Roleplaying
2004 Archive
2005 Archive
Seminars
| When: | 27 February 2005 |
| Who: | Bronwen, Genevieve (as Uvi), Michael (NPCed), Tyrr |
| What: | Tyrr and Bronwen give their report to their Superior, while Uvi entertains both herself and the other Warriors. |
Michael's Encampment
Unlike other Archangels whose Cathedrals can be found in resplendent buildings, Michael's house is instead reminiscent of a pre-Industrial era encampment. Tents for rest, counsel, and larch swaths of cleared earth for sparring and platoon drills can be found here. Earthly generals from all times and places, ranging from Sun Tzu to Patton, make their home here. All of these Angels, Soldiers, and departed souls share one thing in common: they cannot enjoy the bliss of eternity, knowing that Hell is still waging war. Visitors may find that getting bloodied in a 'friendly' spar is the quickest way to earn respect and friendship under this canopy.
Heaven's beauty can be enamoring when you don't get to go up here that often. It's even more enamoring when you get to use the wings God gave you to just soar over the Groves and take in the beauty of it all. Tyrr's doing just that today. But he knows that he has business to attend to, and hovers down toward Bronwen's tent.
Bronwen is sitting just outside of the opening of her tent, again surrounded by a myriad of weapons. Today it seems like she's doing different types of small repairs, anything from fine-detail sharpening to hilt decoration and repair.
Landing a few feet from the front of the tent, Tyrr's not that hard to miss given the expansive wing span. "Are you available to talk now?" There's no hello, no pleasantries... there is however a grave look to Tyrr's face.
"I am," Bronwen replies simply, pausing in the rewrapping of a hilt. At the expression of the other angel she quickly winds the excess leather strapping around the weapon she's working on and begins to shift everything into her tent.
Tyrr waits as Bronwen collects her stuff. She may think he wants to talk in private in the actual tent, but that's not the case. Moving a few feet away from her tent, he jumps into the air and hovers as he waits.
Bronwen brushes her hands off on her leggings, drops the flap to her tent, and rises into the air with a leap and a flap of her own wings. "Are we going to see the Warlord or is there another person you had in mind today?"
"We're going away, to places that have long since been abandoned." Tyrr begins to fly off in the distance. It appears he's not much in the mood for idle chit chat tonight as they make their way to the first of two destinations.
Castle of Uriel
Although its superior has been recalled to the Higher Heavens, the glossy white walls of this paragon of castles have not decayed. The gilt roofs remain strong, as if awaiting Uriel's return. The trophies of cleansing can still be found here, all manner of mythical beast -- and the occasional polytheistic deity -- mounted uopn the sturdy walls. The abandoned halls and opulent courtyard can still be visited, Laurence himself roaming in reflection. Those who linger long enough among the galleries and ramparts may find their spirit a bit better off for the time spent here.
"Away is rather vague," Bronwen remarks, gliding along after the other Michaelite. "And unfortunately there are a number of abandoned areas in this portion of the plane."
The flight isn't that long, it never is when one knows exactly where they want to go in Heaven. It's almost as if Heaven shifts just in that one persons perspective to get them to where they need to go (save of course the Library). Not long after Bronwen's comment does Tyrr look back at her, "Let us set down there." His comment easily shows their destination. The Castle of Purity.
Bronwen's foot touches down and she folds her wings with the slightest of rustles. "Now this castle I haven't walked the halls for a good long time," she muses as she looks at its pristine glory. "It's oddly soothing to do so."
The moment that Tyrr's feet touch down, he kneels onto one knee and makes the sign of the cross over his body before touching the hand he made the symbol with to his lips. He remains there for about thirty seconds, head bowed down before standing. "Yes, it is." He begins to move further into the castle down the winding steps.
Bronwen politely waits for Tyrr, then follows him down the steps. "I would have to say that my largest curiousity right now is why here, at Uriel's Castle?"
There's a small shrug from Tyrr as he continues down the steps. Upon reaching one of the lower floors of the castle, he steps out into a hallway. "No reason save to wander the halls and talk with a friend again. It's been some time since I've walked through these hallowed halls and reflected on the present and past," he says just as they pass a display showing different types of dragon heads.
"Each has its own beauty, I suppose," Bronwen coments. "The Grove with its thousands of trees, each vying to display the best colour from the others... whereas here it is a different type of beauty."
Tyrr stops in front of a display of different sigils and weaponary taken from Ethereal Gods who were struck down by Uriel and his Tsayadim. Looking at the ring on his right hand, Tyrr lets his eyes glance up at the matching ring for the other hand in the cabinet. "It's the beauty of death." There's no joy in Tyrr's voice though, but neither is there anything to be taken as angst... it is instead just flat with little emotion. "And of things that are no longer around."
"That, my friend, I would have to disagree on. Death holds no beauty," the other Malakite replies. "It is final and unchanging."
Tyrr looks at Bronwen's reflection in the glass of the display case, "And such is the way things are." Tyrr then turns and continues down the hallway of the Castle before they come to a door. Tyrr touches his hand to the handle but doesn't turn it, yet the door opens and reveals an open courtyard in the middle of the Castle. The garden here is filled with white roses and other white flowers, that it appears to shine from the light of Heaven above.
Bronwen steps into the garden and glances around. "Speaking of death, I wonder how the request I placed is going for Sian," she muses. "As well as what is going on with the those of Destiny with Sandra."
There are flowers here that aren't naturally white on Earth, yet not a single one of them looks unnatural here. Kneeling down again on one knee, Tyrr picks up a white Morning Glory. "I expect both will find their Destinies fulfilled. I don't know if it necessarily wise for Sian to come back. The catalyst of her death is quite traumatic. I know that those serving Yves aren't allowing anyone to see her."
"There is that," Bronwen agrees with a hint of reluctance. "And I wouldn't worry about who Sandra wants to see. I think it's a safe bet to assume that we are not included on the guest list any time in the near future."
"Yes well. I doubt highly when she is healed, if she can be, that she'll be very forgiving either. But at the same time, we've done what we needed to." Of course, Tyrr's yet to /tell/ Michael what he's done. Hence his reluctance to go anywhere toward the center of the encampment just yet. "I think it's time we go and see him."
Bronwen chuckles softly, but definitely without mirth. "Just one more reason to dislike us, simply because we do what we must. Is he expecting us?" As if there's any question which male she's talking about.
"No, he's not. Nor is he aware of what I ordered be done." Tyrr turns and heads back into the spiraling staircase back up to the top of the ramparts.
Bronwen rustles her wings. "He must be aware of something, considering he gave me that box months ago... this is going to prove to be an 'interesting' meeting."
Michael's Encampment
Unlike other Archangels whose Cathedrals can be found in resplendent buildings, Michael's house is instead reminiscent of a pre-Industrial era encampment. Tents for rest, counsel, and larch swaths of cleared earth for sparring and platoon drills can be found here. Earthly generals from all times and places, ranging from Sun Tzu to Patton, make their home here. All of these Angels, Soldiers, and departed souls share one thing in common: they cannot enjoy the bliss of eternity, knowing that Hell is still waging war. Visitors may find that getting bloodied in a 'friendly' spar is the quickest way to earn respect and friendship under this canopy.
The object of Tyrr's anticipation and trepidation can be found taking his ease in the center of the encampment. In the shade cast by the miles high canopy above, Michael's burly form commisserates with MacAuthur and Sun Tzu. An intelligent, bemused glint can be seen in the archangel's eyes as he listens to the pair come up with modifications to the Chinese thinker's principles to fit combat on the open ocean. The lazy rasp of a whetstone sounds out as he occasionally flicks his gaze down to the wide, double-headed axe in his lap.
The 'winds' of Heaven carry Tyrr forward after he launches himself off the top of the Castle ramparts. Not long afterward he can see toward the center of the Encampment and begins to make his descent.
A second set of dark wings can be found trailing the first as Bronwen glides along the same updraft that Tyrr used. She doesn't seem inclined to say much at the moment but follows the other Michaelite down towards the ground anyhow.
Descending from the air, Tyrr touches down not more than fifty feet from Michael and the human Generals. Reaching down, Tyrr grabs his axe and brings it forward, head bowed down some, "General, if you've a few moments, I have much to report from Austin."
Another rasp, and with a flick of the hand, the axe is brought spinning up into a forehand grip. Michael stands, hefting the weapon with a twinkle in his eyes. The discussion of the famous generals are left behind, as the Archangel of War turns his attention to other matters, such as the pair of Servitors who have arrived. Giving a nod of acknowledgement, Michael gazes to Tyrr and Bronwen intently. "At ease, Tyrr. What do you have for us?"
Bronwen lands behind Tyrr and folds her wings neatly, with a slight bow towards Michael and a politely murmured, "Warlord."
Lowering his axe after the greeting is returned, Tyrr looks up. His face is grave as he looks around for a moment. Given there is no one here who does not agree with Michael's view of Dominic, Tyrr begins. "As you've undoubtedly heard, Huriin, there have been many things that have transpired in Austin. We..." Tyrr looks back then narrows his eyes as he realizes it was his own action that put things to the way they were, and that it'd be poor form to get someone else in probable trouble, "...I, put one thing into motion once a Seraph of Destiny came to me with information about this fallen Saint, Christian. Namely, I put it into motion that he'd meet his Fate so that one of the 'Highest' would befall his deserved fate... Dominic."
Bronwen's eyes narrow at the minor correction in Tyrr's introduction. She's definitely noticed it and looks like she has something to say about it... but right now probably wouldn't be the time.
It's always daytime in Heaven, and with the ambient light streaming through the kilometers high trees of the Grove, it's difficult to notice other pieces of light descending from above. Ofanim make for great messengers, and so it's with little fuss that Uvi finds herself in the middle of Michael's Encampment. She's on a mission, and as such, doesn't dally for long enough to draw attention. Yet. She eventually buzzes to a halt by the gallery of generals that attend Michael. She's quite literally within a stone's throw of the archangel of War himself, and begins striking up a conversation with the blessed soul of General Patton.
"Hiiiiiiiiiii. My Malakite of War friend told me a lot of good things about you!" she chirps out. "Can I wear your hat?"
A long pause, and then, with a coo of pleasure about remembering something important, she asks, "Can I wear your hat, sir?"
Michael's expression grows more intense. He noticed the change as well. "Yes. I have heard about some of the events in Austin, Tyrr. The Council has been in an uproar lately over what happened down there, as there were many witnesses to the final events. As much as I enjoy knocking the Hyena of Heaven down a few notches, this could have serious consequences. Did the Seraph tell you exactly what would happen?"
Tyrr doesn't flinch as Michael's expression goes grave, "He did. That the Hyena would find himself spiralling from his exalted position, that the path would most likely lead to his Fall." There's a hardset look to Tyrr's face, "I'm aware that this could have serious consequences, but in the end, if the Hyena was already abusing his powers, as we know he was... this shall just prove it to the others on the Council so that they may bring forth true judgment on the Hyena. Now that it's made public, his Fall would be harder to happen given everyone will be watching him?" Just as he finishes his thought there's an uproar a few dozen feet from Michael, Tyrr, and Bronwen, drawing Tyrr's attention. With a heavy sigh, Tyrr just shakes his head already guessing who the Ofanim is.
And not more than a second after Genevieve begins to accost Patton to wear his helmet, does the General remove his helmet and begin to swipe at the Ofanim, "No! You may not! Now get your sorry ass out of my way, before I beat you to within an inch of your life you pathetic soldier!!!"
Michael knows what Genevive is up to. He just doesn't do anything about it. He knows Patton can handle himself. He's more concerned with the current situation as it is. "Very interesting. Very, very interesting. It makes me consider if Yves was expecting this. Something like this would be a major issue for Heaven... But this was a good strike." Michael considers for a moment. "Given how the politics are working out, Dominic will probably end up on a short leash. After all he does to us, it'll be good to see him getting the same treatment. They'll keep him from Falling. I wonder if the Seraph had the whole story... Regardless..." Michael's expression brightens slightly. "Any additional information to report on the situation, or updates on Demonic activity in Austin?"
Uvi yeeks at the swipe, and sniffs. "You're not very nice. And I know I know I've heard the 'I don't have to be nice to get the job done and that 'being nice' doesn't stop Hell from waging war on us. I've had THAT pounded into my skull ten million eleventy-jillion times by THOSE over there..." She points, or at least bobs, towards the direction of Tyrr and Bronwen. Maybe I'll go to the Halls of Progress to see if I can find Northrop. He was nice! And he made flying wings!" However, contrary to her musings, she hovers over towards the archery range with a terrified squeak as she notices the arrow-laden bulls' eyes. "BARBARIANS!! You're shooting other Ofanim?!?! Well, that's what they GET for being too slow..."
"Given Yves' constant visits to Austin of late, I won't doubt that he did know this was coming. Though I honestly think he was trying to stop it." Tyrr considers for a moment everything that's happened in the last few weeks, "I believe the one Lucifer Shard you had given me has fallen into Yves's hands, but I should be able to reobtain it from Remliel. Your newest Tether also grows strong. I believe with the addition of the newer forces you've had sent to Austin, that we can make it an Angelic city soon enough."
"Hmm. Perhaps." Michael continues to watch Tyrr as he gives his further report. "Excellent. Keep me informed if anything else unusual occurs." The Archangel turns to Bronwen, a small smile on his face. "And I hear you've been doing a good job down there as well, Bronwen... And good work is rewarded. It's good to stand up for what you believe in." With a gesture from his free hand, there is a glow, lights streaming towards Breanna. As they surround her head, there echoes within a martial beat, with a subtle, tense tone. "This Song will help you in your efforts."
"C'mon! Ya'll can do better than that!" Uvi darts playfully along the flinging celestial darts, earning her more than a few eyerolls from the other assembled Michaelites. "Look, I'm helping them train!" she chirps out towards the meeting group, her pattern roughly making out that of... a raised hand with extended middle finger.
Tyrr remains quiet now, head lowered some as if he's lost in thought. With Michael focussed on Bronwen for a few minutes, he considers recent events himself. He's been comtemplating the addition of a new oath, wondering what Michael would think of it though.
"Thank you, Bright Lord," is about all that Bronwen can get out before she's surrounded in the momentary glow. Her eyes close for a few seconds to comprehend the internal beat before opening again. "Although some think that our actions are solitary, I know that they are not viewing the entire strategic map. It's hard, but then war is not for the faint of heart. I will aim to use this new skill in the manner best suited to it."
Michael nods approvingly. "I know you will, Bronwen." Looking back to Tyrr, he gestures. "Is there anything else to address, Tyrr? Or perhaps you have anything yourself, Bronwen?" He spares a moment to glance at the darting Ofanim visitor, and arches an eyebrow for a moment, before smirking. "Training indeed."
The pale yellow and cyan spheroid pauses in its darting and weaving to curiously regard the granting of new powers, a faint wistful 'oooh' coming from her. It brings back a number of memories of her past Superior, and the... difficulties that sometimes rise from her current one. The brief pang of envy over the attention from that kind of Superior/Server washes through her only briefly as a baton thwacks into her lower left loop, sending her spiralling dizzily to the ground with a graceless 'awp!'. A few nasty laughs emanate from the vindicated soliders that Uvi had been taunting earlier.
Tyrr raises the Axe again toward his chest and bows his head, "No, nothing else Huriin. If you have no further orders for us, we shall resume our posts in Austin." He waits to be dismissed.
"It is her justification, although some of the other Warriors may disagree with her term," Bronwen offers in explanation. "I cannot think of anything, Warlord, other than Sandra-Raphael may not be overly pleased with our part in the situation. I do not know if that will have any negative effects on you as a result." The jeering of the other Michaelites draws her gaze towards them and the spiralling Uvi.
"We will have to deal with that when the time comes, provided Raphael is restored. All in all, the operation could have gone much worse." Michael nods to the pair. "Very well, then. If there is nothing else, you are both dismissed." Michael raises his axe to his chest to return the salute, and then looks back to Uvi, smirking a bit. Looks like she's getting a bit of valuable training: Never taunt a Warrior and turn your back on them.
The Ofanite's gone through this routine several times, mostly when she was trying to track Tyrr down to annoy him with some trifle or another. She feigns injury, lying prone on the ground, until a few draw closer to examine her. In a blurr, she zings towards the closest cherub, barreling into its chest. She promptly uses the irate, winged gorilla's belly as a trampoline. "Ha ha, gotcha, gotcha!"
Bronwen offers her Superior a slight bow before turning herself towards the recognized Ofanim. Whistling lightly under her breath, she ducks down towards the ground to pick up a medium sized stone to test its weight. Nodding at it, she reaches back and sends it flying towards Uvi's open middle area with a warning shout of "Scatter!" to the other Warriors within range of her shot.
Roll by Bronwen: (3) (2) (5)
Roll by Genevieve: (5) (5) (4)
The Ofanite hee hees impishly as she makes sport of the matter. However, there's something to be said about numbers, and spells, and more things thrown her way. A more creative Michealite snags her on the curve of his scimitar, putting a cease to her bouncing on the cherub, and nicely immobilizing her for a rock 'schlwooomp' through her. A horrified squeal escapes her, and she actually bolts for the skies once she disentangles herself and takes to the skies from whence she came. "Jerks! Figured you'd gang up on me..."
"Come, now, Uvi," Bronwen calls up with a hint of a laugh in her tone, her wings partially splayed to keep her balance during her throw. "If you thought cohabitating in part with two Warriors on the Corporeal plane was bad, why are you so surprised when visiting the Groves? We can work individually or as a group... which ever works best for the situation."
Tyrr lowers his axe after Michael dismisses them. But as Bronwen's distracted by the actions of Genevieve and the others, Tyrr pays them no mind. Instead he launches into the air and flies off into an unknown direction.
If Uvi was within range, some catty comment might rain down about how it WOULD require a group to accomplish anything. But that would have required her to be in the area to hear what Bronwen had to say in the first place. A curious hum escapes her as she spies Tyrr breaking above the canopy, and starts to follow, before thinking better of the tracking endeavor. She was faster, but he was meaner.
Bronwen turns to make a comment to Tyrr only to discover that he's disappeared. "Hmm," she muses to herself before shrugging and heading towards the practice grounds. She'll corner him later.
Michael has since gone back to discussing matters with his generals and other Warriors. If there is no rest for the wicked, there is even less for the righteous.
Tyrr's actually off in the distance in the air, still recognizable for his somewhat large wing span. If someone's familiar with his background, it's not that hard to guess where he's headed next in Heaven.
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