RP:Burning Questions
Part of the To Haunt A Hero Arc
Summary: Kasyr's wrath toward Lionel for the man's involvement in the disappearance of Caedan's brother Quinton, a nine-year loose plot thread, comes to a head and he assaults the fallen hero in the Hanging Corpse Tavern. Yet what transpires next is not a full-blown duel but rather, a string of revelations. Not only for the Kensai and dark knight, but for Caedan herself.
Hanging Corpse Tavern
Lionel leans against the the marble wall beside the piano as an elven woman plays a haunting melody of some long-ago time. It’s all in minor key and it never ever flourishes. It seems an unendingly dark thing, a song about some vile thought that can never go away. As she plays, the Corpse’s few patrons – mostly human, oddly enough – gather around and take note. Lionel is in his black button-up shirt and slacks just now, nursing a peppery-hot mead the likes of which Steadmen has never been known to serve. He’s quiet; he keeps to himself and maintains that distanced pose. Were it not for the sheathed claymore beside him and the piercing azure eyes he possesses, he might even have blended in with all the rest of them.
Kasyr 's arrival into The Corpse is barely note-worthy, the trenchcoated tiefling-turned-revenant looking a regular at that particular bar- Steadmen given a very brief salute. The barkeep, for his part, just gives the revenant a briefly irritated look, and then points behind the tavern. Casper was still there, after all- having found temporary employment as a mouser payed in mooched milk, and lodgings. Which is to say- Kasyr never really bothered to pick the cat up, and she was doing her own thing. Not that the trenchcoated swordsman was really here to deal with that. No, his purpose has him sweeping through the tavern as a shark through a pond, patrons shifting subtly to get clear as him as he treads straight towards Lionel. Lionel, Legendary swordsman, fabled hero, a literal piece of hollow's lore that had fallen loose from the annals of the history books. Thief, and crew killer besides. And a goddamn reminder. The only courtesy that the Kensai can even provide, is a brief tap on the shoulder before he promptly winds back to deck the man in his face- a blur of black leather, and dramatically fluttering scarf tails.
Lionel has certainly anticipated the punch, but he makes zero effort to curtail it. The strike is hard and true and all full of tiefling force, so that Lionel collapses from his perch, balled into something flat and lethargic and not at all befitting the annals. Pain comes in eddys, a throb and a reflexive lurch. He collects himself all rather quickly, however – quicker than the average man, as ever. He’s dusting himself off and lamenting the shattered glass of his lost mead and eyeing Kasyr in short order. “Harder next time. Really knock my teeth out. Then I can’t talk and you won’t need to hear the only defense I’d offer: words.”
Kasyr isn't really certain what he'd been hoping for. For a brief moment there's something primal and visceral that comes with that impact, something at once instinctual and alien which practically gorges itself on that simple display of violence. And yet, it doesn't quite help. The revenant's right hand squirms, fingers clenching and unclenching, Jarith and Hildegarde's words both still reverbrating off in his head. And Lionel, here. Needed. Glib and heroic, and ridiculous. The sort of thing Kasyr would have idealized in a different place, or time. But even will all that, there's something about all this, beyond all the reminders, and the black hunger and hate gnawing incessantly inside of him- that makes it easy for him to mash one hand viciously towards Lionels upper arm. A simple enough action, were the revenant also not stepping forward to violently crunch the heros toes beneath his weight and pin him in place for the ensuing gut punch. “Noted.” Mea. Goddamn. Culpa.
Lionel coughs blood – a simple spatter, but enough to recolor an arm on Kasyr’s trenchoat. He chokes forward pathetically, feet giving out beneath his winded breath as he involuntarily collapses straight into the attacker. Of his arm, it can only be said that it moves swiftly wayward of the strike. Perhaps no matter how high Lionel speaks of allowing harm, there will still be some small token measure of nonviolent resistance. It matters little. Lionel falls down for a second time, wipes red from his lips, and slides – quite simply slides – back up the wall, given that his toes are in no condition to offer the necessary support for a more ample graceful return. “When you kill me here tonight, are you going to be capable of stopping those dark forces on your own? You’d be all that’s left of those golden times we had. Everyone else, dead or vanished. We’ve got some new ones, good strong ones too. But you’ll be the only one left who remembers the wars. That’s a lot on your shoulders.” He moves with lightning speed to tap Kasyr’s wrist gingerly and then slip back into his hollowed state. “Good luck.”
Kasyr continues to feel that blackness coiling in his guts, disgust coursing through his veins. For all his experience as an empath, the revenant can't even truly place the origin or focal points of the bleak emotions knotted about him. That constant contemplation , however, is interrupted, Lionels surprisingly quick tap briefly causing the Kensai to flinch, before the impact of those words sink in. For a moment, the revenants shoulders sink, the words seeming to weigh a little on him, and then his eyes lift back up, and he stares into Lionels face, “-Our- golden times were brief. Stolen on the back of a man, who alongside with his sister saved me in the worst of my times.” Caedan. Crew. Cabal. He'd left her too. Absorbed by politics, aware of an every greater rift with Cabal. Something hardens in Kasyr's expression, recollections to that evening him and Lionel first saw each other anew. For all his mentions of talking, he had -known- it would come to this. Had known what was amiss the very second he strided back into these lands. Kasyr left hand goes to grasp Lionel by the collar, his right hand pointed accusatorily at him, “Saving these lands? From would be time lords turned demon turned gods. The never ending parade of Tyrants, cultists, Mad men? Monsieur, that's goddamn Business as usual.” And Then all at once the revenant's falling backwards, that pointing right hand moving to grasp at Lionel‘s other shoulder, while the swordsman's foot starts to come up. Somewhere in the midst of that forced tumble, the revenant goes to plant his foot firmly against where he estimates one of Lionel's kidneys to be- the motion meant to impart more than enough inertia to send the man tumbling through a table or few. Kasyr, for his part, just finishes his roll, drops a pocketful of gold coins on a table with the words 'Drinks are on me', and proceeds to call out, “You condescending -prick-. Where's Quinton? Or did you burn out his body, like the Leech does his?”
Lionel however has had enough of this farce. All at once his wits return to him, the recent promises he’s made, the will to allow the present to define him. He blocks the assault on his shoulder with a steady wrist whilst catching Kasyr’s foot with his free hand. With a twist he sends the tiefling forward, so that his roll may carry on and his coins may drop and his verbal outburst may be noted but no further harm will grace him. “I deserve all the fires of all the nine hells for what I did, but I did it because I wanted to save an entire realm. I did it because it was the only way. I did it because I needed a sword to break free and stop an invasion and I needed a Catalian to fetch that sword and I needed Quinton because not even at my lowest would I choose a young girl in his stead. Do you want to know the worst part? I couldn’t even save Catal. Where’s Quinton? I don’t know where Quinton is. Every night I reached for a rope to hang myself with but something pulled me back. I used to think it was cowardice. Then, quite recently, I realized it was something else. It was business as usual, as you say. That’s my line, you self-righteous punk, and I’ve changed my mind. I’ll be damned if I let myself go out against a hypocrite like you. Pull your ass together after I knock it out the door and maybe next time I’ll let you finish the job.” Hellfire burns right through its phantom sheath even as the man reaches, swiveling around in a half-step as a blue-green inferno builds upon the steel. In a flash the wielder streaks through the Hanging Corpse, hits Kasyr with a full-bodied impact, knocks them both through the door, and pivots the tip of his edge upon his opponent’s forehead. “I’m here now. Not to atone for something I will never forgive myself over. But to fight that parade of the tyrants and the cultists and the mad men. Monsieur,” he drips cynically, “fight with me or hate me eternally, but stay the hell out of my way.”
Vailkrin City Road
Caedan appeared from the east.
Lionel said, "Aw, what the heck."
Caedan said to you, "I'll pluck your eyeballs out if you do that again."
Kasyr felt that twist of emotions seize within the Catalian, but it's significance didn't quite click for the revenant until he abruptly finds his grab knocked askew, and then is sent tumbling backwards in a mess that only likely manages to be graceful due to the uncanny-but-catlike grace he carries. The same cannot be said of Lionel's flame-fueled-fisticuffs, the unexpectated bash sending the revenant careening crashing into the tavern door- bash-ing it open into an unforunate would-be-patron's face, and sending the pair spilling out onto the street, Lionel's blade trained neatly at the midst of the Revenants forehead- whilst the broadsword that Kasyr favoured remained pinned in it's sheathe behind his back. Kasyr's ears register every little word the hero states, the bits that ring true, the bits that bring up those old caustic acids. And then finally – blink and you'd miss it. Lionel's lips would be mouthing 'Eternally' at about the point the Kensai briefly sparked, a brilliant calamity of electrical energy engulf-ing the revenant as his left palm tapped against the ground, and tapped -into- that primal affinity with electricity. For the briefest of movements the Kensai's form would seem to twist and converge into electrical energy, as his body was abruptly sent surging to one side, that abrupt burst of kinetic energy which had overtaken the swords-man essentially turning Kasyr into an improvised projectile poised to crash into Lionels leg. Before it..kept crashing. Lacking the habitual medium of a sword as his focal point, the revenant doesn't just stop the moment he's clear of Lionel, but rather continues to bounce and roll at a breakneck speed until he finds a helpful third party. Which is to say, a wall. The sound of the impact is jarring. The feeling of timber, and his own armoured trenchcoat burrowing into his skin moreso. But as the revenant peels out of the wall, there's one thing that's certain in his mind. In some warped way, this could be his solution. Or, hell, he'd just end up trapped here, waiting. One or the other. Shrugging at noone in particular, the revenant spits a wad of blood and saliva to the side, and just reaches back to the sword on his back. “We're all hypocrites here, ain't we monsieur. It's business as usual, to save the day. Until there stops being anything to save. So what happened? Couldn't save your country, and sauntered off here because at least you wouldn't have to look your failure in the eye? Couldn't bear to scrap around et try to fix or salvage things? I mean. Hell, you don't really know where Quinton is. So i guess the track record is trying to save things, failing, and then just ditching the evidence somewhere, right?” At this point, the revenants simply doing his utmost to provoke, since Lionel had hit too close to home. That bit of unnatural malice the revenant was feeling was about the only feeling of warmth Kasyr had in the moment, Ahkall and Khasad's malign whispers, and Gospel's familiar tune.
Caedan just happens to be standing outside the tavern when the fracas bursts from within. It's certainly a sight to behold -- Hellfire complaining, Kasyr electrifying and ricocheting. She listens without interruption until Kasyr mentions Quinton. Her head cants and her gaze pins the tiefling briefly before flicking Lionel's way. "What does he mean you don't know where Quinton is." She takes a step forward, advancing toward Lionel. "What does he mean." Also, hi Kas, good to see you again, guardian friend, etc. etc.
Lionel feels his leg scream in protest but can only see the shade of Kasyr readily ricocheting off of a wall. Just so, however, he feels a terrible burn, and it is of his mind, not his body. Caedan is speaking. Caedan is asking the only question that matters. Kasyr is poking and Kasyr is prodding and Kasyr’s sword is shining in the moonlight but it’s peanuts next to Caedan and her question. “I don’t know where Quinton is,” he repeats, tritely. Khasad’s own malevolence within him is joining all that which radiates within the tiefling’s mind; a pale aura permeates about the trio in this street of so many unfortunate encounters. “I searched for him. Came up empty. Came back haunted. I searched for him even now, here in Lithrydel.” By now Hellfire’s blaze has returned to a cooler red. “I look my failure in the eye every night here,” he eyes Kasyr. “This isn’t some realm of good cheer for me either. You should know, every fiber of my body wants to rip you apart for that remark. So good job. You provoked. But I am not going to fight you while she is here. I’m not doing it. She’s seen enough of her friends brought to heel by monsters.” Hellfire’s blaze is extinguished. Lionel slams the tip into the cursed dirt and observes. “I will not fight you now.” To Caedan, then, azure eyes blazing stronger than his sword ever has. “He’s alive. And I have to find him almost as much as you do.” At his back, something seems almost to be materializing, some pure white magic, but the Catalian shows no reaction to it as yet.
Kasyr s' anger is a fickle thing these days, his temperment tantamount to a mercurial madness all but poised to spill over with the least provocation, or cool all at once, and leave him to contemplate the aftermath. When Lionel refuses to take the bait, when that provocation fails to goad the Hero into potentially reuniting the revenant with the carrier of Requiem, the Kensai can feel some of it segue- that rage giving way to calm, unrelenting reason. Business as usual, his own word given to protect Hildegarde. Jariths words, and the revenants own merciless response. ...And Caedan. What twists in the vampires gut isn't that singular black feeling from before, but something else, something that has Kasyr sinking back to sit in the imprint he'd left in the wall, and look at her. Hypocrite, he had said. The revenant, for all intents and purposes, looks rather like he's going to be ill. “Be quicker on the draw, next time, then.”
Caedan is gobsmacked by this revelation. Here, all along, she'd assumed Lionel was just harboring her brother somewhere, like her brother had harbored Lionel. But for Lionel to have -lost- Quinton.. It's such a deeply unsettling thought that she can't do more than just briefly acknowledge its existence before focusing her thoughts elsewhere. She stares at Lionel for another protracted moment before walking to Kasyr to gently pull him from his new building cradle. Almost tenderly, she swipes a bit of dirt from his shoulders, and then she simply disappears, vanishing into a shadow to go ruminate over what Lionel's revelation means for her and her quest to find her brother again.
Lionel‘s magic – that white thing crystallizing behind him – vanishes just as quickly as Caedan, leaving a distraught Catalian to examine the man who might have slew him here tonight. “We’ve got a lot of problems, Kasyr,” he exhales, taking a good hard look around him. “Next time you come at me, name the place, but don’t make it here, will you? These poor people –just- witnessed Corruption. Oh, yeah. Speaking of which.” He’s talking like they’re partners, almost, and he saunters over to his sword and sheathes it. “Did you gut that little bastard yet? He’s really got to go. He could have brought all of Vailkrin down if we hadn’t been there. That other guy, too. Family man. Whatever.” It's only now that he stares into the dark corners Caedan has left behind. He sighs.
Kasyr is in a bit of daze following Caeden's intercession, the attention to detail she took more than even the revenant had bothered to afford himself in the last few days, bits of particulate matter still enmeshed in the mess of his hair from Jariths little outburst at him. It's only when Lionel addresses the Kensai anew that he glances towards the man, his gaze taking a few moments to focus, “Mmm. Quite. Same with you.” The revenant glances off towards the direction Caedan dissapeared for a few moments, and then snaps back to Lionel, the 'business-as-usual' being discussed enough to cement the Kensai in the here-and-now, “..Not dead, yet. Fought him again, sort of a couple nights ago. Except it was his..uh. Host. ...Indignant over thinking I had killed his wife. Nearly killed him, then..his wife turned up. So, whatever I killed was just some ...corrupt caricature, ou whatever. Corruption got it's claws back in him, though, et he pulled that vanishing act again. Not sure where he is. Need to find a way to negate his teleportation. Or figure out where his lair is. Have him teleport from one ambush into another. Odds are, if he was pulling teleports in a spontaneous combat situation, they were either relatively short distance- in which case the revenant likely would have been able to find him. Or long distance- to a location he was exceedingly familiar with. Liable to be draining, either way.” The revenants response is essentially mechanical, leaving him to blink almost owlishly after, before he adds, “Though, him eating magic et all that, does mean he has an escape route, if we're not cautious.” Another blink, this one more confused, before the revenant adds, “The one with the family. Blue. Coven-mate. Good in a pinch.” Exposition down, the revenant is left to just stare at Lionel, before simply asking the two questions that were on his mind, “Why did you hold back, ...et what now? ...Because I have it on good authority you are also embroiled in matters pertaining to Hildegarde.”
Lionel takes in Kasyr’s battle analysis with a firm stare to some nearby rooftop. As it happens, it is precisely the same rooftop he’d recently launched himself toward in the brawl with the beast whose powers Kasyr is currently discussing. Occasionally he offers a nod. His gaze is clearly one of deep concentration, but no words are spoken, no motions taken. Only at the tail end does he perk; Lionel is then the very picture of tense, almost a caricature of unease, a truly brittle stance. “I held back because so help me god I will not – ever – let Caedan have to bear witness to another atrocity. I ruined that girl’s life. When I was a boy I was compelled to run from a Catal that had been overtaken by dictatorship. When I was a man I saw no choice but to buy into the twisted evil that Khasad instilled upon me in order to save that realm from Elazul’s own vengeful demons. I can possess – but only Catalians. I would never have used that power if the demons hadn’t begun to set fire upon hundreds of thousands of people. Can you imagine, Kasyr? I know some part of you can. Because I know you’ve faced terrible choices before, yourself. Now this is not an excuse. I will never forgive myself for taking Quinton away from her. Ever. This is becoming circular so I will arrive again at the point: she will not be made to watch as one of the only people she still cares about in any way, shape, or form is harmed. And we both know if we went at it now you would be harmed. I don’t know who would win. It doesn’t matter. Your pain would fuel her hatred. She’s had enough of that, wouldn’t you say? One day I’ve little doubt she’ll stick a dagger so deep inside my heart I’ll only have time to recall her face. Until then, this is who I am.” The briefest of pauses. “And of course I’m embroiled in Hildegarde’s war,” he practically snaps, a mirthless chuckle escaping his lips. “She’s –fighting- -evil-, y’know!”
Kasyr offers a very similar chuckle, “She's -noble-, et not the crown wearing kind.” Yet. “Of course she is.” The revenant falls quiet then, mulling upon the other things said between them – that simply exist. “If you had killed me. I might have found my wife. I won't kill myself. I won't stop to fight the good fight, because that's what I know how to do. But I have been searching for my wife for some time. She..vanished. It's part of why I dissapeared, for so long. I had let us drift apart, as I threw myself into fight, after fight. Saved this city, or that city. Planned for one contingency or another. And then one day, she was not there, like any other. Except this time, she didn't come back. Et I knew, for some reason, that she might not, this time.” The revenant stuffs his hands into his pockets, “I am a damnable hypocrite. Did a terrible job of guarding Caedan. Hell, considering what I let you do, I think that sort of speaks for itself. But, uh, I think I made a worse husband. The clincher, of course being, that if I -let- myself die. Maybe, maybe I'd find her again. Because she's holding onto something precious, et it would let me find my way to her. ...Or maybe I'd find myself at the bottom of the ocean, or in a grave. Or hell.” Who knows, if it was even still intact. “My death wish, like yours, doesn't really seem to let me kill myself.” From the revenants pocket, a pair of cigarettes are plucked out, one of which immediately finds a home between Kasyr's teeth, and the other which is extended towards Lionel, "So, that's me. So why are you calling moi a hypocrite, enfin. J'imagine there's something you're taking issue about with me. Other than my charming wit." ...Or everything else Kas has done recently.
Lionel has not been completely devoid of activity through Kasyr’s introspective. Rather, he’s paced about, scanning the area for activity. Ever the watchman. “Saved this city, or that city,” he whispers in repeat. “I’m going to tell you something only one other person alive knows. You’ve the power in you to end me, perhaps. When I escaped Khasad’s prison laboratory, the first thing Elazul did was tap into that possessive power and marionette my hand into strangling the love of my life. Now, I’ve never been much of a philosopher. That was Donovan’s realm. Mine was right here, in the current, doing what has to be done. But in the grand scheme of things, I’d say we both rather let our wives drift. It can surely be said that I was never the same man again after that day. I was darker. Harder. The previous me would have sooner died to Elazul’s lieutenants than taken an innocent man from a sister who needed him so. I’ve never stopped missing that… previous me.” He takes the cigarette; a miniature flame erupts from upon Hellfire’s sheath and coils over-shoulder to light it. He smokes. “Saved this city, or that city. Saved these people, those people. I would never say it becomes a blur, but routine? Aye, now that word applies. But I couldn’t save my wife. Elazul had complete control over my nerves. He left my eyes intact so that the last thing she would see is me looking down upon her as the light left her forever. And in that moment, the light left me, too.” Casually, at a meandering path, Lionel O’Connor looks upon the dent in Kasyr’s wall, studies it as if it is some painting, and collapses into it, shaking profusely. The cigarette drops from his hand. “I’ve been looking for that black death ever since.” A moment passes. He stops shaking but makes no move to stand. “Save this city, and that. Keep fighting the good fight. Always fighting the good fight. I fought the good fight when I incinerated Elazul. I fought the good fight when I incinerated his lieutenants. But it won’t bring her back. It won’t bring back Alexia and it won’t bring back Shogo and it won’t bring back Renai or Valaria or all the rest of them. I have to find Quinton,” he says in revelation. “I have to find him, Kasyr. Bring him back to her. I can’t bring Alexia back to me or your wife back to you, but maybe I can still do that.” Why does Lionel call him hypocrite? He never answers that burning question. The thought is lost in a sea of bold sorrows.
Kasyr lights his own cigarette, a few minute sparks forming between his fingers if only so he can take a long drag, and then listens. No glib statements, no interruptions, or fidgeting- listening to the man he'd practically dared into trying to murder him just moments before, and whose words now were tangling the revenants guts with a mixture of sympathy, sadness, and something else indescribable fueled by the stark similarities, and vulnerabilities. “...Do you think you -can-? Bring him back, save him...hell, even just find him, so that she can -know-. So he's not just...lost, gone..faded.” Swallowed up by the relentless grind of the world's gears. The revenant let's out an abrupt hiss, the cigarette having burned it's way to his lips during his contemplative puffings- and thereafter flicked off to the side, so that he can shove his hands back into his pocket, “So, where exactement does this leave us, Lionel?” Kasyr has, it seems, accepted that he is stuck here. And perhaps, for the better, his thoughts flickering towards the brief interloper in the scrap that had brewed. At least some form of amend can be made.
Lionel scoots out from the dented wall and brushes off at the knees, a poor man’s effort at appearing fixed from his total breakdown. “I don’t know,” he admits, his eyes full of tears he’s desperately staving off. “I have no idea at all. But I wasn’t lying when I told her that I’ve tried. I need to keep trying. That’s all I know for sure.” He paces down the road some, flicks a finger upon Hellfire’s scabbard. The blade pulses incarnadine in response. An old familiar glow. “Us? We keep fighting ‘til we can’t. Same as ever. It’s what we know. And maybe we find Satoshi. Maybe we find Quinton. Maybe we don’t. But along the way, we fight alongside Hildegarde and we fight alongside Pilar and we fight alongside Khitti and Jesen and all the rest of them. We do what we can so that fewer children lose their parents, fewer parents lose their children. Corruption, the Giants in Frostmaw, the remaining followers of Dark Immortals. They’re all out there well-equipped for us to slay them well.” He shrugs. “That’s all I’ve got, Kasyr. If you still need to come at me, then I’ll have to play it by ear.”