Chapter 26: Host of Herons
Do you ever had a feeling that you about to complete something and you KNOW you fucked up half-way through. Yeah. It kind of suck all the joy of doing it, but you are also too committed to abandon it. My muse not only left me, she also sued me for wasting her time and opportunity.
And that's my way for saying sorry for an extreme delay folks. But hey. At least I get this chapter out before Strixhaven drop.
On the unrelated note, I pulled a showcase Valki, God of Lies /Tibalt, Cosmic Imposter, from a set booster. So, life is good-ish.
…
Review
Airistal: Thank goodness you still alive.
Thanks. You might regret your review from how late I post this. But thanks anyway. It seems I'm still insignificant enough to not incur Thai government's action.
RDLV: You really need to have someone prrofread this for you and fix your suffix problem…..
Totally agree, man. Totally agree. I think I will do it after I finish this project, just on principle. I hope you still enjoy the story (even I think I fucked up) though.
Anon: Unfortunately this has just become a chore to continue at this point …..
You know what. I completely agree with your comment. It is a chore for me to write it too. My bad. Really. I think fucking messed up the concept around Tarkir arc. Well, maybe I will fix it if I rewrite this. No promise though.
…
Previously
FEAR.
Seeing the bitch become paler and paler makes him happy, even though his fate is sealed. The bitch's skin is so pale it eerily glows. And the bitch's eyes shine bright gleaming white.
Wait a minute, that's not fear!
…
Lunarch's elite guards. A unit of the best fighting body the church has to offer. It is a small army consider of 13 squads, each with 13 members. They only answer to the Lunarch himself and are led by the Guardian of Thraben. No doubt that all 169 of them are the most skilled fighters the church of Avacyn could offers. If the other forces want to challenge that notion, then they are complete fool, because they are welcome to try and humiliate themselves.
To the layman, they are the toughest, meanest, sons and daughters of bitches that Innistrad had ever produced. To themselves, they are anything but.
Hans considers himself a normal man. He has a humble upbringing, as humble as anyone in Thraben's could be. His father is a blacksmith and his mother a seamstress. He grew up in a mundane neighborhood. He signed up with the town militia when he was twelve and worked through the ranks until he caught some elder cathar's eyes. Then he was admitted to the church under his mentor, and work through the ranks here as well.
Even so, being promoted to the Lunarch's guard is something he still couldn't believe he isn't dreaming. Everyone here is an elite of the elites. He reckons they had the best training since they could walk. To be in their ranks is both his highest honor and worry at the same time. Being their most recent inclusion is not helping his nerves either.
His assigned bunkmate, Lars, once told him to take it easy. Ironically, he found that being easy is hard. Being anything mundane here is hard, especially when you are expected to be perfected all the time.
It doesn't help that his squad, squad eight, has one of the strictest captains. No. They had the strictest captain. She is so rigid she could bend a rock with her sheer discipline.
'And buxom breasts that could crush it into powder' was the second part of the joke he dares not to say. He thought about it. He knows Lars though about it. He knows many men both from his squad and other thought about it. He also knows that no one is brave to say it out loud.
When he first joined the squad, his captain told him the special rules among the elite guards he should know.
1) Always expects the unexpected.
2) Do not question the order from your superior.
3) Never stop being professional.
And
4) Ogle at her tits and she will gouge your eyes out.
So, when the Guardian's "apprentice" rallies the entire elite guards to the meeting room, everyone follows her command without hesitation. Imagined that, wet behind her ears girl has an authority to command more than hundred of Thraben's best and possess enough charisma to pull it off. An immensely impressive feat. He knows if he was in that position, he couldn't do half as much. Perhaps, that's why she is the "apprentice" and he isn't.
They busted into the room only to find that Lothar already killed the perpetrators. All but one.
He doesn't know the traitor personally, but he heard someone in the squad said 'Elder Cathar Demitri from the Lake Guard'. He doesn't even know that Lake Guard is a thing.
What a stupid name for an organization.
Anyway, the man is fucked. FUCKED. Especially when he called the Guardian's apprentice a werewolf-whore.
Her blade hums with holy magic. Its edge gets sharpen so much it shrieks. SHRIEKS. Hans does not even know that it is possible.
Thalia's blade burns Demitri's skin as its owner press closer. The traitor winces in pain. Pitiful.
"Choose your next word carefully, traitor. We don't need to keep your limbs for your interrogation." She hisses. "Nor any unimportant organs, for that matter."
A crass word that should not come out of the mouth of such an esteem scion meets with laughers. There is no reprimanding. Nothing is holding her back.
No one wants to deal with totally pissed off Thalia. They learned their lesson quite a while ago. And that was when someone stole and ate her strawberry cake. Hans still remembers that incident like it happened yesterday.
Addendum. Rule number 5) No one mess with Thalia's cake. Try it at your own peril.
It does not take Hans much to understand where her anger is coming from. One must possess mercy of an angel for someone not to be enraged from being called not only a traitor but also a monster-fucker. Then again, Angels on Innistrad are not known for being merciful to their enemies.
"She won't do it for real, won't she?" He whispers to Lars. "I mean. Even though Sir Lothar does specifically say 'alive just enough for an interrogation', but this has to be some kind of a trial. Right?"
"I don't know, man." Lars replied while side glancing at their captain. "Had I known what going on inside a woman's head, I would totally get THAT by now."
*BONK*
"Silence, fools." Their captain bashes them in the head. "Your action is unbecoming of the elite guard. Sir Lothar is watching." She then leans closer to their ears. Smiles and whispers. "On the unrelated note. Squad 10 had set up the betting pool. Don't let me catch you loosing your lifesaving on such deplorable act."
When their captain moved away, the two stooges could only stand still like a deer in the headlights. What the fuck is going on?
Their captain smiles.
The world is really coming to an end.
…
'What in the Devil's Breach is happening?'
When Lars woke up in the morning, he thought at worst he would need to fight a horde of zombies and whatnot today. He even anticipated some sort of betrayal, as anyone with an inquisitor training should. But this? No. Never.
Nothing could ever prepare him for his captain's smile. His captain never smiles. Frowning is her normal state. Annoyance and anger are the only two other expressions she has ever shown.
Had she been killed and replaced with some sort of evil doppelganger?
And how in the Devil's Breach did the betting pool get set up so fast? But if the world is ending anyway, what matter if one loses one lifesaving?
'I'm never going to financially recover from this.'
"Hey! You can't do that. Torture for one pleasure is inhumane and against the decree of the church." Screamed the traitor. He gets no sympathy from anyone here.
"Fool! A demon worshiping traitor like you deserve no mercy. Cut his arm off Thalia, I bet three months' worth of salary on it." Someone from squad 4 shouts.
'Holy Avacyn! How seriously did they take this bet?'
All hell breaks loose when everyone starts yelling for Thalia to do something they bet on. What did his captain order again? Don't behave something unbecoming of an elite guard? Either this is a mental torture at its finest, or his captain is full of shit.
It seems that the expected standard does not match the reality. Not that he complained. It increases the chance, no matter how slim, that his captain is in closet naughty. He could live with that.
Well. When in Thraben do as then Thrabenian do. He scans the room for someone with a red and gold trim, a color for squad 10. It is not an easy thing to do when everyone wears the same kind of cloth, but what can he do? Seriously, can't they just all wear white and have a number on it or something. The captain can even have an enormous number on their back to show that they're special.
It does not take too long a time before he found what he is looking for. He does not know this girl personally, but her reputation isn't so bad. She is quite a looker too. Maybe he could chat up with her a bit.
"Psst. Hey." He whispers. Getting her attention, he continues. "Is the betting pool still open?"
"Nah, mate." She replied. Her eyes scan him up and down. "Too late for that now. Damn. The lass is vicious." She points her finger forward.
When he turns to where she pointed at, he found that Thalia already hacked the sword arm off and performed a healing spell to stop the bleeding.
Damn it!
"Mate. Most of the captains placed their bet since the call to arms started. You must be new here." She condescendingly asked. "Oh wait, you are that sucker from squad 3 I heard so much aren't you?"
What!
…
The wind blows heavily today. The air reeks of death. The sky is gloomy. The sun even has the decency to shy away behind the dark cloud. Carrions flock to the sky above. No doubt they are ready for a feast, an all you can eat buffet that multiplies itself. A perfect day to walkabout for any self-respecting necromancer and his/her army of undead abominations.
Today is the day. It will be marked in Innistrad's history. Three necromancers and friends, sort of, will bring those church-loving pricks to their knees. Just by thinking it makes her excited.
Their undead army is in position. Thousands upon thousands gather just outside Thraben. It is a siege but without an actual siege. In technicality, it more like throwing bodies into the city wall until it built up high enough for the rest of the army to scale through. And only an idiot would believe that the other forces of Innistrad would not interfere in this battle.
Liliana would bet her entire soon to be built mansion that either a demon cultist or a vampire thrall would try to mess up the city defense when the attack begins. If the werewolf does not deliver his promise, that is.
"So. It begins." Said the necromancer. "Hope the boy's plan really work. It makes no difference, but it would be a shame to let such a well-mannered young planeswalker die to the church."
*RAAAAAAGUHHHH*
Liliana could only sigh. To raise such a number to attack a fortification such as Thraben, she needs to sacrifice many preferred attributes. Brain function is one of them. She religiously believes that those stupid bards use gag reflex instead of brains. Argue with her on that and she will kill you and raise you back just to kill you again.
Does she need them to be sentient? No. Obviously not.
Does she want to? Of course. What sort of a third-rate necromancer she would be had she did not uphold her gold standards? It's what set her apart from those armature graverobbers and stitchers, and she takes a lot of pride in that distinction.
And that's because constructive criticism among the necromancer community is universally, NO, multiversally nonexistent. It's quite a cutthroat occupation. Literally too, considering what they do is mostly reconstruction and cutting a throat.
Semantics.
"Commence the attack." She orders. "I want the city to fall yesterday."
*RAAAAAAGHHHHHH?*
"I know it's impossible and time doesn't move backward. It's a figure of speech, you idiot. How could you be smart enough to grasp a concept of time but doesn't capable of speech anyway…. Wait. Why am I talking to a zombie?"
*RAAAAAAAAAAA!*
"Oh. Shut up and get moving. Sent the signal for the wolfboy to start his part."
…
The aftermath of the "Interrogation" by Thalia leaves many captains far poorer than they start the day. In the meantime, squad 10 could operate without any additional budget for the next 2 years. If Thraben and its order of protector still exist, that is.
The traitor, of course, doesn't provide much more information. It is as Lothar expected. Demitri might think he is in charge, but he is being nothing but a sacrificial pawn. Sure, the demonic cult might get lucky and kill him. It is, however, very unlikely the main goal of the cult's plan. They are masters of dealing in the shadow. They lie await to strike when the church least expects them to.
Dimitri's action might point to framing him and ruin his reputation. The fool even admitted it himself after Thalia lopped his sword arm off. However, if any one of his captains would believe that deception, he would cut off their head himself. Any half-decent inquisitor would know layered conspiracies when they see one.
It also cements Dimitri's incompetency as the fool doesn't even realize he was being cast away. The question he needs to answer now is, what does the fool's master want to achieve from this stunt. Clearly, they didn't expect his subordinates to have so little faith.
In other words, he found their faith in his men's lack of faith disturbing.
Anyway, he affords no time to figure things out when he had a city to defend. The cult will try to make trouble when it will hurt the most, that's for sure. For now, however, all they could do is to remain vigilance. Looking at his apprentice, he could see her seething rage with his naked eyes. He is glad that Thalia also catches on to his suspicion. It seems he does not waste his time bringing up an incompetent apprentice. Though, Dimitri's is a very low bar to overcome.
"It seems that even the traitor is also betrayed." He said, causing Thalia to jerk at him. She wears a sad disappointing face. "Do not fret, Apprentice. He cannot tell you if he doesn't know the whole plot himself. Stay vigilant and we shall overcome whatever trick they bring. But we need to defend the city."
The captains nod at his word. Their action is a good sign. At least in this instance, they accept Thalia's result. Considering they lost a lot of their hard earn money because of her, it a very good sign.
"Squad one." He called. "Take command of the north wall."
"Squad two, east. Squad three, south. Squad four, west. Squad five, six, seven, and eight ready the defense along the merchant wall. Make sure you can support the retreat when the outer wall is overrun. Do not pointlessly hold on to the wall. Conserve strength and sends a signal flare before you retreat. Squad nine and ten, go with Thalia to escort the Lunarch. My apprentice will take command and you will help her with her assigned trail. She will brief you herself. Squad twelve and thirteenth, you are with me."
Soon enough the room is empty bar the last two squads. Thalia takes her order with zeal. It seems that she didn't as attach to the werewolf as he worried. Ahh. The curse of the young and sheltered mind. The weight of her duty on her shoulder will be tested today. He prays to Avacyn that she would be found worthy. It takes a lot of time to train such a promising apprentice, after all. It would be a waste if one such as Thalia fails the test. It's not like he is getting any younger.
*BAM*
All the doors to the room slam shut and demonic blood runes start to glow. Not a good sign. No. Not at all.
Dried blood from the floor moves. It rearranges itself into words. A lot of words, in fact, it is a paragraph long. He had to admit, whoever weaved the spell did have a good sense of dramatic flair yet doesn't know how to be succinct.
Dear Old man Lothar,
You are correct. Dimitri is a sacrificial pawn. Actually, everyone hates him. I bet that even if you ask some vampire or werewolf you will also get the same answer. Yet all those times you let your poor apprentice tortured the looser you don't know that I already weave a spell that will lead you to your doom.
Nothing personal. I hope you don't mind. It just business. My fallen mistress demanded so.
Walking among ignorant sheep like you is one of the most excruciating experiences I ever had since I discover the truth. Your church is so corrupted I am surprised that the angels had not done a clean house by wiping you lot out.
Do not feel so bad, because the demonic cult is also suffering the same fate. Innistrad would be better without you lots.
Thake the solace in your inevitable end, you misbegotten fools.
P.S.S. Are you still reading this instead of escaping? How dumb are you? I mean you are not going to succeed but at least show some fighting spirit, will you?
The price of Avacyn's betrayal will be paid in full.
*BOOM*
…
A little bit earlier.
Thraben reeks with death and filth. It is not a sentence he would use had it been a normal time. One would think that when the siege is near, from a zombie at that, the city patrol would be up the roof. Unfortunately, the sewers are still being ignored. They are always ignored. No wonder smugglers and the like survive as a profession to this day.
As for Jon Snow. He is literally smelled like shit. Couple with an ultrasensitive nose, it was akin to torture just existing. He needs a bath, and he needs it fast, least he would lose his shit and going on a murdering spree. That, and it would remove the option of sneaking on anyone when they could smell you from far away. It would be no problem had his target is not the Lunarch.
Why did he suggest this plan again?
So, after mental and physical gymnastics later, he got himself a bath at some "inn" that still operating. Somehow, he won it in a game of dice that involves a chicken, an ale, chamomiles, and a clove of garlic. Truthfully, he does not even know what going on half of the time. But at least he got himself a bath and a time to spare.
Reaching for his sense he tries to locate his target. Of course, he didn't know the power signature of the Lunarch since he never met the man. He knows, however, how strong each person is from the aura he perceives. One thing to remember is that unlike hunters like his mother and himself, the church people don't hide their power. In fact, they love to flaunt it for all to see. Yes, living in a city with almost no predators removes the need to hide oneself. Yes, Thraben is a safe haven for those under the church banner. And yes, those from the church love to one-up another about how holy they are.
But one had to remember that those in Thraben had never been hunted by a werewolf before, let alone Jon. By everyone not even try to hide who they are, locating a prey is as simple as flipping a hand.
Simple. Not easy.
The amount of power signatures is too damn high. It is easy to find one dim light in a sea of darkness. It is damn hard to find a bright light in a sea of flickering light varying in their intensity.
But like all the good hunters in the multiverse, he had more than one way to track his prey. Previously when he used this power, he got a raging hard on and a very awkward confrontation with his mother. No matter, this time will be different. This time he will be professional and efficient.
This time he thinks with his brain. More brain and less brawn. Some might say it is detective work. Finding a common thing among multiple data source, it is as simple as it gets.
Drawing green mana to increase his perception, he notes down a cluster of power and rank them in order. Drawing black mana that seems to be more abundant than usual, Jon's overpowered the simple mind of a nearby swallow. It will be his eyes for 'double checking'. He knows that he is yet to master this ability, so he bars himself from splitting his mind over multiple animals. It is a good and sound decision, and quite out of a character from his 'family' normally act.
Thus, a swallow soars above the roof of Thraben. It is heading toward the brightest cluster of power signature in the southern area, as he suspected that Thalia would cross him. If she is half an inquisitor, he knows she is, she would have a least a squad, or two, worth of cathars waiting for him.
And if Mikaeus isn't there, it would be a waste of time. A complete waste of time.
From what he heard, Mikaeus would not stay back and hide like a coward when his protectors are fighting. Reckless, some might say. To Jon, it the sign of confidence in both his own ability and that of his protectors. And that is what makes him very dangerous, especially when Jon cannot assassinate him outright.
If it just chucking a spear through someone's vital organs, then he does not need to be this cautious. Even powerful planeswalkers would die if his heart got pierced through. Planeswalking requires time and focus, so they cannot be used as a clutch. Countless planeswalkers die due to sneak attack. It is one of the first lessons his mother beat into his head. It is how Garruk is so effective in hunting their own kind.
*Cough* *Cough* Garruk's plot armor doesn't count. *Cough* *Cough*
This work requires his delicate touch. Then again, he is about to walk into a fight with at least two dozen elite inquisitors at once. So, as much as delicate touch that he could provide.
And like almost all of his plans, it is always gone tits up because of outsider's intervention.
…
Unbeknown to our handsome werewolf, his mind-jacked swallow is being watched. A heron with white eyes is very uncommon, but with what normally happened in Innistrad it is not out worldly enough to raise suspicion. To a mundane, it is just a bird. To an archmage, it might raise some brows had it act not bird-like. To a practitioner of the occult, however, it sticks out like a sore thumb. Black mana calls out each other.
One such eyes are now watching the bird with such eagerness. Its owner is the figure shrouded by dusk, a master of both the occult and the divine, and the faithful follower of she who had been forgotten. The cult of Griselbrand calls her Balbarlarious. The Lunarch's elite guard calls her Carla. Both names she is assigned to were false, and only her vanquished lady knows her true name.
She had to agree, Carla is a way better name than Balbarlarious. The thing about a demonic cult is that the sillier the name, the fewer people question your motive. It is silly like that.
As the scroll had foretold. When the bastion of the light erupts in fire, and when the damned march against the corrupted, the outsider will come to right the wrong. Only then the hypocrisy of Avacyn will be revealed and justice would be served. Only then the dawn of the new age would begin. Only then her lady vision would be fulfilled.
The said prophecy leads her to believe that Jon Snow is the one she is waiting for. Or at least is working with the outsider she is waiting for. Her eavesdrop on Thalia and Lothar's conversation before she sends in that fool Dimitri confirms as much. The necromancer that controls the undead army wants Griselbrand dead, and the wolf boy is hunting down the Lunarch to make it happen.
It's time for her to reveal herself to him, but first, she needs to remove the obstacles. Both the church and the cult.
*Tap* *Tap* *BOOOOM*
. A big explosion would kill two bird of paradise with one lightning bolt. Right?
…
Custom Card of the Chapter
Name: Liesa's Revenge
Mana Cost: WWB
Type: Instant
Card Text: Destroy target creature. You may cast a creature card from your graveyard this turn.
Flavor Text: "Krama is a bitch. So is Avacyn."
Rarity: Uncommon
