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Armour: Brimflame
Weapon: Winter's Fury, Undine Retribution, Stormfront Razor
Acc(11/11): The Bee, Celestial cuffs, Mana Flower, Sorcerer Emblem, Cryo Wings, Ankh Shield, Deific Amulet, FrostSpark Boots, Grand Gelatin, Permafrost's Concotion, Evasion Scarf. (Unlimited Buffs)
Health: (500/500)
It was one of those miserable mornings, where the air seemed to reek of clammy cold and the bright sun shunned the earth it's rays. The songbirds were sleeping in today, and only crows poked their dark heads to the cloudy sky to screech loudly at the mist. Now, The Party Girl's mood wasn't typically affected so strongly by her circumstances. She liked to think she was strongly self sufficient, because that was exactly what she was for the the majority of her adult life. She was a CC Agent for heaven's sake! She served the glorious empire, bowing only before the king of the land. There were none who dared to stand against her, for her hands were already steeped in the blood of her master's enemies. All who laid eyes on her trembled in fear. When she stood amongst the weak, she felt invincible. Of course something like the weather wouldn't faze... that version of her.
But ever since coming to this infernal Compound, she'd been locked down, imprisoned and humbled - nay, even domesticated by the overwhelming strength this place's two dominant members. To imagine that she, a senior in her corps who even commanded awe and respect from other agents, would find herself so handily outgunned and outmaneuvered? Until she came here, she wouldn't have been able to believe it. Her whole life, she had been able to live rather flippantly as her battle sense and raw power were quite enough to get her out of any kind of pickle - but not so now.
Because The Slayer's strength was overwhelming. She was strong, yes - he was a class in his own. His battle prowess was incredible and she had seen her life flash before her eyes more than once beneath that heavy blade. Additionally, he appeared to recover completely from all but the gravest injuries. But The Slayer's worth was far more than merely that of a powerful fighter. The Party Girl had seen him duplicate just about everything he laid eyes on. Dirt, wood, steel, diamonds... food to feed an army, water to quench their thirst, weapons with which to arm them, plate mail with which to guard them. The Slayer was an entire fucking siege engine. He alone solved an army's logistical needs.
And the cherry on top of all of his amazing usefulness, was that mentally, he was as naive and as easily manipulated as a child. She had wondered more than once about the circumstances of his birth, but concluded it must be both recent and unnatural. The poor man wasn't sure who created him. Indeed, he likely didn't know how he came into the world at all. With no solid base, he could be shaken and swayed easily. Frankly, The Party Girl never thought herself to be particularly shrewd or manipulative - but she knew she could definitely get The Slayer to do what she asked if only The Guide weren't here.
Bastard.
And yes, The Guide... he was a smart man and a valuable information source, but had not the strength to defend anyone, not even himself! The Guide. His Slayer. Each alone posed little threat to her, but as a team they bested her handily in every field. If only she could separate them! Indeed... if, for whatever reason, The Guide mysteriously died...
"...one thumb bone, three molars and an ear."
"What?"
If The Guide were gone, The Slayer was hers. If The Slayer was hers, she had hope. The Party Girl was well aware that by now, she had a bounty on her head. Having failed to behead either The Lunatic Cultist or Amidas, she knew walking into The Capitol was akin to slitting her own throat. Perhaps there was a different way... Central would not spare her for bringing the Slayer to them, but if Draedon counted him valuable enough as research material, perhaps she could trade him for her own vindication. It was a good last ditch effort. After all she didn't have many options anymore.
And besides, had she met The Guide under different circumstances (not having been tricked into thinking he was Draedon's Lab Director)... well honestly, she would have killed him by now. She neither was nor appreciated those snooty intellectual types. In her opinion, they created more problems than they solved.
"I need you to cut these parts out of me, as quickly and as painlessly as you can manage."
"What!?"
The Party Girl sat splayed at the head of the kitchen table, surrounded by bottles and likely looking just as horrible as she felt. Despite having access to a shower (she refused to use it in some... misguided show of rebellion) her hair had become to mat and grow wild. She wore nothing but her CC corps cloak, and glared at The Guide from between the myriad of glassy bottles she'd built about herself like a fort. She narrowed her eyes and bared her teeth in a decidedly feral manner. She points a butter knife at him.
"You want me to cut off your...fucking ears?"
The Guide was unruffled by her profanity. Neither did he seem bothered by her appearance. There was a flat, placid look on his face that contrasted with the cool intensity in his eyes. He sat himself down at the other end of the table and responded to her in snipped, curt speech that was impossible to misunderstand.
"One fucking ear, Party Girl. One Ear. Three Molars. My Left thumb-bone. A Pint of blood. Here-"
There was a gentle scrape as he unsheathed a small knife and placed it gingerly on the tabletop. It'd been sharpened to a razor's edge. He also produced a bowl, supposedly with which to store the body parts. The Party Girl just stared. She had met a great deal of self-harming people in her varied travels, but normally such behavior was an outgrowth of emotion or cultish mania. The Guide... didn't look like he was caught up in some passion at the moment. What could possibly convince him to offer himself to be mutilated? Given she was talking to The Guide - she was sure he had a good reason. The issue was whether he would share that reason.
"Are you going to tell me why?"
"I'm not."
"And you still expect me to do it!"
"...did you care so much for me, Agent?"
She sputtered and began to see red. The Guide offered her a sly grin, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. His gaze was hard and unwavering. This was a man who had made up his mind a long, long time ago. There was a weighty pause, then The Guide spoke once more.
"I am about to embark on something very dire. So extremely dire, that I am willing to give my life - if need be. I am likewise willing to use and abuse everyone else to accomplish my goal ...and I want you to cut these parts out of me. You will fulfill your function, and then you will keep your mouth shut."
The Party Girl curled her lips to snarl, smashing one of the many ale mugs within arms reach. She stood unsteadily to her feet and glared down at The Guide with as much fire as she could muster, trying to burn that chilly gaze.
"Your fucking monster knight will cut my throat if I lay a hand on you. We both know that. I'm not doing it!"
A long silence. The Guide narrowed his eyes.
"If you do not make yourself useful, than what choice have I but to dispose of you... Perhaps The Slayer will kill you for harming me, despite my orders - but if I don't walk out of this room with the items I requested - I will ensure a painful death."
"..."
"Now hurry up, Agent. I don't have time for more tantrums."
Odd shuffling movement... a rat? A bird? I can smell the stench of some sort of animal, but it isn't any animal I've encountered before. Admittingly, that isn't saying much - but I do know the scents and sounds of the creatures that frequent The Resistance building. I know horses. I know cats, dogs, oxen, goats and humans - but what I smell is not any of these. I smell the scent of a predator.
*shiff...shiff*
And not just one, but many predators, blended together, merging in and through one another. Soft, soft footfalls and silent smooth movements that roam deadly in the darkness, hunting their prey. Hunting who? Hunting me?
Laughable.
I huff and allow a wry grin to split my face as I cast my gaze down the corridor, my eyes adjusting to gloomy shapes in the dark. There's a cold draft whistling mournfully along the cobblestone flooring, whisking snowflakes and stinging flecks of ice into my clothing and bare skin. The air brushes through me and chills the hollows of my cheeks. I still my heart and fill my lungs as I face the slowly approaching footfalls.
(whispers)
Who are these... man, beasts that felt the need to burst through the outer walls to sneak through The Building? They certainly aren't Resistance members. They aren't merchants nor peddlers. They must be enemies. Enemies who thought they were strong enough to infiltrate this place with no more than 5... no, 6 members.
How... exciting.
I'm being snobbish. I know it. Snobbish and overconfident - yet I cannot help it. My long sealed magic burgeons in my veins, leaping and arcing through me like flashes of light and electricity. It's stronger than when it was locked away. I can hardly contain it inside of my skin. It wants to burst forth and consume and destroy. It effects me too. I fight to keep my feet from shifting, but truly, I'm wound up like a spring. I want nothing more than to fly at the beast-like intruders and blast their flesh from their bones. I want to use the great myriad of spells and incantations I've long since committed to memory. I want to summon the eldritch powers of the void. I want to rain lightning like spears from the sky. I want to swing blades of black hellfire through armies like a scythe slits through grass. I want to-
The footsteps stop.
I perk my ears and hood my eyes so they don't glow in the darkness. I make my breath scarce. I do my best to keep from trembling, but I can't fucking help it. I grin into the dark, and I'm certain I must look like a madman.
The footsteps are quick now. Their breathing, harsh but strong.
They've found me.
They fan out afore me and raise their weapons for battle. I respond. Not with violence, but simply to light the single hanging lantern in our dilapidated little hallway.
I turn to grin.
And... they charge me down.
She... wasn't sure how she arrived here.
But then again, over the past two years, she hardly was aware that she was alive. There were swaths of time where she was convinced she had died and had gone to hell. There were months where she thought she was made of oil and cogs. The runes that seemed to flash and pulse in the very corners of her eyeballs burned into her dreams, scrambling her previously sharp and succinct brain into such a sloppy mess she could hardly form coherent speech, nor direct her two eyeballs to look in the same direction. Her memories were a mess. A tremendous tentacles god, the pounding of hammer on steel, electronic wirings and blasting sparks, heavy chains about her wrists and neck. Her body was a mess - malnourished and so weak, her breath seemed to cave her chest and her bones seemed to jut out of her skin. It was generous to call her clothing 'rags'. It was kindness to call her a human.
Yet... as she stood, shaking in the midst of a tremendous, regal forest - her bare feet pressing against the cool, moist blades of grass, clear sweet air filling her lungs, she had to admit she didn't really care how she arrived here. She didn't really care if she was actually alive or not either. Tears slid down her face as she stumbled slowly towards a clearing in the trees - as if drawn by an invisible golden thread. Where was she going? What was that gate? She didn't care. She didn't care at all. There were little flowers waving in the field. They were so gentle and beautiful she felt she could die for them. The trees and the leaves rustled in the breeze beneath the cloudy sky. She wished she could see the sun... maybe she'd live a bit longer so she could see it. How long had it been since she'd been outside?
How long had it been since those Resistance men had kidnapped her from her Mentor's laboratory?
She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember.
And she didn't want to.
Permafrost:" Faze, how was your day?"
F:" I was asked to sacrifice a virgin brutally at an altar made of antlers"
Permafrost:" DEAR GOD!"
F:" Most likely, yes"
~mcmake
Poor Mechanic, she's had a rough time.