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A Murder of Crows - Printable Version

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A Murder of Crows - Askier - 08-13-2014

The alley was congested and small, nothing more than a sliver of space wedged between three buildings.  The overcast night sky hung close to the tops of Ul'dah's tallest buildings.

A small form slipped into the alley, a lone candle held in his hand.  The lalafell's eyes darted around nervously as he made his way to the end of the alley and came to what appeared to be a small bundle of trash and sacks.  The lalafell pulled the sacks aside and there is was, just as his friend had told him would be.  A small altar to Nald'thal.  The symbol of the deity was carved into a rectangular stone block planted into a wooden base.  Written in black ink upon the base in free hand was a number: 

50,000.

"The price of a life."  the lalafell whispered as the candle in his hand shook slightly.  He had never done anything like this.  He had tried to live an upright life.  But he was desperate now.  A Brass Blade had been bleeding his small business dry with extortion fees and was growing more and more bold.  The lalafell was afraid to turn to the other branches of Ul'dah law.  His friend had told him of this option. Assassination.

The lalafell's friend said it had worked for him three times now.

"Pay the offering, reap the reward."  the lalafell repeated what his friend had said and then pulled out a bag of gil from his pocket and placed it on the altar.  The lalafell was not a religious man by any means but he knelt and bowed his head.

"A fee for a soul, to make Nald'thal richer."  the lalafell said quietly.  "50,000 gil for the life of Trener Belin."

The lalafell looked up.  Nothing happened.  The lalafell waited for a few minutes.  Still nothing happened.  Worried he had done something wrong, he repeated the words.  Still nothing happened.

After a few moments, the lalafell turned around and walked to the end of the alley.  His stomach knotted as he realized just how much money he had left.  He turned and blinked.

The bags once again covered the altar.  The lalafell rushed over to the bags and pulled them off.  The pouch of gil was gone.

The lalafell felt a chill run down his spine as he turned and fled.

***

Three Days Later

Trener Belin threw open the door and slammed it shut behind him.  The man's eyes were wide and he ran to the edge of the roof and stopped.  He gazed down at the street five stories below.  The hour was early and no one was walking the streets at this time.  No one savory anyhow.  The door to the roof creaked open slowly and the hyur called Trener Belin spun around, gazing at the opening door and the figure that stood in the doorway, blocking the stairs to the rest of the brothel blocked. 

Trener shivered as he saw that his knife was still transfixed in the tall miqo'te's chest.

"What are you!"  Trener screamed, his face full of fear as his armor jingled in the night breeze.

The miqo'te took a step forward, his one blue and one black eyes gazing upon Trener intently.  The left half of the miqo'te's face was tattooed and the skin was a pallid grey.

The miqo'te slowly pulled the knife from it's chest, a black, jelly like substance dribbling out of the wound.  The air was growing colder as the miqo'te grew closer.

"Who sent you?  I have coin! I'll pay you more."  Trener babbled frantically as the figure advanced.  Trener suddenly aimed a punched at the male.  The blow struck true and the miqo'te fell back.  Trener snarled and tried to bolt for the door but a hand seized his foot and he tripped.  The hyur slammed onto the ground and rolled over onto his back.  The hyur tried to kicked free, but suddenly the miqo'te was on top of his chest.

Trener struggled as the stranger lifted the knife to Trener's chest and then slowly, almost tenderly, slipped the blade between Trener's ribs into his heart.  Trener started to shake as he felt his blood leaving his body.  Cold tingled on the back of his neck as the miqo'te rose and bowed to the dying man.

"Nald'thal welcomes you to his realm.  Rejoice for the true god shall embrace you as his own.  For he is kind."

The tall miqo'te with the mismatched eyes then turned and walked to the edge of the roof.  The wind moaned softly as the miqo'te felt Tener's soul depart his body.  Below the miqo'te could see several Brass Blades rushing down the street towards the brothel.

The miqo'te looked up at the night sky as a grin parted his tattooed face, his teeth flashing white as his body turned to smoke and blew away on the wind.

RE: A Murder of Crows - Askier - 08-13-2014

"And that requires us to increase our shipping fees into Limsa for the time being.  Which, while beneficial in the short run, risks hurting our long term gains if we are not able to find a way to decrease the costs.  Several other competitors already plan to under cut us the moment our rates reach our buyers."

The speaker was a rather well built hyur.  He stood at a large, round table, gazing at his other nine business partners.  Large stacks of paper rested between each, and everyone of the persons seated there and all were reading the report with only half interest. 

The least interested of the nine was a tall, thin elezen with grey hair and a neatly trimmed beard.  He was dressed in simple clothes and was looking at a page of parchment but wasn't actually reading the words upon it. 

He was to busy wondering how his newest Crow had handled it's assignment.

The elezen was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he missed the sound of the door opening as a short elezen, dressed in a black suit, walked up to him and whispered in his ear.

"Master Koveras, the newest Crow has returned."

Koveras smiled, the wrinkles in his old face doubling as he nodded and rose to his feet.

"Ladies and gentleman, please excuse me for just a moment. Afraid that a small matter must pull me away." 

The elezen turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him and his butler.

"Productive meeting, sir?" the butler inquired as the two walked down the hall, which was lavishly decorated.

"Only moderately. Nothing I don't know already, but a reminder is always good to know.  Especially when those whom seek to weed us out as competition from our various markets do not serve the true god."

So you mean to move ahead with the price increase?"  the butler asked as he helped open a door. 

"I'll pray to Nald'thal for his advice.  Depending on what he tells me, I shall move accordingly.  Tell me, Reginald..."  Koveras entered the room, which was a small office lined with bookshelves.  The elderly elezen approached one shelf, pulled a book, and watched as it opened inward, revealing a flight of stairs.

"How is that charity dinner for the destitute of Ul'dah going?"

"Many find it a waste of time and money, sir."  the bulter answered. 

"Course they do.  But it is Ul'dah.  How I do prefer it up here in Gridania. So much to look at that still has yet to die.  I'll be back shortly."  Koveras began to descend the stairs.

As he descended, the air grew colder.  Eventually he reached the bottom and before him stretched a long cathedral hall.  Rich tapestries hung from the walls and rows of pews flanked a red carpet on either side.  At the far end of the room, on a raised platform, stood an altar of black marble.  Dried blood stained the raised display. 

Three, black-robed figures sat in the pews, their somber chants echoing around the room. 

Standing on the platform, gazing as the altar was a tall miqo'te. 

Koveras smiled and crossed the room. 

"Did the Crow retrieve it's due for the true god?"  Koveras asked calmly.

The miqo'te turned and nodded as it lifted it's right hand up, displaying the bag of gil the lalafell had left in Ul'dah.

"A soul for Thal, and a bag of gil for Nald's church."  the miqo'te answered, his voice dry and harsh, akin to the sound of a hundred centipedes crawling across dried leaves.

"Glory to the Eternal God whom shall claim all things in their time."  Koveras replied as he reached the altar and took the gil from the outstretched hand.  Koveras examined his newest Crow with pride.

Two strong souls, pinned and melded together with Nald'tha'ls blessing into a new single being in a strong, powerful corpse. Two made one, just as Nald'thal was two made one.

"This one shall wait here then?" the miqo'te inquired as Koveras placed the gil upon the altar and bowed to it.

"Till Nald'thal requires another soul, you shall wait back in Ul'dah.  Always coin for souls there."  Koveras answered.

"Nald'thal be praised, for death is kind."  the miqo'te said.

Koveras blinked in amusement at the miqo'te's own, personal saying.  That word... kind...Koveras wondered which of the two souls that now made up Atrium Crow had used it so often.

"Death is kind."  Koveras replied as the tall miqo'te turned and left through a side door that led to an underground river and a walkway along the bank.

RE: A Murder of Crows - Melkire - 08-27-2014

Highbridge, Eastern Thanalan. Dark storm clouds covered the sky, shielding the desert below from the harsh rays of the sun, and they threatened to buckle under their own weight, to unleash their torrential downpour. Two figures stood at the southern railing of the bridge, each clad in white and black, and they faced outward, their gazes drifting along the ravine walls. One short, one tall. One Miqo'te, one Elezen. Each with the left half of their face tattooed solid black. 

"I think 'amused' would be best," mused the duskwight. He wore nothing but leathers; a wooden bow and quiver were strung across his back. "Proves you're not all boring."

"Rutting bitch!"

The outburst came from behind them; they turned to face the source of clicks from wooden clogs on stone, only to find a shirtless, grey-haired Hyur approaching them. The left side of this man's face was not tattooed, but the right side was burned, scarred, and from within glared a baleful red eye.  At his side hung a single rusted brass blade from a loop of rope.

The keeper met that glare with one of his own, the cool blue eye contrasting against the black tattoo that surrounded it. The chainmail rings of his haubergeon scrunched as he shifted his feet, one hand on the hilt of his sword as it hung in its scabbard, the other holding onto the strap that held his shield to his back. "This one senses you are slightly angered. Why?"

His companion laughed. "So very observant."

He glanced up at that. "As for you, tall one, boring is not all bad."

The midlander scoffed as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "...I don't like failure," he finally admitted.

The "tall one" smirked. "Ah, the girl escaped then? Pity. Now I have to fight her for her man."

"What did you fail...." Ears twitched as his words drifted off. He turned, stiffened. "Her. Stop her. This one will be told after we deal with that woman."

Liadan Summerfield, resident of the northern woods and student of Stillglade Fane, was murmuring quietly to her chocobo as they moved across Highbridge. Her mount let out a whistle of alarm, and the woman glanced up with a blink and a frown as the three figures fanned out ahead of her to block her path. “You know, I’m beginning to think that all of my dislike for this Twelve-forsaken desert is deserved.”

The keeper in the middle fixed his black eye on her and smirked. “Hello, soul stealer.”

She narrowed her eyes at that. “I do not steal souls, corpseman.”

“Soul stealer?” The duskwight to her right shuffled in place, clearly agitated. “My, my.”

The midlander to her left scowled at her. “ ‘tis not your place to defy Thal’s will. Not the potter but the potter’s clay.”

The keeper tilted his head slightly to one side. “Your aether says you have stolen souls, lady. That cannot be gainsaid. Now then, why has Thal brought you to us…?”

Liadan grit her teeth, an expression of irritation crossing her features as she glared at the armored figure. “I think you should have your eyes checked. Death may have clouded them.” She placed one hand on her chocobo’s neck, squeezed with her knees as the animal began backing up slowly. “I’m almost certain that Thal didn’t bring me anywhere, least of all to you.”

“This one is amused. If you flee, the tall one shall loose arrows into your bird. Lady does not want that, this one assumes. If this one is here, then Thal brought us together.”

The duskwight slid up beside the keepr and wrapped one arm around his companion’s shoulders. “Now now, miss. Don’t be rude to my handsome friend here. Behind his impassive visage hides a very sensitive and loving soul.”

The keeper blinked up at him. “This one is confused by your odd behavior. It is somewhat rude.”

The duskwight pursed his lips. “What’s a little cuddling between good friends?”
“This one is not your friend, this one is a fellow Crow.”

The midlander shook his head mirthfully as he followed that exchange with a grin. “Atrium is a fanatic, Oubliette. Has a one-track mind, he does.”

Oubliette returned the man’s smile. “That he may be, Rotunda, but he’s ever so much fun to play with.”

Rotunda eyed the mounted woman. “Mmm. Play with him as you’d like. I’d rather have the lady.” He bowed, one heel out and slightly to the side as he bent forward over an upraised arm.

Atrium snorted. “This one clearly needs to make eunuchs of you both.”

Oubliette placed a finger over Atrium’s lips. “Hush now, hon. Keep talking like that and you’ll hurt my feelings.”

The conjurer slid carefully off her chocobo, murmuring to the animal. She leaned down, scooped up a handful of dust and then clenched it between her fingers as she murmured something melodic under her breath. A shield of earth briefly appeared around the bird, sand shifting into place, and then it shimmered before it disappeared from sight.

Oubliette giggled as he glanced over. The black iris of his right eye had vanished behind a sudden plume of smoke… no, no, his entire right eye was smoking… or giving off smoke… “Hehehe, I never get tired of that.”

Rotunda was snarling, his own eye smoking as he glared at the woman.

Liadan shuddered as she backed up next to her chocobo, who was still whistling in a mixture of aggression and concern. She focused her attention on the midlander and shrugged. “I can’t help it if walking corpses are allergic to conjury.” She placed one hand on her mount’s saddle, then eyed Atrium. “You know… I don’t know why you have an issue with me. Garlemald is apparently experimenting with raising decades-old corpses, but I’m the one you’re complaining about.”

The keeper known as Atrium Crow tried to shrug the duskwight’s arm off his shoulders as his own black eye begin emitting that same oily black smoke. His lips peeled back, revealed yellow fangs. “Lady, you seem to be eager for conflict. Dost thou wish to sleep within death now?” A moment passed. “Tall one. Kindly remove thyself from this one’s body.”

The duskwight known as Oubliette Crow sniffled. “Fine. But later you’re all mine.” He gave his companion a wink and drew his bow.

“What I would really like is for you to get off the road so that I can go home.”

Atrium grew still, and when next he spoke it was without what little warmth or care or feeling his voice normally carried. “These Crows do not serve-“

“-at your convenience,” intoned the midlander known as Rotunda Crow. “We serve for Nald’s Tribute, and render-“

“-those whom would defy the natural order unto the true god,” finished Atrium, cold as stone. “And you, lady-“

“-are among them.”

“It’s also fun,” chimed in Oubliette with a sadistic grin. “So to make it more fun, how about a riddle?”

Rotunda blinked as he shook off his reverie and glanced over at the tall Elezen with a scowl. “Riddles? Really? Really? At a time like this?”

“What? Don’t you like to mix business with pleasure?”

The Hyur leered at Liadan. “Not my kind of pleasure, riddles. I hunger for… other pursuits.”

The woman gave him a disgusted look. “I do not sleep with corpses.”

“It’s a good one, my riddle. I promise you’ll like it, old man. Our humorless co-worker may even get a laugh out of it.”

“This one is surrounded by complications,” the Miqo’te moaned as he palmed his face.

Rotunda threw a shrug Atrium’s way. “Priorities. Orders. If she is for What Awaits, let us deliver.”

Oubliette gave the conjurer a little smile. “I have many feathers to help me fly. I have a body and a head, but I’m not alive. It is your strength which determines how far I go. You can hold me in your hand, but I’m never thrown. What am I?”

Rotunda laughed as the weather finally broke, as the storm clouds began raining down their issue in earnest. “May I? Oh, please, allow me, I beg of you.”

That little smile grew wider. “Now now, give her a chance. She even wins a prize if she gets it right.”

The midlander smirked. “And what a prize it shall be.”

She swept her gaze over all three of them as she reached for the wand at her side. “Yes, I get it. You’re going to shoot me with an arrow. I’m beginning to think the lot of you are madmen. I cannot take a soul once it’s past the gates. No one sane would even try. You are mistaken as to what I have done and I have not done.”

Rotunda stared. “You have the taint, lady, so take your prize-“

“-it is time to suffer for your lies.” Atrium cocked his head. “Are you ready to meet Thal?”

Oubliette frowned. “Such a spoil-sport. How dull. Oh well, you guessed right. I’ll leave your prize with your bird.” He drew back an arrow, black flames blazing to life around it, and let loose at the chocobo, just as Rotunda drew his blade, grinned like a savage as he licked its edge, and darted forward…

“NO!” Liadan made a quick slashing motion with her wand as she cried; as it passed through the air, earth rose up from the bridge itself, forming rapidly into a simple wall of earth between where she stood and they stood. As it did, she turned, caught hold of her chocobo’s reins, and pulled his head down. The arrow glanced off the top of the earthen wall as it rose, and was deflected away, its blazing arrowhead sailing over the chocobo’s tail and off into the distance, resulting in little more than a loud, surprised squawk and the faint smell of burning feathers.

Atrium smirked as he casually strolled through the falling rain to look over the side of the bridge. “Keep the body intact, the Voice might be able to use it.”

Rotunda spun his sword by the hilt as he came, the brass blade trailing wisps of onyx fire. He sidestepped around the fortification, and swung a backhanded blow, left to right, at Liadan’s back. The woman was far too focused on her beloved companion… but her chocobo was far better trained than she; it bugled a challenged and knocked her over as the sword passed through the air. She took a nasty gash across her stomach as she fell onto her back, clutching at her side as her enraged mount snapped at Rotunda, driving him slowly back and away from the fallen woman.

Oubliette frowned Atrium “Oh? Is our humorless friend afraid of a little scuffle?”

“This one is simply observing you two.”

Rotunda snarled again as he afforded the bird the proper respect. Recent events compelled him, his memory of being ravaged by the local wildlife still fresh on his mind.

“Sooo… let me get this straight. You have a problem with this lady, and want us to deal with her even though we don’t have orders from the Voice? While you do nothing.”

“She has potential,” the midlander snapped back, his eyes still on the chocobo. “Is that not enough? Must we suffer abominations?”

“Now now, old man. I’m not saying we shouldn’t deal with her, but if our companion wants to sit out, we should at least get something out of him for it.”

Rotunda blinked. “…he’s right. Tribute for service rendered, Atrium. As Decreed.”

“After all, our lord is also lord of trade and merchants. And services rendered require payment.” Oubliette looked expectantly towards the keeper.

“Does this one need to have the Voice speak Thal’s teachings in thy ear, tall one?” Atrium growled at the duskwight. “Thou shall not suffer the theft of souls, for theft destroys commerce and breaks down trade.”

“Ah, but those who bring thieves to justice are rewarded.”

“And so shall we be rewarded for punishing this thief.”

The chocobo held his position between his master and the man-who-did-not-smell right, and stamped his feet in warning. Liadan rolled onto her side, gritting her teeth against the pain, the hand pressed to her wound now red with blood.

Rotunda eyed the woman, then pivoted slightly on his feet to better address his compatriots, eyes back on the steed. “She is for What Awaits, Oubliette. Atrium, make good on your servi-"

Liadan slammed her wand against the paved stones and shouted, “BEGONE,” conjuring a wall of wind that slammed into Rotunda and threw him back against the railing; there was an audible crunch as his neck snapped, his head hanging off to the left at a grotesque angle…

The conjurer flinched. Atrium blinked. “How amusing.”

Oubliette drew another arrow with casual aplomb and fired, just as the Hyur’s body pushed itself off the railing with one hand. The woman’s chocobo – the one she had named Courageous, so long ago – let out a startled whistle and rocked to one side as the arrow embedded itself in the chink in his barding between neck and saddle. Rotunda reached up as he stalked forward and, with a sudden roll of his shoulders and a tug of his free hand, snapped his head back into place. He growled. “Your beast shall be dismissed, and you shall soon follow.”

Courageous lashed out with one foot, razor-sharp talons gleaming in the gloom. Rotunda took a single step back, then began circling around to the back….

“Old man,” Oubliette called. “Attack the bird with me. If she shields both strikes at the same time, it will leave her vulnerable to your follow-up.”

That was the turning point. That was when Liadan Summerfield, student of Stillglade Fane, finally lost her temper. She forced herself to her knees, then to her feet; she held onto her chocobo’s barding for balance, and pointed her free hand to the sky, chanting rapid staccato. “Spirits of the sky and water, HEAR ME! Turn your ears to the plea of one who Hears you!”

Rotunda scowled as he grasped his blade’s hilt with both hands. The onyx fire surged with new life, smoked in the torrential downpour.

“Raise a storm to drive these fouls ones from your land! To cleanse this place of their death and desecration!”

In the distance, Oubliette drew another arrow and nocked it.

“Do this, and I will owe you a great boon!”

Each word had been infused with the full power of her master of conjury; the green glow slid from her wand down her arm to engulf her entire body. No sooner had it done so than the arrow flew, than Rotunda stepped forward with a roar and delivered a wicked uppercut intended to sever and lop off that infuriating beast’s neck… only for both to be met by the fury of the storm.

Rotunda threw his arms up to shield his face, his swing aborted as a sudden vortex of wind swirled around the lady and her steed; Oubliette’s arrow flew off, diverted, and the vortex expanded, a vicious gale of wind slamming into the midlander. This time, he was thrown upward, slammed into the pillar behind him, and bounced off at an angle, fell, fell, fell, into the ravine. The duskwight was thrown onto his back by same blast of air, was sent tumbling backward a great ways along and eventually off the other side of the bridge.

Liadan threw her arms around Courageous’ neck, hugged the beast close for a moment, a glimmer of green slipping from her to his wound. Though she could not heal it with the arrow still embedded in his side, she eased his pain. She grabbed his reins and started walking slowly across Highbridge, pushing out the circular wall of wind and water as she went, she and her chocobo centered at the calm eye of the storm where all was still and not a drop of rain fell.

The keeper tumbled back and slammed into the railing before the vortex as she came and it came with her. Pinned there, ge grunted, brushed himself off casually and looked to the river below. “That Crow needed to cool off anyroad.” He looked at the female and blinked thoughtfully. “This one finds you a rather consistent threat. This one is sure we shall see each other again soon, lady.”

Liadan Summerfield glared at him through the wall of wind and water, his words to her lost to the roar of the vortex. She reached out and deliberately pushed the wall at Atrium. “Go back to the black pit that spawned you. Trouble these lands no more, corpsewalker.”

Atrium Crow grinned as he leaned forward, rushed forward, turned into a cloud of black smoke. The cloud defied the wind, surged against it, momentarily wrapping around the wall of wind, a vile laugh filling the air. “Death shall find you, and you cannot stop us.” The cloud then dispersed, the laughter fading away.

The conjurer’s hand tightened on her chocobo’s reins as she shook her head and tugged Courageous along, the winds dying around her, her stride considerably shortened by the gash in her side. “Twelve above, I hate this cursed land.”

RE: A Murder of Crows - Melkire - 09-09-2014

Stonesthrow, Thanalan. Dry heat was the order of the day. Heavy, oppressive, suffocating weather was always the worst... not that the two assassins standing beneath the dead boughs of the dead tree cared, not that they could understand, not that they could feel it, not that they could ever appreciate the shade that their shelter offered them.

But oh, how I wish I could, for I do care! Undeath is unbecoming.
Cease your mewling.

How could I, last scion of House Dartancours, have come to this?
Childish notions of self-importance.

Ah, but to taste sweet honey upon my tongue again, to feel the supple flesh of a woman beneath me once more… Lord, I shall win Thy favor, that I may earn my reward!
These barbaric petitions to your supposed “god” are appalling.

Would that I--

“So, old man. I don’t know about you, but I’m not too pleased with our associate’s decision to stand on the sidelines.”

Rotunda Crow - Hyur, midlander, an abomination born of equal parts debauchery and discipline - turned an ugly sneer on his companion for the evening. Oubliette Crow - Elezen, duskwight, a charming atrocity of bad puns and worse banter - leaned comfortably against the bark, the hint of a smile ever present on his face.

I hate him. That the Voice granted such a perfect specimen of a figure to such an oaf, whilst I languish in this horrid form… it’s… it’s….
You’ll get over it.

"Tall one will get over it." Atrium Crow - Miqo’te, keeper, the fulcrum between professionalism and fanaticism - stalked up to them, throwing furtive glances over his shoulder towards the nearby encampment.

“Oh? And tell me my friend, if she is such a threat, why not attack? Cowardice?”

“Lack of dedication,” supplied Rotunda absentmindedly. “Lack of loyalty.”

“Perhaps another reason, hmm?”

“Or perhaps,” retorted the keeper, “this one felt the two of you were enough. You both were very eager to have her. This one was indifferent so long as she paid for her theft.”

“Ah, so carelessness.”

The midlander stretched as the others bickered: one arm across the chest, then the other; legs spread in a runner’s stance, first this way, then that way. Again and again he stretched, each exercise serving to loosen a joint or a muscle. Limber, that’s what he needed to be for what was to come.

Carelessness… would that I could be carefree.
You will learn discipline. I will not tolerate otherwise.

Out loud, he asked, "Can we at least make good on balancing the scales this time?"

Atrium gave him a cool glance. "This one is able.  Depends on thee."

Rotunda paused as he cracked his neck, just long enough to glare at the bastard. "I gave a mark and two whores over to Thal's keeping last evening. Don't doubt me."

"Thy loins and whores--"

“You,” Oubliette interjected as he drew his bow, “I do not doubt. Our dull companion is who I question. Suppose we'll find out if he's able or not.”

"This one is first among you, forget that fact not." Atrium sneered and motioned with his head.  "Come, we have a kill to make." 

“First, eh? If you say so. Then, ‘Oh First Among Us’, after you.”

The keeper snorted as they approached the encampment, the others following in his wake. "The true god has a sense of humor when he restored you." 

The duskwight chuckled. “Well, someone needs one around you.”

"Tall one, cover the right. Old one, the left. No escape."

This is because I failed. Outrageous. Now he doubts me. Bastard. I will prove him wrong, take vengeance for the slight.

Rotunda circled around to the left as they reached the pitched tents, stalls, and stoked fires of Stonesthrow. With him here, any avenue of retreat to the south towards Nald’s Gate was effectively cut off, leaving their mark no choice but to stand against the other Crows. Stand, fall, and die.

His head twitched as he heard a sigh; he turned the corner around one last tent, and there was the mark. Seeker female, by the looks of her, with a rather diminutive male at her side. She sighed.

"I'm saying that he's an asset... and someone we can trust." She chuckled. "As strange as that sounds."

The midlander’s glanced to the northeast, and he spotted his fellows as they approached the pair. Atrium stood by the fire, eyes blinking for a moment before he spoke. “This one is seeking. Might you be the one he seeks? A name spoken to our God? A Lady Mcbeef?”

The female seemed surprised as the keeper bowed. “Are… are you on drugs or something?”

Rotunda scoffed in disgust. That the male’s line of sight swept south to take in his position did not escape him… “Are you deaf?”

…nor did the male’s grimace at reaching instinctively for a blade that was not there, not riding on his hip. The female turned, as well, still somewhat astonished. "What?" She pointed to Atrium. "Can you translate for him, then, or something?"

The Crows blinked, and Rotunda could almost feel the intensity of Atrium’s gaze black eye as it roamed over the female.  "Perhaps this one was not clear.  Is thy name Lady Mcbeef?"

The seeker female nodded to the undead keeper... just as Rotunda’s attention was drawn by something behind him, by the soft scrunching sound of shifting sand.

Not something, someone.

He couldn’t see them. Didn’t dare turn around, either, that would give away too much. Instead, he focused on the sensation of thick oil in his head and in his gut, the sensation that had welcomed him back to the world after he had heard the Voice calling to him, calling him back from the Void. He cast his thoughts at that oozing core…

Oubliette. Behind me.

I see them. Let them believe they remain unseen. I’ll keep my eye on them.

Don’t get lazy on me, now.

Do not worry, old man. We may not see eye to eye, but I respect you as someone who knows what they want.

He smirked as his attention returned to the scene unfolding before him. Atrium was sneering again as he continued to address the female. “Thy soul can depart thy body for this one. Can thee do this for this one?”

…I would appreciate a debilitating shot. Gut would work nicely, leave me plenty to play with.

Of course. Who would I be if I denied you your fun?

The female nodded. “It’s hard on short notice but….” She shifted slightly, and there was the distinctive noise of someone breaking wind. “There you go.”

Disgusting.
Disgusting.

Rotunda rolled his eyes and glanced over at Atrium. “Enough is enough, eh?”

“Not amusing,” the keeper spat as he rushed forward, freeing his blade from the loop on his belt, a green mist coiling along the length as he neared the female and thrust at her throat. The female shoved the male to one side just as the male dropped low and pushed off for a tackle; she herself hopped back as she drew her sword.

“Hey now, no need to be rude.”

The male growled as he stumbled, as Atrium’s shield bashed him aside, a finger going to his ear. “Get yer ass here now!”

“Rude… rude? This one is amused!” The keeper cackled as he swung again, this time at the female’s sword arm.

Chuckling, the midlander drew his own blade as he approached the male who was so focused on Atrium that he’d turned his back on Rotunda. “Tut tut tut.” He stalked forward, blade suddenly sizzling with heat, wisps of smoke curling upward from sudden onyx flames along the length of brass. He swung a backhand swipe down at the male’s legs…

“Kage, get out of here!”

The male spun on his feet, narrowly avoiding the swipe at his hamstrings… but there came the twang of a bowstring, and a blazing arrow of black flame took him in the shoulder. “Not like this, I’m not!”

Rotunda tilted his head as he stared his next kill. From his left eye, his gleaming black eye, he could see the aether swirling through the small seeker’s body, could see how the flow was erratic, how it gravitated towards the earth rather than around the male’s core… "Were you always this tall?"

His opponent frowned as steel and brass rang out behind him. “Do I know you?”

Another arrow flew, this one between them, and given that warning Rotunda glanced down in time to see the aether beneath them gathering, near-bursting… he backpedaled in time to avoid the worst of it as the earth itself erupted towards him; a few large chunks of rock slammed into his torso, and he rocked back, smiling, as a howl went up behind him. “I can see all the ways you were and are. You… you’re a failure.”

“How fucking dare you,” came a cry, “I’m… not… a lady!”

Rotunda chuckled again as ‘Kage’ dropped into a low crouch, fists held up to face his foe. There came that revolting wash of energy that felt so much like feathers, and Rotunda’s black eye swelled in its socket as it smoked, wisps of charcoal grey streaming into the air. The midlander grinned as he hefted his blade and licked along along the partially rusted edge. “How many times have you been cut? I’d like to make a new record.”

Kage growled, yanking the arrow out of his shoulder with a yowl, his eyes alight with anger and fury. "Try it."

The Crow spun his blade by the hilt with a laugh as he darted forward and lept over Kage, just as there came another twang; he turned in midair and came down with a heavy slash....

"Nat, Kage! Looks like we made it in time."

"What… have you… two gotten… into now?!"

…the male kicked high in the air but missed Rotunda’s chest, ended up taking the blow to the same bleeding shoulder. The layer of air above that shoulder shattered in the sudden blue shine of a shattered lattice, shielding the male from the force of the blow… yet Kage cried out in pain, gasping. "Oh… Twelve… more people… someone hand me a sword, perhaps?!”

Rotunda snarled as he glanced past the male towards the new arrivals. Kneeling on the sand was a Hyur woman bleeding profusely from one leg, her hand held over it; green light glowed beneath her palm. Next to her, two Hyur, one young white-haired chap and a rather large, particularly ugly-looking highlander. There came a howl from behind Rotunda as he snapped, “Kill the mark! Balance the scales!”

His foes tensed, set themselves for a charge… but he turned and rushed towards the target instead, dashing around a kneeling Atrium at ‘Natalie Mcbeef’, whose foot was pinned to the earth by Atrium’s sword. Rotunda drew his blade back and then thrusted forward in a running stab…

"Roegadyn, help Kage and Natalie! You two Hyur, take down that archer!"

“Let’s do it, Franz!”

“They want to kill her!” There came a growl, and a heavy mass slammed into Rotunda’s legs, spoiling his aim, just as Natalie grabbed Atrium’s sword arm, dragged him forward, and slammed her knee into the keeper’s face. There came the sick shattering crunch of bone as Atrium recoiled, black blood oozing from his ruined face. “Harloth,” Atrium gargled as he fell onto his ass, his own black eye emitting a thick, oily smoke. “My facth!”

The female tilted slight to one side just as Rotunda’s blade slammed into her armor point-first, biting through the metal and kissing her flesh before deflecting off. She hissed as the flames burned her skin, but glanced over his shoulder, a look of supreme relief coming over her face. “Iron… try… to stop them….”

Rotunda glanced down at the sudden weight dragging at his right leg… and rolled his eyes. “Seriously, child? You need lessons.” He reversed his grip on his sword, then stabbed back and down at Kage’s other shoulder, and the male yowled as he threw an ineffective punch at Rotunda’s crotch… just as the big, hulking mass of a Roegadyn came up behind Atrium, one large hand gripping at the Crow’s shoulder as the Roe settled the curve of the axe along the nape of the keeper’s neck.

“Would you rather I be kind?!” came a cry from a deep voice; the highlander, surely, as he and his fellows engaged Oubliette. Underneath that cry was a low, desperate chant, and as the chant reached a crescendo a green light settled over Natalie….

“Do tell me,” grunted the Roegadyn, “does this lot hold any worth in the lives of their friends?”

“Kind?!” Atrium gargled loudly as he turned his head, looked up at the Roegadyn, and cackled. “Thy foolish mind thinks the lord of death will let you claim us! Ha!” Laughter, nothing but laughter and… “Finish the target, old one!”

Rotunda Crow barked a laugh himself, at Iron, at Natalie, at Kage striking nothing, the flesh there having long rotten away. He twisted his blade in Kage's flesh; the male whimpered, then collapsed into unconsciousness just as Rotunda glanced up at Nat, took a single step forward with his left leg, and seized Natalie by the throat with his free hand, drew her closer…

“You’re mistaken. I said nothing of gods and death. I want your life, nothing else,”  rumbled the Roe as he seized Atrium by the hair…

Natalie held her sword to Rotunda’s chest as he moved closer, the blade sliding through him with nothing to show for it but black ooze dripping down the blade and the undead man’s torso. “What are you,” she hissed through her constricted throat. Rotunda Crow licked his lips, his black eye smoking. "Thal's Dagger." He surged forward, jaw falling open and teeth snapping shut as he bit at the right side of Nat's face…

"My soul is not yours to have, fool!"  Atrium hissed as he was shoved onto the axe blade, the sharp edge severing skin, tendon, flesh and bone with ease.  Black, rotted blood coated the weapon as Atrium shuddered, and then his body faded to smoke, his maniacal laughter filling the air before a strong wind dispersed the cloud into nothing...

The female blinked, her eyes filled with fear as she felt the unearthly chill through the man's hand. As her eyes fell shut, she reached down with a hand, drew a dagger and slashed at the man's wrist. Rotunda roared as his left hand was severed; the thing fell to the floor, trailing black ooze and ash. With another cry, he yanked his blade free of Kage's shoulder and thrust it at Nat's face as she fell, the blade passing over her as she collapsed unconscious against the tent...

The Crow pulled his right foot free of the male’s arms, stepped over his own lopped-off hand, chill deepening about him as his red eye blazed and his black eye smoked, onyx fire bathing his blade. A burst of water splashed over him to little effect; his sword sizzled in sudden steam as he grit his teeth. "Die," he commanded, as he raised his blade high for a downward swing...

The petite young woman from earlier slammed into him, tackled him, knocked him aside. He glanced down at her, snarling. “You were not paid for. But if you desire What Awaits, you can go first.”

She rose to her feet, readied herself, fell into an odd stance, mere ilms between her and Rotunda. “Retreat and leave my loved ones, or be sent to the seven hells where you belong.”

He glared at her with contempt, drew back his blade… and spun in a roundhouse swing at the fallen Natalie, only for the big armored Roegadyn to fall over her, covering her, presenting his back. Rotunda growled as his sword bit into the Roe’s chainmail, the heat of his flaming blade melting the rings away.

"SHE IS FOR WHAT AWAITS! NALD MANDATES, AND WE SECURE FOR THAL! STAND ASIDE!"

And then he staggered, and the next thing he knew he was drifting along the wind, gazing down at his headless corpse as it dispersed into smoke, as his hand and fallen brass blade did likewise.

Again. Again! How many times must we go through this charade?! I should have won! I had her! Those goddamned bastards!
Arrogant.

No!
Childish.

I AM ROTUNDA! I AM THAL’S DAGGER! I--
Petulant.

SHUT UP!
Fool.
Fool.
Fool.
Fool.
Wh-wh-what….?

You spent all of our time together ignoring me, dismissing my very existence, because you could not win. Because you lack discipline. You lack strength. So you shoved me to the background like the arrogant, childish, petulant fool you are, as if the inevitable would never come. And now it has. Now I rule, and I. Will. Bury you.
You… you… you are…

I am Adin Adonis, and I live again.

RE: A Murder of Crows - Askier - 09-16-2014

Smoke. Swirling billowing smoke. Black and oily and stinking of the foul odor of charred flesh and hair. Memories whirled through the shrouded darkness. Scenes of life as the twin souls joined by bonds beyond their understanding meshed them into one. Scenes of a family. Children. A farm. Laughing. Blood. Slight throat.

The smoke whirled, shifted. A bridge. A couple holding a gun blade and looking into black eyes. They pulled the trigger together. The bullet tore into the brain. Smoke twirled and parted. More memories. The two souls fought to remain seperate but were becoming one. Which of them had had the family in life? Which had been shot? Did it matter anymore? They were Atrium Crow and they were one.

And then there was the tearing. The rending. Both souls ripped apart. The magic painful. And then a new soul joined one of the old. A new. The two souls meshed in moments. Joined more intimately than the first set. The gunblade on the bridge fired, tearing a hole. Smoke filled the brain and memories of another life. Of sensuality, cruelty and pious religious fury mixed with self hatred. The bindings sealed the two souls together and Atrium Crow screamed as eyes opened.

The Crow looked around. Atrium lay upon a raised platform. The platform was made of onxy and covered in golden paint that formed the shape of runes. Five black robed figures stood around. The tallest of these removed his hood, revealing himself the be The Voice of Nald'thal.

"Praise the True God, Atrium. He has permitted you to serve still."

Atrium bowed but felt off. Something was wrong. The body that was called Atrium Crow was different. And part of the Crow's mind was no longer the same. Sudden memories came back and Atrium lifted their head.

"This Crow. . ." Atrium went still. The voice that spoke was not the one Atrium had been accustomed to. It was. . . 

"The body you had possesed was damaged beyond repair. A new vessel was needed. Alas, your binding was broken out of necessity. You will find your new body was not willing to part with its soul so we had to reconfigure you with another soul.  The body you inhabit was fresh. One of our most devout acolysts. You may even have feeling in it this time."

"This one is blessed to serve still." Atrium replied, the voice they spoke with still alien to the Crow.

"And serve you shall Atrium." The Voice replied kindly as he pulled out a pipe and used a speck of magical.fire to ignite it. The sweet smell of tabacco filled the air as the Voice waved a hand and the other robed figures began to dispearse.

"We have Much to do and so very little time. My house is burned, several targets live and are learning of us, and we have but a page out of an entire book we need to reawaken our true god."

The Voice blew a smoke ring.

"Nald'thal wishes you to find and abduct five women to make souls stones."

"Virgin women?" Atrium asked coyly, almost seductively. Where had that tone come from? Atrium was associating to much with those lusty Crows Atrium so despised.

The Voice raised an eyebrow as he examined the nude form of the Crow before.

"No. And before I begin a rant about how stupid that stereotype is, I simply need women for they are the giver of life and birth. They contain special aetherflows for this maricale of Nald'thal. We need soul stones infused with this gift.


"Do you have five females in mind?" Atrium asked, looking down to examine the body giving the twin souls for the first timr. Atrium went still and then jerked the head up.

"I do, Atrium." The Voice explained calmly. "Dress yourself and once you have, we shall speak further."

RE: A Murder of Crows - Askier - 09-17-2014

I just want to see you smile. The elezen Crow had said.

Atrium snarled as red liquid ran down the Crow's face.  The sword in her hand hacked wildly and furiously at something but Atrium was disconnected as thoughts consumed the mind.

Why does the Tall One care if I smile or not?  Atrium thought.  We are tools. Instruments of death. We were reborn to be nothing more than Nald'thal's impliments.  Tools have no need for emotion or smiles. We. . .


Atrium's sword cut through the air and stuck fast into something with a wet, squishing noise.  Atrium flashed white fangs as the miqo'te's mismatched eyes spotted an axe on the ground. Atrium seized the weapon and resumed the wild hacking.

Last night had been complex. First Atrium had been forced to adjust to the new body that now housed Atrium's will.  Then Atrium had been sent to acquire the services of a black image named Laforet for the upcoming ritual. That had been the only part of the night that had been as it should be. Laforet agreed. Atrium should have left those falls but then the woman, Misha, had started up conversation. That had been pleasent enough, likable almost. And then Oubliette, the tall elezen, had arrived and the heckling, the joking, the. . .incessant showmanship and flirting, all of it had begun. It had all been aimed at Atrium, as always. Misha had enjoyed seeing Atrium squirm. The miqo'te had resisted. Atrium didn't have time for childish games. Only killing. Only serving. But Misha and Oubliette had made Atrium enjoy the time somehow. Atrium felt so guilty and uneasy about that feeling. And then, after Misha had left. . .Atrium had poked Oubliette's nose. 

Atrium growled and slammed the axe down, something exploding in a shower of red.

"How dare he play with my mind! Atrium screamed. " We are tools of Nald'thal. We should only focus on serving the true god!"

"Than in Nald'thal's name, mercy!" a voice screamed.  Atrium blinked as the axe hung in the air.  Atrium looked down at the cowering male hyur as he looked up at Atrium's blood soaked axe.

Atrium looked around and blinked. Blood was everywhere. Four chocobos and nearly a dozen humanoid forms lay dead.  The wagons were painted a sickly red and atrium realized for the first time that there was a spear protruding from her torso.

Atrium looked at the man as he stared at her in fear.

"What are you?" the man whimpered.

"What do I look like?" Atrium asked, the axe still in the air.

"A blood drenched monster!" the hyur said quickly.

"Then why would you think I would show mercy?". Atrium said flatly.

"Because you invoke Nald'thal's name. . .and you are a woman."

Atrium raised an eyebrow. 

"Why should the gender of this pile of ash I currently inhabit matter? You are blessed this day, for you shall see Thald'thal's domain."

"No!" The hyur scream as Atrium brought the axe down and sent the man's head and body in two different directions.

Atrium rose and shoulders the blood soaked axe. Her black armor was almost entirely red. Atrium looked at the spear in her chest and then around again.

Why had Atrium done this? Atrium couldn't recall. But it didn't matter. Nald'thal was many souls richer and soon Nald'thal would bless the mortal plane and bring all to the true god's realm. 

Atrium paused and looked up.

"Wonder if I'll smile when that happens." Atrium exploded into a cloud of black smoke and blew away on the wind.

RE: A Murder of Crows - Askier - 09-18-2014

The wind blew off the ocean, carrying the scent of salt with it. It was cold and bitter as the storm cell it preceded towered like a black obelisk in the sky, darkening the light of the afternoon sun.  White capped waves pounded the shore line and the half completed ships of the dry dock groaned as they shifted under the wind's assault.

From atop one of the great towers of the dry dock, Atrium sat, her axe resting in her lap as she slowly ran a file over the edge of the blade. Over and over it ran as the miqo'tes mismatched eyes stared intently at the steel.

Last night the Crow's had taken their first sacrifice, a Rhaq. It had been rough but they had brought her to Limsa. There Atrium and Oubliette had reunited with Rotunda.

The file screetched.

Rotunda, a reborn Crow just like Atrium, neither alive nor dead and composed of two souls.  Atrium was recalling memories of one of her two past lives and to one of them Rotunda's face had been important. And he hadn't been called Rotunda back then.

Adin.

Atrium bit her lower lip.  Who exactly Admin was was still slowly a fog but the shape was there. There had been devout servitude. A servant. A tool. Just like Atrium was now, again, just a tool.

But that's not what Oubliette and Misha kept saying.

Misha. Atrium scowled. Misha was working along side her enemies. Mishap had summoned them last night. Atrium should have killed her. Let Rotunda's blade do the trick. But Atrium hadn't. Atrium had even gone as far as to preserve Misha's well being. 

Oibliette was affecting Atrium. Atrium.was forced to accept that. Once Atrium.would have sliced Misha's head off without a second thought. But Oubliette and his incesent joking and his words that almost were kind. . .

"Those two are making me weak!" Atrium growled as she began frantically sharpening her axe, as if she was sharpening herself too.  She began muttering religious phrases and praising Nald'thal and asking for strength. Atrium's heart hardened and she glance up as thunder roared.

That Roe called Iron Sea. He was a problem. He seemed to be spearheading the efforts to stop the Crows and the cult they served. Atrium.wouldn't permit that. Last night Iron Sea had nearly freed Rhaq and once again was being a problem.as he and his allies forced the Crows to retreat. He knew to much. Once the other sacrifices were collected, Atrium would deal with him.

The miqo'te rose to her feet and spoke.

" I am Atrium Crow. I am a blade in the shadows. Nal'thal's harvester. I am his too-". Atrium paused as she nearly finished the word. Was she just a tool? An emotionless thing only needed for killing?  Both Oubliette and Misha claimed otherwise. And Oubliette was a fellow Crow. Could he be right?

Atrium shook her head and growling at her questioning her faith and purpose.

"I am Nald'thal's. . . .servant. And I will see the twin god's will done." 

Atrium heard more thunder and let herself turn to smoke and blow away on the wind.

RE: A Murder of Crows - Askier - 09-19-2014

The elderly elezen with the white beard known as the Voice of Nald'thal' was sitting in a small, well groomed garden that was filled with exotic flowers and well trimmed hedges.  The Smell of the earthen sanctuary was delightful to the nose and the Voice found it very complimentary to his cup of tea.

The Voice took another sip and then, after a moment of savioring the tea, reached into the void and seized the mangled, tortured wreck he had placed there. Smoke began to form in the chair opposite the small table from him. The Voice watched with mild disinterest as the smoke thickened, swelled, and suddenly took the form of a shuddering Atrium. 

The Crow was trembling and her eyes were wide but she said nothing as she looked up at the Voice and then bowed her head in submission.


"Well now, has some time in the void seperated from the truth of Nald'thal restored your resolution?" the Voice said with a calm inflection while sipping his tea.

Atrium nodded several times but neither lifted her gaze or spoke.

"I am pleased to hear this. Please understand, Atrium, your punishment did not have to be so severe. It was intensified by the insubordination of those. . . Interlopers you encountered last night. I offered a trade, they declined, and one of the terms I promised was your suffering if they declined. Just as Nald'thal is honest, so am I. Do you understand? It wasn't personal Atrium just business."

The Voice sipped as Atrium nodded.

"Though I am concerned of the influence this Misha is having on you. Your. . .dedication to our god and our purpose was once the strongest of the Crows.  You were my perfect tool. Has that changed?"

"I am still a faithful servant of Nald'thal." Atrium.replied weakly, her time being tormented by the Voice's magic inside the void had taken its toll.

"I see." the Voice answered, raising an eyebrow at something she had said."Well then, your fellow Crows and you shall continue taking the needed sacrifices.  Time is dwindling. Should you encounter those trouble makers again as you and Oubliette did last night, you will kill them without mercy."

"All of them?" Atrium asked. The Voice stared in surprise and then smiled calmly.

"All of them my dear. I am ordering you to kill all of them. And if you see this. . .Misha whom I spoke with through you last night, you are to kill her first."

"But" Atrium started.

"That's an order." the Voice explained very pleasently. Atrium felt a twinge of magic convulse her muscles. Atrium knew she must obey should she encounter Misha.

"This one serves Nald'thal. This one shall carry out the true god's will and shall bless this world with the twin god's rebirth."

The Voice was delighted.

"There is the Atrium I know. You are a faithful Crow and you shall be rewarded. Now, go and be ready.'

Atrium exploded into smoke and blew away.  The Voice watched the assassin leave before he closed his eyes and spoke softly, his voice traveling hundred of miles to a mind.

"Rotunda, weapon of Nald'thal. There is a task needed of you."

RE: A Murder of Crows - Melkire - 09-19-2014

"Rotunda, Weapon of Nald'thal. There is a task needed of you."

Malms upon malms away, on a tranquil stretch of forgotten coast, Rotunda Crow convulsed as he fell to his knees, sabatons sinking into the shoal as he drove a shaking fist through the wet sand into the soaked soil below. Jaws clenched as rotten teeth slid against and over one another. Shoulders locked with tension as a feral growl rolled up his throat.

Close. So close. More time. I need more time.
i'llkillyouisweartotheonetruegodiwillyoucan'tdothistomeyoucan't

In his mind's eye, Rotunda saw a pair of soot-black gauntlets rise up and snap shut around a thin, elegant neck, fingers fastening around the throat, the vice-like grip tightening as the man in black drove a battered, bloody husk of a duskwight to the floor. The soldier adjusted his grip, seized the Elezen by the hair, and held the head under the cool, icy waters of darkness. Words fell from lips in a steady cadence as the duskwight thrashed beneath the midlander.

I am Adin Adonis, Major Triarius, faithful son of Garlemald, loyal hand of the Empire. Fortune favors me, as it ever has. I will overthrow these chains and wrest control from these gods-fearing savages. I will return to my people. I will rise again. I will become Legatus. I will be Emperor. Discipline will yield the bloom of ages.

Rotunda shook as the fulcrum in his head returned to balance, as the scales tipped from chaos towards order. Aether surged through him once more, and he convulsed again... but he pushed himself back to his feet, shaking as he took one long, deep, shuddering breath of unlife. He licked his lips, then spoke to the chill winds of the Umbral Isles.

"Coin for Nald, Blood for Thal, and Glory to the Voice."

"Rotunda, Atrium's effectiveness has declined. As of this time, you are now First among Crows. During tomorrow's ritual, you are to do anything required to insure its completion. Should Atrium exhibit any sort of behavior you deem unworthy of a Crow, inform me immediately. If we cannot remove whatever is causing Atrium's decline, I shall destroy the body and send the souls to Nald'thal."

One soot-black gauntlet, drenched and covered with mud, clenched into a fist.

"The true god speaks and I hear. The Voice commands, and I obey."

For now.

RE: A Murder of Crows - Ragnar - 09-19-2014

The light shining through the canopy above was bright. The Elezen squinted up at the light and smiled. He had always loved the feeling of sun on his skin. Just another thing to enjoy about life. He continued on his path forward, sauntering to nowhere in particular, just enjoying world and letting his thoughts wander.

Atrium. That brought another smile to his face. How odd things had turned out, not at all how he had foreseen it. What had started as a way for Oubliette to amuse himself, had changed in to something... more. What that was, he was still unsure of. The pale Crow continued to stroll forward, stopping briefly at a creek and gazing into the clear water. A fish lay in the shadow of a bush, swimming slowly against the current to keep its position. Oubliette pondered the creature.

It would be easy to just let the current pull it down stream to new places. An adventure. The Elezen chuckled to himself. He'd been changing as well. Before he would have taken the easy path and let the current take him to new and exciting places, but now he struggled against it. Like a fish. He shook his head and chuckled again. He was like a fish, and like a certain Roegadyn. How odd.

Oubliette continued on his way, considering the path he'd embarked on. Atrium would be free, he would ensure that. The Voice had gone too far in his punishment of her. Oubliette would see The Voice die for that. There was much to do and he would have to be very careful. If The Voice learned of his betrayal, that would be end of Oubliette's scheme and life. All he could do now was push forward and see the plan to its finish, all the while keeping Atrium in the dark. He was not willing to risk her life in his plan.

The tall Elezen leaned down and plucked a flower. He just gazed at it in mild curiosity for a few moments. What a pretty thing. Much like Atrium. Though he preferred the old body, the new one was nice enough. Oubliette let the flower slip through his fingers and fall to the earth. She would be free of The Voice, free of anyone controlling her. He'd make sure of that. Oubliette laughed dryly and adopted a bemused grin. Since when was he willing to sacrifice for someone else? My, how things had changed. He continued on his walk and shut his eyes, letting his legs take him on a familiar course. The light danced between the leaves and branches, catching the Crow's face. Another smile.

RE: A Murder of Crows - Askier - 09-20-2014

The ocean glistened, reflecting the light of the late morning sun that hung in the clear, blue sky.  The sounds of dock works talking laughing mixed with the ceaseless drum of hammers and barnacle scrapes.

Atrium sat at the end of a dock, watching the ocean slowly lap against the shore across the bay.  Her mis-matched eyes shone bright in the light as her fingers idly drummed on the axe she had lain across her lap. 

The ritual was tonight. This evening the souls of the sacrifices would be drained and used as fuel for her god's birth into this realm to slay all living things. 

Part of her was eager to lay mortal eyes upon the entity that had bestowed upon her so much. But the other part felt a tinge of. . .something, sadness maybe. Regret. Atrium didn't know. She only knew she had been promised by Oubliette that he would free her and to trust him. And she had discovered she had more faith in his words than those of The voice.

Blasphemy!

Atrium shook her head to clear it of such thoughts. She would wait and see what happened. She could do nothing else. At that moment, Atrium felt as though her life was a scale waiting to be tipping one way or the other. And she hoped it tipped in the way Oubliette had promised.

Atrium looked over at a nearby tower and blinked. Up there were the victims for tonight. Atrium was uncaring about them. Live or die, their souls were Nald'thal's.

Atrium turned back.to the ocean and slowly wrapped her fingers over the axe handle.  No matter what happened tonight, nothing would be the same for her. One way. Or the other.

RE: A Murder of Crows - Askier - 09-22-2014

The four figures sat around a table, all discussing with each other. The room was lavishly decorated and was one of the nicest homes inside the Lavendar Beds, the housing development near Gridania.

A door to the room open and the elderly elezen known to those gathered as "The Voice of Nald'thal' entered. They stared at him and he at them and one of the four broke the silence.

"The ritual is a failure." the figure said. 

"Thank you, Travis. The obvious had escaped me." the Voice said, motioning for them all to sit.  "But we aren't here to discuss that, we are here to discuss business and our new monopoly attempts on the shipping business in Limsa."

"But what do we do now? So many know of-"

"Travis." the Voice explained calmly.  " I am handling it. Yes the ritual failed. We have taken steps already. The Crows will remove a few threats and then we shall slink back to the shadows, using our influence to improve our monopolies and use the Crows to kill for coin so that our church might flourish. Now, trust in Nald'thal's wisdom and let us return to matters we are here to discuss. Business. And nothing more."

RE: A Murder of Crows - Askier - 09-25-2014

It was over. She was free.

Atrium watched as the sun light spilled over the tops of nearby by houses. The early morning was chilled and a thin fog hung in the streets of the Goblet.  Atrium sat atop the great windmill as her eyes surveyed the Goblet, the lands beyond, and the rising sun.

Her mismatched eyes sparkled as they caught the light and she had a thin grin on her mouth.

She was free.

The Voice had been hunted down and kill last night.  Atrium didn't know the specifics but that didn't matter. Why should it? That old elezen had entered Nald'thal's domain and would remain there. This world was here's to wander now.

Those whom had cut the Voice down: Misha, Iron, Sae, Raik, Franz, Leanne, Meta xi, Lillith, they had all looked at her last night.

They were wary of her but also kind. 

Atrium owed them much. She had even offered to let Iron chop off her head in an effort to cheer him up since he had been withdrawn for some reason as.  But he had declined.

Atrium chewed on her lower lip.

These living beings were complex and Atrium was now free in a world full of standards and rules she did not understand.  Last night so many had instructed her not to offer to let people chop off her head.  To not do this to not so that. That killing made people uncomfortable. Atrium sighed.

How did it make people uncomfortable? They had all just slain the Voice and were planning on doing the same to the rest of the cult she had been made to serve.  They said they would hunt her cult down and.destroy it. Atrium was indifferent. Either way, Nald'thal would be served.

At least Misha and Oubliette understood her.

Atrium smiled.  Misha, Atrium had called her a friend and owed her much. Atrium was eager to see the miqo'te  once more and learn things. But as much as she owed Misha, she owed Oubliette infinatly more. 

He had freed her and had asked nothing in return. He had done it because, deep down, just as Misha had said, he was a good man. A silly, murderous, joker. But good to her. 

Atrium licked her lips. He was hers and she his. Perhaps she wasn't -entirly- free, but her binds were voluntary and Atrium was glad for them since he held them.  She would always be there for him, just as he had for her.

Though Atrium was still unsure what to do otherwise with her time. Misha had mentioned finding someway to help people. Atrium just wanted to kill. The Crow rose to her feet and then threw herself off the great building and plummeted towards the earth. She shrugged as she slammed onto the unyeilding stones and turned to smoke.

She would find a way. After all, she was free.

RE: A Murder of Crows - Askier - 09-27-2014

The hyur woman stood on the front porch of the Coffer and Coffin. A half-full tankard of a pungent ale rested in her hand and her black hair covered her face. She was sobbing softly and tears ran down her cheeks slowly.  An armored figure walked beside her and stopped, the boots clattering loudly on the wooden floor.

The crying hyur woman looked over after a moment and gazed into Atrium's tattooed face as Atrium gazed at her.

"Come to stare at me?" the woman said softly, but her tone aggressive. Atrium blinked her mis-matched eyes and nodded.

"Please do not mind this one as I do so."

The crying woman growled at Atrium. 

"Let me suffer in peace."

"Why are you suffering?" Atrium asked flatly, her face blank.

"Because he left me!" the crying woman took a long drink. "He left me for his whore and now I'm alone." the woman clutched her stomach in emotional pain.  "I wish I was dead."

"You wish you were dead?" Atrium repeated to make sure she had heard correctly.

"This pain is awful. I do." the crying woman said as she took another drink. Atrium nodded slowly. The Crow calmly pulled the axe on her back around and slipped it free from the loop on the back of her armor.  Atrium slid her hands along the axe haft and then hoisted the weapon above her head to strike. The crying woman saw the motion, turned, screamed and backed away.

"What are you doing? the crying woman exclaimed in horror.

"I was going to kill you because you said you wanted to die." Atrium shrugged as if this answer was very obvious. " Thought I would be kind to you."

"When I said that-what is wrong with you? Get away from me!" the crying woman screamed, throwing her tankard at Atrium before she turned and fled. 

Atrium stood there, ale dripping from her ashen hair as she shouldered her axe and blinked.

"Living people are weird."

RE: A Murder of Crows - Melkire - 09-27-2014

Bronze rings of chainmail scrunched together as a black-clad figure rounded an old yew tree and sat down on a small boulder, over which snarling roots had grown throughout the cycles. The old man - for that's what he was, circumstances besides - sighed as he pulled the brass bastard sword from his side and plunged it blade-first into the dirt. Up went his arms, and with no small amount of commotion he doffed his haubergeon and set it aside. One hand traced over his chest as he frowned in consternation... not skin, but crystal. 

Dead center in his chest gleamed a dark black crystal, and from there through his chest to his shoulders... he stretched, left then right, pivoting where he sat, wrenching his torso this way and that. He could feel the implants, the tendrils of improvised metal veins that now stretched throughout his body, drawing on the chill that came with his burden, the chill that made him Crow. He glanced left, then right, traversing the grass beneath his feet, the numerous leaves wilting as he watched. The cold aura that announced his presence was gone; in its place was now a heavy dry heat as his implant sucked the cold from him and he sucked the moisture from the air. Vacuum, that's what it was. And its purpose... he tapped his fingers lightly over the crystal.

"Should you exhaust your own aether, you will fall to their mercy. This will not protect you from fire forever."

Banurein had proven true to her word. Two suns had not been enough time for what he'd wanted, but for the interim, she had provided security. The implant in his chest, he could appreciate, but... with a sudden snarl, he ripped the gauntlet from his left hand and stared at the other crystal, the purple one implanted into the back of his hand. He clenched that hand into a fist and grit his teeth at the memory. 

"This may... disorient you when you return. It may even awaken the second soul within you. Understand, it is... to be reserved for the most dire situations."

He would not need it, he had decided. He would take precautions. He would stay the course, follow the path on which he'd set out, and his will would be done.

I will not allow her to interfere. She will not keep me from destiny. She may have what she desires, but only after I ascend. 

Life beckoned. There was death to deal. Treacherous Crows to dispatch. Atrium and Oubliette, he had expected not to show. That moment when the tension on his mind had snapped, and he had reached out only to hear silence, only to find the Voice gone... it had been disorienting. That the others hadn't shown was telling. Iglujivaq hadn't made the rendezvous at the Respite, either. Only Aviarium had showed, and that hadn't surprised Rotunda. Were they not Adin and Rema?

Jin'li, though... Jin'li needed to be dealt with. 

Bloom of ages....