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Messages of Armageddon
1x1 with rararasputin & zander_warcolf.

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PLOT DAEMON COMPANIONS RULES

Aelin Spade

---

Farrah Crawford

Lethe Acheron

Username: Zander_Warcolf
Character Name: Icarus Flare
Character Age (15+): 20
Personality: He's quiet when he's busy, his mind focused wholly on the task at hand. When he isn't focused on something, he seems rather lazy, although he's anything but that. If he meets someone he likes, he'll usually try to strike up a conversation. And, when he's enraged, he's ruthless in anything he does, including washing the dishes. He'll kill the beasts on sight with his axe.
Appearance (Use image if desired): He very tall, about six feet and ten inches. His hair is dyed to a very dark purple color, and his eyes are bright blue. He wears this armor everywhere he goes, his axe always at hand.
Spirit Creature (Use image if desired): Hyena/Western Marsh Harrier

Aelin Spade - stronghold corridors - assassin - wc: 1,036

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Despite the haunting nightmares that had torn her apart the previous night, the rest of the evening had been peaceful by any standards. Nonetheless, the faint shreds of the vision still clung to her breast, her being as she emerged from her quarters at the breath of dawn. In essence, the assassin’s bodily habits remained the same regardless of location; always waking at the breath of dawn, always well rested, and always aware. Dawn’s pure golden light didn’t quite penetrate down to the gloom of the catacombs, leaving most of her quarters in shadow. Seeing that the left side of her bunk was unoccupied, she assumed that Icarus had either left for breakfast, or was likely outside dealing with the other matters of the stronghold. Sitting up fully, she brushed ebony bangs out of her eyes, a long yawn parting her jaws and arching her back. Still half-groggy, she flicked her arm; letting out Deimos in his sooty owl form and subsequently waking him up, before tugging on her usual dark attire. The black looked fairly incorporeal in the dark room, seeming to make her disappear as she was swallowed up by the black garb she wore. Aelin donned the veil and mask without complaint, and was just foraging around in her bag when she realized just how empty it was.
Right. Her armor was being kept in the weaponry. Strange how off her entire left felt when a certain few things were out of order.
The black wolf next to her stretched like a cat, his maw momentarily open to expose large, razor-sharp fangs. It wasn’t very surprising that just like his partner, he wasn’t much of a morning lark. You had to wake me up early, didn’t you. The wolf grumbled, his voice surprisingly clear and articulate despite the ungodly hour that it was right now. Or so she presumed. Aelin had had many episodes where her internal clock was warped due to spending too much time underground. Unfortunately so. My apologies. The wolf’s hackles raised slightly, before a meaningful glance from Aelin convinced him to shut his muzzle. At least for now. While it would be considered a fool’s errand at best, Aelin did not intend to stay around long in the stronghold. Actually, she never stayed long in anywhere but her holy sanctum back home. “I don’t intend to stay long in the stronghold.” Aelin confessed in a hushed tone so as not to be overheard. The quieter this transition was, the better. Maybe she could even leave around breakfast time. She didn’t think it’d be as simple as walking through the front door.
You’d be absolutely crazy to brave your luck up there. seemed to be the classic response from anyone she had come across. But that wasn’t true. Not for her. Change was an old friend to her, much as she loathed it. One had to be adaptable to change in her line of work. Flexible to the faintest nuances of behavioral changes in their prey. Always watching and alert. But the stronghold, this transition into relying and having others rely on you, somewhat, for their safety was foreign. If she had been the girl she was four years ago, she would’ve sneered at these frightened families that preferred to hide rather than take survival into their own hands. Pathetic. All of them. You cluster together, you die.
There was more of the old Aelin than she thought, it seemed. Not much of her had changed.
Walking into the deserted corridors after combing her inky black locks, she kept her stroll casual but her gaze wary. While it was partially from habit, she blended into the dark shadows clinging to the walls, her body nearly invisible. The darkness cooed in her presence, coddling her and the light from the various torches along the walls did not reach the fae’s face. Aelin sighed, a great weight on her chest churning and coiling like a serpent, extending tendrils to her temple until she felt a dull throb. Yet the emotion was unreadable. She cursed herself, internally, for taking this mission for Nox, for accepting Icarus’s offer to hide in this underground bastion. The halls were chilly somewhat, the icy air penetrating past muffedly to hug her arms. Deimos shifted from his wolf form, and feathers brushed the nape of Aelin’s neck as he settled himself on his perch on her shoulder. His light grey feathers bore a stark contrast to the darker walls around her. She knew he could sense her brooding; daemons were surprisingly perceptive in that sense. However, neither Deimos nor his human partner were ones for small talk, and he was patient enough to keep his beak shut until she was ready to tell him what was on her mind. However, judging from his ruffled feathers, it seemed that Deimos would very much like to claw her ears off for her caustic tone back in the bedroom.
Aelin wasn’t blind, nor ignorant. There would be all manners of trouble waiting for her on the surface. Fellow scavengers with whom to contest with for supplies, monsters lusting for blood, assassins sent on her trail by vengeful and wealthy gangsters. There, every second was spent looking over her shoulder, and there was no guarantee that she would live to see the next day. Those were days that she had spent sleeping with a dagger under her pillow, despite Deimos being on night watch, talons poised to strike anyone who wished Aelin harm. This wasn’t how she had pictured spending her few days. She had planned on hunting and striking down Doug Beckard, then heading back to her enclave with the money in her cloak and Deimos on her shoulder. She would’ve been alone, safe. She hadn’t even considered ‘reuniting’ with her ex-lover, nor did she want to consider the threat that hung over head like a cloud. Death threats hadn’t mattered, until now. Instead, she was stuck in this building in the middle of nowhere, with an emptiness that devoured her soul. Deimos was the last tie to her past life, a freedom that she wanted so badly to return to.
But life had a sore way of throwing you off balance.

Jag perches on a rooftop near one of the strongholds openings. His leg is stretched out and his rifle is laying across his leg. It's a large semi-automatic, with a suppressor and scope attached onto it. He watches the opening lazily. Binx leans against Jag's leg and purrs, totally missing the memo that this was supposed to be an assassination. Or, as Jag is going to call it, a scouting. He didn't intend to kill anyone today, but he would if it came down to it. All he wants to do is watch each person and try to learn their day. See who they are connected to and where they go. That's how he surprises his prey. He shivers slightly, not wanting to face Icarus or Stormhunter. But most of all, he didn't want to face Nox. She couldn't see him like this. He hears a bit of static coming in from his earpiece. He raises a wire to his mouth. "Come in" he says out loud. He was far enough away from the opening that it would be difficult for unsuspecting civilians to hear him. For a moment, there is silence. Then a voice speaks.
"There has been movement from target 1, John is moving after her. Target 2 hasn't moved yet" Greg informs.
"Same as target 3" Rick adds.
"Excellent, thank you for your information. Keep your distance and keep me updated" Jag tells them. He pulls the rifle into his chest and locks the strap against a belt on his chest. He would have to move soon and he could move much more efficiently when he isn't carrying a gun. There was visible signs of a monster attack, but they were gone now. Because of that Jag had a feeling that Icarus would lead a scouting party to find those monsters. Which means Stormhunter and Nox would most likely leave as well, but he could be incorrect. Still, he had to prepare for the worst. Which is why he had three men watching them.
...
Nox's eyes open up, but instead of being met with lights she is met with an open sky. She slowly sits up, only to notice that her limbs were trapped under something. It was large pieces of bloody rubble. She tries to move for a few moments, but to no avail. Suddenly she hears rumbling, it was beasts, and they were quickly gaining on her. Nox turns her head towards the sound. But instead of seeing beasts she sees a huge wave of blood rushing towards her. She cries out in surprise just as it sweeps over her.
Nox sits up suddenly, she could feel herself undergoing a sudden panic attack. She clenches the sides of the cots, holding onto it for dear life. It's not real she thinks to herself over and over again. Freyja bumps her head against Nox's, desperately trying to help calm Nox down. She remains where she is until her heartbeat slowly returns to normal. Tears stream down her face as she tries to fight the memories that are flooding through her head. She doesn't need to try and fight them, she suddenly hears a voice. It's slightly muffled, but she is able to overhear it. Same as target 3. Freyja turns towards the door with a growl.
"We have company" Freyja growls. Nox acts quickly, she puts her uniform back on and grabs her weapons. She would probably need them...

Farrah Crawford - stronghold corridors - stronghold soldier - wc: 605

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indentThe soft sound of someone humming flowed through a darkened room, bringing a nurturing warmth to the air as Farrah bustled around her room like a bee, stuffing the various items that she would need for the day. A bundle of dry clothes there, a med kit there. It was not a small amount of items, but the russet colored pack that she had bought seven years ago was still holding up fine. It had multiple layers and compartments, anything from pencil sockets to a place to store your credit card. And that was something that Farrah made full use of. Behind her, a crane paced back and forth gracefully, her red-crowned head bobbing as she added items to the growing pile. Jane was more than a little aware that Farrah wasn’t the best at remembering things, though the patient crane was patient enough to put up with it. Patience had been a powerful virtue of Farrah’s that had passed on to her daemon, much to her delight. Nowadays, after she had enlisted in the main military, Farrah’s clumsiness had disappeared significantly, making life much easier for both the human and her companion. The military did indeed demand a certain level of discipline.
indentSometimes, it was hard for Farrah to believe that only three years ago, she’d been a delicate, wide-eyed girl working in her uncle’s bakery. So much had changed since then.
indentFarrah’s deft fingers zipped the pack shut, allowing for all three zippers to line up on the left side. “I’m finished here, Jane.” She called to her daemon, lifting the heavy pack onto her right shoulder with a grunt of effort. “I’m not sure whether I missed anything, and looking around, it doesn’t look like it. ” Indeed, her quarters were neat. Or as neat as they could be, considering that there were all sorts of sundry items tossed all about her room. Farrah sighed, wincing to herself as she silently noted what she’d have to clean up after today’s duties were done. The crane’s slender head did the same scan around the room, keen eyes checking her quarters for anything Farrah might’ve missed. She never stated, but rather it was known between them in the human-daemon way that Farrah was always grateful for a second pair of eyes. Visibly, both of them were very relieved when Jane shook her head,
indent“That’s everything.” She chirped brightly, a playful spark in her eye, “For once.”
indentFarrah gasped in mock outrage, knowing full well that Jane was only sporting with her. The crane had a propensity for dramatics at times, strutting with more pride and purpose than an actor on the stage. But the statement was within reason, to be fair. And Jane had a point, which Farrah acknowledged by rolling her eyes in defeat. “Alright, miss clever.” She gave her a sarcastic smile, “You win. This time. I’m glad I’m getting better at putting things in their place, at least. Come, let’s get breakfast.” Breakfast wouldn’t be served, for that matter, for the next fifteen minutes, but Farrah always left early because she tended to get lost. The stronghold was much more expansive than one might expect, with the tunnels twisting and twining like some ancient serpent. Jane edged past Farrah, her slender form outlined ahead as she bounded eagerly down the tunnel, the click-click-click of her taloned feet echoing against the walls. Laughing to herself and adjusting her pack so the weight fell more favorably against her right shoulder, Farrah followed behind, her pace more leisurely than that of the hyperactive crane.
indent

Nox silently slides up to the door, she holds her breath and carefully glances out the window to find a man standing near the door, he is doing a very poor job at making sure he is hidden. He is a little over six feet tall, with short blonde hair. His most obvious identification is an ugly scar that runs across his face. She recognizes the patch on his shoulder, it's a grizzly bear, which is Doug's gang identification. He is far, too far for her to attack him, but fleeing won't work either, if he has a gun then she won't have any hope of escaping... besides, she doesn't want to run away like a coward. Suddenly the man starts speaking. "What? Jag you can't be serious-" a short pause, most likely because, Jag, whoever he is, is talking. "I understand" the man glances at the door one last time, forcing Nox to throw herself out of view. She hears the distinct sound of footsteps approaching her door. She tenses up, preparing for a bloody battle, but the footsteps pass by her door before fully disappearing.
"I suppose we should take that as a sign, it's no longer safe to hide here" Nox mutter out loud. "Let's go Freyja." The two stroll over to the door, they pause for a moment. Once they are able to confirm it's safe, they leave. Whenever by luck or fate she is unknowingly heading towards the same corridor Aelin and Deimos are walking down

Icarus gave up with attempting to receive a signal. After successfully locating his razor and shaving the short beard attempting to cultivate itself at his chin, he'd gone directly to the radio and connected a headset. He kept it scanning for receiving or outgoing signals, occasionally broadcasting a message. However, to no avail. Putting the headset away, he say back down and closed his eyes, thinking. Osiris. How does the surface look? The harrier had been sent out to the sky to check for signs of beasts, war groups, or survivors. Nothing. Icarus sighed, then stood up. Pushing his chair back in, he stepped towards the door, then stopped. Breakfast was near, but his hunger was hardly something to be felt. In fact, he didn't feel it at all. Frowning, Icarus surveyed the faces in the radio room. They were all his staff. He knew them all, trusted them with his life. Stepping out the door, he glanced at the two guards stationed there. One, he recognized. The other.... "Chakti." The guard he recognized, a kind faced young man, turned his head. "Sir?" Icarus kept his eyes on the other guard. "Where's Derek gone?"