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A flashback to The Bird and the Beast
"Wow...what a view!"
Zorial perched atop the Tower of Armadyl, looking down upon the sun gleaming down upon the white city of Falador and the greenery of Asgarnia between the farms, the gates to the citadels and Port Sarim. Her sky-blue hair blew in the wind and her two white wings were like two curtains draped across her back. She watched as the troops of the deity of justice and mercy gathered together to prepare a raid on a Bandosian caravan that was rumored to be near the Draynor Mansion. It was a hustle and bustle; towers were raised around the land to claim territory. They had been less destructive than Saradomin and Zamorak had been in their battle at least for now.
She saw the Bandosian tower in the north, the crude and imposing structure where one she fought against for the sake of the Dorgeshuun resided, who had been severely weakened by the defeat. Still, there were forces in Gielinor willing to support him, amongst the goblins and orks and ogres and even some humans.
One among those being her friend and mentor, Black Mole.
She knew his reasons...but at the same time it made her somewhat uneasy. Someone had to preserve the truth of what he actually said and taught, rather than letting history be written by the winners. The Bandosians had war in their heart, and set their mind on the glory of battle with those allies of the one who had risen like a phoenix.
"White Guardian!" One of the Aviansies flew to her. "Aren't you going to join the attacking party?"
"Yes. I was just taking some time to reflect. Thank you for fetching me." The Aviansie gave a reassuring call like an eagle, and Zorial joined him in flying before they dove down.
The party was garbed much in the Armadylian armor that looked like bronze weaved over crimson with blue gems, a noble looking raiment that for the sake of the battle Zorial herself had donned, ready to slay more of the forces that would have trampled the Dorgeshuun had nothing been done about it. She had no qualms of conscience about it...but how would she explain....
It took about fifteen minutes to a half an hour for them to wheel around from south of Falador to nearby the haunted mansion, where the Bandosian diviners had already set at work to gather energy for Bandos's side of the beam, one that would fire at the tower rather than being locked in a tug of war as was previously in Lumbridge. Armadyl was noble; for now, Zorial was on his side. Peace for Gielinor and the gods as guides but not gone...the choice was obvious.
The humans got in tussles with some of the orcs and ogres who were carrying the containers for the divine energy, and the Aviantese fired off arrows from the skies, the ogres not being able to reach them while the shamans were able to at least singe them.
Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of him, tied-back black hair, long bangs, mutton chops and blindfold and all, watching over one of the caravans. He noticed her in turn.
He was wearing a modified version of the Bandosian warpriest armor, a rough breastplate with a somewhat rugged robe underneath, the familiar cape of a Slayer Master around his shoulders. Normally his arms were covered by armor or robes; perhaps being among them made him more bold to show raw muscle. He was strong, both physically and magically.
"Black Guardian! The forces of Armadyl are right there...fight them! Rip them apart like you have the others!" One of the human Bandosian supporters called out before attempting to chuck a javelin at one of the aviansies.
"I will not fight this cohort." He said bluntly, and the orks seemed to look at him strangely.
"Why not? You sign up to fight for Big High War God; why you stay hand? Mercy is for birdmen!" One of them grunted out through pointed teeth.
"Not to fight, to observe and preserve. And...we fight for glory, do we not? The glory I seek is not merely in the battle...but in the spoils." He crossed his arms.
"What spoil Black Warrior want?" One of the goblins asked.
Oddly, the battlefield was still as the Bandosians discussed the sudden issue. Perhaps the Armadylians didn't feel like it would be proper to attack while their enemies were settling a dispute.
"I would like....The White Guardian." He said, pointing a finger in her direction. Zorial looked somewhat embarrased, blushing slightly. The Armadylians cringed a bit, worried at just what the other World Guardian would do.
...Come on, you're embarrasing me now... Zorial thought, laughing awkwardly.
"Be...careful..." The Aviansie said, hiding himself in a tree, clutching a throwing star in case the situation got awkward.
"...Will you go with me? Otherwise...we'll have to fight." Mole said, approaching her in a mock menacing but ultimately playful way. Zorial was like a deer in the face of a hunter, until she realized what was going on...then she put on her mask and played in the game.
"Are you sure you could defeat me?" Zorial said, laughing, spreading her arms and wings and enjoying chewing the scenery. "You're doubted by your own side!"
"...Warriors are not without honor, Zori- erm, White Guardian." Mole reached up and played with his own mutton chops for a moment before returning to the facade of a Bandosian warrior. The forces with him, stalled by the 'diplomatic discussion', got impatient and restless.
"Raah! Me want to crush birdmen and birdmen followers!" One of the orcs said, bashing a wooden shield with one of the Bandosian ceremonial maces.
"I can prove my worth by winning against the White Guardian without a single blow." Mole said, glancing knowingly in Zorial's direction.
"Really? I accept your challenge." Zorial said, tensing into a battle pose. If she weren't trying to act serious, she would burst out laughing.
"Here I come!" He said, walking up to her and then tickling her on the shoulder, causing the Icyene to involuntarily giggle. The armies by them looked absolutely dumbstruck.
"...Is this some kind of strange courting ritual?" One of the other Armadylian warriors said, shaking his head.
"...I do not know." The aviansie said, slowly putting the star away but still having a tense hand near it.
"No, I am defeated!" Zorial said, in a dramatic wail, as she let herself fall to the ground with wings splayed like two fur carpets behind her back. The Armadylian forces were nearly about to panic, apparently losing one of the main champions that fought for their side.
"...As the victor, I will now claim my spoils." Mole attempted to sound completely deadpan, but ended up sounding somewhat affectionate nonetheless. He bent down and gently scooped the Icyene up and cradled her. Zorial relaxed a bit, scrunching up her wings so as not to get in Mole's way.
"What are you doing...White Guardian?!" The Aviansie said, then swooping down and flying overhead.
Mole looked up at the Aviansie. "You do not need to worry...."
"We're friends. The battlefield won't change that." Zorial said, smiling, before letting her eyes close and starting to doze off a bit.
"...I don't think I've ever seen anything like this." The Aviansie said. "I'll just have to take you at your word."
"I will take care of her. You have my word." He said, then starting to walk off the battlefield. The soldiers just looked at one another dumbfounded, as if the brainpower devoted to the fight was now trying to figure out just what was going on between the two warriors.
What a strange way to end a battle...the forces were not routed, yet the armies were scattered. The morale of the armies were not reduced by defeat or raised by victory. Yet, each of the sides walked away from the "skirmish" with an equal amount of divine energy, and perhaps with a better feeling in the air than at any conflict in this war, or any in the Sixth Age so far.