exsiliumlogs | don't you understand, that i'm never changing who i am

Date & Time: the day after this post
Location: Koltira's lake/the transporter room/SOMEWHERE IN TIME
Characters: Koltira & Ashraf
Summary: ashraf is a douchebag for the sake of his buddy.
Warnings: koltira's bloodfrenzy is a warning all in its own

[ He'd made the arrangements immediately preceding Koltira's broadcast and their conversation, but even working at their quickest, it didn't seem that the Initiative members were able to activate their transporter any more quickly than the next day. So Ashraf had accepted it with a sigh and returned to his work at the clinic and the sporadic stalking of Koltira's conversations.

That one with Mahdi is particularly worrisome, but... but Koltira won't harm him, even if Mahdi is foolish enough to go to him. And with the amount of work to be done at the clinic, that's a hope Ashraf has to rely on.

But finally the timing is right. After a brief trip to the transporter room, he opens a warp to the lake, steps through, and looks around for Koltira. He'll have to play this with great care, if he's to manage it successfully. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The pain has intensified to such a degree that Koltira can hardly move without a spasm shooting up his muscles. He's locked himself in his cabin, or tried to--in his rage and pain, he's knocked the door slightly off of its hinges.

Terrible keening comes from behind that door, along with the occasional crash of objects thrown against the wall. Splintered furniture and shattered glass bottles form an ominous barrier to the cabin's entrance. The windows are broken, as though punched straight through, and the glass is stained with dark blood.

Everything about the scene suggests 'Go away.']

[ Alas, if only Ashraf were interested in following the suggestions of obvious and ominous hints. As it is, after a careful glance around, he strides toward the cabin with a decidedly determined air. ]

Koltira! [ Loud and firm enough to demand attention, and without any of the trepidation in it that he feels. ] Come and meet me. We have business.

[His voice is a snarling howl.]

I disagree.

[ god that is vaguely terrifying. He steps carefully to the door-- as carefully as he can manage when his attention is fully occupied by the inside of the cabin, and not the outside. ]

I have taken the matter out of your hands. [ He steps into the cabin, tensed. ]

[He's still in his masquerade finery, though it's difficult to call it 'finery' anymore. The shirt is shredded, the coat rent apart and in tatters. His gloves are in shambles, worn thin and frayed from Koltira clawing at his face and temples. His own blood coats his face and neck.

When Ashraf enters the cabin, Koltira glares at him with cold, hateful rage, but he does not move. Not yet.]

What do you mean?

[ He hates to see Koltira like this. And even more than that, he hates what he's about to do. But it's necessary, it will help in the end.

He stops, squares his shoulders, and lifts a hand. ]

Face me, Koltira.

[ And for a little encouragement to fight, his hand glows a bright white. It builds for a short while, glowing brighter and harsher, until he directs the burn of holy light onto Koltira. It's not terribly effective as far as damage-doing goes, but it should certainly sting undead flesh. ]

[Koltira screams--raw and animal--as the holy power sears his body. The hot pain blinds him, inside and out, and any sense of reason or restraint falls away in the face of this fresh agony. He lungs for Ashraf, snarling, intending to tackle the other man to the ground. There is no sense of self in his eyes: only pure, violent rage.]

[ It's what he'd been hoping for, and he shoves aside the sick guilt. His friend is absent at the moment, and this is no different from dealing with one of Rune-Midgard's dangerous beasts. He drops his eyes to the ground, waves his hand again, and targets his spell with necessary precision. Directly in Koltira's path and only a fraction of a second away, a blue spinning whirl of light blossoms. It leads to directly onto the teleporer pad in the Hold, which is already warmed and ready. ]

[Koltira barrels right into the spell, of course, and he doesn't even realize what's happened to him until he's standing on the active teleporter.]

What treachery--

[ Ashraf is in immediately after him, and the portal closes behind him. A quick glance around tells him that everything is still going as it should, even if those Initiative workers do look a little like, despite Ashraf's best attempts to prepare them, they weren't expecting someone looking quite so pissed and dangerous. ]

Activate it! [ And just to be sure Koltira won't wander away in the few seconds this takes, Ashraf lunges forward to wrap both arms about him from behind. A rampage in the Transporter room is really kind of the last thing anyone needs. ]

[Koltira HOWLS in indignation as the teleporter comes to life. He tries to break free of Ashraf's hold, but it's too late--the technology does its work, and they are taken away from Exsilium.]

No! How dare you do this! How dare you.

[ It's a battlefield, just as Ashraf had been promised. Two warring armies — Huns and Chinese, he'd been told, for what little it had meant to him. The most important part was that the entire battle was to be stopped, by any means necessary, with no side in particular to favor. The men fighting around them pause with the bright burst of light of their arrival, obviously bewildered, and Ashraf gives Koltira a shove toward them. ]

Go. Slake your thirst.

[ And he'll watch over it all, because that's the role he's assigned himself. ]

[He gives Ashraf a long, terrible glare, a look of betrayal and pure, unadulterated rage. But he is too far taken by the screaming in his own head to ignore the battle shouts so close by, so he unhooks Byfrost and goes to his wretched work. As in Mongolia, he wastes little time with these enemies: after felling just a few of them, many more begin to collapse on the field, writhing and screaming in pain. Blood like vomit pours from their mouths as their bodies rapidly decay, and the soil itself churns with the bubbling corruption set upon it by Koltira and his sword. A fine, red mist settles over both of the armies in short order: a mix of blood and of the corrosive rot emanating from Byfrost's red runes.

Koltira is senseless as he cuts down man after man. He moves with speed, gutting here, beheading there. He drags men off of their horses, cuts the horse down at the ankles, and then drives his sword into the man's chest as his mount collapses. In these moments, Koltira is a creature of brutal instinct, he is everything that he struggles not to be.

But there are so many people, all rushing foolishly towards him.

He does not relent.]

[ He doesn't miss that look, of course, but it's no less than he'd expected, and he's perfectly prepared to utterly ignore it. Only when Koltira is well engaged and thoroughly ignoring him does Ashraf start after him, an appropriate distance between them. He casts all the proper spells for battle enhancement, both starting and finishing with the shield of Kyrie Eleison.

Ashraf steps calmly over corpses, but his attention is divided between watching Koltira do his work (and refreshing that shield often enough that no healing will be necessary—he hopes), and watching the dead and the dying as he moves past them. His lips move in a quiet prayer as he walks, but he doesn't stop. Koltira is the one he's here for, not these men. ]

don't you understand, that i'm never changing who i am

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject