greyerrant (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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imperial_stage2012-05-06 11:17 pm
greyerrant) wrote in imperial_stage2012-05-06 11:17 pm
Entry tags:
Deathfire, Hope, and the Storm's Blade
Who: Garviel, Signum, and any snoopy watchers
What: The Holy Grail war continues
Where: Mount Death, otherwise known as Mount Deathfire in Ancient Belka
Warnings: ULTRAVIOLENCE. EXPLOSIONS. EXCESSIVE GAR. LONG SPEECHES.
The foot of Mount Death is an immensely complex series of lava tunnels and gate-like natural formations, entirely made from obsidian and other igneous materials. Loken's armor, freshly repainted and repaired by the Roman artificers marks him out as a white blot, dwarfed by the great gates behind him. Above them is mounted a huge skull, a draconic one from the times of the great Fire-drakes. A relic of the time when all of this land was Belkan, much as he was.
A breeze is the only thing that stirs the valley, vitrified lava floes halted forever in their motion. A dead place, where once the Circle of Fire burned in the breasts of the men who worked here, who fought the drakes, and who called Deathfire their great tribal home. Now, only ghosts remain, and bones. Empty vaults and quiet lava tubes, no more forges ringing, no more drakes roaring and clambering through fissures in the earth to hunt humans, fae, and in the lean times, even each other.
There is only the wind, which idly stirs the oaths of moment which have been freshly written onto parchments which are attached to Garviel's armored chest, stuck in place by wax seals. He waits for something, his face masked by his pugnacious-looking helm. He could be the last avatar of death in this place, a god of war that has burnt itself out, leaving only a single ivory playing piece to stride the battlefield.
He wonders if this was the right place to choose. So rich in the past stories of Belka, of the connection he shares with Archer. No.... he knows her name now, but he will not speak it, or even think it. Not yet. Not until she appears before him. So instead... he simply stands his silent vigil in the darkness. Hoping he can reach her, and find a way to end this war, once and for all. Perhaps he is doing this for too personal a reason, but he can no longer abide the thought of destroying one of the last remnants of Belka. It ends tonight. One way or another.
What: The Holy Grail war continues
Where: Mount Death, otherwise known as Mount Deathfire in Ancient Belka
Warnings: ULTRAVIOLENCE. EXPLOSIONS. EXCESSIVE GAR. LONG SPEECHES.
The foot of Mount Death is an immensely complex series of lava tunnels and gate-like natural formations, entirely made from obsidian and other igneous materials. Loken's armor, freshly repainted and repaired by the Roman artificers marks him out as a white blot, dwarfed by the great gates behind him. Above them is mounted a huge skull, a draconic one from the times of the great Fire-drakes. A relic of the time when all of this land was Belkan, much as he was.
A breeze is the only thing that stirs the valley, vitrified lava floes halted forever in their motion. A dead place, where once the Circle of Fire burned in the breasts of the men who worked here, who fought the drakes, and who called Deathfire their great tribal home. Now, only ghosts remain, and bones. Empty vaults and quiet lava tubes, no more forges ringing, no more drakes roaring and clambering through fissures in the earth to hunt humans, fae, and in the lean times, even each other.
There is only the wind, which idly stirs the oaths of moment which have been freshly written onto parchments which are attached to Garviel's armored chest, stuck in place by wax seals. He waits for something, his face masked by his pugnacious-looking helm. He could be the last avatar of death in this place, a god of war that has burnt itself out, leaving only a single ivory playing piece to stride the battlefield.
He wonders if this was the right place to choose. So rich in the past stories of Belka, of the connection he shares with Archer. No.... he knows her name now, but he will not speak it, or even think it. Not yet. Not until she appears before him. So instead... he simply stands his silent vigil in the darkness. Hoping he can reach her, and find a way to end this war, once and for all. Perhaps he is doing this for too personal a reason, but he can no longer abide the thought of destroying one of the last remnants of Belka. It ends tonight. One way or another.
no subject
"Garviel Loken," she begins, raising her sword.
"You are completely...and utterly...insane," she says, swinging Laevatein around to replace it in her scabbard.
"Must be getting soft in my old age..." she adds with a sigh, reaching out to take his hand in accord as the first plumes of magma start shooting up toward where the two Servants are standing.
no subject
"Of course I'm insane, Signum." He laughs, or coughs, or something of both, as the toxic gases of the reawakened mountain begin to spew forth, making his eyes tear up and his lunge ache. "I'm a Berserker." He tries to form a smile, showing his teeth, stark white against his darkened skin, lips cracking and bleeding. "We'll... we'll walk out of here together."
no subject
Moving to support the much larger man as best she can, she looks a few feet to her left, directly at where Shamal has been remote-sensing the battle with Klarwind.
Conduct both of us out of here, please, she says to her fellow knight mentally. You should be able to do that with the extra power from the Tarot card.
All of us need to talk.
no subject