V S M The house always wins

[Altanis]

It had been a merciful reprieve, their time in Karim.

Beyond the brief ventures into Dante's Abyss, and the welcome shade of the subterranean caverns beneath Black Mountain, Altanis had endured naught but desert, desert and more desert since her arrival into this world. Though the city itself was certainly still in a desert world, the environment around it was far more tolerable and even, dare she say it...pleasant. It was not altogether unlike home, in that way; an inhospitable landscape with a single place of respite and comfort situated in its center.

There was something...different about this place, though. It wasn't by design, exactly. From what she had gathered...this was simply where all the waters of this world happened to flow from. Building any kind of major city upon the surface of Mesa Roja left precious little other options, and none of them anywhere near as easy. It was perfectly sensible to find this place at this exact location, then...built around the fountains supposedly at the very literal center of the world, if one was to believe the rumors and boasting.

All that said, however...Altanis was far from idle during her time.

As much as it was a welcome relief and chance to finally relax and rest from the rigors of the desert, there was still much to be done. Especially when it began to turn out that the dear mister Joshua Graham was far from idle during their time in the city. The burned man had been quite busy, as well. Rumors had begun to haltingly whisper and circulate about his return, it seemed; those same rumors orbited around the news of certain events out in the desert and badlands, about things that had happened. The chaos and apparent mass slaughter of cultists and monsters at Black Mountain, the (somewhat exaggerated) tale of chasing, cornering, capturing, interrogating and butchering one of Jasper's Gems, the incident with managing to double-cross, betray and lead to the capture of one of Plaineview's agents...

It had all, it seemed, initially been attributed to Graham himself, once his return became known. He had certainly been present at every such unlikely event as it happened one after another, that much was for certain. But he as, as it turned out, a surprisingly humble man. He wished no credit for such grim tasks, if he had not actually performed them with his own hands. His work in the city was, thus, well cut out for him: quashing the rumors of his murderous return, and establishing the truth. He had merely been a guide to the one who had actually perpetrated the deeds in question.

Altanis wished she could say she was displeased by this, but....things had begun to slowly but surely shift and change for her, since Graham began his strange personal task, in a way that she couldn't really say was a bad thing. Originally she had been noticed only in passing, her fearsome demonic appearance garnering no small amount of alarm at first, though that quickly cooled to merely a constant wariness. Then it had turned to her being just someone who had been escorted by the burned man and been fortunate enough to make it out in one piece. Or even as a former competitor of Dante's Abyss some years ago, in a frustrating handful of cases. Someone had even had the audacity to mention they had the absurd merchandise Syntech had made in her likeness -- Altanis's spike of rage was only slightly mollified when they had positively gushed about the quality of it, and how much their child adored it.

Slowly but surely, however, as word spread...that began to change. She was recognized in other ways, as her own part in the events that were originally attributed to Joshua Graham began to spread...

* ~ * ~ *​

".....say. You notice how much attention you been gettin' whenever you go out around here?" the mechanic, Joey Blaese, finally spoke up one day. In a particularly audacious manner, she was sprawled out on her back, hands clasped together behind her head, and resting against Altanis's side as the centaur took a moment to rest herself, idly looking through a book of Karim's history she had managed to dig up. The girl had rapidly begin to grow far too comfortable, and lose her original wariness and apprehension, it seemed. Or any inclination to part ways and leave. "People are lookin' at ya all funny. Not the way they were when we first got here, like they were scared you were gonna start stealing babies to eat or something, either."

"Yes. I have noticed," Altanis murmured, flicking her tail to make it snap sharply just shy of taking the half-snoozing mechanic's hat right off her heat. "Due to Graham's work, no doubt."

"I dunno if it's just that, now," Morgans piped up from where she sat, in a chair near the open window, virtually nude save for her vest she had 'graciously' agreed to wear to stop anyone from getting uppity with her about 'exposure'. Comparatively cooler as it was in the city, and especially indoors, the heat was still getting to her too much to be comfortable otherwise, or so she had repeatedly complained about. It was something that Joey had, at first, given her no end of grief over -- after all, the big tough wannabe mercenary bad bitch about to be undone by a little hot weather, when the poor little wrench-girl from the boonies could tough it out no problem? It was hysterical, in the mind of at least one of them.

Galand and Graham had opted to take a separate room during their stay, for whatever mixture of politeness and retaining 'decency' as actually mattered to them. So they hadn't been present, but as they overheard through the walls....it had finally spilled over one day -- or rather, one particularly warm and unpleasantly stifling night -- into an almost comical altercation, while Altanis had stepped out to tend to some business or other. A slightly more inebriated than usual Morgans, complaining of the heat, had been needled one poke too many by Joey after an increasingly heated (and mostly lighthearted) back and forth, and decided to retaliate in a more physical manner.

The exact particulars were never really made clear, as the only ones who knew the entire story -- namely, Joey and Morgans -- refused to elaborate beyond the most basics. All Altanis knew for certain was that she had returned in the early hours of morning, shortly before sunrise, to discover the two women completely naked, somewhere between fast asleep and unconscious, and in a tangled heap together among a heap of discombobulated room room furnishings and bedding. A scene, and physical altercation, she found herself sorely disappointed she had missed being a part of. The following morning, all they would say was that 'Joey won', and from then on her incessant teasing seemed to fall off almost altogether. She seemed to have made her point, whatever it was.

Altanis still wasn't altogether sure if the encounter had been sexual or violent -- or even possibly both.

For now, however...Morgans sat leaned back so heavily that only two legs of her seat resting on the floor, one arm draping over the back of it to rest on the windowsill while her other dangled down below, only keeping a tentative grasp on her drink of choice. "You ain't exactly been shy about goin' around out there, doin' this and that and whatever the hell else. You an' me an' that big lanky pal of yours." She leaned forward, lifting her arm to heavily plop her bottle down on the table. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were tryin' to make a name for yourself and get known around here."

"With a certain group, maybe," Joey mused.

Morgans just snorted in amusement. "Heh...yeah. You seen the way she looks at and acts around them Gerudo, or whatever ya call 'em?"

"I can hear you both, you know," the demon growled.

"Yeah, I know ya can, boss lady," Joey drawled. "But I also hear ya didn't say we were wrong, either."

Altanis heaved a long, drawn out sigh laden with faux-suffering as she pinched and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. "Sometimes I truly do regret keeping you both alive..."

Beginning Quest: The Gerudo's history preserved 'neath the sand
Post Word Count: 1,392
Total Word Count: 1,392/10,000

 

[Altanis]

"So tell me somethin', ya crazy old horse...." Galand's unmistakable voice rattled out of his helmet, the elder demon slamming down a half-empty tankard of comical proportions on the table between himself and the woman he had been coerced into being a banner-bearer for. He leaned down so his head was on level with hers, one eye glimmering brightly through the curved slit of his helmet as he regarded her. "Why have you been actin' all weird lately, since we got here, huh?"

It was an unexpected outing, to say the least of it. Almost entirely because Galand had been the one to suggest it; something about getting away from the others. Shorty, weak human-lings, as he had put it. Just for a chance to have a serious chat, demon-to-demon, without having to worry about making things sound good or come up with roundabout excuses that were still the truth for the sake of saving face and still seeming to be in charge in front of them.

It had been all well and good as an idea. Nothing was really amiss about it. Though the scene at hand, now that it had arrived, did perhaps look somewhat....odd. Being effectively asked out to dinner, even with such a genuine and legitimate reason for doing so, struck a faintly amusing chord within Altanis's mind. How it must have looked to anyone and everyone else in that unassuming looking restaurant — just fancy enough to qualify for using the word at all, but laid back and 'seedy' enough that someone of Galand's boisterous and teetering-on-the-edge-of-violence demeanor was not only tolerated, but welcomed. The fact it was just one street away from one of the central, main roads of Karim and only a quick call or frantic shout away from the city's infamous law enforcement probably helped in that regard.

"Acting weird, you say...?" Altanis murmured, matching the fearsome demon general's gaze without batting an eye. One of her lips curled upward in a smirk, bearing just the barest gleaming hint of sparkling white fang. "Why, my dear little truth-enforcer...whatever do you mean?" She lifted a hand, delicately touching a fingertip to the prominent beard-spike of Galand's helmet, and with seemingly no effort waggled the old man's head to and fro. "Have I done something amiss, hmm?"

Both of Galand's eyes lit up in a blaze of emerald light, and for a moment he looked like he might lash out violently....then he just threw his head back and burst into uproarious, thundering laughter. "Clever girl!" he bellowed, calming down after several moments. "Getting around answering the question directly like that." He leaned back in his seat, hands resting on his knees, and let a quiet chuckle continue to rumble around in his chest.

"......it's a genuine question, though," he went on after lapsing into silence for several seconds. "Things've taken a pretty stark turn since we got into town. You've been so...laid-back. All quiet and reserved, like." He reached up to grasp at his beard-spike, tugging on it and running his fingers over the sharp point in mostly-silent contemplation. "Way you were goin' beforehand, I figured you'd have been outta here the moment you could be, off on some new grand scheme or other."

"Ah, yes..." This time it was Altanis's turn to break out into laughter, though much more quiet and less explosively boisterous than her compatriot. "I can see how that would seem rather odd. Suffice to say there is...business I have here. It would be a shame to let Mister Graham's efforts in spreading word of my good name go to waste, and there are some...arrangements I should like to make before we do inevitably depart."

She reclined in her chair, lifting one leg to cross it over the other. In a token practice effort for some of her old abilities she was re-developing, she had opted for a more humanoid appearance. Still very visibly demonic, and one she doubted would fool anyone for very long as a disguise, but...it was a relatively simple change, by comparison. Based on a succubus she had once been rather...close with, and close to, in her home world. Once upon a time, many many millennia ago she had walked on two legs herself; it was an effort to relearn the skill, but she was managing. Nearly all demons had a tail of some kind. It was only the wings that had proven difficult to contend with.

Still...after a brief look in the mirror before her venturing out into the city, she had been quite content with the extent of the changes.

"There is also, of course....the more mundane side of things to consider," she went on. "It has been quite some time since my arrival here...and I have scarcely had the chance to simply unwind and relax. Even an eternal being such as myself has need of rest, and time to let one's mind...unwind." She let her eyes drift closed, tilting her head back slowly. "And I have need of a bit of...quiet time, to study and research some things. Self-study, to see just what shape and condition my abilities are in, as well as the way of things in this....new world."

"Grrrm....." Galand grumbled wordlessly, merely fetching his tankard -- or at least, he called it as such, but it was really more akin to a small barrel with a handle hastily bolted on -- and proceeded to noisily glug and chug down the rest of his beverage of choice, streams of the foamy brew running down from the corners of his mouth messily. For everything he was, a polite and well-mannered dinner guest was not one of the things that the demonic general could ever claim to be.

"Too much thinkin' for me!" He announced, followed by a noise somewhere between a contented sigh and an echoing belch as he slammed his tankard down again. "I'm already itchin' to get back into the action. All this sittin' around...." He waved a hand in the air, with a dull grumble rising up through his throat. "....I don't like it! Not one bit!"

"At ease, Galand," Altanis said. Her words were soft-spoken, but her tone was hard as steel and cold as ice. "It is, you might say, my job to think. To overthink, in some cases. To be informed and prepared." She gave her spaded tail a flick, a light telekinetic tug drawing her own drink over to her. "I have spent too long in this world already without taking any real time to do that." With one hand she delicately tugged at the front of her blouse, prodding at one of the buttons with a clawed nail as it seemed to come undone of its own volition. She hated wearing clothes sometimes. They could be so....confining.

"Besides, dear Galand." She slowly turned her hand over, curling her index finger upward and toward her palm. A thin stream of the dark liquid in her cup -- some variety of local tea or the like, she certainly hadn't been paying much attention when given the recommendation -- rose up and coiled about in the air not unlike a rope. A gentle flick of her tail and the stream flowed merrily along, coiling and circling around and up her outstretched arm, over her shoulder and making a brief ring around her neck, rimming along the banding of the ornate collar she had affixed to herself. It rose up, flowing into an elaborate heart shape before her lips. If she was going to assume the form of a succubus...then perhaps she should work on her ostentatiously suggestive and flirtations mannerisms. It wasn't exactly her strong suit.

"According to mister Graham, there is someone who wishes a meeting with us. He seemed quite grave about that when he informed me as such." She gave a soft, clearly amused laugh, rather blatantly pleased about this information . "You may yet get a chance to go a little wild, before we have to actually leave this place." And she let her tongue flick out, the formed tip touching the bottom most point of the tea-heart floating before her face, and with a quiet schlurp, it flowed into her barely parted lips as if through a straw.

As Galand burst into a boisterous laugh of his easily-won approval, Altanis's golden eyes flicked up to the poor woman who had the (mis)fortune of being their server that day, staring back at her with wide eyes and the barest tinge of red adorning her face. "Is...um....everything alright for the two of you, over here?" she managed after a moment to collect herself. "Did you need anything else?"

With a perhaps somewhat overly done display, the shapeshifted demon withdrew her tongue agonizingly slowly, taking a moment to lick her lips before it was full withdrawn. "Well....I suppose we did just get some good news, so it might not hurt to indulge a little. And since you've been so wonderful about it so far..." She smiled sweetly, tilting her head just slightly to one side. "....is there anything special you might recommend?"

Quest: The Gerudo's history preserved 'neath the sand
Post Word Count: 1,523
Total Word Count: 2,915/10,000

 

[Altanis]

The 'business' she had caught wind of according to Graham was, as it turned out, not just idle chatter. It was very far from it, as she found out firsthand upon receiving a request for a meeting, courtesy of a message from someone calling themselves only 'Netena'. Joey had speculated, and Graham had confirmed, it was at the very least a name of Gerudo origin, which lead to a stark sense of wonder at just what this entire ordeal could be about.

Some days later, she was given her answer. Arriving at the destination where this oddly hushed meeting was set to take place, she beheld it as...something of an unexpected wonder. Though it held an outward façade of simple construction typical of such desert-based environs — stone and brickwork, reinforced with timber — the true depth of it was clearly much, much more impressive. The formidable metal reinforcements, delicately and painstakingly crafted to nigh-seamlessly blend in with the rest of the architecture. The barely noticeable gleam of countless security measures at play, hidden weapons and cameras and who knew what other technology. Though it seemed a simple, almost primitive place, it was a veritable fortress.

It was something she could most certainly appreciate.

She was greeted and welcomed, if somewhat brusquely and quickly, only shortly after her arrival. They had been expecting her, as it happened. Though, admittedly, they had been anticipating...others to accompany her, and her rather stark change in appearance had caused a momentary bout of confusion. All the same, she was lead inside, accompanied by two guards. The experience was novel on both sides, in a certain sense — the two Gerudo accompanying her having to look up to speak to someone, and Altanis being able to comfortably stand fully upright indoors. The entire ordeal was rather guarded, the two Gerudo being perfectly polite and civil, but seeming either reluctant or unwilling to truly delve into any kind of conversation.

Eventually, she was lead to a rather unassuming room, not unlike an office or meeting room of some sort, where she was bid to wait. It seemed comfortable enough, if somewhat quaint in its design. There were ample places to sit between a large stone bench along one wall and numerous chairs and cushions and such littered about the other walls, a rather bizarrely incongruous window on the wall opposite the entryway, and a rather commanding stone desk and chair. The juxtaposition of such a serious and stern-looking office being meshed with the same room as a place ostensibly designed to wait and relax was...quite something, to have it put mildly.

"I do hope I won't be kept waiting long," Altanis murmured, resting on hand on her hip. "I won't hesitate to admit that the curiosity over why I was so urgently asked to come here, and so secretly, it just killing me."

"We do not know why you were asked to come here," one of the guards admitted. "Only to expect your arrival, and to inform Netena that you were here."

"Mmm....really, now? Is that all you were told?" The demon's eyes drifted half-closed, with a soft, contemplative hum, looking the one who had spoken up and down, before casting her gaze to the other momentarily. "Well, if that's the case...I suppose there's nothing for it, is there?" And she let a faint smirk twitch at one corner of her lips. "Go tell her I'm here, then. I'll be waiting."

"Of course." One after the other, with that same guarded sense of them both pointedly keeping an eye on her at all times, they offered a short half-bow. "Sav'orq, outsider." With no further ado, they quickly departed, and Altanis was left alone. Presumably, at least, only for now. Based on how they had been acting, she was all but certain it wouldn't be for very long.

"All this seriousness," she murmured to herself, turning to slowly pace across the room. "Does make one think, doesn't it...?" It was making her re-evaluate what this might have all been about. It could have been some kind of trap, she supposed...though that would have been entirely predicated on her walking into it unprepared. She had ended up coming alone, of course, but there would have been no way to really ensure that. Galand's mere presence could have thrown things into such disarray that it would have rendered no small amount of scheming and planning utterly useless. Not even his peculiar ability to render lying all but useless and impossible, but for all his eccentricities and bumbling drunk battle-hungry old man demeanor....there was a frightening degree of cunning and animal instinct buried just below the surface, that his self-professed advanced age didn't seem to have dulled whatsoever.

Morgans herself was also usually on a hair trigger, and the fact she had only one eye didn't seem to prevent her from noticing treacherous shenanigans when something was clearly amiss. Joshua Graham's uncanny ability to remain perpetually calm and unflinching, keeping whatever emotions might have been boiling in his mind carefully veiled behind his bandaged face, would have been another grave issue to contend with. Even Altanis had a frustrating time getting a solid read on that man, most of the time. The mechanic, Joey Blaese....might have been the least problematic, though perhaps her remarkable lack of any kind of hangup in voicing the most obvious, blunt questions would have been of some help in rooting out any suspicious activity before it was too late.

To say nothing of the fact that she might have just elected not to show up at all, to something so closely guarded and blatantly suspicious.

"Perhaps I'm thinking far too much about this, though." She took a seat, delicately perching herself on the edge of the windowsill. "Surely they wouldn't go to all the bother of orchestrating something this...roundabout, for any reasons so nefarious." She crossed her arms before her, turning her gaze to peer out the window. No, if it were anything even approaching a method to dispose of her or something like that....well. They could have simply not told Graham at all, and done something even more subtle, springing it on them without chance of being discovered. She had gathered by now, from what she had seen and learned from questioning others and her reading and study of Karim and its history that the Gerudo were far from strangers to such....activities. To say nothing of the city's other ruling house, which she was admittedly far more wary of, and knew much less about.

"....bah." She clicked her tongue, quickly banishing such thoughts from her mind. It was just as likely to be something painfully mundane, after all. Perhaps they simply wanted to have some official meeting, and put an identity to the name and face that they had become aware of through Graham's fervent preaching and rumor-mongering of late.

She turned her attention instead to other, more physically immediate and present things. Like the view from this window. Or the existence of this window at all. There had been no sight of such a large opening from outside. Perhaps it was simply because it was on another side of the building than she had seen, of course, but.... Slowly curling her tail around, she delicately prodded at the window with the pointed spade tip. It touched something....not quite glass; more flexible, somehow, and yet far stronger and sturdier...some kind of plastic-like, synthetic material? A dull vibrating ripple spread out from the light impact, geometric swirls of light flickering along for several centimeters in all directions.

"Ah....so that's it, is it?" she murmured, a light smirk touching the corners of her lips. "Some kind of concealment, or hologram, perhaps... Appearing perfectly mundane from without...but from within, affording quite the different scene." She felt a quiet chuckle bubble up from somewhere within. "Technology such as this...is something I can certainly admire..." she all but purred, lifting a hand to gently run her clawed nails over the strange surface, admiring the softly coruscating geometric ripples coursing out from wherever she touched.

She was broken from her chance by the quickly approaching, rhythmic click of heels on the seemingly faux-stone flooring of the building's floors. She didn't turn back to the room directly, but did shift her eyes to observe it via its reflection in the mysterious window.

Moments later, another Gerudo came swiftly, purposefully striding into the room, accompanied by two others. The one at the forefront was clearly in charge, judging from the way she carried herself; her demeanor and bearing were far more intense and severe, her choice of attire was far more elegant and splendid, speaking quite pointedly to a somewhat higher position in whatever the hierarchy of their people was. She stood nearly a full head taller than most others that Altanis had seen before that moment, her hair a much more notable dark, bloody red color, with her eyes standing out as a fierce, vibrant blue color. Something she had chosen to accentuate with an almost identical shade for her facepaint and choice of makeup. She carried no weapons and wore no visible armor, and aside from a pair of exceptionally ornate golden bracelets around her wrist, seemed devoid of any readily apparent means to defend herself with in any fashion.

The two with her, meanwhile, not only carried weapons openly with them — a long, ornately-decorated glaive with a curving blade nearly as long as a sword for someone of a more 'normal' stature — but they were clad...very differently, their choice of attire far more light, flowing, and revealing; seemingly made all of silken veils and gold bangles, leaving very little to the imagination. As it was, though...it not only fully showed off both the delicate and masterfully-crafted, jeweled armor they had bedecked themselves with — as much decorative as functional, it seemed, though clearly favor given to the former over the latter — it did virtually nothing to hide the incredibly curvaceous, muscular, and battle-scarred amazonian body that it was worn upon. If anything, it seemed intended fully to accentuate and display it, sending a clear message: they were not to be trifled with.

Certainly, it was an imposing and impressive sight, that spoke one thing very clearly: the one who stood out so strongly was clearly in charge here, the two with her would put a swift end to anything that even smelled slightly amiss, and there would be no questions to the contrary.

Altanis absorbed all this within a single passing glance, her half-lidded eyes not shifting from their cast even one iota. She made no effort, however, to hide her open admiration of the appearance of those she was a guest of, however, her lips curling up into a delighted smirk as her tail slowly crept and wound itself tightly around one of her legs. The mere thought of having attendants of that caliber...as equally deadly as beautiful, and as beautiful as deadly. They would be equally at home in matters of business, of war, and of...pleasure, she suspected. Why yes...yes, at their size they might even be able to....

"Sav'aaq, outsider." The much taller than normal Gerudo spoke up, shattering Altanis's daydream and fancy, dragging her back to the matter at hand. She had approached to within....just out of spear range, it seemed, both arms resting on her hips. "You are the one that is called...Altanis, yes?" Tall as she was, the top of her head still barely reached chin-height on the demon, forcing her to still look up slightly to make eye contact, even at such a distance.

"Yes, that would be me," the demon murmured, finally turning fully about to look at them face to face. "I was bid come to a meeting with....Netena, I believe." She folded her arms in her lap. "Would the, perchance, be you?"

"It would, yes." Netena nodded in the affirmative. "You are not as anticipated. The missionary, Joshua Graham....the Burned Man, as most know him. He described you very...differently." Her eyes narrowed, rather pointedly looking Altanis up and down, sizing her up. "To hear him tell of you, I would have thought you some before now undocumented type of lynel."

A light, gleaming flash sparkled through Altanis's eyes. "Ah...yes. Dear mister Graham," she murmured, lifting one hand to cup her cheek. "He was not mistaken in his descriptions, I assure you. I have simply begun to...experiment with some new abilities, you might say. Changes and disguises to my form. I trust it will not be a problem...?"

Netena shook her head. "No. If anything, it is quite impressive. Our reports before this spoke nothing that even suggested such a skill. That you can manage something like that so quickly speaks well of your talents." She turned aside, pacing methodically across the room and around the immense desk. "Perhaps it may even be of use in a certain...task, that we have decided to ask of you."

"Oho?" This caught Altanis's attention quite soundly, making her rise from her perch at the window, and adopting a sedate pace as she slowly sashayed across the room toward the opposite side of the desk, herself. "I must admit that I am rather curious as to why you would ask something of me, of all people. Surely such a relative newcomer and....unknown quantity isn't worth trusting anything even moderately important to."

"There are...certain factors at play here," Netena said gravely, slowly sinking into the oppressive looking stone chair. "Factors that align to make you a perfect candidate to ask for this particular request." She lifted a hand, making a gesture almost too quickly for Altanis to parse, and the two Gerudo with her took a step back, clacked the haft of their spear against the floor once, gave a brief, quarter-bow, and retreated to stand flanking either side of the door leading into the room.

"Please...take a seat." The Gerudo official swept an arm around, indicating the room at large. An open invitation: make yourself comfortable as you see fit. "There is some...history to tell, before we can reach the nature of the actual request."

Quest: The Gerudo's history preserved 'neath the sand
Post Word Count: 2,354
Total Word Count: 5,269/10,000

 

[Altanis]

"What I am about to tell you is something we only rarely speak of at all, and even less so to outsiders," Netena began. "It is something of an embarrassing secret long in our past. I trust you understand the trust we are placing in you to even speak of this matter at all."

"I'm honored, certainly," Altanis murmured, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Had the woman not just said that this was a matter of convenience more than anything? That certain factors at play had made it simply the best option available? To speak of trust now was almost offensive. "Rest assured, I understand perfectly. I will speak of it to no one else, save for those whom I work closely with and will be...taking with me on whatever endeavor you have to ask of me."

For a moment that dragged out just long enough to grow uncomfortable, the imposing Gerudo woman held the demon across from her with a stern, unblinking gaze...then finally blinked once, with a noncommittal grunt of acknowledgement. "Very well. Then to the matter at hand..."

"As I said, it concerns something from long, long ago in our past." Her gaze slowly drifted aside, toward the windows, before she went on. "There were once two witches among our people. Wise elders, with immense knowledge gained from both long lives and magical divinations. They were responsible for the creation of a great many precious and powerful artifacts during their years among us. Eventually, they suffered a...fall." Her lips pressed together in a thin line, her expression twisting into a scowl. There was much more that could be said, it was clear. "Wickedness and greed consumed them, in their own personal endeavors, and they were lost to us."

"Their fate at the end does not overshadow or discount the great many deeds and creations they left as a legacy, however." Netena's gaze snapped sharply back to meet Altanis's. "Their fall only served to make the artifacts and wisdom they left behind all the more precious and closely guarded."

"I believe I can understand the sentiment quite well, as it so happens." The demon inclined her head. "Certainly, in my own world, there were...similar enough matters. A sudden spiraling fall into madness and obsession over some frivolity or other that became all-consuming. The scars it left, both on the people involved and the world at large, were never truly forgotten."

The Gerudo's fierce expression didn't quite soften, but some of the outright anger seemed to ever so subtly bleed away. "It is so, yes," she agreed. "The wounds inflicted upon our people by the fall of Koume and Kotake and unlikely to ever fully heal, and are never to be forgotten, lest we repeat the same mistakes ourselves."

"....but this matter does not concern them directly. Rather, it concerns two specific relics they left behind." At this, Netena reached down into a drawer of the desk between them and produced a pair of parchment scrolls. "Aside from their symbolism, they were also potent artifacts of power." Unfurling the scrolls, she pointed to them in turn. Somewhat stylized depictions, but clear enough in what they portrayed. "The Desert Heat, a mystical totem with the power to warm the hearts of all those under its sway. And the Bandit's Chill, with an equally powerful effect to calm and soothe even the most fierce rage within the hearts of others. They were even said to have another power when combined, but...whatever that may have been has been lost to us over such a long age."

Altanis leaned forward slightly over the desk, reaching her hand out slightly with a a curled finger, and looking at Netena with a light curling of one eyebrow. An unspoken 'may I?', which received a silent nod in response. A gentle flick of one finger and the two scrolls were enshrouded in a hazy, wavering scarlet aura as they lifted from the desktop and floated toward the demon, coming to rest hovering just before her. As she looked them over, she plucked a pair of glasses from where they rested, only barely and precariously hanging on to a pocket of her perilously straining shirt. She certainly didn't need them to see — her vision was as pristine and perfect as could be, of course — but they made for a clear enough point: she was paying careful attention to the details.

The fact they served as a lens for her holo-link to capture an image of each scroll for her records and later perusal among her allies was another matter altogether. The scrolls contained little in the way of useful information, regrettably. Merely an image of the artifact in question, along with its name as rendered in what could only be assumed as an ancient Gerudo dialect. Not much to go off of as to whatever secret they may have held.

"A neatly matched pair of opposite effects, I see," she finally murmured. "Almost poetically named after the environment in which they were crafted, as well." She adjusted the glasses on her face, slipping them slightly lower so as to peer over them at the stern Gerudo woman across the desk from her. "I take it these relics are...key to this task in some way?"

"In a manner of speaking." Netena shook her head. "These precious relics were thought lost to us some time ago....when they were stolen by an outsider." Her expression hardened, a cold gleam flashing in her eyes as her words took on a venomous tinge. "A wizard of some sort, from off world, by the name of Sheru. A strange being with green skin, pointed ears not unlike our own though much larger, and odd antennae upon his head. A Namekian, he said. He wore white clothing, calling himself a 'hero', and managed to gain enough trust to be able to at the least move freely among us..." Netena's hand curled into a fist, and she struck the desk hard enough to make it rattle. "...he stole both artifacts and fled the city."

Altanis leaned back in her seat at this revelation, quirking one eyebrow upward as she slowly reached up to remove her glasses. "Are his actions at all related to why you have such a wariness to trust outsiders? Or, for that matter...why another outsider such as myself is 'a perfect candidate' for this task?"

"Hmph. I would hope such a thing was obvious," Netana growled. "His treachery was some hundred years ago, but it taught us a lesson most valuable. Since that day when he escaped, we have not forgotten his treachery, nor have we not longed for the recovery of these artifacts for even a single moment. But his location was never able to be found...he died only a short time after his theft, from some vile disease which eroded his very soul. Our divinations are potent, but even we could not track the path of a dead man."

"Hmm...." Altanis crossed her arms over her chest, and brought one leg up to rest over the other. Behind her, her tail lifted up and lightly prodded at each of the scrolls still hovering before her, making each one in turn curl up again and gently float back down to Netena's side of the desk. The pointed tip of her tail then came up, and lightly tapped at her chin as she hummed softly in thought. "If you could not track the path of this dead man...why not simply track what he stole, instead? If these artifacts were so potent and treasured, their magical signature should have been as good as any beacon."

Something almost like respect flashed through the fierce Gerudo's eyes, if only for the most fleeting of moments indeed before being replaced by irritation, as she carefully took the scrolls and stored them safely away again. "We thought as much ourselves. The difficulty of that was...they were treasured, precious artifacts, as you say. As such, they had been kept securely locked away, and only scarcely put to actual use. Their magical signatures and aura were not well-known to us at the time of their theft. What residual energy remained where they had been kept was so faint as to make tracking it...difficult."

"We were waylaid by a lack of accurate records and an inability to accurately divine and track the location of our own most precious relics. It was an utter failure on our part, one which we may never truly recover from the embarrassment of." Her hands both curled tightly into fists as she rested them uneasily on the desk. "....recently, however. One of our most gifted seers has managed to unearth their location. We know precisely where the relics are...but we can spare no one to go retrieve them."

"Mmm?" Altanis's lips curved into a faint smirk. "Ah...I see now..." she murmured. "That is what you wish to ask of me. To go retrieve them for you?"

"....precisely." Netena locked eyes with the demon across from her. "You have thus far shown yourself to be capable and competent, and made yourself an enemy of our own enemies. Your deeds have made you quite well respected among this city, and within our house. Outsider or no, you were a natural choice. Though not a fully known quantity...you have proven you will not broker foolishness or the frivolous abuse of power. We would sooner see these relics destroyed, or at the least kept out of the hands of those who would use them for nefarious means."

Altanis simply gave a soft 'humm' to that, he clawed fingertips idly drumming on her forearm as her tail swayed slowly to and fro before her. Normally such a simple errand would be starkly beneath her. She was no simple courier, or underling to be sent off on some inane fetch quest like this! That said, though...this request was certainly not one made lightly, as had been made painfully apparent. It almost seemed to physically distress Netena to discuss certain aspects of this matter, putting the normally fiery and fierce woman on the backfoot, even if only for the briefest of moments. It spoke volumes as to how important this could be, and of how far it could go to....improved relations with the Gerudo as a whole, should she subject herself to such a menial task.

"Very well," Altanis finally murmured, with a soft sigh. "I will need more information about where I am to go hunting if you intend to ask this of me, but I can hardly turn down such a genuine request. Especially when, as you have so succinctly put it...I do so abhor letting power be abused by foolish hands."

"That is a most welcome thing to hear." Relief almost visibly washed over Netena, her posture noticeably relaxing. "Then listen well, for our divinations have revealed troubling things to us about the location where these artifacts now lay..."

Quest: The Gerudo's history preserved 'neath the sand
Post Word Count: 1,824
Total Word Count: 7,093/10,000

 

[Altanis]

"We are...aware of where these artifacts now reside, as I believe I have previously said," Netena finally went on, after a lengthy pause. "At first, upon receiving word of this from our diviners, we were immensely pleased. When we found out where they were, however, our hopes were just as suddenly dashed."

"Something quite problematic about the location, I take it?" Altanis murmured. "Or rather...not the location itself."

"Correct." The stern gerudo woman grimaced. "The location itself is not...ideal, but it would not be a problem on its own. It is who has taken root there."

"Ah...uninvited guests." Altanis shifted in her seat, slowly uncrossing her legs and crossing them the other way. "Every the omnipresent nuisance, it seems, no matter where one goes."

"To put it mildly." Netana scowled. "Bandits, raiders and treasure hunters. A formidable enough bunch on their own merits, I must unfortunately admit. They've been pillaging the desert of its valuables for some time now, and have proven successful enough to remain alive after going against other like-minded groups, so they aren't exactly your average gaggle of boneheaded gold-seekers."

"Hmm." The transfigured demon let her eyes drift close in thought, idly drumming her clawed nails against her bicep. "There is more to the matter, I trust?" she finally spoke, cracking one eye open. "A bunch of desert hoodlums, of any description, would no doubt be a trivial matter for you, if you bent enough resources toward it."

Netena's lips pressed into a thin line, as she leaned forward in her own seat slightly. The scowl had not left her face, but her eyes had taken on a sharp gleam now, as she focused the full weight of her attention on Altanis. "Mind your words, outsider," she all but hissed. "You are correct in that assumption, but your impudence is rapidly beginning to try my patience."

Altanis heaved a sigh, lowering her gaze and shaking her head slowly. "....forgive me, then. I have no intention of being disrespectful, if I have been. I am merely trying to gather as much information as I am able to about this situation. It seems very...delicate, and time-sensitive." She lifted her gaze again, her eyes fluttering partially open. "I pray you forgive any discourtesy on my part if I...do not mince words about this matter. You took the effort to come to me directly for assistance, and I wish only to be properly informed as quickly as possible."

The tension in the room remained so thick it was almost palpable for a long, silent stretch of time with neither woman so much as moving an inch or diverting their eyes from one another. Eventually, however, Netena relented with a soft hissing of breath as she relaxed her posture. "....very well, then. By the graces of how delicate and urgent this matter truly is, and who has deigned to give me this task to ask it of you, we will set aside your breaches of respect in the name of expedience."

The demon merely inclined her head briefly in a soft, seated bow. "You have my gratitude, and my further apologies."

The gerudo official waved a hand dismissively. "Enough. Let us move on and be done with this, then." She paused for a moment to regather her thoughts, before forging ahead. "The band of treasure hunters is not the only problematic issue. It is some recent allies they have gathered under their banner. We had not heard reports of this through our conventional channels, but divinations report they have gathered ogres of some description to their banner." Her eyes flashed darkly, as she briefly looked aside. "....ogres capable of magic, no less."

This finally got a genuine reaction out of Altanis, making her sit up straight. "Ogre mages, you say..." she muttered, a frown creasing her lips. "I see. That is very problematic, indeed..."

"Naturally, as you succinctly deduced, even that would not be a problem for us under normal circumstances. To reclaim artifacts of our lost ancestors, we could muster any force necessary. However..." Here her voice faltered slightly, as she seemed to struggle for words. "...the ones most capable of this task are otherwise occupied. Incidents here at home, in Karim, and across Mesa Roja at large. Whispers of this...Darkseid, of his corrupting influence creeping into our lands, and his servants collaborating with the Ahn Qiraji. We have our best working to investigate and attend to these tasks, as they are an immediate and present threat we cannot sit idle and ignore."

Altanis's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of Darkseid. As loathe as she was to admit it...she could understand the dilemma. As much of an arrogant, delegating fool as the so-called dark god seemed, his influence and ability to drive others into a maddened frenzy was unmistakable. It wasn't even by virtue of some twisted charisma or personal attraction; it was something far darker, far deeper, far more...unholy and vile. She had seen only passing traces of his true influence, the true depths of his Unmaking and what it could do to people and things, and while few things in this world or any other could be said to actually frighten her...

Darkseid's corruption chilled her to the bone.

"I see," is all she said in response to Netena's revelation. "I have had run-ins with those driven mad by Darkseid's influence. I can certainly appreciate the risk that allowing even a possibility of his servants' presence to fester."

"Then you understand why we have asked this of you," the gerudo official spoke quietly. "As I said, we have taken note of you and your deeds. While we do not see perfectly eye to eye on some matters, you have proven more than capable and many of our sisters already know of you and hold you and your deeds in some level of esteem. With the ones we would normally ask to undertake such an important, and to be frank, extremely perilous endeavor otherwise busy with such pressing concerns..."

Altanis's lips curled up slightly at one corner, in a mirthless smirk. "You needn't elaborate further," she said softly. "We have already covered why you asked me in particular well enough. Though you may not say it so directly...I am merely the best of a set of bad options, no? Between asking for my aid, trying to find some other similarly competent and agreeably-minded vagabond, or waiting for others of your house to be available whilst praying that you do not lose track of these relics again..." She laughed softly, shaking her head.

"....I envy you not your situation, miss Netena. Truly, I do not."

Netena's eyes flashed darkly again, as her hands slowly curled into fists. "You seem to have quite an accurate understanding of our predicament."

"I am no stranger to making hard decisions, with none of them being ideal, I assure you." Altanis flicked her tail lightly at this statement. "At times, I have been presented with no options or choices even as favorable as the one you have made by asking me. To say that I may be in a...unique situation to understand precisely how delicate and difficult this entire affair is would not be untrue."

"....you are an absolutely infuriating individual," Netena finally muttered. "Do you take enjoyment in being so deliberately obtuse and acting in such a smugly all-knowing way?"

"Enjoyment? Hardly." Altanis laughed. "If anything, it can be quite bothersome. Have you any idea how hard it is to feign genuine cluelessness and surprise when dealing with less subtle sorts?"

This drew, for perhaps the first time, the briefest and most fleeting touch of amusement across the stern official's face. "I can only imagine." And she once again reached into her desk, procuring something. A small blue crystalline cube, etched with intricate designs on all of its faces, delicate traces of gold at its corners. "Take this. It is....a map, of sorts. It will lead you to the complex of ruins where these treasure hunters have taken root. Much it lies beneath the desert sands, and we have precious few records of it...our divinations did not reveal its size, or where within it the relics or these raiders lie in wait. Regrettably, that means you will..."

"...be on my own, once there," Altanis murmured, picking up the cube and lightly rotating it in her grasp. "That will not be a problem. Archaeology is hardly one of my specialties, but I have done my fair share of...dungeon delving in the past. I will manage."

"Then we will await your return."

Quest: The Gerudo's history preserved 'neath the sand
Post Word Count: 1,429
Total Word Count: 8,522/10,000

 

[Altanis]

After the admittedly somewhat unexpected meeting, Altanis was left with quite a bit to think about.

The so-called map, as she had found out after managing to figure out how it actually worked, did in fact show her the way to where she would need to go on this errand. Quite exquisitely so, in fact — something between liquid and crystal, light shining from it projecting the near-enough equivalent of a holographic display and interface. It was such a fascinating little contraption, the kind of thing that was sorely, sorely tempting to end up 'losing' in the no doubt chaotic mess of recovering these artifacts so she might have a chance to study it more closely at her leisure, in the safety and security of her waiting ship.. Though of course, she supposed, there was always the option to just never mention it and pray it was forgotten entirely in favor of news of the other, much more precious and important items involved in this little fetch-quest she had been handed.

Or, as the sometimes infuriatingly simple-minded mechanic Joey Blaese had pointed out, she could just ask to keep it after all was said and done.

But putting aside the impertinence of the mechanic, as infuriatingly helpful as a much simpler and more straightforward insight could sometimes be...there was the matter of actually dealing with the task at hand, before sparing a thought about what to do with anything afterward. Between the five of them in her little group thus far, she was more than confident enough they would be able to deal with anything they walked into. Miss Blaese would perhaps be a liability if any true threats or prolonged combat erupted...but that wasn't what she was there to contend with and lend her expertise to, in the first place.

She had, for now, returned to her natural form, laid down as neatly and comfortably as she could alongside a table in one of the rooms they had procured for themselves.

To her left side sat Jean-Ray Morgans, the rowdy woman seeming less than thrilled with this entire plan, if only because they'd be walking into the unknown out in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. She was willing to go along, because to hell with sitting around doing nothing otherwise. She was, as she had pointed out several times, just a little shy of flat fucking broke, and you could barely do jack or shit in a place like Karim without a little coin to rub together, enough connections to get something from somebody, or a willingness to knock out enough lights in the right places to get what you were after. The latter would probably get her on a few people's shit lists and prove less than helpful for the rest of their bizarre, impromptu group, and she was sorely lacking in the first two. So her choice was made mostly for her.

To her right side, Joshua Graham, the Burned Man, knelt at the edge of the table. He was busy at work methodically tending to his gun and equipment, in a way that was almost mesmerizing to watch. Mechanical and rote in his actions, well-practiced and with the speed and ease of something done thousands of times, but with the methodical care and attention that was reserved for something truly meaningful. It was not hard to infer from his demeanor, the way his normally stony gaze mellowed, the steely razor glare in his flinty eyes giving way to something almost human again, that it was a deeply spiritual experience for the man. Some kind of ritual from his past, before the Burned Man had arisen, no doubt. His sheer focus had not prevented him from participating in the discussion, however; he was not opposed to going on the endeavor. With a map to show the way, he could guide them safely, and if these treasure hunters were the sort of raiding vagabonds they seemed to be, then their extermination would be a worthy task indeed. Not one he would enjoy carrying out, but a grim chore he could tolerate being place in his charge.

The mechanic, Joey Blaese, was seated at the corner of the table next to Morgans. One elbow resting on the wood, chin resting in her hand, with her other arm flopped on the table. She was by far the least happy about this whole thing. Being safe in town again — or at least as safe as you could get on a place like Mesa Roja — had been a welcome relief. The idea of leaving again so soon, especially to go and do something so blatantly stupid, in her estimation, had her quite pointedly less than thrilled. She had gone on at length about how obviously dangerous it seemed, how much of a risk it was going to be. They'd managed to make it here to Karim without much hassle, but that was before they'd made major enemies out of two really big power players out in the desert. The city was safe, because it was under the watchful eyes of the three houses of Karim, but out there? They'd be giant walking targets for Plaineview and those damn Gems!

She was unfortunately in much the same group as Morgans, though; sure, she could probably get by for a bit, leveraging her skills and finding some kind of work to scrape by until the others got back...but it wasn't going to be any kind of fun or pleasant. She had eventually settled into a childish pout, saying she would only go if Altanis let her ride on her back again. Simultaneously the safest and most dangerous place in their group.

The veteran demon, though... Galand had sprawled out lazily on the floor across the table from Altanis. Resting on one side, his head resting on one propped up arm, lanky frame stretched out to full length. A mostly empty tankard of the strongest wine he'd been able to get ahold of sat on the table before him, and the remainder of the barrel (also mostly empty, judging by Galand's state of inebriation) sat near at hand behind him. He had enough boisterous agreement about the entire affair to go around, and more than make up for everyone's else's reluctance. His eyes had burst into emerald flame, his raucous cheers and laughter shaking dust from the rafters as he had expressed his joy at finally getting a chance for a good fight! He didn't care where they were going, what they would be doing, or who they would be up against when they got there! He was all for it.

"Well then..." Altanis spoke up at length. "Given we seem to be in agreement, for one reason or another, about going on this little endeavor..."

"You say that like we really have any choice," Joey groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose with a gloved hand. "You're gonna go off with at least tall, dork and fermented over there no matter what. And don't get me wrong, I'm not sayin' Josh is bad company, but..." She paused, her eyes flicking over to the bandaged man for a moment. "....you know?"

"You always have a choice, miss Blaese," Altanis murmured, lips curling up in a smirk. "Whether you like some of the options does not preclude you from taking them."

"Enough with the fancy words and bickering about nonsense!" Morgans barked, slamming a fist on the table, and making the mechanic jump upright in her seat with wide eyes. "We already went over all this. Like it or not, we're going. So let's get on with it."

Graham reached out to slightly reposition a disturbed file among his tools, but otherwise didn't even look up from his work. "Explosive temper aside...I'm inclined to agree. We should be focusing on figuring out our course of action, not lamenting over that we have chosen it."

"Very succinctly put, mister Graham," the she-demon murmured, slowly reaching out to place the bizarre crystalline cube in the center of the table before lightly raking a claw across it, depressing a switch to set it into motion.

A wavering halo-dome of light surrounded the strange map-cube, rays filtering and flickering up to present a shimmering screen of blue light in the air. Within the hazy screen thus displayed, a series of grid-lines etched themselves across it, before an image of Mesa Roja at large resolved into view upon it.

"Whoa...." Joey's attention was quickly grabbed again, staring at the sight with wide eyes.

"Now that's pretty dang cool," Morgans muttered.

Graham, for his part, finally ceased his work and lifted his eyes, studying the map intently.

"Indeed," Altanis murmured. "Now, as to where we are going..." She lifted a hand, prodding at the map. With a few deft gestures (that she would never admit to anyone how long they had taken her to unravel and figure out), she zoomed the map in on the center of the disc-world. "As we all know, Karim is located here. Our destination..." A quick flick, and the map zoomed out again, before a trailing sweep of her fingers drew its along away from the city. Out into the desert, far, far to the south and well away from the city. Well away from, indeed, almost any other nearby landmarks of any significance.

"That's gonna be a real pain in the behind to get to, huh?" Galand grumbled, looking at the map. "Maps ain't my thing, though...how far we talkin' here?"

"It would not be what I can call a short trip," Graham spoke up then, his eyes returning to their normally grim cast. "With favorable weather, and no other difficulties or delays along the road...perhaps twenty days on foot, at a steady march. Much longer if we encounter any obstacles along the way, and much less if we go by vehicle. Perhaps...a day, if there are roads or adequate terrain the entire way."

Altanis nodded slowly, scrutinizing the map carefully as she slowly swiped back toward the city at the world's center and zoomed in again, tracing a careful route out from tis walls and along small trails and roads visible on the map. "Fortunately for us...it appears that there should be some manner of serviceable paths for much of the way. How far with this destination in mind, mister Graham?"

The Burned Man squinted slightly, tracing the route with his eyes. "Ten...perhaps twelve hours from the city to that point. Then another two days on foot, once we leave the roads behind. Again, if all goes well along the way."

"So be it, then." Altanis nodded, curling her fingers as the map-cube rattled softly and lifted off from the table, slowly floating into her grasp. "Let us get some rest, then, and procure whatever...supplies we may need. We will be setting out tomorrow."

Quest: The Gerudo's history preserved 'neath the sand
Post Word Count: 1,812
Total Word Count: 10,334/10,000

 

[Altanis]

The sun was barely starting to make its presence known over the rim of the great disk, and they were already more than an hour out from Karim. An early start, Graham had advised, might just serve them well in getting the more distance-covering part of their long trip over smoother. While there was never a time that the desert was truly without at least some risk of danger, whether from weather or various wandering psychopaths and wildlife, it was more frequent during the day when most of its denizens could see.

The estimations of the burned man had proven right thus far, if nothing else. The day ahead carried no such promise that it would be so smooth and go as easy, however. Joey Blaese and Joshua Graham were both natives of this world and knew well its dangers and risks, but only Graham seemed to actually appreciate what it meant to go wandering among the dunes and rocks away from the more well-traveled roads. There was already no guarantee of safety even in such well-traveled paths, given that them being so well-known and frequented thus made them prime targets for raiders, bandits, and other opportunistic individuals of all walks of life to keep at least one eye on whenever they could spare it. Beyond the small perimeter of relative safety afforded by proximity to the great disk's crown jewel, the only assurance to be had was that someone, somewhere, at some point, was going to be watching you.

What they had in mind, and whether they would actually bother you, was the actual uncertainty.

There was, of course, the other underlying risk of this all. Though the two natives of this world were both of a mostly agreed mind that they'd had it coming, they couldn't deny that maybe making bloody, mortal enemies of two of the most powerful groups outside of Karim may not have been a good idea if they were going to be venturing out into the wilds again anytime soon. No one really knew what Jasper's Gems were up to at any given time, and there was no telling when or where one (or a shitload of them) might pop up and cause trouble. They were probably the more minor problem compared to what Daniel Plaineview and the Arbiters knew how many countless psychotic assholes addled by desert sun, cactus juice and psychotropics he had under his banner might do, though. The many, many other more 'normal' mercenaries, bounty hunters and tribal scouts and tellers-of-secrets in his network or willing to sell services to the man were probably even more worrying though; it made it impossible to tell when one of those all-seeing eyes somewhere out in the desert might be attached to a mouth that would whisper back to him, or to a body that had guns to shoot at you on his behalf.

Galand and Morgans both were entirely unconcerned about the potential risks. The elderly demon would never turn down a chance to leap screaming into a fight, no matter how hopeless or avoidable it might have been. And the lovely little gun-bitch was only here because she'd quite literally been ripped out of the cold embrace of death by a demon horse with attachment issues. She was along for the ride no matter what, and given she apparently wasn't allowed to stay dead....why worry?

Altanis wasn't worried for an entirely different reason. She'd already been killed more than once since arriving here. To this great disk of sand and heat, this bizarre planet in this 'Crossroads', as it was called. Once on the roads shortly after her arrival, when her disoriented state had left her to be run over by a massive truck. Once on Black Mountain when she had grown careless against the super mutants. Once in Dante's Abyss, when she had been burned alive by the presumptuous little 'fire princess'. Death seemed to be stalking her with comical frequency, she had to grudgingly admit. She held no illusions that she couldn't be killed or had nothing to fear from being overwhelmed by violence or force of arms.

No, she wasn't worried for the simple fact that, in spite of this place throwing such ferocity at her, and managing to claim her life more than once...it had yet to be able to manage keeping it. She hadn't even stayed dead for very long, let alone for good. She wasn't worried because she knew, without any arrogance, that there was nothing this world or any other could actually throw at her that would stop her. It might attack her, hurt her, break her, even kill her. It might certainly slow her down and set her plans back, perhaps a great deal.

As the sun crested the rim of the disk, turning the sky into a blazing ocean of crimson and orange and violet, washing the sands into a haze of shimmering gold and the rivers into winding ribbons of emerald and sapphire....Altanis's lips slowly curled into a smirk as she leaned forward slightly, resting her arms atop the cab of their vehicle as it rumbled along the road. For once in what felt like a long time, some of the all-consuming anger bled away and was replaced, even if briefly, by a sense of true satisfaction and certainty. This world still held its mysteries, and she was certain she might never uncover all of them. But she knew one thing for a fact, above all else: nothing this world threw at her would ever stop her.

"You look like you're in a mighty good mood there, for once," Galand rumbled from where he sat beside her.

They had managed to get a bigger vehicle this time, rather than the ramshackle piles of junk that the mechanic had used personally and that they had managed to piece together from the wrecks of Black Mountain. A much larger truck, better suited to the rigors of the desert, with an open bed large enough for Altanis and Galand both. With some 'expertise' courtesy of miss Blaese, they had even managed to modify it to be reasonably comfortable than the utilitarian, cargo-focused construction it had sported before.

"That is because I am in a good mood, for the moment," Altanis murmured. "After all...why spoil such a fine morning with a foul mood, especially when it brings with it such opportunity?"

"Ya really expect me to believe that?" Galand guffawed at that, slapping the side of the truck with a sharp clang. "Ya don't gotta be all flowery and circle-talk around a point just to avoid sayin' what's actually on your mind. Just 'cause ya can't lie don't mean you gotta be all lofty and hoity-toity about it."

The she-demon just quietly chuckled at that. "I suppose you are right," she finally said, turning around to lean her backside against the cab. "It is merely...habit, you might say. A relic of a long past spent being the smartest one in not only the room, but at times the continent..."

"Uh-huh..." The commandment of truth grunted, clearly disinterested. "Well, ya ain't there anymore, are ya? So drop all the formality and fancy-talk every now and then." He paused for a moment, taking a rather long, pointed swig from a flask he had acquired from somewhere while they were in town. "Gweh....." He heaved a long breath, trailing off into a nauseating belch, before turning his head to peer at the former general with one slitted eye-hole. "So? What's got ya in such good spirits, then? Don't really strike me as the type to be all thrilled 'bout doin' work for someone else."

"Under normal circumstances, perhaps not..." Altanis shook her head. "A request like the one made of me by the Gerudo would normally be...completely beneath me, or simply not even considered without some carefully arranged compensation of a significant variety." She lifted a hand, curling her fingers in toward her palm and making a show of studying her nails with half-lidded eyes. "However....our current circumstances are not exactly....normal."

"Meanin' you weren't really in a position to refuse," Galand spoke up, jabbing a finger pointedly in her direction. "Lemme guess. You wanna get somethin' out of it, even if they didn't make any promise of a reward." A deep rumbling from somewhere in his chest sounded, something between a racking cough and a laugh. "Information or resources'd be my bet. Or hell, maybe you just wanna try and get on their good side, and convince a few of 'em amazons to come work for you directly, the way you been all leery at 'em!"

"Mmm...." It wasn't the first time that she had been made aware of it, but this was perhaps the most clear indication of it yet. For all his boisterous and oafish attitude, and the seemingly lazy and uneducated demeanor he carried himself with...Galand was no fool. He had an intuition honed to a razor's edge and a keen insight hidden behind that slovenly, alcoholic old man vocabulary. Though Altanis would never admit it openly, he had rather frustratingly hit the nail perfectly on the head. Not just once, but several times in rapid succession.

"....very astute of you, Galand," she finally muttered. She couldn't lie and say that he had been wrong, of course. But she could be deliberately obfuscating and not say which of his guesses were incorrect. "There is an opportunity for us to be had here, if we can accomplish this task. An opportunity that we would be remiss to not seize upon."

"An opportunity for 'us', huh...." the commandment grumbled. "You sure you don't mean an opportunity for 'you'?"

"No, Galand..." She turned to regard him directly, her eyes still half-lidded but her expression carefully sliding back into a neutral one. "I mean 'us' quite intentionally. Though I cannot lie, it is my goal we are currently pursuing at the moment...the opportunity it presents will be one that benefits all of us. So long as you all remain useful to me."

"Ha!" Galand barked out a derisive laugh. "Long as we're useful, huh? As if we got any choice!" He snorted violently, his eyes lighting up with a dull green flame. "You got me and the little shotgun-bitch in there by the balls, and we couldn't leave or really turn against ya if we wanted to. Ol' bandages is a stick in the mud, but long as you're on this giant dust dollar of a planet, he's like one giant multi-tool in your back pocket." He shifted slightly, lifting out of his half-slouched posture to stare directly at the other demon. "And little miss sassy shorts in there? You can't tell me she's not useful just as a piece of meat for you to ogle at, if nothin' else."

"Don't get me wrong, I get it!" he snickered, quickly trailing off into a lecherous, rasping as he lifted his hands, his fingers wiggling and making grabbing, groping motions. "I betcha if you ever had the chance to get her alone...."

Altanis's left eye twitched ever so slightly, as her lips pressed together into a tin line. "Enough," she snapped, pointedly turning her gaze away. She was too dignified to be embarrassed about such a brazen attempt at calling her out like that. Even if he was right, he didn't need to go telling anyone within earshot.

"Can't even tell me I'm wrong," Galand snorted, turning away again and dropping back into his seated slouch with a lazy yawn. "Wake me up when we get where we're headed or some bonehead tries to pick a fight."

"Insufferable twit," Altanis growled under her breath, as the rumbling sound of Galand's snoring rose up over the roar of the engine.

Quest: The Gerudo's history preserved 'neath the sand
Post Word Count: 1,966
Total Word Count: 12,300/10,000

 

[Altanis]

Their uneventful journey lasted longer than any of them had suspected it might. The morning had passed into day, and even as day passed into afternoon and evening they had suffered mercifully few interruptions. A brief encounter with a roving, raving band of sunbaked and psychotic raiders had driven them off course and hindered their progress for a time, but the poor fools never knew what hit them after a stray bullet had woken Galand from his nap. Aside from that, the only event of any note had been a distant sighting of some immense desert beast, surging through the sand and rocks as if they were water and eclipsing the horizon. Something that Graham had advised fervently they go nowhere near and have absolutely nothing to do with, if they could avoid it.

As evening passed into night, none of them could shake the feeling that they were being either watched or followed in some way. Galand was as unhelpful an oaf as he ever was when it was eventually brought up, just grumbling that whoever or whatever it was would either buzz off eventually or play their hand soon enough, and either way it wouldn't be a problem for long. Morgans and Joey were also varyingly unhelpful, though for different reasons; the feisty little mechanic wanted no part of any mysterious night-time stalking business, while Morgans insisted on trying to track down whatever the fuck was being so sneaky and deal with them now.

Frustratingly, the only one who had any sensible solution was once again Joshua Graham. He would go on scouting patrol, ostensibly with the intention of scouting their route forward on the morrow, and circle around to make a perimeter of their surroundings and at least lay eyes on whoever was possibly watching them, to at least confirm or allay their suspicious. Galand, he reasoned, should be alert enough even in his sleep to react to any sudden attacks or encroaching strangers if someone should slip past him, and Altanis would also be present to deal with any surprises that managed to circumvent the both of them.

Either he had been planning for such an eventuality the entire time, or the man was just incredibly adept at crafting and improvising plans on the spot in response to unforeseen events. Altanis would personally be inclined to say a bit of both; it would explain why he had been so insistent on traveling a bit further than his original destination markers, to find a good place to lay camp for the night. It was far from first-class accommodations, given the state of it — some old farmstead or lone family's abode near the banks of a stream that looked to have been ransacked in some bygone season — but it was reasonably intact enough to offer shelter for a night, had enough space to park their newly acquired truck in relative safety, and situated on a slight rise over the flowing waters below that afforded it a clear enough view in all directions.

It may not have been the optimal solution, but it was at least a serviceable enough one that should let them know whether they were actually being followed or not, and a better night's rest could be hard to come by without much greater time and resource expenditure to facilitate it.

Thusly, they had settled in for the night, Galand dropping into slumber with the well-practiced ease of a lazy retiree, with Joey and Morgans following soon after. After some sleepless hours had passed, Graham rose up to stand, retrieving a long coat to give some semblance of protection from the desert cold and wind, and excused himself to go venture out into the night on his scouting errands.

Altanis sat silently in what had once been the living room of the long-abandoned old house, with her eyes closed and arms crossed, listening to the sounds of desert night outside. Wind rustling in the scraggly grasses and scrub. The rushing and churning of the waters in the stream below. The soft creaking and groaning of the old house as its timbers shifted and settled in the occasional desert gust. The soft squeaking creak of floorboards disturbed underfoot....and the soft click of a gun being cocked, inches from the back of her head.

"Mighty bold of ya to think you can just wander around wherever ya damn well please." The voice was smooth, faux-refined with a hungry, violent edge to it. There was a light tap as the barrel of a gun nudged the back of her head as the speaker went on, "Don't ya think so, ma'am?"

Altanis's eyes slowly fluttered open, staring into the gloom ahead of her. Moonlight filtered in both through open windows, a few cracks in the walls and ceiling here and there, and through the now-open back door. It was scarcely enough to see clearly by, but more than enough to make out base details. Like the fact there were at least six individuals who had crept into the house; one of them with his gun trained on her, two more standing close at hand, one each with their guns at the ready to keep Morgans and Joey down, and....a monstrous, hulking brute of a man with an oversized goliath of a firearm in each hand, framed in the open doorway.

"Bold?" she spoke up, softly. "Now, my dear gentleman...whatever would make you say that?"

"Dunno if you failed to notice, lady...but you got one heck of a price on your head around these parts." The man with the gun trained on her slowly paced around, the barrel of his gun hovering mere inches from her and rustling through her hair as he circled with the predatory confidence of someone who thought he'd already won. "Yer worth a pretty penny dead or alive. Though to tell ya the truth....I hear 'dead' is preferred, for your sorry ass, especially."

"Oh? Is that so?" Altanis's lips slowly curled up into a soft smirk. "Then I suppose that means you intend to try and kill me?"

"Intend to? Try?" The man barked out a short, sharp laugh. "As if, bitch. We're going to kill you. If you didn't notice, you're outnumbered here. We been watchin' you for a while now, since ya left Karim. Had more of us originally....but then your bandaged little fuck boy caught us from behind." He snarled and spat off to one side, baring his teeth. "I'll give him credit....he was a tough ol' bastard. Took out two of my boys before we even knew what was going on, and took down one more before we could put him down ourselves."

One of Altanis's eyebrows curled upward a fraction of an inch. "You mean to tell me that you honestly think a bunch of imbeciles like you actually even could kill him, let alone that you succeeded at it? Do you even know who he was?"

"Yeah, we know who he was. It's why we didn't blow your truck off the road sooner. You never know when the Burned Man has something up his sleeve that's lurin' you into a trap." He barked out a laugh. "But it don't matter now. Joshua Graham is dead."

Immediately, the man's face twisted into something between horror and soul-wrenching agony. Purple and red lightning flashed, arcing over and about him, and with a splintering, cracking sound....stone crept up from his boots to head. Within moments, the arrogant bounty hunter was no more, replaced instead with a perfect replica of stone, still flickering softly with dark red sparks.

The others in his retinue exploded into panic and anger, drawing weapons and shouting incoherently over each other, cursing and spitting and demanding to know what the fuck had just happened.

Their only answer was a raucous, boisterous laughing that blossomed from....beneath the house. Only a split-second later, a scarlet-armored arm burst through the floor and grabbed one of the intruders by the face, the lanky frame of Galand emerging after and hauling the man off his feet. "Didn't your mama ever teach you not to lie?!" he growled, the eyes of his helmet blazing with gouts of green flame, his armored hand creaking slightly as he crushed the head of the man in his grasp as if it were made of wet cardboard.

"Anyone who tells a lie in my presence gets turned to stone. That's why they call me Galand the Truth!" he roared, and with a lurching motion he stomped forward, his halberd whirling into his hand and neatly bisecting the other one near at hand before he exploded into motion, crossing the breadth of the house in a single bound and planting the harpoon end of his weapon right between the eyes of the hulking brute in the doorway, skewering his head clean through.

Blood fountained out over the house, giving the decrepit house a fresh, gory new coat of paint, as Altanis slowly rose to her feet. A shimmering, smoking haze formed around her, catching the blood that would have spattered over her and holding it suspended in some macabre crimson halo. The smoking, near boiling liquid caught in her psychic grasp shrouded her in a miasma that left only her luminous golden eyes seen as she slowly turned round on the remaining bounty hunters.

"Normally, I would give you the chance to leave while you are still able...." she murmured. "But though he may not be dead, your leader has seen fit to inform me you attacked and at least seriously injured a useful asset of mine. That, compounded with the fact that you have underestimated me to this extent...." One of the remaining hunters, the one with his gun drawn and trained on Joey, found himself almost entirely disemboweled, as several scything ribbons of force slashed across his midsection, ripping it open and leaving his innards to splatter and splash over the floor.

"I know this world has better to offer than fools of your caliber." She slowly stalked forward, a sharp clack of one hoof announcing the even bloodier end of the disemboweled man, his head bursting like a melon in a vise, and the resulting cloud of viscera and gore joining the swirling mass about her. "So you will answer me a simple question, and pray that you do so honestly, for your sake." She lifted a hand, and with a beckoning flick, an iron-hard force clamped around the throat of the hunter with his rifle trained on Morgans, and ripped him off his feet, sailing through the air and into her awaiting grasp.

His rifle bent and twisted like cheap plastic under her anger, crushed into a ball of scrap, as she drew the hapless fool closer still, until his face hovered mere inches away from her own. With delicate, surgical precision, tiny blades of psychic force crawled over his skin, slicing the protective face coverings into ribbons and cutting just deep enough to draw blood from his face, forcing his eyes to be held wide open and stare directly into hers.

"Who sent you on this fool's errand?" she asked, her voice soft and quiet.

The man coughed and sputtered, his entire body twitching and trembling. His fingers worked, clenching and unclenching, even as his arms refused to obey him, bound too tightly in invisible fetters of pure force. He clenched his teeth, trying to will his eyes to move and look somewhere, anywhere else, but those burning pools of unblinking gold in a black abyss that the monster before him had the audacity to call eyes.

She let a few seconds pass before her eyes narrowed, a frown beginning to crease her lips. "I asked you a question." There was a faint cracking noise, and the man's body convulsed, a sputtering gurgle announcing a trickle of blood spilling from his lips. "I expect an answer to it. I can break a great many things before your life is in danger, and they will all hurt a great deal, I promise you."

With a rasping, shaking gurgle, the man's eyes went wide. "You....you're a monster," he wheezed. "They said you were awful, but we thought....we thought you were just some uppity bitch that pissed somebody off!" He desperately tried to squeeze his eyes shut, as they watered and he whimpered involuntarily. "It...it was Plaineview! We got the tip from somebody on his payroll!"

"Plaineview..." Altanis murmured, her frown growing more pronounced. "I see. You remain flesh and blood, so your truthfulness is assured..." And she relaxed her grip on his neck, her expression softening somewhat. "You made a wise decision to speak up so quickly." And she pulled him in closer, her lips curling up into a smirk. "But that doesn't let you entirely off the hook." And a beat later, her lips pressed into his own in a forceful kiss. His eyes bugged out further, in something between confusion and shock....though a moment later it was pure, unadulterated panic that flooded his eyes.

He gagged and retched, in a choking wheeze as he struggled to breathe. Something in his throat bulged and writhed, tears streamed from his eyes as they threatened to roll back in his head.

Moments later, Altanis released him from her grasp to drop unceremoniously to the floor, her tongue flowing out of his throat with a long, sticky schlorping noise. Some unholy combination of blood, stomach juices, saliva, and her own demonically toxic fluids dripped from it as she slowly withdrew it back into her mouth, some mockery of a sensual act.

"Guh....!" he gasped, clutching at his throat as he coughed and retched, spitting and sputtering as he blinked his teary eyes. "Y-You...what...? Wh-Why...." His brain was no doubt reeling from such a literal violation, to say nothing of the absolute agony it must have been — both physically, and being almost completely deprived of precious air for so long.

Wiping her chin with the back of one hand, Altanis just shook her head. "Consider it....a special service. You were such a good boy, answering so quickly. But I couldn't just let you off for the insult you've paid me, now could I?"

Galand's deep, rumbling laugh cut in at that moment, from where he sat on what remained of an armchair in the adjacent room. "Can't get mad at the kid for tellin' the truth now, can ya? Where I come from, bein' called a monster is a compliment!"

Altanis laughed softly. "Mmm....I suppose so," she murmured. "Regardless....I'm going to go check on mister Graham. I've no doubt he was injured in some capacity."

"Guess I'll hold down the fort here, then," Galand rumbled.

"Very good. Explain to our sleeping guests what happened when they awake, if I have yet to return, would you?" After a wave of dismissal from the other demon, she turned to depart, slowly trotting across the house and toward the door.

"W-Wait....!" The remaining bounty hunter staggered to his feet. His face was still red, streaked with tears, and he was still struggling to breathe...but he had pulled his sidearm, the large caliber pistol aimed with a shaking hand at Altanis. "Th-This..." He wiped a strand of spittle from his chin. "...this isn't...over yet! I can still...!"

Altanis didn't even deign to offer a response, as she trotted calmly out the doorway. Mere seconds later, the lone surviving bounty hunter coughed, a deep, racking sound that shook him to his core. Blood-flecked spittle sprayed from his lips, and shortly after it was followed by something like smoke, or steam. His fingers trembled, and his gun slipped from his grasp, as both arms curled around his stomach. "G-Guh....aaaagh,....!"

He groaned and moaned, trailing off into choking gasps and sobs. A hissing sound, like something burning, started to grow in intensity. Blood started to arise and spatter forth with every gasping breath, staining his teeth red. "It....it hurts...." he managed to get out, as he doubled over onto his knees, and then collapsed onto his side, clutching at his stomach and chest with trembling hands. "Burn....ing...."

Galand just chuckled, from where he sat. "You've got a slow, painful death on your hands, kid," he rumbled. "Maybe it woulda been better for you if you hadn't given her what she wanted right away."

A gurgling, agonized scream echoed out into the night from within the darkened house.

Quest: The Gerudo's history preserved 'neath the sand
Post Word Count: 2,735
Total Word Count: 15,035/10,000