Kaustir, Chapter 1

[heliacalRebirth]

Seiyr

[dash=red]
"I'm done with this bullshit." Seiyr growled, standing up just as the Czar turned from her. She spoke loud enough for him to hear, but quiet enough to avoid another spear in the back from one of the guards. In the shadows of the Desert Sun, she slipped away. She walked past the guards without a word, disgust and offense lacing her steps. It was one thing for the Czar and her to have their jabs in relative privacy, but in front of the whole of Kaustir… Her fists clenched.

His breath smelled like blood. Disgusting, tainted blood.

"Czarina..."

Seiyr turned and looked at the female, startled. Then, she began to laugh.

She laughed for a long time, leaving the slave wide-eyed and confused. It took several breaths for the woman to regain her composure, and even then tears of mirth pooled at her eyes.

"You think… you think that pile of shit is my husband?!" Seiyr tilted her head up, a smile playing across her normally stiff features, "no, child. I'd be much better off marrying a mule."

She placed an arm around the bewildered girl's shoulder, feeling strangely lighter than she had in moons.

"Let's fine you something to eat, no?"

<><><><><>
​

The tavern had a curious smell about it; a mixture of piss, booze, sweat, and sweet spices. It was quite captivating picking out the different scents. Seiyr made sure to voice this thought to her companion. Nyroc stared back at the woman, his expression mirroring Arina's all those hours ago. The man was skeptical the moment his teacher had asked him to accompany her to the Dripping Lizard- a place rightfully named for it's damp and rotting floorboards. So far, he hadn't spoken a single word; and he doubted he needed to. Even alcohol seemed to turn this head engineer into a blithering fool.

Seiyr inhaled another slimy mouthful of the house special, spitting out a lizard eyeball.

"Who's idea was it to put this crap in a drink? Enhance the flavor, my arse."

"Seiyr." Nyroc spoke cautiously. "Why, uh… why are we here exactly?"

"To drink, you moron." she eyed her student's untouched drink. Nyroc pushed the beverage toward her, rolling his eyes. He never saw his teacher drink before, and he doubted she ever had. He studied the older woman, a worried expression replacing his annoyance. Sighing, he decided to take a risk.

"I saw what happened between you and the Czar today."

Seiyr set the cup down, her eyes focused on the contents within, "Aye... I'm sure everyone had." Her voice wavered slightly. There it was, the explanation to his question. They sat in relative silence, apart from the shouting, and the musicians, and the clattering of dishes. It was awfully unsettling for the male, seeing Seiyr as she was.

"What if the Czar wants to, uh, see you tonight? I mean, about that report you gave him." He added the last part quickly. He didn't want to upset the woman any more.

Seiyr laughed loudly, ruefully. "Well the Czar can go sniff a Draken's ass if he wants to talk to me. If he needs my company that bad, then he'll just have to find me himself." A few heads in the tavern turned at the loud outburst, but the head engineer payed them no mind. Her eyes cleared up, and she bent low to the table, "The only reason he chose Amalia is because she was the least threatening. Had K'Jol been in her place, he could easily organize a coup. Lut Sar is a younger Nocturne. The Czar can't have a general that would outlive him, now could he? Not to mention that nobody likes seeing rich merchants at the right hand of the Czar." Seiyr took another swig before finishing her statement. "Amalia was the best choice. Power to women, power to the weak, power to the people, no? There's no lust for the crown in her. Quite the trick isn't it, my student?" she cracked a smile.

Nyroc wasn't sure if his teacher was spewing out random drunken gibberish or thoughtful insight, but from the attention she was attracting, he knew it would be best to leave, and soon. Standing up, he half led half dragged the blonde to the door.

"I'll walk you to the palace, please don't get us killed en route, ma'am."[/dash]

 

[UltimaCircuit]

K'Jol watched the merry people around him dance and drink to the upbringing of Kaustir's new general. Although it was a joyful time for some, there were probably others within Avarath that shared his hatred. A woman that could not even hold her weapon the right way was going to become the general of the greatest nation in Sunne? The reputation of the desert nation would surely be taken lightly now. The Draken tried to believe in the words that Lut had told him previously, but the more and more that he looked at the old court healer, the harder it became. He watched people flood into the hall to congratulate and greet the new General, and that made him even more furious. K'Jol then heard laughing to his left and he turned to see a group of drunkards, smoking their hookahs while looking at him.

"Oh, damn it! You got his attention!"

"What is he going to do, COMMAND us to stop? The poor Draken wasn't even chosen to be general."

"BWAHAHAHA! The great and almighty K'Jol is now going to take orders from a woman, let alone one who can't even use a weapon!"

"Aye, give him a break! There is a good side to being her bitch! Once he gets close enough, he might even get a kiss on the cheek!"

"Or on the balls! I would like that -"

Before the fifth man could finish his sentence, K'Jol had already had his hand around his neck. He squeezed tightly, watching the man gasp for air as his face began to turn red. Before the drunkard was at his last breath, the Draken threw him into one of his friends. He then grasped the hookah before placing his mouth on a pipe, taking in the smoke. He then turned to face the men before blowing it into their faces.

"I would watch my words if I were you. Keep talking, and I will rip each of your hearts out..."

K'Jol grinned as each of the men now shook in fear, and turned his head back the instant that Amalia had began on her way out of the hall. He slapped his tail against the ground, making a final statement as he followed her out. When he arrived in the palace gardens, the new general was already conversing with the swordsmen Takeda and another Draken who he did not know of. A fake yet genuine looking smile adorned his face as he slapped one hand on the other Draken's shoulder, nodding to the man before looking to Takeda.

"So then master teacher. When are you and me going to show our new general the ropes of combat. Tomorrow, perhaps?"

​

 

[Kriodine]

"It's my own take on the Nocturne's blood wine. Mine is a bit sweeter, if you like I could gift you a couple of cases when you get back from the expedition." he asked Amalia. She seemed to enjoy the alcohol and it seemed to loosen her up quite a bit, but she was at her limit "No more for her" he thought. People often thought that because he was drunk almost constantly, that he couldn't judge when to stop drinking, but it was actually quite the opposite, he knew exactly how much he could drink without having to deal with a hangover the next day. And while he wasn't the best with gauging others, he had a general idea of when to stop handing others alcohol alcohol. "My name is Draegal by the way, best brewer in Kaustir, and most likely all of Illium."

As he finished introducing himself another Draken showed up placing a hand on Draegal's shoulder, and started to take over the conversation. "How rude" he thought. He immediately pushed the other Draken's hand off, and that was when he recognized him, it was K'klol or wast it J'kol, he wasn't quite sure. After a few seconds he realized the newly arrived gladiator had killed the mood and Draegal didn't have enough booze to save it, so he would have to think of a way to make the new gladiator scarce. "Hell J'kol, I believe it is improper to speak of business and work on a day such as this, so why don't you go enjoy yourself. If you haven't had any Kreshnik tonight have you? Would you disrespect your new superior by not drinking to her success?" Draegel then took out another cup and grabbed his aux and activated one of his advents, and poured the Draken what looked like liquid gold but smelled of tar, and it probably tasted like it too. But it would numb J'Kol's entire body "Here have a drink, on me, and while it may not be Kreshnik, it burns just the same."

 

[Dunruffle]

As the guards surrounded them Nils gave an exaggerated sigh of frustration. "Really? I come to Avarath on vacation and I am already being called back to work?" Nils nodded back to the senior guardsman and stood up. "Well if it cannot be helped I am willing to tag along...but only if my partner here accompanies me." Walking over to Delesia he puts an arm on her shoulder, "We have worked together in the past and she is a valuable asset. Now unless you men want to be Rotter's next meal I suggest we all go." Rotter hissed at the guards and the chain swung slowly from Nils' wrist. After a tense moment the Senior guard relented. "alright, lets get a move on. The Czar is waiting." Giving a relaxed smile Nils helped Delesia up. "Never a dull moment with me around my dear." The group then exited the bar and made its way to its meeting with the Czar.

 

[unanun]

Lut wormed his way past the crowds, his outfit in the arena long shed for the more formal trappings of his office. The night blazed around him, and as much as he wanted to pass on some words to his new General, it would have to wait for more pressing concerns.

Hopefully the girl he took blood from wouldn't be collecting on anything outrageous either.

He declined drink, and only his indifference to the opinion of others saved him the slightest bit of face, for otherwise he might have been demoted or dragged off into an alleyway to quietly have his throat slit. A few heckled him, and one or two even threatened him with violence. He smiled and wore the mask from earlier in the day. The inhuman visage gazing back at them was enough for them to find other things to do. He pressed on for the palace.

The games were a fun diversion, and so were the merchants. But in reality, he was here for something else. He burst through the penthouse doors, and although the guards there obeyed no one but the Czar, his voice cut through the metal fence that stopped him.

"My Czar, I --"

He spotted the open report.

"Is that Seiyr's report?" His tone became apprehensive, withholding in the presence of the guards.

"I hope it's the one about the aqueducts."

 

[Asmodeus]

Not the particular sadistic, heartless, backstabbing Nocturne he was expecting...

Lukesh poured another shot of Kresnik.

"The contents of the report were made clear to you in the arena, Lut. Did my blade break your concentration? Perhaps more practice is called for." He carried the shot across the penthouse floor, between the gauntlet of his bodyguards, and handed it to the officer. "I could have a man report to you each morning and stick a blade in your gut."

Lut took the drink with a sword at his throat. "He would need a sound knowledge of the brothels."

Lukesh smiled and clinked his glass to Lut's. The swords lowered and the Czar led him deeper into the luxury of the penthouse. "You were a vision of modesty today, Lut. While K'Jol shat a brick, you barely farted. My suspicion is aroused, of course. Any man who is heralded by the words of Gulzar Ganguly is a man to be butchered at the earliest convenience."

He draped one hand across the mane of Aukhmos, his skin making fleeting contact with the ethereal surface of his Aux. Then he paused once more before the map of Sunne. The pair downed their Kresnik. A short, sharp motion, as tradition held.

"Remember when my first wife died? The Glass Sultan tied her head to his chariot wheel and rode three circles around the walls of Zirako. I thought I would never come back from that. But then your agents brought me his body, in velvet boxes, piece by piece... and it no longer mattered."

He looked to his fellow Nocturne. "Our families forget so much. All slights, all pains and rages. You'll forget this too. As will I. Amalia will die and we will linger."

The Czar stared into his empty glass, hurled it into the fireplace, then spun sharply to grip Lut's shoulder. There he examined the wound and probed it with his thumb as he muttered. "Only stone and metal will endure. Only empires. We must burn the brightest things into our memories."

His eyes lifted to Lut's. "What are you and Gulzar up to?"

 

[unanun]

Czar Lukesh had known him enough to ferret out his weakness. That he was weak to drink. Yet the stupefying influence that emanated from his stomach was immediately cut short at the neck by a thumb, in a hole, the hole, in his body.

"Stone and metal without people are only relics, left in the Sands to be dug up by others," he hissed through the pain. The scarab crawled around the brim of his hat. "Whatever I have done is always for our people, not for Avarath, not for Zirako, nor for any of the cities, towns, villages, and hamlets in the Deeps. The days where we fought together, Sun, when a dispute could be settled by beheading someone, or," and he allowed himself the faintest smile of nostalgia, "chopping them into pieces, are past us. Avarath will not respond to the sword."

"Ambition begets balance." He raised the hand that belonged to the wounded shoulder, fingering the insignia that the Czar had pinned on him so long ago. Some trophy of battle, some trophy of exemplary brutality. Another memory.

"You chose an idol. You have never chosen an idol just because they are an idol." His breathing steadied, and he looked into the Czar's eyes. "Even now we may think differently ..."

"But our thinking leads us to the same action."

He cleared his head. Ages of living had at least taught him how to do that. He was old. But not as old as the Czar. When he was born to the world, the Czar had already been alive, for a period of time unknown even to him.

"What do you wish for Kaustir?"

It was the same question he had repeated every time the Czar chose a new General. And deep in his heart, he did not expect the answer to be different.

 

[Eternalfire61]

Nassad didn't drink during parties. He drank on occasion when good fortune was upon him, but this wasn't the case. So many people were rejoicing to this new general. She was a pathetic excuse, if she was a true general she wouldn't have come to this party. Yet he watched her sneak through a door and went to the balcony. Amalia had other uses other than general, and she would soon have to go back to those uses when Nassad was finished with her. Nassad spotted K'Jol following Amalia out to the gardens. Perfect. Nassad stood up from his seat and also followed behind quietly. He didn't reveal himself, he just watched them converse about training. There was something in play and he could feel it. What was K'jol planning?

 

[Ritual Lobotomy]

Delesia Tyiral




Unplanned and unexpected things never seemed to bother her. It was the same way now. She had no better things to do at the moment so she thought she might as well stretch her legs a bit. The dark thin fabric was back on, revealing only her eyes. "Halt!" She raised up her voice once they were out of the smoked lounge. Ignoring any possible negative reactions, Delesia approached Argo and untied him. She didn't really give a damn to whom or where she was invited, the horse was always by her side. Quiet unsatisfied mumble reached her ears and she chuckled, leading the horse by her side. "Are you really that dumb to think I would just leave him here?" Considering how "loved" she was, the stallion wouldn't live to tell the story. "If you did, then you might not be the brightest cookie in the jar." Not really giving a damn about getting guard's response or not, Delesia led Argo to the front of their little shady party. People on the streets moved away on a sight of guards and the duo they were escorting.

***

She hesitated for a while, before she determined that Czar's people were able to take care of her horse the way he deserved. "If anything happens to him, I will rip your nuts out and stick them through your throat." was merely just a precocious measure to ensure they will do one hell of a job. "Shall we then?" She referred to guards with the invisible smirk still hovering on her lips under the fabric. Right after that, she followed them in along with her companion, taking off her disguise with a sigh of relief and freedom from smothering feeling underneath of it. But what has to be done is never really that hard.​

 

[Tone 6th]

Takeda chuckled as Amalia slurred her speech again "My name in Takeda Shingen ma'am." He started to walk towards his new commander but was stopped by a Draken who offered him a drink. "My apologies but I have already had my share for the evening, your offering is much appreciated though." Takeda shook his head and turned the drink away. The garden began to fill as K'jol emerged from the shadows "So then master teacher. When are you and me going to show our new general the ropes of combat. Tomorrow, perhaps?" Takeda's fists tightened. K'jol was exactly the kind of warrior he despised: arrogant, sloppy, disrespectful, with out honor. "You will honor our general and give her the respect she deserves K'jol." he talked down to the common soldier. "I will call upon you when I need a practice dummy." Takeda's words stung the ears of the Darken. Takeda Merely rolled his eyes when Nassad showed up, he had no personal qualms with the slaver just more over with the idea of the slave trade itself.

 

[SaigyouAyakashi]

Gwendolyn opened his eyes. An armored fist slammed onto his face, an armored woman crossed her arms as he fell to the ground.
"Tough shit kid. You're not paying attention." the woman said in mock concern.
"Stand up! we still have lots to do!" The woman said in a sickeningly cheerful manner.
Gwendolyn was choking. He's wet, cold and he's carrying something. He's on a lake carrying a log, swimming for his life. His wings soaked and heavy.
"OH CMON KID! That shit's really light!" The armored woman beamed at him while leisurely swimming beside him.

He woke up. He felt the cool night air on his sweaty face, he was lying on something soft...Very soft, on his cheeks someone's fingers are rested.
"Ah...Good evening Master." Nessa said as she removed her hands on his cheeks.
"You just used your advent didn't you?" Gwendolyn said as he tried to sit up.
".....Yes." Nessa tried to keep gwendolyn's head on her lap. "Please."
"You're Peeking on my head again. You know you can only use your advent once a day right?" Gwendolyn resigned and laid back his head on her lap.
"Ah..." she stroked his head while staring at the moon "I forgot."
"What of the letters?"
"Delivered"
"Where?"
"The Mayor's desk. The new general's Bed. The other patron's dining table."
"You work fast. Goodwork."
Nessa Blushed a shade of deep red. "Why send a letter master?"
"Times like this Nessa. You gotta be aggressive... We don't want to be left out do we."
Nessa stared at him with intense concentration.
"Stop that you're making me blush. hahahaha"
There was no reply only silence, she was already asleep. Gwendolyn stood up, laid nessa on the flatter surface of the roof. He walked to the edge of the roof. Drew Silverburgh from it's sheath then threw the bottle of kresnick into the air as hard as he can.
"Let's see if I can still do this." Particles of light saturated his body, he dropped to a low stance and with godlike speed he lunged at the bottle.
Even his own after images has a sizable gap from him.
"AH! MASTER!" Nessa shouted.
His sudden halt produced a miniature sonic boom, his blade millimeters from the bottle.
"Ah...the bottle fell" Nessa stared at the bottle while it plunged towards the streets below.
Gwendolyn gaped at her for a good few minutes, the particles of light long dispersed.
He finally muttered. "What's the matter?"
"I accidentally sent a letter to the Czar." Nessa tilted her head with finger on cheek in wonder.
"You didn't sneak into his chambers didn't you?" Gwendolyn nervously asked.
"Ah...no...I gave it to a guard." She replied with hazy eyes then she returned to slumber.
Gwendolyn landed on the roof, the day's fatigue caught up on him then pulled him to sleep.
The sounds of celebration and someone shouting in rage from down below his lullabye.

 

[Asmodeus]

WHUMP!

Delesia hit the marble floor of the porch, laid out cold by a single punch. The guard sergeant unclenched his fist and his knuckles gleamed with Advent power. Nils flinched, but knew better than to the test the odds. He had seen this coming.

"Apologies, Mister Maupin. Threatening and insulting the Czar's guards? Not wise."

The woman was dragged out by the ankle, and through the open doors of the summer house Nils watched her get pulled across the courtyard and tossed into the stables beside her horse. She was manacled to the wall, nursing a bleeding nose, and left there to think about her manners.

"She won't be touched. I give you my word," said the Sergeant. "But better I discipline her than the Czar."

Nils could not argue with that. With a gauntlet of soldiers around him he pressed on through the marble-tiled hallway. Statues and tropical plants adorned the walk, and behind closed doors were heard the revels of the general's party. Through patterned windows the red and blue of fireworks lent hue to his surroundings. This place was exquisite, an oasis in the squalor.

A stairway, with velvet balustrade, took them up above the feasting halls, and into galleries adorned with paintings. The long history of Kaustir - the battles of the Nocturne factions, the Draken alliance, the digging of the canals, the triumph of the Czar over the sand tribes - it was all here in oil and tapestry. And at every intersection slaves wafted feathered fans to cool the summer house. Nils noted quickly the marks on their necks.

At the end of the gallery a pair of double doors, painted gold and white, were pushed wide. Nils was escorted through an antechamber of steel-eyed bodyguards, who stood between plush chairs and silver ornaments, before the sergeant knocked upon an inner door. It was opened by a dark-skinned slave who ushered them promptly inside.

And there, in the middle of the penthouse, before a wall where a great map hung, Nils saw the Burning Czar in discourse with a fellow Nocturne.

"...so when I tell you, Lut Sar, that we must conquer every inch of this land, it is no idle metaphor. We shall liberate the people from gods and reason and every cancerous idea of antiquity that plunged us into the Cataclysm." Czar Lukesh put a bandaged hand to the cheek of Lut Sar. Their eyes locked. "Sunne shall kneel before me. And I shall show them the way."

The guards around Nils halted with a fist to their hearts, a rapping salute that caught the Czar's attention. "Ah! Another brother of the blood." Lukesh cross the penthouse floor towards Nils. "Forgive me. I am not familiar with your particular family. The Maupins are not one for dynasty."

He shook the Ipari's hand and clapped the other to his shoulder. The grip was callused and strong. "But your own renown precedes you." The guards stood back and allowed the Czar to circle. And as he stepped around Nils he recited, as if from memory. "Nils Maupin, veteran of the Ipari Guard. Of all the night watch who roam the toxic wastes, you are the longest lived, with two Magra Beast kills to your name, and the Star of Service for duties in Quartz Canyon."

He looked the Nocturne up and down. "A working pair of lungs and no extra limbs. I'm impressed." Then he turned to Lut. "Show him."

The officer by the map-wall came forward and produced an item from his jacket. The stone tablet was polished grey, cut with darker marks that glistened like scar tissue. Lut placed it on the nearest table and stood back so Nils could examine it.

"It is a map." Lukesh said as he watched Nils study the tablet. "Something is buried in the Deep Sands beyond Dorgrad, and it must come into the hands of the People. My new general will need a guide across the Dorgrad Wastes. You have outlasted your comrades. The honour is yours."

A shot of Kresnik was pressed into the Ipari's hand.

It seemed his adventures with Delesia had just been pushed aside.