tides of thunder

remember that you can't save everyone

remember that you have to try

Thiefdom in Helovia had several different connotations: not only great swindlers of individuals, but also of information. Based on their knowledge, the Basin had been able to successfully infiltrate and invade another kingdom; where long before they’d floundered, stumbled, fell apart at the seams. They’d been impressive, mighty, and overwhelming, towering above all others, for once, for once, for once, and he died remembering those portions over the notched seams of disaster and ruin. But Sunjata had eagerly taken the bait, asking on the length of time the woman had reigned – and Deimos lacked the accurate answer, merely because his demise negated the kind of information – and he’d never asked how much longer she’d maintained her position on the throne after his last breath. Perhaps it hadn’t mattered, not here, not now, when there were other things at stake, other infernos at play. So without saying too much more, elaborating at all, his eyes ghosted back to the other man, the slightest shrug undulating through his shoulders. “Long enough to make a difference.”

Then there was their bizarre pattern of miss after miss, which grew a bit more frustrating, irritating; pondering if it was his construction of the machine leaving it amiss. They couldn’t have it be so unreliable if it was going to amount to any worth for any future endeavors. He watched with scrupulous, examining attention as Sunjata followed through on the same movements and motions as before, shifting, pulling the arm back, the rocks soaring, bounding, and then going beyond the target. Any remnants of laughter died off into a frown, because now it was brewing into something more than ridiculous.

But he wasn’t about to give in – stubborn, obstinate, and tenacious, the range of defiance and sedition stirred and instigated along his blood, marching forward to inspect the catapult all over again. The Sword tinkered back and forth, hands running through the hinges once more, maneuvering portions to smooth out the arm’s forceful device; before trying, one last effort. The stones were reloaded, smaller portions left over from their earlier skirmishes, and he breathed, the irreverent sigh running through the ethers, the vestiges, of layered, lacquered ire. Eyes narrowed, he pulled back the arm, and watched as success finally reared its head again – the pebbles conforming to a precise mass, decimating the core of the target, until the top half doubled over the remains of the bottom, sunken and stripped. “There.” He patted the catapult, and then stepped away, leaving it alone after they’d finally managed to have a favorable outcome.

out for vengeance

DEIMOS

but the darker the weather, the better the man

you can take all you want

Long enough to make a difference. He hums quietly in response at first, though the Cheshire grin remains momentarily. “Knowing her, that could either be short or long.” His accented rumble reaches Deimos before he snorts with it. She had the power to change much in a short time as she did over a lengthy period. But at least it was a starting point, an idea of how he could get under her skin when he barely knew anything about the viper, the Valkyrie, the woman who’d literally shocked him.

Either way, he steps back after his failed attempt, eyes skating over Deimos as the man follows through with the motions, and he watches as the arm pulls back and flings the rocks in a perfect hit. Perhaps his luck was just terrible, wouldn’t have been the first time. And Deimos’ there is received with a nod, a quiet chuckle at the results they both had. “I need to work out a bit more.” He replies a bit gruffly, stretching out the arm that had pulled the arm back on the catapult, before he picks up the bow again.

Perhaps next time he’d be able to hit the target more than twice.

Regardless, he glances over to Deimos with that same kind of intrigue as he had the first time they’d met. “Want to grab a drink?” He asks. Could be anything, water, alcohol, things of that nature. But at least it’d be something to reward the surprise work done for the day. That and it at least keeps his mind off of everything else that’s taken over it.

but not who i am

SuNJATA

remember that you can't save everyone

remember that you have to try

Hotaru was a force of nature – tempestuous and driven, and if given the right interludes, the right motivations, there truly wasn’t anything to stop her. He inclined an arch to his brow at Sunjata’s statement – perhaps the other man had already realized her abilities and capabilities in that regard, so he snorted but gave nothing else. Let Hotaru have the rest of her secrets, let her remain a mystery, let Sunjata dig himself into a deeper hole or find the conflagrations, the infernos, the lightning strikes enticing.

Deimos distracted himself from any other response to the Valkyrie’s inclinations by maneuvering the catapult off the target range, pulling it along, the wheels churning across dirt and earth, until it was tucked off to the side, ready and able for anyone who deigned, wished, or yearned to use it. At Sunjata’s statement, he lifted his head, considered the rest of the expanse. “I could always create some equipment,” he shrugged; maybe it would inspire others to do the same, seeing nothing wrong with maintaining a physique honed for warfare, munitions, or anything else scattered in between. He’d preserved and sustained a warrior threshold just for those purposes, the same routines every morning outside his home, fit and composed for barbarity, for destruction, whenever it was ushered and beckoned forth. His eyes rested on the walls of the barracks, newly refurbished, pondering if he could simply put a bar there, enough for people to lift themselves, and then carry on with whatever was required. It would help to actually have more militia than just himself, Hotaru, and Loren, but that would come with time.

Rolling up his sleeves, intending to get back to work on more munitions for the armory, he hadn’t expected Sunjata’s inquiry; few invited him to drink, and a majority of the time he’d sunk into a chair beside Remi, lamenting over their losses, parading their successes, or going over plans. “Sure,” he shrugged and accepted. “I have a stash in the front room,” was added with the slightest of smiles – meandering back into the fold of the barracks and into the aforementioned space, presuming the other man would follow. He’d taken the liquor from his home on notions of planning munitions over drinks, like olden days, but there hadn’t been anyone, or any need, to participate, entertain, the thoughts. Ducking down behind several drawers, he opened the bottom portion of the cabinet, withdrawing the alcohol and two glasses, then maneuvered towards the table, and placing them down on the surface, folding up a few maps he’d been making.

out for vengeance

DEIMOS

but the darker the weather, the better the man

you can take all you want

The idea of Deimos creating more equipment for training, for working out, for becoming a force to be reckoned with, resonates with him well enough. And he eyes the man briefly before focusing on grabbing his bow and ensuring everything is settled. “I’d probably use them.” He offers with his own shrug. He’d do anything at this point to focus on other things, and if it came to training again, building muscle where it had been lost, he’d do it.

But the offer of drinks almost seems to take Deimos by a small amount of surprise, and Sunjata thinks he might say no at first until the acceptance leaves his lips. A quiet “sure” and a mention of a stash that has his lip curling up in another of those rogue smirks of his. “I’d be here more often if I knew about the stash.” He attempts to joke, and yet there’s a hint of the appearance he has that seems to say he’s not. Either way, he follows Deimos to the room, settling in as the other man grabs two glasses and a bottle, before returning to the table.

He looks around curiously before his eyes land on Deimos. “How many members do you have?” He asks offhandedly, wondering how many soldiers there even were in the Hollowed Grounds. If it were something worth knowing about, worrying about in the end.

but not who i am

SuNJATA

remember that you can't save everyone

remember that you have to try

Sunjata’s insistence of any training materials, equipment for honing muscles and mass, was enough to ensure at least one person would find them useful. He nodded, maneuvering the notion to the back of his mind, and then, on a better thought, added it to a nearby list he’d been maintaining for other preparations.

He snorted at the other man’s insinuation of the stash and knowing about it, committing the notion to memory so he would maneuver it to another location once Sunjata left – the smirk etching its way along his features regardless, a casual eye roll administered, while he poured the drinks, settling into a chair, leaning back against its surface.

The question that followed was an irksome one, and only because it was a problem he’d yet to fully scale. “Three,” muttered on a sigh. “Loren, Hotaru, and myself.” Perhaps it wasn’t something he should’ve been admitting, to display the obvious holes and weakness in their defenses. When he’d first arrived within Caido, sprung apart in portals and mired in his own melancholy, there’d been nothing – but no rulers either, no sovereignties, no other threats but themselves looming. Zariah’s scrape upon humanity had ensured the army was bulging, but only by force. He wasn’t certain if her tactics and tendencies had blasted away notions of anyone else joining ever again, but at some point he wouldn’t be able to use her as an excuse. Which meant recruiting, seeking out individuals with like-minded tendencies, who craved to ensure others within the fold were safe, were secure, and to thwart the rise of another tyrant. The implication therein caused the slightest indentation of his snicker again. “Four, if you are interested.” He took a drink, savored the slow burn down his throat.

out for vengeance

DEIMOS

but the darker the weather, the better the man

you can take all you want

He settles in the seat, realizing that even if he knew where said stash was, that he had more back at the bar in progress. And with it, and Remi’s help, a near endless supply. But if Deimos wished to move it around anytime he was around, Sunjata would find it nothing more than amusing to see where it goes next.

Deimos pours the drinks, and Sunjata reaches for his glass and offers a quiet toast to the work and failures of today, focusing on the burn as it slides down his throat and he asks how many members it has. His interest peaks at the mention of Loren and Hotaru, another rogue smile crossing his face at the offer Deimos gives him. It feels familiar to home, in a sense, except the opposite. And he wonders if Hotaru had done the same as he had when she’d offered to join his own guild. “Sure.” Provided there’s a few other ways to work out.

He can’t see the harm in it.

“I arrived a week before Zariah implemented the draft. I didn’t have to sign since nobody knew me.” He shrugs lightly. “Might have scared some people off.”

but not who i am

SuNJATA

remember that you can't save everyone

remember that you have to try

An easygoing acceptance, the arch to his brow the only indication of surprise. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been, considering Sunjata’s admitted understanding, background, and implementation of munitions along the same thresholds. He had half a notion to slide in some snide remark to Hotaru later, about how he could recruit, thank you very much, but his attention was otherwise occupied by the light shrugs, the clamor of before, before, before. This world was not Isilme, nor Helovia; equal in his depths and fathoms at expelling violence, vehemence, force, and anything layered, lacquered in between, political measures just as drawn as knives and swords. “I doubt many here have experienced much war.” The Naturals, at least; though past rumors and histories presided along wars amongst gods and their follies, it hadn’t occurred in a long time – pressed into barbarity and brutality for no reason seemed like too much of a stretch for those who’d only known the bubble, the towering Spire, and the demon once lingering along its depths. The closest any of them had seemed to snap, pre-tyrants, had been on the insinuation of what to do about the aforementioned monster, Outlanders following through with little regard. Those portaled in, like himself, like all the other Helovians, like those of Sunjata’s earth, had brandished their munitions, their weaponry, accustomed to the depths of ferocity and savagery, what it meant to lacerate, to maim, to incinerate. “Zariah’s methods did not help.” Because some immediately rebelled; defiant in the face of putting their name on a piece of paper, signing their lives away to barbarity. He’d placed his title there easily – as if it were nothing to occupy his stance in that existence again. Others bristled and snapped, pending arrests flickering over the haze.

And it’d seemed so monumental then.

So they would have to be different: not a system of brutes, but protection, guards, stalwart tendencies instead of obvious, molten turbulence and disorder. “I figured we could at least build defenses.” Another drink, another swallow, his eyes cast upon the maps, pondering over steadfast qualities, rather than other things he could easily adorn. “For any incoming threat.” The insinuation of Zariah, or anything else, could lay there, taken apart or sizzled somewhere else.

out for vengeance

DEIMOS

but the darker the weather, the better the man

you can take all you want

Deimos’ comment could be taken multiple ways, and yet Sunjata – now feeling a bit of the burn in his muscles of the arm of the catapult – takes another sip of the drink before responding, his head tilting ever so slightly at the way he figures out how to respond. “Lucky them.” He offers quietly – but with the luck, comes the unknown. Perhaps that’s where Deimos comes in, creating a band of those that have seen it before, that will protect and aid those inexperienced. At least he can offer his help to it – to help prevent people like his father taking the mantle.

“Oh, they definitely didn’t.” He agrees, though his smile fades something akin to a frown – how he’d met her recently, spoken to her over the information of when Lucas had ran the Guild. It was all a part of a plan, deep down, to try and figure out where she’d stood and what she was like. He hadn’t liked what he’d seen, and the conversation had ended there. For the time being, however, he had other plans, other motives, other means of getting by with the Advocates and whatever else came his way.

“What kind of defenses are you thinking?” He asks after a moment, leaning forward to look across the map. Defenses against Halo and the Greatwood? And if so, would they be something akin to fences, something to keep people in and simultaneous keep people out? Or something like the catapult they had just tested out front. Either way, his steel eyes drift up toward Deimos with a small smile, a rogue smirk. He’d help out wherever needed.

but not who i am

SuNJATA

remember that you can't save everyone

remember that you have to try

He wasn’t sure who he’d be without the sting of war embedded in his skin, in his flesh, crisscrossed in marks, in webbing, in earthly, tangible scars, and then the ones hidden, buried underneath. For a time, it was all he’d known – weapons and schisms, broken, beaten bodies, carving their way through trenches, through cataclysms, through mayhem, swords lodged in chests, friends dying, sought glory diminished, scattered, and erased the moment they thought they’d found it. Promises of triumph long gone, labored, choked, stifled breathing, final heartbeats while they restlessly crouched and covered; didn’t matter, naught really had, in the end. Perhaps the rest of the world, ignorant to those tidal waves of brief, brief conquering tenacity, and then the overwhelming, overbearing, stifling void coming apart, smothering, asphyxiating, devastating, were better off. Except there were always other ways to suffer, because the earth was no stranger to means and measures, to Machiavellian ploys of its own. Even without battles, invasions, feuds, or skirmishes, Zariah the Merciless had seen to that. So had the gods. So had anyone or anything that lived and existed.

Which was why he aimed to protect, to defend, to do something other than frivolously standing by and watching it fall to pieces.

“Have you met her?” He asked, curious, with her being back in town, in his avoidance of the draft and the open forum. Deimos’ experiences with the woman had been Reaper tactics; nothing fettered, nothing gained, nothing ventured forth, hidden and furtive, utterly nonchalant in the face of barbarity. What he’d do now – after everything, after threats, after ridiculous tactics – would remain up in the air.

The General sighed, took another drink, before reaching for a piece of paper, placing it along the table for Sunjata to see. There were a few rough sketches lingering on its threshold, diagrams of potential defenses they could utilize or adapt towards, if they had more people, more munitions in place. “A few ideas,” he noted with a shrug, like archery towers, somewhere to see over the entire distance, and where they wouldn’t have to climb the Spire to do it, for those not Attuned or capable of flight. But would that matter against mages? Against LongNight monsters? Against other things they were completely ignorant of?

out for vengeance

DEIMOS

but the darker the weather, the better the man

you can take all you want

That was a loaded question, and one he casually considers as he takes another drink of the alcohol that Deimos had acquired. “I did, recently actually.” He rumbles though his lips find a quiet frown from it. The meeting had left much to be desired, her confidence was enough that it managed to get under his skin easily. And it seemed, to him at least, that there was little to back it up. She hadn’t done anything to him regardless, though, attempting to intimidate him by circling him when he could easily break the circling.

He wasn’t a prey to be circled by vultures. He was a vulture, in a sense. “Don’t think I want to do it again, to be honest.” He shrugs though there’s a wry grin that crosses his face at that. He didn’t want to, had no reason to, hadn’t agreed to any work between his guild and the kingdom she lived in now. He didn’t want any part of it, though he’d be sure to talk to Loren about it later when he was less… Fucked up mentally. So likely when he remembers to.

Leaning forward, however, he focuses on the paper that Deimos sets along the table – steel eyes scanning over the diagrams and defenses. He’d seen a few of these work before, up close and in person, and he reaches up to scratch momentarily, idly, at the scruff of his beard as he regards them. “I think height is definitely important.” He agrees, having felt much like a sitting duck before he had become Attuned, before he could fly up high and scout from above.

“I know that there’s also storms around us, do we want to just focus on the defenses for the Greatwood or put them there too despite not knowing what’s on the other side?” He asks quietly, head tilting, eyes calculating and cool as his eyes lift toward Deimos.

but not who i am

SuNJATA

remember that you can't save everyone

remember that you have to try

Zariah’s influence had already scattered her little daggers within the area; and while he failed to snarl or seethe, the notion that she’d done more than disown Loren from his Launcelyn family was enough to ensure they needed to remain guarded, on their toes, ready for anything. She had no power here, but that didn’t mean much – not really – when there was enough invocations, tyranny, and treachery pulsing through her veins. “I think quite a few would share your opinion.” He had half a notion to ask what they’d discussed; but perhaps Sunjata was unwilling to share, if he hadn’t already, and so the beast left it sizzling there, amidst the alcohol, taking another drink simply for the sake of her damned, continued existence.

Defenses amongst the diagrams and sketches conspired further though, and his attention went to those notions – locations, when and where and why. “We can build the tower here. Attach it to the rest of the barracks.” Someone available to wander up and down, to stand high and tall, to stare over the rest of the world, glance for threats, for omens. He wasn’t quite sure what to do about the electrical storms though; he’d yet to venture into their crackling ferocity, and had only heard briefly about them. Were they more disastrous than Zariah’s capabilities? Or whatever the Ascended and the Voice seemed to be planning? “Have you ventured out to the storms?” He had naught to judge upon, to declare if they were even worth defending against, or left to their own devices.

out for vengeance

DEIMOS

but the darker the weather, the better the man

you can take all you want

A quiet chuckle is given to Deimos at the response. It makes sense, he understands why after having met her now. But it still seemed annoying, to feel like stepping on tiptoes just because she was around again – the variety of those that simply feared her because of her name and what she had tried to do. She supposes that might be how the rebels of Korofi had felt when he’d neared, despite having done nothing in comparison to the shit his father had done. “They have good tastes.” He acknowledges with a knowing smirk, at least until they’re looking over the diagrams.

His eyes follow the lines of the diagram, hearing Deimos mention he wanted to attach one here, to the rest of the barracks. A good thought, for defenses and strength where it might be the most powerful. But at the mention of the storms, his gaze lifts toward the Sword again with a shake of his head. “I haven’t.” A quiet admission. He hadn’t ventured out much, now that he thinks about it. “I went to the Greatwood… Three times I think? I had the blight so I can’t recall much unfortunately. No storms though.” And that’s where he frowns, reaching up absentmindedly to brush against the scar on his shoulder from Phoebe’s bite while she’d been blighted too.

but not who i am

SuNJATA

remember that you can't save everyone

remember that you have to try

He snorted in reply – because it was irritating to have to be cautious instead of comfortable, walking on tenuous, tempestuous lines because of one scathing, scalding individual. But she’d done so much damage in her short interval as merciless, unrelenting Queen, enough to send them scattering into basements, into quiet, furtive rebellion, into orchestrating plans for the future that went hopelessly awry. They were better now, stronger now, but her impressions lasted and lingered; instant sedition, resistance, offense at her very existence, at her waltzing around as she pleased. As if she were untouchable. That alone was grating.

Sunjata hadn’t ventured to the storms either; both out of luck on that regard. He knew there’d been an Attuned team though, so he could always ask those that participated for their wisdom and sagacity on the subject (recollection of Amalia’s scars hastened down his spine, something earned, something cherished), a notation for another interval, another time, another scale and quandary reached, ascended. He swallowed, finished his drink, and didn’t hesitate to pour more. The ruminations on the Greatwood, where they could no longer roam, and his blighted status, like Kiada, caused a curious turn of his head, shifting his gaze back to the Attuned. “No, I did not see storms there either.” Though he’d been pre-occupied with rescue attempts and exploring, pressing their luck on favors, pondering if he should’ve left some individuals in their pits. “We are not permitted there now anyway.”

out for vengeance

DEIMOS

but the darker the weather, the better the man

you can take all you want

Sunjata was unaware of the Attuned team that had braved the storms, but he still wondered what it was like – if it were like the storms of home when the monsoons would roll through and flood the world around them, wondered if they carried as much energy to energize and electrify anything caught in it, wonders if they would stand a chance with a secondary one or if it were even necessary. But Deimos hadn’t seen the storms either, and Sunjata’s hand drops from his neck as he shakes his head slightly, shrugging to the loss of the both of them before he inspects it. Perhaps it may be better to wait for those defenses until they knew what they were up against, to adjust and adapt.

The mention of not being permitted to the Greatwood creates a sigh from him as he sits back with the glass in hand, eyes lifting to scan Deimos’ face, pausing at the blue of his eyes. “So I have heard.” He offers, frowning lightly. He hadn’t cared much, in the end, but the Greatwood did have a beautiful river, a more wonderful combination of variety than the Hollowed Grounds had. “Though… I did hear from a man over LongNight that there’s an ocean out there somewhere.” His eyes glint at the prospect of beaches and oceans stretching as far as the eye can see. “There’s apparently a palace under the water.”

but not who i am

SuNJATA