The Vigilante's Message ((Open))

[Daven Logarthu]

“Please, stop! PLEEEEEEEEEEEEASE STOP! ARRRHhh...”A very frightened man screamed aloud, but no one heard him. Even if they had heard him, it is doubtful that anyone would care. The man’s appearance was that of a vagrant, unshaven, tattered clothing, hair twisted into knots. A very bloody dagger lay in the grass nearby, staining the blades beneath with the crimson liquid. A few gold coins were clutched in the man’s hands.

Nearby a young boy clutched at his left arm, blood seeping between his small tightly clenched hands. Tears ran down his face as he tried to disappear from everyone’s sight, to get away from the pain and violence. However, nothing could rid him of the truth, of reality. Noone could truly escape from reality, though that did not stop many from trying. The boy was one of many who wished simply to survive, though was not strong enough to survive on his own, not from lack of trying. Always taken advantage of, always beaten, abused, and robbed. None had come to his rescue. None, that is, until now.

Standing over the vagrant man was a large man, with grey hair and eyes, a wooden staff in hand. He reared back and cracked the man across the face again with the staff. His eyes began to roll up into his head, but a well placed kick kept him in this reality. “Mercy! MERCY! PLEASE!” the man cried out again.

“Mercy?” The man spoke finally, staring deep into the vagrant’s eyes. “Did you show mercy when this boy refused to give you his money? Did you show mercy the hundreds of times you’ve robbed people along this road, or when you killed dozens for petty reasons?” He let the question hang. The man slunk back away from the staff-wielding vigilante, breaking the stare silently. “I thought not. My verdict is guilty. The penalty is death.”

Opening his hand, a pure ball of fire, hovering like a small sun over his hand, appeared. Small as it was, it was incredibly deadly and enough to deal with the scum before him. With a simple gesture, the fire slowly left his hand and crept toward the thief. The man simply stared at his death, unable to comprehend what was about to occur. The ball of fire dropped to his left boot, igniting it instantly. Which is precisely the time that the man decided to panic. He beat frantically at his leg, trying to stop the flames that spread to his other leg, chest, arms, and eventually his head.

Screams of torment erupted from the man’s mouth as he began to burn to death. He stood up and began running around, looking for something to stop the flames. He only made it about fifty feet before he collapsed, dead before he hit the ground. Fire continued to eat away at his body until all that remained were mere ashes of his former self. The vigilante walked over to where the man had fallen, kneeling down before him. He brushed away the ashes until he found what he was looking for, the gold coins.

“Justice is served.”

He stood and walked back to the boy, sitting down beside him. He held out the coins to the boy who hesitantly took them from his hand. The man pulled a strip of cloth from his sack and grabbed the boy’s arm. He tied the cloth tightly around a deep gash in the slender arm, stopping the blood flow and protecting the wound. He smiled at the boy, trying to reassure him.

“Do not be afraid, boy. I only want to talk. My name is Daven Logarthu. May I ask yours?”

“Daniel,” the boy replied, staring at the gold in his hands. He was simply to frightened to look at the man who had just slain his attacker.

“Just Daniel? You have no last name?”

“Just Daniel.”

((Anyone can join, merely be traveling down the road, or you can know the guy and want to fight me. I really don't care which.))

[Plague]

For reasons, that the demon could not understand, Plague had travelled the lands of Althanas high and low, in search from some reason as to why Lust had betrayed him in the middle of a battle with a fierce Rogue that lasted some time. Lust had been a tad bit naughty, and in an act of jealously over Plague's new beloved weapon Castrator, she embedded herself deep into the demon's leg after a rather nasty fall.

From his safety, in the icy lands of Salvar, the incubus walked the many miles of Althanas, looking for a way to get Lust back on his side. But, in the back of the fiend's mind, he knew that the only way that Lust would ever be his one and only again, would be to cast aside his new love, and only be her's.

These lands of Corone were a complete mystery to the demon. The tall blades of grass, the tree's that had leaves on them, and most of all, the heat. My, the heat seemed to be an even bigger foe than anything the incubus had ever tangled with in his whole existence.

Sweat ran down his brow, and made the bangs of his red hair damp with moisture. Plague's breathing began to grow heavy as he kept on walking through the forest. His wings that he normally kept out, for all to see his true demon hertiage, were now confind to the tight prison of his tattered green shirt.

He knew that he had to in some way convince Lust that she was the only thing that truly mattered to him. He also needed to show her that Castrator was an asset to the both of them, and that nothing could take her place as the number one naughty bitch in his life.

He broke off into a deep sigh as he began to speak to his beloved. "Now Lust, you must...."

A large cry broke the silence around them. The demon's ears twitched with excitement. He knew the cry of anguish extremely well. It was like a beautiful symphony that he had been missing out on for quiet some time. He looked around himself, trying to find just where the sound had emitted from.

"MERCY!" Broke into the air, and Plague's ocean like eyes, began to swim in wonder. The monster knew that he had to get to this cry of pain and watch as this dance of death was carried out. He might also get a chance to inflict a little bit of pain and magic along the way.

Taking off at a sprint, the incubi's hand went straight down into his pocket and wrapped itself around Lust's sharp contures. Her edge was as sharp as ever, and he could feel her heart leap a little, as she found herself back in the claw like hand of her beloved Plague. But, that did not mean by any means that she forgave him, but her love for the demon could not be ignored.

The shadows from the tall trees around him, cast grand shadows of darkness all around, Plague's eyes could not see any darkened figures, or hear anything yet, but he knew he had to be close. His human hunting skills had not let him down yet, and by god, he was not going to miss a chance to prove himself to Lust. Not now!

The sounds of men having a verbal brawl came off to the right side of him. Past a few tree's. The demon made his way quitely over to the source of the voices. There, standing, seemed to be two men, one looked rather scruffy and completely unkept, the other...well...he's what we would call the weak type.

But, on the ground lay a young boy who appeared to be scared out of his wits. But, before the demon could say anything, a flash of light came from the weak man's hands, and then a horrid scream, followed by the smell of burning flesh. It had been done. Someone had been killed, and Plague had missed the chance to indulge himself.

As he looked to the would be winner, the demon saw that the weak man, was now standing over the boy trying to gain some information.

Plague, with a sly smile, and his love for always being a diplomat, walked gracefully from the woods, and approched the two locked in what appeared to be deep conversation.

Turning to the man, who had clearly cast the fire spell upon the now burnt heap of flesh before them, Plague spoke, "You know, there are much easier ways to do away with such creatures. Simply burning them to the ground seems a little bit barbaric don't you think?"

He laughed a little to himself. Plague never knew how to hold back his tongue, even in first introductions with other's, Plague found it hard to kept his serpent like tongue at bay.

Turning to the boy on the ground, Plague meerly said, "Up, come along now! We don't have all day to be nursing you back to your normal mental state."

Sighing and rolling his eyes to the weak styled man, he shook his head in disbelief. "Oh, do forgive me. I haven't even introduced myself." Taking his hand away from Lust, and feeling her cry, well, more scream at him to come back, he extended his claw like hand to the man and said, "I would be Rava. Do forgive my claw like appearance, a horrid witch cast a spell on me, and it seemed it never fully wore off."

Laughing to himself, Plague knew all too well, that his silver tongue was a gift, and he would use it as long as he could to keep this whole shadow going on. But, would it provide a little taste of blood, or violence in the mix? Who knew? The only thing that Plague was worried about, was trying to make Lust happy. That would take him a great deal of time to learn that some women just can't be pleased that easily.

[Daven Logarthu]

The snap of a twig and the snap of the demon’s mouth alerted Daven to the presence of the sudden intruder into the area in which he currently resided. In an instant, Daven had one hand atop the hilt of his blade, the other still holding his staff. The boy, Daniel, seeing the demonic creature closed his eyes and began to shake, huddling close to the older man’s body.

Standing slowly, as to not startle the boy anymore than he had to, the sorcerer stood to face the new demon, who called himself Rava. He appeared to be one of nightmares of children, young beings just like the one at Daven’s side. Gnarled and twisted, he almost made the vigilante shivered… almost.

“He was thief and a murderer. Someone had to speak for those who could not speak for themselves. Someone had to defend them,” he looked down at Daniel, “defend him. That is what I choose to do.” He pulled his iron blade from its sheath and looked up at Rava. “You appear to be the kind of scum I typically… deal with. I would advise you to get out my sight before I get confused.”

He backed up his threat with a cold icy stare that seemed be amplified by the dull gray eyes. A slight wind began to pick up along the bare dirt road on which they conversed. His silver hair was tossed in the wind as the stare continued.

“Mr. Logarthu…” a small voice escaped behind him. Daven broke his stare and glanced down at the child who was tightly clutching his leg. “Please don’t let him hurt me. I’m too tired to run, and I don’t wanna be hurt anymore.”

Daven’s eyes softened just a bit as he thought back to his own childhood, the crushing feeling of being hurt by those who you did not know, just because you knew magik. Why were people so cruel, hating others for petty differences. His father had always told him that people feared what they did not understand. Which was precisely the reason that the villagers of a nearby town had viciously beaten him when he had come to buy fruit.

The look of anger returned to his face, amplified by the memory and Daniel’s fear. His blade went up, tip pointed at the monstrous creatures chest. His staff crossed in front of his body, providing a feeling of protection to the average looking man.

“Do not fear, child. This nightmare will not be one that haunts you for too much longer.” A small flame appeared on the tip of the blade, dancing back and forth around its tip. “You, leave, now.”

[Plague]

Plague looked rather preplexed at the human. Here he was, being to what he believed polite(for a change), and offering a hand in greetance, and he was met with distaste. Humans always did have rather crude ways of going about their dealings with other creatures. It was sad really, all what the demon wished to do was just see as to what could be done for the moment.

The wind slowly picked up over the vast fields of grass and tree's, and Plague knew that this was something that he could not avoid. The man's voice grew hot temptered and bitter with each word that he spoke. The demon's eyes seemed to grow bored as he spoke.

The note of scum made the incubus laugh heartfully. This man was as smart as he was stupid. "Scum?" Chuckled Plague loudly. "Good sir, I have done nothing to you, I meerly came out to see what this ruckus was all about, and here you call me scum!" Plague drew himself back, acting rather offended to such words.

It was true, the demon was nothing more than a vile piece of filth, but he still had his pride.

His eyes widened with excitement as the man began to pull out his sword. Plague had been in many fights, and he knew how to fight dirty, not to state also about his special blood slowly working it's way through his veins. He had been blessed and cursed by this.

"It would be wise..." He began casually, walking back and forth, to just make the tension between them grow even higher. "for you to lower your weapon. Such things could lead to accidents, and of course I mean you, nor the boy any harm." He said with as much sincerity as he could muster.

Looking the weak human in the eye, he said, "This is also not the way to treat a man WHO HAS BEEN CURSED BY A WITCH!" He lowered his head for a moment and looked back up with a little bit of distain dressing his face, "You sir, are being rather rude to those less fortunate!"

[Daven Logarthu]

Tensions along the old dirt road escalated with every word that Rava spoke. The very thought that this being considered himself less fortunate sparked a new fire in the vigilante’s heart. He lowered the tip of his blade to the ground, though the flames still danced in front of his body. Similarly, the look on his face did not ease away, only intensified as the anger built in his mind. However, when he finally spoke, it very understandable with the cold edge of steel ringing with every word.

“You think you are less fortunate? You appear to eat well, I doubt you are hounded by bandits, thieves, or murderers. Even if you are, I am positive you have ample means to dispose of them. No, you sound like every pathetic person in good standing on Althanas, feeling that their petty problems are actually that, problems.” He began to lose himself in his words, feeling the truth and weight of them. “Those who have to fight for every tiny cent, for every bite of food. Those who have people demanding payment for their protection; they are the real less fortunate. Everyone else who thinks that are fools, and do not deserve their good fortune.”

He was reminded of the child that clung to his leg, who only had the few meager coins in his hand. It was doubtful he had any family, or any means of income. He nearly said something to the boy, when a scream echoed through the trees to his left. Within an instant, his attitude turned from one of anger to one of concern. He could not leave the boy here with this creature, which obviously frightened the boy. Still, he would never make it to the woman in time if he had to help the boy keep up.

A split second later, his decision was made. He sheathed his weapon, grabbing the boy with his now free hand. His muscles rippled as he pulled the boy up, and sweat beaded on his brow as he created a gust of wind beneath the boy to help lift Daniel to his shoulders. Daven grabbed the boy’s ankles, then turned and sprinted toward the scream. The flame, which had been dancing around the blade, flew at the demon, circling once around him. It then flew after the vigilante into the forest.

Ducking in and out of trees, the duo quickly found the voices growing louder and louder. Splashing across a small creek, they stumbled out onto a wide cobbled road. The scene ahead of Daven made him which he had left Daniel somewhere in the forest. A large wagon sat in front, the animal pulling it nowhere to be seen. Blood covered the cobbled road, obviously from one source. A body lay face down in the middle of the road, a woman by the looks of her, possibly the one that had screamed. At the back of the wagon were two men with swords and leather masks covering them, cowering on the ground in front of them was a man, a merchant by the looks of him.

Carefully spinning Daniel off of his shoulders to the ground, Daven ripped his blade from its sheath and sprinted at the two bandits. Silent were his steps, though his mouth gave him away. A half-growl, half-scream flew from his lips as he ran at the men. He impaled the first on his blade as he turned to face him. He slumped to the ground, his blood mingling with the woman’s. The second stumbled away from Daven and pointed his blade at his attacker.

Throwing his staff onto the ground nearby, away from the blood, he tightened his grip on his sword, now two handed. The tiny flame, which had followed Daven through the forest, now circled again at the tip of his blade.

[Plague]

Plague's efforts had fallen upon deaf ears. The human was just like the rest of his race. As arrogant, and as pompous as the rest of the cattle. He was used to their superiority complexes, humans always did see themselves at the number one species in the world, it was just so sad to watch the little facade being carried out.

But then, Plague almost had to keep himself from falling over in laughter. The man spoke of beggers, and being hounded by such people, that the incubus refered to as the new breed of human evolution. The new breed of humans knew what it was like to be alive, to be truly back in their most primative states of being. It reminded him of the people back in Salvar, just dying to survive.

It really wasn't until the man spoke of the demon's look, that Plague started to give it his full attention. He spoke that the demon was in no need of a meal. This was true, for the creature of the cold did not eat, but looking down at his stomach, he couldn't help but notice just how thin he looked. Many had always complemented him on his very skinny look, and some even offered him better food to help fatten him up, so Plague looked at the human as if he was made of jelly.

But, before the demon could retort to this remake, a high pitched scream came from off in the distance. Without even a second's notion, the human siezed the boy, and took off after the cry.

Plague, on the other hand, meerly rolled his eyes. He could not believe that people enjoyed being hero's SO much. It was almost sickening how they all straved to be someone's savouir, to be that much more God like. He began to think on the sins of men from what a priest once told him....wasn't that a Sin? To be God like?

The demon had little time to think on this, as he walked off after the weak mage and his child like captive. Plague's step was pretty fast, normally walking through thick dense heaps of snow, had made his step wide and quick. His legs were powerful, and needed to stay that way, once he choose to return to his ice wasteland that he called home.

After, what felt like many minutes of walking through this darkness from shadows above, a large cobbled road came into view. Plague had never seen such a work before. It looked solid enough, and the human did run right over it. But, such things, the demon did not understand. Looking a little frightened, Plague cautiously, stuck one foot out on to the stone road and tapped it. The sound of his bare foot hitting the ground was soft and hard. Smiling to himself, at this would be victory over something new, the demon smiled broadly and took off again.

A large wagon was all that his cursed eyes could see, the sound of a scream came echoing over head, as the demon took his time slowly making his way around the wagon. He knew right away that it was the man, to whom he had just encountered. Only, the cry of battle sounded like an animal on it's death bed, and Plague did his best to hold in his cruel laughter. He was a creature of despire, but he did have a sense of humour about life.

The sound of flesh being pierced by metal came, and Lust almost screamed her head off at the demon. That was what she wanted. She wanted to be the one causing pain and agony to those who deserved it. She wanted to be the one covered in blood, and enjoying the purest kill. Plague felt his heart sink, he had missed out on another chance to grant her wish.

Plague knew that fear was a masterful holder over humans, but with the sound of a large mass hitting the ground and stumbling about on it, made him look out from the wagon and see a masked figure backing away the human. Plague's eyes widened at this state of fear. He remembered causing it to many before hand, he enjoyed it back then, but for a man to be afraid of such a person like the mage now, seemed foolish.

It was at that moment, that the fiend took it upon himself to show the mage just what he was capable of. Locking his claw around Lust, the demon smiled malevolently, and slowly worked his way behind the leather bound man. His eyes were locked on his attacker, and wouldn't even notice a clan of drow coming up behind him ready to slaughter him without a moment's notice.....Plague always did have a little bit of admoration for the drow.

Pulling Lust into the light, she began to shine like never before. Her beauty was unmatchable by anything on this planet. He smiled purely as he could her Lust's words of approvement in his head.

The man continued to walk backwards, ever closer to him. Plague's eyes began to slowly turn crimson, swimming in a sea of red, this always happened to him whenever a kill was about to be made. It was his primal instinics taking over again.

Raising Lust, so that a single move could be made, the human bumped into the demon. This was the time to act! Swing his left arm around the man's stomach, and holding him tightly within his grasp, Plague drew up Lust to the man's neck, and held it there, ever pressing her deeper into the man's throat.

"Now," Began Plague as he spoke to the man in a whisper loud enough for the mage to hear, "Do, be as so kind to tell us why you felt the need to murder a woman all alone in the wood." His tone was polite all the same, but with a hint of ever pressing doom slowly on the rise.

His red hair was now soaked from the sweat of the day. He was tired from all this running and even more aggrovated by the simple fact of how rude his counterpart was being. Pressing Lust a little deeper into the man's throat, "It would be best to hurry, there's no telling what twitchs my hands might come under."

[Daven Logarthu]

The simple act of aiding him changed the level of suspicion that Daven cast upon the demon. Before, he simply decided that Rava was a mere liar that was trying to convince him to spare his life. Now, he wondered as to what his true motives were, behind the slender frame and disfigured arm. He acted as though he held the same beliefs as Daven in this situation, but it was possible that he merely enjoyed the act of killing. This left Daven in a very difficult situation, aid the bandit and stop the demon or aid the demon and kill the bandit. As he pondered the situation, the living bandit responded to the question that Rava had posed.

“We were… we were just so… so very hungry!” the man stuttered out, fearing the blade that was held to his throat. “This merchant is very rich, see, and… and he wouldn’t give us any of his money. The woman… she wasn’t s’posed to die. She just ran… all crazy-like at me… I had to protect myself didn’t I. I haven’t eaten a single thing in such a long time… I am sorry!”

The words struck the vigilante like a blow. His entire purpose had just been shattered right before his eyes. What should he do when the very people he had sworn to protect had to resort to violence to survive? What should he do when the people who were attacked were the very pompous fools who had corrupted the government? His mind reeled as black became white and white became black in his mind. In the end it simply left him with one bland shade of gray, the exact color of his eyes and his hair.

He spun on heel and turned to the merchant, who was still cowering against his wagon, watching the interesting conversation with fear. “You… merchant. Are you so greedy that you would sacrifice your own wife, sister, or whatever she was to you? Does money mean so much to you that life becomes tarnished and unworthy?” The merchant looked offended that Daven would imply that he did anything wrong.

“She was merely a servant, and a stupid one at that. It was her own fault that she died. I only pay her one gold piece a day to help me, and she gets killed over my money. Such a fool.” Fury built in Daven’s heart with every word that the merchant spoke, and his own aggressive nature erupted against the merchant.

“You bastard! This girl was desperate enough to work for scum like you and you take advantage of her and let her die just so you can still count a profit at the end of the day?” Daven’s right hand opened, palm up, and the tiny flame, which had been circling the end of his weapon, flew into it. It multiplied in size three times, until it was about the size of Daven’s head. He then threw the ball of fire at the wagon, engulfing it in flames that licked the sky. “It appears your profits are gone,” Daven said with cold fury. Picking his staff up off the ground, he walked over to the merchant and beat him in the face with it three times. “I expect you to start donating thirty percent of your profit to those who are not as fortunate as you. I will be watching you. If you decide its not worth your time, you will see me again.”

He turned away from the merchant, back to where Rava still held the thief under his sword. Daven decided that there had been enough killing for that day. “Release him, demon. His only crime is trying to improve his standing through unsavory methods. I’m sure he will never rob another person again.” The thief tried to nod, but the blade kept him from doing it. “So just let him go.”

[Plague]

(Sorry, I just moved. So, needless to say, I've been really busy and the ever pressing need to get a job has kinda taken over my life. But, things are worked out now. Sorry for the delay.)

The tension was growing as the moments slowly passed. Words of starvasion and and need of money poisoned all around as the would-be thief took it upon himself to explain the doings that had happened only a few short moments before the incubus and mage showed up to see just to what all this tom-foolery was about.

After a brief talk of being SO hungry, and the demon final spoke. "Hunger!" He laughed wickedly at this. "So, hunger justifies the slaying of another. Not because they were immoral. Not because they had done you wrong, but hunger!" Plague smiled to himself, and held his beautiful Lust a little closer to the man's throat. "Well, if hunger is all that is needed to slay a man, what is stopping me from doing so right now?"

His words crawled into the man's ear like a serpent in the night. It was true, that the creature did not have to have food to keep himself going, nor did he need drink. Such things were of human life, and being immortal, such things had never even crossed the demon's mind in his time of existence.

Again, the mage made another self rightous speech about how grand, and how morally correct his way of living was. These things made Plague loath the human race all that much more. It seemed that all they ever did was talk, and look their nose down upon other's who seemed "below" them. True, Plague did the same thing, but not to other's of his own race. When meeting the Corone succubus, he was rather tort, and arrogent with her, but the demon had believed that she was invading upon ground that wasn't her own. It was merely a battle for land.

But, the human went on and on in his talks of justice and morality. Plague had wondered just how much anyone could stand of this man and his delliusions. They always seemed like they were trying to make monarc's out of themselves for some ultimate goal(whatever that may be.).

The mage then quickly told the incubus to release the man. Plague's eyes turned to the mage and locked on him. Smiling very quoyly, he used Lust just to lightly graze the side of the man's neck. As the theif gasped and held his lightly bleeding neck, the fiend spoke, "Just a friendly reminder. Give up such ways. They are not very becoming."

Lowering his beauty from the man, he stepped back and approched the man. Looking with great disconcern on his face, he sighed loudly and began what he knew was to be an interesting conversation.

"Good sir," Began the incubus as he folded his hands together."to why do you keep calling me a demon? Surely, you have no other proof than the simple fact that my hands are deformed. My skin is the same colour as your's." He inclinded to their white skin, only Plague was a touch more sickly looking, due to lack of sunlight. "My hair is of the same type, my face does not dawn any demonic looks, my body is not grotestque! I am human, and just because some fluesy of a witch casts a spell on me, you believe in your heart of hearts, that I AM a demon!" His voice now broke loudly.

The incubus was enjoying this whole lie he was putting forth. Plague knew how to use people, and make them believe things that weren't true. But, with his wings covered up by his shirt, the only thing that looked odd about him was his hands. He looked upon the human now with great pity and distrust, "I do pity this whole complex that you have against me." He looked down at the ground and looked very un-nerved. "Surely, a demon would have killed you by now. I mean, we're human's. They're demon's, it doesn't take much to understand that we are clearly no match for them."

[Letho]

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