"Daudalus," A reed-thin man, who one could hardly mistake as anything other than an Elezen spoke first in the group. "Your progress is most displeasing. The Heretic and his Company still breathe, their lives are a beacon to others that defy Her will." His voice was neither accusing nor begging explanation, merely stating fact. The glinting silver mask moulding into a serene expression belied the rage held in those eyes that peered from the thin slits that allowed for just enough viewing area. "Your brothers and sisters have nearly finished their work in this land."
The Roegadyn was garbed in a handsome surcoat that has been crafted to protect armor from the elements, while maintaining the wearer's gallant, striking appearance. Fashioned from soft wool in a deep, rich shade of purple, the coat was sleeveless and reached just below the knees in flowing folds. A leather belt gathered the surcoat together at the waist, and slits in the front and back permitted greater comfort and ease of movement during the wearer's actions on the battlefield or in the courts of intrigue and stratagem. Edged with intricate golden scrollwork, the surcoat had otherwise been left unadorned.
As he knelt, the frighteningly long staff banded with thin rings of metal was strapped to his back. There were no useless ornaments or etchings of scripture across the wood, merely notches for each man and woman he had saved during his time serving. "The Agents are a cunning lot," He said with his features folding with hurt, his one good eye downcast. "I hadn't anticipated them to react so quickly."
"And now here you kneel before your brothers." The Elezen swept a hand across the room, motioning to each and every cloaked figure donning the silver mask. They lined the rounded walls of the underground room, the soft rays of light shining through the canopy of grass seemed to be swallowed by their dark suits of armor. Each and every one of them varying in size and frame, sporting unique weapons the likes of which hadn't been seen by the hulking assassin in his life. Imagining how they worked was frightening, and actually seeing them in action was even moreso.
"I ask," Daudalus started in a tight voice, "That you lend me your aid. Perhaps you too will see what this lot is made of."
The room fell silent as they focused on him, watching him rise and adjust the notched staff that matched his size upon his back. Spreading his hands before him, he said, "Those who have finished their assignments may follow me if they so wish it. For every extra head that you take, you will bring glory to Her name and Ishgard."
The Elezen spoke up again. "Take what you need to finish your assignment. Our time draws to a close and we have only a handful of tasks to complete other than your own. The Stormbringer and those that dare side with him will be brought to justice by your hands." A simple nod of his head indicated the meeting was at an end, and the armored assassins silently stepped across the spongy soil, moving as one body towards the campsite. All that remained were Daudalus and the Elezen, whom the Roegadyn stared at for some time until taking his leave. Even as the distance opened between them, he could feel those proverbial daggers digging into the back of his head until losing line of sight.
A gust of wind rustled the jade sea of grass as he made his way up the makeshift stairway, taking two steps at a time until he passed through the thick brush of green. Inside the forest clearing was his force, now having grown larger in number. Made up of hardened veterans and serpents, they all went about their tasks. The sharpening of weapons and polishing of leather slowed to a halt as he entered, and all masks turned to stare at him expectantly.
"We march!" He cried, and watched each and every figure rise and get to work on disassembling the campsite. Soon thereafter, they followed in tow as Daudalus led them towards the desert. None questioned their bold stride or lack of briefing.
They moved as one mind.
One purpose.
The Roegadyn was garbed in a handsome surcoat that has been crafted to protect armor from the elements, while maintaining the wearer's gallant, striking appearance. Fashioned from soft wool in a deep, rich shade of purple, the coat was sleeveless and reached just below the knees in flowing folds. A leather belt gathered the surcoat together at the waist, and slits in the front and back permitted greater comfort and ease of movement during the wearer's actions on the battlefield or in the courts of intrigue and stratagem. Edged with intricate golden scrollwork, the surcoat had otherwise been left unadorned.
As he knelt, the frighteningly long staff banded with thin rings of metal was strapped to his back. There were no useless ornaments or etchings of scripture across the wood, merely notches for each man and woman he had saved during his time serving. "The Agents are a cunning lot," He said with his features folding with hurt, his one good eye downcast. "I hadn't anticipated them to react so quickly."
"And now here you kneel before your brothers." The Elezen swept a hand across the room, motioning to each and every cloaked figure donning the silver mask. They lined the rounded walls of the underground room, the soft rays of light shining through the canopy of grass seemed to be swallowed by their dark suits of armor. Each and every one of them varying in size and frame, sporting unique weapons the likes of which hadn't been seen by the hulking assassin in his life. Imagining how they worked was frightening, and actually seeing them in action was even moreso.
"I ask," Daudalus started in a tight voice, "That you lend me your aid. Perhaps you too will see what this lot is made of."
The room fell silent as they focused on him, watching him rise and adjust the notched staff that matched his size upon his back. Spreading his hands before him, he said, "Those who have finished their assignments may follow me if they so wish it. For every extra head that you take, you will bring glory to Her name and Ishgard."
The Elezen spoke up again. "Take what you need to finish your assignment. Our time draws to a close and we have only a handful of tasks to complete other than your own. The Stormbringer and those that dare side with him will be brought to justice by your hands." A simple nod of his head indicated the meeting was at an end, and the armored assassins silently stepped across the spongy soil, moving as one body towards the campsite. All that remained were Daudalus and the Elezen, whom the Roegadyn stared at for some time until taking his leave. Even as the distance opened between them, he could feel those proverbial daggers digging into the back of his head until losing line of sight.
A gust of wind rustled the jade sea of grass as he made his way up the makeshift stairway, taking two steps at a time until he passed through the thick brush of green. Inside the forest clearing was his force, now having grown larger in number. Made up of hardened veterans and serpents, they all went about their tasks. The sharpening of weapons and polishing of leather slowed to a halt as he entered, and all masks turned to stare at him expectantly.
"We march!" He cried, and watched each and every figure rise and get to work on disassembling the campsite. Soon thereafter, they followed in tow as Daudalus led them towards the desert. None questioned their bold stride or lack of briefing.
They moved as one mind.
One purpose.
