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Soli Deo Gloria
The icyene struggled, wounded, the abomination Tarshak proving to be a considerable challenge for even the Slayer Master Zorial, the White Guardian, who tried as she could to extinguish the Dragonkin flames that caught on her wings as she ran about the chamber in deep in the Brimhaven dungeon, its greenish stone structure somewhat haunting. It was a fitting place for the monster, she thought, as finally she got the flames out. She wouldn't miss a feather or two, after all.
I need to consult Mole or one of the other Masters about this... Her main mentor and friend in the art of slaying did most of her training when it came to being a Slayer Master even if officially she had been under the tutelage of Sumona and Kuradal in the past. This target proved to be a much greater threat to Gielinor if it lived. However, at present it proved too much for her, and she took what opportunity she could to slip out of the lair to recover.
She quickly glugged a dose of super antifire to protect herself from any metal dragons who decided it would be a good idea to attack her. When it came to Tarshak and the other dragonkin, none of the normal rules for slaying dragons or men applied. At least I can take comfort knowing there won't be Icyene for dinner tonight.
Not long after this thought had occured in her mind did an uneasy shift occur in the world around her that made the air seem colder. Despite being hyped on adrenaline, Zorial immediately recognized it as a shift to the Shadow Realm. Only one individual would do that, she reasoned, and turned around to face him, having felt his presence.
"Hello, dear White Guardian. Is our little pidgeon having trouble with the little lizard? Do you need a bit of help?" She beheld the owner of the affable yet deceitful voice that tickled her ears, the devious purple-robed Mahjarrat known as Sliske.
At first, anger and annoyance rose in the heart of the White Guardian for how he seemed to treat all of Gielinor as a toy for his own amusement. However, she did not let these emotions rear their heads; much like a schoolyard bully she knew the Mahjarrat was trying to incite a reaction from her. She wouldn't give him the pleasure.
"Why are you here, Sliske? And what do you really want?" She said, holding out one hand as she spoke in a somewhat stern voice as her eyebrows creased somewhat. Enough encounters with him had taught her to wear a facade that hid her often strong emotion, even if it was a bit of a strain.
"Ooo, that's cold. But I guess that just reminds you of where home used to be, Miss Icy Pidgeon?" Sliske said, still trying to tease her.
"If you've paid any attention at all, Mr. Puppetmaster, you'd know I come from Hallowvale, not from the Icyenic homeworld. I know you've had a haunt of your wights long enough there to know that." She said, crossing her arms and keeping a stern expression.
"You are right, you are right," Sliske said, seeming to enjoy their conversation, as evidenced by a mischevious gleam in his yellow eyes. "See, Zori, you're getting good at this now"
You don't have any right to use that nickname...Only my close friends can do that!
It had been ever since Zaros returned that she had begun to adopt such a manner with addressing him.
She reminisced a bit on this most recent adventure that she and the Black Guardian partook in. It seemed that he was keen on how Guthix blessed the two to work together, and how they were far more powerful together than they were apart. She also now knew Zaros to be one of the most, if not the most powerful of the young gods. Before that time, she had lent enthusiastic support to Armadyl at the Empyrean Citadel, when at that time Sliske had announced his contest for the gods, and during the battle against Bandos the birdlike deity of mercy and justice was the obvious choice as far as she was concerned. However, reflecting back on it, she realized she may have been simply acting on emotional fervor. At least, that's what she told herself.
Perhaps in her time with the ancient deity of fate and control, she had learned more control of said emotions, which she would later learn ran stronger in the Icyene than in other races.Mole had always been more keen with him, but meeting with him herself gave Zorial a more favorable view of Zaros too.
Peace...since the Sixth Age began and I became the White Guardian, all I've wanted is to bring peace. But mere ideals do not save. For all the virtues of the Godless, Garlandia among my own kind in particular, what they lack is an understanding of logistics.
"I am a defender, Sliske. I adapt and I learn as is needed." Zorial replied, echoing the simplicity of Mole's speech as best she could.
"A defender of what, might I inquire? The Empty Lord? Gielinor? Just yourself? No one really knows whose side you are on; it's so fun to sit back and watch the chaos unfold." Sliske chuckled a bit, which incited the Icyene's nerves. "But you can tell your dear Uncle Sliske, can't you?"
"Like I'll listen to that." She said, closing her eyes. "Sometimes it is more noble to conceal the truth from those who would bear it unworthily."
"Is that what you tell yourself to feel righteous?" Sliske said, as if holding his tounge like a dart and trying to aim his statement into the bullseye of Zorial's heart.
She didn't answer him, and her face wore a pensive expression. She supported Zaros at present for stopping the Elder Gods, yet not with the fervor the other followers did. How could she explain to anyone what she had considered in her private hours? That there was something in all of Gielinor's deities, and while not all were completely 'pure', all had some wisdom? That their experience was something she and all of Gielinor could benefit from despite the destruction they had wrought?
"Ah...I seem to have struck a nerve." The Mahjarrat said, calmer this time. "Perhaps you are merely hiding the same 'truth' you consider me unworthy to bear from yourself too." He said, as if poking at the proverbial dartboard of Zorial's heart more directly, not even bothering to throw.
"You have no true loyalty, do you? No matter where you go, you're a hypocrite. You can't belong anywhere. Every place you leave, you leave betrayed friends in your wake. And when you go someplace new, you know you'll betray them someday too! Ah...we're more alike than you know, White Guardian." He laughed a bit, as his words then stabbed like a knife, and Zorial stepped back slightly as if she had actually been stabbed and had to tend to a bleeding wound.
It is true...I don't really have one faction to call home now. Before the Sixth Age, it was Saradomin and then it slowly became Guthix. But then I learned more. Then he was killed. Before my very eyes. I'll always be learning more about Gielinor and about its inhabitants, mortal and divine. I have a lot of friends, I have the Slayers...but...
Sliske seemed to stare intently at Zorial as she contemplated her reply, somewhat anxiously as the slayer of Guthix took a few slow steps forward, further setting the Icyene on edge.
"Oh, and that's not where the similarities end," He said, his voice dropping to a creepy and serious tone. "You and your dear Moley are both the twin cores around which fate turns. Why, the two of you can do whatever you please! The center of all the plans of the gods, the center of attention...ah, how lovely it must be to be you!" He continued laughing, and the Icyene took a few deep breaths before steeling herself. She ignored him using her closest nickname for Mole.
If their words were like swords, Sliske was positioning himself for a fatal attack with the blade about to drop on Zorial's head.
"Unlike you, though, snake, I still have standards." After an answer presented itself to her mind, Zorial parried the sword of the Mahjarrat's words. "You see Gielinor as a toy to be played with. I see it as the world I love, that I want to save." With that, Zorial smiled somewhat.
Sliske looked shocked, but on further recollection Zorial realized that he was probably wearing a facade of an expression for dramatic effect.
"I am bound by a well-trained conscience, unlike you. A schemer need not be corrupted by cunning...they can have the heart of a dove and all a serpent's guile. What you've started, I intend to undo and turn against you." By that point, Zorial had started to gain a heroic resolve and tone to her voice, though her revelation of her intention was not simply a burst of emotion.
It seemed like Sliske was somewhat bored by this comment, as he yawned and rolled his eyes, but she couldn't tell if he was simply acting for effect or if he actually felt that way. "Yes, yes, you're also Gielinor's ideal hero, I understand. Sometimes I wonder why Zaros even bothered with you."
"You said it literally a few moments ago. That Mole and I are the cores around which fate now turns." Zorial said, relishing the opportunity to get a rhetorical edge on the serpent.
"Touche, miss Zorial, touche. But I wonder if this scheme you're devising to bring peace will really work. If not even Zaros could bring the unity necessary for peace, what makes you think you have a chance to? What if someone doesn't agree with your ideal?"
"It is my job to guard Gielinor from all who would abuse it. But there is more than one way, more than just violence to convince someone of your cause." Zorial said, wavering somewhat.
"A funny remark, coming from the lips of a proud Slayer Master." Sliske shot back in a subtly aggresive manner. "What about Bandos's death? You caused that indirectly by supporting Armadyl."
"That didn't mean...I enjoyed it." Zorial said, looking somewhat downcast. "I wish...it didn't have to be this way. Something was lost even when...that tyrant died. A race lost its last member...and I lost a friend." She said, thinking of the face of Zanik as she spoke.
"Is your heart going to bleed this much on your sleeve when you have to face me, Zorial?" He said, mildly interested.
"...We'll see when that day comes." Zorial then said, opening her eyes.
"It seems I've found a fitting rival in this game...one I created myself. Oh, the fun, it never ends..." He said, then laughing.
Zorial couldn't deny that she'd enjoyed this little debate, even if Sliske and what he had done and continued to do made her stomach churn.
"Well, I have important things to be getting to now. Contests of the gods to watch, wights to watch over...you know, the usual. Farewell for now, little miss White Guardian."
Those were his last words before he left, leaving Zorial in the ordinary world again, looking out at the steel and iron dragons mulling about the caves beneath Brimhaven.
Now...back to what I was doing...hunting down Tarshak.
Zorial steeled herself, full of resolve for the realm she loved, and left the dungeon to recover and prepare to face the abomination that was once a dragonkin once again.