"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
02-08-2016, 05:37 PM (This post was last modified: 02-26-2016, 11:10 AM by Straia.)
i am the violence in the pouring rain
i am a hurricane
They cannot rely on the Valley. The kingdom is nearly dead again, so whatever support they get from the members of the Valley will be minimal at best. But she knows that the rest of Beqanna is massing, bent against the Chamber mostly because they are bored and determined to go to war. Lagertha, if no one else, would see to it.
And Straia is tired of waiting. But they need to decide their plan.
She sends her ravens looking for them – Killdare and Warship. They’ve talked in circles, but this would be their last opportunity. Besides, now she knew what the tree had shown her. Now she knew the ways this war would likely go. There’s no way to determine the future accurately, but she’s seen the possibilities. And that is better than nothing.
She waits for them to come, knowing they will follow the raven that leads them. When they come, she dives straight into business. “Shaytan and I have tried the tree. And it showed me this pending war of ours. These are the options the flames have showed me, and I’d like to know which option you both want to pursue. Because I am tired of waiting and rumors and planning. If we wait too long, we will not have the opportunity to do things our way.”
And if nothing else, things would be done their way. Above her, the ravens are massing, blocking out prying eyes and ears. They keep silent other than the beating of their wings, but it’s enough to keep this conversation private. “We can attack. Set the terms, though in truth, I have no particular demands that I plan to make except I am endlessly tired of their talk of revenge, and I want them to shut up. We can use our magicians to erect a wall around the Gates and slow the other kingdoms from entering. They will ultimately get in though, and we will face most of Beqanna against us. We can win that fight, but we can lose just as easily.”
She’d see both outcomes, and they were more likely to lose than win. They’d be outnumbered by far, and their powers would be no more than equal on either side, if they were lucky. “Or we bring them to us. Steal and challenge until they can’t take it. Threaten. Whatever it takes. It won’t be hard to break the dam. Turn them into exactly what they hate – us.” She grins slightly, knowing Lagertha doesn’t care if she’s good or bad. Knowing she just wants to fight. Knowing that Mast speaks of revenge as much as Magnus had. They wanted a fight as much, if not more, than the Chamber did. They just wouldn’t get their hands dirty.
“While they are busy fighting their way through ravens and pine trees, our magicians can do whatever damage to their homes and magical entities as they can manage. “ In one variation of this prediction, Evrae was able to turn every single one of the entities back to the start, making the kingdoms live through another six years of infant entities that could offer them no help. This outcome was not guaranteed, depending on how the situation turned out. But it was possible, and that was something. “Bringing them here isn’t ideal, but it might be a better option for us to stick to the land we know and can defend. The land that will, in fact, aid us in such a fight.”
straia
the raven queen of the chamber
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission
02-10-2016, 10:18 AM (This post was last modified: 02-10-2016, 10:22 AM by Killdare.)
no matter what we breed we still are made of greed
Birds,of all the creatures...
He grouches, his thoughts remaining inside as the flock berates him with their call. Darkness swooping, flapping about him and his head. A nuisance, a loud nuisance if you asked him, his wings swatting at the ravens like flies. "Piss off!" He yells though he follows them anyways, even if he does so grudgingly. They always won that arguement, come, come, come. Of course he would come in the end, he always did- as was his duty.
They lead him, like a gaggle of proud goalers escorting a prisoner to his cell. In truth he considers his service to Straia and the Chamber anything but. But the birds, well, he's sure he could do without them.
He finds Straia at this journey's end, though he expects nothing less, dipping his head in greetings. "My Queen," he says with a smirk, batting at one last shadowy bird, his talons falling through the smoke like a knife in warm butter. Before he can ask to what he owes the pleasure of an audience, she begins, regaling them with tales of the tree. Sights, information, possibilities. He listens quietly, tucking his wings to his side and waiting until Straia is finished before he speaks.
"I tire of talk as well," he begins, "I say we should finish what we began.." Was it not the Chamber that had rushed the Gates years ago, burning their home and taking from them what was dear? "Though I would much prefer making our own use of their entities, is this possible? Does the entity hold some sort of allegiance to the people?" Destroy, destroy, destroy, but what would they gain? What was in it for them?
"Perhaps we could draw them out, bring them here, and then destroy their home. They will have nothing to return to." Killdare had grown bitter in the years, numb in a sense and he was regretting they had not raided the Gates children. That would have brought the fight to them surely. A rough smile found his lips though, because someone had done what he had not.
"My nephew has found himself the new owner of a fair number of their young. I am surprised they have not been at our doorstep, but it is a fair start to rile them." He flicks his tail, sending a shift of coarse black hair flying as he finds a more comfortable stance. "How about you Warship? What sort of advance are you in the mood for?" He asks curiously, turning his head to the General.
He had lost track of how many times he had stared death in the face. The first time he had cowered on the ground, staring into the depthless eyes as the labored breaths rattled in his lungs. He had been saved that time by Eight and his ancient magic. Eight had placed a band-aid on the wound death had inflicted, giving him a half life, but a life nonetheless. He was walking and talking and breathing, and most importantly the Chamber still had him. The second time though, he had all but spit in deaths face…and paid the price for his idiocy. Death had not taken him, but instead left his mark on him to carry forever.
Within the confines of the Chamber, deaths foul magic had no hold. A combination of Eights power and the power from the Chamber itself kept his ailment at bay, though he would feel it as soon as he stepped over the border. It was a tingling sensation, neither pleasant nor unpleasant. Eventually though the tingle turned to pain as flesh turned to waste. He had only experienced the situation on his way home from purgatory, but it wasn’t something he was eager to face again. Each sip of water spilled from his mouth freely. Grass that had once meant life choked him as the wasted muscles of his esophagus struggled to force it down. His sight became blurry as his eyes shriveled in their sockets. It drained him both physically and mentally. The thought of losing his mental and physical capabilities scared him, despite his inability to admit it out loud. It was there in the back of his mind, always.
“Shut up, bird brain…” he grumbled, shaking his head to dislodge the bird perched on his horn. It did little good, for the bird only cawed in response and steadfastly hung on. “Fine. You can stay, but shut the hell up.” The General found himself in a sour disposition, even more so than usual. The foray into purgatory had literally been a trip to hell and back. So with his lips turned down in a frown he followed the birds direction, heading towards Straia’s call. It doesn’t take him long to find the queen and lord, already huddled together. He said nothing on arrival, but merely nodded his fine head towards the both of them. There was no time for formalities and small talk, and frankly, he was beyond over the bullshit. “We’ve talked in circles too long. Talking gets us nowhere and nothing put weary ears. I agree with Killdare; its high time to lay the Gates to rest.” Another grimace, deeper than he commonplace frown. “There is in issue with leaving the Chamber, though it effects only me. Follow me to the border and I’ll show you.” He didn’t wait to see if they followed, but simply took off in the direction of the nearest border. It didn’t take long, and soon he had stepped over the magical, invisible line. As soon as he did the tingling sensation came, and the skin of his face began to slough off. Soon there was bone and a gruesome view of the inner workings of his mouth. “Due to a recent journey, I’ve been touched by death. As long as I am in the Chamber the curse will not work. When I cross the border, this happens. I won’t die, but I will also not be completely capable.” he said as he crossed back over the border, shaking his head as the flesh grew back over the bone. “So while its not perhaps ideal to bring them here, I’d much prefer being able to use all of our facilities, one of which is me. And we know this land, know the pines and the rocks. We are accustomed to the fog and darkness here, where it may hinder those not native. And as Killdare said, if they are here, that gives us a chance to slip through the forest and attack their home.” He wasn’t sure how Straia and Killdare would react to his new affliction, but he felt it best they know what could happen to him.
02-22-2016, 10:36 AM (This post was last modified: 02-22-2016, 11:13 AM by Kyra.)
i am the violence in the pouring rain
i am a hurricane
She doesn’t understand why everyone else hates the ravens so much. They are lovely creatures, really. Most just don’t think so, but that’s because they don’t really look. Of course, Straia doesn’t care what everyone else thinks. She’s still going to use them to do her bidding. It sort of amuses her that everyone else dislikes them so. She might even tell her ravens to be purposefully annoying on occasion. Maybe. Not that she’s going to admit to that one.
Both Killdare and Warship arrive rather prompty (likely to shut up the birds, more than anything else). Killdare asks if they can use the entites to their advantage, and Straia offers him a pleased smile. It is a good idea, certainly, though sadly impossible. “The entities align to the kingdoms themsleves. They will protect their land and the horses that serve them in times of need. But sadly, we cannot use the entities to our advantage. We can only weaken them.”
She pauses for a moment, contemplating. “Perhaps though, if Evrae weakens one kingdom, that power will feed to the Chamber? It’s all shared magic now, but if no one else has it…” she trails off and shrugs, having no idea if that will even remotely work. But it’s worth mentioning to Evrae. Maybe something would come of it.
Warship speaks up, and Straia follows him willingly, curious what his foray into purgatory had done. Weaver has told her the story, told her that Warship saved her more than once. And Weaver had come back with the ancient blue rune of Death etched into her chest, and the ability to bring the dead back to life. What had Warship come back with?
It isn’t long before they see. Warship hadn’t escaped Death, as Weaver had. He had been cursed by it. She simply nods as he speaks, eyes looking him over as he dies bit by bit. He looks so much like Rodrik, barely horse at all. Oh, how many monsters lurk within the depths of the Chamber. “I believe I owe you a thank you, Warship. Weaver told me all about it.” She says, strangely serious for her. But of course, he has protected her daughter, and while she may not be an overbearing, protective mother, she loved her children fiercely. Just as much as she loved the Chamber. She turns to Killdare then, adding, "Should something happen to me, the Chamber is yours." Because she knows her head is on the table here. But as long as the Chamber is cared for, and her children are fine, there's nothing more she needs.
“We’ll bring the war here. I’ll call the kingdom and let them know.”
straia
the raven queen of the chamber
@[Killdare] -- because I edited and forgot a thing....in case you already read this
