exsilium | second rune; death; video

[When the feed starts, the netbook's camera shows you a view of the forest floor. A deer carcass lies among the grass and twigs, and it's obvious that the poor thing did not have a clean death. It's in the advanced stages of decomposition, even though the blood around its body is red and fresh. The camera does not linger on this image for more than a few seconds; it pans upward, to show Koltira's face.

He's standing over the deer, holding the device in one hand, holding Byfrost with the other. Agony creases his expression: his jaw is clenched, his eyes narrowed, every muscle in his pale, sallow face is taut with pain. The guttural growl of his voice occasionally rises in octave as he talks, as though something is beating the shit out of him from the inside.]

Were we brought here to fight for something, or to waste time reliving the past? Send. Us. On. A mission.

[He stabs the tree next to him with Byfrost, and the sword glows sickly green; the tree bark begins to decay rapidly, as though it's practically melting. Diseased fumes pour out of the bark, forming a nasty miasma around Koltira's body.]

I need a battle. [he hisses, and blood trickles from the corner of his mouth as he bites down on the inside of his cheek.] Now.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

And the deer wasn't sufficient.

[ An observation mostly, but feel free to correct him and all. ]

The deer is ... incidental. I had been hunting them occasionally, cleanly, but-- [well, it was right there on the feed, wasn't it. He had been unable to restrain himself. His voice is quieter, tight with suppressed pain.] The spasms had been infrequent ... but they are coming too quickly, now, and they are too strong.

I'm sorry to ask when you don't have time to waste, but when you said blood, do you mean it has to be a kill?

[ He tries not to sound harsh, but his own voice is taut with a different sort of tension, imagining someone making the choice to force another into a life like that. ]

No--it's not the kill. It's ... everything else. [the blood. the wounds. the suffering.]

[ Better in a way - more sustainable, certainly - but still not very good.

He pauses for a moment, considering. What he's seen and heard suggests that substitutes won't do, and - well. It could easily be a lie, but the look and sound of it is too much like someone genuinely in a lot of pain.

(Protecting people at all times is what heroes do.) ]

This should be my last question - what's going to happen if you continue to deny yourself?

[Barnaby has the right of it, on all counts. Koltira's voice is grim and steady when he replies.]

If I cannot control this pain, I will slip into madness.

[ And subsequently lose whatever control he has now, AWESOME.

Self-sacrificial sorts of acts aren't usually his style, but - desperate times and all. ]

If the Initiative doesn't respond to you soon, I can guarantee you a good battle, although I'm a little out of practice.

[ The way he says it, he could be talking about the weather. ]

[You're a good man, Barnaby! But, even so.]

Tell me something. Your name.

My name? Barnaby Brooks Jr.

I am called Koltira Deathweaver, and I will not fight you.

[ That is an awesome and not at all ominous name. ]

Does that mean the Initiative did choose to help you?

[not in the least!]

No. But I have no wish to engage the transports.

Even if that's what you want, do you have a choice?

[ He does not super want to fight an undead elf himself bro. ]

[with conviction.]

Yes. A choice is all I have. My willpower keeps me from being a slave to this body.

[however, even as he says this, he again doubles over from a fresh wave of bone-slicing torment. Unpleasant gasping follows.]

[ He really doesn't want to have an argument about letting himself get maimed because he doesn't particularly want to get maimed. ]

It's not that I doubt your willpower. [ Even if it looks like it's on its last legs but hey. ] But if you must, it'd be better with someone equipped to handle a battle than a civilian.

[it's still hobbling along! Sort of.]

I am far from any civilians, and will not return until I have mastered myself. Your offer is kind, Barnaby, but my way of fighting is cruel. Too much so for anyone I would look in the eyes again.

[ You know what fair enough. ]

Very well. [ Pause. ] You'll understand if I keep a watch just in case, of course. In the event the worst happens and you try to come back, you won't be able to unimpeded.

[ It's not like he couldn't do without a distraction after the VR and everything it implies, to be honest, and if it's doing something so worthwhile then all the better. ]

[solemnly--he's grateful, in fact.] Understood. I will expect you, should that come to pass.

[ He nods. ]

I'll be prepared, but I won't be expecting you. Your choice is what you have, right?

second rune; death; video

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