[Crossed Spears of Eschaton] Chapter 1: The Sword

Yatagir frowns slightly, but nods. The Roseblack would be a more fitting first target, I will admit. My...preference for pursuing Mnemon can be put aside to better focus our efforts.
 
"It sounds as though you've all chosen your target," the Queen says holding her head high and smiling. "Why don't you discuss some general strategies and I'll get you the information you need from the Manse." She turns, strides to the obelisk, and touches it again. With the sound of grating stone, it unfolds into a crude platform. The Queen of Hell gathers her dress and ascends to the top of the raised structure. She closes her eyes and rolls her head back. Slowly she lifts into the air, suspended above the platform with Essence.


Suddenly, she throws her arms open and her anima banner explodes to life in tendrils of black and green Essence. She does not open her mouth or speak, but somehow her voice echoes through the chamber with ghostly reverberation as she says, "Scouring Creation now..."
 
"I have found her," the Queen's voice echoes through the chamber. "She is with her grandfather, Tepet Arada. He's a prominent ex-general of the Realm. I thought he'd never come out of his reclusion." Suddenly, the room is lit with Essence as it spreads over the walls, floor, and ceiling. Three-dimensional life-size images begin to form, taking the shape of people and furniture. Within moments the Infernals stand in Ejava's command tent as if they were there. The illusion is so real, the cinnamon incense The Roseblack burns fills their nostrils. Weapons and armor line the perimeter of the tent surrounding a table of fruit and a simple bed.


Ejava stands over an oaken table in the middle of the tent with a weathered map spread out on it. Across the table stands an old man with a white beard. His face is stern and hard. Ejava circles the map with a Green Jade finger.


"Mnemon's forces are gathered here and here," she says. "I would like you, Grandfather, to take a dragon of men up this pass to draw them out. I will wheel our forces to this flank and ride hard into them. Hopefully, it will be enough to divide them."


"A sound plan," says the old man. "Do you think they will keep reserves?"


"From what we've seen thus far, no," replies Ejava.


The Queen's voice breaks in on the scene. "Do you wish to continue what you see?" she asks. "Or shall I change your viewpoint? The Manse will allow us to see anywhere, but I can only control it for short periods of time."
 
"Yes," the Queen's voice echoes through the chamber. The Essence creating the scene swirls again pulling away from the two Dragon-Blooded generals, through the tent canvas, and out into the open sky. With clouds floating above them, the Infernals look down on a massive war encampment. Thousands and thousands of men, horses, and tents stretch as far as the eye can see.


"From what is see," echoes the Queen's voice, "I am guessing somewhere between fourteen or fifteen Legions worth of men." Quick math tells the Infernals the estimation puts the host around 70,000 or more. Looking closer, the green sun princes see Warstriders and siege engines scattered throughout the camp.


"Ejava has amassed quite the host," the Queen's voice points out. "I am beginning to lose control. Is there anything else you wish to see?"
 
Sy'Veria watches and thinks. Armies, a lot of them. Subverting the whole lot this early might be difficult. Easier to get Ejava herself, especially if they were loyal to her. She finally looks away and nods to the Queen. "I do not think I need to see more. The woman will either be forthcoming or not, her army will be a threat to us only if we do something stupid and I doubt that will happen with all of us here." She glances to the others and sighs to herself. "When shall we have this talk with her? I think the sooner the better."
 
The Essence in the room fades, then flickers. Suddenly, a deafening crackle echoes through the chamber as an arc of energy explodes through the Queen, throwing her from the platform and slamming her agains the wall. She falls to the floor with a thud and the room goes dark as her Essence flame goes out.
 
Sy'Veria goes to the Queen concerned and angry both, "Are you alright milady? Whatever it was we will get it. No one harms you and get away with this." She turns to the others, "Do you guys know what happened?"
 
Donovan approached the Queen, no concern showing given the many trials and tribulations that occurred in Malfeas on an hourly basis. All the same he did move toward her, given his medical expertise, and started a diagnosis of her.
 
Donovan looks the Queen over, using Essence in his effort. After several minutes, it's clear to him she is drained of Essence, hemorrhaging internally, and unconscious. Her body is warm to the touch as Donovan feels for wounds.
 
"The Queen needs to respire Essence. We need to get her to a table or bed right now." He looked to two of the stronger types. "You and you pick her up and follow me."

I am doing this from the hip right now, so correct me in whatever way I am wrong on this given I am not a Dr., nor do I wield Essence.

:)
 
Wren looked around the manse, uninterested, as the Empress displayed Ejava's army. The masses didn't matter, save how they could be directed once under their control. Her talent lay in control of the individual -- if she did her job right, the army wouldn't be more than a footnote.


As her Queen falls, however, she snaps to attention and rushes to her side. In the glow of her caste mark, she sees Donovan perform a diagnosis and backs off with a nod. As he is arranging to move the Empress, Wren asks, worry in her voice, "Will she recover?"
 
The Queen opens her eyes and breathes deep. her body quivers a moment as she does her best to pull herself together. "The Manse rejected me . . . my Essence, I should say." She lies back a moment. "Until we can fix it, we won't be able to use it."
 
The Queen winces as she sits herself upright. She shakes her head as a smile grows on her face.


"Nothing worth while is ever easy. The stakes have now changed. Without the Manse, the armies and legions in the civil war are a threat to our cause." She leans back against obelisk and stares at the ceiling. "We need Ejava's strength now more than ever. Without the Manse, we'll have to build a power base to move our plans forward."
 
Wren nods slowly, trying to overcome her concern and focus on the task ahead. After a deep breath she seems to have managed. "Then Ejava will be yours, and her army as well. She will come to serve her true queen whether she wants to or not." With that declaration, she turns and begins looking for a way out. There was little time to waste.
 
Before Wren turns to find a way out, a shadow moves and steps into the dim green light from a hallway. As she moves closer, the light melts the shadows away and reveals a woman wearing a cloak.


"And here I thought I'd never see you again, Mother." Mnemon pulls her hood back as ten other figures wearing cloaks file in behind her. "Is this a bad time?" A wry smile slips across the her face.


The Queen of hell sighs as she struggles to her feet, clutching her side. "Oh Mnemon. What will I ever do with you?"


Mnemon shrugs, then looks back and forth between the Infernals. "Who are all of you people, anyway?"
 
At the emergence of the Empress' daughter, a flicker of rage dances on the Scourge's face. The progenitor of it all, the line that took her from him...


His fists clench, but he says nothing, eyes focused on the Earth Aspect.
 
He smirked and looked at the woman. He had heard about her, the legendary Mnemon from many a demon source, and he had to say that he would enjoy mounting such a creature among other things. That would have to wait for another time though. All the same he let his eyes roam along the Sorceress' curves.


He helped the Queen to her feet so that she, as such nobility of Hell, would maintain face and honor.
 
Sy'Veria stands with a pleasant smile, "We are your mother's loyal protectors." She brushes aside some strands of hair from her eyes and places a hand on her shapely hip, "Good day Great Memnon, have you come to pay the Empress your respects?" And what a lovely woman the lady Memnon was, full of power, strength, and independence. She could see what traits the daughter derived from the mother. Her heart pounds just a little faster, her blood runs a little hotter. Here stood another pillar of fire.
 
Mnemon, and not alone. First concern: she is a sorceress; spread out a bit and don't give her the opportunity to shape something. Be on the lookout for summoned allies. Assess her allies; will they flee when (if) she falls? Don't tip your hand, either. She knows enough to be here, don't start a fight until you get a sense of just how much she has tipped the scales in her favour. There could be traps. Proper response; step back, let Mnemon speak until you have enough information to act.


All this flashes through Flitting Wren's head before Mnemon turns to address the assembled Infernals. She takes several casual steps to the side, just in case, and her hand flicks down to her waist, ready to draw Tyrant's Cry if the situation demands it.


She looks Mnemon up and down and assesses her hooded allies. She decides to answer and possibly draw out more information, "A humble Archon, here in service to the realm," not entirely a lie. Her magistrate may be dead (make them suffer for that!), but she still serves the Empress, not the Realm, "And might I ask who your companions are?" As soon as the question leaves her mouth, Wren blinks and become slightly paler. Ten companions. And Mnemon. The Great Houses? She can't have won this quickly. But if she did and we prevail here . . . mustn't let such an opportunity fall through our hands, if it is so.
 
Memnon scoffs. "Empress? I see no Empress here. She's dead. Or close to it. And all you need to know is that these men are loyal to me."


The Hell-Queen throws her head back and begins to laugh, long and loud. "Come, Memnon, it's time you stopped playing queen. Quit your childish games. I am back and this manse is mine. You have a choice to make. Do you wish to help me rebuild the Realm and usher in the greatest age of man, or do you wish to die a traitor's death before I parade you corpse through my streets?"


Memnon clenches her fists and ignore's the question. "What are you doing here Mother? No one will follow a creature of Hell. And I'll see to it EVERYONE know what you are."
 
Donovan simply smiled at the Mnemon. "Such lies do not become you. And who would believe your words given your reputation?"
 
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