"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
The addition of Lagertha completes the Trinity. They are the rulers of kingdoms who’ve decided to go against the tyranny the Chamber would love to poison the land with. Mast knows that they are a force to be reckoned with, though he does not expect the Chamber to simply lie down without a fight. The bloodshed is what the Chamber craved. Chaos was their ultimate goal, and the allies were ready to take the fight to them. Straia grossly underestimated them, and Mast was more than eager to see a look of dismay on her tri-colored face. She was much to smug, far too confident in the abilities of her kingdom. In Mast’s mind, only cowards attacked quiet kingdoms in the middle of the night. Why had they not gone for the Amazons if they were so confident in their might? Why had they not gone toe to toe with Yael, the golden magician of the Deserts? There were so many more options if a feat of strength had been their ultimate goal. Instead of going after the Alpha wolf, they had preyed on the pup instead.
“Queen Lagertha.” he said, dipping his head. Normally there would have been some type of pleasantry, but the time for such things had long passed. After the war, perhaps, but for now it was strictly business. “You’re very right. Its high time that we finish what the Chamber decided to start. I’m tired of idle talk. It gets us no where and only gives them more time to steal, plot, and plunder.” He was surprised by the fierceness in his voice, but he found that as they drew nearer to the actual thing, the less room he had for fear in his heart. There was a whole kingdom depending on him to be brave. Vanquish spoke and Mast nodded, turning his head toward the direction of the Deserts. “Lead the way, King Vanquish.”
The trip did not take long, and Mast found himself walking quickly and with purpose. Long before they reached the border a lather had broken out on his neck, turning him almost black. The heat was almost unbearable, but it was a small sacrifice to ensure their privacy. He would endure many more discomforts if it kept their business out of the ears of trespassing, beady-eyed ravens. When the sky was clear the trio stopped, silent but for the subtle shifting of the sands beneath their feet. “My General has taken somewhat of a leave of absence. Hideous timing, but I don’t think we can wait for him.” It was uncomfortable truth to admit but a truth nonetheless; he hadn’t laid eyes on Magnus in months. They would go on without him, of course, but they would be hampered by his absence. “I’m no war monger, not by any stretch of the imagination. But the Chamber will continue to spiral out of control if they are not stopped. I believe my kingdom was simply a stepping stone to larger things. This is no longer a personal vendetta; I‘d like to think we fight for all of Beqanna.” a pause, accompanied by a steely glint in his eyes, “I’m tired of talking. I vote we take the fight to their doorstep. While I don’t much care for leaving our kingdoms unprotected, I’d like to think the magicians can pull something from their sleeves?” He isn’t quite sure the scope of a magicians powers, but from what he had personally seen of Yael, he knew she was more than capable.
02-23-2016, 11:00 PM (This post was last modified: 02-24-2016, 03:13 PM by prague.)
i was filled with poison, but blessed with beauty and rage
The silver lioness didn't give a damn about formalities, much less boundaries but she had been tucked away in Lagertha's mind; an angel (or devil) on her shoulder so to speak. Prague had this strange craft of knowing just when to 'appear' and when things were really about to happen, in fact her disappearance was usually due to stagnation of plans. We all have our faults or so they say. She hears Mast speak her Queen's name and her body tunnels itself into stardust and molecules, passing unseen through space and time to the Deserts. She met Vanquish briefly, an interesting character - she is sure that she will investigate him further but not now. Without another moment's notice, ashes fall from Lagertha's body and the image of Prague stands. She shakes her forelock and sighs, "I've been waiting an awful long time on her proverbial shoulder for this to happen," she then smirks to Lagertha, knowing that although she didn't personally invite her - she wasn't unwelcome. "I have a name other than Lagertha's minion, I'm Prague - it will be nice doing 'business' with you all." She relaxes, her dark tail casually swishing the sand around. It's been over a hundred years since she visited the Deserts, back in a time when Scissors ruled but she was certain no one was living here now old enough to remember her. She idly waits for the conversation to pick up but until then she keeps mentally lifting the sand into shapes and manipulating them.
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.
The three of them make decent time from the Gates to the Desert, though they keep their chit chat to a minimum. It’s necessary to get to know each other, but small talk doesn’t come easy to Lagertha, especially when other things are at the forefront of her mind. At least she has some good bit of news, to combat whatever may have fallen through in the silent interim. When they reach the dry heat, she finds it comforting - if it weren’t for the insufferable sand, she thinks, she might actually like the Desert. She makes no comment on the magical sand wall, or the sudden turning of granules into water, choosing to appreciate it for what it is - their own kind of magic. Hers is still a deadly secret; a weapon that she will whip out during war. It is a comforting thought.
It is as comforting as the sudden appearance of Prague, whom she had started to think had left them again. Magicians are fickle creatures, and while she believed the thrice-queen would help protect the Jungle, she’s never felt safe relying on anyone but herself. For a brief moment, her eyes widen in surprise, then crease in amusement as she turns to nudge the lighter gray’s shoulder. “Never a minion. A friend, who just so happens to be a magician.” Her dark eyes turn to Vanquish and she chuckles lightly. “I hope Yael doesn’t mind a little teamwork. If we could get one more to join our side, I imagine we would have a solid upper hand. Especially with the Dale on our side.” She may not know who will join Ramiel when the time comes, but he has pledged his Kingdom’s support.
Magnus’s disappearance is unnerving. And comes at the absolute worst time possible. She knows he had been a major driving force behind recruiting for the Gates, and was a stoic, yet compelling man that seemed to know what he was doing. Perhaps more than Mast did. His loss is a blow to their side. She frowns, pursing her lips together in displeasure, but stays quiet for a moment. “I don’t think we should go to the Chamber’s door. It gives them the home field advantage. What about calling them out on the Plains? Its neutral territory, specifically for that reason.” She pauses. “The only question is how to make them give up that advantage. Because I have faith in four kingdoms versus one or two. But it will be much harder when they know the land.”
