02-24-2016, 10:04 PM
The trip from the Gates to the Deserts should have been substantially increased by the construction of the perimeter wall of desert bedrock that Vanquish had built around the entirety of the Deserts, leaving only one entrance to the kingdom. In truth, the king’s wall did little to hinder any creature with true power from entering but if one lacked wing or ability – it was a true trek to the arched entrance of the Deserts. An entrance that would be immediately noticed by those that stood sentinel over the sands while whispers of war murmured on the wind.
A portion of the wall closest to the Gates crumbles into a gap wide enough for the trio to pass through as they come within a few feet of it, only to reform behind them like pieces of a stone puzzle after they pass. When they descend a dune he finally pauses for them and a short distance away the sand granules began to disintegrate until a small oasis pool appeared, the water as clear and cool as the water that sprung naturally from the many aquifers that fed the Deserts water supply. Mast speaks of the disappearance of his general, a state he himself had been in more than a few times in his past – one he was in now. “Who stands with you from the Gates?” he asks, frankly and without pomp or lace. True loyalty was a rarity that as king he had grown only to wish for more than carry any true hope for – aside from Yael and his growing bloodline, true devotion was a novelty. But both the Deserts and the Jungle needed to know the facts of the matter at hand.
The dragon-winged titan listens with a quiet calculation as Mast talks of the Chamber, speaks of their boldness, warns of their progression. War was nothing new nor nothing feared by the Nightwalker. Pain was merely temporary, it was the repercussions, he had learned, that were the true casualties of war – the scrambling of broken kingdoms trying to paste it all back together, the children that grew without mothers or fathers.
He expected his golden queen at any moment, she was already well aware of their arrival, of that he was quite certain - perhaps she had even watched them along their journey. But yet she had not come and so when Mast speaks of invading the Chamber, he cocks an ear with curiosity. The black had not considered that the deer king would suggest that they themselves invade – something that he wasn’t especially inclined to do. The Nightwalker had most of his family nestled tightly within the depth of his Deserts – untouchable and impervious to the rambling wickedness of outside its dunes. But before he can speak on the matter ashes fall from the Jungle Queen’s shoulders and a mare appears beside the iron-grey valkyrie.
He is neither shaken nor truly surprised at such a thing, the Deserts and the Jungle were the most magical of all places within their world. He had lusted with true gods and been reborn from years of death – to surprise him was a feat indeed. A smile creeps onto his black lips as the mare offers her name, she is familiar, in an old way – “Vanquish,” he offers back, since his own memory is terrible these days, talon-tipped wings draping down along his sides in ease.
“My wall is not much,” he says, indicating to the obvious high rock wall that encircled his kingdom, “but I’m sure my queen would tell you of her own plans to further fortify our home.” Raven black eyes slide to Prague’s and then to Lagethera’s before moving to rest on Mast’s, “I think before we decide to raid another kingdom on their own dirt,” his voice is heavy and thick with seriousness, “we need to make sure our own are safeguarded and well defended.” Vanquish would not go running with bloodlust on his breath just to leave his own home vulnerable – not that he didn’t have extra securities that were not needed for him to mention in their conversation.
“I have heard they have taken your Princess as well,” he says, turning his great head to address Mast again, “is that true?” He asks, dragon-wings pulsing with agitation against his ribs at such a thought. Vanquish would have had to see them all dead if they had done such a thing to his queen – to his daughter. But that is where the irony to his title as the Good King comes to show its paradoxical face, because the black king would just as soon see to slitting your throat as to saving your life.
He briefly waits for the answer to his first question before he continues, “I will not rescind our oath to support you in this war, although I think taking the Chamber in their own forest is not the wisest of choices.” But he understood the incentive behind the notion – the Gates had been wronged more times than on occasion and it was obvious to any that would truly look, to see that the Chamber sought the swell of power. He thinks of Elite and the War of the Valley and he smiles bittersweetly, “but I doubt that the Chamber stands alone in this.” The alliance between the Chamber and the Deserts against the Valley during his reign had been a temporary thing, one born out of two kings dislike of another. The Chamber and the Valley had always been sisters, colored in the same hue of blood.
“What say you, Queen of Amazons?” He asks, gaze shifting to settle on Lagertha’s while he awaited Yael’s arrival, who would surely have something to say about the war that had already come too close to their doorstep.
.
vanquish
black king of the deserts
