Unsteady Ground [IC]

[Zender_Solarheart]

Jered could already feel a tinge of pain as his descent begins, the over-charged Storm Wing already flung from his blade. He can just make out Razajin taking the hit directly, and being flung to the wall like a twig being thrown for a dog. He has just enough time to smirk confidently, before he touches back down to earth...

...and he realizes the price for such an attack.

The very electric power he wields is suddenly set loose upon him, setting his nerves ablaze in a storm of unmatched agony. "HAAAAARGH!!" Jered can't help but scream under the weight of such pain, coughing up the bile from his organs in the process. Arcane overload is something no magic-wielder wants to experience; of the few that can survive it, the results still leave them but a few steps from death's door, and the pain makes most survivors wish they had died...

Jered, however, grits his teeth, just barely tolerating the pain to see Razajin get back up; it seems that cretin and himself are equally stubborn. Having regained just enough of his senses for one more attack, Jered uses his sword as a makeshift cane to help him back to his feet, breathing exhaustively as he slowly marches towards Razajin. He can tell from the looks of himself and his opponent, that neither of them has the strength to prolong this further. They're both below the ability to evade or block, and their arms can just barely support their weapons; the next blow shall decide the match, once and for all.



With his magic no longer an option, and his mind clouded by the searing pain all throughout his body, Jered drags his sword's tip along the ground, ready to slash upwards the moment he can reach Razajin with it. In their current state, even an otherwise-grazing blow could prove fatal, and neither of them has the ability to implement a fine technique or tactic. It all comes down to whose final attack triumphs, and even in his near-death state, he can conjure the power to think one last spiteful thought against his nemesis...

(Even if this is my dying day...I shall drag you down with me...and witness your descent to Hell first-hand...)

[jayjaycaps]

Flim looked a little disappointed by Iieli's response. Waving a hand in front of her face, he noted her sluggish and odd speech. He let out a low whistle. "The mind control is stronger than I thought. It's a shame, really. Wasted that speech for nothing. Still, I we ever find our employer, I'll have to ask about where he got the stuff. Right then, Flam. To business!"

The twins's eyes flash a brilliant green, channeling their magic reserves. Normally, they would have to beat their target for this to work, but Iieli was in no condition to fight back. She was ready. While their eyes glowed, the twins (moving in unison, as always) each placed a hand on Iieli's shoulders. As they touched her, their hands glowed as green as their eyes. They sucked the Soul Essence out of Iieli, draining her of the very force that made her her. They felt the force flow through their arms, growing more powerful, leeching Iieli's power. Cruel smiles stretched across their faces as they spoke to Iieli for the last time. "We thank you for your business. All sales are final. Your soul is ours."

[Icaelus]

Viv gave a little grin at the duo's surprise at the power of her magic, Cier perhaps a bit too much as he went and nearly tripped over an ottoman which even more surprisingly, squirmed at Cier's clumsy action. She moved a hand to her lips, stifling a giggle as Cier managed to catch himself. She was rather pleased with the reaction. If Moonburst didn't impress them..well, she wouldn't really be much use to anyone now, would she? Given, she could still go live a somewhat normal life..but it wouldn't go well for her.

She looked curiously to Meesa as he commented on her magic, another heavy tome automatically hovering over to him without any visible gesture or sign from Meesa. Vivienne made a mental note to learn that telekinesis magic someday. It looked extremely useful, doubly so for someone with her..physique. Hey, if she could avoid climbing ladders to get a book and then lugging it all the way back down, she damn well would. Cier inched closer to her, bumping shoulders lightly with her and praising her magic, which drew another happy smile from Viv.
"Umm. Thanks! I-It's not much, really.."
The girl stumbled a little over her sentence, a light blush reddening her cheeks at the praise. Getting praised for her magic had been a first..very much unlike during her dark past.
She turned to Meesa, awaiting his answer when Cier popped off a question about the barrier to him. If she remembered correctly, that immense magical barrier was always active around Tear Stone Castle. More or less one of the best defenses available against large-scale sieges. Even the raw strength of Moonburst would've had trouble penetrating such a strong barrier. Cier's question was a good one. Meesa went into full lecture mode, explaining about the magical ward that veiled the castle and where there were certain gaps in it.
"Oh. So my magic just passed through a gap? I wonder what it would've been like if I had actually hit the barrier.."
Viv nudged Cier mischievously, a sly smile on her face. Meesa soon continued on from his explanation, his words triggering some shock from Vivienne.
"W-what? Don't do that! You can uh..um..study me whenever I'm free?"
The girl said awkwardly, unsure of what she was getting herself into. To be fair, Meesa hadn't exactly phrased his words...properly.

A few minutes later, Viv and Cier were standing outside. Various thoughts were running through her mind. The most important one being the Margravine, Shinei. Meesa had suggested visiting her for there was only so much that he could've done for her. Which wasn't much, according to him. Pity.
"You don't like this..Shinei? What's so bad about her?"
Vivienne cocked her head curiously. Cier was quite the amiable person. For him to dislike one probably meant that either he or she had some problems..then again, they were demons, weren't they? Personality flaws weren't exactly..uncommon.
Uncommon. Biggest understatement of the century, Viv.
She smiled at the little mental joke as she accompanied Cier down the stairs. Four more floors down, they stopped and Cier raised a hand and did some magic spell that opened a door, leading to a surprisingly plain room. It didn't have much besides some lightning..and a huge portal.
"Wow."
Her eyes went wide, curiosity apparent in their shine.
"So..this leads to the place you want to show me so much.."
Viv slowly walked up to Cier, placing her hand in his as he asked his question.

"Of course I want to go."

[Sortaix]

Sortaix was quite happy, relaxing with Marquette, taking the time to enjoy the view as she eventually got up and cleaned herself up. He did stop as he felt his body do...something, maybe his conscience was dying? Oh well, worse could happen.
"Why, yes I am feeling better."
Sort informed her as he got up and fixed his own clothes, and tried to clean himself up a bit. He then walked closer to Marquette and looked her up and down, before telling her.
"Well, the things you plan on doing to these people are quite, unpleasant, but I do not plan on stopping you. My question for you now, is 'What next?' The people I used to serve will not let me come back, as they could probably tell the difference in my...conscience. So, as I have no intentions of stopping you, especially after our little roll in the hay, what do you plan on doing?"

[napsii]

Jered + Razajin -

Spoiler (click to show/hide):

The two warriors hurled themselves at each other, most of the crowd rising from their seats. Even Xierante, who presided over the duel from his throne, leaned forward with intensity as Jered and Razajin's blades inched closer to each other's flesh...

Razajin's dagger barreled toward Jered's gut...

Jered's blade screamed toward Razajin...

...

There was a great flash of pain, and Razajin would look down to see the tip of a sword careening through his gut, the burn forcing his daggers from his hands to clatter to the ground. Blood erupted between the two, drenching them both in a spray of red as the crowd almost unanimously exploded with shock. Most of the noble court dropped their utensils, staring deadpan into the arena as Razajin would find himself falling backwards, Jered's weak body then giving out to follow him to the earth. The two would collapse next to each other, darkness swimming before their eyes as the fate of bleeding to death became almost certain.

It was not even two seconds later that the heavy gates to the pit slid open, twin duos of black-robed mages quickly rushing into the arena to lay their hands on the two while two accompanying SVN kicked their weapons away from them.

Xierante stood up, addressing the audience with his look alone. The cheering for those who supported Jered clashed with the booing for those who wished for Razajin's victory, causing a number of fist fights to break out among the crowd until the Margrave raised his hands to calm the procession.

"The victor is decided." he announced calmly as magic flowed into the two fighters' wounds, sealing them up and bringing some life back to their bodies (Razajin +100 HP, Jered +100 HP). The crowd fell almost dead silent, but the noble court clapped silently in pleasure, obviously pleased by the drama of the battle. The two SVN dragged Razajin and Jered back to their feet, separating them. Xierante crouched, and with one magnificent leap, practically glided from his throne all the way down to the arena, the shield of dark energy receding as he passed through it to land gracefully on the sand between the two fighters. With a silent spell, he levitated their weapons back onto their persons.

Xierante shot a subtle, red-eyed glance in Razajin's direction, but said nothing and then turned to Jered.

"Very well done." he said, his voice perfectly moderated. He took hold of Jered's shoulder and, proudly, raised it skyward. The crowd erupted into cheers.

"I give you, your victor! Jered Alkaid!" he announced, and the cheering intensified.

Xierante stepped away, and his mouth opened as if to say something to Razajin, but a glimmer in the sky caught his attention and the Margrave looked upward. A bright, shimmering golden light was descending rapidly toward the arena, the invisible field around the fighting pit seemed to crackle and wither as the air seemed to become hotter. Xierante's face went pale.

"No." he said, and was sent flying backwards.

An enormous explosion of light captured the center of the arena, sending Jered and Razajin staggering backwards with their eyes burning as the air ran warm with a strange heat. The mages quickly retreated, but the two SVN stood their ground, waving their rifles around frantically as the light receded. Xierante, meanwhile, had been propelled toward the wall, but in an unbelievable display of agility, backflipped like a ninja might to right himself, skidding to a pause just a few feet away from the wall with his rapier in hand. His eyes were focused on the bloodied figure at the heart of the arena.

He was tall and statuesque, dressed in rent, shredded and battered gold and white armor missing most of its pieces. His majestic white wings were cut almost down to the bone, drenching the sand with Angelic blood. In his hand, a noble longsword was cracked and run with fissures, and three of his fingers were missing. He looked to Jered and Razajin, and the damage cut onto his otherwise noble face was evident. The flesh of his cheek had been burnt away until bone was visible, and one of his eyes bled from a direct wound. Other minor injuries crusted other parts of his body.

"Ayrenis." Xierante muttered. The crowd exploded with fear, and the noble court immediately flew from their seats to rush for the exits while the crowd screamed and hollered as they shoved past each other, seeking to empty out of the coliseum under fear of the golden aura that the wounded Angel radiated.

The two SVN immediately lunged forward, seeking to impale the Archangel on their bayonets, but the bloodied Divine effortlessly swiped his sword through the air, sending two resonating blades of light that quickly severed the heads of the masked soldiers. Their decapitated heads burned away to ash in midair, as did the stump of their necks, quenching any bleeding. The Archangel was breathing loudly. It seemed as if some sort of black arrow had been impaled through his chest, embedded in his armor and presumably one of his lungs. He all but ignored Razajin and Jered, turning to face Xierante.

"I come for the book." he said, his clear and imposing voice gravelly and almost menacing.

Xierante stepped forward, his lips curling into a slightly cocksure smirk.

"Ah, how could I refuse, seeing how much you would sacrifice to possess it?" remarked the Margrave, his voice deep and suave. Reaching onto his person, he withdrew the Journal of Urun and tossed it to the earth in front of Ayrenis. The Archangel raised a hand, and the book levitated into his grip before it could so much as disturb the sand. He turned to Jered, taking a number of steps toward him.

"Well met, brother. I hope the book serves you well." the Margrave's smile intensified as the Archangel's broken hand reached for Jered.

There was a great flash of light, and the two were gone, leaving only Xierante and Razajin behind in the blood-smeared arena, along with the two headless and charred corpses of SVN soldiers. The Margrave seemed to laugh to himself, withdrawing a white rose from his jacket to inhale its scent. At last, he looked up to Razajin as two dozen SVN stormed into the coliseum, which was all but empty by now as the audience had fled in a hurry.

"Ah, worry not about your pride. It is rare enough that Archangels invade my castle... I suspect this will be the meat of gossip for the next week, not your defeat." he reconciled.

Razajin HP - 100/400
Xierante HP - 20000/20000

---

Jered, meanwhile, would come to fruition among the thick trees at the enormous forest on the southern edge of the Great Plains, Tear Stone Castle visible as a mighty silhouette off to the north. Ayrenis coughed, planting his divine longsword into the earth as he crouched down on the grass, a hand on the shaft of the arrow that was lodged in his chest. He bled severely, but tossed the now blood-speckled Journal of Urun in the tiger-man's direction before with a great heave, wrenching the enormous arrow from his chest in a spray of blood and gore. The black arrow was enormous -- more like a metal spear than anything fired from an Elven longbow.

Jered got: Journal of Urun - Well, you lost it before, but at least you have it again! Although, its cover is speckled with Angel blood...

"The book," he coughed, "The book is intact?" he questioned.

Jered HP - 100/450
Ayrenis HP - 518/20000 (bleeding severely, right eye injured, left hand injured, wings severely injured, right arm broken)

Vivienne -

Spoiler (click to show/hide):

Cier smiled, very obviously pleased.

"Alright!" he nodded, seeming nervous, "Let's go, then."

He raised a hand to the shimmering portal. Its mirror surface pulsed swirling watercolor images of Autum's greatest monuments. Looking like paintings, images of cities, towns and other monuments swirled through the surface, reflecting the vastness of the portal network. Cier whispered something in a lacquered demonic dialect, and the portal flashed. The panorama cleared into a moving, crystalline image of what looked like a beach. The tanned sand was beautiful, and ideal turquoise water splashed against the great, lonely shore. Behind a curtain of orange and pink clouds, one could see the lazy sun dipping under the horizon, framing it as a lucid, animated painting.

"Follow me. You might want to hold your breath." he suggested, gripping your hand tightly. With a preparatory sigh, he stepped into the portal, sending ripples through the mirror image as he slowly vanished into the liquid plate of energy. As he pulled you through, you spotted his likeness appearing on the magical window in razor detail. Stepping through the curtain of magic made you shiver, like someone was cascading cool water across you, but the feeling of being underwater vanished just as it began. Opening your eyes, you would find your skin tingling and your eyes squinting to adjust to the evening sun, which was visible through the cobweb of vines surrounding you.

The climate here was warm and tropical, and you could feel the sand beneath your feet. Looking around, you saw the portal you had emerged from was camouflaged in a tight cluster of vines and tropical trees on the beachside at the foot of a sierra of large sand dunes, a footpath leading down to the shimmering water. It was extraordinarily beautiful! Cier pulled you gently down to the beach, where the warm wind blowing in from the ocean was more palpable. Looking left and right, you saw that the beach seemed to stretch for miles and was even more picturesque in person. Not a soul was to be seen beyond you two, although you did notice the winding, minuscule silhouette of something in the water far, far off to the horizon. Cier did not seem to take note.

"Do you like it?" Cier questioned, seeming embarrassed by his almost poetic choice of destination, "It's a beach in Western Autum, around the southwest. There's actually a resort town a few miles to the north that we captured, but nobody ever comes down here... I, uh... I sometimes like to come here so I can think, and stuff." he shrugged, looking out onto the water. It was crystal clear, as was usual for Western Autum's tropical climate, and you could see the vibrantly-colored coral, sea sponges and fish on the rippling bottom.

Cier raised a hand to his eyes, squinting. You hadn't noticed it until then, but there was some sort of stone spiral construction winding out of the water a few hundred feet past the shoreline. It was smooth, shaped almost like a cigar, and seemed to be implanted into a shallow sand bar somewhere far out. It was just barely perceptible, but the smooth gray stone seemed to have been adorned with runes and characters. The waves lapped against it calmly, but most unusually, there looked to be some sort of shimmering object wedged in the top which made the tip of the twenty-foot-or-so spire glimmer.

"Huh. It's back again..." mused the wolf boy before he realized he was getting ahead of himself, "Oh, sorry. I've been seeing this thing sometimes when I come here. Sometimes it's there, sometimes it isn't. It's weird... I think it's some sort of magical artifact. Your realm has a lot of sea-faring species, so I thought it might have been their doing. But I've never been able to get close to it since I don't really know how to walk on water or anything... weird, huh?'" he shrugged. Thankfully, the spire didn't interfere with the scenic view.

Clife -

Spoiler (click to show/hide):

Reila's face twisted with obvious disappointment... and a hint of anger.

"WOT! But I thought we was gons' to be like friends 'n stoff! Aww, man! Dis sucks!" pouted the bandit girl, leaping up and down on the seat. Jegen sighed, taking another swig from his flask as Reila set off on a tirade about your choice being "unfair" and "annoying". Her men sighed almost unanimously, some plugging their ears. With a silent gesture from Jegen to get moving, the cart full of bandits and healing formula brushed off for the road. Reila's screaming dissipated into the distance, along with the silhouette of her swinging Lenore's captured katana around until Jegen stopped her. You barely caught the portly trader waving goodbye to you as he vanished over the horizon.

Beatrix shouldered her bag, barely even looking back as she hitched off at a medium pace. It was a long five minutes until she deemed to speak, the Silverwood by then seeming like a shrub over the horizon as she walked off down the hilly road with you at her side. At last, she glanced at you obliquely. She seemed impassive, but you sensed a degree of surprise from her.

"Why didn't you go with them?" questioned the blonde-haired woman gruffly. Unlatching her bag, she slid out two enormous flasks of the blue healing formula. The bottles were cracked, but would hold their contents. She placed them back inside and sighed, looking ahead.

"Well, just as long as you don't get in my way..." she muttered to herself before speaking up, "I'm going to where that caravan was headed. Not that I really give a shit for Angels, but they at least need this." she said tersely in reference to the healing formula. For another while, the only sound was that of your combined footsteps clacking on the worn stone road, which passed over gentle hills as it continued westward to clear out into perfectly flat plains. To your right -- the north -- rivers and temperate forests were visible on the horizon, and to your left -- south -- you saw not but an endless carpet of green, broken up by only the occasional proud oak tree standing tall among the short grass. Birds flocked about them, rushing to tuck away before the evening sun finally went to bed. Only a few more hours of daylight remained.

"So, what's your story? Never thought you'd care for the Angels." Beatrix questioned out of the blue. At that point, it felt like you two were all alone. The land here was very open, with few places to hide unless it was beneath the ground. The Silverwood had long disappeared over the horizon behind you.

Sortaix -

Spoiler (click to show/hide):

Marquette clapped her hands together, duly surprised (but also pleased) with your answer.

You decided to let Marquette proceed with her plan, which will probably wreak havoc on the city of Marche. (-15 alignment)

Topping off the apple she'd bitten into, the necromancer girl tossed it carelessly away into the reservoir, standing up to admire the stony depths that fed water to all of Marche's inhabitants. She leaned over the table, resting her chin on her palm thoughtfully as one finger drummed against the cracked wood.

"Hmm, what a thoughtful question. Well, first, I'll finish this little chore of mine, and then..." the necromancer girl trailed off, seeming unsure of her answer, "Well, I guess I'll just split and go somewhere a little less... shitty. Aha. I get my water from this reservoir too, you know. And I don't want to end up like what half the populace is about to become..." she hinted, pushing off the table. She looked you up and down, somehow catching notice of the clipboard full of notes you'd plucked off the ground earlier.

"Ah, there it is! Thanks for finding it. Wouldn't want this in the Angels' hands." she grinned, slyly pulling it from your person and giving it a look-over. She slid a hand over her dress, and suddenly, what looked to be a glass orb the size of a baseball appeared floating over her hand. Violet smoke swirled within, pulsing off of it like a smoldering flame and vanishing into the wind. Eldritch energy radiated from the orb, and it made your stomach turn and your mouth taste sour just looking at it. Clearly, this was part of Marquette's plan.

"Being the genius I am, I decided that rather than wipe out the populace and lessen the strain on the food and water supplies, I'd pitch the city into some chaos. Hehe. This orb contains the captured essence of several Plaguebearers. Turns out that Plaguebearers don't like water, either. Smash a couple of these into the reservoir, and their essence will be trapped inside it... and then inside whoever drinks it." she grinned mischievously. As you knew, a Plaguebearer was a generic term for any sentient thing that had been infested with the Red Plague, a horrible and lethal disease that had claimed many lives in the ages past. Thanks to great efforts by many people, the Red Plague had all but been extinguished, but some fragments of it still lived on with necromancers and even secretive Plague Cults who believed the Red Plague was a gift from the demons... which it was; the Plague was first unleashed onto Autum following the Dark War after a necromancer made a pact with a demon.

Marquette bounced the orb in her palm, turning toward the reservoir. Winding up, she chucked the smoking purple orb down, down, down into the water. After a second, you heard a squick, and then the air seemed to become more... sour-tasting. It almost made you want to throw up, especially as Marquette procured five or six more orbs and began hurling them into other areas of the massive reservoir down below. The water stained purple for a moment, but the color then receded. Were it not for the awful smell, you would have never guessed it was infected.

"I reckon that's enough... and I also believe that means I'm done here." said the girl after chucking one last orb in. She raised a hand toward all of her possessions, and with a great black-purple flash, they vanished. Seemed she packed up fast.

With that, she turned toward the door.

"Well, Sir Sortaix. I believe we should take our leave." she proposed, looping one of her arms around yours and making for the door.

Flim + Flam -

Spoiler (click to show/hide):

Cementing your status as truly dark souls, you two decided to reap young Iieli for her Soul Essence.

"Hnnh... nnh..." Iieli -- or rather, the corpse that was once Iieli -- groaned as she shifted on the floor. It was almost frightening to see the color and definition drain from her eyes, her pupils vanishing and her eyes paling until not but a hazy, unfocused look remained. The girl's body seemed to wither, hair falling out and muscles seeming to rot. Within a minute, she lay there almost motionless, looking more like a long-rotten undead than a girl. Already, you felt a taste of power in your limbs (Flim +100 SE, Flam +100 SE).

You two decided to take Iieli's amateurish but potentially useful staff. There wasn't anything great about it, but you sensed that it had already been charged to cast a spell...

Flim and Flam got: Lesser Fireball Staff - A generic, gnarled wooden staff used by amateur and veteran magi across Autum. Its hardened wood construction makes it a good weapon for whacking people and it will stand up easily to the weather, but this particular staff has been enchanted to shoot fireballs of respectable power from its head at its user's will. It had limited casts, but can be recharged using Soul Essence easily. The staff can also emit a bright flame without cost, allowing it to function as a powerful torch.

None of the other dizzied townsfolk seemed to notice at all. Most were clambering over each other, looking dumb and hazy eyed as the simplest tasks of their daily lives started to seem become a challenge in the order of writing a great symphony. A young girl and boy trying to persuade each other instead bored their looks into each other lifelessly, and the camp's blacksmith seemed to be hammering his fingers more than the iron breastplate he was working on. Their minds were still persuaded that the drug was helping them, and yet the village seemed zombified... not a single soul was left standing.

Talkea became wise to this and stood there atop the wagon, scratching her head as she sorted out all of the gold and valuable trinkets she'd been traded for the Zugong's Zip, which was completely gone by now. Looking up to you two, she raised a sack of coins,

"Two thousand," she called, "We made 2,200 gold in both coins and jewelry. Err... maybe 2,400 if you re-sell some of the trinkets I got for a higher price. But there you go." she explained. An incredibly hefty find. Normally, that small fortune could buy you some nice rewards, but it was slightly less valuable in today's world, where Soul Essence was a bit more valuable. (+2,200 G).

[Zender_Solarheart]

"HRRRRUUAAGH!!"

Jered lets out one final battle cry as his blade rips through the air towards Razajin's form, the meager remainder of his strength behind it. Even so, the only thing making that force any dangerous, is the fact that his opponent is as battered as he is. Should his strike fail, the dagger headed for his stomach will prove unarguably fatal...

...but his strike succeeds, and as Razajin's blood pours out, Jered's honestly surprised it's still red. He expected such a wicked man to have black blood. However, blood is still blood, and the fact that it's Raz's blood - not his own - gives him some sense of satisfaction. Drained from the duel, and exhausted beyond what any pure-blooded human could survive, he finally lets his knees give way, dropping him to the ground. His vision swirls, his senses fade, and as he descends into what will most likely be his eternal rest, Jered whispers: "Skylia...you've been avenged..."

However, it is not the end.

Life suddenly surges back into Jered's body, wrenching him out of unconsciousness, prompting a loud gasp and several shocked exhales. There are wake-up jolts, and then there's...whatever that was. On top of that, his wounds have completely healed. It seems that the Margrave doesn't want him dead just yet, and so ordered his mages to revive him...and Razajin. (Urgh...cheater...) Jered thinks to himself, though he doesn't risk saying it out loud; the mages returned life to him in minutes, and they could take it away here and now with equal ease. Even with the Margrave's praise of his victory, he's not expecting any "get out of jail free" card here. It seems he'll have to find an alternate means of escape now...

...or not, seeing how Ayrenis himself dropped in to retrieve the book, and rescue him while he's at it. Even more shockingly, the Margrave obliges, tossing the Archangel the Journal of Urun like it's a simple coin. Yet another surprise is that Xierante and Ayrenis are brothers, though that doesn't quite explain how a demon and angel could be on such good terms. Thinking about it all, Jered can't help but recall when Clife said the Angels would abandon him; needless to say, she's been proven wrong. Still, it's really sad how a girl like her could've been seduced by the Demons' false promises of power...

Well, enough about that. Having been warped to safety with Ayrenis, Jered responds to the Archangel's question: "It would appear so...though, I'm not sure if any pages were removed or not..." Considering that the book is written in an archaic demon language that he has no idea how to read, how would he be able to tell that in the first place? Still, the book appears quite safe, the only change in its features being the Angelic blood specking its cover.

Truth be told, Jered wants to ask Ayrenis about his obvious connection with the Margrave, as anyone in his situation would...but between his physical exhaustion, and his respect for the Archangel's privacy, he withholds his question for now...

[Reaver]

"I won..." Razajin thinks as the distance closes between them. He looks up at Jered, expecting his face to change into pain at any second. Instead a sapping weakness starts emerging from his gut and he realizes that he's lost. A surprise look washes over his face which slowly turns in a painful bloody grin. "What separates you from me..... Jered? You kill just as ruthlessly as me." His hands go numb and the daggers fall, sealing his failure. Razajin gives a final sigh and falls to the ground, gurgling his blood. As the area starts dimming into darkness, Razajin wonders if next time they meet he'll be strong enough to kill Jered. Before the void can swallow him whole, a rush of energy goes through his body. Razajin's eyes snap open and before he can turn to strangle Jered, he is hoisted to his feet to be presented to the audience. He glares at Jered giving him a silent promise of pain. When the Margrave floats down to the arena, Razajin tenses up expecting to be publicly tortured for losing and thus dragging the Demons' reputation through the dirt. However instead Xierante shoots him a look making his guts shrivel up.

Razajin lowers his head in shame as Jered is called the victor. "This day really couldn't get worse." He mutters before his eyes are blinded by a great light and he's forced to take a few steps back. For a second he thinks it could be Skylia but then the figure is shown to be Ayrenis the dreaded archangel. Razajin growls, slowly groping for his dagger while he watches the two other SNVs rush forward to attack Ayrenis. Back when he was on the frontlines, Razajin heard stories of how Ayrenis could kill hundreds of demons with one slash and burn fortresses with the wave of his hand. Of course most of them were tales but seeing how he decapitated the two guards without trouble Razajin doesn't want to start something especially when he's this weak. He listens carefully to the conversation between The Margrave and Ayrenis. They seem to have a certain history which is confirmed when Xier calls him his brother. The conversation and revelation distracts him long enough that he can only take a step forward as Ayrenis reaches for Jered's hand. "No matter where you run Jered I will have my revenge.." Razajin watches Jered and Ayrenis leave in the holy light again with a grim certainty that this wouldn't be the last time their paths crossed.

He stares at the spot where they disappeared for a few seconds before remembering whose presence he was still in. Razajin snaps to attention and kneels before the Margrave. "My Lord I apologize for my shameful performance in your arena. My skills and weapons were not adequate enough to protect the mantle of the Demons and I submit to you for any punishment you see fit." He bows his head low, expecting a death blow for his failure but instead being given subtle forgiveness. "Thank you Margrave but I also came to Tear Stone castle on other business. I bring news from my Commander that we have successfully corrupted an angel into a Dark angel. I personally took the angel down after saving the commander from that craven. Then I made her submit to my "needs" to completely break her." Razajin finally looks up with a small smirk that hinted at the "needs" He forced Skylia to do.

[jayjaycaps]

Flim took the staff, getting a feel for it's weight. Looking down at the body, the twins gave each other a look: it had to be deposed of. Their employer planned on using these villagers somehow, and it didn't sit well with them to know that he/she could find out that even one soldier was missing. One slip up, and they could be in serious trouble. Taking the staff, Flim used one of it's charges to set Iileli's corpse on fire. Flam muttered a short prayer under his breath, and Flim shot him a dirty look. The twins came back to the wagon, adjusting their clothing and whistling their little tune. Neither were taken back by the town suddenly turning into mindless drones, they had expected as much. They also knew the true value of the gold, and were unfazed by that as well.

"Excellent! Now then, shall we be off?" Flam gave Flim a elbow nudge. "Oh, yea... Sorry about the whole mind control thing. Just needed to drum up sales. No hard feelings." Flam shook his head, ashamed of Flim's half assed apology. They hoped back onto the cart, eager to get away from the town before any sort of law enforcement showed up.

[MiscChaos]

Clife waves her own goodbye back to Jegen, though she’s unsure if he sees it or not. She just barely saw his wave after all and she’s much shorter than him. She can’t exactly complain about the sudden silence that the lack of Reila’s presence created though, the first time she’s been without the girl’s voice in a long while.

“Like I said, I’ve gotta report in with the Angels and everything and you’re the better bet for finding them. I’ll admit, curiosity played a part in it too though.” She says in answer to Beatrix’s question she decides not to say anything to the rest of her comments though. Anything she’d have said would’ve just created friction and friction is fun for no one. So instead she just takes in the wide spaces of vibrant life that surrounds them, reveling in the pure scent of nature she’s in, just overall being at peace with the world at the moment. It’s not til Beatrix asks her next question that she remembers that she’s travelling with someone.

“I don’t care for the Angels, not really. I do care for helping the planet and its people though. I grew up in the wilds, that’s how I got good with nature magic, then I was snatched out of the woodlands by some nuns and finished growing up in a convent, hence my healing magic. Oh, speaking of…” she quickly casts a spell to replace the tooth she lost with Lenore. “There we go! Anyways, I may have hated the hell outta that place, especially after they blasted most of my memories of my years in the wild outta my head, but they managed to beat into me a healthy respect for human life. Not enough that I do that whole ‘vow not to kill thing’, but enough to not like it when someone kills or warps someone else for no reason. So after I busted outta there, I went around healing people, by healing or beating, whatever was necessary. Most of the problems I dealt with were caused in some fashion by Demons, so I figure destroy them, less people I have to help out. So I’m not on that ‘destroy all evil’ crap, I just wanna help out. What about you?” She has a brief thought that “Never thought you’d care…” implies that Beatrix had to have some grasp of her personality at some point. Maybe she knew her during that stretch of time she can’t remember? Clife banishes the thought. She gave up on getting that part of her life back a long time ago.

[napsii]

Jered -

Spoiler (click to show/hide):

Ayrenis knelt down, still breathing raggedly. Under the soft light of the setting sun, the Archangel's wounds were more visible, but the curtain of sunlight, splintering through the trees as it was, intensified and pulsed as a bead of light pulsed in the Angel's clenched palm. The canopy of the treetops receded, letting in a great scope of sunlight which shimmered down upon the Archangel and obscuring him from view for a few moments. At a majestic pace, his wounds began to recede, the blood evaporating as wounds, scrapes and burns sealed up, flesh gluing itself back to bone and color returning to his skin (+8000 HP). The light slowly evaporated, leaving a much more animate Ayrenis to return to his feet.

"I will have to examine it when we return, but I do not believe Xierante has any motive to destroy the book. Nor do I believe it could have been damaged in the time since I last possessed it two centuries ago." he replied clearly as he looked to you. The light of the setting sun still seemed to curl about his damaged armor. The Archangel looked toward the deepening forest to the south. It was not the thickest of forest, and there was easy footing through the perfectly flat earth separating the trees. Beyond it was almost certainly more of Central Autum's favorite countryside, and many leagues beyond that, the arid and yet bountiful desert dominating the southern end of the continent.

"Come. It is of ill wisdom to tarry here." he said calmly, motioning for you to follow him into the forest. Despite the chaos but minutes ago, the Archangel was perfectly composed.

After a time, he spoke:

"Jered, I must apologize. I cannot imagine what you endured inside Tear Stone, and I knew quite willfully that I was forcing your hand in trying to retrieve the book." he said sincerely. Regret tinted his voice, "But, seeing you with Skylia, I had believed you would see it in your interest to assist me. I was haphazard, but I knew that I only had hours to retrieve the Journal, and I could not do it alone..." he continued.

"Nevertheless, I will see to it you are thanked properly when--" the Archangel was drowned out by an incredibly loud and yet incredibly familiar roar.

Whirling around, you looked through the trees to see the silhouette of an enormous dragon tearing across the plains you had just come from, ballista bolts and arrows chasing desperately for it only to fall hundreds of yards short of their target as it zoomed away. Approaching with frightening speed, the great white dragon reared up as it struck the tree line, rushing leaves off the trees and making the ground shake as she flew dangerously low overhead, a giant golden eye tilting down to peer at you. Ayrenis looked up, holding his hand in greeting.

I'll be back at camp! boomed Tal's voice in your head. The dragon pulled up further into the sky, and just as soon as she had come, she vanished, heading southward.

"Talphalos, as well, appreciates your assistance. I had come to think she would never leave Nilgalos' side until you showed up." commented Ayrenis as the dragon flew away.

The Archangel began to whisper, then, scraps of the graceful Angelic dialect catching your ear. Ahead of you, the world seemed to shimmer and twist but slightly.

"Ah, worry not. It is but a spell. I believe you are familiar with it... I used it to transport us to Tear Stone Castle." said Ayrenis. Recalling it now, you realized you had somehow crossed the distance from the frigid pine forests of East Autum all the way to the plains of Central Autum just by walking through a forest shortly after you had first met the Archangel in his bird form.

You blinked, then, and suddenly a breath of fresh, grassy wind blew into your face. Looking up, you realized the forest had entirely vanished and instead thick, verdant green grass crunched beneath your feet. You were standing on a great hill overlooking a great, rolling field all of a sudden, the puffy clouds and sky above orange and yellow under the evening sun. It was magnificent, and seemed to stretch on for kilometres, but it was almost entirely dominated by an enormous matrix of varying tents and semi-permanent structures varying from crude to true works of craftsmanship. Banners and insignias of many clans and houses beamed in between the hundreds of buildings, hundreds and hundreds of torches and lanterns of all kinds little specks of multi-colored light across the... camp?

Ayrenis stepped up beside you, seeming unfazed.

"Welcome to the Carathi War Camp, to the far south of Marche. This is the intermediary for many functions of war in this area of Autum. It feeds supplies, troops and information to the local towns we have managed to keep safe from the demons, but we house a combined army here nonetheless." he said. As he spoke this, it became more apparent. Many of the buildings were very obviously barracks, mages' tents, hospices, workshops and blacksmiths, along with stables in which mounts ranging from horses to Drakes to Gryphons took residence. A shadow cast over you for a moment, and looking up, you saw Tal flying overhead, roaring as she flew down to land on the far northern end of the camp. She shimmered with magic, and just like that, the great dragon morphed back into her human form, disappearing among the rushing crowds of people soon after.

Ayrenis motioned for you to follow, walking down the hill and down to the camp, which was constructed mostly on flat land. Kilometres out in the distance, you spied tall wood towers which acted as observation posts. Dirt roads branched out in every direction, presumably linking to nearby towns.

Razajin -

Spoiler (click to show/hide):

Xierante rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Yes, I heard of that. Although it was not you that transformed her into a Dark Angel, it was Shinei's Dark Whisperers. Quite reckless of her, naturally." he remarked. An earlier memory of those people in black hoods flashed in your mind. Those must have been the Dark Whisperers, which you knew little about beyond that they were in apparent service to the Margravine Shinei: an unparalleled master of dark magics and a powerful force in this war.

"But worry not. Your loyalty is admirable, but it was not our honor on the line -- only yours," he spoke, looking to a nearby SVN. With a wave, he dismissed them and the soldiers funneled back into the arena, leaving the two alone. The Margrave turned toward the door, implying for Razajin to follow him out the exit.

"And as I said, most my subjects are cowering in fear. There is little they can do that could happen to eclipse the appearance of an Arc--" Xierante attempted to speak, was drowned out by a roar. He sighed, as if having predicted it, and looked up to a great shadow crashing down upon the coliseum. Before you could even blink, a massive white dragon crashed into the coliseum's stone walls, shattering them by sheer force of its weight as it plowed headfirst into the fighting pit, nearly flattening you two as it rampaged past, collapsing most of the seating and walls as it flew out the other side, ascending high into the sky just as a hellstorm of ballista bolts from the ballistae lining the towers were launched after her.

The air shimmered where the dragon -- Talphalos, obviously -- passed, and hardened into a wall of purple energy as the great barrier protecting Tear Stone materialized to stop her. After putting up just a few seconds of resistance, the barrier then shattered in a great storm of purple sparks, the dragon clearing the castle grounds and zipping off toward the south, leaving the now partially visible barrier looking like a broken pane of transparent purple glass in the sky. Slowly, it began to heal, but the unimpressed Xierante was left humming and shaking his head. He dusted off his jacket, unbalanced by Talphalos' rampage.

"I should have known. Dragons have a penchant for interrupting--" again, Xierante was drowned out by a roar.

The ground vibrated, and you heard crashing and breaking far off to the east, outside the arena. A tornado of black flame whirled into the air and the tip of a black, scaly tail whipped up above the ruined coliseum backing walls for just an instant. With another roar, the commotion ceased.

"AND DON'T EVER CHAIN ME UP AGAIN!" a female voice boomed impossibly loud, and things went silent again. Xierante rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Nevermind." he said, and turned, exiting the arena with you presumably in tow.

By the time you came to the front gates of the coliseum, you could see that Tear Stone was on fire with gossip and rumors, just as the Margrave had predicted. Clusters of demons hung around buildings and down pathways, chattering nervously and screaming about what had just happened. Most didn't even seem to notice the revered Xierante passing by as he led you through the streets, although he seemed to have dismissed his SVN guard.

The castle piped down noticeably as Xierante walked with you to the Nobles' Hall. Understandably, the amount of SVN at the entrance had quintupled, and in fact two of them seemed to be wielding strange, black metal tubular objects with trigger-equipped handles they rested on their shoulders.

They pulled back the door for you and the Margrave, revealing the frantically chattering tables of nobles within. Norith was at his seat, too, talking to a very disappointed but also afraid-looking Gliun. Xierante slowed his pace, nodding and smiling to the nobles he passed, placating them somewhat, as he walked on.

"While you were fighting, one of my servants passed me a message. You may have been defeated, but the day is almost up and there is a task I require accomplished before midnight... I believe you may be the correct candidate for this. I will explain after I have addressed the Noble Court. One moment..." he spoke, gesturing for you to pause.

With that, the Margrave ascended to the throne at the top end of the long dining hall, picking up an empty crystal goblet and tapping a spoon against it. The nobles immediately fell silent, turning to the standing Xierante with mixed reaction.

"Greetings, honored guests. I trust the food and liquer has been bountiful this day, although it seems we have had some... excitement, just now." he smiled, and some chuckling rose from the room, "I sympathize with your confusion or any questions you may have. To be terse, the Archangel Ayrenis' appearance surprised even myself. But worry not, as I have evaluated the damage he caused to be minimal, and he will certainly not return." he declared. Relief washed throughout the ranks of the nobles.

"And of course, I am certain you are all familiar with the antics of dragons. The coliseum was wounded, somewhat, but I will set my finest workers upon it to have it functional again within the next two days." he added. The nobles nodded, obviously familiar with how destructive Talphalos and Nilgalos were.

"As such, I can say confidently there is nothing to be concerned about. Please, return to the vices which pleasure you, and let the more unfortunate minutes of this day pass from your minds. To power, and to victory!" he toasted at last.

"To victory!" the crowd mimicked, and just as if Xierante had snapped his fingers to cure them, the Hall was again jubilant with conversation as the chatter shifted onto more pleasant topics. Xierante stepped down from the pedestal his throne was on, walking off for the door on the left and motioning for you to follow him through.

"Now, before I explain, would you be so willing to perform this last request before you resign for the night?" he questioned.

Clife -

Spoiler (click to show/hide):

You feel an immense surge of pain in your mouth as you attempt to reform an entire tooth, sapping the vitality from your limbs but leaving a respectably-formed tooth in the place of your empty mouth. It feels crooked, though, and the pressure on your gums is uncomfortable -- it would be wise to seek a more experienced healer to correct this. You feel you'll be even more tired tonight.

Beatrix couldn't help but smile grimly, as if your tale resonated with her. She sniffed, turning her head to watch the evening sun. Night was approaching rapidly, and although Autum's nocturnal predators didn't usually stalk this land, bandits and things far, far worse had taken their place in recent times.

"It doesn't matter, but it looks like we share some things in common." she grunted mirthlessly, "The Way of Light had a go at my head, too, but... I don't hate the Angels, and I don't like them." she drew a long sigh. It was hard to go a day without hearing about the Way of Light, Autum's predominant religion. The Way worshipped the goddess but in truth idealized the Seven Virtues, a set of morals which the Angels had passed down to the mortal races, over true theism. While most of the clergy was composed of humans and the High Priestess -- the presiding religious authority figure in Autum -- had always been a human, many species followed its denomination.

"The demons are..." she paused, searching for the right words, "Just shit." she finished.

...

The hours flew by as you two walked, exchanging words here and there. To no surprise, Beatrix was muted on the topic of herself, but it was somehow easy to discuss your shared distaste for the demons.

"I've never met a demon who didn't try and either kill, rob, mutilate, enslave, seduce or rape me. The last one especially." she had grunted, summing up the entirety of demons almost flawlessly.

As the sun began the last leg of its journey below the horizon, it was replaced with new light. Far on ahead, where the stone road began to erode into dirt and the plains started to flow into rolling hills of thick, verdant grass, the pinprick points of light from hundreds of lanterns and torches became visible off in the distance, and then as you walked on further, the tiny silhouettes of varying-sized tents and other semi-permanent constructions that composed what was obviously an enormous camp. A loud roar, painfully audible even from this distance, heralded the arrival of what seemed like an absolutely colossal white dragon from the north which landed on the other end of the camp before disappearing in a flash of light, as if it had just been an illusion.

Beatrix walked on more quickly, then, but she did not seem anxious to reach the camp. Looking out in the fields to your left and right, you spied tall, slim observation posts kilometres out from the camp that would keep an eye on approaching people. You had likely already been spotted. As the camp came closer into view, its sheer complexity became more apparent. From the vantage of a large hill the road passed over on its way into the camp's heart, you spied constructions such as barracks, siege workshops, blacksmiths' posts, grain silos and stables in addition to large and fantastic tents that were common of magi and sorcerors. It was clearly...

"War Camp Carathi. Tons of Angels and Divine-lovers are here, so if you're allergic to religion, turn back." said Beatrix in a deadpan voice. You could have sworn that was a joke.

The war camp had no walls, save for a few easily movable constructions on which could be stationed guards and weapon emplacements, but there was still a de facto gate staffed by several human, elf, and orc soldiers in chainmail armor as well as a young, golden-haired and blue-eyed female Angel in a flowing white-and-gold robe holding a magical talisman. Beatrix hardened her impassive look as she walked on ahead. The guards gestured for her to stop, but she kept moving.

"She's with me." she said quickly of you.

The Angel looked up from her conversation with a gnome, seeming to recognize Beatrix's face immediately. She nodded.

"Let them through." she said calmly. The guards didn't step aside promptly enough and Beatrix ended up shoving past them carelessly. They looked at you questioningly, but with the Angel's approval, you supposed you should have gone on ahead. The inside of the war camp was just as animated as you had expected. Horses and other mounts were tied up to posts everywhere, as were small bonfires around which gathered groups of soldiers to regale each other with stories under the setting sun. Between the aisles upon aisles of tents and constructions, people of all species and professions walked on to carry out their tasks. Nearly everyone present here, even some young children and clerics normally sworn to pacifism, had arms at their side, whether it was a small wood club of a 12-year old boy or the frighteningly massive greathammer of the ogre behind him.

With night falling, the camp was mostly cooling down as people resigned to their tents or to other, less animated duties, but it was obvious after a few minutes that dozens were rushing toward another area of the camp, chattering anxiously among themselves about "Ayrenis had arrived and he brought company".

Beatrix growled, turning in that direction without seeming to care if you followed her or not.

Flim + Flam -

Spoiler (click to show/hide):

Leaving the ruined town behind, you made off to continue your lives, careless for the destruction you had wrought. (Flim -20 alignment, Flam -20 alignment)

"Er... right." Talkea muttered nervously, obviously unsettled by the fire illuminating the alleyway.

She was quick to hop into the back of the cart, seating herself on the back and toying with her shortbow as the cart set off. Leaving the little settlement behind, you two rolled out leisurely onto the road, which continued eastward. This road, which to your combined experience would lead on through the countryside for a few leagues and then a long band of forest and plains directly south of Marche (separating it from the desert on the southern end of the continent) ultimately led as far east as the Eastern Mountains.

The settlement vanished behind the semi-circle of trees that had flanked it soon enough, giving good view to the setting sun. The sky was painted orange and purple with the light of dusk by now, and darkness was rapidly beginning to descend across the land. But it was not far until the next settlement, and this particular corner of Autum was rather stagnant in terms of danger, anyway -- nearly all of the fighting took place to the north, around Marche.

About an hour later, a duo of thick trees on a little hill next the road came into view, breaking up the general monotony of this flat area of countryside. Rolling past, you two saw that strung between the two trees was a hammock occupied by a relaxed-looking woman:



Leaning against the tree was was a gleaming red-and-silver straight sword, presumably the hammock-bound woman's, along with a white-haired girl sitting against the tree near it, smoking a pipe while looking out onto the sunset:



While the woman in the hammock didn't even open her eyes, or seem to acknowledge the clack of the horses' hooves as it rolled by, the white-haired girl gave a little nod and a wave, smoke blowing out her nose.

"I think I recognize her..." Talkea commented quietly to you two of the person in the hammock, trying to put her finger on her identity. Indeed, she did seem familiar, but you likewise couldn't remember.

Aliera -

Spoiler (click to show/hide):

Southern Autum, dominated by the almost ceaseless Great Desert, was hard to call home.

Although its east-northeast was contained from the murky swamps beyond by a sierra of high mountains, the rolling sands stretched freely to the north and west, mingling with the thin grass that separated the more temperate areas of the continent from its blazing heat. Despite its famous mineral wealth on which countless entrepreneurs had built their fortunes, its inhospitable climate was residence only for cacti, scorpions and other creatures fit for its barren climate. While the opulent city of Kasaphi and other walled towns were built upon the southern coast, only nomad tribes and monsters thought the baked sands and sandstone ruins to be comfortable.

Beyond some skirmishes over the past few millennia, no wars were ever fought here. Not until the demons invaded, tearing open great, energetic fissures in the lands from which countless demons had emerged. Unfathomably deep and frighteningly large, the fissures' explosive appearance by way of the dimensional magics that had bridged the realm of the Underworld with the realm of Autum, had cooked the nearby land into almost pure crystal. Rifts, they were called. While now great wounds in the land that no longer ferried demons from the Underworld into this realm, the immense deposits of great crystal they wrought was valuable indeed.

Slavery was a common among the demons, and so it was no surprise that under their leadership, many slaves were sacrificed to work upon the crystal mines, burrowing into the walls of these enormous fissures to extract the precious crystal there, so that it might be used for smithing, as fuel, or even as an instrument of magic and as an ingredient as alchemy.

The sun is setting, and at dusk, the Great Desert's unforgiving weather is at its most pleasant. A warm breeze pitched across your face as you looked across the rolling sands from a tall dune. It would have been picturesque, if not for the radiating purple fissure that stretched for kilometres across the sand. True to the rumors, it was unbelievably large, even from this distance. Hundreds of yards across, and infinitely deep, the crust of crystal penetrating the soil around it radiated an eldritch purple while armies of torches lit the mines built upon it. Countless wood bridges stretched perilessly across the mouth of the fissure, while hundreds of sturdy shacks, wood constructions and countless tents were huddled confusedly from end to end, housing hundreds upon hundreds of slaves, masters and guards. Even now, you could spot the tiny silhouettes of intimidating demons and chained miners descending into the many tunnels dotting the land around the fisher, leading into shaft mines, or down elevators or ladders to the scaffolding mounted onto the fissure walls.

It was one of the hearts of the demon's war operations, and coming here would be suicide. But it had been hard to decline the request made of you. Displaced by the war, many native tribes had been enslaved either for the purpose of working on this mine, or as personal toys. Some survived, though, and it was hardly a surprise when a young tribal member, the druid Adjea, employed you to scout this elaborate and frightening place. Being about four hundred yards from the edge of the camps which served the mine, your tiny silhouette hadn't been spotted among the mine's turmoil and the setting sun. Crude wood walls backed the length of the camp, but were mostly interrupted by large gaps in the bumpy and unsettled earth on the edge of the fissures. The tiny shacks and hamlets of tents, home to the miners and their tools, were practically built atop one another and passageways through the cramped little mining town were few and apart. Yet countless guards stood watch in towers and through the narrow streets, weapons at ready to subdue rebellion.

You felt a pulsating sensation in your clothes. Reaching into your person, you retrieved the roughly-cut white gemstone, about the size of a small peach, glowing with frantic intensity. It was a communicator, of sorts, enchanted to connect those who possessed similar gemstones by way of magic.

White mist swirled from the gem, shapeshifting into the tiny likeness of a young, brown-haired woman with lurid amber eyes wearing the dried skull of an animal upon her head and dressed in animal furs into existence. The image bobbed atop the gem. It was Adjea. The young woman's head looked around, spying the fissure.

"Oh, Aliera. I am glad you made it here unbidden. It is a terrible place, but as I told you in person, if it is to be reclaimed and these slaves freed, we must run an intelligence mission, of sorts." Adjea said, her voice surprisingly audible given that she was several leagues away. The druid sighed shortly.

"The guards here are many, but foolish, and have become arrogant. With your talent, I imagine it will be a child's task to sneak -- or even cut, if you choose -- past their ranks. There is little on the surface, I believe, but as I mentioned, there are some strange happenings below the earth," she went on, "Some escaped slaves told me that the deepest mine shafts of this slave camp, which are located on the very lower limits of the fissure, before it is nothing but pure blackness, are home to strange and powerful energies that even their demon captors have taken interest in. If is it possible, I would like you to explore the deeper areas of the mine, and relay to me what you see. If you have a free moment, then you may contact me, as this gemstone's arcane scent will be masked by the intense energies within the mines." she said.

"But please! Be wary. Despite your skill, I worry for you. This mine is run under the supervision of Margravine Araicina, and she is dangerous indeed." added the druid. The Markgrafs were the highest authority in the demons' ranks, next to the reigning Archdemoness. Besides being their strongest warfighters, they were entrusted with tasks of the most extreme importance. Araicina, known for her destructive behavior, reigned over the demon's holdings to the south of the continent while the other Markgrafs -- particularly Margravine Shinei and the infamous Margrave Xierante -- retained enormous swathes of land and immense armies to the north.

"If you believe you are in danger, please escape as soon as possible. I cannot fathom what these terrible creatures would have in store for a species as rare as yours. As well, I believe there is a War Spirit present in the desert around these fissures. Please be wary of it." Adjea said glumly. With that, she inclined her head politely, and the image of her vanished into a plume of white smoke. You placed the gem back into its pouch.

There are a number of ways to approach the camp, and it would be wise to get moving. The sands have been cast purple by the rapidly descending darkness and could cover a stealthy approach, but the people and sentries here are many and it would be a challenge to remain undetected. It might also be feasible to charge some of the guards head on and rush into the camp's depths before the guards could reply, but that carries the obvious risk. The sheer mass of the slave populace here could also make it easy to blend in as one by ditching one's equipment.

*will edit for Viv once Aloy posts

[Zender_Solarheart]

Between the time Ayrenis healed himself, and the moment they found themselves in Carathi, Jered's mind has a plethora of questions pop up, though most are either answered quickly, or are simply too trivial to bother with. He does, however, have a few thoughts poking at his brain along the way...

First off, if Xierante had the Journal of Urun for 200 years, then how did he not decode the archaic language in that time? While many Demons wouldn't be the types he'd expect deep intelligence from, Jered had thought that a Margrave would be able to decipher it by now...or is the language truly that cryptic? Not that he would distrust Ayrenis's word on the matter, of course; he's just unsure of how one as sophisticated - yet still evil - as that Margrave could not have unlocked its mysteries yet...

Second, Jered's thoughts turn to recall his duel with Razajin. He was too fatigued to think of it at the time, but when he dealt that final blow, he felt...satisfaction in striking him down. While most would likely not think much on such a detail, it's something of particular concern in his mind. Ever since the incident with his sister and the mafia, Jered's had a distaste for killing in general; he normally prefers non-lethal methods against his opponents, and even when he does have to kill them, he doesn't take pleasure in it. Razajin, however, brought out a much darker side of him in that battle, one that made him truly want to kill his enemy...and even for one such as Mr. Krilleth, that is rather disturbing to Jered.

Finally, Jered tries to take his mind off of that dark subject, by thinking about what Tal may have encountered during his little mission in Tear Stone. It was clear that a force had pursued her from the castle, and while she seemed unharmed when she blazed past them in the woods, he can't help but wonder if she received any injuries from those chasing her. He hopes not; much like having to kill his opponents, Jered hates it when others are killed or severely injured trying to help him...

...but he can check on that later, once he meets up with Tal later for some casual chat. Right now, he just follows Ayrenis into the camp, taking a few moments to look around at the sights while they walk in.

[MiscChaos]

Clife gives a slight grunt when her tooth healing doesn’t go quite as planned, but that’s why she hates oral healing in the first place: It’s hard as hell to get right. Instead of trying it again and wearing herself out, she decides someone at camp must be good enough to get it right and leaves it for them. She isn’t all that surprised that Beatrix isn’t willing to share much about herself; she just doesn’t seem like that type of person, though Clife is surprised that the woman also had a bad run-in with religion and shared much the same view of Angels and Demons as she did. Especially her point on summary of demons in general. Clife couldn’t have said that better herself.

Clife was almost glad to see the lights of civilization closing in as the sun went down, not looking forward to the free-for-all that night often became. She’s so engrossed looking at the tents and other signs of camp that she almost misses the dragon, but it’s roar takes care of that very quickly. She’s almost in combat mode when the thing suddenly disappears. She wants to say that she’s merely tired and is imagining things, but the ringing of her ears tells a different tale, a tale she decides it’d be smart to keep in mind.

‘Dragon in camp. Keep from mouthing off until I know where.’ she says to herself. When Beatrix speeds up, she increases her pace to match, though she doesn’t bother asking why. If Beatrix felt she needed to know, she would’ve told her and asking won’t do much other than annoy the woman. She’s almost impressed by the sights of the camp, wondering just how long they’ve been here if they’ve set up such mundane things as grain silos. Clife has to restrain a fit of laughter at Beatrix’s next words, not altogether sure if the woman had a rather dry sense of humor or was actually serious. Laughing would be a bit of an insult if she was serious, so that’s why she stops it… rather poorly. A couple of chuckles make it through before she silences them. And since they escaped anyway, she lets the rest go, laughing for a few seconds more. Seeing the outside of the walls once again brings up the question of how long has the camp been here since they don’t have solid walls. Either not too terribly long or this is supposed to be a somewhat mobile camp, but she can hash that out later.

When Beatrix hardens her look up, it dawns on Clife that she had to have at least somewhat lowered her guard around her if her look had to be tightened up. This revelation keeps her moving past the guards, barely noticing their presence, though she does give a respectful nod to the Angel just to be safe. No need making enemies unnecessarily after all. The rest of the camp was business as usual: weapons everywhere, probably tent for religion set up somewhere that a lot of people will be visiting through the night, story fires that she makes note to visit later, the usual. The unusual comes when it’s said that Ayrenis has stopped by and Beatrix beelines straight for him. Clife still has her knowingly irrational dislike of the Angel, but she’s gotta report into someone and it might as well be him. So she follows Beatrix’s wake. Not like Clife knows her way around camp yet anyway.

[Inferi]

The sheer enormity of the fissure in front of her had immediately drawn Aliera's gaze, although the look was one of bitterness more than amazement. Such fissures had been known to her people since they had been created, and they were always areas of constant surveillance. While not a clear threat to their home, the Seral'aiense had known what problems could arise if anyone would crack through the fissure in the wrong place. Their race was separated from the rest of the world for a reason, and they planned to keep it that way unless there was no other option available. Unlike Aliera, most of her race had no interest in the affairs of the upper world, and believed that they should remain as distant as possible. There were still those that remembered the first human war, and none had any desire to repeat that.

What truly captured her attention, though, was the camp itself, and it was this that was the source of her bitter expression. What was going on here was unacceptable. Slavery in any form was wrong no matter who you were, and it shocked her how easily the demonic race employed such a thing. The evil that was present in the denizens of the underworld was well known to her, but even with the knowledge of their nature Aliera still couldn't understand it. There was something in her that made such acts something impossible to carry out, and she couldn't imagine not having that to restrain her. Ever since she had come to the surface, emerging in the middle of a war between the upper and lower planes, she had been struggling to understand the world that she was now part of. Demons were the purest expression of evil that she had ever seen, but the corruption that they spread across the world was shocking. That some mortal individuals could become as bad as the demonic creatures made no sense, for she had thought that it was in a race's nature to do good. It was saddening to find out that she was not entirely correct.

The appearance of the druid was of no surprise, although it was a bit of a welcome sight. A friendly face in this gods-forsaken area was hard to come by, even if that face was not truly here. Aliera crouched down as the gemstone activated, hiding herself behind the dune while the druid spoke. There was no denying her words; this place was one of the worst places Aliera had seen in her time on the surface. It was painful to know that she could not help these people now, but the fact that she could do something was the reason she had come in the first place. The danger was not a deterrent, actually being one of the reasons she had decided to come. Not many people could do something like this, and she knew that, although not great, her chances were probably better than most.

As Adjea spoke of where exactly she wanted Aliera to go, the young Seral'aiense couldn't help but look back over the dune and down at the fissure. A descent into that was a chilling prospect, due in no small part to the mass of both guards and slaves toiling in the area. If the demons were interested in something that was sleeping in the depths of the earth, though...that wasn't something that she could ignore. They had enough power without digging up more, and if Adjea believed that the energies there might help the tribes free this region from the demons that was enough to make Aliera believe that it was worth it. Anything that could stop this horrendous operation was something that needed to be tried, and she may as well be the one to do it. Without a catalyst, nothing would ever happen, and she couldn't leave the world as it was right now.

"Don't worry. I'll be careful." she told the druid quietly just before Adjea vanished and she tucked the stone away. "Hopefully they would just kill me." she added humorlessly once she was alone. That was probably one of the better-case scenarios, and that wasn't something she was particularly glad for. Dying was something she wanted to do about as much as any human, since she knew that it would be quite unpleasant even if she could come back from it.

The War Spirit also had her a little worried, although she knew that it was the least of her worries. As long as she could avoid it, it would hopefully pose no threat to her, although since she did not know that for a fact it wasn't something she was going to take for granted. Until she knew anything more about it, though, the demon guards were priority one. She just hoped that they really were as arrogant as Adjea had appeared to think they were, since she might need them to be with the sheer number of them there.

Dealing with them was a problem, though, and it took a few moments of thought to decide what the best way would be. Charging them had the potential to work, but there was too much risk in that plan to make her feel comfortable going along with it. All it would take was one random demon to round the corner and see her taking down one to bring the entire army to her location. Just sneaking in fully armed was a bit more feasible, but it would make it impossible to blend in with the slaves if she needed to. On the other hand, it gave her a stronger option for combat should she need to fight. Since she was not planning on having that happen, though, it made more sense for her to simply leave her equipment and try to blend in with everyone. Unfortunately, that would leave her weaponless, as even a single hint of a weapon would bring the demons to her, but hopefully she wouldn't be forced to use one. Even if she was, grabbing one from someone in the camp would presumably be easy enough.

Decision made, Aliera removed her armor and weaponry, looking at the gauntlet for a moment before placing it on the ground. She could have attempted to hide it under her clothing, but the spikes on the fingers had the potential to cause too many problems. Under her armor, she wore clothing that would allow her to fit in with the surface population, at least as much as her appearance would allow. She had gotten rid of her native clothing shortly after finding the surface, as she had realized that it set her too far apart from everyone else. Instead, she had found clothing that surface-dwellers wore, and had obtained some for her own use. It made her look less out of place, and hopefully it would help her blend in now.

Although she felt out of place without any of her equipment, it brought to mind a phrase that had been told to them in the Academy from the first week. "While a weapon is as much a part of a warrior as the warrior's body, there will be times that a weapon cannot be used. You must adapt, make yourself into a weapon. The only difference between weapons, no matter what form they take, is the skill of the user."

It did not bring much comfort, but at the very least Aliera knew that she was not helpless. She still had herself, and that could be just as dangerous as when she was fully armed. With a small flourish of her hand, she drew a small mark in the sand, nodding to herself when it glowed dull white for under a second before returning to look exactly like sand.

"Here we go, then." she said to herself quietly, making her way over the dune and down towards the camp, using the shifting sands and the darkness to mask her approach as best she could. Even if she was planning on blending in with the crowd, she needed to get to it first.

[jayjaycaps]

As they set down the road, Flim took the reins, humming his signature song quietly. Flam sat in the back across from Talkea, and played with a small shadow flame on his fingertips. He occasionally stole glances at Talkea, looking back to his flame whenever their eyes met. He felt like she should say something to calm her down, seeing how nervous or put off she looked. She had ever right to be nervous: she was taken from her camp, raped by a dragon, had to put up with Flim's mind control, and watched a whole town get turned in mindless slaves. The twins hadn't told her about any of this when they asked for an escort back at her camp.

Letting his flame sputter and die in his palm, Flam had a small mental conversation with Flim. Using an incredibly weak version of mind control/suggestion, they could "whisper" into each other's thoughts, letting them talk almost telepathically. That wasn't a very nice apology. What do you want me to do, Flam? I made the right call. If I hadn't, we would have never swayed the crowd in our favor. She's just a kid, Flim. I don't want her to become as bad as us... Let out a short laugh, forgetting that they were talking in their heads. Just a kid? Do you even know how old she is? And what do you mean 'as bad as us'? W're in this for ourselves, brother. So what if we take advantage of people? So what if we tricked that mage into becoming a mindless drone? So what if we did that to an entire town? They were stupid, and we were smart. It's either us or them, brother. When did you grow a conscience? A long pause settled, Flim being quite upset with his twin, and Flam thinking carefully. ... I'm going to talk to her. ...Wha-what? Talkea. 'm going to talk to her. You were right, we don't even know how old she is. I'm going to find out. N-no! Flam, don't you see? The more we know, the harder it will be to betray her! It's like naming a cow you know you will have eat!

Giving his brother a scowl, Flam broke the silence by talking to Talkea while keeping his eyes on the ground. "So, Talkea, uh... Tell us about yourself." Flim let out an exasperated sigh, amazed by his brother's failure with speech. How was it that they were related?

[Reply]

Eyeing the two girls on the side of the road. Flim turned and hit Flam's arm, stopping the cart. The twins quickly forgot about their previous mental argument, and put their best smiles on (as always). Jumping down from the cart, the twins bowed deeply to the females, taking off their straw hats. "Ladies! Allow me to introduce ourselves! I'm Flim, he's Flam! We're the world famous Flimflam Brothers, travelling salesmen, nonpariel! Who might we be having the up most pleasure of meeting today?"

[Icaelus]

Vivienne returned Cier's smile, looking into the mirror-like surface of the portal as Cier raised a hand to it. It was beautiful. Nothing else could describe it better than that one word. Various pictures and images of all of Autum's greatest architecture and landmarks sifted through the portal's surface, each of the watercolor-like pictures telling Vivienne more about Autum than she had ever known in her life. She didn't catch what Cier was whispering, but the portal suddenly flashed and the slideshow of Autum shifted into a seemingly real-time image of..a beach?
Cier gripped her hand tightly, recommending that she held her breath.
"Huh? Hold my breath?"

Viv raised an eyebrow at the advice. Guess you couldn't breathe in magic portals? She soon found out the reason for Cier's little tip as they passed through the portal. She felt like she was...well, underwater. The feeling seemed to go poof into thin air just as it had started, leaving Viv feeling very weird indeed.
"Nngh. That felt really weird."
The girl muttered, using her free hand to rub the tingling sensation off her arm. Passing through the portal had more or less left goosebumps all over her skin. She looked away from her arm, to the place where they had arrived..
"...Wow."
Aside that single word, she was more or less struck speechless. Their immediate surroundings to say the least was...breathtaking. Literally so, she thought as she quickly gulped down a lungful of air. Dying from forgetting to breathe was brainless and wholly embarrassing. A gentle tug on her hand from Cier led her down to the beach, her steps rather awkward as she had never ever laid a foot on sand before. She seemed almost surprised when the sand scrunched beneath her feet. An entire new experience.

"It's beautiful..Thank you, Cier."
Viv smiled at the demon, giving his hand a light squeeze. According to him, they were on a beach somewhere in Western Autum. Pretty far off from Tear Stone, probably. Viv didn't exactly know much about Autum's geography, sadly. She closed her stormy eyes, sighing as a warm breeze blew, fanning her waist length pink hair out behind her. Just walking on the beach was relaxing..more so with him by her side. Despite his shyness, Cier was really reliable. Maybe..she could get him to be a little assertive?
She looked to Cier once again as he raised his hand to his eyes to shade out the sun, squinting at something in the distance. Viv turned to look at the said direction, making out some kind of spiral stone tower. Even in the distance, Viv could see the magical runic symbols carved into the gray stone. What caught her attention most was the very shiny object perched at the zenith of the tower, however..
Cier soon explained the object, which he thought was a magical artifact which of course, had Viv interested. She glanced out to the ocean and frowned. She didn't know to swim, which meant she wouldn't be getting anywhere near it without some help..which had her turning back to Cier, a coy smile playing on her lips. She drew closer to Cier and wrapped her arms around his arm.
"I want to find out what that thing is!"
Viv was obviously excited. She tugged on Cier's hand, leading him just to the edge of the beach, where the tides lapped at their feet.
"Ah..I don't know how to swim, though..do you..?"
She frowned. Maybe she could get some handy flying spell from Meesa or something like that? That levitation magic he had used looked awfully useful, especially now.

[napsii]

Jered -

Spoiler (click to show/hide):

Walking into the camp at Ayrenis' side, you felt like the heat of curiosity would make you catch fire. Magnetized to the Archangel's presence, soldiers and civilians of all ages and species peered out from behind tents and windows and quietly began to flood the streets, whispering gossip and shifting their attention between you -- them, no doubt a stranger -- and the wounded Ayrenis next to you. The Archangel continued into the camp, crowds parting for him, until he came to a great bonfire that burned proudly in a circular plaza at the heart of the camp. He placed his broken weapon across his back, turning to address the crowd that had begun to pour out from the aisles in between the buildings.

Particularly among these soldiers, two caught your attention: an irritated-looking young woman in gold hair and white-and-red clothing, and the dark-skinned elf next to her. Ayrenis looked grim. It was clear from his poise that he'd recovered only somewhat from his injuries.

"We have the Journal of Urun," the Archangel announced as the crowd fell silent. Anxiety brimmed within the crowd in obvious regard for his wounds, "As you can all I see, I was wounded, but not permanently. You must think not of me, but instead of your children, your friends, and your husbands and wives as we move forward with this victory." Ayrenis' lips curled into a certain smile as his voice rose louder, "The Journal will be a great instrument in furthering our efforts to shield the cause of peace and liberty from those who would see to take it. But this victory would not have been ours had our allies -- friends -- not stepped up to our side." the tall Angel glanced down at you.

"We have won this day, and we shall win the next. But you all must remember that as with any period of strife, you must have your heart in the right place, not just your blade." the Archangel raised his hand to shoulder level in an abstract gesture -- an Angelic sign of solidarity and friendship. The crowd boomed, mimicking his gesture, and the sound of clapping and weapons thumping off shields began to resound. It was several minutes before all came to order again, leaving you to stand around aimlessly as Ayrenis addressed the dozens of questions fired his way by those who sought his guidance. Looking around, you saw that there were more eyes on you than before. However implicit the Archangel had been, it was clear that everyone understood your efforts to help them.

Deep in your mind, you felt a cool sensation of gratitude. The day had been a terrible one, filled with violence, but your conscience seemed sharper. You know you made the right decision. (+30 alignment)

"I must retire for the night, but I believe Chelle and Makari should be returning soon, as well as Hanako. Please tell them to direct any further questions to them." Ayrenis finished talking with an armor-clad male Angel, who silently nodded and walked off. The Archangel was just about to turn to you when a voice lit up the air:

"Heeeeeyyyyyy!"

Pushing her way through the thinning crowd with stunning strength a familiar white-haired young woman came to a halt in front of you:



"Greetings, Tal. I was about to take my leave, but perhaps I can trouble you to show Jered to some quarters for the night?" Ayrenis proposed.

The dragon girl nodded.

"Oh, yeah. Of course. Cicely said they hadn't finished building the next block of barracks yet, but he can sleep in my tent! It's got a big bed." she grinned, looking to you. Ayrenis nodded cautiously, sensing he should leave.

"Very well. I suggest you rest well, Jered. As you were the one who retrieved the Journal, I must ask that you meet me in the morning so that we can discuss topics of certain importance. Good night." the Archangel said, and walked off, vanishing into the city of tents soon after. Tal took your wrist, beginning to pull you along before you could so much as return a look at the white-garbed young woman from before who was glaring at Ayrenis as he brushed off.

"Here, come on. My tent is on the edge of the camp!" Tal said excitedly, leading you through the war camp's stunning mass. Despite her feminine stature, the dragon girl was incredibly strong. It was realistic to think she'd rip your arm off if she pulled any harder. Some time later you came to edge of the camp, where in a partition away from the neighboring buildings was a large and elaborate wood pavilion, colored deep red. Its construction reminded you of a flower. Stair steps led to the door. Pulling you inside, Tal clicked it shut and gestured to the hexagon-shaped interior. Thanks to the raised flooring and a small fireplace burning gently in the corner, it felt warm and isolated. Against one wall was a very large and comfy-looking bed, along with a dresser, mirror, weapons rack and a circular bath hooked up to actual running water and some sort of mechanical apparatus that let one change the water temperature.

The hide of a black Fenrir -- an extremely rare and extremely dangerous giant wolf that lived in the Northern Wastes -- covered the floor as a carpet, and little paintings lined the walls. A magical lantern hanging from the ceiling provided light, as the opaque walls blocked out the setting sun. Tal hopped onto the edge of the bed.

"This is my room." she said proudly, "Do you like it? You can take off your weapons and stuff if you want. There's enough room on my bed for two." she bit her lower lip. The dragon girl's cheeks seemed to tinge a nervous pink.

Vivienne -

Spoiler (click to show/hide):

Cier grinned nervously. You could sense the appreciation beaming off of him as he looked out onto the sunset. The sunsets on this end of the continent were famous, and even now in this time of turmoil were still the topic of countless paintings and other works of art. The sun had almost collapsed under the horizon, and yet the sky was still painted awe-inspiring shades of orange and yellow. The wolf boy's ears perked up, hearing your proposal.

"You-- whuh!?" he half-barked, the idea having obviously not come to mind with him before. He paused considerately, looking down at the gentle waves lapping at the soft, fine sand ahead of his feet. Its size made it hard to judge, but you guessed that the strange pillar was just a few hundred yards out, well within the reach of the shallow waters popular with swimmers. Even in this light, the bottom was still clearly visible under the evening sun, so the night wouldn't be an issue.

"Oh, y-yeah. I can swim just fine. I can do it even better when I'm in my wolf form, too." he replied absentmindedly, rubbing his neck thoughtfully. His face then lit up as an idea obviously splashed into his mind.

"If you can't swim, you can ride on my back. I think I'm big enough to carry you. Uh... there's no saddle, though." he tried to joke, cheeks turning red again. His lips trembled, then, "But, uhh, the thing is, I don't want to get my clothes wet. If I go swimming in my wolf form, they'll be wet when I change back." he said. He turned away with that, spotting a large piece of deadwood buried into the sand. A stripped branch curved upward, forming a near perfect hook from which to hang things. The wolf boy undid his cloak, tossing it around the branch, and then followed suit with his shoes, shirt and socks until he was left standing in just a plain pair of black underwear. You realized now how fit Cier was. He was rather muscular, very lithely built and had a visible tan from his labors, and more than one faded scar graced his body.

"Sorry, one sec!" he apologized with loud embarrassment as, in a shifting mass of shadows, he hunched down and morphed into the shape of a formidably-sized wolf with gray-red fur and red eyes. A demonic insignia seemed colored into his left shoulder. The wolf was clearly big enough for you to ride on comfortably.

I have webbed feet in this form, so I can swim pretty fast. he said telepathically. The wolf's ears flopped.

B-but, uhh, I mean, you don't need to take your clothes off, too. Tear Stone has a seamstress who can make you stuff, and there's a big wardrobe of girls' clothes in storage. he added.

Clife -

Spoiler (click to show/hide):

Beatrix shoved her way bitterly through the crowd, in an obvious hurry to follow the mass of people to the center of the camp. Few fired back at her rude antics, however; seeing her face, even the stoutest of dwarves or the most headstrong of giants fell silent to let her through. It lent to the impression that the woman had a reputation. Along the way, the crowd began to thin out and, but you found yourselves almost immediately intercepted by a white-haired girl with gold eyes who had been dashing along, colliding into you two and sending you both flat on your butts as she recklessly tried to glide through:



The girl looked over her shoulder and lit up with shock. She dashed over, quickly helping you two to your feet with unrealistic strength -- you felt like you were as light as a feather in her grip.

"Uhh, Oh my Goddess, I'm like, so sorry!" she chattered apologetically as she looked down to help Beatrix to her feet. The woman slapped her hand away as they met eyes. Tal paused, blinking, and even Beatrix showed a hint of surprise in her face as she stepped to her feet, seeming more impassive than irritated.

"Oh, Trixie? Hi!" the girl grinned, seeming excited. Beatrix grunted standoffishly.

"Yeah, whatever, Tal. Look, I'm going to see Ayrenis, so can you get out of the way?" she spoke flatly. Tal was the girl's name... Tal... did she mean Talphalos? You wanted to shiver. If you were correct, then you were standing in front of one of the most dangerous things in the realm. when the demons had foolishly summoned the dragon Nilgalos to help fight their war, her twin Talphalos was created unexpectedly. Some proposed it was the very universe creating an equal force to keep Nilgalos in check, but it did not matter; both Nil and Tal were colossal dragons who could demonstrably raze whole armies in an instant. They had human forms, however, and you guessed this was Tal's.

"Oh, yeah, sure. I'm looking for someone, too, so I'll see ya around!" Tal's smile softened, and she stepped up to Beatrix, clasping her hand, "And hey, please take care of yourself?" she said sadly.

With that, the dragon girl turned and ran off. Beatrix sighed again, shooting a hard look at you as if to command you not to say anything. With that, you two walked off again, coming to a great bonfire which towered over a circular sort of plaza near the camp's heart. Rows of people had gathered to listen to Ayrenis, who was addressing the crowd with what looked to be a man with tiger features at his side. Beatrix shoved through the crowd again to reach the front. The Archangel was almost everything he was rumored to be: tall and like a statue in poise, with combed golden hair and keen blue eyes, although his face was lined with obvious age. His magnificent white-and-gold armor, however, was a complete wreck. The implications were frightening, but it gave the noble Archangel a distinctly battle-torn and fierce look, even though his face spoke eons of patience.

Ayrenis seemed to glance to Beatrix for just an instant before his speech over the Journal of Urun concluded. You weren't sure what it was, to be honest: as far as the rumors went, it was a sort of spellbook kept by one of the ancient Archdemons from milennia ago, a sorceror named Urun. As the crowd dispersed, Beatrix began to push through to get to Ayrenis, but was intercepted by a... bird?

A vibrantly colored songbird whizzed past her face, nearly barreling into your head as it circled about you two annoyingly. The young woman groaned, at last holding out a hand perfectly still so that the bird -- to your knowledge, a common bird native to this area -- perched onto the back of her hand, cocking its head. Bizarrely, you could sense strange thoughts in the bird's mind. It was obviously entranced by something.

"Halyn, what the fuck do you want?" Beatrix growled.

The songbird tweeted a short tune, bobbing back and forth as its species did when singing.

"No, that can wait. I need to speak with Ayrenis."

The bird tweeted again, sounding unusually emotional for a bird.

"Huh...? You did?" Beatrix paused, seeming to stiffen.

The bird tweeted shortly, and flew off. By the time Beatrix came to attention, Ayrenis was already walking off and the crowd had dispersed. Tal, too, was visible, dragging away the tiger-man. Beatrix looked down.

Without a glance or a word in your direction, the young woman walked off hurriedly for another corner of the camp, leaving you alone in the plaza. What looked to be storefronts of all kind were facing the bonfire, including a very long, semi-permanent structure serving as a bar, several shops selling bread and even pastries, a blacksmith's post, and most esoterically of all, a tall, exceedingly-narrow tent with countless runes and designs stitched in silver and sapphire thread into its green surface. Flashes of excited arcane energy pumped out of the narrow cloth entrance. Looking up, you saw Beatrix was about to vanish from sight. You could follow her, or go somewhere else. Where to?

Flim + Flam -

Spoiler (click to show/hide):

Talkea looked up from her bow and arrow, seeming unconcerned. Pausing to consider Flim's statement, she shrugged, seeming a little sour.

"Huh... well, there isn't much shit to say about me. I grew up in a little village in the countryside around here. For most of my life we were hit with record droughts, so I learned to hunt with a bow since our crops weren't pulling in enough," she explained as the cart rolled on, "I used to walk two leagues three times a week to go to school at local chapel since the Way of Light priests there taught the kids in the parish how to read and write. So I'm not dumb. When the Demons and Angels invaded, my town got destroyed, sooo... I went back to the chapel. I stayed there for a few days to defend it from some bandits before a group of pro-Angel guys showed up to help. I was with them ever since, killing demons, and now here I am." she shrugged. "Sorry, guess you didn't want my life story. In any case, I don't really think I care about all of this Angel and Demon stuff now. It's kinda just like... a normal war, except everyone's superpowered. To be honest, I went with you so I could get away from those soldier guys. They were becoming really zealous, and I didn't want to get my head chopped off just to impress some Angel." she smiled humorlessly.

By then, the cart had come to a stop.

The girl with the pipe sat there impassively as you two leapt from your cart, giving your little routine. She cocked an eyebrow in amusement, smoke drifting out of her nose. Her companion in the hammock, though, was like a rock. As if she hadn't heard the song, she shifted in the hammock and continued to sleep away. The white-haired girl smiled.

"Well, hey there. I'm Makari. Nice to meet you two. You can just call me Mak." she spoke warmly, seeming relaxed. "And my friend here..." using her pipe, Makari poked her companion.

"Wake up, C. We've got visitors." she prodded.

"Mm. Are they trying to kill us or marry us?" the woman mumbled back.

"No, but you should still say 'hi'." Mak reasoned, looking back to you. The woman muttered something, at last unfolding her arms and stretching as she sat up. Eyes half-open but looking more relaxed than tired, she looked to you two.

"This is Chelle. Sorry, she's a little..." Mak bit the inside of her cheek, searching for the right word.

"Insouciant." Chelle corrected with fitting indifference. Talkea's jaw almost dropped.

"Wait... Chelle, as in Colonel Chelle? Swordmaster Chelle?" she gawked. You two remembered now, as well. To anyone who aspired to be a swordsman, this woman was practically a demigoddess. While she was now only a colonel in Autum's royal military, she was also the former commander of the Aurai Knights, an order of warriors who owed allegiance only to the Seven Virtues. After stepping down, she became a strategic adviser to the reigning monarch (after the demons slew the king, Princess Takara). Most famously, however, Chelle was one of the only four people in the last five hundred years -- much less, one of the only two humans -- to ascend to the revered title of Swordmaster, an honor bestowed only to the world's greatest swordfighters.

"That name sounds familiar." Chelle commented in a deadpan voice. Her half-closed eyes looked to your wagon, then.

"That's quite a lot of money..." observed Mak.

"No less than two thousand in coin." Chelle added with stunning precision.

"It's good to see some people can still be entrepreneurial, even in times like these." Mak commented. Chelle shot her a glance, and the two hunched closer to each to whisper for a good minute.

There was a long pause, and Makari leaned back against the tree as Chelle stood up, taking her ruby red blade in hand and planting the tip into the ground.

"That's Sorrow, right? Your famous sword?" Talkea asked excitedly, "Kind of a grim name." she commented.

"What would you have named it?" questioned Chelle, resting her palm on the blade's pommel.

"Hope." Talkea said brightly.

"You're going to cut off your enemy's face with hope?"

Mak coughed, then, changing the subject:

"We were actually wondering where you got all of that money. There's nothing but refugee camps around here, and none of them would part with that kind of money." she questioned gently, puffing on her pipe.

"Willingly." Chelle specified.

Aliera -

Spoiler (click to show/hide):

Arrogant in their positions as they were, the dime-a-dozen sentries patrolling the skirts of the camp had largely turned their patrols inward, making it a clear run for the gaps in the walls. Being that they were so far out in the desert, though, one might understand their vigilance -- or lack thereof. Who but a suicidal few, after all, would trek across the burning sands only to throw themselves against the countless guards? You quickly shuffled in between a gap in one of the crude wooden walls before any of the patrols could notice, only to be confronted by an obnoxious scent. Looking around, you found yourself practically sandwiched in between the rough clay walls of two adjacent buildings. While tents dominated the area around the lip of the fissure, narrow streets of small, squarish clay-and-wood houses were pressed up against the barrier walls, spilling out excess water and waste into the narrow alleyways separating them... like this one.

You wanted to choke up at the obnoxious scent. Waste had seeped into the cracks in the chalky alley floor, while more trickled out from the stubby pipes jutting from both buildings. Almost immediately, you made for the mouth of the alleyway, which led into a small, winding sand path around which had been built another block of shacks and tents. Countless slaves of all species -- but mostly being males -- walked back and forth, carrying tools and cargo of all kinds. From atop the stubby houses, guards armed with shabby metal weapons, wood clubs and mundane armor watched over the proceedings. It was easy to see why they avoided the streets, instead laying down wood ramps in between the flat, square rooftops to get across. You even spotted dining tables with chairs, laden with some drink and food, on some roofs. You heard a creaking above you as a guard stepped onto a ramp above the alleyway, onto the house adjacent.

You slipped into the street unnoticed. The guards, careless and inattentive, didn't notice as you slipped into the rushing river of people. The downtrodden slaves, dressed in ripped clothing and most wearing manacles or collars, pushed back and forth to get to and from the fissure. The winding street led you further toward the fissure, where it splintered into multiple paths leading to the mines, where there were more tents and sheds than houses. The smell was awful, still; the slaves obviously weren't allowed to bathe. This made you stick out, somewhat; your clothes were cleaner, but with so many dirty bodies brushing against you, they were smeared with grime and sand within minutes.

Aliera? The surface is where the slaves and guards house themselves, but little more. The refineries and mines are within the fissure walls, so I suggest you head there. you heard Adjea's voice in your head, suddenly. It was quiet and made your head feel fuzzy -- it was clear that Adjea was trying to camouflage her telepathy from any magi who might have been in the camp.

The guards use large elevators suspended over the fissure to lower themselves into the mines. Perhaps you should head there. she suggested, and then her voice cut out. True to her prediction, you came to the edge of the fissure just seconds later. Perilously, there were no railings or walls to stop one from falling down into the unfathomably deep blackness. The fissure stretched hundreds of yards across, and those on the other side were but tiny silhouettes. The closest tents and sheds, too, where some slaves slept, were but ten or twenty feet from the cliff. Your legs suddenly felt wobbly. The walls of the fissure were illuminated dimly by torches and the vibrant purple and blue glow of crystals, but the bottom was pure black. If one fell into there, they weren't coming back up.

As Adjea had mentioned, however, numerous elevators were suspended over the canyon, built on massive wooden frames retaining pulley systems that leaned over into the blackness like tree branches. You surmised from the crude workmanship that they'd been rebuilt numerous times. The ropes were thick enough, at least, to suspend the giant wooden platforms that lowered slowly into the blackness, while a number of slaves had to work a wheel at the edge of the fissure in order to lower or raise the platform. Countless elevators, built side by side on either side of the fissure, went constantly up and down.

A lone elevator rose to surface level at that moment, completely barren. A baker's dozen of slaves that had been waiting quickly climbed on board, waiting for the exhausted lift operators to catch their breath and lower the elevator back down. That was where you could catch a ride.

"Hey, you!" a voice called. You would have dismissed it for someone else until a large hand came down on your shoulder.

Looking up, you found yourself staring down the 7-foot tall stature of a... knight?

Dressed head to toe in fearsome black armor, save for own his maroon-skinned hands, an imposing demon of muscular stature towered over your far shorter figure. While a regal red cloak hung from his back, little about him suggested he was of a noble title or rank in the demons' army; his armor was worn and scratched, although quite intimidating, and the battleaxe cast over his back was not an ornate, enchanted weapon, but rather a mundane tool of blackened steel. Through his faceless helmet, two red eyes burned.

"You must be a fool, girl, to walk around so arrogantly, thinking you are free from having to wear a collar." he said with sickening malice. Peering past him, you spied a group of figures twice as intimidating. Just as tall as their black-armored companion here, a quartet of imposing, humanoid demons stood at the ready next a building, looking on at you through their helmets, which were configured in the shape of raging beasts as black horns curled from their sides. You knew they were not close to normal knights, though, for their thick, spiked platemail armor seemed to be forged of pure magma. Molten orange fissures ran through the ashen black obsidian, which you knew had been enchanted to be harder than any steel. Without exception, wicked great weapons were at their sides. They were Chaos Knights, the personal soldiers of the Margravine Araicina, known for their destructiveness and overpowering might on the field of battle.

The man in black let go of you, indicating for you to follow him. Strangely, he did not force your hand. You imagined he was a guard.

"Come. Now! You need to be properly outfitted."

The elevator seems prime to leave. Perhaps you could escape into it, but you can't be sure what this demon's authority is.

[Inferi]

The ease of her infiltration into the camp was almost unnerving. If any of the instructors at the Academy had been able to see the situation right now, Aliera was sure that they would be shaking their heads in disapproval. Guards in a major installation like this should always be alert and wary, because, no matter how many people would be dissuaded from coming her simply because of the location and army, there would always be that one person that felt that it was worth it to sneak into the camp. Her race was just different from those on the surface, it seemed. They diligently kept to their posts, and everyone could always trust everyone else because the entire race understood how important it was to do what you needed to do to the best of your ability. The drive to perfection just wasn’t present in everyone else the way it was in her race, and the concept of that was, just like so much on the surface, foreign to her.

As soon as she hit the alley, though, all of that was driven from her mind and replaced by repulsion towards the waste and filthy water that she was now standing in. It took a great deal of effort not to gag at the influx of overpowering scents, but Aliera just barely managed to do so. The effect of this on her was greater than it would be to most, as her exposure to such a situation was minimal at best. Having been in few cities on the surface, her only experience with waste control was what the Seral’aiense had created under the earth. It was advanced and efficient, and every facility that she could think of had some kind of disposal facilities that worked in a clean manner. A combination of magic and structural design eliminated nearly all of the smell and mess from the waste. It was a system that worked extremely well, so compared to that, this was just horrendous. A lack of any kind of clean disposal just dropped everything into these alleys, and nobody seemed to care about it.

That was yet another thing that Aliera did not understand. In her short time on the surface, she had come across a few cities and towns, and she had yet to see any kind of efficient and organized system for something like this. Up here, it seemed that the limiting factor for what could be made was currency, while the limiting factor for her race was the amount of people that could be working on the project. Currency had roles in her society, but the majority of work was done by people working to make the society better because they knew it needed to be done. If something needed to happen, the Seral’aiense would work together, making it happen. Everyone understood that they needed to work together to achieve goals, and they acted accordingly. Up here, there was just so much disunity, and it was amazing to Aliera that anything ever got done.

Beginning to move towards the mouth of the alley, she repeatedly checked the rooftops nearby for guards. That was where most of them seemed to congregate, and given the state of the lower areas she could understand why. What self-respecting guard would bother to descend into the mass of those he was guarding when it was a lot easier to keep watch from high up in a cleaner and more enjoyable location?

It made her angry that they could do that, that they could allow these people to live in such bad conditions while they just stood watch over them from a place that they didn’t have to experience the same conditions from. Aliera had little to no experience with slavery, as there was none in her own society, but the more she saw the more she hated it. No creature had the right to such dominion over another, no matter what their reasoning was. It was sickening to see this, to see the squalor and filth that the slaves were forced to live in while their oppressors just watched and enjoyed themselves. Every step she took into this just strengthened her resolve and let her know that she was doing the right thing. The danger was irrelevant if she could make everything happening in this place come to a halt.

Fortunately, slipping into the street undetected was as easy as her entrance into the camp. Unfortunately, the smell, which she had hoped would have vanished at least a little by now, was still as strong as ever. Although the prolonged exposure to the smell was beginning to make it slightly more bearable, it took a great deal of effort for Aliera to control her gag reflexes. The only thing that gave her the strength to do it was the fact that she couldn’t afford to. None of the slaves seemed to be bothered by it, and if she was one of them she would need to act in the same manner.

Within minutes of stepping out onto the street, her clothing, skin, and hair were covered with grime, something that she lamented but knew was necessary. She couldn’t blend in if she looked clean, no matter how much she really did not want to look like they did. This actually helped a little, providing a smell that was constant and she could more easily adjust to. It was still difficult, and she still had to concentrate, but little by little, as she was swept along with the tide of slaves, it became easier to breathe without feeling the immediate need to be sick.

She had almost completely conquered the feeling when a voice sprang into her head. It was a good thing that Adjea had waited until now, or Aliera was sure that she would have lost control and been sick all over everyone in front of her. She could tell that the effect was coming from the fact that the druid was attempting to disguise her telepathy, and it was actually a little surprising to the young woman that any attempt was being made at all. The dangers in doing such a thing were many, and one would have to be incredibly careful not to trigger something that would let others be aware of their presence.

Still, the message was both welcome and helpful. Although she was figuring out what she could as she went along, Aliera had next to no knowledge of the camp. Adjea’s suggestions on where she should go next were something that she was grateful for, since stumbling around in a camp filled with potentially hostile demons was not something she wanted to be doing. While it was true that there weren’t many places that she could actually go, an affirmation of where she thought was the right place was useful.

That place, her destination, became apparent only seconds later when she came to an abrupt halt at the edge of the fissure. A glance down into the endless darkness below made Aliera immediately take a few steps back, unwilling to stay anywhere near that edge. It didn’t take a whole lot of imagination to figure out what would happen if she stepped over it, and she had absolutely no desire to meet that kind of end. The lit sides only served to increase her desire to stay away, since they highlighted a drop long enough to kill her even without the added fall into blackness.

The elevators, though…that was where she needed to get. The number of them was impressive, although the technology was slightly primitive. Still, setting up an operation like this meant working with what you could, and she was fairly sure the demons didn’t care how simple the elevators were if they did their job well. The safety of the slaves didn’t seem to be of paramount importance, given the lack of restraining devices on the edge of the fissure, and she doubted any of the demons would care if an elevator fell and took a group of slaves with it.

With the grim thought in mind, Aliera took a deep breath and took a single step towards the most recent, and nearest, elevator to come up. She wanted to waste no time in getting down into the fissure. Unfortunately, any further movement was curtailed by a large hand on her shoulder, and the young woman shut her eyes for a moment, sure that she was caught. It took some courage to look up at the one who was restraining her, and the sight wasn’t quite the best thing she could expect. A seven-foot tall, muscled, and fully-armed demon was a sight that she had hoped to avoid for now. While lacking any real official badge or rank insignia, his presence alone was enough to cause problems. No scenario that she could think of was advantageous to her, as she was unarmed and without armor while he had both those advantages and the advantage of strength.

When he spoke, however, it took a great deal of effort to prevent a sigh of relief from escaping her lips. Although his presence wasn’t something she wanted, the fact that he thought she was a slave was far better than any alternative she could think of. Although the malice in his voice made her feel ill, and the fact that he was so clearly enjoying this made her angry, Aliera managed to stop herself from doing anything. Her fingers tried to curl into a fist, but she put a stop to that as soon as she was aware it was happening. She just kept repeating to herself that she needed to act like a slave would, and no slave would dare to make any action that could be deemed aggressive.

A glance at the elevator confirmed that it was almost ready to leave, and she knew that it would probably be possible to run and get on it before the demon could stop her. One thing stopped that, though, and that thing was the Chaos Guards that she could see behind her detainer. Aliera had heard the stories about them, and she knew that they were watching her. If they knew that she had run from the guards, it was likely that they might report to the Margravine. Putting the camp on alert was bad enough, but at least for now she had the small advantage of nobody knowing what race she was. At least, she assumed that, as it seemed unlikely to her that any of the lesser demons would be aware of her race’s existence. The greater demons, though…she wasn’t willing to assume that they didn’t know either, and the advantage of being an unknown wasn’t one that she wanted to give up yet.

Besides, even if it had just been the single demon guard, for that is what she assumed he was, putting the entire camp on alert wasn’t something she could afford to do. Not now, at least, when she hadn’t even made it into the fissure yet. An escape route was preferable, no matter what the situation. Although it was possible that the guard wouldn’t think it was bad enough to alert everyone, she couldn’t take the chance that he might. Having demons chase her through the fissure, when she didn’t really know where she was going, could easily end in a very bad manner.

Given all of that, she was left with only a single option. The lack of a forceful pull in the direction that the guard wanted her to go was a little strange, although with some thought it made sense. If she tried to run, he could alert the entire camp with a single shout. She would be overpowered and brought to where he wanted her to go, and the result would be the same. There was nothing for her to do besides follow him, as far as he was concerned.

With one last look back at the elevator, Aliera turned and went to follow the guard, trying to look like a slave would. She could still make it, but it would require using her magic to make it quick enough to stay undetected. That carried more risk than simply running, as she knew that it would give some clue to the demons that she wasn’t who she was pretending to be.

Hopefully the collar would be simple metal, as she had observed from her movement with the sea of slaves. While it would probably be hard to get off, if she didn’t have something that magically tied her to the camp an escape would be a lot easier. Having a magical tether to a demon was the last thing she wanted to have right now.

[Zender_Solarheart]

While walking with Ayrenis through the camp, Jered does his best to ignore the many gossipers along the sidelines. He's certain most, if not all of them see him as a stranger, but it was not for recognition that he chose the Angels' side. His choice to ally with them was made knowing what kind of world the Demons would bring about: one where every living soul - and then some - would trample over each other in a mad, lustful chase for power. Besides, he'd rather people be punished for their evil deeds, not their good ones.

Jered remains quiet during Ayrenis's speech, listening intently to his words. The Archangel speaks so close to his own mind, Jered feels as if he's pulling the thoughts right out of his head for reference material. Considering his telepathic hawk form, that could be quite possible...though, the chance he'd be doing it right now is very low. Ayrenis's inference to his own part in the Journal's recovery causes Jered to smile with satisfaction, though such a feeling is directed to his ability to help. Being proud of one's accomplishments, in itself, is nothing wrong; it only becomes the sin of Pride when one dwells on and boasts about it, and Jered is sure to safe-guard his thoughts from such a vice.

With Ayrenis's speech concluded, Jered is about to turn and follow...

"Heeeeeyyyyyy!"

...when quite the familiar voice catches in his ears.

Turning towards the voice's direction, Jered is greeted by the sight of Tal, the white dragoness who helped him enter Tear Stone in the first place. He's relieved to see her unharmed; when Ayrenis and him made their escape, he was worried that she may have been injured in her own retreat. Then again, she is a powerful holy dragon...yeah, seems there was even less to be worried about than he thou-...wait...did she say he'd be sleeping in her quarters?

Before he can utter so much as a syllable to inquire on that, Jered is whisked away by Tal, getting just enough time to see the pavilion's outside before he's brought inside of it. Tal shows him around her room, and he'd be lying if he said it wasn't impressive: a small, warm fireplace in the corner keeping it cozy; her nice bed, dresser, and mirror; a bath with an actual running water source, and temperature-adjustment to boot; and a weapons rack that he thought she wouldn't need...being a dragon and all, y'know? Ah well, it's good to come prepared, regardless.

"It's...amazing. They definitely spared no expense here." Jered answers honestly, just before Tal reiterates that they'll be sleeping in the same bed. He can't help but blush a bit as well, knowing the implications...though, she did technically offer this, and it would be rude to refuse her kindness...

Taking her advice to offload his gear, Jered unbuckles his sword and sheath from his belt, setting them on the weapons rack. Then he removes his gauntlet, setting it down next to the rack for easy access later. Seeing how it's a bit toasty with his jacket on, Jered also removes it and the chain-mail layer, revealing a simple white undershirt beneath that seems...just a tiny bit smaller than his size. It still fits him comfortably, yes, but one can see the traces of his muscles when he leans back to stretch, honestly tuckered out from the long day he's had.

Jered tries his best to remain well-mannered in Tal's presence, though simply thinking about how they'll be sharing a bed causes his blush to deepen, and his heart to beat a bit faster. She's a very beautiful lady, after all...and he may find it a bit hard to sleep with her lovely form so close to him all night, though he couldn't say the reason itself would be "bad," per se...

[MiscChaos]

Clife’s a little amused by Beatrix’s actions and people’s reaction, her reputation obviously such that no one wanted to mess with her right now. Hell, Clife didn’t wanna mess with her right now with her acting the way she is. She doesn’t notice the girl she crashes into until she’s pulled Clife back on her feet, making it look like she weighted nothing. Her curiosity immediately piques after that, though it soars after Beatrix calls her “Tal”. Tal, as in Talphalos, one of the two dragons?

‘Dragon in camp found. I am now free to mouth off if I feel like.’ she thinks. She gives Tal a bow as the girl runs off then follows Beatrix, wondering the relationship between the two if Tal can get away with calling her “Trixie” without too much fuss. Then again, you don’t really fuss with a dragon, she supposes. Ayrenis’ speech comes and goes, her interest in the Journal of Urun minimal since she doesn’t know much about it. When the bird comes and changes Beatrix’s objective, Clife lets her go. Based on the rough woman’s body language, she’s not all that sure Beatrix wants company wherever she’s going. If they’re both in camp, they’re sure to meet again, so she decides to go after Ayrenis to give her report. It’s not much of a report since she can barely remember what her objective was, but she probably should report in. After that, she’s definitely gonna look into the stands she saw in the plaza. There might be something useful after all.

[Reaver]

(Sorry I've had a tight schedule lately)
Razajin rises quickly to has the conversation turns to other events. The info on Shinei's Dark Whispers was pretty interesting seeing how they were powerful enough to transform an angel. However the matter of honor was something that carried more importance for him. "I have every intention of regaining my honor through any means necessary, Margrave. Even if I have to slay angels by the dozens or drain whole villages of their soul essence." He backs his statement up by engulfing his hand in shadows, turning it pitch black. "I'll make rivers run crimson with the blood of holy worshipers and soldiers by the time I'm done." Razajin curls his hand into a fist, dispersing the shadows and ending his little moment of solemnness. He begins to follow Xierante out the arena but remembers to grab his weapons. Taking a few more steps further Razajin stops at the two SVN guards that tried to attack Ayrenis. "Your defeat, my victory." He mutters as he grabs one of their bayonet weapons. Even if he can't use their weapons, the cash for selling one of them is sure to be substantial and taking it makes him feel a little better about losing.

With his weapons in hand, Razajin falls in line behind the Margrave, listening to him talk until something loud drowns all the noise out. Razajin looks up, watching the vast shadow of a white dragon fly over him before crashing into a part of the coliseum. Razajin can only manage a whistle as part of the arena pretty much explodes into rubble. He takes a few steps back to avoid becoming a stain and looks up in time to see another dragon rip through a magic barrier. "Norith was right. These dragons cause a shitload of problems. I'd dump them on the other side of the world if I were y-." Just like the Margrave a roar interrupts him before the dragon flies off, probably to stir up trouble. The rest of the walk was pretty eventful besides the throngs of demons chatting about the appearance of an Archangel and just a little about the arena fight. The tighten security at the entrance to the Noble's Hall gives Razajin a slight pause as he walks past them slowly to appear non-threatening. Xierante's speech goes well, showing how influential he is as a Margrave. Razajin stands behind Xier the whole time trying to seem tough while not noticeable enough for people to remember that he was in the arena a couple of minutes ago. He's slightly surprised that the Margrave still trusts in him enough to ask him to do a favor. "Of course my Margrave. I would be happy to do whatever you require, especially if it requires bloodshed of the worst kind."