Two Sides of the Same Coin
Roana Steadman
Soldier

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#1
All is fair in love and war
bloodshed in velvet shades
as battles burn, but one remains
they call her Queen of Blades
Roana had asked Amalia to accompany her once again to the Mathair. This time to plant Vi's roses. Last time had been to see if she had caused the blight - and to her relief she had not. But this meeting had a dual purpose, one that she was sure would cause an argument. She could only hope that her doing something would keep Amalia from completely flying off the handle.

For a time she walked alongside the baker in silence, carrying her rose delicately, claymore unsheathed in case they were attacked as they made their way through the blighted forest. At length though, she sighed, glancing over at Amalia. "I've sought Ludo's counsel on these matters of late. I've been given a task but...I wanted to warn you of it before doing so." she said quietly. "As the Shield of Safrin, I doubt you will like it much."
ROANA
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Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
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#2


AMALiA
Amalia, too, walks in silence, susprised by Roana's invitation but not one to discourage anyone from doing the work of Vi. The light of the luxere staff lights the forest with the color of blood, offset by Jyoti who flies quietly at her side. Now and again she glances at Roana's claymore, idly wondering if the soldier has brought her out to kill her. It would be a good place for it, Amalia muses. Perhaps she could fertilize the plants.

The Shield is roused from her morbid thoughts as Roana exhales a sigh, fit cutting the silent journey with a curl of steamy breath. The declaration makes her raise her brow, turning fully to face Roana, curiosity in her dark eyes. "I cannot imagine a reason to stand against a task from Ludo," the girl says, shrugging slightly, her faith in the Old Gods absolute. "What has it asked you to do?"

the darkest nights produce the brightest stars
Roana Steadman
Soldier

Age: 35 | Height: 5'8" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#3
All is fair in love and war
bloodshed in velvet shades
as battles burn, but one remains
they call her Queen of Blades
She can’t imagine why she, ardent follower of Vi and Safrin, would wish to stand against the wishes of Ludo, the guide of dead souls? Well. She was either answering without thinking on it too deeply or perhaps she was not so fiercely aligned with her preferred deities as Roana thought. Still, she raised a curious brow at her before looking back towards the path. ”If you say so.” she said with a light shrug.

”I asked Ludo about the Voice, and any possible ways she might be quelled. But everything I could think of the Gods have already tried.” she said with a frown, lips slightly pursed as she looked down at the rose in her hand. ”The only way to prevent her from disrupting the balance of life and death more than she already has is to kill her tools – the Ascended. That is what Ludo has asked me to do.” she said, looking over at Amalia again. ”She must seek peace for herself. The only way to do so is to take away what she cherishes most.”
ROANA
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Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
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#4


AMALiA
To be fair, Amalia had not anticipated a request like that. Kill her tools- as though they were just that, tools instead of people, husks of metal and broken promises left behind to rot. Stopping short along the path, the girl clutches her rose in her hand, almost hard enough to pierce her skin as her dark eyes widen in disbelief. "But they're people," Amalia breathes, though she can car the doubt in her own voice. Didn't she just tell Sam something similar, that the Voice takes souls and creates the dead?

But to kill them- Amalia shakes her head. Surely this is not what Ludo wants? What Mort wants? "You can't," she whispers, staring at Roana, her right hand flexing around her staff. "Roana, that's murder. Mort wouldn't want that." Vi wouldn't want that.

the darkest nights produce the brightest stars
Roana Steadman
Soldier

Age: 35 | Height: 5'8" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#5
All is fair in love and war
bloodshed in velvet shades
as battles burn, but one remains
they call her Queen of Blades
Ah. There is was. The shock, the horror, the disgust. But Roana was long since used to it. Between the pariah she had become here, and the looks she would receive whilst covered in the blood of her enemies after battle, such looks rarely bothered her now. "You're right. They are people." she said calmly, looking down at the rose in her hand. "I presented various options to route around this, but the gods have already tried them all. Even the barrier, the Voice found a way around by calling people like me here." she said with a melancholy smile, looking back at Amalia.

"No. You can't. I can." she said shaking her head. Amalia was a gaurdian of life. Roana? Every fiber of her being was colored by death. "It is war, which does involve murder." she said, agreeing to a point. "But if we do not act now, she will grow her numbers. They will grow in strength. The amount of death they could cause would upset the balance in a way that Caido may not be able to recover." she said calmly, able to see the logic in Ludo's desire clearly. "To kill the Ascended now and attack those she holds dear will force the Voice's hand and lead to the least amount of death. And if she can use the Ascended to enact her will, Ludo can use me to enact theirs, just as Vi and Safrin use you." she said with a sigh.
ROANA
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Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
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#6


AMALiA
Disbelief and doubt: there is no way this is happening, no way Mort would allow such an act. It makes no sense, and the girl continues to shake her head, her knuckles growing white as they flex around the luxere staff. Continuing the walk because she does not know what else to do, Amalia does not look at the woman as her explanation fills the space, making a terrible amount of sense. War involves murder-

But Amalia has never known war.

Not until the Outlanders came.

"Mort made the barrier." Were anyone to protest this idea, it seems it would be the loving god of death. "To save us. To avoid more death. This can't be what he wants." Do Ascendeds even have souls? She doesn't know, and she isn't sure she wants to. Sam. Wessex. These are were her friends, the people she grew up beside, has known all of her life. To see them killed is

"Besides, even if you tried to do this... people would stop you. They wouldn't allow it. I can't allow it, not without hearing from Mort or Vi."

the darkest nights produce the brightest stars
Roana Steadman
Soldier

Age: 35 | Height: 5'8" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#7
All is fair in love and war
bloodshed in velvet shades
as battles burn, but one remains
they call her Queen of Blades
Unlike Amalia, war was all Roana had ever known, and she wished it had not followed her here.

Quietly she watched as she wrestled with her words, her reasoning – knowing her logic was sound but also that sound logic alone didn’t make it agreeable – and trying to come to some terms with them. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t kind. It flew in the face of all that one like Amalia cherished. ”The gods made the barrier. All of them. Mort was but one, to my knowledge.” she said, wondering if she was not correct in that understanding. ”How much death did it prevent though? Look at how much Long Night in the barrier changed, from something peaceful to a nightmarish bloodbath. And really, Amalia, was being locked away without the ability to explore the full world and all Caido has to offer life? Or simply not-death?” Roana asked. To her, they were very different things. ”And are the Ascended really living? Or are they simply pawns in the Voice’s game? I am not certain you or I can make that call, but I can only say what Ludo has asked of me.” she said, shaking her head a bit. Life and death were large concepts, the former far more subjective than the latter.

”Not all. There will be those who agree with this method. And to stop me, they will have to know it is me, and save for you, I don’t plan to be caught in it.” she said softly, but watching her with seriousness. ”I have three children. I cannot put them in danger over this. I will keep my identity hidden for as long as possible.” And whether she would allow it? She sighed and shook her head. ”Neither of us get to allow anything. It is the will of Ludo. But if you would like to consult Mort, I would accompany you. I am pretty certain you need not consult the god of Life to know what his thoughts would be on the matter.”
ROANA
This table brought to you with considerable help from Sky and Odd!
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
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#8


AMALiA
"But Mort begged for it." She remembers Safrin clearly: it was Mort's love that saved them all, his adoration which offered them salvation when destruction presented an easier and more permanent solution. He had not wanted killing then, so why should he want it now?

Unless, of course, it wasn't killing. Unless they were already dead.

Was it really life, or simply not-death? How many times has the baker wondered that, growing up under a concealed sky? She flinches to hear her blasphemy used against her, knowing that she cannot say anything in retaliation without becoming a hypocrite. But never would Amalia have acted on these thoughts, not without the guidance of a god.

Roana has that guidance. Roana has that guidance, and now Amalia is trying to act against her own deepest convictions, to say that it is wrong. It is a moral struggle greater than any she has tousled with before, and the girls hands clench and unclench as she continues walking, her eyes on the ground.

And here, again, Roana has her, the threat to her children a strike Amalia knows she cannot counter. "At least wait until after Long Night," the Shield begs, her voice soft. "We have enough to be afraid of, now. Wait until the sun comes back." It will give her time to find another solution, to beg for guidance from Vi.

the darkest nights produce the brightest stars
Roana Steadman
Soldier

Age: 35 | Height: 5'8" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#9
All is fair in love and war
bloodshed in velvet shades
as battles burn, but one remains
they call her Queen of Blades
”Three hundred years ago.” she said with a sigh. That was a long time. Maybe not for a god in a sense but long enough to reflect certainly. ”And what did it change? Did it really save lives? Mort may have changed his mind.” she said gently. Roana looked down at the rose in her hand, contemplating silently. It wasn’t an easy thing to talk about, or contemplate, and certainly not for one like Amalia who walked the path of life. But that was her path, not Roana’s, and maybe that was why she was here now.

”I am not asking you to agree, because I know you cannot. In fact, if anything, it is important that you don’t, so you can remind everyone, even me, that this is being done not because of the Ascended themselves, but because of the missteps of their leader. There is a lesson in it, one humanity seems to repeat over and over, no matter the world.” she said with a slight sigh before looking back at the baker. ”But I ask that you do not hold it against me. This path is just as difficult as yours, in different ways. Mort and Vi work together to maintain balance as different as I am sure they are. I hope we can as well.” she said quietly.

Amalia begged her to wait and she sighed, but considered. ”I will wait as long as I can, and I will warn the Ascended so they’ve an opportunity to ask their Goddess to fix this rift she has caused on her own. But I can’t make a promise as to how long that will be.” she said.
ROANA
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Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
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#10


AMALiA
There is something that irks her, something that she has been wondering about since Roana first explained her purpose, which pricks her harder now. "Why me?" Why did the soldier come to her with this, instead of someone she knows better, someone she trusts, a friend? Why pick out someone she seems to know will oppose her, who cannot, cannot condone this plan, both for personal reasons and due to her faith? Anger flickers on her eyes, not Roana so much as with everything, this entire Rae damned mess.

At least Roana is allowing her time. At least she is willing to warn them. But Amalia cannot condone these actions, no matter how much the soldier tries to justify them, how much sense it makes in her mind. Sometimes logic cannot be applied; sometimes a cause must be protected, no matter the cost.

Kneeling at the base of the Mathair the girl sets her arms aside, fingers shifting into claws as she digs into the frozen earth. "It is easy to murder in the belief that one is protecting others." The words are exhaled like a summer storm, the product of another, greater mind than hers. "It is easy to end lives under the pretence of preserving life itself.

"But that doesn't make it right."
Vi had asked if she would cross that line, and Amalia had sworn to him she would not.

That she is a shield, not a sword

the darkest nights produce the brightest stars
Roana Steadman
Soldier

Age: 35 | Height: 5'8" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 6 - Strg: 24 - Dext: 26 - Endr: 24 - Luck: 11 - Int:
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#11
All is fair in love and war
bloodshed in velvet shades
as battles burn, but one remains
they call her Queen of Blades
Roana looked at the ground as she knelt, thinking on Amalia’s question. ”Because…I felt it was the right thing to do.” she said with a shrug, setting down the rose and her sword to pull out a small hand shovel from the pack she carried. ”This is your home and people respect you. I’m an outsider and always will be…and even though you told me to do something to help…I wanted you to know why I am doing this even if you can’t condone it based on your alignment.” she said.

She fell silent then, beginning to dig into the earth. Though it was frozen, she was plenty strong enough to make the shovel break through the dirt to make a decent sized hole for the rose to sit in.

The former captain glanced at her as she spoke again, of how easy it is to murder in the name of good. Her lips purse briefly, as she set the rose into the ground. ”Maybe it is, if you don’t think on it too hard, or if your moral compass is off or you’re otherwise deranged.” she said softly. But after countless battles, after all the lives she had taken, there were very few she could think of where she couldn’t make an argument for why killing them had been wrong. Roana placed the flower in the dirt, carefully covering its roots with the loose soil. ”But I don’t think it is so easy. You look into someone’s eyes and thrust a blade between their ribs, and you watch the light of life fade from their eyes. You watch every moment they might have had – every child they might’ve made, every love the might’ve had, every adventure they might’ve taken, every mistake or triumph they might’ve made – you watch it all suddenly disappear, lost forever, never to be realized. Life cut short, because of decisions made by others or well before that moment. Things both within and without their control. It is a terrible thing, to do something so wrong for all the right reasons.” she sighed, blue eyes staring at her hands, hands that had taken the lives of countless people, in the name of protecting her home and family and people.

A melancholy smile curved her lips and she looked over at the baker again. ”Death, I think, is probably the most misunderstood force in the world, and those who enact it lightly understand it the least. I hope you never have to understand any of this, and so long as I am around, you and others shouldn’t have to.”
ROANA
This table brought to you with considerable help from Sky and Odd!
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
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#12


AMALiA
There it is again. People respect you- as if there is any truth to that, as though there are not others more suitable, as if she truly has anybody's respect. But it is far less bewildering that the woman's response to Amalia's simple words, the outburst of justification, the way she entirely misses the point that the baker - that Vi - has made. The point is not that murder is easy, it is that it is easy to justify killing, which is what Roana seems to be doing.

It infuriates her, confuses her, makes her want to hide or scream. She does not want to hear how terrible it is to take a life, and each new detail is like a twist of the knife, separating them further from one another. It is a terrible thing, to do something so wrong for all the right reasons. "Is there ever a right reason?" the Shield asks quietly, clenching her talons into her fists.

Her rose planted successfully, Amalia rises to her feet, staring at Roana through narrowed black eyes. "How many people have you killed, Roana?" Her voice is low and quiet, a dangerous edge to her tone. "How many times have you told yourself you did it because it was right?" Suddenly the baker takes a step forward, her shoulders bristling with a leopard's fur, her eyes narrowing to slits. There is power, strength behind her muscles, more than there was two seasons ago when they had their fateful fight. Amalia is stronger, faster, has suffered more.

"By your own logic... If I were to kill you here, to protect the lives of the Ascendeds you are threatening, wouldn't it be right?"

Were she to fight Roana again today, she may well win.

the darkest nights produce the brightest stars
Roana Steadman
Soldier

Age: 35 | Height: 5'8" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#13
All is fair in love and war
bloodshed in velvet shades
as battles burn, but one remains
they call her Queen of Blades
Roana could near feel the anger rolling off of Amalia as she continued to carefully plant her rose. She had expected it though. It flew in the face of everything the woman stood for, everything she vehemently fought to protect. But if she could stand her ground infront of Amalia, knowing she was duty bound by the gods of life to protect life, then she could certainly do the work of the gods of death.

With her rose planted, she rose as well, looking over at Amalia, an oddly warm expression on her face given the topic at hand. "Yes. There is." she said calmly, not flinching under Amalia's intense gaze. "If there were not, Mort and Ludo would have no purpose." No one made it out of life alive. Everyone was killed by something. Bodily decay. Disease. Accidents. Predatory animals. In the case of the Ascended, it would be her hand, because the actions of their leader put them on the front lines.

She considered quietly for a moment, the baker's question. "I've been a soldier over a decade. Hundreds. Possibly near a thousand." she said calmly. The frontlines of the wars in Northwind had not been a pretty sight. Bloody battles and raids that lasted months. There had been a reason their people had sought the safety of a new home in Northaven. "And every single one, I have told myself this. It was them, or me and my family. My people. I was fighting a war led by people far above me. This is no different." she said quietly. This was a war of the gods, the struggle between the Old and the Voice. The Voice sent forth the Ascended. Ludo sent forth her.

Roana smiled a little at Amalia's final question, tilting her head slightly. "I suppose, if you feel that the agenda of the Voice is also worth carrying out. Because that is what they are doing, unwittingly or otherwise." she said with a light shrug. She did not wish to kill the Ascended because of the Ascended. She was going to do so because of the actions of the Voice. "But will you, Amalia? Will you kill me, Shield of Safrin? I would think the weight of life enough to bear without the weight of death added as well."
ROANA
This table brought to you with considerable help from Sky and Odd!
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
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#14


AMALiA
"Death and murder are not the same." Jaw clenched in obvious frustration, the Shield glares daggers at the woman before her. "Everything dies in Rae's time. It is not for us to decide when that happens, or for what reason."

What does this woman know of her gods? What does she know of the world they live in? Perhaps murder was sanctioned and justified in Northaven, but Northaven sounds like a miserable place, where too much attention was placed on power and place and death for the sake of each. In Caido death is a constant companion, and Mort and Ludo have enough work to do without the help of mortal sin.

The ease with which Roana says she has killed a thousand people falls against Amalia's stomach like ice. Clenching her fists the baker practically shakes with rage and horror, feeling the space between herself and this woman grow further and further, too vast to overcome. To justify so much death, to deem yourself worthy of determining who deserves life... she cannot comprehend it, cannot abide it. It is madness. It is pointless. It is the squandering and irreverence of all of Vi's gifts.

There is no reason in it, and there is no reason in her. Onyx eyes glare back at the smiling soldier, a snarl of fangs behind her lips. "You have no idea how much weight I can carry," Amalia murmurs, her voice firm despite her fury. But she does not move to strike Roana, though part of her wishes to. She made a vow to Vi, and she will keep it.

She will not step off the line.

"I will find another way. There must be one- Mort would not want this."

the darkest nights produce the brightest stars


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