Cypress Dreadslay, the Angel of Caine who had personally organized and executed the daring raid by M.A. air and naval assault troops to sieze Armand and Sergei, stood emotionlessly outside of Moon Tarkel's cabin. The dimly-lit hallway seemed tilted, eerie, dancing with unfriendly spirits - as if the treachorous Warlock Order intelligence officer had left his barabbi filth of a presence to taint the entire Ship. Or maybe it was just hate. Pure and unadultured hatred that burned like a black flame inside of Cypress for all of those who had betrayed him, who had betrayed the Cause, who had been the bane of over a million of Venway's people since the Warlock Order first wormed its way from the woodworks and attempted to bring monarchism and totalitarian rule back to the Ghost Ship, back to Venway, back to the East.
He lights a cigarette in his cold revelry of thought as Sergei begins to scream in the distance. Was this dark "alternative" to the Order's oppression any better? Cypress, although many doubted it, understood why some would say no. But we was a soldier. And that meant that he was a killer, a seasoned and calloused one when the necessity arose. The Angel of Caine knew that for freedom and peace to ever be possible in the future, that the dark winds of war must be prevelant in Venway for now.
In his heart he knew it would never end. And that was why he was cold.
Cypress lifts a gloved fist, his black leather coat falling about his hips as he knocks at the door. A .30-06 carbine rifle, modefied to hold a 30-shot clip was strapped and lowered from his shoulder, while his longsword hung from his left hip in an ebon scabbard. He was certainly dressed to kill.
But his purpose here was to protect. He had heard Moon crying to Vormav about Armand's "visit" to her, and although he feared treachory - such was inevitable for one as him, who had been betrayed by his closest friends and associates - Armand and Alec being only a few of them, Cypress concentrated upon his mission for now. Freeing Venway of the Order's carping filth.
Despite his fears that the insidious viper of the Warlock Order had somehow lured Moon into aiding him, Cypress respected her enough not to send a crew of stormtrooping, masked gunmen to knock on her door. She was not a stranger, and he would not treat her as one. Even if she had aided Armand in remaining hidden in Venway, Cypress would keep the secret - a distasteful "double-standard" of his which he knew marked him as a hypocrit.
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