- Chapter One: Worth In War -

War never changed, konquest was a hell march lacking defined destination, and battle was the sonnet of poets wielding stained blades.

Shao Kahn's armies were scattered throughout: the battered brunt of the infantry often found themselves dealing with those foolhardy foes that mistook themselves as prepared, while specialized sorties struggled savagely against the guerrilla forces of a realm once thought to be underdeveloped and not worth half the focus of an Earthrealm invasion. As the two officers most interested in one upping the other, Kintaro's camp were primarily focused on finding a way to outshine the latest decorated success of Motaro's men; the Tarkatan were savaging the undefended villages and pillaging them at their leisure; fresh from the countryside, General Reiko was scheming to shape a secret squad intended to eliminate the supposed hideout of the enemies' most capable commander. Under express orders of the Emperor of course. By all calculations the deadlocked tide should turn in the favor of the conquerers from Outworld with a handful of prominent victories, so it stood to reason that once Reiko's select squadron were informed of the change of situation and deployed, a number of soldiers might be allowed to return home from the squalid little realm.

And in the interim between battalion building and occupation...

Seeping like starving leeches into the woolly azure curls of the portable vanilla-scented carpet, the unvarnished canopy walls cried vivid cranberry wax as the remainder of the mutilated stumps melted in their dark iron brackets, snuffing the fading yellow flames one by one. Crude as the set was, the argent crescent highlights ponderously created by the waxing moon above - as well as the twinkling stars that occasionally peeked from behind congealed curtains of ashen nebula - would be the only source of illumination left once the final beacon had been extinguished. Parts of the war tent badly singed upon closer inspection, another accidental blaze was the last thing the tangle of limbs required... burning flames more than a passing familiarity, on this night any mishap spelled grave consequences.

Elder Gods preoccupied with cosmic beings greater than the living specks of dust carrying on in the lieutenant's lightweight mobile, private pavilion pitched a fair way away from the rest of the men, the sensually damp scent of summer rain was unwieldy as the natural stratosphere drifting wantonly through the unfastened slit of open canvas. Intoxicating as the aroma was, the two bodies locked in a tango that knew neither vertical nor horizontal had stopped smelling it hours ago. Each too drunk on the other to heed anything less than life-threateningly pressing outside their immediate sphere, all the lovers knew in their universe was the faint lingering halo of natural herbs overpowered by heady musk and steady beads of sweat, the only non-organic ingredient the cheap detergents that ongoing conflict forced all commandos to use on the lackluster linens. Opulence was a concept that existed solely for the nobles and the naive dreamers - for better or worse Ko'atal and Zyanya were soldiers, and as such that meant that their romance came from their own pockets as much as from their own hearts.

Wolfish and requiring only this infinite hour, overworked vessels succumbed to sweet repose upon the knotted mass of crimson sleeping furs that might have once been genuine TaiGore or some unfortunate beast that an innkeeper's wife scrapped off the side of the alley and made into covers. Cold habit defeating weak-kneed satisfaction betrayed by a starry-eyed ear-to-ear grin, a palm of strawberry encrusted milk silently swatted away a beachy fellow bleached almost colorless in the dying embers; by Outworld law Ko'atal had won the right to claim the female for his own, however a mistreated heart was not so easily earned. Up to the challenge, the young Osh-Tekk persisted in placing one sizable turquoise paw over her smaller ivory fist, four fingers finding their own unique ways to clasp through reluctant resistance. Body all but enslaved to desire and mind nearly as engaged in even the most mundane conversational points, wounded heart possessing the willingness to give an honest chance, the warrior noted that the time it took her to relent to the pure gesture was a hair less than it had been the day before.

"Ko'atal," demon paramour coated in a fresh sheen of sweat (and other bodily issues) and still ravenous after a comfortable shared silence, the paler of the two swains was propped upon her knees with tattooed arms enveloping her lover's muscular chest once his breathing evened out to a lull just shy of slumber, hands roaming freely as they worked to inspire yet another romp with the teal tiger, "we aren't done here." Patting the top of his inner thigh seductively, the female paratrooper did not miss that her CO had turned his attentions to the sprawling network of glittering lanterns sparkling like blood and amber amidst the jade hills below, a fraction of his mind still dwelling on the consequences the conquered civilians faced both during and after occupation. "The city will continue to be here," hoping he got her point, she began to trail a pattern of chaste butterflies down his neck, pressing harder into his shoulders with starving lips as lower organs began to respond to the positive attention, "but thanks to the General we may not get to enjoy this arrangement much longer."

Gifted privacy, a modest chunk consisting of odd donations for all of the blood shed (a debatable portion being senseless), plus some nifty conjurer's tricks, the lovers didn't have to try very hard to forget that this generous respite was largely the sum of months and months of combined effort. Swearing by a strict code of honor and gore the Osh-Tekk frequently frowned upon the demoness' less than savory abilities, however it was indisputable that due to the unpredictable nature of conflict there was a very real probability that her tour would be done with and they might be parted for unexpected centuries. Time was an odd being and war was no man's friend. Never mind the fact that although the kombatants were accustomed to far worse conditions on the field, they were both pleasantly shocked to find that the deep crimson furs were soft to the touch and warm as a beating heart.

A creature of base instinct like any other, Ko'atal was not fully immune to the ensnaring sway of the otherworldly enchantress, however he was not so weak as to place his musings on indefinite hold as the body surrendered to the tense build-up of pleasure gnawing ravenously at his core, scratching madly for release, "The city will stand so long as the army requires a strategic seat in the valley." Raised by a great king and further tempered in a political landscape, despite the deep trust and unconditional love he had for his present company, the god-prince knew to pick and choose his words with care, "It is not for us to question the will of the Emperor, but I have no qualms saying I fear the General has many plots, some of which I hope will never see the light of day. Thanks to the invasion this is a land of widows and mothers whose sons and daughters have already been consumed by the necessities of war."

"You really are worried about these people." Far from shocked to find compassion in the Osh-Tekk's heart, the woman of ghostly pearl grew serious as the mood her companion was setting as she contemplated what could be done about their plight, "We can't save everyone, that just isn't the way... but..." A thought came at the nibble of her thumbnail, but even to voice it in the confines of the lieutenant's sparsely furnished yurt would be dangerous, "If they could be convinced to leave their homes and the dead they'll never see again, perhaps Outworld can make room to substitute their own losses." Abandoning (if only for the moment) her petting, the volunteer viceroy joined her partner in pondering the best route to approaching the occupied denizens and abscond with an unknown quantity of bodies, "Orders can come at any time, so we might not have enough time to make formal arrangements."

Obviously this was not a fact that had slipped the sun warrior's mind, nor the precarious position this put the emigrating demoness in, "Unless there was a problem and one of the soldiers started an uproar." Under stressful circumstances, limited rations, and laxly guarded spoils the greedy weren't able to touch, it was not unheard of for even the most polished of battalions to break into bedlam; and if the ensuing chaos just happened to lend to the perfect cover for the citizens' mass departure, so be it.

Honest to a point about her origins, the succubus of the Netherrealm scanned the handsomely sculpted planes of the gallant giant's back with eyes that longed to just break the barriers and nuzzle the vulnerable space for the sake of comfort, chest throbbing at the mere thought of repeatedly failing to confess the entire truth to Ko'atal. Acid and a razor blade kiss, on one hand it sizzled and burned the back of the throat to continue to neglect to explain why she would be so motived to squander what goodwill and trust she had earned in Outworld to assist in what could very well be considered treason, but the pain was more than that... it literally caused an ache to keep the secret. A deep gut-wencher at the best of times, and yet the words would never come! Discovery becoming a distant dream, fleeing further and further with each jilted heartbeat, the way Reiko had explained it to her she and Ko'atal would be commanded to strike out further east and meet with a handful of other individuals before anything could be said to the poor wretches. Assuming that the timetable was correct - and it would be unlike Reiko to allow a window for error larger than a strand of hair - the plot the couple had brewing was not like to even see the first tea leaf, which did not break the impling's heart: knowing what she did of slavery the hellion truly did want to help these people, but there were more important things to protect.

Knotted mop of intricately woven bleached gold falling over pools of melted nirvana as his recently bandaged hand lightly pressed the top of her head in approval, the muscle of the fearsome duo was reminded in a single glance why of all the worthy candidates he had selected the morose outsider to be his companion in the first place, "Beware Zyanya, your heart shows." In this most intimate of exchanges, the kombatant knew deep down that he was in danger of falling for the female all over again - if it wasn't too late already.

High ranking operatives often granted boon, it was not uncommon to find the witch passing around her portion of fresh foods to the children too young to be sent away to the battlefield, and though she did not tarry in their company, the demoness broke from her patrol route to calm the frightened womenfolk when needed. Possibly going for sainthood, it went without saying that Zyanya would gladly spend the hours not in the company of her peers easing the elderly, enacting mercy or listening to tall tales repeatedly, taking each retold folklore for a polite nod or gathering both wisdom and skills in chess simultaneously. Their whole unit saw it, but as she was merely an outsider sent to Outworld to garner favor for the Netherrealm to get a foot in the palace door, none of the grunts cared a lick.

Shying away from his touch as if he had said the wrong thing with anger and a raised fist, the imp shifted uncomfortably and muttered darkly, "Is that so?" Despite possessing strength in spades and being blessed with some semblance of insight, he remained blind to the dark places she hid, blissfully ignorant to the raging struggle inside that never ceased to scream in her ears that no matter how much every fiber yearned to give in, a cruel echo refusing to let her forget that no matter how many trials they endured it would never be enough to yield completely. "Ko'atal..." Still the words could not come, even though more than almost anything else she longed to come clean. Hell, to even be able to say something to stop from leading him on would have been great, but try as she might, the demoness just could not find the strength.

Brushing the rest of her words away with his index so comforting and radiant upon her lips, the warrior pulled the femme fatal into his arms, mind made up after months of careful counseled consideration. "Someday," tenderly tracing the toned panes of Zyanya's scarred abdomen with a surprising amount of gentleness for such a gigantic hand, the strapping stallion murmured into the ear of his compact counterpart as they fell back into the featherbed with a charted course of the heavens above, "when I am someone in the ranks of Shao Kahn's army, I will make it so that you are safe and protected, never in want of anything." Money and status had never been important to the creature of hell, but it was a part of the package deal, "Even now I could make it so that you would never have to lift another finger, your every whim answered by as many servants as we can afford with your bridegift and my estate. We may never live as well as the Kahn, but you could be comfortable." Practiced a million different times over a hundred days in his head, the speech he had prepared came out as more of a business transaction than a marriage proposal, however between the Osh-Tekk and the succubus romance wasn't the glittering fairytale as depicted in Earthrealm, "Don't think me unreasonable - when the spirit of adventure moves you, you shall join me by my side."

Somehow, if the conversation could go from a conspiracy to commit treason to the promise of forever, something had gone very wrong...