Between Gods and Monsters - A city fit for a King

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Between Gods and Monsters - A city fit for a King

Post by Nebuchadnezzar on Sun Jan 10, 2016 12:00 am

Novus Orsa had to be one of the filthiest cities in the entire Sanctum. Nebuchadnezzar found it hard to believe it was a hub under the jurisdiction of her sister’s power— and that was how she saw it; yet another satellite acquisition for the Kings. Mesiphidon was but a bridge for their hive achieving bigger and better goals. Even if her twin and her bonded lover did not see it that way, the Black Rock Witch figured she was free to. She mused about this while traipsing the streets awash with glow from depleted uranium stylized signs, high definition projected displays swimming through the entire field of everyone’s vision and flames from foreign trade-cooks clearly emigres of the Black Sun operating enormous woks over oversized heavy wireframes to sear god-knows-what at reasonable prices to the natives.

As she wore the exact visage of the Empress and would have easily been mistaken for her, severely straight hair aside, a bit of care was taken for once to obscure her face. The pouring rain (which caused the occasional small hill of garbage and some of the less hygienic people to smell something like a wet wolf’s ass. Tittilating!) even seemed to carry pollutants and the King had brought a rather stylish, in her opinion, half mask at one of the speeder shops. It was meant for the riders of those damnable “hyperped” contraptions that they zipped around the city on. Not quite a motorcycle or a scooter but powered by some form of rail motor involving Mag-lev principles. The teens and young adults churned them out daily and they were quite popular if nearly ancient in design per comparison to Celesin’s common technology. the King’s own mask was imbued with a dragon’s mouth design and two flat, thin canisters on either side for debris filtration.

Speaking off, two of them zipped by; screaming and literally hitting a vagrant woman while leaving trails of light behind them. The force of their engines brought up a spray of rainwater that completely doused the poor bag toted wretch and might have hit the King as well per her proximity to the near incident— yet bafflingly, it was a if the dirty, near black water hit an invisible pane of glass just before it could ruin her mahogany furs. True, she could have kept every last drop of falling moisture from her person if she chose rather than using a rather large old fashioned parasol, but, in a crowded city like this it was best not to attract preternatural attention.

Now that she had incidentally prioritized fashion over not attracting attention (could one blame her in the furs, and the black satin, curve hugging slip of a dress underneath?) it seemed time to choose a more closed off venue— a nearly missed cantina some twenty feet from the still babbling Bag Lady would have Nebuchadnezzar soon tucking into it; her umbrella shook and passed off thoughtlessly to a bus boy who’d been hovering near the door. Inside was an atmosphere and a crowd that screamed “Subterranean city worker” — as if they did their jobs efficiently according to the state of the city streets— who soon gawked at the woman. Novus Orsa was full of avant garde fashion but real money tended to stay at the tops of the bright spires, towers and sky scrapers. Far up above it was no doubt known that the more monied and Celesin natives had it arranged to live their entire lives hundreds of stories above ground level without ever having any need to descend into the lair of blue collar plebeians, hustlers, working gals (and fellas and neutral terms) and mid tier gangsters.

And yet, surely, the pale woman with inken hair so dark it shined blue in the low light, near colorless eyes that rendered many of them uncomfortable and who wore an ensemble that costed more than a year of credits had fearlessly introduced herself into the throngs.

’A sidecar. Use the cognac in the second bottle on your third shelf. All other four I suspect might be motor oil.’ she purred as soon as she reached the bartender who looked very obviously ready to ignore or send her away. Instead, something about her tone was between demanding and inspiring. With a shrug, he began to concoct her request— after accessing the public exo-net for a brief tutorial on a whatever the hell a “Sidecar” was.
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Re: Between Gods and Monsters - A city fit for a King

Post by Drustan on Sat Jan 30, 2016 1:37 am

The sight of Drustan in the streets of Novus Orsa would have been inspired concern among the denizens who occupied it regularly; their day to day activities interrupted by the presence of a veritable god—which spoke more to his influence than any actual divine touch.  He was the self-appointed governor of the city—the one who’d spent his time and energy rebuilding the metropolis’ infrastructure when his brothers in arms were more concerned with the issues of desert states.  The Fi’ran had overseen and slapped his stamp on nearly all of the new projects funneling money in and out of the city, pumping new life into dead limbs that had begun to decay from neglect.  Additionally, he’d begun to crack down on crime, personally seeing to the systemic annihilation of the municipality’s corruption and general misconduct.  Naturally, he’d started from the top down, ousting outright those in positions of power who’d managed to abuse their privileges under big brother’s blind eye.  It was an ongoing project—even going so far as to employ his Ignis Corps to bolster the local law force and help see the task to completion.  Of his ventures, his war against Norvus’ seedy underbelly demonstrated that it was the most time and energy consuming; required his hand in the most direct manner; and wouldn’t be easily resolved simply by going on the offense against its organizers.  And yet, despite all that it required, it was but the first of several issues the Primoris had seen to.  Beside it was a growing list of corporate moves, treating Novus as a business rather than simply some new state; he treated its citizens as victims of neglect rather than simply sheep needing guidance, though they were, in many respects, in dire need of a shepherd.  This was a role he was less comfortable with filling given his limited interest in public affairs.

Still, what he’d managed to do in a short period of time was nothing short of extraordinary.  The city was home to not only him, but also the dwarf-King, Konstantine, and her subterranean lab that had begun churning out resources and new technologies not only for Celesin’s military forces, but also for the city itself.  She was a cash cow in her own right, and Drustan had no particular qualms against milking her as such.  Was she aware of his desires?  It seemed likely, and yet she was happy to create and build, and Drustan was just as happy to put those inventions and innovations to use for the people of Novus Orsa.  So, while the city was dirty, it was in the beginning stages of a massive facelift, and the head of the veritable beast of this operation was Drustan.  To his credit, he didn’t make many public appearances; he much preferred to work from obscurity, allowing his position as Primoris to do his talking for him; when people thought about who exactly was to thank for Novus’ growing prosperity, they’d think first of the unified body that was the Primori, and second of the individual general that sat in the highest office in the tallest building in the city.

This promised that his face, and the presence of the Primori, was held to a particularly high standard within the city, as it did in most of the cities; and yet here, simply stepping outside was a suggestion of something big, and true as that may have been the majority of the time, it was often to his benefit to work without all the eyes of the city leveled on him and his movements.  Now was one of those times, and so in a fashion similar to the King he traveled to meet, he abandoned the usual regalia of a Primoris in exchange for civilian attire.  His signature white cape was exchanged for a black windbreaker that struggled to contain his musculature; its black hood drawn up over his head; a cascade of shadows obscuring the upper portion of his face, though it struggled similarly to darken the glowing nature of his smoldering, ruby eyes.  His lower half was similarly clad in dark fabric; black pants and black boots as simple as they were functional, providing him a full range of movement.  He wasn’t as stylish as he may have normally been dressed down in his typical military garb, and yet the civvies served their purpose—protecting him from the gentle cascade of rain that had begun to fall on the yawning city.  

He strode with purpose through an alleyway, booted feet trudging through puddles and stomping down the wet, stony street.  His eyes leveled on the blinking neon sign of the cantina housing the King, and he marched towards it with his hands tucked away within the confines of his jacket pockets.  When he reached the door, a single hand passed from his pocket to sweep over his skull, pulling back his hood and the curtain of shadows that draped over his face, revealing his stoic countenance to the whole of the establishment with little consideration for whether anyone would recognize him.  Large and built as he was, he was nevertheless nondescript enough to only draw passing glances from the establishment’s patrons till they went back to their individual activities.  Scarlet eyes scanned the heads of all the present parties, falling eventually to the bar where a single individual stood in his kaleidoscopic vision.  With more grace and smoother bodily control than one would expect from a man his size, he snaked through the cantina till he reached the woman’s back, and as opposed to tapping her or garnering her attention with physical contact, offered instead a single syllable.  “King.
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Re: Between Gods and Monsters - A city fit for a King

Post by Nebuchadnezzar on Sat Jan 30, 2016 2:52 am

Whilst watching the bartender work; the deathly pale demiurge slid her furs from her shoulders. The slip underneath it all in minimalist satin and tulle revealed and managing somehow to ride the line between high class and sensually vulgar. No woman in her right mind with a fear in the world would have come into such and establishment and yet Nebuchadnezzar remained unbothered aside from more than a few drawn out and completely ignored leers.

With a confused expression and possibly a bit of self consciousness and irritation from the tender, she was given her Sidecar, finally— it certainly wasn’t the best she’d ever had but it was decent enough not to warrant any complaints.

They didn’t make them here like she’d had back in Vasxcious Sigma while dining in class at The 100th Balcony. Perhaps it would be time to visit the arctic city again and soon— if they didn’t manage to confuse her for her sister once more.

As if by miracle no one addressed nor harassed her, put their hands on her or all the other problems an attractive and feminine woman might encounter in Novus Orsa. This did not mean that they were not planning to. While sipping she’d already been listening to a conversation both in the building— in the kitchen— between the bus boy who’d taken her umbrella and one of the chefs. They intended to claim her life and, more horribly, her autonomy once she left the cantina. Nebuchadnezzar was able to isolate even whispered conversations several blocks down from the establishment and thus snooping on the would be plotters was more than easy.

“It’s always rape and robbery, of course. Always boring.”she’d murmur; musing to herself. A man sitting two stools down from her looked confused as if he thought she’d been addressing him specifically. The King only offered a brief and cordial smile before turning her eyes forward once more. Just as her luck would have it he took it as an invitation to ease himself close to her. All the Kings training and expensive mannerisms couldn’t stop her from rolling her eyes.

Before he could speak to her, the woman who’s eyes had been the color of a storm rolling in— he could have sworn, anyhow— faced him with intention. Only now they were red. Not the irises, but red as if her entire eyes had been replaced with softly glowing red billiard balls. Just as he was remarking inwardly that it was the damned creepiest thing he’d ever seen he’d find himself caressed by a voice pregnant with authority. A voice that gave him no choice but to follow the command she had levied at him in a tone that seemed slightly distorted and otherwordly.

“Pʟᴇᴀsᴇ. Rᴇᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴇᴀᴛ. Eɴᴊᴏʏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴɪɢʜᴛ. I ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴇxɪsᴛ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴍᴀʟʟ, sᴀᴅ

ʀᴇᴀʟᴍ.”


Nebuchadnezzar kept the eyes trained on him until, like a rabbit frozen in headlights, he awkwardly exited her personal space and did exactly as commanded and only then did they return to a more human color. She hadn’t simply dismissed him but had employed a tactic which had directly engaged his mind; twisting his brainwaves via something more powerful than brief and instant hypnosis. What she had said was taken literally— he wouldnt even glance her way for the rest of the night. Nebuchadnezzar had the gall to consider herself mostly free of interruptions preventing her from enjoying her own company.

And then, she heard one word. “King”. She who had been addressed did not startle or spin around on her stool to face him. Instead; he’d see her skull tilt to the right before smiling unseen.

The unique signature of his voice prompted a search through an infinite amount of easily accessed information from her own experiences but also that of Konstantine, Esarhaddon and any other umbrageist within their hive mind. In less than a second, she knew who he was, his station, what he was and what he commanded.

“I’m wonderful, thank you. Drustan Alaric Draghurst...correct? Shall we find a booth in order to enjoy each other’s company? Speaking over the noise this close to the front will only serve to irritate us both.”

She still hadn’t turned around.
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Re: Between Gods and Monsters - A city fit for a King

Post by Drustan on Tue Apr 19, 2016 1:22 pm

How are you? Had he asked that? No. The King was using sarcasm in some form. Drustan didn’t have the large processing power of a king or the memory stores necessary to retain all the information they could; his observations and conclusions were limited by present knowledge and the limits of his own memory; there was no Dra’sin pool of information to draw from. He knew little about the Kings, but enough to wonder to what end they structured their responses. They were almost always deliberate. Was the King reminding him of his poor manners? Drawing attention to his brusque manner? Simply setting the stage to show case her biting wit? Cushioning the effect using his full name was meant to have on him when he heard it spoken?

Thick eyebrows, as of late removed from Drustan’s usual methods of communication, shifted slightly in the wake of his government name spilling freely and unobstructed from the King’s lips; the fuzzy caterpillars dipped on his forehead, and expressed a hint of disdain. There was a reason the Primoris hadn’t stood behind the King and dropped her name. But, perhaps she thought it was safe—maybe, as she said, the noise of the room was too much, and at least sufficient to make the details of their conversation inaudible to anyone not actively eavesdropping on them. Then again, Drustan was hard pressed to believe that the King couldn’t sift through the room’s noise if she so desired, or wield other methods of communication if words were too difficult to share.

And yet, despite his skepticism, Drustan inhaled a single breath and acquiesced to the woman’s desires. His scarlet eyes shifted briefly towards the establishment’s walls, and isolated an unoccupied booth for the two of them to grab. With a hand extended out towards her, waiting patiently for her to turn and give him some eye contact, he waited the brief few moments he imagined It would take her to turn, take his hand, and allow him to guide her to their booth, even if she was more than capable of locating the booth and traveling to it herself, unescorted. Pending her decision to follow his lead, the Primoris led the lithe woman across the Cantina towards the aforementioned booth, coming in contact with no one but a single man who sought to cut across their path, which Drustan summarily denied with a single arm lifted to bar him until he and the King had passed to their booth—and of course, Drustan inspired no desire to protest, but instead a need to assent.

When the King took her seat, sliding into the booth, Drustan followed, and aimed to sit as opposite the women as possible in order to place her in front of him. He needed to be able to study all of her responses—verbal and otherwise—directly. "Enjoying Novus Orsa?"
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Re: Between Gods and Monsters - A city fit for a King

Post by Nebuchadnezzar on Sun Jun 12, 2016 5:54 am

The faintest of smiles crossed her face as she turned to watch Dradghurst shuffle through plenty of micro and macro expressions which could be read to her otherworldly eyes like a book: irritation, feeling exposed, confusion as to why she had done it. Truth be told it wasn’t an act of maliciousness— she simply didn’t care. There were precious few things she held in consideration. And, after all, he’d come along announcing what she was. That was as weighted in her eyes as any other form of identification and likely more important than whatever she had been named.

But the Primoris proved himself to be ever polite if obviously irritated and held his hand out for Nebuchadnezzar and she’d exhibit the usual sinuous grace whilst getting off the stool she’d been occupying and gathering her furs and taking it— ever appearing as the cat who ate the canary. Luckily for him not one pair of ears in the establishment seemed to have caught onto the name she’d delivered. The King could have been announcing the secret recipe to mirror-glazed cake famous in the district and no set of eyes would have been on her mouth for all intents and purposes. They either made it a point to look away from her or they weren’t taking their gaze up any higher than her chin. As for her hand he’d find her skin as unnaturally warm as his own and thus likely reading as neutral. Surely, a Dra’sin was used to others feeling slightly cool in comparison to themselves.

’My..’ she’d say; amused at the man who’d been brusquely denied his desired path so that she could pass and take her seat in the booth. Only a few curious, wary looking meddlers were gazing their way now, but, the booth was in the perfect spot to simulate something close to privacy when it came to listening.

Not that she cared. True secrets were never delivered by vocalization, anyhow.

’It’s got its...quirks. And I assume you have personally taken it upon yourself to oversee the development and peace keeping of this little hamlet? Quite dutiful of you.’ She spoke as if she knew
Drustan had chosen his homebase for reasons to do with layers upon layers of ulterior motivation. But, there was no way she could have known that, right? Really, it was a case of anything delivered by a King’s mouth (not including Konstantine) always seemed to hint at several deeper meanings than initially inferred. ’Someone I care about is at the helm of your Geo-Forge, of course. I would entrust no one better than a legendary Primoris to keep her safe and out of trouble even if just by proxy.’

Nebuchadnezzar fished another of the black clove cigarillos out of her clush and lit it with the tip of her finger and thumb per a small, neat electromagnetic current after offering one to Drustan out of habit. In the offset chance he’d accept it, he’d find her offering to ignite it with the same self produced induction.

’So, what did you seek out a mere Shuinsai Marchioness for? What can I help you with?’
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Re: Between Gods and Monsters - A city fit for a King

Post by Drustan on Thu Jul 07, 2016 4:32 pm

Ulterior.  The Primoris had heard the word before; it’d been used to describe his actions, and he personally never found it accurate.  Intentions and desires, like lies and secrets, tended to become burdens the longer they were kept to oneself.  And one hidden intention, desire, lie, or secret usually invited another, and then another, and then another… Till eventually the stockpile proved too much; and addled by their weight, even the greatest among men crumbled and caved like so much flawed meat.  Drustan didn’t believe himself on par with the most talented of secret keepers, and only kept that information which was deemed essential to the security of his country, and even those secrets were often reevaluated in the moment they become relevant again.  

But even as the King spoke, hinting at dealings motivations the Primoris had no mind for, he made no outward attempt to dissuade the King from her line of thinking.  It served his sense of security that she would dance around the myriad possible reasons for his actions instead of landing solidly on the crux of his intentions.  Though, ironically, the word had fallen from her lips, and not his.  “The dwarf-King,” he began with a sigh, not far from the toes of Nebuchadnezzar’s words; “she’s been a great asset to both Novus Orsa, and to the Imperium.  But, you knew that.”  

Leaning forward and extending a hand to take the offered cigarillo, the Primoris studied the object before placing it between his lips, and leaning forward once more to allow the King to ignite its end for him.  He inhaled, pulling the heat and smoke up the shaft of the cigarillo to get a consistent burn, and returned to his relaxed position with the burning stick hanging loosely from his lips.  Drustan was of the mind that it cost him nothing to accept the polite gesture, even if it was more habit than actual civility.  If nothing else, it maintained the air of mundaneness that had become their particular table.

Smoke trails drifted from the cigarillo sitting idly in the Primoris’ mouth, and from his nostrils whenever he pulled in short breathes through his mouth till finally he was prepared to speak, taking the stick from between his lips to rest between his index-finger and thumb.  “It’s my understanding that among Kings, you share an information network—one you’re conveniently separated from.  If you weren’t, your twin, Esarhaddon, would be privy to what you know and what you do… But that doesn’t appear to be the case.  Why is that?”  Clearly, Drustan had other questions he would eventually get to; the fact that Nebuchadnezzar was associated with the Shuinsai was the immediate concern—and she knew that.  Drustan couldn’t imagine any other reason she’d bring up her title and family name.  

Then again, she was King—who knew what she was thinking.  It was precisely this lack of insight that Drustan elected to address first, because otherwise… what was the point of trying to learn about the woman and her goals?
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Re: Between Gods and Monsters - A city fit for a King

Post by Nebuchadnezzar on Thu Jul 07, 2016 6:55 pm

A satisfied nod was given to Drustan and relaying to her that Konstantine was a boon as the King watched him take his first sample of the smoke. She, for once, could not read anything more than neutrality on the man’s face. He was ambivalent in the truest sense of the word but his microexpressions communicated low level satisfaction.

’Wonderful and exactly as intended. When I give a gift I try to do my best, you understand? Konstantine needed space, resources and financed autonomy. I understood she would find no better place to provide this and received her services in return outside of this empire.’ And it was all truth, as well. Whether or not Nebuchadnezzar delivering the small King to Mesiphidon had been a step for plots within plots was yet to be seen, but, the ‘dwarf-king’ herself was in all pure honesty a dedicated addition to the important figures of the Imperium. Likely, it still confounded and aroused suspicions in most— how could they not experience such reactions? All of those intelligent enough knew to be wary around the Borgism.

Drustan’s first question clearly amused her enough to crack a wide but feminine grin; her pale eyes absolutely glittering with mirth and accompanied by one of her seductive, chime-like laughs.

’You are a keen one. I appreciate it.’ she’d deliver; briefly pointing a finger at him. Not to say he was as keen as a King but, still, he was starting his curiosities from a perfect vantage point even she could conceptualize and, from here, she understood the questions would tactically snowball until he was satisfied with a well rounded intel. And, lucky for him, the King had every intention of telling him the truth.

’Because all Kings are decanted in full power but with four ‘Limiters’. Without the Limiters we would be capable of accidentally collapsing the causal lightcore we are meant to protect minutes after being introduced into it. As we are all still quite new and have existed in totality for less than a decade it was prudent for there to be certain blockades to our abilities lest they be anachronistic to our prime directives’ Nebuchadnezzar paused as one of the servers slid by again and delivered her a second Sidecar. She hadn’t asked for it, of course— someone in the establishment had delivered it as a token of attraction. Pale, elegant fingers seized a plastic rapier pick to which three Maraschino cherries had been skewered and swirled her drink around before daintily eating them; pulling them from the blade with her teeth.

’Only a year after my inception was I given a gift by an adoptive father figure who managed to eliminate himself from existence as a consequence: his full capabilities. Along with those, one of my limiters was immediately broken— I was then and have been since the most powerful of my kind boasting as this figure possessed god-like abilities enough to force an evolution in me. My first choice was to become semi-autonomous. I can engage our hive-core and are still in some ways connected to them all...but my solitude is sacrosanct.’

Nebuchadnezzar laughed again and figured she may as well clarify something important.

’What made me more powerful wasn’t his gift, so to speak. It was that the process of receiving the gift broke the first limiter and gifted me with stabilization my siblings have yet to master.’

Now, he knew why she was considered dangerous even amongst the other Kings. She was an aberrant and a loose cannon— an unknown-unknown factor in the great scheme of things.


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Re: Between Gods and Monsters - A city fit for a King

Post by Drustan on Sat Jul 09, 2016 7:06 pm

There was danger in the unknown—Drustan, who in his Celesin-given pride refused to experience fear for any longer than was health, approached danger with the intention of figuring out how to make it less dangerous, and in this case, a little more known. Nebuchadnezzar, as a stranger and powerful unknown connected to Esarhaddon—an unequivocally integrated piece of Celesin’s ruling body now that she’d grafted herself onto the Emperor—was an important need-to-know.

The Primoris watched the woman, as ambivalent about her compliment and explanation as he was accepting the fogging stick he quietly huffed. Thus far things were going as he wanted, which only lead him to believe that things could go the other way at any moment. He preferred, therefore, to remain in the zone, as it were, till the end had finally arrived. This meant his expressions would be as flat and as controlled as any machine created by… Konstantine, for that matter.

So, in other words, your both the thing created to protect your cause, and the thing capable of destroying it… more so than any of the other Kings…?

It was obvious the woman was different. Special, even. How that ended up in the hands of the Shuinsai… Drustan could only speculate. But, that she was apparently adopted said much about where her allegiances laid, and why they remained with Arcerion Shuinsai, a figure Drustan actively sought to limit. His movements, plans, desires… All of them were like photographs on a wall with red strings connecting them to a singular issue, that being power[i]. “[i]Are you not concerned with anyone else breaking this causal lightcore? It seems strange that you would be created to protect it if weren’t in immediate danger from others beside yourself. Did the vast powers of your adoptive father not warrant concern?

Falling into silence, Drustan sat back and allowed Nebuchadnezzar the ability to answer his questions, which she was correct in assuming had some point to them aside from learning more about her and the Kings. He did not attempt to hide this fact, and thus far the woman’s forthrightness was serving to further question a point of contention within the Primoris: was aggression truly the ultimate form of coercion?

It seemed unlikely given how little aggression he’d actually used in the King’s presence, and how little he imagined he’d need to get answers from her. Of course, he could have been falling into some elaborate game the woman was playing, to which he was no more than a pawn she was priming for a duty he didn’t know he was about to perform. Whatever the case, gaining information was the most important part of his immediate cause, though the second point was fast approaching. Somehow, Drustan appreciated the calm of their conversation before they got to that inevitable road.
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