"'Ey boss! BOSS!" The gruff cries of middle-aged man caused visible movement from within the tent he stood just outside of, but this presumably favorable jump in activity quickly made him shift his weight nervously from one foot to the other. It was probably due to the excessive commotion his call had prompted inside; he could distinctly hear glass falling to the ground, ceramics shattering, and furniture toppling over, among other things. He would have wondered how one person could possibly have such a hard time navigating through a mere tent, but he (knowing his boss, a notorious alcoholic) seemed to keep quiet.

Emerging from the entrance after at least two minutes of wandering, breaking, and subsequent curses of pain, was the man in question. He towered over his lackey's short height and overshadowed the latter's common garb with pure black attire. A bandanna of the same color draped through the fingers of one of his hands, and he seemed to have avoided shaving his face for weeks. Dark circles complemented two bloodshot eyes. The lackey seemed almost taken aback, both bushy eyebrows lifting. "Oy, Boss, ya look like 'ell."

"I know, ya god-damned rat. Whadda hell do you want?!" The boss grumbled, using the base of his wrist to wipe some sleep out of the corners of his eyes.
"Uh...well, er- dose caravans are arriving in dat Elfy city, Boss. Der gons ta go in soon and we won't have time enough ta loot 'em." The other thief murmured, making sure to keep his eye contact elsewhere. He kept both hands held behind his back in an almost polite gesture, albeit showing some of his insecurity. The boss didn't hesitate to snap back, fire in his intoxicated eyes. "I DON'T GIVE A FUGGIN' DAMN! Unless those carr'vans got wimmin in 'em, I got some sleep to be takin' care of."

"B-But Boss-"
"Why're you still standin' here?! Get a move on!"
"But Boss, you were da one who organized dis raid," his lackey said in a near whisper, almost defeated by his drunken employer. But the comment seemed to lighten up the boss's expression, as if he had suddenly realized the obvious.
"...Oh! In dat case, let's go lib'rate 'em of their worldly goods. Heheh." The lower-ranking thief took a large step to the left just in time to clear the walkway to the tent and thus prevent his boss from blindly stumbling into him. When he had steadied himself as best he could, both thieves started in the direction of the rest of the camp (the lackey doing his best to avoid his boss's swerving gait). A few criminals were simply making due with their current conditions in the middle of nowhere, sitting outside playing cards or smoking. But, with the sight of their leader, they knew what they had to do.

---

The distinct sounds of bone cracking and organs rupturing filled the Hall of Destruction, then went silent as quickly as they had begun.

A lifeless body fell limp to the floor, collapsing in a heap at Ita's feet. Her teeth were bared in a feral scowl, both bloodstained paws still clenched to bear unlimited fury. The man's eyes had glazed over; crimson fluid still dripped from the corner of his slightly-opened mouth and from several wounds on his neck and torso. Bones were visible through the liquid, though shattered and jagged. Breathing heavily, the Goddess of Chaos took a single step back from her victim, both war boots sliding out from under him. Her attempted control of her rage was merely a facade, and in one swift outburst she delivered a powerful kick to the already beaten corpse. Blood from the broken body created a gruesome trail on the Hall's marble floors.

She turned, eyes aflame with such hatred they seemed to possess the power to form sparks from thin air. On the opposite area of the room to her position was Halrakka, blissfully ignorant of the violence about him as he played with a toy ball next to the Vala's throne. Beside him was the protective caretaker of the half-vala-half-archangel, Malisan, who rose from her sitting position to eye the goddess in a somewhat more defensive posture. Had she not been present, Ita would have certainly moved to take out her anger on her infant son.

"A bit excessive, are we?" she jeered, her words accompanied by the faint rising of one corner of her lips. The Vala fumed. Her anger seemed literal through the heat that rose from her body and blurred the background visible just around her. "Be conscious of your words, harlot; when you are no longer needed, we'll see how well I tolerate your defiance." Malisan didn't seem intimidated by the threat. Ita turned back toward the only window in the Hall of Destruction, staring outside as if consumed by thought. The information her messenger had given her was too much for her already short fuse. All of her recent losses in battle were hard to tolerate, and now another?

Ita had sent an elite strike force to the tree-city of Yomeniampa to force the citizens and Guard to reveal where the goddess' former daughter and nemesis, Charlotte, was (then proceed to burn that area to the ground and slay the valkyrie Ita so hated). But her messenger revealed the awful truth of the whole expedition. When the army had arrived, the local elves had already known weeks in advance about the planned assault, and were more than prepared. Setting up an elegant camouflaged trap, the army had reached the base of the Yomeniampa Tree where they were almost immediately approached by a spokesman of the city nearly armed to the teeth with concealed weapons.

When the army's commander, Fenrin, demanded to know where Charlotte was by any means necessary, the spokesman casually shrugged off the statement with a simple "I haven't a single idea who you're referring to." Fenrin attacked, planning on merely killing the man and moving on to the next plausible location of Charlotte's dwelling, but his single act of aggression initiated a massive ambush from nearly the full force of the Yomeniampa Guard. While the army took little casualties, they were quickly driven out of the city. Entire squads of warriors lost contact with one another amidst the dense forest around them, and some groups wandered off into the grasslands in search of civilization. They still remain missing.

Ita was both infuriated and embarrassed at her loss, using the excuse that if she had been present then the demand would have gone much smoother. Failure at war, she concluded, would never be an option again. It would be a decision she would need to uphold with extreme ferocity in order to achieve.

The tepid breeze plucked at the taut banner, but there was little such a force could do to it. Yet again, Charlotte's banner flew, but this time she was getting ready to begin recruiting again. Recruiting in Yomeniampa was not an option at all, since she had already brought so much horror upon the elven city. With the fourth incarnation of her favorite green shirt(and for luck, had bought three extras, including one of the skimpy elven variant) on her form, she tapped lightly at Pepper's flank. The warmare gave a whinny in response, and slightly stepped up the rate at which they moved. Lomedor was the ultimate destination, but any other little town on the way was even easier to recruit at. Besides, peasants make excellent sappers and siege engineers.

She passed by a doldrum little caravan of human, and elven merchants alongside their guards, giving them all a pleasant little wave. They waved back, a couple of the guards talking excitedly they had stolen a march over night to fool some inept thieves. This did not bug Charlotte overly-much, but it got her to thinking. If they were early, this meant that whatever the thieves had planned would be in the incorrect spot. Or, perhaps, the thieves were rushing down the road like idiots. Either way, it meant bad things for the lone mercenary. Unless of course the thieves were well lead and efficient, then they would be making certain to overshoot the caravan. Then they would likely have a full force on horseback, archers, men designated to tie up the guards while the others hijacked entire wagons and drove them away. The moment that occurred, the surviving bandits would all bolt and follow the caravan, using bows to keep the guards at a distance. Any captured merchants would make hostages with rich ransoms, and would make certain the Yomeniampa guard would not strike without a guaranteed battle plan.

"'Ey, deres a wimmin! Lets get 'er, boys!" Came the shout from the woods. The noise of a small horde of bandit horsemen leaping from semi-concealed positions in the forest around filled her senses. She drew Fall of Blades without a moment's notice, the pleased blade giving a scream of delight. She could sense the unreadiness and the drunkenness of this force, alongside its unorganized nature. No horse archers, but plenty of men with swords. Most of them without shields. Charlotte raised her blade and fired off a bolt of deadly Chaos energy, striking a lead horseman squarely in the chest. He fell off his horse, screaming in pain as other horsemen trampled him.

"Boss, I dun think she's a caravan girleh."
"Damn you, we are gunna bag 'er anyways!" Came more shouts from opposite sides of the horde. She was encircled, now, and they were slowly circling her. Pepper gave a bizarre neigh as the warmare watched the horde. They paused in their circling, and brought their horses to point inwards at her at a couple barked orders. Pepper continued to circle until she landed upon the side facing towards the caravan, with a particularly murderous glint in her large eyes. The horse was clearly malnourished, and the creature seemed ready to bolt at any moment. Although she was heavily outnumbered, her own estimates putting the bandits at a grand total of thirty men, all on horseback. Their apparent leader lifted his sword dramatically as Charlotte gave a smirk in his direction.

"Chaos! Let none but yourself claim my life, I am still not ready to die once and for all! Especially not to such scum." Charlotte shouted, allowing the voice of a commander to wash over them. The man dropped his sword as Charlotte dug her heels into Pepper, spurring the warhorse into an immediate gallop. The other horses, worse trained, reared up, losing themselves precious seconds. Pepper evaded the sickly paint as Charlotte brought her sword into the mouth, left open by the iron bit of the creature's owner. Such negligence, she thought, as her sword cleaved the horse's jaw and above from its body, and continued the strike into the stunned rider. He fell off the horse with horrific wounds to his chest. He screamed, the first of many on that day. She brought her shield up to counter the blow of a man who had switched the sword that bore his sword to strike her. The glancing blow jarred her arm, and she flinched at the sudden surge of pain. Pepper slowed her charge automatically, seeing no targets, and Charlotte wheeled the intelligent horse around.

Come and get me, Ita. Charlotte broad casted over the telepathic bond that she had purposefully retained with the goddess. The men formed up into a solid mass, and correctly into a non-wedge. A wedge was spectacular at destroying a flank, but a solid mass was much better for striking a lone horsewoman.

"Well, Pepper, I loved you." Charlotte whispered to her darling horse. She scratched Pepper just behind the ears with the hilt of Fall of Blades, just where the warmare adored it so.

[OOC: Uhm... <.< >.> I'm not a slacker. Not at all. Don't mind meeee!]

Miles of grassland and mountain now was between the small group and the Temple of Chaos. Ita needed to salvage any soldiers she could, so finding loose squads of her broken army was crucial. If her military status had been any better, each and every one of them would have wandered endlessly into Salquedor or eventually starved to death (not before resorting to cannibalism and self-mutilation for food, however). But once again, Ita would play the role of a benevolent savior. A benevolent savior that would undoubtedly beat and torture those she saved as an example.

Ita would have teleported directly to the Yomeniampa outskirts had she not decided to bring Halrakka along for his first journey outside the Chaos Fortress. The toddler sat blissfully on Malisan's lap as she controlled the horse they both rode on. Ita's son was already beginning to speak basic words, occasionally shouting "Hal! Hal!", how he referred to himself at the time. The goddess herself was leading the way atop a dark brown warg; Malisan kept her steed's distance from the creature due a particularly foul stench that Ita seemed totally unaware of. It continuously gnawed on its bit, muscles twitching with restlessness, but Ita effectively kept it in line and walking at a steady pace a horse could keep up with.

The first small group Ita came across didn't welcome her as warmly as she'd have hoped. It was composed of a mere four soldiers tucked just inside the forest's entrance, who had been seen on the move in the direction of the grasslands. Ita, Halrakka and Malisan received cold looks from each of them, as if the warriors were trying to avoid such a confrontation. After a bit of firmness and pressing questions from the Goddess of Chaos, they finally adjusted their route to join her.

"We split off from a larger squad deeper in the forest, who had set up camp a few miles west of Yomeniampa City," one of the soldiers grunted bitterly.
"They expected either Colonel Fenrin or you to come get them. We expected no one to come save us, so we left," another explained.
A third chimed in with, "And that bandit camp close-by seemed fixin' ta' rob us for all we're worth." Ita nodded and turned her warg in the given directions, now followed closely by Malisan and Halrakka. The soldiers made the decision to wait in their current position for the rest of the army to be led, their goddess quickly disappearing in the tangles of branches and leaves.

Come and get me, Ita.

Half an hour into the trek, Ita jerked back on her mount's reigns and ordered it to an instant stop. Malisan did the same with her horse, circling it around the warg so the two steeds stood side-by-side. Halrakka's caretaker lifted an eyebrow at the Vala, who had taken an obvious U-turn in mood. Her breathing was heavier, her teeth were bared and her ears were pressed firmly against her skull. She appeared to be staring into nothingness, like her attention was focused elsewhere. "Charlotte. She's here somewhere."

Malisan hadn't a clue who Charlotte was or why the name carried any significance, but Halrakka seemed to pick up on the tenseness of the situation with a blithe but ominous "Ooooooooh." Ita instantly jerked her warg into a gallop, emerging from the brush into what appeared to be a road leading directly to the tree-city itself. What caught her attention, however, was a solid mass of soldiers beside a caravan. Her quick eyes scanned the area for any way around the warriors that were obviously not her own, but picked up none (especially none that could safely permit her son's passage). These people had no right to keep the Goddess of Chaos from reaching her troops and, ultimately, Charlotte.

"Maim! Kill! Burn!" Halrakka shouted cheerfully, obviously having no idea what the words actually meant. Malisan instantly tossed a bitter glare in Ita's direction, who was grinning back at her son.
"Fantastic idea, 'Rakka!" Ita turned to the crowd, a deranged smile dancing across her jaws. And with a single wave of a clawed hand, the earth bean to tremble beneath the hooves of the thieves' horses. Few were startled, until ruptures and spikes of land ripped the earth apart. Another slight gesture of Ita's claws drew lava from the cracks in loose, flowing spurts. What once was a solid mass became loose, broken, and confused; only a few more would have to die by Ita's hand before she could lead her son and his caretaker from the mess they were bound to create.

Charlotte's chaos sense came alive with a surge of sheer divine energy ripping the ground before her asunder. A crooked smirk reached her face, and she began to chant and imitate the actions of an actual mage. The men grew wide eyed with fear of the all powerful blonde, assuming her to be a wizard of such power she could call the earth itself to kill her foes. She spun Fall of Blades in her hand with a dexterous set of fingers, and she spurred Pepper once again. A second bolt of bright red energy struck a man, throwing him from his horse and onto a spike that was growing oh so slowly from the ground. The thieves panicked, their morale broken and their ultimate trust in their leader gone.

"Boss! Boss! Dah girleh is ah gunnah kill us all! Girleh musht be ah daemon!" Came the cry of the talkative thief. The mercenary unleashed a harrowing cry, bringing the full fury of her misbegotten life slamming into the ears of the thieves. A couple cried out and attempted to flee, but the great booming voice of their boss snatched them back.

"Itsh onleh one girleh, ya foolsh!" He cried out. Charlotte came upon him in a clash of hooves, Pepper smashing into the other horse bodily. The other horse was thrown off balance as the massive warmare shook her head a little bit. The thief boss patted his horse to calm it, using some crude language as he did, and adjusted his blade. A full sized hand and a half sword, paired to a relatively crude wooden shield. His form had a heavy layer of muscle to it. A strong jaw matched with the crags of his face, a toothy (with a few missing teeth) counted Charlotte's own smirk. It hardly mattered how good he was with his weapon, he likely had plans to beat Charlotte's block to pieces. Of course, the main flaw with this was as large as he was, a good six and a half feet, Pepper made up for the height difference. He swung his blade heavily against Charlotte's well placed shield to the backdrop of screaming men trying to avoid the earth that seemed so intent on kill them all.

Char's arm was jarred again, the girleh found herself wishing for some proper armor to cushion the blows. His blade came in again and again, her shield visibly denting while she awaited the killing blow. He couldn't pierce her block, his muscle not much of a match for Charlotte's training, but with every blow the shield was knocked harder. Her arm was weakening, and with a devil's grin, he knew his victory was close. A final blow brought the shield flying off, Charlotte's hand beneath it quivering. It fell to her side limply as the mercenary grunted in pain, resisting the urge to scream yet again. He threw aside his own shield and gripped his blade in both hands for one irresistible strike. The blade was drawn all the way back for the purpose of momentum, while Charlotte's blade came into position, but not one of defense, but one of offense.

"I must say, thief, you have a strong arm, but if only it had some brains to go with it." She taunted. Her blade screamed forwards, a red blur plunging into the side of his horse with an almighty thrust. The horse buckled, screaming out its final breaths as the blade withdrew to the decorations of blood and fire. The thief boss was trapped beneath his dead animal, struggling as hard as he could to lift the dead beast. His sword lay beside him, being no help in extricating himself with the beast. Pepper strode around him, the particularly bloodthirsty horse staring with wide eyes at the downed boss.

"Mmmm, it looks like another falls to my blade. Tell me, how does it feel to know that you were struck down by the one who fought a goddess and won? It must ease the blow somewhat, fool. Pepper, teach him how a true horse should act." Charlotte said, and then she elicited some commands in the black speech. The horse brought up a single, mighty iron shod hoof and quite simply stepped on the man's skull.

"Now, do any of you wish to assist hundreds of others who are to greet their murderer in the afterlife, or are you to run from a simple girl?" Charlotte shouted, waving about the bloody blade.

The uneven ground became coated in a thin layer of lava, quickly gnawing away at the hooves of horses and sending them into pure panic. Mounts stumbling about would end up carelessly stepping on a spike or twisting an ankle in one of the large ruptures sliced into the land. Some bandits managed to flee the area in time, but others faced gruesome fates if they were unlucky enough to touch the ground that was now littered with large patches of spurting lava. The number of men on the 'battlefield' was quickly dropping, spreading out to the point that a certain lone horsewoman was clearly visible. Ita lifted an eyebrow in unison with Malisan's confused expression. Halrakka himself was giggling and clapping his hands together for a reason that eluded them both.

The goddess' golden eyes narrowed and her muscles tensed, ready to urge her warg into the fray and finally eliminate Charlotte. Fire would have been an interesting way for her to go a second time as opposed to the endless sheets of ice her corpse had rested on at the end of her first life. But something seemed to temporarily subdue Ita's rage; a hesitation even the goddess herself was unfamiliar with. Screaming from Charlotte's blade was a beam of pure red light, something that could only be manifested from a Blade of Destruction. Ita was inclined to simply watch the carnage unfold, theories always running through her head. Had Charlotte unknowingly pledged her allegiance to Chaos once more? The use of such a weapon certainly piqued Ita's interest.

She had truly forgotten how effective a duo the two had once been. While Ita had helped cripple the entire group, Charlotte had made use of their confusion and eliminated several that still showed defiance to the grip of death. This included their misbegotten leader, a fact Ita was unaware of until the former commander's booming taunts dominated various cries of pain. "Now, do any of you wish to assist hundreds of others who are to greet their murderer in the afterlife, or are you to run from a simple girl?" The blood of the thieves' leader dripped down Charlotte's blade, one that Ita could now clearly see. To her disappointment it didn't carry the same general design as a traditional Blade of Destruction, but the theory was still somewhat plausible if one of the goddess' mighty weapons had fallen into the hands of a skilled reforger or blacksmith.

Irony was everywhere, and a small smirk danced across Ita's maw at what she saw of it in this situation. Their very first confrontation almost echoed this one; Charlotte had routed herself in some form of trouble, and Ita had come to aid her. The obvious difference between the two events was that this time the goddess helped her completely by accident. The Vala idly lifted her hand to the air, making the lava flow stop and drying what was still left creeping across the ground. With that she finally urged her warg forward, but not in the gallop she had originally planned. It was a nice, steady trot in the direction of the blond and the familiar warhorse she rode atop. Malisan was hesitant and held back, still keeping her interests on Halrakka's safety in case Ita would work herself into a fiery rage.

The warg rumbled in discontent, stopping parallel to Pepper's position. A field of death surrounded them, both in the half-buried corpses of men and horses and the scarred land just off the road to Yomeniampa. Ita gave her former daughter a soul-piercing stare, but her weapons were not drawn and no spell incantations rushed from between her two elongated jaws. "Shall I strike you down?" Ita said with a grin, her rhetorical question echoing through the vast silence in its usual ethereal tone. Malisan and Halrakka trotted up to the pair, the former having noticed the Vala's unusual lack of hostility. "In the pursuit of revenge, is it truly worthwhile to tear your mortal shell asunder? The mortal shell of a woman who fought a goddess and won? Or is there still use in the mind and spirit of the most brilliant mortal tactician to ever live?" Ita's faint smirk curled into a wide, toothy smile, her calculating eyes evaluating every move around her.

Living twice was a long tradition in her family. The Karasthine bloodline(although she never bore the name) was notoriously tough, at least where she came from. They were also notable psychotic followers of the law, but that was about to change. Charlotte adjusted nervously in her horse as Ita approached her. No one in her family had been killed three times, and Charlotte didn't want to take her chances. She rested the flat of her blade across her brown pants, her odd green eyes scanning the goddess as she came closer. Pepper gave a whinny, and thrashed about her head the slightest bit. It was the first time Charlotte's mare had ever given the slightest doubt, and Charlotte used her free hand to stroke the animal until she was comforted once again. The mercenary herself was horrified for the first time in her life, because she had no doubts she was about to endure a lifetime of captivity, and that scared her more than anything else in this world.

The words of the goddess were not what she was expecting. Chaos herself wanted peace with a mortal, and it appeared that she would be willing to do anything to achieve it. Even to go so far as to offer what appeared her old job back. Charcolate's mind twisted itself in circles fighting for her ultimate fate, that horrible little thing that had destroyed her time and time again. The words of Cheysa came to her, alongside her mother's pointed remarks about how much more important personal freedom was than the laws that protected it. Then came her own deliberations with herself, those fleeting remarks she had made to herself almost a whole year ago. Chaos had never treated her poorly until she treated it poorly. The forces of good and righteousness had always been so single minded about their approach that she felt stifled all those years she had fought for them. Chaos allowed wiggle room, which was more than important for the radical and perhaps even underhanded tactics she adored.

"Chaos, chaos, chaos, what are you to do with me? Offer me my old position back, hope that my death and fabrications that utterly destroyed you will never return? During a picnic, I presume?" Charlotte inquired. She made a glance to Malisan, then noted what appeared to be a tiny hand. A child? Charlotte's own joy in children came screaming back, and she gave Pepper a slight nudge to get the horse moving. Pepper, interested more in the horse than the rider went into a full gallop and stopped near Malisan. Charlotte leaned over the side of her mount to catch sight of the darling little child within. Malisan, no doubt having heard rants and raves of Charlotte's absolute evil hardly expected such a loving gaze to fall upon a child. Specifically not the absurdly evil young Halrakka.

"Oh! Wow, he's cute!" Charlotte murmured, her tough mercenary act fading away in trade for the young woman she truly was. Malisan groaned, knowing now the full extent of all the insanity she was to endure in a short amount of time if this mercenary capitulated and went back to organizing an army. It would be difficult to have a relatively naive(at least in the terms of children) girl to be always wanting to care for the bundle of wickedly sharp teeth and claws.

"Such precious little wings, too!" Charlotte declared. Then she made the greatest mistake she could, and toyed with the child with a fingertip. She glanced back to the Goddess of Chaos, and gave a smile.

"I'm a mercenary. Unfortunately for me, you are both the highest bidder and the only person worth working for on this pitiful excuse for a continent. I would hardly--owch, he bit me--be a mercenary unless I were to take you up on your so subtle of offers." Charlotte answered. She withdrew a bleeding hand, and glared at the so-called precious being of destruction, her eyes narrowed to slits. Almost immediately the look turned to one of the sweet young woman she had buried so deep within her. Beneath the death, chaos, and utter fearlessness that marked her, the ultimate resolve. Victory was her motto, the simple one word that had driven this valkyrie to where she was, at the verge of another tour alongside the goddess of chaos, if all was what it seemed. Then Charlotte gifted Ita with that smirk that had always been the precursor to destruction.

"This time, I promise you the enemies who have wronged you will feel such fury that they will go crawling to repent for their sins on the gallows rather than face Chaos."