Sanguine Dirge IC

[BlueFlameNikku]

Lost to the outside world as Samuel was left in the blackened void of his mind he felt a sudden warmth on his shoulder and after that he could see a light that was followed by words that were being addressed to him; the words would ring within his ears like a church bell being rung on a Sunday morning. Both the warm light and words slowly flickering his own aura of warmth and comfort back to life but before young Samuel could open his eyes or lift his head he felt a third sensation. A fist being pushed against his breast plate followed by words that weren't from the same voice as before butt sounded just a genuine. This third and final sensation made Samuel feel as though the dark stain glass window veil that had come over him was violently shattered in an instant. It was at this very moment after the fist just as quickly left his chest plate Samuel would open his eyes and lift his head in surprise to just barely catch the black clothed Mygdos turning and walking away from him and the group. Then turning his head slightly to the side to pay witness to the female half-Orc whom Samuel didn't even know the name of and yet there she was by his side both physically and emotionally. He wouldn't be able to help but well up inside just a bit as he would look back down for just a moment and take in a deep breath to hold back his tears of joy. Afterwards Samuel would look back to the warm smile of the shaman with a warm smile of his own, a big smiling face with closed eyes that radiated an sense of innocence, gratitude and pure happiness; followed by two simple words that came from the bottom of the boy's heart.

"Thank you"

Opening his eyes as he turns his head to look at the back of Mygdos who by now was already some ways away, his smile returning back to a softer state before speaking two more words; these ones a bit more softly.

"Both of you"

At this moment Samuel's warm aura would go back to it's original state if not just a little stronger as it's area of effect would just barely nip at the back of Mygdos; Samuel hoping that either way Mygdos would in same way catch the gestures of gratitude.

Samuel didn't pay much attention to the old woman behind the counter for he was too busy preparing himself for the seen that was to come; only there wasn't enough preparation in the world for Samuel as Aloette opened that door. The scene that lied before Samuel caused his eyes to open wide in disbelief at the site of the broken family. The severity of the injuries both on and beneath the surface, Samuel couldn't imagine the suffering that they've endured, then as he laid eyes upon the remains of the children's mother his heart simply couldn't sink any deeper as he leveled with the thoughts and feelings of what the boy could be experiencing as Samuel recalled his own family tragedy.

However as Kiyoko entered the room thus moving past Aloette which made Samuel realize that Aloette wasn't moving an inch; Samuel couldn't help but be frustrated by the wolf eared woman's brashness and bluntness towards the son. Though there were things she was saying that Samuel agreed with but there were other actions and words that made the young knights blood boil though thanks to the help from Ghegair and Mygdos Samuel cleansed most of his anger with a silent breath before brushed past Aloette into the room. His warm and comforting aura would fill the room as he made his presence strong for those within site as he used his heightened emotional state as fuel. He kept his face held high and strong as he made his way over to Kiyoko as he began to speak in a tone not that unlike a big brother coming to the rescue of a younger sibling in a time of need, every word coming from deep with inside.

"You talk of pride and shame when I see a mother, a son and a daughter whom have so much pride that they've survived through near impossible odds."

He would take one final step, stopping just behind Kiyoko off to one side so that Samuel was slightly between her and the boy kneeling before he continued to speak.

"A mother who made a greater sacrifice than any hero from a fable and two children whom had the strength to have made as far as they have, strength that most people only wished that they had."

"She will be properly buried, if only among the grassy hills and flowers that she deserves. But..."

At this moment Samuel would turn his head to the side and down slightly so that he is staring directly into at least one of Kiyoko's eyes and looking slightly away from the children. Samuel's own eyes would be still and almost dilated and his facial expression would be serious and stern. His voice would match stern and serious look in his eyes as his voice came out slightly lower than usual as Samuel couldn't help but being in the boy's position if that was his own mother laying dead upon that bed.

"...I'd sooner perish before I let you drag these children's mother away from them like this."

Samuel truly wasn't all that much older than the boy and if their was anything that he truly understood how the boy felt was that no matter what shape a son sees his mother in; it's still his mother and not just some corpse.

 

[noodle]

[fieldbox="Raven Willow Ashdown, red, dashed, 10, Courier New"]

Raven gave Elyan a quirky grin and began trailing behind the group, listening silently to the conversation. As they neared the building the children were held in, she began wondering how they'd all get along. The halfling, their leader, young knight, and Orc seemed nice enough, but...the one filled with rage and death and the barbarian with the big axe looked like they may cause trouble.

Then the archer spoke. Hey! Another sassmaster! This would be fun. Looks like she found a friend, assuming she'd let the werecat be friends with her. Most of these people seemed rather.....cold....to the idea of making friends. And the dog lady still made her slightly nervous when she was around her.

She really needed to give everybody here nicknames, partly for her own sake in remembering who they were. There was no way she was remembering everybody's names first try.

As they entered the place, she scowled coldly at the woman and bared her teeth slightly. Even in human form, sometimes her animal side shone through, especially if she was angry. And she'd only get angrier at what happened next. Kiyoko's actions toward the children made her huff in disgust. Typical of a wild canine.

.....not that felines were always nice to others, but that's besides the point.

She smiled, relaxed, and leaned against the wall, however, when Samuel stepped up to Kiyoko and began defending the kids. Looks like she wouldn't have to step up after all. For as much as she loved getting into arguments, she didn't want to do it here and now. It wasn't the place for one.

She'd sit this one out, it seemed. She didn't really know how to comfort children. All she'd really ever done with kids was kill their parents and leave them orphans. That was....the opposite of comforting, actually. So yeah. [/fieldbox]

 

[Sir Basil]

Elyan ag Mórgwnystrad
Male / Twenty Five / Human
"Each man is a hero and an oracle to somebody."

Ω REFECTORY Ω

The foreigner was not blind. He knew the story of the Pól, but of all the stories of the Messiah's followers, that story seemed the least likely to have truly happened. He saw it reflected in the shaman's eyes, when she looked at him. The story was one he knew well. He rehearsed it in his head from time to time, and tried to dream of it. But the story could only be heard second-hand. He could never crawl inside of Pól's head, and see what he saw, that day on the road. But he could see it when the shaman looked at him. Her eyes were filled with stars. Elyan could feel the spirits clinging to her, feel her touching against them. Her tusks were sharp, her nose sharp, everything sharp - but there was a softness in her that Elyan did not see in the others. To her, he offered her a small smile, gentle, and matching her own softness; something that lingers beneath the surface but is equally important. He murmured towards her; "We are fortunate to have you." Every word had heart in it. He knew her. Not her, but what she was. He could see those spirits - because he had seen the spirits of many others before. In dreams, "Thank you for coming, spirit-speaker." In his language, she would be Cailleach. What would she have said to him? Did she know what the witch had said? Did she know he was chosen? Did that even matter?

It didn't - not now. The foreigner walked through the hallowed halls of Skarisfall. It had a refectory - that was for certain, and it was near the Respite. A place of respite always needed to be near a place of healing. he lead them, head held high, straight-backed, down the passageways. The sides of the building were painted in intricate frescoes of those who had come before. A tattered painting was their companion down the narrow passageway. The messiah was depicted - a twisted mass of armor and flesh that had collapsed upon the ground- sword pierced through his heart. Although the paint was chipping, orange and gold-leaf flames curled from the sides of the tempra blade. Elyan did not look at it. He traced it in his mind's eyes, and watched it from the corner of his eye. A thin stream of red blood poured from the Messiah's chest in the painting, drying amongst a painted floor that depicted far too many eyes. A chennad reached down to the Messiah, pulling up a ghostly outline of a human body from its armor. The chennad's wings' were black. He knew that the Faith today claimed that this was a God of Darkness ; who had come to take the Messiah's soul from his body, because he had failed in his task. Others said that this was a representation of humanity's darkest sins, dragging the Feaseia down to his knees. The Messiah was dead, and humanity killed him. But that was not the case, and Elyan knew it. Those wings weren't black because of a moral lapse, or eternal punishment. The paint was silver-leaf, and it had tarnished so much over the years, that the wings had turned black. It had been too long though. They would never shine again.

The refectory was close ; and it was quiet. A large, grand hall with a heavy oaken-beam ceiling, and a tall fire-place standing in one corner. Long dark tables were organized around the fireplace, but no monks or priests stood amongst them. A longsword, with carved, golden flames hung over the fire-place. It was intended to represent that cursed sword - it was intended to remind the holy folk that dined here of what they lost, and what they would gain, should the Messiah ever return. The gold was peeling on it ; it was only paint. Elyan's lips twitched, as he glanced about the room, his gold eyes soft - but searching. A long counter stood on one side of the room, and behind it was a small, partially walled kitchen. Dried herbs hung in heavy boughs from a rack above the counter. The room was filled with the smell of cloves and sage, lavender and wheat. The foreigner walked towards the herb-racks, and plucked a wrinkled handful of small white flowers, all interconnected by their leaves and stems, and a long spring of a plant, with purple flowers set amongst green buds. The white smelled crisp and clear, with an underlying bitterness - like freshly made vodka. The purple had a thicker, heavier smell, that made Elyan's lids hang heavy over his eyes. Valerian and Motherwort. Calming plants, sedatives in large enough quantities, addictive if used regularly. He pulled a few blossoms and twigs from each of these plants, and set them on the counter.

The foreigner turned to his group, and gave them a small, and soothing smile. He then ducked into the kitchen; a small, well-kept kitchen. The smell of bread and flour was thick here, chasing away whatever sleepiness that the strong smell of the Motherwort had produced. A few loaves of fresh bread sat on the countertop, cooling - awaiting when the congregation would be called to break their fast. Above the counter were long wooden shelves, each with thick glass jars with fine cloth lids, and bands holding them together. Through the clear glass he could seem jams and jellies, picked cabbage and brined beets. He reached up, pulling from the shelf a pair of jars, both jams with small seeds and thick fruit ; things that would be unknowably sweet to those who did not come from privilege. Elyan bowed his head, and his eyes snapped shut. He murmured softly under his breath, pressing his forefingers together; "Duwiau maddau hyn."

When he returned to the group, Elyan carried a basket under his arm. He lifted the cloth cover, to show the group what he had procured. Half-a-dozen thick slices of white bread - a luxury - with thick globs of deep violet and dark orange jams. He smiled thinly, and nodded. His words were soft and conspiratory, as if he was telling his band a secret he had never told them before; "A gift for our young friends." The foreigner tugged at the cloth, covering the present with the thin layer of cloth, and watched as the violet jam stained the cloth black. The stain spread as the foreigner walked through the holy hall, guiding his coalition to Pilgrim's Respite.

Ω RESPITE Ω

Pilgrim's Respite; so called because it was a place for the weary pilgrim to find sanctuary. A floral smell rose from this wide, airy loft, and fires blazed here, day and night, to keep warm the chilled. Few beds were occupied - few had made it this far. The fire-pits were mundane, but the stones that held them together were supposed the first stones that the Messiah had ever walked on, the first thing that he had ever touched. Because of this, these halls were a blessed place - so blessed that even the smoke was said to have curative properties. The charcoal that came from those pits was never black - but always a bright white. Charcoal purged the system of imbalanced humours - but this characol did not purge. It was a gentler hand than that. Elyan had never touched that characol, but as the foreigner walked by those fire-pits, he took a deep breath of the smoke.

The smoke was spiced - they had been burning cinnamon and myrrh - and it left a warmth on his tongue. He smiled, a relaxed, calm smile - only for it to be interrupted by the voice of one of the attendants. She was an old woman, with a long, crooked nose, and heavy jowls. Her hair was long and grey - braided and fastened with a heavy brass brooch. The brooch had four foxes on it, their tails intertwined. Her lips were pursed, and her hands poured through a book - Mercy and Justice. Elyan tilted his head towards her, as the conversation progressed. She was missing some of her teeth, and others had been replaced with turquoise. Her voice was rough - the grit in it came from years of inhaling the smoke. As the small girl - his new colleauge - passed her by, Elyan approached her. He looked at her, tracing her face with his eyes, and then, looked down at the book. The book had belonged to forty others , and the last one had been a priest here; Jordain was his name. Jordain's fingers had last touched the page on which the following words had been written by a priest with a stutter but a firm grip; "they sent the Messiah to save us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of their mercy." The foreigner knew the page. He leaned towards the old woman, and said in his honeyed voice; "The page with the red hole, the one repaired with stitching. Some of the Gods' best wisdom lives on the worst page." He gave her a small smile, and turned away from her, moving towards the door.

As the small girl opened the door, Elyan set the basket down upon the ground. The ribbon fluttered uselessly against the door, flopping about like a bit of discarded skin. Elyan could smell it before the door was opened - the sticky, dusty smell of something spoiled and gone to rot. He took a deep inhale of breath, an audible gasp on an inhale, and then, his mouth shut tight. He was holding his breath, before that door opened. He knew that what was behind it would not be something he would want to breathe in without preparing himself. And, Elyan was right.

The smell of death and decay swept out from the room, in a heavy cloak - the burning of spiced fires only barely keeping that stench at bay. The mother was dead. She laid on the slab lifeless and mutilated, and the dried blood on her torso made it clear what had happened - a heavy sword, an axe, or a sharpened tool had cloven through her. Elyan did not breathe yet; he was taking it all in. A boy who could only be her son stood weeping over her, his back a mess of lash-marks, deep, and dark. They stood out against the many white lines from old scars. His nails, all tattered and chipped - he had clawed at something, once. It had been a long time. The mother's mouth was gaping open in her death face, and her gums were black and rotting away. The tendons and muscles of her gums were beginning to sink into the recesses of her skul. Her tongue lolled helplessly out her mouth. It was grey and leathery, an old worm in a rotten bog. There were maggots forming beneath the skin - the foreigner knew that. There were flies here. Not even the Faith could keep flies from corpses. That was simply the way of the world. A small, thin girl stood uninjured in the side of the room, but she too, was pale and shaking, and her eyes were very large in her skull.

The young girl - the one with his coalition - stood still as stone before him, unable to move. The foreigner let out his breath, and looked over the scene one more time. He did not focus on anything in particular, staring through it, staring into space and trying to understand what had happened here, before he had arrived. What would he dream of tonight? He could only imagine that his dreams would be black and bloody, and they would stick to his skin. He took a few, cautious steps forward into the room - many of his new associates peered over shoulders, or looked through the doorway, watching the scene. Elyan turned his head, to look at the others. Many of them had completely neutral expressions. Were they biting back their fear - or were they truly un-phased by what had unveiled itself before them? He did not undertake the thought for long — they had already pushed past him.

Elyan turned his head towards the wolf-girl - towards Kiyoko. With one hand, he would gently push her shoulder. He stared down at her, his look severe. His soft features, soft smile, soft cheeks, were hard in his face. He cleared his throat, and his eyes moved - the pupils darting from the scene of violence, towards the way behind him, the way that he had come. Had he successfully taken her shoulder, he would apply pressure on it, and shifting his hand slightly backwards. His hand ached as he did so, crying out that this motion was not natural, that the healed wound could not be treated so roughly. Elyan ignored it, and removed his hand, giving the wolf-girl a small nod. The intention behind the gesture, behind the face, behind the motion - all of that was clearly intended. Please move aside. That was what that gesture said - because it had become very clear that Kiyoko was not suited towards this task. Regardless of whether or not she moved, the foreigner came to stand in-front of her, kneeling down before the brutal scene.

The foreigner faced Samuel. His light-eyes studied the boy. He was frightened, that much was clear. Even if he did not know it; he was afraid, afraid of what he had seen in this room, afraid of the suffering that existed within the world. Elyan could hear it ; the beating of his heart, and anger in his spirit. Elyan turned away from him, looking towards the mother and son. He offered the son a small, sad smile - the curvature of his mouth contrasting with the small wrinkles that formed around his eyes, the raising of his brows. His words, however, were clearly directed to the man behind him - "Samuel." The foreigner murmured the name, and it was as if someone was churning butter with his voice; thick, rich, and soft - but also distorted from its volume, "Would you be so kind to bring the present?" The intention behind this too, was clear. A gentle way of re-oriented the man, having him do that which was useful ; rather than destructive. Elyan's eyes were gold and bright towards the child, warm and filled with light from reflecting torches.

From his position, leaning down before the child, the foreigner looked at the boy. His smile had long-since crawled away, but there was still that softness, that sweetness and warmth that comes from one who is truly trying. "I am so, so sorry." He said quietly, and slowly. He turned his head towards the girl, and nodded at her, "For the both of you." His voice increased only slightly in volume, to address the dirty child, but it had the same tone. "We're here to help you. I'm sorry we found you so late, but we're here now." He gestured towards Samuel, regardless of whether or not the young knight had accepted his task, "My friend Samuel has a treat for you, to start with. I know you don't want treats. But that is what I can give you." He knew what they wanted. They wanted their mother. Elyan knew that. But the only one who could make the dead rise from their graves was the Feaseia — you could speak to the dead all you like, dream of their ghosts, but that wasn't the same as bringing them back. Small dimples appeared in his cheeks from his frown, and he said, "I know it must be hard to believe." His words were clear, and deliberate. It was all so deliberate. "But we are here to help you." The foreigner outstretched his hand, towards the boy, but still a foot away from touching him. He made no effort to touch him, or to force the boy to take his hand.

"To help you, and to help the others." That too, was said with purpose and intent. There was a strength in that. Elyan believed what he said. Belief was powerful. It could win battles, turn friends again one another, and crown a Messiah who walked among mortal men.

 

[U.N. 0W3N]

The interactions of his new comrades… the outright tension and strong personalities… it all swept away from the halfling's mind as one of the rooms in the Respite was opened. Everything up to this moment was replaced by unfathomable dread and disgust. The words of the elder seemed to rang in Mali's head now. Their mission and why it was so important to act immediately… the consequences of allowing such cruelty to burned into his eyes. They dulled out. Pupils shrank to the size of needle heads at the horrors that awaited in that room.

The boy… oh ihaalal! What has happened to the boy?! His eye… his arm… what kind of monster would disfigure him?! How would he be able to notch a bow or juggle? What kind of life would this child face? An earlier conversation mixed with the elder's words. Revenge? How?! How was that even possible? The figure in the bed… the woman.. Where was the rest of her? Why didn't her chest rise? Why was her eyes glossed over?! She's dead! And the girl… where was the glitter of life? Curiosity and wonder? Why did he stare into the eyes of someone that's decided to give up. Glazed and far gone… those didn't belong on such a young girl.

Only the dead occupied this room.

As the others stepped forward to try and gather information, Mali retreated. He wound up bumping into the legs of his companions as he darted out of the room. As he rushed out of the Respite and back outside, he wound up bumping into other occupants and furniture. Soon, the cool air caressed his face… but it did nothing. The images were branded into his mind as he crouched to the ground. His stomach twisted and lurched. Vile filled his throat and made its way to the ground. Heaving, he can feel the burn. The acidic taste lingered as he tried to pull himself together… but, how?! How could he be alright with the sight in that room? And, the others… how could they not bat an eye to this?! How cruel and cold their lives were before joining the Sanguine Dirge…

"Aysl nim adl'ale ... aha'ann jrdm satlay taneadila!" Mali exclaimed out loud, wondering if the Elder Gods were listening to him right now. "Watalqqus mn'dhah abilalq ... dhafalima judalwu?" Mali couldn't stop shaking as he sat on the ground near his vile. Everything seemed to spin for a moment as some great weight tried to pull Mali through the earth. Doing his best to breathe and calm down, the halfling closed his eyes and began to mutter. Mutter a prayer to the Gods, hoping that the winds would take his pleas.

Please, ease their torments. Spare them of this damned life they are forced to walk. Give them peace and ease. Allow them to find joy and see color in this dark world. Please… allow them to be free of their past and find strength in their future.

 

[RedArmyShogun]

Suddenly as she was attempting to remove the body, the knight known as Sam, suddenly confronts her. While the situation by no means was funny to her, his words were. In fact it was hysterical in a manner. "Haha! Do you even listen to yourself? Do you think this is some sort of Romantic story?"

Shaking her head, this man was too much. She knew he was likely week or zealous from the shakes he had before. But no, it was much worse. He was delusional. She would hazard to guess, he believed this was all some sort of glorious crusade for justice. Then he had the nerve to get in her way. No longer laughing, her eyes peer into Samuel's, Standing to her feet, and tilting her head, her right hand balls into a fist. "Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?" While Kiyoko didn't bother to translate, the way she was staring him down, plus the clenched fist, going to an open stiff hand that was being slowly reared back, gave all the translation that was needed.

Are you looking for a smack in the face mate?

"A noble Scarifice? Seriously? What worries my people will no longer have! When you mark your hero's by being dead!" Laying her had to the side, this, waste of manpower for the sakes of heroics, always struck her as idiotic. A waste of men and material. The woman did indeed die for her son, a sacrifice that was now going to waste, but to call her a hero, for the act of dying, to no result? The man was truly mad after all. Nor could he consider, he was shocked, if not blaming himself for his mother's death even.






Calming herself, the warrior attempts to offer some form of reasoning, pointing out the flaws in what the younger man had said, though that would soon be interrupted..

"Never mind they were brought here.. But there is nothing honorable about surviving in and of itself, in fact I'd wager he feels.." With the leader going for a touch or shove, suddenly and with little in way of warning, his , the woman just growls angrily, staring him in the eye.

"Bic ni skana'din!" Somewhat ticked off, the agile warrior leaps back a step, not trusting his intentions. While this man was her commander, those sudden and strange moves, were cause to be on guard. Eying him up, and his follow through, with a head shake, Kiyoko had just lost a bit of respect for him. But he was the commander none the less, his golden eye gaze spoke volumes as of what his next order was. With a heavy stare, and getting yet another person between her, the woman loses any patience to deal with it. If they wanted to be fools, then so be it.

And if that wasn't enough, her own work, with some help of the others, was being handed over to this coward as she seen him. "... Be very careful of this kindness of yours. It may cost you, and I'm not here to be a sacrifice.." Thinking back to her old team, situations like this had cost them a few members. She had tried to reason then, and the end result was men throwing their lives away for stupid reasons. Growling silently, any friendliness in the woman's tone, becomes Ice, professional.







Feeling wronged, she adds in one more acid remark, spitting in a far corner of the room as she did so.

"Also My Lord. If the boy Chokes on it, I hope you'll give, Dear Ser Knight, the Credit for that as well.. Or will that be the fault of someone else, I wonder?" Bowing lightly, crimson red eyes remained affixed to gold, or rather to the back of a mop of hair. "tch." With a deft motion, the woman seems to drop something from her hand, making way for the door, giving him no room for counter remarks or orders.


"I'll take up a guard position outside. Careful not to catch the plague."


~~~



Pivoting on her heel with military precession, the woman simply walks her way past the rest, muttering a string of explicative under her breath, in that language of her's. Letting the door close, there was no harm in going on a Nun hunt now, was there?

Curiously, the woman had dropped a wooden toy in the floor, during her acid remark. in front of the boy it spins, right behind their leader. Stopping it partially spins the other way, before reversing on its own power, back and forth, it did not seem it would stop of its own accord, silently twirling. The long boat shaped object seemed to have been carved by hand, in spite of how it may have seemed, the woman did put some effort into all of this.

As silent footsteps walk off with a purpose, the Wolf eared woman is already within her own thoughts marking off who wouldn't survive a serious conflict. So far, judging by reactions, only half of the unit was fit, by her own standards. "..What an unfair contract.. Time to track down a woman that should work more, read less.." Elyan didn't forbid her from killing the woman after all, and in the Absence of orders, the best course of action was simple.

Find something and kill it.





Looking back at the door, Kiyoko gives a disappointed glance, shaking her head. Moving off, there was no purpose to stay. While she had hoped, removing the mother would have provoked an outburst from the boy, their wise leader, and the armored man, seemed dead set against it. Leaving him with his corpse of a mother for company.

And she was the monster? Laughing as she walks down the halls, it was a short sound tinged with irony.


OOC Not killing the nun, @EmperorsChosen plans to follow her, deal with that himself, in a non-violent way. If not threatening.

 

[Sarokhor]

Aloette Vinscenna

The little vampire was finally unfrozen by the sudden fleeing of the Halfling and the retreat of Kiyoko with her nasty words. The girl turning and following the assassin out and down the hallway, her sounding very offended and downright hostile "Have you no compassion you worm?! Your honor is nonexistent and is a mockery to the very task we have been given!" Her features no longer disguised as an innocent child with her outrage consuming her common sense. Her red eyes and darkened hair being the most noticeable, her claws and fangs next. She wanted nothing more than to tear into the savage's throat and watch her bleed out... however she also still had her wits about her. She would be slain for such betrayal, if the woman didn't do it herself. Aloette was no fighter, not a killer at least. She was very good at disabling and escaping, or finding clever ways for her foes to kill themselves or otherwise incapacitate themselves. She knew she couldn't fight this woman nor did she truly want to... as much as Aloette believed she lacked morality and compassion, she also knew that Kiyoko was an ally and that allies deserve at the very least the trust of their companions... As such the child's features returned to normal and she looked away, leaning against the nearby wall and staying away from others right now. At least for a moment... She had abandoned her mission, for it was something she couldn't complete. Her anger and frustration was directed at Kiyoko but she wasn't the sole cause of it. Seeing those children so downcast and hurt triggered her so badly. It reminded her of her own suffering when she was cursed with vampirism. Though she suffered nowhere near as much as they likely have...


The boy watches the group as they bicker and argue, only the leader really seeming kind and composed enough to act in an appropriate way. His gaze hardened at the offer of a gift... his brown eye meeting Elyan's as he shouts in sorrow and anger "Just bring her back! Please! I know the gods can do it...! We came all the way here to save her! She was cut in half when her broken ankle gave out... the guard who chased us used some sort of giant axe, he said he was going to keep the half of her that he liked the best..." He was crying now, unable to relive the memory without feeling the horror and sorrow all over again. He reached out towards Elyan, gripping his hand tightly as he begged once more "Please! Please bring her back to life! We wanted to escape together so we could be a family again!" It was then that the sister spoke, her words sounding hollow and empty as if it was something she was brainwashed into saying when appropriate. Her eyes never even stopped staring off into nothingness "We have no family... the master is all there is. You are there to entertain him and the guests... I am there to please him and the guests... as many times as they want. Whatever they want..." Despite her emotionless voice her eyes do indeed tear up, as if the words hurt to say or as if she really believes that's all there is to life. The boy growls violently and goes to rush over and attack his sister, clearly about to punch her right in the face if he is allowed to "Shut your mouth! That's not my life! That's not the life mom and dad wanted for us! What do you know?! You still have both your eyes, your arms, and you barely look like you were even touched!" His words send the girl into a fit of screaming, her scrambling to a corner away from everyone as she looks at her brother with a crazed expression "You shut up!!! They touched me everywhere!!!! You don't know what they did to me!!! What they all did to me over and over and over again! Sometimes not even taking turns!!!! SHUT UP!!!!!!!" Her screaming turns to sobs as she tucks her knees to her chest, her hands covering her ears while her face is buried in her knees to drown out all sights and sounds. It has truly erupted into pure chaos here and their loud shouting at each other and the girl's screams definitely being able to be heard even outside of the respite.

 

[EmperorsChosen]

Sighing at the further prattling by her comrades, Liandra followed her new allies as they were lead towards the position of the scarred children in question, but not before they crossed paths with a hag that seemed to irk the wolf as much as it did her. She looked like one of those types to value the bible in her arms more than much else. The archer never much cared for religion. It wasn't that she found the idea of believing preposterous, why would she? She could spark flames from her palms, after all. Regardless, it was because of the thought process of if there was a God that existed, some kind of higher power that ruled over mortal-kind, what the hell did it ever do for her? She was born to a travelling brothel, not knowing her father and possessing a mother that used her as a scapegoat for most of what was wrong with her life. They say that God had a purpose in mind for all of them, yes? Then what the hell was her purpose that demanded so much misery and spite for so long? It infuriated her.

Still, Scarlet's mentor taught against the aversion of religious beliefs. Belief can, after all, spark hope and positivism. It is simply unfortunate that most either care not at all for belief, or place too much reliance in it. While he greatly suggested not despising it, he as well realized all the negative aspects associated with it, and as such warned against biding too much into God's Omens. Not that she'd be doing that anytime soon...

Suddenly, the crimson archer is ripped from her thoughts by the start of an argument and a male of the group fleeing the room, and instinctively takes a step back at what she sees; a mutilated corpse, crippled boy and broken little girl. Apparently, the wolf wanted to bury the cadaver rather than let it rot there and the young knight of the group felt that it was "taking their mother from them". Their mother was gone; she had given her life to protect them. That is what the children should have last seen of their mother; a guardian. Not—this...

"Though her words are rather sharp... would you suggest we leave the lady to decompose here, Sir Knight? Samuel, was it?" Speaking up, Liandra had now calmed herself from seeing the corpse and disheveled state of the children. "It is their mother, yes, but this is not how a child should remember their mother by... I would find great comfort in the fact that my mentor's killers would have had the decency to bury him, rather than what they most likely had done were he not simply left out to attract flies, stuck on a stick as a warning to the rest of us..." Pausing a bit at that, it was all the girl could do less she choke up, both due to the nature of her words but as well the pungent scent of the dead body. The Vampire told her of what had happened to her guardian and—she still wasn't over it, but the thoughts of what possibly happened to the corpse after enraged her further.

Following the argument, the wolf made a few gruff and cold retorts, some which Liandra disliked and others which she could see reason in, before retreating. The Vampire didn't seem to take it well though. Anger and yellings of the girl's own transpired and the children followed suit of the current mood. Suddenly something clicked, not with what the boy said, though it were cruel, but with the girl's own words as the boy went to attack. Her eyes illuminated in amber and small sparks jumped to life in her hand before she clenched them into a fist, rushing forward, grabbing the child by his shoulder and yanking him back, away from his sibling. She was sure that the more light-hearted of the group would disagree with her rough actions, but she wasn't going to let them abuse each other.

"If you insist on losing your temper, focus it on he who deserves it most! Not each other!" The woman shouted, hands now immolated to match her aggravation and eyes glowing with an ember trail to them. Calming herself, she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes before releasing a sigh, flames in hands vanishing and the tint to her eyes leaving as well. "We cannot bring your mother back... all we can do is make sure that he who caused this pays. It will not bring your family back, nor your limbs or sight, or her innocence, nor will it make either of you feel any better. However, it will ensure that he who caused such cruelties upon you may never replicate them upon another henceforth."

Stepping away from the children, Scarlet brings a hand to her forehead, glancing slightly at the others, then at Aloette. "I apologize if you believe that was too harsh... I think I will go check on the wolf..." Nodding in dismissal, the archer leaves the area, following Kiyoko's path in suit.

 

[Promedai]

[fieldbox="Dr. Harmond Blackwell, grey, dotted"][bg=white]Harmond Blackwell, conscripted doctor of the Sanguine Dirge, was not a man of many words. He did not feel the need to offer his name for an introduction, because if anyone wanted to know they would ask him. Similarly, he did not feel the need to offer his opinion on how to approach the children, because easily accessible sedatives existed for this sort of situation. Needless to say, his interests were rooted intently in medicine, not morality. Psychology was not his field of study and he had no concern for the mental health of his patients, so long as he could say their physical condition was in working order. To repair the rest, there were holy men, priests and spiritualists better trained to take care of the trauma. The human mind was not something he knew how to heal. Hell, he barely had a good enough grasp on his own after becoming cursed with lycanthropy. Blackwell continued to practice medicine purely out of curiosity for the craft, not to help others as he once did when he was human.

As the doctor stood amidst the others, who were all taken aback by something they saw here -- either the mother's corpse cleaved in half, the kid with missing pieces, or simply just appalled by each other's attitudes, as they always were -- Blackwell was merely bothered by the stench, which to him, was oddly mouthwatering. Well, what a terrible time to feel famished. He attempted to carry out his duties despite his predatory instincts commanding him to do otherwise. Seeing how the girl had confined herself to a corner of the room already, that highlighted her violent brother as the patient of highest priority. Blackwell licked his lips, went over to the 14-year-old boy first, swiftly producing a small syringe from his pocket which he plunged into the meat of the child's remaining arm. "Shhh... I'm here to help." He whispered, not so reassuringly. The administered sedative would work quickly to relax him, nothing more. If the boy wanted to retaliate, it was too late to tell, as the drug debilitated his reflexes.

The doctor knelt down into a crouch at the child's side, guiding his patient with a steady grip to sit on the ground with him. "I will fix whatever's left of you if you let me take a look." Blackwell told the boy. "I need to know what damage has been done." Then he began by inspecting the open wounds on the boy's chest. He sure hoped he wouldn't start salivating like a rabies-ridden dog in front of the Dirge, lest they take immediate action right then and there. Frankly, he did not fancy the thought of being put down over something so trivial as reacting to the aroma of food. Certain sorts of infected flesh often smelled sweet to animals, and as Blackwell was now a beast by tainted blood, he felt himself enticed by the scent too; it made him want very badly to bite off the rotting bits of the kid's body, effectively amputating the problem areas and feeding himself at the same time -- an act beneficial for both parties. No one else would see it that way though. Especially not the kid in question.

So far, everything he saw marring the boy's skin could be taken care of with sterilization, stitches and salves. Of course, the scar tissue on his face could never be completely normal looking again, but it would even out as he grew up and become a rough brown layer, rather than the red inflamed one that was there now. The empty eye socket would require cleaning and a patch to keep it protected. The missing arm might need some extra bone and meat shaved off to make the stump more even at the end and encourage proper healing in the process. None of these procedures were beyond Blackwell's capabilities.[/bg][/fieldbox]

 

[Yzmael]

Mygdos watched as multiple situations unfurled, and it all began with the dog girl making her boisterous way into the room and spoke with the children like a warrior would. He respected her for that, but there was no point in it. The children were far gone from this place. There was no point in talking to them as a soldier, they weren't soldiers. They were children. In his land, the children were made to withstand such trauma. To be able to see their own mother die before their eyes and go forward with it and carry on with their legacy. These children, though, they weren't prepared. They couldn't have managed to deal with the pain of losing their loved ones, be it to death or to the torture they had to handle. They lost themselves among their own pain and that's the worse kind of drowning that can happen to someone. Had his rage not overwhelmed him, most likely he'd be like them, weeping and weak, but they knew better as to teach him that there's no point in sitting there and crying. It'd be much more useful to kill and achieve your final revenge.

The dog girl said all she had to say and, honestly, he was almost convinced that the kid was going to react well, if the previously called specter hadn't intervened. Samuel immediately was enraged by her reaction, as he couldn't believe that someone could be as "cold" as to act like that to children who were "heroes". Certainly, the elf almost let his scoff out. What a fool. Dead people weren't heroes, they were martyrs. Those who were alive were the only heroes. No amount of sacrifice can allow someone to become a hero... They can only bring more pain. The true heroes were those that understood that. Mygdos couldn't help but make a slight sad expression as he thought of that. His people, they weren't heroes, they were all martyrs, who fought for one last cause.

However, the situation got very heated up as Samuel reacted in a very dangerous form towards the dog, even saying that he'd give his life away so that she couldn't have her way. What followed next was the definition of a human word that Mygdos had learned. There was no elvish translation but he found the word to have many useful uses. The word was "clusterfuck". Although it had some rude tone to it, he had to admit that it fit the situation incredibly well, even in human standards. He hoped that situation wouldn't raise enough for it to require physical intervention, and his hopes were answered by the leader in a rather difficult to understand form. The foreigner made his way into the room calmly and pushed the two away, telling them that the situation had a better solution. He made his way towards the mutilated child and then spoke to him in the softest way he could think of. He had a way with words, a way that made Mygdos feel like the man was being too kind. This feeling once more activated Mygdos' sudden incredibility towards things. How come this man was kind like this? How could he fake such a voice? Was it even possible? If it was, the man was a master liar and a very skilled trickster. Something he most likely would watch out for further ahead. No amount of truth could make him trust everything blindly, and he was certainly not trusting of anyone in this group at the moment, even if they had to work together. The ninja narrowed his eyes as he peered into the room. He couldn't help but suddenly feel a rush of anger. The rage and the fury expanding his aura as it covered the room.

What was this man thinking? These children were nowhere near the final suffering. As he peered into the brutality of their injuries and into the final spectrum of the red color, he remembered his days when he was alive, his last hours, his final suffering. He squirmed on the ground as he watched everything burn and fall apart. The children were thrown from the windows, burned to crisps in the fire, tore apart by the soldiers. The women, young and old alike, were raped until their bodies were no longer reacting, were forced to die through the most painful ways possible, were forced to see their own children die right in front of their eyes or even worse, suffer the same fate they did... Why was he not moved by them? He had to do something... He just lied there, dying slowly as he watched all that happen.

He turned around as he thought those thoughts. He had to remember himself he was not a monster. No suffering had to be done to the innocent, no matter the amount. As he closed his eyes, he once more saw all those scenes. No one needs to go through that. He sighed and then turned back to the situation to see that once more, things had cracked down. The halfling ran out of the room, disgusted by the sight and the dog immediately reacted in the most destructive way possible. Understandable, these people had just turned down her entire effort to make things right, even though she had been rather forceful and painful about it.

No amount of suffering. He repeated that to himself. No amount of suffering must be done to the weak... To the innocent... To the unwilling to suffer. Those thoughts didn't cause the incredibly powerful rage in him to stop, though. He took a few steps forward as the situation unfurled and the dog ran from the room.

However, to his sudden surprise, the unmoving vampire suddenly decided to unleash her rage just as well. Why couldn't these people deal with the situation? Weren't they soldiers? Weren't they trained or expected to be able to deal with at least this? Now, he knew he was being cold but, in this profession, one had to be cold to deal with the day-to-day pain, be it psychological or physical. He didn't agree with the vampire. The worst kind of shock was the one where you lost your ground and he thought it to be exactly what was happening to the vampire in this moment. Maybe she had some sort of connection to this happening. Perhaps she saw something in these children that no one else had. He couldn't start to fathom the reason for her outburst but something was clear: It was all it took for the children to start as well.

The boy pleaded to Elyan to bring back his mother from the dead. He pleaded with a pain Mygdos had never seen before. He couldn't help but sympathize with the boy. He too wanted many people to be brought to life, but he knew very well it was not possible. Not by himself, at least. The real discussion came a few seconds after that pleading, with a discussion between the boy and girl regarding "who suffered the most". Mygdos looked away briefly. There was no point in discussing this. Suffering was suffering, and the only amount that was enough was the amount that caused someone to break from reality. Mind you, that's not a lot... It only took Mygdos a few things to be taken away from him. His people, his home, his life... His everything. Even his very soul was lost to time. The young boy's outburst was worse than the vampire's, as it caused more pain than hers since his words were true.

What followed after was more chaos and anger, as the young archer who had previously reprimanded Mygdos spoke out of her own volatility as well, shouting with the child and then noticing how harsh and difficult she had been with them. Mygdos didn't state anything regarding her, but he understood her reasons. He understood everyone's reasons. He knew what they were carrying of worst inside of them, all the anger and the rage, but they were unlike him. She managed to turn away and walk away from the pain. Mygdos couldn't do that. He was an ambulating, walking piece of rage and pain, whose only resolve and only justification for being "alive" was to finally reach his vengeance. He wondered, for a second, if they would understand him. Did anyone understand him? Just a minute ago, they were chastising him for his own motives.

Maybe they didn't, but it hardly mattered. He didn't any of this for them or even for himself. He turned towards the child once more and, after a few seconds of silence, walked forward, pushing Elyan aside almost forcefully, much unlike the foreigner's kindness. He knelt down and looked at the boy carefully, examining him and his anger. "So, you want your mother back? I can do that. I can bring her back, but it won't be easy, it won't be for free and it won't be the same person you're used to." Those words would likely shock everyone still inside the room, even the doctor who was just beside him, studying the boy and making sure he was quiet and relaxed. "The only question I have is, would you be willing to pay the price and would you be ready to accept who she might become?" None of this was a lie. He could bring the woman back. It wouldn't exactly be his mother, but to him it hardly mattered. All the boy wanted right now was for her body to come back to movement. He could do something regarding that.

Mygdos was a concentration of hundreds of souls. He wasn't brought back with natural magic, but he knew of ways to bring back others like him. Conjunctions of incredibly enraged spirits, groups of kind spirits and souls that hadn't left this plane. All of them were easy to convince, but that's not what he would give to this boy. He'd give this boy his mother back, but with a renewed purpose... Much like him. He sighed. He knew better than to do this. "Trust me, boy... You wouldn't. Your mother died so that you could escape and though there's no honor in that, there's courage in it. Now, while you can stay here, cry, plead, blame each other or just lay down hoping to die, it won't change anything. So, ask yourself, did your mother die so that you could be here doing this?" Although his words were harsh, they weren't said in a tone that made them sound like that. In fact, he said all of that in an almost kind and pleading tone, as if asking the boy to reach into his own mind. His presence and aura changed from violent and deadly to almost warming to the soul. It was one of the things he had learned. "Sacrifices are made to have a purpose. I saw what happened. And I saw it happen to me. So, boy, will her sacrifice have a purpose or will you just stay here... Wishing she didn't die? 'Cause you can't go back in time and you certainly can't change the way things are just by wishing." With that, he calmly turned towards the girl. "You two might not know, but right now you hold the power to bring vengeance towards those who did all of this to you. You hold the power to free the other people, maybe your friends who, right now, are equally suffering inside that place. And all you need to do is tell us what we need to know." With that, he got up and stopped in front of the girl. "How many others were there, who suffered like you but aren't able to escape? Think about it. It might give you solace in understanding that, at least now, your mother's not suffering anymore and neither are you." With that, he made his way out of the room, as if to relieve them of his presence.

As he walked outside of the respite, he noticed the halfling still on the corner, praying. "Have you ever thought that maybe the Gods had planned for them to go through that?" A most curious question, but one he always made to himself and to other people around him. He stared at the halfling, clad in black and silent as he was, thinking himself as he waited to hear the man's answer...

 

[Sir Basil]

Elyan ag Mórgwnystrad
Male / Twenty Five / Human
"Each man is a hero and an oracle to somebody."

The foreigner's face curdled at the Kiyoko's words. Not with anger; but with a terrible disappointment. It shown in the way the light left his gold eyes, the way that his mouth curved, and the slackening of his jaw. He let out a small sigh, which spoke far more about his dismay than anything else. He stared at her for a moment, with his amber eyes and grim expression. Where a smile sat comfortably on his face, disappointment sat sourly. There is only one way to describe his expression; a tired judge who has sent his own child to the gallows because there was nothing else to be done. Hateful towards himself, disgusted with his child, exhausted with everything, horrified by both of them. But, the look only lasted a few moments. It lasted long enough for Kiyoko to see it before she ran from the room, like the child that she was. The foreigner brushed aside his bangs, and the cordially, but genuinely, sad smile returned to his face yet again.
The girl followed the assassin out, and Elyan could hear her harsh words echoing down the hall, even if the words were muffled by walls and smoke. He cleared his throat, and turned once again to the child, outstretching his hand. He listened to the child demand that he bring his mother back, tilting his head, and nodding alongside with the child's words. He remembered the story of Cyma. The Messiah had traveled across many villages, and in each of them had performed holy rituals; helping the poor, the sick. He had cast down tyrants, and had taken to the sword corrupt judges and baliffs. He befriended many men and women, and Cyma was one of them; a humble washerwoman whose son had been conscripted into the army at Habrygg, and killed. The Feaseia had avenged her son, and destroyed the tower where the Captain and tyrant had lived. One day, on the Messiah's journeys, the birds had spoken to him, and told him that Cyma was ill, sick with the Bloody Cough. The Feaseia spent two long days in prayer, before journeying towards Habrygg, crossing over the Whispering River and journeying through the Haunted Sands.

At the end of the Messiah's journey, he found Cyma dead, laid out on the burial cloth four four days. He met with her sister, Ymyraeth, who wailed and scratched at his face, cursing his name for not coming to Cyma's aid. The Feaseia replied; "She believes in Me. Though she is dead, she shall live; for I am Bethdodarôl — I am What-Comes-After." He weeped over the corpse of Cyma. A beam of light cast down from the heaven, onto her body. The Feaseia lifted his weeping eyes, and turned towards Ymyraeth; and told her to leave, and not return until four days had passed. She did as she was told, and locked the door behind her. On the four day, she reached to grasp the door; only for it to open before her eyes. There stood Cyma, in burial cloths, with a heroes' halo around her head. The Messiah led her by the arm, and said; "I am that which is eternal; souls never die." Elyan felt the warmth of the story rise within him, and he opened his mouth as if to speak it - but the children were already distracted, with hatred towards one another.

It made his skin crawl, but the fear and revulsion did not show on the foreigner's face. He nodded, as they spoke, clearly listening to their accusations against one another. Elyans' fingers curled around the boy's hand. He held it tightly - until the boy let it go, to assault his sister. His fingers flexed, but he did not stop him. Not with his grip. He heard the dark woman beside him - Scarlet - exclaim her frustration. He could hear the break in her voice. He turned towards her, and stared at her. His eyes were polished chips of gold in his face, brittle - but soft, and sympathetic. Her own eyes were not sympathetic at all ; burning too bright, too amber and fire. She would set them both alight if she lost her control. The woman hurled herself towards the children, shoving them apart. Elyan rose to his feet rapidly - in a crunch of metal and leather. He stared at the situation unfolding around him, but his eyes weren't on the children. His eyes were on the woman - Scarlet. She was calming down. Her hands were still on fire, but the fire began to die. Embers rose up towards the ceiling. The soot became part of it all - part of the whole violent scene. Scarlet sighed, and it escaped her like smoke from a bellows. He could still smell brimestone. The foreigner fixed her with a stare, fiery enough to match her own. He made a slight gesture with his head - a quick jab to the doorway. She left. Maybe not because of him - but she left.

Another man rushed in - pressing syringes to children's arms, and speaking gently. He would have stopped him, but he knew who he was. He was a doctor. The foreigner eyed the doctor. He knew who he was, at least, in pieces. He knew that the doctor would be the one who was working closest alongside him, when the time came - and so he knew his name, when he did not know all of the others. Harmond Blackwell. The name, at least, Elyan knew. Harmond was a name from the Geyney Vale, originating from that long inlet that contained the Sea of Achras. It meant, in an old form of Archan, no longer spoken, "soldier.' But that name did not seem to fit the doctor. He was, afterall, a healer, not a fighter. But despite all of the foreigner's knowledge; the man felt like a mystery. He had a quiet, drawn face, and his long hair framed his face, a layer that hid him, at least, in part, from the outside world. He let the doctor pass him by, as he continued, kneeling, in-front of the scene of carnage. He could feel his hand aching, a sympathetic ache for the viscera before him.

Elyan looked for only a moment longer, before he was shoved aside by the high elf. He let out a small noise, and his eyebrows furrowed over his bright, light eyes. He brushed his hands down his armor, brushing aside soot and dirt. He walked after the elf - who had walked into the room. He could taste the crackle of energy, the metallic taste of something hidden. The foreigner knew. He would dream about it tonight, dream about the amalgamation that wore elven skin. At the man's speech, he frowned; but did not interrupt. The tone was right; even if the words were wrong. Not the right words for the given time - it wasn't about grand concepts of sacrifice, and freedom, and death. It was about two children, mangled and mutilated, and their dead mother. The foreigner stood closely behind the the elf, so close that his chest nearly brushed against the elf's back. Some of the elf's words were sticking in his throat. Sacrifices are made to have a purpose. I saw what happened. And I saw it happen to me.

He could not see what had happened to these children - he could not have seen what happened to the mother. He did not dream like Elyan did ; but there was something in these words that stuck like a knife in the foreigner's chest. I saw it happen to me. Elyan could see it. Hands gripped around the whip, the burst of blood, the way that everything went bright with pain, but the inside of his mouth felt like it was filled with broken glass. Outside the dream, his pupils dilated - so dark and wide that only a sliver of the gold could be seen. But in the dream, it didn't matter. The axe was coming down - and there was a moment of horror as Elyan saw his legs fall away from his body - somebody dragging them through the dirt. The toes were twitching. He could see it, happening to him - the play of fingers against his thighs, a hand around his throat - choking him, choking the life from him. He didn't like it. But he knew he was supposed to, and so - he closed his eyes and bit his lips and waited for it to stop. The foreigner held in his breath, until the ache in his hand reminded him who he was, where he was, and what was happening around him. The gold came back.

As the elf finished his speech - Elyan murmured to him, the slurry of his syllables making his Elvish the type that is spoken to a lover ; too much tenderness, too much effort in its cadence. "Farn heinn." The elf had done enough. The foreigner waved his hand as the elf passed him by - not so much a dismissive gesture, as a gesture of farewell. Elyan's attention again returned to the children. He leaned down before the two of them, and offered his hand to the boy again. His eyes were lustrous - and almost damp, as if they were filled with tears. But none ran down the man's cheeks. The foreigner was thinking of Cyma, thinking of what had happened when the door had been opened - and when her sister had first seen her, all clad in burial robes. He let the doctor continue to attend to the pair of children. He lifted his eyes to the doctor, and nodded once - as if to give his affirmation that the doctor was to continue his tasks. His face was all softness and sorrow - mouth a tight line. But his hand was ready, and his voice was too.

"I apologize for them." His mouth cracked a little, a lips twisted with sheepishness. But the sheepishness wasn't a self-gratifying kind, or an attempt at a feeble joke. His eyes made that clear; there was nothing but regret. Elyan sighed, and reached up with his other hand, running his fingers through his auburn hair. It was the sort of sigh that only comes after tension. A slackening - but a slackening that does not know if it should relax, or if it must be prepared for the worst. "They don't understand." His words were gentle, neither pleading nor begging - he wasn't trying to convince them. They knew. They knew because what the elf had said; "your mother's not suffering anymore and neither are you." That wasn't true, and the children knew it - and hoped that they knew, that he knew. A note of honey crept into his voice, a lulling, quieting smoothness. "The doctor will help you. I have a present for you.' He tilted his head back towards Samuel - and his jaw tensed slightly. 'But I know its not enough. I know you want your mother back." He tilted his head, slightly, "And maybe one day, you will see her again. But I cannot promise that — and you know that I cannot bring her back. You understand that." His fingers, reaching, gentle, flexed slightly. The pain in his palm had subsided into a low ache. "I need your help. So that I can help the others."

His voice changed again - what softness had been in his voice was now a little sharper, a little clearer ; but not unpleasant to hear. It was the cold water splashed onto tired eyes - it was startling, but clarifying. It made everything sharp, and come into focus. It was ice against a burn - soothing, numbing, but strangely edged as well. This was Elyan's talent. Making people listen to him - and making them hear him, truly hear him; even when they did not want to listen to him. Witchwords. "Please tell me where you were - and anything about the place you can remember." The tone broke slightly - returning Elyan's voice to something richer and smoother - softer and sweeter. Something kind and good. "I know this is hard. But you must try.".

 

[BlueFlameNikku]

In the heat of the moment and initial chaos Kiyoko's riposting words to Samuel along with the wolf girl seeming as though she were about to slap the boy across the face only increased his feeling of retaliation as he continued to glare Kiyoko in the eyes as Samuel was unwavering. This intense stare down coming to an end as their leader Elyan thankfully stepped in before it escalated even further. As Kiyoko spoke her final remarks and exited the room Samuel was able to recall what Elyan had asked of him. The young knight would give a nod to the golden eyed leader of the group along with a sound of sudden acknowledgement as if the boy had just woken out of bed before he would swiftly proceed over to the basket with the treats that Elyan had placed at the doorway. It was around this time as he made his way there that Liandra's voice rang out in his ears as she too criticized the young knight's actions involving the mother's corpse. It was now as lifted up the basket and stood up that he felt as though someone had come over and slammed his chest with a warhammer; as he now fully realized to rashness of his actions and his words. He let his emotions and personal issues dictate his actions without even giving them a second thought and he could only imagine how incompetent he seemed from everyone's perspectives.

Before he could think any further Samuel spun around with basket in hand to witness the spur of chaos as he heard the siblings yelling at one another and Liandra stopping the boy from intentionally harming his own sister in his episode of anger. Sam had no issue with Liandra's though the things that the little girl screamed out about in retaliation to her brother nearly caused the young knight to burst into tears as he now fully realized how she had specifically suffered in the horrid place. He immediately perished the thought of imagining his own little sister in this situation for fear of committing anymore rash actions. It would take a moment but Samuel would swallow his emotions as well as some bile that was trying to make it's way up to his mouth in order to keep himself in check. By now one of the group members had already sat down next to the boy and seemed to be treating him. But then once Mygdos entered the room young Sam could easily feel their aura's clashing as they had before especially due to the proximity limitations of the room but Samuel wouldn't let his aura be diminished this time for fear of the children becoming aggressive once more. As he listened to Mydgos speak to the children Samuel realized that by the time Mydgos had made his exit that Sam had yet to move from where he initially retrieved the basket and was quickly reminded as he got another gesture from Elyan; causing the young knight to take a couple of steps forward and place the basket down next to Elyan as requested. Samuel kept his head down and his facial expression hidden as he carried out his next few actions. After placing down the basket that had a couple of treats inside he would quietly take a piece of the cloth covering and place one of the jam treats onto the cloth, stand up from his prior one kneed position and walk over to the young girl that had her face tucked into her knees and her hands over her ears. Regardless, Samuel steps would be oddly quiet despite being in armor due to the fact that he was stepping lightly across the floor. He would take a knee off to one side in front of the sobbing girl as he would place the purple jam treat down to the girl's right on top of the piece of cloth, treating it like a napkin. The sobbing coming from the girl was truly audible now for he was now so close to her. Young Sam couldn't bare to pick his head up and look at the girl cause he knew he would embrace the poor thing and start to sob along with her until she stopped. That's what Sam had done for his sister when she would cry with no end in sight but this wasn't his sister and this wasn't his family, he knew if he did that now he'd only continue to make things worse than he'd already have. All he wanted to do now was stand back up and make his own exit like everyone had done before him...but he couldn't bring himself to leave while this girl continued to cry her heart out sitting on the floor. As Samuel turned over and quietly sat himself down on the opposite side of the jam treat, his back against one of the walls that the girl's back was against being that she had tucked herself into a corner. He sat with one leg outstretched along the floor into the room with the other leg bent up with the knee going towards the ceiling; resting one arm on the knee while his other arm lays limp down by his side, the hand against the floor. As he picks his head up every so slightly to get a quick look of the room. Across the room among the group involving Elyan, the tortured boy and the doctor Samuel took notice of one thing that he didn't notice before; what looked like a small toy that was spinning back and forth in place. After some thought and elimination the young knight would come to the realization that only one person could have put that there. A soft smile would make it's appearance across his face along with his youthful brown eyes seeming to soften and relax as Samuel now leaned forwards as he sat, resting his chin on top of his arm that rested upon his knee. As to others it may seem that young Sam just seems to be smiling at nothing when really he had just had an epiphany; as he spoke quietly to the girl so that only himself and probably the girl next to him could hear it if she were to at any point loosen the pressure on her ears from her hands, though if she didn't Samuel would continue to do so anyways for he continued to only look forwards, but his tone clearly would sound like he was speaking from personal experience.

"You know you have a family...and he is sitting right over there. He may not show it or even realize it himself but deep down...your brother right there cares about you more than anyone else in the this whole stickin world. Once he realizes that, he will do everything in his power to make it so you won't have to cry anymore."

At this point anyone were to look at Samuel his face would light up with a huge teeth showing smile with his eyes closed and a single tear escaping from his closed left eye running down his cheek. The right side of his cheek laying on top of his armored resting arm a top his knee. Causing most of his smiling face to be shown to the little girl. His whole demeanor was now warm and cheerful along with his aura which has now exploded with the flush of fond memories that were cycling through young Samuel's head. The feeling emanating from Samuel could be described as that of a warm bonfire that you knew would never burn you even if you embraced the very flames themselves; said flames that would feel like the soft warm sheets of one's own bed that had been sitting by the fire on a cold winter's night.

 

[RedArmyShogun]

Thinking back to the leaders last glimpse from Elyan, Kiyoko cannot help but growl, then there was that Samuel. If she had to guess he was likely crying or some such again. There were real concerns there, what if he simply broke? What if it came to it and his morals were compromised? It was a risk given he was in the Vanguard. Though he showed some gall and bravery.

Shaking her head, his fate would be a coin toss. As would his coming to terms with the events he would find. As to her new commander, he was a strange one. She wasn't sure quite yet who to put it, but his eyes didn't seem to be staring at what was around him, so much as beyond. But now, work needed to be done. Sniffing the air, it wasn't much effort to locate the woman. The building was small, few things stunk of moldy paper. Two sources in this wing in fact. One of which was much stronger and ahead, records of sorts likely, the other was behind from wince they came, the woman was still at her post in seemed.


Then another interloper joined, the Vampire, with her screams and curses. Kiyoko pauses for half an instant, shaking her head. Honor, Compassion and other things. The girl screamed about them loudly. But what were they to her? Not what Kiyoko had considered them, that was for sure. What was she meant to do, say kind words, comforting things, treat him like an animal, whisper sweet nothings?


Snorting a snarl, Kiyoko had tried something, to bury his mother, she was here to kill those who had troubled them. Made food, made a toy, was off to kill that failure of a Nun. What good were there words, in this hell of a world? Had the boy had the nerve to attack her, that would have marked his will to fight, to move forward no matter what. That could have been made use for. This Compassion they spoke of, would leave him a heap of misery, depending on the kindness of others. As to honor, that actually made the Assassin stop a for a step. Not many of them knew what she did most mornings, nor did they need to.





Considering words to say to the girl, well vampire, Kiyoko remains deathly silent, eying her from the shoulder briefly. Never mind her own experience prior in the Dirge. "When you see Comrades die for pointless things, girl, then you may speak to me of honor and folly... If you believe your convictions are so correct, the next time you bare tooth and claw, I will battle you, and see just whos convictions bring strength. Among my clans, such battles are means of Law. Think poorly of me if you will, but do not question my honor, as it differs from yours.."


Pausing, it wasn't characteristic of Kiyoko to say much in the way of words or tales, but she begins to speak at quite some length. "Before I was in this unit, we had a mission at some shit hole of a village to the west, the people complained that the local Guardsmen abused the trade routes, their women, you can guess the rest. So we went, we waited and studied. I believed during a public demonstration, that it was a trap, I advised killing our targets then and there, our commander died because of a child like that one in the room. They were beating him, making an example of him, you get that as well I'm sure. So they decided to be hero's"


"Broken, the boy at the last moment stuck a dirk right into the commanders gut, once the skirmish had, saved him.. The Archer hesitated to fire as human shields were used. When others fled, he tried to protect them, only to be stuck in turn, by one of his own arrows, after his final stand went poorly.. He killed a dozen men or more, had he lived he would have killed a hundred more. A foolish pointless death.. Our Warrior fled, when the commoners who loved us so willingly with spears of wood, followed tyrants in steal to hunt us down...he dropped colors and fled, not to fight again, but to save himself."

Snarling with her eyes sharp, ringers begin to take on the shape of claws, rippling and tugging the fabric below. "I called for a retreat and I ran. I also returned and sewed chaos in that shit village, I slaughtered them all bit by bit, ambushes, diversions, poison, whatever it took. When they slept, when they ate, one, two, four at a time they died, I even killed a few of them by chaining up and burning a church during a service.. They had enough, chased me into the woods, where traps and beasts done the rest.. As to the small ones.. Who knows."

Clenching her fists, the story continues.








"Revenge, girl, my people never forgive and we never forget. The boy, those villagers, the knights, I slaughtered them all, killed that fool who ran as well.. It took time aye.. But that is what I did, recovered the dead of our Comrades.. So girl, just what is my honor? They died, yet live, and I still am alive. You speak of honor, you know why those, good people turned on us? Coin.

Call me a savage or a barbarian, anything you want, but our warriors will fight to the death if need be, in a situation of value.. So tell me of your people's honor.. tell it too those who died, those who I had to burn, and he, who I had to hunt down, girl.. But don't dare tell it to me.."

With a final glare, and forward facing of her head, the tale was finished.

"I highly suggest, you sit there, and reflect on matters.. I don't take kindly to being approached from behind."


Turning with a snorting of her nose, and a sudden calming shake of her limbs, the human features come back, work needed to be done, calm was needed. She had left much unsaid in her story, had said little in regards to how her old comrades were and weren't dead, or even the final end of the babes and children. Though it seemed the story had angered her something fierce. Having suddenly regained control, it would be a story to bring up some other time perhaps, but likely not now. No matter the Vampire was distraught, likely not in any mood for civil talk.



Grunting, soft footfalls were in the distance, another problem, maybe the vampire.. maybe someone else. It did not matter, she would make an example of this woman, before root spread through the ranks. These people were too soft, too complacent. She would not add more to her morning task.

Moving down the halls at speed, the nun was still reading her god forsaken book, eying the assassin with disdain briefly. Not even noticing the long blade being pulled from its scabbard in a swift, deft motion. Traveling for her head... It would take someone with a keen eye and deft hand to stop the wolf eared assassins strike. "Fall now in your Ignorance.."

 

[noodle]

[fieldbox="Raven Willow Ashdown, red, dashed, 10, Courier New"]

Raven watched everything with keen eyes, her head listed to the side slightly as she silently spectated. Well that was dramatic....hopefully they'd all learn to get along. Even Kiyoko and her. Her eyes turned sympathetic when she watched Mali run from the room, wincing slightly. Poor guy. Raven rubbed the back of her neck, calming down once the more violent people had left-but not without leaving a few cutting remarks behind for them to stew over.

The assassin finally sighed and decided that she should at least try to help. She exited the room as well, but she did not stay away as the others had. She returned a few minutes later with a relatively clean blanket, the fabric soft and comforting to the touch. Her idea of heaven to cuddle in.

....unfortunately, it wasn't for her.

She walked over to the girl and Samuel, kneeling on the side opposite the warrior and tossing the blanket around the girl's shoulders. Hopefully it would get her to take her hands from her ears and calm down a bit. Samuel seemed to be radiating warmth, and it made even the guarded assassin almost want to drop her weapons and relax. "He's right," she said in a quiet voice.

She seemed almost...awkward. Uncomfortable. She wasn't sure how to act in these situations. She was typically killing or being goofy. She seemed confident most of the time, and tried to keep a tough facade up. She didn't like people seeing her vulnerable side. [/fieldbox]

 

[EmperorsChosen]

As the wolf's blade skitted out of its sheath and flew towards its target, suddenly a barbed ebony arrow flew forth and clashed against the steel in her hands. "Yes, let's simply go and murder all who we wish. After all, we are justified assassins! ...Miss wolf, there is a fine line between targeted assassination and common murder," Lectured the archer as she approached the two. Honestly, Liandra hadn't expected the wolf to actually act on her detestment of the nun. She could understand why but—you just couldn't go killing who you want. Stereotypical of an assassin...

Then turning her attention to the nun and giving the hag a scowl of her own, the scarlet archer ripped the book from her, chucked it in the air and in quick succession blasted another arrow into the book. The arrow penetrated the book and shot the written piece past the holy woman's head, lodging both into the wall behind her. "When I was a child, the few trivialties I possed were taken away from me had I ignored or performed disappointingly in my chores and daily duties. Distract yourself in your God only when you done your job properly." With that said, she stepped in front of the two, still scowling into the eyes of the robed witch. "My mentor believed in chances... Neglect your duties again, and there will not be someone there to offer you redemption."

Turning then to the wolf, it was likely the girl would be angry with her actions, but the assassin had said something that caught the interest of Scarlet as well. "As for you, Wolf. You should as well hope that this archer you spoke of is not the one that we both think of." Giving the animalistic killer a narrowing of the eyes, the archer then let out a huff and pushed past her. Her interactions with her new comrades had greatly exhausted her. Some she could see getting along with but others—it would be fate's merciful hand that they stayed from each other's throats.

 

[U.N. 0W3N]

Praying had help ease some of the tension from the Halfling. The shaking has subsided. The knot in his gut was loosening. A light gust swept through air, picking up dust and fallen leaves in the wind. Mali knew that the Elder God have lent their ears to him, taking his prayers with them to the Heavens. They would listen and grant his wishes to the children. No matter how long it takes, it will be granted. The unfortunate souls will find peace from this tragedy. The Gods will give them the strength the needed to-

A voice broke through. It seems like one of his new comrades had appeared. The azmq'liaea clad in shadows and smelled of death. Why was he out here? Mygdos spoke, asking Mali a question… that made his blood curl. The Elder Gods allowing a monster to consume their innocence and childhood like that?! What cruel God existed to allow this to happen?! There was none Mali was familiar with that would tear away their shine of curiosity in their eyes!

The scout soon rose, dusting away the collected dirt from his traveling clothes. His cloak whipped around him as the winds seemed to strengthen. The trees bowed and carried away its leaves. Dandelions rode the currents into far off destinations to take root and grow once more. For a moment, Mali was quiet as he closed his eyes. He listened to the call of the winds. The voices of his Gods. When the winds died down, Mali exhaled and turned to face Mygdos.

"I don't know what Gods you know, but all I could hear is their cries, Mygdos," the Halfling called his hand into a fist for a mere moment before relaxing his hand, "I refuse to know of a God that allows this to happen. This cruelty and inhumanity… a God that wants to strip a child their love of life and happiness… it is no God of mine." Mali moved towards the door of the Respite; his back was turned to Mygdos. "... come. Rather than talk belief and become embroiled in a fight, let's share cups. I prefer to drink you under the table than discuss who is right and wrong."

With that, Mali returned inside with two objectives: find the strongest drink in this place and avoid returning to that room of death right now.

 

[Sarokhor]

Aloette Vinscenna

Aloette listened to Kiyoko's story with a glare still on her face, the story of betrayal and revenge did not impress her or even really leave her sympathetic. She had heard many like it from her father and her uncle. It wasn't something that was uncommon in war and the evil in the world was drawn to such violence. However at the mention of what she did in retaliation to such a horrible event Aloette shook her head in disappointment. An act of cruelty that begat another act of cruelty, Kiyoko was no better than the abusive guardsmen, the cowardly warrior, or the traitorous boy who struck down his savior. She allowed such hate to breed in her heart and released it onto the world... And the world needed no more hate that's for sure. The assassin was definitely not someone Aloette would ever get along with, which is to be expected. A posh noble girl turned spy and a tribal assassin were from two very different societies and thus had very different believes

The vampire was in the process of rushing over to save the nun when her eye caught the arrow that was already headed for the wolf. Perhaps someone else would be the one to bring down this out of control assassin. Aloette didn't bother to try and rush in and put her own thoughts into the matter. They wanted to berate the old woman for her behavior than fine, Aloette wasn't against that, so long as it remained conversation rather than bloodshed. She couldn't understand why they were so bothered by the woman not caring for the children, what could she have done for them? Brought them tea and biscuits? A doctor and a priest were all that could help them and neither of them were here right now. Knowing how things work, the doctors are likely in the complex across the road attending to the agents that were tearing each other apart in sparring or other trainings. The priests have rarely left the main temple in the past 7 years Aloette has been here. The faithful must go to them if they wish to pray or receive their salvation, the gods have much knowledge and mercy to pass onto their acolytes...

With a sigh she hears the blasphemy of the Mygdos and proceeds to join the little group of he and Mali at least for the moment, long enough to speak about their words "You two... don't speak of things you are ignorant of. We are not dolls that the gods have agreed to pamper and protect. We are expected to be adults and take care of ourselves. Is it not the fault of the people that they give into sin and evil so easily? And now that the world has shown that it is unable to reverse the effects of our own greed, hate, violence, and sin... the gods have decided to purge this evil and allows us to begin anew with the knowledge of what it looks like to fall and bring hell to earth. The Sanguine Dirge is the blade of the gods and the child of the messiah. We are to still meant to fix this ourselves, but this time we have the guidance and blessings of the divine ones on our side. Is it not enough to know that the gods trust us to be responsible and clean up the mess we have made or at least allowed to happen..."

Her red eyes slowly fade and she sighs before looking at Mali "Yes a drink would be amazing right now... though I don't have the same tastes as the rest of you..." She would love to drink alcohol but even if she wasn't a vampire she likely wouldn't like the spirits they have here. It is all very crude and homemade. Sure it was far more powerful than other ales, wines, or liquors that are commonly sold... however the taste was very foul and the alcohol content was so extreme a single mug would be enough to get a common drinker completely intoxicated. Such a brew would easily be found in the kitchen storage closets, there being a single swollen barrel of the bitter brew

Resting Room
​

The boy was rather alarmed at first when he was roughly yanked away by the archer and left to the doctor who suddenly injected with the syringe. His bloodshot eye bulged wide and he went to retaliate only to find himself incredibly weak and relaxed. The adrenaline had allowed the medicine to pump through his system very swiftly and he merely mumbled his protests weakly "No... please don't hurt me anymore. Don't drug me more please..." He may be protesting it but it was for his own good and it would most certainly be necessary afterwards for fixing his arm lest he go without anesthesia and suffer the pain of the surgery. Then again he likely was fully aware when his arm was cut off in the first place... The words of Elyan resonated in the boy's head and he turned to look at the strange man, the information simply spilling out of his lips without emotion

"We were taken from our home in Arnkerrfell, the guards burst through our door and broke my father's skull with a mace while we were eating breakfast. They flipped the table and knocked me and my sister to the ground while others grabbed my mother and bound her with ropes. They did the same to us before dragging the three of us outside. The warden of the deep was there. Askal Hoppsykr, we had seen him wandering the city market just the day prior. He motioned for the guards to take me and my mother into the prison carriage but he took my sister Frisila with him into his private carriage... After hours we heard the iron walls of the deep scraping against the hard stone of the mountains as they retracted to allow passage. After the carriage stopped we were unshackled from the walls of the carriage and funneled with the other prisoners into reception" The boy licks his lips and goes to continue as the girl starts sobbing even harder. The memory of the start of her hell must be refreshing in her mind as well from hearing the boy talk about his side of the story. The presence of Samuel encouraging her to throw off the blanket Raven had given her and hug herself to him, though the armor made it uncomfortable she was more or less starting to have a panic attack and was seeking a source of comfort. So far only Samuel and Raven were the only sources of such comfort and Raven seemed rather mysterious and too awkward for the job​

 

[RedArmyShogun]

Growling a bit, with the interruption, archers words, there was also the prattling feet of the small Vampire. These people didn't understand the purpose of subjugation. Yes, maybe it was murder, deserved murder, but if you allowed these people to get away with treachery, then more and more would do the same. After her punitive raid, no other village, in the region, dared turn on the Dirge. Of course they had came to fear her, of note, but all other operations went smoothly.

By her own people's accounts, committing such heinous acts was justified, as the fear it left behind ended future battles quicker, before resistance could build. Which in turn saved more lives. Though even the Dirge commanders didn't seem to agree, or seen the cold logic to this idea.

There was a reason the nobles had control after all. But what good reasoning did, with the religious fanatics of this group. They likely really believed they were making history, not simply replacing one corrupt power with another. A matter many of her kin agreed on, but did not voice. After all, they had plans all there own.






"I used the amount of force deemed necessary. When an enemy holds up in a gate house with civilians, either you can sit back and fight a long bloody struggle to have your moral high ground, fighting your way through fixed positions. Or you burn it, and march forward, opening the route to the palace before they can react.. We did what was necessary." Angrily shaking her head, these people could not understand, nor would they ever.

"What I did then was.. Why am I even explaining myself to you..." Turning her attention back to the nun, the woman puts her blood away.

"Thank your people for being weak. In my lands we kill those who fail their station. Give thanks to your gods, and redouble your efforts.. I'll be watching." Turning on her heel to walk off, Kiyoko stops momentarily, as the archer pushes past, saying one last thing. One that sounded like a challenge, she couldn't resist biting back at.

"Oh? That so? Stop by one morning at day break and see me. Maybe then I'll share a little something with you... Provided you are strong enough to take it. And if you can even find me.. For now we have work." Smirking slightly under the mask, she was curious if the woman would even try. Though the scent was familiar, as she walked by, taking it in with a silent whiff. The pair had lived together, while a mage would be needed to confirm, there was something else about this scent..




But that was for later, not now. For now she had a mission to take care of, letting her grudge go against the Nun, the cloak wearing Assassin marchers off, keeping a little behind the archer. It seemed the Half-man, masked one and vampire, were having a talk on religion.

As well as drink, she could care less about the former, but the later... Venturing a rare smile under the mask, that was something she could help with, once the mission was done of course. Curious to as if information was received, for now the Assassin keeps slightly behind the Archer, back to the wall. If she were to attempt socializing with this crowd, it would have to wait until after the mission.



If there was an after, she reminds herself.

 

[BlueFlameNikku]

Due to Samuel's eyes being closed he wasn't expecting the girl to clang into the side of his armor which made his eyes open in a light surprise as the girl began to sob even more as she through off the blanket that Raven had given her. He could hear the boy beginning to give information to Elyan and the doctor, making the young knight guess that the memories must have been coming back. Young Sam kept a soft smile on his face as he looked to his side at the girl clinging to his armor; removing both of his metal gauntlets along with the leather gloves underneath them leaving his bare hands and forearms exposed. They were quite worn of use and slightly scarred even on account of the warrior training that the Dirge put him through but they were still softer than metal. Reaching over past the girl to pick up the blanket that Raven had brought over, giving Raven a nod as he does so; folding it up quickly so that it almost resembled a pillow, holding it against the side of his chest plate. Taking his other bare arm, wrapping it around the girls back and shoulders ever so gently, moving her just slightly so that the padded blanket was right next to her sobbing self before Samuel spoke to the girl in a smooth and almost older brotherly tone that resonated with protection and comfort.

"I'm right here don't worry. Cry it all out right into this blanket and hold nothing back. I promise not to leave until those tears stop falling down your face."

These were the same words that young Sam would say to his own younger sister whenever she would cry; remembered the many different times he had done exactly this. He kept his soft eyes looking towards the girl along with his smile to assure her through his eyes that he meant the words that he said. Wish hopes the blanket would muffle the sounds of the girl's sobbing enough so that it wouldn't interrupt the conversation between the boy and Elyan.

 

[Yzmael]

At the half-man's words, surprisingly, Mygdos batted an eye on him. He then immediately turned away. The specter couldn't help but wonder how come these fools were able to understand their own world. No wonder the half-ling vomited his way out of the room in desperation, he still had hopes that there were only good Gods in this world or universe. In a sense, Mygdos had questioned that more to him than to the half-ling, but he didn't enjoy the answer. Still, he had to give the man some respect for remaining hopeful.

In his culture, the world was filled with perfect equilibrium. Nature was the most balanced example that he could think of and his kind lived to see this perfect equilibrium come to a fruitful example on society. Of course, such balance and beautifil equilibrium was only an example of the God's desire for it to exist. Good and evil were such a thing as well, and everything in the world was just a creation of the Gods and based on the same equilibrium these Gods were based on. Six were the Gods of the Ancient Elvish, and these six were all balanced and as equitable themselves.

"That's a fool's notion, to believe there to be only the most kind and forgiving of Gods. We are not perfect, but I believe that perfection is an idea created by those who wanted to keep their goodness and sanity, which is why perfection is so related to the Gods, an unreachable mountain of perfection that no mere mortal would reach. My people saw the world differently. We saw no need for such coddling. The Gods can be unforgiving, dangerous and almost sadistic in their judgement. However, we also believed them to find the most important thing to be the same objective we had in mind: Equilibrium. The Gods too seek out the equilibrium, on a grander scale, of this world." Mygdos spoke of that as a monk would, his words exuded passion but also a sense of duty towards that mindset: Everything had to be balanced. The true perfection was neither extreme evil or extreme goodness, but the fine-tuned balanced between the two, his people called it "Equilibrium". However, he quickly turned to look that another person intruded in the conversation, and just as the half-ling offered to solve the situation with liquor. It hardly mattered, however.

She spoke of things that, to him, didn't make sense. She said that the Gods were giving them a chance at redemption, but to him, as he had previously thought, it was just switching six for half a dozen. "You Adans will never understand purity. You call us fools, states that we do not know what we are talking about, but you yourself has no idea of how flawed such concept is. If what you say is true, then these Gods are giving us the chance to undo our wrongs? Why? Since when are Bloodsuckers, the Gaurs or Faers befitting to create this?" He asked in a degrading tone towards the vampire, almost talking specifically about her. He then scoffed. "We're no chosen or selected, we're just an army that the Dirge needs. Pure necessity is what drives them. If it was otherwise, do you truly believe they'd trust us? The truth is, they don't. They just need cannon fodder to usher onward their new command, which, as far as we know, might be as tyrannical as the one currently in place." With those words, he turned around. For reasons even he didn't knew well, he didn't like this girl specifically. The way she talked or acted made her look like she was too good to be here. Her innocence, her lack of actual knowledge of warfare and the fact that she seemed too... Inexperienced in the aspect of the truly gruesome battle they were about to undertake made her seem too unready.

Still, the elf said nothing of it. He'd keep that to himself. "Just let me be clear, I don't trust the Dirge and I don't trust any of you... If anything, the only one who earned my trust here is the dog, who at least will make me aware of when she wants to off me. The rest of you, I wouldn't trust you to do this mission, especially not you or the half-ling here." The elf said coldly, pointing towards the vampire and then looking back towards the half-ling. His aura once more grew with wrath. Although the way he said it most certainly left the air that he wasn't going to comply with any of them, what he actually meant was that they were going to be, most likely, very inefficient, specially considering they were so weak towards the violent results of the torture done to the children. He wouldn't trust them with anything, and most likely would always account to their failures. That, however, didn't mean he wouldn't at least attempt to cover it for them... However, if the failure was too large, he wouldn't hesitate to leave them to their deaths.

With those cold words and a rather gnarly attitude, the man turned his back to them and made his way to the shadows once more. There was no point on conversing any more and most certainly no point in drinking with them. He understood this body to be just a weapon that he would use to achieve his revenge later on and at this moment, so he was much disconnected from it to feel the need to drink or eat. No, he didn't need that, he just needed to kill and to see his enemies dead. That was more than enough nourishment to him.

The assassin once more made his way into hiding among the shadows of the place. After all, there was no socializing with people who didn't understand him or his directive. There was no need for him to socialize at all...

 

[noodle]

[fieldbox="Raven Willow Ashdown, red, dashed, 10, Courier New"]

Raven frowned slightly as the girl threw the blanket off and decided to tackle Samuel. She took a step backward, boots making no sound as they touched the ground. Had she done something wrong? Did she get triggered with blankets? Or did she just feel nervous around the assassin?

.....sometimes children were weird.

Then Samuel gave her a nod as he reached around the girl to retrieve the blanket and she relaxed, stepping back into the corner with a small nod in return. Her eyes were shining in sympathy but she said nothing, simply watching and listening. There was nothing more she could do. [/fieldbox]