Götterdämmerung

[ValaunDae'Voth]

I am Iscariot, the Betrayer, first of the Klironómoi.

The hideous, ear shattering screaming fills the air like a palpable miasma. It is spreading its keening throughout the area and those too weak of will have long since retreated, poisoned by fear of the spectacle that they had the honor of witnessing.

The vision before me is truly a sight to behold. The constant, breathless screaming does nothing to diminish the sight of blinding white light erupting from the slain corpse of the former demiurge of Fate. The burning energy, filled with the very essence of creation, tears its way from the mortal wound and forces its way into the eyes and mouth the woman veritably bound within the epicenter. The energy is so bright that it burns the eyes of any mortal gazing upon it, and the plant-life nearby is smoldering from its intensity.
Despite this, I do not, I cannot look away. I idly wonder if I sounded as hideous as this pitiful mortal when I conquered Xados in much the same matter. Granted I hadn't personally earned the power I possess, but that is irrelevant.
As the screaming and light finally die away and the emergence of another Klironómos is at hand, I can't help but think back to the day everything began to change...



Iscariot stood atop the city wall, hands planted on the flat stone of the battlements. He was thankful for their sturdiness in times like these. He squinted, looking up at the binary stars that graced the sky and bathed their world in warmth. The Maw and Thresh had been warring with each other, locked in a fratricidal feud since time immemorial. As the myth went, the pair had been battling over the jealous love of their sister, Lunaris. At the thought of the old tale he'd heard so often as a child, Iscariot's gaze swept the sky, wondering if she would would be drifting through the heavens that crisp, clear morning. After several minutes, he spotted her, nearly on the opposite horizon, her pale grey surface scarcely visible against the blue of the sky. It was as if she were watching the Maw's slow victory over their brother from behind the watchful orbit of the Three Travelers.

A rumble that gently vibrated through his boots shook Iscariot from his reverie and back to the present. His green eyes turned back towards the Sea of Grass and spotted the calamity that had brought him to the wall on such a brisk day.

Cartha'alas, Demiurge of Mountains. Six legs, a glowing mouth and eyes that could been seen in spite the several mile distance. Tall as a mountain, as his name would suggest, made entirely of stone.

The god had once more made his way to their fertile planes. It had been centuries since last he made his presence known, but all knew the destruction that would follow in his wake. Cartha'alas and The Mother had been bitter enemies for eons. Every few centuries the mountain god would make his way into her dominion and raise his mountains where he pleased. Often, his creations would destroy miles upon miles of farmland, small villages, and even the larger cities, if it suited his mindless whim.
According to legend, the Mother would sometimes resist and fight back, but more often, she simply let the destruction occur and slowly return the land to a great plane once again, after Cartha'alas had wandered away. The only lingering evidence was the scattered piles of boulders encountered every so often, and the Spire. The Spire was a large structure marking the eastern edge of the Sea of Grass. None knew why it still stood, but it was tall enough to be seen on the horizon for dozens of miles.

Such was the nature of the gods, ever fickle, some intelligent, but most little better than powerful beasts. And constantly treading the mortal races underfoot. Rumor was that the dwarves had already been wiped from the world, and undoubtedly others had followed as well.
Those dwelling within the Sea of Grass rarely bothered interacting with distant civilizations.

Iscariot was largely ignored by the men and women of the city watch as they prepared for the worst, the arrival of the mountain god.
Such a thing was not unusual, he was not of the watch, but his black garb, the emblem woven into his fur lined cloak, and red mail made his membership of the Blackened Sunrise known. That in and of itself typically granted him a wide berth due to equal parts fear and respect. The Blackened Sunrise was known for its shock troops and for committing terrible atrocities upon the enemies of Helmvor, the city in which he stood.
With the news of Cartha'alas' arrival, the two cities had put into action an immediate cessation of hostilities until such time as the god had been driven off, or more likely, decided to leave, and all troops abroad had been recalled.

"How would you stop a god of stone and fire?", Iscariot asked of his nearby companion.

He turned, resting his hand on the flambard he had leaning against the wall next to him and turned to regard his old friend, wondering of their thoughts on the menace that everyone in the city had undoubtedly hoped would not plague their fields in their lifetime

[mentalitynotes]

Death changes everything, a person could go from a devout follower to hunting what she had once respected. A childish girl could become a feared woman who could have cared less about the safety of others. Before she had once had a great curiosity about those outside of the great forest around her, after all this time she knew that had been the naive thinking of a young girl.That life was long gone now just like much of the world these days, the gods had become more of a frustration than ever and yet Lunaris stayed hidden away in the sky like the coward she was.

The witch cursed under her breath as she looked forward across to the situation she'd slipped into.The citizen of the city below hid in their shaking homes as if that would protect them from what was to come. Looking next to her to observe what her fellow solider was looking at, perhaps he'd notice something she would not. He had been staring at the moons, her eyes fell upon them as her blood began to boil she gripped her sword tightly in an attempt to calm herself. There was nothing she could do to combat them, not yet.

Every time she thought of what could be her final battle against the three travelers instead of her vengeance she was dragged back to burying her brother in the poisoned ground of the glen. Her free hand moved absently to her necklace turning over the rough stone on her exposed skin. Even though her skin was almost numb she could feel the sharp edges of the stone prodding at her skin daring to break through and make her bleed. It had been a long time since then, she could never forget the feeling of her blade sliding across her palm and the blood pooling out. Then it had been completely silent, the sounds of the world pulled her from the nightmare. The hand that rose to the necklace pulled away, stretching as the reminder of the pain it felt reemerged.

Suddenly, the city shook through her the vibrations rolling through her bones as a small smirk spread across her face, a new distraction. She lived for distractions these days, fighting was her favorite distraction. This one was quite the interesting opponent, a mountain with six legs and murderous intent. She mumbled a few words and soft warmth flowed through her body, the air bit straight through her clothes. Even her coat seemed to shift as the wind picked up the ends flowing softly against the wind cold bursts. A chuckle escaped her lips as they stood on the wall, figures dressed in all black staring out into the distance as a monster approached the cities walls must have been a sight.

She leaned her back against the wall her black gloved hand tapping on the hilt making a soft tink sound each time she did. There had to be something to do other than standing there waiting for the primal force of nature coming towards them. To stop a creature so vast in so little time she couldn't quite think of what to do. Sure she wasn't a favorite of the people below her but she answered to orders. Her being here was half out of pleasure and half out of preservation. She could help the Blackened Sunrise or die to the hand of their witch hunters, her indifference to others made the change go easily from priestess to solider. The runes that had been inlaid into her jacket gave her a leg up on other witches that the company came across, most of whom hadn't been practicing their entire lifetime. This time she wasn't sure how much use her magic would be against the mountain.

"So we have to do what exactly with our problem?" She asked her free hand flourishing as she spoke. "It's not as if we can just kill it. It's a damn mountain, are we supposed to trip it's six legs or somethings? Hog tie him and leave him there."

[VaerirLost]

Marcys Vil sat in a low candle lit room, on a wooden bar stool. The Twins were thirst and, he was ready for the bloodshed.

Across from Marcys was a bound man; his hand truncated and bleeding, his tongue cut rather brutally from his mouth. Marcys could still hear the man's pleas for mercy, though the man's life had been given back to the gods. The Twins tossed shivered as for a moment, and the blades ached for more as he plunged them deep into the mage's stomach spilling it intestines on to floor. Almost inhumanly fast, his blades switch hands, and he pasted them through the mage's neck, and the head fell to his lap and rolled to Marcys naked feet.

"So very messy today aren't we?" Marcys spoke as he pulled the Khopeshes to eye level and stared at his reflection in the Twins as the blood pour down on from his blades to his hands and then to his wrist. The ground beneath his feet shook, as he slopped the dead mage out the window and on the ground with a healthy splatter two stories down. He picked up the mage's head.

The screams from below meant nothing to him, for he would never be seen. Bare feet made has to the window sill, and in one fluid motion the Twins were not only satisfied but quieted for now back snug in their leather sheaths at his waist, and leap from the sil to the roof and darted across. Never seen, with little sound from his feet raining across the tiled roof.

The building shook yet again, and now he saw why, it was no earthquake; it was a titan. Marcys could feel the anger emitting from this god. Maybe I just murdered one more of his followers, or with any luck someone high. He thought as he made his way from roof to roof to get a better vantage point.

There was the group he had been traveling with, he cared not for names. The Blacken Sunrise, they adopted him, a quiet a few feared him, not because he was scary, but mostly because of how he condoned his business, sometimes it was sloppy, other times it was almost too professional.

Marcys climbed up the gate to hear the magicling talking to his companions, barely out of earshot as he leapt to the gates walk way.

"I am stupid mage, who fell to The Soothslayer." Marcys said in mocking tone, as he approached the two from the Blacken Sunrise, his hand was shoved into the dead mage's neck as he puppeted the mouth of the mages before tossing the head before their feet. He chuckled to himself, " Just kidding, the tongue is the first thing I take when I kill a mage." His eyes met the females and the Twins whispered to him once more. The mage's meat coated his hand as he waved the chunks of muscle and tissue to spatter against the ground.

[ValaunDae'Voth]

Iscariot narrowed his eyes as Vadoma responded. He had hoped that she might be more insightful, rhetorical though the question had been. Turning more fully, he gripped Dancing Chaos in his right hand, his left drifting to the sword at his belt, images of cutting his companion down flitting through his mind as he looked her over.

With no small amount of effort, he turned to look back across the plain. It was beautiful in a repetitive sort of way. Endless fields of rolling grass and farm lands as far as the eye could see in any direction. Small outcropping of forests dotted the landscape, and the occasional pile of boulders from one removed mountain or another.
Such sights meant nearly nothing to Iscariot, who viewed everything through the same tinted lens of indifference. His interest went back to the giant beast that shambled so many miles away.

"You are the only living person I have heard of to truly speak to one of the demiurges. When you were placed under my command, I was informed of the full extent of your story to the masters. At least, what you told them. And now, another demiurge is before you, and may approach our doorstep and you have naught but unwelcome sarcasm?", he responded, doing nothing to hide his annoyance.

He turned to say more, but the gasps and murmurs of the bustling watch and the sight of another member of his retinue pulled him short. The men and women around them whispered and point at the new arrival, the blood drenched Marcys seemingly unknowing, or simply uncaring of their attention.
His gaze followed the severed head as it was tossed towards him and ceased its rolling at his boots. Iscariot's lips formed a tight line, though not in disgust for the gory gift, nor the spatter now on his boots, but for once more having another annoying disappointment.
Releasing his greatsword, which hovered where he'd let it go, he reached down and gripped the mage's head by the hair pitched it over the side of the wall and put it out of his mind.

Seeing the way the Soothslayer was eyeing Vadoma, Iscariot took a small step between the pair, briefly wondering how his homicidal mage eater would react to the knowledge of his own arcane practices.

"Cleanse your hands at least...", Iscariot intoned, extending a square of cloth to his assassin, ""I trust your dealings with the former Master Lovice were more discreet than your appearance here?"

[mentalitynotes]

Vadoma had gotten a lot of skepticism when she was brought in to the order and it was true she had not told the whole story but she had told them enough. That had been her saving grace, admitting to her communion with the demiurges had saved her life and now she was being scorned for it. The woman glared at him through the looses hair in her eyes, she knew she was on a tight leash but this just annoying.

"What do you expect? Me to speak to the mountain, and convince it to turn away?" She replied biting her tongue to things she wanted to shout, "They care nothing for human life, and I have not the slightest clue on how defeat it. The goddess I spoke to did not have six legs and a vile temper."

The mage refocused on the demiurge who drew ever closer, she sighed as her mind filtered through endless spells and magical rituals that could assist them. A god of fire and stone, two of the base elements of life, could something as simple as water defeat something so vast? Killing and speaking to a god were two very different things but he acted as if they went hand in hand. Vadoma's free hand slid through her ebony hair a stark difference to her pale complexion. Her had cause the hair to slide free of it holder and began to blow with the breeze the ends curling, twisting and tangling together. The fingers of her her free hand pulled the strands from her eyes as if to keep them from hindering her pensive thoughts. She pushed off from the wall she had been leaning against, restraining her hair back to it's proper place. Her then once again crossed over her chest as the solution still lingered out of reach till a voice cut through the haze and pulled her back to her present company.

Of all the people she disliked in the world Marcys was perhaps her least favorite. Some may have believed otherwise given their similar attributes and their displeasure at Iscariot's responsible ways. However similar they were it did not keep her from her dislike and disgust for Marcys, his trade had at first been her only major discomfort. As she got to know more of him, her dislike for his person grew as well and today was no different. The man had a truly dark sense of humor that she didn't quite find funny or at all worth the continued suffering of the poor man at his hands. Her face grew from pensive to disgust, years ago she would have cursed the soothslayer for his complete disregard for decency, these days as long as it wasn't her head she chose to just be disgusted by it. She was safe for the time being but one day his veiled threats would be apparent, that she had accepted, one day the man she detested would be the one to end her life but not until she had her revenge would she allow it.

"Was that necessary, Soothslayer?" She questioned her tone not hiding any of her dislike. She shook her head and turned her attention back to the demiurge, there was no point in giving her attention to the maniac. "Hey, you got any bright ideas there, Soothslayer? Other than killing more mages I mean."

[VaerirLost]

Marcys the Soothslayer floated over closer to group; his movement was a blur to fading in and out of reality, and as quiet as sand falling through and hour glass. His eyes as were as fast as his feet being very careful to not hit a loose rock, or cobblestone that would give any hint of sound. To a human or a peasant he would have rather disappeared than reappear in blinks to over the pool of blood where the head was. His feet where leather, years of wandering through this craven word.

The mage's helped form a bond between the Twins and Marcyus. Marcys hated mages, as much as the Twins craved to drink their blood. A sacrifice that Marcys loved to make. With the blood sacrifice, came power. A power that Marcys was stingy to used because to Marcys, this was magic and it made him feel weak. But that's why the Twins whisper to him and not just through the air. They whisper not to just absorb magic essence but to release it too. The Govium the Twins are made of will sap the spell that they come in contact with this includes enchanted armors and weapons making their density next to aluminium foil. This is the power of the Twins, and why he feared no mage and why he by himself can kill someone with god like powers.

Marcys eyes glared as Iscariot preformed his parlor trick, leaving the sword floating as if he really needed two hands to pitch a head over the wall. Marcys had killed for way less than that, and his eyes met Iscariot's with the same narrowing and malice of disrespect. "Quit showing off your prick. Of course I took care of the 'Master' I left him naked, headless and bloodless in alley in the peasant slums, and now he just another missing person in the chaos. Have you ever see what twenty feet will do to a body that has be sliced to ribbon by my Khopheshes?"

Marcys wasn't going to wait for response, his foot splattered with blood as the Twins silently screamed to him. The blood and the magic in the was making them go crazy. Marcys' blood soaked hand gripped the handle of one of the Twins, the sanguine fluid erased his hand and flowed into the one twin. The other Twin was drawn and touched to his foot then to the remains of the Master's, with blood gone from the pool, it was nothing but leathery brain matter, and his hands and feet were clean of blood; it never stays on him long it was a minor prestidigitation that he allow the Twins to do, the blood's magical essence drained and life a fine rustic powder on the Twins.

"Sorry, the Twins were thirsty again."

Marcys leaned over to Iscariot, fearing not of the Dancing Chaos, his eyes meeting with not only anger, but disrespect. " It would be best if you lowered your Zweihander instead of drawing attention that you just scolded me for bringing here." Marcys whispered in malice. Images of the Twins drinking for the sword and his commander fluttered through his head, and his eyes rolled over to Vadorma.

"What kind of ideas? Forgive me for not standing around watching, waiting, and chatting for someone else to do the dirty silent work." Marcys said with the same amounts of spite as there was sarcasm. "And, yes Vadorma. It was necessary, I needed to prove my job was accomplished."

Marcys stepped away from the two, and sheathed his khophesh. And pulled out his white dragon pipe, packed the bowl with tobacco and lit his match or the cobblestone wall he leaned against and took a large drag off the thin pipe, the cherry from the bowl roared to life and he exhale the white smoke.

[ValaunDae'Voth]

Iscariot tucked the square of cloth from whence it came and watched impassively as the man fed his swords. It was a strange sight, seeing the crimson steel devour the mage's blood like some macabre sponge. He noted that several of the nearby guards of the watch were staring on in mute fascination of grim curiosity.
This, more than anything else, rankled Iscariot. He believed in such blatant bravado when the time came for it, and when it had an effect. The men and women around them were their allies and they already had a healthy amount of fear for the group and their order. Pushing it too far, letting them see too much, would only be a detriment.

He hadn't the chance to reply to either Vadoma's incredulous response, nor Marcys' snide remark before the Soothslayer leaned in close and whispered his warning. Iscariot met the blaggard's furious eyes with the same impassive look typically stamped on his face. The expression was something similar to arrogance, and a limitless patience bought by years of having taught lesser men and women their place, a deep boredom that could not be shaken, as well as an exhaustion the belied his manner.
No sooner had they locked eyes, than Dancing Chaos shifted with its own homicidal whim, to slay the aggressor that moved so perilously close to its master. It swung upward from its hanging position, only for Iscariot to catch its handle and cease its lethal arc before it could lay Marcys low.

Once more, he opened his mouth to reply, and once more, he was interupted. This time by an Eagle of the watch.
The boy had rushed forward with a deep sense of urgency, holding a spyglass in offering to the knight.

"My Lord, sir! There is something you should see!", he shouted, coming to a skidding halt before Iscariot.

The knight snatched the spyglass from the boy and handed it to Vadoma, his gaze following Marcys seconds before his feet.
"Show the woman.", he replied flatly and continued on towards the Soothslayer.

The boy gulped as he watched Iscariot's retreating form. He snapped his attention back to Vadoma and offered her a shaky salute and pointed off across the plain to where the mountain god had been.
"There, across the grass, Ma'am. Do you see the banners?"

The banners he was referring to were none other than those of their neighboring city of Sheldhein. The two cities were technically at war, though the arrival of the demiurge had seen a temporary peace treaty drafted. Barely visible from their distance was, from the looks, the standing army of the rival city-state. Cavalry, infantry, archers, all lining up some distance from the titanic deity. Ranks of men formed up, but to anyone with an eye for strategy, many of them seemed to simply be fodder meant to distract the beast while the lines of cannon were arranged for bombardment.
It was a plan that bespoke of madness and desperation. The very notion of such a force fighting and winning was akin to shattering a boulder with a grain of wheat.
They began their attack, the men and cavalry charging forward, the cannons firing in staggered lines.
Cartha'alas turned to them as they attacked, its glowing mouth opening as it began stomping them and tearing their lines apart with small jutting ruptures of stone. Seconds later the roar of the cannons reached them on the wall and the wail of the mountain god shook the battlements.

In the meantime, Iscariot stalked up to the calmly relaxing Marcys and stood before him, hands going to his hips as his golden eyes swept over the assassin, and turned to see that every man in the watch's attention was on whatever was happening across the plain.

Good, he did not wish to be overheard.

"I care not that you are with the Silent Sect, Marcys, you are still a memeber of the Blackened Sunrise, I expect you to act thus. As your superior, I will brook no insolence, nor disrespect from those serving beneath me. You are part of my retinue for a reason, but speak to me out of line once more, and I shall tear your insolent tongue from you head and have you drawn and quartered.", he said, his voice calm, but firm. "If you have anything you wish to say that might be considered a quarrel by onlookers, you will do so out of sight of our lessers, the order has a reputation of unity to maintain. Should you have threats, you had better be weaponless, and offer próklisi. Am I understood?"

[mentalitynotes]

The mage restrained what spells she thought about unleashing against the soothslayer. Apparently she was the only one capable of some form of humor today. Instead she just hissed in his general direction, "It's Vadoma, no 'r'."

She rolled her eyes before pulling the hood over her cloak closer to combat the affect of the outside weather. While the other two were busy talking her voice was barely audible over the wind, her words were of a foreign nature to anyone that over heard her. She was rattling off a few spells that might give her any information on the god they were facing. There was no new information to learn and her frustration produced itself as she hit her fist into the near by wall causing a sheet of ice to form over it for a moment and disappear a moment later. She began again half way through her spell she was interrupted by the calling of Eagle of the watch.

The woman turned to listen as he spoke to Iscariot, her hand instantly went out from it's hiding place in her cloak Her black gloves clashing against the rough metal exterior of the spyglass. Her fingers curled around the object and brought it to her eye.

"What am I looking for, soldier?" The glass swept across the empty field until to her surprise there were the banners the boy had mentioned. The other city had chosen to go out and attack the mountain god, a wicked smile crept across the mages face. Humans were so sure of their own ability to bring down even the gods. The blast of the cannon brought a small chuckle out of her, they were trying and it was so profoundly stupid. "Oh the stupidity of humans never fails to make me laugh."

She handed the spy glass back to the boy, "Scamper off and if you see anything else do come tell us."

She produced the spy glass that usually sat on her hip and went back to watching the human continue to fail against the god. Waiting a decent amount of time she called out to the men of her party, "You may want to watch this, so far it's fairly entertaining. The humans are trying to fight the god, it's not going well." She chuckled again and shook her head, "So should we go safe them or just wait till they all die and go from there, sir?"

Her personal choice was to leave them out there and continue to think of some way to protect the people they were charged with caring for. She handed the spyglass over to him and pointed to where the blast of cannons and screams were coming from, though it wasn't hard to spot after each blast of the cannon a large metal ball would hurtle towards the god only to shoot back towards the attacking force and take out it's own men. Pushing her hood down letting her hair get caught in the breeze, she began with the spells again perhaps the idiots had managed to find something on accident or revealed something.

[VaerirLost]

Through the white smoke Marcys' lips formed the words proklisi. "You and I both know I would never stand a chance. So if you are to kill me in front of these peasants; do it now for my own patience is running way too thin." He said with his glasgow smile grinning dropping his belt of weapons and bags of tricks at first he waved him on just out of spite. Just to turn is back with his arms out showing he was not going to fight back and he whispered. "Put me out of my misery."

"Even if I won this dick measuring contest." He said turning around to face Iscariot. "It's not like she would follow me anyways. Not to mention this nuisance is more of an interesting abomination than the both of you combined. When I am the last one standing, even she will realize who I am, and I destroy these walking disasters." Marcys said as the tinnitus ringing slow began to go away from the Twins now knowing that they would not me consuming these two today.

"Now, doll. Can you fill me in to why we might need a someone with such gross power other than this 'Lord Commander of The Blacken Sunrise.'" He said pointing his thumb toward Iscariot.

"Now, what are we to do? Is there another project at hand or am I to just to disappear like usual?" He said with exaggerated enthusiasm emptying his pipe just to repack another bowl of tobacco. And with one match strike he could feel himself winding back down.

Marcys was now sitting crossed legged almost as if he fell from the cloud of tobacco smoke. And starting going through his belt and the small bag that he had attached to the belt. "Oh, I probably should turn this over to you 'Master.'" He said and he pulled a small pouch out of his bag and tossed it at Iscariot's feet. "It is a blood stone; a rare ruby that the 'Mark' had hidden. Then the Topaz ... Well. Let the good fortune run through you. I have no need for either, I would just let the Twins devour the ruby, but they have already eaten today."

Marcys slowly kicked his head back toward the sky and exhale another large breath of smoke. "The Dwarves never let me down..." He said under his breath.

"By the way, do not touch them with your bare hands... They are in fact cursed." He smiled.

[ValaunDae'Voth]

Iscariot remained silent as Marcys prattled on incessantly. The Blackened Sunrise captain stared at him impassively as he spoke, a look of measured patience fixed upon his face. Beneath that calm was a burning anger however, hidden beneath his gauntlet his left hand maintained a white knuckled grip on the handle of the sword at his hip.
Looking at Marcys' back as he turned, images of simply impaling the impermanent fool through his spine swam fleetingly though Iscariot's vision. It was an effort of will not to follow through with the actions and instead maintain the reserved calm he was known for.

"I am more curious as to why a scarcely sane man from the south thinks he could stand a chance against a god, and why he must ask questions to which he already knows the answer." Iscariot replied curtly, sweeping up the gems and depositing them heedlessly into a belt pouch.

"I have been immeasurably patient, Marcys. When I first requested you for my squad, I was impressed with the reputation you held. Intelligent, talented, ruthless, all things I look for in a subordinate. However, your failings outweigh your merits as of late. We have performed several missions, and I assumed your hubris and insolence would be tempered after out time together, but you continue to prove that my patience is wasted."

Iscariot turned and stood before Marcys, looking down at him with his typical, blank expression. His cape billowed around him as the wind picked up, and he could almost imagine the scent of spent powder already making its way to the battlements on which they stood. He knew it was simply his imagination, but it brought a small sense of humor to his currently humorless situation.

Resting his hands on his hips, he said, "You are good at what you do, but I have no use for a man who will not cooperate with his team, is not respectful of his betters, and is derisive of necessary precautions. After this crisis has been resolved, one way or the other, I will sue for your expulsion from the Silent Sect, and request your incarceration within the dungeons of Hallowed Dawn until such time Grandmasters decide whether they can salvage you, or not."

As Vadom'as voice reached them, Iscariot turned from Marcys, and walked back to the wall, his flamberge following dutifully a few feet behind. He surveyed the scene before them, despite their distance he could surmise what was happening and simply shook his head.

"You are human, are you not, Vadoma?", he replied with a smirk. This was, perhaps, the most humor the captain had displayed in their company so far. It was truly shaping up to be an interesting day.

"To Hell with them, they were our enemy, if they wish to throw good soldiers away on a lark, that is their choice, we will simply watch and learn. Hopefully their sacrifice will prove fruitful for us."

[mentalitynotes]

She ignored the men and their silly fight she cared not for whatever it was they were arguing about. Her head turned to look at Iscariot and smiled, it was true she was human but by goddess did she wish she wasn't. Humans were vulnerable, weak, and stupid she hated being one but at least she was smarter than them. She decided how best to explain why she'd called the idiots attacking the god, humans, as if she weren't one. "I am human but I refuse to think that those stupid enough to face a god on their own without any sort of plan are not of the same species as myself."

She put away the looking glass tucking it into her belt and pulling her cloak back around her cold arms. She turned away from the sight and hid behind the post trying to keep some of the cold air at bay. "Are you hoping that their stupidity will draw the god to their city rather than our own?" They had yet to come up with a plan to rid themselves of the upcoming terror. She wasn't sure what kind of information they could hope to learn from the human's deaths but it was better than nothing. She peered around the wall to see the continuing carnage, it didn't seem to be helpful yet. There was no sign of magic being used and the ground was now stained red pools and streams forming around the piles of the dead. "I don't think they've managed to any damage what so ever, Sir. I'm not sure we will learn much from them."

She looked over the Marcys, then the gems at his feet, "Did you say those were cursed?" She could possibly be able to remove the curse but she'd nee d time and she was afraid that now wouldn't be for a while. "I can try to remove the curses from them if you'd like, I'm rather good at it." Vadoma moved over to them and hovered her hand above them to try and figure out which cures were upon them. "Can you tell me what kind of mage these came from?"

[VaerirLost]

"Those Iscariot, I wouldn't touch. Vadoma, removing the curse is not what I had in mind." Marcys spoke still processing Iscariot last threat to him.

Marcys' eyes rolled over white for just moment before Iscariot's words cut through his skull like a knife this the smoke he was sitting in. A familiar smile came across his face. For a moment in his blatant hysteria subsided, overcome with rage. A dark aura came over him and he had no really control. His feet moved silent, it seemed as he only touch what little shadows there were disappearing and reappearing in yet a moments time. Before his own body knew it, he was circling within the shadow of the Dancing Chaos that floated around Iscariot. Iscariot's back was turned yet he found himself in front of him in a blink of an eye choking on his words just loud enough for Iscariot to hear him as the dame looked through his glass. Iscariot's floating sword had ran Marcys' right side through right under his lower ribs. Blood started dripping down his side pooling at his feet, yet he still with a dead face that still smiled.

"You 'Sire' know more about me than you let on and your threats mean nothing to me. I have died, and brought back by the Father more times than I care to remember. Do you know what it feels like being mortal but having no light at the end. To go against beings that could kill you and thousands of others with a flick of their wrist; people who have not control. It is a wonder how sometimes I have kept my own sanity as intact as I have, I had signed on to you regime because you are the only one who has brought any clairvoyance to the demons in my head." He spit and gargled as he laid his hand on the hilt he stepped forward another step. "I fear not death, but what I might lose again in being rebuilt."

"But..." The cut was only getting deeper, and the blood was only pouring harder now.

"Killing a god might not be the only way disable them..." Blood sputtered from his lips; coating one side of his glasgow smile as he took yet another step towards Iscariot. "The curse need now be remove from those gems. But applied to a sacrifice..."

Marcys' sanity started slipping as his now bloodshot eyes rolled over his side. "Your tool has gotten me good this time." As he took a step to his left to feel a tear wrench though his right side; yet he was still pinned like meat on a hook.

"That Topaz, is cursed with the touch of Greed; anything the cursed person touches turns to gold. The Ruby is a sanguine ruby, a curse of blood, to endlessly feed on blood and in return an endless life." Marcys at this point wheezed as he took one last step forward bring the held hilt closer to him. "A child to turn the God to gold, and feast on the God's blood for an eternity. Then the we harvest the economical value of the god, and crush the fools who thought they could smite a god with our elite forces."

One last step to the left and Marcys was freed from his hook, but the damage was done. Winded the silver pipe fell from his mouth with a slight ting on the cobble stone. Yet Marcys still stood, reflexively holding his side. Then the chaos ensued in the distance explosions from the west covered in orange plumes the turned black like dragon fire. Yet, Marcys stood there with a scuff. "Looks like I get to miss out in some real fun.

Captains flooded towards Iscariot.

"Reports are in Lord! It was a distraction this entire time." The man in brilliant armor bellow rushing towards his was quieted by an arrow through his heart and then his skull. The blood sprayed across Iscariot's face, but no one was to be found. More plumes of smoke awoke around them, as the western side of the fortress was eclisped in smoke and fire. Soldiers scrambled to there posts, as waves past Iscariot, Vadoma, and Marcys. All headed west to see who or what was coming from the west.