04-26-2018, 09:17 AM
Both the holy warrior and the former knew that if there met any opposition to their plans, it would surface on the outskirts of the city. It made the most sense; either all of the grave robbers and thugs were planted firmly in the grounds of the palace, or on the borders to continue looting and hide off from any competition roaming in the shadows.
"So," a distinctly Scottish voice mumbled, masked by the easily-felt winds of the elevated rooftop in which both Alexander and Shay stayed, "this scum bucket is what yer worried about? I can't complain; I don't know this city as well as ye do, but still!"
Shay's helmet was placed firmly upon his head at this moment, and he did not flinch at the question. It was understandable; why not go to the palace instead of what looked to be a half-stable tavern; bright torch lights gleaming from the poorly maintained windows, faint sounds of the medieval equivalent of clubbing, the occasional gasp or scream of terror among shards of broken glass flying across the room. The Templar didn't know for sure, but he had enough evidence to suspect this would be where a large chunk of this bandit problem had it's source, or was at least encouraged.
"Aye," the Irishman replied, "I only saw this place in a few passing glances while it wasn't infested by petty thieves, but based on my previous bouts of drinking, I can safely tell you that there is no better place to wring the necks of crooks for confiscated information."
"Fair point! Can't just waltz in through th' door though. Unless we had to..."
"No need," Shay interjected, not wanting to deal with Alexander's rather sinister implications much longer. A bead of sweat formed in his brow at the thought; hopefully the Templar could avoid the honestly inevitable massacre that was to happen below, but... He knew it was unlikely. The privateer continued with some semblance of a plan, as almost redundant as it was.
"I'll go in, you hold out on me unless I get tossed out the wooden door or their lackeys hop in after me to stab my lungs out. Deal?"
"Usually I'd offer to go in first, but I think I can handle the tension, Cormac! Don't keep a lad waitin' though, ya hear?"
"Deal it is, then."
Soon after the dialogue between the two men was exchanged, the Templar stood himself upright. The familiar feeling of his muscles tensing as the wind pushed at his back on the edge of a building became present; being in the middle of a city within a mostly barren desert didn't change that at all. Good for him though, for Shay was well used to it.
Breathing in, Shay could quite literally feel his armor bogging him downwards as he descended the building in which he previously stood. To his pleasant surprise, the cuirasser plate armor still granted him enough mobility to grasp his hands around a windowsill previously below him with relative ease. It didn't take the Templar very long at all to land himself upon the dusty floors of Nippur. A muffled thud could be heard as he fell, looking forward as the privateer pushed himself upright from the ground.
Looking back whence he came, Shay could vaguely see Alexander giving him a nod from the little perch he created on the edge of the admittedly rubbish structure. The armored man couldn't help but nod back. Gazing upon the tavern in front of him, the man sighed as he noted there wasn't a single opportunity from around the building to perhaps approach this problem a tad more discreetly. Not a single window or door on anything beyond the front of the building, nor was there any way to enter at a vertical angle. Then again, Shay thought, there might not be much need to.
Breathing out, Shay Cormac took confident strides forward, noticing the noise his steel armor made as he walked. Yeah, being subtle was definitely going to be a bad idea.
Walking towards the tavern in front of him, the Templar had heard the distant yet distinct stamping of feet on the road he walked. Tensing up nearly immediately, the man looked to his right, squinting as he analyzed the dusty pathway before him. Quickly, Shay spotted a figure seeming to speed towards the man at a relatively moderate pace. Breathing in once more, Shay froze himself, clenching his fists as he prepared for whatever it is that was coming for him. Waiting.
As the figure approached, it made itself more clear. A male, much smaller than the armored privateer, ran up to the man, in a very obvious haste considering how breathless and ridden with sweat he was. Shay still didn't move an inch, looking at the man almost expecting to either get shot or stabbed if he had moved a muscle. Either way, Shay's worries were generally unfounded, as upon closer inspection of the man, he was more akin to a young adult; pampered and about as scrawny as a homeless drunkard. Still, he wore some manner of armor, vaguely Mesopotamian in it's aesthetic, yet holding no weapon.
The 'boy' spoke almost immediately as he came close to the man.
"Ah... Are you... Shay Patrick Cormac?" he exhaled, wheezing as he did so.
Shay loosened up now, replying hesitantly. "Yes."
"Great! I've got... a message," the bearer of news finished, "from the king."
Shay's heart stopped momentarily. There was absolutely no mistaking what this boy could have meant, but alas, Shay had to inquire further.
After all, what could have possibly happened to the man after such an absence?
"King? Gilgamesh?!" The privateer almost shouted, taking a half-step forward as he did so. Eyes widened, the man listened.
"Mhm!" The smaller one replied, finishing on a less enthusiastic note, "he's residing at the palace as we speak."
Shay shook his head. The palace? He pondered, weren't we just there a second ago?
On the thought of 'we,' the Templar looked upwards at where Alexander previously was, about to bark towards the priest that the tavern they were about to clear was worth waiting on for a matter like this.
Yet, as Shay looked up for a brief moment, he could already sense the man wasn't there.
A moment of silence fell upon the two New Babylonian soldiers. Shay tensed up again, wondering where and why that man had decided to ditch him, but came to no conclusion; the overbearing realization that Gilgamesh was apparently back was too much on his brain. The Templar broke out of his tiny trance, shaking his head again.
"We need to go, then. Take me to him, please," Shay requested with a sense of urgency, already breaking into a jog and grasping at the boy's arm, a bit aggressively so.
"A-ah, very well!" The rather tiny guard choked up, rolling his head in increasing disappointment knowing he had to break into a full sprint again just to get back to the palace.
Usually, the Templar would find himself leaping across building tops to shortcut towards his destination, but he wasn't willing to drag this kid along that ride just yet. After all, it was a pain and a half getting Agnès to get past her fear of heights...
As he ran, Shay's heart seemed to drop down to his gut as he thought of such a thing. Another thought crossed his mind, the rest of the world seeming to fade away from him.
If Gilgamesh is back, maybe she's...
...
"M-Mister Cormac! Please hold, I beg..."
The armored privateer snapped back into reality at that point, realizing he was at least eight or so entire meters in front of the man he previously requested to escort him.
"Ah, apologies!" Shay shouted, forcing a smile as he slowed.
The Templar didn't much mind either, considering they were finally at the fortification that supposedly held the king of New Babylon. A sense of purpose filled the man as he saw guardsmen around the area, though it was a rather small pleasure for him in comparison to the idea that he'd finally get some form of help at such a time.
"Here... sir..." The small messenger attempted to enunciate, Shay already starting to jog into the palace grounds with no hesitation. Well, actually one; the Templar had to give the courtesy to thank him.
"I'll take it from here, much obliged sir!"
So he did; the man met no resistance as he entered the grounds of Gilgamesh. The guards had known, and his coming was welcome. The Templar enforcer had noted the freshening of the air upon entering the building itself. Perhaps it was just a rejuvenating feeling going over him; in reality, it hadn't been more than what seemed to be a few months, but by the looks of things, he was absent for much, much longer.
Shay Cormac groaned as he searched for the throne room, straining his head past his emotional response to the situation he walked himself into. Picking up his pace, Shay was at least satisfied by the clacking of his boots as he strode across the halls.
The man heard many voices as he walked past each and every door, guardsmen of New Babylon passing by as he did so. None of them phased him, except one in particular. It was definitely a familiar voice, and perhaps soothing if he didn't immediately recognize who it was.
Shay turned his head, looking into one of the rooms as he saw Victor Wolfe conversing with two Primes, or so Shay assumed. The Templar didn't bother to look at the others; he could greet them in a moment.
"Victor!" Shay shouted, grasping at the diplomat's attention nearly immediately.
"So," a distinctly Scottish voice mumbled, masked by the easily-felt winds of the elevated rooftop in which both Alexander and Shay stayed, "this scum bucket is what yer worried about? I can't complain; I don't know this city as well as ye do, but still!"
Shay's helmet was placed firmly upon his head at this moment, and he did not flinch at the question. It was understandable; why not go to the palace instead of what looked to be a half-stable tavern; bright torch lights gleaming from the poorly maintained windows, faint sounds of the medieval equivalent of clubbing, the occasional gasp or scream of terror among shards of broken glass flying across the room. The Templar didn't know for sure, but he had enough evidence to suspect this would be where a large chunk of this bandit problem had it's source, or was at least encouraged.
"Aye," the Irishman replied, "I only saw this place in a few passing glances while it wasn't infested by petty thieves, but based on my previous bouts of drinking, I can safely tell you that there is no better place to wring the necks of crooks for confiscated information."
"Fair point! Can't just waltz in through th' door though. Unless we had to..."
"No need," Shay interjected, not wanting to deal with Alexander's rather sinister implications much longer. A bead of sweat formed in his brow at the thought; hopefully the Templar could avoid the honestly inevitable massacre that was to happen below, but... He knew it was unlikely. The privateer continued with some semblance of a plan, as almost redundant as it was.
"I'll go in, you hold out on me unless I get tossed out the wooden door or their lackeys hop in after me to stab my lungs out. Deal?"
"Usually I'd offer to go in first, but I think I can handle the tension, Cormac! Don't keep a lad waitin' though, ya hear?"
"Deal it is, then."
Soon after the dialogue between the two men was exchanged, the Templar stood himself upright. The familiar feeling of his muscles tensing as the wind pushed at his back on the edge of a building became present; being in the middle of a city within a mostly barren desert didn't change that at all. Good for him though, for Shay was well used to it.
Breathing in, Shay could quite literally feel his armor bogging him downwards as he descended the building in which he previously stood. To his pleasant surprise, the cuirasser plate armor still granted him enough mobility to grasp his hands around a windowsill previously below him with relative ease. It didn't take the Templar very long at all to land himself upon the dusty floors of Nippur. A muffled thud could be heard as he fell, looking forward as the privateer pushed himself upright from the ground.
Looking back whence he came, Shay could vaguely see Alexander giving him a nod from the little perch he created on the edge of the admittedly rubbish structure. The armored man couldn't help but nod back. Gazing upon the tavern in front of him, the man sighed as he noted there wasn't a single opportunity from around the building to perhaps approach this problem a tad more discreetly. Not a single window or door on anything beyond the front of the building, nor was there any way to enter at a vertical angle. Then again, Shay thought, there might not be much need to.
Breathing out, Shay Cormac took confident strides forward, noticing the noise his steel armor made as he walked. Yeah, being subtle was definitely going to be a bad idea.
Walking towards the tavern in front of him, the Templar had heard the distant yet distinct stamping of feet on the road he walked. Tensing up nearly immediately, the man looked to his right, squinting as he analyzed the dusty pathway before him. Quickly, Shay spotted a figure seeming to speed towards the man at a relatively moderate pace. Breathing in once more, Shay froze himself, clenching his fists as he prepared for whatever it is that was coming for him. Waiting.
As the figure approached, it made itself more clear. A male, much smaller than the armored privateer, ran up to the man, in a very obvious haste considering how breathless and ridden with sweat he was. Shay still didn't move an inch, looking at the man almost expecting to either get shot or stabbed if he had moved a muscle. Either way, Shay's worries were generally unfounded, as upon closer inspection of the man, he was more akin to a young adult; pampered and about as scrawny as a homeless drunkard. Still, he wore some manner of armor, vaguely Mesopotamian in it's aesthetic, yet holding no weapon.
The 'boy' spoke almost immediately as he came close to the man.
"Ah... Are you... Shay Patrick Cormac?" he exhaled, wheezing as he did so.
Shay loosened up now, replying hesitantly. "Yes."
"Great! I've got... a message," the bearer of news finished, "from the king."
Shay's heart stopped momentarily. There was absolutely no mistaking what this boy could have meant, but alas, Shay had to inquire further.
After all, what could have possibly happened to the man after such an absence?
"King? Gilgamesh?!" The privateer almost shouted, taking a half-step forward as he did so. Eyes widened, the man listened.
"Mhm!" The smaller one replied, finishing on a less enthusiastic note, "he's residing at the palace as we speak."
Shay shook his head. The palace? He pondered, weren't we just there a second ago?
On the thought of 'we,' the Templar looked upwards at where Alexander previously was, about to bark towards the priest that the tavern they were about to clear was worth waiting on for a matter like this.
Yet, as Shay looked up for a brief moment, he could already sense the man wasn't there.
A moment of silence fell upon the two New Babylonian soldiers. Shay tensed up again, wondering where and why that man had decided to ditch him, but came to no conclusion; the overbearing realization that Gilgamesh was apparently back was too much on his brain. The Templar broke out of his tiny trance, shaking his head again.
"We need to go, then. Take me to him, please," Shay requested with a sense of urgency, already breaking into a jog and grasping at the boy's arm, a bit aggressively so.
"A-ah, very well!" The rather tiny guard choked up, rolling his head in increasing disappointment knowing he had to break into a full sprint again just to get back to the palace.
Usually, the Templar would find himself leaping across building tops to shortcut towards his destination, but he wasn't willing to drag this kid along that ride just yet. After all, it was a pain and a half getting Agnès to get past her fear of heights...
As he ran, Shay's heart seemed to drop down to his gut as he thought of such a thing. Another thought crossed his mind, the rest of the world seeming to fade away from him.
If Gilgamesh is back, maybe she's...
...
"M-Mister Cormac! Please hold, I beg..."
The armored privateer snapped back into reality at that point, realizing he was at least eight or so entire meters in front of the man he previously requested to escort him.
"Ah, apologies!" Shay shouted, forcing a smile as he slowed.
The Templar didn't much mind either, considering they were finally at the fortification that supposedly held the king of New Babylon. A sense of purpose filled the man as he saw guardsmen around the area, though it was a rather small pleasure for him in comparison to the idea that he'd finally get some form of help at such a time.
"Here... sir..." The small messenger attempted to enunciate, Shay already starting to jog into the palace grounds with no hesitation. Well, actually one; the Templar had to give the courtesy to thank him.
"I'll take it from here, much obliged sir!"
So he did; the man met no resistance as he entered the grounds of Gilgamesh. The guards had known, and his coming was welcome. The Templar enforcer had noted the freshening of the air upon entering the building itself. Perhaps it was just a rejuvenating feeling going over him; in reality, it hadn't been more than what seemed to be a few months, but by the looks of things, he was absent for much, much longer.
Shay Cormac groaned as he searched for the throne room, straining his head past his emotional response to the situation he walked himself into. Picking up his pace, Shay was at least satisfied by the clacking of his boots as he strode across the halls.
The man heard many voices as he walked past each and every door, guardsmen of New Babylon passing by as he did so. None of them phased him, except one in particular. It was definitely a familiar voice, and perhaps soothing if he didn't immediately recognize who it was.
Shay turned his head, looking into one of the rooms as he saw Victor Wolfe conversing with two Primes, or so Shay assumed. The Templar didn't bother to look at the others; he could greet them in a moment.
"Victor!" Shay shouted, grasping at the diplomat's attention nearly immediately.
![[Image: tumblr_nabdyeE81m1qcy62fo1_500.gif]](http://38.media.tumblr.com/62a0123e863be665cb97c8e9e9831315/tumblr_nabdyeE81m1qcy62fo1_500.gif)
"The air is still, and I am a hunter."