Seraphic Warriors RP {Closed}

[Captain Anon]

"what does Mr. James offer by way of combat prowess"

"just get me close enough to the enemies and I'll make sure they die by my sword and if not I'll go ranged and fire bullets from my hands or my pistol if I chose without using gunpowder or anything like that" I said before a young Russian messenger came running in "General!!, Col.Vladimir!, our scouts have reported Twenty five Cossacks in total were ambushed and wiped out!! They were all killed by french Seraphims and soldiers, you orders sir?!" the boy said looking pale as a sheet and like all his blood had drained from his face

 

[Malbourne]

Inside the Royal Galleria - War Conference

"General! Col.Vladimir! Our scouts have reported Twenty-five cossacks in total were ambushed and wiped out!! They were all killed by french Seraphim and soldiers. Your orders sir?!"

"Calm yourself, private!" Kutzov bellowed. "What do you mean 'wiped out?'"

"Exactly as he says," a mysterious voice chimed from the doorway. The cold wind swept into the building, attracting the attention of everybody in the lobby. A man with roughly cut hair and a thin goatee sauntered inside, the doors slamming shut behind him. In the rush of air his tattered overcoat swept about his lithe frame like a scarecrow's tunic. The most distinctive feature of the man, it was plain to see in the room's lighting, was his pair of sharp, golden eyes. They seemed to scan his audience restlessly, never staying on one person for more than a second.

Kutzov approached the man, face solemn. "What happened to our cossacks, Mateus?"

"I saw it all," he said, his fingers tapping against his arm energetically. "West of here, on the Blue Road not two hours from here. Looked like at least one berserk Seraph and a bunch of the Imperial Guard tore up the Fifth Battalion." His eyes stopped on Colonel Moonrik. "Real bad crowd, I reckon. You aren't planning on getting into a fight, now, are ya?"

The crowd of soldiers murmured. The general seemed visibly shaken. "Napoleon's sending his elite troops ahead of his cavalry...What on earth is he thinking? Does he plan to test our strength? Or is he trying to bait out the ambushes?" He shook his head determinedly. "Whatever the case, we have a valuable opportunity. This small regiment is marching alone, it seems. If we set up a trap with our own Seraphim, we might stand to gain more than we could lose." He stroked his graying beard thoughtfully, and then turned to Moonrik and James. "It's dangerous, but if you both head out with Mateus as soon as possible, we might be able to get the jump on this tangent group. If you'd rather not risk it, I'll understand, but I'm sure we won't get another shot like this when the invasion begins."

------------------

On the Road to Moscow

Adrien Lacelle found Sicard clutching the stray who'd almost managed to get away. Behind the pair of Seraphim the rest of the Imperial Guard were checking bodies and identifying wounded. It looked like Porter was even managing to get back up, a befuddled expression on his face as he checked the hole in his dress shirt.

Lacelle was a man with a calm expression belied by a shock of red hair and opulent refinery. Somehow, he'd managed to outdress even Captain Loreaux, a man who lived on the principle that clothes made the man. The Seraph watched Sicard attentively. "Looks like we almost missed one. What say we put him out of his misery?" The man's chest heaved in agony, blood spilling from his lips. Lacelle's mouth curled into a half-smile. "We can't have witnesses to our advance, after all."

 

[deathbydeath]

"What say you, Tristan? Wanna catch a couple of uniforms? Or maybe pull the old snake-oil trick?"

"Or, we could look for a side entrance, where there are fewer guards."

Why was Tristan supposed to call all the shots? Is not like he knew what he was doing or what he was working towards. "Yes," was his initial response, and the eyes of both co-conspirators lit up as their preferred plan was chosen, and then they dimmed as they realized both completely different plans were being planned. He pre-emptively hushed their objections and explained himself. "Neither of your ideas are bad, first off, but neither have any insurance if something goes wrong. If they don't buy our snake oil, or if they catch us climbing through a window we're done. However, you can't follow someone's hands if you're watching their eyes, as well as the opposite."

Again before his compatriots interjected, Tristan held up his hands and a luminous ring appeared in each one. "You've probably heard this rumor, but seraphim are granted various powers. Mine is the ability to manipulate and bend light." The radiant discs began to morph and change their shape to demonstrate. "It's not the most straightforward ability, but it's gotten me out of bad situations before. There are a number of things possible with shaping light, obviously, but I've been working on an idea that should prove useful right now."

He stepped away from the pair of spies and indicated two points on the alley wall across from them, roughly ten feet apart. "Lucjan, I'm going to test my power, and to do so I'll need you to walk back and forth between these two points."

The Libero agent responded nervously to the Seraph, "Wait a minute! Why should I, a hard working and honest citizen, have to volunteer for this risky and potentially dangerous experiment?!"

Nobody replied to Lucjan, and nobody needed to because Vivienne took it upon herself to kick her partner forward and into the wall. Unable as always to oppose her, Lucjan instead directed his complaints to the ground and began trundling back and forth between the points Tristan marked earlier.

When the spies finished with their trademark bickering, Tristan closed his eyes and remembered his theories. Breathe in,

Breathe out, remember the walls, create the walls. His eyes involuntary jumped open when Vivienne cried out "Lucjan!", and the seraph saw nothing there. Lucjan promptly stumbled forward or of thin air, urging Vivienne "Hush! We don't want attention yet!".

"Lucjan," Tristan's voice was calm and polite, "I need you to step back to where you were; I'm not quite done yet."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Angel Man." Lucjan was prompt before his second disappearance.

In an attempt to make sure he knew what he was doing, Tristan took his illusion apart. The empty image across from him and Vivienne faded out of existence like windswept fog on a sunny day. Lucjan continued pacing as instructed, and soon he was gone yet again as the false image made its reappearance. He bade the spy back and explained what little of a plan he had to the pair.

"Alright, if what just happened was what I think just happened, then we just gained a major advantage in slipping in. The reason we couldn't see you, Lucjan,"

"I was invisible!?"

"Shut up, fool."

"Yes, Lucjan, you were. Moving on, I conjured a false image of the wall in front of you, so all that could be seen was the wall and not you. Setting up a wall like this would be easy, but the hard part would be communicating with you about when you need to move, as I won't be able to hold up two walls without something slipping. Actually..."

Tristan paused at the hole in his plan. Vivienne and Lucjan waited patiently for him to finish while he bit his lip and paced around. Now his hands were moving, shaping something in the air. He walked around the shaped light and nodded and made approving noises before resuming his plan.

"Okay Lucjan, things are going to be easier on you now. You should see two black barriers-" On cue, two opaque, lightness rectangles disappeared into existence behind Lucjan, both slightly taller and wider than him. "-when you're on the inside. If you don't stray out of the borders you should be all right. Bear in mind that you can still be heard, so you might want to pad your feet or do something to help you be quiet. Now, I'll have an idea where you are, and I'll move the field around the inside to get you into a better position for sneaking in and seeing what you can find. If I manage to get myself alone, then I can arrange to meet up with you do we can figure out our next move."

"So, you basically want me to stay between the black walls and be quiet?"

Tristan didn't dignify Lucjan's question with a response, instead turning to their partner, "Now, Vivienne, we know what I'm doing and we know what Lucjan's doing. Would you like to approach the guards with me or sneak in with Luc-"

"I'm going with you."

"Okay, then."

Tristan set up his wall across the street, making Lucjan's presence while making Vivienne's and his known. Before they reached the guards and stuck up conversation, Tristan decided to chat first.

"Vivienne, if you don't mind me asking, are you and Lucjan ... um, married?"

 

[Malbourne]

Outside the Royal Galleria

After the man in a tattered overcoat and his anxious-looking subordinate rushed inside, there were only four soldiers posted directly outside the double-door entrance to the Royal Galleria. It was an impressive building, to be sure. Large, stained glass windows hovered above the massive, elegant pair of doors like a multi-hued rainbow. On either corner of the facade, the columns were carved into their respective artists' interpretations of the heavenly muses, each holding an instrument of some sort.

Obviously the beauty of the building was lost on the military. Nigh on thirty guards were scattered about the plaza, which was itself a giant circle probably fifty yards across. In the center was a gorgeous statue of a man on a horse, probably very important. One soldier leaned against the base of the pedestal, taking the occasional swig from his canteen. Thankfully, nobody showed any sign that they were aware of Lucjan as he hid alongside the wall of a vacant hotel to the right of the Galleria. Sweat was pooling in his armpits as he watched a pair of soldiers chatting not ten yards from where he stood. He waited tensely for Vivienne and Tristan to make their move, hoping they were finalizing their strategy.

------------------

"Vivienne, if you don't mind me asking, are you and Lucjan ... um, married?"

"Odd question," Vivienne remarked, her expression carefully neutral. "I hope you're only asking because you've thought up a cover story. Like, we're a pair of distraught newlyweds."

 

[drmigit2]

Gotta get out of here The mind of the young cossack raced, where had he gone wrong? Things were going so well, basic training was over, and now on his first mission, this? This was what he signed up for? Some crazed lunatic ripping his best friend in half right behind him and then a dozen musket holes through his comrades? The horse was chugging away, desperate, it was bleeding from multiple locations and was at best running a slow trot. Despite how cold it was, everything was so warm. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it was warm.

The cossack rider, no older than sixteen, was bleeding out of his chest, his left lung had been demolished by a minie ball, which had expanded outwards and buried itself deep in his chest. He couldn't feel it because of the adrenaline, but his body was dying. He had seen the snow so many times, but now it had an eerie glow to it, as if it were calling to him, almost like mother?

And then his horse was gone. He watched it boldly trot into the distance another thirty feet before it slumped down on its front legs and gave up. It would soon allow the cold to take in. The man who had killed Yuri looked at him directly in the eyes, the man who had ripped humans as if they were papers now was in his reach. The boy couldn't take it anymore, he tried to yell but only blood could come out.

"Looks like we almost missed one. What say we put him out of his misery?"

"Please?no." The boy whimpered, the ball had been slightly dislodged from his chest and now blood was really beginning to flow. Sicard studied him and shook his head. This boy wasn't who he had come to kill, this boy didn't belong here. He knew he would have to deal with these kinds, but it wasn't any better for him. This just reflected badly on everyone involved. Sicard had a blank expression on his face, devoid of emotion he spoke "You are dying here, but not from me. What is your name?"

The boy coughed again, the name "Yasha" came out. Sicard sighed and whispered "Today, Yasha, you became a man." It was all white noise after that, the cold had already set in, he was back home.

 

[Captain Anon]

"It's dangerous, but if you both head out with Mateus as soon as possible, we might be able to get the jump on this tangent group. If you'd rather not risk it, I'll understand, but I'm sure we won't get another shot like this when the invasion begins."

"alright then lets moving" I said spotting a box of bullets pulling out a small bag I dig my hand and I snoop out a handful of bullets and puts them in the bag "don't mind me just resupplying myself when I got here I only had about 5 bullets" I said before wrapping it and placing it back in my satchel

 

[deathbydeath]

"I hope you're only asking because you've thought up a cover story. Like, we're a pair of distraught newlyweds."

A nervous chuckle was all Tristan could force for a few seconds. "A cover story, sure. That's a good idea. What should it be? "

"Well, you look like an upstanding citizen. It'd be hard to pass for a poor couple. Let's say you just inherited your family business, a bank, from your recently deceased parents, and even with Moscow's invasion imminent, you're loathe to leave it. I'm your fiancee who's madly in love with you and will go with you even into the fires of hell itself." She folded her arms. "That sound good, my dearest?" She said this last line with the forced passion of a stock character in a penny novel.

"Well, that's certainly poetic." Dearest? "And don't force yourself too hard, as it would be better to sound naturally uninterested than unnaturally interested. Which brings me to wonder: why on earth did the grand lord in charge of all this send Lucjan and I if you're so wonderful at these fabrications? I was going to set up some sort of sale between the people here and my caravan hiding in the city, but that's far more planned out. I have a question though: why are we going to the Galleria when there's a war on? Once we're in, we're very much in, but we just need to pitch this right from when we begin."

"Hypothetically," she replied, "if the military were gathered to counter the Napoleon invasion, then surely they'd need all the help they could get. We want to sound like we have something to offer, but be sure not to offer anything specific. If you do, they'll ask to see merchandise, and then we'll be up the river. Maybe stick to being a doctor who can provide medical supplies." She looked away as she addressed the initial questions. "As for Requiem's motives, it's not really our place to speculate, nor do we need to. Every link has its place in the chain, and as long as everyone adheres to duty, the chain pulls everyone along. If we're done with questions, I suggest we get a move on." She grabbed Tristan by the elbow, assuming what was probably a love-struck persuasion. "You're a merchant. Sell them on this."

As Vivienne dragged him along Tristan started to grumble. "I'm only a merchant when I have trends and market forecasting though." He turned to face his new partner with a face that was largely natural with hints of pouting. "If only I had the supplies to sell. But considering how the loss of the food and supplies I was shipping led me here, I guess we should just chalk it up to irony and move on."

A few more paces passed in silence, and Tristan adjusted the wall of light concealing Lucjan to put him in a better position. Confirming with Vivienne, he asked her "So then, you say we should be man and wife, seeking refugee from the war and here to offer what goods we can to the state for both of our betterments, and that I should make excuses to delay confirming the actual existence of said goods. Well then," Tristan stopped and deftly withdrew his arm from Vivienne's grasp before wrapping it around her waist and pulling her close. He gazed into her eyes with familiarity and longing. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?" He leaned over and planted a kiss onto Vivienne's cheek before resuming their stride to the doors of the Galleria.

 

[Malbourne]

Slightly off the Blue Road to Moscow

"It seems dying is an art to these Russians." Lacelle loomed over the body, his angelic features hiding any semblance of emotion. "I must confess I have a soft spot for theatrics." He placed a boot on the dead cossack's chest, watching it press into the snow, his eyes narrowing. "Good thing we're alone out here; I was hoping we'd get a chance to talk for a bit. Now, I'm of the mind that every creature has at least one soft spot. It's a natural right to possess a weakness; even an angel must be blinded at the sight of God." His boot pushed harder, the abdomen of the corpse was beginning to give way to the pressure. With a squelch like a lamb crushed under a rock, the man's chest burst, innards and fluids seeping into the snow. "Tell me, Sicard," Lacelle asked, "do you have a soft spot?"

----------------------------------

Inside the Royal Galleria

"Don't mind me. Just resupplying myself when I got here; I only had about 5 bullets."

General Kutzov nodded and said, "Your preparations are quite minimal. I must say I feel equal parts confident and worried at your apparent resourcefulness." He proffered a hand, saying, "I wish you luck, then-"

Suddenly Governor Rostopchin, a giddy smile on his face, cut between the general and James. "Sorry, Kutzov, I just received word from one of my acquaintances - oh, hello James - that apparently Baron Boskva will be arriving tonight to offer supplies!" He grabbed James roughly by the sleeve, insisting, "Please, you must come with me. Having a real Seraph present will certainly bolster his confidence in our operations here!"

Before the general could raise an objection, the Seraph had been unceremoniously pulled into the crowd. Kutzov was left alone with Colonel Moonrik. "Damn," he muttered. "Damn, damn."

 

[The Hund]

Vlad was quite disturbed and worried by the news of the Cossacks being attacked. It meant that the French forces on the blue roads would be bigger than Vlad would like. Or their Seraphim were extremely skilled. It was bad news either way, of course.

Vlad attempted to get the governors attention as he dragged James away. Moonrik was eager to avenge the dead Cossacks. He hoped he would be back soon. He turned his attention to Kutzov.

"Damn, damn."

"What's wrong sir? I'm sure the governor will be back soon." He asked Kutzov. "Oh, and who is this Mateus fellow?" Continued Moonrik.

 

[drmigit2]

Sicard was as cold as the ice around him, the boy's body being crushed in the snow, pretty soon it would be entirely impossible to recognize. This Lacelle was exactly the kind of person to lead a war such as this one. Continuing just out of spite for others, he was just as bad as the humans, no, he was worse. The speech this Seraph was making only proceeded to make Sicard more bitter. Sicard was about to walk away before the captain asked him a question.

Tell me, Sicard, do you have a soft spot?"

"No." Sicard said in the most vicious way one could say such a simple word. All at once expressing his distaste for the question, Larcelle and the nature of the war. This war was not being conducted honorably. Sicard wanted to fight other Seraphim, these humans were like tissue paper, and that boy didn't belong in a war. There was no joy in killing him, he had nothing to offer Sicard, and that emptiness took away another part of him. This animal who had just five minutes ago eaten another man's heart, did have a soft spot, and poking it would only have consequences.

 

[Captain Anon]

"Sorry, Kutzov, I just received word from one of my acquaintances - oh, hello James - that apparently Baron Boskva will be arriving tonight to offer supplies!" He grabbed James roughly by the sleeve, insisting, "Please, you must come with me. Having a real Seraph present will certainly bolster his confidence in our operations here!"

"hey what The?! oh Bollocks!" I said before sighing a little "you guys go on ahead, I'll catch up later" I said before disappearing into the crowd "alright Governor you can let go of my arm now I'll come quietly, so what personality has the Baron got?" I said chuckling a little

 

[Malbourne]

The Royal Galleria - Clock Chimes Two Past Noon

"...So what personality has the Baron got?"

As the governor pulled James into , exhibiting surprising strength for a man of his stature, Rostopchin said, "I confess I haven't personally met the Baron. However! He was quite the popular character in the political scene for a while. I was under the impression that he'd left with the rest of his estate. Let's count our lucky stars we have such an influential ally still in the city!"

They rounded a corner and, at the end of a hallway studded with doors which led into sculpture galleries, Rostopchin sighted a well-dressed man arm-in-arm with what he presumed was his wife. "This is him, I'm sure of it. Tuck in your chin," Rostopchin winked and began striding down the hall. "Good tidings, Baron Boskva!" he said, his voice echoing down the hallway. "I trust you and Lady Boskva are not so put off by the chill tonight?"

--------------------------------------

Royal Galleria Foyer

"Oh, and who is this Mateus fellow?

Mateus gave a curt bow, throwing his hands out to his sides. "The name's Mateus Bellisimo. Not surprised you hadn't heard of me, General Kutzov, sir, seeing as Moscow's remaining garrison was scraped off the city's heel." Without awaiting a response from the general, Mateus turned his gaze to Moonrik. "You look like one of the fancy sort. I gotta say, I'm kind of a fish outta water in the presence of a colonel and a general. For my own part, I'm the acting captain of a scout division keeping an eye on the road west of here. Only reason I'm in this place is because Lyov wanted me to tell you about the Imperial Guard squadron." He flashed a smile and covered his left eye with two fingers. "Eagle eyes, y'know. Could even count the hairs on their chest."

Kutzov indicated that Lyov could leave. After the private was gone, the general frowned at the new Seraph. "I don't approve of your demeanor. Consider the dire situation we are in right now and try to append courtesy to your actions."

"Oh, yeah. I'd almost forgotten why I wasn't climbing the military ladder," Mateus remarked. "Cuz there are rubes at the top who think they can see that much farther than me."

The general sucked in his chest but did not dignify the impudence with a reply. "Colonel Moonrik, it seems we are short a soldier and up another one. If you still wish to intercept this Imperial Guard, then you'd best set off now. I've heard how fast your horse is, so it's likely you can reach them before they reach us if you hurry along the Blue Road. Do you still wish to set up an ambush?"

"I'll go if I'm ordered," Mateus said with an unenthusiastic tone, "but unless you want a spotter, don't expect me to be too useful in a fight."

---------------------------------------

Slightly off the Blue Road to Moscow

With a disappointed puff of breath, Lacelle knelt by his handiwork. "I hope you don't think me cruel. This is the natural way of things, after all. Is it possible for a hurricane to show mercy to a beetle? I highly doubt it. Such discipline is beyond even God himself." He placed a hand on the man's forehead tenderly as though he were not dead but merely a sleeping child. "I've met other Seraphim. Some of them selfish. Many idealistic. All of them willing to be yoked and driven on by unworthy men of stature."

With a whoosh of air, the body bubbled, its insides boiling. Within a matter of seconds the corpse had melted into a viscous red fluid that slowly seeped into the snow. "What is the loss of one life in comparison with the thousands upon thousands that will die under Napoleon's command? Or Alexander's? Or, perhaps, even Requiem's?" He stood up and turned to Sicard. "It would be a grave sin indeed if individuals with power such as ours did not use it to steer civilization onto a path of nondestruction. At least consider my request." He nonchalantly brushed snow off of his coat as a soldier mounted the hill behind him and began relaying orders. Lacelle straightened up, satisfied with his attire. "It seems we are being summoned once more to move on. Shall we continue?"

 

[deathbydeath]

The four Russian soldiers were leaning tiredly against the wall, two on either side of the double-doors. They appeared less than formal: everybody had their jackets undone, half were actually wearing their caps, and one had his shirt untucked. They happened to be in the middle of a conversation when Tristan and Vivienne showed up."Calls himself Mateus Bellisimo. I think he was an acrobat or something. Loves to grandstand."The lanky one guffawed, revealing two rows of yellowed teeth. "Didn't have the clothes for it! Can't believe he's a part of the military."One of them, a bulky man with a patchy brown beard and a scar across his nose, frowned when he noticed the romantic pair approaching. "Oi, you guys members of the military?"

Tristan took the lead; he was the salesman after all. "No sir, I'm afraid not soldiers. Don't worry, though, we aren't here to waste your time!" Every word out of Tristan' s mouth was brimmed with compulsion. "My name is Tristan, and this is my lovely wife, Vivi. We own a trading caravan nearby and have come to you to offer what aid we can in the conflict against Napoleon." Every movement Tristan made, from the indications of himself and Vivienne to his filler handwaves were calculated and weighed by a lifetime of practice, ensuring that every little detail had some impact. "I am prepared to offer food and medical supplies and other miscellaneous necessities. Is there anyone in the building behind you I should be speaking to?" Tristan's hand pointed out the obvious galleria while his other arm remained around his partner. He didn't feel quite right in this situation and as a result didn't want to let go of Vivienne.

The grimy soldier examined the couple intensely, his eyes scanning their attire and mannerisms. Gradually, acknowledgement dawned on the man's face. "Hey, Ludovich, weren't there s'posed to be a Baron or something who said he wasn't actually gonna show?""Baron Boskva," the gangly man called Ludovich replied. A second passed before his eyes lit up. "Oh! This is...""Our apologies, sire," the apparent leader of the bunch said with a bow of the head. "We didn't realize - open the door, moron - that you'd changed your mind. Not that there's anything wrong with that!" he appended nervously. The doors swung open, one soldier holding each. "Gov'nor Rostopchin should be waitin' for you. I'll bet he'll be pleased to see a familiar face!"

Tristan's smile and sight wave denied his utter confusion and panic. "Of course, thank you for doing your jobs, soldiers."He subtly kept Lucjan moving around the guards and now into the building behind the pair. As they marched down a hall to meet the Governor, Tristan whispered questions into Vivienne's ear, "Vivi, did you recognize any of what that man was saying? Who is Baron Boskva and why am I him? Also, what the Christ are we going to do with Lucjan?"

As the pair continued striding quickly down the opulent yet sparsely populated corridor, echoes of conversation in the foyer followed behind them."He'll be just fine. As for the reception, your guess is as good as mine," Vivienne murmured. "Keep your eyes open. We don't need more attention...Oh, damn."The beaming, slightly disheveled figure of Governor Rostopchin materialized at the end of the hall, dragging a man behind him, and was proceeding to close the distance between himself and Tristan and Vivienne.Vivienne halted Tristan's movement with a firm tug of the arm. "It's the damned governor," she hissed.

Tristan froze up for a second when he tried to comprehend just how out of his depth he was in that moment. He was impersonating a nation he knew only the last name of to fool a governor he knew even less about. Might as well take the initiative.

"Good tidings, Baron Boskva! I trust you and Lady Boskva are not so put off by the chill tonight?"

"Governor!" Everything Tristan had in him right then went into that smile. "The two of us are holding up fine, given the circumstances. We thank you for finding the time in your busy schedule to meet one another."

 

[drmigit2]

Sicard looked at Larcelle with an amused glance. He was beginning to get a read on the commander and it was exactly what Napoleon would have been afraid of. This was certainly an interesting development at the very least. Sicard decided to engage Larcelle in a tiny bit of banter, still on guard after the whole incident regarding Yasha.

"We are here for very different reasons. I came here because Russia is going to be sending their best to defend Moscow and Napoleon wants me to kill them. These fights are going to be what makes me, I care for little else. I did not come here to kill little boys. We are unalike humans, I agree, but I don't think we are better than them. Attempting to force them into what we want them to be is just taking the only thing they own. They decide their own destiny and we follow what it is they wish. I am Napoleon's hammer to bring about his own destiny. That is our trade, we give each other our own purpose. Just as there would be no Napoleon without us, we would have no purpose without him. If you decided that we should rule over humans, and then actually did it, I think you would have to kill every single human out there, because they really hate being ruled over. Don't ignore the human spirit. The only way humans will end violence, is when they are ready to. When this happens I will lose all purpose, but as of right now I can't see that ever happening."

WIth that, Sicard turned his eyes to Moscow and said "My destiny is out there, I think most of ours is. You can feel free to pursue your dream of dictating humans, I'm not gonna stop you, but you will lose." Now that his opinion on the matter was on the table, Sicard shrugged and began walking back to the Imperial Guard.

 

[Malbourne]

On the Blue Road to Moscow

Edward Porter rubbed his arms tensely. When he saw Sicard approaching their regiment, he exclaimed, "Ah, the hunter returns! Glad to see you at least got some hits in. I am afraid I was not much use this time." He smiled forlornly. "Well, there is always the city, you know?"

"We'll be setting off shortly," Second Lieutenant Bijou said, riding up on a dappled stallion. "Be ready to leave."

Beside him, Captain Loreaux rode up in high spirits. "Ahaha! Those Russians had no idea which end of the horse was the tail! I suppose that's why Napoleon wanted us in the forefront, so that we'd show those soldiers whose army has the greater firepower, eh? What say you, Sicard?" He turned to address the Seraph in a more dignified position. "I heard you managed to get in more hits than either Lacelle or Porter. What did you think of the Russian army? Are they much of a threat?"

----------------------------------------

Rear of the Royal Galleria

"Now where are we?" Lucjan examined a fancy portrait of a grizzly bear riding a chariot. The painting utilized chiaroscuro to contrast the bear with the cheering crowd of townsfolk, which Lucjan assumed was meant to be a metaphor for the vicissitude of the natural hierarchy when superimposed upon the rituals of human culture.

The chamber he was in was empty of people, thankfully. He'd walked and walked after the illusion dispersed, and now he was well and truly lost inside the gallery. There were dozens of odd and absurd paintings in the room, but Lucjan doubted he was meant to be admiring the works.

He sighed. "The hell am I s'posed to do, Vivienne?"

A Side Room of the Royal Galleria

Governor Rostopchin grinned, pleased his acquaintance was in an amicable mood. "There is always time for a good man of the state such as you!" He indicated James with a wave of the hand. "My associate, it may please you to know, is one of our Seraphim warriors. A Mr. James, I believe is what he prefers to be called. He'll be a fine ally, as I hope you will! Now, er, there is a small matter to get out of the way before we can continue with pleasantries. That is, your certificate of shipment. I do apologize," he said hastily, hands raised before him, "but the bean-counters were led to believe you were providing some supplies, so the sooner we take care of that, the sooner we can sip some fine Merrie Vintage 1720!"

 

[drmigit2]

After Sicard had made it back to the Imperial Guard, it seemed they were all in high spirits. They had just managed to deflect an entire unorganized Cossack unit after all, and for some reason this gave them hope for the future. With this in mind, Sicard was still as skeptical as ever of their preparedness, especially since no Seraphim had shown up yet. The burly man gathered himself as the Captain human asked him a question.

"I heard you managed to get in more hits than either Lacelle or Porter. What did you think of the Russian army? Are they much of a threat?"

"Hard to tell." Sicard began, "This was a Cossack unit, designed to whittle us down and demoralize us before the big battle, obviously it didn't work, but we have yet to encounter really anything of theirs. Their Seraphim are certainly going to be interesting to say the least, but until we meet them, it is safe to say that we should expect a tough fight. Those Cossacks will send a message back to Russia that we are coming. Often the lack of a return means much more than a single soldier coming home, so I would expect a counter attack any hour now. We should be prepared for that. They might even bring a Seraphim or two, hopefully Porter can stay awake next time."

With his report done, Sicard started looking out towards Moscow again, sights set on whoever might be coming for him.

 

[deathbydeath]

"That is, your certificate of shipment. I do apologize, but the bean-counters were led to believe you were providing some supplies, so the sooner we take care of that, the sooner we can sip some fine Merrie Vintage 1720!"

"Of course, of course." Tristan was freaking out. Why was he a baron, and why wasn't informed by Lucjan and Vivienne's employer about what he was supposed to know? Spying shouldn't be this vague.

On cue, a 'pop' emerged from Tristan's pocket and Vivienne glanced in his direction. The seraph reached into his coat to withdraw the letter. He unfolded it and looked it over. "A second, please, to let me make sure this is correct."

Hand this missive to Rostopchin. Allow him to read it, but convince him to allow Mr. James to carry it. It must NOT be held by the Governor for too long.

This seems appropriate. "Here it is, Governor."

 

[Malbourne]

Royal Galleria - Governor Rostopchin

The governor accepted the parchment from Tristan and glanced over it. "Mm-hm, yes, yes, this all looks to be in order." He smiled and began folding it up, preparing to place it in his coat pocket. "Well, glad that could be settled swiftly. I'll hold onto this until I can give it to my secretary. Er, wait, is my secretary still here? Ah! Nevermind, I'm sure I'll find him." He put a hand on James's shoulder. "Well, Mrs. Boskva, I do not think it too untoward to suggest you spend some time with my friend, Mr. James. Don't worry; even though he's a scary Seraph warrior, he doesn't bite, I assure you!"

--------------------------------

Blue Road to Moscow

"We're heading out!" First Lieutenant Rochefauld sounded a horn and took second lead as the battalion marched on the road once more.

While the soldiers trooped forward, Lacelle examined his lapel noncommittally. They hadn't lost many people, which the captain certainly had a right to be pleased about. Porter popped up beside the Seraph, simple face alight with happiness. "Hello, Adrien!"

"Lacelle."

The man guffawed and slapped his compatriot on the back. "Always with the corrections, but that is good when I'm new to this regiment. I heard you did not get to fight anybody as well. Were you also knocked out before we could battle?"

"I was not incapacitated, no."

Porter grinned. "That is good, I suppose. Then, maybe the footmen and our other Seraph friend are simply more competent than the two of us, eh?"

"You could say that."

Lacelle's visible displeasure increased with another slap on the back. Porter gave him an overly friendly nudge with the elbow as he departed, saying, "Good luck in the next fight, then. I pray fortunes give us favor in Moscow!"

"...Ugh." For the next several minutes Lacelle covertly attempted to wipe invisible filth from the back of his jacket.

 

[Captain Anon]

Well, Mrs. Boskva, I do not think it too untoward to suggest you spend some time with my friend, Mr. James. Don't worry; even though he's a scary Seraph warrior, he doesn't bite, I assure you!

I looked at The Governor "I'll have you know Governor I can only be scary when I want to and in the present of a lady I'm a Gentleman first" I said jokingly as I took off my hat and places it on my chest before turning to Mrs Boskva "Madam Boskva, It is a pleasure to meet you" I said bowing before her

 

[Malbourne]

Inside the Bowels of the Royal Galleria

Halsten adjusted his monocle and squinted in the scarce light of the storage room. With one last glance at his map, he noted with satisfaction that all of his preparations were complete. He stepped away from the supporting column before him and rolled the map up. With a snap of his fingers it exploded in a miniature puff of smoke.

"Lucia, could you doublecheck my escape route?" he asked as he scanned the empty chambers for interlopers.

The storage room beneath the Galleria was more like an expansive cellar, now thoroughly cleaned out but for some simple furniture. The main purpose of the room was to house the spare works not on display aboveground as well as the foundations of the magnificent museum's structure. To the latter effect, eight large pillars of stone and timber stretched several meters up, in a large octagonal arrangement.

After tucking his monocle into his breast pocket, Halsten snapped his fingers again. A shower of sparks flickered to the ground, catching on a trail of gunpowder. With a fwoosh, the powder ignited and soon the room was alight in flame.

"We'll mingle with the soldiers for a bit, Lucia. Requiem wants me to deliver a message to one of the guests, so be patient." He ascended a discreet staircase and soon disappeared into the Galleria's rear chambers. Slowly, the fire beneath the Royal Galleria grew.