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No title.
(2013-08-04 - Now)
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Helena Celba On a suggestion from someone on the radio, Helena traveled, with nearly nothing, to the Zanarkand Ruins. The city and surrounding area was the site of some tragedy, some anchient unknown calamity that claimed the lives of all that lived here. Helena knew the wasteland for what it some ways it was similar to Odin, but without the Nightmare Golems, it was not nearly as threatening...still, it should do. The restless spirits could be more dangerous, and the fiends running wild here too...

Helena had already spent a day here, walking in one direction through the city. She did not move fast, she only stopped to engage fiends that came after her, or tried to flee from her. She doesn't even stop to pick through the remains, only pushing forward...only driving herself forward. There was only one goal, one singular goal in her mind...

She needed to obtain that level of primal rage...primal urge that she once had...tap into it, but bend it to her will with the training she had endured under the Murasame family...but it was no simple task. She had become far too civilized sense she last relied on it...

But she dredges the chaos back...the darkness seated during those days...she tries not to think, clearing her mind of everything but the bloody swath of destruction she tries to make going forward...
Garland Where there is shadow, there is Chaos. Chaos's nature is seeped in the darkness; it stretches across the worlds, a shadow within the shadows, waiting in the wings for any chance to worm its way into the depths of reality. It has many agents - some willing, some unwilling - but only a few who can truly call themselves its Incarnations. Herald, general, and avatar of the Darkness, those who are known as Incarnations are almost always without fear - for what can slay immortals? - and almost always consumed and corrupted by the Darkness that not merely fills their hearts, but pervades their souls and minds. It is a rare few who can stand up to the Darkness.

The Ironclad Nightmare is not one who chose to stand against the shadows. He bathed within them, absorbed them, sought them out and was transformed by them. He is in tune with the Darkness in a way that few people ever are - in a way that few people ever can or would desire to be. He has made the Darkness a part of him more completely than normal means could ever allow - he has been what few Incarnations even dream of, and reached the lofty beginnings of True Chaos.

So when someone calls out to Chaos on the World of Ruin, more often than not, it is Garland who responds to their prayers when it suit him to do so.

It suits him now. The world splits; time and space warp and twist as the presence of one fundamentally rejected by both of them arrives. The Ironclad Nightmare's boot touches the dirt of Zanarkand silently as the portal closes behind him, his cape sweeping outwards imperiously. Garland says nothing; he has been called, and he expects it to be worth his time. If it is not...then...who but Garland can say what happens if a call is not worth a sliver of a sliver of a sliver of a sliver of eternity?
Helena Celba Helena tears through another Fiend with her bare hands...

Another monster destroyed, again...nothing...that balance refuses to make itself known to is right there..LITTERALLY right there on the tips of her fingers...but it illudes her. Why did she have it so long ago..why can she not find it again...

But something comes...something answers her prayers...rather she realized she summoned him or not, she turns to stare towards the Iron Clad Nightmare...she had never seen him before...but the familar taint would be known to him...she is stepped heavily in Souji's darkness, heavily connected to a servant would be.

She pauses...she doesn't ask useless questions, she feels it...she knows within her heart what she stares at...or a piece of.

"I wasn't expecting my calls to actually be answered, they never were before." She says, not dropping the feral stance for a moment...she knew better than to relax her guard. He could easily kill her, or help her.

Who can tell what Chaos will do?

For all her bravado...she knows one failed step now...and she, would be dead. She could not die, not yet...
Garland Garland is silent, immobile. The great thing is like a statue in the form of a man; utterly unmoving. Not even breathing escapes that iron form, if indeed Garland even needs to breathe. All that marks him as diferent from the ruins of the ancient civilization around him is that suffocating presence he exudes - and it is a truly suffocating one, a grim presence that has seen countless ages...and ended them with no more effort than it takes to close a book, and no more remorse than a human has for stepping on a bug. Cruel, remorseless, cold, calculating, and tyrannical, the presence that pours out of Garland is the tacit warning of his existence.

She talks to him. He does not move - does not even acknowledge here existence, not even with an incline of the head. A wish has been called out from the depths of the heart; Garland has no need to make small talk, nor any desire to do so. If he waits long enough, she will make her desires known, or she will flee in terror, never to be contacted again.

Distantly, Garland recognized her to be the servant of his new Apprentice. That could, potentially, become far more interesting. Or...well, who knows? Seeing the future is not Garland's talent - mastering it is his goal.
Helena Celba Great, Chaos comes here and it's silent as hell.

She waits...she shifts...

She waits some more...

"I don't usually beseach giant armor with the soul of chaos, so you'll have to forgive me for being new at this." she says, muttering, "Well, if you're here...I am trying to awaken something I have forgotton in a place like this. The feralness and ferocity of something primordial, something...I can't explain. I found strength in a land named Odin...but now I have lost it. I need it returned to serve my master."

"I need to find that strength..." is he here to mock her, or kill her? Is it even he? The oppressive aura is...legendary, painfully so..

But she doesn't back down, she stands against that dark wind, ready to push into it.
Garland As she stops talking, the iron statue that is Garland moves. Its hand rises, pointing squarely at Helena's face, those curling iron claws unfolding silently despite all logic declaring that they should click and clack with weight and size. It is like being pointed at by a ghost; massless, weightless, soundless. And yet...the weight of that claw, the metaphysical weight of that presence, is felt firmly as it is directed entirely as Helena. Garland's presence is not such a passive thing, as Helena is now made painfully aware - it is as much a weapon as any other part of his body and soul, though not nearly so lethal as much of his arsenal.

"And what do you know of strength?" The voice that accompanies that presence demands. It is as suffocating and echoing as the presence itself, as terrible and dark and ageless and /ancient/. The voice is a mocking one; it deconstructs her even as it asks the question, peeling aside layer after layer of 'Helena Celba' and casting them away as it waits for an answer. That claw curls into a fist; that fist flips over, iron groaning with sudden mass and weight.

"What do you understand of power? You are a child grasping at straws, chasing the illusion of strength. Like a child, you clung to what you wished to see."

"What do you wish, child? To chase the phantasmal 'strength' you once possessed? If that is all you desire, then you have no need of /my/ services. Delve back into your meager heart - perhaps you will find it again...if it even truly existed."

Garland turns, his cape flowing around him as his arm returns to his side. "But...if you desire something more...substantial...a strength beyond the shadows you hold in your heart..."

He trails off.
Helena Celba She can feel it...the litteral layers of her soul being peeled away.

Helena stands, under the screwtany. She stands, she resists folding into a ball or would be dumb to...HER soul called out for it will be by HER will she overcomes this...or accepts this. She feels small and weak...a child compared to the armor, but she does not show weakness...she does not run, or back down...she is afraid...a feeling she is not used to, but she stands here.

The lady before him is the outer layer...she is whimsical and chaotic...between two extremes. Loyal and hardworking to Souji, whimsical and uncaring to those who do not have her interest. She cares not for others, save for a small few...she stands alone, except for Souji, who she is dedicated to...and one other. The image is not clear.

"If it your desire to put fear into me, I would never let my master down...if it is power and stregth you offer...then I will graciously accept anything to make him stronger."
Garland "Fear is strength." Garland replies coldly as Helena makes her statement, resuming his motionless stance. "Fear is power. You fear me now, girl; you understand that what you face is an existence beyond your own, beyond anything you can contemplate. You look upon a fraction of a fraction of my existence, a sliver of a sliver of eternity. You know this - your animal body, your animal mind, understands this."

Garland turns to face her again. He moves forward, standing directly in front of her - she's close enough to see that he absolutely doesn't breathe, that he has no need to breathe, that he has never drawn breath so long as he has been clad in that terrible form.

"This is power. Terror. Respect. Strength. They form a tapestry weaved across the ages, bonds stronger than steel or iron."

"Do you desire this power? This strength, to overcome all obstacles?"
Helena Celba Helena's hands clench, she stares at him...

It is true, fear is a type of leads to other. She stands though, overcoming hers to stare at him...her pride as Souji's servant demands it. She remains glued in place, this man does not breath...but she can not tell if he is actually undead...not that it matters...she is not foolish enough to even try.

"Yes." She says after no consideration, "I don't just want it, I need it. This power you offer, the strength you have to give. There isn't anything I am more sure of in my life, than this." She says, reverant, but also prideful.

"Master Murasame's world will be created."
Garland "You will give of yourself for the sake of another. You will bleed and suffer for the power to aid the one you serve. You would trade everything for this power?" Garland's voice is even, measured, cold, as he gazes down at her imperiously.
Helena Celba Helena stares right back into the abyss...even though it hurts to do so, even though the nightmare threatens to consume her...

"Yes. A thousand times yes. Without him, I wouldn't be here in the first place. That is my risk to take..."
Garland Garland inclines his head, slowly, thoughtfully. "Very well. You desire the power, and I will give you the power."

"There is a place in the desert, a tower beyond all compare. Go there, alone; take no weapons, and make no strike on your journey. When you arrive at the tower, reach the top without a single attack against the tower's defense system."

"Reach that point. Reach the top of the Tower of Mirage, and supplicate yourself before me, and I will make you strong."
Helena Celba "...I serve only one master, but I will answer your challenge." Helena says. There was only one she served...and will only ever serve. She will meet this challenge...she will go against all odds, and win. She must, there is no other way.

"I will meet you there."
Garland "Oh, do not worry about that, child," Garland replies cryptically, "I have no interest in such a servant."

Then he steps back through the shuddering darkness and vanishes.

This scene contained 14 poses. The players who were present were: Garland, Helena Celba