The Empire The Blight Below

[Rahma]

Some fucking festival. Why was it that, without fail, Rahma kept having to go under-fucking-ground?

Lady Medja had been making some big moves as of late. After the last failed attempt at breaching the fathomless trench that was the Scar of Drakormir, the Smiter of Ragash had decided to take things a little more seriously this time. A full platoon, basically, full of some of the strongest fuckers the Mistress could find. That wall of muscle Rhix, the top dog of the Emerald Hands (guess he was a Finger now?) was among them, alongside other faces Rahma both did and did not recognize. Shit, Medja didn't even seem to care if they were Hands, as long as they knew what the hell they were getting into.

Rahma knew. He didn't much like that he knew, but he knew. Those bat-things that had swarmed out of the opening way back when had staved off any attempt that his little scouting party could make at penetrating past the first dozen meters of the Scar. Didn't matter how they tried to approach it, either. Those things had given him more than his fair share of cuts and bruises for his troubles, too. Hadn't been any wonder that Masika had turned tail and gotten the fuck out before shit went real sour. The healers back in Ragash had told Rahma he'd been lucky he hadn't caught some kind of infection.

Now the group was stationed, this time in broad daylight, rallied around in what was essentially a war camp and waiting to descend. Rhix had taken the lead in making preliminary checks into the hole, securing climbing lines and all that. Crazy croc had already gone down a hundred feet by himself and come back up, securing a bunch of safety lines along the way. Rahma and some other advanced scouts had aided in setting up more.

So what was the goal of all this shit? Why send a full expedition into the most rancid gash in Liadain's history? Burning fucking curiosity. Medja wanted to know exactly what the fuck was down there, and if anything could be gleaned about Drakormir and its origins in the process. The Mistress wanted the chasm sealed, and she was willing to do anything to get it done.

If only she could know exactly the horrors she was sending all these good men and women into...

 

[Len Dy't B-taa]

To say that Len knew what he was getting into would be categorically false. Having been beyond the veil of life for at least the last several centuries, the Grand Terios knew little of the Scar of Drakomir, save what little information Medja had provided him with when asking this favor of him. It was a gash upon the earth, left by a Dragon of leviathan proportions emerging from the ground. Such a sight was unheard of to B-taa, but seeing was believing, and the scale of the massive chasm before him gave much credence to The Empress' tale.

Despite his little knowledge of the situation, he felt no unease in approaching this most unhospitable cavern ripped open beneath them. On the contrary, the ancient warrior felt his blood boiling hotter than it had in many moons. At last, he'd been provided with the armor that he'd asked for, shimmering gold and white that seemed to reflect the sunbeams bearing down on him, a pristine white cloth hanging from his waist, bearing an approximation of the Kingdom he'd once called home's symbol, interwoven with that of the Empire's.

It felt right. Like he'd never taken it off in the first place. For the first time since being brought back from death's cold embrace, Len Dy't B-taa once more felt like he was indeed The Grand Terios once more.

"So, what are we looking for when we descend?" Len spoke through his helmet towards Rahma, his face obscured by the tinted glass curved over his eyes. "The Empress spoke only of an expedition, but I get the feeling she wouldn't have amassed a group of this size if she was not expecting some resistance." B-taa mused, kicking a small rock down the chasm as the one called Rhix ascended once more from a scouting trip partway down the gap.

"I'm unfamiliar with the history of this Scar, but the origin shared with me does suggest a depth and level of danger that's not insignificant." The Terios planted his polearm in the dirt, inspecting the curved blade at it's end as he waited for orders. "So it is safe to assume she would prefer we leave this gash a bit less populated than we find it?"

 

[Rahma]

Rahma watched as Rhix heaved himself over the lip of the Scar, lumbering his way back into camp like it was nothing. Hundreds, to have the strength and sheer fucking balls that guy had. Rahma was shaken from his stupor by the sudden intrusion of...some guy in really nice armor he wasn't familiar with. Or maybe he'd been introduced already and just forgot. Rahma couldn't say.

The demi-jackal blinked at the wall of muscle and metal before him with all the enthusiasm of a bored cat.
"Yeah, 'resistance' is a good word for it. Some mean, flying fuckers living down there that stopped us from checking things out with less people. Aside from that, I don-t--"

Rahma cut himself short as something the guy said suddenly sunk in. He twisted bodily towards the man with a look of bewildered surprise on his mien.

"Wait, wait, unfamiliar with the Scar??" he parroted in disbelief. The guy looked Kaliti, but if he was, how could he be unaware of something so devastating to the region? "What, did you just come out of a coma?"

And if he had, why was he here?

 

[Len Dy't B-taa]

The unusual cat-eared fellow couldn't see the equally bewildered expression that Len Dy't wore on his face through his helmet, but the ancient warrior was every bit as flustered as he. Just as The Empress hadn't done too much to explain the history of The Scar to Len, it seemed she hadn't clued these warriors in as to his origins, or at least given them a reason he might be a bit... behind.

"You... could say that." Len admitted sheepishly, turning his head towards the mammoth gash in the earth once more. He didn't have time to explain his story to everybody who balked at him, so this silvery-haired gentleman would just have to take B-taa's word. "I may be ill-informed, but I assure you I make up for it in manpower."

In that, he told no lies. While peace was of course a boon to any civilization, it was in Len's blood to fight, and it had been so long since he'd had a good tousle with a worthy opponent. The very idea of a group of these... fuckers as his comrade referred to them, lying in wait beneath the surface for the bite of his weapon against their flesh made his body warm with anticipation.

"Whatever these Flying Fuckers you speak of are, they will not withstand the fury of The Terios." Len declared, pulling his polearm up from the earth and approaching the very edge of the scar as though it held no more terror than a snarling pup guarding table scraps. "Come, my furry-eared companion! Let us purge this Scar of the Fuckers that plague it!"

Rahma

 

[Safiya]

"If only all were so willing."

Sultry, smooth velvet filled the air. It was not like a song, but it was beautiful and full, strong and soft. It passed through her lips as sweetly as honey with a smile and a hum.

She approached, her body adorned in black cloth and many jewels - and yet hardly adorned at all. Bare feet tip toed across the blazing hot sand. First, her eyes travelled up and down the Terios with a raised brow and a keen interest, but as she came near she turned her gaze upon Rahma.

The slight tilt of her chin. A curling hand gently rising, bringing a finger under the Mongrel's chin.

"Not so fast. Don't you agree?"

---

Rahma | Len Dy't B-taa​

 

[Keket]

Piercing amber eyes slid across the gathered band. They were an unusual collection, individuals plucked from the growing resources of the great Medja, among which Keket herself was counted. She knew many of the faces, others by reputation. It was her place to know them, as a member of the Imperial Hand who slid between the Sapphire and the Onyx, at least until her true role could be determined.

The size and diversity of the troop spoke to Medja's conviction to penetrate the darkness of the Scar. A woman of great power and resource, Keket imagined Medja may have already known what lay in that wretched place, but in her wisdom and machinations kept it's secret to herself.

Regardless, Keket was there in the employ of the Empire, though her true loyalty was to the great sorceress herself. She was no Emerald or soldier. An Abtati, she was raised in the unorthodox practices of the desert raiders where people were reknowned for. That skill set, as well as the intense training endured under the hand, rendered her more stealthy, more crafty, and more lethal than any of the sand elves she left behind. But it might be her Blood Magic that rendered the young elf of particular use.

At the moment, the trio that had moved closer to the chosen entrance to the Scar captured her attention. She knew them by reputation only. The jackal-eared Hand Rahma. It was said his recruitment into the service of the Empire was as humble as her own. Next to the Letai was a statue of a man, his physique appearing as if carved from stone by a master sculpture. He seemed dressed for a formal military parade rather then descending into a pit in the ground. That was the one brought from the dead, the Terios.

Even in his pristine glory, the figure that glided up to Rahma outshined B-taa in Keket's eyes. The woman was of the desert, like Keket, though perhaps the finest image of an Abtati woman. The young spy knew the gorgeous creature as well... Safiya. The priestess was a vision of sensual mystery, her garments too seemed unfit for an underground expedition, yet Keket found it difficult to take her gleaming eyes from the beautiful woman.

There was a discussion among them, a discussion about entering the Scar. The Abtati assassin moved closer across the sand on soft leather boots, to glean what the trio intended. In contrast to the more elegant and enticing garments of the older Abtati priestess, Keket wore sparse leather, her dusky, tattooed arms and thighs partially covered by warm desert robes left open. Concealed within were the weapons and tools of her trade. A hood partiailly veiled her deceptively youthful, elven features.

Awaiting a lull in their conversation, Keket asked with apparent innocence, "Who is in charge of this expedition?" She could see already a subtle tug of power between the three.

 

[Rahma]

An upper ear flicked in annoyance, Rahma slowly cocking his head as he looked at Len, much the same way as he would have if the man had suddenly sprouted a second head. "Balking" didn't even begin to cover the intense confusion and bewilderment that washed over the demi-jackal. Where did Medja keep finding these types?

"That's...the idea, yeah. At least grab some climbing gear, yeah? Rhix said he doesn't want anyone going in before the lines are secure," he replied at last, not comfortable getting quite as close to the edge as this "Terios" (whatever that was) person had. The sands were treacherous and he'd already had his fair share of getting injured falling into chasms. "I--"

Rahma's next words were cut short by the sudden arrival of another of Medja's playthings. His reaction was visceral and unbidden: his cheeks flushed, nose scrunched, teeth clenched, and he flinched backwards.
"Fffucking Hundreds, fuck!"

Despite his heightened senses, Rahma had not noticed the barefooted woman coming. The surprise was not a welcome one, all of his animus coming to a head in an instant. He exhaled heavily, finding his footing and attempting to do the same with his composure.
"Yeah, agreed, but give a guy a little warning next time, huh?"

Just then another voice piped in. Rahma turned his head to regard the newcomer, one ear still locked on Safiya.
"The big croc over there, Rhix," he answered, still a bit irritable. He'd never seen this particular Abtati, and if she didn't know Rhix then odds were she was probably on the fresher side.

 

[Len Dy't B-taa]

Len was thankful that the shimmering surface of his helmet concealed the befuddled expression on his face as the silken voice of a woman echoed back his enthusiasm. Turning to meet the call of the velvety tones approaching, B-taa bore witness to a strikingly pulchritudinous woman, clad in a shimmering cloth of shadow that scarcely concealed her modesty, not that modesty was a common trait in the Empire, he'd learned.

"Many fear death." The Terios spoke to her as she briefly regarded him, continuing as she moved onto the one who seemed to interest her more. "I have met one end, and still I stand. I find it unlikely that anything in this wretched hole will see me dead with any ease." As he spoke, another late-comer arrived to the site, this one sporting a slightly different hue to her skin, along with a pair of pointed ears. He'd not been so lucky as to meet one of the Abtati yet, only having known of them through Medja's word.

She was different. Not like the denizens of the Empire he was used to, and yet... not unlike them either. That little bit of intrigue drew B-taa to her, if only out of a desire to learn more. Perhaps once this task had been completed, the young woman would permit him a conversation.

The warrior offered a nod as she glanced over him, before settling her amber hues upon the striking beauty of the woman in black. Behind his helmet, Len gave a small grin of amusement. Certainly, he took no issue in being the black sheep of the group. It was only natural, given his origin. Besides, he was here to complete a mission provided to him by his Empress. Anything more was secondary.

"I will wait for the word of Rhix, as you say." The Terios turned back towards the scar, squatting down to peer over the edge and tracing the side of his blade along the jagged ledge. He knew not how deep the hole ran, but his power had returned enough to allow his relatively simple traversal, at least until he hit considerable depth. "But I will not require climbing gear. I will use my Arts to descend along one side, and I will place illuminations as I go."

Briefly, he turned to look over his shoulder at the newcomers.

"Will the two of you be joining us, then? Would be an honor to share in this ordeal with you."

Rahma Safiya Keket

 

[Safiya]

"But of course, I have not come along this far to remain here at the precipice of... this," she said, her mincing feet carrying her away from Rahma and now much closer to the Terios. From there she peered down into the open womb of Drakormir's slumber, gauging the depth of the darkness that grew within.

Then she turned her eyes up to Len, and canted her head just so one way.

"Your arts? I would very much enjoy a demonstration, if you are so able to bring someone along for the ride."

She flashed a devious smile, though from her there was nothing she did that came across as anything other than cryptic. One never really knew her aims, but one could always assume they were closely tied with the Empress Medja's.

---

Rahma | Len Dy't B-taa | Keket ​

 

[Keket]

"Hmm." Keket hummed with a subtle nod in affirmation of Rahma's irked reply, glancing over at the reptilian Hand. She was of a new generation of Imperial Hands, and one without public reputation, true. yet she had been loyal to Medja even before her recent rise in power. Keket was trained well, and a fast learner.

Of course she knew Rhix, or of him, a visible presence often seen with Medja. His role as leader of the expedition had not been shared with her, for reasons she would not question. the Onyx Hand would have to report to him soon. However, that would wait, for the dynamic of those in front of her proved as intriguing as the dark chasm before which they stood.

The Onyx assassin stood stock still, her only movement the stray strands of dark hair floating on the desert breeze and the shift of her amber gaze as they followed Safiya. The sultry priestess had not only taken the stage from the Terios, but laid a challenge on him as well. Keket's interest was piqued, for she had heard of him only by reputation.

Rahma | Safiya | Len Dy't B-taa ​

 

[Rahma]

Seemed that Medja never failed to collect the weirdest people in Liadain under her wing. Not that Rahma was exempt from that description, of course. He let slip an exasperated laugh and shook his head, unable to fight the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"You're both nuts," he said at last to both warrior and priestess. "Maybe it's cuz I've fallen down a chasm recently, but I'd rather take the climbing gear even if I know I can make it without. Broken ribs ain't fun."

"'Fun' is subjective, kid," a substantially rougher and gruffer voice interrupted. Rahma's head turned on a swivel to see Rhix, the lumbering leader himself, approaching. "Looks like you've all managed to round out a nice little squad without me. Good timing. Climbing pitons are in place. It's time to go poking around in the dark."

The crocodilian glanced over each of the four Hands in turn.
"From what I could tell, there's a whole web of caves down there. Can't tell how new or old. Gonna have to send groups out in every direction if we wanna get this done right. Get your gear, make peace with the Six, all that junk. We move out in fifteen."

 

[Len Dy't B-taa]

To a man of lesser spirit, perhaps Safiya's words would come off as the flirtations of a woman seeking to needle her way beneath the skin; Words to be dismissed lest you find your heart thundering for the heat of another, rather than for the triumph of your goal accomplished and foes vanquished. As The Terios peered into the eyes of this Abtati through the golden shimmer of his helmet, his lips curled into a smile.

It was not empty flirtation, but a challenge. This Abtati, she wished to bear witness to his power. The beating warrior heart of Dy't B-taa could not refuse her.

"That depends only on whether you can maintain your grip upon me." Len briefly placed his hand upon his chest in a salute of old, dipping in the slightest of bows before turning to move closer to the edge of the massive chasm they deigned to plummet into. "No weight can crumble my shoulders."

The growling voice of the crocodile-like commander of the expedition came from behind him, but he did not turn to face the one called Rhix. B-taa was already as prepared as he needed for what was to come, but he did briefly acknowledge the orders with the twist of his polearm.

"Lady of the Sands, should you wish to accompany me, find a place at my back. Hold tightly and do not lose your hold. I will not allow you to fall by all my power."

Fifteen minutes was more than enough time to prepare the Power Art. Already he felt the magic bubbling under his flesh, following ancient commands burned into his mind, flesh and bone to grant him the strength he needed.

"I wish you all luck, and good hunting."

Rahma
Keket
Safiya

 

[Safiya]

With a tongue as tamed as hers, words were rarely sharpened on but one edge. But in this case, curiosity prevailed and what nicks she might search for went without wondering. And so as his beckoning with mincing steps, as ever, did she following after him with looming elegance.

"I am at your mercy, Grand Terios," she proclaimed playfully, taking her place near him.

Then she turned a curious stare upon Rahma, studying him with a persistently impish twinkle in her eye, "are you certain? From what I've heard our timeless friend here is something to behold," and then another expression spread across her features, one of concern - even worry, and her hand rose near to her lips, "but, oh my, can we trust such a person. You would leave me to my lonesome with him?"