Moon's Order: Elliot, Sylvia, Sorena

[Yoshimitsu]

The third team of Sem's warriors find themselves in the ruins of the once-busy Crown's Point. The white buildings have crumbled, the ornate pillars fallen, the ground littered with debris of once grand architechture. The grey docks now host an army of rotting wood, the formerly mighty and elegant boats abandoned and left to fade away. There is stirring in the vessels, but nothing seems brave enough to come out just yet.

 

[Yoshimitsu]

The stench of the rotting boats was all that assailed her nostrils, as her footsteps echoed into the emptiness. Even closer to the centre of the city, the smell was constant. Before it could antagonise her further, she raised her half-mask to her mouth. The mask that filtered air before it went into her body, though even it couldn't completely remove the stink that lingered all around. It was horrendous, nothing at all like any battlefield she'd ever been on before. Even the smell of gunpowder and murder was mild compared to this.

Her silver hair flowed as she turned a corner, the sword at her waist clinking slightly as the guard knocked against her belt. She wore a modest outfit, befitting her rank of general. The metal plate over her eye, the emblem on her sleeve, the trousers that were meant for combat and the boots that were just slightly too ornate for warfare. A thick glove on one hand, meant for the best grip on her blade. Sylvia was a woman of practicality, which was why she was heading for the docks.

The smell was foul, but there was something more to it. Underneath that odor of rotting wood was something else, something almost violent. It demanded investigation, and an immediate end if possible. Anything to relieve the tension it was causing. Something almost unnerving and unnatural in the air, like an electrically charged atmosphere. Like she was waiting for a lightning bolt to strike.

There was no movement in the city, or at least no movement that she could detect. Either there really was nothing around, or things were and they were just being so still that she couldn't see or hear them. Neither thought was particularly comforting, she decided in the end as she continued walking. Another corner, another road where she had to sidestep fallen bricks and chunks of rubble. She had a remarkable grace to the way she walked, but underneath that was a current of caution. The sword at her waist, the amethyst gem set into the blade seemed to stir.

"Now that's a nice sword," a voice came from somewhere above her. Immediately, Sylvia drew her blade and cast her gaze up to try to find the source of the sound.

"Who are you?" She demanded.

"Easy, girl, easy," the voice said again. She finally located the source. A boy was sat on the remains of one of the pillars.

He looked about nineteen, with brown hair in a spikey side-fringe. His shirt was mostly unbuttoned, save for one button around the middle that barely concealed any of his toned body. His jeans were tight, one of the legs having two buckles on it, the other bearing a rip over the knee. His shoes were clean, clearly new, more like what a casual person would wear, not someone fighting in this battle. Sylvia didn't lower her sword as she took in the boy's appearence.

"No really, calm down, I'm on your side," he said soothingly. "Fighting for our lord and master, Sem."

He looked peaceful, even contented to sit on that pillar, relaxed and carefree. She could see no weapons on him.

"You're another of the Moon's Order?" She asked, skeptically.

"If I weren't, I'd be attacking right now, wouldn't I?" The boy responded. "The name's Elliot, camp as you like."

"General Sylvia," Sylvia replied, re-sheathing her sword finally. She stood up straight, and removed her mouth-mask.

"Yeah, that's a nice sword, is that real amethyst in the blade?" Elliot asked curiously. He didn't make any move to leave the pillar, enforcing the idea that he genuinely was comfortable up there.

"Enchanted amethyst," Sylvia answered neutrally. "The details are personal."

"Oh, I get it, one of those soul-blade deals or something," Elliot agreed, though Sylvia doubted he really knew what he was on about. "Not quite a soul-blade but I've got a neat weapon too."

He extended his hand in front of him and, with a flash, a weapon appeared in his hand. It was far too ornate to be a serious weapon. The guard was in the shape of a flower, and looped round into a circle around his hand. At the end of the thin blade was a half-butterfly, like a butterfly perched on the stem of a flower. The glint in the wings was enough to tell Sylvia it was razor sharp, or even sharper than that. Coming from the hilt was a chain, ending in another butterfly.

"That hardly seems practical for combat," Sylvia commented.

"I know, it looks that way doesn't it? Gayest thing in the world, too," Elliot agreed with a laugh. "But it's a pretty good blade. I call it the Butterfly Edge."

"An apt name."

"Or just camp, but you decide," Elliot said smiling.

 

[Sem]

A dark figure wandered the broken asphalt roads of the once beautiful port town. Sorena's black leather, high heeled boots clacked against the grainy, shattered concrete. The heel was thicker than a stiletto heel, but still not full-sized. A black dress swayed inches above the ground as the woman walked, obscuring her ankles. The dress was a slim, Victorian-styled gown, with a coal grey, corset-styled bodice and a silver trim The black sleeves of the dress were long and loose, and a black cloak covered her shoulders and upper chest, flowing out behind her as she walked and held closed by a sapphire inlaid in a silver brooch. A mane of silver hair flowed down her back, wavy and not styled in any particular way. A witch's hat sat on the woman's head, with a crooked tip and a sapphire-blue sash tied around the base.

On each of the woman's middle fingers was a sapphire ring, also silver, and both identical. The woman's skin was a fair and pale, and she didn't wear makeup. There was some beauty about her, but her way of dress seemed determined to obscure it. She seemed about fifty, in a young way, but also in a very, very, old way. Something about the woman tended to cause people to think that she was ancient, or even as old as she actually was.

What she wore, while each piece seeming familiar and ordinary, also seemed like they were from another place and another time - which was true. It also didn't seem like the best attire for fighting, but Sorena has once led armies in battle clothed in similar attire. She was no stranger to war, despite all appearances and impressions.

A pair of dazzling sapphire eyes flitted from the ground, to the buildings, to the sky, to the alleys, to the pebble in front of her, and everywhere else. She wasn't really scanning the area so much as she was just wildly taking it all in simply for the sake of taking it all in. The woman had had a harder time staying focused lately. It was a challenge before but now for some reason it seemed she couldn't do it to save her life - which was a bad thing in this world. Sorena hadn't lost her memory or anything - more like she had lost specific bits, as if someone had looked at her life and decided what exactly to cut out, leaving her with several hundred years of spotty memory. It was frustrating, to say the least.

She was supposedly on a quest for some artifacts for the leader of the Moon Order, Sem. They were supposed to revere him as leader or something, it was a bit ridiculous. Sorena figured that the young man must be very full of himself. Either way, the artifacts would somehow end the eternal cycles of war and take them all back, which seemed good enough for her.

The woman stopped once her exceptional hearing picked up some voices not very far away. The woman's senses were all exceptional, but not superhuman. The woman had, despite looking fifty, what one would consider a peak-human body, which could be further enhanced with magic, at least temporarily. Sorena wasn't going to permanently enhance it again. Once was quite enough. The woman had actually temporarily stopped her sense of smell entirely due to the foul odor in the area.

The woman continued on, throwing caution to the wind as she always did, walking forward with both her hands held in front of her and hidden within her sleeves. No doubt they heard her coming before she saw them. One was a woman, also with silver hair but much less wild than Sorena's. The other was a young man who Sorena thought seemed very much on fire. Rainbow fire. The witch eyed the woman's uniform, and while the symbols and bars made little sense to her it was obvious that the woman was of a high rank within someone's military.

The military woman gripped her sword tightly, ready to draw it, but the young man seemed entirely relaxed on the pillar on which he sat, not seeming to mind that a potential enemy could attack them at any second. He seemed like a young man who knew how to not sweat the small things like being attacked. Sorena liked that.

The witch thought she recognized them but wasn't sure. The woman's sword seemed at least slightly magical, but she couldn't tell the extent of its abilities.

"Pipe down, I'm from the Moon Organization," Sorena told them, thinking that she probably got the name wrong, but either way they would get the idea. "I'm Sorena," she said, introducing herself.

 

[Yoshimitsu]

"Elliot, nice to meet you," Elliot responded with a wave. The woman looked interesting enough, the face of a fifty year old but the body of a twenty year old from what he could tell, and dressed like a halloween witch. "You're not related to Elpheba are you? I mean you don't have the green skin, but you never know."

"Elpheba?" Sylvia queried, looking up at the boy.

"She's from a musical," Elliot explained briefly. He still hadn't moved from the pillar, still content to sit up there and chat away. "But maybe musicals have some basis in reality? I dunno."

"... Are you intoxicated?" Sylvia asked, raising an eyebrow. The metal plate covering one eye shifted slightly as she did so. Elliot flashed her a lopsided grin, pulling a hipflask out of his pocket. He flipped the cap off and drank a few mouthfuls.

"How could you tell?" Elliot replied. He finally shifted and slid down the side of the pillar, landing neatly and approaching the general. He extended his hand, which she shook briefly. "So we've gotta do, what, find things so our lord and master can get outta this dump? How big even is this continent?"

Elliot put his hands in his pockets, replacing his hipflask, and looked between the two for a moment. This Sylvia woman had the instincts of a soldier, ready for combat at a moment's notice, as far as he could tell. She looked interesting enough, and definitely strong. The other woman, Sorena, if any powers she had were based on how she dressed, he assumed she'd be just as good in a fight. For a brief moment, he scrunched up his nose. Fighting. What a hassle.

"So where to, ladies?"

 

[Sem]

Sorena scoffed at the remark. She paid very, very, little attention to the entertainment world, but even she was aware of the fictional character in question. How could she be related to such an insult to all things right and proper about the magical world and those who practice magic, particularly females who practiced magic.

In Sorena's mind Elpheba was a grotesque caricature, born from the idea that witches were all evil, had ridiculous physical features and that they were the Halloween monsters that made things go bump in the night. Born from a character meant to strike as much laughter as she did fear - a tool to help people forget the truly abominable dark witches and warlocks of centuries past that brought civilizations to their knees. Sorena did not condone the dark magic, but characters such as Elpheba were an insult to mages of any kind. It was because of those characters that now it was no longer honorable to be called a witch.

The sorceress was still so concerned with the young man's remark that she really didn't notice the rest of the exchange between him and the soldier, nor did she notice him asking them both where they should go.

"Hmph, Elpheba..." Sorena muttered.

 

[Yoshimitsu]

"Sorry, Miss Sorena," Elliot stated, bowing his head briefly to the woman. "I meant no disrespect, I just fucking love that musical."

"Your query," Sylvia started, with the intention of addressing the boy by his surname. He had neglected to mention it, however. Elliot picked up on that fact immediately, and laughed.

"My last name's Joy, but somehow I think that doesn't have the same ring to it, does it?" Elliot said, chuckling. He took another swig from his flask, then continued. "If you really want something authoritative to say, you could call me Pierce, I guess? It's my middle name."

"Elliot will do just fine," Sylvia said shortly. She glanced sideways at Sorena, who had ventured off into her own little world again. "What did you lose?"

"I have no idea," Elliot admitted, shrugging half-heartedly. "I know they said we'd lose something, but I don't feel like anything's missing. All I got was a quick clip of who we have to fight while we're hunting out these things our lord and master wants. I didn't recognise anyone in particular, but saw a face I wanted to fight. How about you?"

"No, I am the same. I feel no different, nor do I find anything missing," Sylvia agreed. "I saw my foe, however. An old adversary who holds me responsible for her crimes. I am by no means innocent, but she is hardly the fallen angel she portrays herself to be."

"Oooh, catfight!" Elliot said jokingly. Sylvia did not smile. "Anyway, I was thinking about checking out the shipwrecks. What do you think, Miss Sorena?"

 

[Sem]

"What?" Sorena said, snapping back to reality. "Shipwrecks? As in the remains of ships on the bottom of the ocean?" she asked, not fully realizing that most of the wrecks in question were still above water, still tied to the rotting docks.

"I mean, we could if we wanted to, I have a spell or two that would allow us to do that... but then there's the issue of finding the shipwrecks in the first place. Finding the Titanic wasn't as easy as I thought it would be, let me tell you," she pointed her finger mindlessly at Sylvia, then Elliot, then at the air.

"I wandered the ocean floor for day or so until I found it. I wasn't even that impressed with it. Who was it who said that the ship was very impressive? Someone close to me I'm sure..." the witch thought for a moment, trying to remember who it was who had told her that, but all she drew up was a blank memory. "It wasn't even that long ago that the ship sank... Lysis? No, she wasn't born yet. "Chadwyck? No, not old enough. Blast."

And so the witch continued to ramble to herself, occasionally glancing at a particular pebble on the ground and glaring at it.

 

[Yoshimitsu]

"Sorena, sweetie, the shipwrecks are at sea level," Elliot commented, sipping from his hip-flask again. It was giving off a very strong smell of general alcohol, but that didn't seem to deter the boy. "This place should be bustling, but I guess that's what happens when the end of the world takes place. Do we even know what these things we're looking for are supposed to be?"

"I had assumed we would be able to tell, purely from their aesthetic," Sylvia replied, checking over her outfit and armour. She clipped the blade into place more securely and adjusted her shoulder pads slightly. "Something that is not in ruins or gives off an ethereal glow would be an indication, I assume."

"Yeah sounds about right," Elliot agreed. "Sorena, we're heading for the docks, you coming?"

Elliot turned and walked off, a strange mince to his step with his hips swinging slightly. Sylvia rolled her eyes, but followed behind anyway. How she'd been saddled with an alcoholic who didn't seem to take things seriously was beyond her. Maybe she could find a more professional group along the road somewhere. Even so, she resolved to rise above the challenge and perform her given task.

There was no doubt that they were heading in the right direction, as with every step the stench of death grew stronger. Even under Sylvia's mask, she could still detect the distinctive odour. A turn around another ruined corner, slightly surprised by the ease with which the boy in front of her was nimbly jumping over chunks of debris that had fallen. He was very sure-footed, each step placed perfectly to give him the lift he needed. She followed easily, not allowing him to get too far ahead.

"Hang on a tick," Elliot said suddenly, coming to a halt. He looked around briefly, trying to pinpoint something.

"Trouble?" Sylvia asked, her hand on the hilt of her sword.

"Nah, nothing like that," Elliot replied, his eyes finally locking on something. "I'll be right back."

Sylvia watched, bemused, as the boy ducked into a nearby building. He returned minutes later, holding two dusty bottles with faded labels. She raised an eyebrow.

"There's no one else around to drink it," he laughed. Before her eyes, the bottles flickered and vanished out of existence again. Elliot turned around promptly and continued walking.

 

[Sem]

Sorena followed without a word to either of them, though she was still mumbling to herself. They had gotten pretty far ahead of her, but she caught up in the time it took for Elliot to salvage the alcohol from the ruined building.

The witch halted at the rubble in front of her, seeing that it lay between her and her new companions. With another glare the witch snapped her fingers, causing an earthy-brown colored stream of runes to flow out of her snapped fingers and into the rubble. The rubble instantly came to life, rumbling and tumbling together into a large pile. Sorena watched it silently with a bit of a blank expression as the pile began to form limbs and then a head. The golem looked around with eyes the same earthy color as the magic that had created it. It gazed at Sorena, ready for whatever orders she would give.

And then a large burst of lightning obliterated the golem, returning it to a lifeless heap of rubble. "That's the spell I meant to use..." Sorena muttered, walking forward and blasting away rubble that lay in her way. In no time at all she was caught up with Elliot and Sylvia.

It didn't occur to the witch till then that perhaps making loud noises was something she shouldn't have been doing. Despite her looks, she could have maneuvered over the rubble as well, the idea just didn't occur to her when she could blast it away.

She could feel the judging and bewildered gazes of her companions but decided to keep on moving, decided to let the issue rest awkwardly in silence.

The group continued moving for a bit longer. Sorena could only imagine the smell was getting worse, but she thankfully wasn't capable of smelling it. She also traversed over any rubble from there on with surprising grace for a seemingly fifty-year old in a dress and heels.

At the end of the street they were on there was only open space on either side, and ahead of them lay the docks, boats still tied and anchored, creaking and moaning at the slightest lap of water against their hull, or at the lightest whisper of a breeze.

Sorena couldn't smell it, but she was experienced enough to feel the aura of death that hung in the area. It was the only thing she could feel. There was no magic, no remaining energies of any sort. Despite the ocean being right there the place felt as dry as bone to her.

"I wonder what happened here..." Sorena said in a strange glimmer of focus through her normal scatterbrained mind.

 

[Atma]

[Apologies for the lateness of my post. Also tried t oavoid describing the actual kinda... seaside port thing too much. Figured one of you could do it way better.]

At the edge of the seaside town with salted breeze and shipwrecked shallows, a figure shrouded in black hooded cape loomed, judging by his postioning leaning over the railings dividing town and the fall to the water. His black travel boots were all that could be seen 'neath the somewhat ragged cape, embroidered silver thorns entwining with one another as they slithered down along the sides of his cape, originating from along his shoulder blades where they reach straight across and meet. The design was large enough to be spotted from some meters away as a distinctive feature yet not so large as to be any wider than than a person's arm..

As a small gust of wind swept along the shoreline the figure impulsively draw the fabric in closer, revealing a sheathed blade at his side as the fabric was held up by its silver decorated black sheathe. As surely as the wind subsided he released his grip the fabric, letting it return with a gentle flutter in the breeze to a more loose hang over him.

His hood caught a glimmer of sunlight, it was the same intricate design but barely more than a centimeter in width outlining his hood. Meager strands of long dark hair flittered over the sides of his hood, gently curling ends flicking back with the caressing eb and flow of the air.

As his hand fell past the hilt of his blade delicately designed weapon seemed to shimmer, a white aura passing the length of it before fading softly. If he was right then the people he'd seen earlier were just nearby, meaning the inevitability of him giving in to his impulsive need to give them what slither of advice he could was close. With this impending in his head he stretched out his fingers in the cold air. Compared to his usual residence this was practically a holiday.

Giving a pleased chuckle his reasonably deep tone was betrayed before a blow of hot air parted from him into his cupped hands. Regardless of this being a vacation it was hardly his best one, though he could safely assume his humble abode was not so affected by the whim of thigs like temperature or climate and as such it seemed strange to both mind and body to be subjected to both again.

For a couple of moments he contemplated when the next interval would be, then shrugged it off. After dispensing the last dregs of his thoughts to a place in his mind not dissimilar to his home the shadow-clad figure walked with the care of a dancer and the grace of a lord. This brought him to observe a small group of strangers making their way down the main street and if he was correct, they'd be making their way to the shipwrecks.

Deciding it would be more prompt to wait and see the character paced calmly as he could - although he knew irregular speed still nipped at his steps - out of the way and to stand idle, hoping for a whisper of their conversation.

 

[Yoshimitsu]

"Couldn't say," Elliot replied, looking at the broken and battered ships. What was really offputting wasn't that the existed, it was the sheer quantity of them. It was like every ship that had ever existed had drifted to this spot to die. The stench of the rotting wood had been dampened slightly by the alcohol he had drank, so he could at least pull a straight face while looking at the mess in front of him. Even so, there was something in this place that was off. He could almost see life, unholy and foul, contained within the boats.

"Can you sense it too?" He asked Sylvia, one of the bottles he had just acquired reappearing in his hand. He popped the stopper off and took a healthy swig, before it vanished again. As it vanished, his Butterfly Edge reappeared in its place. Even if he has a loose grip on the hilt, he was ready to fight.

"The abomination? I can," Sylvia replied calmly. "If we are to find something of Sem's desire, it would be worth venturing in. If not, we are risking our lives for naught. Do we have any indication that this is the right place?"

"Probably not," Elliot answered with a shrug. "We don't have anything to work with. I just sort of know someone I wanna beat up. Considering we're like, I dunno, chess pieces or whatever, you think we'd have more to go on."

"It would be beneficial, yes," Sylvia sighed.

OOC - Augh so short. But I don't wanna enter the shipwrecks until Karu's bit is over!