382/A Frosty Welcome to Lordran

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A Frosty Welcome to Lordran
Date of Scene: 10 August 2014
Location: Great Painting of Ariamis <PoA>
Synopsis: Serori explores Lordran, and runs into Priscilla, who explains the dire threat facing her world.
Cast of Characters: 37, Priscilla


Priscilla has posed:
    It was already an inevitability that Lordran would be discovered by the Confederacy. The treasure hunter Finna had managed to find it on her own, so why not someone else? After all, there simply isn't enough local presence to secure a warp gate, far too much danger for a dedicated Union detachment to be deployed there, and too many gates to find in the first place. It's mid day when Serori's scouting takes her to a previously uncharted world, but the sun about to reach its zenith barely makes a difference against the lead grey atmosphere that hangs over the burg of the undead. Even for someone making their first visit, the feeling that the city has been perpetually gloomy for some time is already unshakeable. The distant sounds of thunder that never quite becomes lightning, the muffled roar of the wind over the cliffs outside, and the stifled echoes reverberating up from the streets, are more than enough to set a lonely, eerie tone on their own.

    Of course, just like any interloper still possessed of a soul, Serori has been attacked several times already by the legions of Hollows that leave the burg and unnavigable nightmare. Even flying seems to provide little safety from hails of arrows that come from utterly gargantual walls and watch towers. Trying to find anything to explain how a reinnaissance period world had been subject to some brand of zombie apocalypse is almost as frustrating as being ambushed every three to five minutes. The only obvious place to go is the castle keep over the bridge, where sounds that might indicate human life bounce over the lofty chasm that seperates it from the city.

Serori (37) has posed:
    Discovery of a new world is supposed to be an exciting experience, right? Serori had always loved sticking her nose where it didn't belong, especially if it would lead her to something interesting. In this case, 'something interesting' turns out to be enough zombies and zombie archers to dull the immediate shine. There's nothing worse than an opponent offering zero challenge.

    Fortunately, the crowded city layout and the distant castle both afford enough exploration to keep her entertained despite the offputting welcome mat. Serori discovers households full of discarded items, splintered tables, an inexplicable number of empty barrels and crates, and the smoke of a well-tended bonfire all before she finally turns tail to cross the bridge and find (what she hopes will be) sapient, sensible locals. Seriously, she'd love to poke around in all that trash -- some of those rusty swords were kind of neat-looking enough to serve as collectibles -- but she knows that if she's going to figure out /anything/ about this land, she needs to talk to somebody.

    Zipping over the bridge and landing on the other side, she takes a deep breath and calls out in traditional greeting: "HELLO?! Anybody here?!"

Priscilla has posed:
    There's no mistaking it. This close to the mini cathedral erected on the castle grounds, Serori can hear voices from inside. Exactly what one would expect to hear from a church; echoing from under the front doors in hushed, reverent tones. Service doesn't appear to be ready to stop at the sound of her voice. Either they don't want someone walking in mid-way (reasonable) or they expect her to just let herself in (also possible). Before she has the chance to do the latter however, someone answers her directly. A voice she might have heard on the radio from time to time, but not someone she has ever spoken with directly.

    "General Serori." The tone is exactly that which someone would use to say 'well, well, well'. "I hath heard enough of that voice to knoweth its source. Pray tell me, what brings the Confederacy to this place. What business couldst thou possibly possess here, of all worlds." A rush of ripple of displaced air reveals the woman in white sat upon the church steps, tail curled around her ankles, with some sort of round stone in her hands. She happens to be directly in Serori's way, and doesn't look as if she is about to move. Her stare is just about unreadable. "Dost thou not hath better things to do at this time?"

Serori (37) has posed:
    It seems rude to walk in on the middle of religious services. Serori is deeply curious about whatever's going on inside -- curious enough to tip her head toward the door so she can better hear the prayers -- but despite the antsy twitch of her tail and the impatient little frown she adopts, she doesn't barge in. It takes her a moment to move up another step on quiet tiptoes. That gives Priscilla plenty of time to sneak up and greet Serori as she chooses.

    "Hwah?!"

    That's the sound of a startled Serori.

    Reeling backwards, tail bristling, eyes big and glaring, a crackle of energy cupped inside her hands, Serori faces Priscilla in a state of reflexive hostility. It's possible her heart's skipped a few beats. "P...Priscilla. You should know better than to surprise me! What if I had attacked you?!" The energy held in her hands winks out in a burst of quickly-fading motes. Serori retreats two steps, takes a deep breath, and continues from a posture of aloof mystery. Just because Priscilla's so much taller doesn't mean Serori can't give the impression of looking down her nose at the half-dragon.

    "Hmp. I came on the world by accident. I'd heard rumors of Union activity around these warpgates, and wanted to see what was going on for myself. What land is this? Why are you here? I don't think I've seen you show up...anywhere, except that one time." Pause. "And it's Colonel, these days."

Priscilla has posed:
    Priscilla remains stone still and icy faced at Serori's sudden display of surprise, inexpressive at the saiyan's sudden attack posture. Rolling the orb over in her hands, a strange little eye stares up from the worn stone at Serori's face, before it is slipped into one of those hammerspace sleeves. Clasping her hands together on her lap, she returns the colonel's stare with one of her own, affective less of a scornfully dismissive posture than one resigned and unhappy. "What indeed. I supposeth congratulations art in order of your promotion. I pay little heed to the goings on of the Confederacy. There is little enough which I hold dear, and even less of it that thou hast the capability to threaten." It's an oddly open statement from someone on the opposite side of the war. Most Unionites are still foaming at the mouth with rage over the saiyan's recent antics.

    "Being unseen is something of a strength of mine. If thou art truthful in wandering upon this place by sheer misfortune, thou wouldst do well to turn tail now and return not. There is little here for thee and thine ilk but misery. The activities of the Union cometh from the demands of their own hearts, rather than the necessity of war. As long as there art those in need, those of mine chosen covenant will never fail to answer." Her eyes narrow suddenly, vertical pupils contracting into slits. "Thou, thine king, and thine kindred, hath no place here."

Serori (37) has posed:
    "Aah, General's as high as it gets next to Field Marshal. I stepped down. General was too much of a distraction from my own pursuits. I missed having the freedom and energy to explore new places, for example." Serori cranes her head to the left in an obvious attempt to peer past Priscilla and into the building beyond. "Though I guess if I'm going to explore at all, it had better be for good reason. So much Union activity around one place suggests the Confederacy /should/ care..."

    For a moment, there is a gleam in her eyes that isn't very friendly. It's opportunistic, threatening, and cold -- the look of a hunter who's just sniffed out some prey.

    "Mmh. If what you say is true, and this place isn't some Union stronghold preparing to add its zombie hordes to the war effort, then I don't need to be curious for the Confederacy's sake -- only my own." The hard look is gone, and so is the haughty affectation. Serori tucks her hands together behind her head, elbows jutting out to either side, and meets Priscilla's threatening stare. "Y'know, if you tell me enough about what's happening here, I might leave without any violence disrupting things."

Priscilla has posed:
    "The mistake is mine then. I supposeth in that instance, there truly is nothing more pressing that demands thine attention." Clearly Priscilla had been telling the truth about paying little to no attention to the Confederacy's inner workings if she doesn't care to know where Serori's position actually is in it. In fact, she'd been quite happy to have never spoken to the Colonel once in her life. She'd heard more than enough about her from other sources, and most of it hasn't been positive. "If only such vast quantities of Hollows couldst be moved elsewhere. Unfortunately, they will only return here upon death. Over and over again." She doesn't miss that look towards the church. As soon as serori shifts her stare, Priscilla stands up, now easily able to look down at the saiyan from a few steps up.

    "These lands art cursed and its people moreso. The humans I imagine thou so dearly wished to subjugate shall not bend to the violence of thine race, for none of them may die to begin with. The old ones who still claim the land of the ancient lords as their own wouldst tolerate thee even less, and I am one among them." Priscilla has always treated her inclusion into the Union somewhat casually; as an alliance of conveniance rather than viewing it as a home or a circle of close friends as many do. When she raises her voice, just a hair, it doesn't sound like she's here to defend the Union or its interests. In fact, it sounds as if she is angry about something else altogether, far removed from factional disputes. "Do not presume to threaten me, saiyan. I am well versed in thine savagery. Thou hast already shown so well thine affinity for pointless slaughter that even those that once spoke well of thee amongst the Union can defend thee no longer. I thought perhaps the two of us wouldst understand one another, as despite mine allies, I am not one to shed tears over human lives. This world however, is what hath been left to mineself alone. If thou hast forgotten the terror I did once sow into the hearts of thine subordinates, I shall remind thee of it in full. Walk away."

Serori (37) has posed:
    Priscilla's willingness to carry on the conversation relaxes some of the tension lurking in Serori's casual posture. Though she'd stood there like she couldn't possibly be more easy-going, a single move from the half-dragon in the wrong direction would have led at once the /violence/ Serori's offered to keep off the table. But now, that's not such a concern. Serori lowers her arms back down to her sides, and keeps her head tipped at an angle of attentive listening as Priscilla makes her protective intentions clear.

    "...I don't go around /subjugating/ without something to gain from it. Say what you will about me, but I'm still a woman of a pragmatic mindset, most of the time." But of course, as recently demonstrated, she /can/ be pushed past the point of pragmatism. Priscilla must be considering that fact. Serori takes on a slight, crooked grin before carrying on. "The people of your world haven't declared for the Confederacy, but from what you say, they aren't exactly in the position to declare for the Union, either, so why should I force them to pick a side? Based on what's in the city, there isn't much here for these people to offer me, anyway."

    Serori turns her head to look over her shoulder, at the bridge and the city beyond. "...so, a neutral world, facing terrible threats from within. It sounds like a place the Union would go out of its way to help. Typical, really. No, I'm not going to make anything worse by attacking you or anybody here unless you ask me to defend myself. I don't care enough, and I know better than to cross someone who /does/ care."

    Then, her smile slipping away, she looks to Priscilla again. "Of course, there might be something to be gained in the long term if the Confederacy does put some of its considerable resources to this world's aid. I don't supposed you'd be offended if I sent someone here who might be more trustworthy?"

    She's awfully cavalier about her damaged reputation. Either she doesn't care, or she hides her cares very well. "You still haven't given me the name of this place."

Priscilla has posed:
    "Lordran." Priscilla utters stiffly, still stood tensely on the spot. Matching Serori in the smallest of ways, her tail betrays her agitation, swishing like a cat's. "Thou art not incorrect. There is nothing for thee to gain here, nor for that man and his trade organization. Thou knoweth this and still continue this false play of coyness. Thou also knoweth that it is well within the Union's typical nature to offer such aid with nothing in return for them, though for this time alone, I begrudge them for it not." Serori affirming that she really is thinking exactly what Priscilla expected she must have been seems to soothe the crossbreed's nerves, if only slightly. It still seems like things could turn ugly with a poorly chosen phrase.

    "I know there art some among you that mine allies place great trust in. I cannot say I do the same. What sort of "long term gain" dost thou expect from this world? If thou seeketh to conquer it only after it hast become worth the effort, abandong such an illusion now. If thou believeth I shall be indebted to thee for such assistance, think once again. There art no shortage of volunteers from bleeding hearts and the suicidally brave amongst mine own number. For what reason shouldst I put faith in thine word? Both of us know thou wouldst do nothing such as this simply from kindness."

Serori (37) has posed:
    "Lordran?"

    In a blur of half-seen movement and the rush of a high wind, Serori vaults skyward. From a vantage of sixty feet or so, she scowls down at the countryside as if trying to punch her way through an advanced mathematical equation. The spin she makes is a slow one, lots of time taken to absorb the region's details. Assuming Priscilla doesn't perceive Serori's movement as an act of aggression, the saiyan spends several good minutes up there, not returning the ground 'til she's done figuring out whatever she went up there to figure out. Her descent is slow, and she lands lightly in the exact spot she'd occupied before.

    "It doesn't look the the parts of Lordran I've seen. That fortress way in the distance looks kind of familiar, and so do some of these walls, but it's been awhile since I've seen any part of Lordran, and I can't remember if I've been /here/." Serori folds her arms across her chest and once more crooks her index finger against her chin, the difficult act of /thinking things through/ returning her frown. "Last time I'd visited, it was to see some kind of cavern, where very tall trees were growing and the islands were made of ash."

    Something in her demeanor has shifted. "You're right. I wouldn't help out of kindness alone, but I do keep my promises. I'm not going bring any harm to your world."

    Hastily, she adds, her tone light, "Aah, but to answer your question about long-term gains -- I was mostly thinking it would be a good opportunity to demonstrate the Confederacy's ability to be helpful to those who need it. Those kinds of campaigns don't come up often. Besides, it doesn't hurt to make friends. I suppose that would mostly be off the table, now."

Priscilla has posed:
    Serori's immediate recognition takes Priscilla off guard, absolutely certain that the saiyan must be new to these parts with the tells she's been getting so far. She still looks just a little flustered when Serori comes back down, though doing her best to hide it. "I was not aware thou hast seen any single part of Lordran. I am lead to believe thou art instead acquainted with Sir Artorias, yes?" The fact that she had just spoken with him over the radio in the intervening time after Serori had gone flying is quietly swept under the rug. "Once I was of his era, but that was centuries ago. In the absence of Lord Gwyn since, this land is not what it once was. It shall become great again, but not as of yet."

    She seems more than a little wary at Serori's insistence on more or less innocent terms, probably not fully buying the story. The idea occurs to her however, that as long as she summons these "trustworthy helpers" by phantom, it would be an easy matter to banish them the moment they try to enact any funny business. The gears turn as Priscilla fixes Serori with a calculating stare, her expression otherwise impenetrable. "Some among thee have proven their ability to act constructively upon certain occasions. Though mine doubts remain, I am well aware of a proven record and am not so arrogant as to dismiss it. If there art those beneath thee who art so foolhardy as to wish to mend this world's ills, I will not turn them away. However, they will be summoned here under mine own terms, and with the understand that shouldst they act out of turn, they will not be returning to thee."

Serori (37) has posed:
    "I've...been to Lordran twice under Artorias's supervision. The more recent visit was secluded, and I haven't seen much of the land at all. The visits were short, and limited. I don't recognize anything, really -- but I guess this being another time would explain why. Stuff has to change eventually." Serori frowns, and looks back to the city; this time, she seems a bit concerned. "The Abyss hasn't run wild here, at least. Unless it's taken another form over the centuries."

    Shrugging, she slants a sharper gaze back to Priscilla, getting back into good form now that a negotiation's taking place. "I can be sure my subordinates understand and agree to your terms, but you'll have to be more specific as to what those are. I'm not going to send my people anywhere that lacks at least a /chance/ at escape if they turn stupid. Now, if you've got means of preventing someone stupid from /returning/, that's one thing..."

Priscilla has posed:
    Yep. Artorias. Little surprise there. The big guy seems to like the Colonel for some godforsaken reason. At the very least, keeping her visits short and "secluded" speaks volumes of his common sense. "The Abyss is a tale long in the past here, sealed centuries ago, though this worlds Artorias hath long since passed away. What plagues these lands is far more insidious, of which we know even less about than the Abyss." Finally settling down a little, Priscilla retakes her seat on the steps. "In the interests of avoiding spreading the curse beyond this world's borders, I hath taken to summoning aid in the form of phantoms, using this world's magic. I will allow the same for members of the Confederacy, as being their summoner allows me the right to dismiss them shouldst they prove . . . unreliable." Looking back up from her lap, Priscilla re-engages eye contact to make sure Serori knows how serious she is. "I shall speak plainly. If I should get the impression that one of thine number is up to something against mine cause, I will kill them. If thou so desire, perhaps I wouldst return whatever remains of them, but I believe thou wouldst prefer this not to taketh place, correct?"

Serori (37) has posed:
    To be fair, Artorias got to know Serori before she thought it'd be cool to attack Connecticut for very petty reasons!

    Serori mulls it over.

    "Fine. I think it's a reasonable expectation. You're very protective of your world, as you should be, and anyone who acts out against a Union operation of this scale should expect to face reprisals. I wouldn't like it if one of my subordinates ended up /dead/ as a result, but I suppose it would be a fitting consequence, if you can manage it. Let's hope it's nothing we have to worry about."

    Then, Serori holds out her hand as if looking to shake on the agreement. "I'll let my faction know your needs and your terms, and let things develop from there."

Priscilla has posed:
    Priscilla eye's the saiyan's hand more than a little mistrustfully, but she already knows this is many world's way of settling pacts. She too has to mull it over for a few more moments, before finally deciding that Serori, at least for now, seems just barely agreeable. Hesitantly, she clasps the colonel's hand, her fingers icy cold to the touch, and without much of a shake. "I shall expect to hear from thee soon, then. I hope thou wilst screen such candidates . . . thoroughly."