± when you feel my heat, look into my eyes ±
As the sun rose he had been woken in a most annoying way, the familiar voice of Eight leaking into his mind from the Valley Magician, the man himself nowhere in sight. After a lengthy discussion about the current reign of both the Valley and the Gates, a concept Killdare found most intriguing fell into his brain. They could take a dying, weak Kingdom and give it strength. They could mold a weak willed Gates girl into a Queen of reckoning.
Killdare had always been for the capture of the young, their minds moldable, empty, plenty of room to teach and learn. Now this, would be something to show the world, this would be an accomplishment. It would take both strength and compromise, communication and trust placed in those that were not easy allies. It could work, but it would take work. So before the sun fully rose, he sent the girl away, leading her to the Valley, leaving her with perhaps not the most trusted Magician in all of Beqanna. Sometimes you just had to have faith and trust a man on his word, sometimes you had to make a leap to make change, so he did.
He’s already waited far too long to go to them but what he really wanted for them was to rest for a spell. Replenish their weary bodies- heal their wounds, if not their souls. The whole War had been a show of force, a show of power but it had not gotten anyone anywhere. It did not move them forward, it did not show progression. Instead it left their homes dismantled and scarred, blood stained with those too inexperienced and too young to fight. It proved little, it gained even less but that is where Killdare came in- he could try something new. Maybe they did not need to fight at all and if they did, who was to say the same old, same old was working?
Was it working? Can you tell him it is? That you know without doubt that this is victory?
He snorts, earthy head lifting from a pile of leftover ash, coarse black hair falling from his face, and he progresses.
What he will keep the same, is the meeting place, his bulging mass stomping towards the all too familiar tree. Flickering flames greeting him and a hushed laughter that receives his narrowed eyes. “Yes, very funny,” he huffs, thick smoke rolling from his sooty nose- what a nice little joke from the fairies to initiate their new King.
He calls them now, bugling to them across the expanse of pines, allowing a crown to drip its way atop his curls. Lava molding itself into the shape one would know but neither burning him, nor streaming down his face. When they come he counts them again, ticking them off in his head, as if the number will have changed but he hopes it has not. Some, still bear wounds of War, while others had luckily found a Magician or healer in time. Even he displayed his own scattered scars, the skin pink and crusting where it had been breached.
“I can not say how pleased or proud I am with the lot of you. When the bells of War came you each answered and for that I am thankful, as I know the Chamber herself is. To show you my appreciation and that hard work does not go unnoticed, I’ve decided some promotions are in order.” His glassy eyes, find those that would be rewarded before he speaks their names in turn.
“Lupei and Zayn, you both will receive the title of Captain. Siberian, if you accept you will enter the ranks of our army as a Cadet, I hope you all will continue to impress me and work to better yourselves as Soldiers.” He flicks his tail as he moves on, sparks of burning embers and ash floating into the air as it moves. “Nymphetamine, you will now hold the rank of professor, I hope your words will be as sharp as your wit.” He laughs, deep baritone as he finds Ribcage among the small crowd. “Ribcage, if you seek it, the rank of student for our Diplomats will be awarded to you- use the power of your words carefully.”
Killdare could, at the very least, say he liked his boys. A small, but worthy group of men to have at his side and help him move the Chamber into a new light, a new purpose. “There will be change for the Chamber, I do not ask you to like it, but i do ask you to heed my decisions. There is no power in brute force and bloodshed, I favor the meaning and importance of your Word more than I do your abilities to corrupt and destroy. I ask you for loyalty. We will continue our alliance with the Valley, and with them the Gates. We will add to that the aid of my Nephew’s herd, Silver Cove. Do not tread there lightly.” He warns, because while family was important to Kirin, his love lust and grasp for power was ever reaching.
“For now, recruit. I encourage friendly steals from all Kingdoms for the time being, as well as Mocks amongst yourselves and our allies if they are up for them. While I relish the sound and excitement of battle, I will not incite a purposeless feud such as the one we have all just seen. Nymphetamine, prepare to leave with me for the Tundra.” With that he dismisses them but he does not make them leave, he himself stands before the burning tree, deep in thought- or at least appearing to be.
Killdare had always been for the capture of the young, their minds moldable, empty, plenty of room to teach and learn. Now this, would be something to show the world, this would be an accomplishment. It would take both strength and compromise, communication and trust placed in those that were not easy allies. It could work, but it would take work. So before the sun fully rose, he sent the girl away, leading her to the Valley, leaving her with perhaps not the most trusted Magician in all of Beqanna. Sometimes you just had to have faith and trust a man on his word, sometimes you had to make a leap to make change, so he did.
He’s already waited far too long to go to them but what he really wanted for them was to rest for a spell. Replenish their weary bodies- heal their wounds, if not their souls. The whole War had been a show of force, a show of power but it had not gotten anyone anywhere. It did not move them forward, it did not show progression. Instead it left their homes dismantled and scarred, blood stained with those too inexperienced and too young to fight. It proved little, it gained even less but that is where Killdare came in- he could try something new. Maybe they did not need to fight at all and if they did, who was to say the same old, same old was working?
Was it working? Can you tell him it is? That you know without doubt that this is victory?
He snorts, earthy head lifting from a pile of leftover ash, coarse black hair falling from his face, and he progresses.
What he will keep the same, is the meeting place, his bulging mass stomping towards the all too familiar tree. Flickering flames greeting him and a hushed laughter that receives his narrowed eyes. “Yes, very funny,” he huffs, thick smoke rolling from his sooty nose- what a nice little joke from the fairies to initiate their new King.
He calls them now, bugling to them across the expanse of pines, allowing a crown to drip its way atop his curls. Lava molding itself into the shape one would know but neither burning him, nor streaming down his face. When they come he counts them again, ticking them off in his head, as if the number will have changed but he hopes it has not. Some, still bear wounds of War, while others had luckily found a Magician or healer in time. Even he displayed his own scattered scars, the skin pink and crusting where it had been breached.
“I can not say how pleased or proud I am with the lot of you. When the bells of War came you each answered and for that I am thankful, as I know the Chamber herself is. To show you my appreciation and that hard work does not go unnoticed, I’ve decided some promotions are in order.” His glassy eyes, find those that would be rewarded before he speaks their names in turn.
“Lupei and Zayn, you both will receive the title of Captain. Siberian, if you accept you will enter the ranks of our army as a Cadet, I hope you all will continue to impress me and work to better yourselves as Soldiers.” He flicks his tail as he moves on, sparks of burning embers and ash floating into the air as it moves. “Nymphetamine, you will now hold the rank of professor, I hope your words will be as sharp as your wit.” He laughs, deep baritone as he finds Ribcage among the small crowd. “Ribcage, if you seek it, the rank of student for our Diplomats will be awarded to you- use the power of your words carefully.”
Killdare could, at the very least, say he liked his boys. A small, but worthy group of men to have at his side and help him move the Chamber into a new light, a new purpose. “There will be change for the Chamber, I do not ask you to like it, but i do ask you to heed my decisions. There is no power in brute force and bloodshed, I favor the meaning and importance of your Word more than I do your abilities to corrupt and destroy. I ask you for loyalty. We will continue our alliance with the Valley, and with them the Gates. We will add to that the aid of my Nephew’s herd, Silver Cove. Do not tread there lightly.” He warns, because while family was important to Kirin, his love lust and grasp for power was ever reaching.
“For now, recruit. I encourage friendly steals from all Kingdoms for the time being, as well as Mocks amongst yourselves and our allies if they are up for them. While I relish the sound and excitement of battle, I will not incite a purposeless feud such as the one we have all just seen. Nymphetamine, prepare to leave with me for the Tundra.” With that he dismisses them but he does not make them leave, he himself stands before the burning tree, deep in thought- or at least appearing to be.
KILLDARE
magma King of the Chamber
