Session IV

"As tricksome a devil as any."

Players Involved: Shrike

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Crysanth the cat is in the corner of the wrecked drawing room, behind a table that's been tossed on its side. Ingria Samelrand is lying draped over a sofa at the other end of the long room with her hands over her face when there is a clattering and a *thump* of guards coming to attention outside. The door swings open, and the Lord General Chesne Du Blessed of the Endruscare Occupation Zone enters with four crusaders. She surveys the wrecked room with hard eyes, tapping the fingers of one gauntlet on the ceremonial armour plate of her hip. "Crusaders, privacy praxis." Tracery on her soldier's helmets glows blue, then their heads turn into balls of darkness. Chrysanth perks up and observes the ensuing confrontation from the shadows.

Ingria opens her hands, and looks up. "Oh. You."

"Me." Says Du Blessed. "Your superior and oath lord. On your feet, Baroness."

Ingria dusts herself off slowly and rises, taking her time. Then she throws the Lord General a deep curtsey. "Your pardon, Lord General."

Du Blessed steps right into her face, looking down at the shorter woman, her armour making her look even larger.

"You were appointed by my Divine Chosen as a noble of the Endrus District. I expect you to act like one, or so help me to the Empyrean God I'll have you flogged in the square of Pride camp."

Ingria glares back at her, clearly not cowed. "Threats, Lord General? We both know you need me. Who was it who found the old purifier coil? Without me all your fancy war machines will be stuck in the mud by spring, and who'll back up your brave words then?

"You seem to be under a misapprehension, Baroness." Says the Lord General. "Your utility to me is balanced against the trouble you cause, which is substantial. I've overlooked this little civil war you're trying to start in Ward 7 until now, but this is the price of your little show today. Cease your provocations against House Lentithe. I will deal with them with the Constabulary and the Crusade when I see fit."

"The purifier needs a test." Says Ingria. "It's been buried so long. The best way to do that is with Noble blood. Which Lentithe claims they are."

"Leliel's eye, girl, have you lost your mind? No, you are not feeding any Lentithe into that thing. Under my express order. If you require noble blood, I'm sure we can scour the jails for some other candidate."

"Squeamish, Lord General?" Says Ingria, smiling with her eyes half closed. "For all you pretend to be so hard, I've seen - and done - things that would break you. Pray I also continue to need YOU, else you might get to experience some of them."

The Lord General steps back. "You think that because Leliel allows you liberties you are untouchable." She says dangerously. "But forgiveness of the unworthy is the divine right of the Chosen. I am merely one of their servants, and I need show no such mercy. End privacy."

Du Blessed turns to her soldiers, all in the silver combat armour of elite crusaders. "Crusaders, Baroness Samelrand has behaved like a child. She must be punished like one. Discipline her." The Crusaders pause for a second. "Now."

With a clack of Asp batons and the Crusaders advance. Ingria does not move but stands head high looking with a sneer at Du Blessed. And then the first Crusader raises his baton and swings it down on her shoulder, another hits her at the back of her legs, knocking her to the floor, and the proceed to beat her. Du Blessed stands silently at the door, arms crossed, a flush on her face.

Finally she raises a hand. "Hold." The crusaders step back.

Du Blessed walks forward and puts a foot under the now supine Ingria Samelrand, rolling her over. Blood is streaming from her nose, and one of her eyes is swelling closed. "Do we understand each other NOW girl?"

Ingria smiles up at her. "You could never understand." She says, words slurred. "Not if you lived to a thousand."

Du Blessed looks down at her, then pulls back her foot and delivers her a viscous kick to the side. Ingria folds around it, wheezing.

"Guards." Du Blessed barks. The Cadet guards open the door and one of them looks in, face going white. "Give Baroness Samelrand five minutes to make herself presentable, then escort her to a carriage and see her back to Ward 6."

"Yessir!"

The Endruscarian Lord General turns and strides out. Her guards follow and the door closes. Ingia lies on the floor, and begins wheezing. Either crying or laughing. Chrysanth is not sure which. Ingria is a complete mess, her gown badly torn, and with masses of red welts that are going to become impressive bruises. Chrysanth pads out from her hiding place as the door closes and rubs against one of Ingria's outstretched hands, purring.

"Oh, hello nyanyan." Says Ingria. "Nyaaaaaa." She seems to find that absolutely hilarious, and its definitely laughter. She pats Chrysanth-the-cat then pulls her in to cuddle as she wraps herself around the cat. "Silly wittle Chesne Du Blessed. She thinks shes sooooooo scawwwy." She coughs a little blood. "You're not scared of her at all, little nyanyan, are you!" She shakes Chrysanth's little cat head.

Chrysanth licks her face then looks at her. "She fears you"

Ingria doesn't seem even slightly phased by that. "Of course she does. Some day My General will come back, and we'll punish them all." She shivers, her voice going distant. "We fell into the eye together, he and I, it closed over us, a universe of night and terror, but he was at my side."

Chrysanth plays along. "Your General has not forgotten you and your devotion." The cat looks into Ingria's remaining good eye. "They will be purified, all of those who have hurt you, who have scorned you."

"Of course they will!" Ingria says. "And you're so RIGHT Nyanyan! I know JUST who to test my purifier on first. We'll see what her high and mightiness General Du Blessed thinks of my worth then!" She giggles. "She can admire my accomplishments first hand!"

Crysanth-the-cat purrs.

Ingria ruffles the cat's ears and sits up. "You're very wise, nyanyan. I'm sure your owners don't appreciate you."

"You are and always will be your General's favorite." The cat says.

"Until the end of the world." Ingria whispers. "But you'll be my friend until then!"

Revitalized by her new friend, Ingria collects herself and limps out to her carriage, an large armoured black autocar emblazoned with the Samelrand crest of two twined snakes, and pulled by a pair of massive Giganger ssault constructs. The carriage rattles out of the Unity district as the gates to Zeta Ward grind open on massive gears. The carriage is on an executive overpass, while below it stretches the Rose Garden, the Red Light District of CZ Central, entertaining thousands of soldiers on liberty from the camps. "Pigs in human clothing," the cat says.

And suddenly the world is on its side. The shockwave of a huge explosion hits the carriage, flipping it on its side. Even as the door of the car explodes inward, blood red energy field snaps up around Ingria, and she clutches the cat to her as the car continues to roll and skid, finally crashing into the barrier of the elevated overpass. Ingria uses destructive transmutation to punch a hole out of the ruined car, and levitates clear, with the cat on her shoulder. Below her the carriage, and indeed a large section of the executive overpass, slowly begin to collapse into the district below in a long groan of failing concrete and transteel.

As the two float in the air a good 40 meters above the city below they can hear the beating of drums. A heavy inexorable beat: "BOM. BOM. BOM. BOM." A laser dot centers on Ingria's forehead, and then a bullet slams into her shield, exploding against it with a green burst, and a bolt of pure ether slashes through Ingria's haloshell and strikes her in the side of the head. Ingria's head snaps back from the impact, and she falls. Chrysanth activates a Gravitron solo praxis module to arrest their fall, and they land lightly in the rising cloud and collapsed pile of wreckage below.

"No, Ryzard the voices. . ." Ingria mumbles drifting into another world, "If you do, you'll die. . . you'll die!. . . to the end of the world. . .so sorry. . . I'm so sorry!"

The drums are still beating, and Chrysanth can hear a distant voice yell, "Death to all tyrants! Glory to the Proletariat!" There is distant gunfire, and more explosions.

And then closer Chrysanth hears the voices of approaching soldiers, "Sir, I've found her! The Baroness! She's wounded!"

Soldiers in orange and red urban camouflage with the symbol of house Samelrand on their shoulders appear out of the dust clouds.

An Arthrodyne is summoned to take the critically wounded Baroness back to her house and immediate medical attention. The cat slips aboard, and the soldiers leave it with Ingria in the hopes of it improving her mood when she wakes. The 'dyne lifts and the strip of lights from the entertainment district falls away - and then its all towers and floodlights, as the craft flies over Purgatory. Over the rings of camps; Camp Laviscia, Glut, Avarice, Sloth, Pride. . . all a fortified ring of barbed wire and guards.

And then ahead is a massive tower, the only remaining megalith laser defense tower from the old Republic, now repurposed into Samelrand's dark fortress. It rises up hundreds of meters, its sides dotted with navigation lights, above the smog drifting up from the camps. Smaller spires jut out irregularly along its sides, and at its crown are two massive horns between which the lensing field to aim the laser was once generated. The arthrodyne heads for the glow of a landing pad midway up the tower's height, swoops down and settles, bringing the wounded Baroness home.

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