To Heal a Murderer (PeregrineXTShara)

[T'Shara]

For a brief moment, Zaiabel considered lying. But there was no point, not when her captor could read her mind. "I can travel," she replied honestly, if ruefully. "but my body and magic are still not back to full strength." For now, all she could do was to comply, at least until she learned more about this spell, and about how to break it. The idea of binding another lifeform to her had always been abhorrent, and it was such rare and ancient magic that she had never explored it even for academic reasons. Only the University of Summerlet would have books such as those.

She packed up her belongings and took another swig of water from her flask, before filling it up for the journey. As she walked back, she was eating some more dried meat. Zaia was no glutton. In fact usually she was rather austere in her eating habits. But she was well aware she would need to keep up her strength, and that her body needed copious calories and nutrients after that previous exertion.

"What is your name, Warlord?" she asked calmly as she picked up her travel bag. Her eyes turned up to meet the those of the formidable warrior. "What am I to call you, besides 'slaver', 'murderer', or 'torturer,' that is."

 

[Peregrine]

"Good," he replied, mostly dismissing her as soon as he had finished assessing her fitness. "Pack up whatever you will need for travel. We will be leaving soon." With that, he left the small house, settling down outside the house to make sure that he had everything he needed for travel.

Full strength was, at the moment, completely unnecessary. They were going to be traveling for several days before they reached any location worth attacking. He had already taken into account that she would not be able to cover as much distance as him, although he was more inclined to take one extra day at the end to make sure she was mostly back up to full strength, rather than slow down the travel pace over the days. She was a fit creature, and would simply have to do her best to adjust. Of course, he had no real inclination to run her into the ground, but it wouldn't necessarily do to let her know that. If she knew exactly how essential she was to his plans... well, she could probably make things a lot more difficult for him.

Not that she wasn't difficult now. She was impertinent and determined to make his journey more troublesome. He had expected this, but still. It was annoying that her powerful abilities had to be programmed along with such an uncooperative personality.

Briefly he wondered whether or not he would even answer her question. It was not as though she needed to know his name, as there were very few reasons he would want to speak with her, or even allow her to attract his attention. But, if he didn't give her something, he was almost certain that she would make up her own name for him, one that it would quickly get on his nerves to hear.

What could he tell her? he wasn't about to give her his real name. Real names had no place in the game world. But the name he had chosen for his character, Vanhaelsin, was designed only with the purpose of looking fluid. It would not be particularly easy to say, not even on an infrequent basis.

"You may call me Hael," he told her, after a brief moments deliberation. "If you must call me anything. We have a lot of ground to cover, so keep up."

And with that he was done speaking. He stood straight, glanced only briefly at the fort where he was almost certain some of the villagers were watching, begging him to leave, and then turned towards the forest.

 

[T'Shara]

Seeing as she traveled constantly, and had for most of the past two seasons, Zaiabel already had everything she needed to travel, and it was already packed up. She had already packed her old robes away and filled up her water skin. Sighing, she slung her ebony wood longbow over her back, filled and donned a small quiver of arrows, sheathed her longsword on her lovely belt, and followed "Hael" out of the small house.

Zaia could not help but glance over at the fort, full of shocked and terrified citizens, mostly women and children. She had to wonder what they thought of her, "willingly" helping a Death God, just for some free armor. Without the evidence of the binding spell, it surely looked as though she had become a willing accessory to the slaughter and the torture, a willing slave to this god. All the judging eyes were hidden inside the fort, too cautious to emerge, but Zaia could easily imagine what she would have thought from their perspective, and it was not pretty.

Hael and Zaia walked in silence for a long while, at least several hours. She kept pace with him easily, for she was accustomed to traveling with everything she owned. Eventually, she began to try and speak, to ask questions that may just help her escape. She did not truly expect him to answer, but if he did, any little bit could help.

"Hael, why did you bind me? Why not someone else?" she asked openly at last. Her voice sounded innocent enough, though it was all she could do not to growl out the question in her smoldering fury that of course still lingered under the surface. But it would not do to anger him if she ever wanted to escape this wretched spell.

 

[Peregrine]

As soon as they started moving, Nico dismissed all but the most basic of connection that tied him to Zaia. Just enough to know if she planned on suddenly running or attacking. He doubted she was that foolish, but it would not do to remain unprepared. Even though it might be somewhat amusing to see her attempts to fight the most basic aspects of the spell that bonded them together.

After that brief thought, his mind turned elsewhere. He was not one to approach things recklessly, despite the build of his character. He wanted at least a rudimentary plan laid out before he came into confrontation with a well-prepared town or, more importantly, with another one of the warlords.

The first thing he had to do was start rising through the ranks. Not enough to make himself an obvious competitor, he wanted to save that particular distinction until there was no choice but to accept it, but enough that he wouldn't be dubbed "easy pickings" by some of the mid-range competitors, and pursued.

He had done his research before entering this competition, and had done his best to familiarize himself with all of the past tournaments. A wholesale slaughter was one of the quickest ways to wrack up some points, but was also a lot more risky. And a little bit of finesse was more than welcome, and often rewarded. He needed to find a town that was still unaware of the Warlord presence. And the best way to get that kind of information was to ask his NPC.

And he was about to do just that when she spoke to him. Nico was thrown slightly off balance by the question, although it didn't halt his own character's forward progression. "What good would anyone else in that town have done me?" he responded, almost by instinct. He, however, bit down on any more responses that might have passed his lips. It wasn't so much that he had any objection to telling her why he needed her, as it was he wanted to leave things shrouded in mystery for a little longer. The programmers would like that. He was already a mystery for his choice of item to bring along. The would be watching him. Best to only give them little hints, when it was most appropriate for his own story.

"What is the nearest large city that would most likely be unaware of the arrival of the Warlords?" he prompted moments later. He had a plan to follow.

 

[T'Shara]

Zaiabel was unimpressed with her new master's answer, but before she could point out the problems with it, he had already retorted back with a question of his own. Unlike him, she would have no choice but to answer completely and truthfully.

"You are delusional if you think –," she stopped and gasped for breath, trying to resist the pain and the sheer weight of the spell upon her. "Please... don't make me help you like this," she begged weakly, falling to her knees from the effort of defying the spell. Her resistance towards giving him more towns to kill was powerful, having seen what he did to Denir. But it only lasted a total of about twenty seconds.

"Onsif. It's large, but in a relatively secluded area, and the inhabitants are somewhat distrustful of outsiders. It's populated by a race known as the Sin'jara, who train their children for hunting and war from age seven. They will put up a formidable fight, but they are so isolated that it would not be difficult to take them by surprise," Zaia replied mechanically from her spot on the ground. Immediately the weight was lifted and she could stand again, but she chose not to. The guilt at what she had just done remained. She had seen this monster fight, and she knew she had likely just signed the death sentences of everyone in that town.

Her eyes glazed over as she looked at her captor from her spot on the floor. She was in no hurry to move, and she was not going to get up unless forced to. From here on out, she would have to be downright forced toward the goal. She had just discovered that she could resist any command given for a short time if she put her mind to it. Maybe those delays would be enough to save lives, somehow. The people of Sin'jara were not defenseless, far from it in fact. But anyone would be defenseless against a Death God.

 

[Peregrine]

Nico watched her struggle with cold eyes, somewhat impressed by her resilience, but also more than a little annoyed by it. This spell was the best available, and it guaranteed complete obedience. But there was, apparently, a difference between complete obedience and instant obedience. At the wrong moment, her ability to resist the compulsions of the spell might cost him dearly. Briefly he considered going about trying to find a way to completely break her will, but he dismissed the thought moments later. He did not really want a puppet, someone who would only function under the promptings of the spell. Part of what made this spell so very valuable was its ability to leave the programming of the character completely intact, so that they could act intuitively and intelligently. Breaking her would remove the very benefit he needed most.

He was going to need to do some more experimentation later, after he had finished his work with this 'Onsif'. There were destined to be moments when he would need her complete obedience at the exact moment he issued the order. Not all of the time, not even most of the time, but on a rare occasion he would need it. Which meant that he needed to find some way to force the issue, at a moments notice, on occasion. It was something he filed away in the back of his mind, along with the yet unanswered portions of his plan.

"Good," he replied, watching her with a scrutinizing eye. Every muscle in her body radiated intent to fight, intent to push the very limits of the spell. He had little doubt that he could force the issue. It would not take much effort to get her to stand up and follow along behind him. The simple command of "follow" would be more than enough to earn such a result. Yet she would fight him for every step, which would doubtless slow him down, and also wear them both out. He needed her ready for the battle, and the mental strain that would be placed upon her over the course of their journey would doubtless be great. Which meant somehow he needed to earn her temporary cooperation.

He studied her like a programmer, trying to visualize the code that was controlling her every thought and movement. The connection between them also aided this effort, as eh was able to get a sense of what she was trying to do. From everything the brief conversations between them had revealed, Zaia was driven by two very basic motivations. Kill the Warlords, and save the people of her land. Neither of the goals would be aided by going to Onsif. But maybe he could make it look like one of them would.

"I can force you, if you want me to. You know I will be able to," Nico said softly. "And you'll fight me every step of the way, but in the end I will win, and we will still be at the city. Nothing will have changed.

"But it will undoubtedly exhaust you, mentally and physically, to fight me that much. And, when we do finally get to Onsif, how much willpower will you really have left? Will you be able to do anything for these... people you don't know?

"Or, you can get up, walk with me willingly. And maybe, when we get there, you will be able to use your well rested mind to save someone. Your choice. Either works for me."

It was nasty and manipulative, but truthful. And who knew, maybe he would let hide away two, three, maybe even a dozen people who would be of little to no value to him. It would satisfy her programming, and make her easier to work with. The benefits seemed to outweigh the points such a plan would sacrifice.

 

[T'Shara]

For two long minutes, Zaiabel strongly considered keeping up with her plan to resist every single step, every single action. Interestingly enough, the spell did not prompt her to move while she considered his argument. But gradually she realized that her captor was right. It clearly cost her more strength to resist than it did him to overcome that resistance, and all she would do would be to barely delay the inevitable if she tried to slow him down this way. It would make more sense to conserve her strength until a crucial moment, and resist at that point. Perhaps when he wanted her to heal a fatal wound on his person, or help him kill people who were running away. That would be the time to rebel, not now. Furthermore, it seemed he really wanted her cooperation. Binding gems like the one he had used were very difficult to obtain, and the magic was equally difficult to learn, so it stood to reason that this "Hael" truly wanted her, more than he let on. His desire for her cooperation could be used to bargain.

"Fine, I won't fight you for now," she decided finally, standing up from the ground. "However, we are going to need some ground rules. For starters, I won't torture anyone like you made me do last time, again. I won't play your cruel, sadistic games. And I'm not going to help you kill." Zaia was not delusional; it was clear that any "rules" she laid down were completely meaningless while she was under this spell. But she had learned in her journeys over this past year that sometimes pretending you had knowledge and power was just as important as actually having it. Others respected confidence, forcefulness, bravado. And right now, she needed every scrap of an advantage her wits could give her, at least until she learned how to resist, and eventually break, the bond between them.

Without waiting for an answer, she started back off in the direction they were going, fully seeming to cooperate for now. But already she was planning scenarios that would allow her to resist again at a crucial moment.

 

[Peregrine]

The only response her comments earned from Nico was a small snort of amusement. He simultaneously admired her for her boldness, and hated her for it. But with enough time he would presumably be able to find a way to work around her stubborn, one-track mind, and then he would have the perfect partner. He could tell that she knew very little about the "magic" that bound them together. To her, he supposed, it was magic. But to him it was an invisible string of programming, one with which he was almost intimately familiar. The chances of her finding anything to break the bond that Nico hadn't already accounted for were very small. Of course, her creativity in finding ways to resist him might be troublesome, but he was confident in his ability to be able to overcome anything that her program could come up with.

Briefly he wondered if that wasn't a very part of the item itself. Maybe every single one of these binding items had code written in it specifically for the purpose of allowing the bonded to fight the bonder. If that was the case, then she was now even more familiar with the binding spell than he was, even if she didn't know it. And that would cause problems, at one point or another. He had to keep her for one year of her own time, until the game came to an end.

Nico took a mental breath, trying to dismiss the scary possibilities that were starting to form in his mind. He had always wondered just how much of an influence the programmers had over this reality game. Perhaps the entire game was rigged, and when he needed her most they would let her access the information she needed to break the bond, or simply sever it themselves. Anything that made as much money as this game did had to be carefully controlled. Or maybe they would reward him for his ingenuity, and let him simply do what he pleased with her, so long as it made good television.

Well, he would simply have to make sure to grant their wish.

He set off after his character, easily catching back up to her, but allowing her to walk in front. If that was what she wanted for now, so be it. They would reach the city either way. He would have to keep a careful eye on her once they got there. He might let her experiment with pushing the bond between them when they got there, he did want to allow her a little bit of room for some ingenuity, but he would have to make sure that she did not choose to use that freedom directly against him. There were some targets he would not let her save. And he certainly wasn't going to let her attack him.

 

[T'Shara]

Zaia's main goal at this point was to think strategically and figure out how to escape this nightmare. She had become a slave to one of the very creatures she had sworn to hunt down. The Huntress was a mere prisoner, a tool for his use. On the one hand she felt almost arrogant for having thought she could take down such immensely powerful beings. But then she thought of their battle before he had used the gem. She had held her own fairly well; certainly more easily than the guards of Denir. That was certainly promising, except that he had been poorly armed and armored at the time. A Death God without weapons and armor, that alone was strange, actually. In any case, she had a task ahead of her. To escape, and to kill her captor. And the first part of that of that task was to gain as much information on him as possible.

They walked in complete and utter silence for another two hours before Zaia looked back at her captor. "We won't reach Onsif until the morning, even if we walk all night," she pointed out. "Tell me more about yourself. I'm genuinely curious to hear about where the great and feared Warlords come from. And how did you find such a fascinating object as that Binding Gem? I know your kind are powerful, but even so, those gems are incredibly rare."

The interest was in fact real, but it was not mere curiosity. Perhaps Zaia could not yet fight this bond that tied the two of them together, but the more she learned about this Warlord and what he wanted, the easier it would be to manipulate him. He seemed wholly unwilling to answer her questions, but she would not mind annoying him with them for a bit. He clearly was not going to kill her any time soon. No, that would be a waste of the precious Binding Gem he had used. The worst he could do was to command her to stop speaking. The spells inherent powers might have stopped her from attacking him or defying his orders (for now), but they could not stop her from getting on his nerves.

 

[Peregrine]

At least she knew how to move. He had to give her that. Nico was not moving as fast as he would have alone, but nor was he moving as slow as he had feared. He knew that the characters were far weaker physically than he would ever be. His needs based entirely on the body that rested back in the real world. He needed to eat in the game when it got hungry, he needed to sleep when its brain needed to rest. And, since twelve days passed in this land for every day out in the real world, that meant he only needed to eat once every few days, only needed to sleep once a week.

His ability to travel long distances without rest was entirely predicated upon Vanhaelsin's own stamina. And, as a close combat, high damage character, it was exorbitant. Briefly he wondered at what he was going to wind up doing when Zaia began to fail on him. Would he push her on, even as her mind and body craved sleep? How much had he tied himself down by binding to her?

Yet his plan was dependent upon her ability to heal him, and he could have done far worse than her. In the last days before the tournament would begin, he had found himself fearing what kind of character he was going to wind up needing to haul along with him. In his worst nightmares he would need to take some overweight merchant, who would want to pause and rest every hour. Zaia, at least, saved him from that fear. He could not have done much better.

That didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

Nico was broken from his reverie by the sound of her voice. What did she want now? Hadn't they already covered everything that would be necessary for her own survival.

She wanted to know about him?

It took him a quick moment to reason through the fact that she couldn't really care less about him. All she wanted to know was the best ways to get away from him. Still, this was an excellent moment for a little bit of story. He smiled mentally. After all, there was nothing he enjoyed more than a little bit of, carefully moderated of course, boasting.

"I made the gem," he told her, flat faced but glowing inside. "From scratch. It isn't as though it is something that one can just buy."

 

[T'Shara]

Zaiabel could not help but raise her eyebrows. Hael tried to keep a straight face, but somehow she could read just how proud he was of himself for whatever he had done. It was a subtle signal though, an echo of an echo of an emotion. Not for the first or the last time, she strongly wished he had not cursed her with this bond, because once she understood that sensation for what it was, she found herself completely sickened by it. In fact, for a moment she thought she would actually vomit, or maybe that was just the remnants of the weakness from the torture he had inflicted upon her and upon those poor civilians. Oh yes, he was proud of himself for what he'd done to her, for what he was trying to do to her world, or at least that he'd come up with what he considered a "creative" method.

As if no one had heard of binding gems before. It was just that no one with a hint of morality actually used them. The magic of binding someone's living soul, forcing them to your will, was completely outlawed except for academic experimentation in completely controlled conditions at the University of Summerlet and other smaller magical colleges. It was considered far more reprehensible than necromancy, which was considered more of a "questionable" art these days, one which had some practical and beneficial uses. The only use of Binding magic was to control and to destroy.

Her mind burned to lash out at him right there; the words hovered at the tip of her tongue, ready to deliver that scathing remark, ready to... harm any chance of gleaning information about how he had conducted the spell. So she took a deep breath and calmed herself. She already had this Warlord talking, more than she had even expected to, so if she could just control her temper, maybe she could manipulate him some more.

"I've heard only the most powerful beings can even construct such a thing, though I suppose it must be no problem for a great Warlord? Tell me, how did you manage it?" she asked innocently. Her voice reeked of a silky, subservient, false admiration, and just hearing the words coming from her mouth disgusted her. She only hoped that her shameless appeal to his ego would overcome his ability to sense her true emotions and intentions through the bond. How else was she supposed to beat someone who could just about read her mind?

 

[Peregrine]

Nico studied her, his face carefully neutral. But he could not deny, even to himself, this game the two of them were playing confused him. It was one thing to work within the bounds of programming and try and find a way to resist the spell, or try and find ways around the orders he had given her to meet her programmed obligations. But it was quite another thing to display a fake attitude, in an attempt to do nothing but garner more information. After all, what would that really gain her? True her potential reactions were certainly great, and were perhaps even enhanced by whatever coding was in the binding spell he was using, but more information could not change anything. Her programming was set. So what purpose did the questions serve?

It wasn't until that moment that he remembered where he was, and what the purpose of this whole tournament was. Entertainment. This world had been created to gather footage, which would be stitched together in a way that would be appealing to a viewer, and then broadcasted all across the world to paying observers. What good was a creative plan if the people who were watching it could not understand it?

Well, he still wasn't about to reveal his whole strategy. Certainly, a little bit of suspense would be encouraged. That was how the kill system worked. Those deaths that had the most dramatic effect earned the most points. Well, there was no point system that would go along with his conversation with Zaia. But he had watched enough television and played enough of these structured games that he knew about dramatic effect. It was all a matter of figuring out when to reveal key pieces of information.

What would they already know? He had come into this world with none of the usual possessions, only a binding gem. He promptly fled to an out of the way place, created armor, and bound a healer to his own character. They would know that he wasn't insane, or he would never have made it into the contest in the first place.

Fine. He would answer her questions, to an extent. But he would need to pay attention to what he was saying, and what she said. Her questions were his clues, as the point system was normally his clues. Right now, they wanted to know history. They wanted to build up a little bit of context.

"Time was the main thing I had on my side," he finally said, so long after she had asked her question that it might have seemed as though he wasn't going to answer. "I knew from the last time that we came here that I would need it. So I devoted myself to making sure that I would be able to craft it before we came again. Everything I did was with that goal, and the goals that went along with it, in mind."

 

[T'Shara]

Zaiabel waited several minutes for an answer, though she never stopped walking by the Warlord's side. He was certainly not eager to give her the information she needed, but she did not press him. Perhaps he was thinking, and well, if she had already annoyed him, then it would be a good idea to back off anyway.

It was a pleasant surprise when Hael spoke again, though the tone of his answer was just as arrogant as ever, more like he was telling the story to a crowd at the tavern than just answering her. Very curious. Even more curious than his obvious arrogance was the revelation that Death Gods "prepared" to enter into Asuria and slaughter their people. How odd. In her mind, and even in the mind of Master Kilan, who had fought them for centuries, they simply came into being as that powerful. The idea that they would actually train and craft items and generally improve themselves in roughly the same way that mere mortals did was very odd to her. In a way, the idea that the Death Gods had lives outside of spreading death and destruction in her world was actually quite curious in itself.

"The Gods train? Among themselves? As mortals do?" she asked curiously, as much to herself as to Hael. "How? Where? Why would you train when you are already so powerful? Why must you come here to destroy us?" She was unsure whether she was sickened by the idea that they practiced to destroy her world, or whether she was just curious. Right now, curiosity was winning out. As horribly humiliating as her position was, this was the longest that any mortal had ever spoken to a Warlord as far as she knew. Maybe she could learn the Secrets of the Gods before she found a way to kill this one.

 

[Peregrine]

He had agreed mentally to answer her questions, but his difficulty was in figuring out where the questions for the sake of the story began, and where her own personal programming began. Anyone who was watching this would know that the Battle of the Warlords was something that all members worked towards for the two years between each tournament. Yet still she was asking.

Then again, any information about the Warlords might aid her ability to defeat them, and he was almost certain that fighting Warlords was one of her main elements. How much did he want to aid her programming.

Well, a little bit couldn't hurt.

"Why do we train?" This time a small smile touched his face, as well as a sample of humor in his tone. He couldn't help but wonder how much he was about to break her. What happened when programming received information it was not meant to handle?

"You think our main reason for coming here is to kill you? No, that is only a secondary goal. Our main purpose is to kill," how he longed to pause for dramatic effect. "Each other."

 

[T'Shara]

Zaiabel actually stopped walking for a second and looked carefully at the companion she followed so unwillingly. He's lying. He must be, she thought coldly, trying to absorb the shock of that statement. The idea of any beings, especially Gods, killing each other, was surprising, but there had been rumors to that effect, dramatic stories of great fights between the Death Gods. Of course, most mortals who came into contact with the Gods did not live to tell the tale, so it was difficult to separate fact from fiction. So perhaps there was truth in what he was saying. She did not speak for a few minutes, though the Bond pushed her feet forward, and finally she decided that it did not matter if she believed him, that it would be wise to press him for more information regardless.

"Why would anyone want to kill their own kind? And for that matter, if you are so busy killing each other, why would you not just attack each other in your own world in the Heavens, Erinada, and leave us be?!" There was a surprising anger in her voice as she spoke her words and turned to face her captor again. It was clear that her issues with the Warlords were quite personal.

 

[Peregrine]

Nico noted her anger, but he noted it only as a distraction. Fury he expected. He had made plans for fury, even if they mostly relied on pure force of will. No, her anger at the revelation was not the unexpected part. What confused him was the mention of something called "Erinada". He knew many things about this world, knew of many of the races that populated it, knew of the plants and the animals. But he had never heard of anything called Erinada.

From the way she said it, Erinada was some form of heaven. Something where the Warlords dwelt when they did not exist in her own world. But from where could it have come? There was no reason for it to exist. After all, the Directors couldn't care about the people in this land. They were not supposed to be sympathized with. They were there to be killed, for the sake of entertainment. So why give them a religion?

He puzzled over it, completely ignoring the enraged creature forced to follow along behind him except to make sure that she stayed with him. What purpose could it serve? Were the people of his world to find out, it would work against everything the Directors were trying to establish. Having a religion was a sign of humanity. It would allow viewers to see the characters in here as people. It would spoil the entertainment.

Yet, somehow that train of thought led him to another idea, and he grasped it with relief. The religion wasn't for the sake of the viewers. In fact, it was probably something that would be edited out of the final videos. But this world was large enough that the Directors wouldn't be able to control everything all the time. There needed to be a measure of randomness to the actions of every individual. But nor would pure randomness serve the purposes of entertainment. There needed to be just enough humanity in it for the people watching to sense the panic that arose within the populations upon the sight of the Warlords. Just enough to make their adrenalin rush and their heart pump with something bordering between panic and exhilaration. That was good TV.

And for that, back when this world was first being created, they would have need to come up with a way to bring those elements of humanity in, and make sure that they stayed. What better way than with a religion, which would be passed down from parent to child?

Now that she had brought up that religion, it was almost certain that his moment in the limelight would be over. He could imagine it now, the cameras following along as they walked, his revelation, her panicked face, and then blackout. They would go somewhere else, and return to him when things got interesting again.

Now nothing remained. Nothing but his own curiosity. For a moment the warlord fell away, and all that remained was a twelve year old boy.

"Erinada?"

 

[T'Shara]

After a few minutes of walking in silence, Zaiabel stopped again at the Warlord's words, and this time her mouth dropped open. First the first time since this whole ordeal had begun, she actually stuttered. "Erinada... y-you know. Where D-death Gods come from?" she paused and took a breath and the usual anger and sarcasm started to return to her voice. "I mean, it's what us mere mortals call the place you must live when you aren't massacring us. When the bards sing of you, and the artists paint what they imagine your visage to be, that's what we call the place you inhabit. What do you call it?" she asked, curiosity creeping up again. But she had answered his questions and was not about to let him slide on hers. "And you did not answer my other question. Why would you attack your own kind? And if that's your main purpose, why must you kill us as well?"

At this point, Zaiabel assumed that perhaps the Death Gods' own name for their realm was just something different, and since they were too busy killing mortals, it did not occur to them that the mortals they used for target practice would have their own words to describe what they imagined the Warlord world to be.

 

[Peregrine]

"Fine," Nico said, a small smile touching his face. "I'll trade you question for question for a while." There was still probably someone watching him now, but it would only be a cursory examination. He could not imagine that there would be any usable footage here. Nor could he resist the curiosity that had built inside of him to see exactly what kind of world the Directors had built. He had been here once before, but he hadn't cared about anything but the points then. Maybe this time he could use the world as a whole to his advantage.

"We call it," he paused, letting out a soft, musing sound. "Earth, I guess." He had played this game with some of his friends when he was younger. They could pass over a question, but the debt was in place. Of course, at that point you had to start watching what you phrased a question, because you could miss a valuable chance to ask something meaningful. But, with the Binding gem in place, it wasn't much of a game. Didn't mean they couldn't try and play, though.

But how detailed could he, no, should he get in answering her questions? That was a game in and of itself.

"There is no 'kind' here," he replied eventually. "We aren't a species. We have no relation to each other. We are at war. But there is no value in killing a... soldier who has no kills to his or her name. So we need targets.

"I believe you owe me two now? I'll trade one away if I don't have to phrase it as a question. Tell me about your legends."

 

[T'Shara]

The languages that were spoken inside Asuria did not include English, and when Nico/Hael spoke to Zaia, the language he was speaking was translated into hers, except for names and such. So she did not recognize the home of the Death Gods as being named after essentially... dirt. In any case, she had little time to contemplate Hael's answers before her own "question" was posed. The only problem was, that he had not posed it as a question. So immediately, the spell started in, like a thousand needles picking at her brain. The pain was quickly becoming so distracting that she could not organize all of the legends she had studied to even began to answer the question. Before she knew what was happening, she was on her knees again. This was not fair, she had not had enough time to organize the hundreds of Death God legends she had studied and decide which ones to tell him.

"Please, stop... make it stop. I-I... I'm trying t-to answer, b-but I … c-can't think … through the p-pain," she gasped her words out, too distracted to even feel embarrassment at the fact that she was begging.

And then, it stopped. The pain was completely gone, and there were no after-effects. She stood and began to move forward again, her eyes expressing the gratitude that she was too proud to actually say aloud.

"There are many legends of the Death Gods. Most depict you as cruel demigods who care for nothing but spoils and plunder. That is the most common variation on the theme. Some cults see you as messengers of the Unseen Gods, here to punish those who commit evildoings, or strike down the rich, or the most violent of warriors," she answered finally, her voice calm and collected now.

In truth, there were the occasional legends that portrayed Warlords as saviors, for acts such as killing a brutal warrior about to violate a young woman, or the like. But they were rare, and Zaiabel was not about to encourage this Warlord with any legends that showed them in a positive light. That was, assuming that all of this was truly unknown to him, and that he was not just toying with his new pet. In any case, the spell was satisfied, and she felt that her companion should be satisfied as well. That was at least as much information as he had given her.

"So now I believe it is my turn. I understand that you are not of the same 'kind', but what is the value of killing each other at all? What I mean to say is, and this is what I want to count as my question, 'what goal are you working toward with this war'?"

 

[Peregrine]

Honestly, he would have thought, with as advanced as this spell was, it would know the difference between a request and an order. It was intuitive enough when he was telling her to heal the people, knowing to push her until she fainted without his explicit instructions. Now the spell made it so that she couldn't even answer his questions? It was working against its very purpose, and that was more than annoying.

"You don't have to answer immediately," he snapped, annoyed that this situation was even necessary, rather than being annoyed at Zaia herself.

It was something he would have to watch out for in the future. Sure, he couldn't watch everything he said, but it was still a valuable piece of information. Just so long as she still answered his questions.

He listened with half an ear to her cursory explanation about the legends of the Death Lords, containing a mental sigh. It wasn't surprising that her programming jumped immediately to the legends that had been established about the death lords. Those were intimately relevant. But they weren't the ones he was curious about. He would have been almost disappointed in the Directors if they hadn't created a system that would allow legends of the death gods to grow. No, he was curious just how far this cursory humanity went.

But first he had to answer her question. She wanted to know why they killed? The answer was, of course, many layered. He knew exactly why he was here, but that wasn't the reason that this world existed. After a moment of deliberation, Nico decided that the answer relating to each Warlord as an individual was more pertinent than trying to explain why the tournament existed in the first place.

"Glory," he replied, a twisted smile crossing his face. He paused briefly, considering, before plunging recklessly ahead. It didn't really matter what he said. "We are the best of the best, and we fight to be the best. The last Lord standing reigns supreme." He couldn't help but wonder whether or not she knew that there were more "warlords". The number of people in the tournament had been limited since its onset. Perhaps they even believed that only that many Warlords existed. He did not know. But that was part of what he intended to find out.

"My turn. A slight clarification. What are your legends that don't relate to the Warlords?" He was careful to phrase it as a question this time. But more because he was interested in simply obtaining an answer, rather than out of any sympathy for Zaia's 'pain'.