Del's eyes were in fact locked with the Lady Yuta, and they had been the entire time he approached the booth. He only diverted his gaze from her delicate features when he opened his mouth to speak. But then her voice demanded his attention, exclaiming to be the true architect of the interesting materials surrounding him.
"..."
Delion held his tongue as his pitch black eyes sized up the Lady Yuta. The initial thoughts that invaded his mind could have ignited more friction among the crowd. He knew he needed to maintain a leveled mind, and did his best to shelf his own cultural values. But that smug look on her face.. it made his mind race faster. How dare she.. a woman.. hold his gaze?
"Human.."
His nose twitched. He absolutely hated the way they smelled. Filthy, dirty, weak, .. just a deplorable cocktail of biological chemicals. But this one was different. Granted, Delion had never engaged with a human outside of battle, let alone a woman for that matter. Her skin was saturated in pleasant oils that dampened the foul scents that rolled from human bodies. He liked that. In fact, the aroma was a bit familair to him. It reminded him of a popular spice rub prepared by B'halian Chefs to season the meat prior to cooking. This arbitrary train of thought forced loose a smirk from Delion's lips. He was here doing damndest not to try and kill the people he was sent here to discuss peace with, and in his efforts.. all he could think about was eating them.
"You are a blacksmith, yes?"
He said as his hands traced the stonelike fabric of the tent above his head before he moved them along the runes and sigils carved unto to the table. Delion had never seen them before.. and he was easily a thousand older than the woman he towered over. "The House Denkou" rung a familiar bell in his head, but he struggled giving any thought to human innovation.
"I've never been impressed by a human before.. Let alone a woman, as delicate as yourself."
The Second Annual Neo Festurus - Fin
Re: The Second Annual Neo Festurus
Further away from the festival grounds, the sounds of the season melted away into the lapping waves and breezy shifting of leaves nearby. Subori’s footsteps trod silently through the shadows in the Nonoir Mangroves, now having caught up with the big blue B’halian en route to rendezvous with the rest of their party. He left no trace of himself, walking nimbly on the gangly branches and vines stretching through the mangroves without bending a single one of them, light as a feather and lithe as a panther. The Garganega Anthem was perfect for situations that required a low key presence, stealth of the highest degree. Garnacha Reservoir made concealing his presence from sight and senses of the area around him as easy as breathing. He could move freely without ruffling any of the surroundings he touched.
Where ya goin’, buddy? Didn’t wanna stay for the rest of the party?”
Subori mocked the Jo’ro in his mind, frustrated that these emissaries were able to just dock somewhere without meeting more resistance sooner. The Atlanteans were always dogged about the sanctity of the aquatic landscape, having their historic run in with Zero Venkage because of it. The ‘negotiations’ that unfolded in the wake of Skyfall took years to broker in the aftermath of its tragedy, so these Jo’ro should be their newest objects of their ire. And yet, here they are as plainly as the suns rise. Though The Conservatory was founded in that wake as well, it came with an agreement and oath to put the land and its people first, diametrically opposing the envoy’s appearance as ambassadors of a foreign empire. What could they want with Zero if they believe him to be the leader of this land and how did they know where to find him? The Conservatory had a much smaller global footprint than organizations like Diamond Dust, a baby in the timeline of even modern Vescrutian history, an iota compared to the reign of the B’halian Empire. Something was fishy and Subori was perfect for sussing it out.
Where ya goin’, buddy? Didn’t wanna stay for the rest of the party?”
Subori mocked the Jo’ro in his mind, frustrated that these emissaries were able to just dock somewhere without meeting more resistance sooner. The Atlanteans were always dogged about the sanctity of the aquatic landscape, having their historic run in with Zero Venkage because of it. The ‘negotiations’ that unfolded in the wake of Skyfall took years to broker in the aftermath of its tragedy, so these Jo’ro should be their newest objects of their ire. And yet, here they are as plainly as the suns rise. Though The Conservatory was founded in that wake as well, it came with an agreement and oath to put the land and its people first, diametrically opposing the envoy’s appearance as ambassadors of a foreign empire. What could they want with Zero if they believe him to be the leader of this land and how did they know where to find him? The Conservatory had a much smaller global footprint than organizations like Diamond Dust, a baby in the timeline of even modern Vescrutian history, an iota compared to the reign of the B’halian Empire. Something was fishy and Subori was perfect for sussing it out.
-
Dalazar Denkou
- Drifter
- Posts: 149
- Joined: Sat Feb 16, 2019 8:39 pm
Re: The Second Annual Neo Festurus
The length of time their eyes were connected before he broke their shared line of sight in exchange for Haesal’s couldn’t have been longer than two at most three seconds. Such a small amount of time yet for Yuta it felt they had just had a decade of conversation. From this exchange alone she could surmise that not only did he share the Atlantean's discontent with humans… this Jo’ro held an even laxer regard for her kind even lesser so that she was a woman.
The Denkou Kingdom was still a monarchy for all its posturing and proclaiming equity between men and women. Though Gender roles of the kingdom were fluid enough there had never sat a woman upon the Emerald throne. So naturally men tend to hold the notion of superiority and greatness still. Even if that greatness is not inherently theirs. Delion was such a man. Here under the banner of an empire that he did not belong to… not truly anyway and yet he treks the ground of Maidera as if its people, who still claim the lands they were born on their own, were pedestrians. It was beyond a view of inferiority. What he would soon learn though is that the Denkou were not to be overlooked. They were unlike other humans in more ways than just their ability.
“ Ha, Oh nothing so crude I assure you.“
A slight chuckle. She said as she walked not too far behind him a coy smile her hand resting softly on her chin.
She stopped just short of him. Her eyes traced over his powerful physics. It had seen countless battles no doubt he earned every scar with the other guy looking much worse. His armor and a lone dagger stuck out to her the most.
“Though a blacksmith I may not be I am however before anything else, woman, human, delicates, exceptionally gorgeous beyond reason… An artist, one who can appreciate the canvas of metals and stone..”
Those oils he smelled were a blend of lilac and an exotic bloom native only the the emerald ascension. Her eyes narrowed a bit.
“ Your dagger, B’halian steel straight from the mines of the continent. Surprisingly malleable when applied with enough flame. Heh, dwarven craft. Interesting, dwarves aren’t known to share their secrets elv or otherwise.”
A slight pause
“Even more interesting that someone like you a member of one of the mightiest races of Elvs, Terra, known for their exceptionally dense skin to even need such a trinket and armor to boot? I’d wager you’ve never even used that dagger. I’m sure your hands are often enough. “
Her finger waved, and Haesael grabbed the final box of materials needed. Her tone was almost encouraging, her words soft yet firm lacking malice despite their sting.
“For anyone that happens to not be Mazokou of course Their stamp looks so lovely on the hilt of the scabbard. Such a mighty, marvelous empire. None could dare to resist their ambition. Not with their representatives sporting armor fashioned with the emblem of their benefactors so brazen on their chest…”
She said as turned from him to a roll of coiled diamond and lifted it towards him the glimmer of the silk twinkling in her eyes. Such misplaced pride. Bound and chained in subservience. It was Stockholm Syndrome frightening, to say the least.
“This…craft is the bloodline of my people. A nation that has stood the rise and fall of many empires. A legacy to be carved into eternity. As I am sure it is much different in the lands of the Mazokou here in Neovia and by extension the Denkou kingdom it is customary to greet each other… even properly so when two leaders meet for the first time.”
Her eyes light softly as the threads of diamond unraveled lazily. Softly they coalesced around her creating a beautiful scarf.
“ I am Yuta Ivon Denkou, 2nd seat of the royal house Of Gamallow. I share in the nation's development and studies in metallurgy. I hope to impress you even more so.”
A slight bow. Few things could be said about the way Denkou loved to spout their full names. A pride that came from having the liberty to profess individuality.
“ With whom do I have the privilege ?”
An invitation for him to introduce himself. Should he even care to in spite of her cold analytics.
The Denkou Kingdom was still a monarchy for all its posturing and proclaiming equity between men and women. Though Gender roles of the kingdom were fluid enough there had never sat a woman upon the Emerald throne. So naturally men tend to hold the notion of superiority and greatness still. Even if that greatness is not inherently theirs. Delion was such a man. Here under the banner of an empire that he did not belong to… not truly anyway and yet he treks the ground of Maidera as if its people, who still claim the lands they were born on their own, were pedestrians. It was beyond a view of inferiority. What he would soon learn though is that the Denkou were not to be overlooked. They were unlike other humans in more ways than just their ability.
Seeing his ashy battle-worn hands touch Denkou's property sent a spark of irritation that crept through Haesael’s spine like an eerie chill prompting him to step forward but he was stopped by Yuta's hand that was still on his shoulder. She smirked at him before going before Delion."You are a blacksmith, yes?" He said as his hands traced the stonelike fabric of the tent above his head before he moved them along the runes and sigils carved onto the table. Delion had never seen them before...
“ Ha, Oh nothing so crude I assure you.“
A slight chuckle. She said as she walked not too far behind him a coy smile her hand resting softly on her chin.
“Such praise, I’m sure the Jo’ro women must be far more impressive to bear the children of such…mighty warriors."I've never been impressed by a human before...Let alone a woman, as delicate as yourself."
She stopped just short of him. Her eyes traced over his powerful physics. It had seen countless battles no doubt he earned every scar with the other guy looking much worse. His armor and a lone dagger stuck out to her the most.
“Though a blacksmith I may not be I am however before anything else, woman, human, delicates, exceptionally gorgeous beyond reason… An artist, one who can appreciate the canvas of metals and stone..”
Those oils he smelled were a blend of lilac and an exotic bloom native only the the emerald ascension. Her eyes narrowed a bit.
“ Your dagger, B’halian steel straight from the mines of the continent. Surprisingly malleable when applied with enough flame. Heh, dwarven craft. Interesting, dwarves aren’t known to share their secrets elv or otherwise.”
A slight pause
“Even more interesting that someone like you a member of one of the mightiest races of Elvs, Terra, known for their exceptionally dense skin to even need such a trinket and armor to boot? I’d wager you’ve never even used that dagger. I’m sure your hands are often enough. “
Her finger waved, and Haesael grabbed the final box of materials needed. Her tone was almost encouraging, her words soft yet firm lacking malice despite their sting.
“For anyone that happens to not be Mazokou of course Their stamp looks so lovely on the hilt of the scabbard. Such a mighty, marvelous empire. None could dare to resist their ambition. Not with their representatives sporting armor fashioned with the emblem of their benefactors so brazen on their chest…”
She said as turned from him to a roll of coiled diamond and lifted it towards him the glimmer of the silk twinkling in her eyes. Such misplaced pride. Bound and chained in subservience. It was Stockholm Syndrome frightening, to say the least.
“This…craft is the bloodline of my people. A nation that has stood the rise and fall of many empires. A legacy to be carved into eternity. As I am sure it is much different in the lands of the Mazokou here in Neovia and by extension the Denkou kingdom it is customary to greet each other… even properly so when two leaders meet for the first time.”
Her eyes light softly as the threads of diamond unraveled lazily. Softly they coalesced around her creating a beautiful scarf.
“ I am Yuta Ivon Denkou, 2nd seat of the royal house Of Gamallow. I share in the nation's development and studies in metallurgy. I hope to impress you even more so.”
A slight bow. Few things could be said about the way Denkou loved to spout their full names. A pride that came from having the liberty to profess individuality.
“ With whom do I have the privilege ?”
An invitation for him to introduce himself. Should he even care to in spite of her cold analytics.
Re: The Second Annual Neo Festurus
They certainly were not. They are a pious bunch.. Worshiping a god whom they can neither see nor hear. Acquiring their expertise did not go without resistance. A story and battle Delion couldn't recall from experience.“Though a blacksmith I may not be I am however before anything else; though woman, human, delicate, and exceptionally gorgeous beyond reason.. An artist, one who can appreciate the canvas of metals and stone..
“Your dagger, B’halian steel straight from the mines of the continent. Surprisingly malleable when applied with enough flame. Heh, dwarven craft. Interesting, dwarves aren’t known to share their secrets elv or otherwise.”
“...”“For anyone that happens to not be Mazokou of course Their stamp looks so lovely on the hilt of the scabbard. Such a mighty, marvelous empire. None could dare to resist their ambition. Not with their representatives sporting armor fashioned with the emblem of their benefactors so brazen on their chest…”
She said, turning from him to retrieve a roll of coiled diamond behind her and lifted it towards him, the glimmer of the silk twinkling in her eyes.
Delion's eyes were transfixed on the sphere of kneaded minerals; a concept that defied the physical laws of nature. It glimmered like diamond, yet mirrored thread. A fabric uniting the two reaked of alchemy, which would make sense from a civilization of humans. Despite their inherent predilection for destruction, history always adhered to their intuitive nature.
Delion did not bow. His eyes trailed the diamond weaved scarf up until Yuta's curtsy. Where he placed his hand upon the hilt of the aforementioned dagger at his hip.”This craft is the bloodline of my people. A nation that has stood the rise and fall of many empires.. As I am sure it is much different in the lands of the Mazokou here in Neovia and by extension the Denkou kingdom it is customary to greet each other… even properly so when two leaders meet for the first time. I am Yuta Ivon Denkou, 2nd seat of the royal house Of Gamallow. I hope to impress you even more so.”
“With whom do I have the pleasure?”
“Well Yuta, of The Human Kingdom Denkou.. I am not a leader, nor am I proper royalty. My name is not important, as we will never speak again beyond this point. But you may know that you are addressing an Emissary of The B'halian Empire.. and not once have I said that you have impressed me.”
He said pointedly.
“Not yet anyway. So you may save your flattery. For now, I wish to know more about the..applications of your craft.”
Delion calmly unbuckled his dagger and placed the sheathed weapon upon the table. The tool weighed several hundred pounds, but Delion held it like a feather.
“Would you care to give me a display? I have no personal talent for forgery or the like, but perhaps you could show me how advanced your civilization is.”
He smiled as he glanced toward Hansel and coyly around his shoulder to anyone who may still be waiting behind him.
“I'm sure it would do wonders for the people inquiring how strong your materials are when faced against adequate competition.”
----(.. Meanwhile..)---
Sunder was delegated to return to camp, and was non the wiser to the amphibious bard lurking in the coiling darkness of Nonoir Mangroves. They cut and dashed through the trees until they reconvened with the three dozen Joro soldiers originally tasked with establishing a base camp.
Depending on how closely Subori chose to tail the Imiqandi soldier, he would either see him enter the campsite hiddem among the trees, or he could have seen the large blue elf rendezvous within a horde of other Joro within a tent larger than the others.
Re: The Second Annual Neo Festurus
Subori stayed close, but not too close. As the soldier approached his camp, Subori was shocked at how many tents there were, and a little less so at their individual sizes. The soldier who departed the festival was tall enough but these looked like they could hold way more than just some soldiers on a goodwill trip.
No way. These fatties mean business… There’s just no way…”
COvered in a film of Garganega Oil, Subori could slip through the whole camp without making a sound. He wanted to gain a little more intel before heading back to his own camp. Just the fact that the B’halian Empire set camp in the Mangroves spelled more trouble than the festival goers could know. Whether through sea, sky, or land, the Jaida Coast was not easy for outsiders to navigate, the thick forests and the pitch black nights are only some of the natural features that make it inhospitable to guests, without even considering the relationships between the different Jaidan cultures’ that make the Second Annual Neo Festurus’s joyous aura the momentous occasion it was. Subori felt responsible for bringing some of that light to his people.
Subori measured about five feet tall, dwarfed by the Jo’ro visiting from a far off continent. Garnacha Oil suppressed his presence as he stepped gently through camp. To surmise a deeper threat, Subori shook his head and slid his hand a few times across his body, applying a new layer of Garganega Oil fresh. Though his physical presence left no mark on the world already, he wanted to be sure he could be bumped into and still go unnoticed, he was too far into enemy territory to take any chances and might have already been in over his head, especially since he was also covered in Gafren Cassowary Feathers, a potent, pungent mix that he just realized could become an issue.
Already in too deep, he moved toward the largest tent near the center of the encampment. He tried to make sense of what they were saying, but their thunderous tenor made it hard to hear outside their meeting. He stood there for a moment to see if he could make out anything, a recognizable word or location, something before his adrenaline spurred him to fly.
No way. These fatties mean business… There’s just no way…”
COvered in a film of Garganega Oil, Subori could slip through the whole camp without making a sound. He wanted to gain a little more intel before heading back to his own camp. Just the fact that the B’halian Empire set camp in the Mangroves spelled more trouble than the festival goers could know. Whether through sea, sky, or land, the Jaida Coast was not easy for outsiders to navigate, the thick forests and the pitch black nights are only some of the natural features that make it inhospitable to guests, without even considering the relationships between the different Jaidan cultures’ that make the Second Annual Neo Festurus’s joyous aura the momentous occasion it was. Subori felt responsible for bringing some of that light to his people.
Subori measured about five feet tall, dwarfed by the Jo’ro visiting from a far off continent. Garnacha Oil suppressed his presence as he stepped gently through camp. To surmise a deeper threat, Subori shook his head and slid his hand a few times across his body, applying a new layer of Garganega Oil fresh. Though his physical presence left no mark on the world already, he wanted to be sure he could be bumped into and still go unnoticed, he was too far into enemy territory to take any chances and might have already been in over his head, especially since he was also covered in Gafren Cassowary Feathers, a potent, pungent mix that he just realized could become an issue.
Already in too deep, he moved toward the largest tent near the center of the encampment. He tried to make sense of what they were saying, but their thunderous tenor made it hard to hear outside their meeting. He stood there for a moment to see if he could make out anything, a recognizable word or location, something before his adrenaline spurred him to fly.
-
Dalazar Denkou
- Drifter
- Posts: 149
- Joined: Sat Feb 16, 2019 8:39 pm
Re: The Second Annual Neo Festurus
She couldn't decide which was more nauseating. His misplaced arrogance or his stench. They were about neck and neck for first place. She forced herself to deal with his breath which only were tolerable because he happened to at least have a clean and polished way of speaking. The pride of his voice in being an emissary. It was almost like a fanboy. Pitiful in her eyes but if it's good for the goose. She did not interrupt him rather than let him carry on while Haesael sat down the last of the item overstock.“Well Yuta, of The Human Kingdom Denkou.. I am not a leader, nor am I proper royalty. My name is not important, as we will never speak again beyond this point. But you may know that you are addressing an Emissary of The B'halian Empire.. and not once have I said that you have impressed me.”
"Lady Yuta I say we oblige him. He sees our lifeblood as merely a trinket. Let him, and everyone else watching learn otherwise."“Not yet anyway. So you may save your flattery. For now, I wish to know more about the..applications of your craft.”
Delion calmly unbuckled his dagger and placed the sheathed weapon upon the table. The tool weighed several hundred pounds, but Delion held it like a feather.
“Would you care to give me a display? I have no personal talent for forgery or the like, but perhaps you could show me how advanced your civilization is.”
He smiled as he glanced toward Hansel and coyly around his shoulder to anyone who may still be waiting behind him.
“I'm sure it would do wonders for the people inquiring how strong your materials are when faced against adequate competition.”
Said Haesael stepping up after the thunk of the dagger hitting the table ruffled the display a bit. Yuta with a coy smile went over and fixed any that happened to get messed up.
"I mean you barely wanna hear us humans talk right? Why waste your time with a dissertation when we can get on with the demonstration."
Haesael's stone face smirked which lead to a cocky grin. He had already had enough of all these snotty-ass elves, to begin with, but the way this Jo'ro carried himself pissed Haesael off more.
"My Haesael I think that is a most marvelous Idea. We still have time before the others arrive. What kind of demonstration did you have in mind?!"
Her tone was ecstatic, she loved the idea. The chance to prove here and now in front of elves and humans alike the might of Denkou's artistry. She would feel it the greatest dishonor to bow down from such provocation. Yuta's pride in her craft had the backing of thousands of years of diligent development and cultivation.
"That thread is a melding of Denki metals and diamonds from the heart of Madeira. But I wasn't thinking that one, Lady Yuta, the King's Thread"
Her eyes shot open bursting with glee. She practically squealed at its mention. At the summit of the Emerlad Asceion is a vicious storm one that has raged without end since the inauguration of the First Emerlad King. A deposit of Denki metal rests in this space and is saturated with the jade storm. Deep beneath the castle exists a place none but the royal house are aware of. Panna Chiyo; Emerald Blood. An Oasis of raw naten Its acquisition is so dangerous nun but the Emerald King himself can harvest it. The creation of King's thread is the delicate and potentially dangerous process of breaking down the metals and reconstructing them using the emerald blood as a bonding agent reinforcing its protists and providing an uncanny durability. Garments fashioned from such material were only given to the heads of the HOuseholds and of course the Emerald King himself.
"Simply marvelous!"
She scurried to the back shifting through some things before coming back to the front with a box ordained in ancient Denkou text engraved with runes set in place for its protection. Yuta signed several times invoking a series of glyphs that would manifest around the box. Those glyphs resonated with those on the box springing them to life and unlocking the box. Yuta would reach in and reveal a gorgeous bundle of thread that was unlike any of the others.
"If that dagger can cut through this thread then then superior craftsmen of B'halian steel will be known and feared on Madeira. But should it fail."
Haesael said as he took two metal pipes and plunged them into the ground. Yuta would then invoke her naten resonating with the naten in the threads. The bundle would unravel attaching itself to both of them creating a singular line of thread. Under the ire of the sun, it gleamed. The rest of the bundle returned to the box sealed once again. Haesael would stand aside creating nothing but space and opportunity for the blue goliath.
"You can go back to your...overlords and let them know that the Denkou will bend the knee to no one."
-
Dalazar Denkou
- Drifter
- Posts: 149
- Joined: Sat Feb 16, 2019 8:39 pm
Re: The Second Annual Neo Festurus
Del'ion's eyes trailed Yuta as she disappeared into the backrooms of the tent and reappeared with a chest of intricate design. It was textured with deep grooves running along its surface that he recognized as runes. He was unaware of their origin, but he could feel power emanating from it. It was noteworthy, but he wouldn't admit that of course. Before she opened it, Delion eyes widened. He expected something worthwhile had been secured within Yuta's hand; some u prescedent artifact, som legendary totem of power passed down from human to human that sought to rival their strength against the elvs. But his expression immediately defaulted to apathy upon seeing the King's Thread. "A glimmering ball of yarn?", he thought. Delion was thoroughly underwhelmed.“Simply marvelous!"
She scurried to the back shifting through some things before coming back to the front with a box ordained in ancient Denkou text engraved with runes set in place for its protection. Yuta signed several times invoking a series of glyphs that would manifest around the box. Those glyphs resonated with those on the box springing them to life and unlocking the box. Yuta would reach in and reveal a gorgeous bundle of thread that was unlike any of the others.
“Heh, this? is your pride and joy? How pathetically appropriate.”
He chuckled, mostly to himself as he analyzed the shimmering ball of thread. His lips curled with arrogance and conceit as he listened to the nuances of this challenge.
“Hmph.”"If that dagger can cut through this thread then then superior craftsmen of B'halian steel will be known and feared on Madeira. But should it fail.."
Haesael said as he took two metal pipes and plunged them into the ground. Yuta would then invoke her naten resonating with the naten in the threads. The bundle would unravel attaching itself to both of them creating a singular line of thread. Under the ire of the sun, it gleamed..
“You can go back to your...overlords and let them know that the Denkou will bend the knee to no one.”
Delion took his dagger by its handle and removed its sheath, allowing the opal tinted steel to blind all who gazed upon it. Anyone familiar with Bhalian steel knew well enough to never gaze too intently when exposed to sunlight. He hoped they weren't.
“Is this a joke? Theatricalities.. Aesthetics.. These are meaningless in the heat of battle. You present a thousand years of superiority with a thread? Fabric? Very well then, be this insult or hubris, let us put to the test, your King's thread.”
He said half-heartedly as he lifted his dagger above his head. His fist clenched tight around its handle, so tight the sound of air rushing through the gaps of his fist squeaked like leather. He held nothing back. Delion wanted to embarrass these humans more than he wanted anything they offered him out of their pitiful tents. The thought of their disappointment.. the collective dread of each and everyone of them as he displayed the gap between their civilizations. The awe inspiring synapse separating superior beings from the inferior critters that nip at their heels. He was so excited he couldn't conceal his toothy grin any longer. This was why he decided to stop.. He could tell that the Mazoku traitor wasn't being hidden by Lady Yuta, or her compatriots. This was simply entertainment for him at this point.
“!!!”
Delion swung his dagger as hard and fast as he could toward the thread. The air sounded as if it screamed in pain; cleaved in two by this seven foot, death crazed warrior. But the sound of slicing air was deafened when Delion's blade made contact with the King's Thread. The frequency created from the impact was unlike anything he'd ever heard. The shockwaves tossed the weak to the ground, and pinged Delion's sensitive ears like nails to a chalkboard. The vibrations permeated his entire body until he couldn't stand it anymore, but the dagger suffered far worse than he. The dagger was snapped In two pieces, one of which flew violently into clouds before landing on a tree outside of the festival. Delion couldn't believe his eyes..
Impossible.. An illusion?
He debated against his own eyes. To believe such would be far easier than succumbing to the idea that the Denkou's ore triumphed against him; against what he was taught to be superior. He held his broken Bhalian blade for a moment longer..
“...”
Before he tossed it to the side like a broken toy, careless and angry.
“Deception..”
Delion hissed.. but was careful to watch his volume, as to not incite another unruly congregation. His face was transfixed; unsure whether to be offended or thoroughly impressed. The look on Hansel and Yuta’s face.. Their smug enjoyment nearly sent him into a whirlwind of fury, luckily however he managed to contain his agitation to a mild snarl.
“This is– hmm.. Listen well, human.. while this blade may have been worn from countless strikes..”
He said, unable to say the rest while giving eye contact..
“..you have piqued my interest. Your craft.. has piqued my interest. Be proud, human. Not even I thought I would live to see such a day..”
Delion feigned a smile and crossed his arms. He didn't know whether or not he should tell Emperor Akundae of this development. But the more he thought about it, the more clear the answer became to him.
“I would like to purchase all of which you have to offer, on behalf of the B'halian Empire.”
----(.. Meanwhile..)---
Subroi, while cloaked beneath the gifts of his Anthem, would see dozens of Joro soldiers occupying the encampment. Each of them were
armed, vigilant and prepared for an encroaching enemy. But none of them could see, hear, or even feel Subori's presence. However, the pungent scent of Cassowary feathers was thick in the air on account of his recent proximity with a Gafren resident of Neovia. Some of the Joro tasked with guard duty would gaze over their shoulder aimlessly, attracted to the exotic scent, but were unable to see anything out of the ordinary and would go about their business. Many of them walked in and out of the large tent that Subori was gleaning. Should the bard tread close enough, he would be able to hear what was discussed inside.
“We have found the target, your Grace. She hides here, hidden by the residents of Neovia.”
A Joro soldier projected to a holographic vestige of a man sitting at a throne. He was surrounded by several others, each of which were huddled around the vestige of the Emperor, kneeling with their faces toward the ground.
“We have reason to believe she has not gone far. We have acquired a trail and are simply awaiting orders before we proceed..”
”.. the FrostJack will retrieve them. You will relay the coordinates. Everything else must proceed as I intended.”
Bellowed the ominous figure of floating pixels before the transmission was cut altogether. The Joro soldier then promptly lifted from the ground and began to mobilize his troops in accordance with the will of his leader. They spoke in a language Subori wouldn't understand unless he’d spent a few years within Bhalia, but many of them rushed from the large tent they were in and moved toward the smaller ones.
There was one in particular that shook the Nonoir Mangroves with roars of anger and defiance. A host of voices, some of which Subori may have recognized.
Re: The Second Annual Neo Festurus
Subori took care to avoid the Jo’ro emissaries as they moved about, seeming to sortie after getting the go ahead from their pixelated commander. As the big blue behemoths moved about their illicit encampment, Subori grew more and more nervous. Whoever they were looking for, they were female and someone was already on their trail, so he wondered what they could want with Zero if they were on the trail of someone else. It was fishy, suspicious, and just plain kooky to have the B’halian Empire resting on their shores asking for Zero but looking for someone else. Things just didn’t add up…
Until Subori heard a familiar voice cursing even the air he breathed. He belted to the sky all types of expletives while he was escorted out of the tent.
“I already told you busted blue bastards what you want to know! Just let me go! AAAAAARRRRRGH!”
Subori’s eyes widened seeing one of the members of The Conservatory in B’halian custody. He was battered and bruised, covered in muck and seemed to be in just as bad a way as he looked. Tossed over the shoulder of one of the Jo’ro kicking and screaming like a bat out of hell ready to wreak havoc. Subori and Simon both met him before, shortly after Zero had completed his training with the Lucis Acolytes learning the Jaidan Way. For a time, Raizen Gojudas was a comrade, joining The Conservatory to turn over a new leaf from his sordid past. Subori remembered a dinner they shared together, one where they compared notes on Zero himself for some insight into his mental space. Surprisingly, in the same dinner, Subori learned of the treachery that could be found in the hearts of those who were broken by The Crucible.
Raizen Gojudas? I guess his already bad luck ran out. Bummer.”
Subori remembered Raizen being many things, con man some places, mercenary in others, but one thing that remained constant was his deep pool of questionable morals. Close to the end of his training, Subori could sense his growing disillusionment with The Conservatory’s ideals, he would rather be out in the world doing what he wanted rather than bound by the ideals of another. Ironic how now he was still in bondage to the ideals of another, but far worse off for it and bringing that treachery to the Jaida Coast.
Jeez, I gotta find Zero, lemme get out of here.
Subori had completed his impromptu mission. Raizen Gojudas clearly sold out The Conservatory, the Jaida Coast, and the whole continent and got nothing from it, sad to see him in captivity but traitors get what’s coming to them around these parts. Subori started to head back to the Festival, but stopped for a moment in his tracks.
Wait… Where are they going now?[i}
He hoped that by sticking around a bit longer, kinda close to the group carrying Raizen, he’d get some real defnitive answers.
Until Subori heard a familiar voice cursing even the air he breathed. He belted to the sky all types of expletives while he was escorted out of the tent.
“I already told you busted blue bastards what you want to know! Just let me go! AAAAAARRRRRGH!”
Subori’s eyes widened seeing one of the members of The Conservatory in B’halian custody. He was battered and bruised, covered in muck and seemed to be in just as bad a way as he looked. Tossed over the shoulder of one of the Jo’ro kicking and screaming like a bat out of hell ready to wreak havoc. Subori and Simon both met him before, shortly after Zero had completed his training with the Lucis Acolytes learning the Jaidan Way. For a time, Raizen Gojudas was a comrade, joining The Conservatory to turn over a new leaf from his sordid past. Subori remembered a dinner they shared together, one where they compared notes on Zero himself for some insight into his mental space. Surprisingly, in the same dinner, Subori learned of the treachery that could be found in the hearts of those who were broken by The Crucible.
Raizen Gojudas? I guess his already bad luck ran out. Bummer.”
Subori remembered Raizen being many things, con man some places, mercenary in others, but one thing that remained constant was his deep pool of questionable morals. Close to the end of his training, Subori could sense his growing disillusionment with The Conservatory’s ideals, he would rather be out in the world doing what he wanted rather than bound by the ideals of another. Ironic how now he was still in bondage to the ideals of another, but far worse off for it and bringing that treachery to the Jaida Coast.
Jeez, I gotta find Zero, lemme get out of here.
Subori had completed his impromptu mission. Raizen Gojudas clearly sold out The Conservatory, the Jaida Coast, and the whole continent and got nothing from it, sad to see him in captivity but traitors get what’s coming to them around these parts. Subori started to head back to the Festival, but stopped for a moment in his tracks.
Wait… Where are they going now?[i}
He hoped that by sticking around a bit longer, kinda close to the group carrying Raizen, he’d get some real defnitive answers.