Re: The Vivacious Deadlock: S3G6: Round Two: BJ
02-22-2012, 04:24 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.
Phere was pissed.
She and Crowe had emerged from the tent into the murky grey morning of the Thünderwölf warcamp. It had been larger than she had expected, stretching off in all directions as far as a regular eye could see. It had a look of reluctant semi-permanence about it; while most of the structures surrounding her had been heavily weathered tents constructed from thick hide, there had here and there been a building built from wood and stone; a hesitant concession to the fact that they had been here a long time and in all likelihood would remain here a long time. Phere had let her vision wander and saw that the edges of the camp were fenced in with lines of heavy wooden spikes hammered deep into the ground. Oddly these spikes had been lined with a thick black foam which didn't seem to have any visible function. The tents were arranged in a semi haphazard fashion, clusters here and there, but in some places gaps, almost like streets; wide enough for several warhorses to move in unison. The tent from which she and Crowe had emerged was perhaps a little more elaborate than most; still constructed of the same animal furs and leather that the others were, it had been inscribed with symbols which meant nothing to Phere, in the same glowing neon as the bangles that the Shamaness had worn.
The camp was busy. Burly men with absurdly long beards and thick armour bustled through the campsite with strange plastic and metal weapons strapped to their backs. It had not taken the semi-omniscience of the Hollow-eyed Empress to notice the vikings that watched her every move. There were five or six of them and they were doing their best to look inconspicuous; a tough feat for someone who looked more like a walking wall of meat than an actual human being. Alongside the unexpected prescence of these vikings there was a conspicuous absence of Vala herself. The conclusion to be drawn from this was obvious. She had really expected more sense from the Shamaness. If she could see the future as she claimed she could surely she knew that provoking the Empress would not end favourably for her.
"This is not what I expected from the mighty Empress Phere." Crowe said snidely. Phere did not dignify his comment with a response.
She had taken a moment to search for her fellow combatants and had been disappointed to find that by this point in time they were all in Santa Nada. The city stood in the distance; all spires and towers surrounded by a hardly insurpassable wall. Sure it looked like it would be a tricky place to take, but hardly the cause of such an impossible siege. And in fact as Phere had taken a closer look at the city she saw the gates were open. It seemed so long as you did not have a long braided beard and a tin helmet with horns sticking out of either side you were waved straight through. Such lax security, Phere thought, these vikings must be more incompetent than I gave them credit for.
And so, refusing to dignify Crowe's continued presence Phere had set off on the long trek towards Santa Nada, and to the combatants with whom she was determined to establish some kind of understanding. When the vikings that had been watching her had stopped her, saying that she was not allowed to leave the viking camp upon Vala's orders things had gotten rather a little heated. Phere was not the most competent of mages and she had really hoped that a show of bravado would be enough to convince the brutish viking guard to back off. It rather unfortunately had not, and that was the circumstance that had led to Phere being where she was right now; in a rather sturdily built cell, in a pair of heavy iron manacles.
"I had been given to understand that you would see yourself to being warchief of these vikings within minutes." Crowe commented. Phere glared up at the suited man. The vikings had tried to fit him with a matching pair of manacles but his slender hands had slipped right through them no matter how tight they had been.
"These vikings are irrelevant." Phere replied tersely. "I become their warchief and five minutes later one of the others will kill themselves somehow and I will be forced to start all over again in a new location." Crowe made a noncommital noise.
"Still," he said, "this situation hardly behooves you." Phere could not argue with that. The pair lapsed into silence for a while, Phere's brow furrowed. Part of her wanted to move on from this situation as quickly as possible, to get out there and make the alliances that would be necessary to ensuring long term control of this battle. Whilst on the other hand there was a not insignificant part of her that wanted to exact some petty revenge against Vala. For lying to her. For actually deceiving her. For throwing her in this dingy hole.
After a couple of minutes of intent silence she asked: "Tell me about Santa Nada."
"What exactly do you want to know about it?" Crowe asked. "I could tell you of the majestic symphony that was played during its construction, or to put it better, the majestic symphony that was its construction, or alternately I could tell you what the Maestro had for breakfast this morning. It was toast." Phere scowled.
"Tell me about the siege." she replied. "What is going on out there is not a siege."
“Ah yes, the ‘siege’.” Crowe began. “Yes there was a point when this was more of a conventional siege. There were barricades and the carcasses of animals flung over the wall of the city. It lasted less than a week. Santa Nada is far from defenceless. This attempt on the city cost the vikings some of their hardiest warriors before they opted to fall back. The simple fact is that they lack the capability to force a siege upon Santa Nada, and likewise the people of Santa Nada lack the capability to force the Clan from their shores. I don’t think either side has really tried for the last few generations. The most heated the conflict gets nowadays is when drunken jeers are bawled in the general direction of the city.” The pair lapsed into thoughtful silence again.
"But how?" she asked. "How does a city like that defend itself so effectively?"
"I’ll show you." Crowe replied promptly. Phere scoffed.
“What could you show me that I could not see myself?” she asked. In the space of a moment, less time than it would take you to blink, she was somewhere else. The wall at her back was gone and it took her a second to regain her balance on an uneven floor. As she looked up at the scene spread out in front of her, Phere found herself momentarily speechless.
She and Crowe stood on a hillside overlooking the bay. The Thünderwölf camp was missing, in its stead a flotilla of Viking longboats were clustered around the rocky coast. From this distance the vikings, in their hundreds, perhaps even their thousands looked like ants as they assaulted the city. Santa Nada looked different, but subtly so; there were a couple less spires dominating the skyline and if you really looked you could see the city in general looked less developed. The gates were barricaded; the ramparts of the wall that surrounded the city were manned. The sounds of battle rang out across the bay. Not the traditional crash of steel upon steel or the crack of cannons being fired but the refrains of music, still slightly dangerous as it echoed across the hillside.
But this was all background. Above the town there was what at first glance appeared to be a black cloud. If you watched it for more than a second though you could see it was shifting and moving, resembling more a gargantuan swarm of angry bees. This was closer to the truth, but still not right. It was a swarm of notes, of music made flesh and it was moving, swirling over Santa Nada. On those edges of the city where the Thünderwölf forces pressed in, it speared down. It tore through their defences. The screech of guitars did not seem to deter it. Such attacks were absorbed into it like pouring water into the ocean itself. Entire groups of vikings scattered and fled at its approach or else were ripped apart. It damn near drowned out everything else there was to be heard; the sound of a symphony against a blood red dusk sky. Phere found it almost impossible to tear her eyes from it. Its bloody carnage somehow made beautiful by the strains of enrapturing music that rolled across the bay.
“It’s a potent weapon, the Symphony. Unfortunately for Santa Nada, its range is extremely limited. It can only barely leave the city.” Crowe commented. “It has not been used for generations. Most everyone believes that it is nothing more than a folk story. Only a select few know that it is real, fewer still know how to control it.” Phere looked at the man standing next to her. His face was blank. He seemed to be just relaying information, but Phere for a moment wondered whether he was perhaps stifling a smirk. He knew more about her than she would like and she couldn’t help but ponder his motive for bringing her here... But regardless of what Crowe’s intent might have been the effect was the same. She wanted it, and she was pretty sure the implication was that she was not going to get it without his help. In the silence she contemplated where they were, or to be more exact when. It hadn’t escaped her attention that without Crowe’s help she would be left here, stuck generations before the battle had even began. She scrutinised Crowe for a moment, at her gaze he turned and returned it.
“We should go.” Phere said abruptly.
“Back to that dingy cell?” Crowe asked. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go somewhere else?” There was a long pause as Phere considered her response. It was just occurring to her how dangerous the unassuming man in the suit could be if he really wanted to. She knew that he was not going to be pleased when he found out that she did not know where The Spectator had gone. Her search, though comprehensive, had yielded nothing. She was having a difficult time reading Crowe’s intentions, and she had not liked the thought that had crystallised when he oh so casually mentioned the symphony could be controlled; the idea that he might be trying to point her in a certain direction. This whole thing was a show of force. Look at what I could help you achieve, or look at what I could do to you. Phere bit her lip, feeling as though circumstances had slipped beyond her control without her even noticing.
Before Phere figured out her response, everything changed again. They were back in the cell, the sweeping vista replaced with a magnificent cell of a dull grey stone wall.
“You’re not one for small talk are you?” Crowe asked. Phere barely even registered him. She was too busy trying to figure out how she could reclaim the upper hand in this situation.
Finally she said: “I’d like to go to where this thing is controlled.” She watched Crowe’s face carefully. There was no change of expression, not that she had expected him to give away his intentions that easily. Momentarily they were elsewhere; standing in the middle of a fairly busy street in what she could only presume to be Santa Nada. The building that stood in front of them seemed to be quite grand even if it was in a state of some disrepair. The windows were barred; the door was heavy and most likely very thoroughly locked. The sign upon the side of the building read ‘Santa Nada Opera House’. Phere gave the place a quick glance over and was unsurprised to find that behind the seemingly abandoned exterior there were more than a couple of guards.
The actual auditorium was disconcerting. Where in a typical auditorium you would find hundreds of seats arrayed backwards from the stage there was only one seat, and it did not look comfortable. It was bulky, made of rigid metal and bolted into the ground. Manacles were mounted onto the arms and the leg rests with rusted padlocks hanging loose. The metal was stained and rusted where blood had been spilled long ago. It looked dusty, as though it had not seen much use in a long a time. In front of the stage there was the orchestra pit and peering down into it Phere could see nothing but blackness. It was perhaps too dark. She could not see the bottom, was not sure whether there was one. Finally at the back of the stage there it was. Phere knew that it was what was used to control the symphony from the moment she saw it. It was the most eyecatching thing in the room. It was a gargantuan pipe organ that took up the entirety of the back wall. It was the focus of the room, massive gleaming pipes stretching up into the sky, and the centre a keyboard and a seat.
It was tempting. It really was. As much as Phere wanted to possess the power that lay within, as much as she would like to rule this city and to wipe the smile from Vala’s face, she stopped herself. She turned and started walking, it didn’t really matter to her the direction she was heading in so long as it was away from here. Crowe did not move to follow her immediately. She did not trust him. The whole show he put on to direct her towards this Opera House, towards the symphony. She knew going forwards would have a cost and she guessed it was one she could not pay. She needed to postpone the confrontation with him for as long as possible, and that meant not relying on his abilities, no matter how massively useful they might be.
“Apparently you aren’t keen on a night at the opera.” He commented. “Where are we headed now if I might ask?”
“I really should see someone about getting rid of these.” Phere raised her manacled hands towards him.
“I could…” He made unlocking gestures, “if you want.”
“No.” she said dismissively, desperately hoping her tone was casual. “I’ve got this. I know what I am doing.” She did not.
Phere was pissed.
She and Crowe had emerged from the tent into the murky grey morning of the Thünderwölf warcamp. It had been larger than she had expected, stretching off in all directions as far as a regular eye could see. It had a look of reluctant semi-permanence about it; while most of the structures surrounding her had been heavily weathered tents constructed from thick hide, there had here and there been a building built from wood and stone; a hesitant concession to the fact that they had been here a long time and in all likelihood would remain here a long time. Phere had let her vision wander and saw that the edges of the camp were fenced in with lines of heavy wooden spikes hammered deep into the ground. Oddly these spikes had been lined with a thick black foam which didn't seem to have any visible function. The tents were arranged in a semi haphazard fashion, clusters here and there, but in some places gaps, almost like streets; wide enough for several warhorses to move in unison. The tent from which she and Crowe had emerged was perhaps a little more elaborate than most; still constructed of the same animal furs and leather that the others were, it had been inscribed with symbols which meant nothing to Phere, in the same glowing neon as the bangles that the Shamaness had worn.
The camp was busy. Burly men with absurdly long beards and thick armour bustled through the campsite with strange plastic and metal weapons strapped to their backs. It had not taken the semi-omniscience of the Hollow-eyed Empress to notice the vikings that watched her every move. There were five or six of them and they were doing their best to look inconspicuous; a tough feat for someone who looked more like a walking wall of meat than an actual human being. Alongside the unexpected prescence of these vikings there was a conspicuous absence of Vala herself. The conclusion to be drawn from this was obvious. She had really expected more sense from the Shamaness. If she could see the future as she claimed she could surely she knew that provoking the Empress would not end favourably for her.
"This is not what I expected from the mighty Empress Phere." Crowe said snidely. Phere did not dignify his comment with a response.
She had taken a moment to search for her fellow combatants and had been disappointed to find that by this point in time they were all in Santa Nada. The city stood in the distance; all spires and towers surrounded by a hardly insurpassable wall. Sure it looked like it would be a tricky place to take, but hardly the cause of such an impossible siege. And in fact as Phere had taken a closer look at the city she saw the gates were open. It seemed so long as you did not have a long braided beard and a tin helmet with horns sticking out of either side you were waved straight through. Such lax security, Phere thought, these vikings must be more incompetent than I gave them credit for.
And so, refusing to dignify Crowe's continued presence Phere had set off on the long trek towards Santa Nada, and to the combatants with whom she was determined to establish some kind of understanding. When the vikings that had been watching her had stopped her, saying that she was not allowed to leave the viking camp upon Vala's orders things had gotten rather a little heated. Phere was not the most competent of mages and she had really hoped that a show of bravado would be enough to convince the brutish viking guard to back off. It rather unfortunately had not, and that was the circumstance that had led to Phere being where she was right now; in a rather sturdily built cell, in a pair of heavy iron manacles.
"I had been given to understand that you would see yourself to being warchief of these vikings within minutes." Crowe commented. Phere glared up at the suited man. The vikings had tried to fit him with a matching pair of manacles but his slender hands had slipped right through them no matter how tight they had been.
"These vikings are irrelevant." Phere replied tersely. "I become their warchief and five minutes later one of the others will kill themselves somehow and I will be forced to start all over again in a new location." Crowe made a noncommital noise.
"Still," he said, "this situation hardly behooves you." Phere could not argue with that. The pair lapsed into silence for a while, Phere's brow furrowed. Part of her wanted to move on from this situation as quickly as possible, to get out there and make the alliances that would be necessary to ensuring long term control of this battle. Whilst on the other hand there was a not insignificant part of her that wanted to exact some petty revenge against Vala. For lying to her. For actually deceiving her. For throwing her in this dingy hole.
After a couple of minutes of intent silence she asked: "Tell me about Santa Nada."
"What exactly do you want to know about it?" Crowe asked. "I could tell you of the majestic symphony that was played during its construction, or to put it better, the majestic symphony that was its construction, or alternately I could tell you what the Maestro had for breakfast this morning. It was toast." Phere scowled.
"Tell me about the siege." she replied. "What is going on out there is not a siege."
“Ah yes, the ‘siege’.” Crowe began. “Yes there was a point when this was more of a conventional siege. There were barricades and the carcasses of animals flung over the wall of the city. It lasted less than a week. Santa Nada is far from defenceless. This attempt on the city cost the vikings some of their hardiest warriors before they opted to fall back. The simple fact is that they lack the capability to force a siege upon Santa Nada, and likewise the people of Santa Nada lack the capability to force the Clan from their shores. I don’t think either side has really tried for the last few generations. The most heated the conflict gets nowadays is when drunken jeers are bawled in the general direction of the city.” The pair lapsed into thoughtful silence again.
"But how?" she asked. "How does a city like that defend itself so effectively?"
"I’ll show you." Crowe replied promptly. Phere scoffed.
“What could you show me that I could not see myself?” she asked. In the space of a moment, less time than it would take you to blink, she was somewhere else. The wall at her back was gone and it took her a second to regain her balance on an uneven floor. As she looked up at the scene spread out in front of her, Phere found herself momentarily speechless.
She and Crowe stood on a hillside overlooking the bay. The Thünderwölf camp was missing, in its stead a flotilla of Viking longboats were clustered around the rocky coast. From this distance the vikings, in their hundreds, perhaps even their thousands looked like ants as they assaulted the city. Santa Nada looked different, but subtly so; there were a couple less spires dominating the skyline and if you really looked you could see the city in general looked less developed. The gates were barricaded; the ramparts of the wall that surrounded the city were manned. The sounds of battle rang out across the bay. Not the traditional crash of steel upon steel or the crack of cannons being fired but the refrains of music, still slightly dangerous as it echoed across the hillside.
But this was all background. Above the town there was what at first glance appeared to be a black cloud. If you watched it for more than a second though you could see it was shifting and moving, resembling more a gargantuan swarm of angry bees. This was closer to the truth, but still not right. It was a swarm of notes, of music made flesh and it was moving, swirling over Santa Nada. On those edges of the city where the Thünderwölf forces pressed in, it speared down. It tore through their defences. The screech of guitars did not seem to deter it. Such attacks were absorbed into it like pouring water into the ocean itself. Entire groups of vikings scattered and fled at its approach or else were ripped apart. It damn near drowned out everything else there was to be heard; the sound of a symphony against a blood red dusk sky. Phere found it almost impossible to tear her eyes from it. Its bloody carnage somehow made beautiful by the strains of enrapturing music that rolled across the bay.
“It’s a potent weapon, the Symphony. Unfortunately for Santa Nada, its range is extremely limited. It can only barely leave the city.” Crowe commented. “It has not been used for generations. Most everyone believes that it is nothing more than a folk story. Only a select few know that it is real, fewer still know how to control it.” Phere looked at the man standing next to her. His face was blank. He seemed to be just relaying information, but Phere for a moment wondered whether he was perhaps stifling a smirk. He knew more about her than she would like and she couldn’t help but ponder his motive for bringing her here... But regardless of what Crowe’s intent might have been the effect was the same. She wanted it, and she was pretty sure the implication was that she was not going to get it without his help. In the silence she contemplated where they were, or to be more exact when. It hadn’t escaped her attention that without Crowe’s help she would be left here, stuck generations before the battle had even began. She scrutinised Crowe for a moment, at her gaze he turned and returned it.
“We should go.” Phere said abruptly.
“Back to that dingy cell?” Crowe asked. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go somewhere else?” There was a long pause as Phere considered her response. It was just occurring to her how dangerous the unassuming man in the suit could be if he really wanted to. She knew that he was not going to be pleased when he found out that she did not know where The Spectator had gone. Her search, though comprehensive, had yielded nothing. She was having a difficult time reading Crowe’s intentions, and she had not liked the thought that had crystallised when he oh so casually mentioned the symphony could be controlled; the idea that he might be trying to point her in a certain direction. This whole thing was a show of force. Look at what I could help you achieve, or look at what I could do to you. Phere bit her lip, feeling as though circumstances had slipped beyond her control without her even noticing.
Before Phere figured out her response, everything changed again. They were back in the cell, the sweeping vista replaced with a magnificent cell of a dull grey stone wall.
“You’re not one for small talk are you?” Crowe asked. Phere barely even registered him. She was too busy trying to figure out how she could reclaim the upper hand in this situation.
Finally she said: “I’d like to go to where this thing is controlled.” She watched Crowe’s face carefully. There was no change of expression, not that she had expected him to give away his intentions that easily. Momentarily they were elsewhere; standing in the middle of a fairly busy street in what she could only presume to be Santa Nada. The building that stood in front of them seemed to be quite grand even if it was in a state of some disrepair. The windows were barred; the door was heavy and most likely very thoroughly locked. The sign upon the side of the building read ‘Santa Nada Opera House’. Phere gave the place a quick glance over and was unsurprised to find that behind the seemingly abandoned exterior there were more than a couple of guards.
The actual auditorium was disconcerting. Where in a typical auditorium you would find hundreds of seats arrayed backwards from the stage there was only one seat, and it did not look comfortable. It was bulky, made of rigid metal and bolted into the ground. Manacles were mounted onto the arms and the leg rests with rusted padlocks hanging loose. The metal was stained and rusted where blood had been spilled long ago. It looked dusty, as though it had not seen much use in a long a time. In front of the stage there was the orchestra pit and peering down into it Phere could see nothing but blackness. It was perhaps too dark. She could not see the bottom, was not sure whether there was one. Finally at the back of the stage there it was. Phere knew that it was what was used to control the symphony from the moment she saw it. It was the most eyecatching thing in the room. It was a gargantuan pipe organ that took up the entirety of the back wall. It was the focus of the room, massive gleaming pipes stretching up into the sky, and the centre a keyboard and a seat.
It was tempting. It really was. As much as Phere wanted to possess the power that lay within, as much as she would like to rule this city and to wipe the smile from Vala’s face, she stopped herself. She turned and started walking, it didn’t really matter to her the direction she was heading in so long as it was away from here. Crowe did not move to follow her immediately. She did not trust him. The whole show he put on to direct her towards this Opera House, towards the symphony. She knew going forwards would have a cost and she guessed it was one she could not pay. She needed to postpone the confrontation with him for as long as possible, and that meant not relying on his abilities, no matter how massively useful they might be.
“Apparently you aren’t keen on a night at the opera.” He commented. “Where are we headed now if I might ask?”
“I really should see someone about getting rid of these.” Phere raised her manacled hands towards him.
“I could…” He made unlocking gestures, “if you want.”
“No.” she said dismissively, desperately hoping her tone was casual. “I’ve got this. I know what I am doing.” She did not.
Heaven Help Us | Make Room!!!! | I'm Not Okay (I Promise)
Hang 'Em High | The Only Hope For Me Is You | Zero Percent | Early Sunsets Over Monroeville | DESTROYA | Demolition Lovers | To The End
Surrender The Night | Disenchanted | The Ghost Of You | Party Poison | Vampires Will Never Hurt You | The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You
Hang 'Em High | The Only Hope For Me Is You | Zero Percent | Early Sunsets Over Monroeville | DESTROYA | Demolition Lovers | To The End
Surrender The Night | Disenchanted | The Ghost Of You | Party Poison | Vampires Will Never Hurt You | The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You