The Phoenix Rose From The Ashes [IC] (Closed)

[Brays Bastards]

At The Airport...

Torres shrugged, setting the beer and magazine aside before getting to his feet. The diplomatic function had been projected to last at least a day, so Torres had stowed his motorcycle aboard. He'd just finished unloading it before settling in to read the magazine and enjoy a beverage or two. Now, he had cause to use it...

"OK, heina. We'll take the bike..."

The bike in question was a slightly-modded Aprilla custom-painted a matte-black hue. Greg threw Shaaz the matching helmet before throwing his leg over the vehicle and gunning the engine. The airplane door closed behind Shaaz automatically, apparently Greg had made a few modifications more suited to low-riders than aircraft...

At The Memorial...

Whiptail shook his head slowly at the mention of his homeland...

"Eh, it's the usual. Peace has been 'declared' for nearly five years now and they're still finding excuses to kill one another..."

While a good idea in theory, the so-called Modernization had only put more efficient killing tools in the hands of an already-violent culture. The war-cries and clashing of blades had been replaced by the chattering of machine-guns and the muffled crumping of detonating explosives.

Sam listened intently, remembering the stories Whiptail had shared with him as a child about the swampy Hell his people originated from, tales of valor and carnage in equal measure. He turned to Boris after a moment, shaking off the retrospective mental images...

"I'm recently retired, actually. Dad's brought me in on the family business so-to-speak. This is my first official function as a member of the company..."

The Bray clan had spent the past three generations in the mercenary trade, Dekker's father Samuel (for who Sam was named) having been the first after Viet Nam, served as a member of the 'Wild Geese' in Africa under Colonel Hoare, among other things. Dekker's brother Jackson (not to be confused with Jackson Davis, his second-in-command), was a former Delta Force (CAG) member who now did freelance work. Jack's excuse had been that he didn't like sharing a name with a 'Girl Scout', his term for standard Special Forces troopers, but Sam was well aware that he barely got along with his father during the best of times, Dekker preferring the quiet and unassuming lifestyle while Uncle Jack spent most of his earnings on fast cars, beautiful women, and expensive booze. In fact, he'd heard Elizabeth Fortier's father's name thrown around quite a bit during the car conversations, especially those involving a turbo-charged Camaro...

[Almajoya]

OOC: Joining with permission from Tarlachia.


Jade, Almajoya

For the first time in over a month, the sun roused Melisma from sleep. The days in Lukiyo were shorter during the Katsuran winter. She had spent most of the past six months- though they felt longer- in Lukiyo; she had not been home since the execution of Aaron Rineharto in the December just past. Waking up in her room in Sanctus Aidenn was almost like opening her eyes to a random hotel room.

Officially, the reason behind her departure had something to do with reassuring the people that Katsuro was safe and perfectly habitable by living there herself, but she had also left the mainland for other reasons. The year before had been more than busy; it had often been stressful, and even dangerous at times. She had thought that if she could get away from the palace, from her familiar surroundings, she might be able to grasp some semblance of sanity, assuming that she was still capable of such.

It had worked, though not without a cost. She had expected that the move would be twisted by her critics as an attempt to run from her problems, which of course was partly true. Fortunately, the improvements that her policies had brought about had managed to outshine her past transgressions, at least for the moment. The problem of overcrowding had largely been solved by Katsuro. An estimated thirty percent of the population had moved out to the planet, and that number was steadily increasing. Her "green" initiatives were saving more and more energy and money. Add that to some backstage revamps- including upgrades to Meridian- and the worth in finally ceding more power to the empress became fairly evident.

Some minutes passed as Melisma stared at the ceiling, absorbed by thoughts. Finally, she pushed herself out of bed and strolled over to her office, just as she always had. By the time her assistant, Sybil, joined her, she had already been awake and at work for over an hour.

"Good morning, my Lady," Sybil said in a tone that was meant to be pleasant, but was quite inaccurate in hiding an undercurrent of concern from Melisma. The Empress tore her brown eyes away from the computer monitor and looked up at Sybil, waiting for the young woman to continue.

"I thought I would deliver this to you personally," Sybil said, taking a few more cautious steps into the office to hand Melisma a piece of stationery. Melisma accepted it and read through it a couple of times. The sender's name and location caught her attention first; she had not been expecting a direct communication from Aeris, the empress of Tarlachia, much less one that referenced a meeting of minds regarding the economic and political state of Fatal Terrain.

While on Katsuro, Melisma had been monitoring the situation in Fatal Terrain mostly through the news, which naturally meant she knew little about what was going on, aside from the economic decline and a good deal of political confusion. She was aware of Lady Shalamar's disappearance, having been a recipient of the Lady's last message. Melisma was not sure how many extra-regional leaders had received the same, so up until that morning, she had kept the news on a "need-to-know basis" in Almajoya. Fatal Terrain had always struck her as a reserved and private region, and she knew to treat their personal matters with the proper respect in any case.

The conditions in Fatal Terrain were important to her and to Almajoya in a multitude of ways. Melisma had been acquainted with a few of its rulers, including Lady Shalamar but most prolifically Robert Fortier~Hexx. Tanaara had given so much to Almajoya that neither Melisma nor her fellow Almajoyans would have stood by idly knowing that Tanaara's region was in subnormal shape. Melisma folded the invitation and glanced up at Sybil again. She assumed Sybil had already committed the note's particulars to memory. "Make the proper arrangements, please."

Noting her employer's mood- not an unusual one of late- Sybil responded with only a curtsy and turned to leave as Ciaran entered the room. The lanky, dark-haired psychiatrist looked about as tired as Melisma did, but for slightly different reasons. He had been traveling among Katsuro, the Almajoyan mainland, and the neighboring nation of Snowy Egrets, his homeland, which was not faring well after a messy confrontation with another government. Hesitantly, Sybil addressed a last question to the Empress. "Should I plan for two, Your Ladyship?"

Melisma's gaze fell on Ciaran, who looked at her for a moment before turning to Sybil with the answer. "Yes, please."

"Will do, sir." Sybil made her exit, closing the office door behind her, and not without some relief at leaving the room's charged atmosphere.

"Thank you," Melisma said simply, her eyes now focused on the monitor again.

Ciaran leaned against the back of a chair. "You're welcome. What did I just agree to?"

"We've been invited to Tarlachia for a meeting and dinner. For Lady Shalamar." Melisma handed the paper to Ciaran, who read it and then returned it to her.

"I'll go re-pack my bags."

---

An unexpected bout of bad weather delayed the AAC Joanna from leaving Almajoya on schedule. By the time the chartered plane landed in Turath, Melisma and Ciaran were noticeably late. Despite Melisma's efforts to keep it from showing, Ciaran could easily tell that she was irritated by their tardiness.

The pilot announced their arrival, but as Melisma rose, Ciaran stood up faster and placed a hand on her shoulder. Their eyes met, locked in one of many silent battles the engaged couple had found themselves in recently. Gently, Ciaran said, "We aren't leaving this plane until you calm down."

Some moments passed. Finally, Melisma dropped her gaze and forced herself to exhale. "You're right. Let's go."

Smoothing out her jacket and dress, she passed Ciaran and led the way off the plane. They passed through the airport and all its procedures, and a car carried them to the castle; they drove in silence, in part because Ciaran and Melisma were observing the city as they passed through it, which neither had visited before. Upon arriving, they were directed to a small room, where Melisma left her coat. Neither she nor Ciaran had brought any weapons with them, as they had felt it unnecessary.

Melisma was carrying a small vase of white and peach-colored flowers, which she had brought in case there was a memorial set up for Lady Shalamar and which Melisma insisted on presenting in person, rather than leaving with the staff. She had dressed simply, with her brown hair swept into an updo and only a small diamond bracelet accenting her dark skin. Her slender frame was draped in a navy blue halter gown that matched Ciaran's tie in color. The similarity in dress had been accidental. They entered the small bar room to find that a good number of guests had already arrived and settled in. Melisma shot Ciaran a glare, which he ignored.

"There's Rob and Aeris," he said, gesturing discreetly to a small gathering that included the only people in the room he and Melisma recognized. Other faces resembled the photos contained in a very brief dossier Melisma had put together, as a way of getting her as concisely caught up with Fatal Terrain's current situation as possible.

The pair made their way over to the group, where it seemed they were walking into a slightly awkward introduction. Melisma finally managed a smile, albeit a weak one, upon seeing her old friend Rob. She greeted Aeris first, though, as she had sent Melisma the invitation and was the evening's hostess.

Melisma curtsied, as was the Almajoyese custom, then extended a hand toward Aeris, while expertly balancing the vase in her left arm. "Melisma Ramijozana, empress of Almajoya. Pleased to meet you, Empress, despite the circumstances. Lady Shalamar's insightfulness and influence touched us all, even as far away as Almajoya is." She gave the rest of the small group the same greeting, a curtsy and handshake, then turned to Ciaran, who was standing just off to her right side. "This is my fiancé, Ciaran Rachmaninoff."

Upon being named, Ciaran also offered his hand, first to Aeris and then Rob and the remaining guests. "We really appreciate being invited tonight," he added on Melisma's behalf, giving the group a small smile that almost reflected his fiancée's.

[Tarlachia]

Aeris was pleased to see that Boris and Ryath were splitting off to engage in conversation with Dekkar and Sam, and so she and her husband turned their attention to the young woman whose face had suddenly drained of all color. Concerned for a moment before she realized just why the Fortier woman was acting so, she smiled and reached out a hand to the girl's shoulder. In that moment, a wave of serenity passed through her touch and swept through the girl. "Relax, you're amongst family here. And friends. And you should know that family is always welcome in my home."

Rob chuckled, "It's true. Family's a big thing here in Tarlachia. Same for Tanaara." He winked and gestured with his own drink, "Is there something I can get you, Miss OhUmHi Fortier?" His smile was meant to ease her as well.

Aeris chuckled at this, and turned as her ears picked up the arrival of two more guests to the function. The foremost person, a young woman, curtsied and introduced herself as the Empress of Almajoya. Aeris returned the curtsy with her own, knowing it would make the other empress feel more personable to her. "Empress Melisma, as a friend of the late Lady Shalamar, I would like you to know that if she saw you worthy of her generosity and kindness, then so shall I. I trust your trip here was all right?" After she had straightened her posture and exchanged the handshake, she leaned in, "You and I, we'll have to talk another time about establishing stronger relations between our fine empires, yes? I think you'll find we have much to offer."

Then, she turned to Melisma's fiance and shook his hand, "Mr. Rachmaninoff, I am pleased to see you are here as well. If you wish, you may find yourself a drink at the bar over there." A hand gestured in the appropriate direction. "Perhaps your fiancee would like a drink as well?" She turned her twinkling eyes to Melisma before falling to the vase in the empress's arm. Instantly, she understood their purpose. "What a beautiful arrangement! If you wish, I'll take you to the memorial room and you can set them there wherever you may wish. We'll all be moving there in a short while anyway, but there's no need for you to hold them any longer."

A gentle hand on her elbow followed a smile, "Come."

[The Batorys]

At The Airport...

Torres shrugged, setting the beer and magazine aside before getting to his feet. The diplomatic function had been projected to last at least a day, so Torres had stowed his motorcycle aboard. He'd just finished unloading it before settling in to read the magazine and enjoy a beverage or two. Now, he had cause to use it...

"OK, heina. We'll take the bike..."

The bike in question was a slightly-modded Aprilla custom-painted a matte-black hue. Greg threw Shaaz the matching helmet before throwing his leg over the vehicle and gunning the engine. The airplane door closed behind Shaaz automatically, apparently Greg had made a few modifications more suited to low-riders than aircraft...

The vampiress followed Torres out to the bike. "Thanks again," she said, quickly putting on the helmet the pilot gave her and straddling the seat behind him. Shaaz was no stranger to motorcycles, as they constituted one of the hobbies she'd kept up in her self-imposed exile. She'd left the Empire on the seat of one, after all. Like Greg's, that particular bike was matte black (even the parts normally chrome), but it was much more primitive and beat-up looking, though also highly customized. By now she'd acquired another one.

Modesty, at least physical modesty, was not a virtue of the assassin's homeland or her clan, so while certainly feminine, her efficient movements were most certainly not 'ladylike,' nor was she reluctant to put her arms around Greg for grip, since the handlebars were inaccessible to her. She was on the rear seat of a motorcycle, and in her mind, this was how one rode when not driving. The idea that some might see it as inappropriate did not even occur to her. Besides, she was not feeling that great this morning. "All right, let's roll." She'd gotten a bit more foreign slang than she used to know.

[Kalhona]

Protocol was out the window now, and Lizzy's mind went straight past the talking points in her small clutch. There was a calm feeling, but she was still on the edge. She had expected a number of things from this conference from what her father had told her tended to happen, but meeting her lost brother, or at least one of them, wasn't on the list. Her first thought was to ask for a stiff drink, not that straight vodka in a cocktail glass wasn't stiff, but something stronger. She took a breath, and pulled herself back together.

"Well," Lizzy started, the color coming back to her face. "I guess some history would be nice. Dad hasn't exactly been all that open with his past life, and I get just a fleeting idea of you or our other brother from what little he tells me."

She paused for a moment, and finished the last bit of her drink. The Argonian and younger Bray had stepped off to the side to speak with two other representatives. Decker had joined with them.

Awesome wingman, dude, she thought to herself, and then returned her attention to the Archon and Empress.

"I must apologize now for my actions. This is a bit of news to me. I was expecting any number of things to happen here. To meet my extended family? Not so much."

[Assington]

"Eh, it's the usual. Peace has been 'declared' for nearly five years now and they're still finding excuses to kill one another..."

Boris nodded in understanding. Whilst Assington never had any direct involvement in Argonia's modernisation Boris had kept a careful eye on the situation. He was of the firm belief that a nation needed to sort out its own internal dramas and it was best for others not to get involved unless specifically asked. Assington had gone through it's own internal strife when Boris had come to power. It had been a relatively bloodless coup thankfully but it had certainly threatened to throw the nation a bitter brawl over the presidency.

"Any reason will do for some people. Not to distract your people from their own issues but we may all have to deal with an external threat soon. We've noticed a fairly large increase in demons roaming around outside of their little hellzone above TGS. I know Shalamar had a lot to do with keeping them reigned in so I'd be keeping an eye out. We've had over a dozen reports in Assington this last week and I think Khadrim has found some too."

Ryath nodded at mention of her country. Until recently there had never been any demonic encounters in Khadrim but since Lady Shalamar's demise multiple attacks had been reported.

"Indeed. Attacks have occurred mostly in rural areas where there are few people able to fight against such a threat. It is certainly troubling..."

Sam's mention of retirement stirred Boris' own thoughts of such. He was into his early sixties now and whilst he still maintained his fitness and could probably pass for a man ten years his junior, thoughts of retirement had certainly been jumping around his head recently. Of course there were always pressing matters to attend to and it wasn't long before some disaster required his attention.

"What line of work have you retired from?"

[Brays Bastards]

Greg gunned the engine and the pair were soon whipping through traffic on their way to the diplomatic function Dekker had told them so little about...

Speaking of Dekker, he shot a rather disappointed glance back towards Elizabeth's back. Child of a friend or not, he was never opposed to some arm-candy, especially in a place like this. Instead, he stayed quiet and slugged back some scotch while quietly chuckling as he listened to Sam describe himself as 'retired''...

'More like "Retarded", kid. All you did was swap titles...'

The internal comment wasn't malicious, but simply the truth. Working for Uncle Sam and Daddy Dearest were basically one and the same, the only difference was that the latter paid better but also expected you to deal with a lot more diverse scenarios...

"1st MARSOC, United States Marine Corps. Retired from public service and into the private sector. Like Dad always says, if you're good at something, never do it for free..."

Whiptail nearly snorted a gout of hist-wine up his sensetive nostrils. Despite his odd habits, Dekker wasn't a popular fictional villian fond of clown make-up and purple suits...

"It's 'Live To Spend It', Sammy-Boy. The old merc mantra..."

The rib was delivered on the heels of an elbow to the rib cage as Sam flushed ever-so-slightly at Whiptail's remark, and Whiptail, ever the diplomat, stepped in quickly...

"Boris, you know that Argonia stands with its allies no matter the state of things internally. That, and you always have Dekker and his ecclectic band of boys and girls to call on. We've added some new blood recently, to include young Samuel here, and they need a nice operation to work the kinks out..."

Dekker's expression was one of mirth as Sam's brow furrowed in response to Whiptail's comment. He was the 'new blood' in question here, and apparently demons were a very real threat...

"Wait a second... Demons? Really?"

The younger Bray's eyes shifted from Dekker to Whiptail, to Dekker, back to Whiptail, and finally back to Boris. None seemed to be joking, and if they were they were hiding it suprisingly well.

The roar of a motorcycle engine outside drew Dekker's attention, and his own brow furrowed when the noticed who the two riders were as they entered the room. Torres waved casually, handing the bike keys to the valet along with a folded note of high-denomination currency, while Dekker made it all too clear that he wanted a word with Shaaz as he advanced across the room, the set of his shoulders not unlike the posture of a man storming a machine-gun nest. Surprisingly, his eyes didn't have the flash of rage usually associated with such body language...

"Darvul, I'd better not find Jaci tied to your bed when we get home..."

His tone indicated he might only be half-joking...

[Almajoya]

It was not usual for others to return curtsies and bows, as most of the world seemed to consider them old-fashioned. Aeris' small gesture of curtsying back not only helped set Melisma at ease, but was much appreciated from a cultural standpoint, and impressed the Almajoyese empress quite a bit. Then again, given who their mutual friends were, Melisma figured she should not have expected less from Aeris.

Melisma gave Aeris a small nod when the woman asked about her trip. "It was lovely once we cleared Xaymaca. An unexpected storm cropped up and complicated our travel." With a smile, she added, "Tarlachia is beautiful. I regret not making the opportunity to visit before."

Aeris went on to suggest forging a relationship between their two nations, to which Melisma replied with a raised eyebrow and another nod. The chance to meet an intelligent, competent empress was a treat; the last empress Melisma had crossed paths with had been frivolous and vain, a textbook example of why monarchs were so often overthrown. But Aeris was clearly savvy and a worthy partner.

"We certainly will have to." From what Melisma knew of Tarlachia, the nation did indeed have much to offer, and fortunately Almajoya was growing fast- and stable- enough to be equally beneficial in trade.

Melisma looked up at Ciaran as he shook hands with Aeris. While both Melisma and Ciaran were cordial guests, Ciaran was far more laid-back, and displayed a natural affinity for social gatherings. Melisma found it far more difficult to relate to others. The pair were quite evenly matched.

"Thank you, Empress Aeris," Ciaran answered warmly, and turned to Melisma upon mention of a drink. They exchanged a brief look, and after excusing himself, Ciaran headed toward the bar to order two glasses of champagne. Melisma left with Aeris, headed for the memorial room.

Melisma's eyes followed the layout and design of the residence. It was more elaborate and beautiful than she was used to. Her own home in Almajoya was far less of a castle and more of a fairly standard-sized mansion, though it served her uses well. "Such a gorgeous home," Melisma commented to Aeris as they walked.

[The Batorys]

Having handed the helmet back to Torres, who'd stowed it before ensuring that the valet would take very good care of his ride, Shaaz strode up with Greg to meet their boss.

"Darvul, I'd better not find Jaci tied to your bed when we get home..."

At this, the ex-Dragon's Claw grinned... either playfully or malevolently, it was a bit hard to tell, especially with those barbed fangs. It was well known that she and her lover were not exactly the...tamest... of lovers. "No, I made sure that wouldn't be the case before we passed out. She was the one who thought it would be a great idea for me to sleep in the overhead bin."

Anticipating quizzical looks, she added "We weren't exactly sober, as you probably guessed." Her accent had lessened and she'd adopted some of the phrasing of her company's odd English, but her far flung origins were still somewhat evident in her voice. Then there was that hissing sound that would probably never leave completely. "Also, what's this about demons? And is that your kid?" the vampiress asked, having apparently made out some of the previous conversation going on when she and Torres arrived. "Oh, hi Whiptail," she concluded, realizing that it might seem rude to have not greeted the Argonian, though he hadn't said anything.

[Assington]

Boris took a moment to ponder Whiptail's offer for a moment. Whilst Assington certainly had the man power to deal with minor demon infestations it could be beneficial to have others become familiar with killing these creatures.

"I'll keep that in mind Whiptail. At the moment incidents are quite isolated but I get the feeling it's building up to something."

Sam's reaction caused Boris to chuckle slightly. Once upon a time he wouldn't have believed anyone that had mentioned a demon threat but his eyes had been opened to quite a lot of facts that were somewhat inconvenient for most humans to accept.

"Yes, they're real. You should read up on the regional history Sam, they invaded Tarlachia and part of TGS at one point. Unfortunately they're also quite difficult to kill."

Further explanation halted as Boris took note of the newly arrived vampiress and her explanation to Dekker. It seemed the Bastards had certainly amassed an interesting collection of personnel. Boris found vampires to be a somewhat unpredictable fore. The combination of a severely long life and drinking blood did something strange to the human psyche that didn't always produce a stable person. Nevertheless, Boris had grown to trust many blood suckers working for him back in Assington. At the question about demons, Boris took the opportunity to introduce himself by offering a hand.

"Boris Lepedius. I was just mentioning we've had increased demon sightings in Assington and Khadrim recently. Nothing too serious at the moment but it's hard to say what's going on with the angry critters."

[The Batorys]

Extending her own hand for a shake with the Assingtonian, the vampiress nodded. "Shaaz Darvul," she introduced herself, as the gesture revealed ritualistic looking tattoos that apparently went all the way down past her wrist to the back of her hand. Oblivious as she often chose to be, she well knew that this was the President of Assington. The former Dragon's Claw did not fawn, after all, she'd met leaders before, but she was polite. "Pleased to meet you. Do sightings usually bode ill for coming events? And are they always angry? I'm a bit ignorant about this, as I've never met a demon."

Some might have been skeptical of the demons' very existence. But to continue to deny such, knowing the experiences of others, would just hiding in comforting stupidity, which Shaaz detested. Besides, many people outside the Empire had been surprised that her kind existed. She'd used this very shock to terrify some of her targets and so make them easier to kill, in fact. She wasn't about to make the same mistake and panic at the idea that something mostly purported to be mythical was, in fact, a real creature. The important question, for her, was how one would go about killing such. And also if they could be eaten.

[Brays Bastards]

Whiptail's face betrayed an expression of shock for a moment when Shaaz appeared and offered him a greeting, but two centuries' worth of dissembling allowed him to mask it with the ease of long practice and he nodded a terse greeting in her direction. If it wasn't for that nasty habit he had of stabbing people he'd have made one Hell of a diplomat.

Speaking of Hell...

"Shaaz is one of our newest, but the most 'tested' among them. Her services are as discreet as you would expect from someone of her pedigree, and ought to be handy if we do pick up a seek-and-destroy contract against your unwelcome guests..."

Sam wasn't quite sure how to react. Dekker was having a rather animated conversation with Greg Torres over at the bar, and not all that was being mentioned seemed to be favorable to either Shaaz or Greg. He'd never met Shaaz before, but apparently she was a little more 'seasoned' than he. Her dexterity reminded him of Whiptail, and she seemed to have a similar ageless quality...

"I'm Sam, pleased to meet you. When did you sign on with our merry little band?"

The back-and-forth between Dekker and Greg seemed to have become a little less gesture-heavy, and both men seemed to be enjoying their respective poisons of choice. Aside from being a respectable pilot, Torres was one of the longest-serving members of the Bastards...

[The Batorys]

Shaking the younger Bray's hand, Shaaz responded "Pleased to meet you as well," she responded. Looking over to Dekker and Greg's rather interesting conversation, for a second, she added "sadly many of the complaints your father seems to be making about me are accurate, but I have my less disagreeable side as well," the moroii laughed. She would have been something approaching cute if it wasn't for that cruel edge to her.

"I signed on with the Bastards a while ago, when they were hired to take down a crooked senator I was unhappily working for at the time, because the work was better, and so was the company..." she sighed, knowing that it cast her in a bit of a bad light. "I know, that makes me sound like I'm untrustworthy, but I quit that job before signing on, and I have some very good reasons to stay loyal." She was, of course, referring to her love life, causing slightly wistful, slightly lewd smile to come over her features. The expression bared her barbed fangs. Many people were surprised to learn that moroii were indeed capable of emotions such as love. Turning slightly to Boris, though not away from Sam, she added "I suppose it would be interesting to fight demons. I don't think I've ever killed one before." Thus, was her attempt to steer the conversation away from subjects that might veer closer to her past than she'd like, though she supposed that it would become inevitable if she stayed with the Bastards. Besides, she was rather curious as to the prospect of hunting down and slaughtering demons.

[Assington]

Upon shaking Shaaz's hand Boris' suspicions were confirmed. Her flesh was cold to the touch and moments later a slight smile revealed the woman's fangs. There was no obvious way to tell how old Shaaz was but she certainly carried herself with an air of confidence that spoke of at least experience if not age.

"I suppose it would be interesting to fight demons. I don't think I've ever killed one before."

"They're tough bastards. Blunt trauma isn't very effective as their hide is quite thick. Small arms are almost useless unless you can take out an eye and depending on which demon you encounter they may have multiple eyes. Taking out the head has been the only common weakness we can establish with these things, otherwise it varies depending on the breed you encounter. And I wouldn't attempt to drink any of their blood. Reports so far suggest it's likely to put most people down for good."

Ryath took this opportunity to join the conversation by adding her own warning.

"Most of the encounters we've had recently aren't intelligent creatures. Little more than attack dogs really. From what I read about the Demon War in Tarlachia and The Golden Simatar there are more intelligent demons capable of magic though."

Boris nodded, scowling slightly at that thought. Assington was fairly technologically advanced by regional standards and was certainly capable of unleashing a little hell of its own on the demons but it was not a magical nation like Khadrim. Defending against spells and spirits was much easier said than done and something that was cause for concern amongst the powers of the Assingtonian military.

[The Batorys]

The assassin listened carefully to Boris' description. While she often had a manner that wasn't all that serious (except, of course, when conversing about her bizarre idea of honor), Shaaz was not one to dismiss valuable information regarding her chosen profession. "So... skin like armor, and poisonous blood," she mused, considering. The half grin returned with "I guess they're not edible, then." The Darvul doubted that her undisguised lack of compunctions about eating sapient beings wasn't one of the traits her comrades found endearing, though they weren't a squeamish lot, so while weird and disgusting, it didn't seem to phase them all that much.

Boris had noted that blunt force was basically useless against such creatures, inwardly Shaaz wondered how well her knives would fair. She'd never used blunt weapons that much, it wasn't her style... blades or bullets for her. It was at this point that the woman Shaaz did not know interjected. The idea of creatures with hides so durable that they were immune from small arms fire, who could also subject their victims to sorcerous attack... it was cause for concern. "I suppose, with your recent pests, the lack of intelligence balances the scales a bit. Though if they are merely attack dogs, I suppose they must either be strays or directed by someone else?"

Something about the woman seemed... odd, to Shaaz. "I'm sorry... I don't think I caught your name? Sorry for my ignorance, I'm pretty uninformed about many things, it seems."

[Tarlachia]

In the Halls of the Castle...

Aeris smiled softly as Melisma was polite in commenting on the decorations and designs. Without looking down at the younger empress, Aeris knew that her eyes were scouring the entire surroundings and picking out the differences from whatever she had at home. Truth be told, she would have done exactly the same thing. It was a mental process of ascertaining all facts made readily available, facts that were stored in the vaults of memory to possibly be used at some point in the future for whatever reason. In this case, Melisma was likely taking notes on how to hold functions such as this for foreign dignitaries.

"This castle has long stood deep in this nation's history, reckoning back to its earliest days as a republic. Time has tested its might, but the love of the people for this nation and its identity has kept this castle strong and repaired whenever needed. Some has their monuments. Some have their bridges, and some have their majestic mountains to serve as their national identity, but Tarlachia's identity lies in the hearts of the people themselves and the creativity that lives within. Tarlachia's pride lies in its ability to be an empire of productivity and advancement, while retaining its grassroots links. As you may know, I am an elf... and a Secret Guardian..." she let slip the latest detail, knowing that Melisma's curiosity would likely compel her to inquire what she meant. She would leave that to her though. "If you think this castle is elegant, wait until you visit the Forests... There, even the makings of man do not compare."

Passing several other hallways that seemed to lead to endless adventures of discovery and discreetly noting Melisma's wandering gaze, Aeris soon led her to the doors of the Memorial Room. Standing outside the doors were two doormen, whom promptly bowed in respect and opened the doors for the two empresses. The room was dark at the moment, save for a few candles throughout the room giving just enough light to see one's way but not much else. Pausing just beyond the reach of the hallway's incoming light, Aeris turned to the other empress, delighting in taking a moment to have a little fun. She sensed Melisma was of the sort to be laid back, but currently too nervous. But if she saw that Aeris was personable, and more importantly, approachable, she would relax and be her true self. "A little treat for you." she commented with a smile before turning back to the room.

With her back to Melisma, Aeris placed her palms together as if in prayer for only a brief moment. A soft glow of green light soon cascaded outward and she directed the arcane energy to form into a dozen generic shapes of birds. These hovered about under her command before she spoke quietly, "Illuminate all." Instantly, the birds wheeled about in the air, dove and spun about in tight circles around the two empresses before they shot off as fast as they could until they struck each of the unlit candles in rapid-fire succession. Flames sparked upward suddenly with violence, only to calm to simple flares. Strangely, for candles, they gave off a greater ambiance into the room and the room was cast into a green-lit den that revealed a number of dining tables already set up. Off to the side, a heavy curtain hung, covering the great picture of the Lady Shalamar. This would remain covered for the time being however, but at its base, there was a number of bouquets and other memorial items set there.

Turning to Melisma, Aeris grinned as if she had been but a child innocently playing around with her abilities rather than an empress turning on the lights. "Come, the memorial is over here." she spoke with a smile and a welcoming gesture to lead the way toward where Melisma would at last drop off the bouquet she carried.

Meanwhile, in the leisure room...

Rob Fortier-Hexx observed the room during a moment of solitude and was pleased to find that everyone was getting along famously. He knew his wife had everything set to a plan, and she was wise to let these people get to know one another and become more comfortable. After all, this was simply a memorial of an amazing, powerful woman whose words of wisdom had touched them all.

He did find it amusing though that despite that being the reason for all of them being here, he hadn't picked up on any conversation regarding Lady Shalamar. Perhaps, the pain is still too near, even though it's been well over a year now since she left us. he thought to himself. His eyes turned to seek out his and Aeris's children as only a means of keeping tabs on them, but he knew they would behave themselves.

[Assington]

"I'm sorry... I don't think I caught your name? Sorry for my ignorance, I'm pretty uninformed about many things, it seems."

Ryath offered her hand as she introduced herself. She was well aware that many people here would not know her as Khadrim had been a very reclusive nation until they had been compelled to seek Shalamar's assistance in combating a somewhat deranged deity.

"No apologies are necessary, I'm fairly new to these regional events. My name is Ryath, member of the High Council of Khadrim."

Whilst Ryath appeared to be human she was far from it, her seemingly ordinary eyes perceiving far more than most humans would. It only took a moment for Ryath to realise Shaaz was not human and her comment about demons not being edible led her to believe she was some sort of creature that sustained itself on eating others. Not wanting to be rude about it, Ryath simply made a not to ask Boris about her later.

Boris also nodded at Shaaz's comment about their direction, although waited for Ryath to introduce herself before responding.

"There is direction. These buggers are ordered about by a bloke known as Arithon. To be honest I don't know what you'd call him... demon lord seems to float around quite a bit. Basically he's the boss and from what Shalamar has told me about him, he's a serious handful. She was one of the few forces capable of keeping him in check, at least to some degree. That's why I'm concerned about this recent activity. With Cats Keep and Shalamar gone, who knows what this guy is getting up to?"

[Brays Bastards]

Whiptail nodded solemly...

"More importantly, how do we stop him? Bullets and blades are our most plentiful weapons, but I doubt we're going to be able to hold the line against a determined invasion attempt without something a little more, eh, potent..."

Argonians had always taken a dim view of the arcane arts, at least in more of the established circles and religious organizations...

"With the recent demonic activity along your borders he might be losing control of his minions, or worse, massing for an attack..."

[The Batorys]

"I'm glad I'm not alone in that," Shaaz responded to Ryath's admission of being new to regional affairs, looking, not averting her black eyes from the other woman's own. That odd thing about her was becoming clearer. Her scent was... off, somehow. Not unpleasant, just not the characteristic scent of non-moroii humans that awakened in her a conflict of hunger and, well, other primal urges, though Shaaz had the latter anyway. It was complicated, moroii sentiments on those humans who were not of their kind. Blood and mating, was it ever thus? When had moroii stopped seeing those without fangs merely as food, but as possible mates? Whichever, she'd have to ask about this Ryath later, as well as listening closely for any hints as to this mystery. No one else seemed to take note of this difference, which could mean that no one else had noticed it, but more likely, everyone but her probably already knew the explanation.

It was certainly odd, attending a meeting of various higher ups of the Empire's neighbors. Certainly, for the former Dragon's Claw, it was a relief that the Empire still clung to somewhat reclusive ways in the international scene. It would have been awkward in the extreme, had there been a delegate from Vereba's government here, or the Empress herself. Many different political systems seemed represented among the nations at the party. Boris, she knew, was titled a president, so that indicated some sort of republican system of government. Ryath was a member of Khadrim's High Council. This invited more curiosity, as such could indicate any number of different governmental systems, as she wasn't how much of the government the High Council comprised, nor of its functions. Shaaz groaned inwardly, knowing she'd have to do some research, frustrated that she'd let herself grow so rusty. Of course, this was the closest she'd been to the Empire in years, so in some ways it was perhaps forgivable.

The assassin listened silently as her Argonian colleague added to the conversation. According to Whiptail, blades didn't sound as if they'd be much more effective than bullets, much to the moroii's dismay.

"That seems to create a bit of a problem... two unpleasant possibilities. It sounds like without control, these things are as dangerous as roving rabid dogs, yet the one who is supposed to be in control of them doesn't sound like he can at all be trusted." The assassin frowned, seriousness having come over as it often did when discussing business. "If this Arithon's planning a wide scale assault, taking him out seems a logical response to the danger. Yet, it is possible as well that he's actually losing his grip on them, his removal would only make the problem worse."

[Brays Bastards]

The Argonian took another swig from his wine glass, his expression souring...

"Assuming he can be killed in the conventional sense of the word, I'm sure we'll explore that option. At any rate it seems I'll have to sideline my little side-project for a while longer..."

Another swig did little to quell the feelings of unease churning in his gut. The demon lord had been an issue for some time now, and despite the problems he'd caused in the past no-one had taken a shot at him yet. Whiptail didn't have all of the specifics, but he'd always assumed that 'killing' the bastard wouldn't have the desired effect. Sure, whatever mortal coil he occupied could be destroyed in the conventional sense, but whatever mavolent entity Arithon truly was probably needed a send-off a little more special than a simple bullet to the brain-housing.

He was certain his old friend in the Argonian Intelligence Service had some sort of plan drawn up for such an operation, much as he was sure that he had similar blueprints of destruction for himself, Dekker, and any number of other diplomatic figures in the room. Director Quickclaw was nothing if not thorough, and most certainly ruthless. This assumption, however far-fetched, had been the genesis for his newest idea. Whiptail was the last of his kind, the final Grandmaster of the anciet Argonian assassins' guild. In bygone times they'd kept the peace through judicious application of information and sharp steel, making sure neither side in whatever conflict had enough information, manpower, or resources to move on the other unless they deemed it beneficial.

Remorsefully, and perhaps a bit nostalgically, Whiptail stared once again into the crimson contents of the crystal glass in his hand. Perhaps he need not remain the last of his kind forever...

[Almajoya]

Memorial Room

Thinking, the process of observing and studying her surroundings, helped keep Melisma focused on things other than her nerves. The castle provided much for Melisma to observe, and as Aeris explained its history, she saw more than just its physical beauty, but also that of the ideals it symbolized. It was incredible for the young empress to consider; her own home was just that, a place she resided and work, except for the parts of the mansion that still brought back terrifying memories. Yet she had never thought about moving out of the place.

Her eyes had been wandering along the stretch of hallway, but when Aeris mentioned her status as a Secret Guardian, Melisma's eyes shot to the other woman's face. "Secret Guardian?" she asked, almost reflexively, before she realized that Aeris had expected her to ask just that. She blushed slightly; the change was only slightly noticeable under her walnut-colored skin.

It had been some time since Melisma had done any traveling, aside from her trips between Jade and Katsuro, and she realized a bit suddenly that she had not seen her neighbors' countries in a while, and there were many places, like Tarlachia, that she had never properly visited. She wanted to see all that she could of Tarlachia and of the world; if only she could get her own life in order first!

They entered the Memorial Room; Melisma noted the respectful presence of the two guards. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she glanced at Aeris as the woman turned to her briefly with a smile. She watched in stunned silence as a green light appeared, and, forming shapes of birds, danced about in the air before each striking a candle, adding more light to the room. It was not until the demonstration was over that Melisma realized she had been smiling- almost laughing, a childlike expression spread across her face as her head spun around, her eyes following one bird, then another as they twirled and dived. For a few precious seconds, she forgot that she was an empress on a diplomatic visit at the home of another empress, but let herself be the child she had never truly had a chance to be. Turning to Aeris, she saw the same childlike reflected on the woman's face, and realized her own cheeks were smarting from the unfamiliar strain of smiling so broadly. "That was beautiful," she commented, a hint of excitement in her tone.

Then her expression and posture eased back into a more professional demeanor, though a touch more relaxed than she had been before. At Aeris' direction, she approached the memorial and placed the bouquet at the base of the covered portrait. She placed the vase down with care, as if the object was a fragile, living being, slipping her hands away from the vase only once she was sure it would stand steadily. She turned back to Aeris; her eyes scanned the room's setup, which included a number of tables. "Will we take dinner in here, then?" she asked a little idly, recalling that Aeris had mentioned the others proceeding to this room as well in time.



Leisure Room


Having secured two glasses of champagne for himself and Melisma, Ciaran returned to where he had left the others, to find Aerin and Melisma had gone off to put down the bouquet Melisma had brought. He was glad their hosts seemed rather accommodating. Rob's eyes seemed to be settled on something in the near distance; Ciaran followed his gaze and realized he was watching his children.

"Everything going according to plan so far?" Ciaran asked idly, just making conversation while the women were away.

[The Batorys]

"Assuming he can be killed in the conventional sense of the word, I'm sure we'll explore that option. At any rate it seems I'll have to sideline my little side-project for a while longer..."

The vampiress furrowed her brow slightly at the Argonian's words. Things that could not be slaughtered bothered her. Everything should be able to be killed. If some were more difficult to kill, well, that was all right, but invulnerability was a concept that chilled her to the bone. It made the world too... unbalanced. Still, there had to be something that could be done.

"Killed, taken out, crippled, neutralized, imprisoned, buried, whichever," she said. "Made no longer a problem is what I meant."

What had Whiptail meant when he mentioned a side project? So many secrets. Of course, Shaaz couldn't blame others for keeping secrets when she was so tight lipped about some details, but it had been ingrained in her to be nosy about other people's secrets. Part of training, after all. Perhaps a dangerous personality fault, she had to admit. After no one said anything for a while, she spoke quietly to Whiptail. "Something on your mind?"

[Pallica]

Alexander had remained quiet and diminutive after arriving at the castle. It had only been a short trip from the airport where his helicopter had been directed to the castle, but it seemed that he had arrived considerably late to the event, as many guests and representatives were already here, mingling about. A handful of of them he had recognized through dossiers he had found in the abandoned governmental buildings that Cats Keep had used to govern the Protectorate, as well as having met a few when he was hired. Most notably was Lady Aeris as well as her husband Robert, whom lead Tarlachia.

Alexander was out of his element at the meeting, much like he had been during his first days as the Emperor of the nation. What was a mercenary leader really doing thinking he could rule a country, to become an international representative for that nation even? Though Pallica was starting to stabilize, how much of that was actually a result of his decisions and how much of it was because Cats Keep had already laid a ground work for which to keep this land thriving? Ever move, every decision, every detail to plans or budgets he second guessed himself at, wondering if they were the right decisions, the decisions that would make Pallica stronger in the long run. It was clear that the doubt he had was going to get the better of him if he did not try to relax.

Moving of to the bar, he looked at the bartender and politely ordered a drink. "A roman coke sir." Rum had always been a favorite of his and his company when they celebrated their victories. Yet the idea was just to calm his nerves about around the other guests, so throwing some soda in with it seemed the best idea. Taking the tall, slender crystal from the bartender, he turned around and examined his surroundings. Sure aren't living the low life anymore are ya Alexander? he thought to himself, taking a drink from the glass. Maybe once his nerves had settled, he would approach one of the others, for now he was content to enjoy his drink.

[Brays Bastards]

Whiptail's head snapped around like Shaaz had just insulted him out of the blue. She hadn't, obviously, but he'd honestly forgotten that she was standing there...

"Eh, not really. I've been kicking around an idea for re-founding my old order under a new, modern premise. Honor all the old ways and what-not, but make it a little more relevant. I've talked it over with Dekker a few times, and not surprisingly he's given it his full support..."

He wasn't all that sure how familiar Shaaz was with his peoples' situation, so he figured more detail might be in order...

"I've got a dossier back at the compound I'll forward to your email address. I've also garnered the support of the Argonian colony worlds gifted to me by the late Shalamar, the woman we're here to honor this evening. They've pledged to supply a suitable training ground, one remote enough to not be stumbled across easily and hazardous enough to both weed out the unqualified and to keep the prying eyes away..."

As a fellow assassin, Whiptail was certain Shaaz could provide some insight into training techniques, conditioning, that sort of thing. Dekker had promised enough hardware and instruction to make any recruits competent with firearms, and he was sure he could hunt down a few of his former colleages to lend a hand as well. Well, those he hadn't killed at least. The old order being what it was, and considering the ages of those involved, meant that old grudges died hard. Once the order had fallen apart it had been free game to settle whatever grievances one had the old-fashioned way...

[Assington]

"Killed, taken out, crippled, neutralized, imprisoned, buried, whichever. Made no longer a problem is what I meant."

Boris nodded in understanding as he took another small sip of the oatmeal stout, appreciating the smooth roasty flavour of the beverage as he considered his words.

"That's the real low blow about all this. Our current understanding of Arithon and these higher level demons is that they are immortal. You can destroy the bodies and their consciousness just floats back down to whatever hell they come from and they take it easy down there until they find themselves another physical form. It makes no sense to me how this works but Shal assured me that permanently killing Arithon was a task even she wasn't quite sure about. She didn't say it was impossible... just that she hadn't figured it out yet."

Putting the situation into words left a bitter taste in Boris' mouth as he contemplated the difficulty of dealing with these demons. A significant portion of Assington's military budget was devoted to developing means of effectively combating the demons but there was only so much technology could do against creatures that appeared to defy the laws of nature itself. It was certainly more than a little frustrating.

Ryath had been lost in thought a moment as she recalled how her own colleagues in the High Council had dealt with a similar foe. Whilst many considered Ryath to be a creature of great power, even an immortal, she knew very well that whilst her life was long it was not unlimited. If she was allowed to get there, old age would claim her eventually. With a little luck that would still be a few thousand years off.

"We have encountered true immortals before. If you can't kill them, trapping them somewhere is the next best option. If Arithon's essence could be contained in a realm beyond this place then he would no longer be a threat. I can't speak as to what consequences that would have regarding the other demons though. Whether one would step up to take his place or turn each other is difficult to say."