Monsoon travelled through the ruins of his domain. Almost nothing was left untouched by the destruction his pupil brought during their scuffle. The ruins of the sewers were clogged, collapsed and destroyed beyond what he could belief. Even in the times of the great World War when the Germans occupied the city of the Normals and the real clashed brought ruin upon the world beyond the veil, the ancient halls still were in better shape than now.
The space time distorted wherever the foul touch of the Void remained. The energies were in disarray, still maddened and twisted in the aftermath.
Monsoon emerged from the ruins of his domain, already feeling pings of energy signatures trying to contact him.
*So much work, so much work*
He needs to figure out how to calm things over. The scum from above would take up on any opportunity to diminish him. Like always.
As if what they did to him already wasn’t enough to feed their inflated egos.
His poor offspring…
His claws cracked from the pressure he unconsciously created as his anger got the best of him.
“Soon…” He promised himself, his revenge will finally get a chance to come alive.
He swatted away the demands for explanations and started creating a plan for Lukes recovery.
If any of his plans are to come to fruition, his little pupil needs to be at his best. With all the info he acquired about the Void Tainted he couldn’t be sure if he will even awaken. Not to mention if his mental state will be good enough to even form sentences.
The Curse of the Void was one that granted no mercy to its victims, it was versatile and violent. It is known to wreak havoc on its host in ways unpredictable. It may consume your limbs, your powers, your mind, your memories or your heart. The only constant thing was that it consumed.
Consumed all it could.
He started his preparations. First, he needed to find a hideout for Luke for the time of his recovery. He could always count on his friend, and their keep in the skies will be the most inconspicuous of places he could choose. The pigeons have eyes everywhere. They would easily know if anyone got a trace of him and will be able to transport him away from any danger that may arise.
Next, he will have to cash in a favor and call upon the healer from the Field Hedgehogs clan. A weird bunch but the best he can afford that know anything about energy pathways and regulation of them. And looking at the state of his pupil, he will need all the help he can get with the missing limb and the scorched internal energy passage ways he now housed. Analyzing his body, it seemed as if an inferno passed though him.
Next, the recovery part of it all. He will have to really beg for the Stitcher to take Luke under his scalpel. With that madman, it was never the problem with a price, it was a problem with making sure the patient not getting dissected once that freak gets too excited. At least they have some common history, maybe the pricing won’t be too horrible.
More and more help was needed, and he understood the undertaking he was planning on. It will be risky, and It will cost him a lot. But he felt it was worth it, his bet chance yet for revenge.
He sent his own pings to the Pigeon Keep for a pick up and started gathering what he could for trades and purchases he needs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hours after the Flock left, a powerful knocking could be felt on the surface on his domain. The traditions required that any official visit must be announced, and so Monsoons wards flared up as contested strength of the Council warped his domains borders.
He dropped what he was doing, with a sigh he let them enter, opening the Grand Gates leading to the feast halls. He exited his hidden chambers, leaving his most valuable possessions behind. As he was leaving the secret tunnels, the rock and earth shifted to devour and move his vault deeper into the ground, far away from anyone’s scrying senses.
An envoy arrived just as he set down wearily on his throne, his remaining legs buckling under the massive strain of his limbs with a crunch.
A group of individuals entered, all dressed in peculiar way and bodies formed from the stuff of nightmares.
The group was visibly tense. None of the old families officially could rule or say the represent the others. It was a council. Yet, in reality, there were those that fought for domain of their little community. Two represents of one of such families walked in the front, the Atlantian Bone Giants, emitting the Amber aura and trying to come off as dignified.
With how rushed their walk seemed just to be in front of the procession, and with the smaller one looking around frantically, their goal was not achieved.
Next to them were the Cultist of the Crown. The legislated group that represented the common will of the Polish Territory, such was their proclamation. In reality, they were a paramilitary group high on power, formed by the Eagle King to serve as an extension of his will, reminder of his presence and to offload some of his bastardly offspring.
Walking slightly behind them were some familiar faces, not quite friendly but at least not openly hostile. The Followers of the Slavic Gods. A unified front of cultists that sought shelter under the weakening umbrella of the old gods influence. The good thing about them, was they welcomed all races as long as they promised to uphold the Creed. He could even see one of his friends he sent out the request of help to. Walking on all fours with copper tinged spikes, a humanoid hedgehog with humongous black eyes bulging from behind his snout, with coils of static electricity thrumming and whispering as it traveled from spike to spike.
They nodded their heads at each other.
A disgusted look welcomed him from the group that visibly walked in comfort and disgust next to the Followers. The group composed of what most would say were baseline humans or their angelic versions of them treaded with disgust across his moist and moss covered halls. Purifying them by holy fire with every step they took. The aura of Light and Contempt blasted from the small procession.
*Rude pricks.*
Behind them followed some more groups, but more neutral in their approach. With their powers held back as a show of common respect and decency.
The Atlantian Primeus was the first to stop. Standing proudly two heads taller than even Monsoon, straight, with his barrel chest puffed out like a chicken in attempt to look threatening. He possessed a mighty and well developed crown of bones on top of his head, with lipless mouth that was littered with sword size fangs and cold blue eyes that could freeze the soul of whatever he gazed upon. He emptied his lungs with a booming announcement:
‘’THE COUNCIL HAS UNITED ONCE AGAIN, TO JUDGE AND PUNISH YOU, MONSOON OF THE GRANITE, FOR THE TRANSGRASIONS YOU COMITTED, BY THE ACCORD OF THE UNITED HOUSES ….”
*bla, bla, bla* Monsoon thought to himself as he listened to his accuser, spouting the same lines once again. He knew them like the back of his claws, he heard them on repeat in his head for a long time, burning in his mind as rage and despair fueled those flames.
He ignored the bastard and the sparks of rage threatening to come back to him and reignite his innards. He focused on the rest of the reception. The first one was the accompanying Atlantian, By his size barely an adult, no more than 50 years old. Probably one of the Sons of the Primeus. What interested Monsoon the most about the vile brat was the peculiar wound above its eye. And the broken crown that lacked a piece of the bone protrusion. A cracked one, covered with the foul smell of healing salves and visibly still fresh. The wound was scarred and under the careful eye of someone like him, who dabbled in the Fleshcraft, it could easily be seen someone tried to make it look like a talon wound of some monster, yet the inside of the wound, even when covered by blue blood and amber flesh were too clean, too empty to be like that.
Monsoon could feel something now quite familiar coming of the wound, a faint feeling yet quite recognizable one, especially now, that his own body was scarred and tainted by the same energy.
He could easily get why the boy was so twitchy, the distant rumbling noise, the cold…
He smiled.
“WHAT SAY YOU, FOUL CREATURE THAT WE MERCILESSLY ALOWED TO THRIVE IN THE BOWELS OF OUR CITY, WHAT SAY Y-“
“shut up. Get over this farce and read me the Chart of Offence.” He said absendmindedly while piercing his gaze into the young Atlantian.
“YOU DARE?! MUST I REMIND YOU HOW HEAVY THE FIST OF THIS PUNISHER IS?!” The titan boomed with rage, the halls shook and the air turned amber as if filled with viscious honey.
As he said that, he covered his son with one of his massive palms, cutting of the Gaze. The pitiful thing dropped his shoulders and gasped as a weight he didn’t even notice lifted of his shoulders.
The Under Dweller and the Amber Ruler looked into each other eyes in silence. The tension was palpable, with even a twitch of a muscle being enough to start an all out brawl that could ruin the city.
“EKHMM… YES, yes, let us proceed through the proper legislative process, please.”
One of the cultist adorning the golden pin of the white and red crystals growing into the burned skin of his palm said as he walked between the too.
With his Emblem high in the air he proclaimed:
‘’BY THE GRACE OF OUR RULER, THE KING OF EAGLES, THE KING OF POLES, OF THE RIVERS, OF THE FORRESTS AND THE FIELDS, OF THE SUBJECTS THAT WORSHIP HIM…and the local ruling council… WE BEGIN THE PROCEEDINGS.” A powerful domain magic spread, locking them within.
