((YOU GOT MY HOPES UP FOR NOTHING!))

OOC: Blue, if you're going to be online, why don't you at least draft a quick post?

((ive returned.. im ok with.. going on with this rp.. if you guys still wanna give it a go. I can go over everything i missed and post...

Im so sorry btw ; ;..))

(( :O NINI!!!!!! <3
Now we can continue in style, or something similar to that))

((Oh god I completely forgot about Gavaroche when Blue stopped posting and I wasn't on MSN long enough for SS to bother me about getting a post ready. Knowing me I'll force myself to write like twenty paragraphs to catch up starting from the princess coming into the city from the vessel. But I really need to get something done RP-wise, so why not something I've been lazing around about already?))

(Whim.. im so sorry about that one mecha rp in RPG

v.v...)

((Can that be revived? Anyway, let's continue.))

((Nini's move.))

((There! now lets get this rolling now that ive caught myself up with this forum as best as i can..)

Niniva's attention had been almost fully diverted towards the two men before her. It would seem battle was simply an inevitability that could never truly be avoided. Under her cold demeanor, this dismayed her, but she would have to press on regardless.

Rono then broke her wayward thinking and idle recollection. "..Hmm?" She swerved her head towards him. She looked him over and settled her gaze upon the seal Damocles had given him, taking it from his grasp without question and settling it into a loose strap within the confines of her cloak's inner compartments, hanging just securely enough to remain stable. "I'll handle it, then" She remarked to him,with a lowered head and soft tone. "If they battle.. ill use that as my moment to slip by as best as i can.. You can stay here, or go along with me if you wish.. I'll make sure this is brought to Chataigne regardless, you have my word." Her words simmered in an almost eerie seriousness. She was becoming increasingly indifferent despite this cities black death and burning embers lingering in the atmosphere; her way of coping with it after so many years of lending aid to such deplorable circumstances. Within her mind, she pondered. 'The cycle continues..'

Keeping low to the ground, and distanced from the two men before them, she began to slip herself slowly away around, preemptively getting ready to make her way to that keep no matter what was to become of Damocles. Her free hand gripping her arched blade with a vice-like grip, already forgetting the non-lethal methods of putting down a target she had just spoken about just moments prior. Falling back on 'efficiency' as her heart chilled to a deathly cold? They'd have to see, in time. There was a mission to accomplish, after all.

"Then I have nothing more to say to you," Damocles answered.

He shifted his thoughts to that of battle. Everything else was a secondary concern now. An obstacle that he could not overcome now would mean the end of all he worked for. Damocles lumbered forward, deciding that it was best to just stall for time so that his companions could get through. Once they were safely ahead, he could fight with a better state of mind. Which was why he seemed to be sluggish and inefficient, starting a lazy arc that moved forward to strike Gunnar's blade from the wielder's hand. It wouldn't happen of course, anyone with some basics of combat would be able to move back and prepare a retaliatory strike. Especially since the broadsword was longer. All Gunnar had to do was stay of Damocle's reach. But length and distance was little for Damocles. The greater your range, the weaker your inner circle became and it would require sufficient knowledge to be able to switch from offence to defence immediately. Something that would provoke further delays.

As Damocles approached him, Gunnar caught a glimpse the feminine figure cautiously dance away, towards the keep. He was no longer a knight, just a common vagabond. His ideals of honor decayed after years of pain. He was not about to fail his orders because of the petty honor of a knight. Honor did not save his arm, nor his eye; and it would not save his life.

"Foul creatures, using one of your own as a decoy while another slips away! You are a knight as well as the leader of your group, yet you rely upon cowardly tactics!" He shouted at Damocles in rage. "If there is anything worth in stealing what I find precious, then please elaborate, you cur! Lest I sever your neck and allow my heart to feast upon your decaying morals!"

He rose the sword high above his head, bringing down a cleaver blow intended to sever Damocles' arm, despite the heavily armored torso. It was a highly fatal blow when utilized correctly, and with Gunnar's years of skill, it had a chance to sweep through almost the toughest of metals. However, he was striking closer to the tip of the blade, so the impact would not be as powerful as it would if it were closer to the hilt.

While in his primal form, Sanskrit was nothing but a mass of dark and ominous thundering clouds and spinning columns of turbulent winds. A series of winds and clouds seemed to spin around him constantly, occasionally lightning would strike and coincidentally hit near the enemy ship and her troops, the wind was unceasing and howled around the city, sand and dust were driven into the darkened sky giving it a slight brownish tinge. If one looked closely, they could slightly see the distinct form of Sanskrit. A mass of dark clouds coincidentally shaped into the head of a large beast, occasionally lightning would race through the clouds, giving the appearance of a circlet or a crown before it disappeared. A gaping mouth held wide open to the dark expanse of storm green clouds within. Two circles showed a bright clear blue sky, serving as ancient eyes watching the salamander as it approached. He growled, not in a threatening sense, more of s****, thunder rolled deep within the cloud.

"You enter into my domain during uncertain times" said Sanskrit in a deep and calm rumbling voice.

Abi forced herself to draw away from the windows, there was nothing more she could do. Her sense of accomplishment having faded away a long time ago was now replaced by a sense of worry. Despite the sudden change in weather, she and the princess had yet to be visited by any of the ministers. In fact, she felt abandoned, the had not been disturbed by anyone, not even servants came in to do any work or check to see how her highness was faring. She paced about the room, twirling some of her hair subconsciously around her finger. Had Sanskrit managed to hamper those in pursuit of the princess? What would happen to St. Joachim? She hoped it wouldn't suffer the same fate as St. Sira. The vile presence of the witch could be sensed within the air. It was so hard to stay in one place in times like these.

It was then that Gunnar raised his sword and his voice as well, intending to sever his arm. The lazy swing Damocles had started was only halfway done and he stopped there, angling the blade away to catch the blow with the hilt. From this distance the tip could strike Damocles but it would take more than a simple slash to slice through chain mail, especially when it was properly robbed of momentum.

"Cowardly tactics?" Damocles replied with s****, "Surely you have spent far too long in Lexmada's incompetence. Duty and reason before honour. That is the vow that all Knights of Gavaroche take. And I assure you, you have no right to call me a thief when I have come to take back what was stolen, her royal majesty the Crown Princess of Gavaroche."

---

"You enter into my domain during uncertain times" said the old geezer.

"Then you have no right to interfere," replied Mumm'ra.

He soared high around the Djinn. In its primal form, a spirit is most powerful, merging in to their element for whatever purpose they needed. For Mumm'ra, there was no need to reveal this trump card just yet. The conflagration below more than enough to keep him aloft and in control. What he sought was not a fight with the Djinn itself. That would be a foolish waste of time. Mumm'ra looked for a link, for each spirit had one with a summoner. The stronger the link, the closer the summoner was. It was barely perceptible, even for spirits that are so attuned to magic. One thing was certain though. As Djinn were masters of the skies, their links usually led below them to their masters like a ship anchored. Swooping down for a high speed pass towards keep, Mumm'ra knew full well what the Djinn could do to him but it was more important that he focused on finding that small yet stable flow of magic in a turbulent storm of energy. Whoever summoned such an old spirit must have held great power and even when the keep teemed with mages, two stood out quite clearly. He could take a guess that was what he was looking for but he had to confirm it.

--

In the room that started to look even more dreary as time passed, the Governor-General entered briskly. Chataigne got up as Lady Jasraj was pacing the room. It was natural that both would pause to acknowledge his entry and he spoke clearly.

"I apologise for my earlier lack of manners, your Highness, and Lady Jasraj as well," he paused and bowed, "Is there anything you wish to know or ask of me? I can keep you appraised of the situation to the best of my knowledge."

Chataigne fidgeted, not knowing what to do. There was a question she wanted answered but feared that the answer was something she did not want to hear. She asked shakily anyway after a short pause.

"What of my Knight? What happened after I left St. Sira?"

His face tensed, no mask could hide his answer.

"From the wards that were left behind as is standard procedure, we confirmed that only three people were taken prisoner. There were no other survivors," he said and paused again trying not to make a faux-pas, "But it would have been an honourable death for a Knight like him to lay down his life for your majesty. He will be remembered."

"It is no wonder Damocles despises you Lexmadans," she almost snapped back at him, "He is my Knight, and his duty is to me. If he has forsaken his vow to serve, then he would be a worthless Knight; and a worthless Knight is a dead Knight, for a Knight is not allowed to die without permission."

She used his common name, a rarity when outside his company. The Governor-General knew not whether to brush off her childish hopes or believe her. A man of his position would have heard of Damocles the Giant, Knight-Commander Gavaroche's Royal Guard and one of the few to have matched and survived with the Mistress of the Summer Blaze, the same witch who was now burning down his city. For now, a solemn nod would suffice and he turned to Lady Jasraj, who surely had more on her mind than he could tell for sure.

Gunnar braced back as Damocles caught his broadsword with his minuscule blade. He began to grind his teeth, focused on the expression Damocles had upon his smug face. He heard the knight's mention of his devotion to a princess of Gavaroche. He once had a charge years ago when he was once a knight as well, not of Lexmada, but of Gavaroche. But at one point in time, when he had lost his charge, his eye and his arm in one complication, he renounced all loyalty to Gavaroche and threw away both the title and glory of a knight. All he was now was merely a wandering outcast, unwilling to assign faith to any kingdom.

"I have no care for the well-to-do royals! Nor have I taken any notice to which s*** noble is being carted around by some fancy knight! If I didn't shoot off and make my mistake, I would be like you, a knight of Gavaroche protecting an ungrateful a****** who only sees you as a piece of trash to be thrown aside! I had it with the lifestyle of a knight when I threw away all the honor after I suffered from my mistake; after losing my limb and eye!" Gunnar yelled into Damocles' face, his rage beginning to rise in level. "Calling me Lexmada filth does no better against me! I was seen as a proud man of Gavaroche before that event, and now all I am is scum to the eyes of the world! I am Gunnar Regis, ex-knight of Gavaroche! I am no more or less on a man than I was before the incident! I am still the same person with the same beliefs! Just because I work a short stint with the Lexmada kingdom does not mean I have forsaken my values!"

He brought up his broadsword and swung it around in one complete motion, transferring it from a vertical slash to a horizontal one aimed directly at Damocles midsection. He was once again attempting to strike a fatal wound in his enemy, but this time, due to the distance between the two, it would strike closer to the hilt, creating a much more focused slice.

A former Knight of Gavaroche? No wonder his name never registered. Deserters like him were erased from the records so only those who knew him would remember him. But that was strange, if Gunnar was a Knight who himself had a charge, who was it? Who and what could have possibly drove such a man to this. Not that he was any different. He would bind himself to another master just to live on. The insults to Gavaroche that Gunnar flung at him proved a great motivation to best the bastard despite a sense of desperation.

"Your life is yours to live but I have not stooped so low just so that I can be stopped by someone weak enough to have renounced his vows," Damocles replied calmly.

Gunnar's sword flew back and a horizontal strike initiated at him. Damocles took a page out of unrefined street brawling. They were close enough to each other that the broadsword would strike at full power which meant that he was only an arm's length away. He push forward with his back foot and held his sword out to catch Gunnar's arm. With himself inside the inner circle, the broadsword was powerless and could not change course. That was not all, he raised his front knee and his free arm as he sprung forward. The blade of the forearm was to catch Gunnar at the neck as the knee pushed him down from the impact. Had the man two arms, this would not have been viable.