Celestine/ Tpolemos

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Celestine

Celestine simply followed behind Mist. She didn’t know the town, not yet anyway. They didn’t speak, which worked for the most part. Celestine had a gagging feeling in her stomach. Scent of dragon had floated upwind, and left a foul taste in her mouth. This also gave her time to work her mind. The bindings between the two of them were little more than an ignorant servant and master. The silence gave her time to create the true bonds between them. Invisible threads, nothing more than the energy that flowed through Celestine’s body, began coiling around her limbs, and in turn connecting to Mist’s. It would’ve likely been detectable by Mist, but it didn’t matter. The benefits far outweighed any negative. Mist was hers, and she intended to keep it that way. A puppet of sorts. These strings did more than allow her complete control however. Much like a form of blood magic, Celestine was taking Mist’s form, and making it her own. Or rather, making it some Mist could not be hurt in battle. Damage would not form upon the shell she had created for her. It was a gift. Immortality in battle. Yet she could not be separated from Celestine. The moment they were, the bonds would break and Mist would be forced unconscious. The dangers of life-saving. As they came to the door, Celestine wrapped her arms around Mist’s waist, and held to her, holding her warmly in her arms. “You are to tell no one of last night’s events. No one is to know that things are different. No one is to know that you are different. If anyone need ask, I am nothing more, than your new lover. And soon to be, the new ruler alongside you. You do not want to know, the dangers in going against my word. Oh, but wait. You can’t.” Celestine smiled to herself, burying her face into Mist’s back as they stood waiting. With the lunar bonds finally in place, they were bound, fully and completely. Mist her puppet, and Celestine her sacrifice.

Tpolemos

“As you wish, my lord.” Tpolemos donned his helmet, and turned. Moments later his form sunk to the ground beneath in a pool of metal and he disappeared. The liquid metal moved through the castle, before his form emerged, completely reformed outside in the Jag’troan barracks. He grunted slightly, and held at his chest. The technique took a lot out of him. The manipulation of metal was one thing. But bonding the metal to his form, and weaving it through his insides was different. It took more mental effort. Blood trickled from his eyelids, obscured from view from the wreathing helmet that sat upon his head. The metal coiled and screamed. It flicked and wreathed like shadows. The proximity to his mind caused it to move and act with the pulse of his thoughts. Simply thinking caused it. “Bathe, brothers. Bathe in their blood. Show them the danger in fighting us.”

It was done in the blink of an eye. The screams of “Innocents”, attempting to hold their ground. Blood splattered, and the walls painted red. His brothers and sisters stood before him, moving in perfect formation. The rigorous training regimes ensured perfection. The gate houses stood no chance, and within hours were completely cleared the third and second walls, before the first fell also. He had found Kendra much earlier, and given her the orders. He expected the same would’ve occurred from her, and so he had set about blocking the sewage entrances. Filling them with the bodies and bones of those who had resisted, or stood in their path. He removed his helmet to observe from a distance as the armies of Gorgoth went about their designated tasks, the yells from legionaries to others to move faster. He needed to get to Xiaa sooner than later. She was, young. Ignorant. Yet to be baptised in the blood of war. Such naivety could result in the staying of her hand. The forgiveness of insolence. No innocent was innocent, until the god’s themselves had tested them. Only in the baptism of blood would the worthy be judged.

He thrust his blade back into its sheathe and held the heads of the three gate captains in his hands of the third wall. They would sate his thirst for now, and as he chained them to his waist, he began to move ahead of his regiment of Jag’troa, moving north, whilst sending another south, as instructed. Soon the vermin of the city would be suffocated by their own waste and filth. The sewage systems blocked and sealed. It would only be a matter of time before it all fell before him. A scent fell upon the winds. Burning. The smell of melted snow. Of ancient blood. Draconic. A dragon-child was moving, it’s smell upon the air. It’d been dormant for a while. “Keep an eye out for anyone not ours, or theirs. Ancient blood walks once more. I do not trust it.” Tpolemos spoke lightly, but all his men heard. The nodded as they continued north.

[Invidia]

The Highland Getaway was bustling with members left and right now, Shey herself was busting her arse left, right, and upside down all around the Tavern picking up slack where some of her staff wouldn't Notching a mental note down Shey put it tword the back of her mind to fire a few of the lazy ones off later in the week as they did more harm then good for her at this point. Continuing with her work, Shey moved herself onto the back of the Tavern to sit in the kitchens and take a rest, she sat upon a old wooden chair, more broken and bent and more of a hazard then anything. But alas Shey sat and took deep breaths signing, holding her hands over her face, letting her cold hands relax her burning face. As she sat a minute or a few, she didn't know she stopped keeping track, she could have dozed off for all she knew but doughted it, since she could still hear the singing and cheering of the flock in her main section. Looking around the kitchen to her only busy staff she eyeballed a wooden box just right next to the meat rack, where she kept her “candy” in times like this. Muttering to herself she walked over and grabbed the whole box, just before walking tword the back door and kicking it open and walking outside ready to light up a candy as soon as she was outside.