Finally, Idiots United

[Robin Stark]

47th of Zida

"We can do this, right?"

The wind snapped at him, cold and dry.

"I'm nottrying to prove anything to anyone, actually."

Branches cracked against each other, a breeze twirling through the bare canopy.

"Funny. Look, I mean, yes, we can do this, obviously. Theoretically," he sighed, spreading his arms out wide. "Would flapping help?"

A gust danced against the dirt, scraping loose stones and pebbles.

"OK. I'm going to try flapping this time and --," Robin stretched his back, his arms slowly falling into the rhythm of something much more majestic than him. The wind hadn't been easy to convince; it hadn't believed the idea was his. It hadn't been, not at first, but flying wasn't something he couldn't not try. No, feathers or stone bones, he'd begged the wind for half-a-cycle to bring him into the sky. And then run, I guess? Yeah, that sounds right, doesn't it?"

The wind blew a gust through him, his spell spilling into the air, making it denser, faster. It sang. Robin ran. He ran from the forest, away from the city, jumping and flapping and remembering desperately every bird he'd ever seen. The gust turned into something more powerful, thundering across the group, a stampede of noise, catching his arms and pulling up. His magic swirled around him, urging the gale faster and faster and louder and louder, because there wasn't any reason to hide and there were even less reasons to show off.

And for a second he flew.

He was too ambitious, and like others, he fell, tripping on a sudden breeze beneath him, his legs suddenly over his head and his head towards the ground and his arms flailing instead of flapping and --

boom.

The earth groaned, rumbling as it split itself again and again, stone becoming dirt becoming sand. It caught him, and he moaned, but he was safe and unhurt and he would live to try again.

[Noth]

It was an unspoken facet of being a hermit and an outcast that one occasionally caught glimpses of things that were unseen by the general public. People often went into the woods, or near the assorted cliff edges, or off into remote areas for the sake of some hint of privacy, and the fact of the matter was that there were typically already persons around those areas who had staked claims there long before the enterprising privacy seekers ever arrived.

Noth had long since grown aware of the fact that there were strange things to see in the world, and that his relative isolation made him privy to some events that would otherwise go entirely unnoticed. He had grown accustomed to that particular fact, and had even attempted to twist it to his advantage. After all, the people who typically wanted to be away from others usually were withholding power or ability that might have been cause for alarm had others seen it, and the twilight hybrid could think of far less effective ways of gathering talent to his crimson-handed banner than simply meandering the woods in search of pariahs practicing their parlor tricks.

The twilight hybrid took notice of the faintest whisper of wind where it ought not to have twisted, noted the way that it had shifted its position in an unnatural fashion, unbefitting of a normal movement. Crimson eyes observed carefully as it gently whirled around the edges of the trees, rattling the dead canopies softly with its airy caress. The whispers of wind brought him to their possible source, and the Avriel spent several moments simply observing as the man spoke aloud to some unseen force. Could it be that there was actually something there, or was it simply another case of a delusional person speaking to something they had contrived within their own heads?

He shrugged, finding that he had nothing better to do for the immediate time; he had been out hunting, but the acquisition of fresh flesh could wait a few moments until he had resolved what manner of ordeal was before him. Despite his relatively calloused viewpoint towards the supernatural and the unknown after having been exposed to it so heartily and so often, it still came as something of a shock when the man suddenly took off into a dead sprint through the forest, his arms waving up and down in mock imitation of what he could only assume was a bird. In truth, he resembled a small child far more than any avian entity, and Noth quickly questioned whether or not the man was entirely sane, or whether he had somehow reverted to a state of more primitive intellect.

Eventually, Noth knew, he would run out of room to run, or else he would trip and fall over one of the many branches scattered throughout the place, or perhaps he would simply tire himself out so thoroughly that he would naturally desist in his extreme pace. Yet, as the Avriel observed, there was another unnatural gust of wind, as though it had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and suddenly the man was thrust upwards into the air. He did not fly even remotely as high as the birds of the heavens, nor was his sudden flight at all graceful in application, but aesthetics aside, the functionality of his ascent seemed to be entirely similar to that of more bird-like creatures.

And then, like a rock that has reached its maximum height, and suddenly realized the erroneousness of its decision to fly, the man plummeted directly to the ground, his legs twirling over his head in mockery of a flip until he landed harshly upon the ground. The Avriel had certainly seen control of the elements before, and whilst he wasn’t an expert on the subject by any means, it didn’t take one to realize that this fellow had at least some semblance of control of the wind. There was the briefest twinge of jealousy at the thought that someone who lacked wings entirely would be capable of flight whereas he was still confined to the ground, but several mental reiterations of the collapse the man had suffered allowed him to bite down on that envious emotion.

“You know, I don’t believe the flapping helped much.” He spoke aloud as he began to approach the stranger, curious as to why he was attempting flight in the first place.

[Robin Stark]

The earth clung to him. Dirt clods and pebbles grabbed at the frayed edges of his worn clothes.

"I guess not," he replied, shrugging. The wind continued, pulling at his limbs, shifting his hair, calling him forward and upward and free. "I don't usually run into people out here," a breeze clipped his words, catching his sound and almost changing it into something new -- why are you in my space? It rolled against the dirt, suspicious and careful like a cat, only daring to throw words at the armored man. Robin offered the stranger a gruff smile, sharp with fear.

The ground trembled because he didn't. The deep under rolled and threatened, daring to stretch up and steal him from the glaring surface. Robin rubbed his thumb against his forefinger. His body was tense with suspicion.

The wind layered between them, cold, quick breezes, warning against any advance. "You're making them nervous," a bark, a laugh, weighed with discomfort. A gust caught at this pants, urging him behind, promising him the whole sky. Flee, flee, flee.

"But you don't know how impressive that is," he watched the stranger with wide eyes. He wasn't alone. This man, despite his armor, his size, was -- and still, Robin felt the urge to run. "Should I be afraid of you?," he asked, his voice carrying easily in sincerity.

[Noth]

There was an almost unnatural amount of dirt that seemed to attach itself to the clothing of the stranger, as though it were embracing him in a supernatural hug. Of course, that seemed incredibly unlikely given that the elements didn’t actually possess any sort of sapience or conscious thought. Or… did they? After all, he had encountered all manner of strange and exotic entities throughout his brief tenure as the Prince of Eternal Mercies, and he supposed it wouldn’t be so terribly strange to suddenly discover that the elements as well for capable of thought and feeling.

The fellow responded, off-handedly agreeing that the flapping might not have assisted much in the endeavor. Gradually, he was cleaned up by the breeze, and promptly stated that he didn’t normally encounter others out in the wilderness. That stood to reason, because typically people didn’t inhabit the wilderness much. It wouldn’t be the wilderness if it was a metropolitan center of trade and commerce filled with dozens of persons, would it? It was a statement, but it seemed also to be a question, a threatening one at that if its tone was any indication. He raised a hand, palm upward in display of peace, a wicked grin curling across his features behind his armet.

The man spoke once more, stating that the twilight hybrid was making them nervous. It seemed apparent to the Avriel that he was discussing the Elements. He supposed that did give him his answer as to whether or not they were capable of independent thought or whether they were simply the natural components that made up so many things. It was fascinating to consider that he, a mortal, was capable of frightening supernatural elements, though he supposed it wasn’t altogether so out of the question. After all, he had slain the Gamekeeper, and she had been a rather grandiose and powerful entity, hadn’t she?

There was a question asked of him, one that was blunt, which seemed different than the standard. The Avriel considered him for several moments, allowing the trills to trickle onwards in quiet contemplation before giving a succinct nod of his head and a genteel utterance, “Yes.” It was actually rather intriguing that he wasn’t already frightened by him, though, perhaps he was afraid and was simply wondering at whether or not he was meant to be, or whether it was simply a delusion of his mind. “I am the Prince of Eternal Mercies. Whom are you?”

[Robin Stark]

The world trembled.

His ether splashed into the soil. The invisible energy caught on the surface, seeping through sand and stone into the under-it-all. Robin forced his spell out and away, the earth whispering through tree roots and ant hills. "Fear isn't something I've felt in...," he paused, allowing his mouth to curl into something like a grin. Felicia had killed the last thing to scare him. "It could be discomfort, maybe. Disgust?" He asked, his head tilting to the left, his eyes tracing the black armor. "There's this pit in my stomach. This...thing that's eating at my confidence. My bones feel loose and my tongue heavy and...," a gust blew between them, a reminder.

It didn't matter how he felt. They, a collective, stood strong with him.

Karem's pendant was cold against his chest.

"I've seen your bounty," and the almost-grin on his face broke into a smile, sharp with white teeth and pink lips stretched wide. "I don't need it and I don't want to fight," because he was afraid -- but the so called Prince probably guessed that; only a fool showed his enemies his cards, but nobody would have called Robin smart. "But I do want to know if you think you're worth it."

He sighed, and the wind sighed, and the earth sighed, and the river almost too far away roused onto its banks, sighed too. "I'm Robin. No fancy titles, sorry. How'd you get yours?"

[Noth]

There was a strange separation of humanity from the man before him, as though he was not used to feeling sensation in the same way that a normal person would, or at least that was the impression that the Avriel got from him. The way that he spoke so absent-mindedly about his emotions, as though they were distant things that were unfamiliar to him, as though they were not literal manifestations of feeling rattling around the interior of his mind was simultaneously fascinating and incredibly strange to behold.

Could it be that his mingling with the elements had somehow managed to distort his perception of reality to the point where he had lost any semblance of what was meant to be felt, and what was simply a delusional construct of his abilities? Had Defiance granted him mastery and control over the exterior world, but stolen away his ability to control the world within as a price for its power? It seemed incredibly likely given the way he continued to act, and the hybrid considered what the implications of that would be on a grander scale.

Previously, he had considered the abilities of mages to be nothing more than a boon, albeit a boon with the occasional societal disenfranchisement which led to difficulty, but a boon nonetheless. Now, though, listening to the disaffected man, the hybrid wasn’t entirely sure that the spark within them wasn’t a literal parasite, chewing away at whatever they were, feeding them with abilities and portions of itself so that they had no inclination of resisting as it casually ate away at whatever soul they had possessed.

His thoughts on the matter were shifted aside as the fellow spoke of his bounty, his teeth setting into a grin that seemed far too strained to be natural; perhaps he was affected by the fear after all. He further spoke of how he didn’t need the money that came along with the bounty; the twilight hybrid didn’t think that anyone necessarily needed money, but it was certainly far easier to operate with it, and he continued by acknowledging that he didn’t want to fight with the Prince. That was probably a wise decision, because Noth would certainly have slain him if it came to it.

Finally, he answered the question of who he was, stating that he did not possess a fancy title, but that he was curious as to how the hybrid had acquired his own. It was strange to see someone who was so visibly frightened of him ask him so many questions about what would in most cases be entirely irrelevant information, but he decided to humor the element-caster.

“An interesting question. I suppose that I am a viable threat to the current establishment of Etzos, or else they would not have supported the bounty. That said, it was originally disseminated by a man who worked with me to loot corpses off of Etzori soldiers in the past, so I’m not quite sure what lies might have been spread to those leaders to make them believe I am worth it.” He scoffed, recalling Gangui and the way that he had assisted him long ago. “But… yes. I am a deadly person, capable of deadly things. I lead a small army of criminals, and have managed to seize control of a surprising portion of the Underground’s criminal element. For all intents and purposes, I appear quite logically to be a monster, and I assure you that I am… but… there is more to it than that.”

He leaned into a nearby chunk of lumber, his guard lowering for the most part, though he kept his hand ready to swat away any sudden elemental attacks should they come. “The government as it stands is corrupt, and wicked to the point that they would slaughter their own citizens for the crime of being afflicted with an illness. Not even an illness that makes people into mindless monsters, either, but simply one that changes their appearance, makes them ugly in the sight of a society that condemns such physical distortion.”

“Beyond that, I certainly do lead a vast group of criminals, but that is so that I may direct them. Otherwise, they would all be scattered without any leadership, committing petty crimes hither and thither, hurting others as they wished with absolutely no regard to the grander framework. Yes, that means that there have probably been a few more caravan raids, a few more goods stolen from the already wealthy and corrupt, and a few lives lost in the process of defending said items, but I’m certain you’ll also see that there’s been a vast reduction in the number of serial killers, of rapists, of arsonists waiting to strike a match and kill dozens.”

“So, to answer your question. Yes. I imagine that I am quite worth the bounty, but I wouldn’t for an instant believe that my crime is acting against the city of Etzos. My crime is acting against those who lead.”

He smiled briefly to the man, before continuing in his answering.

“To be entirely honest, I was rescuing a man from a trio of bounty hunters who had mistaken him for someone else, and I needed something dreadful sounding to frighten them before we fought. I trust it worked, because they’re all dead now.”

[Robin Stark]

"So it's not even a real bounty?"

The man-creature was a mess of ink black feathers. He wasn't tall; fit, maybe, but Robin couldn't tell beneath all the plumage. "You just pissed someone off?" His eyes were the most intimidating, twin pinpricks of ruby-red. "That's it?" Here was the man charged with heinous crimes against Etzos, but his bounty was because of spite? This is why Robin hated people and actively advocated for the end-of-days.

He sat down, the world shaking as he collapsed butt-first. "Being deadly doesn't make you a monster," Or at least it wasn't the only box the bird-man had to check. His earthquakes didn't make him anymore a monster than an idiot with a particularly sharp knife. Fiona wasn't a monster because she was a mage, but because she largely pushed for the genocide of marine mammals. "The crime Underworld sounds fun though. How'd you manage that?"

Robin still watched the creature carefully; the earth still tensed and the wind whispered endlessly. This was a man not to be trusted.

"Saving someone doesn't sound monstrous. I mean, killing people isn't keen but they were bounty hunters, right?," he shrugged, a quick smile catching his lips. "And you got a cool name out of it!"

He sighed, "Look, can I be honest? I'm blackguard. I absolutely hate it. I hate the structure, I hate the hours, the benefits are absolute -- I mean, I don't eat anymore? I don't think I can get sick. I literally can mine gold and diamonds or whatever you want." This was a man who promised he was a monster. Who desperately wanted to change something for the better -- but he wouldn't succeed. Not with mindfucks like Zipper meowing about. The whole of the Etzos was built on the backs of the religiously organized and Robin doubted they'd let it fall to a bird.

But maybe with some help.

Maybe a small natural disaster might give him a way in.

"What I'm saying is, I hate the government too," for different reasons, mainly because all of human society disgusted him, but almost same page, "So how can I help?"