The Nameless Gun Heist
Posted: Mon Feb 01, 2021 4:30 am
10th of Frost, 120
True to the human's word, the hollows were on the ground rushing to the scene. Arkash and Jacques both watched from the corner of the alley as the automatons flooded the courtyard from the factory itself and rushed to the scene Asmodei had created. He could smell the burning in the air, the promise of warmth. As alluring as it was, Arkash's sights were set on a different prize.
While the siren blared, Asmodei landed with a heavy thud behind the gathered nameless, then rose from his crouched position to straighten his form. "It's done," he spoke in affirmation.
Arkash looked back at the man and bowed his head. "Nice one," he returned simply. "The Oversee'as are still in 'ey towa's; 'course 'ey wouldn' go 'er 'emselves, not even faw 'e own citizens."
"So we need to sneak under them," Jacques affirmed. "Still, better than trying to squeeze through all those hollows."
The rathor bowed his head in a series of nods. The plan was working well; Jacques' plan, that was. He looked to the claws of his right hand and flexed the digits; the cold was beginning to creep upon him, as he'd lost a significant amount of dexterity. It didn't help that he'd sacrificed from that same hand just hours prior. Unnatural weakness coursed through his veins there and brought him to wince while he inspected his digits.
"You alright, Ark?" Spoke the velsign.
The rathor's yellow eyes lifted from his stiffened digits and settled on the tallest of his guardians. "Been out too long's all." His cold blood always came back to haunt him. The season of Frost was especially trying, as the frozen air and just about every surface stole the warmth from his bones. Regardless, he willed his body to move and stretched his rigid limbs.
"Hold it," the velsign warned. "You're not doing anyone any good sneaking in with lead for legs. Sit it out, Ark. The job's a cakewalk without the hollows on the ground."
The rathor shook his head with a furrow to his brow. "Naw, 'ew need me t'... Well, ew've only 'ad a few lessons in sneakin' 'roun'," he corrected himself partway through his sentence. It wouldn't be right of him to call them terrible, would it? But his concerns were valid. Without his guidance, they'd surely end up caught, right?
"It'll be fine, Ark. I've done my fair share of sneaking, you know."
Arkash rose a brow and crossed his arms with great difficulty. "Really?" His scales were numb, and his muscles weighed with heavy fatigue that rendered him sluggish, but he wasn't completely immobile.
"Yes, I have," he assured, then held out his gauntlet in a grabbing motion. "Give me your shortsword," he commanded as though it was already decided.
The rathor watched the Velsign with a mixture of disbelief and betrayal, which eventually peeled away to acceptance. Asmodei was right, even if his pride said otherwise. He was a liability to the mission if he couldn't properly move. With a sigh, he pulled the shortsword at his hip from its scabbard and handed it to the towering Velsign by the blade. His arms were rigid, clunky. Pulling the blade left him exhausted and even stirred his lungs to pull more of the frozen air into his body, though he resisted such weakness before the nameless.
Asmodei accepted the blade by the handle, then focused his ether to ignite the weapon with his Sigilic Pyromancy. Fiery red cracks tore through the metal as though it grew veins, and fiery warmth pulsed through the steel. Arkash hesitated as the winged man offered him the weapon back. "Warm yourself up on that while we're in there," he instructed. Indeed the blade radiated distinct warmth, and it wasn't as conspicuous as a barrel fire or what else they might have been able to use.
With a sigh, he nodded his head and withdrew to lean against the wall. He couldn't help but meet the gazes of the nameless as he stayed there. "...'Ew bes' ge' goin'; th' 'ollow's won' taek long t' clear up th' fi'a," he warned. With that, Asmodei bowed his head and motioned the rest of the nameless to follow him across the street.
All his raiding party bar Jacques departed for the factory across the street; The Daravinian had been appointed to guard their supplies on the mission. There, they stayed in silence while he drank the warmth of the enkindled blade. That was until Jacques spoke quietly in the dark of the alley.
"So, you're the leader but you take orders from the Velsign?" He asked with an inquisitive tilt of his head. "Is he the leader, then?"
The rath furrowed his brow. Something in his chest wrenched at the accusation. A leader? "We've got no leada'," he explained. "We dun' need'un; an' no'un follo's me if 'ey dun' feel liek i'."
Jacques scoffed, then brushed his darkened hair aside to open his gaze. "...With all your speeches and orders...? You certainly sound like a leader to me."
He shook his head. "I pr'sent an idea. 's up t' the person if 'ey follo' me or not, innit?"
"But the fact that you have followers implies that you're a leader," the Daravinian explained.
Arkash paused while he thought, then shook his head again. "Th' end justifies th' means. I dun' own 'ese people; they's free t' leave an' everyfin' if 'ey liek."
Jacques nodded in response to that. "...And what is your end, my friend?" He asked with the beginnings of a smile.
At that point, Arkash's body had stored enough of the blade's radiant heat that his breath began to form clouds of condensation again. Jacques had him; he'd figured Arkash out in the end before the rath could discover his motive. "...No maw leada's," he answered with a reptilian reflection of that same smile. "Real freedom, wivout feedin' th' pigs born maw forti'nate."
The human exhaled then, and rubbed at his temples. "Anarchy then? That's your goal? Create anarchy in Lorien?" The rathor thought for a moment. Was that anarchy? He supposed so, though he'd never thought to give it a word that wasn't 'Freedom'. A nod relayed his affirmation. "...That's ridiculous," Jacques returned. "You can't be serious; a band of malnourished peasants, overthrowing a monarchy, military, and nobility as powerful as in Lorien? That's outrageous!" The man laughed. "You're off your rocker, my friend!"
"Quiet down," Arkash returned with a scowl.
"More orders, hm-?"
"-Some'un'll 'ear 'ew-," he warned all too late. The thud of a heavy sabaton stopped at the entrance of the alley. Both the nameless turned to spy the Chevalier that stood there alone in the dark of night. The dark of their visor stared directly at the glowing blade the rathor held. They were found.
"Fuck-!" Jacques called as he began to shake; trauma of his own claimed his heart. That was right, Jacques had also been caught in the butchering some few days ago - he must have seen some awful things there.
The knight drew their sword, then turned to walk down the alley. They perceived a mage in Arkash. "Step aside, Citizen," spoke a deep voice to address the Daravinian as he steadily closed the gap.
Arkash looked to Jacques with caution and disbelief. Would he flee? No, how could he side with the monsters of the nation? The human was shaking, paralyzed with fear. "P-please..." He stammered. "Please help me! This mage has taken me hostage!" Arkash furrowed his brow at Jacques, then straightened out his body and stretched off his limbs. He'd never been able to fight off a Chevalier head-on, but his enkindled sword should help him that night. As for Jacques? The human best hope the rathor perished there that night.
The Daravinian scrambled down the alley and hid behind the knight while Arkash stood at the ready. He had no choice but to use his left hand, as his right was wrought with the weakness of sacrifice. He doubted he could hold the blade properly in his state. Atharen ultimately didn't care if he was ready or not, though. He was to standoff against a Chevalier with naught but his enkindled sword and the burning heat of betrayal in his heart.
Then again, he'd not liked Jacques until just moments prior. His yellow eyes watched the trembling coward beyond the plate of the Chevalier's armor until he vanished from view. The knight hadn't attacked him yet, perhaps they weren't accustomed to seeing someone hold firm against their advance?
No, they perceived Arkash to be a mage, they were measuring him. A shiver ran down his spine when he realized; the knight wasn't going to hold anything back. They saw a mage, a dangerous opponent. He'd have to fight his hardest to make it out of that Alley alive.
