actions and motives
for Morgan
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 34 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 75 - Dext: 75 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
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#1
DEIMOS
the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
The past few weeks had been relatively quiet; opportunities to bolster their own means, measures, and storage for the upcoming season. But the Sword should’ve known it wouldn’t last – in some aspects, the drama, theatrics, and upheaval of other worlds, realms, and kingdoms colliding with a letter across the table in the barracks. Delivered by one of his fellow guards, the General hastened a quick nod of acknowledgment, eyes narrowing at the name scrawled along. Once the other had departed, back into the folds of ice and snow, the beast took hold of a knife and slid the paper open – words causing the slightest arch of his brow.

Mostly because of the sender’s actions – Deimos didn’t think Oliver had it in him.

But there was fear embedded in between those nuances and formations, and he sighed, leaning back against his chair. What was he supposed to do, from here, in Halo? What could be done? Shouldn’t the Ascended be permitted to defend themselves? He couldn’t really blame them – not with the scarce sagacity he’d been provided. It was also no longer his role, to guard the Grounds, to patrol and peruse and protect the hallowed sanction. The only pressing distinction coiling against him was the note about the demigods; because it could always start there, and trickle down further.

Another barrier. Another barricade.

A following sigh ensued, causing Zuriel to lift her head from the nearby rug beside the hearth, and he shrugged towards her, the uncertainty waging forward into other means. The monolith penned a quick note to Morgan about meeting at the council hall later, figuring she’d be the only one he’d provide the information towards. Summoning another guard to deliver it, he then sat back and pondered the lengths of a response for the blacksmith.

Oliver might be disappointed in the miniscule bounty, but it was all Deimos could preside or provide for the moment. Then he maneuvered from the barracks, grabbing hold of furs and gloves, leaving Zuriel to her own devices (she seemed inclined to remain by the fire; he was not about to wander into something dangerous in the next few seconds), permitting his reply to be sent off as well. With the flurry of mail sufficiently ceased, he folded Oliver’s letter carefully into his pockets, and began the march towards the Council Hall.

The chill grasped and clenched over any exposed skin, and he was grateful for it – allowing clarity, thoughts, to sharpen, to hone, to claw their way into his machinations. With a nod towards others as he entered the building, the Sword presided down the passages, and bypassing his own office, he headed straight for Morgan’s. A swift knock of his knuckles against the doorframe indicated his presence, and then the deep rumble of his voice thereafter. “Warden,” an announcement; waiting for permission before continuing.
for the space they take
and so, neither shall I
Morgan Aristomache
the Glacier
Warden of Halo

Age: 42 | Height: 5' 9" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 6 - Strg: 23 - Dext: 20 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 14 - Int:
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#2
Morgan
You've been holding on a long time
And all this longing

It had indeed been blissfully quiet. There was, as always, a faint sense of something getting ready, something to come - but Morgan had tried her best to actually enjoy the peace while it was here, using it to focus on the smaller, more intricate details of keeping the Citadel going. These internal politics were, while dealing with far less stakes, in a lot of ways far more complicated than the wider worlds, and she had been deep in reports and meetings for weeks now.

Luckily, Deimos caught her in a period where she was alone, merely pushing a hand through her hair and making faces at whatever shopkeepers complaint had drifted in this time. The knock was a welcome interruption, Deimos' voice even more so (she found him easier to talk to than some others that regularly knocked on her door). "Come in, General." She called, sitting up straighter and neatening her cloak over her shoulders as he entered.

"Something to report?"

And the ships are left to rust
That's what the water gave us
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 34 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 75 - Dext: 75 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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Posts: 6,933 | Total: 11,268
MP: 5929
#3
DEIMOS
the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
Permission granted, the monolith followed the command, granting his customary, respectful nod, before pulling the letter out of his pocket. “Information.” Unfolding it into crisp lines, he maneuvered his way across the room, standing before her desk, holding, extending, the paper towards the Warden for her perusal. “Though I am not certain what should be done with it.” If anything at all; save for holding onto the musings, the knowledge, the sagacity for later purposes. They had no way of ceasing the notions or actions, if they even wanted to, and the beast was half-inclined to shrug the nuances off for another time, when they weren’t preparing for Halo to be shut down, closed, from the outer reaches and branches.

A residual arch to his brow lifted, habitual too when breaking over the impassivity, waiting for her to read and process the bizarre series of circumstances. “I promised him the details would go to only you.” Whether she upheld that assurance would be another rendering (if her amiability with Neron, as Oliver seemed to be concerned about, held a greater weight); but the Sword trusted the Glacier, and simply bided his time, conspiring and coiling back into silence.
for the space they take
and so, neither shall I
Morgan Aristomache
the Glacier
Warden of Halo

Age: 42 | Height: 5' 9" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 6 - Strg: 23 - Dext: 20 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 14 - Int:
EUNIKE - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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#4
Morgan
You've been holding on a long time
And all this longing

Leaning forward with a hand out to take it, Morgan looked over the letter Deimos presented, silently frowning as she held it down at her desk and read the words. It was certainly an odd one; seemingly from some kind of traitor within the Hollowed Ground's government. It was the mention of the Order that caught her attention more than anything else, Morgan smoothing the letter out before her on the desk.

A lot of questions had arisen already.

"I think...I might have met this man once in the Greatwoods. Why is he writing to you?" She asked first, wondering if there was a connection she was missing; if perhaps Deimos valued this mans input or if he was willing to discuss it's merits (from the way he had introduced the letter, it sounded like the latter). "...Perhaps I am not understanding the situation, but from what we know of the Order, they aim to destroy or at least harm the Ascended, correct? It seems very reasonable they might want to block those people out."

Morgan looked up to Deimos with a frown, waiting for him to tell her if she was wrong; either she was missing context here, or this Oliver sympathised with the Order's goals. Whatever had been discussed and dismissed in the council meeting prior to the decision was the business of the Hollowed Grounds, and she knew well how ideas suggested and discussed could sound out of their place.

And the ships are left to rust
That's what the water gave us
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 34 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 75 - Dext: 75 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 6,933 | Total: 11,268
MP: 5929
#5
DEIMOS
the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
Remaining standing, a restless sort of edge coiling into his spine, into his presence, yearning to pace the floor. Instead, he chiseled his way into a formidable, monolithic statue, barely inclining his head, listening. “Perhaps he believes I can do something about it.” He didn’t know, couldn’t say, had no ability to read Oliver’s mind (saved for Attuned adornments) and other than the constant, looming apprehension unfurling from the blacksmith, the younger man had always confused him. “Or wanted more to know.” A shrug of his shoulders indicated naught more – the layers and lacquer behind the nuances and notions still a variable, still an unknown.

As far as Morgan’s other response, he extended a swift nod. “Yes. I had a similar conclusion, and informed Oliver that had the roles been reversed, I am certain we would be doing the same.” If the Order was hunting Attuned, Abandoned, or Accepted; running their efforts through whatever means necessary – but they weren’t, as far as he was aware, and so there they remained, poised in this bizarre whirlwind.
for the space they take
and so, neither shall I
Morgan Aristomache
the Glacier
Warden of Halo

Age: 42 | Height: 5' 9" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 6 - Strg: 23 - Dext: 20 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 14 - Int:
EUNIKE - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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#6
Morgan
You've been holding on a long time
And all this longing

"He does know you aren't a part of their council anymore?" Morgan shook her head and raised her eyebrows, dismissing it; Deimos was her General now, not at liberty to go gallavanting off to the Grounds to solve their internal disputes, if there was even anything he could do if he did.

As for the Order, she was glad to hear that Deimos was in agreement; it was entirely understandable that the Ascended might want to block out a group set on their extinction. She was close to putting a ban on members in the Citadel too, had been waiting to get more information but certainly not against the idea of barring Order members entry until it could be proven their Ascended citizens would not be hurt.

"Right. Well. Then I suppose the matter is settled. I will have to consider whether I want to alert Queen Wessex she has such an unfaithful council member..." She'd certainly want to know if one of her councilmen was sending out letters to other kingdoms like this.

And the ships are left to rust
That's what the water gave us
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 34 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 75 - Dext: 75 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,933 | Total: 11,268
MP: 5929
#7
DEIMOS
the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
The Sword presumed it was a rhetorical question, answering with only a shrug of his shoulders, an arch of his brow. Days spent amongst and amidst the Hollowed Grounds council were gone and done, faded away with the rest of the onslaughts, terrors, and traumas instilled within his palisades. Tainted, perhaps, by everything that came thereafter.

His eyes went back to the letter on the desk, listening to the next response, settled matters, and then possible alerts. There was half an inclination in the back of his mind, where the Reaper still lived and breathed and demolished, where the thoughts were cruel, were wicked. Where he’d sent out his own spies, his own Thieves, into the mad rush of the world, to linger, to slink, to discover and partake in the very sort of information compiled before them. Worthy details, nuances and notions to utilize in upcoming campaigns.

Because there were going to be days, hours, minutes, moments, just like these over and over and over again. The writing was on the wall. “Depends on how involved you want to be in it.” Before they were all immersed, drowning in the conflicted eaves.

If he were Wessex though, he’d want to know. He’d want the words scrawled across the page, the evidence of deceit and mistrust. He’d want to be able to track down the perpetrator. And on the other hand, as one who’d had adversaries and enemies howling at their doors, he’d want the details, the particulars, the moles hiding in the midst.

There were no easy decisions when playing these games, which was why he loathed politics and diplomacy, the interplay of these antics.
for the space they take
and so, neither shall I
Morgan Aristomache
the Glacier
Warden of Halo

Age: 42 | Height: 5' 9" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 6 - Strg: 23 - Dext: 20 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 14 - Int:
EUNIKE - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: lancydulac Offline
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Posts: 1,025 | Total: 8,707
MP: 0
#8
Morgan
You've been holding on a long time
And all this longing

"Mmm." Was all Morgan could say of the letter, still trying to decide for herself what to even make of it, never mind what to do - and as the moment stretched on, the other matter on her mind took over. She'd been distracted by Deimos' news, but she had wanted to speak to the General anyway.

"There is actually something I need to tell you." Tell, not ask. Here she was using her power more than she usually did; there were no options here. She had to go to the Hollowed Grounds, and the Citadel couldn't be left unseen to. "I must go to the Hollowed Grounds over Deepfrost. A while ago I promised an allyship, to help them in their endeavours...and they are undertaking quite a large one this Longnight." Morgan looked to Deimos to see if he knew what she meant.

The main part of it, for him though, was this: "So, while I'm gone. I am appointing you as Temporary Warden. You will have all the power I do, though I ask you be cautious unless necessary. If I return in Flowerbirth to hear you have done nothing but routine tasks, it will be ideal." No drama, no wars, nothing but peace - that was what she could dream for. "I can take you through my daily tasks. Any questions?"

And the ships are left to rust
That's what the water gave us
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 34 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 75 - Dext: 75 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,933 | Total: 11,268
MP: 5929
#9
DEIMOS
the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
He thought the brief meeting adjourned, intending to march back to his barracks confines, continue his work there, from the comfort and ease of worlds he knew. He was only held back by the first statement, a use of words that set his jaw into clench, initial dread beginning to curl into his veins. The expectation had been warranted to something else – the usual presumption of some monsters found, some other over-arching demon stealing away this and that. Not Morgan’s impending departure, which instigated an immediate turn of his machinations, the Machiavellian frames beginning their precise sedition. Promised alliance? This had been the first he’d heard of it. Didn’t they have enough individuals within the Grounds to prepare? He’d know – he’d done it three times over. Was she intending to join up beside their ranks as they waged onslaughts against the fiends?

His features drew right back to a cold, hardened reticence. Unattainable, unreachable all over again, a chilling void, impassive, save for the narrowing of his eyes as he began to search, lingering and looking below the fathoms. “And what are you going to do there?” He was under the impression the fight would be Ascended alone; based on enraged family dinner discussions with Samuel. “I am aware. I have been asked to make weapons for them.” And he was staying here, as per his duty and responsibility.

And then the ax truly fell, and a bristling of the old Reaper rage coiled and nestled its way through his soul. It traversed down his veins, contorted over his spine, rigid, taut, an unyielding thing. Perhaps that was just so; because it’d been the Reaper that had led, never the Sword, down across mountains and valleys, that hadn’t wanted the titles and crowns, that had only taken up the mantle because he’d feared the Basin would crumble. It was not so here – but there were other factions, other notions at work. He couldn’t explain the anger – maybe it was primordial, inherent, drawn up from those days of constantly defending, protecting, bleeding for a community that saw him as naught more than a weapon. Maybe it was unjust and apprehension-filled, a formidable foreboding that carved its way over his shoulders every time he put more and more pressure on himself. “I said I would protect Halo. Not lead it.” He didn’t want power. He didn’t the namesakes, the prestige, any of it, and now he’d been placed in this bizarre position of temporary sovereignty; the cold denizens haunting in the back of his mind. “This is the only time I will agree to it.” Because he could hear the command in her voice, but he could prosper his own. “You will not ask this of me again.” Not when there were others who were far more suitable, far more capable, who’d lived here longer than singular seasons.
for the space they take
and so, neither shall I
Morgan Aristomache
the Glacier
Warden of Halo

Age: 42 | Height: 5' 9" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 6 - Strg: 23 - Dext: 20 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 14 - Int:
EUNIKE - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: lancydulac Offline
Change author:
Posts: 1,025 | Total: 8,707
MP: 0
#10
Morgan
You've been holding on a long time
And all this longing

Morgan took in a breath when asked what she would do, hesitating; partly because she wasn't actually sure herself and partly because she would have to, at least in part, lie. She had never enjoyed twisting the truth, always wanted to be direct and honest when she could be, but her and Neron's odd relationship would cause more issues than solutions if brought to light. "I promised Queen Wessex I would be an ally to the Grounds. I've heard a lot of the Ascended going on this mission have little fighting experience. I was hoping to aid them." She was an accomplished fighter, at least enough to up their chances somewhat.

She listened to what he had to say of her command quietly, watching how tense he was, the steel in his eyes - Deimos probably wouldn't realise, but this was exactly why she had chosen him. He wasn't aching for the power, not likely to abuse it but to keep things calm and secure until she returned; and if he did have to use it, she trusted him.

"I assure you I intend this to be the only full season I spend away from Halo. But if I do need to leave again, you have my word." Morgan looked up to meet his eyes and nodded. "I will not ask you. Just for this Deepfrost."

And the ships are left to rust
That's what the water gave us
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 34 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 75 - Dext: 75 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,933 | Total: 11,268
MP: 5929
#11
DEIMOS
the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
Deimos curled and coiled back into himself, straight back into stoic, guarded, indiscernible countenances. The rigid stance and hushed reticence might have been a tell-tale sign all on its own, the dangerous narrowing of his gaze ensuing a glacial, frigid mayhem behind his eyes. Irritated, frustrated, annoyed that this had all come out of the blue, a sudden, stupefying, tempestuous storm, and he’d been placed right into the eye of it. The beast bit back a myriad of things he wanted to say – kept them locked and loaded across his teeth, unfurling slow inhales and exhales in effort to ensure the rage, the meticulous maelstrom, remained as a rampart. All of it seemed ridiculous and impulsive, out of nowhere, quite unlike the Warden he was used to; and his machinations couldn’t quite reach over what was hidden, lurking, buried underneath. Perhaps his anger was a distraction. Another breath flickered from his chest, and his eyes went to the letter still on the desk, hands grabbing hold of it. “The monsters use physical and mental torture.” A warning, uncertain how she’d aid them. Uncertain of so many damned things, and discontent with the unknown. “Find snow moss, and help lure the luxere.” He didn’t say not to open the door. That would be a hypocritical statement.

The paper within his hands lit up with fire, emblems of his wrath spiraling, distorting, pooling over the edges until they were ashes in his palm. He watched the glow, and then shut off the incantations entirely, until there was nothing left.

Then he was annoyed that she maintained her calm semblance, as if he had naught to extend his indignation upon. “Just for this Deepfrost,” he repeated. And never again. He wouldn’t do this again.

It wasn’t time to face the Reaper’s ambitions, the hollowed out portions of those years living in carved, sculpted abhorrence. And with the oath, the assurance extended, he turned to leave, to simmer in the news down the streets, savagely stomp into the cobblestones. “Good luck,” was a rumble, and then he was gone.

{FIN}
for the space they take
and so, neither shall I


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