Log:Captive Revealed

2019/10/26 Artemis Portennant Sinmore 1

Artemis sits at the edge of the resting platform in her quarters. It's some sort of fabric-encased gel that's quite comfortable. She takes a whetstone and runs it across her blade while lost in thought over her plight. The terrible "Gift" she was given still weighs on her conscience. Did she choose right? Was there even a right or good choice? This Porter ensured that there was not. Piece by piece, he's taking her apart while she remains trapped in her oaths.

The whetstone stops at its latest sweep as she stares down at the bladewhip, Andrirnyl. A blade meant to protect. What was she protecting now? Certainly not the Urth. And not the mortal friends she felt so attached to. Is it the Would-Be Tyrant's interests she's protecting now, or her now warped code of honor to which her divinity is physically bound.

Alone in the silence of the quarters given to her, Artemis struggles with an existential crisis. Praying to the higher Godflora has gained her no insight, though she continues. "Hestia, Angel of Wisdom....how can I maintain my oaths to Kushiel when to do so would dishonor my service to justice?" she sighs. Prays? She's feeling lost and empty as never before.

She receives a voice in her head. Is it an answer to her plea, bearing wisdom?

No. It's Him.

"You are needed in the Ready Room for a final briefing, my Battle Maiden. It seems that we will receive a response soon to my offer."

"Yes, my Liege," Artemis says quietly as she rises up. Sword is sheathed and her whetstone is returned to a small pouch on her belt. Checking her armor and gear, she walks out of her quarters and makes her way to the Ready Room.

The room is quite full, for once, with far more than Portennant present. Several of the larger specimens from the prevalent plant-based species are present, flanking a seated, more slender feminine one seated on some sort of small personal transport, her lower limbs fused together into a large wooden trunk of wood, complete with stubs of roots.

There are others here, some of which are at least somewhat recognizable: Not-Titan (in small form), with an arm draped around the smaller man in black body armor from the airfield; the all-black winged 'demon' encountered in the city; an elder human male with the bearing of a warrior, bearing several facial scars and glowing eyes; two human females, both with brightly-colored short hair (one pink, the other purple); a man who immediately sparks a response due to his resemblance to Wade, though his grim countenance and red suit with black accents mark him swiftly as not. There are others around the perimeter, though they are less striking or not familiar.

Portennant is in the center, near a projection of the moon. He turns when she enters, welcoming her with a smile. "Thank you for joining us, my dear. Now that we're all present," he pivots back to the group as a whole. "The Earth has not submitted. In fact, they appear to be mobilizing for an attack."

Artemis steps in and falls in line, looking about at the room. She's not familiar with many in this room, or their doubles, but her eyes do slow at the Titan who escaped her before and the smaller man who used the grav-disc on her.

Her completely stop in initial surprise at Wade. She gives a soft, sharp inhale, but is quick to realize that it's not truly him. Not the person she knew, befriended, and betrayed. She quickly tears her gaze away to look to Portennant as he begins addressing her and the group.

As he gives his introduction, she feels a mixture of concern for the Earth's safety, and pride that Urth's Guardians will rise up against tyranny.

Portennant hands out assignments: some are sent to the moon, proper, to repel landings or deny its recovery as a staging area; the plant-warriors assure that their spacecraft are prepared to interdict and screen against forces that approach the command post rather than the moon; others are sent to critical areas, should the command post be breached.

Perhaps to Artemis' dismay, she is not assigned to any of these. Perhaps her liege does not trust her? Most are dismissed and depart for their assignments. This leaves Artemis, the black-fleshed...thing, and, stepping forward with plated footfalls that rattle the floor, a heavily armored individual completely covered in plate and helm and rather androgynous... save for the metallic pink bow welded to one side of the helm.

Portennant turns to the trio. "You, my ...Valkyries, shall have the most important task of all. You are my retinue, my personal guard. Should any invaders reach you, your task is to ensure that they go no further. "Are there any questions?"

The armored one remains silent. The black one suddenly hops up and down energetically, raising her hand. Portennant acknowledges her with a smile, albeit one that is somewhat ...sighed. "Yes, yes, you may... but only if and when it is absolutely necessary."

He then pans his attention to Artemis. A helm pans, as well, and even the black one looks to her expectantly.

Artemis glances to the black one hopping up for questions, and Portennant's response, but she somehow missed the actually question. Then she notices all eyes are on her. She looks to Portennant and bows her head. "Understood, my Liege." She has no questions to ask. Perhaps because asking them would give her answers she doesn't want to hear, or that would bind her further somehow.

"Excellent. You are dismissed," he addresses all and gestures appropriately. One tromps off. One skips out the door. As Artemis turns to do so, however, he speaks up. "Hold, Valkyrie. You may not have any questions, but I have a clarification to make."

Artemis was half-turned and thought she'd be free of the Tyrant. It was not meant to be. She turns back towards him slowly. "Yes...my Liege?" she asks in response, keeping it curt.

Portennant regards her neutrally. Coldly. "So that there are no misunderstandings, I will be clear: I will not tolerate any insubordination, regardless of whether you might justify it to yourself under your oaths." A smile then forms. "As well, I thought you would be heartened to know that your duty to protect others was honored; the Asrani appetite for vengeance was sated, and without harm, nor even inconvenience,to those you selected."

Artemis keeps a steady gaze on Portennant as he regards her. "You have my oath of fealty, my Liege," she restates flatly. Whatever his intolerance may look like, it cannot be worse than her current fate. Her hard expression weakens at his smile and words, reminded of her terrible choice. "Then...Sinmore is dead?" she asks with dread in her heart and voice. She thought her teammate and friend the strongest of her choices. The most likely to triumph.

"Not yet," he offers, gesturing a hand which changes the holographics from the moon to a full-size Sinmore, wrapped in vined chains, hanging upside down in a large chamber. "They wish to take their time. It seems they harbor a great resentment towards fire, so this is a rather rare and rewarding opportunity for them. It would be a shame for their enjoyment to end prematurely."

Artemis stares in veiled dismay at Sinmore's image. She's at least alive. And as long as she's alive, there's a chance to fight. Something Artemis has learned over the decades. "They intend to make it slow?" she dares ask.

He makes a casual, vague gesture. "They did not provide specifics, but, yes. They seemed eager to use her for amusement, perhaps as an example. Perhaps they have new equipment in need of testing? In any case, they had explicit preference that she be retrieved alive. I doubt they intend to change that status immediately."

"I see," Artemis says quietly. She just has to hope Sinmore can break herself free, or that she's freed in any heroic assault that may occur.

"They are our allies," he reminds. "If you have a preference to her treatment, we may be able to encourage or influence that. Provided that you impress both myself and them with the performance of your duties."

Artemis lightly curls her hands into fists thanks to that motivation. "Understood, my Liege." She's very careful with her language, not wanting to get bound into more promises. This is the most consistent and controlled Artemis has been in a long time. "Will...will they allow me to take her place instead? As you stated...I did fail our allies to begin with."

Portennant arches a brow at the question. "How ... noble of you. I doubt they are inclined to give up their fiery new toy so easily. Even if they were, -I- would not allow it. You are far too useful to throw away so soon."

He decides that his point is made and gestures dismissively. "You are dismissed. Complete your preparations and remain alert."

Artemis's once heroic and now burdened heart sinks more. "Yes, my Liege," she says with a bow of her head, before turning to depart back to her quarters. A final glance towards Sinmore's image is stolen before she departs. Imagining the alternative choices and their results, she realizes there really was no good answer. Seeing Voyager or Victory in Sinmore's place would not make her feel any better about the choice she made.