loom but he just needed to sort something out with a tool he’d been working on for Shay. Lunch had given him a moment of insight. Setting Dracul down he leaned over the item and drew up his essence sight.

“I see you like to work in solitude these days, Thomas…” That voice was all too familiar to anyone that heard it. Old, gruff and full of experience. “Or did you choose to hide away from all that criticism?” There was no mocking or ridicule in the phrase, just curiosity.

Shock was all that registered in Lazarus brain at the voice and when he turned around his left hand was leveled and the lights in the room flickered as he pulled in a titanic amount of essence from Dracul, the storage shelves and basically anything and everything in the house that stored it.

Stopping Lazarus blinked away the quicksilver in his eyes and released the charge of essence and energy back into its various vessels. “Damn, you about sent me through the roof. You gotta be careful about doing that. I nearly leveled this block.” Registering the older man’s appearance Lazarus raised an eyebrow. “That’s a new look. What brings you knocking?”

The man chuckled as he took a puff from his cigar, his eyes wandering Lazarus’ body from head to toe and back. Lazarus hasn’t aged at all. No surprise really, knowing him. “I like how you always assume that these visits are never casual… But then again, they never were.” His sharp green-eyed gaze veered away from the Necromancer and towards an antique recliner that looked awfully comfortable. “But I thought I’d break the monotony of our usual end-of-the-world meetings. Mind if I take a seat?”

Lazarus gestured and flipped his own chair around. No arms, the usual so that he could sit on it and rest his arms on the back of it. Settling in he snatched the mug from the desk and held it between his hands as his arms rested lightly on the back of the chair. “The reason your visits were never casual has to do with the fact that Loom has sat on the brink of crisis for the better part of two hundred years. We never had a chance to actually talk.” Sipping at the tea Lazarus appraised Solus carefully. It was strange seeing him in a fully human form.

“So what do you want to talk about? And the answer to your earlier question is: both. The younger generation finds me less appealing than they once did and frankly I’ve found silence and solitude help with my creative process.”

Solus casually strolled over to the recliner and took a seat, legs crossed and resting an elbow on one of the arms. “You always had a knack for art. Nice painting of me, by the way. Adding your own essence into each stroke of the brush really adds some… spiritual texture to it.” He said with a smile remembering something Lazarus tried to do a long time ago in the room where the painting rested. He leaned a little towards the Resurrection Mage as he answered his question. “And I want to talk about you, these last 20 years…”

Frowning Lazarus swirled the tea in its cup. There was no way in heaven, hell or earth Solus could have seen the painting in his study in Finch’s Loft. Which raised an awful lot of suspicions but that was no doubt about to be part of the rest of the discussion. Finishing off the tea Lazarus set the cup down and folded his arms on the back of the chair. “Where do you want to start?”

Solus leaned back into the recliner, and gestured at lazarus with an open hand. “Wherever you feel comfortable.”

“Let’s start with the part where you neatly up and vanished. Not exactly a new trick for you but I figured when Hazumi went missing and the general flow of things went sideways you might turn up again. Guess I was right but just a fair bit later than I was expecting. So what have you been up to? My life has been rather boring since the Herald incident.” It was a true enough statement; training the generations of musicians and wielders the Academy had been pushing through had consumed the vast majority of his time. After Iris vanished it had meant much of his life had been dedicated to the Academy.

“Really now… I wouldn’t consider your recent acquisition to be boring. What was her name…” Solus’ eyebrows frowned into a false attempt at concentration. “Shaylee Carter, was it? Quite the talent.”

“Shay has no idea what she’s gotten herself into but I couldn’t exactly turn away the opportunity to train one of the first spirit Necromancers in existence. Besides that, she’s way too full of herself. We finished her soul Vessel not a day ago and she still doesn’t know what its for. I don’t do the whole, mentoring a replacement thing well. Too much time worry about what would go sideways in the wrong hands. Then again she’s a hell of a lot less angry at the world than you and I ever were so I’d call that a win.” Shifting his weight forward Lazarus chuckled mostly to himself.

“Hmm…” Solus hummed thoughtfully. “Spirit Necromancy is only a temporary thing. Her training will only be fruitless in the end. This current state of the world is only temporary. It will sort itself out naturally.” Looking off into the distance, he smiled to himself. “But I was most impressed with Andri’s exorcism. That… was an interesting watch…”

The last comment caused Lazarus eyebrows to shoot up. “Well I’ll be damned, you have learned a few new tricks haven’t you? Not a single ward has been tripped or tampered with and you’ve been in this house twice. To top it off you’ve been in Finch’s Loft which should be impossible without my permission. So. What did you pull off Solus? Your knowledge of things you shouldn’t know is significantly more vast than the last time. That and you know the current state of the world is temporary.” Turning the thoughts over in his head Lazarus pursed his lips. “You could have found something in hell, but I doubt that. What did you manage to do?”

Solus shook his head and chuckled. “Glad you are catching on. Let me give you another hint…” Lazarus blinked, and they were surrounded by an ocean frozen over. Icy winds howled in between them as they still sat in their chairs. Lazarus looked up, the atmosphere was thin, and a foggy Cyan, with specks of stars gleaming through. But the most eye catching spectacle, was of the horizon. The enormous mass of Jupiter, loomed over them, the Red Eye Storm clearly visible as to twirled violently along the equator of the gas giant. The realization hit him. They were on Europa. One of Jupiter’s many moons. “This is my favorite view in the Solar System…”

Lifting his head off of the back of the chair Lazarus didn’t react as he took in the view. “God damn.” The comment was intentional as he was fairly sure he’d never used the phrase in his life before that moment. The hysterical chuckle that followed was a sound Lazarus wasn’t aware he could actually make. Setting his forehead on the chair back he let the chuckle die out. “And to think that I almost through the seed of a cold fusion star at you earlier. Well this was on the list but much farther down the list than I’d like to admit.” Not bothering to look at Solus, Lazarus stood up and walked a little ways away from his chair to stare up at the sky.

“I don’t want to know how you did it but I do want to know how the hell you survived. It's bad enough that I can’t be killed permanently. Most days I’m still not sure that was the correct decision.” Tilting his head he drew up his essence sight and stared at the universe from a totally new perspective. A unique one. Something no one else would be able to see. There was no way he could capture this one on canvas but he was going to try.

Turning around Lazarus raised his eyebrows prompting. “So let’s hear it. What’s Lucy and Dad like?”

Lazarus blinked again, they were back in his office. The sheer magnificence of Europa gone. Replaced by the now drab room. Solus looked at Lazarus with a smile. The Mage’s face looked of sheer childlike curiosity now, pure wonder. “You will see them for yourself, in due time.” Solus answered. “One thing I can say is that Aaurus doesn’t take too kindly to new neighbours.” He extended his free hand with his palm facing the ceiling, glass began to form from thin air, shaping itself into a whiskey glass. Then, it slowly filled with a gleaming transparent brown fluid. Some form of whiskey.

The whiskey glass gently floated down onto the palm of his hand, his fingers curling to take a hold of it. “You should paint that view, Lazarus.” Solus affirmed. “It’s quite something.”

“That’s certainly the plan.” As if to mock Solus, Lazarus plucked his tea mug again and with a roll of his wrist rearranged the water in the air and replicated the components of the tea by patterning the dregs. The heat was the easy part. “I’d imagine he was less than thrilled, and I will most certainly be painting that.” The grin on his face was huge. “So, now the real question: What rules do you play by now? Given omnipotence and omniscience there have to be at least a few or life isn’t interesting.”

“Why do you think I took on a human appearance? It would be boring if I showed up all godlike and shouted Biblical quotes.” Solus said chuckling. “I can’t just click my fingers and magically fix everything wrong with the Three Worlds. Aaurus granted you all free will for a reason. Me messing with mortal affairs would ruin the whole point of it. Why grant it, when you will just take it way anyway?” He took a sip of his beverage during his pause. “All Gods in legends, and even Aaurus himself, the real deal, have intervened on occasions. But those interventions were huge in scale. Granduous. I prefer a more… indirect and gradual approach.”

Tilting his head Lazarus gave him a knowing nod. “Absolutely, By the way. I’m glad someone appreciates my name now. That particular heretical text has always been quite enjoyably actually. I’m sure it pisses Lucy off though.” Taking another taste of his tea he narrowed his eyes another wicked grin spreading over his face. “Okay. How do you solve The Problem. Or can you? Can you surmount the Paradox? Can you make a rock large enough that you can’t lift it?.....” Lazarus paused. “...Or are you even Omnipotent in the traditional sense of the word?” Pursing his lips Lazarus contemplated. With that the resurrection mage looked around his work space. This meeting was something else entirely than he’d expected. “So. The fact that you’ve shown up in my house and been paying attention to me. There is no way that is a coincidence. Not only that but it’s hardly indirect; what do you need from me? I’m not guaranteeing that I trust you quite yet. Given that for all I know you could be Aaurus posing, but that seems highly unlikely. So spill. You might not be able to act, but that absolutely doesn’t preclude me.” He paused. Menacingly. “Unless it involves hurting Hazumi. That I will Not be participating in. Although I would hope you wouldn’t come to me about something like that.”
“Hazumi has known about me for the past 20 years. And she kept that information from you. If I wanted to hurt her, I would have done so 20 years ago.” Solus replied ever so casually. “I can exist everywhere at once if I choose to. I can turn the clock in any direction, or even stop it entirely on a whim.” Solus put the cigar to his lips and snapped his fingers. The very gravity below Lazarus’ feet gave way, making him gently float towards the ceiling. “I can even change the rules of physics.” Solus took the cigar out of his mouth again and continued. “Speaking of which. I can’t make a rock that I can’t lift, if I can adjust the effects of it’s own weight, no matter how big I make it.”

Lazarus folded his arms mid air. “So you aren’t omnipotent. Not only that, you might be able to exist everywhere at once but it would seem you can’t exist anywhen at once. Although it's nice to know you can roll the clock back. However, given the fact that you haven’t always existed I’m guessing you can’t predate your apotheosis. Otherwise Aaurus would have known of your existence as a god prior to your apotheosis. It's interesting to know you are omnipresent too; that must be handy.” Another long pause caused him to consider the comments. “Now that I think about it, I guess that's not really a necessary condition...I’d assume you can’t act in the past.” Further pausing he folded his legs a few feet above the ground and grabbed his ankles to keep his legs neatly folded. “This clearly requires further rumination given that there appear to be limits on your abilities but the scope of them in general pushes this further into the realm of philosophical than I probably care to consider at the moment.”

The fact that Solus had just told him that Hazumi had been keeping something from him for so long made him rather morose. They’d had it out when his memories came back but he’d thought that was the end of it. Regardless, it was no doubt Solus fault; not that he blamed the god for it. “Right.” Flipping himself over so he was firmly planted with his feet on the ceiling Lazarus grinned down at Solus. “So what do you need the long arm of the Heir Apparent of the East Realms of Hell for?”

“Omnipotence will come in time… A few hundred years or so. This whole “god” thing is still new to me.” Solus sighed, snapping his finger and forcing Lazarus back to earth again.

Flipping himself neatly Lazarus landed firmly on the ground before folding his arms. “You’re avoiding the question. I get the distinct impression you didn’t come here for me to study you so you must have something in mind. Not that I’d mind if you just came to talk. I would imagine it would get kinda boring just interacting with Lucy and Aaurus but that’s just me.” Patiently shifting his arms Lazarus still maintained the grin of someone who had almost forgotten what it was to be excited by new knowledge.

Solus’ face went solum for a moment as he pondered on what to say. “I have a mansion… at the peak of Mt. Jigger. It’s built on top of old Vault, built in the 1960s. It’s a Pandora’s Box of natural anomalies and things alien to this world, and I can no longer be its guardian, as it’s… a mortal affair, as Aaurus put it.”

Snorting Lazarus shrugged. “So what? I have my own things to curate. You should know what I have locked in my basement. What do you want me to do about your collection?” Already calculating Lazarus considered what he might actually have to do to move a collection like that. To top it off he was fairly certain there were beings in Solus collection which was something altogether different from what he had. That being said… Lazarus shook his head. “Yeah I get the problem but what did you want me to do about it?”

“I’m not asking you to take it over, Thomas. I’m asking you to find someone capable. What that place conceals… is unimaginable.” Solus stated firmly, taking another puff of his cigar. “I doubt the combined powers of Myself and Aaurus can even stop it…”

The response caused a deep frown from Lazarus. “Who the hell else is qualified to do such a thing? Ian is barely capable of higher order magic, Shay is not nearly far enough along, Hazumi is missing and otherwise engaged, I’m not aware of any other human mages that even approach the level required to take over a position as a warden like that. Did you have someone in mind?”

“Actually, Shaylee will be more than capable, given time. Which, luckily, we have plenty of…”

The annoyed look that flashed across Lazarus face was quickly stifled. “Oooh. You expect me to live forever.” Lazarus chuckled before sitting back down. “I guess you’re right. That being said. Shay’s magic is going to take much longer than mine. How long can it go without a Warden? Shay has barely scratched the surface of Evocation, Necromancy and Alchemy. What with the inevitable end of her spirit magic.”

“Until it’s power source fails, which is unlikely. I’m more concerned about what’s at the very bottom of it.” He froze for a moment, his eyes becoming glassy and distant. He was witnessing something in his mind. “We have 28 years… merely a small moment…”

Shaking his head Lazarus contemplated. “She’s not going to be ready fast enough. I had a hundred years and I’m an unquantifiable genius and I have Savant Syndrome. We’ll have to find a way to speed up her uptake.”

“Her experiences will prepare her.” Solus replied matter-of-factly, standing up out of his seat. “I have witnessed a multitude of futures, and hers is the best one. So… send her into the fray. You learn quicker when your life is on the line.”

Raising an eyebrow and glaring at Solus, Lazarus finally chuckled “Yes I’m sure that wasn’t a joke about me now.” Standing Lazarus offered his hand. “Let me know if there is anything else that needs doing. Just don’t expect me to start praying to you or anything”

“I’m not one for worship anyway.” Solus took Lazarus’ hand and shook it.

Nodding Lazarus turned around “Here let me give you an opportunity to make a dramatic exit.”

“I think I’ll walk out, thanks.” Lazarus could hear the man’s footsteps behind him as he walked towards the door, which creaked open and closed. The thuds of Solus’ feet gradually getting duller as he went deeper into the house, eventually with their sound vanishing entirely.

Lazarus single loud coughing laugh followed the man turned god out of his house.

Things were becoming interesting in Loom again.

Essence of the World: Cadence [Always Open]

Alma Grim

September 20th (Day 1)
Grim Family Home, Mt. Jigger

Revan stopped her on-foot trek in front of the old Grim Family mansion. She always took in it's visage before entering this forsaken place, and never could help but wonder why anyone would want to live on a plot of land that was so tainted with the very essence of evil. Of course, it was to keep said evil at bay. Be closer to your enemies, and all that. But still, the constant spine chilling feeling could drive the very gods insane. But perhaps Solus Grim was already insane, so it didn't really matter.

The veteran Reaper took a deep breath before stepping forward. She really hoped Alma was here, as being greeted by the Caretaker of the mansion was still unsettling. Far more unsettling than Alma ever was. With that in mind, she walked up to the front door, and knocked. Silence. She knocked again. The sounds of moving feet finally stirring within the dreaded walls of the place. Click Clack. The Locks opened one by one, until about after 8 more locks were opened. One of the massive metal doors slowly drawn back, revealing a hooded figure. "Oh, it's you..." Revan let a sigh. It was the Caretaker, the guardian of the house. With nothing but a shovel, this thing managed to kill one of the monstrosities hidden within the Vault. A truly impressive feat for a creature made of Necromancy.

Some would say a worthy guardian. Revan would call it a freak of nature. Deep down, she fears it.

It's face was nothing but grafted skin, with a small slit for a where a mouth would be. As the thing talked anyway. All it did was moan and make gurgling noises. At least it was a good gardener. Kept the place in shape. She gave it that.

"Is Alma home?" Revan asked the creature. It shook its head, and produced a monotone moan. "Would you know-" She stopped herself and realized. "Heh, even if you did, you wouldn't be able to tell me..." Sighing again, Revan turned around, only to almost jump at a figure standing a few feet away, a big black eye staring seemingly into her soul.

"Must you always frighten me, Alma?" Revan asked, barely containing her surprised face. Alma always had a habit of being a silent observer of exchanges. It practically left her completely unnoticed in any room, invisible to everyone until they finally noticed her presence, sitting somewhere in a dark corner staring at you with an animalistic curiosity.

"You only frighten yourself, Revan." She had a point. One fears only what they themselves deem frightening. Alma walked slowly past Revan, visably grimacing, clutching her torso, where a human heart would have been, if she even had any semblance of humanity. Resting her gauntlet covered left hand on the door, she paused, the hair covered side of her head, facing the Reaper in inquiry. "Why are you here, Reaper? I think Father would be disappointed if you weren't out there doing whatever you Reapers do..."

"That's the thing... Solus is gone. We can't sense him..." Revan stated, her worry evident in her tone.

Alma blinked, processing Revan's words and their implications. Her constant stoic, emotionless expression always made Alma difficult to read. Well, impossible actually. "Since when?" She finally asked.

"A week, I think."

Alma blinked again. More processing, thinking, tying recent events together. Something clicked in her mind, making her head tilt as she stared into empty space. After a few moments of silence, Alma finally spoke. "We have a problem then..." She turned to the Caretaker who was still waiting in the doorway. "Collect my loadout, I will be leaving again." The being nodded in acknowledgement, silently sliding away out of view deeper into the building.

Alma stepped away from the door towards Revan, her ever stoic face in full view. "Where have you last sensed him?"

Revan's reply was simple and direct. "Heaven."

"Then that is where I shall go..."

"But the Guardians have quarantined it. You can't possib-"

Revan was immediately interrupted. "I can pass through just fine. They know who I am.

Right at that moment, the Caretaker appeared in the doorway, with a small assortment of weapons of strange design. It took a few steps towards Alma, presenting her gear with a bow. Taking the alien firearms and attaching them to their holsters, Alma gave the Reaper a curt nod before beginning walking back down the mountain again.