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What Endures - Askier - 10-17-2016
Five figures seated, dressed in robes of black.
Five figures seated, around a table sat.
Five figures seated, spoke:
"So no one has been graced with the presence of the Liberator?" came the first speaker. A tall, elderly elezen with white hair and eyes the color of ice.
All others shook their heads. The elderly woman gave a grim nod.
"Then perhaps it is as we feared. And the chains have been forced upon our Savior once more."
"Then we have believed lies." came a second. A fat lalafel, with blond hair and a chubby face. Â "Was nothing more than a dream."
"You doubt too quickly." a third voice. Cold. Emotionless. A miqo'te with a white tail in her lap, a hood over her face to make a void of shadows. Â "One wonders if you ever believed."
The lalafel snorted.
"We were all saved in our ways and recruited for the same reason. To advance the Liberator's plan. But what merit is there in now continuing these efforts when the architect is gone. We are now a ship without sails and to continue the course seems foolish when those whom defeated our Saviour might bring such power down upon us if we dare keep upon this path."
"So you fear?" came a hyur, strong chin behind a great beard.
"I feel this is all folly!" the lalafel exclaimed. "For months, nothing. And now, as our shipping company has been sliced apart piece by piece, we have, in desperation, given it to a non-believer to manage the shipment of arms."
"He was a safe choice." the elezen said rationally. "Tray'ju is a useful pawn. His influence is growing and his ability to manage connections for the transportation of goods is impressive. He can manage the day to day operations of what is left of the Master's shipping lines and use them.to advance himself and his allies as we use his network to continue the plan."
"How can you not see this?!" the lalafel was clearly frustrated. "The great plan is lost to us. The effort now broken. Without the Liberator, the unraveling is impossible and our weapons become fruitless and of no consequence."
"These soul weapons can be used for other ends." the female miqo'te spoke slowly from the shadows covering her face.
"What do you mean?" the hyur asked, intrigued.
"The Liberator aimed to spread chaos and freedom. That is his legacy. And we, his chosen disciples, can keep that grand tradition alive." the miqo'te swished her tail.
"I think at this point it would be best to let this all fall apart and walk away. There is nothing to be gained by this now." the lalafel grunted.
The elezen studied the small lalafel for a moment and then turned to the female miqo'te to speak:
"And what do you advise?"
The calm miqo'te spoke again.
"We stay in the shadows behind Tray'ju and his allies. We do what we can with what little power is left us. We were never meant to build. Only tear down. Can you all really go back to your old lives knowing what you know now?"
The other four sat in silence as those words sunk in. One by one they shook their heads. Even the lalafel.
"You really think this is for the best?" the elezen asked.
The female reached up to pull away her hood, revealing a set of solid black eyes that gazed around with calculating efficiency. Her pale skin was the color of death and wrinkles had long ago claimed her face.
"A mother always knows best."
RE: What Endures - Askier - 06-13-2017
[youtube]ul6AePnTOno[/youtube]
When had things gone so wrong?
Had it been when Tray'ju died at the hands of that thief?
Had it been when the cult's assets had been seized and ripped apart like carrion?
Had it been the actions of the void hunter, Hojo?
Had it been the works of the witch hunter Atoneaus Dexrinoiux and his fanatics?
Was this the shadow of things moved by Tengri?
Was it the collapse of the cult their savior had worked so hard to create due to political in-fighting?
Honestly, at this point, the elderly female cultist didn't care. Things had snowballed to this terrible moment somehow. She was just hoping she could somehow survive the coming tide that seemed intent on consuming her.
A pistol's report shook her back to the present. The smell of burning flesh and spilled blood filled the air. She glanced back over her shoulder and fixed her burning mansion with her onyx black eyes. Like a pyre, her home, and all her works and books of forbidden magics, burned in the name of the Twelve. Figures and forms danced around the base of the inferno, cutting one another down with blade and spell.
"Stop her!" shouted a voice. Several dark shapes began to surge towards her, cutting their way through her once tenderly attended rose garden. Hissing at the barbarism on display, the miqo'te elder spun on her heel and resumed her race down the dock as quickly as her aged form would allow.Â
There, at the pier's end was her salvation: a small boat, no more then twelve feet long, sat moored. It looked so innocent, as if it was somehow oblivious to the madness of mortals that was occurring all around it.
The female kept running, her right hand pressed to her side as crimson blood ran down her dark dress. Pain filled her as whatever foul toxin she had sensed enter her body worked it's dark power. She only hoped she would have the power to save herself once she was free.
She could hear footsteps gaining on her and she dared not look back.
Not here. Not like this. Not after everything she had endured in this life. And all the one's before. It could not end here. She was all that endured. The cult was gone, it's members and leaders all dead save her. All that remained of the great purpose she was meant to carry out. She had found, at long last, the secret left behind by the Crow. She knew where he had hidden it now.Â
Her eyes glanced up as she reached the boat and threw herself into it. The ocean rolled gently in the evening breeze. Stars shone over head as the sky darkened to deep shades of violet.
Out there, across the sea, in distant lands, was hidden the key to completing the Crow's final goal.Â
She had just untied the vessel and raised the sail, when a sinister shadow fell over her. She turned to look up at a gargantuan figure glaring down at her with eyes like shinning coals.
"Yourrr corrrrrruption ends herrrre, witch." The great titan of a Keeper held an axe in his hands, and a wild glint was blazing in his eyes. Â
The female cultist tried to conjure up a wind, to push the boat away, but it seemed so fruitless. There was the void hunter, starring her down the wrath of the Twelve made flesh. And behind his bulk charged even more hunters, all eager to spill her blood and end her mission.
Despair, a feeling she had hoped to never to feel again, filled her and she sunk to her knees in a gesture of defeat.
"I failed."Â she wept bitterly, hanging her head.
But, in that moment, when her hope had faded, her fortunes, at long last, shifted.
A loud set of shouts filled the air. And the female raised her head just in time to see Hojo thrown by some force into the air and go splashing into the ocean, well clear of the boat. Eyes wide in surprise, the cultist leader whirled to see a small, blonde figure cackling wildly as dark energies billowed around him in all directions as he struck out against the witch hunters.
"It can't be...I-" her shock faded and she seized upon her chance. She could worry later about why Crate, of all people, had come to her aid. She conjured up what remaining aether was available to her and summoned up a wind. Directing the gusts into the sail, she felt the breeze tugging at her air as the ship lurched forward. Her despair and fear became a laugh of disbelief. Soon she was shooting out towards the open ocean. She glanced back at the chaos of her beach front home.
She still couldn't believe it was all gone. In a way, she was numb. It had all happened so fast, she couldn't fully comprehend the meaning at the time. And now, in hindsight, it seemed like a bad dream. Or a story about someone else.
"Pity, I actually -did- enjoy your dreary place." came a chuckle.Â
The female turned to see a section of black fog solidify into the blond haired, grinning face of Crate. He was lounging against a sack and his arms were folded in his lap.
"I-" the female started, disbelief filling her features.
"Let me cut you off there, bag-of-bones." Crate giggled. "I couldn't let you die, ya know. Not after you found it."
"You knew?!" the female blinked in shock, collapsing onto the deck as the poison coursed through her veins. She suddenly felt like she was on fire and she shivered.
"Oh yes." Crate mused, lifting a hand to inspect his pedicure. He frowned, seeing a chipped nail. "Son of a-, but, to the topic, I have friends in all sorts of places, my dear." The blond fixed the pale female with his icy, blue eyes.Â
She saw his face become a wide, Cheshire grin as her vision became foggy and her world began to spin.
"And you and I are about to become the best of friends, Jin."Â Crate threw his head back and cackled as Jin collapsed face first into a heap as she sunk into the darkness of unconsciousness.
RE: What Endures - Askier - 06-15-2017
[youtube]K2C6G3PCpqw[/youtube]
Do you hear them? Do you hear the voices of the enslaved? They are screaming out for release from the prison of life.
"I don't hear them. I only hear the screams of a boy wailing in the dark against the world."
Then you are blinded by your chains. Do not let sentiment trap you, woman.
"No mother is free of that."
You must kill that which enslaves you.
"Would you have me destroy you then?"
-Silence-
Darkness and silence. Then the memory of past conversations faded into nothing. Now, there was only peace in a void of nothing. No emotions. No regrets. No burdens. Simply nothing.
Jin wished this moment of trance could last forever.
Her wish was never meant to be. Her wishes never were.
Her black eyes rolled open. Her vision was hazy as she tried to keep the world unfocused. She would have been content to lay in the bed for the entire day. But her stomach protested it's ravenous hunger. Reminded of her mortal coil's needs, Jin squinted to focus her eyes; the crow's feet around her eyes deepening. The ceiling snapped into focus and the aged woman could make out a moth crawling over the wooden planks overhead.
Jin's forehead throbbed as if she had consumed half the wineries on Limsa and her body, already accustomed to countless aches, felt as if she had been assaulted by a hundred clubs wielded by a hundred Roes. She placed her pale, wrinkled hands to her face and covered her eyes to shield her from the light of the sun spilling in from a large window.Â
She didn't want to rise from the bed anymore. She didn't want to face the world. She could feel in the back of mind the years of regrets and sins trying to crawl forward in her weakened state and overwhelm her mind with guilt. If they surfaced now, she might not rise for hours as she struggled with the past. She gave a grunt of annoyance.
"I'm stronger than this." Jin chastised herself, feeling her emotions trying to drag her down like an anchor into the sea of depression.
Jin gained control of her mind and then stretched beneath the sheets. She attempted to roll out of bed. It hurt to move, but her stubborn streak refused to allow her to admit defeat to age. Joints popped audibly as she rolled over and climbed to her feet.
As she rose, she looked down and realized she was wearing a long, black nigh down that hung around her figure like a tarp. Blinking as she realized someone had undressed her, her eyes swept the room for signs of where she was.
Her hunting gaze ran over the desk and chair that sat against the wall opposite her bed. A large chest-of-drawers stood by the door on her right and on her left a large window looked out over a large vineyard. In the distance, a setting sun glittered off the ocean.
"Where am I?" she commented. "Do I even want to know how long I was unconscious?"
A sudden crash reached her. Somewhere below in the house, a man was cursing. Here ears went flat and her mouth went dry as she turned towards the door. She strained to hear any more but there was nothing.
Nervously, Jin flexed her age-spotted hands. She reached out and felt for aether, twisting it to her will. Once she felt confident in the amount of energy now at her disposal, Jin tip-toed to the door and gingerly opened it.
The door creaked ever so slightly and she tensed as the sound filled the hallway outside her room. A few candles flickered in their mounts but otherwise the hallway was empty and silence returned. Jin craned her neck; first to the left, and then to the right before she crept into the hall way, doing her best to move quietly towards a stairway.
The stairs were made of stone so the elder was able to make her way down them without fear of creaks. Her nightgown fluttered as she descended in a crouched stance. Her ears craned themselves around as they searched for any further noises.
At the bottom of the stairs she heard new sounds: a sliding drawer and then the telltale sound of a metal blade being sharpened upon a whetstone. Jin pressed her back against the wall near an open doorway. Natural light was spilling in through the door-frame and just on the other side of the wall was the source of the menacing sound.Â
Jin took a deep breath and drew the aether into her right hand. A ball of purple lightning began to dance just above her palm and she tensed, ready to spring through the doorway and hurl the bolt.
"I'd prefer it if you -not- do that." came a voice from the kitchen and she immediately sighed in both relief and annoyance. Dispersing the spell, she rolled off the wall and walked through the door.
She entered a large kitchen. The granite counter tops were long and broad. Rosewood cabinets lined the walls. In the center of the kitchen was an island with a great cooking pit in the center. The sun illuminated the entire room through a series of skylights. Polished oak boards shimmered on the floor and the whole place smelt strongly of fresh fruit and sweet meats and Jin's stomach growled to remind her of her hunger.
Crate was standing opposite the door by the island. He was dressed in a white, cotton shirt and black trousers and was wielding a large machete in his right hand. Before him was a fresh pineaple and a bowl of meat. He gave Jin a grin and then sliced off the pineapple's pointed stem with one, smooth cut.
"Glad you could join me. Was starting to think you were never going to wake up.
Jin eyed Crate as one might eye a live grenade.
"How long was I out?"Â her voice, unlike his, was not filled with warmth.
Crate rolled the pineapple onto it's base and began to skin the fruit with slow, careful cuts.
"Four days." Crate commented, his blue eyes fixed his efforts to flay the fruit. "Nasty little poison they got into you. Almost didn't manage to get it out of you in time."
"Four days?" Jin repeated softly, genuinely surprised. It had been a long time since something had taken her out for that long and explained why she felt as bad as she did. She placed her hands on the counter and leaned forward slightly. "Why are you helping me Crate? Our last words-"
"You mean the words were you informed me that I was a cancer upon the world and the only thing of use I might ever do would be to die in a garden so I might act as fertilizer and redeem my pitiable existence?" The blond spell caster chuckled and glanced up to look at Jin's wrinkled face. Jin gave a grunt.
"Yes. I figured that made our relationship rather clear."
"Are you sorry I saved you?"Â Crate raised an eyebrow, but his Cheshire smile never left his face.
"I do wish it had been alot of other people, yes."Â Jin's honesty made Crate laugh.
"Well, it wasn't. You got me. Little, old me. Wait. Little me, you the old one." He giggled before shrugging. "Well, I do suppose I owe you an answer." He spun the pineapple and began skinning a new portion of the fruit.
"It's a two part answer. The first, is that I'm curious about this 'thing' in Doma you are planning to go seeking. From what I've heard through the rumor mill, it's something to do that boy of yours. Therefor I'm assuming its bad for a lot of people and so I would like to make sure it's not bad for me. The second part is, that since it probably is bad for people alot of people are probably going to try and stop you. Violently. That means I can have some fun at their expense. Get to tease and taunt and do some more experiments for my psychological studies."Â
The pineapple, now properly flayed, was rolled over. The machete rose and fell as it cut the fruit into thin slices. Jin eyed the male carefully and pursed her lips.
"So this is all for your own amusement."
"Well, and for science." Crate commented. "Face it, Jin, you need me right now. I don't know how many remaining pals you have, but they didn't show when you needed them."
"Convenient. Wouldn't be surprised if you helped guide them." Jin's expression was far from pleasant as she spoke.
"Possible but, in this case, no. I was there because I was hunting that big iron ball of male you got to meet. He and I tango every so often and I felt like we were overdue for a date. Timing, eh?"
Crate finished slicing his pineapple and put the dripping cutlery down. He picked up a slice of fruit and began to chew. Jin took in a deep inhale.
"I'd be a fool to trust you." Jin stated as she studied the little male. She did owe him, but she didn't value a single word from his lips. His reputation preceded him and a long list of betrayed and vindictive persons followed him. Crate had slipped from master to master like a plague, always leaving devastation in his wake. His goals were always self-serving and Jin was willing to bet that his goals went beyond simple curiosity.Â
Problem was, he was right. She did need him. She was currently penniless, friendless, and being hunted by what seemed like endless stream of want-to-be-heroes.
"Now that's not very nice." Crate feigned offense and placed a hand to his heart as he swallowed. "You trusted your son, didn't you?"
"That's different." Jin snapped back, Fury crossed her wrinkled features as her grey ears went flat atop her head. She flashed her keeper fangs and the short, seeker male actually grabbed his weapon once again.
"How so? I'm less crazy?"
"You're not my child."Â she growled, clenching her fists.
"Child? Right, right. You mean I'm not an insane, dramatic, genocidal, edge-lord monster?" Crate took another bit of his fruit and chewed, jucing running down his tan chin. "Forgive me. Definitely see why you would trust someone like that over me."
That stung. As much as she didn't want to let Crate's goading bother her, it did. It was a sensitive area to the mother of three, despite the passing of time.Â
Crate watched as some of the anger faded from Jin's features and she gave a slow exhale. Her tense shoulders slumped slightly. Relaxing, Crate let go of his weapon a and mentally stored away the effect of his words should he need them again.
"You wouldn't understand. How could a little freak like you ever understand." Jin's voice was slow.
"Who knows." Crate cshrugged, his voice the same, chipper tone it always seemed to be. "I hear words are a way though."
Jin closed her eyes and sighed.
"Did you really see him as a monster?" she inquired. Crate was about as close to a monster himself as one could get and if even -he- had seen her son as such a creature when he was alive...
"Lady, I never met the fellow." Crate declared through mouthfuls of pineapple. "But I know his reputation among the right circles. Annnnnd, yeah, not pleasant. Not at all really. I mean sure, some of the cult you and your fellows made that tried to serve him might have liked him. But...yeah, cults. Bad taste. In mouth, Hence why I eat pineapple. To leave a good taste. In mouths." He giggled impishly.
"Charming." Jin grunted and rolled her black eyes. She was done with this conversation. This was just stirring up more memories and raising that feeling of guilt inside her.  When she had first learned of her child's existence after all the years apart, she had traveled the world over to find him. She had refused to believe those whispers about him. She had desperately wanted to think of his reputation as a lie. But, upon meeting him, there could be no doubt the nature of the rumors were true. And worse, he didn't even seem to recognize their relationship. It was as if he was something else. His dismissal had broken her heart and just added to the guilt she felt when it came to her kits.
She had felt she had failed as a parent with all her children.
The first was left with that stupid seeker soldier. She had been younger then and full of a drive to cast down the Empire's war machine and break it. A rebel with a cause; then, some years later, slave to the pleasure houses of the machine. Then her second two children, born into servitude, were forced to bear a childhood of degradation and abuse as they watched their drug addicted mother taken over and over just to keep them eating scraps. She could hardly recall that point in her life save for a few clouded memories. It hadn't been until her youngest boy, just fifteen at the time, had freed her that she could truly think again.Â
She recalled waking up in that coffin after whatever toxin her boy had slipped her wore off. She had screamed in terror but had escaped as the lid had never been sealed and the grave had been a shallow one.Â
As she crawled from the ground, she had been reborn. But her family was long gone and she began to resume her work bringing down the Empire with even more of a hatred burning inside her heart. The Empire had taken her life, her children, and part of her soul. She would have her revenge.
But she had never lost that need to see her children; to apologize to her youngest two for the hell they had endured.  But, when she had stood before the youngest and given her apology, she had been rejected as he committed his atrocities.
Everyone else saw a monster. She had seen the same, little boy who had screamed and cried in the night when he was scared. The same boy who had giggled when she sang him lullabies. And the same boy who told her he loved her. That is why she had stayed. Why she had help founded the cult: because she loved him in the way only a mother can and she wanted to make amends. She had wanted to be close to him. But now...he was dead. The cult was now gone with him and all that remained was the thing in Doma. A last gift to her for her revenge. She had always been a better revolutionary than a mother.
She clenched her fists and glared through Crate as if starring across the ocean.
"In Doma, there it lies, that which shall bring about the Empire's demise."
"Beg your pardon?" Crate blinked as his smile faded. He had been watching her as she had reflected inside her mind and the sudden shift back to aggression put him on edge.
Jin reached over and took a piece of fruit. Part of her wanted to strangle the Seeker male right there and then but she stayed her hands. Later, she told herself. Later.
"Just recalling something." She ate the fruit and seemed to relax. "You seem intent on accompanying me, so I'll permit it. But understand, I make the orders." She offered him her left hand. Crate eyed it.
"Very well." Crate took the hand. The two shook. "Allies to the bitter end."
Oh -you'll- come to a bitter end, alright. Thought both miqo'te in unison.
RE: What Endures - Askier - 06-16-2017
[youtube]RlqI_lAkIfM[/youtube]
The day was hot and humid; the sort of weather that made one drenched in seconds and feeling sticky for hours. The sun had been baking the hills of Limsa for hours and it was hard to breath. Distant storm clouds hinted at the source of the festering humidity but that relief was coming. However the front was still hours away and, until then, Crate was forced to suffer.
The blond seeker had departed the vineyard and made his way to a nearby trading post. The shade of the large trees did nothing to stem the oppressive temperatures and the constant attack of mosquitoes was nothing less than impressive.
If I could raise an army of these bastards, I could take over the world. Crate mused as he waited for the traveling merchant to fill his order. Over the past few days he had consumed his entire stock of fruit and he was in need of more to sate his legendary sweet tooth. Plus it gave him an excuse to leave Jin for awhile.
The elderly keeper was recovering well, but with her restored health was returning her powers and confidence. Crate was being quickly reminded that the witch had earned her place in her cult through brains and power. The Seeker for all his bravado, was realizing her skills with aether surpassed his own.
She hadn't given him a display, thankfully, but he could just sense it. While, not the strongest spellweaver he'd ever met, Jin was in a tier above his and he was starting to think he might have bitten off more than he could chew with his plan. His sort of magic required preparation, raw components, and time. When the two miqo'te came to blows, and Crate was under no illusion that such a conflict was avoidable based on their views of what should be done with the thing in Doma, Crate would have to be the one to spring the trap. If Jin got the drop on him, Crate didn't fancy his chances.
The fruit merchant finished bagging the pineapples and handed the burlap sack to Crate. The seeker grinned and paid the merchant dutifully. Pleased with his haul, he began to head to the bridge that marked the start of his journey up the dirt road to the vineyard.
"We wait until tommorrrow morrrning."
Crate's eyes went wide and he immediatly pressed his back against one of the nearby buildings. That voice...
"Hojo, here?" Crate whispered to himself. His ears turned in all directions through the holes cut in his tri-corn hat. They sought hojo's location.
"I have no intention on waiting that long." came another voice. The second voice was snobby and aristocratic. The two speakers were just around the corner and Crate peered around carefully. About twenty feet away stood the huge bear of a miqo'te. Dressed in is armor, Hojo looked ready for war. Around him were some twenty men in leather armor that Crate took to be witch hunters. A tall, red-headed elezen was the source of the second voice and he was currently sharpening a long, wicked looking spear. Crate took him to be Atoneaus Dexrinoiux, which meant the other figures were part of his free company.
"Just my luck." Crate growled as he slipped back. Crate's powers were limited in the light of day, and against that many skilled witch killers, he didn't fancy his chances. The blond dropped the bag of fruit and placed his right hand on the machete at his waist. With purpose, he crossed the road and slipped into the heavy foliage to make a wide arc around the hunters as he headed back towards the vineyard.
Crate wasn't sure how they had picked up their trail so quickly but he wasn't surprised. This wasn't the first time Hojo had surprised him like this. And from what Jin had told him, Atoneaus was one of the best blood hounds in the business.
Crate weighed his options as he drew his machete and began hacking through some vines. At the moment, it was only Jin and himself. If the hunters attacked at night, Rhyme could come out to play and that would equal the odds immensely. But Hojo knew Rhyme's weaknesses as well as Crate knew Hojo's. If Hojo managed to convince the hunters to attack tomorrow morning, it would probably be over. So, at this point, running might be the only option left to the two miqo'te.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. A tempest was brewing and Crate hoped he had the skill to weather this one out.
RE: What Endures - Askier - 07-03-2017
[youtube]MwsPuisHpjU[/youtube]
Jin was seated cross-legged in a plush, leather chair. A small book of poetry was resting in her lap as her wrinkled hands flipped the pages slowly; giving her black eyes times to take in the written words scribbled before her. Around her was a large study full of books, mostly about wine and poems. A large window was allowing setting sun's last rays to spill in and illuminate the space.
From her perch here on the second floor, she was able to gaze out over the hills of Limsa. Rows of grapes stretched out before her just outside the villa's walls. Inside the white, stucco masonry of the wall was housed a large, two story home. In addition, a warehouse and a small barn stood within the wall's protection, all coated in the same white paint.
The elderly woman's eyes were caught by a sudden flash of movement. Lazily, she lifted her head from her book and glanced out to see Crate shutting the gate to the courtyard behind him and locking it. As Jin continued to watch the blond male, she grew increasingly uncomfortable. His movements were hurried and when he spun to begin marching towards the house, she could see a busy mind blazing behind his eyes.
She 'tsked' and slammed her book of poetry shut. She didn't need to be told what was happening. It was obvious. Jin had spent enough of her life running from hunters to know the look of prey when the wolf was at the door.
Jin rose to her feet and made for the door of the study. She had just opened it and stepped into the hall when Crate's voice reached her.Â
"Jin I-"
"They're here already." Jin cut him off as she turned to face him. Crate nodded, not surprised she knew.
"Aye, plenty of them. How quick can you be ready to go?"
Jin snorted as if she was insulted.
"Faster than you."
"Well then get moving. If we're unlucky, they'll be here tonight." Crate pushed past her and entered the study. He went to a chest and began to dig around. Jin waved a dismissive hand and strode calmly to to her room.
Unless the hunters arrived in the next half bell, she would be long gone. Jin had determined days ago that if the need arose, she would cut Crate lose like dead weight. He had saved her, that was true, but she was regarding him as a tool. He had his uses, certainly, but she wasn't going to slow down her quest for anyone or anything. Her goal was more important than the life of anyone else.
Jin entered her room and went over to her dresser. She pulled out a pair of brown trousers, a white, hemp shirt, and leather corset. The miqo'te removed her loose robe and quickly donned the new outfit. She secured a leather belt to her waist and then pulled on a pair of polished, thigh-high traveling boots with steel toes. Jin took a sling bag and hung it over one shoulder before she pulled out a brown cloak from the bottom drawer and draped it over he shoulders.
She paused to admire her reflection in the glass and gave a small smile.Â
"You still have it honey." she complimented herself as she flapped her grey ears and slipped back into the hallway. As she walked, a roar of thunder crashed overhead and the whole building shook. Jin blinked and she could make out the sound of a sudden, howling wind. Giving the cloak a tug for reassurance, she returned to the study. Outside, the sun was gone and darkness had consumed the island.
Crate was standing by the window, a lantern in his hand. Lightning flashed and revealed that he was standing inside a hastily drawn chalk pentagram.Â
"What's the ley line for?" Jin inquired, well aware of the symbol's purpose.Â
"To make sure I give our guests a proper welcome." came Crate's voice. It was oddly thoughtful as he gazed outside the window.
"What!" Jin exclaimed, rushing over and placing both hands on the window to peer outside.
She could see it almost instantly: the light from torches gleaming just on the other side of the gate. There must have been a dozen or so. Flames danced and flickered in the heavy wind as whoever held them tried to break down the door. The gate shook from heavy blows and a large hole appeared, letting a shaft of light spill in.
"Even earlier than I feared." Crate gave a small smirk and sighed. "They never cease to amaze."
"Now is not the time admire them." Jin grunted. "We need to-"
The gate crashed open and the hunters strode into the courtyard with intent, their eyes gazing around the darkness. A female au ra pointed up towards the window and Jin hissed at she studied the pointing figure.
"Well, fuck me sideways, up-way and down-ways." Crate gave a growl that somehow managed to sound both delighted and angry at the same time. "Aint it my favorite trollop. Jin be a dear and get out of here. I need to greet an old friend of mine. I'll catch up."
Jin snorted. If Crate wanted to get himself killed, that was his business. He might as well serve as a roadblock.
Without pausing to answer, the elderly female turned and slipped out of the room. She was halfway down the hall when the screams started and the roars of some sort of monster reached her ears. She heard steel on steel and quickened her pace, taking the stairs to the ground floor two at a time. Thunder roared overhead as she reached the bottom. Through the windows she raced past, she could make out figures fighting figures in the dark but the constant lighting hurt her pupils and she turned her gaze away.Â
Jin reached the door to the cellar just as the front door was smashed in and a female voice filled the house in a furious roar:
"CRATE!"
A moment later, Crate's voice replied in a loud giggle from further in the house:
"Hello Kanako, did you miss me?"
Jin slipped into the cellar and shut the door. She raced down the stairs to the rows of wine bottles that sat aging inside the cool earth. She spent several moments hunting for the shelf Crate had shown her.Â
Once she had found the shelf, she pressed a switch and watched as the section of wall slid open to reveal a small tunnel. She summoned a ball of aether to her hand for light and entered the space. The wall closed behind her, leaving Crate and the hunters to their fate.
RE: What Endures - Askier - 07-14-2017
[youtube]Es3GQMOLHkk[/youtube]
"Did you really think you would escape judgement?"
Thunder roared overhead a pair of figures as rain fell in heavy torrents upon them. A roaring wind screamed around them, tearing at their clothes and shaking the rows and rows of grapevines that encompassed the vineyard's fortune. Â Another flash of lightning revealed the make of Jin's obstacle: a tall, lanky eleven with a hawk nose and eyes that seemed to peer right through her. Atoneaus Dexrinoiux.
She had exited the tunnel into the fields of grapevines and made her way south towards the distant jungle.Â
It had soon become apparent she was not moving alone within the halls of fruit. Despite the storm, the dogs of Atoneaus had hounded her. At first she had hoped she would be able to evade them in the inky blackness that dwelt between flashes of celestial lightning, but this soon proved to be an impossible dream as one after another she had been forced to unleash her magics upon the close minded fools that stood against her.
Each blast of aetherial energy had done the job against her foes, but the pack master had used the released energy to triangulate her position and his hunt had led to this moment; each staring down the other in this lane of vegetation with only a deep puddle between them.
Water dripped from Atoneaus spear as he leveled it at her throat and Jin knew that the space between them was not far enough for true comfort.Â
But the elezen, as always, was being theatrical and slow in his posturing and taunting. Even now, the pointed ear fool was slowly curling his lips into a smile instead of striking.Â
The longer it took, the longer Jin had to spring her trap. She just needed time to change things.
"I won't be judged by you and your impotent gods, fool." Jin hissed back, flashing teeth in a display of aggression. Her ears were flat but her mind calm as she continued to alter the polarity of molecules beneath the puddle with her aether.
Atoneaus laughed darkly and spun his spear lazily, slicing through vines as if they were soft arteries.
"Oh yes you will. Your dark magics die tonight."Â
Jin snorted and gave a sneer of contempt.
"Magic is just a word used by fools who don't understand a new science."
"There is nothing scientific about the abominations you practice!"Â the elezen retorted quickly as he took a menacing step forward, his metal boot splashing into the puddle.Â
"I'd say the husk of your wife disagrees."Â Jin mocked, recalling the sweet memory of how she had arranged the situation that had forced Atoneaus to butcher his own mate.Â
Atoneaus bellowed in rage as he surged forward like a harpoon thrown by a Roe whaler. His spear glinted in the lights from above as the thunderstorm roared bestially.Â
Jin twisted her hands and shifted the polarity of the molecules beneath the puddle, altering the electrons. She felt her hair on the back of neck rise and she stepped back as a bolt of lighting, now drawn to the sudden change in the earth's composition, shot down It struck the elezen and the puddle with a blinding flash. Jin felt the heat singe her hair and skin as she recoiled further.Â
A second later thunder boomed and the moment was over.
Jin opened her eyes and blinked furiously, trying to see as stars swam over her vision. Slowly, she began to make out the ruined, smoldering form lying face down in the muck and mire. His spear lay beside him and the vines around the site were smoking as the rain doused glowing embers.Â
Jin began to laugh as she turned and continued her flight from vineyard. The dogs might now be without a master, but they would still be hunting her.
RE: What Endures - Askier - 07-16-2017
[youtube]aigkKwrdEmo[/youtube]
"I hate that woman." Crate wheezed out in pain as Kanako Moonweaver's face crossed his vision. Every step, every breath, sent pain spiderwebing through his body. His left hand clutched a rag to a bleeding stab wound in his side and his right arm hung limp, unable to move from the bullet now lodged in his shoulder.
The night had ended in a direction Crate had hoped it wouldn't.Â
Soon after Kanako had stormed the villa, their battle had begun in frightening earnest. The female had come at him like a machine with his death her only objective. Crate had known she was the better with steel but this had been something else. It had taken ever ounce of Crate's skill to just manage to stay alive against her whirling web of metal death.
And to further confound him, she had been in a sort of trance. His constant mocking and goading, which normally seemed to affect her with ease, had fallen on deaf horns. Finally, he'd been forced to just drop his major hint in a blunt manner and hoped that the thick-headed female had caught up on it. His plan did depend that she was able to relay the information dropped to other ears. Because if she didn't, there wasn't going to be another chance for Crate to just casually get out where he and Jin were headed, which would mean Jin would have a easy time reaching her goal; which was not in Crate' s plans at all.
Crate stumbled and fell to his knees. The impact sent more pain through his flesh. He hissed and gasped for breath to steady himself.
The fight had steadily gone downhill till she had lanced him through with her blade. He had turned to flee then as Rhyme came to his aid. But that remembrance drew a deep scowl across his features.
Rhyme, his companion for years now, was unreachable. The blond miqo'te couldn't sense him anymore. Whatever had happened when Hojo had come crashing in and the explosion Crate had heard outside the locked door, the result was an inability to reach his companion.
Crate had then leapt from a window and began running towards the exit of the courtyard and onto the road beyond but Kanako's accursed pistol shot had done his shoulder in. Thankfully, she had not come after him immediately for some reason and he had used that time to drag himself up and away.
Now he slogged down a hill in the welcoming embrace of the jungle.Â
But he was growing weak from loss of blood. He was feeling cold and chills ran down his spine as his body began to shiver to keep itself warm. But the act of shivering drained his energy even more. He came to a small foot bridge and paused. He began to sway, unsure of himself.
He gave a small chuckle of despair.
"Is this really how I die?" Crate whisper in a gravely voice as he stared at the bridge. "This is so..." he paused to swallow and flutter his eyelids. "not what I had in mind." He sunk to his knees again and tried to keep the bridge in focus as he swayed.Â
Rain dripped from the countless leaves of jungle vegetation around him, creating a sort of rhythmic melody that began to unfocus his brain. A trance began to overtake him. Lost in thought he began to drift into his own mind, and then fell sideways onto the soaked earth; red crimson spilling through his fingers and into the puddles around him.
He thought back. To the moment years ago he had ceased to be Zhi and become Crate.
A village. Their betrayal. His anger and promise for vengeance. Three years of planning and tainting his soul. Three years. And then, with his bandit allies, he'd butchered that village and set it to flame. The screams. The blood. The flames. The heat.
Heat.
Crate was starting to feel feverish as he lay in the muck, twitching. A smile, though, danced on his lips as he recalled the way burning villager smelled. And the way morals went up in smoke in everyone sooner or later. Even for knights.
RE: What Endures - Askier - 07-24-2017
[youtube]IhP3J0j9JmY[/youtube]
The mists of madness were a place Crate knew ever so well and he now dwelt within them once more as his mind unraveled from his body.
He let himself follow the strange winds within this place. Why fight?Â
A flash and a memory as the walls of white roiled back.Â
A young, small boy with blonde hair in a garden. He was hunched over, a trowel discarded besides him as he held something in his hands. He was sobbing and shaking. Crate blinked in surprise as he realized this was a memory of himself and, he had actually done...this!
He looked around at the large garden, filling his nose with the smell of the roses.
It had been years since he'd seen the residence of his old order. So long in, fact, that he had forgotten both the smells and this moment.
He turned back to the tender-hearted young version of himself, who couldn't be older then eight winters, and blinked. He recalled now.
He had accidentally hit the small garden snake while digging and cut it's nose. It was bleeding and lying still as he tried to tend to its wound with a small rag. Tears were flowing from his eyes as he begged the little thing to be okay. To move again.
It did, and the blond began to give a teary laugh of excitement as he put the little snake down and watched it wiggle away into the brush.
"It's just a snake." Crate snorted as the fog rolled back in. He stepped back and grimaced.Â
What was this? Some amused twist of his brain?
Before he could be answered, the fog parted.
There he was again and Crate growled. Was this the moment where his life passed before him and then he died? Cause he wasn't a fan of how it was playing out.  He had a lot of good sex sessions he'd rather be reliving.
The young Crate, now fourteen, stood in a set of armor. His hand was pressed to his right breast as he recited the oath of his knightly order and he was made a full squire of the free company. Crate looked into his younger eyes and saw the hope and optimism in them as he recited words about goodness and protecting the innocent masses.
"Oh you'll see." Crate snorted as he crossed his arms. "How you the -innocent- masses repay your sacrifices."
Fog. Flashes. Another.
"We did it!" Young Crate raised a glass of ale. He was now a full knight and eighteen winters. He and his companions sat around a table, laughing. They had just managed to destroy a void spawn assaulting travelers on the desert roads. This was a victory. A day for the good in the world.Â
Then a crash. The knights turned to see a young male being punched around. Instantly, Crate crossed the room. He and his buddies, so sure of their righteousness, brought fists to the assailants and rescued the attacked man. Crate went to offer the black-haired miqo'te help and caught those deep, emerald eyes.Â
The young Crate was struck and older Crate knew that was to be the first of many nights spent with his to be love.
"Ugh this is making me want to vomit." Crate retorted as the fog came in again. "I was a good person, then I wasn't. We get-"
"I love you." young Crate said, a happy smile on his lips.
"For fucks sake." older Crate moaned and face palmed.
The young Crate held his lover in his arms as they lay between the sheets of their bed.
"Do you really have to go?" Crate's young lover whispered, tracing the blond's lips. Young Crate smiled at him.
"I do. This village we are going to needs us to end the beastmen attacks it's been enduring But I'll be back before you know it. Not even the Twelve could keep my from your arms. And that ass." The two lovers laughed and then they kissed.Â
Crate clenched his fist.Â
"Can I please stop watching my mistakes now? K? Thanks, byyyyyeeee."
Another vision.
"OH COME ON! Just let me die already."
The village. There it was. Before Crate had burned it to ashes and crucified it's mayor. The blond felt his blood begin to boil as he saw the faces of his twenty or so companions and friends. They moved about the town, speaking to the folk and promising them aid.Â
The folk of this hamlet smiled and nodded, but it was a lie. Crate knew that now. And seeing this made his eventual barbarism more justified.
"Knights!" came the call of an older hyur as he ascended his mount. "Let us find these beasts and put them to the sword!"
The knights, and the townsfolk, cheered. But for two very different reasons.
Fog. Flashes. Screams. Violence.
Crate saw himself astride his mount, hacking wildly at reptilian forms. All around him lay dead and dying allies. Only he remained against the tide. Blood covered him and his chocobo. It had been a trap, pure and simple. They had blundered into the canyon and into death. Young Crate turned and fled as more of the reptilian demons poured into the pit.
Fog. The village.
"You...are alive."
Crate slipped from his mount. The mayor was standing there in awe as rain fell down on him.  Crate was crying but the tears were lost in the rain.Â
Then the form from the door. The reptilian freak. The realization then happened. The town had sold him and his knights out to their beastmen masters for favors. Young Crate butchered the beastman and then fled, his mind numb as his idealistic view of the world fell to ruin.
Then the hall of his order.
"We need to seek vengeance on that town!" Young Crate roared in anger to his superiors.Â
"We will -not- butcher innocent townsfolk." one of the leaders said flatly.
"The blood of our fellows is on their hands!"Â Young Crate snapped.
"The political ramifications for such an action against a town so important to trade and the Monetarists would be damning at best. Better to claim it a terrible tragedy and save face and earn sympathy from others than to-"
"This is not right!" Young Crate shrieked.
"Right has nothing to do with it! This is politics!"
"This is hypocrisy to please some limp gut, small dick politician!" Young Crate snarled.
"ENOUGH!"
"Go fuck yourselves!"Â Young Crate spun and stormed off.
Another flashed. Crate braced himself as he had a feeling of what was next.
He was right.
A room. Their room. His lover in the sheets. But not with him.
Young Crate kicked the door down to see his lover and another male mid-act.
Crate watched as the madness took his young self for the first time. He watched as the goodness and wonder for life broke behind those blue eyes. The scales fell away to reveal the twisted nature of the realm of mortals.Â
Crate drew his sword and, despite the screaming, stabbed both naked men to death.
Young Crate fled then, fire burning hot inside his soul as he planned vengeance on the town.
Three years he delved into the books and knowledge he had accumulated in secret. Dark knowledge was made known to him. And he would unleash it all.
Fog, a flash. Three years later.
The town was burning and the screams of the dead and those who wished they were filled the air. Crate's hired thugs were plundering home and resident alike and the mayor was gasping for air from his cross as he filled his dying lungs with burning flesh.
Crate stood in the middle of it all. He was giggling and swaying as if the sounds of ruin were a sweet music. This was the moment of his death and resurrection.
He had entered this town as Zhinci Mordhelm. He was leaving it as Crate the Great.Â
Blood dripped from his hands and ran down his face as he looked over the madness.
Young Crate and Crate locked eyes and the young Crate giggled.
"Remember the snake from our childhood?" Tears began to flow out of young Crate's eyes. "I want to be that boy again. Damn you for doing this to us."
Young Crate sighed and then yelled.
"DAMN YOU!"
Fog rolled in and Crate tapped his nose as he cocked his head to the side. A sneer wormed its way over his lips.
"Don't recall that last part. How fun, a twist.
He turned and saw the small snake, resting on the ground, still. He blinked at it and lifted his boot to crush it, but he paused. He gazed down at the small, helpless animal and then stepped over it as he walked into the fog.
RE: What Endures - Askier - 08-26-2017
More darkness. The abyss. A chasm of madness and chaos. Mists of ice and death. Whispers upon a wind.
A cell. Crystal. Floating. Something sinister within.
To the surface Crate peered, seeing the slithering thing within.Â
A face. A vision. The blonde recoiled in disgust and clutched at his skull as a sound like a million shrieking harpies assaulted his brain.Â
The mists plunged in and suddenly a shaft of light enveloped him.
In the real world his blue eyes shot open.
"So that's you're goal."
RE: What Endures - Askier - 01-28-2018
[youtube]DqdyyxdZ4cQ[/youtube]
"You fool!" Jin bellowed as torrent of raw, primal aether spewed forth from the device Jin'li had left behind. The device, once a reservoir of untold power and possibility, now lay slashed in twain as its stores of writhing power escaped with the sounds of countless screams. The female miqo'te staggered back as Hojo Zuginoch advanced upon her with his blazing axe clenched in his iron fists. A roar ripped from his maw as he surged forward like a primordial titan, each of his foot falls sounding like the bellows of thunder.
The aged woman brought what remained of her stores of arcane energy against the golden warrior with a tremendous crash. The walls of the cave cracked from the blast but on the massive male came, his own powers consuming the black aether.
"No!" Jin shrieked in disbelief as her black eyes grew wide as the massive axe swung and her head left her shoulders. The ancient woman, mother of terrors and bomb makers, had a look of indignant defiance as her head rolled across the ground.
Jin's corpse fell to the earth as black flames began to devour her flesh. Then the body exploded. The earth trembled as parts of the roof began to fall free.Â
Hojo and his allies fled for the stairs as the entire complex seemed on the verge of collapse as the sundered artifact twisted the physical world.
More stones fell and then it was over.
Silence.
A mound of stones had filled the stairs that led towards the surface. Somewhere up those stairs, Hojo, A'tune, Renald, and the other witch hunters were bathing in the sun, feeling free of the horrors their hunt had brought upon them. Jin was ended, the 'Urn' her son had left behind was sundered, and the power it had held was gone. It seemed the world was better.
But they were deceived.
In the blackness of the chamber, a mound of blond hair climbed from its hiding place. Crate, peering into the total darkness with unnatural sight and seeing what now remained, gave a small smile as he sauntered over to Jin's skull and picked it up.
He shoved his hand into the head and used several fingers to make Jin's jaw flap.
"You never were 'ahead' of the situation, where you?" Crate giggled impishly.
"I never was." Crate mimicked Jin's voice, making the mouth move with his fingers.
"And that's why my betrayal was so sweet." Crate licked his lips. "That oaf found you cause I wanted him too. The power is mine, Jin. It was always mine. Like I'd let you use it. You'd just destroy the Empire with it. But me...well..."
Crate used his free hand to pull open his robe and reveal a black phylactery glowing a sick green. It had been busy absorbing the power released by the urn during the fight between Jin and Hojo, both of whom thought Crate had died when Ranald had shot Crate off a cliff over a moon ago.
"I have better plans." Crate's lips twisted into a cold sneer. "The -best- plans. The...what was it you and your brat always said? Oh yes...the -kindest- plans." Crate brought the dead lips to his own. He kissed them tenderly before he drop-kicked the kicked and watched as it bounced and rolled away with wet, striking noises on the stones.Â
"Whelp, I've done enough damage to -this- fish stand." Crate said loudly, dusting his hands off as he looked around. "I better make like a tree and leaf." Crate snapped his fingers and then was gone.
-End of the 'Urn' Arc-
(As always, a thanks to all who played a part on this set and dealt with my schedule
)
(As always, a thanks to all who played a part on this set and dealt with my schedule
)