Playing with Chaos – 1
"Oh, but my Commander, I truly urge you that reconsideration of your decision is made, for, as things stand, you have naught but man's frustration."
"Those monsters utterly ravaged one of our settlements and you dare suggest to me that I refrain from retaliating against those wretched, green-skinned mongrels?! They butchered everyone in that town, everyone! Aside from killing even the women, those brutes didn't have the decency to leave the children alive; my men reported back that they'd been stuck up on shafts of metal and roasted over the flames of our burning buildings! The Orks didn't even take any resources from that damn town. They just burnt it all so we couldn't even use it." The man slammed his hands down on the table in front of him. Showing a rolling series of desert dunes was a large map, which lie stretched out on the table before him, and, not far from where their current command post was situated, was a red circle with an X crossed through it. "You would have me hold my men back from exacting justice against the creatures responsible for this travesty? Are those your wishes?"
"Heavens no my Sir! never would I suggest such idle course!" Said a man with a high voice, and who waved his hands around far too much when he spoke. "To withhold from any recourse would be passing judgement of fire unto your lands; these Orks would feel that they're being allowed to walk all over you! Even I will admit that we can't let your people lament such abuse from the brutish management of the foul green-skins!" His voice quieted down a bit, becoming much more enticing to listen to as the tone of shock died down. "I merely suggest that, instead of sending your own troops in and risking their lives, you allow me and my agents to infiltrate the area for you…"
"Damn it! We've been over this countless times before Jester! The Eldar are to be considered our enemies just as much as any Ork. I'd even daresay that the military would prioritize the Eldar as a greater threat than the Chaos; at least we know what it is they want. It's bad enough that I contacted you for help scouting out these regions, if word got out that even a single Eldar soldier was in the area then the military would turn its attention toward rooting them out. Your people are to be considered immediate threats… and those damn masks your kind like to wear don't ease tensions any!" At this point, the commander gestured with a single hand toward his companion's face, in reference to the black-and-white faced mask he wore even now.
Much like a mime, the humanoid being was dressed in a tunic designed with a mix-matched pattern of black and white. From the ribbon adorned top-hat upon his head, to the shredded ends of his long-coat and cloth gloves, down all the way to his pointy, spike studded boots. Each piece of clothing shifted in on itself to appear either black or white, with no segment seemingly staying one shade of that color as each piece seemed to trade colors with the warped swirl directly next to it. Yet, despite the odd uniformity of his raiment, it was the mask he wore which produced the greatest sense of unease in others.
The mask, if it could even be called such, appeared as if it possessed the same texture of flesh, though, if so, it had been intentionally stretched out to be inhumanely disproportionate and then dyed almost snow-white. Painted or tattooed as if it were streaming from the eyes, black tears poured forth from the black sockets, which were tailored to cast a deep shadow over the wearer beneath, all while a long and equally dark smile had been dyed into the tight-lipped face and stretched up a bit past the outer edges of the eyes - to the commander, it almost appeared that the taller man was laughing so hard that he'd begun to cry. Even the way he managed to keep his hair utterly immaculate and aligned at the shoulders was eerie to look at; the man just seemed too perfect.
"You think I'm perfect? Aww, it's so sweet of you to have such thoughts about me. But I must tell you, flattery shan't get you any additional favors with me. For you see, my heart belongs to another; one who is as radiant as the dark voids which swallow the stars. Perhaps in another life-time we could ha-"
"That, right there, Jester! Those telepathic powers that you command, which allow manipulation of the mind, is why the Imperium empire won't ally with your Eldar kind! No one wants to go into battle alongside one who can pry into their thoughts at a moment's whim…"
The Master of Mimes paused for a moment in mid-stride and spun about on his heel to look at the human, though, to do this he had to look down for he stood not only head-and-shoulders above the man, but an entire chest as well. Though he couldn't help but twist his body around in contortions that appeared almost painful, such as bending backward at what should have been an impossible angle, the Eldar called Jester inspected the lesser man shrewdly. As he stared intensely at the human, he paced around him in circles, much like a shark encircles it's prey before going in for the kill.
From his perspective, their conversation had been nothing more than a game, one that he was already familiar with - but of course, why wouldn't he be? After all, Jester was the one instigating the Orks into attacking the Imperium settlements. To him, all of this was just a game, as were most affairs involving those races outside of his own kind. However, he also sometimes forgot that the other races who shared this universe with his people didn't quite possess the same opinions regarding what was fun, and what wasn't. This was made apparent by the redness of the human man's face, and the way his mustache bristled about as he angrily breathed hastily. Everything about the human was tense, and, for a moment, Jester was concerned that the man's head would spontaneously burst into brain matter and gore.
"My apologies, good Commander Malverick. I beg your forgiveness, for you see, I am one of the more adept Harlequins who presently exist; such uses of my power have almost become habitual. Please, do not condemn the rest of my companions based on the manner with which I present myself." The master mime extended his hands out to the sides, nodding in deference for the human commander.
"They're really quite charming, I can certainly vouch for that, especially mylovely Countess!" The mime suddenly teemed with excitement as he talked about this Countess, spinning in place on his heels while turning the top-hat in the opposite direction. "Never have I seen such a beautiful specimen, especially when armed to the teeth! Her capacity for destruction with those twin guns of hers is more than exquisite! She is a true artist upon the battlefield; one who wields her pistols as though they were paintbrushes and who's favorite color is red. In truth, I don't do her enough justice - she is more akin to the Grim Reaper, for her coat mirrors his cloak, and her guns act as Death's scythe. Oh, please let us clear out the foul green-skins for you! Afterward, I solemnly swear that we will then leave the settling of this land in your capable hands!"
The human walked around the table setup in his war tent, eyeballing the grinning mime as he stroked the mustache on his face with two fingers. "So if I pull out my soldiers and let you pass through the region you'll get rid of the Orks in that area and leave, just like that?"
"You have my word Commander! After all, haven't I been loyal to you thus far? I challenge you to point out when my information has ever brought harm to your people…"
The human commander grunted at Jester's closing statement. The oddly patterned mime had thus far spoken true, and every instance where he had given information on the Ork movements had not only been unerringly accurate, but even his suggestions for how to best route the brutish creatures had also proven exceedingly useful. His own pacing had left the man on the opposite end of the table to stare at the disturbing specimen that stood in the tent with him. With a sigh, he placed both of his hands on the table and shook his head.
"Fine. Give me a day or two so that I can call out my troops and evacuate the remaining settlements. Then get in there, and clear out the filthy mongrels!"
Bowing low to the ground, yet somehow managing to prevent his hat from leaving his head, Jester appeared to vanish into thin air, even as his voice soothingly echoed throughout the confines of the tent. "With pleasure…"