May Vignette!

[Yari Rafanas]

The Vignettes are back (Again!)

What exactly are these Vignettes? They're single post short stories written about a given prompt. Everyone can post their entry in this thread and at the end of the month all entries will be judged and the top three will be selected for prizes! Don’t worry about not winning a prize however, as everyone will receive exp just for posting.

Vignette Rules:

1) One submission per character. Multiple accounts by the same author are allowed though.
2) All entries must be made during the month of May. Editing your posts, even to completely change your submission, is permitted as long as all edits are made within the contest's time frame.
3) The moderator judging the monthly vignette contest will post a vignette at the end, but will not be eligible for a prize.
4) Only on-topic vignettes will be considered for the prize. The topics are meant to be broad enough that no character should be particularly limited.
5) PCs must be involved in all vignettes. How "canonical" you choose to have the events of the vignette is up to you.
6) All participants receive 5% of the EXP they need to reach the next level. The top three finishers get 100, 75 and 50 GP respectively.

Here is this month's prompt:


Your character is brought to a situation or place where they act completely out of character. This could be a bizarro version of your PC, or even just your character mixing it up for the day. The choice is yours!

[Lucifer Blight]

This shall be...a simple story.

The man has tried everything. He has, throughout his life, lived only for himself. Through strength, will, fortitude, and naught but pure determination, he has overcome all obstacles. It mattered naught what the goal was; he obtained it. Money. Power. Prestige. Fame. Vengeance.

This was a good life, for a time. Until one day, the man came to a realization. It had never mattered what the goal was, for inevitably he always threw it away. The money. The power. The prestige. Everything else. Only one thing had ever really mattered. The chase. The end was irrelevant; only the thrill of the hunt excited him.

He is an evil man. He has taken many lives; hurt many people. Still, because he is greedy, he desires happiness. He desires not the excitement of the hunt, but rather the satisfaction of the long-sought prize.

He tries many more things, all of which fall short. He is still only happy when chasing his dream. However, the dream once achieved, becomes worthless to him. He must move on to the next one.

His last attempt is something completely unlike him. His last attempt is a woman.

It is a simple fact; mankind desires love. Even if you despise it, even if you hate it, even if you loathe it, we all want to be loved. This is a simple truth; it cannot be denied. It is our nature.

Lucifer Blight tried to fall in love.

The woman he chose was very ill; she would not live long. A perfect choice for the man who only sought what he could glimpse on the horizon. Even better, the woman had completely thrown her own life away.

Yes, she was very bitter. She hated the world, she hated her disease, and she hated herself even more. Simple things, things that we take for granted, were taken from her before she even had a chance to enjoy them. Growing old. Raising children. The sunrise. Things that people enjoy every day seemed so foreign to this woman, for she would never enjoy any of them.

Simply put, she was too weak. Her frail body had not the strength to last. She would die young, the same way the old did. In a bed, unable to enjoy life's simplest pleasures, such as taking a peaceful walk in a quiet garden.

This was even better. After all, what would be harder to obtain than the love of a person who has, in their bitterness, thrown everything that life has to offer away? It made the man very happy.

She despised him at first. His constant visits, his frequent gifts. She loathed him. She hated him. He represented all that she would never have. Still, the woman had to admit one thing. It was nice, this feeling that the man brought with him.

Loathing turned to desire. Hate turned to love.

Don't bother asking. It should be obvious how much the woman, who had nothing, loved the man who would have given anything to be with her.

Yes; that was his simply way. Something once sought, had to be obtained. He had never failed in the past, why should this time be any different? It was the most unobtainable thing had he wished for, and he obtained it. The woman loved him more than life itself. The thrill he felt was immeasurable. The excitement he had felt during this chase was greater than anything he would feel for the rest of his life.

Lucifer Blight tried. He really did. He tried so hard to love this woman. He had never tried harder at anything in his entire life.

It was not enough. His feelings began to fade away.

He persisted. Not for a day. Not for a month. Not for a year. Even longer. He tried for many years to be happy with the woman who loved him.

He failed; she was not enough. You can stop reading; there is little else to this story.

It ended on a rainy day. It had been raining since the beginning of the month, and the rain would last for the rest of the season, The woman was now very sick, she could not even leave her bed. She would most likely be dead before the end of the week. She lamented this fact, for she dearly wished to see the sun one more time before she died.

A foolish request, an impossible dream; the sun cannot be captured. Still, he did as he thought any lover would have done. It simply seemed the natural thing for him to do.

Dripping wet, he entered the small house. He had been gone for many days, to chase after the woman's impossible dream. She greeted him with a sickly smile. Her face was pale, her body was as thin as paper, her skin was as white as a ghost. She had little time left.

"Here," the man said, "I have brought you the sun."

He lay on the desk a tiny jewel of unobtainable brilliance. Indeed, the glow of this jewel seemed to be the captured essence of the very sun itself.

The woman smiled. That was what she did nowadays; it hurt her very much to speak. This was her response to anything the man did. A simple smile of a dying woman. Nothing more.

He stared at this smile but for a mere moment.

"I don't love you," The man said. He remembers not the tone he said it in, but if you would like to know, it was a tone that rang of mostly boredom. It should not come as a surprise; the man only enjoyed the hunt. This hunt had been over for a very long while; it was well past time for him to move on.

"No," The woman who loved the man said. "I love you."

With the very same smile she always greeted him with, she plunged a knife into her own heart.

The man didn't bother to stop her. What was the point? She was going to die anyways. He cared not for her.

"You see. I knew it," The woman said. "You're crying."

He wasn't crying. It was just the rain. Nothing more. The woman simply wished to see it that way.

She smiled for him. She smiled as her blood drained away. She smiled as her heart ceased to beat. She smiled through the pain, she smiled through the hurt. The last thing she gave to the man that she had loved with all her heart, was her smile.

"You're worthless."

That's what the man said as he walked away.

Lucifer Blight chased many dreams. Whenever he caught one, he quickly threw it away. The only thing that ever mattered to him was the chase. He quit caring about anything else. As Lucifer Blight is a selfish man, most of his dreams are very selfish. He hurts many people on the path to achieve his dreams, but he cares not. He gets what he wants, and as soon as it is in his hands, he throws it away.

Forever chasing dreams, that is his lot in life; he does not call it a bad one. Most people don't even know what they want, Lucifer Blight is blessed enough to know exactly what he wants. The chase. Whatever comes at the end doesn't matter, as long as the chase is fun.

Still, sometimes he thinks back to that day. In that tiny room, with the dying woman. On those rare days where his mind is not chasing dreams, he thinks back to that time.

You're worthless.

Yes. He is saying that to the woman. The woman who threw her life away, to prove that the man was capable of love, and deserved to live on.

So worthless.

Is that it? Or is it...

Totally. Completely. Utterly...

Or is he saying that to the man, who did nothing as the only person he had ever loved died before his very eyes?

Worthless.

He slams the door shut before his mind can chance upon the answer. It must stay hidden for ever.

Still, every now and then, the door creaks open. No more than an inch.

He would have given anything to be with her; it was simply his way.

If so, then what of his heart? Is it still his, or on a very rainy day, did he give it to a sick girl in a tiny room? He will not know the answer to this question for a very, very, very long time.

[Paragon]

If Dorian was different...

How many villages was it now? Time was lost on the young Sesthali, standing in the middle of the gruesome scene. All around him were fallen bodies of villagers; men, women, children. Half of the houses were on fire. Above his head flew the proud Black Dragonbreed, their massive lizard-like bodies just tiny figures in the blue sky. More than half of Salvar's countryside had fallen in this great war between humans and dragons. Enticed by promises of wealth and power, Dorian joined the side of the dragons, the act of killing becoming like a second nature to him.

He had donned the black dragonscale armor, crafted from one of the fallen warriors in the early days of the war. His helmet had a small slit through which he saw the world scorched before him, and the part that covered his jaw curved around to the back of his head and jutted out several inches as spikes. His shoulder plates were equally as spiky, and the rest of his armor covered thick layers around his body. Despite the mass of his equipment, Dorian felt as though he were wearing pajamas due to the armor having the fate of lightness.

Fallow stood nearby, his majestic form nearly as large as his brethren. His true form was nearly a story long, his long neck peering around the ruined town, his yellow eyes with slitted pupils long having long lost the light in them. The dragons had helped Dorian free Fallow, but the purpose of such an action was lost to him at this point. Malanthar was still locked away in his prison, forever to remain there if the Black Dragonbreed had their way. They have no need for doddering old patriarchs who do not harbor a grudge against the humans.

The war was long after its climax, with the standing armies of Salvar dispersed beyond reconciliation. As Dorian fought with these dragons throughout the campaign, he learned about them, and a certain feeling of uncertainty crept into the back of his mind. Unfortunately for him, this was the day when that feeling became real. Several dark dragons gathered around Dorian and Fallow, their glares levied directly upon the pair. With silent indignation, the Sesthali was not surprised.

He was being betrayed.

"I suppose this ruinous action was inevitable for your kind," said Dorian, holding his legendary spear, the Dragon Slayer. In truth, he was preparing for this day. The last glimmers of hope for the promises would have lasted only another day or so. Perhaps the dragons knew this.

"Ruinous for whom?" asked the largest dragon of the pack. Before Dorian's eyes, the dragon shape-shifted into a human form wearing a black robe with golden trimming, with sharp yellow eyes and eyebrows that split at two ends. His long dark hair spiked as it fell down his back, all the way down the length of his spine. He was Xandros, and although he was thousands of years old his human form was barely out of his twenties.

"I had thought not you creatures foolish enough to challenge me. I have the Fate of Dragon Slaying; Approaching me is akin to signing your own death warrant."

"You're a rare breed, Sesthali. We accepted that you are not one of those human worms, but the resemblance is uncanny. You think like them, you look like them, and your greed and lust to destroy all that is noble in this world? You act like them as well. We do not wish to look upon your unmistakably human-looking face anymore." He turned to Fallow, who was surrounded on all sides as well. "Weaklings are also unnecessary to the future of our race, especially those that are offspring of the king weakling himself."

"You fiend!" yelled Fallow. He did not require telepathy to talk in his true form, after all. However, what could he do? They all dwarfed him in size, age, and power. This entire war all that he could do was tag along and try not to get in the way.

"Do the damn deed," ordered Xandros.

The black dragons, menacing in appearance with their spiky skulls and protruding spinal columns, were special in this clan. They had the ability to breathe pure ice, and they did so by exhaling a chilly stream of blue that covered Fallow in seconds. Within moments, Malanthar's son was encased in a tomb of ice. Xandros looked back to Dorian, who merely stood there watching. The dark dragon was ecstatic, unable to suppress his insidious smile that sprawled across his face. That fool doesn't know! He doesn't understand!

"Does it not bother you, what we are doing to your partner?!" Xandros asked, the excitement in his voice almost child-like.

"Not particularly. In fact, you've done me a favor. Due to our link I could not go very... far... without..." Dorian felt his body suddenly turn very cold, both from the shock of realization and the link in his soul to Fallow. Suddenly, he knew why they had helped him release Fallow. They never intended to challenge him in the first place! He denied that this was happening, he refused to believe it. "You... you can't... !"

Dorian fell to one knee, his body shivering violently. The armor around his body vanished, revealing his regular clothes, the scars on his lips and across his right eye. He tried to switch into the Armor of Unwavering Flame, but it wouldn't form around his body. His link to Malanthar's Domain was broken, but how could that be? He looked over to Fallow to see a horrifying sight: The dragons had swarmed around the ice-encased young dragon and shattered him into smaller chunks of ice. The freezing was not just on the outside, every part of him was affected. The link was gone because... Fallow was gone. And soon he will be gone too.

"We truly appreciate your help, Sesthali. That is why we are giving you a quick death."

Dorian fell to the ground, his face hitting the bloody dirt. He could barely see Xandros above one of the villagers he had slain. He felt his heart stop beating, and was locked in an eternity of emptiness. For a moment, he did not need to breathe, did not need to think. He was trapped in a sensation of serenity. In this state, his regular vision failed, but his vision of the threads of fate remained.

Before his body were his own threads, each representing a possibility of his future. He was in a world of darkness, only illuminated by the bright threads that had unlimited length and only a sliver of width. They rose from the ground all around him, and continued into infinity above. Sesthali can never really shape their own destiny, as the content of these threads could never truly be divined, but the variable known as luck could be driven toward their goals. He watched as one by one, the threads vanished before his eyes. He had no strength to reach out to them, to stop them from going into oblivion.

Finally, one thread remained. It was a white thread, and while the other ones were colorful, wavy and full of potential for change, this one sat still in front of him. He looked upon it, his body paralyzed, and had one final thought:

What if I was different?

[Silence Sei]

It was just one world. One world with many different realities. Realities that allowed its people a free will. A free will that caused choices. Choices that caused new realities to arise each and every second.

Something as simplistic as choosing bacon over eggs for one's morning breakfast could set off a chain reaction that would cause Althanas to be something else than what it was meant to be. This theory was not unknown to one such as Sei Orlouge, as the Mystic was raised with an education that stressed such things. This 'Timber Effect', as the teachers in his youth called it, stated that if you chop down a single tree in the past, it could cause a ripple throughout the future time line, causing another reality to be born from such a menial task.

Now, in his adult years, Sei scoffed at the idea of the Timber effect. Such a silly hypothesis, theorizing that the telepath was not the only Sei Orlouge in the world. Such silly fantasies belonged in the minds of children, and not fully grown men. At least, that is what Sei had thought until he had felt a sudden surge in his chest one day. It was temporary, and while it had caused him to collapse temporarily within the halls of Ixian Castle (causing more than a few soldiers to panic); it departed as quickly as it had arrived. Yet, the pain that Sei had felt, not unlike a hammer being pounded into one's chest, stuck in his mind all day. He had to study up on the strange occurrence.

This brought him back to the theory of the Timber Effect. In essence, if one of subject's alternate selves (that is, one who had made a decision that the subject did not make) died in his time line, it would spread its power around evenly to the others. Naturally, this would make the longest surviving subject the most powerful version in its reality. The feeling of death would wash over the others, a minor thing that would signify the death of the alternate self. Sei was shocked to learn that the sensation he had felt was the feeling described as dying on an alternate plane of reality. The youngest Orlouge brother had become more powerful just by making a decision his 'other self' did not.

When Sei attempted to explain this to his Generals, they all thought him mad. Sei's own niece, Aislinn, suggested that he get some rest. The tolls of raising an army were obviously having an effect for the worst on the orange haired Mystic. Sei heeded the advice of the red haired witch, and took to his chambers. Yet, his mind could not help but wonder. What if he did something so uncharacteristic, so out of the ordinary that the universe would have the Mystic meet up with one of these alternate selves.

"Thayne's forgive me, for what I am about to do," Sei said out loud as he prayed to the Althanian Gods that night.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Sei awoke the next day, he took to his duties like normal. The mute strolled the halls, greeted the passing soldiers, made sure the food was fit to par. Yet, all day, all he could think about was the one thing he was going to do. That one out of character detail that would surely have all the answers to his piqued curiosity. The day slowly turned to dusk, and it was at this point that Sei called a meeting of every member of the Ixian Knights. They all met in the lavish banquet hall, the chandeliers causing a sort of rainbow shimmer when positioned at the right angle. The red carpet Sei had rolled out lead straight to the three steps that in itself lead to the large banquet table. It was similar to what a king would have for balls and regalia’s.

The mute looked to his left and his right, Sei himself sitting directly in the middle of the 'Generals Table'. Each one of his nine select Generals was there, looking at the mute with wondering eyes. What was this whole event about anyways?

"Welcome, my soldiers.....to the death of the Ixian Knights."

The words seemed odd coming from the man who founded the group. Glances of uneasiness began to fill the orbs of everybody present. The mute smirked a bit at the way the people were reacting, he had expected this. He could hear the shuffling of feet towards the doors, some of the less brave Ixians starting to run. The sounds were quickly enveloped by that of all the doors slamming shut with a thunderous boom. The telepath lifted both of his arms high into the air, starting a maniacal, but silent, laugh.

"Sei," Jensen Ambrose was the first to speak, stepping ahead of the crowd and walking up the steps, "What is this abo---"

Jensen's words were interrupted by the sounds of his own bloody vomit splashing against Sei's Gemini Blades. The mute had impaled the red haired immortal upon his approach, which caused loud screams to come from the women. The Mystic jumped atop the banquet table, smiling as the Nine Generals began to rise and draw their weapons. The mute quickly kicked his left foot at a plate, the chakram that was hidden under it finding a place between the eyes of William Arcus before he could transform into his Revenant form.

William's body hit the ground at the same time as Jensen's, which Sei brutally kicked off his sword, sending speckles of the father's blood over the mute's grey gi. The mute leaped into the air, spreading his orange wings and narrowly avoiding the shadow blade of Kyla Orlouge, Sei's own daughter. Carrying himself with his wings, Sei preformed a back flip in mid-air to get behind the Mystic girl, and impaled her through the back with the twin swords. The blue liquids that sprayed out upon the withdrawing of the weapons coated the insane telepath's face.

He turned just in time to see Duffy Bracken attempt to bury his daggers into his back. Luckily, just before the tips could hit the orange haired youth, the shattering sounds of glass filled the room, overtaking (albeit temporary) the sounds of screaming and frustration as people began to fight or flee, trampling others to death in the process. The shards of Sei's Mystic Protection spell launched into Duffy's face, blinding the actor and sending him stumbling back. It was at this point that Sei ducked, expecting yet another surprise attack from behind.

Just as the strategist had thought, Cassandra Remi attempted a stealth attack on the psychotic Sei, and tripped over the ducking mute. When Cassandra's body fell to the floor, Sei jammed his S-shaped Gemini Blade into her gut, pinning her there to the floor as making her bleed out. Releasing the blade now inside of the Gisela Reaper, Sei grabbed one of his battle fans, opening the bladed weapon up and using it in conjunction with the long sword Gemini Blade to carve out Duffy Bracken's entrails. The dual screams of both Cassandra and Duffy filled the Mystic with a sense of Euphoria, sending his body into a shaking spasm.

Zerith Dracosius was the next to attack, jamming his blade directly into the shoulder of the sadistic mute that he once called leader. The frontal attack left Sei sucking in through clenched teeth, grabbing the now blood soaked cloth draped over his left shoulder and throwing it around Zerith's neck. The warrior struggled, and such a thing caused immense pain to pulse through the gaping hole in the mute's left side, but Sei did not relent in his hold, not until Jomil's touch had fully rotted away the neck of the mute's former general, causing his head to collapse onto his shoulders, before rolling to the ground once the body collapsed, that is.

"Demon!" Benjiro Taka shouted at the top of his lungs, holding the hilt to his katana, and coming down at Sei as if to take his head from the air. The Mystic responded by ducking, head butting his former ally in the gut just before the Akashimian could pull off some great feat of swordsmanship. Taka fell to the ground, rolling, and attempting to get up. As soon as the samurai had gotten to all fours, however, he felt Sei's foot planted into his jaw. The kicks to Taka's face just kept coming and coming, until eventually the man had stopped moving, his body lying over a pool of blood and saliva.

Sei looked to his two remaining generals, Talen Shadowalker and Dorian Sessthal; they both seemed to be preparing their own sort of attack towards the mute. Sei simply laughed as he began to walk towards them, not slaughtering any innocent people that got in his way.

"Yes.....Make this a challenge," Sei smiled as each step seemed to terrify the two warriors, "I want to hear you scream..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The walls had been literally painted with blood, and the floors drained with so much crimson liquid that the bodies at the bottom of the piles would have been lightly floating around were they not weighed down. Four hundred members of the Ixian Knights were slain in that room that day. It would go down as history as the Ixian Massacre. Yet, one person survived the altercation, the man who was finally responsible for slaying Sei Orlouge.

Sei stood among the piles of body, his body trembling with euphoria strange to the Mystic. He smiled as he heard footsteps splashing across the shin deep blood lake he had made. The Mystic had taken careful detail into slaying every single person in the room, and was certain that his plan had worked. He had acted so against his nature, that he would finally see one of his alternate selves. The mute was no fool though; he understood that this alternate Sei was more than likely going to strike him down when he approached. He knew his demise was coming, but he did not care, he got what he wanted after all.

When the splashing came just a foot or so behind him, the orange haired Mystic smiled to himself. The Ixian Knights' sacrifice had been worth it to achieve this goal. Spreading his arms out, the mute could feel his other self’s blade running him through from the back. Looking down at the middle of his chest, Sei's eyes widened as he looked upon the scythe tip that had impaled him. The mute began to tremble, the last vestiges of his life starting to flee from him. With his final moments, Sei turned around and widened his eyes to find none other than Jensen Ambrose. Rage was in the man's eyes as he took the scythe out from his former boss, only to plant it once again through the top of his head.

Sei had forgotten that Jensen Ambrose was an immortal. He had failed.

Jensen took his weapon back once more, kicking Sei into the pools of blood that he had created himself. If the attack did not kill him, he would surely drown in his own comeuppance. Jensen spit on the corpse of the Mystic, though the display of distaste was only the smallest bit of rage that he felt in his heart.

"I hope it was worth it, you sick bastard. The Sei Orlouge I know would have -never- done this. Fuck you, and rot in hell with the rest of the scum."

Jensen's words fell on deaf ears, as Sei had already passed by the time the immortal started talking. He had acted out of his normality and failed in his goals.

What more could there have been to live for, anyways?

[El Diablo Perro]

In the future of Althanas history, exactly thirty years from this day, Alexander “Memnar” Rayz would be known for exactly two hours as the most powerful being in all of Althanas. He would have achieved his goal of finding unlimited, un-restricting power to topple gods, destroy entire cities, and bend the will of the cosmos to his own nefarious ends. The earth would tremble at his gait, and hellfire would be at his back as he watched the world through infernal eyes of the demon that once possessed him. Those two blissful hours would be the highlight of his life, the pinnacle of all his searching, before one would stand defiant and crush him.

Yet there was once a time in his search for ultimate power that the corrupt wizard was still very much a human. Though his magic had reached a higher point, it was nothing that could not be stopped by one stronger than he. During the period he called his enlightenment years, he traveled with a man who had shaped his destiny to the final point of his journey. That man was Lucifer Blight.

Lucifer Blight had shown the man true power at the cost of spurring everything in the hunt. For that man, he saw what corrupted his soul and vowed to never let that weakness lower him down. Memnar would never allow himself to lose sight of the goals that the hunts were meant for. Still, the warrior prince of Carthage was a soul that Memnar could not defeat by normal means. He offered the wizard treasures and power, and for one who sought nothing but the latter, he greedily agreed.

The prince of Carthage brought with him a military strategist of great renown, the fallen Emprean hero Viola Conda, and the power hungry tyrant brought to his side the sword for hire Seed Vicious. Seed, as every bit as useless as Memnar had expected him to be, did have a special talent for annoying the hell out of his foes. Memnar took the boy into his service so long as the man would draw his sword and deal with the rabble Memnar did not wish to deal with himself.

In his usual casual demeanor Seed would continue to insult everything that moved save one man, and that was Lucifer, but the reasons for that never mattered to Memnar, for simply he did not care about the boy or his sad history. Yet nearly eighty percent of his insults and games were geared towards Viola, mocking her, belittling her, and forcing her to relive her pain of abandoning her friends to die in the fallen kingdom she once served. Though Memnar admitted she was a military genius, and very loyal, Seed had found sport in crushing her spirit at every turn.

This usually involved Memnar and Seed coming up with ways to break her slowly and surely until the line was crossed. When that line was crossed whoever had the most imaginary points would win the bet. Memnar participated in these activities as it was a way to pass the time and also give him insight on how a human soul could be destroyed without applying any witchcraft or swordplay. However, one bet Memnar took had seen him on the opposite end of his usually dark demeanor, and the wizard found himself before Viola’s door, hesitating while Seed looked on from the kitchen table encouraging the man to knock.

At last he did so and Viola grumbled loudly before she ripped the door open, eyes cast upon Memnar in distrust and anger. She was a woman of about five foot eight, solidly built from her years of military service, with short black hair. Though she had an heir of confidence that some would find attractive, she was for the most part rather unappealing. She was by no means ugly, but put her next to another woman who even remotely tried to look attractive and Viola was no match. When she was angry there was no hope for anyone to find her alluring.

“What?” Viola barked.

“I have come to let you know, that,” Memnar hesitated with a deep sigh looking back to Seed who merely gave him a thumbs up and an obnoxious chuckle. “Erm,” Memnar rubbed the back of his head. “I lost a bet, and for the next twenty four hours I will be your,” Memnar actually gulped before speaking. “Servant, and I cannot in any way be rude to you or hostile. I must be…nice.”

Viola looked to Memnar and then to Seed, then back before she leaned on the door frame. “Is that so?” Memnar nodded. “Very well, two eggs, Sunnyside up, sourdough toast, dry, and a piece of Ham.” Memnar looked to her with a snarl.

“I’m no co-” Viola lifted a finger top his lips to stop him.

“Get a move on it, servant. And you know what…” She eyed Seed who looked to her and smiled, before feeling rather uncomfortable. “Why don’t you make the same thing for Seed.”

“I WILL-”

“Tsk tsk, remember the bet, Memnar!” Seed said with joviality. “And I for one totally approve of Butch in command! I get a breakfast served by Memnar? Sweet!” Memnar sighed deeply before nodding as he turned to gather up the ingredients for food. “Oh, Butch!” Seed said to Viola, his petname for her that drove her nuts when riled up past her boiling point. She looked to Seed and he grinned. “Food always tastes better when made with love. Therefore I think it should be made by hand, with no magic!” Viola managed a small grin before she nodded.

“Yes, I agree,” Viola turned to get dressed for the day. “No magic, Memnar.”

“What do you mean?” Memnar asked incredulously. “I don’t know how to cook! I’m not some slave peasant! Without magic I have no idea when the food is prepared!” Viola shrugged shutting the door as Memnar got to work cooking. He pulled out a pot, grabbed the bread and placed it on the burner without anything between it, and looked to the cured meats for the ham taking it and dumping it on a table. He grabbed his knife from the drawer and sized the ham up before coming down on it like an Akashiman samurai.

“Oh, this is gonna be great…” Seed muttered turning his seat around backwards and resting his head on the backrest.

Memnar checked on the toast finding it not cooking, and angrily he pulled out the matches and lit the burner. In a matter of seconds the house had smelt like fire as Memnar cursed loudly dumping the eggs into the pot and trying to find a way to put out the flaming toast.

All the while Seed watched on, reminding the man he couldn’t use his magic.

~*~*

Several hours later after the fiasco of breakfast, Memnar found himself in the shopping district with Viola, who forced him to use his own money to buy her clothing and other necessities. The man half expected her to take him to some weapon shop, or an adventurer’s warehouse or even a store that fit her usual style of kill things, but instead he found her looking at dresses in shop windows, eyes set with a hazy glow like she was recalling fond memories.

“You ever look to things and see a memory play before your eyes?” Viola asked quietly.

“No,” Memnar grunted.

“I remember a dear friend of mine, Natalie Boros, who once wore a dress like this. She said it would make her look like a goddess, but I insisted it would make her look trashy and whore like.” Viola smiled warmly. “Of course, I was just jealous. Natalie was always the girl that got the guys, including the prime pick of them all, David King…” Memnar groaned as Viola was starting yet another long winded story about her stupid Heroes of Emprea. There were five of them, each her closest friend, and she’d talk about them endlessly.

“Is this the same friend you killed in the caverns of Emprean Castle when you escaped with Lucifer Blight?” Memnar blurted as a habit. Viola’s eyes widened a bit, painful tears welling up as she turned quickly from the window and walked, her gait slightly quickened. Memnar cracked a small smile before he remembered the bet and cursed silently to himself as he trotted to keep up with the woman. Viola’s face had suddenly become sullen and sour, the usual look she kept upon herself as she marched towards the weapon smiths and the adventurer’s district of the little bazaar. Conflicted with what to do, the wizard tried to speak. But each time was met with a harsh word or death glares.

It had continued like that for hours and at last the corrupt one had enough as he grabbed her by the shoulder and whirled her around. “Why, why are you always like this? I cannot imagine anyone besides Lucifer who can honestly hold this much anger within them! I’m not even capable of that, Seed is not capable of it! I do not understand why you can! What the hell is your problem, Viola?”

There was a moment of silence as Viola looked to Memnar, before she brushed her shoulder against him and walked past. Annoyed to death, the wizard turned before he saw her stopped, hunched down looking at something that made him pause himself in wonder. Viola looked to this object with love and affection, her hand tracing it like it was a face of one she cared deeply for, and when she let it go she turned walking further down the street with pain on her features. Curious Memnar looked to what she held, and the site made him even more confused.

A tiny card game deck.

Red Raze, a popular card game in this area, had somehow made the woman cry. This crying was not the frustrations she usually vented, nor the anger induced bouts of rage filled tears. This was painful tears, like something was eating her soul and her heart and this type of crying made Memnar feel his own twinge of emotion. He pitied Viola. As strong as the woman claimed to be, he could now see the regret, the deep lines of sorrow that ran through her to have made the choices she made. Memnar grabbed the cards and bought them, leaving more than enough gold on the counter as he walked to her, tossing the deck on the ground.

“You can be such an ass at times,” Viola chastised him. Memnar shrugged as he opened the smooth card box of his own deck. Slowly he began to shuffle the cards over each other as Viola looked to him with confusion.

“A long time ago, I had one friend in my life. One. That was all.” Memnar said darkly. “He was the only kid I could tolerate, the only kid I could love as a brother.” He kept shuffling. “We played a card game all the time, betting chores, betting money, betting books of magic. Mind you, the magic was simple parlor tricks, but we bet it. Anthony was my best friend I ever had. He played a deck called the Servant Werewolf, a deck that utilized the very strangest of methods to gain victory. It was my first defeat in the game, because I had used the corrupt scientist deck.”

Memnar showed the deck to Viola, the inky black monstrosity that was once the corrupt scientist. “A tricky deck, but one that had great power. More than the other decks because I was never confined. I could manipulate the zones, pressure the opponent, and generally defeat them at my own pace. Yet he…he used his Werewolf, switching modes from servant to werewolf. Some could say you can find a lot about a player by the deck they play. I believe wholeheartedly in this.”

“What does this have to do with anything?” Viola strained to speak.

“You asked if I ever had flashbacks, memory induced trances spurred by a simple sight, touch, or smell. For me, I saw the deck of the game we played, and had a memory surface like a dam breaking water. I thought I would…share with you.” Memnar said lowering his cards out in the traditional play style of the game. Viola looked to him, saw the deck he picked out for her, and she smiled. Sheepishly, she pulled the cards out and shuffled them.

“I…” She remained quiet as she looked to the cards. “I never played. I thought this game so silly.” Memnar placed his hands upon her deck, lowering them to the table and placing them opposite her.

“Then I shall teach you, Viola Conda. And when you are done learning the game I will let you pick your own deck to be yours.” Viola nodded as she began shuffling the deck one last time before moving out. “This is called the play zone…” Memnar explained like a teacher as she began to learn how to play the game.

~*~*~

Hours later Viola and Memnar returned to home, both smiling as Seed watched them. Viola had shined like she had never done before they met her. True joy was in her features, and Memnar even looked like a decent human for once. So naturally, Seed in his usual way assumed both had sex or something, but one easy spell set Seed on fire for a while as he escorted Viola to her room.

“Thank you, for allowing me to enjoy a day for once.” Memnar nodded as he looked down to her deck she chose.

“The Blind Paladin will suite you well, but the Iron Tiger…why did you insist I buy it for you?” Memnar asked.

“It…it…doesn’t matter.” Viola at last said. Memnar looked to her with intent and at last she sighed and whispered her answer. “It belonged to Paul Donovan, alright.” Memnar smiled, as that was the woman she talked the most highly about in her stories of Emprea. It was no surprise that was the man she loved.

“What ever happened to Anthony?” Viola asked. Memnar looked to her, a guilty look before all the joy in his features melted back to the power hungry, greedy, manipulative man he always had been. He looked to her, a look that was half pained, and half enraged.

“He died,” Memnar said in a cruel tone. “I was to weak to save him.” With that said he turned around and left her, a look of bewilderment on her face. Memnar ended that day sitting in his usual chair, looking to the Redraze cards, before he tossed them in the fire, watching them burn before him, eyes glowing softly from the flickering flames.

[The Soulforged]

Exactly thirty years ago...

"Ow ow ow ow! Hot hot hot!" Seed screamed as he patted away the flames that has so recently been ignited onto his clothes. He really hated it when that happened.

"What foolery are you up to now?" Lucifer Blight, Seed's current employer, asked in a somewhat curious manner as he passed by. The man had good reason to ask, if only due to the fact that Seed's current position was rather interesting.

"That asshole Memnar set me on fire. Do we have rules against workplace violence?" Seed asked as he struggled to untangle his leg from the back of his head. He had done a bit of rolling about to put out the flames, and had managed to put himself in a somewhat compromising position.

"No," Lucifer answered coldly, and walked away. Seed sighed. Now he was bored again.

Later That Night...

"Hello!" Seed said jovially as he peeked his head around the corner of a chair. Memnar was sitting there, staring at the flames. "What'cha doing?"

"Nothing," The wizard responded softly. The man's eyes flickered as he watched the flames intently.

"Nuh-uh! You're burning things!" Seed cackled as he reached into his tunic. "I know because the fire flares up whenever you toss a flammable object in there. I've studied this intently mind you; watch!"

The young man then withdrew several papers from his tunic, and tossed them into the flames. Memnar hesitated for a moment, and then looked to Seed.

"What were those?" The wizard asked quietly.

"Not sure. They were either a grocery list, your research notes, or Butch's bad poetry. I can't for the life of me remember!" Seed joked happily. Memnar pursed his lips in thought, and then nodded to himself in a satisfied manner.

"It was a grocery list."

"How do you know that?"

"Because you couldn't possibly find my research notes, and if it had been her poetry, you would have ran around showing it to everyone.”

Seed thought for a moment, and then conceded the point. Then he grinned as he often did.

“A point for you Memnar, but speaking of points, are you up for another bet? I’ve got a doozy! Seed asked as he leaned in close. Memnar thought for a moment, and then nodded his head.

The very next day...

“Just what the hell do you want?” Viola muttered with bleary eyes as she opened the door of her room to answer a rather annoying knock. To no surprise, she found Seed to be the source of the problem.

“Ahem,” Seed cleared his throat, “I don’t suppose you’re doing anything tonight? Because I thought we could...I dunno...get drinks?”

Viola eyed the man (who was very often drinking) carefully.

“Did you lose a bet?” She asked.

“Well duh! You really think I’d ask someone who doesn’t shave her armpits out on a date if I had a choice in the matter?” Seed answered sarcastically. He then rubbed his nose as Viola slammed the door on his face.

“Strike one!” Memnar jeered from the sidelines.

“Yeah yeah,” Seed muttered as he walked away. “Who thought Butch had such high standards? Backstabbers shouldn‘t be allowed to be picky.”

“I CAN STILL HEAR YOU SEED!” Viola shouted through her door. True to his nature, Seed just chuckled and walked away.

*~*~*~*~

“I swear to-” Viola’s mouth dropped to the floor (well, it would have if she didn’t have a bone structure). “WHAT THE FU-”

“Hello,” A soft and kind voice came out of a fairly handsome man. “I was just passing by, and I saw a little bird standing by a window. I thought to myself, what a pretty little bird, I shall see if I can’t get the bird to sing for me; at least for a moment. Do you have a name, pretty bird?”

The man before her was dressed in a modest, yet very fine black tunic. His long red hair was tied back into a ponytail rather neatly. His eyes were a soft shade of blue, and his face had a fair look to it. A bit of his red hair was falling forward slightly, obscuring a bit of his face in a handsome manner.

“I...I...I...is that really you Seed?” Viola stammered as she leaned her head to the side. The man simply shook his head.

“Who is this Seed of which you speak? My name happens to be Scholtenheim Reinbach the Third. Might I ask yours?” The man with the impossibly long name asked; a graceful bow attached to the end of his sentence.

“It’s Odessa Silverberg,” Viola replied.

“No it’s not! It’s Viola Conda a.k.a. Butch!” Seed shouted with an accusatory finger point. He then muttered "ouch" under his breath as he walked away, rubbing the pointing finger that Viola had jerked to the side.

“Strike two!” Memnar chimed.

“There’s no strike system Memnar. Until the day ends, I get as my tries as it takes to get her out on a date with me,” Seed countered as he tore away the tie keeping the ponytail in place. With a curse he threw the ponytail at the wall, and then kicked a nearby plant over.

All at once the curtain lifted, and everything about him reverted back to its original state. His hair was wild and untamed, his posture was slightly crouched like a furtive animal. His tone was harsher, his eyes were harder, and his face was dirtier; the hair that had hidden the burn marks on the top part of his face was no longer in the way.

“At which point you owe me five hundred gold. Where did you get the money for that get-up anyhow?” Memnar asked as Seed walked away.

*~*~*~*~

“Hey. I stole two hundred gold from Memnar. I spent thirty of it on that get-up, want to spend the rest with me?” Seed asked as he held up a bag of gold coins.

“No.” Door slammed.

“Damn. Thought I’d get her with that one,” Seed muttered as Memnar turned the corner.

“Seed Vicious! Give me back my money!” The wizard demanded angrily.

“No.” Another door slammed.

*~*~*~*~

“You’re running out of time,” Memnar chided as he stood outside with Seed next to the local inn. Seed nodded.

“I know, I know. Don’t worry, I don’t welch on a bet. I go on a date with Viola, or I pay you five hundred gold coins. This one will work for sure!”

An enchanting song was heard from the other side of the inn. Memnar gave Seed a curious look.

“I hired a quartet to sing outside of her room. No woman, no matter how hairy, can resist the allure of men singing love songs! I know, I did research!” Seed answered with a happy hand clap.

“You idiot!” A harsh voice rang out. Both men turned to see Viola marching towards them. “I can only assume that that racket is because of you!”

“You like?”

“No you moron! Don’t you realize that-”

“Why in the Thayne’s name is there a group of men outside my window singing?” Lucifer demanded as he flung open the entrance to the inn. Seed’s face turned very red.

“Oops.”

“Enough is enough!” Lucifer clenched his fist. A smug smile of satisfaction crossed Viola’s face. “Viola! Go on a date with him! That’s an order!”

Her smile shattered into a million tortured pieces.

“But-but-but why?” The woman moaned. “Can’t you just order him to shut up?’

“I would, but the boy is an idiot,” Lucifer muttered as he slammed the door shut.

“Told you no woman could resist three men singing love songs,” Seed joked as he elbowed Memnar in the ribs. “Course, if anyone could have, it would have been Butch. She’s so close to a man, I can see where she tucks it in!”

Viola whirled around, and flattened Seed with a solid punch.

“Pick me up at eight,” She muttered, far too loyal to ignore even the most stupid of orders. “And wash the filth away before you do.”

“Are we talking about the smell?” Seed asked as he sat up groggily. He then spat a bit of blood onto the ground. “Or the blood seeping from my lip?”

“Both,” Viola answered as she walked away. Memnar chuckled, and tapped Seed on the head.

“Four men. A quartet is four men.”

“God damn it. I owe them another ten coins.”

*~*~*~*~

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Viola muttered under her breath as she shifted her weight about uncomfortably. Waiting in line was never something anyone enjoyed doing.

“Will you stop complaining already?” Seed asked with no small amount of exhaustion in his voice. “It’s not like the men are lining up to take you out for a night on the town Butch! I paid for the whole damn evening, okay? The tickets, the food, the carriage! Even that stupid dress you’re wearing! For god sake, you even got me wearing nice clothes again! Are you completely incapable of enjoying even one minuscule moment of your miserable existence?”

The two stared at one another as Seed handed the usher the tickets.

“At least you didn’t get me one that makes me look trashy and whore like,” Viola muttered under her breath as the two were shown to their seats.

“Guzzah?” Was what came out of Seed’s mouth.

“Nothing. What play are we seeing? Wait, let me guess. It’s the type of play that involves half-naked women prancing about, right?” Viola asked, knowing the answer.

“It’s the new Zidane Cecil play!” Seed exclaimed happily, and very unexpectedly. Zidane Cecil was a hero who went on many adventures, all of which ended the same way. Good triumphed over evil, love conquered all, and everyone lived happily ever after. Not what Viola had been expecting.

With an anticipation that would have been visible to even a child, Seed leaned forward as the lights dimmed. He wrung his hands nervously, his eyes were fixed solely upon the stage. He bounced his knees up and down, eagerly awaiting the opening act. It was in fact, exactly like anticipation of a child. Viola opened her mouth to comment on this, but Seed quickly shushed her; the play was starting.

*~*~*~*~

“That was a good play, wasn’t it?” Seed asked happily as he munched, in a rather unrefined manner, on his dinner. The two (in no way, shape, or form were they to be considered a couple) had gone to eat after the play. A play that Seed would not stop talking about.

“Yes. It was nice,” Viola commented as she ate in a manner far less messy than her companion for the evening. “Certainly not what I was expecting.”

“What did you think would happen? Zidane Cecil always saves the day!” He answered joyfully. “He always knows just what to do, just what to say! He never kills unless it's necessary, and he always rescues the girl! That’s exactly how it should be!”

“I...I suppose so,” Viola whispered softly as she turned to her meal. Seed, who looked at dark soup that was before him, suddenly began to frown.

“Course...course that’s not how it is. It should be, but it isn’t. You don’t always know what to do, or what to say. You kill cause you can, and you don’t save the girl.” Seed began to play with his soup, swirling his spoon about idly in the liquid.

“I guess that’s just how it is. I mean, if the world was like those fairy tales, there’s no way Emprea would have fallen. All those dirty tricks, they wouldn’t have worked.” Viola went on to relate the manner of how her home had been destroyed by an invading kingdom.

She went on to talk of all the ruthless tactics used, such as using civilians as shields. She talked of a king who instead of protecting his people, threw them all away. She talked of how people died, of how evil triumphed over good. She talked, as she often did; she had told this story many times. However, this was the first time Seed had said nothing at all throughout the whole story. When she finished (which she was very surprised to have done), the young man just looked at her with his blue eyes. Blue eyes, usually filled with so many things, were at this moment filled with but a single emotion.

Intolerable sadness.

“A-anyway, there’s no point in regretting it,” Viola muttered as she tore her gaze away from him.

“Why do you do that?” Seed asked softly. His voice was filled with none of its usual spark; it was very empty.

“Do what?”

“Act like that. You act like Memnar or Lucifer. Why? You’re not like them.”

“I...” She had no answer. Seed simply continued on.

“You shouldn’t be like them. I wouldn’t want to be like them,” Seed spoke in a dreamy voice, as if he wasn’t there. Instead, he seemed to be somewhere very far, far away.

“I regret it,” He whispered softly.

“What?” Viola asked.

“Everything.”

In that moment, he looked to be quite different from his usual self. Gone was the madness, gone was the wild eyes. No more laughter, no more smiles. No hate or malice, no sarcasm or crude jokes. He looked to Viola’s eyes to be a very sad, and very lost, little boy.

The day ended with Seed in his usual situation, heavily intoxicated. Viola was, in repayment for the night, kind enough to take him to his room. When she reached it, she made to set him in his bed, but he simply told her that this was good enough. He then stumbled forward towards a cheap dresser, grabbed a mostly consumed bottle of alcohol, and slumped over in a corner. He reached out woozily for a blanket off of the bed, but was unable to grab it.

“Hey Seed,” Viola whispered softly as she handed him the blanket. “What happened?”

He took a swig of alcohol before answering.

“I couldn’t save the girl.”

She quickly tore herself away from the room. She slammed the door, and did not look back, for there was one thing she knew she should not see; it would be unbearable to witness. It wouldn’t matter if she saw him in any number of situations. It wouldn’t matter if she saw him drunk, stupid,or beaten to a pulp. It would not matter if he was seen in any number of embarrassing moments, but this above all others, no one could ever see.

Seed Vicious was crying.

[Viola Conda]

Thirty years later

There she sat in the corner of the Iron Sword Bar, alone save for several bottles as her only companion. She reeked, the smell of the petrol enough to chase away even a well versed drunk. The bar maidens only ventured her to corner to dump off another bottle, and even then it was in a half trot as they made no speech save to confirm she wanted another when the new bottle had drained.

The only thing that allowed her to stink up the Iron Sword so badly was the one reputation the drunk had over every other. She had paid her tab, and in advance. This small grace allowed her to drink alone with only her thoughts for conversation. Some began whispering to their companions that she drank to forget a loved one, or she drank to forget a deed she had done. Some even said she drank to find the answers at the bottom of the bottle, the same foolish notion all drunks had. Whatever reason she was drinking though was hers and hers alone.

That suited Viola Conda just fine.

She looked to the ugly reflection in the bottle, the warped image of her face casting a long frown. Her hair, so messy and tangled, filled with grease and dirt from being unwashed in days, covered her soft eyes. Her fingers, covered in what could supposedly pass for burlap gloves, gently stroked the side of the bottle like a lover as she sighed to herself, lifted the bottle, and down it one long drought. Her throat ebbed and flowed with the liquid as she greedily drank, slamming it down on the wooden table with a smack of accomplishment. She growled and coughed, looking to the bartender and grunting for another with a half-assed wave to catch his attention.

The door bell to the Iron Sword opened, three figures entering in with cheery demeanor. One had long flowing red hair, his blue eyes scanning out to the bar as the other two compatriots patted him on the back and headed for the bar. The boy’s eyes scanned to hers, and there was a moment where both were thinking the same thing. Did they know the other? Was this a memory that played out or a drunken hallucination? Did they really know one another?

Viola was accosted by a memory of the last time she had seen Seed Vicious. The man was wild, his hair not further from hers as he let out a maniacal chuckle. Viola had just finished aiding Lucifer Blight in ransacking Carthage, and the long campaign had come to an end. She had said her goodbyes to the Carthage prince, and was parting ways with Memnar and the roughish Black Isle native. She told them both to watch the papers. Warlord Viola Conda was coming to take the world by fire and sword.

She quickly snatched the drink from the barmaid’s hand, downing it with a glug-glug sound, the ale dribbling out her sides as she prayed the drink would make her forget. That woman had pride, had ambition, stood with a grace and regalness! How could that woman ever been her? She was nothing like that now. Now she was no better than Seed was all those years ago. A drunk who cried herself to sleep unless she was lucky enough to pass out from the intoxication.

“Butch?” A voice said weakly, no hostility in the obvious insult. There was a spark in those words that triggered within the woman, and she quickly called for another beer as she looked up to see the red head looking to her with eyes of the softest, yet harshest blue. Eyes that had seen so much in the short life they had and trembled to even think of it. Eyes that had belonged to only one man.

“Fuck you,” She slurred, her tone attempting to be hostile, but coming off more as a passing compliment.

“Oh my god, it is you,” The man said looking to her. One hand gently reached out to her, and with a slow, rising hand she swatted it away nearly falling out of her seat in the process.

“I said go fuck yourself!” She barked. “Bartender! Come on, get that whore over here with another!” Viola looked to the barmaid who glared to her, then to her boss and defiantly shook her head. Viola felt her choler rise to be dismissed so easily. If only these idiots knew! If only they knew who she was!

Suddenly madness gripped her as she let out a cruel chuckle. If only she knew who she was. Her lips pursed into a grin, a drunken smile as she lazily looked up to see the red head had yet to leave her side. “Ears plugged? I said-”

“Ya I heard,” He reassured her. “And I gotta say, Butch, that this is quite the one-eighty.” A chair scraped against the floor as the man sat, his nose sudden wrinkling in disgust. “Ugh, oh my god, is that how I smelled?”

“I don’t know you, but I assure you this is how you smelled!” Viola said smartly, her s’ slurring as she spoke. The red head merely ticked his tongue while his head went side to side in disappointment. “What?”

“You know me, Butch,” The red head said. “Come on, you telling me you don’t remember me?” Viola eyed him, and then shook her head. The motion amused her as she felt lucid, the feeling enlightening as she began to shake faster and faster. Soon the world spun too fast for her, and she quickly grabbed the sides of the table as if that would right everything.

“You really don’t remember me?”

“No,” She said with finality. At last the red head got up walking away, his eyes casting back to her with sadness. She flicked her hand to him, dismissing him as she looked outside the window. She could see the softest traces of her face, the eyes she kept hidden behind her matted hair looked back to her. Their noble gaze cast such a look of detestment, of shame. Her fingers lifted to her hair, removing the strands slowly as she looked to the face, matching the blue orbs with her own. She stared at that noble face, a battle of wills ensuing. She would not lose, not this time!

Within three seconds she shoved her hair back into her eyes, screaming for another beer. She turned away from her self imposed torture, only to find the red head standing before again with a glass in his hand of water. He placed it gently on the table, and sat again. This guy was really getting on her nerves.

“What happened to you?” He whispered, a passing mutter that was not meant to be heard. Yet she did hear it, and with a snarl she shattered the water glass against the wall with a furious swipe of her hand, looking to his soft blue eyes. To hear him speak those words made her feel like he was judging her, just like those blue eyes that judged her every time she saw her reflection. The burden for whatever reason became to much to bare, and she suddenly began to spat out nonsense. Each syllable was barked with rage and terrible loss, a remorsefulness that was amplified by the toxins of the alcohol in her bloodstream as her adrenaline spiked for no reason.

“I lost it all! I had it all and I cast it aside! I cast aside honor, pride, dignity, salvation, trust, respect, David, integrity, Rachel, compassion, Jonothan, duty, Brian, hope, Natalie, friendship, Paul,” She inhaled deeply, as if this long winded rant was stabbing a knife into her heart. She let out in a fearful whisper. “Love.” The red head looked to her, and she was afraid to meet his gaze. She expected him to judge her, but instead found one hand softly reaching out and gripping her fingers tightly. She mustered the courage to look to him and saw no judgment in his eyes. He was not secretly thinking of her deeds and casting a verdict on her character. The blue eyes at long last did not judge her.

“Seed…” She whispered. “I lost myself…” She let out a whimper as she looked to the bottles surrounding her. Seed Vicious looked to Viola with a half smile, half grimace as he just looked to her, a friendly aura in his demeanor. “I need a drink!” She suddenly burst out. Seed rushed up to keep her sitting, turning to the bartender and nodding as he assured he would be back.

He kept his promise, and sure enough a drink was in hand. She greedily grabbed the bottle and sucked it like it was a baby bottle, the nectar bittersweet. She finished the bottle and looked back to Seed, belching rudely as she wiped the back of her mouth with the rotted burlap glove. “So…that’s what I’ve been up to. What about you?” She slurred again, an edge to her tone as she looked to Seed.

“Oh you know, the usual,” He said.

“Killing things?” Viola mused.

“What? Oh god, that’s right!” Seed laughed nervously as he rubbed the back of his head. “The usual thing you remember was when I was a sword for hire! I’m not anymore, by the way. No, now I’m just a simple woodchopper in a small town called Irenes.” Viola looked to him before she pointed to his sword at his side. Seed looked down and nervously laughed again. “Oh, yeah, so…huh you got me there. Once in a blue moon Jasper will do a liquor run for Sheex’s tavern, as well as a food run for Noel’s restaurant. He usually gets his two boys to help him out with the safety but one of them wasn’t feeling well. So I stepped up. Decent pay to!”

“So you are a sword for hire?” She asked confused.

“Uh…I try not to be. My real forte is kids parties.” At the mention of this Viola began to snort like a pig, laughing riotously as she pointed to Seed rudely.

“You? Kids? Yeah, and Memnar’s ultimate goal is to bring sunshine and rainbows to all the world! Pfft!” She let out a wet raspberry of indignation as she looked to her bottles and found one that was still a quarter full. She lifted it and swallowed it down with one chug. “Maybe in a world where Lucifer is a kitten rancher!”

“Mock me all you want, but it’s true.” Seed said calmly, a smile on his face. “What about you?” Viola looked to him for a moment, a wild leering grin on her face as she looked to Seed. She ushered him in, which he hesitantly did, taking a deep breath before leaning forwards.

“I’m a bandit warlord! Leader of the Lunar Wolves. Shssshhhh!” She pressed on finger to her lips and spit flew out her mouth as she giggled, spraying Seed in the face. He gently lifted a napkin to his face and wiped the disgusting spittle off his features. “I named them after Paul…” She whispered.

“I kinda figured. You never stop talking about large axe small penis.” Seed joked remembering the old Emprean Hero who led the legendary Emprean Wolves. He was a berkserker through and through, and carried and axe that was easily his height. So Seed, back in his older days, just figured the man had a terribly small penis.

“Yup!” She smiled happily. “Though I would like to go on the record as saying he-”

“Butch, I’m gonna level with you,” Seed said cutting her off. “I really don’t care how big he is. Could be a guy thing, could be a Seed thing for all I know, but I just can’t seem to find myself caring about the actual size of Paul Donovan’s junk.” Viola cast him a wild grin, finding another bottle filled with a few drops as she drank deeply, her tongue darting inside trying to lick up each drop.

When she finished she looked back to Seed. “I told you my name is legendary! You hear of us?” Seed gave her a guilty look. Viola’s eyes cast down to her feet. “I guess not. It’s weird, I know. I got loyal bandits, if you could call them that. Though I think they all sold out and joined the Bandit Brotherhood. I’m the Empress of my own little world…my Quiet Place.”

“Well you can’t beat yourself up so much! I hear they got a good dental plan over their. I mean, can you really compete with benefits like that?” Seed said with a straight face. Viola looked to Seed, and then began to laugh again. She slapped the table, shattering several bottles that fell over as she looked to him.

“How,” Viola took a moment to regain herself. “How can you always know the thing to say to make me feel better? Even when I was with Lucifer, you still found a way to make me smile, even after your worst insult?” Seed shrugged.

“Where do you live Butch, maybe I can give you a shoulder home to pay you back for the shoulder you gave me thirty years ago.”

“You actually remember that day?”

“Of course, I think it was the worst date I had ever been on. Who wants to hear someone bitch about their ex boyfriend?” Seed teased. Viola remained very quiet as she looked to the bottles. She then remembered the play, the difference inside Seed that night, the radical change in his demeanor before he soon reverted back to what she was now. Back then she could not fathom how one could let go so far down the darkened road, but now she saw why. It was all clear.

“That was the best day I ever had in a long time,” She whispered. Seed softly lifted her up by her arm.

“Come on, where do you live, Viola?” Seed said gently. Viola looked to the outside world again.

“That rock is looking like a step up from the ditch I had yesterday.” She murmured before she began to giggle. Seed sighed, a sad, pitiful sigh as one gave when watching something they cared about fall apart before their eyes. Maybe for Seed it was like stepping back into the past, seeing a mirror of what he once was and the terrible way he had acted. The Seed most people saw. The broken, lifeless, empty Seed Vicious who laughed and joked and insulted anything that moved but begged like a baby for a drink before the night came, terrified of the nightmares that would come after him if he did not put up his wall of ignorance made of intoxication.

It was maybe that experience that caused Seed to drift Viola towards his cart, much to the chagrin of the cart driver Jasper and his son. Seed stopped to make sure Viola’s tab was square, and he even paid for the damaged glass of water and the disturbance she caused. Viola would later learn that would cost the boy a small fortune of seventy five gold coins. She had passed out before they got to the cart, and he dumped her inside taking off his cloak and wrapping her up, using a bit of hay to give her a makeshift pillow, looking to her with the same sorrowful blue eyes she had looked to him when she wrapped that blanket around his shoulders.

“Seed?” Viola muttered with her eyes shut.

“Ya Butch?”

“Where are you taking me?”

“With me. I wanna show you Irenes, and get you cleaned up. I figure if I stopped drinking, than maybe I can help you stop as well.” There was a moment of silence, before Viola spoke again.

“Why did you stop drinking?” She whispered.

“Because I couldn’t save the girl.” Seed whispered back. Viola drifted back out of unconsciousness, her mind assailing her as she shivered in silent fear of the nightmares that always found her.

[Yari Rafanas]

Somewhere, beneath the sleeping streets of Radasanth.

“Tell me, your Highness,” The cool and confident voice came from an over-dressed officer for the armed forces of Corone. “What is it that motivates your kind? What compels you to commit such... childish crimes? Please tell me, because I do not understand.”

The smug dog of the Empire was addressing none other than Yari Rafanas, self-proclaimed King of Thieves, who was currently on his hands and knees. His armor was torn from his frame, what clothes he had left were tattered and soaked in the filth of the sewers and his own blood. His face was swollen, cracked, and bruised. A mixture of sweat and spit caked his hair. Anger was evident in his eyes as he stared up at his captor, and though his body was broken, he made a meager attempt to stand. His progress was halted by a pair of halberds pressing at his neck from opposite sides.

“Aside from frustration and anger, of course,” the officer continued snickered at his own joke. “In my younger years I would have believed the most basic of desires... gold. Our currency speaks to many, after all. But now, having seen their leader's determination I know it must be something more. Fame? No... if it was that, you would have stayed dead. No, you have the tenacity and the spirit of a man who lives for the simple pleasures of life, but ultimately wants something much darker.”

The officer took a knee next to Rafanas, slowly unraveling a scroll he had been nurturing most of the night.

“Your forest is burning as we speak, your Highness. Your army of thieves and cutthroats are beaten. If you release the whereabouts of the remaining members of the Bandit Brotherhood, I assure you they will be unharmed and given safe passage off the island of Corone. There needn't be any more bloodshed and you know you have no place in this war. So please, spare us all this waste of time and blood. Show me where they are, and I will give you what keeps you going. I will give you your revenge.”

At last, the officer revealed the contents of the scroll, dangling it before the broken bandit's face. Yari blinked twice to focus in the dim light, straining to read the cursive hand of the Imperial document. His eyes widened as they made out the name, “Gild Sorrain.”

A malevolent grin spread across the officers pale face, “Do we have a deal?”

The darkest parts of Yari's soul burned hot at the mention of the name. Gild Sorrain would pay, Concordia be damned. With what little strength he had, Yari nodded to his captor.

[Yari Rafanas]

Thank you all for posting!

Top 3:
1. Paragon (100 GP)
2. Silence Sei (75 GP)
3. Lucifer Blight (50 GP)


Lucifer Blight gains 100 EXP
El Diablo Perro gains 100 EXP
The Soulforged gains 100 EXP
Viola Conda gains 100 EXP
Silence Sei gains 800 EXP
Paragon gains 150 EXP
Yari Rafanas gains 550 EXP

EXP and GP Added