Kingdom of the Sun (Collector x Irish Rose)

[IrishRose80]

When Riayne told him that this mud-coated, bedraggled looking creature had been responsible for the grave injury of at least twenty guards, the Golden Emperor had not believed him at first.

Altherien had seen many things in his years upon the earth. He had been born a slave, lived as the pet of rich and powerful men, nearly died a soldier and Exalted as a king. However, he had to admit that this was more than a little beyond even his credulity. There were of course explanations as to how this would happen, but that would require a bit more information than he’d been given so far. “I must confess, when you told me that your soldiers had been disarmed and beaten by a single warrior, I wasn’t sure I believed it.” He turned his golden gaze towards the figure now standing before him in the blonde haired Dragonblood’s grip. “I find it even more difficult to believe now.”

Riayne grinned a little sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. “I know, I know. She looks like I fished her out of a mud puddle but she’s one of the best warriors I’ve ever seen. Nasty disposition though, and a hell of a left hook.” He rubbed his jaw ruefully, turning to grin at the woman. “Well, welcome to the court of the Golden Emperor, Altherien nis Vaeryn. I’d hoped you’d be here as a dinner guest and not as a prisoner but I’m flexible.” It was an innuendo if ever he’d heard one, but that was just how Riayne was. Had to let the fish swim, after all. He waited patiently for Riayne to turn his attention back to him, his expression becoming serious. “We’ve got a lot of men being tended to by the healers now. I did try to invite her to the palace to meet with you, but…well, she didn’t seem to keen on that.” Altherien inclined his head and turned his attention to the masked woman in question.
“Your reputation precedes you, of course. You have put a lot of my guards out of commission, all over a dinner invitation. Have you anything to offer in way of explanation?”

 

[Collector of Rarities]

Smiling Devil would have had several bruises of her own, were it not for the fact that Exalts rarely bled; such was the power of the Exalted, even the weaker Dragonblooded, that shedding their own blood was a choice rather than a consequence of being harmed. Still, under Riayne's guidance, the mortal guards had managed to subdue Devil and bind her, though not before she'd managed to shatter swords, spears and bones alike with her bare hands.

To say that Smiling Devil had a reputation was an understatement: any mercenary worth their salt had a reputation. Parents told their children to behave, lest Smiling Devil would come and eat them up. The masked woman had carefully cultivated a reputation as a monster, inhuman, cruel and deadly above all else, gladly embracing the title of Anathema that had been placed upon the Solars and Lunars by the Dragonblooded. Where some Solar Exalted might have fought tooth and nail to prove that they were not the demons that the Dragonblooded claimed they were, Smiling Devil enveloped herself in the label, using it both as a justification to demand exorbitant prices for her services and as a wall to put between herself and the rest of the world.

Devil stood at five feet and eight inches, with tangled raven black hair that hung just above her hips and mildly iridescent green eyes that hinted at her hellish ancestry. Her other facial features were difficult to discern, since they were hidden behind a white porcelain mask that was featureless, save for a pair of eyeholes and an unnaturally large grin, featuring large, blocky, inhuman teeth. She wore a long red coat that was torn, stained and presently caked with mud, dirt and blood after her fight with Riayne and his guards. The coat, like her black tunic and trousers, had seen better days, but the riding boots on her feet looked like they were about ready to fall apart. The only thing on her that didn't look like it belonged in a trash heap was the revolver at her hip. Made from golden Orichalcum, the weapon seemed almost impractically large for a handheld firewand, though Devil could both aim and fire it as if it weighed nothing at all. Her gunbelt also contained a few dozen cartridges of firedust with which to load the weapon, and a trained eye could also spy a few dozen more in smaller belts sewn into the inside of her coat.

Devil glared up at Altherien, either unaware or uncaring of his status as a god-king. "Yeah," she spat, her irritation having subsided little since her defeat at the hands of Altherien's guards. "I told them that I don't want your damn food and to get the hell out of my camp. When they didn't listen, I told them I'd feed them their own lungs if they didn't leave. They should have taken me seriously. Now, you can either let me leave or I'm going to go through you and anyone you put in my way." Though Devil was a Dawn Caste - one of the most powerful warriors in Creation - and having her arms bound behind her back was a minor inconvenience at best, the odds were still against her. She faced two other Exalts, as well as a good number of trained human guards whom Riayne could direct to great effect. Devil wasn't suicidal, but the sting of her defeat was too fresh and she spoke out of anger.