Pitcarn and Desafon

"Of course," said the servant to the God of Pirates. "Follow me."

Desafon was soon met by the God of Food in the main hall, where several priests slept, talked, joked and continued to eat. The platters were stacked high with a huge assortment of foods, and wine flowed freely from the jugs. The servant introduced Desafon to his Lord, smiled, bowed and left the room.

Wary of the flames-haired god, due to their last Pitcarn non-theless greeted Desafon warmly.

"Pirate Lord, what brings you to my hall? I hear that you have valuable and expensive wares, wares that might have ceeased to exist had I been allowed to continue my work. It is best for you then that you joined your 'trade group', eh? But I cannot buy them, I have no need, so it cannot be them that brings you here.

"I had thought to take revenge for the slight you did to me, and yet here you stand in my own realm, alone, and asking politely of my priests where I am. You do not seek war then?

"God of duels, you confuse me, and yet I feel an affinity towards you, but that may just by a homophone, I do not know. So what is it? What do you require of a God of Food?

"Come, sit, eat, at my home we discuss business over food, and drink. My priests are good folk, they are making me wine, the best wine I can think of, better than that which I create with my own hands even!"

With that, Pitcarn filled every goblet on the table with a deep red wine, and turned to sit himself down.

Desafon shakes his head, "Oh, I don't seek war with you. War wouldn't be profitable for either one of us, nor do I seek a duel with you since the solution and problem has been solved to both of our advantages. I do, however, have to ask about something important. I hear you need a God named 'Sura' taken care of. At least given a fair warning by giving him a death. In fact, if I could, I'd enjoy giving him more than one. However, I hear the only way I can join in on this expedition or 'Bounty hunt' is by talking to you. No doubt, both of us being Vicious Gods, we can come to some sort of arrangement." He grins.

"No, as much as I'd be honored by a meal, I find I want to take care of this as quickly as I can. I've got things I need to purchase to repair my realm from the slight of the Mad God and people I need to recover. No doubt if I could help take care of this, of course representing the Circle that I do, you may find yourself in higher esteems with the Conclave. Would this not please both of us?"

Pit and Des

About the two Gods, the people of Pitcarn spoke and danced and drank and were merry. They were joyous for guests.

Pitcarn roared with laughter.

"A worthy foe, Desafon, a worthy foe. That is who you are. Yes we are both vicious, and share a goal. You have a crafty mind."

Pitcarn's laugh subsided to a chuckle.

"But you think to small.

"You think the Conclave would officially sanction a Bounty-hunt for a newly promoted Low-lord? A Low-lord who obtained his rank through... questionable means?" Pitcarn gave a knowing look to Desafon.

"No, Lord of duels, This is a greater event: Sura is a distraction here, not the goal." Pitcarn's grin was slightly menacing, like he wanted Desafon to get a private joke, but one that Pitcarn refused to enunciate properly.

"What do you think now, Trader-king? What of this event can you tell me now? Tell me, and I will consider how best I can include you. Prove your ability beyond doubt and enhance your divine aura, and I'm sure I will be able to find you a place of honour in my... army."

Pitcarn drained his goblet in one long swallow, then cast it down and looked at Desafon, waiting for his answer.

Desafon looked towards Pitcarn with an eyebrow raised, "I might be included in your army, but in a manner of speaking I'm still a Mercenary. Dueling is an individual thing, not a team. The price offered was for Sura, not the whole of cultists. I've killed Cultists before and almost got banned from the Conclave's grounds for doing such. If you offer me an amount of money or, perhaps, even a great and worthy respect, I'm fairly certain my blades will remain unmatched. I'm nothing much for magic or anything else, but blades... that's a different matter."

A fire sparked in Pitcarn's eyes at Desafon's comment, but something changed and he visibly calmed. His posture relaxed and his shoulders slid back. he no longer stood as tall, but there was more refinement in his figure

"I had more faith in you, Desafon, and I had hoped that you had more faith in me."

"I'm not speaking here of fighting in the line. Mercenaries serve a very different purpose, and they are often used to fill weaknesses that otherwise might break a force. You're a God of Duels, of Piracy; by your very nature working with others should offend you." Pitcarn narrowed his eyes, "I have an altogether different idea for you."

"As a member of the Apotheosis Circle, you are almost certainly banned from joining any Conclave force directly, especially as a member of the command structure. I do not desire you as a junior commander. I have no need of your services as a lieutenant, and we have enough bad-blood between us that putting you in such a position would raise eyebrows of both my superiors and yours."

"Being a mercenary, a trader, a... pirate," Pitcarn smiled, "I'm sure you can appreciate the value of an independent contract. I hire your services to perform a job for me. You get paid on completion, and I get what I want from the result of your actions. Neither the Conclave nor the Apotheosis Circle need to be directly involved in the terms, only in the final result."

"If you're interested, we can discuss terms. I don't suppose I need to tell you that Sura must die at least once for you to be paid the full amount though."

To this, Desafon seems perplexed, though as he hears Pitcarn out, there's a large grin on his face, "Darn certain you are, I'm agreeing that if Sura doesn't die even once by me... or a byproduct of what I do, then I don't get paid for the bounty on him. However, if I bring back anything of value of the Cultists, I expect at least a portion of the bounty that I have heard is out on them. Truth be told, I might be more than a little upset at you wanting to obliterate my realm when there are others solutions, even that Max guy told me there are, but I'm not about to try and kill you. I'm a Duel God, not a Rage God. Albeit, as much as I say that I am pretty certain that with my blades and my deadly skill with them, I'll be able to cut quite a swath of destruction in this Tush-thingy place. Sura will die, that much I promise. Even if I have to die in the process, that bastidge will die. Do I have a grudge against him? Not personally, but he's worth quite a pretty penny since Chalybis is dead."

He then strokes his chin, "You needing me to go in covertly as a 'scouting' force to set up a spot for you to be able to come in safely and set up? Or just want me to get in there, wait for you all to pop in and then start swinging from further inside the city?"

Pitcarn felt a familiar Divine presence manifest somewhere nearby in his realm. He gained the distinct impression that the visitor was not a friendly one, and thought for a moment before understanding where he had felt the presence before: it was the mad knife-wielding cultist that he had exploded in Tushmuthut.

"SUIT: Activate Jacking wetware protocol and have Shield Protocol on standby. Analyse foreign Divines in this realm that do not fit the profile of 'divine/Pitcarn' and 'divine/Desafon' and add the information to file: mystattacktush."

Pitcarn looked at Desafon.

"My past actions in your realm we will resolve later, but it is not as you suppose. Right now we have a more immediate issue. The first part of your payment is here, as well as a test. A divine has entered my realm, a cultist of Osiris-Ra. He is strong. You will face him alone, in a duel, so I can judge your combat ability. I will watch, but not interfere unless I feel that you would otherwise die. When you have vanquished him, the reward on his head will be the first part of your payment. His weapons and cult-talisman will belong to me."

Pitcarn took up his weapons from where they lay next to the table and began to walk to the door, to outside.

"With the exception of Sura, you make take the cult-talisman and weapon of every cultist you kill in Tushmuthut. The bounty on Sura's head, as well as the prestige for his assassination shall be yours. His head will belong to me, I have a need for it.

"You role in Tushmuthut will be not as a scout or a sleeper, we have the intelligence we need, rather you will deploy with the army and once we have broken the wall, you and a squad will be inserted into the city. Your squad will be there to make sure you are able to reach Sura without molestation. They will know the stakes, and will die in your place if they must. Use the confusion of a city under attack as your cover, I will have other elite squads attempt to penetrate the city quickly to act as a diversion for you. Once you have found and killed Sura, take his head and bring it back here, to Bilbligh. I will ensure that the Conclave allocates you your reward and prestige.

"Come quickly, if you have things you wish to do yourself, the faster this cultist dies, the more time you will have before the attack starts to rescue your lost people.

"If you are wearing the SUIT that was given to you before the Alkan crisis ended, I suggest you activate the 'JACKING-WETWARE' protocol. It will allow you to draw on extra reserves of strength and speed shoudl you need them. Have the 'SHIELD' protocol on standby as well."

Pitcarn leaves his temple and searches for the Cultist with his divine aura.

Desafon looks towards Pitcarn, listening and nodding. "Alright, Suit, do as he said. Activate Jacking wetware protocol and also have the Shield protocol on standby." He says, looking to Pitcarn, having never actually activated the suit. He wonders if he just happened to lost the instructions or whatever. He smiles warmly, looking to Pitcarn, "You point the way and I'll get my blades into this Cultist." He says, grinning. He moves outside, hoping that this cultist doesn't attempt to slaughter Pitcarn's polite monks.

Pitcarn and Desafon

Pitcarn hears the confirmation of the SUIT within his own mind:

JACKING-WETWARE PROTOCOL enabled. SUIT has entered Combat Mode. All other actions will be held.

SCAN other Divines..
Failed.
SUIT is in Combat Mode.
All other actions held.

SUIT is in Combat Mode.
SHIELD PROTOCOL already enabled and prepared.

mystattacktush/1 status..
Status: Frozen.
Gathered information.. 23% checked.
File to be placed within the Conclave Channel upon Completion.
<tt>

Desafon experiences similar:

<tt>JACKING-WETWARE PROTOCOL enabled. SUIT has entered Combat Mode. All other actions will be held.

SUIT is in Combat Mode.
SHIELD PROTOCOL already enabled and prepared.


The two leave the temple. Outside, it is a glorious day. The sun was out and filled the land with bright sunshine. In the main square, children played and mothers chided them. Soldiers and guardsmen went about their business. Merchants hawked their wares.

Pitcarn felt the presence was somewhere to the north.. possibly in another town. This one seemed untroubled enough.

"This way."

Pitcarn began to run to the town. Whatever Desafon did, he knew his role and would fulfill it, Pitcarn trusted, but Pitcarn did not want to risk his people against that divine he had fought. They wouldn't last a second. Hoping to engage him before he could do any damage, he'd leave off as soon as Desafon was able to join the fight. he didn't want to be in the way of a dueling-god's duel.

As he ran, he issued new orders to the SUIT
"SUIT, analyse all divine presences in this realm and add information to file: mystattacktush. I want an aural presentation of information discovered as soon as it is discovered."

Desafon followed Pitcarn, "Right." He can no doubt feel the rising of his blades' need for conflict, seeing that they may now know that they would be required very shortly. He smiles, his hands on the blades, ready to draw them at the first sign of the other divine entity. He was ready for combat himself, pumped with adrenaline even without the suit, prepared to kill this enemy the correct way: dead and in pieces. That's the way that the wheels in Desafon's bus go round and round with Cultists.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:48, Thu 12 Aug 2010.

Pitcarn and Desafon

Pitcarn heard the familiar voice bounce within his mind.

Apologies, General Pitcarn, but your SUIT is in full Combat Mode and thus unable to process that request. Would you like to exit Combat Mode?

Desafon followed, and felt his blades twinge with the familiar need for battle. They were excited. It had been too long since blood had been spilled.

They exited the village gates, and the maddened cultist was nowhere to be seen. Pitcarn knew there to be a village only a forty minute run from where he was at the moment, and all of his Divine senses told him that the murderer could be found in that precise location.

"Yes, exit combat mode until the divine is within 20 metres, then re-enter combat mode." Pitcarn began running towards the village.

As well, Desafon continues after Pitcarn, certain that there will be an interesting battle as he has yet a chance to test out his new capabilities.

Pitcarn and Desafon

Another message reached Pitcarn:

I apologise, High Lord, but there is already a Divine within twenty meters of you.
/Desafon of Perigo.
Do you still wish to exit Combat Mode?

The two began their short run to the next village. Desafon was amazed by Pitcarn - that a God of that size and, ahem, shape, could continue to run at such a pace!

They smelled smoke and blood before they even saw the village. The evidence of a large fire billowed high into the sky. The village was only five minutes through the woods - the woods that were meant to guard it from attack - but even now Pitcarn felt a plunging feeling in his gut. He knew that great murder had been held.

"RIDICULOUS SUIT! ENGAGE FULL COMBAT PROTOCOLS!" Pitcarn screamed in rage at the loss of his people. He charged through the forest and upon exiting he roared his challenge to the invader, wordless and incoherent.

Desafon, through sheer force of will, holds back the laughter that would come from hearing the conversation, even if he only hears one side of it. He, instead, focuses his attention on trying to get there faster. He sees Pitcarn getting all angry, raising an eyebrow, curious if he will get a chance to duel the invader before Pitcarn goes rampaging towards it. Of course, seeing the large and robust figure of Pitcarn going on a rampage aught to be entertainment in and of itself, though he is certain the blades will disagree.

Pit and Des

Combat Protocol activated. SHIELDING at full percent. WETWARE JACKING activated. May you meet swift victory.

The SUIT, of course, monitored the rush of chemicals within his brain, the surge of adrenaline, the marked fury. Pitcarn felt himself run faster, felt the crackle of the shields pop and twist across his flesh. His muscles were at once strained, under immense pressure, and yet light and free.

A few moments and Pitcarn saw what remained of the village. Flames licked the sky, and the bodies of the dead were strewn across the ground, many missing limbs. Blood in surprisingly large amounts stained the wood and dirt, and broken or abandoned weapons had been scattered haphazardly where the doomed men had dropped them. The walls, designed to protect the village, were burning, in many places already ruined. The place smelled like shit and blood and smoke.

There was no sign of the murderer except for screams and howls of agony, somehow thrown across the cackling and the crackling of the flames, from the other side of the village. Torture. The village had been ruined, two hundred lives taken, blood spilled upon Bilbligh..

Desafon followed behind Pitcarn. He saw the ruination of the village, saw the pain in Pitcarn's very form. He smelled the blood, saw the flames, and - without realizing it - drew the Blades of Efficiency from their sheathes. They twinged for battle, lusted for the kill. There was combat here, and they had missed out.

Influenced by another realm, the red haze in front of Pitcarn's eyes abated slightly. The haze that remained he knew, was the blood of his people that still hung in the air.

He drew his blades, and ran to the centre of the village, the town square where he would have the best line of sight, the best place to avoid ambush. When he arrived there, he surveyed the damage, and once more roared his challenge.

"COWARD! HONOURLESS LACKEY OF OSIRIS! YOU WOULD MASSACRE A TOWN WHOSE ONLY CRIME WAS EXISTENCE? SHOW YOURSELF, REVEAL YOUR UNWORTHY HIDE AND FACE THE CONSEQUENCES OF YOUR ACTIONS!"

The tactician in Pitcarn kept note of Desafon's position the entire time. He knew that together they would have a better chance of defeating the monster, but Desafon might do best alone, dueling the foe.

Desafon looks towards the whole carnage, angry not just for missing the conflict but that the conflict happened at all. He wasn't happy when his own people were getting killed by the Mad God, so Pitcarn might notice that Desafon takes no joy in this. "Which realm did he come from? If he's gone from here, maybe he's gone back there. We take the fight to him and we deal to him a death blow, then follow up with another and another and another until the bastard is dead."

Pitcarn turned to Desafon

"If he's fled, he'll have gone back to Tushmuthut. But surely not yet. Not after the insult that I did him."

Pitcarn ginned, fire in his eyes. "He seems to have survived two grenades to the face."

Part of Pitcarn reached out with his divine power to locate Khor within Bilbligh.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:44, Thu 09 Sept 2010.

Smiling, Desafon ponders something. "Anyone figured out yet how to tell where someone will portal to in a realm?" Something... feral and vicious glitters in his eyes.