Another chapter!
Stratant: THANK YOU FOR READING :hearts: I have so much respect for ppl who have read so much of my story in one sitting, like dang! I'm unworthy. OTL
Gimbler: I literally love you, and I never have mercy. :)
Armour: Brimflame (Vanity- Rags)
Weapon: Winter's Fury, Undine's Retribution, Stormfront Razor
Acc(11/11): The Bee, Celestial cuffs, Mana Flower, Sorcerer Emblem, Cryo Wings, Ankh Shield, Deific Amulet, TerraSpark Boots, Grand Gelatin, Permafrost's Concotion, Evasion Scarf. (Unlimited Buffs)
Health: (400/500)
Armour: Molten Armour (Vanity - None)
Weapon: Molten Bow (Ichor Arrows); Arkhalis
Acc(11/12): Charm of Myths, Ankh Shield, Terraspark Boots, Luxor's Gift, Deific Amulet, Counter Scarf, Crown Jewel, MOAB, Harpy Ring, Aero Stone, Skyline Wings, Warrior Emblem
Health: (400/400)
Although I've scarcely turned off my invisibility for a moment, I still feel a great deal of anxiety wandering The Capitol Streets.
There are eyes everywhere.
Judging, criticizing eyes. Some of the gazes are afraid, some greedy, disgusted or shocked... but none are friendly. They are careful and observant, the eyes of the men, The Eyes in The Sky. Despite that I'm pressed in between hundreds of bodies as I wander about the city fair, collecting and purchasing (I will not deign to steal, especially considering I'm trying to stay incognito) all the necessary ingredients for recipes I've seen in my studies - I feel utterly isolated in this city of endless faces. I feel anxious and scrutinized, skittish like a rat in a maze.
(Dragon Eyes-)
(The Imperial Guard is looking for him- why did you not report him?!)
(...sympathizing with a Domestic terrorist...)
The buildings are all tall and regal, built and maintained with exceeding care. Some homes are cottages, with waxed shingled roofs and ringed roundabout with small flower gardens. Some are great imposing buildings, brutalist in their architecture and as imposing as they are unfriendly. In the distance, a beautiful castle whose spire reaches the sky. It's white and gold and so massive it dwarfs The Resistance building the way an elephant dwarfs a mouse. Is that the dwelling place of my enemy? Where Tyrant Yharim Lives?
How... could I ever defeat him?
It was an impossibility. Utterly impossible. Perhaps I already knew it, for his strength was imposing when he broke into The Resistance and slew The Archmage. I could see his strength in The Clone's demise - for despite how powerful she was, she could not survive The King's curse. Yharim was strong, but in his own city - in his own home, he was truly overwhelming. The Capitol City... it was his fortress. All the men and women who milled about the streets like ants were his loyal subjects. They bustle about, selling wares, buying wares, rushing to and fro, from one matter of business to the next. Each of these belong, each of these serve the king - procuring resources, buying and selling, importing and exporting... a great economic machine. The Tyrant's City.
(Please- sirs, Please I didn't kno- ack!)
The sun is setting. The colour of flames splayed across the sky in a display I had watched many times with my mentor. I think of him each time I see the it, but it offers me little comfort - only reminding me of what I've lost. As the chill of night fall over me, I carefully lay out my wares upon the dirty floor. Tonight, I've chosen to stow away in the small cleaning shed I've found upon the roof of a tall building. It's a miserable place, filled with mildew, stains and dirty mops - but I refuse to stay in the open air. The tremendous twin moons loom over the city and I'm convinced even in the night, they will be searching for me. I dare not step outside without my invisibility active.
(Please, mercy! Please! He disappeared before my eyes. I don't know where he went!)
(Invisibility?)
(Yes Sirs, I am a loyal servant of The King. I would never have allowed him to leave if I knew who he was. Have Mercy! Please let me go.)
I recognize the sound of distress from far below. It was the woman who gave me The Stardust. She is being beaten by CC Agents as they attempt to extract information about me from her. Some part of me wishes I could go and stop it, and I would have - had my position not been so precarious - but alas... I simply crouch here and wait. After a long moment, a single gunshot rings out, then silence.
(*Central, Target is suspected of using magical invisibility. No wonder the guards didn't find him. Tune The Twins to infrared vision. Also have the main gates fitted with Infrared sensors*)
(...)
(Excellent. Have all troops at the ready. The Twins are the only Mechanicals nearby, so make sure they're battle ready. Have Sky Trap ready for deployment.)
I sigh and press my invisible palm against my invisible forehead. Mechanicals? Twins? Sky Trap? Why did I come here? What can I hope to accomplish my own? I was filled with rage when I left The Clone's remains in that little village... but did I expect I'd come here and fight Yharim again?! And not just fight him, but fight him in the very seat of his power?
Oh... what do I do now...
I sigh and huddle in, watching as the city lights slowly snuff out to the bellowing rhythm of The King's Mighty City.
"Alright, matey - here's what it's fixin' to be."
The Pirate Captain grinned down on the terrified man, tied up and made to kneel before him. The poor scrap met his glare with flint, but was trembling so dramatically all illusion of collectiveness was utterly banished. If anything, The Guide (this was the name his captors had gotten from his documents) was doing his best to behave bravely - but this situation was a but much for him. Was he going to pass out from fear? That there wasn't useful.
The Pirate Captain motioned for the guards to lower their weapons. The trembling lessened, but didn't halt. Good.
The Pirate Captain blew a ring of tabbaco smoke at The Guide.
"As a longtime resident o' this here capitol city, ye know the thieves guild hears everythin'. We know who ye be. We know yer family. We know where ye work, an' we know that ye disappeared. I ain't too interested in the story, though. Probably some girl-"
There was a glint in The Guide's eye. The Pirate Captain chuckled.
"Now I really, don't wanna hear it... but what I care about be this:"
The Pirate Captain leaned in close and blew another puff of smoke at The Guide. This time, the man's eyes watered and he did his best not to cough.
"I've got yer matey, Dead-Eyes. I've got all my best men guardin' him, and you sure as hell ain't goin' to rescue 'im. He'll be making gold bars fer me until the day he dies... and his brother too, when I catch 'im"
The Guide frowned at him, his face strained as he blinked tears out of his eyes. He looked confused.
"Central's nicknamed him 'dragon-eyes' and he's the spittin' image of my new golden goose. They think he's some sort o' terrorist... but I know e's here to rescue his brother. But There's a snowball's chance in hell succeed. When 'e eventually gets captured by the police, I'll have him smuggled out and lock 'im right next to his brother, so both can make me money."
The man kneeling before him looked with fire in his eyes. He bared his teeth and struggled against his bonds. He stuttered something, but only spoke up after being slapped.
"Y-you... don't you dare touch them!"
"Oh-ho!"
The Pirate Captain's eyes lit up. Were there more from Dead-eye's tribe? More who had the ability to produce riches of all sorts? And if The Guide knew where to find them (a piece of knowledge the otherwise intelligent man had rather carelessly let slip) then The Thieves Guild would be richer than they ever thought possible. Having one golden goose was already brilliant. A whole tribe of them?! The very idea made The Captain want to stand up on his peg leg and dance.
Instead, he grinned and leaned back in. This time, he didn't blow smoke into The Guide's face.
"Okay, Guide... I want ye to tell me where Dead-Eyes' tribe is. Agree, and I will set ye free. Me people will never bother ye again. Refuse, I will kill ya. Think. Ye 'ave thirty seconds."
The Guide's careful face melded into all the appropriate expressions of one overwhelmed by such a decision. Grief, guilt, despair... the works. Frankly, The Pirate Captain was becoming quite impressed by his ability to read this so-called scholar. He always thought these professor types were far more sly. But clearly, The Guide - despite being a decorated scholar himself - was simply too rattled to pull any of the wordplay the 'upper-class' was famous for. He spoke plainly.
"I can't-... they always move around! I don't think they'll be there, a-and they'll fight you! They're a fierce tribe I've studied for years, and my fiance is there doing research on them! If you are going to capture them, she's gonna get caught in the crossfir-"
The Pirate Captain rolled his eyes and interrupted.
"I knew it. A lass. Fine - brin' me to where ye found Dead-Eyes, we'll fetch yer lass, an' we won't start searchin' the area until afterwards. I be a fair man, after all. 'ow does that there sit with ye, Guide?"
The Guide gaped at him like a fish on a pier. There were little cogs spinning behind his eyes as he ran scenarios in his head, but The Pirate Captain knew he would agree. After a long while, he nodded then drooped his head in shame. The Pirate Captain laughed again. He motioned to the guards.
"..."
"Brin' 'im. Division one says they've put me goose in 'is cage. Before the thieves' guild goes on rescue mission, let's make sure he lays golden eggs."
They found it a bit odd the 22nd Division were so eager to pass up the responsibility of guarding Dead-Eyes. Typically, crews liked to gloat over their achievements, and since the 22nd was a chronic underperformer, the rest of The Thieves' Guild expected to bear their gloating for the better part of the upcoming year.
But, much to their surprise, The 22nd's leader insisted the crew would take their rewards (all thirty of those lucky bastards got a nice cushy retirement) and proceeded to vacate the premises with nothing but a worried look and a stern warning. And whilst the thirty crewmembers were crowded away, cheering in their newfound wealth, The 22nd's Leader and a few of his battle hardened officers had such a look of worry plastered across their faces, that Division 1 - the most capable of The Theives' Guild, decided to crank up their security to the max. They opened up the arsenal and lavished firearms among each member of their division. Nobody would be taking Dead-Eyes from them, and he wasn't escaping either.
(y'think he can make sapphires? My girl loves Sapphires)
(Which girl? I swear you spend more time in the whorehouse than in that fancy house you bought)
(Shut the fuck up, I'm really in love this time)
(Sure, sure - now pop outside I think I hear a car coming.)
(...yes, sir.)
And so, the resulting scene was a bit odd. They were situated in a warehouse in the outskirts of the capitol, hidden conveniently from The Twin's line of sight by a set of particularly tall shrubs, in which infra-red mesh had been embedded. Thirty men, all armed to the teeth, patrolled the premises. Some were lookouts on surrounding buildings, armed with radio and sniper rifles. Some remained at post, covering each other's blind spots. Some roamed about, reacting to every cracking twig or gust of wind.
The inside of the building was a single tremendous room in which a large cage had been welded into the concrete floor. An unconscious man was laying on the floor of that cage, stripped of everything but his undergarments, handcuffed, and so unmoving half of them were sure he was already dead. Still, dead or not, Division 1 would follow The Captain's orders. This warehouse was to be 'Dead-Eye's' permanent residence for the forseeable future, and The Captain wanted to see his newest money farm secure. Division 1's Second Petty Officer was in charge of security, and would - by no means, allow himself to fail in this task.
(Officer, it wasn't The Captain. Just some joyriding kids.)
(Stay vigilant.)
(Yes, Sir.)
But to be completely honest, 2nd Petty Officer thought this entire debacle was an embarrassing waste of time and resources. Nobody made bars of gold and jewels, and even if they could, it was probably magic - and if magic, probably temporary or fake. Counterfeit currency and resources have been a tremendous problem since the art of alchemy took to the streets, and hundreds of practitioners - thinking they were being clever - had turned sawdust into gold pieces to spend willy-nilly. The hoax was discovered shortly afterwards when the charms wore off and The Gold returned to sawdust inside The Capitol's very bank vaults. Needless to say, The King was displeased, and had publicly executed a number of offenders (and non-offenders) in varyingly horrific ways until everyone was scared so stiff, they stopped teaching alchemy in the schools entirely. Regardless, he-
*clink*
"Officer, he's awake!"
And indeed he was, Dead-Eyes woke as abruptly as one could. He had been laying on his back, still as a corpse for the better part of the day, before suddenly sitting up - pale eyes wide in panic. The Officer watched him quickly pat himself down, count his fingers, then his toes, then his fingers again, before swiveling his head too far in either direction to assess his surroundings. To be honest, Dead-Eyes... was offputting. The way he moved was simply strange. But just being strange was hardly a threat, after all, he was naked, caged and handcuf-... did he just break off the Handcuffs?! Hold on-
Before The Officer could issue any warning, Whoremonger barged past him and pressed his face into the cage's bars. His eyes were all alight and he shouted at Dead-Eyes with a disgusting grin plastered over his face. Several other members of Division One joined him, all excitedly crowding in and throwing remarks at the man, all ignoring the orders The Officer shouted at them.
"Hey, can you make sapphires?!"
"You can't really make gold, right? Can you make some, just so I can see?"
"Hey-" Somebody flicked a pebble at Dead-Eyes. Quite shockingly, the small stone's jagged edge skimmed across his shoulder and opened a large gash there - like his skin was nothing but the membrane of an egg's yolk. Blood spilled out briefly before the laceration sealed itself, coating Dead-Eye's arm scarlet and causing the man to frown deeply at the blood dripping from his elbow. Aside for annoyance, however, Dead-Eyes didn't show any other signs of discomfort.
"Get back, all of you! What's The Captain gonna think if he sees him all bloody! Back off!"
Of course, The Officer panicked. The last thing he wanted was for The Captain to think his Division had tried to attack Dead-Eyes. Division Lead would certainly kill him for it! He struggled and pried each member off the cage's bars and threw a few punches for good measure. After a bit of exertion, the particularily greedy members of Division 1 had cleared the cage. The Office stood with his back to it, panting and glaring at his disobedient troupe members.
*clink-clatter...tap, tap*
But before he could start on a lecture, a gauntleted finger tapped twice on his shoulder armour. The Officer turned to look, and much to his surprise, Dead-Eyes was reaching through the bars. He was suddenly clothed, but not in the plain attire they'd found him in. Instead, he was clad in full plate armour. A helmet covered his head and pale eyes flashed from beneath a slatted visor. Beneath the bobbing feathered plume, two swooping horns bowed low, like a bull poised to gore his enemies. There was no weapon at his hip, but given he'd pulled a suit an armour from nowhere, it was safe to assume he was similarly armed.
"Dead-Eyes?!"
"..."
Silence.
Outside, many of the men peeked in from their posts. Those on patrol stood in the windows to train him in their muzzles and watch. If they had been straining hard to hear, they needn't have, for the words Dead-Eyes uttered were spoken directly into their ears.
"Dead-Eyes... Is that what you've chosen to call me...?"
"U-uh."
The Officer stuttered out a non-response. frankly, he was a little bit confused as to how to handle this situation. He had come here with strict instructions to guard and contain Dead-Eyes - not to fight him, definitely not to kill him. But, now that he was awake, the officer could smell the stench of a blood and violence on him. His eyes were pits, there wasn't a scrap of conscious there to appeal to. Division One was in danger.
Dead-Eyes spoke again. His voice was as bland and monotonous as the rest of him. Yet even so, an undercurrent of delusional excitement ran beneath the words.
"... I don't care what the rest of you call me. Call me as you like. There is only one person that matters in this world. After so long, I finally found him. I didn't recognize him but... I need to go."
Rather terrifyingly, the reinforced bars of the steel cage folded easily beneath Dead-Eyes' palm. He brushed them aside as if they were nothing but a silken curtain and stepped out of the containment to stand beside The frozen Officer. When he spoke again, he was most certainly grinning. A dark spark of unhingedness glowered in those pale, sick eyes.
"So... all of you should disappear."
MK: stretches and yawns
Guide: He must be tired
Faze: Tired of you
MK: Tired of life
G: NO, stop it I hate that.
F: I hate you
MK: I hate you too.
F: Kys
G: NO!
:0 :0 :0
When you call somebody their childhood nickname and they lose their minds. FOr The Guide, it's just a sunday.