A Glass Half Full ... With Darkness

[Ashla]

Closed to Black Shadow, Taviri Ambria, Requiem of Insanity, and Green Gwendolyn. Bunnies between me and Green Gwendolyn are approved.

Ashla could not understand it... how come she was faster than her cousin, yet Gwen was far ahead of her?

"Hurry up, Ash!" She called.

Ashla panted from further down the hill, "I-I'm comi-ing..." Ashla was all sweaty, she slouched there for a moment. Within the grassy hills and plains of an ancient country, the best thing she could find were the heavenly winds flying into her face, cooling her down a little. Against the burning sun, the half-elf gathered her remaining strength. Brushing her hand against her stomach in protection, she pushed herself the rest of the way up.

Once at the top, she could hardly hear her blonde cousin chattering about like it's the end of the world. "Yes! We are finally here! Here to grab perfect materials for..."

For blah, blah, blah...

"Hey! Are you listening to me??"

Ashla blinked and over to her ticked looking cousin. Ashla chuckled, "Y-Yeah, sti-ill follllllowing 'ya." And Ashla stuck her thumb up, still heavily breathing from the exhaustion.

Luckily, Gwen bought it. The young elf beamed, "Great! Well, as I was saying..."

Ashla cut in, "We're here to get you some extra wood to make more arrows, right?"

The young elf clasped her hands together, "Right you are! As a member of the Trading Company, it is my duty to..."

Ashla let herself get distracted during her relative's ramblings again. Ashla was now looking at the grand sight on the other side of the giant hill they came over.

A ruined city.

As another gust of wind came over them, sending goose bumps up Ashla's pale skin, she interrupted her cousin again. "Hey, what is this place?"

Gwen shrugged, "Dunno... It is one of the cities lost during the Corpse War. Forgot the name, but yeah. People abandoned it because of how bad it was overrun."

Ashla caught a tinge of sadness in the elf's voice and remembered how this place was Gwen's homeland. Now, Gwen was not born during the dreaded Corpse War - but the country she grew up in was still suffering from it. Ashla placed a hand on her cousin's shoulder. The rough blonde smiled in a silent thank you before continuing. "But the city isn't where we're going..." And the elf pointed to a small patch of woodland just ahead of the city gates. "We go in, grab some oak branches. Get the heck out." Gwen placed her hands on her hips and looked at her cousin with confidence. "Sounds like a plan?"

Ashla looked at her cousin, a smirk slowly formed on her lips, "Sounds like a good plan to me." And the girls ran on down.

[black shadow]

Black Shadow noticed a female elf dressed in green, followed by his long time friend, Ashla. A smile grew over his face as he saw her and a plan formed in his mind. He followed the two at a distance, making sure he did not come close enough to be noticed. Ashla was tired out early in the trip, but still managed to push on.

As the two arrived at what appeared to be their destination, the green archer stopped and turned back at Ashla. Black Shadow reacted quickly and dove behind a rock, the woman barely missing him. When the archer turned around again, Black Shadow ran behind the ruins of a torn down structure and began to look for a door. He quickly found the door and entered, moving quickly to the almost completely destroyed stone stairs. The building was small, only two stories. At the left of the upstairs room was a ladder leading to the roof of the building. Black Shadow climbed to the top of the room, taking a deep breath, and entered the roof.

Black Shadow walked over the the edge of the roof, grabbing an old torn up hood laying over the edge. He put this hood on, grabbed an arrow, and fired it at the feet of the green archer, now running towards a patch of trees beyond the city.

This should be fun.

[Taviri Ambria]

“Let those who make a mockery of life be forced to embrace their final fates. Let those that have been bound in servitude be released from their chains. Varias shine your light upon this place, so suffused with darkness so that all shall be brought to the justice they deserve!”

The words echoed through the town square when the sound of wood upon flesh secured another zombie’s death. A staff struck out in a circular pattern to hit another zombie in the jaw, unbalancing it even as a third came at him from behind a nearby building. He hissed at the distraction before he held up two fingers and muttered, “Ort!”

The dictas were the words of power given to the Seraphs of Sintyre by their gods. Uttering one created as pure a conduit as was necessary to have their prayer heard. In the interest of expediency they sounded like command, but in reality were a request. The one that the man had unleashed was one calling for a return of the Zombie to the restful state it had once enjoyed. The word thrummed with power, and recognizing his prayer was heard the man pointed his two fingers at the encroaching zombie.

The effect was instantaneous.

The flesh sloughed off the skeleton which fell to the ground. Before anything could reanimate the body it rapidly decayed and fell still, the body purified and the tortured soul sent to the afterlife to receive judgment. All this occurred in the blink of an eye before the man in the town square faced off against the zombie and thumbed over a small glyph etched into the staff.

A blue glow enveloped the staff, causing it to shrink in size until it was no bigger than a baton. Immediately he hefted it to reacquaint with the new balance and weight, and was on the attack. Using one hand to shove the undead fiend back, the zombie clawed at the arm only to his dusty leather and bracer. The baton came across the jaw again with a sharp crack that resounded through the square.

“I would ask for your penance, but you had no sins. In life you were pure, and in death you were corrupted. Instead I shall put you to rest, that you may see your loved ones in the afterlife as you deserve,” the words were muttered with a soul wrenching care. Eyes that brokered no hate focused on the zombie before he brought the baton down on a join, breaking the zombie’s knee. It fell in a heap on the ground before a boot firmly crushed what was left of the skull. He brushed his jacket off of the dust the fighting had kicked up and looked about the area.

Several bodies of the former inhabitants littered the ground about him. He closed his eyes and sighed at the tragedy that had befallen these people before he spoke, his voice wistful, “Varias guide these people to their gods. I know that you protect us all in your holy light, but all flocks need help from time to time. Please, let these people return to their rightful place, and help them to never be disturbed and torn from their loved ones. If it is your will, so be it.” He shook his head and began to leave the town, his voice soft, “No help for me, and I dislike grave robbers. I shall leave this as it was; hopefully a bit better off than when I entered.”

Tiredly he began to continue his journey towards Alerar and walked, his gait taking him along the road, where he spied two figures out in the distance. They were approaching rapidly, immediately causing him to scan the horizon for a sign of trouble, thinking the figures were escaping something. Upon seeing this was not the case he paused at the gates and raised a hand in greeting, “Ho friends! Where are you going so fast?”

He could hear the breath of them as they ran which relieved him of the worry more undead had come to attack him. He relaxed his posture and even began to put away the baton in its sheath along his leg as they approached.

[Requiem of Insanity]

“Disgusting creatures,” Catherine rasped as she watched the Ghouls and the undead clash like unfed wolves. The few Cultists she had around her moved through the ruins, searching for something that was deemed terribly important to the works of Alexander Rayz. Memnar, as the Cult knew him by, assigned a group to head to this desolate scrap of what could barely pass for land, instructions to find a very unique looking item. He couldn’t say for sure exactly what it was, but for something he had no clue as to where or what it looked like, it was apparently very important.

While her mother ascended Catherine was the voice of the Cult, and it was agreed by Aerith to allow this little trip for Memnar. Catherine loved her sister, more than a sister ever should, and in the waning hours of the night, lying in bed next to her and holding her tight, she explained her reasons. In that moment of clarity where the blood didn’t demand her attention, the Crimson Angel agreed and took flight in the morning before her love awoke.

The perk of the Cult was that it had minions everywhere, and pockets of Cultists created small havens, expanding the great work of their goddess Cassandra Remi. After the attack on Ixian Castle, the process to create ghouls and other demonic hell spawn was passed to the Red Cardinals who would in turn use it to create themselves their own elite warriors in the pursuit of sowing terror and following the tenants of Blessed Torture. The truth was far more plane: The Cult wasn’t capable of organizing on a global scale. Instead, each cell had to be able to function on its own. And should a member of the Dark Family go to extend the Cult’s influence, they didn’t need to sacrifice man power from a central source to doll out elsewhere.

Catherine arrived a few days later, using some magic from wizards in exchange for favors from the Cult to speed her process along, stopping in safe houses and spreading the word of her mother by killing a few people more out of the divine need to feed on blood than by choice. If it weren’t for the fact she cared little for sun’s effect on her skin some would claim her vampire. She ignored those comments, letting whatever name they wanted cling to her like sap. Whatever fears they named her, she would wear them all.

But for now, she was getting more annoyed. Aerith insisted on doing this project on her own, but Catherine couldn’t bare to let her sister leave in her wheelchair to this hell hole. Not only because of her love, but because Catherine was a terrible leader. Still, she didn’t like this assignment she gave herself as she watched the Ghouls devour the rotten flesh of the dead. The ghouls were innoncent souls, forced to watch torture after torture, their food they ate between veiwings slowly filtered with scraps of human flesh. When the person tossed the food aside and focused on the flesh only, they were ready to have demonic essence fueled into their system, giving them their grotesque hulking shape, as well as their speed, stamina, and strength. Yet they were hard to control, so lost in their madness. Only Catherine’s younger sister, Kat, could handle them. They worshipped her for unknown reasons, even reasons Cassandra could not fathom.

“My mistress,” A cultist said breaking her from her personal thoughts. She turned, slowly, to show her irritation at being interrupted and the Cultists threw himself to the ground in apology. “I come only to bring news that you would want to hear.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Catherine spat.

“We have spotted a few civilians. A female elf, a woman, and two men. They are moving closer to our operations.” Catherine gave him a once over and kicked him, hard, in the part where his collar and neck met. He keeled over, whimpering in pain as tears struck down his face. Catherine marched over him, walking towards the group of Cultists.

“I ask for you to keep an eye on our operations, and then you report that people are coming in? Get out there and kill them.” Catherine barked, lifting her ax up to her hand and turning to swing it into the frail body of the man she kicked over. He took the ax to the face, his lower jaw separating in a clean cut as blood sprayed across her face in a glittering arc, covering her as her lips opened to let her tongue dart out and lick it. “Or something far worse will happen to you,” she teased with a malevolent chuckle.

((Cultists inbound.))

[Green Gwendolyn]

Gwen was happy to see a heavy oak branch hanging low on one of the many trees in the forested cluster. She grinned in satisfaction and pulled out her wood axe. Her eyes briefly darted to the half elf, inhaling and exhaling in exhaustion several feet from her. Ashla was pregnant! About two months along, with a tiny bump barely noticeable on her stomach. Who the father was was no question! It was quite obvious that the father was Julius Tabor. He had departed from them several months ago to increase their chances of survival against the Order of the Crimson Hand. Before he had left though, he'd asked Gwendolyn to watch over her for him. As much as Gwen was not fond of that jerk Julius, she saw Ashla as more than a cousin... she saw her as a sister. Gwen was unable to turn Ashla's lover down.

As Ashla leaned against a tree and sat down, Gwen turned to the branch and lifted the axe to cut the healthy thing. Just as she was about to chop though...

- "Ho, friends! Where are you going so fast?"

Both girls looked over to where an interesting man was. He looked pretty epic, Gwen had to admit. The professional outfit he wore, that sick coat, his choice of weapons... - Weapons!"

Ashla instantly jumped to her feet, Gwen could hear her draw one of her many melee blades. Gwen acted more casually though, simply pointing to her axe, still hanging in the air. "Isn't it obvious?" She called, "This is excellent wood for carving things!" Gwen glanced at the armed man one more time, then just to prove her point, got ready to chop again.

She tightened her grip on the axe, then got ready to swing... when...

*Pew!*

An arrow found itself imbedded on the ground next to her.

Gwen sighed and lowered the axe. When she could hear Ashla's footsteps behind her, Gwen pulled her arm out to stop her from going any further. "Get behind a tree. Now."

Thankfully, Ashla did a rare thing and didn't argue. Gwen could hear the brunette's heavy breathing and could guess why as the pale girl ducked right behind the tree they were standing by. Gwen chuckled the axe into another tree, the thud muting Ashla's ticked and tired moan from close by. Then Gwen bent down and picked up the black arrow in front of her. The blonde could guess what was going on - this awesome looking man ahead of them, and whoever had shot the arrow, must have been assassins from the Crimson Hand. Sent to murder Ashla. Gwen eyed the arrow, if her cousin's life was in danger this day, it was up to her to protect her!

"Oh look," Gwen stated, "Free arrow." And she pulled her bow out, slipping the arrow in question into the weapon. She pulled it back and aimed at the first person in sight: the man who had opened a conversation with them. "Who are you!?!" The woodland elf demanded, "And what do you want with my cousin?!?"

[black shadow]

Black Shadow watched Gwen pick up Black Shadow's steel arrow, place it in her bow, and aim it at a man who appeared to come out of nowhere, as Black Shadow could not see the man behind one of the falling apart buildings.

Well that wasn't supposed to happen. He thought as he notched another arrow. He was about to fire at Gwen's bow to move her attention to Black Shadow when he noticed movement behind them.

Black Shadow's senses went into overdrive, his hearing strong enough to hear a pin drop from twenty feet away, his eyes noticing the movement of each blade of grass. He took in a deep breath from his nose, picking up the scents of Gwen, Ashla, and what he could tell was the other man. But then a new scent filled Black Shadow's nostrils. Black Shadow placed his arrow back in his quiver and placed his hand right hand on the hilt of his dagger. Shutting out all other senses and closing his eyes, Black Shadow focused solely on his hearing. The sounds of running footsteps came in contact wish Black Shadow's ears.

He crouched down, placing his left knee onto the hard, stone roof. The wooden door behind lack Shadow flew open, and a cultist came running out. a sword in his hand. Black Shadow quickly spun, ripping his dagger from its sheath, and throwing it at the cultists chest. The sharp sound of a blade slicing through flesh came to Black Shadow's ears, the sound of a body falling limp came subsequently.

Black Shadow stood and approached the now dead cultist, knelt down, and retrieved his dagger. He the readied an arrow and walked back to the ledge. He scanned the area, and noticed another cultist approached Ashla, who was now hiding behind a tree. Black Shadow aimed his arrow and his fingers let the arrow fly.

[Taviri Ambria]

Taviri was sure the gods were having a chuckle at the situation. That was the only reason that when he attempted to greet the fellow travelers an arrow hit the ground before them. He could have said something, anything to salvage the situation, but realistically an attack had occurred. There was no trust between them, just an amiable neutrality destroyed by the attack. He couldn't fault the girl's logic, and the mention of her cousin meant that they were wanted by someone out there.

The baton made it to holster, he made sure of it. He then carefully raised his palms to his aggressor. With that done he looked carefully at the arrow. He then spoke, “I could say everything in this world to convince you to lower that arrow. I don't know what it means to you, but I am a Priest with the Seraphs of Sintyre, I'm a demon hunter, not a hunter of men. I have no clue who either of you are, nor where that arrow came from. If you're in trouble, let me help.”

Of course this relied on the girl before him being reasonable. It also relied on him having time. Perhaps it was more fate he was with them for he heard the sounds of scrambling from within the village and witnessed several humanoid figures rushing through the area. Cries and praises to some dark mother upon their lips. He nodded hearing them before he looked at the girl and spoke candidly;

“I would love to continue this discussion with you, but it appears this fine party has been crashed. Let's evict our rather rude guests and come back to this at a more convenient time?”

He didn't wait for an answer. Instead he turned to face the men, ignoring the bow now aimed at his back while he pulled his baton. A thumb slipped over the glyph of the mouse, allowing it to extend to its full length. With a small testing of the weight he twirled it and saw the first cultist reach their lines. He brought the staff up and brought the man up in a trip that was followed up by a swift crack to his skull. Blood trickled down the man's face from the scratch the wooden staff caused even as the man groaned out in pain.

The next crazed psychopath to rush them was a bit more intelligent. He went for the man at the front rather than trying to rush out, and Taviri found himself forced back as an axe tried to bite into Fury's oak. He wasn't about to lose his weapon to such a clever use of weaponry. Even if he didn't lose the staff the damage would have lost him any advantage. The others rushed at the priest and he grit his teeth as he spoke up, “I would suggest you either run now, or do something dramatic.”

[black shadow]

Black Shadow waited, the sounds of footsteps all around him indicated he was surrounded. His first priority was not himself though. He readied another arrow and watched towards Ashla again, waiting to see if she would be attacked again. another enemy or two charged but were quickly met with Shadow's arrows. Their heads fell from their bodies and they fell limp only a few feet from Ashla's feet.

The door to the roof flew open once again. Arrows met the enemies entering from the stairs, but there were too many for him to fight along. Black Shadow took a few steps back before jumping to the next roof. He almost lost is footing but caught himself. He continued to jump from roof to roof until he reached the edge of the buildings. One leap lead him to the ground, and a short dash to the small group. He knelt down, facing the tow, paying no attention to the people behind them, and readied himself to fight at a moment's nottice.

[Philomel]

Name Of Judgement: A Glass Half Full ... Of Darkness (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?28024-A-Glass-Half-Full-With-Darkness)
Judgement Type: No Judgement

Rewards:
black shadow receives: (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?16247-black-shadow)
310 EXP
35 GP

Taviri Ambria receives: (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?151-Taviri-Ambria)
190 EXP
25 GP

Green Gwendolyn receives: (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?17441-Green-Gwendolyn)
85 EXP
15 GP

Requiem of Insanity receives: (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?13479-Requiem-of-Insanity)
130 EXP
15 GP

Ashla receives: (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?16205-Ashla)
125 EXP
15 GP

[Rayleigh]

All EXP and GP have been added.