Sanguine Dirge IC

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

The foreigner nodded, slowly. It was enough to hear what he had heard. He did not wish the children to suffer through the memories that he had brought to the forefront. Elyan cleared his throat, removing what was left of the witch-words from the edges of his trachea. He stared at the young knight, and the dark lady, his golden eyes sticky and soft in his sockets. The young knight’s face was contorted with surprise. He did not expect this, and yet, it was happening. There was the uncertainty of his movements, a jerkiness that conveyed his inexperience. But his words were different. Soft words, words that had been spoken before. Elyan understood that the words were not meant for this girl, this boy, this room, or this place. Those words belonged to somebody else. A girl. She was gone now, dead or lost. Maybe he would dream it, alongside all of the other dreams he had. He would dream of Samuel and the girl who was no longer here, but who still worked her way into all of his words. The foreigner’s fist curled at his side, his fingertips pressing against the cut on the inside of his palm. It ached, as if there were slivers of wood inside of it, something splintered and broken. But Elyan knew that there was nothing.

The girl sobbed loudly, and her sobbed echoed through the bloody chamber. They bounced off of the walls, only somewhat muffled by the blanket that the dark woman had provided. She looked distinctly uncomfortable, a wrinkling in her nose, a sigh in her throat. The sigh was drowned out by the crying, but Elyan could hear it. He watched as the dark woman took a step back from the girl, as if she was about to explode. He watched her eyes shimmer in the dim light of the room, shimmering with the moistness that comes with true pity. Elyan gave her a small nod, and a thin-lipped smile. It was meant to be encouraging, and while his eyes glinted with the truth of the smile, there was something about it that seemed terribly out of place. Maybe it was the blood in the room, or maybe it was the way that the foreigner’s fingers curled at his sides, but there was something ever so slightly off.

Elyan looked at the doctor, and then, towards the boy. He listened as the emotionless words tumbled from his mouth. He wondered if the boy had ever been enchanted before. He did not think so - he ahd put up no resistance at all. Perhaps that was simply because he was weak and tired, and it was so much harder to resist just giving in. Elyan had given in too, once. But that was then, and this was now, and the boy was telling him about what had happened. Arnkerrfell. He knew of it, from studying the old maps. It was nestled in the midst of the mountains, in a hot, arid region of the world. It had a long history, the troubled city. The foreigner had heard stories of it in his travels, and many of the stories concerned the frequent raids upon the town by nomadic mountain peoples that lived in the area. There was a trick to earning their friendship; a gift of horse, a gift of spice, and a gift of gold. That was the bounty that you needed to to pay for safety from these people; but Arnkerrfell had been poor a long time. Most of the desert mountains were only ruins, now. Ruins and sand and blood.

From Arnkerrfell the slavers took them North, to Askal’s Deep. Elyan’s nose wrinked, and he nodded. There must be a fairly large operation there. Askal Hoppskyr had guards of his own, guards for the mines, and slave masters. More than a mine, Elyan suspected, it would be a light fort, liekly made from the same old stones that Pól had walked along so many years ago. Pól had run through the mountains, fleeing the enemies of the Feaseia ; enemies who sought to stick a sword through all that still held the Messiah in their hearts. Many of the others had stayed behind, ready to share in the same fate of their Feaseia. Elyan’s own people had run, and so had Pól ; survival was far more important than sacrifice. But the story went that as Pól was running, he stopped to drink from a mountain stream. He saw his reflection in the water, all horrible and monstrous from malnutrition and fear. A horrible idea crept into Pól’s heard. He knew where the gwerin had gone. He could spare himself the terror, and return to Skarisfall. He could fall on his knees, and tell the enemies of the Messiah where the faithful had gone, and they would reward him for this. Pól would never have to live in fear.

Elyan’s eyes snapped towards the children. His eyes were clear and bright, but his tone remained soft, and gentle ; honeyed words. “Thank you. I don’t need to know more; but anything else you can tell us will be welcome.” The foreigner’s eyes returned to the corpse of their mother, laying flat and still upon the ground. The flies were buzzing loudly, the clatter of their wings was almost deafening. The foreigner approached the corpse of the woman, taking a deep breath. He held that breath in, so that he would not smell what he was smelling. Elyan’s touch, though, was tender. He reached down a hand to touch the mother’s cheek. Her flesh cracked beneath his touch, but the brush of his finger tips was the same as a lovers. Not lusty, but truly in love. The foreigner gently reached down to press against the holes of her eyes, as if brushing down eyelids that were no longer there. His hand moved down the woman’s face, towards her mouth. His fingers delicately plucked the tongue that lolled from rotting gums, and slid it back into her mouth. He pushed her mouth closed.

The mother was dead, but she looked like a person, not a hideous parody of death. Not what long-lived elves or ancient dwarves thought of, when they thought of the short lived human. Elyan’s eyes lifted from the woman’s corpse, and they were running. It was like amber, or warm candlewax running down his face, thicker than tears, softer than tears. The dampness mad his eyes shine like candles, and what light there was caught on his cheeks. The foreigner’s voice, however, came out sharper than more, and it was as if the contrast between light and shadow in the room increased as he spoke - the darks becoming darker, the bright becoming brighter. His voice was controlled, and clear ; the words spoken slowly but deliberately. The witch-words had returned, and this time, the words were meant for both the girl and the boy. “Come with the good doctor and I, and we’ll tend to your injuries in a better place. Everything will be alright.” He meant it. Even if he didn’t — it didn’t matter. The witch-words made it true, whether or not it was. It was true for the girl, for the boy, and for anyone who heard it.

Without another word, the foreigner unhooked the scarlet cloak from his back. It was thick - woven of good gwerin wool, with white-threaded embroidery in stylized patterns of birds in flight. Scarlet dye was expensive - and Elyan had sold the Uyrr’s ship to buy it. He had needed it for the long journey up through the mountains, to the holy city. Elyan put aside the twin golden brooches that had held the cloak to him, the eagles with the turquoise pins. He set those down, next to the woman on the slab. His funerary gift, to her. The cloak, he pulled across her body, so the mutilated torso was now a silhouette that looked almost human. She would need it for the longest journey. The foreigner looked expectantly towards the doctor. He nodded once towards him, and gestured at him for him to lead the way. The wetness on his face, the tears, had gone. It was the same face he had when he walked into the room. A tightness, a hardening to the soft parts of his features. It was a look that was both kind and resolute. It was the face that Pól saw, on the road through the mountains. It was the face of the Feaseia, telling him that he must do what he was told to do. A bright light, with a strong voice, and an immutability that no man or horror could change.


 
"She did not fail her station, lady wolf... she failed as a human being. There is little she could have done for the children... however, she most certainly could have looked upon them as more than garbage weighing her down and taking up her time... And your land doesn't sound very efficient if all who break a rule or make a mistake die immediately and without question.... How many of you are there? Still alive, I mean? If that's how easily you take each other's lives, I doubt that many." Scarlet stowed away her bow and folded her arms across her torso, rolling her eyes at Kiyoko's dramatics. "Do not mistake me, for I am not defending the hag. However, it takes more than being a bi-" Pausing, the archer took a moment to clear her throat before continuing, less she show the more colorful side of her vocabulary. "a... half-faced wench... to justify taking their life outright. Now, by all means, if you wish to scare her and then wait to see if she changes behavior..." Glancing sideways at the nun, Liandra was only keeping the assassin from committing murder, she wasn't going to keep the wolf from doing that which didn't unnecessarily harm the witch.

Huffing lightly at the wolf's challenge, Liandra left the none to herself and returned to the others, shifting her attention to the halfling who proposed drinks to ease the tension. "I will drink some, though I dare not enter a contest." Following behind the vampire, she heard the assassin's remarks and retorted accordingly. "Trust is a two-way street." Needless to say, his own lack of trust wasn't the issue, but everyone else's as well. Each had their own beliefs and ways of thinking, not to mention they were all strangers prior. There were a few that Liandra could see becoming friends relatively swiftly, however there were others that it was going to take some effort.
 
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Listening to the man's words, Kiyoko was fairly impressed, but less so with the Archer.

"Tch... We don't kill everyone, but this treatment.. And you'll see how many of us there are, how well our system works, aruetii. All to well.. arasuum'la, that is all your people bring. Stagnate, unchanging. The woman lived like and stood in disrespect of her station. If a scout sleeps on the lookout, do you pat them on the back as well.. Your people aren't ready for war. But I'll play it your way." Backing away slightly towards a dimmer side passage, Kiyoko makes final eye contact with Scarlet adding one final message.

"For now."


Sniffing the air, she was curious where the other man had went, he would possibly be worth meeting with. Eventually her nose would lead to an alcove overlooking the hall and room. It seemed to be a traveling path of some sort. It was foolish to leave such an entryway uncovered, had the pair been here to kill anyone coming out of those rooms..

"Heh. They aren't ready for a war are they." Stating this as fact rather than question, she continues. "While I care not for your gods, they seem more reasonable than the ones that fool prattles about." Letting out a soft breath, as she had in the meeting, the wolf eared woman continues. "All we do is replace Kings with Priests." Smiling thinly the assassin snickers.

"Who will be replaced in turn."



Suddenly dawning upon her, that his praise also carried an insult, she grumpily growls, crossing her arms. "Hmph... I'm not a dog.. Though I thank you for your words all the same, burc'ya. Maybe later we can speak.. though there are strange things about you.." Tilting her head slowly, the assassin makes her way to the overlook, to keep an eye on when their, allies would be done.
 
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[fieldbox="Dr. Harmond Blackwell, grey, dotted"][bg=white]Blackwell waited on standby while the appointed leader, Elyan, interrogated the children. No, that was not quite right. At first, yes, they were questioned, coaxed, and subtly bribed for information regarding Askal's Deep, but when both the boy and his sobbing sister proved to be too traumatized to provide any of the answers needed to proceed with the mission, that was when the coordinator changed his words -- his voice transformed, transfixed the child, turned every syllable he spoke into a chilling enchantment as the sound of each intonation escaped his lips, leaving in it's wake a warm reverberation humming in the back of the brain. The words were like glass chimes, at the start, sharp and piercing as it lanced the senses, then melted away into gentle music, resounding softly in memory long after it was over. In the span of those few seconds, even the doctor felt his own mind become open and malleable to Elyan's commands. Returning to normal only a moment later, Blackwell realized his skin had given rise to goosebumps all over his body.

Having felt the pull of Elyan's power for himself, the doctor was not surprised to see the effect it had on the boy, who immediately began to describe in exact detail the account of their kidnapping; under the sway of a spell, he was able to tell the tale without being burdened by his heartache. The doctor found this method to be the most efficient, not at all like the emotional mess the other Dirge members had been stirring up before fleeing from the scene shortly after their failures. Oh, no, wait. With his heightened senses, he could hear that they were still screaming at each other outside -- albeit, not about the children anymore, but about moral alignment and personal beliefs. It would seem that they simply relocated themselves to continue their conflict out of earshot... of anyone that wasn't a lycan, that is. With a tired sigh, Blackwell was beginning to reconsider his stance on psychological studies afterall; perhaps these people needed mental help more than anything else he could offer them.

That thought was cut short when once again, Elyan weaved his strange words of influence over the two children. Inadvertently, it captured Blackwell's attention too, making it difficult to think of anything else except what the leader wanted done. The doctor was mentioned in the command, although it was not meant to be directed at him, he was still urged to act in accordance with what he heard was supposed to happen. Odd, a bit irritating, like an itch on the inside of his skull. It wouldn't go away until he focused his mind fully on the task he knew Elyan expected of him. The man then gave Blackwell an approving nod and motioned for him to lead on, which was eerily coincidental timing with the doctor's subconscious decision to obey.

Despite that, Blackwell stood up and was about to take them all to the nearest medical room when he remembered -- nay! -- was mentally ambushed by the nightmare of what bloodstained basins were awaiting him with water unchanged for weeks, maybe even months left fermenting, who knows. How terrible it was to try to wash the medical equipment they kept in there -- all rusty and dull, rending flesh into shredded meat strips as he sawed back and forth with furious abandon, but still, the bone underneath would only grind up into bits of dust as if he were making wood shavings with it. The bone powder got all over the place -- on his clothes, up his nose -- it was a terrible time. The smell was bad enough on the surface, but the stone tub was even worse. When he was forced to dump the dead body into the pit below, he pulled the lever, and for a brief instant, the stench of a thousand congealing corpses came up and punched him in the gut. Decayed flesh could be a delicacy when still attached to a fresh body, but not once it was left to marinate under a blanket of maggots and flies and infected rodent feces; none of those were flavors he was fond of.

The doctor didn't have a choice about where he preferred to operate the first time, when he was asked to demonstrate his doctoral expertise upon arriving to serve the Sanguine Dirge. This time he hoped, through appealing to Elyan, that he could take the children to a more comfortable location, for his own sanity's sake mostly, but also because an unsanitary environment defeated the purpose of giving aid to these kids since it guaranteed they'd just promptly die of a deadly infection.

"May I have a word with you?" Blackwell approached Elyan, leaned in and spoke low to avoid alerting the children. "I have worked in one of the medical rooms that they have here, and I must warn you, it is not kept in good condition. We would be doing more harm than good if we took the children there. I believe a better place would be the refectory, if you would permit me to work on them there. There are plenty of herbs and large tables I could use for the boy's surgery."[/bg][/fieldbox]

[fieldbox="Ghegari Don'orah Greygrim, green, solid"]Ghegari remained by the doorway, standing like a stone pillar in silence. She stayed out of the way of the arguments that ensued; the crying, the pleading, the rage and accusations. The orc understood that emotions were a lot like waves in the ocean -- force cannot overcome or calm the angry sea, though if left alone, the water would eventually subside on it's own -- all one could ever do was ride it out until washing ashore. It was better that she said nothing than to say something simply for the sake of saying it. If the rest of them wanted to judge her for holding her tongue, they would find a way no matter what she did or who she sided with regardless. She couldn't possibly please everybody. The only thing that truly mattered was being able to face herself at the end of her journey, to accept her actions and go unto the gods without regrets. Seeking peace within oneself was more important than seeking the approval of others.

Besides, there was nothing she could do for anyone in this room anyway. She knew no good would come from promising magic she was unsure she could perform; healing was not something she'd yet mastered. She'd tried before, struggled against all odds, only to learn that such things were better left to the gods. Ghegari wasn't going to put herself through that torment again. If the children could be repaired, the doctor would know best what to do, not her. The only thing she'd ever done for anyone was serve as a false idol of disappointment, claiming the title of shaman but showing little skill in her craft. She sincerely hoped that the Dirge did not hold the same expectations of her. Killing she could do. Saving someone's life was another story.

She felt some solace when she looked on at Samuel, for the fact that he appeared to be stronger since she'd pulled him back from the brink of despair. Her one good deed of the day. Ghegari smiled to herself while she watched the knight tending to the young girl as if she were his own little sister. No one else would see those sweet silver linings that bloomed in secret from the bad things that wrestled everyone's attention away. No one would give credit to the light for cutting through the dark at times, only because it never lasted long enough for anyone's liking. The orc would remember them though, and she would choose not to cry for the dead, but to celebrate the life that those people left behind and died to protect.

So she did not mourn for the mother's corpse as Elyan did, yet she was humbled his sorrow; their leader wept not in weakness, but in respect for the woman who had passed away. He honored her with his tears, and to Ghegari, that was the highest honor of all.[/fieldbox]
 
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The old woman was stunned beyond what her aged old face could express, her horrified expression a result of the violence that had just occurred in front of her. While the archer had saved her, she also spoke some choice words about her behavior. Ones she didn't agree with but couldn't muster the courage to challenge. Too many have almost died here... for surely if she were slain the slayer would also be disposed of. The nun looks at her book and seems rather sad as she looks to the floor... She would wait until these violent savages left before she grabbed another story to read. Perhaps in peace this time, without the wailing of sorrowful children and the violent outbursts of adults who acted like children dissatisfied with the reality of life. There was nothing anyone could do for these children, they were lost... broken... and would certainly never be the same. The boy might end up a short lived warrior of vengeance and the girl may end up hanging herself. That was what the woman had seen more times than she can count. She was numb to it, too old to allow herself to feel remorse to each tragedy that passed through her life. It was simply life to her now, just as it was life to may folk in these lands. A cruel and pitiable fact but one undeniably common


Aloette.jpg Aloette Vinscenna

The young vampire listened to the dead man's words and merely smiled as he walked away. Her feeling more confident than ever that this man, no... this being, was an utter fool. She spoke aloud as he retreated, though mostly to herself as she turned to speak to the others that were in earshot "The wicked and broken are those that judge their fellow people by their condition, race, gender, or age. We are the ones chosen for this bloody crusade because we are willing to offer our blades and potentially our lives to end the tyranny that oppresses the common people. You all do not need to trust in the leadership of the Dirge. Trust in the authority that guides even them. If you don't believe the gods to be active here, the site of the gods' original palace... then please, make my day and attempt to desecrate the altars at any of the shrines in the temple. Those sites that were once the literal thrones of the gods from which they directly ruled over us. I would be happy to watch your very existence eradicated in moments... If you all were familiar with the ancient teachings that were prevalent thousands of years before the messiah then you would know that the gods once ruled with utmost authority. Yet left us to learn to live and prosper on our own when they realized our dependence on their almighty power. For what parents want their children to stay reliant on their sustaining grace forever? They were coddling the ancient people and thus depriving them of free will and independence. Making them weak and blind, led along like sheep for the gods to shepherd around for all eternity. Never growing, learning, or knowing hardship"

Aloette had been educated on many things very thoroughly, religion being one of those topics as she just demonstrated to her peers. The young vampire barely even knew why she bothered to educate these low class fools. Perhaps it was so that she could practice what she herself was taught. Not to judge and oppress but rather to give what she had freely... education, wealth, kindness, friendship, love... whatever was hers should be shared according to the old teachings. She would eradicate the filth of the tyrants as expected, but there were still so many who may need to be slain. Those who wouldn't accept the teachings that would deliver the people into a self sustained utopia. As it stands now Aloette couldn't wait to see Mygdos face great foes with such confidence only to find himself faced with an impossible task and no support from the allies he has driven away and the gods he misunderstands. She couldn't wait to show the savage Kiyoko just how wrong she was about the dirge and this group being ready for war. War is all the world has known for so long it would be impossible not to be ready for it. Stories are much different than facing such things head on, but Aloette did not care.

This was not a typical war. There would be no battlefield, only the bastions of tyrants to invade and destroy from within. And she would do so with honor. Better to face a slow tedious and bloody battle to face your enemy knowing that you will not be murdering those unfortunate people caught in the middle than to simply doom the innocent within as if they were enemies as well... She wondered if Kiyoko even knew what the difference in numbers, power, and equipment was between them and the forces they fought. Even doing such a malicious act to eliminate the advance guard would grant no advantage over the absolute defense of a palace when faced head on. Mages, monsters, elite knights trained to spot and eliminate assassins, warriors, and intruders all the same, mounted defenses, magical barriers, archers, anti-siege weaponry and defenses... All of that against the entire dirge gathered together to attack one target would result in the absolute devastation of them all, easily. This was no pissing contest of equal forces, not even close. If they weren't smart and drew too much attention to themselves then they would all die if caught in a place outside Skariskall. With this knowledge replaying itself in her head Aloette turned quickly and went to wait outside, it was knowledge that she had heard over and over again from her father. He knew exactly what the situation was with the dirge and how they would have to fight to win. Guerilla tactics and infiltrations, it was the only way. Yet he always reminded Aloette of the honor of their family name and what the gods expected of them all. It was a lesson she didn't intend to forget


Resting Room

The girl had remained crying against Samuel until the witchwords were spoken, the she too joined her brother in the trancelike state. They both looked to Elyan then the doctor, both nodding at the same time and rising to stand and await their lead. They didn't react to anything at all like this, not even the suggestion on where to go. They would follow without question as was the command of the man with the enchanting words, the silver tongue laced with mysticism. The boy spoke once more, providing yet further information on Askal's Deep "There are dozens of cells in each hallway, each filled with only a single prisoner in each cell. The bars burn when you touch them, I don't know why. You can hear crying from each cell so loudly, even when there is no one in it at the moment. I don't think the people rest even after they die. I think they remain trapped in their own personal hell..." Unfortunately he has no idea how many levels deep or high the prison goes. Nor does he know exactly how many guards there are as the number changes each day. The girl has information as well yet she isn't willing to speak on it right now, her only focus being on following Blackwell and Elyan at the moment. After the boy finishes speaking, the bulky armored goliath of a man who was silent in the corner grunts his approval of a change of scenery. Xarl stops leaning against the wall and moves towards the exit to the room "Do as you please with the children. Just don't keep me waiting much longer. We need to get a move on and relieve the torturing bastards of their heads sooner rather than later. We have all they can offer I'm sure..." With his peace said the large warrior exits the room and actually leaves the respite to wait just outside the front door. For Xarl it was still early in the day and they were wasting time now that they had the information the children could give​
 
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VERA GAMBRIEL

There was a woman in particular who was quite late to the party. She was standing on a hill covered in nothing but a black hooded cloak. It was neccessary for her to walk during the day, and to keep the sun from burning her face, her body down to crisp. Her long black hair could be seen fluttering ever so slightly through the right side of the hood. She was standing on a hill far away, but close enough to give her a good overview of the respite.​

This woman was a knight, and a brave, yet unique one at that. Through the hood, one could see her blue eyes peering down at the respite. Her name was Vera Gambriel, a twenty-four year old human cursed with vampirism. The one thing that drove here away from her home in Bjolbavik. Despite the curse she got afflicted with, the woman had accepted a long time ago what she was, and what made her a monster amongst those who did not understand her kind. Or those similar to her.

A letter was in her hand, and one she was to give to Elyan when making her presence known to the Dirge. An organization that was almost if not expendable, but with an iron-clad cause. To rid the world of the corrupt government(s) and the leaders behind the cruelty happening to not only humans, but those innocents they like to call "monsters".

Her eyes eventually landed on a big man covered in heavy armor. It was quite simple for her to deduce exactly who it was. An axe-wielding knight that was currently accompanying the Dirge. Or rather, he was a "member" of the latter. However, the elders had told her otherwise, and that's one of the reasons for why she was already late.

'So, that's him..' The black haired woman curiously thought to herself. If anything, her two signature weapons were a Morningstar Mace and a Silver Longsword. The former was attached to the right side of her equipment belt, which was wrapped around her hips. As for her primary weapon, the longsword, it was on the left side. One could clearly see it pulling some of the cloak up, or rather, one could see its long shape ever so slightly. For her battles, and opponents, she did not require a shield like most others.

Vera decided it was time to accomplish what was asked of her. She jumped down the hill and landed as softly as she could. She eventually stood up straight and started to walk towards the respite. The Sanguine Dirge was there and it was time to partake in what she felt was the right cause.

The Vampire woman stopped in her tracks. She knew that the man, named Xarl as it was told to her, was not a force to underestimate. And judging by how he looked, she couldn't help but agree to it mentally. She pulled her right hand up, looking at the fingers. She balled a fist but left the index finger as it was. Blood started to emerge from it, before it took the shape of a worm, or rather a small snake that would go un-notified if used right. It would heed her words and go where she would want it. Vera was a unique woman afflicted with vampirism. The one thing that she required to sate her hunger, was one of the two things she could manipulate. The first one was her ability to create illusions. The second was blood. Yes, blood manipulation was her forte.

It is also why someone would call the woman a Blood Knight if anything. This sort of manipulation would not only work for her, but if used excessively or wrongly, it would affect her perception, or make her lose control. Allow the "monster" side of her to take over until she could quench her thirst for blood. Vera did not require words to usher from her mouth in regards of the blood worm she manifested with her blood. They were connected, so what she thought, is what it would do. This specific ability was called; Blood Puppetry.

Vera was close to the respite as well, but far enough for the giant Knight to not notice her presence. Her ability was working for her benefit. Weasling and moving like a snake until it would reach it's destination. Xarl just happened to have been distracted already, which allowed her technique to do what it was made for.

"Hmph!." Xarl grunted, as he was looking around the respite. He was not thrilled with what was going inside. If anything, he was ready to get down to business. Get to Askal's Deep and so on. His back was turned to the right, which was to the opposite of where Vera was. In other words his back was turned against her. The blood snake started to go up its heavy-plated armor, until it reached his shoulders, by the neck.

By then, Xarl already noticed something was off. He turned abruptly, his axe in his hand. "What's there?" He whispered to himself. However, he couldn't see anything, and thanks to his armor, nor could he actually feel the blood snake touching his skin. "Hmm.." The giant of a Knight was curious as ever, but it was not enough to notice what Vera was about to do to him. The snake quickly used the little gap between his helmet and his armor; the neck. It quickly made its way to Xarl's ear and forced its way down the earhole.

"Hrrrrrrrrrrrrrf.." Xarl grunted quite heavily, before he smacked his neck, thinking it may have been a bug. "Darn it. These damn little pesky creatures." The man looked at his hand, but nothing was there, no squashed bug or whatsoever. "Am I imagining this?" He curiously whispered to himself, before he turned around, towards the door leading inside the respite.

It was time for him to just tell the people of the Dirge to move the hell a long, but thats when something odd happened. He couldn't control his hand, which was on the door knob. He could not move his face to either side. He could blink but that was it. 'What the hell?' Xarl was greatly confused. His body was not moving the way he wanted.

The blood worm had done its trick. It had gone to his brains, his mind and taken a hold of it. Wrapping itself around, it could allow the blood snake to have Vera's opponents do her bidding, and her bidding alone. This was also the correct moment for the Vampire woman to kill the giant.

Her blue eyes transitioned to red. Her curse kicked in. Her right hand was on the hilt of her longsword. Thanks to her being a Vampire, she was extremely fast. Vera dashed. A "swoosh" like sound was made through the air before she stopped in her tracks, right behind Xarl's back. The latter was formidable indeed and quite big and tall, compared to her. Despite the blood worm having full control of his mind, the man was resisting like a beast.

Xarl tilted his head as much as he could to the side, and from the corner of his eyes, he could do nothing but glare at Vera. "Who the fuck-- Hrrrrrrrfff! II--- won't.. G... Dow-- ke-- is." He managed to barely speak up. The woman had a serious expression on her face, and was piercing right back, right through his eyes as well. 'He's resisting?' She thought to herself. Xarl's grip on the axe was even harder than before. His axe-holding arm moved slightly around. The man was trying to swing it towards her.

Despite her Blood Puppetry doing its job, the man was able to move his body ever so slightly. Vera's red eyes narrowed, because she noticed it clearly, and would know that any minute now, the blood worm would perhaps leave the host it had taken over. 'Is he overpowering it with his will alone?' Vera questioned herself.

Despite Xarl being what he truly is in the Dirge, he was indeed a force to be reckoned with. Especially if they fought on equal footing. No matter, Vera did not wait one more second before she pulled her longsword out, holding its hilt with both her hands. Forcing its tip through the heavy armor with great strength. Being a Vampire, that was not such a hard feat, but if it was just a human behind the longsword, it would have been much more difficult.

"You're a threat to the Dirge!" Vera stated without hesitation. Xarl's eyes though, they widened by her words. He knew exactly what she meant. She pushed her sword through his armor, as the tip, the sword violently pierced through the armor and through his body. Ripping, and cutting through his organs until the tip was clearly visible on the other end of the body, while some of his intestines were dangling down from the hole she created in his armor, in his body.

"Blargh!!!" Blood gushed out from his mouth. Xarl was still alive and would not go down fighting. The blood worm still had a hold of his mind, his body. If anything, Xarl's armor, his body was covered in blood. Vera's own face, her right cheek had a few blood spots, and some blood that was splattered on her cloak as well. She widened her eyes even more, before pushing the longsword further in. Xarl made another agonizing sound.

She pushed Xarl forward towards the door, and with quite the force, it was enough to destroy the door. If anything, Xarl came crashing in the respite, with Vera following behind, obviously. Her sword, her hands still on the hilt, and the sword through his body. What was amazing, was that Xarl was still not on the ground. His hand that held the axe hadn't let go of it. His vacant hand was holding the the end of Vera's longsword. It was covered in blood. Blood had covered some of the walls inside the respite already.

The life force of Xarl was finally leaving his body. He was resisting less and less by the minute. His grip on the axe was lighter than ever before. The man never got to use his shield either. Still standing though, you could see his mouth covered in blood. More and more blood was starting to cover the floor inside the respite, around him. Vera was still behind him before she kicked him in the middle of his leg, back of his knee, so the man would "kneel", which he did.

Standing above him now, Vera kicked his axe away, which parted from Xarl's hand. She took his shield with one hand, while the other one was still on the hilt of her weapon, and threw it on the floor, next to the axe. If anything, Xarl was basically unarmed now. His body was about to become a corpse, about to become lifeless.

Vera was glaring down with her red eyes, which would immediately, let those around them to know what she is. But if that wasn't the case, then what she was about to do, would make that clear. The Vampire woman let go of her sword, which was still penetrated through Xarl's body, and now held his shoulder with her right hand, so he would still be "kneeling" before her, with his back turned against him, as it was since the beginning.

The woman did not pay attention to those around her in that very moment. Now, however, she grabbed one of the horns on his helmet with her left hand, and tilted his head to the side, to expose his neck even more so than what it usually is while wearing an armor such as his. She slightly opened her mouth, before her fangs were visible. It was not difficult to know what was coming next. Her fangs dug deep down Xarl's neck. She feisted on his blood. It was one of those things she did after defeating someone. It was also another way for her to quench her thirst so she wouldn't have to prey on the weak, on the innocent while not in control.

Vera had to keep her vampirism in check at all times. She drank Xarl dry if anything, or the blood that was still left in his body. Xarl was basically dead by now. His heart was beating ever so slowly. The Vampire woman was done feisting and pulled her fangs out. before she placed both her hands, stretched out, on the side of his face, on the helmet, on his cheeks if anything. Before she broke his neck, literally making his head turn around in 180. Xarl was no more. He was dead, executed savagely.

All this time, Vera had a serious expression on her face. She pulled her sword out which was covered in blood, and kicked Xarl's body down on the floor in the process. Her chin, her mouth covered in blood. Her eyes turning back to being blue, instead of red. Looking around her, she asked those that were watching this happen.. "I am looking for Elyan."

There was a letter she needed to deliver to him. A letter from the elders.

@Sir Basil
@Yzmael
@RedArmyShogun
@Sarokhor
@-Vesper-
@EmperorsChosen
@BlueFlameNikku
@neobendium
@devil’s 4DV0C473
 
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Collaboration post with @Akashi

As Samuel bared witness to now the both children becoming calm and began to listen to Elyan, the young knight stood to his feet, re-equipping his gauntlets as well as his shield, strapping it to his left arm purr usually as he made is way to exit the room and out the hall figuring that the others wouldn't be far behind. Halfway down the last hall to the door that led outside the respite, Samuel heard some commotion and hastened himself down the the hall and as he turned the last corner, he froze for a moment. Because in no way was he expecting the scene that was laid out before him.

His supposed warrior comrade Xarl's corpse was lying down in a pool of blood, mangled, stabbed and his head turned a whole 180 degrees backwards. There standing next to his body, a woman who was covered in blood as much as her blade was, the door behind the two broken in letting in light from the outside onto the grisly scene. Samuel's eyes immediately narrowed, his body moving on its own as he charges straight towards the blood covered warrior whom from Samuel's point of view and lack of knowledge has now been rated as an enemy.

As Samuel charges the woman he doesn't shout anything, that is until he gets within melee range, crossing both of his arms behind his heater shield as he crouches down before letting out a yell, thrusting his shield upwards at the woman, hoping to push her up off his feet. If successful Samuel would charge forwards basically carrying the woman on his shield out the door before pushing her off the shield once they are both outside, completing Samuel's initial bull-rush.

The nun inside the respite was terrified by the scene she just witnessed. Vera on the other hand, did not pay her much attention. All she wanted to know, was the whereabouts of Elyan. It did not take long for someone to actually make their presence known to her. Someone else that seemed to be wearing armor only a Warrior, or a Knight does. This man, the new arrival did not look pleased with what was before him.

Xarl's dead body, and Vera, with her bloodied longsword standing before him. With her face and mouth covered in blood. Her blue eyes slightly squinted towards this new person in armor. "Whe--" The Vampire woman was going to ask the man about where Elyan was, but instead, the man immediately charged towards her.

He was rushing towards her. His face was serious, and one could see nothing but the glimmer of anger in his eyes. Obviously, Vera was concentrated as ever. She could see it coming, but didn't fully react to it. Not in a way where it'd benefit her. At close range, the man thrusted his shield towards her head, her body, as if he wanted to lift her up and throw her off her guard, and probably squash her at the same moment. Yeah, a shield could do that, if used right.

The only thing Vera actually did, was pull her sword before her chest, in an diagonal way. She was curious, wondering if this man was perhaps in cahoots with Xarl, or were the Dirge in the unknown about what the giant really was? Nevertheless, he was able to push her off of the ground, allowing her next opponent to push her all the way outside the respite. If anything, the black haired woman would commend him for using his shield in such a way.

She, however was silent throughout this entire ordeal. Once outside the respite, she pushed herself off of the shield with both her legs. Literally flipping in the air, and landing softly on the ground. Luckily her cloak was still covering her face as intended. There wasn't much for Vera to say, but to stare back at the man before him. What was his next move?

At the end of Samuel's bull-rush his mind was running a mile a minute. He wasn't sure if there were more enemies somehow or exactly how dangerous this person was that he was now in combat with but she had to be dangerous enough to be able to take down a mountain like Xarl. Samuel would feel a sudden pushing force on the front of his shield, on reaction he would dig his greaves into the dirt and widen his stance with the short notice that he had as the woman pushed off his shield with her legs and did a back-flip; Samuel only being pushed back of few feet thanks to his quick sturdy stance but was still caught by surprise at such an acrobatic maneuver.

The young knight would shake the most recent thought from his head before once again locking his concentrating gaze on the woman at hand; during this same moment finally unsheathing his longsword with his right hand as he gets into the fighting stance that has been burned into him from the past two years of training with the Dirge.

He tucked his shield tightly against his shoulder and held the longsword with a tight grip, holding it in such a way that it was slightly out to the side at one angle but ready to swing at a moments notice. The stance was very defensive in nature and could clearly be identified as such by a trained warrior or knight; nothing fancy or advanced but it was good and solid. After this Samuel would begin to slowly advance towards the woman, inching his way forwards with an unflinching concentration, making sure to not miss a single detail or movement.

"Are you the same?" Vera asked the man standing before her. She noticed him tucking his shield away, as her opponent pulled out a longsword, himself. Her question was more or less about him being what Xarl was. If so, then she'd take care of him right then and there. Besides, the opponent before her looked young, or at least younger than her, but she could see the conviction in his eyes.

He was ready for what was to come next. There was no need for Vera to exchange words with him. Nor did she really expect him to understand her question or give her a response. Her grasp on her own longsword tightened, before she pointed it towards her new 'enemy'.

Vera knew that he was approaching her slowly and in a defensive manner, that was not difficult to deduce, not with her own experience as a Warrior, or a Knight. The Vampire woman immediately dashed towards him, and once she was close enough, she came swinging down with her sword, with both her hands on the hilt. The force would be even greater now. If her opponent wouldn't block it, she'd be splitting his head up.

However, Vera was thinking a step ahead, and was only testing his skill to react and act. If her first attack was blocked, or missed, she'd immediately swing it back up, or rather slashing it across his body from below.

As Samuel heard the woman's question his movement didn't stop but he did ponder what she meant by it. Samuel wasn't sure if the question was a distraction, insult or honest curiosity about his fighting ability, thinking that the question had to be referencing Xarl. The young knight's concentration however quickly snapped back into the task at hand as the woman dashed towards him. It was much faster and sudden than young Sam was use to but his body began to react on instinct.

As the woman's two handed downward strike made its way towards Samuel he swiftly raised his shield to meet the strike but Samuel had no intention of simply blocking due to the parrying drills that the Dirge instructors grinded into him. Parry, parry parry, it leaves your opponents more open and creates less strain on the arms and equipment. As the blow came down Samuel turned his shield to one side as he raised it, allowing the majority of the blows power to glance off the face of the shield and continue downwards and away.

However, Samuel wasn't ready for the amount of force that the woman had generated in that single swing. It was as strong if not stronger than the greatsword blows that huge men like Xarl would swing at Samuel. The young knight grunting at the strain in his left arm but going in for a counter as he brings up his blade in a thrusting motion; targeting the woman's face.

But before Samuel made much headway with the thrust his eyes opened wide as he noticed the woman's arms moving upwards at an angle. Institutionally Samuel twists his body towards the incoming upward slash from a lower angle. Pushing the pommel of his longsword against the back of his shield to meet the incoming force from the blow. Upon impact as Samuel was forced to full on block this secondary attack instead of parry the full force went screaming into his arms and young Sam felt every bit of it as he would be forced backwards a few feet, sliding across the dirt before resuming his defensive stance; one of his eyes squinting as the strain pulsed through his arms.

The young knight's fears were now fully realized as to just how dangerous of an encounter he had gotten himself into. He didn't dare take his eyes off the woman to seek for any allies that might be near by for fear that she would take said moment and make quick work of him.

Vera couldn't help but be surprised that her follow-up attack was blocked in time, but just barely. She could see that that it had some sort of affect on the young opponent. Her own serious expression did not waver at all. So far, there was no need for her to have her affliction kick in. The woman released her grip on the longsword. Her left hand became vacant, as she was now holding the longsword with only her right hand.

Time for round two. The Vampire woman dashed once more, not giving her opponent a chance to counter her. She purposefully thrust her sword towards his face, expecting him to bring his shield up to block the attack. However, that was merely a fake out, a trick for her to make the opponent defenseless in another manner.

Vera was an expert in by-passing an armor. If there was a gap somewhere on an opponent wearing an armor, she'd use it, obviously. She noticed the gap between his knees. Where one part of the armor would meet the other. Hoping he'd use both his arms to block the full force of her thrust, she would immediately go down crouching, and cut through his skin between the gap in the armor, at his knee.

If it was successful, he'd almost if not be unable to stand on both his legs. If Vera's attack would fail, then she'd fall back a few steps. To create some distance between herself and her opponent. Either way, she was merely adapting to her opponents fighting style.

Samuel prepared himself for his opponent's second advance though this time she seemed to switch to a one handed style. Sam would immediately be worried about the thought of the woman trying to grab a hold of his shield with her free hand but as the thrust came forth he had to react. The young knight tucks the point of his blade behind his shield; not to assist with the parry but for a quicker counter than before. Samuel raised his shield upwards so that the shield acted like an upwards slope as the thrust came sliding on its face.

It was still certainly a heavy thrust which made Sam's arm wiggle and wince under the weight but looking underneath Sam had a clear view of his opponent though as he began to thrust his own blade forwards aiming for the under armpit of his opponent he would feel a stinging pain in his left knee; said knee being forced to lower and drop to the ground. This made it so Samuel's thrust moved down and to the right which made the tip of his longsword scratch the smooth edge of his opponents breastplate doing basically no damage for the intended weak point was missed.

The edge of his shield hits the dirt as Sam gets a mere second to see the trails of blood seeping out from the armor flaps at his left knee. His knee now damaged and not responding well to his will for it to move how he wanted as he tried his best clearly trying to force his knee to stand again.

Gritting his teeth Samuel through his gaze back up towards his opponent, her dark outline looking more intimidating from this angle. Samuel's gaze now resembled that of an angered animal that has been cornered; readying his shield for defense while swinging his longsword in a low horizontal arc towards the woman's ankles trying desperately to get her to back away and create distance.

Once her fake-out attack was successful, she was behind her opponent. Turning around, she noticed blood dripping down from the major cut she made. Her eyes widened ever so slightly at the sight of fresh blood. Her eyes turning red for a brief second, before they went back to being blue.

She noticed his dire attempt to counter-attack while down on one knee. He was aiming for her ankles, allowing her to easily kick his sword away in the process. Since Vera was almost standing over her opponent, she kicked him in the face next, so he'd fall down on the ground. The man made an attempt to reach his sword, but he was not fortunate enough to make it in time.

This gave her the opportunity to step on his wrist, his hand that that was reaching for the sword. He was completely defensless. In other words, it was checkmate. Her longsword was now nicking his neck. One wrong move and she'd cut open his throat.

"Are you the same?" She asked again. His life was depending on the answer he'd give to her.

It was one thing for Samuel's desperate swing to be side stepped; it was something else for his blade to be forceful kicked away from his grip like some child's plaything. Samuel's reaction to this would be his eyes opening wider with a shocked and worried expression. Said expression would quickly change to one of cringing pain as he watched said disarmed hand's wrist get stomped down upon into the ground and pinned after being pulled off balance; falling on his side into the dirt.

Young Sam's fingers twitching from the pain in his wrist, pain clear as day on his face as he looks back upwards after the violent maneuver only to feel cold blood stained metal grace his soft skinned throat; freezing in fear at the cold touch as his ears were met with the woman's same question from earlier..."Are you the same?"

Sam could feel his blood leaking from his knee along with a pounding feeling in his chest; whether is was actually a heart beat or not made no difference to him currently as he was clearly now at this warrior's mercy.

Young Sam made a nervous gulping sound, his young eyes shaking slightly at the thought of leaving this world for a second time; his thoughts racing to think of a answer to the woman's question as some words began to quietly seep out from the young knight's lips.

"No...I'm not the same..."
 
Aloette.jpg Aloette Vinscenna

The vampire girl swiftly turned to look at the scene before her. The mighty Xarl drained and defeated so handily by this strange woman. Her vampire nature was clear and Aloette was about to burst into a aggressive spree of questioning when Samuel rushed her and took this confrontation outside. There was no way Samuel could stand against a vampire trained as a warrior in one on one combat without support. Aloette's thoughts were proven correct as she rushed outside to catch the brief scuffle between them ending with Samuel in real danger of being killed just like Xarl. Aloette would not stand for this and while she stood no chance if she attempted to engage Vera in combat, she had something that would allow her to disable Vera. The young vampire's eyes turn a blood red and her skin pales, all of this hidden by her cloak so the sun won't burn her to a crisp

As she steps towards Vera the vampire knight can feel a strong mental magic invade her mind and rule her over swiftly. Aloette's voice was pompous and commanding yet fierce in her aggression towards the woman "Remove yourself from my companion, drop your sword, and get on your knees... you will not move after this except to speak..." Her charm is absolute on the vampire considering their weakness to magic. Aloette moves behind the woman and grasps her hood as if she intends to pull it back and reveal her to the sunlight if her answers are unsatisfactory "Who are you and why are you here? Why did you kill Xarl?" She expects an answer to her questions while she also expects her allies to back her up and Samuel to get himself together now that he is removed from danger. Aloette didn't wish to have to use her Charm power but with such an opponent there is no choice. She can already feel her hunger eating at her focus, it takes everything she has to keep her vampiric charm up instead of rushing the bleeding Samuel to try and drain him dry
 
Mygdos had made his path towards an area overlooking the respite. He didn't hear most of the commotion that happened afterwards, probably the vampire's words. There were few things worse than bloodsuckers for friends: Fools. He wouldn't discuss or make the situation worse by telling her that he thought of her as an idiot, and not just based on her appearance or race, no, he thought of her as an idiot for believing in formulated speech. Never trust anyone who thinks a formulated speech is absolute truth. Be open-minded and you will make more allies than enemies. He might've been harsh and rather violent, but Mygdos was never an enemy. He didn't trust them, but they were to work together and no such a disposition between him and his allies would stop him from doing so.

What happened next was that he was followed by the dog. Werewolves, creatures of simple nature. They were easier to trust than vampires, but they were still a threat. All most of them needed was a pet in the head... Acceptance. Mygdos accepted what he had become, he accepted his quest and he accepted his nature. Who else could say the same? Very few people actually accepted their nature as they were. Most of them tried to undermine their own identity, taking shots at being things they weren't for the purpose of appearing less and less with what they truly were. All that was to no avail. This young girl however, the dog... He could feel the acceptance in her. One could say she turned her curse into her pride and he wondered how she did that. Most people hid in the shadows, lurked in the darkness and some even went as far as travelling into the void for the single purpose of not showing others what they were, be it out of shyness or out of fear of repercussion and the dangers such acceptance brought. It was no big news for Mygdos, these people knew their nature and just wished it to be gone. He, on the other side, could prize someone who understood their situation and persona. Few had this courage and for that, he respected this girl. She was courageous enough to both say what was on her mind and to also act on her own nature and personality. She was an example of how to be yourself and not someone else you wish to be.

The young creature spoke to him in an exquisite manner. He couldn't very well understand if she was trying to befriend him or if she was being shrewd to his actions beforehand. "My people trust nature to choose our leaders. We do not appoint, select or choose them in any way. They simply lead and, those who wish to follow, follow. Humans have such a strange form of society. They impose under each other layers and layers of convictions that they are forced to accept. Convictions that are not theirs by experience, but theirs by bloodlines. Such a thing is foolish. It brings a stagnant nature that makes it so that the truth is never revealed. The biggest lies of the human history are all part of their "traditions". The New People... The Elvish that have lost themselves... They too have come to be blinded by this sense of traditionalism. But, alas, I speak too much. You clearly did not come here to hear the opinions of a dead man." He turned to face her, his expression still serious below the mask. One could feel his tension if they stared for too long, and there was no need to able to sense magic to understand that the man was scarred for the rest of his life about revenge. He wished for that only and then he could be laid to rest.

He heard her words, the form in which the werewolf girl acted in an attempt to either earn his favor or perhaps state that he earned hers. As she complained about being called a dog, the man turned away. "What's the point of calling you something else? You're clearly a war hound. Savage, brutal and ignorant... But a useful ally. They say dogs are more trustworthy than humans. I agree." Clearly, the woman had misjudged the way in which he spoke. He didn't intend to insult her by calling her a dog, but this was usually how it came off to other people. He called people by what he believed their nature to be. The previous man, the elusive one, he called him Adan as an honor name. The Adans were the allies of the Elvish of old lore. Nowadays, he simply called the others humans. He had lost himself within human culture a long time ago. Much of his own people's ways was lost to him. He simply acted on instinct. He had no idea of what many words of his own dictionary meant, but he used them because he knew there was a reason.

The man sighed as he looked off of the respite. There were no defenses. The place was vulnerable to any kind of attack by any fool who didn't believe in the same gods as these idiots. They were clearly unprepared, but this was no conventional war. It wasn't guided by Gods or by preachers. It would be won for them by the soldiers who are willing to get their hands dirty and to go into the shadows to escape unhinged, unharmed. He believed himself to be one these, but he knew better. He just in this for the revenge and if he had to kill his own friends to see it coming, then so be it! Friends are of no use if they get in your way, but they are still the best tool for the job.

Suddenly, however, something sparked. The giant that he had met before, the man named Xarl, had left this plane and gone into the world of the dead. Mygdos chuckled. For one that was so hungry to find worthy battles, he sure met his demise rather quickly. "Come, Hound... This'll be interesting..." He chuckled once more as he made his way back to the respite.

When he arrived, he saw the one other Specter like him, Samuel, fighting against a hooded figure. He felt something bloodthirsty below that hood, but he couldn't help but also feel the same thing he felt when he looked at the other vampire... The lack of acceptance. It fought against Samuel and clearly made it's superiority a known fact by bashing the boy to the ground.

Clapping his hands, Mygdos watched as the other vampire quickly intruded. He could see the fine threads of magic between the two and he saw by himself that the Vampire Knight had lost her own will. The young vampire asked a couple of questions. Mygdos smirked as he saw the situation unfold. He looked towards Xarl's body and his theory was confirmed, this Knight was a vampire indeed. He couldn't help but chuckle as he felt Xarl's soul passing through the veil of the realms. It was at the same time ironic and cruel, but that's life for you... Or is it death? Mygdos nodded his head as he saw the destruction. He walked towards Samuel and offered him a hand, something surprising coming from the Specter that said, just a few minutes ago, that he didn't trust any of them. He then stared at both vampires once more, now clear of what was happening. "Be on the ready, if the little girl fails, drive your blade through this Knight's neck and cut her head off... It won't kill her, but it'll give us enough time to figure something else." He whispered to Samuel and looked to the dog with a nod, drawing his sword and pointing it to the vampire.

The situation seemed like it had just table-turned for her, as she was in the middle of the chaos, with no choice but surrendering... Unless she really wanted to die.
 
The crimson archer had assumed that the arguments about the children and the incident with the wolf and the nun would have been the end of the day's excitement. The day, after all, they were to meet each other, perhaps be assigned a mission, even spar and test each other's mettle or begin on their way to begin a contract. Unfortunately, the tallest of the scouts was oh so wrong.

As the group began on their way to commit to ironing their bonds with drink, suddenly a metal monstrosity crashed through the doors, bloody and beaten. In quick succession, an armored woman followed through, disarming the large oaf, now recognized as Xarl, and sucking him dry, revealing the woman's identity as a vampire. Though stunned, Scarlet shook it off relatively swiftly and drew an arrow to fire, eyes glowing with the same red trail as before as her arrows sparked and immolated. Unfortunately, she was not the only to react with such speed. The young knight, Samuel, charged his comrade's murderer and, sadly, was completely outmatched. Even more unfortunate, the vampire was clad almost head to toe in full plate armor, meaning normal arrows would do not a damn thing less she strike at her head, which was difficult with the two's tussle, and an explosive one would run risk of harming the young knight.

The battle was dragged outside, which she followed, and thankfully the woman was stopped before she could slay young Samuel. Scowling and approached the defeated knight, patting him on the shoulder. "Keep pressure on your wounds." It seemed to her that his injuries weren't life-threatening, so she could leave him to the doctor and focus on incinerating the barbarous woman who attacked him.

"Oh, I verily wouldn't worry of that Sir Assassin..." Approaching closer, but still remaining out of arm's reach, Scarlet raised an open palm and sparked a violent flame within it. "Vampires don't much care for fire more than any other being, do they? Of course, it won't technically be death but—well... It's permanent enough, I think." Like before, her sparks and flames danced on her hair and her eyes glowed brightly. To say she was infuriated would be an understatement, and her rage only fueled the pyromancy at her disposal. This woman would have to be the most charismatic soul on the planet to give the archer a reason not to burn her to the furthest extent.
 
Yawning a bit silently at the assassin's prattling, the Kiyoko was somewhat bored of this display, though that didn't mean she wasn't listening. Information was valuable, even if you didn't understand it. Her people had grown while keeping its same core views with this way of thinking. In fact the outer patrols and some handlers were human.

"My people have a saying, Aliit ori'shya tal'din. Family is more than Blood. In my homeland, people that like to flaunt titles with more helmet than head, end up getting knocked on their ass and losing both. I think you would like my people elf, though we only have two gods. Kad Ha'rangir the god of change through destruction. Arasuum, the god of stagnation and inactivity. People unknowingly follow one of the two with every action they do.

As ta'traditions, maybe I'll teach you a few later on. Might be fewer and more simpler than you Elvish are used to."

Turning her head curiously at his dead man's remark, the consideration that he was some sort of near dead made sense. "Ah..so that's why I'm unsure of what to do with you.. You tread a line... Interesting." Likely not the reaction he would have expected or maybe he didn't care. Growling lightly, as if to be upset by his comparison, her own mind runs much the same thoughts.

"...Thanks I guess?" Sighing audibly a smell hits her nostrils. While there was much of the smell all around the building, this was large enough to be noticeable among it all. Fresh blood in large amounts had just been spilled.

"Hmph... At least call me Wolf.. damnable specter.." Following off in suit of Mygdos, the assassin wasn't very surprised to see the Barbarian dead. She could tell he didn't have a healthy dose of fear in him. While powerful and burly, that fundamental lack of self-preservation left him at risk. Watching the battle with Samuel it was soon obvious why.


Something however struck her most curiously about all of this. Given the simplistic savagery of it all, it was funny that she seemed to guess the right of it. As events unfolded, the woman was constraining herself far too much.. And of course Sir Knight was now bleeding, then another saint had to step in. Then yet another.. Upon the final ones forming of Flame, Kiyoko let out an involuntarily snarl.

Containing herself quickly however, the wolf eared assassin shurgs, walking in front of the group next to the woman.

"Udesii, Udesii!" holding both of her arms up in a calming gesture, the masked woman doesn't seem too worried of getting close.

"Blood is still warm, he's barely been dead.. And in spite of his bravery, the Runt had nothing on the Northlander.. One man dead, one man floored, in the time it took us to run out here and out the door! Eheheheh! They didn't stop anything did they?" Eyeing Samuel and the Elder Vampire, they had nowhere near the same combat prowess of the human warrior whom had died before. So either she slipped up suddenly in an instant, or she allowed herself to be taken.. What a wonderful enemy this one would have made.





"She's a warrior, like of the same cut as my own. If she weren't alone this place would be burning, if she were here to kill the dirge, well I doubt Samuel would have stopped her. So either she's here for a deal, or a purpose that included killing the warrior..least that's what I would have went through all this trouble for. Either way,dangerously brave or dangerously stupid." Lowering her arms and walking around to look the Vampiric Knight in the face, the Wolf eared woman lowers her mask with her left hand, allowing her smile, with a hint of snaggletooth to be seen.

"Unlike the old child and the fire starter, I ask you as another Warrior that is impressed, what is your purpose here? That Kin of yours is a bit too zealous, and the rest... Well too Civilized...I can't do anything about the false child behind yah, but at least you can save some face with that answer." While it was more or less, scum speaking to scum, as some of the observers would see or think of it, to show her some respect would likely lessen her tongue far better than trying to dominate her.

Plus there was one small issue... The Nun hadn't called for guards. Either she was passed out, reading her book too deeply to notice, or had seen this woman before. While the Wolf wasn't very book smart, she did have much in the way of practical abilities through observation.
 
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[fieldbox="Raven Willow Ashdown, red, dashed, 10, Courier New"]
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Raven, knowing she would be of no use to the doctor or Elyan, simply nodded somberly at both of them and turned, leaving the room after Samuel. Her boots made no sound on the ground as she slunk down the corridors, hood still down on her shoulders and her short-cut black hair swishing slightly with the steps she took. She didn't know if she had really helped back there, if she had made a difference whatsoever, but at least she had tried.....right? That's all she could have done. Tried. If you didn't try, what worth are you?

The werecat was rudely awoken from her train of thought when, ahead of her, Samuel charged forward with a shout. She frowned, slowing in her steps and tugging her hood up to cover her features before she drew her daggers and strode forward. Xarl's corpse certainly startled her, and she knew it was no use to try and see if he was alive. It was obvious he was gone.

She watched the battle, eyes narrowed, body tense and ready to spring should she see an opening. However, the battle was over before she could do anything....the child vampire had rectified the situation...well, somewhat. And the archer was ready to shoot fire at the cloaked woman....really, it looked like most everyone was there by now.

Raven, however, kept her daggers at the ready and circled to the front of the woman, examining her with a critical eye. Why had she killed Xarl? Perhaps Samuel knew....she slunk over to the small group by the young knight, keeping her pale eyes trained on the offending woman.

The assassin nodded once at Samuel, a quizzical look in her eyes as she silently assessed his injuries. "Any idea why she did it?" She asked of them after a moment. Everyone had a reason for doing things. Wether her reason was good or bad...well...that remained to be seen. [/fieldbox]
 
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So, along with everyone butting heads and wanting to tear each other apart… it seems like someone had literally torn someone apart! Death lingered within the respite as everyone gathered around at the scene of Xarl’s demise. Many already took the initiative to aid one another and confronted the assassin. As for Mali… he was just about done with everything. Turning around, he waved himself off to explore the kitchen. Minutes later, he returned with a nice basket full of wine and clay cups. Finding a seat, Mali worked the cork off and poured himself a glass. Soon, he downed his first drink and poured himself another. So… this had to be some sort of joke of the Gods. Albeit… Mali wasn’t laughing right now.

(super short! I just wanted to separate Mali until mission starts)
 
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[fieldbox="Ghegari Don'orah Greygrim, green, solid"]At last, it appeared that the doctor and Elyan were being left alone to decide what to do with the children. No more interruptions or interjections from the others. Raven and Samuel weren't so bad, but they recognized when they were no longer important components to the present task. Ghegari gave a passing glance to the two junior members as they exited through the entrance she was watching over. Of her own volition, the half-orc stayed behind to stand guard; there was little else to do until she was assigned an actual mission -- something she worried they would never get around to doing at the current rate things were progressing, what with all the in-fighting taking up much of the Dirge's time.

Not even a full five minutes was allowed to pass in peace before another outburst erupted down the hall from the resting room. If it wasn't for the fact that she had come to care about Samuel's well-being, the shaman would not have worried when she sensed his aura and others turning hostile then quickly converging on a single location. Ghegari grabbed her weapon, the ranseur she left leaning against the wall in arm's reach, then she bolted out the door, her feet carrying her as fast as they could down the length of the corridor and around the corner where she came across the since of the crime.

She imagined that it might've been a betrayer, a loose-cannon that lost control and killed one of their own comrades -- not unlike Kiyoko or Mygdos to turn rogue at the drop of a hat -- but what she saw instead was a woman, someone not with the Sanguine Dirge, being apprehended by the rest of the members who had responded to the attack without delay. It was rather nice to see them all working together for once. Strange, but satisfying.

Ghegari relaxed, loosening her grip on the ranseur she held ready to strike. Everything was under control. For the first time in the tedious course of abrasive cooperation, she trusted the others would take care of this situation without turning on each other; afterall, they were now united against a new enemy. Until that was dealt with, they would more or less agree on dispatching the intruding assassin before bothering to think about anything else.

The only one that was not with them, Ghegari noticed, was the halfling. What was his name again...? Mali-melee-tanasha-something? She wondered if he was feeling alright since he'd ran so fast from the resting room. She caught sight of him only briefly upon arriving to see Xarl's slain corpse, but then the little man wandered away from the fresh atrocity, the same way he wanted nothing to do with the wounded children. The orc shaman decided to go after him, distancing herself too from the chaotic cluster of self-appointed executioners.

She stumbled upon him a short time later with a bit of a picnic set up for himself -- albeit an alcoholic picnic, as there was nothing but wine in the woven wooden basket he had with him.

"I could use a stiff drink myself after all that has happened around here." Ghegari sighed in tired laughter. "Do you mind if I join you?" Without waiting for an answer, she invited herself to sit with him anyway.[/fieldbox]
 

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

Ω RESPITE Ω

The pain in his hand had gotten worse. It was a burning, fiery pain, the kind that made his hair stand on end, galvanized by the blood pooling in his hand. The scarred wound had reopened, and blood began to run through the wrinkles of his closed fist. It dripped onto the floor, smearing amongst dust and iron-filings, and the stray tuft of hair or dust. His hand began to shake uncontrollably, as the blood drops hit the ground with a dull thug. It echoed in the room, too loud. The foreigner looked down at his hand, as if he was looking at it for the first time. His amber eyes were wide and staring, his lips parting slgihtly to say a word that died on his tongue. Amongst the tanned, smooth skin of his palm was the mark. The mark that the elder had cut with his knife, the mark that bound him to all of the other members of their coalition. The wound was a jagged gash, the edges ragged and flushed - as if somebody had dragged a nail through a sheet. Elyan’s fingers curled against the wound, pressing his nails against the edges of it. There was the sharp, stinging sensation, as if somebody had put salt in the wound. He was being punished, and he knew why. “If one should die the ink will bleed from the page…” Somebody must have died. That was the only explanation.

But it wasn’t Elyan’s failure that had led to their death. Of that, the foreigner was certain. he had not been there to fail them - perhaps that was a kind of failure in itself. But, on the other hand; they had almost certainly destroyed themselves, which was their failure. Not his. Elyan’s jaw tensed. He could rationalize this however he wished, but it did not matter. It did not matter at all. He closed his hand into a fist, and turned towards the doctor. He stared at the angular, dark man, all edges and sharpness, but with a practical, and willing spirit. Elyan’s honey-eyes seemed tacky and sticky in his sockets, as if they would collect the dust and lint in the room. He watched as the doctor approached him, wattched the movement of his footsteps. He could feel the hum of his breathing, the crispness of his clothing as he moved up towards Elyan. He had come from kneeling - to stand before him. The foreigner nodded towards him, and then, stared over his shoulder, towards the two entranced children. Their eyes were wide and empty, their smiles thin and false, holding back other emotions, rendering them calm and docile, cooperative for the time being. The thought struck him. it was a black thought, but it struck him nonetheless. He bit it back.

The doctor’s words were crisp too, like his clothes, like the angles of his face. But it was low too, spoken in the bottom of his throat, almost a growl - like the small sounds a dog makes when it is irritated but it is polite to bark. Elyan smiled, and showed the edges of his white and shining teeth. In the dim light, they looked like grey river-pebbles in his mouth, from a brook far away, from beach that nobody had ever been to. It wasn’t a predatory smile, not sharp or dangerous. It was the smile the rabbit gives to the fox, in the hopes that it will not be eaten. Elyan knew. But that didn’t matter either, it didn’t matter at all. None of his knowledge mattered, when his hand was bleeding, and the crisis was still in progress. His palm would not stop, and there was the pain in his chest, the pain of angular letters, of the Duenos alphabet, that the common tongue had been written in since the death of the Messiah. His smile became tight as the foreigner began to grit his teeth in his mouth, to keep from making a sound of pain. His brows furrowed nontheless. The refectory, the doctor was saying. Cleaner, safer, free of bad air and the miasma of death, the nebula of disease. The tables were long, suited for surgeries - and for autopsy, should it come to that.

Elyan imagined the monks sitting at the table, with a corpse strewn across it. He imagined the monks dipping their fingers in the water, that parsley and mint had fermented. He imagined them, pressing their hands to their hearts, and preparing to speak the Word of Feaseia ; but not knowing what the Word meant. He imagined them finishing their prayer, and reaching out to devour the corpse, from its skin, to its organs, all the way down to the bones and the marrow that lurked within. He imagined the bits of fat dribbling down their chins, into their beards, onto their blouses. The foreigner’s nose wrinkled slightly, at the thought. But the pain his hand reminded him of where he was, what had to be done, and what was being asked of him. His face became placid and soft, a pool of milk and honey without ripples, nothing dangerous beneath the surface. Elyan spoke, his words tightly controlled in volume and tone, miasmic itself in its charm; “An excellent suggestion, ser.” He dipped his head, “They have all the plants who should require. Yarrow, aloe, motherwart, valerian.” He thought of the herbs that he had held in his hands, before the blood had turned them red. The plants that he had tucked into cakes and sweets, for the children. But words worked better than drugged bribery - and morally, Elyan could stomach himself. He did not know if he could stomach the others.

The foreigner turned his head to the spirit-speaker. There was a shine in his eyes, a glittering, as he spoke - not to her, but to the doctor. “Head to the refectory, my friend. Take the children. I will be there shortly.” He raised his hand up, and showed that it was covered in blood. “There is something I must do.” Without more words or witchery, the leader of the Dirge walked from the bloody room, taking a deep gulp of the smoky air. He breathed in the burning herbs, the charcoal. They were burning the trees from the Disgwlyn. Only those holy trees could produce a charcoal so white, so fine, that it dusted the floors of everywhere they went. The trees were tall, spindly, with long white thorns. They flowered with bright red flowers. When those flowers fell to earth, the old language called it the Llifogyd-waed. The Blood-flood. The trees themselves were said to trap the prayers of the faithful, and when they burned, the prayers were released, sailing up towards the heavens where they would spread like a fog over heavenly Tafluhedd. They would reach the ears of every spirit, every ghost, every angel, and the ears of the Gods themselves. Elyan knew that soon, those trees would be all gone.

Elyan moved through the room, seeing the traces of where his company had moved through the room. They had left marks in the dust, their shadows caught up in the smoke from the fires. He could hear their anger and arguement bouncing off of the walls. But more than that, his hand was bleeding. When the drops it the floor, it sunk into the grout between the floor-tiles. It ran through the channels as if it believed it could catch the foreigner’s companions on its own initiative. Elyan could not help but smile, when he stared at the floor. His hand hurt, his heart hurt, but he knew where to go.

Ω HALLWAY Ω

There was not a section of the holy halls of Skarisfall that did not have a history in it. As the foreigner walked down those winding halls, he traced the patterns on the walls with his eyes. A fresco had been painted here, of many interlocking vines interspersed with teeth and claws that came from darkness, and went nowhere - an entirely abstract interpretation of something that had long been forgotten. But the answers were on the floor. Like many of the hallways in Skarisfall, the floor was tiled, with plan clay-fired tiles with a deep brown glaze. However, one of the tiles was different than all the others - tear-drop shaped, carved bone, with clear, glossy glaze on it. The interpretation by the elders was simple. This was where the Messiah had wept - wept for all the world, all the evil in it, but that wasn’t true. He wept at Habrygg, for the sake of Cyma, for the sake of Ymyraeth. But this stone - which was not stone - marked something just as important. The hallway was not well-lit, the dim flicker of torches casting long shadows across the hallways. He could see through them. He could see the story play out before him.
The foreigner watched as the shadows took the shape of two men. One larger and older than the other - who was smaller, lighter. He knew their names, even when they had long been forgotten. One of them was his namesake. The first Elyan. The first victim.The larger one kicked the younger one to the earth - to where the teardrop tile was placed. The larger one began to beat the smaller until shadow-blood ran against the stones, collecting where the stone was set. Elyan watched Elyan die. He watched the greater shadow clutch at his head, scream at himself, scream what had he done, why had he killed his friend, why had he brought evil into the world. But it wasn’t his fault - Elyan knew that. He knew that the shadow hadn’t meant it. He was only human, afterall. But the stone, the white-stone was covered with blood once again. It had seeped into the white stone, and stained it. There had been a murder here, another since the first. The dried, withered husk of a knight’s body lay on the stone, lifeless, and pointless.

Elyan’s company was right where he thought they would be. Standing all around the corpse, standing all around - flushed with exertion - hissing comments to one another. But standing the tallest amongst them, her prescence overwhelming the others — was another blood-drinker. He could smell it in her, over the blood on the floor, the blood on his hand. He could taste it on his tongue, taste her satiated hunger, see the flush on her cold and dead cheeks. She had big eyes, almost bulbous in her face, and a small nose and tightly pursed mouth. Her chin was sharp and pointed, her cheeks round - she looked, almost like the Child-Who-Was-Not-A-Child’s elder sister - they had the same set of eyes, the same movements of the mouth. Her armor was well made, and practical - intended to take a heavy beating ; but it hadn’t. It gleamed brightly, where the torchlight caught it. But the blood had crusted in places, and her guilt was impossible to avoid. He breathed her guilt. He breathed her failures. He breathed his own. If one should die - the ink will bleed from the page and carve itself into your chest - to make sure you remember your failure…

The foreigner’s face showed nothing of anger, nothing of hatred, and nothing of the pain. He moved through his fellow members of the dirge, slipping past them to stand before all of them. Elyan shot each of them a look, with tawny eyes, and a small smile. His face was not set in a smile, so much as it was set in an aura of calm. His cheeks were soft, his posture relaxed, and his hands staying far away from his sword. His hands hung at his side, and blood dribbled from his fingertips. The wound on his hand was still bleeding. He looked directly at the woman, who stood over the fighter’s wrinkled and drained corpse. It was as if a drought had existed inside of him. Elyan knew better. She was a blood-sucker, descended from the first. Spilling blood where another’s blood had been spilled. If she killed him - killed him now, it would be a fulfillment of her legacy. He did not fear this. He bowed his head towards her, closing his eyes for a moment. His lashes fluttered, and then, his eyes opened, brighter, clearer than every before. Gold does not tarnish.

He turned his head back to the rest of the coalition. His words were calm, but layered, many meanings jumping through his syllables. He could see the flames starting in Scarlet’s hands - he could see the drawn blade in Samuel’s grasp, he could see the anger and desire for blood in all of their eyes, “Please prepare to journey to Askal’s Deep.” His voice twisted, with a sharpness entering the gently spoken syllables, a sharp clarity. It was not the Witch-words. If he could not lead without his charms, what was the point? “Do not disturb the doctor in the refectory. I will brief you in the morning. Enjoy your night’s rest.” He put an emphasis on the final syllables - a heaviness. There would be no more discussion of this. He shook his head, sending his auburn hair in-front of his eyes. He looked instead towards the small Child-Who-Was-Not-A-Child. He could see the focus in her eyes, the way she grasped at the woman’s hood and head. She was hungry, he could tell that too. A hunger for something that he didn’t understand. He would soon, he had to imagine. He had to imagine that there would be so many dreams tonight, terrible and strange. He suspected that the ghosts would gnaw at his ribs and tear at the veins behind his eyes. He didn’t look forward to it, but he didn’t dread it either. It was how it was. It was inhuman nature.

Please let go of her, miss.” He nodded towards the Not-Child, “Ensure the others find their accommodations, and settle in for the night.” His eyes were bright and hard, brassy. It was a different look on the foreigner’s face. Not cruel, but efficient. Dedicated. Some of the sharpness left his voice, as he moved to stand as close to the strange, new woman as the Not-Child had. However, he made no movement to touch her. He bowed his head to the Not Child, showing her a small, soft smile, a smile that showed that he understood; “Thank you.” I nside of him, he prayed that the others understood as well. They could not act like a mob, and claim to fight for justice. Elyan offered the dark, new woman his clean and bloodless hand. He smiled ingenuously. The gesture was knowing — and with it, came an introduction. “My name is Elyan. I apologize for how the others have treated you - I am certain there is an explanation for all of this. Please, join me.” He gestured with his head down the hallway - away from the others, away from chaos, away from eager blades and consuming flames.


 
Her opponent gave her an odd response. Vera did not move her longsword an inch further. However, her blue eyes narrowed down slightly. His answer was not good enough in her book, but judging by what she was told, she hesitated in taking his life. It did not take long before she noticed a few other, unique people rushing out from the exit she broke down during Xarl's execution. Vera had slightly let her guard down in the process of the now, incapacitated opponeny beneath her.

The Vampire woman was actually about to walk back inside the respite. She knew that the young fellow who rushed at her after witnessing the dried but dead body of Xarl inside the respite, couldn't harm her even if he tried. Not after her clear display of power, and this was all without her own affliction kicking in. Her own hunger was sated enough from the traitor inside.

"Wha--?" Her body became stiff. Some form of magic had washed over her, taken a hold of her mind. "Ugh!!" Her eyes squinted almost painfully, before she dropped her sword. Vera resisted it as much as she could, but eventually fell down on both her knees. If anything, she was going to keep on resisting.

Vera felt that something similar, someone like her was behind this. It was the same familiar affliction she could feel. It was Vampirism. Unable to move, she could only listen to the voice behind her, to the hand that had grasped her hood. The Vampire woman knew exactly what was coming next. If she didn't heed her words, and respond to her questions truthfully, she'd get burned by the sunlight.

One after another, more and more people started to appear. Monsters, they come in so many shapes and forms. It was no doubt that the people before her, and those that were helping her opponent after Xarl were the Dirge. An unusual bunch at that, where else but an organization like that would they come and unite under.

Someone was ready to burn her down with an arrow, while some were ready to part her head from the body. It wasn't surprising, not to Vera, not with her special first impression. Anyone would have moved accordingly to a situation particular to this. A unique feeling came over her. At the very least, she had control over her own senses, her smell and so on.

Someone approached the woman, almost if not face to face, only to remove their mask. Vera's blue eyes could do nothing but almost glare back at her. The same questions as to what her purpose escaped her lips. The Vampire woman noticed her ears, her apparent fang. That smile, and especially, that smell. The one before her, who even complimented her for such brutal actions, was none other than a Werewolf.

Obviously, she couldn't do anything but give them all the answers they wanted. The woman finally spoke, heeding to the words of a Vampire just like her, and technically, to the Werewolf who just circled around her. Vera clenched her fists ever so tightly. "I've been sent by the Elders. I am to join the Sanguine Dirge."

That was her true purpose, and the execution of Xarl was just a side dish."The--" Vera kept on trying, trying to resist the charms of the young-child of a Vampire.

"The one you call Xarl... He's--" The information she was about to reveal unwillingly, was only for Elyan's ears. The one who is leading the Dirge, or so it was said by the Elders before Vera left for the respite.

"He was a threat to the Dirge!" Her blue eyes moved ever so slightly, glaring from the corner of her eyes, towards the child-like Vampire who held her hood.

"A government spy. To gain information on you all, and to eventually get rid of the Dirge swiftly, and quietly." Vera was speaking the truth, and nothing but the truth. At the very least, the Vampire behind her had to believe her, unless she, the child-like Vampire had doubts in her abilities.

The letter Vera had, held greater details about Xarl and possibly information about the mission the Dirge was about to leave for. Perhaps the Elders sent Vera at the right time, to the right place. "Everything he told you, or did while in the Dirge, was a lie." Perhaps his true identity was in the contents of the letter Vera brought with her.

Moments later, everyone who was before her, moved their attention towards the new guest at the ongoing "party". Vera moved her eyes in the same direction. This man, his words calmed some and confused others. Some where annoyed by what he said, while some were questioning his motives.

Some of the people in the Dirge were still aware of her, or wouldn't trust her one bit. The one ability that had swept over her mind, taken control of her will faded away. The hand that grasped her hood had let go. The man extended his hand to her, and at the same time, introduced himself.

It was Elyan, the leader of a squad within the Sanguine Dirge. The one she was to join. The person Vera was looking for. The Vampire woman was finally feeling a lot more in control, until fully. She did not take Elyan's hand in order to get up. Instead, she left the letter by the Elders in his hands. The man was perhaps not expecting that.

Vera could stand up on her own, but first, she grabbed her longsword, which was still covered in Xarl's blood, and now, some of Samuel's after the cut she made to render him useless. The woman finally stood up, before giving everyone a quick glance. She could finally see them for who they were. Each and every one of them that was there.

Turning to her side, she looked at the young child-like Vampire. Vera's expression was not serious, it was basically normal. Her blue eyes were gazing at someone with the same affliction as her. If anything, she felt that the ability this Vampire used to take a hold of her will, her mind, was probably exhausted. It was one powerful ability, one that would probably be greatly handy for the Dirge. Sheating her longsword, she spoke up.

"Does that satisfy your hunger?" A question, and merely rhetorical at that, before she moved forward, towards the respite, following the leader of the organization. Looking at the injured Warrior, before walking past him, and those that helped him up. Elyan wanted to talk to her privately, and for now, it was best to do the same.

They were all about to travel for Askal's Deep. At the very least, that's what Elyan said, and thats a place the Vampire woman is familiar with. She was here for the cause, and those that wanted to kill her just now, had to get used to her presence, and she them. If anything, after all of this commotion is over and done with, they'd eventually see a much more calmer and easier on the eyes side of Vera.
 
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Aloette.jpg Aloette Vinscenna

Aloette heard what she wanted, the confession of the woman and the request of her leader was enough that she removed her hand from the vampire's hood. She looks at Vera, meeting her gaze now that Vera had risen and moved to follow Elyan "Yes... it has. Farewell blood sister... I look forward to working with one who of such skill" With that the young vampire's red eyes look at Samuel, her shaking slightly and her lips parting slightly to reveal the tips of her fangs. Her gaze is that of a starved hunter looking upon a fattened cow ripe for the slaughter. She speaks calmly yet with a hint of irritation in her voice "You... you go get patched up Samuel. I need to go... before I drain you dry against my own wishes" With such a directly admission of her struggle she flees the scene, rushing off towards the cattle barn to seek out those criminals who have been condemned for the sole purpose of feeding the vampire allies of the Dirge. It is viewed as a necessary cruelty that is allowed by the gods for the sake of order and reward for the bloody crusade waged by all in the organization. Aloette makes sure to pray to the gods for forgiveness before she drains one of these cattle. She wipes her mouth with a red handkerchief and returns to the respite with utmost haste. She doesn't intend to dally any further and will get a room to sleep in right away, not choosing any specifically as it doesn't matter to her at all. Aloette is currently too busy dwelling on her training and how poorly she gets along with her team. She has the strong fear that this will end up in dismal failure due to the lack of loyalty, honor, and righteousness of most of the crew. Not to mention the distrust and lack of unity. She sighs in her room as she lays on the aged wool mattress supported by a old yet sturdy frame. She was very glad she denied her father's suggestion that she be a coordinator. She could never remain impartial enough to lead a group of such varied individuals to accomplish a specific goal. Hell she would probably only lead them to kill one another to resolve their vast differences... Aloette might be a noble and rather social, but her rigid morals and thinking would make her a poor coordinator



With this sudden assassination incident firmly under control without further bloodshed or harm... things are much more calm at least, and a fraction of unity was indeed displayed. There are plenty of lodgings available for use here at the respite or over in the training barracks across the street. As for preparing for the journey, labeled supply packs containing mostly food, water, bedrolls, and clothes sized perfectly for the labeled owner of the pack will be waiting for each member at the 6 Faiths... 6 archways that mark the entrance to the temple city connected to Skariskall itself. This is where the group will depart for the hideout in the southeast region of Alor. The ruins of an ancient civilization of winged people. The Lost City was their last bastion for many years until the mountain tribes claimed victory over the stoic race. The name of the race and the name of the city are lost to modern records. The map included with Elyan's supplies will be able to guide them to this place to set up camp. It will be a short 1 day journey to reach the place. And then the travel time to Askal's Deep will only be about 12 hours at a normal walking pace. This makes it a good place to make a home base considering how defensible it already is and how isolated it is from military patrols due to local legends of undead and the dangerous pockets of quicksand surrounding and within the ruined city. All of this is explained in the detailed orders contained in Elyan supply pack at the archways which he will likely notice tomorrow morning
 
As time felt frozen for young Sam, as he stares his would be executioner in the face he would feel the metal of the blade back away from his throat; though not without leaving a trickle of fresh blood from the blade drip down the young knight's throat. Then before Samuel even registered his next thought he found himself surrounded by members from his group who had made they're way over to the two warriors. Samuel would look at everyone individually as they arrived around the event, saying their separate names in his head as he looked at each of them; Aloette, Mygdos, Scarlet, Kyoko, Raven and Elyan. The initial feeling Samuel would receive from all of this would be described as a feeling of unity as Samuel linked arms with Mygdos as the wounded knight was helped up off the ground onto his feet followed by words of instruction in addition to Scarlet telling young Sam to put pressure on the wound though he would be unable to do so properly until after he removes his armor. Raven taking up position by the group with a nod and Aloette restraining the woman by means that he was unaware of.

Yes, it all quite comforting to Samuel though as he hobbled over to where his longsword lied flat among the dirt Samuel could hear Kyoko mentioning her doubt about him being able to stop the woman. It was true and obvious but the words struck Sam with pain nonetheless. After kneeling down to pick up his longsword loosely by the hilt Samuel turns about as he hears the hooded warrior saying that she was sent by the elders and was apart of the Dirge and that Xarl was a threat, a spy in fact. There is no way this could be true but as both Elyan and Aloette's reactions should no amount of distrust in those forced out words Samuel would again feeling a piercing pain in his chest like a second arrow had pierced it. He was defending the corpse of a enemy whom meant harm to them all. At this the boy's face would become void at the thought of what his rash actions had brought; attacking someone who was on the side of the Dirge and nearly dying by said person's hand...all for what...? More thoughts came to the warrior's mind though he knew them to be worthless as the coordinator simply told them to get rest and be ready for the journey tomorrow. The pain in his knee would be getting worse as he was forgetting to not put weight on it with more dabs of blood dropping down the smooth steel leg.

Then Samuel picks his head up slightly to look into the eyes of the passing woman that began to follow Elyan back into the respite. She was giving a look of disappointment to young Sam and his face looked to only contain the feeling of deep disappointment for himself. The boy's eyes were sunken into his head, his eyes would slowly look away towards the ground and the grip on his sword seeming so loose that the blade could fall from his grasp at any moment. He failed as a warrior and he knows it. How could he protect others of he couldn't even protect himself from a single opponent regardless of that opponents strength or ability.

Then as Aloette spoke to Samuel, telling him to get patched up before she drank him dry against her wishes the young knight hardly looked up from looking down just ahead of his feet to acknowledge the words with much more than a barely noticeable nod followed by a slow sheathing of his sword. After Elyan, the hooded woman and Aloette had departed Samuel would softly say while not looking at anyone..."Thank you...everyone." before he would begin to limp/walk off in the direction of the training barracks where he knew there would be rudimentary bandages that he could use; denying any help if it would be offered with a hand gesture if any would offer it...leaving a small blood trail of droplets along his path.

[BCOLOR=#000000]After Sun Down [/BCOLOR]

With everything said and done Samuel would strip off all of his armor by his old bunk within the barracks that has yet to be filled with a new recruit shortly after arriving to said barracks that was across the street. After bandaging his knee the young knight would rest until nightfall. Upon which the young specter would spend the remainder of the night training by himself outside away from the barracks so as to not disturb anyone's sleep as he would "shadow box/shadow fight" the hooded woman from earlier. He wouldn't wallow in self pity any longer due to his past failures years ago for if the woman gave him any clear indicator of what the future has in store...what was to come would be something else entirely. In a way, that woman has opened Samuel's eyes to the truth about how weak he truly was and he wouldn't squander this knowledge; not for a second. His heart burning through the night with a stronger resolve than ever before alongside the burning pain in his left knee being a continuous reminder of why he is out here.

Samuel would rest a few hours before the sun rises the next day.
 
At her comrades' responses to the woman's acts, Scarlet was shocked. She claimed that Xarl was a spy and a traitor, and everyone was so eager to believe that? It was preposterous. Now, it would be beyond daft for the captured woman to have ran up here and killed Xarl for no reason, so that option wasn't likely, but still. Was it really alright to so easily trust in and believe what this woman had to say. Yes, they could listen, but to immediately treat the woman as if she had not been apart of what just occurred was too much. She found herself agreeing with the Wolf more than the group's strategist, a realization that didn't sit entirely well with her.

I mean, at least the wolf wasn't suggesting we release her and treat her as a friend. Kiyoko wished to hear her reasoning and analyze it. For what reason Elyan thought it was a good idea to have her released and given her weapons was unbeknownst to Scarlet.

Pausing a moment, the archer believed her mindset wouldn't be the minority, but Samuel was busy being taken away for help, and those helping him were preoccupied. There was the other scout and Orc that hadn't gotten involved. And there was Elyan and Aloette who for just believed what she said. It might very well be true but it was something worth thinking about, not abruptly agreeing to her words.

Finally, Scarlet clicked her tongue and stepped away. "Oh, he was a traitor? Verily, why didn't you just say so? Come in! Make yourself at home!" Obviously the sentiment was filled with sarcasm to emphasize her displeasure with the leaders' decisions in dealing with the perpetrator. "My mind fills with doubt." With that said, the Archer took her leave from the others, attempting to see if the young knight required assistance, but he declined with a gesture and hobbled off. Now she needed a drink.

Leaving the company of the others, she eventually found the Orc and Halfling with a basket of wine. "I would appreciate a drink as well, if it wouldn't be too much trouble." Typically, Scarlet didn't go drinking every time she found herself stressed, but in this case, it would hopefully ease her as well as create more "positive" interactions between her and the group. She didn't need to be best friends with everyone, just not dislike or doubt them. "Mali and... Ghegari, correct...? I don't do well with names, so forgive me if I misspeak it."
 
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Watching the warrior wander off on his own, the fact they had two Vampires didn't sit well with her. It potentially meant they all may have to share a little blood to keep them pacified. The Vampires were powerful, but that came at a very high price. Thinking on the implications of this. Though that was suddenly disrupted by their squad leader's acceptance of the situation.


While she respected the woman's evident combat capabilities, taking her off with the squad leader alone, that seemed a bit, unwise. "Well, I'm just here because of the pay, You're the boss."

Crossing her arms, and staring at the smaller one, Elyan makes a request of the smaller vampire. In regards to finding lodging, arms still crossed, Kiyoko watches the various interactions unfold, before interjecting. "Eh I got this for myself, I rather she not know where I'm sleeping, looks pretty hungry to me." With a wave of her hand, the assassin quickly leaves the area, following behind Samuel part of the way.




She didn't much care for his personality, nor convictions, though hopefully he would now give them strength. Satisfied he wasn't about to pass out in this temple, or to kill over, she turns to go about on her own way. "Don't feel so bad kid. Least you don't run easily." While not much if at all older than the knight, she was more battle experienced, and thus took this upon herself as a duty to this unit.

She didn't much care for most of them, nor did they her, she suspected. Doubting he had heard her remarks, Kiyoko spins on her heel with military precession, now was the time to relax.. Well what little this place allowed.





Wandering as she was given, the assassin seen three faces she knew. Out drinking together in the kitchen, with wine the Halfling no doubt, barrowed. "Well now, an Ork, Halfman and an Archer walked into a bar.. Somehow I doubt the fateful or you lot would be amused by the rest of that tale." Looking at the assorted wines, she snorts, spitting on the ground.

"Osik, Crap, not worth drinking." Reaching into her side pouch, the woman pulls out a clay bottle, pouring a bit of its contents into a cup and downing it, her hair seems to bristle. "Kandosii!" Given the happy look on her face, it was unlikely this word was a bad therm. Setting the bottle down she smirks slightly, lowering the mask completely.

"Now, now, no need for the long faces.. I might be here because of pay and contract, but that makes me the least likely to stab you in the back. Least we come against my people, or the pay is high enough at least. And while I love killing wild game by hand, flesh and blood of those like you, holds little appeal to me. Tastes like shit honestly.. Venison, beef and pork are much better. " Sitting the cup down, the wolf eared woman holds the bottle for the rest to see, slowly lowering it to the table.

"And the three of you look like you could use something a bit harder than this cooking wine shit.." Pouring a bit for them to see, it was a clear liquid that seemed to contain and intoxicating smell on its own. "Tihaar, Fruit liquor from my lands, very strong, very refined, surprising for a bunch of meat eating savages huh?" Pouring herself another half cup and downing it, Kiyoko leaves the cap off the bottle, but doesn't go to pour more.




"T'is better to laugh with the sinners, than to cry with the saints... Well these saints.. I don't want to know what they do in their free time. Ehehehe. Would offer yah some Stew and meat, but neither of those are here.. least cooked to my liking.." Staring at the trio with narrowed eyes, she wondered how they would fair, the same could be thought of with Samuel. Inspite of how she looked, she wasn't against socializing, it was more of a problem finding those she could socialize with. And drinking wasn't a bad place to start. "Live every day to its fullest, for it could be your last."


(A break for the later events and so I can respond in my next post to any interactions on that post I may have missed or need to address. Will cover in more detail is needed after.)


The following morning, Kiyoko awakens, carrying out her morning ritual and training undisturbed, having noticed Samuel's training later that evening, she mostly had ignored him, sneaking off to find her own sleeping sport and hunting grounds in the forest beyond. While the supplies the dirge provided were a welcomed addition, she often found the need to supplement her own stores of provisions.
 
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