When the blind are led...

[Viola Darkstalker]

Closed to Shadar.
They said it was “Gisela”. They said it was a town in “Corone”. They said, they said… Arrgh! The violet haired woman wanted to punch something, wanted to stab someone, but something stopped her. Something infernal and beyond all hope of recompense. She could smell the filthy denizens of the city walking around her, carefree as ever. She could hear them walking all about without a worry to their name other than what they would have for dinner. She just couldn’t bloody see them! Noises assaulted her ears as people talked and her brain tried frantically to tie faces with the sounds, but nothing worked. All she saw were the faces of her last massacre with each voice. It was a comforting thought, though, seeing heads rolling and blood flowing from various orifices as the people went on with their daily lives. Yes… comforting indeed.

“Coins for the blind… coins for the blind…”

Someone had been kind enough to give her a decently-sized tin cup and a pair of small coins to rattle around inside it; the lack of coins ensured people would take pity on her, since she always emptied new coins into her pockets as quickly as they were dropped into it. Or so that was the general thought. She had worked hard over the past few weeks to hoarsen up her voice; nobody would take her as a serious blind if she sounded like a sultry feminine warrior. It also meant tying a rag across her eyes to cover her unscathed visage. Violet hair cascaded down her back, falling in silky waves onto the cobblestone walkway just outside the entrance to the wealthier part of town. Between the middle class and the upper class was the best place to beg; they had the money and most would take pity on one less fortunate. Her hair was the only part of her that resembled someone who had seen better days. No matter what rags she dressed in, no matter how much dirt accumulated from the dust of people walking by all day, her hair was kept immaculate.

A particularly generous passer-by dropped a trio of coins into the blind beggar’s cup, coins that were hastily snatched up and put with the rest of her small haul of the day. The talk had shifted to dinner conversation now, and she didn’t need her rumbling stomach to tell her that she would need food soon. Reaching around behind her near the wall she was propped up against, her hand felt the familiar oak of her walking stick. Placing her cup and “feeder coins” into a small pouch that could only hold them and nothing more, she stood up and turned her head to the left and right. Despite being blind, her eyes still sensed small variations in light intensity. It was in no way enough to see by, but it did tell her east from west late at night as the sun was setting. She headed east, toward the outer rim of the city, muscle memory forging her way almost as much as her walking stick told her when she was getting close to another person, building, or the like.

“Pardon me, but how much farther is The Wandering Woman?”

The nicety in her speech raised bile in her stomach, but it was essential to surviving as weak as she now was. Her mind matched the woman’s response to a pair of twins that she had killed years ago. The inflection was similar, so her mind added the slight stereo effect they had as they talked. The hive mind they developed was quite bothersome during the fight. It also made their eventual dismemberment all the sweeter. It wasn’t anything close to her first kill, but it was one of her more satisfying ones.

“Oh, it’s just a little bit farther this way. You poor thing… Here, I’ll walk you the rest of the way.”

A small thank you from the abjectly humiliated woman must have put a smile on her guide’s face. She probably thought she was doing her good deed for the day. The thought of a young child peppered with more holes than he had flesh soothed her temper this time. The mother’s expression was priceless for that one.

“We’re here, hun. I do with you luck in your future endeavors. Bye for now.”

It was all the outsider could to do stay her hands from strangling the woman.

She was close enough.


It would be easy.
It would also blow any hope she had of the city folk helping her. She managed to wave where she thought the woman was and muter another thank you before tapping around with her staff until she found one of the door posts. The metallic tip of her staff rapping on the door four times was a cue to one of the bouncers to help her in. A decent dinner, which she received at a discount along with her room thanks to her blind state, was eaten with mixed success, as always. It was utterly mortifying having someone guide your utensil to the food, but it was necessary. So many things were necessary. Blood painted the unseen walls of the tavern as people ran screaming for the door, only to be slaughtered as they clawed at each other to escape. A comforting thought indeed.

“Would you like help reaching your room, Mistress Viola?”

The blind woman turned her head toward the voice and smiled the most genuine smile she could. The image of two of her spikes piercing the cheerful woman’s head helped some. It made her smile more genuine in any case.

“Yes, I believe it would be best… Tabatha, is it?”

“You’re getting better at that. Please come this way.”

At least she didn’t need help getting undressed and changing into clean undergarments. Her slim, toned figure, slightly bronzed from all her recent time in the sun, would have attracted the eye of most rational men. The sunburst-like scar that marred the underside of her moderate breasts and covered a good portion of her stomach only added a bit of a dangerous edge to her body, something that some men found attractive. Who was she to question what someone found appealing if it meant she could use them? Feeling her way to the small bed, which was just large enough for her to sleep comfortably in, she closed her eyes (though no visible difference came between open and closed eyes, waking with dry eyes and force of habit made her close them) and dreamt of lovely massacres and how she would kill the self-righteous beast that did this to her.

It was midway through the morning when the smell of food gently lifted the sleeper out of a particularly pleasant dream. This would have to be the day; she couldn’t force herself to beg any longer. Her small savings from begging less the payment for her room and board would have to be enough to hire a few brave, capable souls. Dressing in an outfit she had tailored for occasions such as this, she slowly figured the simple outfit out and managed to get it on correctly after three failed attempts. The dress was black, strapless, and held up mostly by her soft breasts; her figure allowed it to ride comfortably without threatening to fall down. The length barely reached halfway to her knees, and both top and bottom were trimmed with a royal violet border. Long stockings, again black with a violet border holding them up just above her knees, almost finished the outfit, but it was a partially translucent mask to cover her eyes that told her she was ready. This was all what she had heard from the various waitresses and maids that helped her pick the fabrics and design it, but she trusted the seamstress and her own judgment that it turned out how she wanted.

Clunk, clunk, clunk, clunk, rattle.

Comfort.

Four particularly mean-looking spikes one foot long attached to rather long lengths of chain hit the floor as a thought released the interesting development that surrounded her. The masses of steel that marked her as something other than helpless fell out of something that she could only think of as a fold in space, causing a small clamor to hurry up the stairs. It may as well have been instinctual, but by the time the door opened, all the chain and her preferred weapons were gone from sight once more. It happened every day when she woke up; she just wanted to make sure they were still there.

“Oh, you’re awake, Viola? You’ve got a visitor… says he knows where the ‘black iris’ is or something. I didn’t ask any more. Word’s been spreading that you’re looking for some hands to help you find it. As stunning as you are, your callers should have no difficulty finding you at all. Would you like a hand down the stairs?”

The blind woman could only smile as she heard the news. It was definitely the day. Things couldn’t get any better. Perhaps she would spare this one after all. Yes, she could do that.

“I would love it.”

Yes… the day had finally come. She was seated in a particularly unobtrusive spot where her conversation-to-come could be held without interfering with normal business, but it was also far enough from the shadows to not draw attention. She was seated profile to the door; any man that came through would recognize her instantly as the one from the rumors. The women, too, but jealousy could draw stranger crowds than lust. Strange wasn’t what she needed, though. She needed muscle. She needed fearlessness. She needed adventurers.

[Xos]

Although he didn't know where the Black Iris was, Xos was one of a few brave souls hoping to get hired on in this little adventure. He had just come back from the other side of the world where strange exotic lands lingered in his mind.

He had met an aged master archwizard by the name of Arcime, and Arcime had helped Xos properly learn the basics of magic for reasons still unknown to Xos, saying only that if Xos knew the reasons now, the future would change. Whatever that meant.

He remembered one last tantalising promise as he parted company with Arcime, that if Xos grew stronger, he could learn secrets few wizards knew, secrets that were dangerous in wrong hands, beneficial in the right ones.

This brought Xos back to the present moment as a violet haired blind girl sat facing the door. She was the reason he was here, help her find the Black Iris, to become stronger himself. If he was stronger, then he could learn Arcime's secrets.

Some blind people, he knew of, had extrodinary senses and were next to impossible to sneak up on. Though he he wasn't intending to outright sneak up on the woman, his steps were soft and barely noticable as he approached the woman from the side.

"I hear rumors your looking for people to help you find something. From a barkeeper I heard you were looking for a jewel from a dragons nest, from a fellow wizard I heard you were looking for a flower, from a monk of Aibrone I heard only that you were looking for something benefical to you, and helping you find it would in turn help me in my goals. Whatever it is your looking for, every rumor monger and gossiping tavern girl all agree you need some strong fearless men to help you. I am such a man, though my strength is of the mind and will, instead of the arms. I can help you find whatever it is your looking for." Xos said.

[Halon]

The justiciar's turquoise gaze gleamed in recognition as it passed the curvaceous writing on the wooden sign that was suspended above The Wandering Woman's worn entranceway. He opened his left gauntlet, revealing a piece of puckered parchment resting on its dark leather, and intently studied the three words scribbled upon it to make sure that this was indeed the place. It was. A familiar feeling of icy anxiety barraged down his spine - the tinge of nervosity that accompanied the start of any mission, especially if it involved more subterfuge and disguise than open arrest. He blinked a couple of times to rid himself of it - a blissful ability that the experience shining through the pearly patches in his long, darkbrown hair already suggested. Halon Estrelle was not a rookie when it came to infiltration.

He scanned around before he made any attempt to enter the inn. Although the people of Gisela definitely did not know him as a member of the Coroné Armed Forces, it was not unlikely that travellers from Radasanth would remember the inverted v-shaped tattoo that covered his forehead, and the grisly stories about the coldness of the man behind it. Normally, he'd be amused by the exaggerated stories and rumors that circled amongst the townsfolk, but right now, such innocuous myths could spell doom for his operation. Staying unknown would be imperative in completing this mission succesfully, and he wouldn't let the tiniest second of thoughtlessness break down several strenuous days of careful preparation.

Instead of donning the impeccable black cloth of the justiciars, he'd covered his chainmail shirt with a fabric reminiscent of jute in both color and structure. His leather boots were muddy, his hair wild, and his renowned manacles clasped firmly around his lower arm, the sign of the Armed Forces scoured away from their metallic surface. Although he did not enjoy the change of image, Halon was willing to go to great lengths to ensure his success - the request had apparently been aimed at adventurers, not the warriors in service of Coroné's government. Probably for good reason, the justiciar considered darkly as he recalled the events that had led to his departure for Gisela from the island nation's capital.

Halon knew the halfling rogue all too well. 'Greedy' Grabby Guiletouch had been one of the most notorious thieves in western Radasanth. His prehensile paws were fast and silent like lightning without thunder. However, as his oft-used prefix indicated, the halfling was very easily lured into acting on impulse when money was involved - a fault of character that had led him into Halon's manacles about four times already. When the justiciar's ear caught hold of a rumor that a halfling was about to leave the city for an unspecified amount of time, he'd hurried to be appointed for guardianship of the gate in question. His hunch had proved to be correct - Grabby, again, could not resist the temptation of making some money on the side and had stashed a veritable garden of rare, illegal flora beneath his tunic, nodoubtedly worth a fortune had it reached its intended destination. The halfling, faced with the prospect of a musty cell in one of Radasanth's underground jails, had then told him about how he was headed for Gisela. Apparently, someone had been spreading invitations for a job to find the black iris. Halon did not know what that sinister name pertained, but he was certain that if Grabby was involved, it couldn't be anything more than half legal.

And so, he'd decided to take Grabby's place. The rogue had sworn that he did not know any specifics about the job, and that he'd never been in contact with the one who'd sent out the request. The only description he'd been given was a beautiful young woman with hair in an unnatural, violet hue. He'd also said that the woman in question was blind, which narrowed down the amount of candidates considerably. True enough, Halon hadn't had much trouble finding where the woman was staying - apparently, she'd been begging for the past couple of days, which the justiciar thought very un-rogueish, unless it involved pickpocketing, of course. He sighed. Hopefully, the purpose of this illustrious quest to find something that a halfling criminal could not wait to get its filthy claws on would become much clearer after actually meeting with the violet-haired mystery.

Dropping into a particularly rugged posture, a lot different from the royal bearing he exhibited when on duty, he opened the tavern's door. He was immediately greeted with the odor of afternoon ale and old, wooden furniture. Although not full, the common room was quite crowded, though it lacked the craggy elegance of drunks singing raunchy songs and disputes being settled through fisticuffs. Hmph, only because it's not evening yet, I guess, Halon thought grimly, but his disdainful contemplations were quickly swiped away by the sight of violaceous strands cascading down a slightly sunburnt face, smooth skin separated by what seemed to be a blindfold. She certainly didn't look like a beggar, but Halon quickly put his prejudice aside. Apparently, he wasn't the first to have answered the beauty's call for aid, for a long man in intricate robes stood next to her, his lips at the end of an intricate monologue. It was beyond doubt that this was the woman that had asked for help finding the black iris, and the justiciar would be all too glad to satisfy that need - until the very moment she crossed into illegal practises, which could not be that long, seeing how a vile thief like Grabby had loved to be involved.

In silence, he took the seat opposite the mysterious woman, ignoring the curious eyes of the surrounding patrons as he made his way with loudly thudding boots. So far for tact. She could've at least chosen a bit of a less conspicuous location, his mind complained, but in a show of his own tact, he did not speak that gripe aloud. Instead, he uttered a gruff word of greeting towards the disparate twosome. He did not say any more, opting instead for a grave frown as he looked deeply into the blindfold, and trying not to cast a glance to the tempting curves below shoulder height. Those were... distracting, especially for one of his age... and he had to stay on guard. He knew why he was here, they knew why he was here, and that was more than enough - for now.

[Viola Darkstalker]

After genuinely enjoying a cup of strong black coffee, the violet-clad woman laced her fingers behind her head and closed her eyes. It made no difference in the luminosity of her world, but it was a force of habit. Relaxation before a slaughter made the end result much more enjoyable. She couldn’t expect every able-bodied man to come running in a heartbeat, but she was hoping for a better turnout than someone who sounded like a frail old man. Sure he had the best information on the “Blind Man’s Dream”, but why did he have to be so impossibly feeble?!

She could tell from his voice that he was slightly to her left. She could almost see his pruned face in her mind. Chains wrapping around his neck forced her tongue to taste the lip gloss one of the tavern maids applied for her. It tasted like strawberries. She hated strawberries. She calmed down.

A new voice, quite obviously directed at her from proximity and direction, spewed some nonsense about searching for dragon jewels, flowers, and his force of will. Whatever tickled his fancy was none of her business. Only a cough from her elderly visitor connected the dots from the mage’s arrival to the request she had sent out. So he was coming to help her? He sounded like a real wimp. She liked to strangle wimps. Tipping her head slightly sideways, she brought her laced fingers from behind her head and rested her elbows on the table. Her chin found a resting place in the cradle of her fingers; the whole process simply aimed to stall for more time. The less she had to tell these imbeciles the better. The less she had to be around them the better.

Another chair was pulled out nearby, and the blind woman’s shielded gaze was drawn toward the source of the noise. Perhaps this one would be more useful. His greeting was gruff and hurried; two traits that Viola instantly loved about him. He wouldn’t ask too many questions, at least not like the wizard wannabe.

“Cheyenne? Would you come here for a moment?” No longer a beggar, she had forsaken her rough voice for the one she had attained over many years of growth and development. Quiet, yet easy to hear; requesting, yet demanding immediate action. She didn’t have to wait long before a soft hand touched her delicate skin. Allowing the serving girl to lead her around the table, she stopped near the first unnamed stranger: the mage. A delicate hand gently reached out to find him initially, and once first contact was made with his right ribs, her other hand estimated where she expected the other side of his body to be. A slight over-calculation, but that simply meant he was thinner than she thought. Her hands walked up his sides and chest, longing for the heart that beat so near, yet so far from her grasp. She skipped his face, preferring to not form an image in her mind other than the warty misshapen preconception she had of him. He was easier to think of like that. His arms were thin, but not gaunt. Overall, she would only take him if she had to. She had to.

A quiet comment to her guide sent her toward the second arrival, and she repeated the process of finding him with one hand then finding his other side. From her first touch, she may as well have been in love. His skin defined strong muscles below the thin coating and his chest was wide. His arms were strong, too. She licked her lips again, but this action wasn’t quite as involuntary as the last. The strawberries tasted lovely this time. She leaned closer, resting her ear on his chest. Thu-thump… thu-thump… Yes, it was a beautiful sound. It was only natural that her breathing was shallower and her hands found his strong face. This was one she wanted to memorize. When she could finally see again, she wanted to be able to find him. One hand at the back of his head and the other on his chin… snap! She would freeze his expression for all eternity.

“Ortil, would you lead us out of the bar? I’d like to get this excursion over with as quickly as possible, and I assume that these other two would agree?” Honey flowed from her lips with each word; she hadn’t forgotten to speak when she lost her sight, after all. “Since you two were interested enough to come this far, I doubt you need many of the particulars right now. What I can say is that you will be handsomely rewarded for your assistance… given you ensure no harm comes to my person.”

The waitress led Viola back to her chair where she retrieved her walking staff and a small satchel of salted meat, cheese, and bread. After leading the blind woman to the doorway, Cheyenne walked back to the two newcomers of the small troupe. Signaling both men to lend their ears close, she made certain her words wouldn’t be heard by the violet-haired woman.

“I would be careful around her… I listened at her door one night. She laughed, cried, and spoke to herself for hours before retiring. What I could understand were little more than incoherent ramblings. I fear… she may not be fully sane. Please bring her back safe, but be wary yourselves.”

Outside, Ortil and Viola walked slowly south and east in the general direction of the Bradbury River. The old man, dressed in almost ceremonial black robes, hobbled along little faster tan the unstable woman could find her footing along the paved road. Hunched over as he was, he did his best to avoid looking at her face. The smile she wore now chilled his adventurer’s spirit until frost should have formed on his long nose. For the hundredth time since meeting her, the old man wondered if he was truly doing the right thing.

[Shadar]

As Shadar watched Viola’s emergence from the rooftop across the way, he thought about biology. Since his transformation into something… other, the necessities of mortal life had been falling off of him like molted skins. He hadn’t eaten or answered the call of nature in many months, or even breathed in nearly as long. Both processes felt alien now, but he couldn’t help remembering those times as if they were the joyously oblivious days of youth. What struck him as odd at this very moment was the indication that another biological system had become obsolete, this one not so necessary, but still defining of the ego.

The violet haired woman was indeed fetching. Her attire, and the body under it, would have been well placed in the nightly parties of wealthy Radasanth neighborhoods, or perhaps on the street corner out front if one was to view her so crudely. However, as much as Shadar remembered enjoying such a sight, he didn’t so much as poke the tiled roof he lay on now. It was both a worry and a relief, and not entirely unexpected. His usual traveling companion could have been a match for the attractions of this woman, yet he had barely been tempted in all their time together.

He let the thoughts drift away as he turned to more pressing issues, like making sure that his cloaking illusion of sky and sunlight was still intact. In the back of his mind, he felt a presence twitch as it picked up the gist of his earlier thoughts, and that was all it took for the presence to surge into focus.

Awww, worried about the little swimmers? asked a spiteful voice inside his brain. It was deep and grating, like the birth of a headache. Too late, stud! They’ve gone the way of fried goldfish.

Shadar shifted his gaze from the woman and her elderly companion, opting instead to stare just over the edge of the rooftop. The solid line of the building’s shadow reminded him that the noonday sun should have been drawing sweat from his back. But, that was another system on the fritz. At least he could still sense the rough tiles that he pressed his chin upon. I’m more worried about the machinery, Shadar thought, his blandness an open defiance of Jackal’s prodding.

Of course, the mental demon wouldn’t be denied his fun. He sent an image to the forefront of Shadar’s mind. It was all the man could do to push it back, but not before he recognized himself, a wilted appendage, and the aforementioned appendage falling to the floor. Shadar cursed Jackal with such spite that the thought couldn’t have translated into anything resembling Commonspeak. The demon just laughed and faded back into the shadows of Shadar’s subconscious. With annoyance making his movements crisp and purposeful, he slid himself back from the edge of the roof and let his illusion fade.

Brigitte looked up calmly from the grey alley as Shadar appeared overhead. His illusion was fading into nothing, laying bare his face with narrowed eyes and a bitter twist to the mouth. She just nodded and smiled supportively. She knew what brought about those faces, and she completely sympathized. Jackal was her creator, after all, a fact that still put chills through her.

Silently, Shadar pushed himself over the tiled edge and drifted to the cobbled ground as swiftly as a wayward feather. His sleeveless black coat billowed around him as if it were bracing for a faster descent. It was long in hem and collar, but opened at the torso to show a starkly white turtleneck shirt. He gingerly touched down in front of his companion and made a showman’s flourish with his gloved hands, the inky blackness of which stretched almost to his elbows.

Brigitte laughed silently. It sent subtle vibrations through her flesh, which brought all of Shadar’s old thoughts back to the surface. She was a harpy, humanoid in shape and skinned mostly as a golden eagle. The majority of her visible human flesh was at the bosom, and in impressive amounts. With his curious thoughts buzzing around, perhaps stirred by the internal demon, Shadar couldn’t help but lay his eyes over her nakedness for longer than usual. Brigitte caught the glance and wrapped her wings, in place of arms, about her like a robe. Her fierce green eyes registered surprise, then became rather heated under her mane of long, fiery red hair. “Don’t let the bastard push you,” she told him warningly in a voice that carried a hint of her shrieking war cry.

Shadar felt the presence in his mind ready itself to counter the insult, but he quickly overrode it. Instead of pointing out that Jackal had nothing to do with his vacant stare, he just gave Brigitte an apologetic smile, ran a hand through his short silver hair, and set off down the alley. There had been the faintest tingle of something, an instinct still clinging. It wouldn’t wilt away any time soon.

He sensed Brigitte walking behind his shoulder, but resisted the urge to say anything more. She wouldn’t understand his thinking. Her mind was too fresh from Jackal’s machinations, and perhaps too scarred from the mix of a dream-like body and the shame of it her creator had buried in her core.

“I saw the woman he told us about,” he informed her, to which she nodded. “We’ll track her for now. Then, we’ll see what the story is from her side.” Thoughtfully, Shadar looked at the blank walls at his side. The buildings were too close to have openings between, so he only had the woman’s original direction to estimate where she was on the parallel street. The taste of her soul gave a hint as well, but only because it was odd, like perfume over something unpleasant.

[Xos]

Xos looked over as a strong warrior entered the pub and sat down in a nearby chair, muttering only a few short words in greeting.

A Meat Shield, goody. He thought with some contempt.
Then he noticed the blind woman get up with the aid of what he surmised was a close friend and walk over, beginning to feel him up. The mage knew the blind saw with their hands and figured she was forming a sort of mental image in her mind. His robes hid his rough dry skin, but they did not hid his unusually long finger nails, nor did they disguise the long Nihon staff at his side that he used for traveling, and when things got rough, fighting.

He felt her disappointment that he was not strong and muscular, that he seemed weak. She seemed to accept him though, but noticeably did not feel his face. Why she did not want to form an image of his face, he did not know, maybe she didn't want to get too attached. Not that he could blame her though, they had only just barely met.

Then she went over and felt the strong silent warrior. She seemed particularly excited by his features. Like most women, she appeared to value brawn over brains. Oh well, that was her shallow problem, not his.

As she had them follow her out of the pub, he got the feeling she didn't want to stick around for a question and answer session, and so he kept his questions to himself. He was always told that the ability to think on your feet with little information available was a valuable skill. He hoped he was good at it, but now he was going to find out for sure.

The Waitress pulled the warrior over to her and motioned for Xos to follow, where she warned the two that their protective charge was quite possibly insane.

"Don't worry, I'll watch my back." Xos said.
Insane, or a genius, maybe both. Either way, better watch my own back.
One question burned strongly in his mind now: where were they headed anyway?

[Viola Darkstalker]

Sorry Halon, but you're being kicked for inactivity.

There were few heads that did not turn as the violet-clad blind beauty walked purposefully down the long street. Despite the staff clicking on the paving stones before her, or perhaps in spite of it, she managed a sultry gait that covered a decent distance with each step. If her bodyguards couldn’t keep up with her like this, they didn’t deserve the right to that title. She wanted to vomit. She needed bodyguards. Well, the Raiaeran enchanter she had communicated with said that most of the “ingredients” he needed for the spell were not the easiest to get a hold of for reasons reaching far beyond mere location.

She wanted to spit on the ground, but the image of a proper woman stopped that line of thought. What would they think of her if she started acting like she was better than them? They certainly wouldn’t want her around if she showed her true colors… they’d kill her in an instant if they knew who she really was. Not that she minded the thought of another city trying to exterminate her. If her memory served her properly, that was what first gave her the title of most wicked being on the planet. The first city of how many? She licked her lips. The strawberries were delicacies.

It wasn’t very confusing coming out of the city; one road led all the way from where she was staying to the edge of the city so conveniently. She managed to only stumble once during the whole excursion, too. It wasn’t her fault that a small child had screamed as she walked past. Early memories told her that children were often the best judges of character; this child would probably grow up to be a holy paladin. Only… his scream awakened a reflex that the lavender-haired woman had to physically fight to put down. His cry was so close – all she had to do was throw two spikes at him and he would never grow up. But she had her “reputation” to think about. She couldn’t kill anyone in the open here. She hated those strawberries. How could someone put the taste of something so awful into lip gloss?

“I took the liberty of hiring my own bodyguard, my Lady, and a good thing, too. It seems your favored protector has lost his way. A pity, that is. Yes, a pity.”

Ortil’s scratchy voice cackled as the threesome left the city walls and a massive beast of a man walked over from the shadows of the trees. Pupil-less eyes radiated white light like so great a judgmental stare, almost boring into the hidden depths of the soul of the one he gazed at. He stood no less than eight feet tall, and the piles of muscles that bulged underneath the too-small shirt that covered his barrel chest would have no obvious trouble lifting a house. He walked with arms crossed toward his employer, sharing a knowing smile that went unnoticed by the only one who needed to see it.

“If you don’t mind, Ortil, you and your goon are supposed to be leading me to ‘The grave of the Fireflies’. I am not a patient woman, and whatever façade I showed toward you in the city was simply that, a mask. Now, your directions?”

Bitter, calm, and terribly calculated; her voice maintained all three aspects at once with a measured amount of spite thrown in. She smiled; a terrible, twisted thing that should have looked lovely on her face but fell far short of anything but madness.

“I do expect you to keep me safe,” She said with much more warmth to the man who called first at the Inn. “May I ask your name?” It will make it easier to find you when I can see again. “I’d like to at least know what my traveling companion will be called.”

The giant of a man spoke up, his voice just as gruff as his build would suggest, but holding an air of nobility that belied his apparent profession. “Lady Viola, you may call me Imgath. It will be a pleasure serving one such as you.”

Underneath the dark shirt that strained to contain his mass, sixteen carvings burned in their proximity to the one who chiseled them into his flesh. The massive greatsword angled across his back would have reached the ground were he the standard height for a human, but seeing how much taller he was, it didn’t quite reach the earth below. If she was really a changed person like she had been acting for the past few days he had observed her, he would do nothing. If it was all an act, as he assumed it was, he would let his newly hired lackey do the dirty work for him. After all, he would never kill a disabled person himself. The Order of the White wouldn’t allow it. Shadar, my pawn. Don’t fail me. Your name will be great across many worlds as the one who slew the Reaper of Cities.

[Shadar]

They moved over the canopy in near silence. Shadar, his coat snapping softly, skimmed the upper boughs with only a few inches to spare under his feet. When a tree reached higher, he darted around it as with the skill and stealth of a sparrow. The only impression left was a faint tilt to the leaves as he swooped over with his upper body straining forward like he was freefalling horizontally. Brigitte winged along leisurely beside him, though every beat was a whisper of air compared to the noonday breeze and the faint forest-speak below. The animal chirps and chitters seemed confused, perhaps undecided as to whether the travelers were natural, or even real.

At their side was a visible gap in the trees, though the path contained within couldn’t be seen from their angle. Shadar had to move out to the canopy’s edge to catch the barest glimpse of heads, notably one that was violet. That was enough to stay on her trail, so he quickly swooped back to the safety farther from the path.

Brigitte barely glanced his way when he returned from scouting. She simply kept moving forward, keeping pace with him even when it drove her to a near standstill. But, she was always like that. She let him lead, never questioned his motives, and never blamed him when everything ended horribly. It was pleasant to have such an agreeable companion, but it meant he had to doubt and worry for two.

This hour’s doubt was for the incident that had led them here. Him and Brigitte had been blasting down a backcountry wagon path at top speed, him hovering a few inches above the rough track and her flapping overhead. He couldn’t remember exactly where it was. These days, they traveled not to a destination, but just because it was something to do.

He had met the man there, a mountain of muscle with only his weapons about him. Armor seemed unnecessary on such a barbarian. Shadar couldn’t remember why he stopped, perhaps to give another unsuspecting traveler a mind trip, but the man didn’t seem impressed. A barbarian with a brain, he thought. He made reluctant introductions to fill the awkward moment, and the man pointedly didn’t, which had pushed his annoyance to near teeth-grinding levels. So, Shadar asked the question that he used to annoy most acquaintances and to test his manifesting talent for lie detection. After all, it was something no one actually answered honestly.

“What’s your story?”

The man answered promptly and, in hindsight, that was the moment that Shadar felt a twinge of worry. He told a story not of himself, but of a woman he meant to find. The details of her past, and even his intentions regarding her, were omitted in the description of her most recent and most violent act. A city slain, bodies piled like refuse in the gutters, and all by her hands. The man had seen the horrible slaughter and the utter joy on her face. As far as the man knew, as far as Shadar could sense, it was true. He spoke of it casually, but Shadar couldn’t hold back a chill. Even in his old assassin days, he could never…

*~*

The path under the party’s feet snaked between the groves of trees, winding around ever-larger obstacles that nature had set before it long ago. With a final bout of twists as if fighting to move forward, it led directly to the edge of a river. Bradbury, they called it, impressive in width and depths unknown. Here, the current was moderate and steady, perfect for fishing. That was what one old woman could be seen doing as the party approached. She was a resilient old thing, her skin leathery and brown, and her form impressively tall as if she ignored the hunch and shrink of age through sheer force of will. Expertly, she gripped the rod, a simple stick with a string off the end, and jerked it back. An impressive fish, fat with meat and shimmering silver from the scales, was popped from the current and landed wetly in the grass at her side. She made a lively yelp and scooped the wriggling thing into a large reed basket on her hip.

Then, hearing footfalls, she turned to greet the travelers. At seeing such an impressive party, at least compared to her own image of worn cloths and dirty hair pulled into a bun, she rested the rod on her shoulder and patted down stray grey hairs with the other. Her bright gaze wander over them, pausing on the large man uncertainly, before she zoned in on the blindfolded face of the woman. “Oh, dear child,” she said, forgoing any greetings with the tact of a hermit, “What’s happened to your eyes?” She stopped in front of the violet haired woman and lifted a hand carefully to press against her cheek. The touch was gentle yet stern as she bobbed her head about to inspect the young woman’s face.

[Viola Darkstalker]

Even though the outskirts of the Concordia forest were not quite as thick as the forest around Underwood, they were still thick enough to limit the amount of light that filtered down through the dense canopy high above. The makeshift adventuring party made slow headway through the forest, thanks mostly to their leader’s habit of constantly finding that one “hidden” root that jumped up out of the ground specifically to trip her. With each fall, her temper flared; as her temper worsened, she fell more often. It was a vicious cycle that she almost willing engaged in. It meant she still had something of her old self left.

“I could carry you, you know. We’d probably get there faster without you tripping over every root.” Imgath’s voice rumbled from somewhere deep within his chest, coming out at an almost unnatural volume. Then again, given his massive size, it wasn’t all that unexpected. The only problem was how loud he was speaking! Grinding her teeth until he finished speaking, the violet-haired woman busied herself thinking of her second massacre. Oh how the years had passed since then. It was in a forest, and if she tried a little, she could almost recreate the scene clearly enough to look up at one man she had strung up by his intestines wrapped around the tree. Yes, he was a fun one; he wasn’t even fully dead before she opened him like a ripe melon and turned his insides into his outsides. Ah, the god old days. That was before her name was used to scare children. It was long before she met him.

His face was burned into her mind, just as her name was burned into his chest. He would have been a fun toy if he hadn’t gotten the idea that she was the greatest evil known to four different galaxies. He said it like it was a bad thing. He obviously didn’t know how hard she worked to achieve such notoriety.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but I will not lower myself to being carried by some thug,” she snapped at him. How could he even think she would accept? The stupid- Oof! Another root, or was it a rock this time? If her walking stick wasn’t so flimsy, she would have most likely broken it half a dozen times now hitting the offending rock or root, or at least trying to. Seeing how the staff was rather thin and she had no spares, however, she decided against it. Her anger could simmer well enough without venting it for every little thing.

A laugh from the little old man almost tipped her over the edge of her already teetering sanity. She was proud of herself so far today; she had only recently taken to holding conversations with the madness that bubbled through her consciousness. Normally she was to the point of daydreaming new and inventive ways to butcher her next town by now. It wasn’t like she enjoyed slaughtering entire populaces… well, actually, she did. A quiet giggle escaped her lips as she started walking again, following the sound of the footsteps ahead of her. One spike for the old man, and two for the brute. Maybe two for each of them. They deserved as much for humiliating her. Who cared if there was nobody else around?

The sound of a river almost brought tears of joy to Viola’s eyes. It was a moderate flow from what she remembered seeing back on her world, though this river probably wasn’t a river of blood and tears. Some of her fondest memories happened around that river, even as a little girl growing up. Beating little Timmy within an inch of his life then throwing him into the violent current as the acid and corruption of the liquid ate away at his soul and body at the same time was somehow so rewarding. Even now, twelve years later, his screams of torment still helped her forget the worries of the day and fall asleep. Such a pity she would never see that river again even if she did get her sight back.

Wrinkled skin assaulted Viola’s own soft flesh moments before a cracked old voice reached her ears. For some reason, this old coot wanted to know what happened to her eyes. Perhaps her eye mask was a little too thick, or perhaps the people at the hospital were lying when they said there was nothing visible on her eyes to mark her as blind. Unless her walking stick gave her away. The sweet taste of sunlight caressing her flesh as she looked out on this wretched world was so close, but so far away. It was an itch she could never quite scratch, and each passing moment that wasn’t spent moving closer to her dream was an hour of agony. Pulling her translucent mask up, square pupils gazed emptily toward the most obvious location of the voice. Down. But not too far down; that would make her seem far too reserved.

“I underestimated a terrible man, and paid for it with all but a piece of my life and my sight. You could say I’m only alive now out of spite for him.” Venom dripped from her tongue as she practically spit the last few words out of her mouth. Yes, she was only alive out of spite toward him. It would take quite some time to grow strong enough to challenge him again, and she could only hope that he didn’t know where she was. He would assuredly wish to finish the job he failed to complete last time if he ever found her.
Sorry, Xos, but you're taking too long.

[Shadar]

The old woman stared at the blind eyes and listened to the tale, as Viola told it, without an ounce of surprise. Something strange flashed across her face; disappointment, or maybe even annoyance. It was gone instantly, replaced by a sympathetic smile that crinkled her wizened face. “That’s a sad story, dear child,” she said as she lowered her hand, “I hope you get that horrible man back.” She made a mock punch at the air with an exuberant “Hah!” and then she was on her way, heading down the path they had just arrived from. The group was left to ponder, had they seen it, the coincidence of the old woman’s punch pointing directly at the muscle-bound hulk of a bodyguard.

Spryly, she walked away from them until the twisting of the path placed a few leafy barriers between. Then, she hovered directly into the shadows of the trees. The illusions fell away in layers. Her hands lost their creases, her voice lost its raspy feminine quality, and the browns of rags and skin skewed into the nearly monochrome shape of Shadar. “So, they’re both that kind of person,” he grumbled bitterly. The annoyance was still on his face, so potent that it must have been brewing under the illusion all that time.

“What kind?” asked Brigitte’s voice. A moment later, she burst down from the leaves, a flurry of feathers and flora. With surprising grace, she stuck her taloned feet in the soft earth and shook everything back into place. Each feather found its perfect alignment on her wings, which half curled around her and showed only miniscule trappings of treetop wreckage.

Shadar gave her a wry, yet pleasant, smile. “People who are too sure of themselves,” he explained. “If they had any doubt, it would make it so easy to read what they were trying to hide. But, those two are so proud that even when they’re hiding something, they won’t show a hint of doubt or worry or any of those other signs. I hate people like that. They’re… uh.” His words failed him, but he felt a stirring in the back of his mind that seemed eager to step into the silence.

Both Shadar and Brigitte caught the faintest flicker off to their side, and they turned to face the grinning maw of Jackal’s illusionary representation. “Thick headed self-righteous idiots?” he volunteered in his gravelly voice. It sounded strange, deeper and more dangerous than his form would entail. Most people saw something whimsical in a humanoid, purple-furred jackal dressed regally in red and purple robes with matching heiroglyphed scarf. Only his eyes, deep pits of flame that they were, hinted at his true nature under the preconceived notions of mortal minds.

“Close enough,” Shadar said with a pointed gesture at the dream demon, “But I’m not going to say that to their faces.”

“Slutty McBlind scares you?” asked Jackal with a low, rumbling laugh.

Shadar turned away and began eyeing the treetops. “Considering what the brute believes she did, what he saw her do, I don’t want to cross either of them right now,” he said dismissively over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Why are you bothering with them?” Jackal suddenly interjected. It sounded sarcastic, as if he already knew the answer.

Brigitte made a sound right on the tail of his question, a curious bird-like chirp. Shadar turned to see her questing face tilted sideways in mute agreement with Jackal’s question. “I’m curious,” Shadar said nonchalantly. Then, he bounded upward through the branches, leaving her to follow hastily. Jackal had been pushing at his mind, compelling him to tell her the whole truth, but he managed to swallow it. I’m doing it for you.

The illusion of Diamond Jackal watched the mortals disappear into the treetops, a mischievous smile on his muzzle. Then, he faded away.

[Viola Darkstalker]

How could that old bat be so impossibly dense? The blind woman thought angrily to herself. Getting him back was nowhere near what she had in mind. He was going to suffer. He was going to feel every second that she had spent in agony. He would feel what she felt recovering in the hospital. He would know the humiliation that he caused her to endure, and then, when he was a broken, shambled husk of what he was, then she would end his pitiful existence. The old woman couldn’t have walked away fast enough to appease Viola’s growing hatred of her. Get him back? Pah.

“You know, Viola, you’re going to absolutely love this place when you can see again. Fall is approaching, and the leaves are already starting to turn. I was told that you aren’t a native of this continent; possibly even an other-worlder. Corone has been claimed among the most beautiful places on this world, a gift from the dragon god to the sky goddess if you believe in those ancient fables and fairy tales. Some people even say that…”

Ortil sure had a mouth that didn’t know how to shut up, and every word that he spewed from his speaking orifice only served to deepen her festering hatred for him. Sure he was the only one who had come calling with information on the Black Iris, but why did the only guy with information have to be a wrinkled old coot? It meant that more of her meager beggings, as gut-wrenching as the thought of begging still was, were going to have to pay for a bodyguard. Certainly this senile fool wasn’t going to pay for his own bodyguard when he was already getting paid for both the information and leading her to it. But slowly, ever so slowly, his voice was pushed to the back of her mind as the other voices took the forefront of her attention. Walking was less of a chore as she comforted herself with talking to the voices that she knew were simply the fragmented shards of her self; perhaps not thinking about walking was the best way to move along the meandering trail.

The hardest thing to judge while walking was time, and it was even harder, even impossible, while blind. The only thing she could count on to judge the time was the grumbling in her stomach. She wasn’t pampered, not in any way, but eating meals regularly was one thing she would enforce with violence if she had to. After all, wouldn’t a well-fed warrior be more effective in battle than a half-starved mongrel?

“We’re stopping now.” She spoke, the command in her voice allowing no questions about whether they were stopping or when. That didn’t stop Imgath from snickering, though.

“What’s the matter? The day is still fresh and we’ve only been on the road for four hours since we crossed paths with that pleasant old woman.” The brute said with an unseen smugness crossing his imaginary face. He was enjoying his position far too much for the amount of enjoyment in his voice.

“That… wasn’t… a suggestion.”

Fury radiated from her in almost tangible amounts and her annoyance finally surpassed her ability to control her temper. She had a clear bead on his position in relation to her thanks to his absurdly loud voice, and that was all she needed. Reaching behind her back with both hands, she dropped her walking staff and took half a step back. When she flung her hands toward him, the strangest thing happened. A pair of spikes each one-foot long attached to chains shot from her palms as though she had thrown them and they hadn’t just appeared out of thin air. Black as pitch, they streaked true toward their target with only minor deviations. When she felt the familiar slack in the chains meaning they stopped, the dark links stopped their strange appearance and hands that never quite forgot their technique immediately coiled the tethers twice around each wrist before grabbing hold and pulling them back. When they didn’t budge, a disgusted scowl found her pretty face. At least she knew the brute wasn’t all talk and no skill.

“Careful, little lady. You could hurt someone with those.” He rumbled in an almost familiar way. If he saw the slight tinge of familiarity on her face, he couldn’t have cared less, but he did release the pair of nails from his large hand.

One hand to stop both her attacks at once. Had she seen the speed at which he reacted, she would have immediately known who he was, but all she felt was the release of one before the other. It was a relatively new feeling to “reel” her weapons in, but the chains vanished one link at a time into her palms before pulling the black spikes in bit-by-bit.

“I’m the one paying you bastards, and I say we’re stopping.”

There was no dissention this time. Packs were opened and small portions of meat, cheese, and ale passed between hands as though they were a valued commodity. Viola ate in silence, somewhat calmer now that she had actually attacked someone. It had been far too long; she feared she was getting rusty with her throwing abilities. At least she knew her strange ability could be used for surprise attacks rather effectively. She could only imagine the surprise that must have been on both of their faces when those spikes came out of “nowhere”.

Eighteen feet. She had counted the links once; knowing her weapon thoroughly was the most basic of basic skills she had gleaned over the years. Each link was a certain length, and it took eleven links to make one foot. One-hundred and ninety-eight links, then there was the ring that attached each chain to a nail, two inches more. Finally, the honed point of the nail, twelve inches from tip to ring. Eighteen feet of chain plus one foot of weapon was all she could pull out of the warped space around her body. Each chain was normally much, much longer, but until she learned more about her new self, she would have to be content with that much. She had no other choice.

[Shadar]

“Why is that man here?” Brigitte asked. Her voice carried a hint of distaste.

“Probably the same reason we are,” Shadar responded dryly.

The late afternoon sun found them skimming over the treetops again, though it was becoming more difficult. The river was leading Viola and her group away from Corone’s forested interior and into the plains. Beyond that, far in the distance, was the thin blue line of hills that strained to be mountains. Shadar knew that the ocean lay just past those rounded earthen teeth. In fact, he was intimately familiar with that location, or a location somewhere in that expanse. Bitterly, he pushed those thoughts out of his head. He’d have this situation resolved before Viola got that far.

“Curiosity?” asked the harpy.

Shadar looked sideways at her, trying to remember what he had been saying before. “Maybe,” he said slowly as the conversation came back to him, “Or he could just be here for kicks before he kills her. I’m sure that she doesn’t realize who he is, and I’m also sure he’s having a damn good time playing his game.”

Brigitte mulled it over for a second, then said pointedly, “Coward. He should just fight her.” As blank as her personality was sometimes, she was still a warrior by design.

I guess he’s not the type to beat the blind, Shadar thought to himself. He didn’t want to argue with his only pleasant companion. Her talons were very sharp, after all. And, to be honest, he didn’t know if he respected the brute for having that much honor, or resented him for stalling on the matter.

Then, the trees stopped. Shadar jerked to a slower speed as he lost a surface to hover upon while Brigitte shot ahead of him. Wheeling deftly, she faced him as he came to a reluctant stop with his arms crossed. “I guess we’re out of cover,” he muttered as he looked down at the grasslands a dozen feet below him. “Maybe it’s a good thing,” he continued with a touch of embarrassment in his tone. In their attempt to stay over the trees, they had deviated from the river. It was just a distant depression in the south. For the last few minutes, he had been guiding them by the feel of Viola’s soul. But, now that he really sensed for it…

“Uh oh,” he muttered.

Brigitte’s eyes got wide and she cast her gaze around. “Why?” she said worriedly.

“We overshot. I think she’s back that way,” Shadar quietly admitted. He looked in the direction he indicated, if only to avoid making eye contact. He didn’t want to see the annoyance in her face, though he didn’t know if she had learned how to feel bitter annoyance at small problems yet. That was something developed through years of mortal life, for most people.

The harpy made no sound, so he started walking back toward the river. He could have hovered faster, but he needed to concentrate on where they were going. A long walk would give him time to puzzle out what he could do to bring this whole game to a close, and it would likely bring him upon them after nightfall. Without tree cover, starlight would have to do.

[Viola Darkstalker]

It was a good meal, if bland. She had eaten worse growing up and she had tasted much better before slaughtering the patrons of a particularly fine establishment. The salted meat was a bit tough, but the marinade used to cook it was still full of flavor and complimented nicely by the cheese. The ale was wet, but that was about it. She had never been much of a drinker. The river would have been a good place to get some fresh water had she not been so furious about the old hag’s comment. Even now the thought of “getting even” was ludicrous. Even if she could see, she was no match for him.

“Old man. Is everything ready?” Calm. She had to be calm. “And how much farther is this ‘grave’ thing anyway?” Calm like the eye of a hurricane, for that was essentially what she was. No, a hurricane was more merciful.

“It’s still quite a walk, but we should arrive by midday tomorrow if we camp early and rise before the sun.” He said with a cackle. “We’ll be there before you know it. Trust me.”

And that was precisely why the blind woman didn’t trust him. While he apparently had a reputation for loyalty to the one who paid the coin, she still couldn’t help but be afraid – was this sensation what people called fear? – that he was not telling her everything she needed to know. He reminded her far too much of a certain demonic “friend” she had at one time. He was probably still alive somewhere; it wasn’t like him to die even if his entire world was destroyed. He’d find a way to live. He’d also find a way to tell you everything you wanted to hear and leave out all the important little details that would kill you if you weren’t ready for them.

But that was why she hired thugs to protect her. She didn’t trust him.

“Trust is a funny thing, Ortil.” They were on the road again, walking along the unseen trail filled with invisible dangers and worse that wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. She was more than willing to return the favor. “You see, in order for me to trust you, I would have to see you and see where I am going. Because I can do neither, I trust you only as far as I must, which is far more than I want to. I’ll trust you when you deliver good on your promise and only then will you get your gold.”

Or not. If the flower itself held the necessary reagents to craft an enchantment to restore sight to blind eyes, then her mind assumed that physical contact with it would restore even a little of her sight for a small bit of time. When that happened, she would give everyone their fair payment. Yes, their hard-earned payment. It was the least she could do for the morons who made every minute of this trip, and consequently her current life, a living hell. They had to be trying to get under her skin. She would show them the error of their ways soon enough, though.

Midday tomorrow? The words were so succulent to her ears.

The sun began dipping below the horizon, the golden orb melting into the road behind them. North, south, east, west… direction had no meaning any longer in Viola’s world. All that mattered was the hope of seeing again tomorrow, even for a little bit, and exacting her delicious revenge on anyone within eighteen feet of her.

Even though there was no difference to her blind eyes, something told her that the sun was down and the small group should make camp soon. That something was both the rumbling of her stomach and the fact that she had just walked into the brute Imgath’s back. He didn’t have to stop right in front of her to get her to stop; words would have done just fine.

“We’re setting up camp. Master Ortil says there aren’t any particularly mean creatures nearby, so lookouts shouldn’t be necessary. We are also far enough from the main path that highwaymen would have to know where we are to think about finding us. What about you, Viola? Do you feel we need a lookout?”

Listening to glass shrieking against glass wouldn’t have been as painful as listening to him talk. Not only was he closer than she liked anyone for comfort, but his booming voice assaulted her increasingly sensitive ears. After muttering something unintelligible that could possibly be taken for a “yes”, she opened her pack and broke a bit of bread to munch on. The warmth of the fire they quickly built seeped into her bones, but she simply stayed leaned up against a sturdy tree and tried her best to block the conversation they were having out of her mind. A little meat found her mouth. It might as well have tasted like nothing at all. Cheese fell down her throat, somehow mixing with the meat and bread in the tasteless concoction. Within minutes, she was asleep. Not long after, the two men made up their sleeping arrangements on the opposite side of the fire from her. The fire was kept small to ward away foxes and wolves, just in case the old man’s information was incorrect. For the first time all day, there was silence.

[Shadar]

((Bunnying was approved.))

Shadar loved silence, not just silence around him, but silence in his own mind. It was rare that Jackal didn’t have anything deprecating to say, and this just happened to be one of those times. He couldn’t help but smile. The world, for this moment, consisted of just him and Brigitte in the massive void of star speckled sky and dark plains. It made him feel small, but not fearful. There was nothing to threaten him in all the space that he could see. Obvious, perhaps, for he was the only threat tonight.

“I’ve decided,” he informed Brigitte, who bowed her head toward his shoulder to both hear him and find him in the darkness. “We’re going to take her. The brute’s just playing. We’ll get her away from him and test her properly.” The last words weren’t as sinister as they could have been.

Brigitte nodded with a hint of excitement and stepped aside to stretch her wings. With wing beats as silent as an owl of her size, she lifted herself into the air. Rapidly, she became nothing more than a starless patch in the sky.

Shadar pushed himself up on his toes to hover inches above the grass, his body tense like a runner on the starting block. “Three seconds,” he told himself. Then, he tilted far forward and shot over the grasslands as nothing but a dark whisper. Seconds passed of empty nature and the hum of his own wind, then the solitary flicker of their fire became visible. It drew ever closer like a firefly moving toward his face, and he could see their bodies. One bulky, one frail, and one distinctly feminine. That was all he needed to see, and all he could in the dim light.

Zero, he thought as he breached the glowing radius of the camp. He pressed his gloved hands together and drew them apart. There was suddenly a length of rope there, both spawned from and anchored to his palms. One. He stomped to the ground right beside the sleeping woman, his momentum driving his upper body forward and down. With arms wide and the rope slack between, he hugged her from behind, pinning her arms to her side with both the rope and his grip. Two. His feet found the earth again and pushed off in a mighty, gliding leap that ripped her along with him. On the smug count of, Three, they were both lost to the dark night.

“Stay quiet,” he warned with his mouth right beside her ear, “You’re safer with me than those two.” Despite the fierceness of his assault and the speed of their flight, he somehow managed to sound earnest. At the very least, he made sure that his grip on her didn’t encounter any slap-worthy areas.

Before either of the men could catch them, gravity did. While Shadar could hover easily on his own, the weight of another, even one so lithe, bore him torturously toward the ground. He was forced to make contact once more as the river’s low rumble filled the night ahead of them. With long, biting strides, he moved so close to it that he could see the sparkle of starlight outlining the black rapids. There, he pushed off the bank and cleared the wide river like a puddle.

He kept moving for as far as that leap took him. Then, he came to a harsh stop on the grass and laid his captive down. The rope no longer ended at his palms, but had been fused together to make a knotless loop that still held her forearms tight against her sides. “Before we do anything else,” he said harshly as he stepped back, “I need to ask you this. Are you the Reaper of Cities?”

She was naught but a shadow to him. Her facial expressions and body language would be impossible to read, so he would need to rely on the title that her hunter had used for her. If it shocked her persona enough, he might just get an answer with enough of her true character for him to read its truth.

[Viola Darkstalker]

Time passed. Behind sightless eyes, Viola’s dreams were filled with everything that gave her pleasure. The taste of fear when she first stepped onto this particular foreign world was especially ripe. They were a peaceful planet that made their living manufacturing defenses to keep people away from them. How were they to realize that their capitol-ship-worthy defenses would be utterly useless against a single woman drifting through the eternal void of space? She savored their terror; every last human died horribly by her hands over the course of one full year. That is to say, she paced her rampage so they wouldn’t be annihilated too fast. The planetary defenses they sold were quite annoying when they pulled off a lucky shot and actually hit her on the way down.

One by one, her dreams melted into one. Her arms were bound by an illustrious lover and he blew whispers across her ears of everything he was going to do to her. He was probably missing her by now; she had let him live for the sake of the sheer ecstasy he could pump through her body with one touch. Oh what fun they had had together. The fact that she had murdered every last other member of his clientèle so she could have exclusive rights to him was a non-issue. The blind murderer’s body shivered in pleasure as she was carried like a sack of potatoes across the land. Yes, he was quite rough at times.

Soft moans escaped her lips; her body shifted of its own accord to press her more sensitive areas against her captor’s flesh. She knew nothing of shame or prudence. But like all good dreams, this one, too came to an end. From behind her translucent mask, unseeing golden irises gazed across the blackness. She was still tired, but when had she fallen over while sleeping? It must have been the tree’s fault. One world she had exterminated early on was nothing but one massive forest of moving trees. From what she knew of this land, there was nothing to stop some trees from being sentient.

Propping herself up on her elbows- no, scratch that idea. She tried to move her arms, but something tight was wrapped around her forearms and stomach. No matter how she struggled, she couldn’t get free. That old man was going to die horribly for this. He’d sold her out!

A cold voice broke her struggles, one that probably would have made a lesser man tremble. It was a voice Viola would have enjoyed under other circumstances.

“Heh. It’s been a while since I’ve heard that name directed toward me intentionally. If I had to guess, I’d say someone about eight feet tall and made of nothing but muscle told you that. Yes, you’ve captured the blind, helpless ‘Reaper’.” Not even an ounce of fear came through her words. Why should be afraid? Hell would be a blast if this mysterious figure managed to kill her.

“Now for my question. Have you ever heard of the Golden Hammer of the Higher Order? Let me answer that: you haven’t. Of course he’d never tell a pawn his true objective… or name.”

Viola only acknowledged three emotions: lust, hate, and pleasure. Right now, she was filled to the brim with hatred for that man and the pleasure of turning his pawn into her queen.

“I know you met him. You would have never come to find me unless he wanted you to kill me. He can’t do it himself, you see. He’s already tried once. Now he’s sent you to clean up the mess he created when committing suicide didn’t finish me off.”

Lavender lips parted in a smile that knew nothing but happiness in the torment of others. So the brute had been put back together. The only mortal to dethrone a god… yet even with an attack that consumed his entire life force, she lived. She lived in spite of him. She lived to spite him. This man who had captured her, though… if he had really been told everything, why was he questioning her? Did he need guaranteed proof of her sins before he killed her?

“There’s really no difference between me and the Golden Hammer. On another world many galaxies away from this one, there was a planet. On this planet was the trash of all society; murderers, thieves, looters, and prostitutes ran rampant and the ‘guards’ were more inclined to kill you for breathing their air than keep the peace. I traveled to this world to cleanse the sins of its populace, but there was one other who beat me to it. He was sent by the Higher Order, a council that believes they are outside the realm of mortal law or sin. He was sent to ‘cleanse’ the unjust just like I was going to.

The only difference between us is this: he has had thousands of years of practice and I have only been alive for twenty-two. Archeron. Coslea. Dura. Esrom. Fann. Zalen. Those are the names of universes that he has single-handedly destroyed. My home world was in Balor… he destroyed that universe because it was the one that spawned me. Archeron wouldn’t accept the rule of the Higher Order so he wiped it clean. Coslea was deemed a ‘failure’. Do I need to continue?”

What started as a calm story turned slowly into the mad ranting of someone dedicated to revenge until spit flew from her mouth as she snapped the last words out. Everything was true, too. What difference was there between someone who killed on command and someone who killed for fun and pleasure? She couldn’t see any.

[Shadar]

"I only wanted a simple answer," Shadar grumbled under his breath as he tried to process all the new information. If she had just admitted to her evils, probably laughing maniacally like most self-absorbed evil overlord wanna-bes, there wouldn't have been a problem. He could have killed her, counted it a good deed, and been on his way. The bitter taste from acting on behalf of this "Golden Hammer" would have been preferable to playing middle man in their game for any longer. But, she just had to ruin it by giving him the whole story, and worse yet, it was true. Definitely true. There were too many details to hide with pride alone, lest she were in the thrall of such delirium that she truly believed the whole story. He didn't believe she was that far gone, though, even with the odd pleasure she showed at the idea of being stolen away and murdered.

"You two give me a headache," he said with a dry, annoyed chuckle as he walked around her body, both to dodge her spittle and to keep her disoriented. She was definitely weaker than she used to be in that story, or she would have escaped already, but he didn't know how much of it was true handicap or just an act.

With a vile sneer that, while invisible in the night, rang true in his voice, he spoke down at her. "I know that he was trying to use me. That is why I let you say your part. I won't give him the satisfaction of blindly," he stressed the word, clearly mocking, "acting on his behalf. And do you know what?" He squated on the balls of his feet beside her, just close enough to jab her angrily in the shoulder. "I won't give you that satisfaction either," he growled.

That was as far as he had gotten in his train of thought. Both of these freaks were equally deserving of death, but to kill one was to aid the other. Shadar had a feeling that Fate wouldn't look too kindly on that. That would be too easy, anyway. This woman appeared so weak, while the man could probably rip a tree in two. Shadar had been in enough tough fights lately to know his limits, and that the brute's apparent skills, both from his looks and from her story, would overrun him like an avalanche. Both of them need to die, as hard as it'll be to kill this Golden Hammer, he decided, but he didn't feel any better for it.

And how does 'Mr. Smarty Pants Judger of all Mortals' do that? his demon asked snidely, though he seemed distracted if the substandard insult was any indication.

Shadar didn't know, but he refused to turn that into a coherent thought. Instead, he stood and paced away from his captive, one gloved hand to his chin. His eyes looked at something far away, blank and questing, until he realized which direction he was facing. Out there in the darkness to the west lay a very important place, one he hadn't visited since the incident, yet everything that drove this quest for kharmic balance had begun there.

With a sudden laugh of irony, he knew exactly where and how to end this game. Jackal, he thought as if it were a command. Summon the Bearers.

The dream demon made a shocked, sputtering sound in the back of his head. You- You're finally letting me axe the bird bitch? Took you long enough! I knew she'd get on your nerves eventually.

No, Shadar snapped, and he instinctively listened for the steady wing beats that circled above them. Achingly, he pushed down the protective tendency and tried to keep the spite toward Jackal from being too evident. I'll give you someone else to play with. Two people, really. Will that make you feel better? The demon answered with a low laughed and the rumble of sadistic plans forming.

With a voice that was almost friendly, he looked at The Reaper once more and asked, "How fast do you think the Golden Hammer can travel?"

[Viola Darkstalker]

“There is no such thing as a simple answer.” Viola replied to her captor’s murmured statement with a smirk on her pretty face. She was enjoying the confused irritation he was going through, especially since she was the one who caused it. The bound woman resigned herself to simply leaning up against the tree since she hadn’t found a way out of the knotless rope holding her arms to her sides. If she had been in the habit of using edged weapons, the storage space currently holding her spikes and chains would have been emptied by now and she would be sitting much more comfortably.

Resting her violet locks against the rough bark, the murderer’s imagination began to color in her surroundings. She was most likely in a forest still, so there was a bunch of brown. Blech. Color it red and hang a few body parts here and there… much better. The grass needs red on it, too. Maybe a mountain of corpses over there… Within a few minutes, Viola was swimming in the forest of her dreams. Blood flowed like a river through trees poisoned by the corruption of her massacre.

Lazily she floated down the stream until a voice broke apart her thoughts. It was a quiet voice that rasped from a great distance straight to her ears.

Slutty McBlind, Slutty McBlind,
Come sit in my lap, you'll like it just fine.

But as quickly as it sprung up in her mind, the voice stopped. Irritated, Viola growled at both the interruption of her pleasant dream and the nerve of the intruder to shatter her personal thoughts. With no haven to rest her mind, she went back to fidgeting with the rope binding her. When real words broke the near-silence of the midnight forest, she almost jumped. Almost.

“Once he realizes I’m gone, which should be around daybreak, he’ll be on top of us within an hour, depending on how far away you managed to take me. It’s like he has some sort of homing beacon set to me that he follows. Why? Do you have a plan of some sort?”

Her terrible smile was back in full force with that sort of twinkle that makes you wonder of she’s smiling because she’s happy or because she knows something you don’t. Either way, she did know something. And from the looks of her smile, she really liked what that something was.

[Shadar]

"Yeah, kinda," Shadar responded dryly, too distracted to put any emotion into it or even to look up from the dark undergrowth. An hour? And always straight for her. It'll be like trying to dodge a bloody arrow. Shadar mulled the situation over for a few more seconds, but there was only one answer. Run.

Silently, he rose a hand and made a beckoning motion to the night sky. Brigitte immediately barreled out of like a falling star, slowing moments before landing in a wide-winged, airy splash of cool breeze and fragrant grasses. Her talons dug into the soft earth inches away from Viola, who she looked down upon with a mix of disdain and barely contained threat.

She can sense it too, Shadar realized. The taste of this woman's soul was becoming more putrid by the minute, as if the perfume were wearing away, or being washed off so she could reveal her true colors. It was such a different sensation than what he felt from Brigitte. Her soul was thick with freshly turned soil and mountain-borne wind, much like their destination. Her birthplace. Despite the unpleasant memories, it was a beautiful location, a place that Viola was completely unworthy of entering. Perhaps for that very reason, it was the perfect place to undo her.

Tell the Bearer's to meet us you-know-where.

I've called... as much as I can from this little brain of yours, and I already decided on that spot. Sure I can't have Brigitte too? I'll let you watch.

Shadar winced at the images that assailed his mind, and he turned away from the harpy and the human, if she was human. Even without the visual aid, he knew full well what Jackal wanted to do to Brigitte. It was disgusting, especially since Jackal had been the one who created her, and just for the pleasure of pulling her apart. But, when Shadar placed Viola in the same situation, he couldn't help but feel some of that sadistic joy. I'm spending too much time with you, he grumbled, and it, surprisingly, only elicited a knowing chuckle.

With his skin crawling so much he shivered, Shadar turned back to Brigitte, still fuming wordlessly over the blind woman. "We're leaving. Carry her," he said, as nicely as a command could be said. Sorry. I'll take a turn later, he added silently. Brigitte wouldn't hear it, but he wasn't about to give Viola the satisfaction of hearing his distaste. Part of the crawling, creeping sensation under his skin was left over from carrying her. Whatever tainted her soul, it was vile, and it almost felt contagious given his sensitivity to the minds around him.

As harshly and remorselessly as a prison guard, Brigitte strutted around Viola and kicked her away from the tree so that she could grip the rope with one foot. Then, both of the dream beings took flight, Shadar shooting just over the surface of the lightly forested fields, and Brigitte winging along above with her all too willing cargo.

Shadar felt Jackal buzzing about something in the back of his head. He didn't pay much attention, but something about it struck him as oddly poetic.

[Viola Darkstalker]

Grass leaves and dirt assaulted Viola’s face, causing her to involuntarily spit out the offensive items that managed to make it past her lips. Her ears could hear the rustle of feathers above her ear level and the sound of something sharp digging in to the soft dirt underfoot. So the mysterious stranger was either a winged being or had a friend that she couldn’t see.

Judging from the feel of talons on her shoulder as a bird-like foot shoved her to the side, the second being was a harpy of some sort. The blind woman suppressed a smirk only slightly. Harpy meat wasn’t very good at all. Powerful talons wrapped around the rope holding her prisoner, and the sinister woman’s mind was offended for the briefest moment by a pang of fear.

There was so little she could do. Everything had fallen apart ever since she decided on a whim to bask in the glory of the Blood Moon two years prior. That was where she met the Hammer. That was where he had died for the first time. In retrospect, perhaps she had really died back then. Her opponent was, after all, strong enough to destroy an entire universe if he had to. Perhaps Kidel was the latest addition to his list of devastation.

And they call me evil… but it’s still true. He at least has a reason to kill. Not that I mind having fun, but when it comes down to it… no, I really don’t care after all. Did I ever? I don’t think so.

Slutty McBlind, Slutty McBlind,
Have you ever felt the worst kind of grind?

It was the voice again, intruding the sanctity of her private thoughts. For a few moments, she thought of everything hateful and spiteful she could… stopping only when she got bored of thinking at the invisible, unknown entity who probably wasn’t even hearing what she was thinking at him. When the wave of grinding blades and whirring machines passed through her head, that devil’s smile was once again plastered to her face. How did this mysterious invader know everything that turned her on?

_____

Opening oversized eyes that just barely managed to be proportional to his equally massive head, the towering mass of muscle lazily glanced around the campground. He almost went back to sleep when he realized that Viola was missing. There were no footprints and last he knew she was still blind, so unless she suddenly learned how to fly again and could navigate through the trees, someone had kidnapped her. It was most likely his loyal little pawn preparing to finish the job, so he wasn't worried.

The throbbing in his chest where elegant letters were carved into muscle told him that she was still alive; pulses of evil that longed to corrupt him even with two-year old malice. The Reaper had certainly lost much of what made her so dangerous, including her evil aura. It was said she could kill with a touch, and he hadn’t believed it until she did just that to masses who spread her vileness like a plague. It was amazing to see the flesh from one man peel away from his bones while he was still alive until he finally died of no less than seven different types of shock. The flayed skin then spread to others, containing enough self-propagating evil that she could literally annihilate an entire metropolis just by touching one person.

But that was only when she was truly mad. She preferred to toy with her prey, not simply watch them destroy themselves.

The Hammer closed his eyes and went back to sleep. He would find her in the morning, no matter where she managed to hide.

[Shadar]

Morning came and passed, and it was the afternoon sun that now found them gliding over emerald hills alongside the river, though the green was gradually turning to exposed rock. The western highlands of Corone rose before them, a crown of points lifting into the clear sky. Shadar felt the familiar stir of buried memories. So much had begun there; Brigitte's life, his current state of being, and the quest to ensure that both continued. It almost felt like a step backwards, just going there, but the logical part of Shadar's brain (at least what Jackal hadn't savaged) knew that a great opportunity was before him.

Brigitte still seemed oblivious. She followed without looking ahead. It was the purpose that Jackal had given her, and essentially all that was needed to use her in that long ago Gisela. It served her little at the moment, though, and her progress at growing beyond it was saddening. He would have to concentrate on her development more after this was done. At the very least, today's sacrifices would buy them enough time for that.

Is this bitch stunted?! came the sudden hot burst amid Shadar's thoughts, turning his bitter musings to ash.

What? he snapped, not really wanting to know.

You should hear some of the stuff I'm sending her. It would make a Salvarian whore cry! And I'm getting nothing from her, not one bloody scream or breakdown or pissing on herself. That would be cool, cause you're directly below her and I bet she doesn't have underwear under the slut dress.

Shadar laughed like he hadn't in years. So your toy's broken, eh? he thought in mock sympathy. Well, I'm not getting you a new one. You'll be spoilt enough with the Golden Mallet whatever, though I don't think he'll be much more fun than her.

Brigitte made a loud sound above him and, for a moment, he thought she was laughing too, though she wouldn't have heard the joke. However, he was proven wrong. "Auck! Stop it!" she squawked as she shook her cargo violently.

"What's wrong?" Shadar asked as he twisted to glide on his back. The sun blinded him to the point that he couldn't verify Jackal's underwear theory, thank god. Only monsters would come from that pit.

"She's moving," Brigitte whined and swept closer to the earth. Viola's outline was clear against the sun, and it was certainly wriggling, specifically around the hips.

I told you. She's bonkers!

Shadar didn't doubt it, so it was with a heavy sigh that he raised his hands. "Okay," he called upward. "I'll take her." Brigitte's talons immediately and happily let go of the rope, dropping the frightful woman toward Shadar's waiting arms. He caught her, but it was with a cringe as her aura splashed over him like gutter water.

[Viola Darkstalker]

Whoever was sending the crude, vulgar, and oh-so-invigorating images into the blind wench’s mind, they either knew the best form of torture or had no idea what kind of impact it was having on her fragile psyche. With each passing moment, a new assault began and a fresh wave of pleasure rippled through her luscious body.

Sweat began to bead on her skin despite the cool air. Her breaths were shorter, faster. Fire spread through her loins, finally releasing the momentous euphoria midway through the transition from the harpy to the man. When he caught her, soft moans escaped her lips and her body writhed. Just the contact she had with him was enough to renew the waves of pleasure and send her to the sky in her dreams once more.

“Ohhhh… more… I need more!”

Not surprisingly, a second wave of her essence spread from her hips to cover her transport’s clothes. Torture… torment… excruciating pain… so many things all colliding within her mind all at the same time and each one renewed the volcano of pleasure that resided within her body. So many sins and each one more succulent than the last! She absolutely had to meet the one responsible for this!

Through labored breaths, she managed to get a few words out clearly. “Who… is talking to me? These images… so beautiful… I just… have… to- OH!”

One last release and she went limp; exhaustion and the sexual crash ganged up to knock her out cold.
________

Hands larger than the heads of most people took hold of a rather sturdy oak and crushed it into oblivion. The unhealing scar across the massive brute’s chest burned like the fires of the hottest forge, literally searing his too-small shirt with their intensity.

“I warned you about this, ‘Imgath’. Leaving the killing to another was stupid, and I knew it.” The old man chuckled from atop the beast of a man’s shoulder. “It’s up to you again. I’m sure her recent exploits and what I’ve seen of her mind are enough to force the council to rule that your killing was indeed justified despite her handicaps.”

“Were you not my superior, I would crush your bones to a paste and drink the juices I squeezed from your hide!” He bellowed, inciting every flock of birds to take flight in a half-mile radius. Nails like tempered steel raked across his chest, gouging deep into skin and muscle. It was a small reprieve from the lava he felt oozing from the name carved there, but before the strip of flesh even hit the ground, the wound had already stopped bleeding and was reforming once more.

“It’ll go away when you kill her, you know. It’s how those things work.”

“I know that already!”

The ground trembled as legs like giant oaks powered the mass of muscle and fury through the forest. The wildlife either ran away or went into hiding when the whirlwind that was the Hammer approached. His target was still a ways away; his worthless pawn had been traveling all night, it seemed. But where were they going? What were they planning? They all knew they didn’t stand a chance against him in a fight, so what were they planning?!

[Shadar]

It took a moment of bewilderment, causing him to almost smear against the ground, for Shadar to realize that her writhing was neither fear of the fall nor an attempt at escape. No, it was anything other than a desire to be away from him. Then, he felt wet.

"Bloody hell!" he shouted as he plowed his feet into the grass and let her fall from his arms. His own shout made her few lucid words unrecognizable, and the howling laughter in his skull muted them entirely.

Ha! Finally! She did pee on you! Bow down before your god, you toilet!

I don't think it's that... And I don't know if I like this any better, Shadar thought in stark, dry, emotionless shock. He knew exactly what had happened. Every sense, the physical and mental, knew that what filled the air, soaked his clothes, and radiated from the sprawling woman before him was pure sex. The most sacred and filthy of mortal passions beckoned in that shapely, unconscious form. He tried to resist his own growing urges. But, he soon realized that he didn't need to. What would have once fueled him with mad desire now sparked nothing more than a whim, and it certainly wasn't due to the lack of foreplay, which had never stopped him in the past.

Jackal returned from a surprised silence, and he did so with a boom of hilarity that made Shadar hold his head to keep it from exploding. That's fucking awesome! Talk about kidnapping fetish. She must have been so horny for you that she ignored my poems. Go on, take her, stud!

Shadar had already put that thought to bed, so he just shook his head while pressing his gloves to the soiled areas of his clothing. The suffocating aura of sex disappeared into the same place her bonds had appeared from.

"Should I kill her?" Brigitte asked, almost pleading.

Shadar looked up to see the harpy's talons around the unconscious woman's neck. "No," he instinctively snapped, though he sympathized entirely with her desire to. "She..." He couldn't say it. Either Brigitte wouldn't understand, or she would and blood would fly for it. "She's out," he said, feigning nonchalance as he approached. Indeed she was, and she slept so innocently for such a dirty, bestial creature.

Brigitte met him with smoldering, yet unreadable eyes. Reluctantly, she stepped back, defiantly sticking out her chest. If her breasts hadn't blocked the view, she might have seen the illusion that appeared of Shadar, buck-naked and ass in the air, screwing the sleeping woman like a creature just as bestial.

"What?" Brigitte asked with sudden concern, and it was only then that Shadar realized he had turned white.

"Nothing!" he snapped bitterly as he blinked the illusion away, grabbed the woman, and tried to keep a solid flight path despite Jackal's continuation of the scene inside his head.

~

By dusk, the awkwardness had passed, as had the grasslands. Shadar held the woman under his arm like a sack of potatoes, reluctantly keeping her from striking the uneven bulges of rock that shot under him. She had slept since the incident, unsurprising given her lack of food and the rather... sudden expenditure of energy, and Shadar couldn't have been happier. Well, he would have been happier if Jackal stopped with the "Viola Does Althanas" clips, but it wasn't smart to hinge one's happiness on impossibilities.

He tried to find ways to distract himself, least effective of which was admiring the scenery. The land rose in a gradual slope with nothing beyond but the sky, as if Corone had been shaped from the footprint of a giant with the western coast at the plowed-up heel. Brigitte's shadow, the most interesting feature upon the rugged grey stone, stayed a second or two ahead of him. With the sun setting ahead of them, it meant that she was leading by a good margin, and he could guess why. She was starting to recognize where they were.

Suddenly, her shadow stopped. Shadar looked up, but he was forced to stop too as the land leveled out and ended in a cliff. A great bowl in the highlands opened before him, welcoming the ocean at the open side. The basin, colored the light orange of water-borne sand, looked peaceful and untouched, void of any sign of the years-old battle.

"Why are we here?"

He felt the hot wind over his shoulder, and the even hotter words in his ear. Dropping Viola unceremoniously, he spun and grabbed both of Brigitte's feathered shoulders. Whether she would take it as reassurance or restraint didn't matter, because it was both. "It's okay," he started, but that didn't dull the suspicious fury in her emerald eyes. She seemed to be looking through him, no doubt aiming her ire at Jackal and his machinations. The dream demon just shrank away to smugly watch the drama from the safety of his vessel's skull.

"Why?" Brigitte asked again. She was too tense to even tilt her head in that bird-like way she always did. Her hair seemed to be in motion, though it must have been the red glow of the setting sun that made it look ablaze. She asked again, same question, more fear.

Shadar looked at her square and determined, though he cursed himself internally for putting the issue off for so long. "You entered this world here, remember? During the Gisela."

She barely nodded, her quivering eyes trying to not look at the cliff edge. It was from the rim of this bowl that she had tried to throw herself upon the fork lightning of enemy mages, all to avoid the unmaking that Jackal had planned for her after the battle.

"You came into this world unnaturally. So, you don't really... belong," he tried to say it carefully, but it was clear from the sudden hunch of her shoulders that she took passive offence, like a struck child. "I don't belong, either," he added with only a hint of panic in his voice. "Ever since I went through the portal, I haven't belonged. People who belong in this world need to eat, sleep, breath, lust." He didn't know where the last word had come from, too much Viola in his system, but it made Brigitte cock her head to the side and look at him inquisitively. She looked so cute when she did that.

Shadar realized, then, that he was hugging her. There was a groan in the back of his head, something about how sappy he was, that gave him enough bravery to let her go and see the response in her face. "I..." he began to say, but she was smiling one of her rare and childishly oblivious smiles. Physical contact was just that, and it was because of their contact and will to protect each other that they hadn't been erased yet.

"Them," she said with a sudden hardening of her face and stance.

Shadar turned to look out over the beach, to where a bloom of orange dust darted toward them like a charging dragon. He could just make out the four frail bodies making the plume, nothing but specks of dark green robes against the sand. "We do good deeds to prove that we belong in this world," he continued as if the previous conversation hadn't ended. "Today, we're going to make amends by erasing something evil." He looked at her with a wicked grin that she mirrored moments later.

"Allow me to do the honors," he said as he stepped toward Viola's body, wrapped his hands around the rope, and lugged her toward the cliff edge. The Portal Bearers were closer now, far closer than any human should have been able to travel in that timespan. Their bare, grey feet padded softly and quickly on the sand like rain. Then, they were running up the cliff wall too fast for gravity to notice. Shadar raised one hand with the fingers forming a loop. They stared up at it with bulbous red eyes set in ancient grey faces and, immediately, one of them took off a ring. Each of the four Bearers grabbed a corner of the metal hoop and stretched it. Two bounded away from the wall, pulling it farther until a cart could be driven through it.

Then, the interior flickered with colors the likes of which most worlds never saw. The shimmering pool blasted closer, and Shadar felt Brigitte inching away behind him. She had no love for the canal of her birth, nor for her midwives, so it was better to close it as quickly as possible. Shadar stepped over the edge and hung in the air as he whipped Viola's body over his head. He cast her down as decisively as a god, drinking the bonds back into his gloves to let her flail in her last moments upon Althanas.

With barely a splash, the pool of broken rainbows swallowed her and closed.

[Viola Darkstalker]

Through the haze of dreams, one thing stood out among everything else. Pain. It wasn’t a good kind of pain either. It was the kind of pain you get after breaking your leg in two places and forgetting you can’t walk on it, only worse. It was a terrible, grating agony that reverberated from the depths of her mind; like every shattered fragment of her psyche was now a blade piercing her consciousness.

She knew it was a dream. It had to be a dream because she had passed out after the images of torture and mutilation brought her to a wonderful climax. Getting kidnapped didn’t help with her exhaustion, but the images had stopped coming as soon as she lost consciousness. Perhaps the sender knew she wouldn’t fully appreciate them in her sleep.

Occasionally in her slumber a particularly pleasant memory would surface, marked on the outside by her face flushing and her body squirming a bit, but nothing like the ecstasy she had experienced earlier. For hours this went on, her form only stirring slightly when the featureless man stopped at the edge of the cliff she was to be thrown over.

There was a strange sensation of weightlessness, like she was plunging through the atmosphere of another wretched world to destroy it, but the feeling lasted only until she felt… nothing. Something cold encompassed her, and then there was nothing. She blinked as her body slowed gradually, rather than all at once as she had been expecting, and realized that the blackness she could see was not the dark of sightlessness. She couldn’t see her hand, but she could still sense where it was.

The she felt it- a presence unlike anything she had ever felt before. The humming body-less figure was approaching, and already her body tingled. A wicked grin split her face as pleasure once more filled her entire being. So this was the source of all her enjoyment…

~*~

Fury didn’t even touch the surface of what the mass of muscle tearing through the forest felt. Spit flew from his lips as heavy feet left increasingly deep craters in the fresh morning dew-soaked ground. How far had that worthless sack of incompetence taken her? Why had he trusted a task so crucial to someone so…

“Pathetic?” The old man finished his partner’s thought as though it was only natural.

“I thought I told you to stay out of my head old man.”

“You did, but I so enjoy seeing you squirm that I just have to once in a while.”

“I don’t care if you are my master. Next time, you’re dead.”

“So angry… it would be a shame if the Council knew about your constant threats.”

“And what would they do to me, fossil?”

The throbbing of his wounds told him that he was gaining on them much faster than before. Obviously they had stopped to rest. No one could run from the might of the Hammer forever.

“They’d take back all that nice protection they gave you. Just think… a pathetic, vengeance-driven man with naught but a war hammer to his name. Hardly even a loincloth, if I remember right.”

The thunderous charge halted instantly. Fingers like sausages wrapped around a frail eggshell and held it in front of his face. The indignant face staring back at him was a challenge, but that was for another day.

“I know you know where she is. Tell me.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

The beast’s thick hand released the old man’s head, and the frail figure just hovered there for a few moments as though gravity didn’t matter to him. After contemplating something for a few moments, he looked at the pulsing black letters on his partner’s chest.

“About two miles straight ahead. You would have been there by now if you hadn’t been so preoccupied with me. Oh- now I can’t find her. The other two are still there, though, if you want to talk with them. I’m going back to the council chambers.”

The small man blinked out of sight, and the Hammer’s face took on a dark glow. This was too perfect. Starting up his run again with less crater-inducing anger than before, he plowed through trees and stones alike in a cacophonous racket that would certainly announce his coming to Shadar and his bird-wench. Even if he had gotten rid of Viola, he certainly had done it the wrong way. He needed a body to prove the deed was done, too. If Ortil said she vanished, that meant her entire essence—spirit, mind, and body—was missing from the scene. And that just wouldn’t do.

[Shadar]

The world that Viola could not see rippled around her in a dark spherical horizon that held murky variants of all the diverse colors of the portal. That is, where the horizon could still be seen. The blank void was filling up with stone shapes, gnarled and drifting. They cycled around their creator as more flickered into existence. To Jackal, the act of creation was an afterthought, especially when creating such simple constructs. The whole of his attention was on the alluringly helpless new arrival. Though her physical bonds were gone, she was held as fastly as if her muscles had ceased to be. That was, of course, simply because he willed it, just as he willed her to feel his presence in the nothingness, his blazing eyes burning into her. As diminiative as this space was, it was still a piece of his kingdom, and he was the god of any unfortunate soul that stumbled into it.

I was planning this for for the harpy bitch, but you'll do, he snarled, not into her ears, but with a power that penetrated directly into her mind like a venomous fang.

His manifestation gestured one furry hand, turning her away from him as easily as a doll, and with another gesture, he stimulated her senses in all the right places. She would feel the axe blade that appeared over her head, as real as anything in his kingdom. She would feel the force of its descent until it struck the back of her skull, splitting her head open in an explosion of brain matter that could be nothing less than fatal. But, it wasn't, because of his will.

The muzzle of Diamond Jackal snapped at the fluids drifting toward him, licking them messily from the bouyant void. Then, he stopped, as did the drifting boulders, and even the horizon itself stilled. Smacking his chops together, the beastly god smiled a wicked smile. He found her mind.... oddly pleasant to his pallate, like barbed, blood-drenched candy.

You're one sick little bitch, he barked in surprise as he flickered so close that she would feel his manifestation brushing against her backside, threatening her very existence. One clawed hand reached for her spine and dug in around it as if holding a basket handle, and the other delved into the ruination of her slumping skull.

What the god found there was so shocking that the ethereal restraints faltered just enough to give her back her voice, and she used it in a way that no sane mortal would while being his toy. The love juice was for me? You shouldn't have! he shouted, his words unmutable despite her screaming pleasure, and he laughed as if at an unexpected and decisive victory.

He wrenched his hand messily from her skull, only to hurl all the brain matter back into it a moment later. The game would be so much more fun if she could feel it with every sense she possessed, and some she didn't.

I was planning this for the harpy bitch, he snarled again, his omnipresent voice rising to a howl that set the faceless golems vibrating, But you'll be so much more fun! Waves of obsidian spikes fell from nowhere, and Jackal hurled her toward them so enthusiastically that her spine only barely escaped from his crushing grasp.

~

"Now, we will erase something else just as evil."

Brigitte nodded and looked out over the shaking highlands behind them. Shadar, however, appeared to not notice as he stared into a floating portal of gold that stood near the cliff edge. Within it, the outline of a dark-furred demon was distinct, though the details were obscured in shadows as it stalked around a stone table with a single light source pointing down upon it. There lay Viola, so shackled and strapped that she couldn't move or even speak around the thick gag. It was only after careful observation the one could tell she was naked under the restraints, and only with more analysis were the thin needles that pierced her flesh visible. The dark demon reached into the light, placing another needle exploratively into her flesh, and her body shuddered with pain that she could not express through the bonds.

"You're just in time for the show," Shadar said casually as he felt the towering presence of the Golden Hammer crash upon their high plateau. Brigitte's wings surged outward, but Shadar raised a hand to still her before she took flight. "I'm sure you've always wanted to... study her, haven't you, big guy?" he droned slyly as he twisted to look over his shoulder.

The implied meaning was lost on Brigitte, who couldn't help but glower at the hulking threat of a man. Her face twitched as she measured the distance between the Hammer and Shadar's exposed back, and her talons worked the earth as if she were ready to fill the space at a moment's notice. So intent was her concentration that she didn't notice when her talons sent a handful of pebbles toppling over the cliff edge.

One of the Bearers did, though, as the falling earth struck its taught, ashen cranium. Its spidery fingers fumbled in the crevices of the rock face, and all four sets of bugging eyes became even moreso until the Bearer was fastened as securely against the cliff face as the rest of its brethren.

[Duffy]

When the blind are lead...
Featuring Shadar, Viola, and supporting cast.

You requested a condensed judgement, and thus, a condensed is what you shall receive. It goes without saying that you were on to a good thing here, it's a shame it never really finished, because it's abrupt and unfinished end really damaged you in story, pacing, and wildcard. If you've any questions, please feel to get in touch with me via PM, or address concerns to Sagequeen, our Head Judge.

Plot ~ 16/30

Story ~ 5/10 –

Setting ~ 6/10 –

Pacing ~ 5/10 –

Character ~ 21/30

Communication ~ 7/10 –

Action ~ 6/10 –

Persona ~ 8/10 –

Prose ~ 17/30

Mechanics ~ 6/10 –

Clarity~ 5/10 –

Technique ~ 6/10 –

Wildcard: 5/10

Total ~ 59/100


Spoils:

Viola Darkstalker gains 649 experience and 120 gold.
Shadar gains 944 experience and 120 gold.
Xos gains 130 experience and 25 gold.
Halon gains 120 experience and 25 gold.

[Letho]

EXP/GP added.