A City Betwixt

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As the wind left his magical grasp, Maulnar began to feel the drain of energy his spell were creating. He looked on as the beast disappeared from sight, into the depths below, relieved that his spell was powerful enough. As Oliver went to check on the creature, Maulnar finally noticed Anabel had joined the fight. Apparently, she had taken some of the force of Maulnar's gust of wind, but seemed fine all things considered. Vivian was there comforting her already. Lain and Vito were ready to depart, maybe not as fast as Oliver might've wanted. And then another thing.

Puzzling would be the best word to describe the thing that approached the group. It appeared as one of the other grey beings they had seen before, but it had a personality to it. It seemed curious, childish, it had some sort of humour and it actively interacted with some folks, unlike the short bit of attention its kind has shown the group before. Perhaps it was thankful that the demonic beast was fended off, but why would it be the only one to take note of that accomplishment?
"Bwe҉n tòr nan fio҉ri?" Maulnar tried repeating what noises it had made. It repeated this phrase, so he assumed it was some form of speech as it seemed to put meaning behind its cries. Good, it was cognitive, then, and could be studied. Perhaps in time he would be able to translate its tongue, but for now running seemed like the best option. He headed towards the torch Lain held above his head.
 
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Anabel shivered, the gravity of what had just occurred had sent a shock through the depths of her heart. She felt the grip of uncertainty around her throat as tears welled up in her eyes. Panic began to set in. A thousand questions echoed within the confines of her mind. She was terrified. Suddenly, she felt a hand gripped around her wrist. Her eyes met Vivian's, and she felt the tension began to dissipate. A strange calm overtook her, and the pain in her injured hand and within her battered body became little more than distant aches. She nodded at the woman's question, finding her way to her feet. "How did you..." She cut herself off. There would be time to answer the question later. A small, wispy creature appeared suddenly, speaking in a strange tongue she couldn't recognize. She stared at it curiously for a moment before it zipped off toward the others. She nodded to Vivian. "Right, right, we should go."


The girl took a step and stopped in her place. She stared at the blade near her feet, her teeth digging into her lower lip. The horrors lurking within the weapon only served to worsen her condition, but something felt very wrong about leaving it behind. She tried to force her feet to move, to leave the cursed sword behind, but her legs refused to budge. Another movement from the cliff side shook the ground. They had to go now. The shaking inched the sword toward the edge of a crag. It teetered for a moment. The executioner dove forward, grabbing the weapon from the ground and running alongside Vivian toward the woods. "You can't throw us away, little one. We are a part of you."


For a moment, the girl's eyes widened with terror. Panicked, her free hand shot out, grabbing Vivian by the hand. The voices seemed to be masked by whatever power Vivian carried. They were still there, distant, but quiet enough to live with for the moment. She ran alongside the Sister, clutching tightly at whatever peace of mind she could offer as they made their way into the woods. Lain carried a torch, which, along with the strange glittering creature that now raced ahead of them, made maneuvering through the forest a bit easier. The trees were pines, tall and strong, and their needles and cones littered the forest floor. The thick mist made it hard to find sure footing, but the ground seemed to be growing less rocky the farther they fled.

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Oliver stopped in his tracks as Alana insisted on fighting. He motioned toward Vito and Lain, cursing to himself. "Take the others, get them as far away from here as you can." He looked toward the strange glittering creature that darted about them. It seemed similar to the other wisps, which thus far had not struck him as particularly dangerous. Was it trying to help them? "Follow that... thing. I'm going to try to get Alana out of there." He knew it was folly before the words even crossed his lips, nevertheless, he turned and rushed back towards the cliff. He had no idea why. It wasn't like he had any obligation to help the woman who clearly had no intention of helping herself. Still, he didn't want to leave anyone behind. They had all ended up here together, and he intended to keep them together.

The ex-priest stopped a few yards from Alana, who appeared to be working on some kind of magical ritual. "Alana, we can't fight that thing. The others are running. We need to get out of here, now." He clenched his fist by his side. "Come on!" The ground shook again as the monster below them continued its laborious ascent of the cliff. "That thing will kill us if we stay! Alana, please!" The ground shook again. Oliver's eyes turned towards the fog. The light of Lain's torch was little more than a glimmer in the distance now. Another shake. "Damn it Alana, didn't you say there's someone you want to see again? This isn't the way. Come with me while we still have time!"

The ground shuddered one final time as the demon's monstrous claw came up, digging its fingers deep into the solid stone. It hurled itself up onto the cliff with a ferocious screech. Its bones cracked and moved beneath the ooze, and the vines throughout its body pointed toward the two who remained on the cliff. Red light poured from its injured head, and Oliver thought he saw a crimson petal float through the opening. The monster grew deathly quiet for a moment, placing itself with its back to the church. A groaning voice came from the depths of the beast. Though it said no words, it seemed distinctly human. Oliver rushed toward the sorceress. "Alana, that's enough, come on!"


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The forest opened into a wide meadow, a field of green grass interspersed with small white flowers. The clearing seemed devoid of the fog that had blanketed the rest of the forest. Instead, brilliant sunlight shown down, showering the area in a soft and reassuring warmth. Several large pillars of white stone stood along the meadow's edges. They were covered in engravings depicting a winged man wearing a crown. In the center of the meadow, a golden pedestal stood. The structure appeared to be quite old, if the ivy growing around its base was any indication. Several gems, of numerous colors, had been inlaid in the gold. Upon the pedestal rested a massive white feather, which seemed to glow and shimmer in the sunlight.


As the party entered into the meadow, a strange stillness seemed to overtake them. The place held an air of calm and serenity that seemed uncharacteristic of the surrounding wilderness. Anabel looked around the clearing in quiet astonishment. It was a far call from the jagged stone and deep crags they had been greeted with upon their arrival. She dropped her sword to the ground, releasing Vivian's hand at last. "What is all this?" She motioned toward the pedestal in the meadow's center. It might have been some sort of shrine, or perhaps a monument, regardless, it seemed to demand a certain level of reverence.
 
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The heaving of the ground under Alana's feet made the spark she created stutter and flicker once or twice as her concentration was shaken, but if anything the approach of the monster only steeled her resolve. This was it. Her big chance was fast approaching. If she could just finish charging the Trinity before the monster cleared the top of the cliff, she could destroy it and no one would have to run at all. She wanted to yell at Oliver, to get him to shut his trap, but all she could do was ignore him.

Didn't you say there was someone you want to see again?

She froze. The spark that was creating the symbol around her feet stopped in its tracks along with her thought process. A realization hit her like a bullet train.

I could die here.

It had already happened once before -- she got so caught up in her displays of power that she lost sight of what was truly important to her, and paid the price as a result. Her magical symbol wavered and vanished into the air before she could stop it, her face and stance fell into fear and the start of despair, but she couldn't bring her feet to move. What was all that effort for if she couldn't finish the job? Death or no death, she probably wouldn't get another chance like this again! She couldn't just throw it away!

Oliver was shouting something at her, but either she couldn't make it out, or she just didn't want to. The monster's massive arm finally crested the bluff, pulling the rest of its tar-covered body up to face the pair. Though it didn't have any eyes, she felt like it was staring right at her. Then, it did something Alana never could have predicted: it spoke. Or, at least, it seemed to. The low groan that came from the monster's vine-covered head sounded so human, so afraid, and there was no attack to follow it up. Was it in pain? Did it even want to keep fighting? What if she was hurting an innocent creature?

That was enough to snap Alana out of it. "Ohh, damn it all!" She turned her back to the monster and started running.

With the battle put on hiatus, the pain of her injuries was starting to set in. Her entire body ached inside and out, and every step of her bare, calloused feet on the rocky ground sent up fresh shudders of pain. All she could do was grit her teeth and deal with it for the time being, at least until they reached somewhere safe. Her and Oliver caught up to the others in the middle of the forest, breaking through to a peaceful meadow that seemed to laugh at the scarred battlefield they'd been at only minutes before; their new surroundings exuded tranquility and holiness with its white pillars and mystical artifact that she could only assume was the feather of an angel. Just standing around it cleared Alana's mind and made her feel at ease.

While she stared at it, she realized the ground was getting closer. Oh, no, that wasn't it. She was falling. The pain wracking her body was just too much in such a short time, and she collapsed onto her stomach with a small grunt. Still conscious, but so, so tired.
 
The spirit wove in and out of the trees idly, humming to herself. Every so often, it turned back to check that the others continued to follow between the misty, gnarled trunks in the forest. It appeared to know precisely where it was headed, the twinkling golden light becoming brighter and more visible in the gloom of the woods. "T̴́͏w̵̧ę̢̛ǹ̶҉̛ ͞m̶̶̡̛o҉̕r̴͜͏ ̶̡͢i͏̸r̛͡͡͝a̧҉n̸̢y̸͜͞ ̶f̷̨͟͢ǫ̴̷̢҉o," it remarked in its garbled, nonsensical voice. "R̡҉̵͜ì̸͝͞t̵̷̷́c̡͜͏h̨̀͟͡i̕͜͢͢͠r̢͞͏į̵̧̨ ̡̀͜҉̡m͏̡̀͡o̷͞͏ą̷ ̴̷͞t̵̡͞͝į̡̡̧͟k̵͠͠ ̸́l͏̷̨m҉̵e̷̡̨͟n͢a!"

The creature was either oblivious to the language barrier between them, or was simply talking to itself. It remained quiet until they broke through the forest into the clearing. With an elated chuckle, the little ghost drifted into the meadow and emitted a little coo of delight. It appeared to be a regular hiding spot for the ghost as it seemed to play about, twisting and ducking and diving between the crumbling pillars surrounding the meadow.

It paused in its games and watched Alana tilt forward and land on her front in the grass, squeaking with surprise. It darted forward a few paces before landing on the floor itself, using its little translucent legs to jog over to the woman. Gingerly, it reached down...and as it did so it appeared to become more corporeal, distinct in form. Instead of cylindrical, noodly limbs the legs and arms began to show the shapes of humanoid muscles and joints despite retaining the same 'sentient fog' look about the spirit. The blobby extremities formed hands and fingers which gently prodded Alana's prone form. "T̶͠͏͏̕w̴̨̛i̸̸̢͠͠l̵̴̀͞i̶̸͢͞͠ĺ̵̶̷̀e̸͟͏e̸̡̕͟ ͘ - ̴̛͠m̀͘i̶̛͢͟͠r͢͢r̸̷á̸͡ ̶̡̨̀͝s̸̢o̵̢͡͡ǹ̸͡͝҉ ͢͢͠j̴̷̛͢͡e̶͠͞ŗ̸͟͡í̸ḩ͢o̶͜҉. ." it said reassuringly, before lying down next to her on its back. It wiggled its new fingers and toes with a half-interested curiosity, watching as it devolved back onto its usual shape.

The spirit stubbornly refused to leave Alana's side until it was certain that the woman would be looked after. As it lay there, semi-tangible and making odd noises, it tilted what must be its head back to peer at Maulnar. As of yet, the elderly man was the only person who seemed to be attempting conversation and the ghost seemed incredibly amused with his efforts. It appeared to be waiting expectantly for his newest trick whilst it played guard-dog for the wounded lady, but its attention span was remarkably short because after a few moments it started plucking individual blades of grass and laying them on Alana's back, chirping.
 
Vito watched that little golden monstrosity dance its way across his vision without really registering it. The things horrified him as it was, and now one that could speak was perhaps a tad much for him to handle.. Instead, he turned his focus to Oliver, telling the duo to assist the others in their escape. The demon was incapacitated for the moment, and the athletic one was too bent on victory to see how much danger she was in. He looked to Lain, tilting his head down a moment in thought.

"Lain," He gasped out, slowing to a halt and turning on one heel, looking on as Oliver coaxed the woman back from the edge just in time for that demon to throw itself back onto the land. Despite how dumb the monster seemed to be, he didn't think that trying to shove it back off would help anything. "Lain, do as the man says. I'll catch up, though I know you wouldn't give a damn either way. Women and children first, remember!" He let out a short laugh, as he promptly took off at a mad sprint, watching the woman hit the deck, that golden wisp dancing about and prodding at the fallen girl. Oliver was a good man, one well worth serving under, at least for now. He didn't feel a need to watch the man throw his life away to save another, not when he was a perfectly capable leader. He skidded to a halt, nudging that wisp aside, as he promptly heaved the fallen woman up onto his shoulder.

"Hey, preach! Try to keep up!" He goaded, trying to let a little humor wash over the situation. No sense in taking war too seriously, letting yourself become preoccupied with the consequences of failure would more than likely result in that failure coming to pass. Humor, however crude or bleak, was preferable to thinking about what would happen if that creature buried him in its skin-sludge or how tight those tendrils could squeeze.. He took off once more, at a slightly slower speed, trying to keep the woman as steady as he could as he ran, boots clacking loudly on the scrabbly, cracked stone, dodging or hopping over the deeper pits as he moved to keep up with the rest of the crew. Every step was reminding him that the short flight he'd taken hadn't been very kind to his back, but pain was secondary to survival, something he'd learned a long time ago after nearly losing an arm to a very large maul.
 
Their trek through the forest had been confusing and exhausting, for sure, but he found himself appreciating the seemingly knowing guidance of the glowing cloud that had begun to accompany them. At first, he had been reluctant to follow the things that he'd so clearly seen to be prey, but it knew the clear paths through the forest and whether he liked it or not their paths were one and the same until the reunited party spilled out into the clearing. Lain caught himself one flex from throwing the torch away, instead opting to uncomfortably hold the burning instrument and stand by at the edge. Though the ruins were beautiful and he found himself admiring any structure left standing out in these wild lands, he had no desire to move away from the shady sanctuary the forest and its difficult terrain offered. The spirit was keeping track of Alana, for better or worse, and Maulnar was trying to communicate with it, so he decided to leave that sect to their business. Helping people was, to an extent, the opposite of what he was good at anyway.

He stepped away from the edge cautiously at first, knowing the others had spread out into the clearing but half expecting his surrender to mean the approach of some beast or worse, their new friend so recently abandoned. After his first footfalls left nothing, he strode past the assembly by Alana and towards the duo inspecting the pedestal that appeared to be the centerpiece of the ruins. It was Anabel and the woman in blue, both of which had said little of themselves by that point but seemed to be holding up reasonably well. The younger one had the good sense to wonder what exactly they were all looking at, but he doubted any of them held the answer. At a glance, the presence of a feather was connected to the etchings of a winged man, but that wasn't specific enough for anything he knew, and he wasn't exactly a connoisseur of the arts. "There's really only one way to find out," He suggested, walking by them.





She watched it's awkward form with the same interest as the girl next to her, wondering what it was that set this wisp apart from the others as it flew away from them. It was certainly distinct from the clouds she had encountered early. It made sense that there were certain distinctions among... would it be okay to call them spirits? Spiritual species, if that were to be her approach, were sure to exist in similar variations and relationships to their terrestrial counterpart. It was entirely possible that there were more, stranger varieties awaiting them as they grew accommodated to the unlife. This wasn't the time for that. She stepped away with Anabel, and found her interested surprise restored when the girl's movements seemed to arrest themselves. That was, until she turned back to her sword. She wondered what the girl's relationship to the weapon was, if the memories it held were so profoundly compelling. Her musing ceased when the first thing Anabel did was take up her hand again. Their connection could not be pleasant. Still, she smiled at the contact, giggling encouragingly as the two absconded for the woods. What amount of watching and waiting would ever afford her a glimpse into the tortured world of the girl beside her? She didn't know if her interest was an overreaction, they had been in each other's presence for less than a day. Maybe that was a long time for the things living in this world.

Even as they found their way to the meadow and its verdant, peaceful embrace, she noticed that Anabel only relinquished her hand after first dropping her sword. The sprites from her touch, its nature still unknown to her, floated upwards from the broken contact and disappeared almost instantly. She wanted to ask first what it was like, because she felt nothing other than the feelings of her hand during her 'trick,' and second everything she could about the sword. Especially if those questions were painful. The sister used her newly freed hands to brush down her dress, disheveled after their long run through the woods and deeply grateful she had been so refreshed in the afterlife. To think back on it, she had spent most of her last night running, hadn't slept in so long... The fatigue gnawed at her, but not the way it should have. She sighed, melancholy even after a short trip to the past. She redirected her attention the same way Anabel did, with the gaily decorated pedestal and its accompanying feather at the center of the ruins. She was about to answer, when Lain walked by them.

"There's only one way to find out," He said, walking towards the pedestal without much concern. Without warning, he held his hand out towards Vivian. Without thinking, she accepted the cumbersome torch and held on to it while Lain circled the pedestal a couple of times. The man did not seem to find anything that changed his mind, because he was soon standing beside them again. He stooped down, the citygoer careful not to touch his knees to the ground or anything unseemly with the one set of clothes he had left. She understood him on that, at least. When he came back up, it was with a handful of pebbles. With a gentle swish and plink, he tossed a stone at the golden structure. Presumably, he wanted to see if it did anything upon being touched. At least, she hoped he had such a testing rationale.
 
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Maulnar threw a worried glance back at the stubborn woman, but knew that he wouldn't be of much help getting her out of there. Vito and Oliver were more than capable of doing that job, all he had to focus on was keeping up with the others as they made their way through a forest of pines, lead by Lain and his torch. Or maybe it was the little grey that was calling them. Maulnar wasn't sure where Lain was leading them, and an aching in his hip didn't help him figure it out.
Then came the clearing, and an inexplicable feeling of reassurance. There were sunlight, pillars and an exquisite pedestal with a feather resting on top. The feather corresponded with the engravings on the pillars, but what coud it mean? A symbol of protection from monsters, ruins of a building that once was? Maulnar could only hope for the first, and dismiss the second. It didn't look like there used to be much other than what was right there, despite how long it may have been there.

Others were as intrigued as he was, and were already checking closer with the strange artifact. Good. Instead, Maulnar would study the other curious thing a little closer. He approached the grey being before speaking. "Twen mo҉ iro҉ny fo҉o" He said, trying to get its attention again. It didn't seem to be able to hold its attention for very long. Perhaps that was just their nature, although if his hypothesis of them being purpoless wandering souls of fallen human beings, he'd subscribe its behaviour to that of a child.
"Would you like some candy, small one?" Maulnar said as he reached for another piece of candy from his little bag. He held it out in front of him as he had before with Anabel and Vivian.
 
The spirit rolled out of the way as Vito grabbed Alana, letting loose a guttural noise of frustration - a strange buzzing sound. Aside from expressing its discontentment with a few hisses and clicks, however, it made no move whatsoever to help Alana or attempt to recapture her; instead it started playing with the grass once more. The flicker of its soul became less bright and fast-paced as it appeared to relax in the serenity of the meadow.

Its little head tilted back once more as Maulnar attempted conversation, but it merely looked puzzled and confused. It let loose a "Eh?" to reinforce the point that whatever Maulnar said had quite obviously not made any sense. "Ì͢͡r͜a̶̕͜͢͝h̨͞,̴̡̢͟ ҉̵̡̧͝t͏́o̷̧͘͝r̸̡̡͘͢ ̶m̶̕u͏͜l̷̶̢͝ ̷̷̵̕ķ̴̴̵̢i̷̕̕͢k̶̡͡i̵̢̕͟͢r̵̶̶̛͜i͏͢҉̧ ̧̡͞o̶͜r͏̡̧͘ ̨a̶̧͟r̴͏̵̷̷t͢ȩ̴͡ǹ͘͢͠ ̕͝s̶͘͞h̶̕͞u̧͘͠͝." it continued carefully; it appeared to be drawing out its syllables as if attempting communication once more. Something changed in its demeanour; it might have detected the lack of comprehension as it sighed. Disappointed, the ghost returned to its playing until it froze and turned around, hearing Maulnar offer confectionary.

The reaction was nigh instantaneous. It let loose a squeal of delight, the glowing light flaring up as it zoomed over and stopped mere inches away from the looming figure of the elderly man. When it reached out to grab the sweet, however, its little blobby hand had become intangible once more. It kept trying to grasp the wrapper with growing agitation, and every so often its unformed extremity went through Maulnar's spindly fingers. It felt like a dip of cold water, or a chilling breeze floating through the muscle and bone. The creature let loose a little keening whine before breaking into dry sobs, only the sound seemed...low-quality, crackling and gritty as if heard through a static-filled radio. It gave up on trying to grip the sweet and pushed its hands to its head, hovering just above the floor and crying.

Oddly enough, it did not cry for long, the sobs petering out into backwards sniffle noises as it approached and repeated the ritual of grabbing the sweet with remarkable patience. It seemed...well, it seemed to know what it was doing, because it just kept grabbing at the sweet expectantly, in the hopes that - at some point - it'll grab it. And suddenly, it did.

As it grabbed the sweet, it fell to the floor and became tangible once more. Once its appendage wrapped around the wrapper (which was still visible through the mist) it once again seemed to reform into a working, albeit translucent hand. It felt cold, like the hand of a corpse, but very much real and solid this time. The creature unwrapped the sweet, fumbling confusedly with it before simply holding onto it. It released a purr of gratitude and sat down at Maulnar's feet, peering up at him.
 
Oliver chased after Alana back towards the forest. Behind him, the demon's strange groans still polluted the air. He didn't look back to see what was happening, but if the creature's tortured moans were any indication, it wasn't pretty. The ex-priest followed Alana into the meadow, letting out a sigh of relief. "Well, that certainly could have gone worse." His eyes glanced around at the strange architecture. Whoever had made it, it was a pleasant reprieve from the bleakness of the cliff. The others seemed somewhat relieved as well, and the strange grey creature was still with them. It seemed friendly enough.


The white-haired man took a seat on the soft grass near Alana, still somewhat catching his breath. He looked up toward Vito. "So, that sort of thing typical for you?" He chuckled. It was clear by this point that they hadn't all come from the same place, and possibly not even the same world. He sighed, brushing his hair from his face. "All things considered I think we dealt with that pretty well, though." He looked toward Alana, who seemed exhausted. He quietly wondered if she could have finished off the monster. He had never seen magic like she and Maulnar had produced. Still, he didn't like her chances. It had taken all they had to merely subdue the creature, and killing it outright seemed nearly impossible.

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Anabel watched Lain's experiment with quiet curiosity. The pebble sailed through the air, but was halted in its flight before reaching the pedestal. The small stone bounced of thin air, a few inches from the golden structure, with a soft chime-like noise. The next pebble met the same fate, another bell tone ringing out as the stone struck the invisible wall that apparently surrounded the pedestal and the feather. Anabel looked back towards Vivian in bewilderment. "Did you see that?" It seemed to the young woman that everything in this alien world was magical in some respect. Without thinking, she spoke again. "What do you think happens if we touch it?" Whatever field surrounded the pedestal, it seemed completely solid.

Out of the corner of her eye, Anabel noticed the conversation between Maulnar and the wisp. He gave the small creature a gift, which after it went through the great difficulty of opening, it seemed to appreciate. The old man was speaking in a way similar to the sprite's odd language, though it was difficult to tell if either understood the other. "Do you know what it's saying?" She called out to Maulnar. This new world was full of curiosities. Thankfully, they weren't all out to murder people.


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The sound of tortured almost-human groans echoed out from the forest, with the sound of cracking pine and rustling bushes accompanying it. The demon's massive black silhouette drug itself to the forest's edge. Just outside of the meadow, the monster fell silent, as though it were making a deep consideration. Though it was difficult to tell through the thick black ooze, the creature had been somewhat crippled by the party's efforts. Its bony frame was battered and damaged, and the creature's movements carried the look of one fatigued. In silence, the thorns around its head unfurled, revealing an enormous rose beneath. The flower emanated a deep crimson glow. After a few more moments of silence, a voice whispered, apparently coming from the flower. "Lost. Lost. Lost." Its bones crunched. "Alone. Alone. Alone." The enormous hand rose above its head. "Starving. Starving. Starving." The monsters swung forward, but its hand was halted at the meadow's edge. A sound like a chiming bell rang out.


The demon fell silent again, apparently confused by the invisible wall. It began whispering. "Please come back. Please come back. Please come back." The voice grew louder and louder, and the glow around the rose seemed to brighten. "Where are you dear? My love? It is so cold..." The monster let out a shriek, smashing its hand against the barrier repeatedly in a primal rage. "Where did you go?! I'll die out here!" It struck again, its bones crunching under the force. "I'm sinking! Help me! Help me please!" Another strike. "WHY DID YOU LEA-" The monster was cut short as a bolt of light pierced its arm. The bolt rang out like thunder, shaking the ground. Four more followed, piercing the demon's body. The creature shrieked, its hand scarcely dangling from its wrist.


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A winged figure, clad in sleek golden armor, descended from the sky a few yards from the behemoth. The wings appeared to be made entirely from light, and shimmered brightly, casting a brilliant gleam upon the well-polished armor. A saber hung at the figure's waist, with a small round shield covered in engravings upon the back. A helmet, equipped with a brilliant crimson plume, masked the face of the newcomer. As the demon turned, the figure raised a hand, and a proud female voice echoed from beneath her visor. "Arm me with thine light, my lord." Five spears, constructed entirely of light, materialized around the woman as the demon charged toward her. "Strike. Strike. Strike. Strike. Strike." With every word, one of the spears sailed forth. The first caught the demon in the leg, severing its foot and sending it tumbling to the ground. The other four pierced its chest, leaving great holes in the bubbling tar. The creature shrieked, evidently in pain.

The armored woman reached to her side, drawing forth her saber. She leveled the weapon towards the crippled beast before her. The weapon was finely constructed, with a sweeping blade and a fine guard of gem-encrusted gold. Without hesitation, the woman stepped forward, raising the blade. "Heartstring." The blade of the weapon glowing with a piercing light and appeared to extend above its wielder, humming with energy. She brought the great blade down, striking the rose, and continuing down through the monster's body. The rose's petals scattered into the air as the woman's sword returned to normal. The demon's body fell limp, and began to disintegrate until the only remnant left was a black sphere. The woman sheathed her blade and turned toward the party, her wings fading away as she walked forward.


The woman raised a hand in greeting to those around her before removing her helmet. Her hair was short and blonde, and framed her face. Her features were proud and fierce, though her eyes were a soft blue. She smiled as she approached. "I am terribly sorry, I'm afraid I showed up a bit late. From what I can tell, though, you all seemed to handle that Demon quite well." She gave a deep bow. "My name is Miranda Armis, Captain of the Seraph's Guard, and for the time being your welcoming party." Her hands rested calmly at her sides as she surveyed the group. "Are all of you alright? That Demon was old... a bit much for newcomers. Thankfully you found this shrine." Her eyes scanned along the party until she came to the glimmering wisp. "Or maybe you were lead here." She pointed towards the odd little being. "They call that one 'Twinkle', I believe. A very odd Grey, though its intentions seem good." She threw a glance back toward the orb of darkness that rested near the meadow's edge. "I'd like to welcome you all to the Grey Expanse. I am a servant of Argyle, the ArchSeraph and the god of light and salvation."
 
Alana made a few angry grunts and grumbles into the ground as she was prodded by the unusual wisp. She couldn't make out a thing it was saying, and to be honest, she didn't care. Death had been the worst experience of her life. Er, existence? Whatever. She felt somewhat absolved of the guilt and anger from running away from the fight thanks to the calming presence of the holy feather in the middle of the clearing, but now she just wanted to be left alone so she could get her strength back. Everything hurt. Between the injuries she'd sustained and all the magic she'd cast, both body and soul were crying out for rest. The only other noise she produced was an amused snort at Oliver's half-compliments. The grass dropped on her back itched but she made no move to brush it off.

At the sound of the monster groaning at the edge of the forest, Alana twitched her back and arms, grimaced at the fresh wave of pain, and tried once again, this time pushing herself up into a sitting position. Standing seemed like a waste of time. She didn't want to fight anymore. It almost seemed like she wouldn't have a choice, however, as the monster pushed its way through the trees; a purple glow pooled in Alana's fingertips but quickly faded when she realized that the monster couldn't enter the clearing.

The rose it revealed in the crawling mass of vines that made up its head was more beautiful than anything Alana could ever associate with a hideous beast like that. The monster let out tortured but clearly spoken words that pulled at Alana's heartstrings. It reminded her of a lost child. She felt terrible for hurting it before. She might have been a warrior, but she was also a mother. She could only watch as the monster's cries grew louder and more frenzied and it began beating at the invisible force field that protected the meadow. Her eyes were wide with fear and panic. She didn't know what to do. Help this injured beast? Or put it out of its misery?

Her choice was made for her before she even knew what was happening. Several spears of what looked like light magic pierced clean through the monster's body in several places, injuring it far more than anyone in the group had managed all together. A figure that Alana could only describe as an angel descended from the heavens -- every facet of its appearance screamed "holy deity" and Alana was suddenly seized by immense respect and newfound fear. The angel continued her righteous assault until the monster was finished off completely, leaving only a mysterious black orb. Alana couldn't help but feel a pang of regret staring at it.

As the angel approached, Alana rocketed to her feet on impulse, her pain temporarily forgotten, and then dropped to one knee when she remembered that she must show respect above all else. The angel, Miranda, called the monster a "demon." The name did seem to fit, but in its last moments, Alana felt nothing but sympathy for it. As if it was nothing more than a fellow human. Recalling the demon's final words, Alana was suddenly reminded of the family she'd left behind. She kept kneeling, but looked up to address Miranda. "C-Captain Armis," she stuttered, "with all due respect, I... it's not my time. Not yet. I need to go back. If only for a few minutes. I-I have to see my family again. Ezra, Emelia, they're waiting for me. They don't know what happened to me. Please, I'm begging you. Let me see them again." Though her voice was shaking, her body remained steady. She couldn't let the others see too much of her weakness.
 
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Maulnar smiled encouragingly at the little grey one. Even when its appendages moved through his body, he didn't show his own discomfort. He didn't move and simply let the thing try as hard it could until eventually it did it. Turning itself tangible enough to get a hold of the sweet. He was proud of the grey, but more curious as to why it seemed to lack so much control over its tangibility. Were these ethereal beings even supposed to be able to become corporeal? To write it into his hypothesis it must mean this child wasn't completely without purpose or form yet. How young would it be, anyway? Questions he wouldn't get an answer to anywhen soon.

The old man knelt down and extended his hand again. "You may give the wrapper back if you'd like." He told the grey, then he looked over at Anabel calling out to him. "Sadly, no. I can't make heads or tails of it. I'm also not sure if it's lost its memory of speech, or if it's not corporeal enough to make intelligible sounds, but I have reason to believe it understands English. Or at the very least it understands candy. And I'm not sure how many people carry sweets around these parts, let alone offer it to this particular grey. I'm certain it remembers from a life before this."

His conversation was cut short by the return of the foul beast. The old man jumped up surprisingly quick, then positioned himself in front of Anabel. He raised his hands in preparation for another fireball, but relaxed when he noticed the demon couldn't make any progress into the meadow. The shrine was protecting this place from creatures like that one. What fortune they decided to run and not fight. However, what followed next was more frightening than any creature. Maulnar's face turned white when the beast began to whisper, speak and shout. Clear, understandable and undeniably English. Not just that, but very human in nature.
He froze. This thing had also been human? Was this the fate that rested them all? Either lose themselves in the nothing and become grey wisps, or lose themselves to madness and turn into demons most foul? No. The shrine here was proof there was more than that.. Was it though? It was old, its creators could've become either one of these things in time. What a horrible fate. But then why would Maulnar try to communicate with the grey one, yet dismiss the demon entirely? Deep down, they were all human beings, simply lost in this strange world. The party was safe here, perhaps Maulnar could..

From above came another voice, and brilliant light struck the demon down. An armoured woman drew a weapon, and with a mighty swing, the demon was slain, leaving only a black orb. Maulnar would be glad, had he not just had this revelation about it. He felt as though he'd just seen a man be murdered, although he should be thankful to the woman for saving them. A lump in his throat prevented him from speaking, so he listened to her words instead. Miranda Armis, Captain of the Seraph's Guard, welcoming party, twinkle. Finally, a name for the strange creature. Grey Expanse. A servant of Argyle, the ArchSeraph and the god of light and salvation. Salvation?
Alana began talking to the angelic woman, pleading for return to life. Maulnar wished for the same if she could, but something told him that wouldn't be the case. Instead, while she was distracted, he might be able to sneak past with a little help from magic. Maulnar raised a hand to his mouth, then whispered into it. Next, he wiped his face. His masking spell, should all have gone well, would cause others to take more note of anything else to notice him entirely, unless they had their focus on him already.

He quietly approached the orb, before retrieving his walking cane, which he carried on his belt like a sword, partly because it was. As he neared the orb, the old man knelt down again before reaching out to it with one hand, but not quite touching it, to see whether or not he'd feel magic or not. Next he gave the orb a gentle nudge with his cane, then waited for a reaction.
 
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The stones in his hand fell to the ground, his bemusement with the fact that everything in their new world was indeed magical lost in an instant as the screeching of the coming demon rattled his brains. Lain's sword hand shot reflexively behind him, his other shoving Vivian aside to clear space for his draw as he extended the blade, moving towards the sound without a thought other than answering the fight again. Their strategy had worked before and now he was committed to it, even if they were down a mage. Something made him stop in his advance, however. The demon's claw had been caught on an invisible barrier, something he had yet to see come out of this particular group's bag of tricks. If they had the ability to stop its movements they would have done so before. He looked to see if anyone was responsible, and instead found most of the group joining him in shocked observation of the creature's new sides. The killer's iced-over grimace softened as it went on lamenting. Each word out of the demon's being was cut with sadness and loss, things he didn't anticipate feeling from a predator like it. He found his mouth ajar, somewhere towards forming an uncomfortable frown as he had to listen to its pitiful sulking. Every hopeless word, every facet of the strange fixation that the creature was exposing... they all spoke to the first fear he had felt in this new world. It wasn't just the gray clouds that all carried dead dreams, it was the carrion beasts that fed on them too, it was probably this entire world, tormented hopes and lost ways... He looked to Alana, to the sister, at his own weapon, to the jovial little sprite that had recently joined their group, nodding to himself as he moped under the demon's voice. Naturally.

Heat tore at his body, a harsh wind lapping at his clothing. Bursts of violent light strained his eyes as he tried to look up, finding the demon torn apart as thunder clapped in his ears. Lain grit his teeth at the sound, looking up for the source only to find a figure wreathed in blinding wings of brightness joining them on the field. At that point, he had had enough. He only winced at the sight of its spears, watching helplessly as it destroyed the demon that had plagued them in a few grandiose actions. If this is the next thing we have to kill to move on, he leveled his weapon in front of him as a precaution, then so be it. The armored figure turned towards them, he tensed as it raised its hand in their direction... And then she took her helmet off. The killer turned his blade point down, his posture straightening as he tried to keep a straight face. His eyes fell to the ground while introductions took place, a terrible grip taking hold of his insides and squeezing until they threatened to burst. He thought he would retch at the sight of another blonde bob so soon, but, as he looked back up to her, she hadn't the smug face to match his killer's. By that time, Alana was pitching her cause to the winged woman. He doubted that was going to get them anywhere, but it would certainly shed some slight on the level of benevolence they could expect from this god he'd never heard of. He sheathed his weapon, walking towards the two but showing none of the reverence that Alana did as he acknowledged the captain with a wave of his hand, and an expectant stare as he awaited her next words.




Vivian stood beside Annabel, watching the wisp with great amusement as it appeared to interact with Maulnar. It demonstrated an intelligence far beyond its brethren in almost everything it did, she had no doubt that the old man was on the way to more meaningful discourse with it. One thing gnawed at her though. "Excuse me... what exactly is English?" She almost had time to ask, before the roaring of their old assailant joined them in the clearing. On impulse the sister turned on her heel, tossing a protective arm in front of Annabel beside her as she found and glared at the coming demon. A sweet sound intervened in its flailing, and with a sigh of relief she realized that some peculiar force was at work to protect them. Perhaps it lay in the wisp? No, she had seen the same type of repulsion only seconds before, from the pillar at the center of the clearing. She had no inkling as to what magic even was, but in books they always had spells. Of course, witnessing identical effects did not guarantee an identical source, but did warrant an investigation into the possibility. There was also the peculiar things the monster was saying. It's emotional outcry wasn't enough to wash the memory of the lives it had extinguished. She commanded herself not to resent its existence, and at the same time felt disgusted with herself as she realized how jaded she had become to the lamentations of the wounded. As she had observed on the run through the forest, it had been perhaps hours since she laid in that smokey hell, listening to every animal screech and denied plea that meant her worldly works were being undone. It was still too soon to feel. She took a few steps towards the sorrowful beast, contemplating what mercy entailed in such a situation. Perhaps, in her trip through darkness, she had finally found sympathy for a mindset wherein there were lives not worth saving. Like a brick, something crushed into the demon. More followed, destroying its surprisingly fragile form. No, she realized, that is not how she thought. It was still painful to watch something alive, even something so vile, succumb to death. As the angelic woman greeted herself to the group in the aftermath, and Alana ran up seeking her own mercy from it, she bit into her lip. It was an assumption of hers, something wasteful and shameless, but one that suddenly burned deep in her bosom. Faced with someone who was clearly of this realm, who spoke so confidently of gods that she knew nothing of... She would afford herself this, her whole life had been observation and she had once suffered dearly for waiting until she understood.

"I don't believe she can help us, Alana," Vivian said, walking towards the golden armor and its fiery sword. She felt warmed, and tugged heatedly at the scarf around her neck. The mild mannered sister, for once, made no secret of bearing a scowl. "What God, or his acolyte, could return us to a world he has not once shown his mercy upon? What God presides over such a hellish world, and such a twisted realm as this and still blasphemes himself with the name Salvation?" Her fist clenched itself white in the pale blue folds of her muffler. Vivian's lips trembled, though she found her words coming to her well enough. "Where were you? Any of you? Maybe you're the last of his servants? Is that your excuse? I don't mean for me, to be clear, I accepted my fate. Where among the billions of history's lost souls did your God earn that title? Or, perhaps, he pilfered it from those people trapped here. People like us, who would kneel to anything wearing the names of the myths we lived in worship of." She stopped a moment, as her breath settled. She pushed up her glasses, as they had become dislodged, but her glare remained unmoved. She had again, talked of something she could only assume from what she was witnessing. Her cheeks reddened with her words, untapped wells of resentment for the divine surfacing as she contemplated the possibilities. Perhaps Argyle was a god, and they were simply so weak that they mattered not to the physical. That was perhaps the most infuriating option. What were they, then, people that had touched and done anything in the real world? "I appreciate your welcome and would not act so, if I believed you were in any way the true host of this place. As it is I see no reason for there to be trust between men and that which calls itself god."
 
Vito remained standing after his rush into the relative safety of the clearing, keeping his hands clasped behind his head and struggling to regain his breath. While he had always been good on his feet, he was more of a short distance burst-sprinter than a marathon man. He nodded amiably at the Preacher, trying to drum up a good retort when the demon came knocking, forcing him to let his arms hang free and grab for his--

Knocking?

It seemed to be repelled. I don't say this often, he thought to himself, but thank the powers that be that we found this hole. It was painful to admit that, but what was more painful was the meek, pathetic, groaning voice that the creature was gurgling out its sad story through. He turned about slowly, a grimace spreading across his face, as he pulled the ax off of his belt. "The only thing I hate more than something trying to kill me is the sob story of said freak trying to--"

Again he was interrupted, this time by pillars of light jamming into the monstrous mass, striking it down to the ground, stopping him from.. Probably making a rather fatal mistake. An angelic figure descended, and made short work of the beast before his eyes, leaving him.. Rather entranced. The woman was powerful, and spoke of being the acolyte of some merciful God, Argyle.

Great, now I can't even save my own ass, the resident Lightbringer had to come and save it for me. Even so, he was appreciative of the help, and he felt a variety of questions flooding his skull, at least until Vivian, the meek little clergy-esque woman, began to tear into the newcomer with such remorseless fire that for a moment he thought he wasn't even looking at the same person. He quickly stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder, and quietly looked down at her, with a warning glare, eyes bright inside the confines of that iron mask.

"This isn't the time to question the faith, friend. Not when it just bailed us out of Anserak's jaws." He snapped with a harsh, quieted tone. He turned his gaze to the gold armored woman, raising a hand in return, before placing Shaba Couta back in its belt loop. "Vito Bythas, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I.. Appreciate the help with dealing with the creature, I wasn't entirely sure what to do against that monster, and.. Ahm." He cut himself off, deciding not to dig a deeper hole into his pride than he already had. "You said you're the servant of the being Argyle. Is there some sort of quarter from this madness nearby?"
 
A small pang of sadness crossed Miranda's face as Alana presented her case. She shook her head solemnly, her helmet cradled beneath her arm. "I'm afraid I don't have that kind of power." She looked up to the sky with a slight smile. "My lord does, though." She placed a hand on Alana's shoulder. "If that is your wish, to see your home again, then Lord Argyle is the one you seek. Those who have purified themselves... those who have turned from the darkness of the human spirit and embraced the light of truth... They can return." She looked down at Alana, her grip slightly tightening on the woman's shoulder. "If you truly want to return to your world, I can show you the way, but it is often a long and arduous path... one that some cannot find the fortitude to follow." Her grip loosened and she smiled again. "But do not lose hope. There are those who have failed on their journey, yes, but there are yet others who have surmounted that which they though impossible. Do not-"


Miranda's words were cut off by Vivian's outburst. The armored woman's hand slipped from Alana's shoulder, hanging at her side as her eyes turned toward the dissenter. The Captain listened to her grievances without any word or reaction, watching the young woman. As the sister finished, the armored woman nodded. She raised a hand towards Vito as he reprimanded the woman. "No, such questions are certainly not out of place. Especially for one who has been spurned by earthly 'gods'." Miranda took a step toward Vivian, her expression unwavering, yet caring. "The gods of your world, as the gods of mine, cared little for human suffering... if they even existed at all." She kept her eyes locked with the sister's. "But I assure you, the gods of this world are every bit as material as you or I, and their power is very real." The feather in the center of the meadow began to glow and shimmer. "I, and many others, arrived here as lost souls in a strange land. At the time, I felt this world was every bit as 'hellish' as you now describe it to be... but Lord Argyle embraced the strangers within this place. He granted us sanctuary, protecting us from those who sought to do us harm." She took another step toward Vivian. "And yes, through his power and wisdom, he devised a path for our salvation. Your world... and my world... They may have been devoid of any being worth calling 'god'... but this world is different. Argyle is different. Through his light even the most depraved, the most downtrodden, those who have strayed the farthest from the path and forgotten who they are... all can find salvation." She nodded to Vivian. "But, if my words do nothing to convince you, I would ask that you at least visit my home and see what my Lord has done before you make your judgements. If you are still unconvinced, so be it, but do not deny salvation to yourself or the others because of old wounds."


Having said her piece, the armored woman turned toward Vito. "It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Vito." She shook her head as he described the demon. "As I said before, that Demon was very old and quite strong. You all did considerably well against it for having only just arrived. You show great promise." Her eyes glanced around at the others as she spoke the words before turning back to the warrior. "As for shelter, if it please you, you all may return to the golden city of Aurinc with me. It is Lord Argyle's home, and a bastion of hope and civilization in this world. You will be safe there, I can promise that."


Miranda turned on a heel toward the edge of the meadow, where Maulnar was now examining the dark orb. "That is the remnant of that Demon's soul, friend." Whether she had just noticed the old man or if his spell hadn't effected her was unclear. She took a few steps toward him. Small, indecipherable whispers came from the orb as Maulnar touched it. "Demons, even one as monstrous as that one, were once human souls like you and I. Unfortunately, they lost their way, and became consumed by their vices. Hatred. Envy. Greed... we all have such hungers in the depths of our being." She looked toward the orb sadly. "Demons are those who have given in to that hunger fully. They consume the souls of their brothers and sisters to grow stronger... Human souls become mindless predators. This is what becomes of those who stray too far from the light. They have fallen beyond redemption." She looked toward Vivian. "But even these lost spirits are not beyond salvation. We destroy their physical forms so that they can do no more harm, and return their souls to Aurinc so that Lord Argyle may purify them. They may have lost their identities, but we can grant them mercy. Through purification these tortured spirits can finally know peace." The armored woman stepped out of the barrier, placing her helmet back on her head and picking up the blackened orb. "I must take this soul to Aurinc. As I said before, you all are welcome to come and see the city yourselves." She motioned for the others to follow her and began walking through the forest.




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Anabel watched Vivian with a confused look on her face. The woman had been quite peaceful, even in the face of what had seemed certain death. Her sudden distress worried the young woman. The executioner listened to the conversation, considering her own view of salvation. She had been told of the gods, and been assured of their benevolence, but she had never seen much of their supposed mercy in life. The sky, the sea, even the holy White Flame of Esterl had all seemed little more than curiosities in comparison with the harsh realities of the real world. She shivered. 'Salvation' wasn't the first thing that came to mind when she thought of that place. Still, Miranda had saved them, and being protected from the monstrosities of this new world was a benefit worth considering.

After Vivian and Miranda had finished their conversation, Anabel hurried over to the sister, taking her by the hand. "Are you okay, Miss Vivian? You seemed upset." Once again the strange numbness washed over the girl. It was a pleasant feeling, artificial as it was. Still, it gave her peace, and peace was difficult to come by. Miranda had invited them to follow her to her home, a prospect that sounded much safer than exploring this terrifying world on their own. She looked toward Vivian and then toward Miranda, as if questioning whether or not the sister would follow.

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Oliver watched the entire conversation in silence. Alana only wanted to return home. Poor woman. Perhaps, if this god did exist, she might get the chance. Vivian's concerns were not alien to him. He had long ago given up on gods and 'salvation'... but now he was experiencing a very real afterlife. If there was a life after death abounding with magic and demons then there very well might be gods. The question was just how reliable such beings could be. The white-haired man rose up, placing himself between Alana and Lain. He spoke in a hushed tone, though with the armored woman's apparent super-human ability, he doubted that mattered. "So... what do you all think, do we follow?" The prospect of safety and time to adjust to the new world, the Grey Expanse, as the Captain had called it, was appealing, but only if such an offer could be trusted.


The ex-priest looked back toward Vito, motioning toward the armored woman with a questioning expression. Oliver sighed. He had somehow managed to find himself in a leadership position before, but he wasn't terribly fond of making decisions for other people. Still, waiting around for another Demon to show up didn't strike him as a safe idea, and he was curious to learn more about this place. With another sigh, he took a step forward. "I'm going to see this 'golden city'." With that, he followed after the armored woman, hoping he had made the correct decision.
 
Twinkle did not panic as the demon approached. It clicked a few times and made a little cooing noise, as if acknowledging the presence of the soul-devouring monster but seemed...well, remarkably at ease given the circumstances. Then it peered up, almost smugly, as the demon raised its hand and struck the shield. It giggled at the demon's plight, but the giggle died when it formed coherent sentences. Quietly, it echoed the demon's speech - "Lơ̴s͟t͜͠?̕ ̵L̡o͡s͏̀͟t̨̨̡?͜ ̴͡Álo̢͝n͠͞͠e̢͜.͘" - seeming to twist it, distorting the sounds as if several people spoke over it in one go, but with the exact same inflections and intonations as the demon before it. the little grey ghost did not seem to understand what it was saying, merely making noises to itself. It cheered when the angelic figure descended from the sky.

Its name was revealed - Twinkle looked up in recognition and approached Captain Miranda, giggling excitedly. With a note of pride, they brandished their sweet to the captain and announced "T̵́͡į̸̸̸͠ r͏a̛͘͟͞!͏̡͡͠ ̴̢́͢͞M͜͡i͞r̡͜͟a̡̕͢͞ń̸͢͟͡d͘͟a̡ ̷͡n͡͝͏͝͞o̸͘͜ ̷̕i̛͞f̧̨͞f͢҉è̷y͞͠ȩ̸̧͞͝ ḩ̛͢ ̴͜͡҉n҉͝͠ǫ̨͠r̨̕͟͠ ̸͏̵̡͏t҉͞u͝͏͞l̷̀̀͟ ̴̢͞i̛͏m̡̢̛͞n̷̢̢a҉̸̢͘,҉̧͡҉ ̴̴̵̡p̢͢o̴̧͟p̡̧͘͞ò̶͟͡ ̨́͢͞͡q̨̡͝͏u̧͘i̶͢í̵̸͝r̷̨͘̕̕i̶̕.̸̷̛͞ " They then huddled the sweet close, soul glowing brighter than ever. Another elated chuckle escaped from their incorporeal body as it floated rather contentedly around Miranda, humming to itself. It paused, only briefly, as Alana begged to return to her home...the soul dimmed halfheartedly and they let loose a low and mournful sigh, shaking their head wearily.

For some reason, Twinkle put some distance between themselves and Miranda as the Captain began to speak so zealously about Argyle. They emitted a low buzzing noise, which seemed to be the only clear and undistorted noise that they could make...and they didn't seem aware that they were doing it. Twinkle regarded Miranda with some hint of distrust before slowly returning to Maulnar's side, peering down at the demon soul, the dark and whispering orb. "I͢͢͢ỳ̧̢̨a̸͘͘͠,̶̨̀ ̴҉͏͝i̧͢͞͞y̸̢̕̕͜à̛.́͡.̧͘ .̡͢͟͠n̴̸̶̶̢ó̷̧̧͘r̷̴̨̡̧ ҉̷̧́͠t̸̛͝͠ o̕͝l͏ ̷̵̧̢͠m҉͏̵͠i̢͠r̴̀n̵̷̶̢n̶̨̛̕͘ ̛͢o̷͝m̛̀͘g̴̛̀á͘͟ ̶̧́͟͟s͢͏h̡͠ŗ͟į̸̸̕͜n̵̨͘͞ ̷̢͘ǹ̨͡͡҉į̨́s̕҉͟h͟.̶̛͡͝ ̴̡͜S̸̵̡͢s͡ş̶̨s̷͢s͝҉͏͡h̷̶̢͝.̷̴̡̨ ̢͢S͏̴͠s̢̕s̷͠͏͏̡ś̴̢̛s҉͜҉͝s̶̕͘͜͟h͘͢͢.̢͘͠͏ " they spoke in an undertone, confidentially, to Maulnar. They would not dare touch it, however, and did a half-somersault so they were floating upside down as the Captain approached to take it. "Eyaaaa~" Twinkle greeted, waving jovially. "AH-" they squeaked as they dropped their sweet. Another keening whine was produced as they tried to pick it up, to no avail. "Ah..Ah! Ah!" they demanded with soundless grunts, desperately, to Maulnar. A little blobby appendage pointed rather violently towards the sweet as it seemed to vibrate on the spot with urgency and panic. Their fascination with the little sweet and its brightly coloured wrapper was a mystery, but they seemed dead-set on keeping it to such an extent that they completely ignored Miranda's departure with the demon soul.

After a short while, when Oliver decided to follow the Captain, Twinkle peered about the group and then made another beckoning gesture. Whatever was previously irritating the ghost seemed to have been forgotten as they floated over and around Miranda excitedly, the twinkling beacon of a soul flashing and glimmering in the misty woodland. "Ey! Ey! Eeeeey!" they called out encouragingly, making as large and as obvious beckoning gestures as possible with those dangling and unwieldy limbs.
 
Alana stared, mouth agape, as Vivian challenged the angel without hesitation or respect. She could hardly believe the things that were tumbling out of the young woman's mouth; Vivian's priestly outfit only added confusion to the irritation that was starting to boil all over again. In Alana's household, as much as she tried to encourage free thinking, there was always one thing that was never to be questioned, and that was respecting the holy. "Watch your tone," she hissed at Vivian, still kneeling in front of Miranda. "I won't have you or anyone showing Captain Armis an attitude like that, especially since she just saved us from that demon." As soon as the words were out of her mouth she remembered that the demon had been the object of her motherly instincts moments before, but it was too late to take the remark back now. Her single-mindedness impressed even her sometimes.

Miranda's response to Vivian's heretical speech wasn't quite in line with the stories Alana had heard in her religious teachings, but she reminded herself that Purgatory was said to shape itself to the souls of its residents in order to properly show them the path to salvation. Maybe that was what Miranda was talking about. With that in mind, Alana mulled over everything she'd heard: she had to admit that she wasn't fully expecting the captain of the guard to have the power needed to send her back, but now she had a lead: Argyle himself. Miranda spoke of some challenge that would need overcoming, but Alana didn't care about the details. She knew she could do it. Or, at least, she had to. With a stiff nod she told the angel, "I'll do whatever it takes." And with that, she stood.

Her wounds cracked with the motion, but Alana was barely cognizant of the pain. It was as if her renewed sense of purpose brought physical relief to her weary body, letting her ignore the unimportant details and focus on the goal now laid out in front of her. An immense feeling of pride welled up in her heart when Miranda said she held great promise, finally bringing a smile back to her face. She listened closely to Miranda's explanation of the nature of demons and carefully filed the details away. They had done the right thing after all by fighting that hulking monstrosity. There was no other way to end its suffering. Alana felt relieved to know this, trusting Miranda's word completely.

"I will too," she said, walking past Oliver and after Miranda. "We should trust the captain." Her words seemed affirmed by Twinkle, their unusual guide. Alana still wasn't sure what to make of the wisp, or Grey as Miranda had called it, but it seemed friendly and she had more important things to worry about.
 
"Hmm." Was all Maulnar could say as he dropped his masking spell. Miranda promised a way back to the land of the living, through the power of Lord Argyle, god of salvation. A god. Maulnar wasn't very fond of gods, the concept of an all-powerful, all-benevolent, immortal being was beyond comprehension. One thing cannot be wholly good or wholly evil, that would be naive and unrealistic to assume. So, why would a being like that even care about lowly humans like them? It would be too perfect, it must have ulterior motives and neither Miranda nor Twinkle could be trusted on this matter. He trusted them both individually, but their opinion onArgyle could be warped. Yet, the others were ready to accept shelter from the demons by Miranda and her lord. Despite his mistrust, Maulnar accepted the party's decision, he would form an opinion once he's seen everything with his own eyes. Miranda has been granted powers to protect herself and others, so it might be worthwhile to explore this city.

Twinkle's piece of candy was picked up again by the old man. He loosely held the piece between two fingers, for the little grey to take, but began to follow Oliver anyway. "Come on, Twinkle. You may try to get it back on the way." He told the wisp, then turned towards Miranda. "Could we be granted an audience with your Lord?" Maulnar asked firmly.
 
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She was so caught up in waiting for the golden woman's reply, whatever form it was going to take, that the sudden clap of an armored hand upon her shoulder made Vivian jump. She looked aside, meeting the eyeholes of Vito's mask as he whispered down to her. There was no doubt in her mind that he was correct. It made no real difference to them as a group to take advantage of Argyle and his subjects' generosity. She gave the knight a nod, the frown on her face evening out as she looked back to the captain. The sister only glared silently as the armored woman approached, carefully accepting her words and piling up with observations on the history offered to her. Her scarred hands balled readily at her waist, violence the last thing she would attempt and the only thing their host had shown themselves capable of. The path? Salvation? Her head turned slowly, staring at the floating remnant of the demon sitting at the edge of the clearing. A corner of her mouth twisted, she found herself half bemused and half sickened by what she was being told and the way it layered over the realities so clear before her eyes. Finally, she looked back to the captain, nodding in appreciation for her words. It made sense, at least, and disgusted her the same way it did in the mortal world. They had simply gone to a place where everything worked the same way. Phenomena were labelled threats, and the impressionable and unfortunate flocked to those that could shelter them and destroy what ailed them. The warlord's power grew in relation to how needed his panacea of violence and control became. Argyle was no mere warlord any more, whatever words described their nebulous benefactor. In a world built upon suffering, sustained by it... people like him became gods. Then, Alana jumped in once the captain was done. She turned slowly to the injured woman, vaguely aware that she should have felt hurt underneath such a reprimand. The only sadness she had left to feel was for the person across from her. It had been one thing to watch her countrymen swear their lives away to causes offering just the same thing out of far more mortal hands, it was another to see the same victimizing process happening in what should have been the seat of all things right and just. Get a hold of yourself some voice or another commanded. Had she not decided, only seconds prior, that this was merely more of the same? An afterlife bizarrely without purpose, simply another life they had been shunted into. Was reincarnation the more correct term? There were no doubt other scholars of religion present, she decided to find them if they hadn't already gone mad. The sister breathed out, sighing deeply as she centered herself. Miranda was already moving away, apparently satisfied in her rhetoric, but she offered her sorry to either of the two. "I apologize, I was merely confused by the vocabulary at hand, and judged you and your lord by standards that do not reflect the reality of your situation in my haste," She said, bowing courteously. "As you can see, the others here are quite distinct from myself. I would ask you, in your benevolence, to consider my hostility an action of myself, without relation to their own standing here."

Vivian righted herself, brushing the hair from her eyes before turning and stepping away from the group to let their deliberations continue. Even in the midst of her own reservations, she knew they had little else to do besides follow Miranda back to wherever she came from. There wasn't much they could do if they were unfortunate enough to encounter a demon right after rejecting Argyle's offer.

"Oh," she said, startled as Anabel took up her hand. Is it always on? She wondered. The sparks hadn't appeared after Vito took his hand off of her shoulder, they only seemed to show after the contact was broken... and they only seemed to flicker away from her skin. It made sense, her holy uniform certainly didn't hold any power in life, it would have been perverse for it to start up in an afterlife its own teachings didn't endorse. Something was kind enough to repair it. It would have been nice to be allowed one of the caps too. "Do not worry about me, Anabel, I was just... reminded of some lessons I learned in life. Take it as a new lesson, as will I, not to besmirch one's name with reckless words." Still ill, she smiled brightly at the girl, following her gaze as it went back towards the captain. "And don't worry about that either! The captain was most understanding. Let us be off, too."





Lain sat by and scratched his chin, not exactly hearing what he wanted to hear as Miranda and the sister shot some words back and forth. His attention slowly settled on the wisp, dancing around the captain and showing off the tribute someone had already offered it. He couldn't help but feel some small shot of amusement at the way it moved and whirled. For an embodiment of death, it wasn't... ah, nope, calling it that ruins it. Still, it behaved in some decidedly interesting ways as the conversation went on. Being one of the city, himself, he had never so much seen an animal's intuition at work as he'd heard time and time again from those in the country that they just happened to be in tune with their surroundings. It made sense, in any line of work people got a good head for the 'imperceptible' things they needed to know. If only his nose for the police had been a little bit better. Either way, he had no way of reading it. Maulnar had been attending to that earlier though, and he was content to cut his observations knowing that someone older and wiser was working on speaking the language of the little dead clouds. With the spiritual talk over, he looked between his fellow party members. A city was where he belonged, gods or not, so his mind had already been made up. It seemed as though everyone but him and Vito had joined the procession at that point. He looked over at the warrior, and shrugged his shoulders. "I guess it's worth a shot on the off chance they've got a bar." On that, he walked off after the group. He was a misfit in this world, of that he was sure. The closest thing he had to a fellow was Vito at that point, solely the virtue that he was a man obviously soaked in more bloodshed than he was. There was one solace though, and it was the prospect of returning to a city. It didn't matter if everyone in the city were cut from the same cloth as the magical people around him, people needed certain things done for money, and he was an expert on nefariously euphemistic 'certain things.' Former expert, at least, and hopefully out of retirement soon.
 
Vito removed his hand from Vivians shoulder, letting her relax as Miranda delivered something of a counter statement. Her God is physical, he thought to himself with a soft, silent chuckle. Maybe I could tap in to some of that power.. The ease in which she struck that demon down! He shuffled about a moment, a bit confused, watching each of the group in turn make their way along.. Even the kid, Lain, was tagging along. "A bar.. I wonder what the dead drink to forget their troubles." He tapped at his empty flask, before snapping his fingers and hefting his pack off of his back. "Hold on a moment.. There's a tradition where I come from, I think that we should all partake in. For our health, you see."

He dug through his pack, around various bits and bobs and materials, a sewing kit, a small hammer and tongs, an old leatherbound book, before fishing out a rather hefty looking pouch that jingled softly as he lifted it up. He counted among the group, ignoring the wisp and the angelic savior, and fished out a fistful of surprisingly clean golden coins, bearing a curious mint depicting a tower tied together by a pair of flowers, one a rose and the other a rough approximation of a bundle of lilacs. He hurried amongst the crew, first presenting the coins in an open palm, then clasping hands with the individual and turning his hand slightly to deposit the coin in theirs. Doing this on the move, and trying to keep up with some of the more spry members of the group was a bit of a chore, but it was something he felt in his heart needed to be done.

When at last he finished the coin passing ceremony with Oliver as the last, he turned to the crew and explained, "The dead deserve to be honored. The Goddess of Dreams from my.. world, loved pretty things, like gold. It was said that even a damned soul could find redemption in her eyes if they carried a spark of beauty on their person, so gold has always been distributed to the dying or deceased to assist in earning them a place in the Ais, the Over." He smiled a bit, before undoing the clasp at the chin of his mask, and the two at the helmet, removing the iron face-cage and revealing his badly scarred, lined and creased face. Though he had been loath to do so earlier, he felt a certain fondness to these people, enough so that he felt that just this once he could show his face even in his moment of uncertainty and relative weakness. He had yet to examine how badly the priests of Ka-Alaa had scarred him, but he was sure it wasn't bad enough to frighten these.. Friends.

"We are all dead, and yet it would seem our journey is only just beginning. Lucky us, right?" He chuckled, mouth curling into a satisfied grin. "Still, a good luck charm never harmed anyone, I'd say. Keep that coin, may they do well by the lot of you." He turned on a heel, and bumped up his pace a tad to keep up with Oliver, placing his mask into his pack and slinging said pack back over his shoulders. "May it do you very well, Preacher."
 
Oliver nodded. It seemed everyone was in agreement on the matter of following the Captain. He imagined they all had their reasons. For his part, he was primarily driven by curiosity at Miranda's words. Perhaps there was truth to what she said, perhaps not, regardless though, he wanted to see this golden city. Keeping away from the demons was an added bonus. The ex-priest chuckled when Lain mentioned looking for a bar. "Somehow I doubt it, but it wouldn't be the strangest thing we've seen today." Personally, a drink didn't sound too bad. He followed along with the group, watching as Vito conducted his ritual. When the warrior finally reached him, he took the coin from his hand with an appreciative nod. He looked over the golden coin, turning it over in his hand as Vito explained the ritual.

The ex-priest looked up as Vito removed his helmet and followed along beside him. The man looked just as much a warrior without the mask as he did with it. Oliver placed the coin in his pocket with a smile. "I appreciate it, Vito." He patted his pocket. "I could always use a bit of good luck." He laughed, but that statement had been true for a long time. Bad luck was one thing that had followed him most of his life. At one point, he had wondered if it was some divine test. Abandoning that theory, he had viewed it as a long string of unfortunate coincidences. Now he wasn't sure what to think. He adjusted his hat, following along through the thick rows of pines. He wasn't sure if this world had been made more or less terrifying by the Captain's words, but the forest was much more pleasant than the barren cliff face they'd been greeted with. Every now and again he heard rustling through the trees, but never saw any source for the noise. It was probably some woodland creature, at least, if there were animals in this place. He sighed, looking down at his stained hands. He had a great deal of questions about this 'Grey Expanse'. Hopefully someone in Miranda's city would have some answers.


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Anabel followed along beside Vivian, picking up her sword as they left. The moment she touched the hilt the voices returned, and her free hand shot out to grab the sister's. She watched as the armored man began passing out coins to everyone. When he came to her, she paused for a moment, looking nervously at the blade, then to Vivian, then back to Vito. She released the sister's hand for a moment, taking the coin from Vito. The voices began again. She tried her best to not understand the words, though she caught a few amidst the cacophony. She looked up to Vito and managed a weak "Thank you." before placing the coin within her pocket and grabbing Vivian's hand once again. She wondered if the woman thought her strange for carrying on as she did. Perhaps it was a bit rude to make use of the sister's power to preserve her own peace of mind, but the thought of listening to the voices for an extended period of time sent a shiver through her.

She continued to mull over the problem as they made their way amongst the trees. Maybe she was just a coward. Even now she was running from her guilt. That cowardice was the very reason she was here in the first place. A downtrodden look took over the girl's face. Gutlessness was just one more sin on the pile. She looked over to Vivian, and the faint purple sprites. "I'm sorry..." She motioned toward the sprites rising from their hands. "It just... helps. I can let go if you'd like." She desperately hoped the sister would take pity on her. Still, she couldn't run from it forever. Her eyes fell on Miranda's back. Maybe she could find some way to make amends in the golden city. Perhaps there was some kind of penance that would quiet her head.


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Miranda led the party forward, occasionally reaching out a hand to pat Twinkle. She felt a sorrow for the strange little thing, though it seemed happy, as far as she could tell. Still, the plight of the Greys was one that often weighed on her mind. They were little more than lambs in a world filled with hungry wolves. The armored woman looked back as Maulnar asked his question. "An audience you say?" She pondered the question for a moment. It was a bit forward, but it had been asked before. "I suppose I could arrange for such a thing, though it may take some time. In the meantime, I might be able to direct you to someone in the city who could help answer some of your questions." A direct meeting with Argyle was not something to be taken lightly, but others had done it... she had done it.

The Captain seemed somewhat amused by Vito's ritual, sacrilegious as it was. She listened to the warrior's words as she walked. "It's certainly a pretty bit of blasphemy." She remained deathly silent for a moment before laughing. "Though anything done to help others is worth commending, blasphemy or no." The woman had an odd sense of humor, but then, she was in a place that was quite odd in and of itself. Armis continued forward, following a small path through the trees. She continued to lead them on in silence, watching as the energetic little sprite danced around her in child-like glee.


After some time, the trees gave way to a wide, sweeping plain carpeted in soft grass. The sun shown down brightly providing a certain warmth and a sense of peacefulness about the area. As the rest of the party made their way through the trees, Miranda pointed forward. "There it is, Aurinc, our golden city." In the center of the plain a large city rose from the ground. A great wall surrounded the settlement. Within the wall, one could see towering spires reaching up toward the clouds. While the immensity of the city and its fine architecture were stunning, its most enchanting feature was the one that created its namesake. The entire city appeared golden, glinting brilliantly in the warm light of the sun. Though it was difficult to tell through her helmet, Miranda seemed glad to be home. She led them forward until the gates of the great city were in sight. The closer they drew to the city, the larger and more impressive it became. The gates were titanic in stature, dwarfing anyone who stood before them. Detailed inscriptions covered the massive doors, showing an unbelievable level of craftsmanship. Among the engravings were symbols and marking similar to those that had been present at the shrine. Miranda stepped forward as the gates began to creak open. "Welcome, friends."
 
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