Fantasy Hunter's Moon: Ascendancy [IC] [CLOSED]

[K0mori]

Elsewhere in the inn, Cassandra found herself being led almost aimlessly. Neither woman knew the layout of the inn, but it was easy to identify the suites apart from the regular rooms due to the wider distances between each doorway, and it wasn't long before they came upon an open door. Cassandra had so many questions for Mariette as she was pulled along by her wrist, but even as Mariette closed, latched, and locked the entry behind them both, the words hovered unspoken at the tip of her tongue. Finally, there was nothing left to serve as a distraction for either of them, and it was simply a matter of breaking the tense silence.

"Cass," Mariette said at last, a phantom burden weighing down her every word. "I always imagined that when we met again, we would both know exactly what to say. But... it's been years, and there's so little time..."

Cassandra wanted nothing more than to comfort her and take things slowly, but she was surprised to hear a hint of impatience in her lover's tone. "But you just won a major battle. You've earned some rest, love. Can't we sit down?"

Mariette hesitated for a moment, but eventually relented and crossed the room to the edge of the bed and sat down. Cassandra joined her and waited for an explanation. "I've been given a new assignment," Mariette revealed. "I am to commence training a new army with which to open a second front, in the Land of Vainglory. I have to return to Erebos immediately and begin recruiting the very best of what's left. I would have brought my mages home to Sheol, but... Nearly all of them are dead. I can't stay here. Even an hour is too long."

Sounds like she's having too much fun down there to worry about you. Remember how she begged right after Azgon fell? 'Oh Cass, we should never leave this place! I would never have believed that there could be a life more intoxicating~!'

Cassandra winced, trying to ignore the voice inside. "...You're right. I forget sometimes what it takes to be a leader. Still, I can't believe you're like a general to them, now. That could never be me," she said with a weak smile.

So Tariun gets to sit on her ass playing piano in the mortal realm all day, but Mariette can't spare a few hours? Don't you think that's just a little hard to believe? I wonder if ~someone else~ is waiting for her back home.

Shut the fuck up.

She can't even show you her real face. Always such an actor, our lovely Mariette. So hard to know for sure what's true when you don't keep an eye on her.

"Mariette, darling," she said, straining not to show her growing mental agitation, although her smile had already turned a bit sour, "you don't have to hide yourself from me. Now that we're alone, you can do away with the illusion."

Mariette went a bit wide-eyed at the moment. Cassandra had already seen her as a demon, back when they parted ways in the Abyss, but that didn't make it any easier for Mariette to drop the illusion. After all, the circumstances of her transformation had been traumatic, leaving her temporarily insane and fully of jealous rage. She had even raised her sword against Cassandra, and she feared that showing her true face would only awaken those memories for both of them. Still, she knew that she couldn't hide forever. "Are you sure?" she asked, and when Cassandra nodded intently, she almost got the impression that she was being tested. Reluctantly, she raised her hand, placing her middle finger to her thumb. "Please, remember that I am not the same as I was when I tried to hurt you," she implored.

With a snap of her finger, the illusion was dispelled only for Cassandra. She felt a bit of a headache come on and then dissipate, and after blinking her eyes for a moment, she now found herself sitting side by side not with the simple Escarian vampire she spent thirty years chained to, but with the archdemon Lisykna. She couldn't help but look her up and down, from the large, sweeping, regal horns atop her head, her silvery hair, eyes like golden islands in inky black pools, and mouth full of sharp teeth, down to a body clad in the simple leather garments normally worn beneath her armor.

So that's how she turned out, huh? She wears it pretty well. Considering she got there by drinking up Azgon's blood, I would have expected a bit less 'otherworldly beauty' and a lot more 'creature from my nightmares,' heh heh.

Mariette would have blushed in embarrassment if she were able, as Cassandra had stared for a moment without saying anything. Despite the inner voice's amusement, Cassandra felt a chill as she contemplated her own future in the Abyss, and the corruption it entailed. Mariette was very lucky, in a way. Plenty of demons in the Abyss could qualify as nightmarish monsters, and she wondered if her own destiny would lead her the other way. Even as she knew that her feelings for Mariette weren't dictated at all by appearances, she wondered if Mariette would still love her if she were to turn out in such a way.

You best plan for the worst if you really want to follow her back- as ugly on the outside as you are on the inside.

"You look good, all things considered," Cassandra said, hiding the sting she felt from her other self. "And I know you never really wanted to hurt me. It was just that possessed armor you were wearing, screwing with your mind, and you were fighting it from the inside the entire time."

Mariette placed her hand in Cassandra's. "If you're really not afraid, then I have something to ask you. We could spend some time together, just you and me, but not here. Come with me back to the Abyss. We could spend a day or two together, and then you could return here to the inn. You'd be back in the evening, assuming your companions wouldn't be badly delayed."

I won't let you scare me away from her, Cassandra told the voice inside. She squeezed her love's hand and smiled. "If for some reason they just can't wait, then I can catch up."

Mariette returned the smile, and the two shared a kiss before standing and departing the suite. They walked back towards the tavern, where the conversation was ongoing between Tariun and the others. As Mariette had only dispelled her illusion for Cassandra's eyes, the others could not see her true form. Xager, still standing with her arms behind her back, looked to Mariette expectantly as she reentered the room. "Cassandra will be coming with us for at least an Abyssal day. We have much to catch up on and too little time out here in the Mortal Realm."

Xager nodded. "Very well then," she replied, "are you ready to depart now?"

Mariette paused and closed her eyes for a moment as if gathering her thoughts, and then turned to the table where Sebastian, Rajko, and Camille were sitting, and focused directly on the latter. "Camille," she spoke, coldly, "I was ashamed of myself in life, and now you've seen what I've become. I couldn't even keep my mortal soul. I want you to know that archdemons can sense the sin that clings to your being, to all of your beings. Even the saint. Your soul is stained with murder, Camille. I don't know how, or when, or even how many, but somewhere along the path you've walked, probably on your 'hunts,' you've taken the lives of multiple innocent people. I want you to understand that there are plenty of damned souls in the Abyss with less guilt to carry.

"I know it's not in your nature to back down from things that ought to frighten you. One could wonder whether you or your husband fear death at all. But I beg you: fear the Abyss. Your sins will follow you like your own shadow for the rest of your waking days. Repent while you have time, and pray that the path you've walked won't lead you back to me."

Following the warning, Mariette informed Tariun and Xager that she was ready to depart. With Cassandra close by, Mariette departed the bar like a dark cloud, following Xager to the same hidden backroom where they had emerged from. Seconds later, the three of them departed for the Abyss.

 

[Dmaster]

The huntress saw it obvious that things would go horribly if the war in the Abyss was lost, and she was only speaking on the process of restoration after their victory. Another sip of her wine before she rolls her eyes, setting the glass back down. "I was not casting doubt on your victory, but what shall take place after it," Camille clarified. Having nothing further to say, she continued to keep herself to her drink before both Mariette and Cassandra descended the steps. Her eyes looked up and fell upon Mariette, staring at her intently and rather surprised that the demon was making eye contact with her this time.

Mariette's words washed across Camille's stony visage as she still held her stare, though with being told that she was all but damned to the Abyss her eye twitched and her breath quivered. It was not long before her lips transitioned to a sneer, her eyes snapping away from Mariette so that she would not even watch her and Cassandra depart.

"You think me unafraid of death or damnation..?" she states aloud moments after they had taken their leave, her hand on the table curling into a fist. "It terrifies me... I am not so blessed with immortality or unnatural abilities like those around me. I fight battles with beings that may as well be able to kill me with a thought, yet I still make the choice to stand my ground and never give into that fear."

"If I am to die, I lose everything. My love, my children - the thought of that scares me more than whatever horrors await me in the Abyss," Camille continues, her fist bringing its wrist to the bridge of her nose as she looks downward with closed eyes. "I know full well that I am an enemy of the gods, and I suspect that they will find my sins to outweigh the good I have done. Yet still I am here, on their mission and willing to risk death and now damnation to see it through."

The huntress slams her fist onto the table with grit teeth. "The gall to suggest that I need to repent! That I am not afraid every single time I draw my sword!"

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Rajko swirled the dark amber liquid more than drank it, too keen on the discussion of the war in the Abyss. An eyebrow cocked when the new heir to the throne proceeded to state the obvious in regards to what will happen should their forces fail in any singular task in devastating fashion. Followed by Xager who aided Tariun The Obvious as the Monarch's right hand in obviousness by flat-out stating that the lives and souls of the living would be periled. If they were not ostensible allies in this detestable war on two fronts then Rajko would've taken that as a threat. He resolved himself not to further add pyre to this fire.

The footsteps of Mariette and Cassandra caused an ear twitch in Rajko, his eyes were uninterested in them until Mariette announced Cassandra's departure from them only then did Rajko turn his head to see the two with a scrutinous look. And then she started preaching. The second Camille's name slithered off Mariette's tongue in cold tone the glass of whisky is gulped down with closed eyes, stinging its way down into his stomach leaving a smokey taste in his mouth. He thumped the cup against the table.

"Oh, boy..." He muttered indignantly. He hated when his intuition had been correct. Lips twist down with revulsion as he heard the demon proselytize to them about repentance, about saving one's mortal soul as if he should rightfully take advice even if based on experience from one so maligned with fettered sin. And imagine, he actually momentarily considered where he was going mere minutes ago in thought.

By the tail end of her sermon, Rajko stared with bloodied vines in his eyes that syringed into his irises, discolouring them to deeper, warmer shades of crimson. They were intently hounded by his eyes as they left, but once they were out of sight then they were out of mind as Rajko shut his eyes and sucked down air. The shake in his hands, consumed by wrath, dissipated as ice flowed in his veins once more. He took up the scalpel and decided to dissect Mariette's heinous advice. After hearing out Camille's grievances first though.

"No, she didn't indicate you were not afraid." Rajko contended, opening his brown eyes again. He looked to Tariun then Rebecca uncannily then the backdoor where Mariette left. "It seems the blessed, of the divine and infernal, are incapable. Of actually disseminating knowledge." The inquisitor stood up from his chair, a metal tone hinting at critique. "One's life path," Rajko emphasized in echo of Mariette's verbiage. "is never as set as it appears. In fact, there is a tendency to believe that it will remain unchanged forever, with no further turns. Nothing is further from the truth. A path is bent by important information or events... But a change may also be driven by the smallest event. It is folly to predict where she or any of us will end up when one cannot even predict the plans for the duration of a single day. Or in their case, ten." He moved away from the table, pointing with his index finger at the vaguely hidden backroom then down to the ground as Xager did earlier. "As for sins, the recognition of them is important. That much I agree. It is myopic, not to do so. But now we come to the forefront of the conundrum: How can sins be rectified? Should Camille go to her victims and apologise? Beg forgiveness? Should the werebat who took my family from me, come back and ask for forgiveness?" His body wanted to shake, but he steadied himself against the bar counter. "I do not need to tell you that is foolish, for the sinner and the wronged to believe. Remorse will never be enough. I was a hunter before inquisitor, I have hunted down all mannerisms of beasts. Vampires, chief amongst them. And as evidenced by the transient Archdemon," He assumed. "I am stained by sins. As if I needed be told that. But if it is they that damn me to the Abyss then let it be so, I will accept the judgement without reservations for I will see it as just. Justice Rendered In Full."

 

[K0mori]

Sebastian was growing more uncomfortable by the second with the direction the conversation took when Mariette and Cassandra reentered the room. Aside from the disappointment he felt when the former added a timeframe onto the statement "Cassandra will be coming with us," things took a disturbing turn when she accused Camille of murder.

He quietly sipped his beer until there was nothing left but foamy residue in the glass, then nervously signaled to the Kobold for a second pour as he listened to the hunters' indignant outbursts.

Camille seemed to be preoccupied with the idea that Mariette had accused her of not feeling fear, a notion Rajko was quick to correct. Nonetheless, the demon's warning to seek repentance or be doomed to join her only appeared to offend the hunters. But Sebastian also noted Camille's anguish, the way she lamented being an "enemy of the gods."

So, it's true, then?

Sebastian had a hard time believing it- that the woman he had trusted to this point, the mother of two and Escaria's most recognizable hunter, was a murderer... And yet no denial escaped her lips. Before he could ask, however, Rajko got up from the table and began to rant, providing a bit of insight into the hunters' point of view. That is, that it was pointless to seek ways to redress their fatal mistakes, as no amount of remorse would result in forgiveness.

When he was done speaking, Sebastian shook his head. "Ja, it's probably foolish to expect a murderer to be forgiven just for apologizing, but that's not why apologies are given in the first place," he said, lightly. "You give them because you're sorry for what you did, nothing more."

Sebastian had been thinking about his father, and how the man had been a drinker. How he used to scream at his mother until she ran away, back to Tsavania. He thought about all the times his father told him that his life would be better if Sebastian had never been born, how he owed his father for the meals he ate and the clothes he wore. He knew he could never forgive the man for all the pain he put him through, but he still wished, on some level, that the man would apologize anyway, just to prove that he knew the pain of others or something other than his own selfish wants.

"Besides, she wasn't even talking to you. She was talking to Camille, and I think I know why." He paused to take a drag off his cigarette. "The way you talked about her in Grimsby, it sounded like you two were friends. She's worried about you and doesn't want you to have to face whatever she's experiencing down there."

He thought about the sawmill as his second drink arrived. Every day in the Abyss was probably like that, and he pictured being trapped repeating the worst day of his life over and over, for eternity. It made him question why he had volunteered for the army, and whether the combat he saw in Escaria would likewise damn him.

He sighed, dejectedly. "At least you know the names of the ones you've hunted. There might be something you can do... Or at least you can remember them."

 

[Breadman]

"The former lady Marriette is right to warn you. Your soul is stained with sin and if their will is strong enough, the shades of those you've wronged will seek their retribution, lady Camille." Royland finally spoke up, somewhat bitter in tone. "Your own distaste for the gods alone would not damn you to such a fate, no matter what the zealots preach." The wraith motioned with his hand like he was waving off an annoying fly "No, if you're heading straight into the fiery maws, then what will await you is the pain of each of them seeking their pound of flesh. If the Abyss has changed its leadership by that time, then it would be one of my kin leading a pack of them straight to you...and there is no hope of fighting back."

"We wraiths are wicked things and for the boons we have, we are tasked to lead shades to those who wronged them in life. The spilled blood and quenched thirst for revenge is our reward. We feed off of it." He turned towards Sebastian for a brief moment before turning back to Camille and Rajko "You are right of course, inquisitor. Seeking penance for every sin one's committed is a fool's errand. But the scales of one's heart are tipped by what we do in life, is it not? I signed a pact with the demon Lozon in my final moments and by the Lady's grace I am allowed to walk in this realm because of my deeds in life."

"The lad is correct in his assertations. There is time to seek a way to avert the worst fate for your soul. When the mission is done and you've earned your rest, you can begin another great work."

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Rajko rolled his eyes so hard, that they threatened to pop out. "One, Sebastian." He says with a finger raised. "You contradicted nothing of what I said, because I never concluded what Camille should do. Two," Another raised. "you're looking at the foam of my beer instead of the beer itself: this discussion and warning is, at the moment, ultimately futile for our purposes. Why? Because you're distracting yourselves with frivolous concerns. We'll sin once again and more before this task or our lives are done." He raises another. "Three, you and Mariette are. Bloody. Fuckin' Dour!" He despondently rubbed his nose with a palm.

Rajko slow clapped in appreciation when Royland finished speaking. "Certainly when the mission is done. Thank the Gods, someone gets it." At least someone here had the rational and logic to see the pointlessness of this whole sordid affair, Rajko thought. Why do Saints and Demons have this uncanny timing? Are they prescient in this matter?

 

[K0mori]

Sebastian coughed a bit on the last of his smoke before grinding the remainder of his cigarette butt out into the closest ash tray. He calmly rose to his feet and sized Rajko up, unimpressed. "I don't know what you're compensating for, but you're being an asshole," he said plainly.

He looked back to the others. "I think I'll take a walk. It's a nice day after all, and Cass is gone."

 

[Dmaster]

Though Camille listened to the others give their piece, her eyes narrowed into her wine glass as they made no effort to so much as glance at those addressing her. While it was most certainly not something she wished to be discussing or even focusing on now, given the priorities of their task, she had still been overturning Mariette's warning in her mind. It was likely that the newly crowned archdemon was coming from a place of sincerity, yet she was still bothered that all Mariette had cared to do was weigh her sins before disappearing. Once Sebastian had become bothered by Rajko's ranting, she took a breath and composed herself.

"When I was young and first became a hunter, I was both vengeful as well as boastful. There was a time where I saw vampires as nothing but diseased parasites that needed to be put down. Yet even still, I did not fight them as a coward would; assailing them when they were defenseless to quickly snuff out their life. I wanted to challenge myself, and thus every vampire I pointed my rapier at I was certain was a monster capable of great harm, even if they hadn't done so already," Camille explained.

"I was not as thorough in my investigations, and often relied on the hearsay of equally prejudiced townsfolk to guide the local vampires to swift judgment. In those days, I am certain that I killed vampires that were underserving, even if they fought tooth and nail to kill me in defense of their own lives. My perspective was so clouded that truthfully I wouldn't even know where to start when it comes to figuring out who was actually innocent." She swirls her glass of wine in contemplation, sighing with dejection after a few rotations.

"I've no idea how to set things right beyond doing better, as I have been trying to do. It does nothing for the dead, I know, but I can offer little in the way of reparations to those surviving my victims. Money and a heartfelt apology? Meaningless in the face of a murder established on shallow ground. With time I have come to an understanding of how wrong I was, and it is another regret of many that weighs heavily on my mind," Camille continues. "If the gods wish to damn me for those mistakes, so be it. I do not make my choices for the reward of an afterlife of paradise, I strive to do the best I can to do good in this world for the sake of my fellow man. Anything less would have me dying unfulfilled."

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Rajko only snorted at Sebastian's retort but underneath the Inquisitor's garb, the follicles of hair stood on end and the pores opened to drop beads of sweat. That accusation rattled him unconsciously. Folding his arms across the chest, Rajko looked away at the wall. Until Camille spoke from the heart. And Rajko's stern gaze softened. He did not say anything further, but did respect Camille for this. Immensely so.

 

[K0mori]

Similarly, Sebastian didn't leave the inn immediately, but instead lingered near the door as Camille spoke candidly about the killings she wished she hadn't done. The way she recalled her younger years reminded him of himself and his brothers in arms just before the outbreak of war. Inexperience and self-righteousness were a volatile mixture, as always. It was even worse to hear that she couldn't even recall who among the dead were innocent. At the very least, she could take solace in what the wraith had told her, that there was still time to balance the scales.

Personally, he wondered how much more the gods could even ask of her. She had already given her firstborn son. The fact that she would carry on after everything, and in the face of what might await her at the end of the journey, was nothing short of inspirational. He quietly left the inn, deciding that he would rather let her have her peace than to belabor the discussion any further by trying to offer words of encouragement. She was the skeptical type, it seemed, and would probably not trust in fate's design until she could see the afterlife with her own eyes.

 

[Infab]

During the speech that Mariette gave to Camille, and the rants that followed, both Tariun and Rebecca had remained totally quiet. Tariun, purely out of not wanting to make the conversation burst into larger flames, and Rebecca out of being simply stunned by what Camille and Rajko were saying. When things started to calm a bit, Tariun went to speak while rubbing her eyes with her fingers, face almost buried into her hand. But Rebecca would speak up first, looking to Camille.

"...Demons are gifted with the ability to see the taint on one's soul. All the sin and vices that cling to your essence during your life, which in turn affect your judgement when the time comes. Demons, however, cannot see the virtues that brighten your soul. That is left to the holy." she said softly. "Mariette is cursed to view everyone she comes across now as a sinner. She can see all the terrible things every one of us has done, including me."

She paused for but a moment, looking to the floor. "...To her, cursed with this ability, every person she cares about is potentially doomed to a horrid fate." she continued, "And its something she can't just... ignore. It doesn't work that way."

Tariun spoke up afterwards, eyes shifting to the Saint. "Yes. Its quite permanent. I can see the taint on all your souls, just as she can. And at times, I genuinely wish I couldn't because I would like to believe there were truly pure people in the world." said the ascended demon. She eyed Rebecca, almost as if she were gazing through the Saint, but eventually averted her eyes.

Eventually, Rebecca smiled. "Nobody is perfect, as a friend of mine once said." she said, before shifting her gaze back to Camille. "I can see the virtues that mark your soul. Maybe not as brightly as an angel or perhaps a god could, but they're there. You're not as doomed as she makes out, but you still lean quite a bit to that side of the scale. And as Rajko said, that can change. Little by little. Heaven smiles upon those who strive to do good and better the world."

 

[K0mori]

Stepping out of the portal and into Keggoth's palace, Cassandra felt the immediate, unwelcoming sense of the Abyss. Its lack of warmth, its stony architecture, and the smell of death hanging in the air reminded her of captivity. Mariette walked to a tall and thin window nearby, placed her hand against the brass fittings which framed the glass in, and hung her head in brooding silence. Xager, meanwhile looked back on Cassandra and seemed amused; the pureblood didn't hide her trepidation particularly well.

"...So this is Keggoth's palace?" she asked, just to break the silence. "It's a bit austere, for a greed demon's home."

"Everything of value was moved to the Living Collection," Xager explained, "so that it would survive the blast, even as the rest of the city was leveled."

"Oh, that's right," Cassandra replied, recalling Mariette's explanation of the battle from about ten minutes prior. "They really thought they were going to rebuild this place on top of your corpses. You all were too strong to let that happen, though," she added, hoping that Mariette would tell her about the battle. Back when the Beaumont Mission was making its way though the Abyss with an arsenal of cursed weapons, she remembered how high-spirited Mariette had been after the deaths of Ralvas and Azgon. Perhaps it had been excessive at the time, as corruption had muddied her mind in the same way that Rayne Devonshire had brought out the worst in her. But still, she hoped that she might spur Mariette to turn and smile, and give some exciting details about what had happened.

"We were lucky," Mariette replied.

Xager folded her arms. "A little from each column. Even with Kyrend and Sariel's timely assistance, we would not have won the day without a well-executed plan. We have not seen organization like that of the grand army since before the Age of Darkness."

Mariette looked back at Xager and studied her for a moment, trying to tell if she was merely trying to cheer her up, or if she really meant it. "I suppose Taranoch and his ilk are rather like barbarians. By and large, they rely on brutality far more than strategy." Mariette gave a halfhearted smile, but it was clear that being brought to the mortal realm and encountering Camille and the others had badly hurt her, and there was much on her mind that she wouldn't say while Xager was in the room.

 

[Damian0358]

Xiaòzhou merely nodded in response to Tariun's answer to his question, the overarching answer being more or less to be expected, though on the oni, he hoped what cooperation they end up having would aid them. Shortly thereafter, following an additional comment from Camille, Mariette and Cassandra returned and revealed the latter would be spending a bit in the Abyss. All well and good, and given what they had discussed prior to arriving here, would be of great help to Cassandra. As he began to wave them off, Mariette made a set of final comments towards Camille that once more set the entire inn metaphorically ablaze in conversation.

The hermit lowered his hand, and listened as the others debated individual sin. He had to remind himself that, though there are similarities, notions of sin differed between Adonia and Redonia, taking into account not just individual sin, but also inherited sin (承負, chengfu). He considered himself proactive in efforts to amend for his own sins and those of his predecessors, with the journey in the Abyss boosting those efforts. He nodded in respect towards Camille's final comments - self-reflective and intent on doing better - none could fault her, and continued his nodding as Rebecca vocalized such thoughts.

 

[joshuadim]

Azathor had remained silent after Tariun had made her reassurances to him and only listened to the conversation that followed between the others. Mariette's arrival proved to be a point of friction for some that knew her before, as he observed Camille's reaction but said nothing about it. Like Tariun, he didn't want to fan the flames into a full blown inferno. If previous confrontations that had happened prior were anything to go by, the group was already frail in its unity and did not need more any additional pressures. He did think, however, to head outside himself and followed Sebastian. He followed the soldier to his side and took in the pleasant weather that settled onto his face, appreciating the warmth that did not exist back in his home.

 

[Infab]

Xager eventually glanced between the pair, her piercing eyes darting back and forth a few times, and soon enough she turned about. "...I shall leave you two alone for the time being. I'm sure you have more private matters to discuss. I shall go and check on Neroph to see if he should need anything, and relay Tariun's intent regarding the Oni in these lands." she said, soon walking towards the nearby exit. And moments later, she vanished through the doors. Leaving Mariette and Cassandra alone in the chamber.

Cassandra looked about, half expecting that voice in her mind to speak as she inspected the architecture of the palace. But she heard nothing, thankfully. Her darker side had been locked away once more. She smiled at the thought, eventually looking to Mariette and taking a few steps towards her. She folded her arms as she walked, trying to figure out just what to say to break the silence that had settled back in once more. And Mariette clearly needed some cheering up.

She eventually arrived at the window, next to Mariette, and gave her a smile as she glanced over. "Well... here we are again." she said, motioning a finger towards the world outside the window. "Together in Hell."


As Sebastian and Azathor proceeded through the streets of Peltragow, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling port city, they would find themselves eventually coming upon a familiar sight a few blocks away towards the center of the city. A cluster of horses they had previously seen in Grimsby, alongside others similarly decorated as well as several wagons and carriages. Some of the carriages featured fancy decorations and paint, while others looked utilitarian. Most were filled with crates and other means of storage. A few of the horses obviously belonged to the vampires from Grimsby, so the rest must have belonged to their caravan. The Konstantinov clan, as Claire had called them.

They were all situated around a rather large establishment, the Peltragow Royale. An inn which also featured a rather large tavern, gambling hall, and, surprisingly, a theater. Theaters were a rare sight this far from the mainland, but it made sense here. This was, after all, the capital of the territory as well as the second largest port city on the island behind Porthcrawl. There were several people moving about outside as well as inside. Most were patrons, while others seemed to either be workers or simply those passing by.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Rajko remained against the counter with folded arms across his chest. The sharp hat downturned, hiding his eyes which shone in speculation. The subdued smile that stretched across Rajko's face faded into a dignified look. He had been served many ideas on a silver plate, to chew upon, to digest. Yet despite the overbearing, foreboding evidence - supplied by denizens of the Abyss and the canonized amongst him - he remained adamant. Not out of foolhardiness or pig-headed stubbornness, but uncertainty. He would always be that concern's advocate. For a brief moment, his head wheeled to look at the stairs that Mariette and Cassandra took mere moments ago; the ones which lead to the rooms upstairs. The notion of resting, sleeping proved inviting but the warmth outside dispelled that thought quickly.

No, falling into the sands of dreams won't do now. He pushed himself off the counter then in mechanical fashion straightened the contours of his black coat. He went the way of the soldier and the demonspawn, that is to say across the room out the door. Footfalls gentle as a flower's petals, but directed. He parted no departing look to his confrères, merely his back and the turning motion of the door. Out on the street, the warmth washed over him. Unhatting himself to allow his snow-skinned face a modicum of sunlight. Sometimes he thinks he looks more ghost-faced than vampires. His stern gaze set to the side caught Sebastian and Azathor paces away, disappearing in the distance amidst Peltragow's pedestrians.

If they went that way, then Sottaks would go the opposite. In an unconscious motion, Rajko pocketed his hands. An old habit that hadn't resurfaced in years. "Well," He murmured. "Seems I must busy myself until we're all assembled again." In the second largest port city, he expects no difficulty in that task.

 

[K0mori]

"It's those vampires again," Sebastian said, stopping for a moment with Azathor to take in the scenery. "Given what they told us, I wonder if they're here to perform." Even though he had no money, Sebastian was tempted to head inside out of curiosity. It occurred to him, given that Azathor was demon prince, that he might be carrying some serious material wealth around. "Might be worth checking out, if you've got the money for it. I don't."

---​

"Oui," replied Mariette, "as it should be."

With Tariun out of the room, Mariette appeared at first to relax, but the soft smile on her face quickly melted into anguish. Cassandra rushed to her side, holding her gently again as she released the pent up emotion she had worked so hard to suppress. From the moment she had arrived at the inn, Mariette had seemingly been fixated on Camille, and the dire warning she gave her told Cassandra what was wrong.

Mariette already had no time to waste in returning to the Abyss, and precious little opportunity to say anything to anyone aside from presenting her report to Tariun. Had Cassandra not been willing to follow her back, she had no doubt that Mariette would have departed just as quickly. But having also recently gained the ability to sense the darkness lurking in others' souls, Mariette's conscience compelled her to linger, to plead with Camille in some desperate bid to change the woman's fate.

As far as Cassandra was concerned, it was a fool's errand; Camille and her idiot husband both deserved the Abyss about as much as Mariette did when she was wrongly condemned to it- that was absolutely true. The trouble was that even if Velin wasn't a fickle, hate-filled bitch, and Camille could be forgiven for whatever terrible deeds Mariette could see in her, the woman was probably too stubborn to heed the warning.

The pain, then, was twofold. Cassandra knew that Mariette hadn't just been shocked by their presence at the inn. It was the shadow of sin that soured the entire reunion, and the futility of it all. One of the Countess's only true friends in life might be doomed, and there was nothing Mariette could do to prevent it.

"What is this world coming to?" she sobbed. "Is Heaven locked away so high that no one is worthy? And without the binding, how can I ever rest knowing that the book has not closed on my mortal life? If they're as damned as we are, then there can be no rest for any of us- no life or death, just an unending existence, from one calling to the next."

Cassandra looked her in the eyes. "They can't all be damned," she said. "Even if nobody's perfect, that doesn't mean they'll all wind up here. You weren't even supposed to be here. But once Taranoch is dead and Tariun is in control of the Abyss, I'm sure the gateways will be closed again, and there won't be anything in the mortal realm calling for our involvement." She felt Mariette settle a bit in her arms and released her when she felt it was right.

The tiredness in Mariette's soul made her ache as well, as the longer Cassandra stood in the Abyss, the more her memories crystalized.

"I hope you're right, Cass," she aid, wiping away her tears. She turned and beckoned the pureblood to follow her to another adjoined room separate from where Xager had gone, and soon Cassandra found herself in a chamber with no windows. Set out on a table was Mariette's battle-tested armor and sword, left behind before her trip to the mortal realm. Cassandra could only stare in amazement for a moment at the ornate, finely-crafted arcane pieces in front of her.

"...And I thought you looked impressive before," Cassandra said with a chuckle while Mariette began to equip it one piece at a time. "I hope I can get a set like this when I come back."

At last, Mariette gave a genuine smile. "Mages are well respected, ma chérie. As long as they survive long enough, nearly all of them become archdemons."

"How long is long?" Cassandra asked.

"A few decades, normally. For me, it was much quicker because of the corruption I received directly from Ralvas and Azgon. It created a demonic soul in their own image, as if I were one of their daughters." she explained.

Cassandra looked at her skeptically. "At least you don't look like either of them. But how do you know that's what did it? You were a witch, after all."

"There are plenty of dead witches in the Abyss," Mariette replied with a shrug. "Speaking of witchcraft, did you ever-"

"No, I haven't," Cassandra replied, knowing that Mariette was about to ask if she had set up her own grimoire. "I still remember what you told me, but I haven't exactly had time to practice lately. Besides, it probably isn't a good idea for me to be dabbling in that sort of thing while I'm in the mortal realm. I might hurt someone on accident," She half-explained, as she didn't want to tell Mariette about the voices she was hearing.

As they left the chamber and headed for the temporary map room where the other lieutenants were working, Mariette let the conversation rest. Once again in her full demonic armor, she had to put herself back into the mindset of Lisykna, and consider whom among the present forces would be joining her on departure for Sheol.

"Just one more question about your armor," Cassandra replied.

"It doesn't talk to me," Lisykna quickly replied, causing Cassandra to snort.

"No, not that. I was wondering whether it's hard to clean? It looks spotless."

"No. It is actually quite easy. I will show you, sometime."

Inside the map room, the other lieutenants looked up to Lisykna before returning to their conversations. Annen did not seem to be busy at the moment, which was perfect because she was exactly the one she wanted to speak with first. "Madame Annen, I would like to make use of your scouts to track down some of the recruits I'll be taking for my unit."

Annen nodded. "I had assumed you would. I have a few awaiting orders, now."

 

[joshuadim]

Azathor took a moment to observe the caravan when Sebastian pointed it out and scratched his chin for the moment to think about it. He did find himself curious enough to check it out, considering they had run across part of this troupe earlier in the week. The subject of money, however, was more for concern as he did not have any wealth of his own. At least, up here in the mortal realm. However, this was not much of a concern as he simply could resort to sleight of hand to get what they needed. As the two began to walk towards where the vampire caravan stood idle, Azathor quickly scoped out the nearby bystanders before spotting a rather well dressed man going about his business. And even better, he was walking in opposite to the two of them. Azathor took the initiative in the moment as he made sure to bump into the man as an "accident", their shoulder colliding and sending them both face to face with one another.

"Watch where you're going, damnit!" the affluent man spoke with annoyance, his upper lip curling up to showcase as if he had been gravely offended. "This suit isn't cheap!"

"Sorry, didn't see you. Be sure to send me the bill." the demon prince replied, giving a curt nod. There was no immediate response, as his quarry took a moment to realize how strangely Azathor appeared to everyone else nearby: clad in armor and wielding a sword upon his back compared to the regular dress of the street rabble. This was enough for the man to be taken aback as he blinked a few times before snorting.

"...bloody costumers." the man then muttered as he grumbled and went on his way again, content to return to his business and not think much more of the matter.

He however would not know that he had been relieved of his wealth, as Azathor turned about towards Sebastian and pulled out the brown, tanned leather wallet into his view. "Should suffice, whatever's in here." the demon prince then said with a smirk.

 

[K0mori]

Sebastian looked back and forth from the wallet to Azathor, unwilling to believe that the demon prince has resorted to petty theft. He couldn't even keep a straight face. "...Whatever," he replied with a dumb chuckle. "We'll call it a donation to the church's good works. Now let's get off the street before he comes back looking for us."

The two of them quickly headed into the Peltragow Royale, keeping an eye out for familiar faces and interesting newcomers. Sebastian felt inclined to resume his drinking, since his buzz was wearing off, and he needed the confidence to socialize in spite of his strong accent.

 

[Infab]

"How is it that every time I move somewhere else in the world, you always seem to know how to find me?"

"I'm the Enforcer, Barnabas. Its part of my job to be able to hunt someone down." responded Claire, as she eyed the various fishing rods lining the rack. Most of them were your standard ocean fishing rods, but some were meant more for inland fishing in rivers and streams. There were even fly fishing rods here, lacking the modern reel to wind in a cast line.

The older man, the owner of the shop and the very man Claire had been looking for, grunted as he stood behind the counter at one end of the shop. Leaning against it and moving his off-hand to his hip. "Even if I don't leave any traces?" he soon said, eyeing Claire.

Claire cut him a glance, her red eyes meeting his blue ones. "You always leave a trace, Barnabas." she said, before eventually turning about and walking slowly over towards the counter where he stood. "Usually in the form of debts or upset lovers. Sometimes both. Also, Louis Buckner? You've used the name before."

This forced a faint chuckle out of the man, a smirk appearing on his face. "Eh, old habits die hard." he muttered, shifting to where both hands were now flat on the counter. "So what do I owe the pleasure, Enforcer? Lookin' to pick up fishing again?"

She shook her head, before speaking. "Barnabas, we've known one another for centuries. You can call me Claire." she responded. She stopped, slipping her hands into her coat pockets.

Barnabas straightened up himself, running a hand over what was left of his gray hair. An alternative style, the sides shaved down with a straight razor while moderately longer hair remained on top. Popular with soldiers, but he had been wearing it that way for far longer than anyone else. "That's far better. The Enforcer bit is a bit stuffy, y'know?" he soon said, brushing his hand across the white apron he was wearing.

"So was the title of Captain, but I dealt with it for as long as I had it." she responded, with a shrug. "But that part is behind me."

"Right. So you tell me every time I comment on it." He tilted his head slightly, eyeing her with a bit of scrutiny. "You still haven't said why you were here. Did I do something to piss off a clan?"

She shook her head. "No, you didn't." she stated, before reaching into her inner coat pocket, and drawing out a leather bound book. "This is the journal of Maxwell 'Grape Shot' Barr." she said, holding the book out to Barnabas. "Take a look."

His eyes traveled between her and the book, as she held it out. "Grape Shot's journal? How'd you get it?" he asked, slowly reaching up to take it. As his stubby fingers touched the rough leather exterior, taking hold of it, Claire released her own grip.

"It was shoved into the stock of his blunderbuss, which apparently was passed down through his family. His descendant, Jayden MacKie, had it."

Barnabas glanced up to Claire, before opening the journal and flipping through the pages. "...My my, after all this time..." he muttered under his breath, as his eyes soon were scanning the yellowed pages. Reading over the faded ink scribbles.

Eventually, he glanced up. "...And you're showing me this...why?" he soon asked, gently turning the pages.

She motioned a finger to the book. "Preservation purposes. After all, you're still the head archivist." she replied, "...Plus, I figured it'd be an interesting read for our old Overseer."

Barnabas cocked a brow, smirking slightly. "Another stuffy title. All I did was keep watch over a book of cobbled together laws." he said, following it up with a sigh. "...Hell, you're the only one that even cares about that kinda stuff anymore."

Claire didn't respond to that particular statement, instead looking back around at the various items for sale in the shop. And Barnabas noticed her silence, slowly closing the journal and setting it aside on the counter. He smiled, folding his arms as he watched her.

"...You miss it, don't you?" he finally asked, forcing Claire to pause where she was. She had only taken a few steps away from the counter, towards one of the shelves.

She didn't look back. She still didn't respond. Barnabas smile widened. "Ah, now I see..." he said softly, "...You keep track of me, and probably everyone else you knew that's still around, because you miss your old life. Not because of your duties as an Enforcer."

She eventually glanced back to him, her red eyes shifting to look at him out of the corner of their sockets. "...It's the past, Barnabas." she said, almost in a whisper.

"Its the past for all of us, Claire. You, me, all of us that lived through that bloody period." he responded, eventually pointing a finger towards her. "But...you're the only one of us that never moved on."


The inside of the Peltragow Royale was rather extravagant compared to the outside, with a wide variety of different patrons moving about between the different rooms and areas of the building. Red carpets, gold and silver trim with some brass mixed in, dark oak furniture and doors. Beautiful chandeliers hung from the ceiling in each room, sparkling as light hit them from various directions.

A large amount of money had been put into this place and it was certainly seeing a return, judging from the sheer number of people.

The gambling hall had a bar, where several people were currently partaking of the Royale's assortment of fine beverages. Poker tables, blackjack tables, craps tables, roulette tables, even pool tables were packed with people. And from the looks of things, the Konstantinovs were enjoying themselves at one of the larger poker tables. At least, the ones that Sebastian and Azathor were familiar with. Other sat at other tables, or were over at the bar.

Eventually, one of them noticed Sebastian and Azathor as they walked through the gambling hall. Kirill. He enthusiastically waved them over to the poker table, a smile on his face.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

The inquisitor's earlier prediction had proven true. Peltragow is distractionary enough for Rajko, at least transiently. The inquisitor passed through the throngs, perusing the shops and striking up idle conversation with grizzled fishermen or weary deliverers, a port city must have commerce and trade after all. He even managed to intervene in an uncomfortable situation stopping a heated gentleman from entering a bout of fisticuffs. The poor sod had lost his wallet which Rajko did not have it in him to care, seeing as the perpetrators have likely long vanished to the winds. The stern-faced inquisitor found Peltragow charming along with its peoples. Rajko considered the idea of sojourning here, that is if wartime did not hang over them all like a grim specter or his staunch adherence to duty.

The man in the long, dark coat paused unexpectedly. The coursing people circled past him as if he were a stone in the river. Through the deluge of business, discussion, and movement Rajko's ears were lured by a feminine voice of familiar timbre. He shouldered through the current, until he found a parlour store for fishing tackles. The inquisitor's eyes previewed the establishment, the tapered hat providing a smudge of shadow over his brow as he did this. There is no mistake in his sleuthing, confirmed further by peeking into the store.

He waited by the window. Shoulders against the wall, arms folded across his chest, the heel of his boot pressed against the wall and eyes closed while neck turned down his head. This honed Rajko's superhuman hearing, filtering out the noise while allowing the signal to reach him.

Ah, the boons of immortality. A sardonic smile pushed up the corners of Rajko's mouth. He could go in there, but it mattered little to him as he could hear just fine from out here. Plus he respected Claire's privacy not to interfere and make her friend uncomfortable.

 

[joshuadim]

Having spotted Kirill's invitation, Azathor was the first to approach the gambling table as he walked briskly towards him. He assumed that Sebastian would follow as well, given where they were, and didn't say anything aloud. The prince took a moment to observe who else was along with him during his approach, and what exactly they were doing, until he was finally within speaking distance. He offered a slight nod of acknowledgement towards the vampire and grunted: "Fancy meeting you here." Azathor commented aloud, taking a look about. "Nice place. Anything special going on?"

 

[K0mori]

Sebastian nodded at Kirill to acknowledge him, but as Azathor moved ahead to meet him, Sebastian gestured at the bar to let the sanguine-spirited vampire know that he would be delayed momentarily. In his pocket, he carried a few bills from the stolen wallet, and he tried to act confidently as if he were the sort of industrious young man who could make money like this on his own merit. The bartender greeted him skeptically as he appeared from the crowd, looking shabby in his secondhand clothes and with a bushy, unkempt beard, but he didn't allow it to deter him. After all, she hadn't even heard his accent, yet.

A moment later, he arrived at the poker table to join Azathor, a brandy-based cocktail in his hand that was quite a bit fancier than he had ever ordered at a bar before now. He sipped it gingerly, both because it was equally bitter and sweet to a surprising degree, but also because he hoped to make the drink last a good while. His eyes drifted around the room, the buzz and activity a far cry from what he expected to encounter in Atraca while a full blown war was going on. He wondered if any of these people had friends or family serving at the front, before shaking the thought from his head. Like him, they were probably happy just to have a moment's respite from it all.

"Hallo, Kirill," he said. "Are you winning?"

 

[Infab]

"Fancy meeting you here." Azathor commented aloud, taking a look about. "Nice place. Anything special going on?"

"Special?" said Kirill, with a chuckle. "Well, you've got some high rollers over there at the roulette tables betting big. One man lost close to a hundred thousand!" He pointed at the roulette table closest to their poker table, where a man in a brown suit had his head clutched in his hands. A look of complete shock and disbelief on his face. "You missed his shouting. A long string of Escarian insults and curses."

He then motioned around. "Really all of this is special. You rarely see this place this packed. Its likely thanks to the invasion on the east coast. If you're not in Porthcrawl, fleeing to the mainland, you're here. Practically the safest location on the island, with a huge chunk of the Atracan navy in the port and floating around this side of the island. There's a few battalions nearby as well, ready to defend the city from the Tsavanians, should they make it this far."

Soon enough, Sebastian arrived and spoke. Drawing Kirill's attention to the young man.

"Hallo, Kirill," he said. "Are you winning?"

"Indeed I am!" he responded, motioning with both hands to the stacks of colorful chips on the green topped table before him. "I've won four hands in a row. Lady Luck seems to be favoring me today!" The others sitting at the table didn't too thrilled, considering their tiny stacks of chips before them.

Eventually, he shifted his attention back to Azathor. "If you're wondering where the others are, Vlada is about to perform on stage over in the theatre section of the building. My master, Lucas Konstantinov, is over there." he said, before pointing to a sort of lounge section of the room where some of the other richer patrons were seated. Talking, smoking, drinking. "Zehra, the Eshaxian woman that was with us, had to leave."

He sighed afterwards. "Apparently the civil war in Eshax has grown dire enough that her human family were put in danger. She's returning to her homeland to see that they are escorted safely out of the country as it descends further into chaos."


"Why do you miss it so badly?" asked Barnabas, watching as Claire slowly resumed what she was doing. Moving about the store, looking over objects and items on the shelves and in buckets and other containers. "What has you so firmly bound to it?... Is it because you were human?"

Claire never stopped, but did respond. Albeit softly. "No, its not that. Though I do miss being human." she said, "...Its the freedom, and the sense of adventure. We were young. Full of fire. Traversing the oceans and seas, raiding whomever we wanted. All the action, and the treasure it brought. The camaraderie. It was fun...Exciting, you know?"

"Ahhh, I see." he muttered, looking back down at the counter. "...We all miss that, Claire. You're not alone in that regard." He unfolded his arms, letting his hands rest on the counter as his eyes moved to the journal. "But... nothing lasts forever. You know that."

"Yes, I know." she replied.

There was a moment of silence, but he soon spoke again. "...You do have to move on from that, though. As hard as you may wish for it, those days aren't going to return. It doesn't help to dwell on it, because that just blinds you from what's happening in the present. And what the future may bring." he said, eventually looking up.

Claire paused, just in front of a shelf lined with different types of fishing hooks. "I'm not blind to what's going on. There's a war happening, being pushed on by demons. The Houses are worried about what may come to pass. And someone in vampiric society is aligning themselves with the demons to make sure they end up on the winning side." she stated. "And I have to hunt them down and bring them to justice."

"...And doesn't that sound adventurous?" he said, a smile appearing on his face. "Hell, your entire job sounds fun. The politics, probably not, but the rest..."

She looked to Barnabas, a slightly confused look appearing on her face. He soon continued. "...You're the Enforcer of the Sanguine Laws. You hunt down those that would dare to disrupt vampiric order and society. You travel across the continent, and even oceans at times, to do your work. You have the freedom to do what you wish. You're paid handsomely for it, as well. Who made that outfit for you, the Polidori?" he said, lightly chuckling as he motioned to her clothes. "And you still have friends. Allies. Comrades-in-arms. You're just not as young as you used to be. Or human. But does that really matter?"

"And who knows what the future holds? Maybe even more excitement. Although, a continent spanning war and demon meddling is pretty exciting." he finally added. Claire continued to look at him, her confused look softening as she thought over his words.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

The dark clothing of the inquisitor seemed to meld together becoming one shape against the store's wall. A shadow draped like a curtain. He continued to listen. Rajko had been undoubtedly captured by the discussion's contents. Thoughts trailed back to when he first read Solomon's, his mentor, little book on vampirism, those afflicted by its burden, and society. Of course, it was not wholly comprehensive with plenty of inaccuracies as well but it was the commentary of his idle thoughts which Rajko recounted.

He parallels the words now: is it adventure that Claire misses or is it fearful dread accompanied with age? Mr. Barnabas' points were shrewd, like it or not, this is technically an adventure. Solomon noticed that of the few vampires who he established conversational relations, some experienced spiritual malaise. A leech upon their energy as they age further and further. He could not establish whether this was caused of the mind or a byproduct of immortality - both? Man was never meant to be undying, Rajko figures from Solomon's written thoughts. But is Claire afflicted by this? From this overheard conversation, Rajko assumes positivity.

This bondage to the past could be, by all accounts, a symptom of it. Rajko rubbed his chin reflectively. If it is the case then another bowlful of adventure won't be the remedy, perhaps it'll worsen the malady. A breath of defeat pushed through his teeth. He decides to take his eyes off the porch and survey the street-goers for a moment. A mirthless smile spread across his countenance, as brown eyes slowly, mechanically followed the bobbing heads.