Lovejoy — Roleplayer Guild

@vietmyke Great post! I was really looking forward to seeing Galahad's response and it was worth the wait!

As for the mysterious red-eyed man, I think it might be interesting if Galahad has been dreaming/envisioning some manner of powerful foe for the past decade and the vision that the Aspect showed him during Culmination was a... erm... actual culmination/amalgamation of these decade-long dreams. I just really like the idea of Galahad preparing for a hypothetical foe across the sea in his mind that'll be incredibly powerful and that's why he has an obsession with becoming the strongest mage ever. Let me know what you think!

@OppositionJ Okay! I think after your reply we could probably have @vietmyke respond, followed by me placing you guys on the transport to Cero City after which we'll be done with the Lanostre portion of the prologue. :)

@shylarah @CollectorOfMyst Will have the post done late this morning or tomorrow. I assume you guys are fine with me advancing time to the following morning? Also, I will have that Alexandre post for you as well, shy.

The Black Glacier, Lanostran Frontier

"Lanostre is under attack..." Tatiana spoke. Behind her, out across the ice, explosions were lighting up the horizon.

... And then they answered.

"You are wrong, summoner," all three of the seraphs spoke at once, their heads turning in unison to face her.

The voice that filled the air was that of a human male. It was a deep baritone, a voice honed for speaking, in an accent none of the inquisitors could recognize.

The seraphs began to tremble in place, as if they were struggling against some external force. It was to no avail, as their limbs began to contort in unnatural angles, their arms and legs snapping backward and sideways. Their frozen faces melted into expressions of torment as their ceremonial armor began to liquefy, the etched patterns on their breastplates turning to mush. Black streams of melted ice flowed forth from their hollow eyes.

Suddenly, the lancer and archer exploded in a shower of ice and mist. It was if a bomb had gone off within them. The swordsman however, remained seated on this throne. Except, it was the swordsman no longer.

The figure sitting casually on the throne with one leg draped across the other appeared human to them, but it was nothing more than an approximation of a man. A likeness.

The man seemed to be not much older than they were. Tall, with handsome features. He wore a plain black cloak, and a decorative sword hung from his waist. His every feature had been carved from the black ice of the Glacier, except for his eyes. They were red like fire. Three large birds, also carved of the glossy obsidian-like ice of the Glacier, were perched on the throne, their lifeless eyes watching on.

"I'll be waiting."

The words echoed in Galahad's mind. 

This man. It was the same individual from his vision. The one who awaited him on that battlefield. Galahad had seen this man in his dreams, and here he was, not but ten feet away from him.

But the man's eyes were not focused on him. They were trained on Tatiana. His eyes, like burning rubies, were staring at her with a sad, almost mournful expression.

"Your Lanostre is important to him. Thus I would not bring harm to it. I am here only for them," the man spoke in his alien accent, lifting his chin toward the distant battlefield, where a third Varyan steamship had been reduced to a smoldering pile of iron. 

"Lord Dara often thinks of you, Lady Leviatan. He remembers your days training together and looks back on them fondly. When he learned that you would be in Lanostre during the time of our assault, he despaired, for he knew that you and your companions would rush out to meet my fleet on the ice, where you would have perished along with the Varyans. As his protector, I could not let him suffer your passing."

Cillian stepped forward.

"What is this? Who are yo--"

"Glory to the T'saraen garrison, for giving their lives in service to this undertaking," the man interrupted, his gaze still focused intently on Tatiana, "Their deaths kept you here while the Varyans burn out in the sea."

He looked to the ice behind the inquisitors where dozens of motionless seraphs lay broken and shattered on the blackened frost. There was something else in his eyes then. A look of yearning. "Your Glacier is a magnificent thing indeed. I borrowed its power to create this beautiful tableau. It is but a memory of a battle that one took place on this earth, one drop in the sea of history. Your people... your Goddess, have misunderstood this tragic creature and the wealth of knowledge it possesses. No matter. Soon all will be as it should." 

The man on the throne then turned his attention toward Galahad, his wistful expression hardening into stone.

"Warleader. Do not interfere in my work. Within moments the Varyan fleet will be purged from this world and my fleet will continue eastward to our destination. You and I are heading in the same direction, but I plead with you. If you value the lives of those under your command, do not follow in my path. Let this be our final meeting."

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