Mors

o3o

Sorry for delay guys, I'll also be updating today.

After the CC, In what shape was the White Court?

In what shape is the White Court now?

What is it's Military strength like?

I am looking for a reason why Boreas left to join the White Court.

༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

“I was married by a judge. I should have asked for a jury.”

-       Groucho Marx

Chapter 8 – Red Wedding

The institution of marriage, the union of two lovers bound together forever, has been in existence for as long as anyone can remember. Despite varying customs and taboos ranging throughout numerous cultures around the world, marriage has always followed similar rituals. That is to say, it exists not for the parties involved to affirm their love, but rather to gain official recognition from everyone else.

And though it varies from couple to couple, it should always be remembered that marriage is a long and bloody affair.

Melinda slid a finger under her collar to rub at the little chafe marks. Not the worst part of the job, but close.

“I swear, if I have to hear another second of her whining voice,” she said, rearranging her cards, as if that made her hand any less rotten.

“She’s still just a girl, and she just lost her favorite toy is all,” grunted Arthur.

Melinda slammed her hand against the table. “Say that after we’ve switched places. Miss Lune is a nightmare!”

Arthur shrugged, “It is what it is. We are but humble servants and have no business talking down to our dear masters.” He tossed a couple of cards and slid a couple more off the deck.

“Loyalty to the Red Court,” scoffed Melinda, “and obedience to the Red Throne and taking care of all its members. But not our own kind?”

“You’re confusing how you’d like the world to be with how it is,” said Arthur.

“A little solidarity is all I’m asking. We’re all stuck in the same leaky boat,” grumbled Melinda, re-rearranging her rotten hand.

Arthur shrugged again and played his own. A pair of Queens. Melinda scowled and tossed aside her losing hand. “Your issue is you complain too much. The food. The cold. Your collar sores. Princess Lune. My snoring. Roger’s habits. The viceroy’s temper. It’s all quite aggravating.”

“As if life weren’t aggravating enough to begin with,” echoed Roger who had not joined their game and instead sat with his feet upon the table for the better part of an hour. Roger had the most unnatural patience with doing nothing.

Arthur sighed. “All I’m saying is all you have to do is wait upon a little girl, even if she’s a precocious brat. Laika was the closest thing she has to a friend and now she’s gone forever, but she’ll get over it—“

There was a knock at the door. Three quick knocks, in fact. The servants looked at each other, eyebrows raised. The quartmaster there to assign them more tasks and scold them for lazying about?

“You going to get that?” Melinda asked Roger.

“Why would I?”

“You’re closest.”

“You’re shortest.”

“What’s that got to fucking do with anything?”

“It’s funny.”

“Maybe my foot up your lazy asshole would be funnier!” Melinda shouted.

“Will you two please shut up?” Arthur chucked down his cards, levered his bulk from his chair and nudged Melinda aside. “I came here to take a break not to look after some children.”

Another insistent knocking. “All right, I’m coming!” Arthur snapped, turning the door handle. “It’s not as if –“

But Arthur couldn’t find the words and standing at the other side of the doorway was the largest person he had ever seen. The giant simply smiled, placed a parchment in Arthur’s hand, patted him on the head and walked away.

“Eh?” Melinda asked, dumbfounded. “Who the hell was that? What does paper say?”

Arthur unfolded it and read from the top, “Dear friends from the Red Court…” he paused and turned his head towards Melinda, “tonight, you are cordially invited to attend the wedding of the Warlord of the Forest and his new bride, Laika.”

---

The Silk Road.

Nora remembered listening entranced to her father’s stories of journeys back and forth down the long path to Ling, his eyes bright as he told of desperate battles against strange peoples, and proud brotherhoods forged in the crucible of danger, and of wealth and glory to be won. Ever since, she had dreamed of her own adventure, the names of those far away places bursting with power and mystery: the Badlands, the crossroads of Napoli, the Snowy Mountains. When Chief Grey looked for volunteers to accompany Shin and his bodyguards back to their homeland, Nora had jumped at the opportunity.

Strange to say, her dreams had not included the sore feet from miles of walking, nor endless clouds of biting insects, nor fog so thick you only got fleeting glimpses of the fabled land, and those of bitter bog and tangled forest, the joys of which were hardly rare back in Memorium. She didn’t much care for her current company either. Kovu, with his constant laughter, never taking anything seriously. Shin with his puffed up ego, enabled by his two bodyguards Xiao Xiao and Mei Mei. Raphael and Rhonnie, two new members of the tribe rescued during the raid on Castle Red only a week before, always together, brothers bonded by their chained past.

“Was hoping for more excitement,” muttered Kovu as though reading her mind, and she snorted in agreement.

As if waiting for those exact words, over a dozen figures slowly emerged from their hiding place beneath the murky waters of the swamp, surrounding their group of seven.

“Look like you got your wish,” Xiao Xiao growled as a flurry of knives flew at them from all sides.

---

The Dawn Seeker rocked on the tide, boasting a new sail, freshly painted and freshly provisioned, lean and sleek as a holy blade. It was, without a doubt, a beautiful ship. A ship fit for high deeds and heroes songs.

Sadly, her new crew were not quite of that caliber.

“What do you mean Dio is coming along?” Sven had complained.

“Surely you didn’t think that I would trust you to be in charge?” Arachne scoffed.

“But look at him! He doesn’t even have a head!” Sven pointed at Dio and it merely jumped up and down and clapped its hand excitedly, evidently happy to be left in charge.

“Maybe you should follow his example,” Arachne snapped, and so that was that. Sven, Luka, and Isaac found themselves on a boat crewed by vampiric ghouls with the most ghoulish of all as their Captain.

“Alright you two,” Sven rubbed at his temples and addressed his two non undead companions. “I know this is all a bit sudden but if we do this right I’m sure I can convince Arachne to let you guys go.” Dio began tugging at Sven’s sleeves but Sven ignored him.

“We’re just supposed to pick up some medicine from some doctor in Brittania. The country has a strict ‘no monster’ policy, so we’re going to have to disguise ourselves. Other than that it shouldn’t be too difficult…” Dio began tugging harder, but was still ignored.

“If you meet a holy knight I’d caution you to run away. Immediately. I’ve fought with them in the past and – oh for crying out loud, yes Dio what is it?“

The headless zombie just pointed at the large tentacles that were wrapping themselves around the ship’s hull. The other ghouls were trying to fight it off, but were having little success, as the tentacles didn’t seem too much mind their biting and scratching.

As one of the tentacles grabbed onto Sven, he just let out a heavy sigh before being dragged off the boat and plunged into the water below.

---

Laika turned her head sharply, heart bursting in her chest –

But aw nothing but moonlight on the shifting branches. It was dark out and everywhere she saw the shadows of her pursuers. She might have heard a twig torn loose by the wind, or a rabbit about its harmless nocturnal business, and not, in fact, a lycan savage daubed with the blood of his victims fixed on skinning her alive and wearing her face as a hat.

She hunched her shoulders as another chilly gust whipped up, shook the pines and chilled her to the bone. Castle Red had enveloped her in its foul embrace for so long she had come to take the physical safety it provide entirely for granted. Now she keenly felt its loss. There were many things in life one did not fully appreciate until they were lost. Like a good meal. Or a weapon. Or a few dozen trained vampire guards and their psychotic knife-obsessed princess.

Much to her surprise, the man named Dante left her unguarded and unchained in one of the tents in his lycan village. Needless to say, Laika took the first chance she could to make her escape but was beginning to suspect her security had been so lax for a reason. She was utterly and hopelessly lost in every sense of the word. The barbs of hunger, cold and fear had quickly come to bother her vastly more than the feeble prodding of her conscience ever had.

Laika caught he faintest glimmer of flickering orange light through the trees. A fire! Jubilation quickly ran through her, but then caution smothered it. Whose fire? She caught a whiff of cooking meat and her stomach gave a long, squelching growl, so loud she was worried it might giver her location away. If it was just one person, perhaps she stood a chance, cold and tired though she was.

The fire had been built in the middle of a narrow clearing, a small animal neatly skinned and spitted on sticks above it. Laika suppressed a powerful impulse to dive at it teeth first. A single blanket was spread out between the fire and a worn out traveling sack. A large axe leaned against a tree, worn out but kept sharp. It took no expert in the use of weapons to see this was not a tool for chopping would.

The camp of one man, but quite possibly one it would be a bad idea to be caught stealing the dinner of. Laika’s eyes crawled from meat to axe and back, and her mouth watered with intensity almost painful. Possible death by axe loomed large at any time, but at the moment certain death from hunger loomed even larger. She slowly straightened, preparing to—

“So it’s you,” came a gruff whisper, just behind Laika’s ear. A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead.

A man stepped past Laika. A large shape she instantly recognized as lycan lowered himself cross-legged next to the fire, bright embers reflected in his brown eyes. A man Laika recognized and thought long dead.

Lazarus ripped off a piece of meat from the spit and began chewing on it. “Small world,” he muttered with his mouth full, gesturing for her to sit down.

Quick dragons conclusion out before I get out the mission intros all at once. 

Kovu receives

20 stat points, 10 skill points

Nora receives

15 stat points, Reincarnation [10]

Dragon's Ascent

It was over in a flash. Kovu and Nora had successfully dodged the incoming fire from the tanks and dispatched the men inside. The third one was destroyed by Mei Mei who didn’t think to check inside the machines and merely punched it, sending it several feet backwards into the air before it landed in a fiery explosion.

Everyone knew there was strength in numbers, but looking down at the battlefield now, Lt. Breda couldn’t help but think that numbers was only one form of strength. In this case, a strength weaker than those of the lycan warriors tearing through their soldiers on the battlefield. “Jesus Christ, there are only five of them!” he muttered in awe of the beastmen.

“Six.” Inquisitor Luther corrected him.

“Six. But one of them—“ and then he saw one get up, the one that was blown to bits by one of the blood alchemist war machines. “We’re fighting monsters…” he muttered quietly.

“Yes, now you get it Lieutenant!” Luther grinned as though his men weren’t being slaughtered by the dozens down below. “They are monsters, and we are monster hunters!” Luther nodded to one of the soldiers to sound the horn and announce their retreat.

“We’re retreating? We lost nearly half the company over nothing!” Breda shouted angrily.

“Nothing? My dear lieutenant you are mistaken. Didn’t I just say that we are the hunters? Come along, we have much work to do,” and he smiled that wicked grin of his.

If by Kimi Ni Todoke, you mean The Penisman

SOON

“Make new friends, but keep the old. Those are silver, these are gold.”

- Joseph Parry

Chapter 7 – Black Gold

Gold has almost universally been considered the most precious element. In both color and object it has been used to symbolize wealth, power, and most importantly, perfection. It represents great value. If we value others, we may treat them with “the golden rule.” We value moments of peace; therefore, “silence is golden.” In Greek mythology, “the golden fleece” is the long desired treasure.

 Even within the tenants of Christianity, where greed is considered a sin, the Book of Genesis describes Abraham to be rich in gold, and Moses was instructed to cover the Mercy Seat of the Ark of the Covenant with pure gold. Perhaps most notably, gold was one of the three gifts given to the newborn Christ by the wise men.

However, it is important to remember that it was not the only gift. All that glitters is not gold.

Napoli was a sprawling mess, infesting one bank of the Ocean inlet and spreading like a muddy sickness onto the other, the bright sky abo smudged with the smoke of countless fires and dotted with scavenging birds. Despite her title, Isabelle was still inexperienced. She had expected the home of the Black King, the wealthiest man in the world, to be a bit more…glamorous.

Castle Black stood tall on a hill over the river, gilded statues carved upon its vast roof beams, the wall around it made from polished dark stone. Crowding outside the fortress were wooden buildings ringed by a fence of stout logs, the armor of castle guards glinting at the walkway. Crowding outside that, a chaos of tents, wagons, shacks, and temporary dwellings of horrible wretchedness sprawled out over the blackened landscape in every direction.

“Disgusting,” Elijah muttered, covering his nose with his sleeve. The Queen’s Eye held little love for low society, and anyone would be hard pressed to find society lower than the citizens of Napoli.

Two huge, squat stone towers had been thrown up on either side of the waterway and a web of chains strung between them, links of black iron spiked and studded, bowing under the weight of crashing water, snarled up with driftwood and rubbish, stopping dead all traffic at the Blackport.

“The Black King has fished up quite a catch with his iron net,” Amelia, the Queen’s voice, said in her usual singsong tone.

Isabelle had never seen so many ships. They bobbed on the waterway, and clogged the wharves, and had been dragged up on the banks in tight-packed rows stripped of their masts. They were ships from the North and Jade Empire. There were ships from Memorium and Britannia. There were strange ships which must have come up from the southern Badlands, dark-hulled and far too fat bellied for the trip over the Tall Sea. There were even the towering galleys of the Church, dwarfing the Autumn Rose as it glided towards the harbor.

“Will he want our help?” Isabelle asked her comrades. She did not fancy staying in Napoli for long. It smelled a lot better in the stories.

“Certainly he’ll want it, as we want his.” Elijah frowned up towards Castle Black. “Will he demand it, is the question.” He had demanded it of many others. The harbor filled itself with sour-faced men from around the world, all mired in Napoli until King Ambrose chose to loosen the waterway’s chains. They lazed in sullen groups about slumping tents and under rotten awnings, staring at everything with hardened eyes, the newest arrivals in particular. As the trio moved closer in they saw skinned carcasses dangling from a mast raised in the middle of the square, gently swinging and swarming with flies.

“Lycans?” Amelia asked dreamily, not seeming too bothered by the grisly scene.

Elijah shook his head. “Vampires.”

“What?” Isabelle had no love for Black Court snakes, but she could see no reason for their King to skin them. Elijah gestured towards some letters scraped into a wooden sign. “They defied King Ambrose’s orders and tried to leave. Others are discouraged from following their example.”

“Ugh. Why does Queen Katarina want the help of a man like this?” Isabelle grimaced.

“What she wants and what she needs may be different things…” Amelia responded.

A dozen armed men were forcing their way through the chaos of the docks. In stark contrast to the rest of the people here, their black armor was polished to a shine and they looked as though they stepped straight out of some golden age of heroes. The captain stopped before them and bowed gracefully, “I am servant to Ambrose, the Black King.”

Isabelle cleared her throat, “I am –“

“You are Countess Isabelle Afiera, the Queen’s Blade. The King has given me orders to conduct you to his hall.”

Isabelle and Elijah exchanged a glance. “Should I be honored or scared?”

The man bowed again. “I advise you to be both, and prompt besides.”

Elijah leaned in close to Isabelle and whispered to her ear, “Be careful. Even by the ruthless standards of the four courts the Black King is known as a ruthless man. Do not put yourself in his power.”

Isabelle looked to the great chains strung across the waterway, then to those dangling bodies swinging and could only shrug. “We’re all in his power now.”

---

The Cathedral of St. Joseph was a humble building, situated in the western corner of Memorium away from the hustle of those working on and around the river. Good Father Abel was sitting peacefully in the Church garden enjoying his afternoon tea when he heard that familiar sound.

Thud! Though soft, the sound echoed across the whole church.

No! Father Abel thought in horror. No it’s too soon!

Thud! Again, the same sound, louder this time.

Lord Almighty why have you forsaken me? She was supposed to be gone the whole year!

Thud! Again the sound, followed by a louder crashing sound as the Church’s door sprang open and Captain Ellie the famed crusader adventurer walked into the hallway, golden hammer shining brightly in her left hand,  “Hey Padre, did you miss me?” she chirped.

“O-oh. Captain Ellie. Back so soon?” Father Abel forced a welcoming smile. “H-how was the trip? Find many sacred treasures?”

Ellie frowned at that. “Well—“ she began, and then her hammer scoffed. Father Abel had seen it many times, but still couldn’t quite get used to it. “No, the trip was a complete waste of time” it chuckled.

“Quiet you!” Ellie yelled, and slammed the hammer against the marble flooring. Father Abel whimpered. His church had its interior redesigned just two weeks ago and stone masons were not cheap. “So you’ll be staying here a while then?” Abel asked, his heart sinking.

“No,” she responded. Abel’s heart soared. “See I think I figured out the problem. I keep taking crusaders with me, but I’ve had it backwards all along! The treasures are clearly hiding from their greed!” Ellie nodded, as if she had in fact figured everything out. Abel thought it best not to mention that she too was a crusader. “So this time I’ll be taking alchemists with me. They can’t use the holy weapons so they have no want for them!”

“Erm…” Father Abel couldn’t help but wonder how she would possibly get any blood alchemists to join her for the very same reason. “Oh, and of course you too Padre! You’re my good luck charm!”

All the color drained from Father Abel’s face. “M-me? Oh no, I couldn’t possibly –“

“Nonsense! Besides you’re looking a little pale Padre, some time in the sun would do you some good!”

“But I –“

“Well off we go!” Ellie lifted Father Abel onto her shoulders with inhuman strength and charged out of the church doorway.

---

Castle Black seemed even bigger on the inside, its ribs fashioned from the same black stone that made up its exterior, shafts of sunlight filled with floating dust spearing down from the windows high above. There was a long fire pit but the flames burned low and the echoing space seemed chill after the heat outside.

King Ambrose was much more ordinary looking than Isabelle had expected. He was handsome enough, like most their kind, with long black hair and even darker eyes. He was not a big man, and he wore no jewels and boasted no weapon. He had no terrible frown upon his pale face, only a stony blankness. There was nothing she could have described to make him seem fearsome to a listener, and yet he was fearsome. More so, and more, the closer they were led across that echoing floor.

By the time she stood a dozen strides from his throne, Isabelle feared King Ambrose more than anyone she had ever met.

“Countess Isabelle, Countess Amelia, Count Elijah.” His voice was dry and whispery as old papers and sent a sweaty shiver down her back. “The servants of the Red Court, high is our honor at your visit. Welcome to Napoli, Crossroads of the World.” His eyes moved from Elijah, to Amelia, and back to Isabelle, and he reached down to stroke the ears of a vast three-headed hound curled about the legs of his throne. “It is strange you come so lightly attended.”

Isabelle did feel somewhat vulnerable. As well as that monster of a dog there were many guards scattered about the hall, with bows and curved swords, tall spears and black armor.

If Elijah was overawed, the Queen’s Eye did not show a grain of it. “We know we will want for nothing in your presence, your Majesty.”

The Black King nodded, “Nor will you. How is the Rose Princess, excuse me, the Rose Queen, Katarina?”

“She is well, Black King. She speaks often of her desire to visit Napoli again,” Elijah lied.

“Not too soon, I hope! My treasury still bears the scars of her last visit.”

“Perhaps we can forge an agreement that will mend those scars and make your treasury swell besides?” Wealth was a different thing to every person, but always a good thing.

A pause. “Is that why you have traveled so far, Count Elijah? To make my treasury swell?”

“We have come seeking help.”

“Ah, even the Rose Princess seeks my great bounty.” Another pause. Isabelle felt a game was played between these two. A game of words, but no less skillful than a bout with swords. And even more dangerous. “Name your desire then. As long as she does not seek allies against her sister, Jasmine.”

Elijah’s smile did not slip by so much as a hair. “I should have known your sharp eyes would see straight to the heart of the matter, Black King. I, that is to say, Queen Katarina fears that Civil War may spread across the Red Court in spite of all our efforts. Princess Jasmine has many allies, and we seek to balance the scales. Those who thrive on the trade down Tall Sea may need to pick a side –“

“And yet I cannot. As you have seen I have troubles of my own, and no help to spare.”

“Might I ask if you have help to spare for Princess Jasmine?”

King Ambrose narrowed his eyes. “Emissaries keep coming south with that question.”

“We are not the first?”

“A man in a mask came to visit me just one week ago and warned me not to meddle in Red Court affairs. One might almost say he made threats.” The hound lifted its head and gave a long growl, strings of drool slipping from each of it three mouths and splattering the ground. “Threats of me. Here, in my hall. I was sorely tempted to have him skinned in the public square but…it did not seem politic.” And he stilled his dog with the slightest hiss.

“Jasmine’s Envoy left with his skin, then?”

“It would not have fit me. He headed back north, bound for Roma. And though I much prefer your manners to his, I fear I can only give you the same promise.”

“Which was?”

“To help all my good friends about the Four Courts equally.”

“Meaning not at all.”

The Black King smiled, and it chilled Isabelle even more than his frown. “You are known as a deeply cunning man, Count Elijah.  I am sure you need no help to sift out my meaning. You know where I sit. Between Badlands and the Snowy Mountains. Between the High Pope and the Jade Empress. At the crossroads of the world and with perils all about me.”

“We all have perils we must contend with.”

“But the Black Court must have friends in the east, and the west, and the north, and the south. The Black Throne thrives on balance. A Black King must keep a foot over every threshold.”

Isabelle saw Elijah twitch with frustration but he said nothing further. “Me and my fellow delegation are free to leave Napoli, oh Black King?”

“Force Katarina’s servants to stay against their will? That would not be politic either. One word of advice before you leave. Tell Katarina to stop this talk of war. Jasmine is the rightful heir to the Red Throne and she knows it. Return Memorium and smooth the way for peace.”

“Then I thank you humbly for your hospitality and for your advice, but we cannot turn back. We must go on with haste to Roma, and seek help there.”

Isabelle glanced at Amelia who shrugged airily. To go on to Roma, center the Church and the human’s holy land. She felt a flicker of excitement at that thought. And a flicker of fear.

King Ambrose merely snorted his disdain. “I wish you luck. But I fear you will get nothing from the Pope. He has grown ever more devout in his old age, and will have no dealings with those of our kind. The only thing he hungers after more than religious babble is spilled blood. That and sacred relics. But it would take the greatest ever unearthed as a gift to win his favor.”

“Oh, great Black King, wherever would we find such a thing?”  Elijah bowed low, all innocence and humility. But Isabelle saw the cunning smile at the corner of his mouth.

Dragon's Ascent

The humans were undisciplined and poorly trained, they swarmed at the lycan group in a mess, in ones and twos, their haste their undoing. Mei Mei saw one clumsily taking aim with his rifle only to be knocked aside by two of his allies. She darted forward, hooked him around the back with arm, claws sinking deep into his shoulder and flung him aside like a rag doll. At her back she could hear her lord shouting his outrage.

"How dare they fire their boorish weapons at me. I-I am the son of dragons!" he yelled, as if his title were a shield that could protect him. But she knew it would not. Only she and her brother could. Xiao Xiao stood next to her, cutting two of the charging mercenaries down in one graceful sweep. Her brother always did enjoy showing off. Up ahead one of the foolish local lycans had charged forward with no regard for his own safety. She saw the battle hunger in him, the red joy the gods of war sends to his favored children.

"This way!" the female lycan ushered for them to make their escape. Mei Mei turned to follow but paused to gape at the mechanical monstrosity that blocked their path.

"Nora, watch out!" the one called Spike yelled out furiously, but too late. The human machine fired its cannon and Nora was blasted to smithereens.

---

"Lovely aren't they?" Inquisitor Luther chirped, "The Blood Alchemist Guild was kind enough to loan me three of them. The very latest models."

Lt. Breda grimaced. He was no pacifist but he saw no beauty in these blood alchemy forged war machines. Breda looked in horror as one of the tanks blasted one of the lycan scouts into dust. "I thought you said you wanted to capture them alive..." he confronted Luther. "Ah, I only care about the dragonkin. The local ones are trash to be disposed of as usual. Besides, if they would die so easily I don't need them anyway."

Breda shook his head. He joined the crusaders wanting to do something good with his life. To be the better man. But things never turned out like they were planned.

---

Everything hurt. Surely, dying wasn't supposed to hurt this bad. She could still hear the battlefield, make out the faint echoes of Spike's voice. But how?

"Urghhh" was the only sound she could muster. She heard wind blowing against the earth. Or maybe it was her own breath blowing against her sore throat.

"Urghhhh" It was an ugly sound really. She was almost embarassed by it but couldn't stop making it. Animal horror. Mad despair. The groan of the dead, in hell.

"Urghhhhh" The fear had hold of her now, swelling with every breath. She couldn't move her head. She couldn't move her tongue in her mouth. She could feel the pain, gnawing at the edge of her mind. A terrible mass, pressing up against her, crushing every part of her, worse, and worse, and worse.

And then she was whole again.

"Nora?" Spike called over to her. "Fuck, how are you alive?" Nora turned her head and saw she was still in the middle of the battlefield. She felt none of the pain from before, bore no scars from her almost-death. "She has the blessing of the rebirth..." Nora heard Mei Mei mutter, but understood none of it. Spike asked a good question, but now was not the time to  answer it. The armored human vehicle turned to aim its cannon at her again, but this time she was ready for it.