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(Created page with "{{ArcNav|Arc=The God of Undeath}} Summary: After striking a deal with Gospel (evil sentient sword currently in leviathan form in the ocean), Lanlan (with the help of Gevurah)...")
 
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Latest revision as of 03:06, 22 May 2020

Part of the The God of Undeath Arc


Summary: After striking a deal with Gospel (evil sentient sword currently in leviathan form in the ocean), Lanlan (with the help of Gevurah) ambushes Kasyr. If they can take Kasyr’s heart, Gospel will help them obtain Sacred (another evil sentient sword). During the course of a close fight, Lanlan reveals his plan to Kasyr and Kasyr warns the drow that Gospel is manipulating them. These swords manipulate and kill their wielders. Gevurah has an idea to give Sacred to Caluss to let the all-powerful demon sword manipulate and kill the wanna-be God of the Undead.

Ice Paved Street, Frostmaw

Kasyr strides out from the guild's courtyard, a look of weariness plastered across his expression. Whilst the process of rehabilitating vis a vis natural healing had been slow, he'd finally managed to escape from the perpetual misery brought on by his prior injury in the tourney. Not that he was free of discomfort, since his steady regime of training meant that he had all sorts of new aches to grumble about. Once he's clear of the gates, he spares a moment to fumble through his trenchcoat pockets for a smoke- settling it against his lips as he peers over the frigid desolation that encircled what had once been the Warriors Guilds Central Hub. In a way, the fact that it was so far removed from everything was a relief- if only because it meant that he'd managed to briefly find a refuge from the gradually mounting array of apocalyptic entities that were once more cropping up in his life. And yet, there was a sort of guilty feeling that accompanied the thought. An awareness that he was actively procrastinating in the face of great peril, in most parts due to an exhausted sense of indifference. And yet, he also couldn't deny that in at least one case, there was an almost paralyzing uncertainty that he -could- do anything. The snap of his fingers, and the ensuing spark that's produced by it, helps to bring him back to the present- where he takes in a deep puff and stares skywards. "Well. I'm going on a boat. That's doing something. Right?" There's no echo to answer him. Not even the chill air deigns to needle at him, leaving him to puff away awkwardly.


Lanlan was lying in wait for Kasyr to emerge from the Warrior's guild. Lanlan and Gevurah had ample time to confirm the information handed to them by their intelligence network. Gevurah's intelligence network actually, but Gevurah allowed him to see it differently and didn't correct him. They made a plan, scouted the location, and set up an ambush. It was necessary. Assassinating Kasyr wasn't only because the former revenant had it coming, it was because they needed to! Forwarding their ultimate plan of thwarting Caluss meant that sacrifices would have to be made. Obviously not all of them would be easy, or exciting, or fun. Lanlan wouldn't be happy about -all- of the sacrifices he would have to make in this war against a demi-god. Anyways he waited in his chariot for a guy in a trenchcoat to walk past. "Here he comes," Lanlan says to himself. After seconds that drag on almost eternally, Kasyr passes him. As soon as there's enough room for it, Lanlan snaps two reins against the animals pulling his converted chariot. There's an explosion of noise as two roaring dire elks, their skin flayed off, burst from a "snow bank" off the side of the road. In the sleigh, is not Lanlan apparently, but a massive bearded zombie wearing winter wolf furs blood-stained red. "Yah!" The illusion disguised gray elf commands, and his elks pull him toward Kasyr. As he approaches, spinning blades extend from the yokes of his animals and the sleigh. All he wants to do is drive past Kasyr and slide those razors into him. But he would tolerate with trampling him underfoot.


Gevurah became irritated when she learned that Kasyr spends most of his time in Frostmaw, a place she hates for reasons both practical (it’s cold) and personal (she lost a war against Frostmaw). Nonetheless, she made the trip to this frigid hell dressed in black and red fox furs and suede. The plan was simple. They would wait for Kasyr to leave the Warrior’s Guild headquarters. Lanlan would attack from the north, cutting off Kasyr’s retreat back to the guild, and Gevurah would attack from the south, cutting off Kasyr’s escape to the south. Sure, he’s a nimble fellow who can scale the abandoned homes and shops that line the street with ease, but there are contingencies for that too. Alright. The time has come. Gevurah hides in an abandoned shop on the southern end of the street out of view and waits for Lanlan’s signal: holly jolly sleigh bells. Gevurah waits a second for Kasyr’s attention to be fully on the undead zombie and his chariot, then emerges onto the street to cut him off to the south. Her arm stretches out stiffly before her chest, fingertips turn skyward and her palm unleashes a torrent of fire right at Kasyr a couple dozen feet away.


Kasyr -probably- shouldn't announce his plans out loud when there's a percolating sense of resentment, outright odium, and just general contempt percolating in the air- but frankly, if he was mindful of that, he'd likely never end up getting to say anything. That said, the spontaneous manner in which it ramps up a surreal desire to slaughter has the Kensai practically choke on his cigarette, and surface up some flashbacks to some unfortunate tete a tetes with Kuzial. Rather than move from his position, the Kensai simply tilts his head in the direction of the ringing 'slay' bells, taking in the garish and gruesome sight that rests there. While there -is- an undeniable sense of familiarity from the feelings emanating from the morbid figure atop, the specifics aren't quite grasped on- leaving the Kensai with the broader strokes. Undead and pissed meant it was either Vexar poking at him again in an effort to see that he 'stops holding back', or, more probably, Caluss finally getting around to trying to snuff him. "Ho Ho Hold your horses." In tandem with that utterly groan worthy comment comes the the sound of scraping metal, as a full dozen glistening splinters of silvery light fracture into existance between himself and the (b)raindead steeds. With his focus placed on anchoring those floating arnaments in place, he's looking forward to making a mincemeat and kindling combo out of the oncoming mess. Which leaves him with little more to do than turn his head in the direction of the other threa-, "Oh my gods, What?" Admittedly, it's a -lot- harder to process -Gevurah- being here of all places, especially given the imminent threat. And while the logical part of his brain is probably trying to process the logistics of an insidious Vexar / Gevurah tagteam, or the improbabilities of a Deadite Priestess edition of the matron, his body simply moves on auto pilot. Which, in this case, means diving backwards into the mess of his own floating arnaments. Sure- that does increase the odds he's going to probably end up with deer or debris impacting into him, but maybe they'll have lost some momentum at that point. Or maybe the fire might arc over him during his backwards tumble, or at least set both of them on fire. Wait, both? "My coat!" is definitely not inflammable. The fact that this still hasn't been addressed after years is a marked design flaw, Kas. You fight dragons, seriously- invest in some fire or acid proofing. At least he's in a position to mix in rolling with his frantic attempts to scrabble around.


Lanlan hadn't bothered to invest in actual undead reindeer steeds. The climate of the world around him made investing in undead of any kind extremely dubious. They were just regular reindeer. Regular 'essential' (expendable) reindeer. Lanlan, in his fat suit, lept out of his chariot when he realized what he was driving into. The reindeer kept going until Gevurah blasted flames toward them. Then they skidded to a stop, fairly rapidly. It was a feat of nature's magnificence that they could stop at all on this icey road. But they couldn't help being perforated by Kasyr's shrapnel, if he had the awareness to cause it. The slay behind them did not have the adaptation the elks had, and couldn't stop. The bladed chariot ended up functioning like a tetherball orbiting the reindeer and eventually careening into Kasyr if he can't avoid it. "You're on my list, Kasyr," says Lanlan in a jolly, homicidal voice, "I've checked it twice!" Then he waits for Kasyr to be dead.


Gevurah sprints in a straight line behind her flame throwing hand towards Kasyr and the wildly careening sleigh that circles Kasyr in a clockwise path. She stops her flamethrowing only when the sleigh passes between herself and Kasyr (at the 6 o’clock position), putting Zombie-Lanlan at risk of getting burnt. In fact, Kasyr may detect a hint of annoyance laced with concern as Gevurah withdraws her attack for the zombie’s sake. The sleigh continues on its orbit (towards 7 o’clock), and is quickly no longer in Gevurah’s way. The matron reaches into the bottomless satchel hidden under her piwafwi and pulls out two rusty nails as she whispers an incantation. She hesitates for just a moment, her gaze flitting between Kasyr and the sleigh as if timing something very quickly, then she suddenly flings them like darts at the kensai. Their flight path quickens along an eerily accurate, yet-non-linear path straight for Kasyr, homing in on Gevurah’s target. If the nails hit his body, they’ll tear through armor, flesh and bone to pin the Kensai back into the sleigh’s side paneling, at the 12 o’clock position.


Kasyr let's out an extended 'fffff' as the slick ice and his own attempts at rolling out the flames on his coat threaten to send him skidding directly into the arc of the swinging chariot. And yet, there's an opportunity presented there- if only due to the curious self preservation displayed by the sleds steeds. With their advance halted, the Kensai's free to redirect where the currently floating swords were anchored. With the same finesse that a conductor leads an orchestra, those blades are sent slicing into the air before himself, if only to slam down into the ground to make an impromptu barricade meant to at once intercept the sled- and provide the Kensai with something to rest his back against so he can properly peer at the proliferating problems. This means you, Gevurah. "Could we . . . Not?' There'd be more emphasis on that last word, but he's partially distracted listening to 'Not-Krampus' taunting him, and trying to pound out a bit of smouldering coat. So he can't offer up much else in the space of the time it takes her procure a pair of items from her pack, and then send them sheering at him. In this case, the Kensai feels it's fair to rely upon the better part of valor- grabbing hold of one sword that makes up his barrier. What's different, however- is not that the Kensai -moves- but rather, that everything around him does. Though it's only a simple cantrip meant to imbue the weapon with entropic energy- the kensai's seen fit to overcharge it several fold, resulting in the groiund beneath him unraveling into a rapidly forming crevice. This also means that although the Kensai is spared of being in the path of whatever it was Gevurah was sending his way, he finds himself at the bottom of a rapidly expanding crator-alongside a pile of swords, a battered sleigh, and by all likelihood, some -very- panicked reindeer at the very least. But, also, science. "That worked." A beat. "Es this a caluss thing. Are you now?"


Lanlan could hardly understand what was happening in front of him, or why. Normally he'd expect the fissure to be opened by Kasyr, except that it opened -under- Kasyr! It seemed to put him exactly where Lanlan wanted him! Except, that the sinkhole kept expanding, and drawing in more things. The carriage sank, along with Kasyr, then came some blades, and then some zombelks. Frightened, lively zombelks, that would get impaled on Lanlan's bladed chariot, bleed a lot, and die. And the sinkhole continued to expand! Lanlan rushed over to Gevurah ready to crack the whip he used to urge on his animals in her direction should she stumble into the sudden pitfall.


Gevurah simply levitates to avoid the growing chasm. Drow nobles got that float. She peers down into the chasm and summons a semi-translucent gray sphere around herself and the bearded zombie to protect them from projectiles. “Don’t struggle so hard, Kasyr, I just want to reacquaint you with an old friend of yours.”


Kasyr had been struggling with what the deal was with corpsey Krampus this entire time, especially given the relative lack of information provided by the usual villainous gloating. Suffice to say, when it finally comes, in tandem with the tolerance for the zombies proximity to the matron, 2 and 2 finally click home as to why his empathic imprint felt so damn familiar. He looks ready to say something- from down in his hole, but he pauses- both out of a flabbergasted sense of indignation at the situation, as well as the altogether ear piercing wail that comes from a steed as the sharp dissapearance of terrain beneath it's leg causes a rather nasty break, and leads it into knocking over it's twin and skewering the both on the sleigh. Taking a few moments to wince and side eye the mess, the swordsman endeavours to compose himself. "You know, It's been a while since I said hi to Daedria et all, but I think I'll pass. There's this tournament, you see- et then another end of the world threat. But, I think I could do next...Friday?" Obnoxiously casual is the vibe the Kensai is going for, while trying to very subtly inch backwards. It's a little hard to get any sort of speed going, without breaking into an outright crab walk, but- here's hoping Gevurah still has some sort of desire to monologue. It'll buy some time, at least, since while the Kensai is trying to provide the appearance of a compliant (and, relatively captive) audience, he's not quite staring at Gevurah. Just a little bit past her, given, the limit of swords he can summon isn't just a dozen. "...Also, hi Lanlan. Long time no stab. I didn't miss you." Literally and figuratively.


Lanlan isn't satisfied with his audience being only 'relatively' captive, so he kicks a few more of Kasyr's swords into the hole that apparently didn't make it before. They don't succumb to gravity, though, they dance through the air like leaves in the wind at Lanlan's command, and then suddenly fly blade first into Kasyr's arms, all the way to the hilt, and into the wall of the chasm behind him. He's still only relatively captive since it was an illusion though. "Not Daedria," says Lanlan with a chuckle, happy to be able to correct him. In seconds the fat suit and beard melds into his regular face and gray flowy robe. If he didn't feel he had so much of an upper hand, Kasyr would've been extremely annoying with those comments. But Lanlan was feeling triumphant. "You missed me tons I'm sure! Because of all the fun we have, no? At least I'm having fun." The imaginary swords twisted a little and oozed blood at Lanlan's command. Just to hurt. Meanwhile Lanlan steps off the lip of the chasm and floats gently down into it. As he approaches Kasyr, a broad, razor sharp knife emerges from a sleeve and lands delicately in Lanlan's hand. "Long time no stab! Haha! Funny!" Then he starts leaning into Kasyr, trying to peel his coat back to expose his chest.


Gevurah smirks when Kasyr guesses Daedria. “Guess again. Here’s a clue: He’ll swallow you as cleanly as this chasm.” Though she notes Kasyr is focused on some other ruse, she trusts Lanlan to handle it. Aaaand he does. The matron watches with excitement as Lanlan tries to carve out Kasyr’s heart, though some part of her subconscious worries that in melee range, Lanlan is no match for the kensai. That’s alright. The illusionist has the dark priestess for support.


Kasyr is briefly at a loss when Lanlan petulantly kicks a bundle of blades into the crater, the sheer casualness in which the elf would introduce more swords into the pit weirdly galling. Especially when by all appearance there were the Kensais own summoned swords, extensions of his very being- his essence and soul as a swordsman. That profound irritation at not being taken seriously, however, quickly transitions to a sentiment closer to revulsion when he sees them hang in the air, gracefully twisting in the sky at Lanlan's behest. Intuitively, he finds himself reaching out - with every intention of seeing them buried into the elfs chest, and yet- he finds himself defied, as they spiral down, and then abruptly impact into his arms. There's a blaze of pain that rends through his limbs, which only further feeds the indignant rage bubbling up inside, the sense of uncleanliness. And with that feeling of having a part of himself wrenched from his control, in tandem with Gevurahs taunt comes a sickening certainty. "You would." With every twist of those phantasmal blades-he can feel his focus wavering, making it a monstrous task to keep the new blades he'd coaxed into being from simply clattering to the ground. "Find like company." Lanlan's proximity is further insult, the languid nature of his taunts, and the absolute certainty he feels at the Kensais helplessness forcing his teeth together into a sneer. The next words are practically spat, with how hard it is to contain the ichor within." In a treacherous snake." It's that same venom that has him reach out to his weapons anew, fervently trying to see just how well those still present respond- if only because some perverse hope remains that he might provide at least one of them the opportunity to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory, and hinder their plans.


Lanlan only smiles happily at Kasyr's insult. "Maybe. But we lost a valuable asset when you betrayed us. We had to replace you!" He cut Kasyr's shirt down half way and folded the flaps, revealing his bare chest. He only needed Kasyr's heart, and he didn't need Kasyr to be dead. "It's name is Sacred, I don't know how familiar you are...? It's not quite as powerful as Gospel, no, but I'm told it's much easier to work with." He pulled out a marker and drew 'x's' in bold black letters. Under them lied main blood vessels leading into and out of the heart. "Easier to work with than you at least. Snakes are more predictable! Their motivations make sense!" He put the marker away. "Your sacrifice will let me save the world. Thank you, you were essential." He pressed one hand on Kasyr's chest, holding it steady while he held the knife over his head. Then he stole one last look into Kasyr's eyes. He couldn't help himself.


Gevurah senses an arcane rattle behind her as Kasyr tries to connect with his weapons. Her hand slips into her satchel to pilfer iron balls in preparation for a defensive spell should she need it. While she understands Lanlan’s need to monologue — it’s part of drow culture — she would hate to foolishly squander this opportunity to secure Kasyr’s heart AND kill the kensai. Unlike Lanlan, she has no reservations about killing her former ally. In drow she says to Lanlan, “On with it. I’m eager to see the light fade from his eyes.” Then in common to Kasyr she adds, “Gospel was quite easy to deal with.” A lie. “Your fear of it is a reflection of your weakness, not its greatness.”


Kasyr s' jaw clenches tighter, in part due to the shocks of pain coursing through him, and his continues attempts at asserting himself over the arnaments present. And yet, Lanlan wouldn't be wrong in taking some credit for the look of discomfort that has twisted the kensais features, fueled by the perceived desecration of the swordsmans spirit. After all, the idea that the sword is a reflection of the wielders soul is a bit closer to the truth in Kasyrs instance, at least when those animate weapons are concerned. Something which is reflected in the way he can so adeptly manipulate them, and even perceive their location so long as they remain within his area of influence. As Lanlan speaks of sacrifice, the Kensai endeavours to wrench upon them once more- a restless ripple passing through all the swords present. All, save those that reside within his arm. Unmoving. Insensate. -Absent-. And yet, whatever inkling of realisation is winding it's way through his mind, Lanlan finds a new way to intrude upon it- with the uncomfortable press of his hand to the Kensais chest. With a certain degree of determination, the Kensai's head tilts up to meet the illusionists gaze- though it's with an air of defiance, and a barely contained hatred. "No." The words are bereft of affect, and perhaps Lanlan may even mistake them for a plead. It would be all too easy to do so, at least until the abrupt flare of raw elemental lightning surges through the Kensais form with a furious vengeance. "Thank you." There's a hope present, a fervent desire that the sensation of the elfs touch had been reality, and not some perverse figment- and yet, the reality that it might have been a deception coaxes the Kensai into testing the bounds of that feeling- forcibly wrenching his right arm forward despite every screeching protest his mind makes that it cannot be done. Because there's an internal certainty that it can- the Illusionists hubris at trying to weaponize the swordsmans own weapons allowing just enough doubt that his arm can lash out and greedily grasp at Lanlan's throat in an effort to keep him close.


Lanlan sees something he doesn't expect in Kasyr's eyes: Defiance. Anticipation. Confidence? He doesn't think he's going to die! That's when Lanlan's eyebrows tingle, the wax keeping them neat almost fraying, sending reverberations down, tickling his forehead and deeper, into his consciousness, alerting him to the sudden spike of energy. He pulls his hand back at the last second. "Oh!" Kasyr explodes in a burst of lightning as Lanlan scurries back. "I almost forgot about that!" Inside, his heart is improvising some interesting sort of rhythm. It's complicated, for sure, but he maintains his composure, in part by playing up the joviality of his relief. He knows how close he was to doomed, so does Kasyr. What's worse, he's fighting through the illusions of the swords. To keep the illusion copacetic, Lanlan pretends that as Kasyr's arms pull forward, he's pulling the swords out too, as if he was just muscling through the pain. "No! That won't do. Gevie?" At his behest apparently, Gevurah conjures two massive cleavers made of fire, that fly into Kasyr's arms at the shoulder, severing them completely. That should hopefully make him more compliant. But it was an act. His request to Gevurah, the searing blades, and the severance of Kasyr's arms. "Why are you being so -selfish-! Don't you see it's you for the world!?"


Gevurah hisses when Lanlan narrowly misses death by electrocution. Her glowing red eyes widen as her ebon lips twist into an impatient scowl. This is the problem with monologuing. “Enough!” she shouts. Once again Lanlan aims to maim, but not kill, Kasyr. “Gospel said nothing about taking his beating heart alive. Let’s kill him then take the heart after.” She swaps the iron balls in her hands for a splinter of petrified coffin wood. She prays to her god to imbue the splinter with the power of His Scythe then throws the splinter at Kasyr’s chest like a dart. If the splinter meets its mark, necrosis will spread through the kensai’s flesh quickly like a ripple in a pond until he meets an early death within a minute of contact.


Kasyr 's sole advantage he can press, is the manner in which he remains aware of his weapons- something which ebbs away at the sensations brought about by their illusive twins. Every ensuing movement is easier than the one prior, allowing hm to rise up to his feet - one hand extended out to grasp towards Lanlan- right before the Kensai proceeds to hit the dirt again. After all, The kensai's not about to sit still for those cleavers, especially when he has a distinct lack of certainty what's real or not. Instead he hits the ground into a roll, that sees him end on his knees in front of Lanlan, a brief look of incredulousness overtaking the rage inside him. "Why?" Oh sweet Daedria in heaven. He doesn't really have the time to clarify that, given the distinct sense of something approaching his vicinity- which is about the point where the Kensai puts to use the ambient electrical charge still carried within himself. Not on the splinter, of course, since it's wood- but rather, to exert the whole of it in an attempt to latch onto any metal that Lanlan's wearing or carrying, so as to yank him into the way of what Gevurah sent. The drow weren't the only ones capable of making use of meat shields. Though on the matter of barriers- the Kensai is rather hoping that the matrons defensive measures have taken a brief hiatus with her. Given now seems like an amply good time to direct those floating swords he'd rather gradually accumulated in the air during all that monologuing towards her. At this point, killing her isn't even the point, so much as just -occupying her-. "I don't see how making yourself -puppets- is for the world. Or are you that broken you need someone else running the show for you?"


Lanlan almost groans audibly when he feels as if Gevurah's contradicting him. She knew how personal this was for him! How could he be blamed for taking his time to enjoy it? "I got it," he says to her sternly, and whatever happens, he knew they'd be talking about this later. This little lapse in focus is all advantage for Kasyr, and his imaginary fire-cleavers, the doubles of Kasyr's swords, all stutter in their existence. Allowing Kasyr to suspend his belief in them for a precious jiffy, and escape the illusive bonds. "Don't touch me," he sneers in disgust as Kasyr lands for him. Surprisingly, Kasyr listens! He doesn't touch Lanlan physically, he uses electricity to push Lanlan between Gevurah's shard of death and himself. It hits, punching through his cloak and into his shoulder. Immediately he feels the magic pulse in his body. Suddenly he feels ancient, sick, decrepit. But not dead, and he knows she has the antidote, or that she is the antidote. Monologuing may not have helped him before, but now he'll use it to his advantage, hopefully. "And," he begins almost breathlessly, "would we be puppets? We're getting exactly what we want and only giving you up in return."


Gevurah (who, for those who just joined us, is floating above the street and looking down on Kasyr and Lanlan who are fighting in a chasm in the ground that Kasyr created when he had a tantrum) hears the metallic hiss and scrape of Kasyr’s floating swords behind her. She quickly levitates towards the starry sky to avoid the aerial dance of the spell blade’s swords. The dancing blades, however, are faster than her flight. The translucent, protective sphere around the matron takes a fair amount of damage head on. The gray sphere crackles in and out of existence as it struggles to stay intact. But it served its purpose. The defensive sphere bought her enough time to fish out the crude iron balls from her satchel again. She twirls them in figure-eights in one hand as she whispers one of her favorite transmutation spells, then simply drops the balls beneath her. “Lanlan, get out of there!” The iron balls grow until they reach the size of two wrecking balls. The drop unnaturally slow, and as they descend they spin around each other in a figure-eight pattern, bashing into the aerial swords, smashing, thwarting, re-directing, clobbering. When the balls hit the ground, they roll (slowly) towards the chasm to crush Kasyr (and Lanlan) inside. Though it is unlikely the kensai will still be in the chasm by the time the balls tumble into it, he will be forced to evade them along few predictable escape routes making it easier for Gevurah to intercept and kill him. Easy peasy. The priestess tumbles forward mid-air then dives head first towards her prey when — gasp! Dammit. Lanlan takes her necrotic splinter in the shoulder. On her list of priorities, saving Lanlan’s life outranks snuffing out Kasyr’s life (nothing personal, Kasyr, you’re just an insignificant gnat), and she changes courses abruptly mid-air. “Lan! Get out of there!” There’s no use yelling. Her Scythe spells is already sapping his body of energy. She drops into the chasm, snakes her arm under Lanlan’s middle, then lifts as fast as she can (weighed down a little by Lanlan) as she whispers a spell to dispel and reverse the necrotic effect coursing through Lanlan’s body. As they retreat to the inky heavens, she’s too focused reversing her own lethal spell to prepare any more defenses. Her glowing red gaze strays towards Kasyr on the ground to keep tabs on him.


Kasyr gets a breather. In the long string of things going amiss today, Lanlan deciding not to further escalate the situation is a welcome respite- as has been the general lack of sibillant whispering, and other bits of ophidian markings. Sure, it wasn't a guarantee that neither of them had already bonded themself to a weapon- but between that and Lanlan's ...partially. . . . genuine line of inquiry, it's enough that the Kensai can allow himself a moment to gather himself, rather then throw himself further into the fray. "I didn't get rid of Gospel because it was -evil-. I did it due to it's ability to warp the mind, and -control- the body of it's ho-" Oh. My. God. Could you not, Gevurah? The Kensai might not say this, but his expression definitely does as those rapidly enlarged ball bearings descend down towards the ground, making a mess of twisted metal out of the swords he'd managed to summon to contend with Gevurah. Powdered snow plumes upwards as they impact in the ground, only to get caught in the tailwind of their descent as they begin guttering down into the crater. Kasyr, for his part decides now is a great time to vacate the premise, which is why he reaches into the wreckage of the sleigh, and wrenches one of the blades it had come equipped with free of it's busted moorings. Hence armed with a blade, he decides now's a good time to exit. Except, he's rather hesitant to rely on his habit of his lightning trick. Partly because he's somewhat expecting Gevurah to be waiting with some sort of counter measure (and a decided -lack- of gloating), ...but mostly because he -really- doesn't want to find out how much of his insides will end up outside. Instead, he simply voices the word 'Rhew', a firm tap of the blade to the ground coaxing a wall of ice to start forming. Except- underneath the Kensais feet, and it's more of a mound than anything. Really, it's goal is jjust to get the Kensai high enough that when the orbs smash into the bottom of the pit, the Kensai can just nimbly ride it down, and land partways down. "Literally, every other wielder for one of those weapons has ended up dead, insane, possessed, or corrupted. Myself, included." Considering that Kasyr can't actually see eye to eye with Lanlan right now, he's just going to stare up at Gevurah. Frankly, the swordsman is starting to go right back to looking tired again, rather than angry.


Lanlan believes in Gevurah, even up to the point that she nearly crushes him under some ten-ton wrecking balls. Also he had no choice since she also collapsed his vitality with her cursed stake. He isn't completely helpless, though. By the time she scooped him, he was already initiating his drow insignia to get himself to levitate. Gevurah found him weightless and they emerged outside of the hole easily and with grace. Almost as if it was always part of the plan! Excellent gambit Gevurah! Acting accordingly, Lanlan puts on a brave face and stands on his own, without taking a step to avoid losing his balance. "Ah, so there is more to this than Gospel was letting on isn't there? I had a feeling," Lanlan lies, pretending to have always been dubious. "That's why I only pretended to hurt you! And you're fine aren't you?" If Kasyr could be tempted into investigating his wounds, he'd find them nonexistent. Lanlan wasn't feeling as good though, so he had to keep talking. Was this purely a delay tactic to get Kasyr to let his guard down again OR was he sincerely concerned that he might have (yet again) allowed an intruder into his mind? Yes. "Generous considering the circumstances. Considering what you did to me last time. Considering you got me expelled from the Mage's guild. Very generous. You're welcome." He clears his throat, and conceals a small bit of blood in the palm of his glove. "Now what terrible fate would've befallen me if I would've allowed myself to be tempted by Sacred?"


Gevurah glares at Kasyr in support of Lanlan’s rant. However, when Lanlan blames Kasyr for getting Lanlan expelled from the mage’s guild, Gevurah must summon her considerable power to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Lanlan has always given that little mage’s club too much undue importance. But the illusionist is on a roll, despite the steady blood loss. The priestess would like to heal the illusionist, but doing so would make him appear weak in the eyes of their enemy. Instead, she employs a little sleight of hand to pull Golden Kelp from her satchel and slip it into Lanlan’s palm. She whispers the drow word for ‘Chew.’ If he were to chew that kelp as though it were tobacco, his blood loss would slow and he’d feel a little better.

Kasyr notes the continued lack of murder ganking, and decides that at this juncture, standing around was for chumps. Thus, he takes a moment to slump back into a seated position on the snow, fold his hands together- and then settle his chin on his palms and resume staring up at the pair. Occasionally, he nods along with the things that Lanlan states- like the risks inherent in dealing with that odious serpent, but there's other moments where his expressions are a bit less reserved. For instance, the comments on Lanlan's 'generosity' when it comes to attempted murder definitely earn him a lofted eyebrow and very pronounced eyeroll. That said, it's the statement about being expelled that actually has the Kensai looking outright confused. "..Pardon? What did I do? I mean, beyond stabbing you. I -entirely- take credit for that bit of handiwork. Et the generosity I displayed in not following up on it." The Kensai is doing his best -not- to allow his tone or expression to change with that comment, "This guild thing, rather? What did tu do, exactement?" That bit of querying aside, Lanlan's question does warrant an effort- and so, once he's given an adequate amount of time for whatever retort might help clarify things, the Kensai adds, "As for fates- I've yet to meet a wielder who hasn't either died or been corroded by one of these weapons. ..Myself included- it simply didn't stick." There's an exhale, the swordsmans doing his best not to think too hard on the ramifications, "I'm not -as- familiar with Sacred, en fait. But if it es anything like the rest of Gospels Brood- there'd be good odds of you succumbing to it's influence, subtly peut-etre, but in some instances. . . Subsumed. entirely. ." That sounds alright. Yeah, definitely wasn't an awkward delay there while he was searching for the word.


Lanlan received Gevurah's kelp and slipped it nonchalantly into his mouth. "What else did you do beyond stabbing me? It wasn't just anyone you stabbed. You could've stabbed almost anyone else in the world and I wouldn't have cared. But since you stabbed me i have to take it personal." Lanlan accidentally made a sour face, because of the bitter root he was chewing. "Then you tried to electrocute me, I think that counts as following up. I still have the scars! Very striking, I must say. I've decided to keep them." The root may have been stopping the bleeding, but he still felt frail, almost numb. Her curse may have been halted but not altogether reversed yet. He holds his hand out behind him again to see if she can offer him anything extra potent. He'd have to keep delaying/toying with Kasyr. "And as for what I did...I defended myself. From a murderer! A monstrous, mercurial, temperamental, cry-baby murderer. Unbelievable! But it's okay. They were holding me back." From here though, Lanlan wasn't sure what to do. If what Kasyr said was true, he would have no part of Sacred, and no need of Kasyr's heart. "There's been a change of plans. We were going to take your heart and trade it for Sacred. I propose instead we make a deal. I will let you keep your heart and you will make reparations to me for your recent transgressions, and those of the Mage's guild." He turns to Gevurah. "What demands do you have?"


Gevurah ignores Lanlan’s outstretched hand. There’s no simple weed or crystal or concoction that could reverse the effects of Vakmatharas’s full power in a matter of minutes, as Lanlan seems to demand. He’ll be properly healed when she can dedicate herself to healing him, which at the moment she cannot do. Being Gevurah’s ally, as Kasyr well knows, is a bit like having a tiger for a pet. Sometimes you’ll get mauled. As for her demands, she says is her heavy accent, “Yes. Fix. My. Statue.” The statue, as Kasyr well remembers, is the ancient fossilized wooden statue of Vakmatharas that was destroyed as a direct result of Kasyr’s foolishness during the Razurath invasion of Trist’oth. “About Sacred.” She lowers herself to the ground to stand on even ground with Kasyr. “If it is capable of driving its wielder towards self destruction then... What if Caluss were influenced to steal Sacred for himself? Let a monstrous sword kill a would-be god.”


Kasyr helpfully provides the necessary amendment to Lanlan's statement as to prior grievances. "I also gave you a parting gift at the Arena. Can't forget that." For someone who is part of some negotiations, he doesn't particularly seem like he's trying to defend himself. "Also, Vraiment. Murderer? Es that really the best you can do? We practically sat down et hand drinks over the genocide of some stupid walking handbags, et murderer es really where you're taking this? Especially when you were so disappointed she hadn't started murdering me yet, before your inability to fermer ta gue- to shut your tra-" The kensai stops there, takes a long deep breath, and simply claps his hands together. "I don't know what you did at the mages guild, en fait. I haven't been there in weeks. But I can only imagine it boiled down to your charming antics. Again." That said, where the Kensai felt the need to chime in and berate Lanlan, Gevurahs comments brook less in the way of arguments. Partly in the tone she used, but also due to the sheer matter of fact nature of it all, "I -did- have plans underway for it's restoration, before we decided that it would be more fun to help speed along the end of the world, et murder each other." The Kensai pauses, "...Though, I think i've been the least invested in that- given, I was avoiding doing -you-" there's a very specific glance directed towards the Matron, "Any harm whatsoever, since you're necessary to preventing things from getting worse." Snark aside, the Matrons question does warrant a fair degree of contemplation, "...I think it depends. How close he is to restoring himself, how close Gospel es as well- since it es connected to it's children. The state of Sacred es also a factor, given the influence of the weapons generally grows stronger with time, et with being fed, given they consume the souls of those slain by them . . . as well as the wielders. Given wholesale murder es likely to be well within his plans- ...it's possible?" And yet, the kensai also doesn't look relieved at this possibility, "It -could- work, but I think we would need to be prepared for things getting worse while the influence took hold, en fait?" ...If it would? There's that look of distress again, as the Kensai goes over the possible logistics of the situation in tandem with what little he knows of the dead god in the first place.


Lanlan couldn't remain in his predicament for long, he was cold and possibly dying. For that reason only he decided to postpone his personal feelings' satisfaction. "If you had a funeral for Luffy instead of a tantrum I may have honored her differently. The fault is all for you, Kasyr, because I didn't know what happened until after I said what I said." He did pick his words carefully, somewhat respectfully this time. "Fine. We'll be calling on you. In the mean time, discover what you can about Sacred." Then he turned around and slow walked to Gevurah, whispering. "You ruined my chariot. Do you expect me to walk through this?"


Gevurah mulls over the risks of giving Sacred to Caluss as Lanlan and Kasyr continue to bicker. “Perhaps Sacred could make Caluss over confident and he’ll reveal himself before he should,” she says to no one in particular. Kasyr and Lanlan sound like an old couple that instead of growing more in love over time, they grew into a cozy, comfortable, familiar hate. When Lanlan ends the conversation, Gevurah parts from Kasyr with a simple, loaded look. Their alliance may be back, but the old feelings of conviviality are not. As the drow depart and Lanlan henpecks at Gevurah over his chariot, the matron rolls her eyes. When they’re a couple blocks to the south, she summons the lizard mounts they used to reach Frostmaw in the first place.Kasyr may look briefly sour at Lanlanm's admonishment, but it's not particularily far from the truth. Perhaps that's why he chooses not to follow up with any other retorts, instead allowing himself one simple inquiry, "If you weren't lying about what you could do for Luffy, et merely using it as a distraction- let moi know. That might hold far more substance then a eulogy." That aside, the swordsman sees fit to remain where he's seated- to watch the drow pair slowly dissapear, as he mulls on what they had to say. "...And what the hell is happening at the guild?"


Gevurah :: Kyl’oriel grins and nods approvingly at Quintessa. “Good. Ah, here he comes.” Prince Guillem runs back towards Quintessa and his grandfather as quickly as his little legs can muster. He’s almost out of breath, having spent a good portion of the last minute whining at his mother. “My mom says you have to come to the castle first to meet her,” he says through a pout. “I tried to tell her that you know grandpa and that you’re not a witch so it’s okay, but she’s really protective and stuff, so you just have to show her you’re a good person. Make sure you tell her you know grandpa, okay? Because he is a super important mage. Right, grandpa?” The boy smiles sweetly at the Provost. “Maybe you can tell mom that Quintessa is a good person, too?” Kyl’oriel smiles wryly at his effortlessly manipulative grandson. He is flattered, but he’s starting to see through the boy’s gambits. “Guillem!” Josleen calls. “Okay, I have to go. Bye!!” He waves goodbye with one hand as he leads Kyl’oriel back towards the entourage.

Kasyr may look briefly sour at Lanlanm's admonishment, but it's not particularily far from the truth. Perhaps that's why he chooses not to follow up with any other retorts, instead allowing himself one simple inquiry, "If you weren't lying about what you could do for Luffy, et merely using it as a distraction- let moi know. That might hold far more substance then a eulogy." That aside, the swordsman sees fit to remain where he's seated- to watch the drow pair slowly disappear, as he mulls on what they had to say. "...And what the hell is happening at the guild?"