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 Posted: Fri May 23, 2014 4:14 am
nu███████ XXX ███████ XXX ███████ XXX ███████
numineDO YOU HAVE ` WHAT IT TAKES ♕》*TO KILL A GOD?
bad apple
xxx
n×◞KILL ⊰THE ( DEMON ) *⇣OR HE'LL KILL ♕YOU FIRST !
by numinex for the food chain do not steal! c:LIKE HE DID DANIELLE LOL
West could notice that Akeem was made uncomfortable by his suggestions regarding clothing. He understood that nobility was just not his priority, he was wholly a fighter. But he could come to master the mannerisms very easily. West had begun as a noble, a spoiled prince of Fraxen. It only took a short amount of time for him to rise from his station as a weak young man to a strong adult, capable of razing cities by will. Nobility and war were hand-in-hand in Axiom, especially outside of Nocturne and Yuran. It had been that way ever since Lensley surged lightning through Sevilla's heart. "I'm sorry for pressing my Fraxon mannerisms onto you, but we do as we must," he said. It was his form of an apology.
Regardless of what was said and apologized for, though, it seemed like the smidgeon of tension in the air between the two rose considerably as they absorbed more knowledge of what was going on. He didn't think Akeem was necessarily feeling mistrust for West, only that he was unsure of his conclusions. It was difficult to explain why he made his choices unless you had experienced the same dealings that he had, the past few days. Lukhan, the gate, Kaminae, Antony. In some form, perhaps a false form, all of these creatures appeared to him, playing tug of war. He was given a slew of compromising choices, and was made to pick one. So he chose the one that would kill the least. There was no special magical trick he could utilize to re-stabilize Aramil. There was only an ultimatum, and an answer.
He tried to ignore the estranged disposition, and he gracefully walked through the halls to the large dinner table he'd just yesterday shared with Isis. "If you have anything you like in particular, be sure to let me know. I'm already shoving my fashion requirements down your throat, don't want to clog it up with unwanted beverages too." He laughed a little, something he often did but so rarely meant.
Before he was about to sit down, Akeem finally spoke up and asked him if he could speak freely. West did indeed allow it, nodding briefly. And, as he expected, Akeem brought up what surely everyone outside of the Vangelist church was bringing up -- how were they to live in a nation that labeled them heretics? West didn't have a short or easy answer to that, or one he could tell any random man or woman on the street. But he did have a long answer, one that he could tell Akeem. One that might make sense. "That's a good question." He leaned back against the burgundy-colored wood, crossed his arms and eyed Akeem. "Well, as a disclaimer, I'd like to say that I don't really worship Michael either. I did not make this choice out of love for him, or my personal beliefs. Until just a few days ago I was an ardent follower of Lukhan." He rolled his neck, and sighed. He wasn't sure how to begin, but he would have to explain some semblance of his journey that led him to his very radical choice.
"But I realized something. Fronta had declared war on us, and people were revolting by the tons of thousands. Aramil was on the verge of destruction, I on the verge of deposition, all of my people destined to die. And you know what happened? A demon came to me, speaking directly for Kala. He approached me as I was searching for other people's dreams. You know what I mean, right? Djinn can do it. Incubi can do it." He didn't feel the need to go into specifics, but demons could contact those who were dreaming and those who were searching for other dreams. For example, if West desired to, he could visit Akeem in the middle of the night all the time. He could rip him away from his own thoughts and pull him into his own world, one that very much seemed like hell. "Anyhow, he approached me. But he wasn't there to save Aramil, or me, even though I'm a demon myself. No, he was there to save Vaet Nocturnum. He demanded that I make the worship of demons the state religion, otherwise the Mer would continue to assault Aramil and he would lend me no assistance against Fronta. You have to understand that loyalty to demons means absolutely nothing. They are users, born to be users. Raised to be users. And for what purpose? Darkness. Death. Their end-game is just to see all life fade. Is that worth worshiping?"
That was certainly something to say, considering who he was. A demon. Perhaps that was a great misfortune of his in the days to come -- that he was declaring his own self an enemy of the righteous. How could a demon save the Aramil? The world? How could he speak to the angels?
Regardless, he had already made his choice. Anything was better than succumbing to the will of those soulless beasts in hell. Right? "And Lukhan, he plotted out my whole life simply to watch me make that choice. Demons live like that all the time -- they plot, they scheme, and it's not for you or me. It's for them, it's for Kala. Kala, who is the reason for all of the suffering in the world. Kala, who openly admits that she'd like to see us all burn in hell." He stopped, and relaxed his voice. He took a breath, trying to get back on track. It was strange to think that he had so many words to say, all because a make-shift angel somehow managed to convince him that his sworn enemies were just as evil as the church said they were. Silly enough though, West had never felt so motivated as now, feeling the mark pump energy beneath his skin. The Emperor pulled his collar back, and unveiled some of his chest, sliding his shirt down so that Akeem could see the mark on his shoulder -- it said "IV', and that was all.
"It's obvious that I couldn't avoid any of these ultimatums. It was either living as an angel's stool, a demon's b***h, or not living at all. And I made my choice." In his mind, it was better to live in modesty and fly away to some crystalline land rather than fester in debauchery, blood and greed only to be sent away to a burning pit. There was no room for compassion in Vaet Nocturnum. Akeem had compassion, a good heart. West wanted to think he had one too. One only wondered which side they could stand on, without compromising that. The angels, the demons, they were all bloodthirsty. West wanted to live with nothing but common sense as his God.
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Posted: Fri May 23, 2014 8:28 am
Akeem was sure he had never found himself in a situation as awkward as this one. He followed West through the great halls of his palace in silence, only the soft pattering of his shoes making noise. He wasn't exactly sure if he should make small talk and compliment West on this place. Akeem already thought it was a vain monument to one's Pride and that probably was not the best thing to mention to a demon. When West laughed Akeem merely smiled to himself. He was so out of place in this setting he felt like a different person. Even when West said he was free to get whatever he liked Akeem was unsure. He decided on a grapefruit, eggs, and a glass of orange juice and was sure to let West know. There would never be a time when Akeem willingly skipped breakfast and he wouldn't deny it now especially once offered.
There was another beat where Akeem found himself unsure. The kaiser chose the head of the table and that left the Djinn to play a guessing game. Did he sit on the far end or next to him? Akeem mentally shrugged and chose the right seat next to West. It was then that West launched into his response, and Akeem listened intently. This topic was probably the most interesting thing that Akeem had been apart of for awhile now. The entire nation was affected, not just himself. West's decision rolled so far and through so many people Akeem was not sure how he handled it. The mention of Kala had him gripping the arms of his chair tightly. His eyes were wide and serious and his whole body was tense. At West's question of dreams Akeem merely nodded his head and waited for the demon to continue speaking. His proclamation of demon worshipping being a fruitless endeavor had Akeem leaning back in his chair. He folded his hands and held them before his mouth deep in thought.
Had his reverence of his gods ever brought him something? Even in his darkest times there had never been a sign of hope or aid. Why had he dedicated himself to worshipping them? Every demon god he could think of was dedicated to strike and evil. Akeem had once been a wicked being, but those days were long behind him now. Darkness, Horror, Pain, Betrayal, Lies; these were the virtues of a demon. There was no integrity or honor, only self-servicing. Akeem did not want these things. He wanted to live, he wanted to see his nation prosper. Perhaps he did not have to devote himself to Michael, but surely following in some of their beliefs was not a bad thing. To see a being crafted in the likeness of Lukhan openly renounce him had Akeem half expecting the pleasure demon himself to pop out and smite his King.
Akeem shifted positions when West pulled his collar down to get a better view of what he was seeing. At first only confusion passed his face; why was West showing him some tattoo? He sat forward once more before speaking. "I...am unsure about what to believe now. I do not want to follow those who seek only destruction." Akeem said with a little confidence. How had he been blind to that truth for so long? It was almost a liberating feeling, but he was not ready to embrace it fully. "Have you been touched by an angel? I did not think their kind would accept demons and dark ones so willingly. Vaet Nocturnum would have one believe otherwise. I do not wish to blindly follow another, perhaps it is my heart that I shall listen to." Akeem said wisftully. For a moment he was silent, merely staring at the carving of the table. So many questions came to mind Akeem was feeling a headache brewing. "Does this mean we are to fight against Vaetians now?" THe idea made Akeem's skin crawl. He knew a lot of people following the dark religion. But in a time of war he would not hesitate if ordered to act, that much he knew. "If the holy ones have seen fit to give us aid, will the demons try to intervene against us?" Akeem knew many of the demon gods and could not imagine having to deal with one of their most devout. He had a sudden sense of himself standing at the edge of a vast abyss and he was slowly losing his balance.
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Posted: Fri May 23, 2014 9:10 am
 Favnir
Class: Berserker | Bloodline: Draconian | Rank: Novice | Str/Spd: 12/8 | Nation: Rogue | Energy: 550/550 | Clothes: Casual Clothes and Boots of NarathosFavnir grumbled and glared at the blade. He gave a casual bow "that comment was not towards you, I try not to assume things, the throne of Aramil has been Vacant since the last two Sovreigns disappeared off the face of Axiom" he said and turned to leave. He eyed the new comer, he had the feeling that all three of them were on the same warrior type. He walked from the palace to somewhere. -leave- -Learned: -Used: Iron Form [2/10] -Equipment: Iron Tonfa THEME:
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Posted: Fri May 23, 2014 5:10 pm
nu███████ XXX ███████ XXX ███████ XXX ███████
numineDO YOU HAVE ` WHAT IT TAKES ♕》*TO KILL A GOD?
bad apple
xxx
n×◞KILL ⊰THE ( DEMON ) *⇣OR HE'LL KILL ♕YOU FIRST !
by numinex for the food chain do not steal! c:LIKE HE DID DANIELLE LOL
He watched Akeem closely, as Akeem watched him. He seemed very intent to listen to West, hear everything he had to say. It was funny, but he was sort of like a young boy when it came to matters of listening and learning, despite being over four times as old as West. He supposed Djinn simply did not live the way the other supernaturals did; they lived to adventure, not to actively improve themselves. They picked up these lessons along the way, in the place they landed. He just so happened to land here, along with a great many of his skittle-skinned compatriots. The Emperor was interested in his people, especially after learning about... well, their origins. West was not yet aware of the fact that Djinn tended to accidentally kill their partners, but he had been made aware that Lukhan engineered them the way they were. The Incubus, the Djinn, the Succubus; they served a purpose, to cover the world with demon-kind. They were immortal races that created even more immortals, all of them demons, bent on worshiping those who would accept them. It was for the demographics. It was for the surveys. They just wanted to see that global number rise to 51%. Or at least that was what he was led to believe.
But in honesty, West was conflicted too. It was like Akeem said -- how could an angel accept a demon so willingly? Most believed they couldn't. So what was true, really? Was this also a scheme to see Vangelism rise to the majority again? Was West just a disposable tool? The Emperor unfortunately did not know these answers himself, which made this situation all the more unfortunate. When you played with Gods and Devils, you could only sit down and tug at strings, at guesswork, until the day that you died. He was aware of this.
"I'm not sure exactly why the angels would mark me, but I guess it's not all that strange? There have been angels to fall. So, I'm not sure if that makes me a "risen demon" or what but..." The man laughed slightly. He tried to keep a positive energy, so that people could be content to rely on him. On further note, about blindly changing your stance, he agreed with Akeem. You should never blindly follow anyone. He had done it all his life -- he followed Jasper to the throne of Aramil, Lust to the verge of the darkness, that vampire to Fenrir's lair... it always went sour for him. He had become quite cynical because of that fact. However, there were times where you just couldn't choose. You didn't have the time to follow your heart, to think rationally. By what he could tell, Akeem had probably taken his time and tried to approach his life in a very worldly way. He'd had over a hundred years to learn what he did. But that wouldn't last forever. There was coming a day where the people who remained on Axiom would have to choose: Michael, or Kala. There would be no in-between.
He pulled his clothing back up, making himself look proper again. He'd shown Akeem what he wanted to show him -- the mark, the strange mutation on his flesh. "We will not fight anyone who waves the banner of Aramil," he told him. "Vaet Nocturnum, Justoastrianism, Komonism... the people are free to live like this as they please. Our foundation will remain secular, we will only be Vangelist in name. This was not, after all, a convicted choice of mine. It was a political ploy to get Fronta off of my back. It would be unwise to press this further, considering most of our population is not Vangelist." Not Vaet Nocturnum, but not Vangelist. Many didn't follow a God at all.
However, he had to be clear on one issue. "There will be a lot of enemies in this city, though. There are around twenty million people worshiping Kala in Aramil, and about ten million of them live in Lukhan's Landing. These people are sort of like most liberals -- they don't want you taking away their privileges, even if they verge on rape and murder. That is why they enjoyed our almost federation-like government, one that permitted the actions of Vaet Nocturnum if done in private and without harming people from other religions and beliefs. For a long time, I was their idol because I allowed them to live like who they are. That might change." He shrugged, leaning back into his chair.
Akeem's last question, about the demons and the threat of their intervention, was also something he wondered. After thinking about it, though, not surprisingly... he only had more guesswork. "I'm sure that Kaminae will continue to lock us onto our island. Nocturne will consider us as enemies, though they can't really do anything to us. I may have spies and assassins after my head. But all-in-all I don't think it will be much different." He took a sip of his chai, the sort of tea that still had some flavor, and yawned. Not because he was tired. Scientists told him that yawning wasn't a sign of tiredness, Juli. "You have the right to make your choice here too, just as I made mine. You said you don't want to blindly follow anything, so I don't expect you to continue to follow me if it compromises your virtues. So, Akeem, why don't you decide with your heart as you said? What do you think is best for Aramil, and best for you?" He looked at him intently. That answer was something that all Kings and all Captains had to make, and they had to make it often. In response to West's weighted decision, Akeem would have to act as well.
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Posted: Fri May 23, 2014 5:47 pm
As West answered Akeem's questions as best as he could the food conveniently arrived. That was a bit odd since Akeem had not seen any servants present, but he figured the Emperor would not often be left alone. As West himself said there were those who would see him without a head. The image of the mark upon West's chest was burned in Akeem's mind. It was almost a living thing branded onto his skin. He wondered how it must feel; being ever present in the might of an angel. Did this imbue him with powers or was it merely a claim of sorts? There were so many questions that Akeem feared he would not get an answer to. The pink-toned Djinn slowly picked at his grapefuit, occassionally scooping up a mouthful of eggs and chewing them deliberately.
Hearing West's declaration of unity brought comfort to Akeem. He would not wish to turn his hands against his own people. That would be a travesty of a nation, truly. Another foreboding feeling passed over him. If the Vaetians could not accept the rules pressed upon them there very well may be a civil war on their hands. When West laid out the numbers to Akeem he almost choked on his orange juice. That was one hell of a number to deal with if things turned sour. For a moment he was grateful that they were locked on an island, for enemy forces could not reach them very easily. Unfortunately there just happened to be one goddess who saw fit to keep them trapped here. Akeem scowled at the mention of Kaminae the Sea Witch, he mumbled his yearning to see her dead in elvish.
West's talk of Akeem's choice had him pausing in his fine dining. Was he ready to fully commit himself to something? After his slumber Aramil was all he knew. Akeem had thrown himself full force at raising in the ranks and being all he could be for the military. He had become a tool for them to use whenever they needed, he did not know anything else. With this new found freedom of truth Akeem assessed the past three years of his life. Since West had become Emperor he had only seen him put his nation before him. For a demon king he had done surprising things, never placing his desires before Aramil had been one of them. Akeem had grown to greatly respect West, and after knowing of his denouncement of those who would see this world burn only strengthened that respect. "My own gods have lied to me for many years, as many days as I have seen. You, have not. What is best for Aramil, is you." Akeem rose suddenly and clapped his fist across his chest in a warrior's salute to his king. Perhaps it was a tad theatrical, but it was an earnest gesture from the Djinn. "I do not know if demons can rise as angel's fall, but you are the closest I have seen to it. I will fight for you so long as you vie for peace and the protection of this nation." Akeem said in conclusion, taking his seat back and letting his rush of adrenaline die off. It was in that moment that he had the sudden yearning to advance even farther in this army. He knew he was capable of more and wanted to bring that to Aramil. It was time Akeem gave back to the nation he had called home.
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Posted: Fri May 23, 2014 6:56 pm
nu███████ XXX ███████ XXX ███████ XXX ███████
numineDO YOU HAVE ` WHAT IT TAKES ♕》*TO KILL A GOD?
bad apple
xxx
n×◞KILL ⊰THE ( DEMON ) *⇣OR HE'LL KILL ♕YOU FIRST !
by numinex for the food chain do not steal! c:LIKE HE DID DANIELLE LOL
Remembering back on the days before he had become King, he wondered if he ever really intended to live his life out like this. Back when he was just Raphael Giletti, crown prince of Fronta, he could remember that all he wanted was a chance to live life like a regular human. He remembered always being different from his peers in every possible way -- from A to Z, he was different. He wanted to dress different, more scantily clad. He wanted to act different, suave and seductive but in truth entirely amoral. He was born in a different skin than what was intended, and yet regardless he buried himself beneath the weight of his commitment. When the time came to choose, he chose Fraxen. He chose Michael. He buried Kala, and her influence over him, where it belonged; just the back of his mind, where the fantasies he'd never see come alive would fester.
If one thought about it deeply, West had always been the way he was. It wasn't a matter of sin or demon, mark or angel. It was a struggle he was born to live in, that every man was subject to. It was a battle between desire and peace, which was a battle that would soon extend to this nation. People chose one of the two, and they stuck with this choice forever, regardless of the consequence. Akeem and West, both hand-in-hand, soldiers and leaders, made the choice of peace over desire. In truth, West supposed he was a very lucky man. Akeem was not the only one to possess this virtue in his court; there was Isis, there was Maria, there was Damon. They all chose self-sacrifice in the face of destruction. What was best for this nation was not just West, it was all of these people willing to make that choice. And Akeem, latest to this group of like-minded fellows, he in particular motivated West. As he rose to plant his fist against his chest and swear a more solid allegiance, West rose too.
He didn't smile much, it was only the slightest curve on the corner of his lip. But it was real, and right now his enthusiasm was real. He clapped his own fist across his chest, and followed Akeem's actions in the order that he performed them. But this was not a salute to Akeem, and not a salute to himself. "For Aramil," he chanted. It was quiet, but it possessed all the spirit that would come with roaring its name. The words made a person, and West was always a man of relaxed but endearing words. Still though, there was room for excitement. When they had both released their soldier-like stance, he stepped forward and pat his Captain on the shoulder. "You're a good soldier. A loyal one, and one with interest in the good. It's good to know there are men like you still out there. You'll be essential in reminding the rest of the nation, too, what we're fighting for."
They were fighting for their freedom, for their lives.
He stepped away from Akeem, and locked his fingers together behind his back. He stood straight, and tall, remembering his posture. "I expect I'll be calling on your assistance a lot more often from now on. Commander." He seated himself back down, and Isis stepped in from the hallway to speak. "I think I have a mission for you, Captain," she said. Isis was much like West; she was dressed fancy, she stood tall and retained the proper mannerisms. Her hair was fancied downwards, long blonde locks stretching beneath her waist. She looked very much like a Queen, which was what she was in some ways. She was the one who ruled when West was gone, and the one who fought for Aramil more than anyone. She was self-sacrifice made alive, always doing whatever it was that West wanted for her to do. It was a bizarre dynamic between the two, but one that worked well to serve the interest of the throne.
She stepped forward, her fingertips tapping against each other as she walked. "We are in desperate need to relieve our military forces in Yuran of their stations. In case some other unknown force decides they want to assault us, we'll need all of our soldiers in line. Plus, for the sake of future relations with Yuran, we suppose it's best to not continue to press our claim on Pronta. It's not really worth all of the resources expended to keep it ours anyhow." She handed him a slip of paper from atop the dining table, one she had prepared this morning. "You will hand the Viceroy of Pronta this slip. Then, we'd like you to ensure that every soldier returns home. When soldiers are relieved from occupied cities, there's precedence to a large amount of them just... sticking around." She stepped aside so that he could pass by to the hallway, and then began to eye West and whisper in his ear. Just some random things, really, that Akeem wouldn't be able to hear.
As it was said, the two of them had a very strange dynamic.
(Mission specifics: First Mission, Delivering the slip to the Viceroy
- C rank
- 15 posts required (peach cake for you, Juli bb)
- solo mission (no need of crew interaction)
followed by another:
Returning the troops
- C rank
- 15 posts required
- solo mission)
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___youwillknownihilism Captain
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Posted: Sun May 25, 2014 2:31 am
Around when Isis finished detailing the mission that Akeem would be taking on, a repetitious sound rang out in the air. It got progressively louder and louder, and anyone near a window would be able to hear the sounds perfectly; wingbeats. A large, scaley dragon came flying over head, moving relatively fast given his size, and gave a wide turn, slowing down to land on the ground before the palace. Smoke, cold despite it's appearance, billowed out of it's nose as the girl on it's head, dressed in her light decorative dragon bone armor, willed a bit of hardened water to scratch his head. Intet lowered his body to sit outside as Maria used that water like a slide to land on the ground from it's back, sure she had attracted the attention of some guard somewhere at least. She wandered right in the front door, as if she had just done something normal, something you'd see everyday. With things like Kaminae roaming about the waters, no one was too keen on aquatic monsters no matter the rarity or uniqueness. Still, even as they lined up around him, Intet barely responded to them. He sat up, his arms crossed and tail wrapped around his body.
She entered the building and listened keenly with her Mer ears. She heard Isis's voice come from the left, a big dining hall. She walked to that room, making her approach slow and careful. Upon entering the room she swallowed back apprehension and stepped forward. She gave a salute to him, she didn't know how he preferred these things to go so it was a safe start, and began to introduce herself. " I am Maria Kal, a Mer from the great ocean." she began. She held a writ in her hands, the one for the murder of the Turtle Titan. In her mind, she could take this beast down, but in reality she'd more than likely fail and barely escape. Still, she had her reasons, which she knew she'd have to tell him.
"I wish to go on this mission." she simply stated to him. She held eye contact with him before moving on, her voice steady though the topic was hard for her to approach. "You see, I used to live out there in the oceans with the other Merfolk. As you know, we share those waters with... Kaminae."She stumbled over her name. It's mere existence alone made her shiver, and she never even got cold. But she went on. "The demon saw fit to attack my father and mother... our entire pod. We weren't ready for her, not even our best fighters could get close. I alone made it out of her wrath's range. She looked out the window to see Intet looking at her with his light reptillian eyes. "Along with a baby dragon, just a lizard I thought at the time, who I promised to protect... But back to the point, of what brought me here. I came here to Luhkan's Landing to get stronger so one day I could go back out there and finish what she started. The Turtle Titan, like her, is just another monster plaguing Aramil's coastlines and if I kill it, it'll just be another rung on the ladder." She stopped talking abruptly, Intet poking into her mind to tell her she need not say anymore.
She sighed deeply after finishing her little speech and allowed her escalating level of emotion to return to it's happy medium zone as she awaited his reaction. Intet sent her soothing images to keep ehr there, to block out her own memories. It was working well, and her eyes darted between Isis and West. She was practically asking for a suicide mission, she knew. But she also knew she could do it, weather anyone believed in her or not. She just hoped West believed in her, but how could he. It made no sense for an Adept to kill something so big and strong, but as far as her hatred for demons and monsters of the sea went, it mattered not.
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Posted: Sun May 25, 2014 9:56 am
nu███████ XXX ███████ XXX ███████ XXX ███████
numineDO YOU HAVE ` WHAT IT TAKES ♕》*TO KILL A GOD?
bad apple
xxx
n×◞KILL ⊰THE ( DEMON ) *⇣OR HE'LL KILL ♕YOU FIRST !
by numinex for the food chain do not steal! c:LIKE HE DID DANIELLE LOL
He raised an eyebrow. The girl came in quite precipitously, and immediately introduced herself without signal of badge, rank or profession. West could see and feel the beating of wings as her dragon descended, and then he kept her location at the back of his mind as she came through the throne room and into the diner's hall. Finally, she said her name; Maria Kal, a Mer. He wasn't a fan of Mer, mostly because a lot of them were spies for Kaminae. However he did recognize that Kaminae's revealing of her background to her people caused a lot of them to doubt her integrity, and they were not content to live under her rule. The Mer living in Aramil were not under her rule, so when faced with nonsensically worshiping a Godless demon or converting to Vaet Nocturnum, they may simply choose to find a new path, or leave faith behind. Religious wars were all the rage in Aramil today, so West was hopeful that their movement would be swift and bloodless. If things went well, perhaps he could steer them to Vangelism if his words were keen.
He understood the importance of this. And, so, every Mer mattered right now. They were crucial to his endgame; to reunite Aramil, to dissolve secular society in favor of one unified nation. It had been proven already that secularism made a nation vulnerable to weakness. The religious, even the non-religious had all become militant against their opposites. There was no room for such dissent in a nation that was already targeted consistently for its land and sea resources.
He waved his hand, a way of permitting her to continue. Isis pulled up a chair behind her and recommended, quietly, that she should sit down. When she did, she began to speak of her origins, her past. She lived in the seas, probably a community that attempted to claim autonomy from Kaminae's vigil. Quite obviously that was a regrettable decision, as it was fairly clear that the Queen-Goddess did not permit independence within the ocean. She was the ocean in her eyes. She was Los Anthos. She was the Mer. When a creature took upon this sort of self-revolved ideology, their wrath became unstoppable and they could proclaim it divine and deserved. That was the problem the Mer had faced ever since Kaminae first became twisted by the Gate. They would continue to face it for as long as she lived.
When she was relieved of her story, West nodded and spoke for his own purposes. "There is only one place in this world that is truly safe from her. It is Lukhan's Landing. I can understand why you might come here." Man-made barriers, even defenses made by Gods, could not compete with the strange scientific ingenuity of the city's walls. The walls had proven impenetrable by literally anything, to Kaminae's dismay. "I will not allow you to try and fight the turtle titan. Isis and I are able to kill creatures of that scale, but only because we have abilities that can cut through literally anything. Most people around your level of ability aren't even able to pierce an inch of its shell." It wasn't an insult, only a fact. He would not let his soldiers die because he was afraid to make them feel bad.
He raised his head to look at Isis, over Maria's shoulder, and nodded for her to bring him something. She bowed gracefully and did as he asked, the man being handed a large decree written by him when the Mer first began to besiege the city. "Look at this," he reached over to hand the document to the strange-looking dragon rider. "If you really want to protect Aramil from the creatures around us, then I have a much more relevant mission for you. It is one that leads to our ultimate goal: killing Kaminae." He leaned back after handing her the decree, and regained his posture. "She thinks it is impossible. She thinks she is a Goddess. But she is just a demon, like me. Like me, she can be slain. She can be slain like Fenrir, like Azazel, like Judie. All of them believed they were unstoppable. They weren't." He smirked. "There is always a way, and always one who will find it. That person could be you."
He stood from his chair, eyed a clipboard in the corner of the room, and grabbed it. He had names and addresses. He peeled off stickers from the sheet, and handed them to Maria. "Assemble them in the Helicanth at 18:00. Five dentons for every minute they're late." He nodded her off, the woman bowing and making way to her duties. "Meet them there. Take the decree. All of them have been pursuing this mission for a very long time, and I've heard they have progress, and leads. Tell them to update the decree with any new information they might have. I will assign you as the newest member of their squad. I'm sure Maria will tell them. The squad leader is a Djinn named Haman. He will help you get acquainted with the duty." West crossed his left arm over his chest, and with his spare he gripped a cup of tea. "And if you're not interested, then tell Maria on your way out that I told her to return to me."
It was very simple: as a member of the military, you had a job to do and a way to do it. West was always very forward with how he organized these expeditions and these hunts, and Maria would have to conform to his method or be left out of the fun. Either way, someone would do it. But there was always room for a little bit of help.
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___youwillknownihilism Captain
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Posted: Sun May 25, 2014 3:54 pm
At first, the girl was mildly stung by the words that came out of West's mouth. It was nothing like he had said he didn't believe in her though, he had just told her straight up that she wasn't as strong as she thought she was. So she sat back in the chair and looked down at the table through squinted eyes. But when he looked to Isis she turned to watch her bow and then bring the item to him. Her waving red hair seemed akin to the waters from whence she hailed. She looked at the paper as Isis handed it over. She seemed to tremble a bit when he told her what she had just become involved in. West was trusting her to become a part of an expedition. An expidition to find the way to kill her. Intet stood up suddenly, his tail unfolding along with his wings, and Maria stood up, staring West in his eyes as she looked for the words to speak. "Thank you," was all she could muster before turning and bolting for the door, a new resolve set into her entire body. That demon was going to die, and her new aura of bravery told her that she'd be the one to kill her. But she had quite a ways to go before that time. No now she had to get ready to leave. The moment she was clear of the doorway, she leaped into the sky, headed straight towards the clouds and landing on top of an already airborne
Intet.
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Posted: Sun May 25, 2014 7:53 pm
Seeing West salute back was heartening to Akeem. He had come as just another soldier reporting to his King, but felt he had left with a new friend made. It was a special bond to Akeem mainly because he was genuine in his respect and loyalty to West. He was not seeking higher positions or favors from the Emperor, rather only the ability to serve as best as he could. The smile that came to his face was as real as the Djinn himself. "I will be looking forward to your call, my King." Akeem said, already making new plans for the rest of the day. He was rejuvinated with the will to train and gain even more skills. That way he would not falter in any mission that was given to him. But before he could bow and set off the King's assistant entered and began to speak. For a long time now Akeem had given women the utmost respect, so even though he was indeed attracted to the woman he did not dare check her out. He kept her gaze and stood up straight, trying to keep in mind what West said about appearances. Unfortunately his vest was simply not having it. The cloth strained against his muscled chest and the buttons threatened to pop. At the mention of a job, Akeem nodded and briefly spoke. "Anything for Aramil." His dedication was ezreal as it gets. As Isis spoke Akeem took in the mission details. It was a very straightforward job but he found himself rubbing at the stubble on his chin. There was a very large chance that these people would not want to come back. If they resisted Akeem was not sure how he should respond. Using force against his own people made him uncomfortable, but his orders were very clear. All the soldiers were to return. Akeem steeled himself and nodded once more to Isis to show his comprehension. He turned away from the King and his helper and set out for Yuran.
Kaminae the Sea Witch was currently making travel by water to and from Aramil completely impossible. There was no way Akeem would be able to take a boat to the distant kingdom of Yuran, which meant he had to take a teleporter. Grumbling the entire way to the magical device Akeem begrudgingly entered. This time he was outfitted in attire appropriate for his rank. He had on a long sleeved jacket buttoned to the neck and slim-fit pants. The shoes he had on were even heeled in the fashion that people preferred in this day and age. Akeem felt like a complete idiot. The pants kept bunching at his crotch and made it impossible to sit comfortably. Before entering the portal he patted his chest, ensuring the letter was actually in place. It was still sealed with the king's emblem and safe from the elements and thieving hands. Akeem took in a breath and closed his eyes, stepping through the portal.
The reason Akeem hated teleporting was because of the sick feeling it gave him. The jerking of his body had him clenching his stomach and trying to keep the bile from rising. It would do no good for him to arrive before the soldiers soiled in his own filth. They would probably already have a hard time following orders from an outsider of their companies, giving them a reason to disrespect him would only make this job harder for Akeem. So when he felt his body meet solid ground he kept his body steady and stood up very straight. The more tough and manly he looked the more fear he would inspire. A healthy dose of fear of your higher ups helped to keep the men in line. Akeem found himself in a handsome chamber, decorated similarly to the palace of Aramil. The colors of his nation greeted him first, the blacks and reds darkened the room perhaps moreso than it normally would have been. A contingent of soldiers, geared for war, marched down the hall to intercept him. Akeem descended from the steps of the portal and raised his head at them. "I am Akeem Makal, Captain of the Guard in Aramil. The Emperor himself has sent me on a mission, please take me to the Viceroy." He said to the obvious leader of the group of soldiers. The man nodded at him and the small platoon split down the middle, making way for Akeem. He clasped his hands behind his back and walked forth, keeping his head high and not bothering to take a look around. He wanted to portray a very serious attitude, one showing he meant business. The walk through the camp was a long one. Much of what Akeem saw was rather disappointing.
The Aramil army seemed to have grown complacent and lax over the year they had spent here. Perhaps lack of resistance had turned these men soft. All over the camp there were men getting drunk or gambling, whores and harlots being led into tents, and even abandoned posts. A scowl quickly replaced the stoic expression Akeem had been wearing. The group of guards leading him hid their expressions well, but when Akeem looked back on them he could see embarassment in their eyes. It was right that they should be. This was a piss poor example of the Aramilian military force. West would be disgraced to behold his sorry excuse for soldiers. It seemed to Akeem that not only was it necessary for the Emperor to withdraw these men for political reasons, but to also reeducate them in what exactly they vowed to uphold. When they came across the building the Viceroy had claimed as his base of operations the guard at the door was asleep on his stool. In a fit of agitation Akeem kicked the legs out from under the chair, knocking the man to the floor. The guy quickly rolled back into a standing position and shouted in surprise. When he saw the stern look on Akeem's face and the guards behind him he assumed the position and saluted. The Djinn glared at the man and then moved into the building. He took the steps three at a time and burst through the doors and into the viceroy's office.
"What the?! Who the hell are you?" A pudgy man exclaimed from behind the chest of a woman. It took Akeem's eyes a second to adjust to the dim lighting but he could make out a woman's bare back and a fat head poking out from her side. He softened his expression for a moment and collected the woman's clothes, handing them to her and speaking softly. "Thank you, but your services are no longer needed." With a light push he directed the girl out of the room and shut the doors behind him. When he turned back around the tender look on his face was replaced with a disgusted one. "Now you wait one sec-" Akeem spoke past the viceroy, trying to remember that he was actually his superior. "You are to withdraw from Yuran and return home to Aramil. You and every single soldier under your command." The viceroy seemed to calm at that statement and then a questioning look passed over his face. He rose to his feet and properly buttoned his military uniform. "On who's orders?" The viceroy asked Akeem, his own glare now set in place. Akeem reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out the decree from the king. He handed it over and waited for the man to read it. Acceptance passed over the man's face and he nodded his head, dismissively waving his hand through the air. "I'll give the order, though we'll need a few days. Mobilizing an army isn't as easy as you'd think. Especially once they've settled." He said, scratching at his chin. Akeem nodded his head and left the chamber, walking down the steps alone. It really seemed like his would be a bit more difficult than he had anticipated.
He spent the night in local taverns, trying to assess the situation. It appeared as if the word had spread swiftly but many who had heard it seemed disgruntled about the decision. Akeem had dressed down for the occassion, making sure he blended in with the average foot soldier. He sat at the bar with a mug of water, sipping at it slowly and keeping his ears open. "I can't believe this order actually came through! First they send us here to take it over, and we do don't we? And then they recall us like we're just some pawns in their big game!" One man shouted loudly, getting a few 'here, heres' and nods of agreement. Akeem turned his eyes to him and watched carefully. If he did not quell this soon there may very well be a coup d'etat here in Yuran. ...I say ******** the Emperor!" Before any cheers could actually start up the harsh scraping of Akeem's chair against the wood drew all eyes onto him. The Djinn sized up, rolling his shoulders back and looking down at the man from the bridge of his nose. The man balked for a moment at his size, and then cracked a drunk smile. "See something you like, bubblegum?" He was the only man laughing at his own joke. No one else would even meet Akeem's gaze. He bristled at the comment and lunged forward, grabbing the drunkard with both hands by the shoulders. Akeem lifted the man clean off his feet and over the table, dragging him across it and throwing him down on the ground. Akeem turned around and let his eyes meet those of his fellow soldiers. No one would speak though many looked ashamed. Akeem kept himself from smiling, knowing it would shatter the moment. He had them all by the balls and he was not about to let that go. "We are Aramilian warriors! Not these wretched, drunk, fools I see before me! This is not your home. Your nation needs you to return and show the world our power!" At the end of his speech a roar of approval went up. Soldiers all across the bar began to stamp their feet and slam their hands on tables. Cheers went out across the tavern and Akeem knew he had done his job. He headed to the barracks and picked a cot, bunking in the for the night.
The next day Akeem walked the halls of the captured palace, eying the battalions of men lined up and ready to go. Each was carrying a pack and their armor, some had families and others were alone. The commanders were marching up and down the lines calling out names and waiting for responses. Akeem checked and double checked with these men to assure that all were accounted for. The day was spent watching men and families enter the portals and be whisked away to Aramil. He was the last one through after the viceroy. Akeem took one more look at the Yuran palace before turning away. He wouldn't miss this place one bit. Without a second glance Akeem walked through the portal and clenched his stomach. Out on the other side he first wrapped things up with the men in charge before feeling satisfied.
Normally Akeem would head straight for West, but he had to stop at the market first. The suits he had ordered should have been in by now. So this time when he went to see the king he would be prepared. Akeem stood as still as a mannequin as the tailor first placed an undershirt over his arms. He pulled it together and buttoned it up. It was plain white and rather fancy. The silken material on Akeem's skin made him feel awkward. The fitted pants came next and even the slightly heeled boots. Akeem's fancy as s**t jacket came last. When he beheld himself in a mirror the Djinn actually thought he looked smooth as hell. With a pep to his step Akeem made his way to the palace of West once again. This time as he marched through the halls his heels clicked smartly against the stone where there was some. Akeem waited in West's court for an audience patiently, standing at attention with his hands held behind his back and his legs spread slightly apart.
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Posted: Mon May 26, 2014 8:04 pm
Seán walked towards the palace, looking up at the massive structure in awe. It was by far the largest building he's seen, up close, during his lifetime. The elf walked through the front doors of the palace and started to roam. With the size of the castle, and how many different rooms that there were, Seán soon got lost. After half an hour he wound up in the dining hall, staring at the Emperor he slowly approached him, just to be stopped by guards.
"My lord, I apologize for interrupting you. I got lost in this castle and I didn't realize it was your personal dining room when I entered."
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Posted: Mon May 26, 2014 9:01 pm
nu███████ XXX ███████ XXX ███████ XXX ███████
numineIN THE END ` JUST LIKE SOLDIERS ♕》*WE MARCH ON!
bad apple
xxx
n×◞KING ⊰OF ( KEVAI ) *⇣EMPEROR OF ♕ARAMIL !
by numinex for the food chain do not steal! c:CHAMPION OF ANTONY
"I am not a Giletti," he told her; that blonde-haired vixen, Isis. The two of them sat side-by-side in his bathroom; she had pulled up a stool to sit beside him, as he stared into the mirror, into his brown eyes. Into his pale skin, his black hair. "I am of no great house. I only pretended to be. I told everyone that my father was actually an Incubus, using his appearance to prove my point. He died young, fortunately for me. No one could ever prove me wrong because of that." He remembered back on those days, when people first discovered that he was not an Incubus. That he was something else. At first they looked to his mother, believing that she was a succubus and thus the reason for the diluted blood. But no, the wise men of Fraxen revealed that only Incubus can create Incubus. For all everyone knew, Durante was a human man. But West claimed otherwise. His words were weak and baseless but it was his father, so many were inclined to believe him. He decided what his father was, not them. They didn't know Durante.
"I made myself look like him, forcefully adapting to suit my needs. You and I lied together, until even we began to believe it." He smiled faintly at the curve of his lip, and lay his head against the marble table, his peripheral revealing the steel of the sink. "I conquered this city and laid claim on its people based on a lie. I wonder what they'd all react with if they uncovered the truth: that I'm not a Giletti, just the b*****d of a b*****d. I actually considered revealing that once, and creating my own house. The name would've varied I suppose. I could've continued the Fraxon trend: House Maybury, House Juvois, House Pisa... it would've been a dynasty of my own. I could've created a million more unfortunate sons to spread my name. But that is only a fantasy. Part of being an Emperor is knowing what secrets to keep, and being capable of keeping them a secret forever. Even Maria doesn't know that I'm not really a Giletti. Only you do." He rolled his eyes at that, however. Maria was probably smart enough to know that he wasn't really what he said he was.
West was many things, a liar one of them. He would lie to suit his needs, and to suit the needs of his nation. He believed -- firmly -- that Aramil would destroy him and itself at any one misstep. That was perhaps the wisest way to rule, to acknowledge imminent destruction at a loss of faith. To acknowledge, perhaps, that if one did not rule perfectly and with only temperance than they should not rule at all.
He sent Isis away, recalling she had some bureaucratic work to finish up on. The Emperor himself returned to the dining room, a maid waiting there for him. "Your Majesty, Akeem is waiting for you in the throne room," she said. "Send him in," he replied. He supposed the man was done with his mission. Or perhaps he'd report his failure; whichever.
When he was brought to the dining room, West immediately noticed his rather appropriate change of attire. It wasn't exactly combat-efficient, but it was certainly a part of being one with the upper brass. Aramil was all about nobility, whether real or fake. It just so happened that the fake nobles ruled over the real ones, and they all needed false claims and pretty outfits in order to disguise themselves properly. Akeem would, one day, grow accustomed to this fact.
"Charming outfit," he said to him. "I hope you have word of your success?" His fingers tapped his chin, his elbow resting on the palm of his right arm. His outfit was rather similar to the other day, but with a red and golden sort of scheme. Red was Aramil's national color, you could say, so he liked to adorn himself with it as a show of national pride. Isis did the same, often.
Sean, who he acknowledged to be lingering around, then approached him. For some odd reason though, he was stopped by guards. They probably didn't recognize him as he wasn't around often, but he was one of Aramil's captains. West frankly barely knew the guy, but he was aware of his existence at least. He'd seen him a few times training troops and collecting mission rewards from Isis. "It's no bother," the Emperor said, waving the guards off. They returned to their posts. "I don't think I've actually met you before. You're Sean, right? Isis told me about you, once." His expression lightened up, briefly. His arms returned to his sides, though his hands locked together. "Not necessarily anything exciting though. She's sort of a soldier more than a speaker."
The woman always told him the essential things to know about someone, rather than personal aspects like their friendliness and demeanor. She declared their religion, past affiliations, potential motives and their general threat level. She was a viper like that, but a necessary one when running a nation full of people who -- by nature -- hate each other.
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Posted: Mon May 26, 2014 9:27 pm
Akeem spent the time recounting the days event. He was glad that there had been a very small amount of altercations. Once the men had been reminded of what they were meant to uphold they complied easily enough. His thoughts were interrupted when some maid arrived. Akeem was led to the same dining hall he had eaten with West at not too long ago. This time though, he was looking schnazzy. As he entered and was complimented, Akeem adjusted his jacket and smiled. It felt even better to bring news of his success, even if the mission itself had not been overly difficult. "Yes, the message was delivered to the Viceroy. He issued the orders for the retreat and all men have been acocounted for." He said officialy and not without pride. He knew this was the start of West sending Akeem on a slew of missions and he was aching for some action.
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Posted: Mon May 26, 2014 11:02 pm
_____❜ m a x ♕ MICHAELS ✩ ✭
_▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂
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• SHAPESHIFTER XXXXX • ENERGY: 550/550 XXXXX • ROGUE XXXXX • BERSERKER XXXXX• EARTH XXXXX
p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. "DICKS." p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s. p***s.
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xxx N O xx WHERE xx TO xx RUN xx NO xx WHERE xx TO xx HIDE
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Posted: Tue May 27, 2014 4:23 pm
nu███████ XXX ███████ XXX ███████ XXX ███████
numineIN THE END ` JUST LIKE SOLDIERS ♕》*WE MARCH ON!
bad apple
xxx
n×◞KING ⊰OF ( KEVAI ) *⇣EMPEROR OF ♕ARAMIL !
by numinex for the food chain do not steal! c:CHAMPION OF ANTONY
"You're rather jovial today," He stated, smiling brightly at Akeem's more fiery entrance and the adjustment of his jacket. He smiled, too, which also by consequence brought a bit of spirit to West's eyes. "Your Majesty," Isis called him. He looked at her from his seat, face darting to the left to meet her eyes. He looked at her curiously. "My daily tasks are done. Fifteen million talents for the House of Academia, twelve million talents for the Chamber of Youth and six million talents for the Vermillion Priory for the transportation of children and their instructors to-and-fro the mainland Aramil and the sea-bottom Aramil, as well as Kevai for more extensive educational trips generally meant for university students. However, the money going to get the universities headstarted is essentially a loan, and is expected to be repaid in eight-years time with fifteen percent interest." She spoke very forthright, the Emperor slowly nodding his head as she spoke. "Sounds proper," he replied. "Be sure to watch the statistics for our educational programs. I won't be paying the chamber twelve million talents per year if they're not positively affecting our progress and scores. Also be sure to keep up-to-date on surveys based on the general contentness of the children, the satisfaction of their parental units, whatnot." When he was finished speaking, Isis curtsied as she often did and roamed to the main hall where she could station for any potential visitors. It was the routine.
When that was over, he returned his attention to Akeem. "It's an ever-changing world. Hard for us immortals and long-lived creatures to adapt to the changes, but they're coming on. Do you figure what that conversation was about?" He inquired with his iris, the brown eyes staring at the peach-flavored man. "It was about our children, our teens, the people who still have something to look forward to. In times of peace it's imperative to look forward to the future of your nation. That means scientific and technological advancement. That means letting the lightbulbs in the minds of your next generation flicker. It means letting them grow in acquaintance with the mystery and novelty of our world." He stared at the sheet beside him, one that compared the test scores of Aramilian children with that of Fronta's. Similar results. It used to be that Aramil dramatically outclassed Fraxen, as their supernatural prevalence was much higher and supernaturals tended to have better memory and learning abilities. However, Fraxen adapted as all nations must. Children began to receive genetic modifications and cybernetic implants. They then toppled all of the other nations in learning ability and their standards doubled.
In order for a nation to keep strong, its people must be proud to feel a part of it. In order for pride to exist, you needed something to be proud of. For some it was sports, for some it was armies. For many it was technology, culture, and education. Aramil had every means necessary to rise on top of other societies, and these means would need to be exercised and exploited in order for them to remain as they were. It was just another cog in the machine that was "society", a system that fought until the end of time to understand the psyche of the sentient creatures that existed within. Understanding them was conquering them. It was this that made leaders great and nations rise.
"More importantly though, I'm glad you finished your mission alright. Sorry for sending you on such a mundane task, but even the dull affairs can be extremely important to our continued success. It's best to ensure the affirmative rather than dancing around with failure. I trust you to not dance with failure." He rolled his neck, and yawned. Not because he was tired, but because science-
Continuing on, he had what was potentially a much more beneficial endeavor for Akeem. It was related to what Maria had been sent off to do; to discover the secrets of the demon, the way that she could be killed. "I have a real mission for you," he told the Djinn. It must've felt by now like he was constantly sending him from task to task, but during times of strife, every single person had to commit themselves in their entirety. West and Isis spent tireless nights trying to stabilize this nation. People like Akeem who could carry out their missions were the life-blood of the machine. West could not afford him a rest. Not yet anyhow. Also, did you get it? West could not afford him a rest? I'm so funny please don't stab me.
"Kaminae has to die. She is our greatest enemy, a complete stop to our progress. She was once the crocodile beneath the drawbridge, a monster to protect us from invaders... but it's clear that her hostilities will be focused entirely on us now. I did her the disgrace of rejecting her proposition even after being personally confronted by her. Her pride will not allow this. And trust me, I know pride." He clutched the writ on the face of the burgundy-wood table, and reached out to hand it to Akeem. "Los Anthos is our enemy as Nocturne is to Fronta. But it doesn't have to be that way. If we can kill their oppressor, they may instead prove an invaluable ally. Regardless of that possibility we can't let this threat expand. The demons are working just as actively as the angels. They are probably trying to find a way to infiltrate the city. And they will find a way. We have to respond to that fact."
It was a sad truth, but there was not any peace for Aramil. West always had a choice; he had to choose between Kala and Michael, Los Anthos and Fronta. When he made his choice, it was a declaration of war. "The sheet will tell you what you need to know." He closed his eyes, and sighed. It'd been a long day.
In the courtyard, as Isis decided she'd ditch the main hall and go from Villiath to the south-eastern wing, she saw a man waiting there. He mumbled a word, but not clearly. He seemed demented, perhaps a crazy or a maddened beast looking for predation. Unfortunately for him the people here were quite capable, and so they most likely wouldn't fall prey. Regardless, she couldn't let that thought convince her to not investigate the situation, so she stepped forward -- out from the shadows -- and confronted him. "State your business here. You look very weathered. Perhaps not appropriate for an outing to the palace."
Back in the throne room, Damon emerged from the main hall and bowed to his liege. He was one of the men on West's council - where Akeem was the marshal, Isis the steward, Maria the chancellor, Damon was the spy. He was the fount of knowledge and bearer of secrets. Possibly the reason he was so good at what he did was that he was an Incubus as well, one with a personality bright like the morning sky. People desired for him, only him. They forgot themselves and allowed for an unfortunate disclosure of sensitive information, whether by "absent-minded" loss of documents or by the words from their lips.
In the presence of West, he was an awful lot less cutthroat. He was respectful, because he truly admired and adored his Emperor. He was one of the Incubi who West had shown the light -- one of the few who had found himself, thanks to West. In his eyes, this was the greatest and most noble gift. He could only repay it with a lifetime of small jobs and events.
"Your Highness," Damon called out to the Emperor. "I've received information of a very potential civilian uprising, funded by a wealthy group of vampires who quite fashionably title themselves 'Kala's Whores'. They obviously weren't pleased with the sudden proselytization of the Empire." He could only state the obvious, there. This was just going to be one of many stories of such things; uprisings of blood and blades. Soldiers doubting the cause they were fighting for, forced to strike down their brothers and sisters of Aramil. It was beginning. West knew it would have to happen one day.
"Identify the group leaders and kill them off." West seemed quite unnerved by the news, though his words were not hasty. It was best to not allow this situation to escalate, and to show other potential hostiles the fate of those who expressed their thoughts with violence and destruction. Plus, their money would quite evidently return to the crown, and West could use it to fund pockets more beneficial to Aramil. "As you say, Emperor," he replied. However, he was not finished speaking. "There is another matter of importance however. Not to imply you're a helpless waif, but there are a lot of factions in the city that will plot to kill you. It's quite difficult considering you don't need sustenance to survive, but armed assassination attempts are possible at this point. I believe quite frankly that you'll need a contingent stationed in the palace that is more able than the current one. It's not just you who's at threat -- Isis, Maria, even just handmaids and footmen." He was sensible as always, a trait that West admired.
"I will have Akeem guard me then. I doubt any sort of armed affront will be able to kill both the Captain and the Emperor. As for the staff at the palace, bring that to Isis's attention. Tell her I'll ask for four experts, one of them an auristic or something of the sort. That should be sufficient. Just make sure to convey to her that I'd rather they be loyal than able." Couldn't have the ones hired to protect you turn into your opponents. That would surely be a situation that even West and Akeem might not be able to triumph over.
"As you say," said Damon. He bowed slightly, turned his head and walked away to the courtyard, where he'd seen the woman as he made his way to the dining hall.
West was quiet for a short period of time, but eventually he said: "Guard duty it is then. Hope you don't mind sitting and staring at me all day to make sure there isn't a red dot encroaching on my forehead. I remember during my more bohemian days, I was a guard. I watched one man's mustache alter so much through the influence of the wind that I almost felt it was alive."
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