Summary:
August 14 2014: Rowan remembers meeting an ally back on Earth 81
Edges of Gotham
A ruined, mostly abandoned cityscape
Characters
NPCs
- None
Mood Music:
[* None]
Earth 81, just outside Gotham.
Going up to meet his surfacer allies is always a bit dangerous, but raids and actions have to be coordinated against the Psychic Overlords and armies of cyborgs and the best people to know things are the surfacers themselves. Granted, most of Rowan's allies are Homo Magi, who share a common love and use of magic with the Atlanteans and to a much lesser extent the Blue. The man Rowan is meeting today is not. He thinks. He's never been clear exactly on how this man does what he does, but he does it very well.
The Blue commando had exited the water about five miles from the city. Being overtly armed draws attention so his omni-bow and coral spear are powered down at the moment. He simply appears to be a young scavenger, picking at the edge of Gotham. He's grown good at appearing to wander aimlessly while making for meeting spots. It's a gift.
*
The world is filled with ruins, debris. Those armies clashing have rendered a heavy toll on the cities of the world and it is a world where the gods have forsaken it. Retreating into their homes, their mead halls, their mountains… those same gods have cut their ties to this world, leaving it to the ravages of the predators that now rule. Yet at times amongst the horrors of the present and the remains of better ages past, a glimpse of the otherworldly is seen.
There's at first a wail, a roiling sound as if the wind was a thing that could be stabbed and torn asunder. A black circle of blood emerges into being, splitting in twain to mar the ground with acidic droplets that spatter and hiss upon the stone beneath it. Then stepping through that disk strides a figure in ethereal and ghostly gray armor that looks as wispy as dim smoke yet clings to his form. Perfect angellic features look out from beneath the hood of a sweeping black cloak and in his hands are twinned blades. The red one gleams, proclaiming its origin as Grasscutter… while the other is black as midnight and was crafted as Godslayer.
*
Rowan shudders with fear as he always does when his ally shows. It's a lizard brain reaction… odd pun for him, but there you go. Fortunately, he's used to dealing with fear, so he doesn't let it unmake him. Taking a breath and looking about he strides closer. "Phobos." The soldier says quietly. "Thank you for meeting me. We have something of a situation brewing…"
Those are often his words. It's a private joke. Well, to Rowan it is. He has no idea if Phobos finds it amusing at all though… he hasn't tried to kill him for it yet, so there is that.
*
Phobos is free with his smile, though it's hardly a gift when given. "Rowan," He says easily enough even as he sheathes the two blades on his left hip, the palpable feeling of menace diminishing slightly as their steel disappears from view. The deity with the powerfully glowing red eyes looks at the other man with an air of pleasant amity even as he strides across the way towards him.
"Of course, is there not always some form of a situation or another?" When the god looks at him it always seems like there was only a moment of time separating them from violence, as if the potential was always there despite the easy-going nature of the man for now. It could be the wisps of darkness or the smoldering eyes. Or it could just be that the man has seen him fly into a rage one too may times.
*
The dragon-soldier smiles thinly. A frightening ally this, but these are frightening times. "Yes, always. It seems like anywhere one looks today there is only war…" He brings a ruined, very exotic, mechanical component out from under his cloak and offers it to the God of Fear. "We recovered a number of these when we helped the Homo Magi retake Tharkad. They were being hooked up to a high energy apparatus of some kind that was damaged too badly in the fighting to recover. We don't know if it's a weapon or some kind of other Tech, but given that the Overlords are developing it, it's probably not good. They went to a lot of trouble to safeguard them, and then blow them up when they couldn't recover them. I need to know what it is so I can stop what they're doing… or at least… where to find out."
*
Accepting the mechanical component in his hand, Phobos frowns to himself as he considers it. The object is turned one way, then the other as he grimaces then affixes those eyes back upon the soldier. "Tis not exactly my bailiwick to know of such things." He tosses it slightly in one hand and then cocks an eyebrow. "There is one I know of who could perhaps be persuaded to tell me what he knows of such. However it would take a fair amount of family political capital to get him to examine it. Even then, Hepaestus is enormously grouchy and might not tell me even if he does know."
There's a pause as he hands the device back over and he frowns, eyes gaining a faint white light to the inner gleam of his irises. "Or I could give you what insight I may, though that would be even less reliable." He turns his head aside to look at their surroundings, as if something were momentarily amiss, then he looks back.
*
"Insight is all I need. Just a thread to pick at. You know me, I'll do the rest." Rowan presumes, given that he informs Phobos about operations resulting from their meetings, that the man looks in on him. He's… very good at what he does and no matter who you are, the sight of a fifty foot fire breathing lizard bearing down on you does tend to inspire just a little bit of fear.
"Anything you have, really, would be helpful. We're on our back foot right now and they're pressing hard. We have to retake the initiative or we'll have spent all that blood taking Tharkad for nothing."
*
Those eyes slowly turn fully white as that light bleeds over from red to that almost crystalline gleam. He considers the device then looks upwards as the first hints of visions touch his thoughts. A scowl settles on his features, never a good sign. It's a look that seems to speak of suppressed anger that riles easily. A short sharp shake of his head is given as the silent laughter of the Fates taunt him and his jaw sets with tendons bunching.
"There is to be world-shattering, cracks in the surface that give the lifesblood of the earth to its children. Over and over this is to be done, rendering that which must be held indefensible at such a cost." His features shift into a frown, "There is one, however. One of them whose mind holds the goal, holds the sequence that is needed to make the world speak to him. Garbed in red, with broken spine. That is the one you should seek. If he lives then you will hold domain over ocean anew, and the lands of old will boil."
And as easily as that the vision fades from him. His features contort into a scowl, never enjoying the loss of control such takes from him. He shakes his head, mood darkening.
*
Riddles. Sometimes the Moirai give relatively straightforward ones. However, the more dire the omen, the more couched in riddles it seems to be You'd think Rowan would be used to this after all this time. "Garbed in red… with broken spine… holds the sequence…" The dragon-warrior puzzles at that. If they don't find this person, the Overlords will throw wave after wave of Psyberntic soldiers at them until they're driven back from Tharkad. Unless…. unless this isn't about Tharkad. What must be held? Ugh. This is why he's a soldier and not a cryptologist.
"Which one was it this time?" He asks, trying to parse. "Sounded like Lachesis to me."
*
"Clotho," Alexander grimaces, "Never should have slept with her." Shaking his head he looks over the place anew, making sure that momentary bout of vulnerability did not leave him too open to possible ambush nor attack. He rolls a shoulder and frowns distantly at some half-remembered moment, then looks back to Rowan. "Let me know when you're able to find out what needs finding out, I'll be there to aid as I can with blade and blood." Though as he offers this small oath naturally he is not swearing on his own blood…
*
"Fond of you now is she?" How often does one get to tease a god about his love life? Well… if you're another greek god, probably fairly often. But Rowan isn't.
"Yeah, I will. Through the usual channels." He pauses. "They still all about waiting this out up there?" It's a long shot, but having the gods return would probably tip the scales.
*
"Ehn," Some debris crunches under foot as Alexander moves to the side, pushing over a small cement block and revealing an old newspaper proclaiming the End of the World, how fitting. "The opposite." he looks back towards Rowan and smirks, then shakes his head as his eyes roll as if to say, 'wimmen!' But then he gives a nod, "Yes, though Hercules has been imprisoned as his protests grew violent. The Asgardians are still wondering if this is Ragnarok, isn't it? Maybe not? Maybe it is?" A dismissive gesture is made to the side as if encompassing all of the Norse and throwing them away as useless.
Alexander steps back in the direction of the portal that brought him here, its silhouette flickering a bit at his proximity. "The others are too weak to do anything even if they wished. But who is to say?"
*
Well… Rowan knew it was a long shot. "I guess we'll have to sort this out down here ourselves. Thanks, Phobos." He takes out a small flask of wine and honey he'd brought just for this occasion, uncaps it and pours it out on the ground in the deity's honor. What? When one is dealing with old gods, one learns old customs. Libations are easy enough. Better than sacrificing a hundred cows to the head honcho.
*
A small smirk is given and then the God of Fear lifts a shadow-gauntleted hand in a small wave. "Til the next time, Rowan." And as he says this he moves back towards the swirling circle, its circumference growing until it is large enough for Alexander to pass through. With no further word, the God of Fear steps through that gateway, black blood spattering once again upon the ground… and then it disappears.
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