Fantasy Dark Eden: Epilogue | Regalias

[Xethyrion]

— primary roleplay —

MAIN STORYLINE

CHAPTER I. COMING SOON

— subsidiary narrative —

SOULBRINGERS

CHAPTER I. PROLOGUE

— subsidiary narrative —

REGALIAS

CHAPTER I. PROLOGUE

— sepherus athenaeum —

HISTORY

RECORD I. COMING SOON

DARK EDEN EPILOGUE

「regalias of qliphoth」 deus ex infernum

the regalias: before the formation

It was all for the sake of humanity's survival, or that was what was said by the Hero before he nearly slaughtered the entire guild in the Volcanian throne.

But before the end fight between the forces of good and evil, the Hero delivered a speech that would eternally remind the world about his malice. A powerful speech centered around the idea of strength through conflict, instead of reliance on the elevated ones that laugh at their futile efforts. To build a world without gods and the gifted, eliminating inequality by forcing humanity to adapt to the perfect meritocracy.

To some, the idea sounded immoral but optimal. Especially those who hated the gods and the unfair treating between commoners and the gifted. But for the other half of those who joined the Dark Hero in his new journey, they were simply a push away from reaching their insanity—betraying the rest of humanity as they felt their heart satisfied with the idea of conquest and control. To rid the world of Gods and Demons, by using them as a tool to develop the strength of humanity.

Whatever their reasoning was, those who joined the Dark Hero were unharmed during the revolutionary battle. After the event had concluded with the majority of the Heroes Guild retreating successfully via Yutera's spell, the ones who were left behind to aid Sigurd was quick to arm themselves, preparing to slaughter the remaining forces of Volcania and ransack it to fulfill their desire to seek pleasure. And once they had reached their first goal, the Dark Journey had begun.

For 2 years, Sigurd and his twisted allies slew thousands of vile beasts, while obtaining loyal subjects to infiltrate the other countries for intel. Their success missions remained paramount as they fueled the Astral Armament, Collector, with vile essence, to open the gates of Sitra Achra without having to risk themselves by facing the Vile Dragon and its other lesser vile beasts that it had subdued with sheer strength and power.

They were eventually successful in their primary objective, using the Collector to enter the Vile Realm of Corruption, directly outside the burning castle of the Demon God Astaroth. Proven to be no match for the empowered Dark Hero, the Demon God bargained with the intention of manipulation, which was foresighted by Sigurd long before he had stepped into the Vile Realm. Accepting the bargain anyways, Sigurd betrayed the Demon God and incarcerated him directly into the frozen lake of Cocytus, stealing the Demon God's Vile Fragment during the process, using its power to combine Sigurd's mana to use Sovereign Magic, the highest tier of magic that even the gods are limited to.

As the world went to its deep slumber, the Dark Hero's group crusaded against the beasts of the Vile Realm, concluding with Sigurd subduing the rest of the vile beasts and bestowing the blood of an Astral Monarch to his fellow allies, that had survived the 140 years of constant carnage.

The gods were soon destroyed and sealed afterward, and the creation of the Vragathian Empire took place months after Eden's reawakening from their Frozen Stasis Period.

authorized characters index

「GM」 XETHYRION

◈ Sigurd Alcaeus | The Dark Hero of Eden

◈ Elizaveta Collander | The Ravager of Fate

「GM」 NINETAILSIX

◈ N/A

「PLAYER」 Meme Man

◈ Curruid Coinchenn | The Dark Enforcer

「PLAYER」 pomme

◈ Reid Armienne | The Red Templar

「PLAYER」 egregore

◈ Seva Kaine | The Man-Faced One

「PLAYER」 Athanas

◈ Zukron Arvalstan | Destroyer of Hope

 

[Xethyrion]

NinetaiIsIX Midrick pomme kasigi Athanas

DARK EDEN: DEUS EX INFERNUM

Chapter I. Prologue

sanguine colosseum, vragathian empire

The sheer amount of brutality that one could express with their rage was beyond fascinating. How one could not show mercy even at the face of victory, Elizaveta couldn't help but to admire Curruid's dedication, finding his loyalty to Sigurd quite admirable yet ironic.

Certainly, there was no better teacher than the Dark Enforcer, who showed not even the slightest bits of benevolence, ripping his students apart to teach them a lesson.

Elizaveta would find herself sipping a warm cup of tea while resting on one of the observing seats of the coliseum, along with the other Astral Monarchs that had gathered under the orders of Sigurd, who had sent a messenger in advance to deliver the message of his prompt arrival.

According to the messenger whose words stuttered every second during the conversation with the High Lords, Sigurd was returning from his duties to test the might of the Integrity Knights.

It had been ten minutes since Curruid began his training with the Integrity Knights, and much to Elizaveta's annoyance, she was beginning to feel mundane watching her student's blood spill all over the unholy coliseum.

"What bothersome orders. Forcing us to await his arrival by watching these low-born deadbeats become ragdolls for the dog's amusement."

Elizaveta announced her apathy to the Regalias in her circle, tapping her fingers rapidly on the stone seats to accumulate even the slightest of excitement. Though quite frankly, while admitting it verbally would've been impossible to force from the red-haired demon, Elizaveta was quite eager about Sigurd's awaited return.

Wanting a response from the other three Regalias, Elizaveta turned her head to face Seva first, seeing that he was the closest to her location.

"That mask is repulsive as ever, you god damn aberration. Do tell, though, the hell have you been up to prior to this mundane conference?"

 

[kasigi]

Seva Kaine, The Many-Faced One​

Pain truly served to be an exemplary teacher. Curruid's brutality could only be met with steadfast resolve, lest the Integrity Knights may meet an untimely demise - even if causing death wasn't the intent of the training. With that said, Seva was only mildly content with the current conditions: he would've definitely preferred to direct the training himself. Curruid was adequate, of course, it would just be more enjoyable to do it himself.

The disciplinary bloodletting, as enjoyable as it may be, only proved to be a brief distraction for the overall matter at hand. Perhaps if Seva was more simpleminded he would have been absorbed by his desires, tunnel visioning onto the violent displays of madness and cruelty and forgetting their purpose. Of course, Seva was no fool - they had gathered for a reason.

Test the might of the Integrity Knights? Surely, there was more to it than that. After all, these barely-more-than-cannon-fodder would be mashed into lumps of meat against any competent foe. As strong as they were, they still paled in comparison to the true monsters of this world. Especially in this case, a test so premature would bear no fruit. They needed more time to nurture and care for them, lest the Integrity Knights turn out to be rotting, disposable nobodies.

Shifting his position, Seva let his staff rest against his inner thigh, gripping it firmly with a single gloved hand. His posture indicated an astute alertness to the situation, possessing a supported back and raised head, his demeanor was akin to disciplined royalty sitting upon a throne. Simultaneously, his free hand tapped idly upon his other thigh, as if he was growing impatient as time ticked away. How much longer must they be forced to wait? Perhaps his irritability stemmed from his lust. The longer things went on, the more he became engrossed in the Knight's torture. A distraction was due.

The pale-faced Onna served as Seva's current guise, staring with lifeless eyes unto the arena that served as the Knight's training grounds. One could never be too sure where exactly Seva's eyes were trained upon. After all, the masks saw for him, the void-like sockets carrying the information straight into his brain. The mask, along with Seva's head, turned to -presumably- meet with Elizaveta's eyes as she spoke of it. "Please, you'll make her cry. She's a sensitive soul, after all. A delicate woman like yourself would understand, no?" He jested with a taunting tone. His head turned back, facing the arena once more. The question she asked wasn't an easy one to answer - or, well, not one that Seva desired to answer with honesty. When was he ever being honest, after all? "A lot of thinking. Meditation. Killing. Hopefully this mundane conference will provide us with some direction. He lifted his staff off the ground by mere inches, tapping the bottom rhythmically against cold stone tile a few times. Even as it was filtered, Seva's deep, scratchy tone was incredibly easy to distinguish "No matter what we do, things seem idle.. lacking progress. Maybe we need to be harder on the knights, encourage their growth a bit more. As it stands, I feel like we're throwing shit at the wall until it sticks." Not to say he didn't revel in his own merciless actions. Either way, he wouldn't betray his ultimate endgoal.

Tags: Xethyrion Midrick pomme Athanas NinetaiIsIX

 

[pomme]

reid armienne

the red templar

Reid leaned forwards in her seat, her fingers drumming against one of Aonaris' blades. The knives truly were her favorite—and the look of shock that always lit the face of whoever tried to touch them. She could see the same look now on the faces of the Integrity Knights as they battled Curruid, the din carrying up to her and the others and echoing around the walls of the colosseum. In truth, the bloodsport had quickly bored her.

Elizaveta's words sounded unusually loud against the relative silence of the place. The mention of the assignment, if one could even call it that, made Reid clench her jaw. While she may scorn Elizaveta's careless attitude, it was something she too thought odd. Reid snorted at her comment to Seva. It was true. They were no prim bunch, but asides from Curruid, Seva was one of the more beastly. Their banter, to her, was nothing more than pointless entertainment. Entertainment, surely, but pointless. "When will you lot be honest with each other?" Her tone was dull, and her gaze still loosely followed Curruid and the students he was diligently beating to a pulp.

She glanced at Seva, barely settling on Onna before turning away. "You feel this way. You feel that way. That's exactly what we're doing. They'll never stand a chance on a real battlefield if their training is just this... savagery." Leaning back in the seat, she sighed, still having no desire to look Seva, Onna, or whatever he was today in the eyes. "And Seva, I'd suggest thinking more in that free time of yours. Perhaps then you'll realize neither of those masks even come close to delicate. Horrific things." She raised her hand to her lips, eyes wandering from Curruid's incessant hits. The poor healers nearly cowered stuck down there with him.

"Maybe we take the healers away. And get a fighter with any hint of skill in there." While she could've harped on and on about the Knights, it was clear to see she carried no sympathy for them. Their names, in her mind, were just as irrelevant as their livelihoods. They were tools, and such a reality was something she had known before. They could've chosen to become something greater, but they hadn't. It was the fate of so many she had come to know, a fate both avoidable and pitiful. Even the Soulbringers: they too had destined themselves to be tools, forever trying to dismantle something indestructible.

She glanced at Zukron from the corner of her eye. The man was, even amongst the odd crowd that they were, an anomaly. Nearly every time he opened his godforsaken, mangled mouth, she suddenly understood just how one man could collect so many scars. But even then, he was better than most—a bar that sat amongst the dirt, but that so many were too weak to reach. Her hand still ran across the breadth of her blade, incessantly back and forth.

"Speak already, Zukron. Surely you have some insightful wisdom to bestow upon us."

The knights, clearly, were weak. As it stood now, weak and certainly not prepared for anything of seriousness. All Reid could hope was that the Regalias weren't the same.

Xethyrion Midrick Athanas NinetaiIsIX​

 

[Athanas]

Zukron Arvalstan, The Destroyer of Hope​

The clashing of steel on steel, the sound of flesh being cut open, of bones torn apart. The battlecries of the brave and the whimpering of the injured. Such stimuli caused concern or fear in most individuals, and perhaps understandably so, as being near conflicts gave one a high chance of becoming part of one. And, of course, most people would rather eat their own fingers raw than risk fighting for something greater than themselves.

A smaller portion of people got wildly excited at the sounds of conflict. Whether ignorant fools who thought duels, arena fights, or spars could ever prepare them for a true battle, self-righteous “heroes” who jumped into the fray to fight for “The common man”-merrily ignoring the tiny detail that it is their rebellion or war that is killing the common man in the first place, or deranged Dogs of War for whom conflict is the only existence they feel comfortable with, there were always oddities.

Zukron belonged in neither of these broad categories. For him, conflict brought a sense of peace that few things could match anymore. His mind, constantly ravaged by voices of the damned of past and present alike. Supposedly, it was impossible for an eternal soul such as himself to have both his own memories and the memories of others. Most had just written off his claims as the talk of a madman. Zukron didn’t mind-the world was largely conditioned to label as insane anyone who they could not understand. But in conflict, the sounds of the outside world matched those that only he could hear, and the harmony was….soothing, somehow, even if a little. Nothing could soothe him completely, nothing could even come close. That curse had given him the clairvoyance to realize the truth. That same curse also made his every day a struggle. "Nothing in life is without consequences. Nothing at all."

Reid’s rhetorical question shook him out of his thoughts, and he stopped studying the area in front of him for a second, turning to face the others instead. He gave a small smile at Reid’s remarks about Seva’s mannerisms-he had to admit, he found the man’s insistence on constant vagueness on aloofness a little grating, if understandable. As Reid proceeded to ask him for his own opinion, his smile grew a little wider. “My, My, Reid. Have you grown fond of my lectures? Never could I have foreseen this!”

He laughed a little, though it was clear from his tone that he did not mean to seriously mock her-he was perfectly aware of how overwhelming all the knowledge he possessed could be. It had only come to him after centuries of suffering-he did not expect it to reach the others without some small degree of resistance.
“To opine on the miscellaneous issues first, I do agree that your masks, Seva, lack for delicacy. In fact, they lack...in general. A mask is an expression of something, it always must be. And yet I cannot seem to understand what yours are meant to symbolize. And while you could retort that they do not symbolize anything, I would then most likely follow up with-’why wear them then?’.”

Zukron paused for a few moments, thinking of how he should form his next statement. Unlike the others, he seemed to be in a relatively high spirits.

“Now, regarding...whatever this display is supposed to be:” He finally said, waving his hand in the general direction of the training session, if it could even be called that, “I believe both opinions hold merit, and that is not usually something I say, but in this case, it is true-pain is an important teacher. The world will be cruel to these people. The soulbringers, that they’re supposed to fight, will tear them limb from limb with a smile on their faces. Worse yet, they will attack their spirits, their morale. They will try to convince them to adhere to their outdated and flawed system. Pain will help harden them, make them more resilient against both of these methods. But….”

He pointed at one of the integrity knights, who, at this moment, was trying to fight off Curruid’s assault. A kick from The Enforcer sent him careening backwards with a disgusting crack, his leg twisted into an incredibly… wrong angle.

“...But I feel Curruid is not doing a good job of explaining to them what the pain means, or who is truly responsible for it, or why they must endure it. By simply beating them so...savagely, sure, they may develop a resistance, maybe even manage to correct a few mistakes in their guard, but they may also grow to wrongly resent us, which will have the exact opposite effect of what we are intending. Making them more vulnerable to manipulation by the Soulbringers and less likely to fight with cohesion and good morale.”

He leaned back on his seat, giving the Regalias a little time to process what he had shared and maybe even make some remarks, refocusing his attention partially to the fight below. While he had to agree that the results were disappointing, a few of the Knights seemed to have great potential. Perhaps, if he were to more personally oversee them, there could be better results.

An idea formed in his mind at that thought, and he addressed the others again.

“I can’t help but notice how incredibly...grumpy you all are. Inaction can’t be good for you. So, barring the event whatever the hero comes to talk to us about will interfere, I have a proposal:
See, a small vanguard of the Damned discovered a large outpost from where Aeslengard forces were being deployed to fight off Vile Beasts. A forward operating base, if you will. Nothing too major, but a cut above a normal town or village. Well, what say we five and some of the more promising knights go fly there, pay them a visit? We can blow off some steam, make sure we haven’t grown rusty perched atop our high towers, give them a little combat experience, damage Aeslengard’s military...We’d be killing so many birds with one stone it might as well be boulder! And it’s not like the Soulbringers could stop us, even if they deployed fast enough, which they can’t. No risk, High reward.”

The way Zukron was beaming at the other Regalias, an observer would not be wrong to imagine he was suggesting some pleasant vacation and not a large-scale raid on enemy territory.
“Unless, of course, you’re concerned we’ll all see just how much your fighting power has atrophied. I can understand such an attitude.” He added, with a small wink, which, considering his facial deformities, looked a lot more jarring than what he initially intended.


Xethyrion Midrick kasigi pomme

 

[Xethyrion]

ELIZAVETA COLLANDER

ALYNX BARBATOS

the ravager of fate & the bloodthirster

From Seva's sarcastic response to Zukron's philosophical rambling, the red-haired regalia rolled her eyes in mild exasperation. To have been permanently stuck with allies that preach nonsense from their deluded standpoint was not very amusing to Elizaveta who was not used to thinking too hard about the philosophy that was their existence. Certainly, there are times when she was genuinely interested in their words. But alas, now was not the time for her to find entertainment in such vexatious topics.

"A delicate soul, huh..." Elizaveta trailed off, clicking her teeth shortly after. "I don't understand what you're trying to say, I never do. Something about your masks having its own personality and all just... seems so fucking strange to me."

After a round of audible sigh, Elizaveta found discomfort on her stone coliseum seat, leaving it unoccupied to plunge towards the edge of the arena. Behind her were countless healers all prepared to heal the fatal wounds of the Integrity Knights, with their hands shivering in fear as they were in the presence of their authorities.

Paying no attention to the minuscule details, the red-haired regalia made her presence known via infinitesimal mana exposure, causing all Integrity Knights to detect the unholy aura that had suddenly appeared behind them. Despite their unsightly wounds, the Knights clutched their fists and slammed them onto the crimson floor beneath them, displaying respect to their High Lord.

Elizaveta merely scoffed at the sight, heeding no attention to them before calling out to Curruid.

"Great show, but shitty performers. Come on, let's bring out the other Knights that haven't received their daily shit-kicking. Sigurd looks like he's going to be late again, as expected from the fabled Hero."

Snapping her fingers to obtain the attention of the dozen healers in the arena, Elizaveta ushered in the other Integrity Knights that were preparing themselves within the armory, some truly honored to be the opponent of their High Lords while a few expressed turmoil—perhaps from previous experience.

As the Integrity Knights got in position to prepare themselves for their brutal contact sparring, they were quick to express fear the moment they realized the amount of blood that was present in the coliseum—which was a lot more than what there should've been for an arena where only seven Knights were once present.

But alas, the pain of dislocated bones and shattered limbs would be saved when a black wyvern swiftly dashed across the skies, exposing itself under the clouds as it dove below in rapid speed, only for it to flow upward when the rider hurdled from the back of the wyvern, majestically landing on the ground with their own two feet safely utilizing aero magic.

The man who was now the center of attention was most certainly, not Sigurd Alcaeus, the one who was expected to arrive at this time.

But it was instead the Integrity Knight of Vanity, otherwise known as Alynx Barbatos.

"My, the High Lords have certainly made a mess despite their awareness of His Majesty's grand arrival. Surely, this is simply one of your twisted ways of showing honor to the Emperor of Vragathia? What a barbaric tradition, as expected from the Regalias of Qliphoth that is known to shed blood for the sake of sport and... carnal desires.."

Alynx was quick to chuckle after his thoughtful statement, expressing not a shred of dread under the presence of the High Lords. In contempt of being in front of entities that could annihilate his existence under mere seconds, the Integrity Knight was merely smiling throughout his entire introduction, using playful words to disguise himself as a harmless intruder.

He was a powerful foe. Albeit no match for not even a single regalia, Alynx boasted an impressive might and magical skill that earned him the highest title as the Knight of Vanity, an epithet bestowed upon him by Sigurd himself. Alynx was undoubtedly the most powerful individual within the entire Vragathian military, having the strength of an entire division.

Elizaveta scoffed, finding Alynx's presence to be worth more than watching soldiers become leaking blood balloons for Curruid.

"An eyesore has stolen the show—who knew that Sigurd would send you as his puppy messenger. Such a repugnant cocky attitude—you think his words of protection are going to save you from our wrath? Show a little more respect, you absolute pathetic grunt."

"Haah—... Your Excellency, disrespect was never in my intention. If my words have offended you in any way, I must apologize in advance before you get the wrong idea and unleash hell onto his mortal soul—oh the unbearable pain of having to endure your demonic trial... Just kidding."

Alynx's loud laughter echoed throughout the coliseum, possibly annoying the other Regalias or perhaps, providing them with amusement.

The Integrity Knight glanced over to the Dark Enforcer and then to the other Regalias, bowing before their presence while honoring his Emperor's decree to deliver a message.

"I quote the Emperor of Vragathia—'Capture and extract the vile essence of the Greater Vile Beast known as Paragon, and bring its soulless corpse to the Empyreal Throne of Sitra Achra. Its location shares a residency with the Vile Dragon Kalmarok, until its next departure. Order the Integrity Knights to further advance through the borders of Aeslengard and vanquish their supremacy over the northern regions.' ... And there you have it! A direct order from His Majesty to the respected High Lords."

It was an order unexpected by Elizaveta and possibly the other regalias.

The order itself was rather difficult to digest, even for regalia standards. There was almost no information on the entity Paragon, infamously known as the Vile Beast of Heresy, whose existence itself was considered to be dark folklore. But the regalias were aware of Paragon's existence since the dawn of Sitra Achra's formation, having seen its capabilities in one of the battles during the Crusade.

Subjugating a Greater Vile Beast would call for deliberate efforts. Killing one wouldn't be an issue, but to capture it alive and bring it to Sitra Achra while simultaneously dealing with the most powerful Vile Beast, the Vile Dragon Kalmarok... Elizaveta was beginning to question Sigurd's sanity.

simj26 (Auberon)⠀ pomme (Reid)⠀ Athanas (Zukron)⠀ kasigi (Seva)⠀ Midrick (Curruid)

 

[kasigi]

Seva Kaine, The Many-Faced One​

With such sour responses, Seva was surprised the masks themselves hadn't puckered from their perpetual state. "Ah, you're no fun!' He gestured a quick hand to Elizaveta, following through to Reid to address her thereafter. "Hardly more horrific than any of us, no?" To juxtapose Reid's comment with the slaughter playing out in the arena made Seva want to laugh. Just as the final word left his lips, a crunch of bone rang out, reverberating as a scream of dread rang out soon after. When it's up to one's interpretation of horrific, perhaps masks like Seva's were truly the alphas of grizzly nightmares. When one's grown so at home with gruesome violence, other horrors become more apparent. This would be especially true for most, if not all of the Regalias - what do they fear? Carnage has blossomed into entertainment for them. Perhaps more primordial fears were necessary in order to illicit a response. More or less, Reid was entirely correct in regards to the Knights. How were they supposed to learn anything if they can't even comprehend what's ripping them to shreds, and how? There are much more efficient methods of torture that won't prohibit learning. "Training." It was a miracle how apparent the huff through his nose was, considering his state. Seva made his irritation quite clear, though faltered in bringing any further attention to it. The Regalias would get their orders soon enough - maybe then they could discuss efficiency between *training* sessions with the Knights. Seva definitely wouldn't mind taking the training into his own hands, after all. He'd know just how much he needs to hold back to ensure they actually learn. Along with actually giving instruction the Knights, instead of just beating the shit out of them and calling it a training exercise. That's not to say he wouldn't beat the shit out of them.

Zukron, opening with his philosophical monologues, always brought something new to the table. Of course, theorizing about the purpose of Seva's masks ended up being one of his first remarks. Leaning towards Zukron, Seva's eyes pierced Onna, staring at him. One always knows when a set of eyes are upon them, even if they think they're alone. "Interpret them as you wish. As you said, they always symbolize something. Mine hide what's underneath. They're in my stead. For that, I am grateful." He spoke of them as if they were living beings. A part of him. Displaying such a certain tone, that seemed to be the case. Pulling back into his chair, Seva had confirmation that all the Regalias thought similarly about the situation. This training, if you could even call it that, wasn't going to bring about any progress. It was a waste of time for everyone - even the poor Knights, having been beaten into submission countless times at the point.

Of course, Zukron turned this simple chamber ensemble into a booming orchestra of diction. It was always fun to listen to him ramble on, even if you didn't agree with what he spoke.

With that said, the idea Zukron proposed sang to Seva's heart like a siren's call. A test of strength that would allow both the Knights and Regalias to sharpen their skill? Only a single request was necessary to convince Seva. "You really are a genius, Zukron. We need to hold a celebration. I'm game." His tone was informal, with a tinge of excitement slicing through the air. "It'll be a much more efficient method of gauging the Knight's development, at the very least. Sitting still for so long definitely hasn't done us any favors."

Luckily, the fresh batch of Knights had been saved by the arrival of a Wyvern and it's rider. It seemed like the spilling of more blood would have to wait for later. Unfortunately, the highly anticipated arrival of Sigurd had left everyone in disappointment at the new arrival. It was just Alynx, some not-so-shitty Knight. His confidence in the face of such beasts was jarring, fitting for one who cares not for whether they live or die. With Elizaveta and Alynx bickering between eachother, Seva couldn't help but grow more and more curious about what the situation had turned into. Where exactly was Sigurd? To have such an exceptionally clear outline of events be shattered and thrown to the side was, admittedly, an irritating situation to find yourself in. Hearing out the messenger was the only choice they had. The forthcoming orders were.. interesting, to say the least.

Allowing the integrity knights to advance was a perfect idea, as it would allow them to gain experience and hone their abilities. Such developments were necessary for their future - it was similar to was Zukron had suggested earlier. This is exactly what they needed to grow in strength. Everything else failed to click with Seva, with the information they were provided.

"Why?" His question was resounding. "I understand the Integrity Knights. Why are we pursuing the Paragon? Let me rephrase.. What exactly is this gonna do for us? If the rewards we reap are beneficial, I've no issue. If not - why take such a risk?" Obviously, Sigurd wouldn't be just sending them to their doom - you'd hope, anyways. Seva just wanted to make sure the labor wouldn't end up being for a trophy that the hero could hang up on his heroic wall of other heroic shit. The primary issue is uncertainty in the Regalia's strength. It is rare that the Regalias encounter any entity that poses a threat to their overwhelming power. How exactly would they compare Kalmarok? Not only together, but as individuals. They would need to properly assess they situation before moving in carelessly, lest they meet an untimely demise at the hands of an opponent who they'd severely underestimated.



Tags: Xethyrion Midrick pomme Athanas NinetaiIsIX

 

[Midrick]

Curruid had been in the arena conducting this "Training" for over 4 hours, his boredom was apparent. The integrity knights, whatever that stupid name was supposed to mean could last naught but a few seconds with him. Few had shown promise in skill, and others in strategy with using numbers to their advantage, but other than the few who used enough of a neuron to realize they were outmatched and didn't just run at him, it had been more of an anger management activity for him.

Delivering a kick that sent a knight tumbling back with a nasty looking leg break made him feel little more than disgust. He was THE best of all of Sigurd's compatriots, and he was being used as some sort of training instructor. Leave this sort of work to Elizaveta or Zukron, Sigurd knew that he didn't play well with other's, a fact that the batch that had faced Curruid had just discovered, particularly quickly. He had just disarmed a knight with the practice spear he was using in place of his normal weapon. His thoughts were roused by a sudden impact to the right side of his face. It was enough to momentarily turn his head, it had taken Curruid a second to process what had happened. Curruid planted the dulled head of the spear into the as he flexed his jaw, feeling where the young man's fist had made contact. He looked down to his right hand as he flexed his fingers before balling them into a fist. "Nice hit." he said, his voice carrying no hint of anger, before he delivered a savage rear punch to the knight's face. The man in question took a few sluggish steps before collapsing in a heap. Curruid had noted that the knight who had struck him might show some promise, eventually. Another batch of knights was to be sent for training when Elizaveta put a stop to his education of the integrity knights. He simply shrugged after her comment about the knights sub par performance. Curruid simply shrugged at her insults directed towards the knights, the arrival of the wyvern heralded not Sigurd, but his messenger, with orders to take on an extremely dangerous Vile beast, Curruid Turned from Elizaveta and Alynx's spat to Seva's inquiry. While they weren't bad questions, the Regalia's didn't ask about why's or how's, they simply got it done. "Because Orders are Orders, that's all the explanation you need." Curruid stated bluntly to Seva and the other regalias as a whole, surveying their faces for any signs of dissidence or otherwise, after a few beats Curruid turned back towards the exit to the Coliseum to gather thr few things he required for their expedition. "Tell Sigurd that he'll have its head." Curruid growled to Alynx in passing, no point in making a difficult task worse than waiting around trying to pussyfoot around it.

Xethyrion pomme Athanas NinetaiIsIX​

 

[Athanas]

Zukron Arvalstan, The Destroyer of Hope​

Zukron was pleased to see that all of the Regalias were in agreement in regards to the lack of efficiency concerning the training regime, if it could be called that at all. It was fortunate enough that they managed to see sense and work together. As much as Zukron loved the Lost, he could not deny that more often than not they were adverse and hostile even to one another-clinging furiously to prejudices and petty disputes although cooperation would be in their best interests. After all, the only friends an outcast can ever find will be other outcasts.

He had learned to simply accept this as an unfortunate side effect of the torture these people had gone through throughout their entire lives. He, of course, did all he could to improve this situation. After all, what is the point of wisdom if one hoards it all selfishly like some sort of mythical dragon?

Once again Seva’s answer served to make him temporarily forget his musings, although the answer the masked man gave Zukron was not nearly as satisfactory as he would have hoped. He leaned a little closer to Seva, his face the best approximation of concern one could get with features so horribly distorted. “But...I still do not understand, Seva. Hide? What reason do you have to hide? No one will persecute you, not with your power! Not only that, but you are amongst friends! No one will judge you for your appearance! Much less…” His voice trailed off as he seemed to think on his next words. His brow furrowed further. “The conclusion I reach is a deeply disturbing one. This is hardly the place for it, but, at a later date, I would very much like for us to discuss this in depth.”


It seemed that the unfortunate surprises would not end there, however, as the arrival of Sigurd’s messenger~why was he not coming himself? It was not like there were any pressing matters he had to attend to!~, who, in perhaps the most annoying fashion possible, loudly announced The Hero’s orders. Though Alynx’s grating voice was something that would try the patience of even the most virtuous of monks, and even Zukron, ever willing to understand and empathize with the reasons of such behavior, was hard pressed to stop himself from breaking both of his legs, it was the actual orders that upset him the most. Visibly angered, he stood up, leaping down onto the arena and quickly approaching Alynx.

“Handling the Vile Beast, even in the unorthodox manner requested, should be doable. After all, we have done equally impressive feats in our time. But...this proposed assault, Sigurd is mistaken in thinking it will succeed. Just now we were discussing that they were unprepared, on how we can improve their training regimes. Even-even if they were to succeed, the casualties-The Soulbringers will eat them up whole! Not even a fifth of them will make it back!”

This argument was weak, and he knew it-but to Zukron, the integrity knights were not some numbers that went up and down. To treat people like disposable objects, to summarize their entire existence in half the sentence, to put them all in the same box with no regards to their humanity-those were the ways of the Heroes. Those were the ways of the system the Regalias and Sigurd had fought so hard to destroy!
Zukron trusted Sigurd, and recognized him as the bravest and most selfless man to have ever been born-and yet this decision confused and alarmed him. He needed to hear his explanation.

He managed to compose himself enough to continue speaking to the Integrity Knight before him, now sounding a lot more like his commanding self rather than some outraged drunkard.

“Tell him-tell him I demand an audience. We must...We must counsel him on matters of this plane. I fear his absence has been so long, he has erroneous beliefs about the situation at hand.”

He knew there was little hope of getting that wish-Sigurd was as stubborn as a spoiled donkey with his decisions, and many times he would ignore perfectly sensible advice just so he would not have to admit he was wrong. Still, he felt like he had to try. To blindly follow orders might have been the way of Curruid, who had spent most of his life without much semblance of free will anyway, but Zukron knew better-he felt like he should be better.

Xethyrion pomme Midrick kasigi

 

[pomme]

reid armienne

the red templar

Reid only grinned at Zukron's reponse and suggestions. The man was one of the more interesting enigmas among the bunch. Such a trip... she doubted it would be as clean-cut as Zukron's quick imagination foretold. But regardless, it was a fun thing to ponder. It had been painfully long since Reid or the others had seen much in the way of fighting, asides from Curruid's senseless beatings.

She quickly straightened at the dash of black that tore through the sky. Such a showy entrance—could it really be Sigurd's doing? After centuries she barely knew the man, but it struck her as odd. Her suspicions were confirmed when the figure leaped off the wyvern's back, revealing themselves as none other than the Knight of Vanity. Reid had always thought vanity was a rather apt title for him. His strength, his sharp skill: all of it was so easily undermined by his unimaginable ego. He showed only the amount of respect even an illiterate bug could manage. Reid frowned and leaned back once more, refusing to entertain such an intruder with any more dignity than she would the beaten and bloodied Integrity Knights.

Yet even through his grating laughter, she hung on to his words. If Sigurd hadn't bothered to make an appearance, surely whatever he'd decided for them was of little importance. Perhaps toying around with those silly Soulbringers. What, with a decomposing corpse as their leader... could they truly be seen as a threat?

Now was the first time that Reid found herself stumbling in the presence of Alynx.

Paragon? It seemed that Sigurd had forgone his arrival out of boredom rather than necessity. At the very least, the last portion of the order was enough to make her laugh. As Curruid had so indignantly displayed, the "superiority" of the Integrity Knights was rather lacking. As much as Reid hated to doubt Sigurd, the situation duly called for it.

The shift in mood amongst the Regalias was palpable. Reid was torn, watching her companions bicker so. She herself was not yet sure of what she thought of the situation. Curruid's distasteful answer quickly remedied her inaction. "Curruid, have you truly resigned yourself to the role of disposable body? If that display of brutality wasn't enough to prove it... well, such a response is fitting for someone like you." Her voice trailed off, losing some of the bitterness it so often held.

Reid crossed her arms as she listened to Zukron, trying her hardest not to appear visibly distressed. She simultaneously agreed with the man's words and was nauseated by the vibrancy behind them. She had not known before that such a dichotomy was possible. She took a long pause to mull over her thoughts. "Zukron." Reid pursed her lips, wishing she could snap herself out of the indecision that held her. "I agree, but you - you'd best watch your words. I do not wish to undermine the Knights, but I do think such a move would be ill-informed. Why throw away coal when it has still yet to be pressed into diamonds? It would be a waste of potential."

She paused once more, coming to her last words. "Though I don't believe a 'counsel' would be in our favor. If Sigurd has assigned such a task to us, it is because he believes there is a solution we can find. If it is truly what's required, I'll go down there and train the Knights myself. Such a trust is far too easy to break." Even with the decision she'd just made, Reid felt her loyalties were unaligned. It almost felt like a violation of her own autonomy. But no... that wasn't the case at all! She was making an informed decision to maintain her loyalty to Sigurd. Not out of blindness, but out of trust. Surely, such a choice was the right one.

Xethyrion Midrick Athanas NinetaiIsIX​

 

[Novelight]

DARK EDEN: EPILOGUE — TRACK VIII — THE BLOODTHIRSTER

Alynx

Bloodthirster of Vragathia

Location: The Iron Colosseum, Vragathian Empire

Class Affinity: Bloodborne

Alynx remained silent and calm throughout his masters' dispute. Their talk about the Dark Hero's reasoning and the logic behind his actions was all too... mundane. Did they need a reason to capture one of the most infamous Vile Beasts, when the award was another medal on their shelf of achievements? Humans, no matter who they are, all seek to grow their ego to the point where their self-proclamation can become a reality, honored by all.

Or that's simply how Alynx viewed the world. A land ruled by the intellects, conquered by the brutes, and controlled by the cunning. And ultimately, owned by the one who can force an individual to submit by simply knowing their hierarchy in the world.

He knew of his position all too well. He was no more than a regular human who possessed an enigmatic power, and thus, he was destined to be more powerful than his colleagues. It was the reason why he was spared during the Unholy Selection by the Dark Hero himself. His power, and his ability to become a god. Was it despicable to acknowledge yourself as the rightful ruler of this god-forsaken plain?

A psychopath with ambitions that surpasses even the most zealous regalias, Alynx Barbatos was a man who saw his future as the greatest individual to ever walk the earth, defeating the Emperor of Vragathia and saving the world under his own laws and policy. Despite his overwhelming respect towards those who trained him to become who he was, Alynx was no stranger to betrayal, and his self-awareness made him the devil among demons.

How does this analysis fit into the situation at hand?

It was simple. Understanding how Alynx viewed himself with his enabled ego, he was able to execute his next choice of words with precision and perfection. All words that came out of his lips must now be according to his desire, his ambition, and his flamboyancy.

"Ahha~... Lord Seva, your words grace me with honor. I've always been inspired by your corrupted views—and we can't forget about that lovely sadistic face you're trying to hide. I respect you greatly, I truly do... But honestly, for the iron-blooded gods to feel as if the reason is required for their purpose of existence—how disheartening."

"You all are the Gods of Eden! To ask for the reason behind the one above's orders... honestly, is that necessary? You are all above the laws of the world, natural selection can never touch your brilliant souls, and your blades prove the finality of a man. Is that not all you need to go out into the wilderness and conquer those who could challenge you in power in the future?"

"The only one who is capable of tearing your flesh open and seeing what's inside your organs, is the Dark Hero himself, Sigurd Alcaeus the Absolute. His orders only override your freedom because he is the most powerful. He wields the Herculean Blade with an iron fist, and thus, your reason is solidified, as mine shares your fate."

"All this talk is nonsense, about reaping the benefits and complaining about the difficulty of the task... it pains me to speak so negatively about my mentors, but I believe it to be true. This is your one chance to prove that your strength knows no competitors outside of your clique, yet you desire benefits? What benefits exactly, if you would mind this sinful soul asking? To individuals who have everything under their fingertips, along with an overlord and cares not for his vassals' actions as long as they keep their swords sheathed in front of him, you ask for prosperity."

Alynx took a brief moment to breathe in and out, curving the edge of his lips after his long, possibly nonsensical speech. He cared not for his health, as he knew that his existence was far too important for Sigurd, who saw Alynx as the final Hero that'll save the world from the former's nightmares. Alynx used this as his advantage to allow his mind to express itself in front of who could argue as Eden's most powerful individuals, and he felt damn good about it.

But he wasn't done playing his card, as he withheld another information that he was supposed to tell the regalias before his official departure towards the southern regions of Aeslengard, as ordered by Sigurd.

"Hmph. As an apology for my rambling, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to leak information about the Hero's whereabouts then, mhm? Yes, I believe that'll be an appropriate way to end this conversation."

Alynx briefly licked the bottom of his lips to add to his smug nature, before offering his masters the second-order made by the Emperor of Vragathia.

"Sirus Thorvein, the King of Astral Armaments and the former Ruler of Sartauron. A powerful foe who managed to kill and perish a couple of the Integrity Knights, I'm certain that you've heard of his alliance with the Soulbringers. I was originally set to deal with the former King himself, but he desired that I... take one of the Regalias to dismantle the Aeslengardian forces in the south completely, as the Soulbringers would no doubt make themselves known in the battlefield as an attempt to aid their comrade."

"To have trouble with an old man who lost his precious treasure to a boy half their age, I was certain that his spirit was crushed by the time I fought him. But what do you know, the former King is quite the resilient fighter."

Alynx was not distressed about his last fight with Sirus. If anything, he acknowledged his defeat but did not offer his life to the victor, as he could not accept ending the story of Alynx Barbatos at the hands of a man who was defeated by the Hero—the actual person that he was supposed to defeat since his birth onto this world. However, after preparing himself for their next battle, Alynx was certain that victory was on his hands.

But, he needed a witness. He knew the Integrity Knights well. Some were con-artists that rose through the ranks through lies and deceit. It was often that the knights would take credit for the other's achievements, and knowing them, he couldn't take the chance fighting him alone without at least an audience that is worthy of being the witness to his glorious victory.

"Unfortunately, the Emperor does not wish to have the Regalias trample on foot soldiers during their free time. If you wish to speak with the Emperor, I would recommend that one of you join me for the next few hours, and I can guarantee that I can schedule an audience with the Dark Hero himself. After all, he asked for a personal report on Sirus Thorvein's death once his soul leaves this world."

A psychotic and sadistic knight was who Alynx Barbatos was.

In truth, while he desired victory against the King of Astral Armaments, he wanted nothing more than to see the Soulbringers becoming dust at the hands of one of the regalias.

Knowing his masters well, Alynx secretly desired Elizaveta to accompany him—but any of the five regalias would do, as he knew that none were keen on following instructions when their desires triumphed orders.

Clear the obstacles and obtain the weapons and power to defeat the Dark Hero of Eden.

Alynx Barbatos wanted nothing more, and nothing less. His final goal is what mattered, as dealing in absolutes was his specialty.

"The war of all against all."​

 

[pomme]

reid armienne

the red templar

As Alynx continued with his fanciful ranting, Reid's face first pinkened and then darkened, so that by the end of the grandiose speech the arches of her collarbones almost faded into the crimson of her hair.

Freedom? Overriding freedom? What would the little tick know about either of the sort? He was standing in the arena of beasts—not gods, as they had all made well and sure such things no longer existed—yet still gazed up with the unabashed ambitions of a child presented with a cheap trophy. His words were rancid. Filthy. He had not a single inkling what any of them had given. The power, the glory, the blood that they had spilled to prosper: every benefit had come from the constant renewal of their loyalty to the Hero. They were not subjugated—at least not Reid—but rather sacrificed themselves. They were martyrs. They had given up comfort, love, simplicity in life, all for the sake of change. For a cause such an imbecile as he would never understand.

Perhaps the Regalias really were idiots after all, if one of them hadn't managed to kill the dastardly flea yet. Though her complexion had taken a step down from its previous glare, she felt a pulsating heat behind the surface of her face, and heard a dull baseline of noise she suspected was her own blood flowing furiously. Before she had realized it, she found herself standing, her hands gripped so tightly around the arms of her chair her knuckles looked like they might puncture through the skin. "I see." She leapt into a pace, her heels striking against the ground with each step. "Perhaps you'd be best off trampling the 'foot soldiers' then, Alynx? Considering you found yourself unable to even dispatch a cowering, aging, aching old man." Her voice arced and dropped in precarious bounds. "You say our overlord really holds no contempt for our actions? Then, please enlighten me, Alynx, what do you think his thoughts would be if I were to make a sacrifice right now? In the spirit of our oncoming victory.

"Looking at you makes me feel sickly. You... Don't you see it? You're a horrible marksman. Just can't get it right. When a situation calls for the smallest hair of precision, you beat it to death without a second thought. Nothing you do will ever be good."

She sat back down.

In her haze of anger, she hadn't failed to hear the mention of the Hero, but she was far too immersed in her own rage to even be entertained by the concept. Her efforts would be better placed preparing for and slaying Paragon. The already slim concerns she'd held for the Integrity Knights moments prior had disappeared, leaving not a trace behind. Even a thought of the group conjured only the face of Alynx, which she would be perfectly content to see fucking dead. Or something of the sort.

"Just remember, Alynx, a good captain never abandons his ship. However this little fair turns out, I expect all of the Knights to return, or you to be among the dead." Reid's throat ached from yelling. The smallest part of her whispered that she was being irrational, and the majority heard the puny words with overwhelming gluttony. What was she worried about anyways? She would stay alive. She would stay worthy. Her breaths would remain paid for in full, and if the Knights were not able to walk across the coals with their chins held up, their debts would be collected.

 

[simj26]

Auberon NeachneoheinShe had been gone for a long time. Time passed strangely for someone who didn’t have much interest in the passage of time, though Auberon could hazard a guess that it had almost been a month, if not months. He wasn’t given much to worry, but this worried him. The last he had seen of her, her visage was not one of peace. There had been something bothering her, that much he could read. He turned the die over in his hand, then flicked it up into the air. He was terribly bored without her. In this splash of red and black paint, she had been a dash of a particularly fascinating colour. It was always so gloomy here. He could hear the grunts and cries of Integrity Knights being tossed around by Curruid from where he was. He didn’t need to be watching to know that the ‘training’ was more of a stress relief session for Curruid. As much as Curruid had changed from his old days, Auberon wasn’t sure this was the best path he could have chosen. Now, all he did was wallow in that fury of his- he was standing still. He never divulged his feelings, and it was tearing him apart inside, unable to move forwards, or back. Auberon couldn’t speak for himself in that regard, either. He liked to think that he was different, though. The bridges had been burnt for the King of Fools. He could not reach over that gap any more with just words or mere actions. He, himself, had seen to it. No, that wasn’t all true. He still had one bridge left unburned.

That was, if she ever came back. The Sorceress was said to be able to peer into the future. Auberon, himself, had no such ability, but he had his sharp intuitions. That very same intuition now told him that the one he was waiting for would never return.

Auberon caught the die lazily. He wasn’t surprised, to tell the truth. The Regalias had changed, and not necessarily for the better. He was not merely annoyed by it- he was irritated. So caught up were they with their tiny little wants, so blind were they to the future of the world. What led them to join Sigurd in the first place? Had they forgotten their paths? He sighed. He supposed he would have to start scheming again. To remind each and every one of them just what they were supposed to be doing. One way or another, he would have them move again. Strengthen their resolve ever more. He hated stoking the fires of hate in Curruid’s heart, or the ones of ambition in Reid’s- they were dangerous, not just as warriors, but to his plans. One stray spark, and things might blow up.

A shadow passed overhead, interrupting his thoughts. Auberon looked up. It was not Sigurd, that much he could tell. There was no weight that he could feel upon the shoulders of that wyvern. It was someone else. Curious. Auberon reached into his pouch, and closed his hand around a tiny capsule, tightening his grip until it popped, spilling a cold liquid onto the palm of his hand. He let the blood seep into his body, before leaving the capsule in his pouch. He stood up from his corner, dusting himself down, and watched as a figure leapt off the back of the black wyvern. Indeed, that figure carried itself with a different air than Sigurd did. With a wave of his hand, and a step back into the shadows of the pillars beside him, Auberon vanished from sight, melting into the dark. From his place, he watched as one of the Integrity Knights, Alynx, he believed, announced his arrival with an air of unproven arrogance. How disgusting. Auberon raised a finger, then slowly lowered it down, pointing it directly at Alynx’s back like one would a crossbow. All it would take was one shot, straight through him, immolate him from inside. Just one shot. He held his aim for just a little longer, before dropping his hand. His dark thoughts were coming to the front, and he could do nothing more than to entertain them, if only for just a moment. He bore no anger towards the Knight, he just wanted to make an example out of him. Something about him just struck Auberon the wrong way. Perhaps it was that he was trying to ape off Auberon’s own flair for the dramatic. Auberon scoffed inaudibly. Such was the nature of being popular, he supposed. Copycats, everywhere. He listened to the prattling just a little more, before he finally moved. He had enough of this. Curruid took the initiative to take up Alynx’s mission to be rid of this Paragon. Good for him. The others, however, despite their dispositions, chose to stand around and ask questions, about things like benefits. Goodness gracious, what has become of them? Benefits! Auberon mouthed the word incredulously. This was coming from Seva, no less, one of their greatest warriors. Since when was he interested in things like loss and benefit. What, had he been reading some stray books on merchantry and mummery? Alynx’s response to it almost made Auberon chuckle. The kid’s got the words right, at least. Now, however, it was time to show him the real difference between them.

“Oh, Alynx, Alynx, Alynx, what would we ever do without you?” Auberon cast off his shroud, finally revealing himself, as he strode towards the Integrity Knight. With a skip and a twirl, he fell to one knee, throwing his hands wide, and, with the flick of a finger, sent his die up into the air. With a tiny ‘pop’, the die exploded into a shower of pink petals raining down over him. With the ease of a showman, Auberon straightened up, and bowed slightly to the audience, and the petals around him vanished, as quickly as they had manifested. That was what Alynx didn’t have above Auberon, amongst other things. That was what made the difference between someone like Auberon, and something like Alynx- presentation. Wanton use of his glamours and illusions for something as petty as this were one of the smaller joys he could find here. As if to further wow his audience, he brandished his die between his fingers for all to see, before pocketing it. Now that his performance was over, he needed to tend to the discussion at hand.

He spun around and directed a pair of pointer fingers at the masked Seva. “He’s got a point, you know? Look at you, monsters of men to the letter, and you would shy away from proving yourself in a battle against, what, a mere mindless beast? What would our Sigurd say if he knew one of his greatest lieutenants, capable of crushing hallmarks of mortal men like our dear Alynx here single-handedly,” Auberon clamped one of his pale hands on Alynx’s head, as if to emphasise his point, and ruffled his hair as he would a child, “asking about silly little things like benefits? What is this, a trade between merchants?” Auberon snapped around, now pointing at Curruid. “Curruid, though? Now that’s spirit that I can get behind. That’s real warrior talk right there. Orders are orders! That’s all the explanation you need!” Auberon repeated after Curruid, without a hint of mockery in his voice. “Sigurd tells us to make an example of a city, we say…?” he held up a hand to his ear, expecting a response that wouldn’t come. He made an annoyed face, and straightened up. “We say ‘How many innocents do we slaughter?’. Come on, guys, we just practiced this yesterday.” He huffed in mock annoyance, folding his arms across his chest.

“Aaaanyway,” Auberon turned to meet the Knight’s wide smile with his own sharp grin. “Far be it from me to deny Lord Zukron his audience with Sigurd, especially if he would rather lounge about in his quarters than do anything about it. Allow me, Auberon Neachneohein, yes, the real me, to accompany you, my shining Knight of Vanity. The sooner we are done with this, the sooner the most handsome face on Eden gets to see Sigurd. Less talk, more action, and we’ll get things done much faster!”

“Oh, and Reid, dear,” he drifted away from Alynx, and behind Reid, clapping his hands on her shoulders, and placed his face next to hers. “All this worrying is going to give you wrinkles. I’m sure we all have our bad days. Alynx was just probably feeling under the weather. Maybe he had a bad cold, and the old man got away when he sneezed really badly. Do give the boy another chance, I would love to see him succeed. After all, that’s what I call ambition right there. He’s got kick, he’s got fire! He’s really earned an old man’s ire!” He chuckled, then leaned into Reid’s ear. With the same level of casualness that he had made his little rhyme in, he spoke, clear enough for Alynx to hear, “I’ll make sure to kill him myself if he can’t even get rid of this geriatric piece of shit. Not much use for someone that useless, right? Maybe the next one they send would be more likely to tell us where Sigurd is.” He flashed a confident grin Alynx's way. Smarmy git.

 

[kasigi]

Seva Kaine, The Many-Faced One
​

No matter the discussion, Zukron made a point to make things interesting. He was right - this was no time to discuss such menial things. Though, Seva held curiosity within his heart: what the hell is the conclusion he came to? If Seva could keep Zukron up at night, considering the many intricacies and potential meanings of his masks, perhaps things were for the better? After all - they weren't for others to gaze upon, but a reminder to Seva himself. His purpose. With wave of his hand accompanied by an affirmative "Yes, Zukron. Later.", the discussion had been brought to a conclusion - leading into Alynx's introduction.

-----

Regarding Curruid, "foolish" would be an incorrect term to use. The perfect soldier, when conceptualized, would manifest similarly to the Dark Enforcer when considering willingness to follow orders, effectively, without question. The Hero would ask, the soldier would obey. Consequently, Curruid is an incredibly efficient servant to the hero. Heeding Curruid's words, orders are orders, Seva allowed a wave of recollection to drown him. One hundred years ago, Seva was the same. His faith in the hero surpassed his faith in the gods themselves, worshipping the man as a savior. My path has been set. My redemption draws near. Seva woke up to thoughts like these, soothing his mind just as rays of sunlight pierced glass panes in the early morning. Now, however, things were different. Seva considered himself a warrior with a purpose, not a soldier.

After an eternity, he seldom places such unwavering faith in the Hero.

But... So much progress had been made already, hadn't it? They just needed to push on for a bit longer..

Seva could feel something deep within him, screaming. His conscience scratched at the walls of his mind. It was a tug of war between both his doubt and trust for the hero. These selfless efforts to save humanity from themselves would be easier managed if he weren't suppressing such an immaculate lust for violence.

Seva was on the fence. As much as he'd love to bring a vile beast to its knees, there remained a great many risks to consider - especially if the goal of such an effort is undefined. However.. the Hero hadn't started any trends of aimless goose chases over his numerous years of leadership. There was always a reason. Either way, he respected Curruid's ambition to serve Sigurd. Besides, perhaps the vile beast was the least of their worries - he had almost entirely forgotten about the state of the Integrity Knights before Zukron had brought up the issue. From what the Regalias had seen, the Integrity Knights were cannon fodder. Would they truly be able to compete with the "might" of the soulbringers in their current condition? Of course, this was when they were compared to a Regalia - a being that possessed overwhelming strength. Without a way to properly put the Knight's strength on a scale, they would have no clue how drastically their training regimen should be improved upon. Listening to Zukron further, he could not help but agree. "The Knights aren't ready. Their numbers will be ripped in fucking half." His dour inflection ripped through the air like an arrow. Reid's words were only further confirmation. As reluctant as she may be to speak in opposition to the Hero, she understood - all the Regalias did. They needed to cultivate the Integrity Knights. When engaged with the Soulbringers, ideally, they would not lose a single one. As things stood now.. losing all of the Knights wasn't entirely out of the question.

In order to ensure the air did not grow stale, Alynx made an effort to spout unrelenting absurdities. Above all other souls in the room, Seva's desire to wring someone's neck fell entirely on Alynx. No other crack would be comparable in regards to pleasure. On the contrary, Seva appeared to listen intently with great poise. He felt as if his rage had been channeled through Reid, her words of hatred towards the feeble pseudo-warrior emulating his own internalized fury. Alynx's mere presence was enough to drive one to madness. However, Seva would not allow the man to be graced with the desired reaction. A modulated, flat tone began to form words. Seva spoke without any noticeable intensity. He did not recognize Alynx as anything close to an authority. He is beneath me. Seva reached one of his armor-clad arms outwards, the other clutching the hilt of his staff as he remained in his seat. "Such.. Exemplary words. Alynx. Your unwavering servitude towards the cause, all without knowing sacrifice nor hardship, is admirable. However.." Seva closed his grasp. Bring his hand back to his side. "Your words alone show how different we are. You speak of benefits, as if the Regalias as a whole seek temporary, worldly desires. Our aim is not to prove our strength, but to complete our goal. The Hero's goal. The goal we've been fighting for our entire lives. I do not expect you to be capable of comprehending what exactly that is, Alynx.

The way you speak reeks of selfish desire. Something much greater is at stake."

As Seva's eyes followed Auberon's frolicking around the interior of the Coliseum, the abrupt defense of Alynx's words caused Seva to lean forward in his seat in revulsion, if only for a moment. "We have always moved forward, with purpose." Seva's words stung like a viper, trailing his final S for an eternity. "To claim we do not NEED purpose undermines the entirety of the hero's goal! Our reward is inching ever closer to the the completion of our goal. With that said..." There is a momentary pause. Relaxing back into his seat, the Masked One continues. "There is a reason. Sigurd has my faith. I just wish to know what that reason is, to better understand how future events will unravel after we've successfully hunted the Vile Beast." Following Seva's words pertaining to the Vile Beast, he began to consider the Integrity Knight's assault. As much as Seva would've loved to be directly involved, it appeared he wasn't quite quick enough at the draw. If only. Maybe next time. A wicked, unseen smile accompanied the unremarkable thoughts, though they carried ultraviolent intentions. Seva was truly haunted by his own desires. However, blowing off a bit of steam wouldn't end up being much of a problem. Better to not allow such emotions to bottle up, lest they erupt with unmatched fury.

 

[Novelight]

ALYNX BARBATOS

bloodthrister of vragathia

The Regalias' reaction towards his speech had made the bloodthrister excited for what was to come. A hint of fear shivered down his spine as Auberon introduced himself from the shadows of the coliseum, lightly threatening the orange-haired bastard to watch his words, while simultaneously easing him by playing the devil's advocate in front of his equals. He remained stoic and maintained his cocky grin throughout, even during Reid's enraged threats.

It would've been a lie to say that deep within his heart, he feared them greatly. A change in the weather was enough to trigger a bad day, and thus would mean a poor soul accompanying these monstrosities would have to pay for it by becoming their target practice. It had happened before with the red-haired ravager, who's servant one day questioned her loyalty to the Hero and met their fate with a thousand abdominal cuts with their inner guts present for the others to see.

He watched his words carefully, but when the question of command had taken superiority over the subject, Alynx couldn't help but to insert his malevolent thoughts. He disagreed not with any of the regalias' points, however. He knew that Reid, Auberon, Seva, and Zukron's words came from centuries of experience dealing with the divine and the wicked.

"Very well, Lord Auberon." He bowed, "You speak the words of truth, and I expect nothing more from the Regalia of Qliphoth. I'm sure the Emperor would be displeased to know that we haven't begun our operation, so please, allow me to guide you to the hellish battlefield."

Alynx clapped his hands together as the wyvern that had transported him prior came soaring through the skies, taking a moment to feel the wind before landing its two feet on the ground, making itself comfortable next to its master. "I presume my two lords have their own way of faster transportation? My wyvern prefers not to have more than one master, I hope you understand."

He cackled and hopped onto the rider's seat, "I'm sure you know well about my archrival, Velhyndr Zeratus of the Chevalier of Retribution, who wields the frightening Astral Armament known as Purgatory. My rival tends to go a little overboard during his operations, so if possible, please let him do his thing and utterly flame the Soulbringers into ashes. Or it could be the other way around, either way I'd prefer to watch him slowly succumb into madness by overusing his Astral Armament."

simj26 (Auberon)⠀ pomme (Reid)⠀ Athanas (Zukron)⠀ kasigi (Seva)⠀ Midrick (Curruid)

 

[Athanas]

Zukron Arvalstan, The Destroyer of Hope​

Zukron’s agitation was alleviated, somewhat, as one after another his companions all made valid points which demonstrated a good understanding of the cause that they were fighting for. Though some inevitably became too absorbed in their own petty machinations, like Elizaveta, or too consumed by their pain and hatred, like Curruid, most of the Regalias remained at least on some level connected to their cause.

Granted, Seva still was far too obsessed with himself and his own troubles, Reid put too much of her attention into the Hero himself, and not the cause that he was championing, and Auberon’s “court jester” act had a tendency to wear thin and make him seem like nothing but impatient and annoying, instead. But every one of the Damned has flaws-and only he who was without sin was allowed to cast the first stone. And thus Zukron accepted them for what they were.

Their interjections also served another purpose-they bought him time to compose himself after his outburst regarding the apparent desire of Sigurd to merrily kill many promising knights and force the Regalias to start over. “Auberon” He began with a huff, only slightly amused by the changeling’s antics “I’m not sure how much you have been listening, but I believe the root of the issue here is exactly that-time. A lot of these Integrity Knights have been training for months or even years. They have bled much for our cause, they may even follow our own ideals. And Sigurd asks that we discard them over nothing, without even a detailed explanation of the objective, or the gains, or his reasoning. If I didn’t know any better I would almost call such an order forged by a cunning enemy who wishes to divide us and weaken us.”

He approached the jester, his mangled face making a grimace of uncertain meaning. “I understand you are impatient, but if you think a twenty-minute discussion on the merits of throwing away years of work to be ‘a waste of time’, then perhaps your impatience has began to fester into the realm of stupidity.”

For a moment it was really not clear what was going to happen-then Zukron’s mangled face lit up in a smile, and he patted the man on the back. “Alas, I would be an equally grand fool to not understand you are trying to goad everyone else into action. An unorthodox strategy, but nothing about you is quite mundane, yes?” He chuckled slightly at his own joke, before he backed off of Auberon’s personal space. “I still wish to hear Sigurd’s reasoning-I am nothing but certain that the True Hero of Eden would not act in this manner without very good cause, but I also understand that sitting around waiting for him would not be conducive towards any sort of meaningful results.”


After another second of silence, he added: “I will join Alynx. I must see the kind of Soulbringers we are facing for myself. Be they brainwashed or purely sociopathic? They have a large part to play in the future, and I must be sure they are in a position to play it. Do your best to not get butchered in my absence, yes? I fear I cannot take your pain away from a distance.”

He sighed slightly as Alynx said that his Wyvern could not hold additional weight. Of fucking course. He resisted the momentary temptation to force the arrogant bastard to take Auberon with him, but he ultimately decided that it would be pointless. “Such a frail mount, Knight! Not to worry though, my beast can hold the trickster’s rather minor weight. Come along, friend.”


As he was about to leave for the holding pens where his own mode of transportation was located, when Alynx’s words once again proved that once again the knight of vanity did not have the slightest clue as to what the point of all this was. He momentarily buried his face in his hands, trying to maintain his calm. They didn't know. They couldn’t see. He had to be patient.

“Alynx, I do not wish to hear you speak ill of the other knights. And do not call them your rivals. You are not competing-your success does not have to come from their failure. You are, instead, all struggling together to achieve a common goal. His...methods, are different, they indicate a great devotion to his goal. A devotion so great he is willing to inflict harm upon himself, and worse, upon his own mind. And trust me when I say this that the anguish of a deranged soul overshadows all physical pain. This is admirable, and you will treat it as such. This is the kind of attitude that allowed us to defeat Gods and Devils. Pointless peacocking is enjoyable, I will not deny this, but do not allow it to define you to the point of being blind to everything else.

You can be better. You can always be better. Think on that on the trip, mhm?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, instead going off into the holding pens, where his own disciples handed him the leash of his own mount. It was bigger than most, malformed and mutated through countless experiments. He hopped on and motioned for Auberon to do the same.
An intrusive thought came to his mind as he pondered upon the identities of the soulbringers, which he sought to squash immediately. The Gods are dead. Such a cruel jest, though they would be more than happy to play it on his soul, was now beyond their power. He tried to console himself with that thought, without much success.