Those that Pray in Darkness

[Synful_Blood]

Also known as "Pious By Night." Closed to Feed the Machines and Dirge. Elvish language in Garamond font, since each main character can speak the language.

They're at it again. Syneare really didn't have any other thought. Her sharp eyes could see the flames rising from the temple's cauldrons, and sometimes the wind would blow a faint cry to her ears. She really didn't care what was going on. She just sat on a rock where she could see the temple because it amused her to think that there might be heretic priests at the temple that Scara Brae was so proud of.

She played with Friend for a moment, letting the razor gleam in the dull moonlight. She enjoyed using Friend...that was about the only thing she DID enjoy. She and Friend had power over her blood. It had actually been two days since she'd last felt the blade caress her skin, since she'd last felt the pleasure of the pain as it separated gray skin and let her tainted red blood flow out. But it wasn't quite time yet...she had to learn to wait...wait until she had a target, so that she would have plenty of blood to unleash. It felt so good to damn a soul as dark as hers. So she needed to keep the tool she had.

"In a little bit, Friend. Be patient." That said, she closed the clean blade and stuck it back in her pocket. That's...five nights now.

She'd honestly contemplated going over during the daytime hours, when pilgrims crossed the temporarily dry passage to the rocky outcropping that apparently had the ears of the same gods that Syn knew to be dead. But honestly...what reason did she have to walk all that way when they just made visitors go home during the time in the evening when the way was clear? A mild curiosity didn't make it worth the Elf's while to walk three miles each way.

Eventually, a fatigue came upon her, and Syn lay down in the brush just outside Scara Brae city to rest. When she was rudely woken by a city guard three hours later, she glared at the man from under her unkempt black and white hair, letting her red eyes do the talking, speaking of her annoyance at having been woken.

"It is forbidden to sleep in public places," he was saying. "I'm afraid I'll have to put you under arrest for loitering."

Syn couldn't understand a word the mousy-haired man was saying. Probably trying to make her go away. She took Friend back out, playing with it again while the guard went on and on and on...and then suddenly his voice faltered to a halt as the light came through the brush and hit Syn's scarred arms. She just looked up and grinned at him, standing to be on her way. The man was so startled by her arms that he neglected to chase after her.

When she entered the town, Syn noted the local tendency to shy away from her...and who wouldn't? She hid her eyes and face with a cowl, and her exposed skin -- gray like that of a corpse -- was covered in long scars.

There wasn't really anything interesting in town today. There never was, really. Humans were not the scum of Althanas -- that was her father's people, the Elves that inhabited Alerar -- but they were boring. They did the same thing every day, just by routine, like little machines. They deserved to break, like all machines did eventually. Fools.

The sound of a hammer on wood caught her attention, and when the bulletin was posted and the messenger moved on, she shuffled lethargically up to the post. There, in several languages, was printed a notice that interested her mildly, if only because the topic had interested her to begin with.



It Has Recently Been Observed that some of the priests in the Temple have been acting strangely of late. The Queen wishes for a discreet investigation to be made into the subject. Interested parties may apply at the local Knight Station.

Rewards: Gold and the Queen's gratitude.

Why did she care? To be quite honest...she didn't. But she did want to know what the fire was about, during the night. That did have her mildly interested. Maybe it would be worth it.

"What do you think, Friend?" she asked of her razor. It gleamed invitingly in the new sunlight, and Syn grinned, a static grin of pleasure that had only ever known pain. She took the blade in her right hand, opening a small cut on her index finger and passing the finger close to the paper as her blood coiled about in the air, just under the part of the bulletin written in her native tongue.

Interested? Look to green for black.

She released her control over her blood, letting a few drops fall to the ground and sucking on the cut finger, savoring the metallic tang of her own blood for a moment before wiping Friend on her pants and closing the blade. Then she sat down under the square's central tree, just to wait. If any one was interested and mildly intelligent, they'd find her. If not, they'd be repulsed by the blood writing...or they couldn't speak or read Elvish, meaning she wouldn't have wanted them, in any event.

[Feed The Machine]

Scara Brae's luxury liners were renowned throughout all of Althanas for being excellent ships that continually traveled to various countries, picking people up and sailing the seas in cruise-fashion, or simply bringing them back to the island in order to enjoy all that Scara Brae had to offer. The larger, more powerful countries of the world permitted this, seeing as Scara Brae had always managed to stay neutral and have good relations with them. So, it was that time of the year where basic Bladesinger training at the Bladesinger's Guild in Anebrilith was coming to a close, and the annual month long vacation commenced. Everyone of the trainees made plans to either go back home and see their families, or travel to Treynce to gamble. However, Galyl desired to go to Scara Brae. The only problem was that he did not have the money to make such a trip. Therefore, a meeting with General Oronra in his office took place.

"So you'd like an advancement in order to make this trip? Is that what you're saying?" The General sat in his chair with his feet propped up on his desk; something that was unusual for Oronra to do, since he was always writing documents of some sort. "Yes, I would like that very much."

"Pardon me for asking Galyl, but wouldn't you rather go back to the Obsidian Spire and see Hiomir? He must be lonely with you not being there. I'm sure he'd be glad to see you." The Galoriand chuckled upon hearing this. "You don't know Hiomir like I do. He told me to never return to the Spire or else he'd kill me. Plus, I have important business to attend to in Scara Brae."

"Important business?" The General elf rose from his seat, walking steadily over to the young soldier. Galyl began to grow nervous, for he'd been used to Oronra always having a nonchalant, care-free attitude around him. But, he was also an intensely loyal man to Raiaera, and at times grew suspicious of his men if they sought to attend to inconspicuous business in other countries. "You do understand that your duty, as long as you seek to serve in the Raiaeran military, is to exhibit loyalty and protect our land at all cost right?"

"Sir, you're worrying too much," Galyl smiled, trying to avoid direct eye contact with Oronra. "I simply wish to strengthen the ties between Raiaera and Scara Brae. Sure we stand on good ground with them now, but in the event that Alerar fully attacks us, wouldn't it be good to have a strong country like that on our side? I'm sure you've heard of the Red Halo and all that he's done right?" Oronra's jaw loosened, showing that his anger was decreasing. Returning to his normally calm self, he rested his hand on Galyl's shoulder. "Indeed I have. He is a great man, worthy of my acknowledgment! Anyways, here is your advancement. Go make Raiaera proud."

After thanking his superior for his deed, the Obsidian Spire resident departed for the ports of New Aurient, where a Scarabrian luxury liner had been docked. Yet while he put on an act for the General, his countenance darkened as he thought of the real reason for his journey: A cure for the Galoriands. He'd heard of the monks of Scara Brae and how their healing magic was even better than the masters of Lissilin. Those at Istien University tried to downplay this, but the great works they'd done for those competing in the Zirnden could not be denied. "If anyone is going to help me find it cure, it will be them!"

The vessel arrived in Scara Brae city in the middle of a busy day, with people entering and exiting nearby ships, as well as vendors trying to sell their merchandise to the travelers. Galyl had never left Raiaera prior to this voyage, so he had no idea where to look for the monks. "I suppose I'll start with the Zirnden" Galoriand said, moving aimlessly through the docks until he could find a map to the city and properly navigate throughout. However, his wandering led him to a particularly crowded street, where many stores and taverns were. On a rather large wall though, there was several bulletin postings. "Ah, it must be information for tourists," Galyl assumed, having not yet gotten close enough to read it. "Perhaps I can find out how to get a map there." The young Bladesinger skimmed the jumbled text, looking for anything that might aid him. He didn't see anything of interest, until he came across something in the elven language. Apparently, it was directly below a job request from the Queen of Scara Brae.

"Hmm? This is convenient! If their is a problem at the temple, if I resolve it, then maybe the monks there will help me in finding a cure for my family!" Galyl actually had no idea if he would even find the monks at the temple, but he figured that there would be the best place to start.

Turning quickly, Galyl sought out one of the taverns in order to get directions to this Temple. However, while running under a tree, he carelessly bumped into a pale skinned woman donning a hooded hide that covered her head. "Madam I apologize!" Galyl went to her aid, seeing how he didn't mean to collide into her like that. "Huh? You're bleeding! I'm so sorry! We have to get you medical attention!"

(Syn, Galyl has spoken in tradespeak because he doesn't know that Syn doesn't speak it. Respond to Galyl however you like and then from here on out, he'll speak the Raiaeran tongue with you.)

[Dirge]

Morning was always the sorcerer’s least favorite time of the day. Dusk always brought a light breeze from the sea, bringing with it a soft smell of salt water, and the night was filled with the sweet scent. It was the time of the day when the wind would cool the land. Vigo was never a fan of the humid air, or the bright sun. Overhead the harsh bright sun was letting off its tepid glow, only breaking through the thin clouds to spill across the sleeping city.

The sorcerer made his way through the streets, his polished leather boots tapping lightly with his slow stride. He was alone, as always. He preferred it that way. But fate always changed things to fit the plan of the world; his destiny was only one of many that were pulled like a string into the fabric of reality. He had no plans in his visit to the little island of Scara Brae, giving little thought about what he had come to find. Personal advancement of his spells and abilities was always the primary concern, but study would only allow so much. He had to get out and use his spells too.

Vigo pulled his coat close, tucking in the flaps of his greatcoat to keep the gentle morning wind out. He smiled, despite himself. The cool wind felt good, compared to the warm light of the sun. He kept to the side of the road, trying to stay out of the flow of traffic. It did not help though; it just forced him to frequently side step into the alleys, or slid along the walls. It was there the vagrants were present, but they were still and quiet. Vigo only gave them a passing grimace, keeping his distance from their smell and from waking them. The last thing he wished to deal with was more homeless people that couldn’t get off their ass to help themselves. It disgusted him.

“What’s this?” He said curiously as he approached a large board filled with small slivers of paper, all pinned up. Most of the papers were scribbled on, rudimentary notes written in simple common. Normally it would not catch his interest, but the deep crimson wording below one of the notes was an instant attraction. He brought up his slender hands to the note, rubbing the ends of his soft fingers across the already dried blood. To write so well… to inflict personal pain to write… it made him smile. “A predicament with the priests? That so holy a clergy could possibly be infiltrated with the wicked… what a wonderful adventure.”

The sorcerer turned on his heels, and started scanned the area. Around him the people were quietly working on their own thoughts, carrying themselves about the city with a sense of urgency. But one, his actions staccato, his voice raised… he drew the interest of not only some of the local populace, but Vigo as well. Resting against a tree before him was another, a woman. Even from the distance the sorcerer could see that her finger was pricked, blood was still on the tip.

“Her,” he mumbled to himself, and sauntered over to the two. At hand was his cane sword, the blade hardly ever used due to the very little skill he commanded over it. Despite it, the metal cap clicked with his approach. His coattails flailed around his calves, giving him a dramatic flair that he always loved to introduce himself with. “Good day,” he said with a suave tone, “I assume you are the one with the blood writing?”

[Synful_Blood]

Syn blinked at the...Elf-tree? that stood before her, listening to him reel off his gibberish, all the while staring at the little prick on her finger. She heard the note of panic in his voice...over a tiny cut when the scars on her arms spoke of much harsher realities than a tiny finger prick.

"If you must speak, creature, speak like a man and in a man's language. And this..." she held out the arm with the cut finger, so he could see both the cut and the scars. "Is not even pain enough to give slight pleasure."

She turned her head from the freak show spazzing out in front of her to a darker, more elegant figure pacing towards her. His movements spoke of malice and his voice held the slightest traces of menace. Best of all...he spoke a real language, instead of the child's gibberish of the humans...and he was interested in going to find out what the priests were doing.

This one will do. I think he'll do pretty well.

She turned to look at the newcomer, her blood-red eyes scrutinizing him with all the curiosity a tree held toward those who sat in its shade. Actually...had the tree they stood under had eyes, it would probably rub them in bewilderment. Standing beneath it was the oddest group any person could hope to see in a lifetime -- a well dressed half-human Elf, a shabby and self-destructive half-Drow Elf, and then a half-tree Elf that had all the markings of a Bladesinger apprentice.

"The writing is mine. Do you have a desire to go?"

She sounded bored, like she really didn't care enough about his answer to have it matter, yes or no. She had a slight desire to find out what those priests were doing over there, but if she didn't find anyone who wanted to go, she could assume it was something stupid and be satisfied. But with a man interested enough in her blood writing to seek her out...she might just get to see, after all.

[Feed The Machine]

Galyl cringed after the woman spoke. Hearing her talk in such a tone was worse than hearing untrained Bladesingers utter their first song, for it wasn't natural for a woman to sound like that. The cured Galoriand was most surprised. "Even though she speaks my native tongue, there is no way that she is a Raiaeran! The women in my country are much more gracious and elegant when they speak the language!" Still insulted by the hooded female's response to his offer to help her with her wound, Galyl's countenance became solemn, and he began speaking to her in his native jargon.

"I don't appreciate it when people insult me, especially when I didn't do anything to warrant that! I want an apology from you." At that moment though, another figure who was just as sullen as the woman arrived, seemingly interested in the news about the church. Attention shifted towards him, causing Galyl to temporarily put aside his issues with the dark woman. Feelings of irritation were still there though, which played out in the way that the Red Forest resident approached the newcomer.

"And just who are you!?"

[Dirge]

Desire was something that was fleeting, something that passed as soon as it came. Vigo held little desire for anything. His interest was as always, merely dancing around the idea of empowerment and furthering himself. He could care little about the other two he was to accompany on the mission, could care even less about the priests or their assumed malpractices. What he wanted was to further himself, financially and possibly pull something useful as from accomplishing the ridiculous tasks ahead.

However, before he could answer, the other man turned to him and began babbling. He was a nutcase, like the vagabonds that polluted all corners of Althanas. He was a wicked, twisted aberration of an elven adventurer. The sorcerer only squinted his eyes towards him, giving him little more thought than he had given the sleeping homeless that littered the landscape of Scara Brae. “Apologize are for those that have wronged another, you have not been wronged. If you fear that as an insult, then perhaps you are simply too weak. Grow some balls and then try addressing us. You are elven like us, but you are more than likely from Raiaera… weakness is hailed as strength there. This is the real world. Don’t dance around and act the fool…”

Vigo was not a harsh individual, but he definitely did not enjoy being around those easily offended. But an easily offended person was a target. If he could tear him apart slowly, just like he did most, he could assume control. Control was power, power was strength. As soon as he finished talking to the man he turned to the woman, wondering at her insecurities and strengths. She had not given him cause to be alarmed, yet, and had shown even less emotions.

She knew control.

“I am interested,” he commented nonchalantly. Instead of making eye to eye contact he glanced around him. He was wary, tired of being persecuted. His appearance had pulled more than one cautious eye from a guardsman, and the gathering of the three was drawing too much attention for his liking. If the unique elf had not pulled so much attention he would have not worried, but the eyes of passing people were being drawn towards them. “My name is Vigo Drakk Ruinn, most simply call me Vigo… or fool. Call me what you will though, I care could care less. But I am interested. I suppose it all revolves around your ideas, what the mission before us is, and what exactly is expected of us… So? Do you know answers for any of these?”

[Synful_Blood]

A tight, but somewhat off grin slashed across the lower half of Syn's face, contorting the blade-thin lips unnaturally. She'd found someone thick-skinned and maybe even a little off-beat that was interested. That was good. Desire was strong. Interest was like curiosity.

The grin receded, and Syn let her head weave lethargically from side to side. It cleared her hair somewhat out of her blood red eyes, and let her see the freak show and the dandy that stood before her. Come to think of it...that had been an awfully fast response to blood writing. Blood writing in Elvish. In a human land.

"Answers to your questions? Only what I have seen and heard. For many nights now, bright fires have raged beneath the darkness-enshrouded sky. Blasphemous chants are sung around these heretical flames. This happens on the island which is connected to land only when the ocean recedes as far as it will. Faithful go by morning and return by evening. None but the monks are permitted within the towering, crumbling walls after the evening tide pulls the sea back and leaves the way open for the foolish to return home. What the humans want to know is what is happening behind those walls. Probably also to make it go away so they can sleep peacefully in the depths of night once more."

Syn regarded the green Bladesinger cadet and the half-elf with shifting eyes once more, and a little more closer than her usual wont. Was she really signing herself up to work with others? On a whim? Why?

Because I don't speak that annoying human tongue. I need someone who does.

She leaned back against the tree, hands in her pockets, waiting to hear Vigo's response. She couldn't care less about easily flustered Raiaeran.

[Feed The Machine]

Galyl, having calmed down listened to the gloomy woman's explanation as to what had truly been going on in the ominous temple of Scara Brae. He wasn't surprised at the interest surrounding such a mysterious occurrence, since people regarded the Obsidian Spire, his residence, in the same manner. "Clearly they are protecting a secret of some sort," The Bladesinger trainee thought, coming to no other conclusion behind those of the temple prohibiting any save for monks from entering. His curiosity arose.

"I'm moving steps closer to being able to find a cure for my family. But it seems that this mystery will have to be solved first in order for me to really do some exploring."

At this point, the plan for Galoriand was simple since accessing the temple was off limits to civilians. The two individuals that were to accompany him to his destination would serve as nothing but decoys until he could ditch them and start his own investigation for his own reasons. Normally, such a selfish mindset was the farthest thing that Galyl would adopt, but in this particular situation, there was no other way. "If General Oronra knew about this, he'd kill me." Grinning, the young elf walk steadily toward the woman, intentionally entering her comfort zone by placing one had on the trunk of the tree while staring at her, leaning slightly forward.

"As an unsightly woman, your speech is as sharp as a blade," Galyl's normally respectful tone had shed away, only to be replaced by a harsher, callous one. "Hopefully though, you know how to handle yourself so that you may spare both Vigo and I the burden of having to act as bodyguards for a grotesque and disturbed woman such as yourself." Turning abruptly away from her and towards the well dressed gentlemen, Galoriand nodded in a welcoming manner. "It seems that we'd gotten off on the wrong foot before," The strange looking elf had switched over to the human tongue. "My name is Galyl Galoriand. Pleased to meet you."

[Dirge]

Vigo listened to the wicked tone of the stolid elven woman, her voice dull and unimpressive. The task ahead of them seemed ominously decadent, a fact that made him pass the tip of his sharp tongue across his thin lips. He would have fun with the priests. They were hiding something, something dangerous and impure. They held some power that they were not releasing to the public, or were ashamed of. The sorcerer craved the powers that made others wince and willingly cast the most depraved of spells just for a laugh at the human expression.

“We must simply enter, destroy, and leave? Seems hardly worth the… what is the profit? If this task is so simple I doubt it is all too handsome a reaping. Perhaps a handful of gold? Or a new dagger?" Vigo sighed as he pulled the edge of his coat closer once again, this time turning the collar up a big so that half his face was concealed. The people were bothersome. If he could find something that frightened them into leaving him in peace, he would accept it in place of any meager rewards… “I want no honor, no fame or glory. They mean nothing to me. If the profit is not a weighty sack of gold, or access to whatever depraved spells they toy with, I am afraid I may not be of much use.”

Turning to Galyl, the warped sneer that constituted a usual smile slipped across his sharp face. The hand rose once again, this time his long fingers danced across his high cheekbone, pushing aside a loose strand of auburn hair. His jade eyes were sharp, calculating, and cruel. What he saw was a weak attempt at a truce, without his ‘companion’ outright admitting that he had been weak. It made him smile nonetheless to see him cede. Acceptance of another, despite a verbally abusive attack meant that they were either afraid, or had something planned for later. The first meant Vigo held power, the second that he had to watch his own back.

“Believe me, Galyl, the pleasure is all yours,” he said as he shuffled a bit to allow both of the elves into his sight. “I always start on the correct foot, and if people assume I don’t it is often because they do not know me too well. I have enough to worry about as it is, I would not enjoy further confrontation. You are an elf of Raiaeria, as I thought. I am half of your kind, half of… their kind…” he said as he cocked a thumb towards a rough looking man who was walking slowly with his chest puffed out. The sorcerer wished by everything in him that he just had five minutes to deflate the idiot.

[Synful_Blood]

"Gold has already been promised," the hybrid assured Vigo, "And if you find any book or spells you want to keep while there, I don't care if you keep them."

Syn tossed her head lazily, banishing her unruly black and white locks from the area of her eyes. While she still didn't like the tree-like youth, the way Vigo had spoken down to him made her like the dark half-elf even more. She thought he'd do very well indeed. "If you're still interested, would you care to inform the authorities that the mission is claimed? I do not speak human-tongue, and I doubt that even a human would wish to stand near a Galóriand."

She said the word slowly, as though it were especially vile, staring unblinkingly at the freakish Bladesinger cadet that stood before her. She was honestly surprised that the half-plant Raiaeran was coming along if he despised her so much. But that was his business. And his business if she slit his throat when he got to e too much trouble.

Turning to face him, she grinned stiffly, cruelly. "I never thought I'd meet a creature more wretched...more damned...than I am. And here one stands."

[Feed The Machine]

The more the dark duo hurled insults at the Bladesinger, the easier such stinging words rolled off his back like sweat on a hot summer day. Normally he was an observer of people while being sociable, but he'd gotten side tracked initially upon meeting the gruesome female. However, after adjusting to her caustic form of speech and her rough, boyish mannerisms, he was able to focus in on the mission at hand and what he knew he would get out of it; even if at the expense of Vigo and the woman. "Shady figures like them are usually criminals anyhow." The youth smiled, pondering over how easy it would be to dispose of them in the heat of battle, all while making it look like an accident. Governments covered things up all the time, and since Galyl was in fact part of the Raiaeran government, a few vagabonds would be effortless to erase from the world of Althanas.

Shaking his head though, Galoriand's integrity gained control, seeing how by nature he sought to do what was right, by the right people. "Their both scumbags, but let me give them the benefit of the doubt for right now...."

There was a large stone by the tree that the female had been leaning up against for some time. Taking a seat on it, the Raiaeran observed the authorities that passed through the streets. Vigo's new responsibility was to alert them that the mission had now been claimed, yet Galyl hoped the eloquent gentlemen didn't strike them as suspect. Many countries were already on high alert with war being declared in nearly every major nation, which of course left the nations of Althanas on edge, especially when suspicious people were present in their country. It was apparent though that Galyl was a strange sight to behold, but he could've easily proven to the authorities that he belonged to the Bladesingers. Not to say that in all countries doing such a thing would quell every inflamed situation, but Scara Brae didn't have any real problems with Raiaera.

Nevertheless, Galyl tightened his cloak and simply waited. The time for departure had to be nearing soon.

[Dirge]

Gold was so trite a reward to receive, as far as the sorcerer was concerned. He did nothing for simple monetary gain, for gold could be lost, stolen, or used up quickly. His focus, as always, was on the power he could gain and the influence over the arcane that would grow slowly. Vigo was no sell-sword, no mercenary scum. It was the heretical books that interested him, however. What they could contain, what they could possibly offer was an interest that kept his shallow allegiances with the blood elf and the Raiaerian.

“I assume, by Gayl’s perching, that I am the one to deal with the authorities?” he questioned, his tone cock-sure and droll. Authorities and himself did not meld well, but if he was the only one that would assume the meager mission then so be it. He would put on his most demure of facades and confront the petty knights.

Instead of waiting for a reply he already knew, he turned away from the group and strolled back to the board where the mission had been placed. The people of Scara Brae gave him odd looks, taking in his attire with his sharp features. They paid far more attention to Vigo than he did to them. Petty humans and their worthlessly short existence, what good where they for than turning them to fight one another? Reaping the benefits of their petty wars, pulling power and prestige from spots opened by political and shady deeds…

Vigo snatched the pamphlet from the board, smirking at the writing in blood. He turned from it and the curious eyes and started for the Knights Station. Once there he was only granted more cautious glances. But the knights were not near so loathing as the general populace. They only gave him a little trouble, questioning the origins of the blood and what the writing said. “Are you going to give us the damned mission or not?” He asked, annoyed by the questions. “If you have an abundant supply of idiots at your disposal perhaps you can get one of them to do your work…”

“No need to get uppity, halfling,” the elderly knight said in response. He placed the paper down on the hardwood table and looking into the jade eyes of the elf. Something passed between the two, something that Vigo did not particularly care for. The old man’s brown eyes bore into his, as if looking into the macabre soul that he coveted within. The man’s exposed arms furled in a wave of raised hair, a reaction that Vigo took pleasure in. “You and your… party are given the mission. Once the problem has been solved, or the heretics stilled, you are to return here and receive your gold. Go with the Queens blessing, and return with her favor.”

“I care little for either,” he muttered as he turned from the man, leaving a questioning look upon his face for the language. “The Queen can have her favor. Save it for those that long for it, like your petty following.” He exited once again into the unfavorable sun, letting its heat soak into his traveler’s garbs. The wind was picking up, but only served to cool his heated thoughts and sweating body.

[Synful_Blood]

Syn didn't need more than one look at Vigo as he stepped out of the ramshamble commissions office to know that they had the job. She let him get into the shade of the tree before speaking up to the two men.

"I'll go get us a boat. If you still intend to make the trip tonight, be outside the city's Southern gate by sunset."

Without another word, the wraith-like girl shuffled off to the South, to make good on her word. Her slouch didn't particularly inspire confidence, and she didn't pick her feet up like a girl on a mission. She'd just do whatever it was she was going to do, in her own time, and to hell with what people thought.

~*~

Most fishermen came in during the evening. But Jason Cooper was a man of the land. He lived outside of town, on his own, doing what he wanted. He almost imagined that he and his native earth had some sort of an understanding...he did only what he needed to survive instead of trying to conquer it, and in return it gave him enough corn and meat to last him year to year, and a good fish for dinner every day.

This particular day, he had caught a ten pound monster out in some deeper water, and was whistling merrily as he gutted and cleaned it. It would make a nice big stew, with some potato chunks and vegetables, and maybe some ground nuts.

"Yessir," he said to no one, his gray eyes twinkling as he rubbed his thick beard contentedly. "It's the right time for ground nuts. It's gonna be a good few meals, wooooweee!"

He loved the woods that surrounded him, and how bountiful they were. He'd never found a woman that quite agreed with that sentiment though, so he'd become a hermit over the years. Some company would be nice every once in a while, but Ol' Jason wasn't lonely one bit. As far as he was concerned, he was living the good life, and who cared about all the fancy gimmicks and trappings of city life? Certainly not him.

The dark figure that approached didn't care about the middle-aged Human's rambling or his enlightened and happy lifestyle. She saw that he was nearby and had a boat big enough for three Elves to make the crossing to the isolated temple. She'd seen him come in from her regular perch, and that had sealed his fate. As an added boon, he was the only fisherman on shore, meaning she would have no witnesses. The thick forest that surrounded Syn smelled too much of life to be suitable for her...but it also provided her the cover she needed to attack her victim swiftly and without a chance for a struggle. Her general indifference gave the people that saw her the impression that she had no aptitude for stealth. The ones that knew better had never seen her coming.

At least, that was how she NORMALLY worked. A softly-placed step resulted in a sudden snap and the waif-thin Elf snarled as her leg was ensnared tightly in a trap. Fortunately, it didn't draw blood, but it would leave a bruise. Worse than that, she needed time to disentangle herself from the trap. Time was a commodity that she didn't have, because the sound had alerted her prey.

Ol' Jason had thought he was having a good day when he heard the sound of his trap go off. Some rabbit and fish stew or roasted quail with the option of fish stew made his mouth water with anticipation. Instead, he found a skeletal girl in a tattered jacket. When she turned to face him, he saw the same feral look in her eyes as he'd seen in a young fox he'd caught once, many years before. With some food and kindness, the creature had warmed right up to him, and Jason was sure the girl would, too. Some company at last changed it from a good day to a wonderful day.

"Easy there, easy," he soothed, taking his knife and bending to unhinge the trap. He wasn't terribly surprised when she tried to bolt. The poor thing had scars all over her, probably from other sorts of traps she'd found herself in -- emotional traps brought on by family life, he supposed. Her hair, falling in black and white streaks, as well as her blood-red eyes and sharply pointed ears, told him that she was half from Alerar, and half from Raiaera. Even he knew that when it came to those countries, ne'er the twain could meet, and he felt pity for the one tortured exception.

"I don't want to hurt you, girl," he said, making sure to keep his voice quiet and calm. "I'm just setting you loose." He looked up at her, but she hadn't gone for a weapon. "Do you understand?"

She didn't look like she understood. She was still trying to pull away, but she was frail and couldn't fight it long, so when she stopped struggling for a moment, he gently freed her from his trap before resetting it and standing up. "Come on, girl. You look like you could use some food."

Syn glared at him. What did he think he was trying to do, earn her trust? Pull her somewhere even MORE secluded than the middle of nowhere so that he could try murdering her in strange and painful ways?

No. This is one of those 'good people' that wants to help everyone, without checking to see if they want to kill him or not. What a fool.

When he gestured for her to follow him, Syn decided to play along, to make him think that she had no ill intent for him. He turned from her to lead her off, and her hand clenched around her knife. She could strike him in his kidney right now, right through his threadbare flannel shirt, and no one would find him for days. But she wanted to know what he wanted of her first. She doubted her idle curiosity would make her late for her rendez-vous with Vigo and Galoriand.

"M' name's Jason, and I've lived in this forest all of m' life. M' daddy did too, and his daddy, too. If I'd had a son, I reckon he would, too. Anyway, we'll go to m' place and make up a stew, and in an hour we'll have some supper. Does that sound good to you? ... Oh, right, you don't understand. But what you will understand is some good grub in front of you."

He went into the sandy little clearing to pick up his fish, and then led the way down a well-worn path to a small, humble hut that was kept well maintained and fairly neat for a middle-aged bachelor. He opened the door and preceded Syn in, seeing that she wouldn't trust him enough to turn her back on him.

He went into the little kitchen, letting his guest poke about in the main room as she liked. It didn't take him fifteen minutes to get everything all chopped up and set in the stewpot, and in a couple of hours or so they'd have a nice meal. It wasn't really enough time to make a great stew, but everything would be cooked, and he'd feel safer about the girl once she'd gotten some grub into her.

"Yessir," he muttered, wiping his knife clean, "wild things are always tamer after ya've given them somethin' ta eat." Ol' Jason sat down in his chair, watching the dark figure shuffle about the room, exploring it just like the fox he'd found when he'd brought it home for the first time. There's a lass that needs a home, too. I bet she'd be right pretty and happy with a little kindness and a caring home. And I could use the company. Not getting any younger.

Syn, looking around the tranquil little hut, saw everything that reassured her she wasn't going to be caught. Everything settled about the airy little hovel screamed "bachelor." There was no wife to alert the authorities, no children to run screaming to town upon finding their father's corpse. It would be days or even months before the crime was discovered, and by then she'd be long gone.

She whipped around when she heard the soft thud of a step on the hard-packed dirt floor, and recoiled when she saw his hand reaching for her. "Don't touch me," she spat, and the man held up his hands, withdrawing. Her body language was clear, even if he didn't understand her words.

"All right, all right, I won't touch you. Listen. M' name's Jason." He put his hand on his chest, repeating his name. "Now...who are you?" He pointed to her and watched her as she hesitated.

What is the harm in it? He dies soon, and dead men tell nothing. It will make him think you trust him, and he will not suspect an attack when it comes.

"Syn," she said at length. No embellishments, no attempts to communicate. She watched the man's weathered face break out into a beaming smile as she answered him.

"Syn! Now that's tha stuff! See, we're bonding already. And soon the grub will be done and we'll eat."

Syn wasn't interested in what the man had to say, looking at a faded old blanket strewn over a shelf. Jason smiled, taking it down and handing it to her.

"M' mammy made it a long time ago. I think she'd be happy fer ya to have it, since the Thayne knows I use tha other one. Go on," he emphasized, thrusting it in her general direction, "take it."

Syn reached out to take the soft, worn, warm blanket from his outstretched hands, and was rewarded with another smile. Everything about the man instilled a sense of trust...of wanting to see him smile and hear him talk. That was dangerous, and Syn would have to beware that she didn't fall into the trap. Her hatred and pain fueled her power, and if she let him take that away from her, she'd be nothing.

She listened with half an ear as he prattled on about the various heirlooms in his house, and soon enough, he went to check on the food. His smile let her know that it had cooked enough for him to eat it, and he got out two bowls and served them heaping helpings, setting a bowl for her down on the cluttered table and giving her a fork.

"Syn," he started slowly, talking more intently with his hands and eyes than with his mouth, "if you stay here, with me, then you can eat every day and not worry about being hurt." He then motioned her to sit down and eat, which she did, almost mechanically. She didn't know if it tasted good or bad. She wasn't used to eating.

Barely a week ago, someone tried shoving food down my throat, and I spat it back into his face. And this man holds food out to me, and I sit and eat with him. This is not good.

She'd also understood his intentions earlier. He wanted her to stay, and part of her wanted to. She knew that with Jason, she would have a more caring home and better family than her mother had provided for her. She'd been a burden to her mother. Her mother hadn't wanted her. Jason was willing to welcome her, despite the horrid taint that flowed through her veins.

She didn't like the feeling. She remembered a dream she'd had a couple of nights before, in which someone had intruded upon her beautiful landscape with a positive force, feelings like hope and joy. He had destroyed her. She couldn't let herself be destroyed. She had too much to do...she had to kill as many of those damn tainted Dark Elves as she possibly could before she died.

A sudden scrape of a chair against the floor startled Syn and made her look up. Jason had been talking on and on in his soothing way, and now he had turned his back to her to go to the water pump.

It was the perfect opportunity, and she took it. Sliding shade-like from her own chair, Syn drew her dagger, took two silent steps, and slammed it into Jason's back, right where the liver would be. It would be a slow, painful death, and she yanked the blade out, wiping it slowly on his clothes and not flinching at the betrayed expression in his warm gray eyes.

"Let us be clear on one thing. I hate you. I hate you like you don't know hatred. I need something from you, and I need you never to tell. You are nothing but an insect in my path, and your life is an eye blink. You suffered the fate of all obstacles in my path, and don't think I'll ever regret killing you."

That said, she turned, grabbing the blanket he'd given her and leaving. Tears welled up in Ol' Jason's eyes. All he'd wanted to do was to help her and shelter her, give her the home and father that she'd obviously never had...but he had forgotten that wild animals don't tame fast, and often bite. He tried calling for help with his last few minutes, but the forest was silent -- the city folk had no interest in an old hermit, and had learned to leave him alone.

Unmindful of her victim's final suffering, Syn went out and looked at the boat. It would be a little cramped for three, but the smaller they were, the less likely they were to be seen. She untied it and guided it toward the city, hugging the bank the entire time.

She settled the boat just out of sight of the city and then went to wait outside the gates. She'd wait for a little while, but not too long after the sun had set. Part of her ached at the lost chance of redemption, but she pushed it aside as the longings of a little girl whose mother had never loved her. She was strong in her hatred, and she couldn't let a weakness like regret tinge her heart. She had to become stronger than those forces that had devastated her in that dream.

Sorry for the length, the scene got away with me. If you have stuff for your characters to do in the time between Syn's leaving and sunset, please take care of it in your next posts and be at the gate.

[Feed The Machine]

With the departure of Galyl's new, yet temporary allies, the young Bladesinger joyously sighed, inhaling the air of the city. Both Dirge and the somber woman were a handful to deal with, bringing a ominous aura and a foul personality along with them where ever they traveled. However, it did make him wonder of the trials that the two had endured in times passed. "Truly the experiences people go through shape them eternally." Galoriand, still sitting on the stone underneath the wide spreading branches of the tree that the woman had previously leaned against, had thought back to his own experiences. His existence had been a cursed one, having lived with an illness that nobody in Raiaera cared to cure, or help find a way to cure. Galyl had been the only fortunate one to break the shackles that his family curse had on him, but that did nothing for the rest of his brethren.

"I really hope I find what I'm looking for in that temple...."

- - - - - - -

"Whoa, look at this guy!" A young boy said to his friend as he pulled on one of the branches protruding from Galyl's head. His comrade, equally fascinated began tugging on another one, yet in an attempt to snap one of them off. "What the heck is he?!" The child cried, placing one foot on Galoriand's shoulder in an attempt given himself the needed strength to break the branch. Galyl had nodded off hours ago, but was awoken with the antics of the children.

"What are you kids doing!?" The Obsidian Spire resident screamed, rising up from the stone. One of the children had scurried off in terror, while the other one held firmly onto the branch that he'd been trying to snap off of the Raiaeran's head. He was an adventurous one, laughing hysterically as his feet dangled. "This is fun! This is fun!" Galyl was intrigued by this boy's reaction considering the fact that human children normally feared his appearance. Choosing to humor the boy, Galoriand spun around in a circle. The child's laughter heightened as his body was now parallel to the ground. "Haha! I'm flying!!!" Smiling due to the boy's elation, Galyl ducked low and rose up quickly providing variation to the child's ride. However, all was brought to an end when the child's friend had returned with his parents as well as his friend's parents.

"Let go of my son you freak!" The father screamed. The boy that'd been hanging from The Bladesinger's protrusions had immediately let go, and stepped away from Galyl. He remained silent with his head down, opting not to take any responsibility for his actions, yet allowing of the blame to fall on Galyl. The Raiaeran was fully aware of this, yet kept quiet, knowing that any explanation would only escalate the situation. "I apologize sir, I didn't mean your son any harm." But without warning, the father of the child ran at Galoriand, swinging his fists wildly. It was clear that this man had no kind of fighting experience, for Galyl was able to effortlessly dodge the man's every attack.

"Argh...stay still you bastard......." He panted, placing his hands on his knees in fatigue.

Realizing though that the time in which he had to be at the southern gate was approaching, Galyl respectfully bid the parents as well as their children farewell, and ran off. He'd become used to dealing with people that hated him because of his appearance, and thus learned that the best way to respond was to keep conversations with them short and leave their presence quickly. However, it still pained him to have to go through such experiences. "One day, everyone will understand.........."

- - - - - - -

Arriving at the rendezvous point, Galyl spotted his female "ally". She'd been the first to arrive, and by her posture it seemed that she'd been waiting for some time. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting for too long," He said, reverting back to his normal respectful tone, rather than the harsh one that he'd once spoken to her with. "I was kind of...tied up with some things....."

[Synful_Blood]

At sunset, only the obnoxious Bladesinger cadet had appeared, muttering some apology that Syn didn't even register. She was waiting for Vigo, since he would probably be her most advantageous ally. But the sun sank beyond the horizon, the earth absorbing the red sphere like it did fresh blood, and still the half-Elf did not come. Syn was not patient enough to wait for him, as if he were still interested, he would have been on time.

She stood, looking impassively at Galyl. She didn't trust this one to not kill her; then again, she couldn't be trusted to not kill him. It was a fair enough arrangement for her, so she stood up.

"He is not coming. Let's go, I got the boat."

That said, she led him to where she'd tied the boat and stepped in, having a little trouble as it bobbed in the high water. It was then that she realized she had a problem. For most people, the problem would have been navigating the darkness, but that wasn't Syn's problem. She could see just fine in the dark, so she could guide them without trouble. Her problem was that she'd never been in a rowboat before, and even if she had, her skeletal arms weren't up for the challenge of rowing for several miles.

I'll add in more stuff later, when I'm more inspired, but the gist isn't changing.

[Feed The Machine]

The somber ambiance was ripe for their adventure. The Ai’Bron monks at the sacred temple were most likely winding down their day, preparing to change shifts. Galyl looked at the rowboat and was not impressed in the least bit, for a puzzled look distorted his face as he truly wondering whether or not the shoddy wooden boat would safely carry him and the gloomy elven woman to their destination. He wanted to complain about it, but knew that doing so wouldn’t do them any good. “This was probably the only boat that she could find….” The Bladesinger trainee pinched the flesh between his eyes in frustration. “If she was somewhat personable, maybe she could’ve gotten a wealthy man to freely give her one. Well, maybe not for free…..”

Galyl snickered before approaching the boat to test its stability. It was actually in slightly better shape than it appeared to be, but he still remained highly cautious. Getting inside, Galoriand took hold of the oars and looked at the woman.

“Do you plan on getting in?”

[Synful_Blood]

Syn wasn't looking at Galyl, she was looking toward the monolithic structure that loomed as a void on the horizon. Normally, it was even blacker than the night. Parts of it still were, but not the part that had her interested.

Already there was a hellishly orange glare from some secret, hollow part of the temple; already the pounding of ritual drums vibrated softly through her ears. The fact that he spoke in Common wasn't a help to him, either. After all, what Syn didn't understand, she tended to ignore or kill.

A slight tilt of the head was the only thing that betrayed her contemplation of their target and the atrocities that lay in wait there. She had to go, and to do that, she had to get into the boat.

Without so much as a shrug, she stepped down and then into the boat with a graceless clunk. She sat down, and then looked at Galyl, the young and accursed youth with the oars. She felt an overwhelming urge to tell him how she'd gotten the boat, but she'd let it wait.

Instead she looked at him, red eyes reflecting the unholy flames from their distant destination...eyes that asked him if he planned on rowing any time that night, or if he was afraid.

[Feed The Machine]

The oars pushed through the dark water quietly. Galyl wasn’t sure what was going to take place once they docked, but he was fully prepared. He was a soldier able to handle many potentially dangerous situations. As for his female companion, he wasn’t so sure. “She’s so frail. What can she possibly do if she finds herself in a perilous situation?” The young elf stared at the elven woman quizzically, uncaring if the woman felt embarrassed by his bold staring.

This was interrupted however, when the rickety rowboat unpleasantly banged against a row of large stones at the edge of the beach. There was a guard posted some twenty feet away. He didn’t appear to be experienced, but instead an amateur having never clashed blades in actual battle. “A quick knock out should suffice. But,” Galyl glanced at the elven woman again. “This could all be a set up, in which case I won’t have the time to protect the lady.” Not seeing any other option though, the Bladesinger made his decision.

“Stay right here. I’m going to knock out that guard.”

[Taskmienster]

This thread has been sitting for a full year. Since no response has been made to create activity I am going to be moving this. If you would like it to be reopened please feel free to PM myself or another staff member and they will be able to move it for you back to Scara Brae.