Men who play games of war and soldiers born from circumstance...
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A quiet sigh leaves full lips as he looks into the crackling fire before him. Kso’ppghiel hates these long nights between battles; the time he has letting him remember far too much. He would rather simply exist in the moment than remember what brought him here. “You ever let those things go?” A soldier whose name he does not know or care to know says as he approaches him. There is a reason Kso’ppghiel always camps out on the edge; he does not like talking and he is rather annoyed one of them has decided to find him. He gathers his own food, he provides completely for himself and this should be enough to indicate that he wants to be left alone. “Those swords… I never see you put them down. You really think someone will attack in the night?” The man settles at his side by the fire, oblivious to the internal struggle of the one besides him as he works very hard to not simply remove the creature’s lower limbs while he is talking. “No.” “No- which one?” “Is there something better you could be doing at this moment in time other than trying my patience?” Kso’ppghiel eyes the darkness around him, wondering just how many would actually care if he did feel the urgent need to decapitate the other man. “No need to get hostile.” The soldier scoffs as he backs away to rejoin the rest of his noisy and drunkard friends. “Just thought you might like some company is all.” “You thought wrong.” He waits until the other has removed himself from his presence completely before sliding the longswords free of the straps that secure them to his back, pulling them out to lie them at his front. The light of the fire dances over the worn leather hilts and his eyes follow the handles up to the ends where they are adorned with inlaid horn. “I am sorry…” He whispers low, his words directed to the weapons draped across his lap. “There is nothing more for me than this…” Spending only a moment longer with his gaze drifting over every curve and detail, Kso’ppghiel rises and moves away from the firelight with both swords in hand in order to attempt some rest for the night.  It takes nearly a full day before they reach the encampment the one they were searching for had been known to last reside in. Sav’real is secretly hoping though, that he had moved on since then as he apparently has a habit of doing. If he is still here, he knows that negotiations will not be pleasant, as there will be no negotiations at all. Bal’thial was very good about carrying out his orders, no matter what those orders happened to be and the small creature understands that even given the subject of this campaign, it won’t go any differently in the end as far as the Captain is concerned. For as much as he is devoted to his Queen, part of him wishes she would just leave this one be. She had already taken his family, and that damage was enough on its own. He knew Mithghiiel well enough to know he was probably a good father who would have never wanted his son exposed to Io’fayl’s reign. He had, after all, kept him from war his entire youth. Sav’real skitters across the dry ground, kicking up little piles of dust as he hurries between piles of soldiers settling down for the day to prepare their evening meals. He’d been sent ahead to find their captain’s tent, announce who is coming and to warn him to not let his men get involved in what’s to come if they want to be left alive. Some days he really hates his job. Dirty brown pupiless eyes narrow the moment the flap to his tent is pushed aside and a small, strange creature he’d know anywhere skitters himself inside without so much as a word. “What,” the clan’s captain starts as he pulls gaze free of the maps and scrolls scattered across the small wooden makeshift table to his front. “Do you think you are doing little man?” Sav’real flinches slightly at the tone. He knows Bal’thial’d never let anything happen to him, but it doesn’t make him any less scared of the big, dirty, angry men who occupy these camps. “W-we’re here to negotiate your non-involvement in procuring the one known as Kso’ppghiel.” “We?” The captain snorts. “You mean there’s more of you? You and your little friends can take your scrawny, feathered asses back to your queen bitch and tell her to fuck off. This isn’t her territory and she’ll have none of my men. I’ve got my own war to fight that has nothing to do with her. I don’t command Kso’ppghiel, take it up with him.” “It is easy to speak so boldly…” the coldness in Bal’thial’s voice swiftly pulls the captain’s gaze away from the small creature at his front and up towards the tent’s threshold as the white haired man is stepping through, muddied eyes flickering briefly beyond in time to see the Southern Queen’s gathered soldiers outside contrasting deeply with that of his own before the flap flitters closed. “…when one is dealing with those smaller in stature to themselves.” Striding forward, the tall Captain stops only a few paces from the man’s front, meeting fear filled eyes with his own steady, mismatched gaze. “This one’s ‘little friends’ have no plans on leaving until our Queen’s invitation to service has been accepted by one fighting within your ranks, and I would suggest you heed his warning as far as your involvement is concerned…” The man fights his instincts to look away, trying as best he can to save face lest one of his own soldiers see. Io’fayl’s personal guards are highly recognizable even if they rarely come this far out and this one here in front of him, is no exception to that fact save that if anything, he’s even more intimidating than those he’s caught glimpses of before. There’s an air about him, one he knows he shouldn’t be messing with. To have that warlord send these soldiers here means whatever their business is with that Kso’ppghiel must be serious and the longer he allows them to linger within his encampment, the more it puts his men in danger. Dirty brown eyes shift down and he frowns at the now smug looking little creature below him. “As I told him…” The captain’s voice holds none of the confidence it had moments ago as he points down to Sav’real. “He’s not part of my ranks, I don’t command him. He just shows up and fights. I don’t want no part of anything between him and your… whatever you want him for. What he does has nothing to do with my army so I’d appreciate you leaving us out of it.” His gaze narrows slightly in annoyance as he continues to stare down at Sav’real to avoid Bal’thial’s commanding gaze. “None of my men will stand in your way, he’s not one of us. ‘Should be at the far end of camp.” The man points behind them towards the back of the tent, waiting apprehensively for them to leave him be. “Your… cooperation will be noted…” Bal’thial smiles coolly, continuing to stand in place despite the obvious impatience of the one before him and each second spent still causes the captain’s nervousness to visibly increase. “…and I am sure our ‘bitch queen’ will extend her own form of appreciation to you...” Green and blue mixed eyes narrow as his words cause the other man to flinch in the slightest despite his best efforts to continue holding face. “…once our meeting has been relayed.” With that, Bal’thial turns back towards the tent’s opening, heavy cloak rustling in his wake and a moment later Sav’real is moving to skitter close behind after he’s flashed the man another smug little smirk. Soldiers of all rank and manner look up from their camps, watching with both interest and fear as the group walks past. Many of them recognize the uniforms, armors and crests of Io’fayl’s army and do their best to blend in to the background while Sav’real begins moving from the front of the group to the back as they grow closer to their goal, happy to let Bal’thial take the lead he’s so good at. They eventually draw close to a small fire set far apart from the rest of the group and a single man sitting in silence, simply staring into the crackling flame. His heart sinks slightly as he recognizes him to be Kso’ppghiel, finding again that he’d really hoped the man would have moved on. Sav’real does not want to see anyone die because of this but there is no doubt in his mind that it will get messy in one way or another. Right now he doesn’t know who to feel more sorry for; Bal’thial’s men or the one they’ve come to retrieve… Mismatched eyes slide briefly back once they draw near to the lone figure, the silent signal given to his men with only a slight nodding of his head that instantly pushes them into action and a second later they are all moving forward into formation around the one they’ve come for. Bal’thial’s footfalls come to a halt; the tall Captain’s sword remaining nestled in its leather catch at his back and no indication given of hostility as he regards the man who doesn’t even bother to look away from the flickering fire at his front, despite their obvious presence. He smirks to himself briefly as his gaze sweeps across the one his Queen wants taken in, finding himself mildly amused at the seeming refusal to acknowledge his presence while he notes the twin longswords he holds in his lap. “Kso’ppghiel” the white haired man says quietly while his men settle in their places. “I have come to extend an invitation by way of Queen Io’fayl for service…” his words finally pull the other man’s eyes away from the fire and he slides them slowly over to meet his own, two steady gazes locking as a smile flickers across Bal’thial’s lips “She requests your presence… and I am here to escort you safely there.” White, pupiless eyes stay locked with the one in front him for a few moments longer before moving slowly over to the group around him before finally shifting down to meet the serpentine gaze of a small, feathered creature hiding in the very back. Sav’real’s eyes meet his and he instantly ducks behind one soldier’s leg, the reaction immediate. Kso’ppghiel has seen this creature before, just recently in fact, but didn’t think anything of it at the time... perhaps he should have, he sighs. Pulling his eyes away and shifting his attentions back to his swords, he casually throws the leather strappings over his shoulders and stands, securing them into place before stepping over the log he’d been seated on and beginning a walk in the opposite direction away from camp without sparing any of the soldiers a word or further glance. The smile reforms on Bal’thial’s lips as his men begin to move forward, each one spreading out and drawing weapons as they move, while he remains where he is and his own is left securely in place. “My orders are to escort you back… willingly or not.” Claw tipped fingers slide down to his side and he flicks his hand in the slightest to signal Sav’real to fall further back just as Kso’ppghiel’s footfalls come to an abrupt halt, the one before him not bothering to look away from his front. “I would prefer we do this… diplomatically, but it will be done in the end.” Kso’ppghiel barely turns his head back at the words said, his eyes meeting Bal’thial’s own through the white-blonde locks that cover his face. “No. It will not. I serve no one.” His words are quiet; carrying with them the complete confidence of someone who has no reason to doubt what’s been said is fact. The Captain’s men begin to circle around him while he simply stands and waits, his gaze never leaving Bal’thial’s mismatched eyes as his hands take their time moving to the worn leather hilts of his longswords. The moment the first two soldiers move to his front and block his path, his weapons are drawn. Twin blades move faster than either man seem able to follow, the first strike focused in on the one to his right to cleave his head clean off as crossed metal shirrs like scissors before he swings back, bringing his swords together to run them through the second man’s throat. Dirty leather boots kick the dying soldier off his blades and he secures the blood-covered metal back in their straps, meeting Bal’thial’s eyes one more time to drive the point home before casually restarting his path away from the men. The men who remain standing baulk for only a moment, eyes flicking in surprise from their fallen companions to their stationary Captain and back again towards the moving figure moments before their commanding officer streaks into action. Seconds after he’s darting swiftly forward, a soft clinking of the strap once securing his weapon to his back resonates throughout the air and Bal’thial’s jagged blade sword is drawn while he’s still in movement. White blonde locks flick briefly in midair as Kso’ppghiel whips around, his own weapons redrawn just in time to meet the tall man’s blade. “You will soon enough.” The white haired man says as their gazes meet once again moments before he twists his sword around and pushes the other man forcibly back, the momentary distraction he’s caused when their weapons break contact in the blonde’s stumble allowing the others to close in and soon Kso’ppghiel finds himself fighting nine all at once. Kso’ppghiel bares his fangs in annoyance for the fact that he even has to expend the effort in order to make them understand how little of a chance they have carrying these orders out. Clawed fingers flip one hilt in his grip, slamming it down into the dusty ground to effectively free his hand and the tip of his remaining blade is thrust forward, catching one soldier in the side. His momentary cry of pain distracts them enough to allow Kso’ppghiel to grab onto the soldier’s sword just above the hilt as he’s yanking his weapon own free as well and a stream of words leaves his lips soon after, the metal he grips beginning to heat up in the other man’s grasp to sear his hands, causing him to cry out and quickly release the blade. Kso’ppghiel flips the hilt into his own hand, thrusting forward to land the sharpened tip into the chest of another oncoming solider before he releases it to drive his second longsword into the ground. Grasping both planted hilts, he swings forward, using the momentum to hit his feet into the next man’s chest and knock him back, landing a moment later and pulling his blades free once more. The tall Captain frowns at the scene unfolding before him. He’s had enough of this… he’s losing his men a little too quickly because it appears that both Sav’real and his Queen had been right, there is more to this person than he’d thought. Despite the losses though, at the very least he can say that he’s found the challenge he’d been looking for, though he’s sure that fact will do little to consol those under his command for the deaths already taken and the ones that will come if he doesn’t end this relatively soon. Just as the white-blonde haired man is turning to strike dual longswords at a soldier to his right, Bal’thial’s blade is thrust out to halt the path, the sound of metal meeting metal ringing loudly into the air. Once again he flips his blade up in order to push the other man back, the movement sending Kso’ppghiel spinning fluidly around as he attempts to strike from the other side. The white haired man’s movements blur as he dips his body down to miss the path of the other’s weapons, a cry ringing out when the soldier he’d protected only a moment before doesn’t move fast enough to avoid the oncoming blow, his chest splitting wide open. Spinning the jagged sword in his grip once and sliding his body swiftly back as his subordinate falls, the tall Captain swings the hilt heavily up in between curved horns the instant twin blades are striking towards another that had come up behind. The hard blow pulls a grunt from Kso’ppghiel’s lips as he crashes involuntarily towards the dusty, blood soaked ground only to have two more on him the instant his body hits. The blonde haired man pulls his knees under himself as the men work to push his head down and he grips the hilts of his swords tightly, digging them into the dirt while he attempts to pull himself up. He manages to lift the two soldiers up a few inches before another throws his weight on him as well, sending them all crashing back down onto the ground while they hold onto the struggling man. Several long minutes pass as Kso’ppghiel continues to fight them, the remaining soldiers and their Captain simply waiting for him to tire. He finds a way to free a clawed hand from their hold, flailing out to rip and shred the flesh of any who happens to be close. The nearest soldier grabs his wrist, forcing his hand down while slipping a blade free of his boot to slam the dagger in-between the delicate bones, pinning his hand to the ground. Kso’ppghiel stills as blood begins to flow freely from the wound but if he feels any pain from it, he gives no indication, simply becoming immobile and silent. “Enough” Bal’thial yells out just as the soldier is pulling his fingers away from the blade he’d just planted. “Bind him securely, but keep further damage at a minimum. Queen Io’fayl ordered him intact” The white haired man slips his own weapon behind him and clicks the clutch back to secure it once again as his men begin the task of binding the one they hold before he steps around to squat down at his front. Clawed fingers slide out to grasp the prone man’s chin as the dagger is being pulled free and his arms are being wrenched towards his back, the tall Captain’s mismatched gaze once again locking with pupiless white. “Five soldiers trained by my own hand in less than a minute’s time…” there is no reaction from his words but he continues anyway. “Impressive.” Sliding his fingers away and allowing the other man’s head to fall back down, he stands a moment later just as Kso’ppghiel’s legs are being bound, reaching over to wrench the twin longswords free of the ground besides him. A roar leaves the blonde haired man the instant his weapons are touched and in his fury, he manages to work a hand free of their bindings with a great amount of effort to clasp desperately on to the metal before it’s pulled out of his reach. Words leave him in a stream and the metal of his own sword begins to heat up, instantly searing the flesh of Bal’thial’s hand but the Captain only seems to take as little notice to the pain as Kso’ppghiel did when the dagger had been run though his palm. Their eyes meet as this continues but neither is willing to back down until the heat from the spell begins to burn the leather lining the hilts, causing the bound man to finally relent and withdraw the magic he’d spoken. “Those are mine.” Kso’ppghiel states immediately, his pupiless white gaze still locked with mismatched blue and green. “Take me where you wish, I will go without further struggle, but they are mine.” “And I will return them to you.” Bal’thial answers flatly. “Upon our return.” Blue and green eyes shift away from the bound figure and over to the same guard who’d stabbed Kso’ppghiel’s hand, offering the man a frown. “Gag him so that there will not be any more incidents as such and tend to that wound you caused before it becomes infected. I highly doubt our Mistress will be pleased if we deliver him without an arm.” The soldier nods hastily as his Captain turns away from them with the blonde’s swords still in hand, slipping a heavy strap of leather free of his garments before quickly doing as he’s been told. He swings the makeshift gag around Kso’ppghiel’s mouth to stifle the secondary cry that spills against it and a moment later the group is rising, lifting the blonde’s bound body up and following their commanding officer as fast as they can manage while leaving their dead to rot somewhere behind... |
