Leon's Requiem [NoM/Angelus/Job]

On the south-eastern plains of Reim, long past the tall cool grey teeth of Sasan's mountains onto grassy plains leading into the hills of Reim. There were plenty of forests there and in between but an open field was where the crown prince of Sasan would rest. He was a cruel man, but there were some conventions of war that weren't to be respected. That was the right of challenge, ambushes could happen but often that was when one broke the code of honor. It was a silly thought to have honor in war, but he hoped he wouldn't be attacked while his troops rested within their tents.


In all honesty, most of these games were a ploy, however. He wasn't there to challenge anyone, he was there to set a presence to spread fear amongst the populace. Goal one was to spread voices amongst the masses, put converts amongst the powerful tribes and smaller groups leading to Reim. He was sheltered, but he wasn't stupid. They had learned from their mistakes of trying to tackle and change the giants of the worlds' mightiest nations. Sasan had to be more subtle, this was going to be a cultural war, of inspiring fanatics. It seemed that method was working for one of their prolific knights it was only right that they try to take advantage of the strategy as well.

He had to keep moving however, he had to hit two other nations with their goals in mind. It would start with creating groups and then uplifting them through conflict, after that they would leave and spread to the next nation. If they could get a coalition they could bolster the lost knights. Really though it wasn't about the land, it was about the greatest victory, to win someone's heart and soul.

He would think to himself in his drab tent, he couldn't do much more as most things had lost their joy since he took his current form. He didn't wish to sin and divulge in food and drink either, so amidst the plain tent with a bedroll, chests for weapons and armor, and books in which he no longer felt joy the prince would sit. Despite his plans and the success he hoped for in his mission, he still hoped for someone to instill fear into.

He was sure his wish would come true at some point. Knowing from what his scouts have said Reim wasn't too happy about him approaching some of their nearby border towns. They were one of the quickest to respond to Sasan, naturally with their proximity but it was becoming a different nation. Despite these turbulent thoughts the troubled gasps of a messenger would breakthrough into his quarters.

Leon would turn his horrific head towards the young boy who had rushed in. The lad was about the age of 13, he was on the smaller side for his age but he could run rather quickly. His burgundy hair was roughly cut and the turban on his head was loose from the mad dash he had made.

"Sir, Sir I have urgent news!" the young boy would belt out. His voice was dry and cracked, but he would manage to say "It seems as if someone is approaching the camp!"

Leon didn't wish to address the boy much, but he would say to himself "So dreams do come true." His voice scratched like clanging metal layered with a deep scream.

Parting the tent his blackened metal skin would glare with the sunset myriad glow. The painted sky of pink, magenta, lavender, orange, and auburn would dance upon his wicked glare. It would be a little bit of a walkout however he wouldn't mind that not one bit, it would grant him some time to ponder his visitor. He could only hope, they would follow the rules of engagement for he intended to have a solo match.


Dm Notes:

Leon:

Traits:

Spoiler:

The Crown Prince of Sasan had learned the hard way that there were plenty of things in life that could not be expected. Most often these troublesome surprises are born from underestimation and overconfidence. It had been his undoing in the dungeon Furcas. It was the cause of his scorn and agony that only brewed in his tumultuous thoughts. While wrath permeated his mind in a thick fog that did not mean he was incapable of growing from his mistakes. The one thing he learned from Furcas, from this outside world was that Sasan as strong as they may be were not enough.

That was why the unexpected offer of an allyship seemed like a golden goose to the monstrous prince. His warped avian grin would crack, mangled frame standing tall to project what level of regal behavior he had left.

"What a proposition, but before I find myself inclined to answer would you do me the grace of informing me about thyself. Of course, not to be discourteous I am Leon Uriens first of his name and future king of Sasan." Each word clung to his beak as if it was poison put into words. There was no dishonesty or deceit in his approach. He was by all means approaching this with the manners befit of court. It didn't mean he didn't see the man before him as a lesser life form. However, fear only has so much control when you don't give them some promise of safety. It was his goal to spread fear to those outside, to convert and create a dogma beneficial to Sasan; It was also Leon's goal to make companions.

It was rare for people to approach him, he was hoping for a fight honestly but this was probably more in his favor. He sized up the young man, he had fair but strong features. He definitely seemed to be of Reiman origin but based on his expeditions they were a diverse people so it didn't narrow down much. He knew there were plenty of people under Reim's rule who were dissatisfied with their direction. Leon was educated in these matters for a reason, it gave him a better understanding of how, to sum up, people or guess their desires but their world still had so much to teach him.

With hand outstretched, he would invite the soldier to tread further into his camp. If they were going to talk he would at least like to rest. His face did not show it, his soldiers did not know it, but fire kissed his veins. More than deformed by pain, defined by it as a permanent wound etched into his skin. The wound left by Sesshomaru would hurt him a million times over until the day of his death.

"Why don't we take a step inside my tent if we're going to continue this discussion, it was just about time for afternoon tea" he would say dragging out the last syllable in an exasperated manner of speech.

Leon would give the man a chance to plead his case. It was rare that the chance for the people of Sasan to have people offer aid to them. He sipped the tea, the liquid pouring through the grates of his helmet. It wasn't a joyous way to drink, but it beat moving around his armor too much. As he enjoyed the tea he would listen deeply to the words the man said, he became a sponge for Angelus' speech, the way he spoke, the words he said, and the intent that carried with them. It was always good, to sum up, those who came waltzing onto your doorstep.

While it wasn't exactly a brief explanation of his planes or questions he could tell it was thought, and coordinated by a man with ambition. He pondered the things he said. He had seen how Sasan had failed their first crusade, he was ambitious in the Inquisition to instill belief or fear. He thought their cause was possible to get a small foothold, for the cult of personality to spread and form city-states in their name. While he thought, he would lift up his kettle pouring a fresh cup, the steaming sable stream producing steam as it hit the cup.

He would think of his response, deciding it was best to start with a small story "Have you ever heard the story of Sasan, the name Solomon? You see, my people were born from Solomon's tribe, of his blood and kin, or so the story says. When the worlds died, when the worlds moved over we found ourselves weak, afraid, with only the light of few magicians to guide us. In our homes, we found iron and fear, in the mountains which we called home we built a fortress of magnificent metal. We did all of this, to protect ourselves. We had our mages blessed by Solomons's grace. We learned how to fight, we learned to make better weapons and we fought against ourselves, cleansing our minds and bodies from the things we feared would make us impure. We believed only the chosen, only those who worked hard would return to great god and his grace. That fear drove us, it protected us until the day my father took control. He used fear as a tool, he used it to raise us, to train us. I was taught to feel fear, to feel it till it was purged through my body in blood and tears."

He took a pause, sipping his tea, a slow deep sip to calm the ache in his skin. The fire which burned him danced upon his flesh as moved. Calming himself, the flames would lower, and once more he would continue to speak.

"You must be wondering, why am I telling you this? My father used his fear to push troops across the world to die in hopes to find new homes, expanding, and giving our people places to truly thrive. He in his goal to acquire more power lost a djinn to a man of strange character. He found out our god had stolen the world, the power he had from the true creator. It was then I learned of these black and white birds, I had heard of the Rukh from our magicians but it was then when I truly began to understand. I have seen my father's rukh taint, they say when the rukh shifts or moves in great mass even us not blessed by it can see it. I swear at that moment I witnessed them flutter greatly. I am on an inquisition, to reinstill faith into our soldier, to reclaim those who have left us. My main goal is to spread the cause, to create settlements of faith within this search."

He would lean over, his strange nightmarish frame becoming closer to Angelus. He wished to elaborate, his strained tone becoming more apparent as he approached. Death clung to the man, but earnestness would come from his damaged warm voice.

"I would happily work with you if your words are true. We want more cities, for we only have one. While I imagine you ask for our aid and alliance we as you can tell do want our autonomy and national identity. I use fear brutally I will not lie, but I wish to see my father's Rukh corrected. I am irredeemable, while white birds are I inspire crows wherever I follow. I will not try and ruin your cause, but I must let you know, I am tool, a weapon to darken the hearts of those who turn on faith and life. As a king, I wish to one day drive fear out of the hearts of people but I must forever live with it. If you can understand this, and you can accept this then we can work togehter."

"I may inspire, or invoke the image of myself in those I desire to vanquish, but I carry no such pride to ask for a city in my name. I appreciate the gesture" Leon would say.

He lurched forward resting his teacup down. His voice crept out, as the slits within his helm would show a flash of his scorched flesh. The rasp he muttered out would turn to words, "I will say, convincing may be the hardest task of all. People will always hold their own agenda, I imagine you have your heart and own matter of doing things, which is not my place to throw stones. However, you manage to convince your leaders is of no concern to me as long as the job gets done. My father is the only one who can grant what you wish, which includes exact partnership and the right to enter our borders. I will see what I can do, and I will send one of my Inquisitors to inform you of the deal. I am happy to do my part to give us a strong partnership to build a devout partnership, for me the power relies upon faith, the belief of people more than the borders of the land, still I must warn you"

Leon was in his own space, but his imposing demeanor had brought him close enough that behind the magic that touched him there was an eye sharp and bloodied. The orb stared with intense pain, straining as the skin beneath seemed to wave amongst the haze of his magic. The aura around him showed the power of fear, it wasn't to intimidate Angelus by any means, it was born from Leon's own emotion.

The nightmarish prince offered his caution "I will say my father despite our discourse is grounded but he is stubborn in the cause. While I know I can convince him to agree to the deal for founding cities so that there is land to control, to settle. Sasan is the home, the sanctuary of the humans from the first world, those of that distant blood. That city, our city will be ours until our people die and buildings fall, our family, the Uriens family are gods given form of flesh to the people. It is hard for outsiders to be allowed in without offering some form of reverence or loyalty. I will do what I can but, I do not believe he will open borders until hands have shaken and ink has dried on parchment. With that in mind, I believe we should both make haste if we wish to change the tides of fate."

Leon would stand up, allowing the knights to offer Angelus to take his tea or some biscuits to go. He needed to rest, while he was relentless pain traced his body every second of the day. The prince lurched over towards the section of the tent which lead to his bed. With the curtain parted, head halfway in he would turn to look at Angelus one last time before he left.

"You see the pain I carry, the fear that comes from me not just from my anguish but the mark of others I have seen. Fear must be felt, it must be faced to be driven from the body. I used it fiercely and I was met with hellfire from a beast who wished only to fight the strong. My gift, my cure to gain strength in adversity, you see how I wear it? Do you see how when its' magic radiates, how the miasma of power radiates your own heart, the deep recesses of your mind? I not only wear mine, but I feel and face it with each breath in this scarred body. I do not wish for fame, to be a king remembered by fight. The truest legacy I could leave is the impact of life, how to live. I do what I must so that men and women my life with proper hearts. I forgo my own future to make even greater men and women."

With those parting words, Leon sunk past wool curtains to his large cot. The creak of metal and oak carried with the sigh of the tired man, it would be the last thing Angelus would hear from him before leaving.