[The Kingdom of Lrae-Epsos]
[Triad of Saints: Saint Zemy]
[Triad of Saints: Saint Zemy]
Actual war was something that touched the lips of Lraenite-Epsonian men can't rarely. It was a secret lover to them, something they could only enjoy every so often as they revealed in the scent of blood and decay. Dzavektan however knew that when it came to actually killing, to watching bodies crinkle like paper after being riddled with bullets, that few Lraenite men could actually stomach it. Many of the Ladaeran people were soft, safe in the knowledge that unlike their forefathers war was a distant and relatively rare occurrence. They all read about it in the newspaper, but they had never experienced, never felt what it was like to be dropped in the thick of it, the screaming, the yelling, the bloodlust. Men didn't go to war, only animals did. Cruel, murderous animals.
Dzavektan knew that. He knew what he was: a monster. He knew how much he loved the taste of carmine blood on his lips, how he savored it and used it to drive him on. He was borderline cannibalistic, but he wasn't focused on such labels and titles for now. He was a Man-of-War, and war had come to his desk this evening.
He smiled widely as the woman strolled up to him. She was attractive, of course. Dzavektan never hired ugly women and purposely kept himself surrounded by those of attractive measure. This woman was no different, her cleavage a bit small for his liking, plainly observing through her white blouse, but her legs and especially her ass, was what he liked most. It was the way she strolled so casually strolled over to him, her bare legs supple and tanned, her backside quite defined in her black mini-skirt. He could look, but he couldn't touch...at least not on the job; didn't want another "offence" filed, he knew. She handed him a thick packet of documents and left, strolling away just as slowly.
"Wait" he called after he. "What's this?"
She spun around on a dime and came back, her heels clicking, resonating within the very chic and modernly designed office space. "Reports, Mr.Drake" He had most people simply call him Drake, he found that Dzavektan was too hard of a word for them to properly pronounce. "For the Red-case, sir."
Ah the Red-Case, he thought. Recently things on the bottom had gotten rather uppity, modestly speaking. An invasion was no laughing matter and usually Lrae-Epsos would ignore such a thing, yet Dzavektan had suggested using this as an opportunity for expansion as well as cleansing. Oedipus Ilah Ehyeh, of course, agreed. Now a Case (Equivalent to an Operation) had been planned. A relatively small one, but still, it would do for Dzavektan's own, clandestine goals. He shoo'd her away like a dog, and after bowing, scampered off like a bitch too. He smiled at the amount of control he had over his employees. Retra Company was nearly an autonomous state in and of itself, and he enjoyed that fact. He skimmed over the large stack of documents, name such as Arrsanac, Norzucak, Dust-Town, etc, all quite familiar to him now that he had studied this Red-Case for what seemed like weeks. He had decided on a sizeable group. At least forty men and women would be needed for such an operation, and Dzavektan had been sure to prepare and plan for this. He wanted to do execute this seamlessly like the well-oiled machine Retra Company was.
He leaned into the documents, peering into the paper as if something as if something more than ink and paper was there. Azdan, Azhdan was the word he was looking for. It was an old Siius word that was synonymous with dragon. Now, the inclusion of this had meant two things for Dzavektan: 1) That everything was set and, to his knowledge, still running to the original plan. And 2) That he was going to have to get his hands dirty. Or at the very least get someone else to do it for him. He was still as a stone as he thought it over, concepts and words in his brain stuck on repeat, zipping past like falling cosmonauts at the speed of light. He was a machine of war and then it all clicked, a switch going off in the dark recesses of his mind. He pressed a button installed into the wooden surface of his rather 'artificial' looking desk. "Contact Kadenn Dzavektan, please. Tell him to meet me in the palace square tomorrow at noon."
He smiled as if he controlled the world from that chair.
Dzavektan knew that. He knew what he was: a monster. He knew how much he loved the taste of carmine blood on his lips, how he savored it and used it to drive him on. He was borderline cannibalistic, but he wasn't focused on such labels and titles for now. He was a Man-of-War, and war had come to his desk this evening.
He smiled widely as the woman strolled up to him. She was attractive, of course. Dzavektan never hired ugly women and purposely kept himself surrounded by those of attractive measure. This woman was no different, her cleavage a bit small for his liking, plainly observing through her white blouse, but her legs and especially her ass, was what he liked most. It was the way she strolled so casually strolled over to him, her bare legs supple and tanned, her backside quite defined in her black mini-skirt. He could look, but he couldn't touch...at least not on the job; didn't want another "offence" filed, he knew. She handed him a thick packet of documents and left, strolling away just as slowly.
"Wait" he called after he. "What's this?"
She spun around on a dime and came back, her heels clicking, resonating within the very chic and modernly designed office space. "Reports, Mr.Drake" He had most people simply call him Drake, he found that Dzavektan was too hard of a word for them to properly pronounce. "For the Red-case, sir."
Ah the Red-Case, he thought. Recently things on the bottom had gotten rather uppity, modestly speaking. An invasion was no laughing matter and usually Lrae-Epsos would ignore such a thing, yet Dzavektan had suggested using this as an opportunity for expansion as well as cleansing. Oedipus Ilah Ehyeh, of course, agreed. Now a Case (Equivalent to an Operation) had been planned. A relatively small one, but still, it would do for Dzavektan's own, clandestine goals. He shoo'd her away like a dog, and after bowing, scampered off like a bitch too. He smiled at the amount of control he had over his employees. Retra Company was nearly an autonomous state in and of itself, and he enjoyed that fact. He skimmed over the large stack of documents, name such as Arrsanac, Norzucak, Dust-Town, etc, all quite familiar to him now that he had studied this Red-Case for what seemed like weeks. He had decided on a sizeable group. At least forty men and women would be needed for such an operation, and Dzavektan had been sure to prepare and plan for this. He wanted to do execute this seamlessly like the well-oiled machine Retra Company was.
He leaned into the documents, peering into the paper as if something as if something more than ink and paper was there. Azdan, Azhdan was the word he was looking for. It was an old Siius word that was synonymous with dragon. Now, the inclusion of this had meant two things for Dzavektan: 1) That everything was set and, to his knowledge, still running to the original plan. And 2) That he was going to have to get his hands dirty. Or at the very least get someone else to do it for him. He was still as a stone as he thought it over, concepts and words in his brain stuck on repeat, zipping past like falling cosmonauts at the speed of light. He was a machine of war and then it all clicked, a switch going off in the dark recesses of his mind. He pressed a button installed into the wooden surface of his rather 'artificial' looking desk. "Contact Kadenn Dzavektan, please. Tell him to meet me in the palace square tomorrow at noon."
He smiled as if he controlled the world from that chair.
[The Kingdom of Lrae-Epsos]
[Triad of Saints: Saint Re'em]
[Triad of Saints: Saint Re'em]
Bastard. To put it bluntly, Drake Dzavektan is a bastard. A wolf with a snake's tongue, Kadenn was the closest he had ever come to a true enemy or nemesis. People often told him he looked a lot like his brother, except a bit better looking in a cheery, upbeat sort of way. He was the happy brother, it seemed. They both shared that slick black hair that was cut short, except Kadenn's was noticeably more reddish, and he also had the exact same symbol tattooed onto his neck, except only on the other side. Kadenn was was right-handed, Drake was ambidextrous. Kadenn was mobile, Drake was hypermobile. Kadenn was a detective, Drake ran a PMC. They were, to say the least, from from brotherly competition in Kadenn's mind and he felt he was only being "summoned" just so his brother could brag about this or that. They only really talked when Drake was talking about himself. He sighed heavily and stepped out of his car.
He could already see Drake sitting at their "assigned" table, his brother on the left, and his seat on the right. Drake always preferred the left. Naturally, he was left-handed and based on Kadenn's observation, this had had a profound effect on the young Drake. Being left-handed is considered, well, something in Siius culture but he hadn't taken the time to investigate. He calmly strolled over to his brother and, after taking a seat, proceeded to have a stare down. Drake was so...off-putting. As they calmly exchanged looks, studying each other and seemingly communicating as they had done since childhood, Kadenn could see his brother twitch. He had gotten to know this bastard so well that he knew that wasn't a particularly good sign. He resigned first, turning away momentarily out of desire to get this meeting over with. He didn't hate his brother necessarily, no, he loved him. He just...disliked him like you dislike a disability.
"So, what do you want? I know it's not just to shoot the breeze." Kadenn broke the silence like a knife, no feeling behind his words besides direct and knowing inpatients. He spoke his native tongue, of course. He always did when spoke to his brother. He noticed that most people looked at them knowingly, understanding that these two were of Siius decent, yet he also saw most of them were a bit repulsed and in a sort of way, disturbed. Drake only sat there staring still, digging into a bag of deep friend fish eggs, crunching on the salty snake like a child. This was aggravating Kadenn. "Well, speak up dammit!" He raised his voice just a little to show he was serious. "And give me some of those damned things." He outstretched his hand.
A small torrent of brown and black dots fell into his palm, and finally the man spoke. "Straight to the point as always...Don't even say hello to your own brother."
"Hello, how are you? Good. Now what do you want?" He said it quickly and sarcastically. He didn't like to play games like this.
Drake sighed. "My firm is about to embark on a case...We're raiding Azdan." He could see Kadenn nearly spit out his snack, coughing quite horribly and putting up a hand until he could compose himself. "We're raiding his 'Dungeon' tomorrow. I'd like you to be there with myself and the unit so we can finally put this...insanity, to rest. No games, no tricks, no price. The firm is busting in, securing whatever paraphernalia we can find and gunning everyone else. The Second Lieutenant of this operation has agreed to leave Azdan himself for us. So, what do you say?" He stood up and outstretched his hand.
Kadenn didn't even have to think. He shot up, quite shaken by the news. He took his brothers hands, and they formed a fist, clenching it tightly until both of their knuckles were white. He looked into his brothers eyes, their pale blue irises perhaps the only thing about them that was nearly identical. Drake usually told people Kadenn was the younger brother but in truth they were twins: Drake came first, and then Kadenn nearly a minute later. It had killed their mother, so their father instructed them to tell that story so as not to bring disgrace on the family. It still burned inside of the two brothers, and they blamed themselves for their mother's tragic death.
They blamed Azdan for their father's.
He could already see Drake sitting at their "assigned" table, his brother on the left, and his seat on the right. Drake always preferred the left. Naturally, he was left-handed and based on Kadenn's observation, this had had a profound effect on the young Drake. Being left-handed is considered, well, something in Siius culture but he hadn't taken the time to investigate. He calmly strolled over to his brother and, after taking a seat, proceeded to have a stare down. Drake was so...off-putting. As they calmly exchanged looks, studying each other and seemingly communicating as they had done since childhood, Kadenn could see his brother twitch. He had gotten to know this bastard so well that he knew that wasn't a particularly good sign. He resigned first, turning away momentarily out of desire to get this meeting over with. He didn't hate his brother necessarily, no, he loved him. He just...disliked him like you dislike a disability.
"So, what do you want? I know it's not just to shoot the breeze." Kadenn broke the silence like a knife, no feeling behind his words besides direct and knowing inpatients. He spoke his native tongue, of course. He always did when spoke to his brother. He noticed that most people looked at them knowingly, understanding that these two were of Siius decent, yet he also saw most of them were a bit repulsed and in a sort of way, disturbed. Drake only sat there staring still, digging into a bag of deep friend fish eggs, crunching on the salty snake like a child. This was aggravating Kadenn. "Well, speak up dammit!" He raised his voice just a little to show he was serious. "And give me some of those damned things." He outstretched his hand.
A small torrent of brown and black dots fell into his palm, and finally the man spoke. "Straight to the point as always...Don't even say hello to your own brother."
"Hello, how are you? Good. Now what do you want?" He said it quickly and sarcastically. He didn't like to play games like this.
Drake sighed. "My firm is about to embark on a case...We're raiding Azdan." He could see Kadenn nearly spit out his snack, coughing quite horribly and putting up a hand until he could compose himself. "We're raiding his 'Dungeon' tomorrow. I'd like you to be there with myself and the unit so we can finally put this...insanity, to rest. No games, no tricks, no price. The firm is busting in, securing whatever paraphernalia we can find and gunning everyone else. The Second Lieutenant of this operation has agreed to leave Azdan himself for us. So, what do you say?" He stood up and outstretched his hand.
Kadenn didn't even have to think. He shot up, quite shaken by the news. He took his brothers hands, and they formed a fist, clenching it tightly until both of their knuckles were white. He looked into his brothers eyes, their pale blue irises perhaps the only thing about them that was nearly identical. Drake usually told people Kadenn was the younger brother but in truth they were twins: Drake came first, and then Kadenn nearly a minute later. It had killed their mother, so their father instructed them to tell that story so as not to bring disgrace on the family. It still burned inside of the two brothers, and they blamed themselves for their mother's tragic death.
They blamed Azdan for their father's.