RP:Remember the Girl

Part of the Dissonance Theory Arc

Part of the The God of Undeath Arc

Summary: Quintessa strikes again. Lionel deflects, then offers her a choice.

The Eternal Tree

Quintessa || The clouds hang heavily in the sky above the Sage Forest, dark with the rain they carried with them from the Xalious Mountains. Thunder rumbles through the foothills as the rain picks up, lashing down in whips against the lush canopy as the foreboding clouds sweep down to conceal the red, setting sun on the horizon. It was perhaps a fitting metaphor for the coming storm. Such trivialities didn't matter to Quintessa Dragana, however, she felt as though she had a job to do here, a purpose, and she would not allow a little rain to stop her. The hex blade's outline is barely visible as the downpour bounces off of her invisibility cloak, the magic keeping the trio of warrior's Krice left behind to guard from seeing her advance. The sentient Druid's Eternal Tree, however, could feel the wicked arcane energy dripping from Quintessa like a caustic ooze. 'She is here,' the Holy Tree warns her new guardians, giving them a chance to draw their elven longswords as the changeling stalks them from the shadows, but Quintessa is careful not to give herself away. "Offeren wiglo..." whispers the hex blade, her lithe hand moving up to provide the somatic component in the form of her wiggling fingers. Beneath the feet of each of the elven warriors bubbles a pool of ichor, small at first, but swiftly growing as a mass of writhing tentacles struggles to burst from the small pool to twist around the guardians and crush them like mice in the grip of a python. The rain and thunder conceals their screams as bones are broken and organs ruptured, and Quintessa slowly appears from under her invisible guise to watch the life leave their eyes, her face emotionless as the tendrils retreat back into the ground. Mismatched eyes flicker upward to the tree, her sapphire and topaz optics lacking the bloodthirsty luster that was normally present whenever she made a kill. Perhaps this task brought the strange woman no pleasure? "Surprise," Quintessa says to the druid's tree, the mystic voice pleading for her to stop this yet again, but their words fell upon deaf ears as she steps over the dead bodies. "I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me."

Lionel had suffered no trouble accepting Quintessa's role in the deaths of the temple guardians. There had been a short pause on his part when Krice had first informed him, a pause intended to let him focus on the question of whether or not the changeling had committed these acts in the name of unseen good. The pause had ended quickly. There were precious few reasons fathomable as to why someone would slaughter these elves, and far fewer which suggested premeditated benevolence. If there was innocence in his lieutenant's tale, he would hear it with his blade drawn. It wasn't even out of a sense of protection for the Eternal Tree that Lionel stirred; in his past, he had had dealings with the Tree, none of which were in any way pleasant. But he recognized its importance in the continuing cultures of the land, and its symbol as a standing statement on the temerity and survival of all elf-kind. For that, and for Krice, he wouldn't allow it to fall. Hidden behind stone walls separating the grassy turf here from the temple further in, the Catalian held the hilt of his simple katana with both his grips, as silent as the crypt and breathless as the guardians whose screams he now overheard. He had disguised even his scent, replacing it with Frostmawian magics so plain, so simple, that the entirety of the man smelled like nothing at all. His own invisibility cloak lay beside him. Had he put it on any sooner, Quintessa would have sensed him in vivid shades of red; the cloaks reacted to one-another, after all, signifying each wearer's whereabouts. No -- he waited until the moment was ripe. The guardians' deaths were unfortunate; he'd hoped they could put up a long enough fight for him to intercept. But now was the moment to act. Donning his cloak, Lionel immediately sensed Quintessa's precise location. She, in turn, would sense his. Rising from behind the stone, removing his right hand from the katana's hilt and spreading his arms wide, Lionel shrugged with all the vigor of a dead rat. "Well, this sucks."

Quintessa could not resist the sickening feeling of having been caught red handed from creeping up her throat as her cloak alerted her of Lionel's presence, though deep down she wished it wasn't he that had witnessed her act of villainy here. The hex blade's body pivots slightly to allow her icy blue and warm hazel eyes to take him in before a simple "Shhite," passes her pale lips. Quintessa turns completely to address her guild leader, her lithe hands both moving to the Jubaku no Kijo at her side in preparation for the clash she could sense was unavoidable. Doubt creeped into her mind, however. If she could not even defeat Krice, what made her think she would last a minuet against the 'Butcher of Vailkrin'? "I had hoped that this place was left more vulnerable in Krice's absence," Quintessa calls out over the rain that pours around them among the canopy, admitting her own misjudgment of the situation. "So you can probably guess how surprised I am to see you, Imperator." Her gaze quickly scans over the man, already trying to calculate the best way of beating him. Her only chance would be to surprise him with her progress if he wasn't already following it closely. The rain would make the clash more complicated, but the Titans of Winter Tournament had taught Quintessa plenty of lessens dealing with environmental factors. "I don't suppose you can walk away from this, can you?" The changeling stays her blade for the time being, biding her time to come up with a more complete strategy to employ against Lionel.

Lionel appreciated Quintessa's stall tactics, if nothing else. Stalling had been a surprisingly successful strategy of his for years, after all. But familiarity with the practice meant he could sense it from a kilometer away, which meant that it was time to assume a battle stance. Lifting his katana up in front of his face at a perfectly vertical angle, his left hand holding loosely to the hilt and his right arm returning inward to guard his chest with an upside-down open palm, he bent his knees slightly and placed his right foot ahead of his left. It was a stance that many had seen him take, and it seldom progressed into anything predictable. It was merely a means to calm his body and heighten his awareness to the next level. "The nice thing about Krice, besides his luxurious silver locks, is that he talks." Lionel never would have suspected Quintessa if his stoic friend hadn't seen her firsthand, and Krice's well-documented mistrust of the girl had only hastened his efforts to reach out to Lionel posthaste. "I'll ask you one question," he continued. "Why?"

Quintessa frees her sword from her sheath slowly, both hands gripping to the ray skin wrappings around the Ya-te-veo wood handle as she brings it up into a long-point guard. The ashen grey blade hangs horizontally as Lionel's blade is set vertical, and her lips quiver in reluctance to answers her guild leader's question. "It's simple," she says, her booted feet shifting to gain purchase in the mud beneath her, her charge immanent to anyone skilled enough to notice, "If I do not do this I will die. The Great Insectoid that Dwells Between Worlds will collect the debt I owe It one way or another- Or did Krice not mention that much?" Quintessa shifts her stance, the blade of the Jubaku no Kijo brought to her right side in a tail-guard. "Backing down is not an option for me. But you can walk away and forget you ever saw me here." The changeling knew Lionel would never walk away from this. He was the one of the heroes from her books, and she was the villain. No sooner had the words left Quintessa's lips did the hex blade begin to channel her unhallowed energy through the hilt of her katana, the cursed wood soaking it up like a sponge.

Lionel allowed himself a small sigh. So that was it: she believed she needed this in order to survive. If Quintessa was bluffing, he failed to notice; if she were telling the truth, it was enough to keep his blade from turning lethal. Ever the secret sympathizer, he chose to believe. "You should have told me." That was all he said. It was all he needed to say. It was the only thing that truly mattered now. The rest would be a battle of wills, a clash of steel joined by the struggle between magic and burgeoning technology. Lionel possessed no magic of his own, which was why he had invested in certain deadly uyeer creations from across the seas. Times like these, when he could not fully trust his swiftness and finesse, he needed something to even the odds. The changeling may have wondered in this moment whether she could even keep the Imperator at bay, but Lionel knew that if she decided to wield the fullness of her power, momentum could easily shift in her favor. He snapped the thumb and middle finger of his free right hand, and lightning struck against the deep grey sky. The lightning, as it happened, was of no relevance; it was merely a matter of fortunate timing. For in that single blinding second, something stirred on the roof of the sacred temple his back was turned against. When the flash of nature concluded, multiple small metal discs flew forth from the roof, mere inches in diameter but zipping through the stormy wind rapidly in Quintessa's direction. Five in all, they scattered in zigzag motions, each one on an automated course designed first and foremost for unpredictability. They would move past her, then ahead of her, then to her sides, always suspended in the air, always erratically, and at random intervals they would fire thin beams. Two beams were like fire, a fast-paced torch; two were like the very lightning which had announced their presence, static and ozone smell behind their numerous shots. The last offered its target a sonic boom designed less to physically harm and more to disorient, its noise bouncing off the walls and bursting, potentially popping the ears of Quintessa and Lionel both. By the time this barrage had begun, the discs pursuing the changeling should she run, Lionel had ducked out of sight behind the stone where he had previously rested. He stood defensively, ready for an ambush at the stone's edge, awaiting her arrival.

Quintessa || The moment the lightning struck, Quintessa was already in motion, her unarmored form bending low as she leaves a trail of footsteps in her wake. "Mellt!!" The hex blade shouts, ignoring the spinning projectiles as she charges her sword with arcane energy, the shimmering magic sparking around her entire form as it is amplified by her wicked blade. A spherical shell of electricity forms around Quintessa, nullifying the lightning from the strange devices in her own electromagnetic field. It would do little against the scorching rays that pernitrate her catsuit, however, burning holes in both her clothing and her flesh as it zaps her during her assault. By the time she had closed the distance between her and the Imperator, she had several steaming marks on her shoulder, back, and midsection, but her stoicism wasn't broken, not even by the sonic boom that robbed her of her hearing. That only made her next move less damaging to herself; A meter away, Quintessa swings her katana with the force of her charge, shouting the incantation "Sioc marwolaeth!" as her own ozone inducing spell sucked the air from the area before transforming it into an ionized cloud of gas; Plasma. The swing of her sword causes a deafening crack of thunder to accompany its diagonal arc as it moves with deadly accuracy to cut Lionel down, the electrically charged mithril and Adamantite alloy edge over-committed to slicing through his very weapon if she had to. Quintessa couldn't stop now even if she wanted; the Ghroundium core ensured that once an attack had been made, the momentum would be too much for the wielder to subvert. It was up to the Hero without Hellfire to survive this onslaught because he certainly wasn't going to get any mercy from the changeling.

Lionel savvily elected not to turn the corner and meet Quintessa head-on, recognizing the immense power billowing from her blade and taking a defensive position against it. He knew his sword would not take such a foe's blade to task, yet he was simultaneously aware that he had little else through which to protect himself against almost certain death. "Sorry, sword," he muttered after bringing his katana to bear. It was thankful, then, that the ordinary sword held a single secret: its dull edge had been laced with detonative charges too small for the naked eye to behold. Had the battle unfolded in a more traditional fashion, it was unlikely that Lionel would have brought the dull edge into the equation at all, and he wouldn't be out one primary weapon in the process. Shùncóng lìchǎng form followed; Lionel would now allow himself to submit in weakness to the ghroundium strength moving against him. Loosening his muscles, he drifted back from his enemy's charge, temporarily looking less like a fighter and more like someone in the act of fainting. He clung to his blade's hilt for just long enough, and just tightly enough, to bring the detonative charges down upon the ghroundium and cloud of plasma between the combatants. Sparks lit, wildfire emerged from steel, and in that briefest of moments it was like he had brought Hellfire back from oblivion. His left hand seared from the impact, skin melting away like paper, incredible pain surging almost to the bone. It was nigh-intolerable, but it only hastened his fall. Yanking his hand away before it was irreparably damaged, Lionel nearly collapsed before enacting the rest of his plan. With his back just a meter above the mud and his legs outstretched, he twirled his nimble body wayward entirely, bouncing off the bare, wet grass to replace himself not only away from Quintessa's sword but directly beside her. Without a weapon, it seemed unlikely he could bring her down, and no doubt she would soon swing anew, provided her sword hadn't exploded in tandem with his own. The uyeer discs orbiting the battleground fired upon her once again, aiming for her backside. If any of them hit, Lionel would emerge fortuitous, for in that fastest of seconds he had withdrawn two knives -- one the color topaz and the other an icy blue -- and he leaped into the air, feigning a slash at her neck with the topaz knife whilst the blue one filled with ice magics and was thrust with alarming alacrity at the girl's abdomen. If the discs weren't successful in their onslaught, Lionel would still attack, albeit at a disadvantage; Quintessa would have nothing keeling her forward in pain, and she would thus be better prepared to deflect his strike or slay him outright.

Quintessa is able to watch Lionel as her blade continues to follow through where the Catalian was no longer, his surprisingly dexterous form slipping right out of the range of her attack as he slams down hard on the hex blade's weapon with a hidden explosive. The weapon slips from her grasp, falling to the ground as she shields her face from the immolating temperature that evaporates the rain from the air around them. The Jubaku no Kijo falls into the mud, still electrically charged and violently sending out tiny beams of colored light as the plasma defuses itself without Quintessa's supply of mana. The changeling had bigger issues, however as another blast from Lionel's discs connects with her backside as intended and she growls in resistance to the pain. The hex blade's mismatched gaze flickers over just in time to meet their dagger counterparts, and Quintessa brings both hands close to her body as another powerful wave of mana expunges itself from her lither body. "Tarian iâ!" she cries, her hands moving up to shield herself from the attack while a massive shell of ice encapsulates the spellcaster, protecting her from the oncoming dagger attacks. Withing her sphere of ice she'd get a moment to catch her breath, but not long; Those blasted discs would carve this down swiftly on their own. Quintessa had to come up with an answer for them. With a slow exhale, the changeling's hag-borne aura expands beyond the safety of her shell, tracking down the magical uyeer weapons that continue to harass her this entire fight. Their movements were unpredictable, but Quintessa did not need to predict them to target them. All magic flowed along the weave, even the magic that fueled these objects, so all she needed to do was target their magical signature and the weave would lead the spell to them. As her ice-shield cracked and strained, Quintessa prepared a new ice incantation, one her ear-piecing scream calls out into the air. "Ymafael!" The lingering ice that once protected her is shattered and reenergized, branching out and dividing into the space around her to snatch the discs and encase them in a thick layer of ice, freezing their components and sending them crashing to the ground in a circle around her.

Lionel let the icy knife rest within the shell of its magical counterpart. It remained nestled within Quintessa's own protective block of ice, and when its own detonative charges were triggered by Lionel rubbing his right ring finger over his left, the chunks of frozen water it erupted into only aided in solidifying his opponent's shell. The additional barrier afforded the girl that much more time to handle the uyeer discs, though the strike to her backside could not be stopped, nor did Lionel think he could survive if he hadn't initiated it in the first place. That was just the thing -- regret was beginning to swell in his heart, deep enough to tug at the stints encasing it after Kahran had nearly severed the vital organ into shreds. He needed to inflict this much pain because he needed to bide his time. He needed to bide his time because he had to hold her off. He had to hold her off until help came, but he would never kill her. Perhaps she would have killed him; the thought didn't sour his resolve in the slightest. Jumping wayward of further magical charges from the girl, he reminded himself -- she was a girl. A murderous girl, but a girl who thought that this was what she needed to do. Krice wouldn't let Lionel hear the end of it, perhaps, but he was not going to finish this. As the uyeer discs began to crumble around Quintessa, twenty soldiers of the Warrior's Guild joined by the four lieutenants who had served alongside the changeling emerged from the opposite side of the shrine. The lieutenants wore the remaining invisibility cloaks; the soldiers, if push came to shove, were well-trained to follow along and predict their enemy's location via context clues. The rain poured ever harder, their blades were drawn one and all, and they stood in front of the Eternal Tree where the guardians had fallen. Would she try to kill them all? Could she? It seemed unlikely. Lionel, wiping sweat from his forehead with the hand that hadn't been disfigured, the hand that was not smoking, hopped back ever further and hedged his bets. "Don't try it," he warned her. "Leave." With his remaining knife, he threw it just past Quintessa, at a speed which would give her the opportunity to grab the handle if she dared. And if she dared, she would see the note attached to the steel. If she then unraveled it, or held onto it for safekeeping, she would read simple words, written by the man with whom her sword just now crossed: "This place will become unassailable to you. Do not try again. Speak with me, and with my sister, at the Tranquility in two days time. Or don't. The choice is yours; make the right one." Lionel, in all the tumult, vanished.

Quintessa moves to lift her sword from the ground as the Warrior's Guild soldiers circled around to defend the Druid's Eternal Tree, and she brings the blade up defensively as if expecting some sort of attack. But an attack never comes. "Damnit," she says, the tactic that she was deep at heart recognizing that she was defeated. As the tip of the Jubaku no Kijo lowers all the way into the mud, her ego deflates even lower. Now it was known to the entire guild of her treachery, but why did they not just kill her, or at the very least capture her? If the roles had been reversed Quintessa would not have been this kind. The changeling's lithe fingers catch the knife in reflex, the katana returned to her sheath after a quick flick of the blade. The odd girl reads the note quickly, before it became too wet, and her eyes fill with dread. "No..." Mismatched eyes grow wide. Lionel was telling Khitti on her. "You can't- I don't have a choice!" There was real pleading in the teenager's voice as the rain continues to beat down on her, her delicate hands clinched into fists. "It will destroy me!"

Silence filled the air gone stagnant. Like a wolf in the night, Lionel was gone. In her mind, Quintessa was approaching her own personal armageddon now. In Lionel's mind, this was the only way to save her -- to remember the girl. His sister had treated a capable young warrior almost as a daughter, and that connection was what Lionel would now bank on. It was every chip on the table and he knew it. If she did not come, if Khitti had to search for her, Quintessa could continue down this self-destructive path. But if she did come, and she spoke in greater depth as to her intentions, then there may yet have been light at the end of this dark tale. The pouring rain did not cease. The many members of the Warrior's Guild did not attack but nor did they let her past them. Lionel, after a rush through the treeline that lasted only minutes but felt like so much longer, stopped where he was. He sat down on a large, damp branch and allowed the sprinkling water that broke through the canopy to clean him. He stared at his burned hand, watching the trail of smoke come to a close. It hurt, but not as much as the knowledge that he'd very nearly killed her. He sat there for hours, remembering the girl.

Quintessa allows the dagger fall to the ground in silence, her pleas having been seemingly ignored. Would she follow through with this request or would she flee? The hex blade turns to face the line of Warrior Guild soldiers, and her eye contact with them brings a shared nervousness among those gathered. Would she fight them? Quintessa recognized these men and woman, had fought with them and bled with them in defense of their base in Venturil. Could she turn her blade against them too? As the changeling pulls her hood over her head, there is only shame in her sapphire and topaz optics, not bloodlust. Deep down Quintessa was still loyal to them despite her hostile actions against this neutral ground. "To the Tranquility then..." The strange, conflicted woman mutters as she turns her back on the warriors, her shadowy form disappearing into the darkness of the woods as swiftly as she came. Quintessa wouldn't try another assault, not until her resolve had been bolstered once more. In the meantime this trip to Cenril would be the most miserable journey of her life.