chaos 22 - convo with ban & rez

The arrival of the Master was akin to a mini-parade.

Once Arthur set his foot inside research facility, he was greeted by countless servants- both Undead and living- though by their appearance, they were hardly discernible from one another, least one possessed keen sense for corruption in the air... most likely, the progress of Dawn is to be thanked for that.

To some, that 'gratitude' is instead a blame.

Needless to say, the news reached Rowan fairly quick. The battle which turned pretty bad for the Huangzhou forces caused both a blow against the enemy and possibility to acquire new forces to join their ranks. Obviously, people like Hayashi and Meiyo were out of question... not only the two were hardened zealots, but the two evoked quite the bitterness in the Necromancer - one for the insults uttered, another for the injury inflicted. Yet still...

"Bring out the last fallen."

A command they immediately obey. Preserved, and in much better shape than he otherwise would be with the Vampires, Ban Heifang was carried out by the servants and onto the table, one covered in runic dust and transcriptions from countless rituals that happened here. A brief glance over, and the Rowan sharply inhaled.

Perhaps this body was still in good enough shape... and the soul in good enough mood to not give too much trouble in resurrection.
(Arthur Rowan)

This could go wrong on so many levels.

Still, despite knowing that it is the enemy infront of him, he knows that some may yet be able to see a different perspective in life, to see the gifts that the Rowan is capable of giving, the progress that he achieved so far. Of course, that would not come immediately... a trial of loyalty and time would be needed, but the gift of second chance should suffice at first.

Besides, if all things do go awry, a simple rip of tether is more than enough to end it all.

With the pause, the sickly blue-green light begins to emit from his palms; the runes begin to form around Ban's body, all made to call upon his soul that no doubt reached the stars, the warmth of Necromancer's mana spreading through his dead circuits. It's like a second breath... in a cold, endless void of Oblivion, a gentle grasp that tries to bring him back, a whisper that promises second chances.

"Guide this lost soul back to light, O Azrael."
"I offer thee a second chance and repentance."
"Please accept..."

A mutter, more out of symbolism than anything else. A force of habit, really... especially considering the actual ideals that he held in his mind. But to digress, the ritual continued, and not long before the whisper was made, the pull grew stronger - even if Ban tried to resist it, there was hardly any success in escape.

Perhaps if it were a beginner, someone who hardly had any clue... but against the Master as he is, someone who honed this craft for so many decades? It's impossible. Though, maybe, that's for the best.

"Come."
"You aren't done yet."
"Awaken."
(Arthur Rowan)

Corded down to the material world, there was little to no intermission between the vacuity between the Heifang's soul and the tethering gate that time expulsed, time soaked the former's quintessential matter. Maybe he had never quite passed, stuck in the grey between the then, the now and the reach that lain beyond in the metaphysical to truly pass.

Rather than resistance, or even light difficulty in guiding the late investigator's soul back into the life-imbibed fray of the living, Rowan would find the task to be nigh menial, as simple as spreading warm butter through the inner folds of sliced bread.

The corruption that seeps outwards is soon contained, verdant in the vilest ways those hues could manage, although the form of Ban's revenant body soon imbrued its substance back in, turning fluxes of Azrael's boons into artificial, funcional life.

Pale lids open, reprieving a hueless gaze of the darkness it had been confined to. They stare onto his remaker's own.
(Ban Heifang)

This comes as surprise.

Maybe there was something else in Ban, be it desire to understand the function behind Necromancy, or a subtle willingness to accept it for what it is - a tool that may give a second chance, or even more, provided the hands are skilled... whatever the actual reason is, it's met with an arch of brow, and a quiet comment.

"Odd... could've sworn it would be a lot more difficult."

Still, while any other Undead, especially the loved ones, are given warm introduction, the Necromancer is still wary - the revenant could always rebel against his master, or worse, even try to overpower him right now. While it would be very unlikely, considering the weakening that comes with it, it's still a possibility he holds up in his mind.

"Greetings. Ban, I believe, yes?"

"You died. According to reports, it was at the outskirts of Dawn, death against Vampires and those that serve them. Though, unlike the others, I decided it may be worthwhile to keep you around after all."

"Before we proceed into boring details like your orders and your directives..."

"How do you feel?"
(Arthur Rowan)

A jolt of life turns into a dart of motion, yanking Ban's torso forth and prompting his form into a sitting one, perpendicular and set upon the tarnished stretch of the table he had been posted upon. A sudden, labored, and rapid inhale.

Rebirth. As a newborn, he is revolved to where he sought to be, but after a few moments of hearing Rowan's discourse, a jaded perception of his condition made it seem as if the Heifang had been used to the notion of being what he had become for quite the while.

"Ban Heifang."

A hand, paler than it ought to have been, is pitched to his face, and its palm is slowly scrubbed against an eye.

"Yes. Arthur Rowan."

His gaze slowly looms from A to B, fixating on his own garbs, rather than Arthur's glare. He tatters for the taut patterns of his vests, but it is not his physicality that afflicts the man, denoted by a strained, whacked expression across youthful, but now gaunt features.

"Incomplete. I have- pendencies in this world."

(Ban Heifang)

Of course he had.

Everyone had something in this world, be it the past or some unresolved business. Needless to say, mending the unresolved business is something that Arthur specialized in, but despite the fact that he would try and offer Ban a new chance... there's still a fact of caution that remains.

Possibly, something that would remain for quite a while too.

"Do tell me about them. And..."

A pause. It would almost seem that Arthur was pondering on something, a thought that was deeply stuck in his mind, something that he wished to bring up all along- but only now, he had opportunity to say that.

"...Who killed Ophelia, exactly?"

"Did she die peacefully? How did they kill her?"

It's not easy to ready, but a hint of disgust, mixed with pinch of malice comes portrayed across his face- it's neither directed at Ophelia upon the mention of her name, nor Ban himself. A guess could bring up the notion that it's her murderers he's got unsettled score with, and yet...

The two scarlets stay, staring at him, waiting for answer and for the rest of his speech.
(Arthur Rowan)

Pendencies.

Effort. Strained thought. His features wrinkle and his nose shrinks, before the man's muddled awareness reforms into its proper faculties, slowly unmuddled by the ritual's pursuances.

"End the war. End the carnage."

And then his teeth grit all of a sudden, as do his eyes bulge, as if reminded of something grim.

"Destroy Malentine."

Ophelia.

Remembrance, regret. Powerlessness before the owed obedience of a code.

"The Qilin. Simora. Me and my-" The Heifang's words die down for a moment, trailed into a muffled gasp of subjection to a regained discomfiture, all born from a very woeful sequence of reminiscing. "-my wife . . could not save her."

"It was peaceful, once they fought through her resistance. Her heart- perforated. Pierced by Simora."
(Ban Heifang)

Noble cause... though, unfortunately, sided with wrong people, or at least in his mind. No matter how deeply into the Chaos he'd sink, or his own practices for that matter, he remained a human - and as a family man himself, he could relate to the loss of previous life he's had, the one where he's had wife, a brother, and friends... yet still, the Rowan could offer much more. In time.

"Yes. Malentine is quite dangerous. I've heard he sided with Tragedy, which prompts the fact that they will likely unleash something untold..."

"We may be on different spectrums, but Tragedy and her servants want to destroy the world as it is. The death of the world implies death of everyone, me and my people included."

"That's... that's where we have common ground."

Though, with the mention of Simora and the Qilin, he casts a frown. His lips press against one another, contemplating what to say- or rather, if he should say anything at all- but his expression tells a lot more than he could with words. It shows bitterness, a silent fury... one that passes as quickly as it arrived.

"...I see."

"It's a shame it had to come to this. Unfortunately, the war was unavoidable - the likes of Hayashi and Simora decided to attack my people, justifying it with Necromancy and Vampires... but I suppose neither realize that I cannot have too much freedom in choosing allies when fanatics threaten everything I have."

"And everything I love too."

A pause. His eyes turn back to Ban, and before any other exclamation from the Rowan is made, he asks.

"What do you think of your current situation?"

"Do you hate it? Do you think you're doomed, that it's over for you? Are you thinking how you can possibly get back to Huangzhou?"
(Arthur Rowan)

Ban's fingers slowly run through the pale, greyed stretch of his torso, gauging the severity of the corruption that now permeated him. Despite this, the man seemed- neutered? As if the realization of the profanation of his form had been nothing but a hindrance, or perhaps not even that.

Something worthy of disregard, altogether.

As his animus is slowly filled with the mandatory liveliness of life, even if artificial and brimmed with imperfection, the Heifang's speech seems to roll not as intermittently.

"Order." A finger skims over another, reckoning it. "Chaos." And another. "Lifestream. Necromancy. Kraus. Azrael."

The hand respective to the fingers that counted the aforementioned aspects limps to the edge of his 'seat', gripping theirbrim tightly.

"I have always been a scholar, Arthur Rowan. There is a reason I have always kept to elementalism, rather than delving into the ambits of the Virtuous or the Arcane, in either spectrum."

"It is . . hindering." His eyes rise to the necromancer's, once again. "You may have done wrong to house Baukdengrad. But how you choose to live is up to you. And how my folk has chosen to live, is up to them. You may hate one another, but I have fought for the ones I loved, gone or otherwise."

"But I do not care for the bickering. There is a reason I liberated Ophelia from my grasp when we first fought."

He limps backwise, allowing a beige wall to sustain the weight of his back, which was likely dimmed down by the brittleness of its density in undeath.

"Doomed? I am alive. And yes, there are many pendencies I have to sort, as I have said. And putting an end to this war, to whichever flank it stems towards, is one thing I must see through."

"Of course I am."
(Ban Heifang)

"Wrong to house Baukengrad?"

He arches a brow. It is expected that he would assume Vampires are frivolous here... or that they run rampant among Dawn's lands. The truth is far from that, however, as the Rowan kept them in iron gloves all along.

"You're still young... and I suppose you lack experience."

"It is nothing but tactical genius. When you're threatened by large force, it is best to acquire potent allies that can fight your fights for you. If you know how to keep them controlled, how to make sure that they do not harm your people, as we have... then it is only beneficial."

"So far, alliance with them was a lot better than expected. From tactical point of view, they've saved a lot of Dawn's people from Huangzhou's grasp, and won many fights for us. Maybe you'll learn one day. The same applies to many other things I do, really... Necromancy, the Arts of Chaos, the tools we use - they're all means to an end. To a successful end."

"Stand in the ashes of thousands, Ban, and ask if honour matters... silence will be your answer."

If anything, it reveals the truth behind Arthur's, raw but refined - for as long as you remain on top in the end, does any of this really matter? Heroes are born and they die, but the victorious remain.

"But yes, arguments aside... Delilah, come."

And then, a woman arrives. In her twenties, from what it seems- brilliant and beautiful, aged like a sweet fruit in its prime, with the silky hair and fair skin. It would almost be questionable as to why Arthur even called her here, but... if looked closer? There's a hint of slightly paler skin, and the energy that Ban himself now emits.

"She's undead, just like you are. Except... she has a lot of work and improvements made for her. A real second chance at life."

"I won't sugarcoat, Ban. I'm not interested in killing people needlessly, but I'm not interested in giving potent boons to traitors. Should you turn your back against Dawn... our cooperation will be cut short, and you'll be sent back to Void."

"If you'll remain faithful, however, then you will yet be whole. Truly whole... and perhaps even more."

"Is this clear?"
(Arthur Rowan)

Ban pinched the bridge of his nose, still managing the colossal intake of information bestowed upon him by the former Adjudicator. To his moral lecturing, he does not emit so much as a nod that is conjoined by heave, groaning athwart a pair of jaded, quilled lips.

If Delilah had been meant to entice him into seeking boons, however, Arthur would soon find that his interest in enriching his own condition was lacking. Perhaps it would be convenient, not to rot, but he held different things in mind.

"Turn my back on Dawn. Remain faithful."

"I've told you what I wish for, Arthur. An end to the carnage. Malentine's death."

"What do you want from me? What do you expect of me, even?"
(Ban Heifang)

An idealist, then.

It's met with almost amused smile that Arthur produces when such response is offered, but he knows better- he knows that with time, perspectives change, and people eventually wish for more than they currently are... or, instead, they die before that stage is achieved. Either is possible.

"Mm. Very well."

"From you... I suppose a little payback in helping about Legionnaires to uphold the law in city or their patrols will suffice. Otherwise, your orders are the following..."

A brief pause, an inhale, and the Necromancer speaks one line after another.

"You may not stir conflict between citizens of Dawn nor provoke anyone."
"You may not engage in combat with people from Dawn. Exceptions are self-defence and spars."
"You may not travel to Huangzhou, other than in patrol with other Legionnaires."
"You may not do actions that would compromise Dawn."
"You may not hunt down Vampires... Malentine is excluded. Do whatever if you encounter him."
"You may not kill anyone from Dawn, under any circumstances. A capture after self-defence at most."

Finally, he pauses after the directives are spoken- while it may sound like barrage of words, perhaps even annoying, it is an important like of all Necromancers to ensure that their creations do not do wrong... and it would be silly of the Master of this Art to not do such thing.

"Other than helping my people with tasks here and there, I do not need anything else from you."

"I suppose that would be all."
(Arthur Rowan)

Slow nods reaffirm all that he assimilates at every line that Arthur spits, as if the motion helped with computing the newly issued directives. Tasks, labor, commands. He had not expected to become a drone so quickly, but the much about his stay and the condition that regarded Huangzhou would have to wait.

"Very . . well. I expect to be returned my possessions at som moment, as well as to discuss- Huangzhou. And this war."

The man slides of the table's tawny length, plopping upon his feet, readjusting to the tender-fleshed measure of his renovated body, or as much the world could be attended to, considering the circumstances of his revival.

"But I do believe you have more abeyances to sort than I. Later, I suppose."

Weariness and frazzle, aggravated by a vagarious, but rotting condition seem rather quick to settle in, as a natural aftermath to his return.
(Ban Heifang)

It was inevitable.

To ensure that his new creation would not commit something terrible against Dawn, that's a given. Only a rookie Necromancer could do such mistake... especially considering the past. Still, perhaps with time, Ban could become whole again - just as he promised. Until then...

"Mm. You can go get your possessions on your own. Approach whoever took them, or take your time investigating, and tell them that I approved of it."

"I suppose if they don't believe you or if they refuse to, then I'll do that myself... but I'm sure you're a grown man and can handle it."

A smile at the last pair of words. It didn't sound like it meant to offend him, but to poke mildly. With a nod, he adds.

"Yes, I do have other matters to sort out. We can speak later."

"Farewell."
(Arthur Rowan)