10-23-2016, 05:59 PM
Armande studied the three prostrate forms, Among the Atharim, such honor and respect was not shown this way. It was adoration he neither craved nor hungered for. But he would not cast aside the honored intent behind it, not until he understood it.
The readiness to attempt to snuff out his life with no more concern than for a bug had metamorphosed. Now they wanted to escort him with honor, a triumph. The girl appeared to be in charge. The eye the other had called her. The name was an Oracular reference, no doubt. Given the reference to Rasputin, his purported abilities and their reverence for him, it would seem that his legacy had been carried on by these people.
These people...who were they? There was something strangely familiar about it all. When he tried to trace the familiarity it melted away from him like a wax thread in a flame, fleeing the heat. He already had a people. Many, if not most, were devoted to their cause. His broom had already begun its sweeping. And he had been ready to begin a new search- a purge. His people, they were corrupted, the leaven permeating the mass of dough, worming its way into every nook and cranny. But where corruption could weaken and infect the healthiest of hosts, so too could fortification, the straw in the mud clay, to erect a structure that would last.
The girl arose and he studied her, his blue eyes examining every aspect of her and her companions. Her eyes were silvery rings tinged with green and blue. Behind them burned ardor and adoration. She was young, maybe in her 20s and her face and form were lithe with the energy of youth. Their clothing appeared to be leather, aside from the cowls the men wore. Given their hunt of the oni, the usage, it was obvious where the leather came from. The torch burned a tallow rendered from the fat, black smoke leaving a sickly odor in the air.
She offered her arm as she asked her question. Without looking, he thumbed the button on the sword and it withdrew up into itself, after which he clipped it to his waist. He needed it within easy reach. He bent down and picked up the lantern, his back and legs protesting, now that the moment had passed and adrenaline had begun to leave. In its place, the sharp acid of pain seemed to seep into his veins, traveling through out his body, demanding his attention.
But he would not take her arm. He could not display weakness or need before her or anyone. And...he did not trust them, not after just meeting them. His arms needed to be clear. Still, he did nod at her graciously, patting her forearm briefly. Then, he picked up and shouldered the pack he had cast aside in the melee, ignoring new the fresh sensation of agony. "You may call me Regus," he said as he nodded to her to lead the way. Introductions appeared to be in order. "I have told you who I am. You appear to have been expecting me...Tell me why? Who are you?"
Two of the other men lifted the oni together while the third raised his torch and she led the way. He walked beside her, his steps measured and slow, and they descended into the cave tunnels. The blueish flame of the fire gave light to dry and wet places on the walls, the evidence of picks and axes visible in certain spots. The system was almost certainly natural but it had been expanded upon, widened. It was a rabbit's warren that twisted and turned, went down and up and sideways, forks and branches appearing and spawning with regularity. He kept part of his attention on the journey. He would need to know the way back, eventually. His ascent into the land of the living.
The imagery- the mythological underpinnings were not lost on him. Indeed, he found some amusement at the path he had taken. The slaying of the great enemy and now, the descent into hell, only to return at some future time. It could play very well, a story that could be expanded on and mythologized.
But the fact that there people here, people who seemed to know him- or at least thought they did- that, he did not understand. The girl- he could not call her The Eye, not even in his mind, not until he knew what that meant- had called him Glorious One. The hunger for answers, for knowledge, the knowledge to know and control, gnawed at him. The nothingness of chaos nipped at his feet, he felt it washing away where he stood. He wanted to know everything.
Edited by Regus, Oct 23 2016, 07:40 PM.
The readiness to attempt to snuff out his life with no more concern than for a bug had metamorphosed. Now they wanted to escort him with honor, a triumph. The girl appeared to be in charge. The eye the other had called her. The name was an Oracular reference, no doubt. Given the reference to Rasputin, his purported abilities and their reverence for him, it would seem that his legacy had been carried on by these people.
These people...who were they? There was something strangely familiar about it all. When he tried to trace the familiarity it melted away from him like a wax thread in a flame, fleeing the heat. He already had a people. Many, if not most, were devoted to their cause. His broom had already begun its sweeping. And he had been ready to begin a new search- a purge. His people, they were corrupted, the leaven permeating the mass of dough, worming its way into every nook and cranny. But where corruption could weaken and infect the healthiest of hosts, so too could fortification, the straw in the mud clay, to erect a structure that would last.
The girl arose and he studied her, his blue eyes examining every aspect of her and her companions. Her eyes were silvery rings tinged with green and blue. Behind them burned ardor and adoration. She was young, maybe in her 20s and her face and form were lithe with the energy of youth. Their clothing appeared to be leather, aside from the cowls the men wore. Given their hunt of the oni, the usage, it was obvious where the leather came from. The torch burned a tallow rendered from the fat, black smoke leaving a sickly odor in the air.
She offered her arm as she asked her question. Without looking, he thumbed the button on the sword and it withdrew up into itself, after which he clipped it to his waist. He needed it within easy reach. He bent down and picked up the lantern, his back and legs protesting, now that the moment had passed and adrenaline had begun to leave. In its place, the sharp acid of pain seemed to seep into his veins, traveling through out his body, demanding his attention.
But he would not take her arm. He could not display weakness or need before her or anyone. And...he did not trust them, not after just meeting them. His arms needed to be clear. Still, he did nod at her graciously, patting her forearm briefly. Then, he picked up and shouldered the pack he had cast aside in the melee, ignoring new the fresh sensation of agony. "You may call me Regus," he said as he nodded to her to lead the way. Introductions appeared to be in order. "I have told you who I am. You appear to have been expecting me...Tell me why? Who are you?"
Two of the other men lifted the oni together while the third raised his torch and she led the way. He walked beside her, his steps measured and slow, and they descended into the cave tunnels. The blueish flame of the fire gave light to dry and wet places on the walls, the evidence of picks and axes visible in certain spots. The system was almost certainly natural but it had been expanded upon, widened. It was a rabbit's warren that twisted and turned, went down and up and sideways, forks and branches appearing and spawning with regularity. He kept part of his attention on the journey. He would need to know the way back, eventually. His ascent into the land of the living.
The imagery- the mythological underpinnings were not lost on him. Indeed, he found some amusement at the path he had taken. The slaying of the great enemy and now, the descent into hell, only to return at some future time. It could play very well, a story that could be expanded on and mythologized.
But the fact that there people here, people who seemed to know him- or at least thought they did- that, he did not understand. The girl- he could not call her The Eye, not even in his mind, not until he knew what that meant- had called him Glorious One. The hunger for answers, for knowledge, the knowledge to know and control, gnawed at him. The nothingness of chaos nipped at his feet, he felt it washing away where he stood. He wanted to know everything.
Edited by Regus, Oct 23 2016, 07:40 PM.