NationStates Jolt Archive

(Open Character based rp. Please no OOC comments here. =) all welcome)


Her dark brown bangs nearly covered her eyes as she sipped the double caramel macchiato she had grown so fond of. Her hair flowed to her upper back, straight and sleek. Her skin was pale, and the lighting in the coffee shop made her seem almost ethereal; almost. A small girl, perhaps merely twelve years old, sat on the edge of the booth, playing with cards. She had short red hair and bright hazel eyes. Her expression and posture lead many to believe she was older than she actually was. She wore the robes of a priest, but it was strange to see one, especially so young, out of their respective temples. Across the table a man sat with short, spiky blond hair. With the dog tags around his neck and rather large muscles, it was clear he had been in the army at one point or another. It didn’t really matter any more if he was or had been, for the Three United Empires were at peace with the rest of the world. Their former leader, Miss Ravelyn Shentavo had gone MIA and her daughter, Charmaine took up the throne along with her ‘boyfriend’ if they were still calling him that, Mathias.

“I just don’t understand how they found out about me,” the woman said, sipping her coffee, then setting it carefully back down upon the table.

“Some people invested their lives into tracking the Shentavo line, Miss Kayde,” the man said, and folded his hands on the table. “You must remember you are the youngest of the bloodline, and the last possible person to carry it on.”

“I don’t think I’m strong enough to keep running all my life from something I’ll never know the identity of,” Kayde said, turning her cerulean blue eyes towards the man across from her.

“I don’t believe that strength is the issue, Miss Kayde,” the girl said, flipping a card over. They were Tarot cards. “You have plenty of strength, and a lot more inner strength than most people. No, you can’t run forever, but it might be better to try and get some information on what or who is after you before you lead an onslaught.”

“No more fighting,” Kayde said, slamming her hand down on the table and wincing at the sound. “You know how I get, and I don’t like it.”

“You feel something tearing you apart from your inside, I know,” the young girl responded. “You must learn to face the other side of yourself.”

“I’m not Azrael, Hevn.”

“No, you are not. You are someone else.”

“Is who still clouded for you to see, Hevn.”

“No. Your future is in accessible though.”

“Well, who is it?”

“It’s not my place to tell you,” Hevn said, and picked up her cards from the table and began sifting through them in her hands.

“Gado, we should leave. It’s getting late,” Kayde said as she finished off the last of her coffee.

“Why do you still drink it if you can’t taste it?” he questioned her, as they stood up.

“I’d like to think I was human.”

Two sets of hands flew around the wood-panelled hexagonal console, with brass instruments on each surface, and a column of crystals rising toward an iron mesh above. Acrid smoke shot from the underside of the console, spiralling languidly toward the unseen darkness above.

“Err… Damn. Pass me the sonic screwdriver…”

“Which one?”

“Big one…”

A dark, woman’s hand reached down, into an open box, taking a metal cylinder from among half a dozen other esoteric gizmos, and handed it to the other figure, who leaned down, to reveal a moderately tall, long haired man, pale skinned, with dark, long hair hanging to his shoulders. He lay on his back, wincing a little as the cinchier of his waistcoat snagged, and held the tool horizontally above him, as it emitted a grating whine.

“Let’s just put down somewhere,” he said.

“Feel free…”

“He’s shot up the control computer… You may as well just yank the re-materialisation lever. It doesn’t matter where we try to go. We’ll have to try and work out where we are first.”

“You know, I thought this ship was impregnable…”

“So did I, Destrii. Your uncle is annoyingly inventive in that regard.”

“Yeah. That’s him…” she said, pulling a lever back, and changing the protesting tone that came from the central column that rose from the console. With a grating, wheezing sound, the craft materialised. The lying, male figure passed the metal cylinder up, and pulled himself deftly to his feet.

“Seems to be fairly normal,” he said, pulling another lever, resulting in a holographic display of the stellar-position appearing above, like falling rain on a glass dome. A smaller, antique looking screen showed the view immediately outside the craft. “That should do…”

He smiled, “This shouldn’t take a tick. I’ll get K9 to start checking the computer…”


A few moments later, the doors to the nine-foot high box that had recently appeared from nowhere, accompanied by that same haunting, distant, whisper-screeching sound, opened. Above the two people who stepped out, the words ‘Police Public Call Box’ could be seen. However, even with this strange blue box, and its strange noises, few would care. The technology that made it possible included a subtle psychic camouflage that simply made people ignore the object, unless they knew to look for it.

The shorter, female, figure, dressed in a leather jacket and supple, suede trousers, and elegant, though low heeled, designer shoes, stepped out, “So, how long did he say it would take?”

“Oh,” the older man said, as he pulled a long, slightly anachronistic, dark green frock coat on over his waistcoat, “About three hours, if he doesn’t run into any problems. Long enough for a walk around…”

“Cool. Wonder if there’s any good shopping to be had here… Ooh, a coffee shop.”

She walked in, pushing the door wide, presumably just to make a dramatic entrance…

The woman came face to face with Kayde Shentavo. Kayde was a bit shorter, but not by much. Her blue eyes barreled into the woman’s without meaning to. Gado placed a hand on Kayde’s shoulder, nearly towering over both females. Hevn, whose robes brushed the floor lightly as they were made to, took Kayde’s hand with a tug. “Nezdeshnaya…” Hevn whispered softly.

“Nezdeshnaya?” Kayde questioned, responding to Hevn, but still standing in the way of the woman. It wasn’t normally that she stopped people as such, but it was unusual to find someone with such a blood type in these lands. “Kto eta, Hevn?” she said, the language she was speaking distinctly Slavic.

“Yeyo zovut Destrii. Ana iz…ya ne znayu…Izvini, Kayde…” the young girl replied.

“Excuse me,” Kayde said, emotionless with her bangs falling over her left eye partially. It was custom for the person of lower standing to step out of the way first. As the door closed, and the two women stared each other down, the lights suddenly shut off.

In the darkness, Kayde’s cerulean blue eyes glowed dimly. Gado pushed Kayde to the floor, and he straightened himself. “Get close to the floor…” he advised, and Hevn slid underneath one of the tables.

“We weren’t here long enough for them to follow…” Kayde commented, and came up from the floor at a crouching level. The coffee shop was almost empty, thank god. Not too much exposure for one of the Shentavo kin. “Gado…” she whispered. Gado’s skin began to crawl. His short spiky hair grew outward, and his jaw protruded outward as his eyes began to push in. He took the form of a half-lion, claws digging into the wooden floor.

“Hevn…” he growled, his thick voice rough. “…barrier. Now.”

Hevn nodded, and before Kayde could protest, she was pushed back away from the door with simply the motion of Hevn’s hand. She threw her tarot cards out, and as if guided by an invisible hand, they circled around Kayde. Kayde hissed in protest, and it was the first time that a double set of long fangs was clearly shown. The air thickened heavily, making it hard to breath. Gado stood up, his muscles bulging beneath the tan fur. A masculine laugh siphoned in through the pores of the building. None of the doors would budge. The temperature rose slightly.

“Show yourself…”

So this was the night… Kayde though to herself. The night I find out who has been chasing me. It’s probably just more pawns they send at us. Whoever it is, Gado can take care of him.

“As you wish,” a low voice came from the doorway of a back room. A black mist sifted together to take the form of a man. He had long black hair, pulled back, pale skin, and crimson eyes. His eyes met Kayde’s. “My my my…you take after your mother. Who is she with now? Father must have had blue eyes to get that crimson out…”

“Who are you?”

“Doesn’t matter who he is if he wants to take you from where you belong,” Gado growled, and leapt towards the aggressor. The man took the hit in the chest, watched the nails rip into his flesh before throwing the lion off of him with incredible, and seemingly effortless strength. His wound gaping wide closed themselves. He walked towards Kayde, keeping attention to the lion that was recovering.

“Daja..”

With that name, her eyes went wide, but she reassumed her defiant demeanor. “Didn’t mother send you to the pits of hell? Along with Corothisia?”

“shhhh…shhhhh…don’t say that name in front of me,” he said with a tone that sickened her. “you know these tarot cards are quite interesting. I take it they prevent anything from getting out as well as anything from getting in.” As he finished the sentence Gado lunged at him again. He turned and gripped the lion by the throat, squeezing tightly before throwing him against the wall. “Stay down!” he bellowed, then turned back to Kayde. “Silly lion, ignorant girl…” he crossed over to one of the tables. “Who ever said that I was after you?” He flashed a smile; the same double set of fangs, and reached under the table. Hevn screamed and fell limp at his touch. He picked the girl up.

“Leave her out of this. She’s only twelve!”

“Yet she is the only priestess you wanted to awaken you…” he shook his head in a scolding manner. “You take her away from the temple even when you are not fully alive…”

“PUT HER DOWN,” Kayde said, smashing her fist against the barrier with such an intensity in her eyes it could cut through someone’s very soul. For a moment; he saw it…what lay within her. It vanished once again; retreating back to the recesses of her heart.

“I’d rather take her with me…and have my own prophet at my beck and call…”

“I’ll kill you…”

“If the great Miss Ravelyn Shentavo couldn’t kill me, who possibly can?”

“Kayde Shentavo…” she responded. He laughed. She continued. “You know she’s not the only one! You know Ravelyn isn’t…you might try to stop it…but the day I awaken will be the day I die.”

“Can’t be awakened without your guardian…or your priest. And without either of them…Lilith stays locked away inside of you.”

“I’m Lilith?”

He tilted his head. “You didn’t know?” He smirked, opened the side door, and walked out of site with Hevn asleep in his arms.

“Bastard…” she said, and hit at the barrier once more. She hit again, and again. It didn’t break until Hevn was out of their range, and when she was, they vanished from sight. Kayde fell to her knees. There were small cuts on her hands from trying to get past the cards, but they healed as Daja’s wounds had healed.

Destrii didn’t back down, deference didn’t come easily to her, until the door behind her came crashing in, her sight was more-than-human, and she was relatively unflustered by the lack of light, at which point she was eager to get out of the way. It helped that she was quick, very quick. It wouldn’t be fair to say superhumanly so, but she was more than human in many ways.

Standing next to the Doctor, a few paces away, she leaned over, “Is this what the peasants do for fun here?” a flying Tarot card zipped past, “Because I can’t work out the story…”

At that moment, a hostile looking figure congealed out of darkness, like some globule of humanoid tar come to clog the lungs and suffocate the living, “Actually, I think that fellow… might be up to no good.”

“You’re sure it’s not performance art?”

The girl was hauled up, and the whole thing was over so quickly it was impossible to get a word in edgeways. It was practically like watching a movie.

Destrii started after the man she was silently calling Black-Paint-Aberration-Man already, and then paused at the door, as her companion looked at the survivors, “Well now, what was all that about? I’m the Doctor by the way. I can help…”

THUNK!

"OW! The gack was that for!?"

>"Existing."

Grumble. "One of these days, Margaret. One of these days...."

>Impish laugher. "You'll do what?"

Vacant gaze, then wicked, wicked grin. "I'll clean out your core stacks."

>"You wouldn't dare!"

Chuckle. "When have I ever not dared?"

>"Point."

He walked the short distance to the screen bank from the console he'd been working under, rubbing his head where a servimech had thumped him with one of its heavy manipulators -- completely by accident, of course.

Of course.

"Maggy, sweetheart, has Jaime redecorated since we were last here?"

"Hmmph."

He sighed exasperatedly, bracing the palms of his hands against the screens' control board. His normally expressive face was stone-still, which spoke more of his mood than any expressed emotion could.

"Okay, Maggy. I'm sorry. I won't clean out your core stacks..."

>"That's better."

He pushed back off the control board, rocking back on his heels to upright. He walked a tight circle for...seemingly no reason at all. Which was fairly likely -- he didn't bother justifying his actions to anyone but himself. It was...an Ascended thing.

"Okay...you don't want to tell me where I am...let's go straight to the Why. Why am I here? Why am I not about to go get drunk off my ass with some very old friends?"

If an AI could smirk...

>"Because you're needed here. You may choose to ignore what you are, but I will not. You may be little more than a drunk, but I am still a ship of the Watch, and You, despite your faults, remain my Captain. Which entails certain responsibilities on your part...SO CARRY! THEM! OUT!"

He flinched away from the excess of noise, then, reluctantly, drew himself up to his full height -- six feet and three inches -- and nodded, very slowly. Veeeery slowly. Because She was right...damnit.

"Fine. Fine. Five and I'm gone."

---
Five minutes later...

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, did one last touch inventory of his kit -- very light, as usual: just his sword, a few grenades, his pistols, reloads, gauntlet, knives, and a small kit on his belt. All but the sword were not readily in line of sight, due to purposeful concealment and his long-coat.

There was only one thing left to do, then -- and he pulled the open-fingered black glove onto his right hand, covering up the odd green crescent tattoo he had in that location. Even now, when the number of people alive who would understand the significance of that tattoo could be counted on one hand, he still covered it.

Oddly, he had stopped bothering with false names except when operating unusually close to others of his kind. But...of course, knowing that he was alive and knowing that he was -him- were two different things entirely. Right? Right.

"Don't wait up, Maggy."

And he stepped forward.

*Flash*

And Forward

*Flash*

And In.

"GAAAAAAAAAACK!"

Other than the distinct taste of aquamarine, rift-transit was without projective side-effects. 'n for how one tasted a color...well, there were perfectly good scientific explanations for that, but it broiled down to a fuddling of the sensory clusters in the brain. More or less.

At any rate, other than the whole it-tastes-like-blue bit, he stepped out of mid-air, coming to stand roughly beside the Doctor...which resulted in an interesting double-take, indeed...

"Y'know, Doc, I think She likes you. I think She likes you a little too much. It's really the only sane explanation -- because, I mean, it couldn't be that I was some sort of bizarre recurring character in your ongoing adventures. That would be explicitly ridiculous, and would also result in my having some words with certain...entities."

He sighed, pacing around to the other side of the Doctor, somehow managing to appear to be moving very slowly, though his actual motive speed was quite high. Which was typical of him -- oh, he knew perfectly well that people stepping out of thin air generally tended to spook people, but it didn't spook them nearly enough to offset the incredible migraine he had. Long practice detailed that the best course of action was to never stand still long enough to let the pain sink in.

Which didn't mesh with the way he paused in mid-step, that old eyelid twitch tick starting up...

"Ahhh...Gack me. It figures."

Grumble...grumble.

His ears rang with laughter, and the words:

'Ne Cede Malis'

Blackmarlin Rache shook his head, not unlike a punch-drunk fighter, and if one listened very carefully...

"Twelve will face the auctioneer..."

Kayde glared at her. “You aren’t from around here…are you?” she questioned, as she got up and went over to Gado’s side. She placed her hands over the wound. “I only have offensive magics, Gado…there is nothing that I can do.”

“It’s alright, Lilith.”

“Don’t call me Lilith… I’m not Lilith.”

“I think you are,” he smiled softly, back fully to his human form.

“Can you help him?” she said calling back to Destrii reluctantly. Kayde’s still glowing cerulean blue eyes flashed. She stood up. The frustration surmounted in her blood, and she hit the edge of an empty table with her fist. As she connected with it, half of it turned to ice. Immediately after it froze, electricity soared down the length of her arm, and shattered the ice. Her eyes stopped glowing.

“Lilith was a seraphic of Ice, Kayde…”

“Then why do I also have electricity under control?”

“Probably because of your father; Quissera… That was his element…”

“We need to get Hevn back…”

“You’ll have to go alone…” Gado replied, he moved his arm away from the rather large wound in his chest.

“You’re a zoanthrope, you should heal.”

“Not wounds this deep…it will take time.”

"I know of the twelve Seraphic beings, Gado...I know Ravelyn was Azrael, but out of the eleven remaining...how can you be so sure I am Lilith?" Kayde apparently didn't realize what 'it will take time' meant, and was more concerned with her own identity.

"Quissera's daughter HAD to be Lilith. That's how I'm so sure...and you just proved it to me..." He winced in pain, and decided that it was best not to talk.

Life was never boring, at least in his case. Here he had come to this fine little establishment to enjoy a very human beverage, coffee, and reap the benefits of a caffinee buzz for a few moments. Enjoying one's self was rare in his line of work, with the exception that one enoyed the work itself. He was one of those blessed few, he'd learned a long time ago that you had to make your own fun sometimes.

The scene unfolded before him like something from late-night TV, something of a supernatural undead soap-opera, 'Tales from the Crypt' meeting 'Days of our Lives' in a sense. His little booth in the back corner was shielded from visibility, and the added fact that his kind had a certain knack for not being noticed was also beneficial. Known as the 'Shadow-Kin', the 'Shadow Naga', or perhaps somewhat less flattering title, 'Dark Argonian' in common speech. He hated that term, it took him from what he liked to think he was, what he had worked for so long to become, back to something from a child's story-book.

As with any profession, there were some things you were proud of, and assassins were no different. Anything with 'Shadow' in the name made the whole profession feel that much more rewarding, where 'Black Lizard Man' sort of ruined the whole persona he was trying to achieve. No matter, what he was wasn't the point, or the topic of his thoughts. The had happened however, was.

It tumbled and turned and thrashed violently in the forefront of his mind, a combination of confusion and wonderment. Magic was a distrusted tool, something he'd never employed or aspired to employ. What he'd witnessed suggested these individuals were direct opposites from his school of thought. What had just happened? The name 'Shentavo' had been thrown around a bit, and he'd heard it before. There were times when targets had been assets of such a person, although the first name generally differed, and the message mentioned something about him being sorry for what he was about to do. He never was. A clean kill was just that. No evidence to track him down and punish him, no witnesses to incriminate him, and certainly no 'attempted' criminal charges against him. When it came to murder, there were no 'attempts' in his mindset. You stabbed them in the neck and they died. End of story. There were no sequels in real-life, no second chances.

The faint and almost inaudible click from under the table came from an odd tool in his profession, something he'd gleaned from the first Assassins of the Middle-East. The concept of the 'Hidden Blade' was an old one, but had had a new spin put on it by the Argonian Shadowscale Guild. His own was of the standard design, the blade coming out where his left ring finger used to be, extending about six inches from his fist, with about five and a half inches of useable edge. It retracted and extended as needed, activated by muscles in his forearm. The twist came in the form of the materials used. The blade itself was of worked volcanic glass, a matte-black colored material that was of neutral composition, meaning that it killed just about everything effectively reguardless of resistances, handy when you had to dispatch the odd werewolf. It also didn't set off metal detectors like conventional steel, making it a very prized tool in today's assassin circles.

It did have one flaw, however. You had to remove your left ring finger at the base knuckle to make it work properly. That made it possible to spot a wielder of such an implement somewhat easily, if you knew what to look for. It was, thankfully, easy to hide should the fancy take him. It hadn't lately, the current moment being one those such times.

The wielder of the 'Hidden Blade' stood roughly six feet two inches, his ear-fins bringing him to a total height of six feet five inches. Beneath the hood of his sweatshirt one could make out faint details about his features, only that he was reptillian, and had a few scars. Beneath the sweat-shirt one could tell that he was well-built, a combination of work-related conditioning and a hobby of exercise. Faint tribal tattoos could be seen coming out from under the sleeves and onto the backs of his hands, the white ink struggling to show through his dark scales and coming off as more of a lighter shade of gray. The markings continued up his arms and down his spine, and should he remove the hood, down the left side of his face to end around his left eye. Again, the black hood of his sweatshirt thinly concealed this, replacing the hooded cloak of old. Faded black denium jeans and a pair of mechanics boots gave off the appearance of a working-class individual, or someone with a somewhat functional sense of style. His short tail hung off of the booth's bench, hidden by his left leg. It wasn't exactly a liability, but again it all came down to knowing what to look for, and his kind weren't exactly common in this part of the world.

His right hand came up to grasp the styrafoam cup that contained his beverage, bringing it to his nearly-lipless mouth. He enjoyed the taste to a degree, especially when combined with liberal amounts of cream and sugar. The flavor was savored, each sip enjoyed. There was going to be a lot of thinking tonight, that he was sure of. He might need another coffee, come to think of it. The events would need to be meditated on, their possible meanings ascertained before he'd consider taking action. After all, that wasn't his daughter being snatched...

Blackmarlin's eyebrow quirked ever-so-slightly higher -- then he walked a quick circuit about the coffee shop's perimeter, breathing evenly, hand bracing his chin -- as if he was thinking, though that wasn't his purpose. No -- he was picking up a...well, call it a 'trace.'

It was a thing of silvers and light, but faint, very faint...as if it had been carried here entirely by proxy. Whatever it was, it certainly seemed to have him entranced. To the point that his circuit was abruptly ended when he walked tripped over an errant chair.

Well, stumbled, more like. As he went forward and down, his hands snapped out to take his weight onto his arms and his legs swung up. It wasn't exactly a cartwheel, but it resulted in him returning to his feet without suffering the indignity of ending up eating floor -- always a worthwhile aim.

This seemed to snap him out of his trancelike state, which was all to the good, as having him pace endless circuits about the coffee shop was undesirable if only for the reason that, considering his longevity, he would outlast the floor...

A few short steps took him to the female and her companion, the wounded male -- as he walked, he called to fore the information he had passively gathered concerning them. It was the way his mind worked, Guardian Temple trained as it was -- he absorbed everything, though he might not pay it any heed at the point of origination, he could call it back whenever he felt like it...

"Mind if I take a look at that, Ace?" He gestured towards the male's -- 'Gado' -- injury. Then, of course, he went right on with his activity, not bothering to wait for any sort of reply. His inquiry hadn't really been an inquiry so much as a statement of intent in question form, to create an illusion of choice for the other party.

He stepped in close to the male, fingers touching the edge of the wound, eyes intent on his work -- he'd seen more wounds in his time than he cared to remember, to the point that they'd become routine...

"So. You're a zoanthrope? Now, normally, I don't really care about what people are, but I make an exception for Tyranids. So, umm...just for your general information, I'm not a big proponent of scouring planets of all organic life, so if that IS on your agenda, it'll save time if you let me know now so we can move on to the part where I kill you, ya? Otherwise, this is going to...hurt. A lot."

His fingers were bloody to the first knuckle, now, but he didn't seem to care. He also didn't seem to care that his poking and prodding seemed to serve no purpose other than eliciting a pain-response. Well, unless you looked real closely -- then you would notice the way the wound was changing in dimensions, becoming slightly more ragged and a lot thinner...

"Mmm...pretty nasty, friend gribbly. You'll live. I strongly suggest you don't stress that -- I've thinned it out and fixed up the internal damage, mostly, but more than that, you're on your own. It'll heal plenty faster, though, and leave a nice scar. Still -- don't stress it, and I don't mean 'kinda-sorta don't stress it.' I mean 'don't stress it or you're going to get first-hand experience of what 'organ failure' really is.' Dig?"

He patted Gado on the head, leaving four bloody fingerprints, then rose to his feet and gestured absently with one hand, which was promptly filled with a napkin from one of the tables. He didn't mind getting his hands dirty, but leaving them dirty just wasn't on...

Then he turned his attention to the female, eyed the shattered remnants of the table, eyed the female, eyed the table, eyed the female...

"I say! Truly, you are most skilled in that ancient and most honorable profession: Furniture Slaying. I saw it with...okay, well, so I didn't see it, but that's beside the point! I dare say that that is that most vicious and cunning of creatures, the Table of Shadows, renowned for its ability to blend in with common furniture, remaining undetected until it is prepared to strike...and yet, there it lies, in pieces, and you stand whole and unharmed! I tremble in the presence of such a mighty warrior as yourself!"

His face projected perfect seriousness, but mirth danced within quicksilver eyes.

The Doctor glanced to his left, warned by some intuition, as Blackmarlin showed up. He listened for a moment, and grinned, “I’m not really that kind of Doctor anyway…” he glanced over at Blackmarlin, who, while the Doctor was quite good at healing people, despite his protests, was better. The Doctor’s methods were ultimately rather conventional first aid, after all.

Destrii, hanging back, looked at Blackmarlin, “Nah, it’s not that she likes us. She just doesn’t want you becoming a shut-in. Got to have a social life. Go to dangerous places. Shoot things, save people. After all, that’s basically a Watchman’s job… I expect.”

“Speaking of which…” the Doctor said, looking at Kayde, “Have you any idea who that was, and where he went?”

Kayde shot a glare at the man who spoke, her eyes starting to glow again. Gado’s rough voice soothed her, “Easy there, kid…remember the creed regarding innocents.” Kayde relaxed her muscles. She was only around five foot six, and her thick black boots perhaps added some height. She took off her long jacket and placed it over a chair. She pulled another over and sat down upon it. There were metal bracers on either arm with enochial scriptures upon them. They seemed a bit more like shackles, but there were no chains. Her nails were medium length with white chipped polish. She had been wearing a black tank top which had been ripped slightly around the stomach, but not by much. Dark jeans completed her outfit. Her dark bangs fell over her eyes as she looked towards the ground.

“Ravelyn Shentavo,” Kayde began. “Have you not heard of her? If not, I am afraid there is not enough time to describe that woman. She was the Empress of these lands for many, many centuries. She had a kind heart, but a quick temper. She is considered the mother of a Shentavo line; a clan of vampires descendent from angelic and vampiric blood. She had a son and a daughter named Sarah and Quissera respectively. Without getting into the whole love triangle of it all, she disappeared after the Great Wars after leaving one of her vampiric daughters; Charmaine in control of these lands. You will recognize the name of our current empress. Shentavos are regarded one of the most unique clans in all of history, as the attribute of angelic blood gives various qualities normal vampires would lack. Ravelyn was a seraphim, before she ever became a vampire. She was turned by an ancient named Daja, and it wasn’t by choice. She couldn’t fight back as she was too weak from arriving on this plane of existence. Who better to have as a puppet then Azrael, the Seraphic of hell?

He misjudged her abilities…and Ravelyn had grown stronger. When she took her seraphic form in full, as in the physical world, one’s body has to adapt to the seraphic presence in one’s soul before the seraphim can come into being.” She looked down at the shackles around her wrists and ran her fingertips along them. “When Ravelyn awakened, she killed him, or so we thought. He returned in full a good time later, was defeated again by Ravelyn alongside another vampire by the name of Corothisia. The man you saw was Daja, and while I cannot explain how he broke through the seal which had binded him, Ravelyn is no longer here. The girl Daja took was Hevn, my priestess. Priests selected by the seraphic assist in the awakening of that seraphic. There are twelve seraphim in total, but not all seraphim are on this realm or have been sent yet. I am not awakened yet, and without my priestess I don’t know how I possibly could find my way to it. And even if I was awakened, there is no way I would be able to go against him without being in full control of that side of me. He is the originator of the vampiric blood in all of us in my bloodline…that part…he will not have a hard time controlling, if I can’t channel my seraphic stronger. I am Lilith,” with those words her voice was soft, almost silent. She couldn’t believe she was saying them. They were more for herself than for the others in the room. “The Seraphic of the Void.”

“Gado…” her voice trailed off silently. Gado’s eyes slowly opened and he struggled to stand up, gripping his side. He shifted into his half lion form, claws raking against one of the nearby tables he had grabbed for support. The wound seemed to close. He stepped towards her, and a small electric shock traveled from her fingertips to his chest. It snapped him back to his human form so quickly the change was nearly unviewable.

“At your side, my lady…” he said in a gruff voice, spitting out some blood.

“I want Hevn back. She’s only twelve years old. I don’t care how good a priestess she is…I need her.” Kayde said, still looking at the floor. Gado knew she cared for her like a little sister. There was much more than just needing her. She was silent for a bit. “The first place to look would be in the temple of Akama, there is a void there that had been sealed, and it was the first entry Ravelyn had used.”

“I know I said I’d walk with you into the depths of hell…I didn’t know it was going to be literal,” Gado said calmly. “But don’t you think it would be a good idea if you contacted your kin, Miss Shentavo. Your blood line is strong…”

“Charmaine has to run the government, Ravelyn is gone somewhere I don’t know. Probably resting for the many millennia she was in rule for. The woman deserved a break, along with Corothisia. Mathias is but a fledgling, and Charmaine needs him. Quissera is lost within the sands of time. Jin-Shina I don’t want to drag into this, and Shen-Jin is too much like Quissera for my liking. They don’t know I exist. I would like to keep it that way.”

“You won’t even try to wake up Ravelyn?” Gado said.

“Never. I don’t even know how to reach her.”

“All the Shentavos can reach one another, you just have to try…”

“Enough. Let’s go…” Kayde said. She left her coat behind. She wouldn’t be needing it. She leapt over the bar and touched the hand of one of the cashiers. She made eye contact with him.

“It would be my honor, Miss Shentavo” he said, and Kayde nodded. She brought him close and plunged her fangs into his neck and drank heavily. When he was dead she laid him upon the floor and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She leapt back over the counter, and made her way towards the door. People had a high respect for anyone of the Shentavo name. Kayde hadn’t flaunted it for the fact that she didn’t want to call attention to herself. Especially when she was Quissera’s child and not Ravelyn’s. There was something else now, however. The second Seraphic had descended to this plane, again within the Shentavo line. She was the second seraphic; Lilith. For that as well, she didn’t want attention drawn to herself. She would be forced into power in this nation. She just wanted a normal life. Gado trailed behind her, but stepped ahead to open the door for her.

There was only one possible course of action. Made things simple.

"Ooookaay..."

He walked over to the exsanguinated cashier, prodded the corpse with his foot a few times, turned his eyes heavenward...

"Creator's Mercy, tell me this all a bad dream..."

He turned away from the body, right hand coming up to run a hand through locks of silvery-blonde while he attempted to come to terms with the casual death and all that he'd just been told, or overheard, or whatever...

Eyes come to rest on Kayde and her shapechanging companion, apparently on their way out the door...which, for the moment, suited him just fine, because at the moment, he was pretty pissed at the universe, and the less fallout from the tantrum he was about to throw, the less blood would be on his hands at the end of the day, the better off he was.

He began to walk a circle, arms loosely at his sides...

"Right, then. Why!? WHY!? Why-Why-Why-Why-Why-WHY!? I mean REALLY! Were the KAMIKAZE PURPLE SQUIRREL PEOPLE not sufficiently wierd FOR ONE WEEK!? Now..."

He seemed to run out steam, there. Simply slumped forward against the back of a convenient chair, resting his arms along the top, letting his head hang.

"Yeah...yeah...you're right. You're always right. Damnit. Okay, Okay...but this is pushing it. This is reeeeally pushing it. I mean, there's PAPER on this one. Yeah, yeah, I'll do it anyway..."

One wondered if he even realized that he was speaking aloud. Even odds.

Then he pushed off the chair, turned his attention momentarily to the Doctor..

"Sorry about that, busy week, too much stress."

As if that explained everything...but it'd have to, because Blackmarlin was already staring intently at a small object he'd taken from his coat pocket. A pendant, it was, ovoid in shape, of a blackish metal, with an engraving detailed with red and white lacquer -- a design formed by the rotation of several 'K' figures, over which was superimposed a variant of the omnipresent Ascended Star.

"Yeah...it figures. It really, really does..."

Then he turned his attention to the now exiting vampiress and her shapechanging cohort, considered saying, well...something. But didn't. Couldn't. Too much, too quick. Plus, for once, words failed him...

Or maybe it was because his eyes had gone all un-focused, maybe he was seeing something else entirely...

Maybe not.

Kayde glanced over her shoulder at the man. She seemed somehow older for a moment, older than the twenty years, which she had stopped at. “It wasn’t painful for him,” she said casually. “And I just absolved him from his sins.” It was a known fact about these lands, or had come to be known. If someone from Ravelyn’s bloodline, save for Daja, takes someone’s life, the soul of the person is guided into the elysian fields. There are a few exceptions. The person must be offering, the vampire must be taking. The person or being cannot be killed by a weapon wielded by one of the Shentavo family. It has to be done a certain way, a special way, known to them alone. Not every one is taken, but when they are it is considered an honor. Many people in the lands take it as paying respect to Ravelyn. Without her, this land would be barren and still at war.

“If you can’t handle the heat, get out of the pan,” she said, and placed her fingertips on the door handle. “You are quite ignorant, outsider. Quite ignorant…” with that, she pushed open the door, Gado in tow.

Eyes incline slightly -- so inhuman, like pools of liquid mercury. But, then, he isn't human at all, at all. Lips peel back in bitter smile, and he speaks to Kayde's -- and isn't it bizarre to use that name, here -- retreating back...he speaks, not because he expects her to hear, but because it is something he must do.

"I met a lady in the meads
Full beautiful -- a Faery's child
Her hair was long, Her foot was light,
And Her eyes were Wild."

And then he said no more, because, again, the meaning was not in the words themselves, but in the saying of the words...there was nothing left to do but laugh, and laugh, and laugh...

And when he was done laughing, he would shoot the Doctor and Destrii a Significant Glance, tap his ear, then set about finding his way out of the coffee shop by means other than the front door -- because he needed to think, and he needed 'fresh' air to do so....
--

Exactly how he got outside was unimportant. Maybe he climbed out a window, maybe he found a second door, maybe he just imposed his will upon reality and transfered himself directly from interior to exterior -- whatever the method, outside he was. Then there was the need to go upwards, and again, the means were unimportant -- the result was not in question.

Then it was simply a matter of releasing the pendant to float serenely in the air, uncaring that it was no longer supported by exterior force. He studied the pendant closely, then took the pendant up and returned it to his pocket. Something just didn't feel right, and his hand moved to rest upon the pommel of his Warblade. The fat amethyst pommel jewel was warm to the touch...and he shivered.

"If morality is mistaken for ignorance in these parts ... then perhaps the ignorant foreigners are wisest."

The speaker is a young woman, now extricating herself from under a table alongside a half-dozen other patrons. She has pale skin, long black hair, ice-blue eyes, and is clad in a long, many-layered black coat wrapped around her thin frame. It is patterned with stylised eyes which glint and shimmer as she moves. In her early twenties, she's a few years too young, perhaps, to pull off the "dark queen" look; instead, she might be taken for a goth, if the nation of her birth had had any knowledge of the concept.

"It is not proper that the balance of a man's life may be altered," she continues, regarding the dead cashier. She doesn't seem to notice that she's talking like something out of a book; it comes, probably, from having been raised in a library. "Nor is it proper that the dead should walk the earth," she adds, sounding thoughtful. "I am ignorant of any "Seraphic of Void" ... but in my homeland, Lilith is known as the mother of demons. And neither is it proper that such a one as that should be worshipped so."

The dark stranger in the corner spoke up finally, having decided to stick his lot in on this particular comment...

"Humans have little say on what to worship. Three of your major religions worship different versions of the same god, yet slaughter each other by the thousands over insignificant interpretations. To make things stranger, the confirmation of this 'God' or 'Allah' has yet to be confirmed. Stranger still, this being before us, this 'Lilith', exsists in all senses of the word and you deny that worship would be out of the question? It certainly makes more sense to pay homage to something that is real instead of something that may or may not be made up..."

His tone was one of friendly debate, not the typical malicious hiss. Humans had a tendency to spark his interest once and a while, and he hadn't had a decent conversation with one in a long time...

"Why does it seem odd that he give his life in service to what he sees as a greater good? Is that not your 'Martyrdom' concept?"

He swung his legs out from under the table attatched to the wall with a smooth motion, resting his forearms on his knees in a relaxed posture. Body language was a handy tool in his trade, either by lulling a victim into a false sense of security or reading what a person really had in mind. It had saved his scaly hide more than a few times, buying him precious fractions of a second to act faster than his opponent. In this case it had shifted to a more docile role, allowing him to predict the responses of his verbal sparring partner...

"I also exist," the young woman points out, "And there was a time when my ... ancestors were worshipped as divine. They had as little right to godhood as do I, or as that "Lilith" woman. By that reasoning am not I worthy of worship? But my predecessors were divinities not golden but gilt; if there is a true divinity it is not to be found in the world of flesh. Power corrupts both the quick and the dead, and the immortals are not exempt from that. We suffer the weaknesses of matter; we cannot be gods.

"No," she says, "Surely it is better to hallow something immaterial and more pure, whether or not it should exist? Whether the divine exists or whether it is merely an idea, it is ... safer than idolatry. There may be some among us who possess the powers of a god; but who among us can possess the wisdom of a god? It is not possible. We delude ourselves if we say god-emperors and incarnate forces are worthy of veneration. It leads to scenes such as this" - she gestures to the cooling corpse - "With some poor fool throwing away his life to the hunger of an undead thing in the belief that it will take him to paradise!

"I should like to know who reports back from the elysian fields, to say that it is so."

Kayde turned her back towards the door and looked at the two. “Not proper for the dead to walk the earth? What about the rest of the races? If you aren’t human, you aren’t accepted? I am far from dead.” She withdrew a gun from her side holster, and clicked off the safety. She pointed it at the woman. She pulled the trigger. The shot was fired, but ice followed the bullet, encasing it, shattering it. Frost hit the woman, and nothing more, chilling her skin perhaps more than what was good for her.

“Let me make this terribly clear,” Gado said, coming in between Kayde who still had her pistol drawn and pointed with death in her eyes. “If you are in these lands, and you speak badly of Ravelyn Shentavo and her line out of lack of knowledge, no one is going to give you the benefit of the doubt. If you can’t read up on your history, or if you have never met the woman or any of her kin, don’t talk. I’ll kill you myself. And I’m warm blooded. Of course, I get furry sometimes, does that exclude me from what should be?”

She looked at the lizard type man. I like you, she communicated silently, something that her line was rather infamous for. Police cars whirred outside, and Kayde didn’t bother to put down the gun. Two officers barreled through the front door. One was human, one wasn’t. They looked at Kayde, and the vampire of the two took off his face mask.

“State your name,” he said calmly.

“Kayde Shentavo, daughter of Quissera Shentavo.”

“What happened here?” he questioned, she still didn’t move the gun from being locked on the woman. She turned towards him, and they met eyes.

“I don’t want there to be cause for panic. Clean this up, you have your orders. Do your best to follow them.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, putting his hands together a certain way and bowing. The human officer did the same. “Charmaine will not be informed, but you can contact me if you need assistance. I understand why you want to hide. I never knew how they put up with so much publicity.”

Kayde lowered the gun and tucked it back in her back holster. Gado lit a cigarette, took a hit, and opened the door for Kayde. Kayde, stepped through.

The assassin rose from his seat, somewhat amused by the little display of gunfire and ice. Whenever he fired a weapon at someone, the outcome was quite the opposite. Chunks of lead shattered tissue and bone like brittle ice instead of the bullet itself suffering the same fate.

He approached the young woman, his steps purposeful and silent. Standing within striking distance a little off to the side to her rear, he had a clear angle into her kidney and upper ribs, subsequently her heart as well. Death was not at the forefront of his mind, however. Instead, he spoke...

"It seems that words carry heavier meanings in these strange lands. Perhaps we would be best served to keep such future conversations between ourselves, and avoid such future incidents. You are the very definition of a worthy opponent..."

He moved to follow the pair out the door, pausing briefly...

"I am Vosh Kettich, by the way..."

His minor introduction completed, Vosh continued down his path towards the door...

"Kayde Shentavo," she replied, as it was a personal introduction and not a general one.

"So tell me, Vosh," she started up again after a brief moment of silence. "What did you come here for? Do you wish to help? Or just have some fun in hell?" She smirked. Fun was not really the way to describe it. She would have a bit more fun if she had her underage priestess back into the safety of her side. It was unnerving to think that someone could harm a child, especially Hevn. She was so innocent. She prayed silently that Daja would not turn her. The girl didn't deserve that.

Blackmarlin's eyebrow inclined ever so slightly as he watched the arrival of the police vehicles from his perch atop...something. What, exactly, was largely immaterial. As were most things, when you got right down to it...

Well, maybe not for most people, but when considering Blackmarlin's unique perspective...it was understandable. Remaining largely detached kept him sane, and people around him alive -- which was entirely desirable, until it wasn't.

He let his hands play out before him, spreading his fingers, feeling the world drop away...

Damnedy, Damnedy, Damnedy, Damn.

He rose to his feet and stepped off the side of...whatever he'd been on top of, dropping rather swiftly to the ground, though he took the impact rather easily, returning to a fully upright position with enviable fluidity -- partially because he was Ascended, and partially not. Harrum. Needed to happen, anyways.

“Vampires… She just exsanguinated someone right in front of us, and you’re…”

“Right now, I’m doing nothing. Mad though the fellow evidently was – I’m fairly certain Captain Black could have fixed him up – it’s just conceivable that it might not be some perverse trickery, and a legitimate euthanasia tradition,” the Doctor said, “I’ve seen a few varieties of Vampires… Haemovores, Plasmavores, the other ones…” he paused for a moment, “Some interesting people with immortality who managed to make a vampire snail…”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Fred the Eternal Snail they called him. Big African thing. They stood on him eventually, by mistake, and had to steak his little heart with a toothpick.”

“Ewww…”

“Yeah. Poor little blighter… Anyway. I suppose she could be telling the truth. I think it’s evident this Daja fellow is up to no good, regardless of everything else. I’m going back to the ship to get some things I think might be useful…” He gave Destrii a meaningful look, that said don’t ask, or even it might not be best to ask. “Stick with these two. I’m sure Captain Rache will show up if you need help,” the subtext, if they turn on you, was evident. “He’s around here somewhere…”

The Doctor walked back to the door, opening it and going out into the night, giving Destrii a meaning-laden nod.

“We didn’t even get a coffee,” Destrii said, following through the doorway, bounding after the local group, “Right, err, Kayde, isn’t it? Any idea where Daja might have taken the girl?” Suddenly, she seemed professional, miles away from the lighthearted bantering and pop-culture quipping mood she usually projected.

“I already told you,” Kayde said simply as they walked. “I think it might be a little dangerous for you. You might want to go back where you came from, else you’ll be dead weight.”

She looked back towards the woman. “You do realize I have exceptionally good hearing, correct?” Kayde folded her arms across her chest as she walked, the metal shackles clicking together.

“I don’t know what use you or your time lord friend would be. Unless you can read enochial, I suggest you turn around and head back. If you can’t understand my bloodline, chances are you will do more ridiculing than assisting.” She could read enochial but not fluently. Every second wasted was more time that Hevn was alone with Daja. It was working against them. She sighed heavily; always forced into being the leader.

"Oh, I'm sure I'll manage," Destrii said, "I'm sure I've been through worse. And yes. As a matter of fact, I can. And understand it spoken. Along with every other language..."

(OOC: Good hearing for what? Nothing in the last post was meant to be unheard.)

"Tsk." A wave of her hand, a eyeblink's flash of midnight light, and the frost vanishes, her skin unblemished. "This is why we cannot be gods!" she shouts, suddenly angry. "Because we find insults where none exist, and treat insults like blasphemy!

"What you are is merely tragic," she continues. "What you do with it is monstrous. Go off on your little quest, leave a trail of the innocent dead in your wake ... and I shall continue to blaspheme against those who would be gods."

She dismisses the vampire from her attention, and regards the Argonian's words.

"I'm sure we shall meet again, sir Kettish. I am Catherine ... no, there's no use hiding it now, is there? Ekaterina Valerian. Damnit."

It's obvious, by the way she says it, that the name means something more than just a name - but she doesn't seem inclined to explain it. Her titles and her office are left behind in the Citadel, after all. She'd hoped to leave the name behind with them.

"Damnit."

Ekaterina exits the coffeeshop in a swirl of coat-tails, glaring down anyone who might get in her way.

"It seems that you and I hold similar opinions of this madness," she comments to Rache.

“Gado,” Kayde said softly. “I’ve never understood why outsiders can’t understand what people here have understood for so long. Perhaps it is because they went through the great wars, or were under Ravelyn’s reign. Either way…”

“There are a few in any lot of people, just tend to be annoyances.”

“You can stay,” Kayde said almost painfully to Destrii. “I need you.” She hung her head slightly; black bangs falling over her blue eyes. This was going to be one hell of a rescue.

"Whoa whoa whoa..." Gado said suddenly. "Your a seraphim and can't speak enochial?" He calmed. "Sorry...more important is Hevn's life."

"I am not awakened yet, so no I can only understand fragments."

“So that’s what it comes down to?” Hevn asked, looking up towards the vampire who had his back turned towards him. Her hands were tied behind her back to a poll lodged within the thick stone floor. “She won’t do it. She won’t leave Corothisia. You lost her when you forced her. You lost all chance of reconcile when Vaughn came around.”

“I know this,” Daja said sullenly. He turned on his heel and put his hand about her neck and squeezed. Tears came to Hevn’s eyes from the pressure.

So you settle for the next seraphic to fall? Hevn questioned silently. Daja released his grip and hit the girl across the face. “You think if you can keep her from awakening you can just drain off her power like you did before Ravelyn broke free. Ravelyn didn’t have a priest. In time, what would make Kayde so different?”

“Ravelyn didn’t have a priestess because she new the scriptures by heart. Kayde does not know how to fully speak the language. She can’t call herself into being like Ravelyn did. Without you to read the scriptures and to help her through it, there is really no way she can awaken.”

“You are really full of yourself,” Hevn said softly. He struck her again.

“And you really think you know everything. What makes you think I am after Kayde?”

Blackmarlin, leaning against the wall of some sort of building picking bits of...something...from beneath the fingernails on his left hand with a knife, shrugged his shoulders in a manner that conveyed futile agreement.

"Yeah, funny how that works."

Of course -- his opinion, beyond that it was 'wierd,' had yet to be stated, but it was close enough. Probably. He didn't hold any particular ill-will towards 'vampires,' 'angels,' or any other form of supposedly 'superior' being. If anything, he found them amusing.

His irritation had stemmed from completely external sources, it was just a matter of poor timing and misconstrual...not that he was in any hurry to correct anything. People would believe what they wanted to believe -- simple as that.

Having completed the act of gunk-removal, he spun his knife about in his hand and slipped it into its sheath at his belt, opposite where his Warblade presently hung. Content to exist, indeed.

Vosh really didn't have any further plans for the evening, his handler hadn't contacted him recently and he'd completed his assignments in the region. All that was left for him now was relaxation, or if he desired, a bit of excitement...

"If you will have me, I would follow. It's been a week since I've taken a life, the itch is starting to bother me again..."

Perhaps it wasn't the words he spoke, but his tone and inflection. His speech had reverted back to the primal hissing accent common among his people, dripping with verbal venom for the ears...

"What of the others?"

He gestured back behind him, coming somewhat closer to the Shentavo woman, moving away from the gothically-clad female he'd been standing near earlier. Neither displayed the discomfort most revealed when he came close, perhaps out of a subconcious reading of his intentions. An interest, however, had been piqued by the strangely non-chalant man off to the side, toying with a small blade of some kind. He appeared human, but perceptions could be fooled. He knew this all too well. Ignoring it for the moment, he turned back towards Kayde, his eyes flashing pure unfiltered malice for a brief second before he either got the emotion under control or it subsided...

"And will there be blood?"

Destrii frowned. Blood, was no problem. In fact, violence itself was no problem for her. She’d seen more than enough of both by the time she was twelve for any ten lifetimes. However, she had other priorities. She didn’t much like this talk of Vampires, not because she was afraid of the concept, but because it sounded very much like something not to be approved of.

She didn’t think the Doctor had been much impressed either. He normally didn’t behave quite like that. A sort of quiet tolerance, and when he did, it usually meant he was up to something.

So she walked, quietly, and nursed questions and doubts that their ‘host’ such as she might consider herself, necessarily qualified as a person worth helping.

The Doctor opened the doors of his ship, which folded in into a large room, too large to possibly fit inside the box, which opened into a considerably larger one, a veritable cathedral. He flung his coat over to his side, where it caught on a hat stand, and he walked past a bronzed statue, standing by a huge cabinet with dozens of drawers on it… “V…” he said quietly, and pulled one of the square drawers open, “Humm… Not there… Let’s try NA to NM,” he said, standing, closing that low drawer with his foot, and opening one of the others.

His dark hair bounced slightly as he reached in, near to the back, and took out a cylinder of glass containing a white powder, “Just the right thing…”

The mention of blood was more of a hopeful one on his part. One didn't last as long as he had in his business if you had an aversion to spilling someone's insides out onto the pavement on a regular basis. He'd grown rather fond of the sound, a noise that let him know he'd done his job properly, and that no further attention would be required on his part concerning that particular victim.

The screams were nothing short of angelic, either, at least until they went into shock. Beings of any sort usually reacted poorly to seeing their intestines, stomach, liver, what have you, lying on the ground in front of them. The technique was a favorite among his kind, both effective in its termination of the target and in leaving a message for those around that he wasn't to be followed, lest they risk suffering the same fate...

"I don't know. I've never been there," Kayde responded honestly. The chamber of the fayth was something that Ravelyn Shentavo, Michael Vaughn, Corothisia, and Genesis Versai had gone to to enter his domain the first time.

She communicated with the lizard man silently. The goth girl can read enochial, I need her to open the chamber of fayth which will be sealed behind us. If she wants to follow I'm not going to protect her. I got a bad sense from her right when she walked into the coffee shop. Not evil, just foreign. The man with the blade, I'm not sure about. I really don't know who he is or why he is following... best address that now.

Kayde shot a glance at Gado who turned towards the man in response almost immediately. "I'm afraid I can't let you come with us," Gado said to the man. "It's better to go with less people so that there will be less people to keep track of. Destrii, once we get the girl back will get her out of there. That leaves me and the lizard man to try and hold off Daja until this girl awakens..." He looked at Kayde briefly then back towards the man.

Blackmarlin had intended to remain out earshot, but that was effing difficult when events conspired to the contrary, and worse when his hearing was just so Damned good...so it was that he turned to Gado.

"I'll presume that you were speaking to me, and not to yourself...out of the kindness of my heart, you understand? Because I'd hate to think that you were out of your poor, little, innocent, ignorant, delusional mind..."

His smile was manic, and his eyes burned.

"But, I suppose that is fairly likely...as you seem to believe that you can...somehow...prevent me from acting as I please. And you call me ignorant? Oh, the irony..."

He laughed, then.

"I, frankly, don't care what the hell you do. You and your blood-drinking girlfriend can go impale yourselves on church-steeples, or whatever it is you people do...I. Don't. Care. But, if you involve My friends, then don't expect to not involve Me as well. That's the way it works -- they remind me that there is something worthwhile left in this pathetic universe, and I keep them alive."

And in that instant, it became very, very apparent that he was, in fact, that Blackmarlin Rache.

"We aren't dating," she snapped, making it perfectly clear. "And yeah..." continued, turning on her heels, "I can stop you." She wasn't sure if her guardian would be able to deal with the man, so she took it upon herself. She half wished she was awakened, but that didn't change her elemental abilities or the skills she had acquired from becoming a vampire. She flicked her black hair out of her eyes, and took out her pistol to hold it in her left hand.

"You want to make threats to my guardian, you make threats to me." Her eyes glowed a deep cerulean blue. "Show me what you got."

Blackmarlin appeared momentarily shocked, which was quite a rare sight to see, indeed.

"I'm sorry? Are you serious?"

He braced his forehead between palm and forefinger for a moment, then sighed.

"You're pointing a gun at me. Why are you pointing a gun at me? Didn't anybody ever teach you not to point guns at silver-haired individuals wearing long-coats and carrying swords, especially when said individuals have the Star tattooed over one eye?"

Apparently there was some manner of significance attributed to the eight-pointed white star tattoo he had around his left eye...

Then he laughed.

"Fine...fine. I suppose you've got me there."

He tilted his head to the side, looked down at his feet, hooked the toe of his boot under a good-sized rock, kicked it upwards, caught it in his hand, considered it for a split instant, then let fly. The action took less time to complete than it would for the mind to register its commencement. He was, after all, Blackmarlin Rache.

His target was not the girl -- he didn't, as a rule, execute people for ignorance -- ignorance was often amusing, and deriving himself of even the smallest measure of that quality would have been disasterous. So his aim was to simply knock her pistol off target, impacting with the barrel at an angle and forcing it to the side and up.

The next instant, time elapsed being, literally, the blink of an eye, he was no longer where he had been. He was far, far closer to the girl, within arms reach, in fact, and his hand lashed out to bat the gun aside, while his other hand, his sword hand, thrust forward...

To poke her in the stomach with his index finger. Gently. Then wiggle back and forth in a tickling motion.

"Just so we can prevent further incidents. I do not, as a general commonality of actions, make threats outside of specific persuasive uses. Doing so would violate Rule Eighteen: Thou Shalt Not Telegraph Thy Intentions."

Then he smiled and patted the girl on the head. Because he didn't really want to escalate things -- he had no love of mayhem, though that would seem to be at odds with legends about him. And they did qualify as legends, though most of them were true.

Vosh, while not inclined to display his prowess outside of life-and-death situations and the scenarios he executed while on the job, did enjoy watching the conflict unfold. While the sword-wearing man was unbearably overconfident and sure of himself, he appeared to have earned such mannerisums...

"Perhaps he might be of use after all?"

While able to 'read' people extremely well, Vosh had no ability to telegraph his thoughts into another's mind, at least other than his own. He approached the odd man, extending his four-fingered left hand. While in the past he'd used a fairly dirty trick where he'd shake the target's hand and trigger his Hidden Blade to spring forth through their wrist a second afterward, severing tendons and blood vessels and giving him a bare second to follow up with something more lethal before there was a chance to react, he saw no need for such an assault at this time. This man, was, just as he mentioned, protecting friends. While Vosh had no friends, or relations period for that matter, he did see the value of such emotions, detatched as he was from his own.

The left had came forward, and his eyes locking into the other man's, a pair viridian green daggers seemingly coming for his soul, not that he had that ability, but it was a useful trait he'd programmed himself to use without thinking about it...

"I am Vosh Kettich by the way, and perhaps an end to such hostilities wouldn't be the worst idea, eh? We both have similar objectives, and this is only going to impede progress towards both of them..."

Someone was only going to get hurt this way, and it wasn't going to do them any good bickering amongst themselves when the little girl was still missing and the clock was ticking against them. His tone was as neutral as he could make it, being what he was...

Blackmarlin nodded, once, sharply, then stepped back away from the girl, extending his own left hand to take the Argonian's, firm grasp -- but no attempt at a crusher grip, though he could have done that, too, as he was Ascended -- single pump, up, down, release. He certainly didn't miss the significance of the offering of the left hand, either. It was common, on Earth, in fencing...because, traditionally, the right hand would the foil.

"I, certainly, would be more than agreeable to such a thing...and, as you say, it simply isn't very smart to do your foe's work for him."

He shrugged, then.

"I am Blackmarlin Rache. Captain. Interstellar Watch."

Though that wasn't all that he was, at all, at all. But it was all that the man who had once been Warseeker Alpha Prime would admit to...for his past was a dark thing that he did not like terrifically much to speak of, though he had never bothered to remove the tattoo around his eye, or stop wearing the long-coat of an Officer of the Guardian Temple.

Because there were things that even his friends didn't know -- well, the Doctor might, but otherwise...well, thankfully he no longer had to really bother to try to outrun his infamy...but most things faded, given sufficient time..

Time. Always.

Kayde didn’t move. Inside she grew cold; hollow, and her eyes seemed blank except for the ethereal light which shined through. The blue light which was emitted was soon engulfed in dark shadows. Play as you like now… she thought silently to herself. She reached her hand out towards the fallen gun, and it immediately returned to her hand. The sound of chains could be heard vaguely in the motion, though it was unclear of where the sound was coming from. “Don’t test my patience…” she growled, her fangs seemingly lengthening with her hiss. Gado placed a strong hand on one of her arms.

“We don’t need any uncontrolled seraphim wreaking havoc, Lilith,” he said emotionlessly. The name Lilith clearly bothered her. “You need to be with Hevn if you awaken. Don’t ruin the reputation of your family; or this nation…” She turned towards the temple and began walking up the marble steps.

“Better get to the chamber before that happens then. My tolerance wears thin…”

Vosh appreciated the curtness of the gesture. This was a man of action, not of words, although he did talk a lot...

"Then it is agreed on your end... Miss Shentavo? I'm sure you'd rather see your daughter back safely than quabble with our friend here?"

He couldn't gage her reaction very well, at least not unti she replied to his question. Time was wasting, and he hated wasting time...

"My daughter?" Kayde was ready to hit something. "First of all she isn't my daughter, she's my priest...HE's" she pointed at Gado, "My guardian not my husband. I'm far too young to be having children...that and I'm dead." She honestly wasn't worried about what Daja would to do Hevn. She was worried about what would happen when she got there.

Vosh agreed, albiet on one thing...

"You aren't exactly dead, not in my sense of the word. Were you to suddenly drop to the ground and never rise again, then you might have something..."

Death was something he took very seriously, about as seriously as he took lives from their previous owners, sort of a repo man of the soul so to speak...

"It doesn't matter what she is, only that she is missing and she must be found, and that we stand here bickering like children over trivial issues..."

Vosh, too, was a man of actions and not words. Words took time to formulate, to choose, then longer to actually speak them. By that time he could have already done what he was going to say and been on his way. Humans, whatever their specie or classification, seemed to think otherwise, a polar opposite to his own school of thought...

Blackmarlin sighed, giving the 'temple' a once-over. He hadn't really paid it much attention up to this point, but now that it looked like he was going to have to actually fight...he'd been in no danger of having to do that up to this point. A 'fight' was a two-sided thing.

"Now that we've got your resumes worked out...what? Do we just knock on the door and shout 'Telegram for a Mr. B. Foozle!' or what?"

His face and mannerisms portrayed, for once, the truth -- that he was not at all eager to engage in combat. More that he was resigned to that inevitability.

"Y'know. I don't think I actually care."

His hands flicked to his sides, removing the restraining straps from his holstered pistols. Beyond that...

"Well, then, after you."

Kayde opened the doors to the temple, and stepped in. There were pews to either side of a long crimson and gold isle runner. Stained glass windows prevented direct sunlight from getting in but made what light did sift through shift and soften, and create a wonderful mix of colors. Furthest from Kayde in the center near the altar was a statue of an angel with four large wings and a beautiful face. Candles were lit at the base. Many priests turned their hooded heads towards the group as they entered. One greeted them, but the identity was remained unknown as even Kayde couldn’t see the person’s face.

“здравствуй, меня зовут Кайд Шентаво,” Kayde said fluently. “мы с друзями хотят видеть темпль файхы.”

“Очень прятно, Кайд. иколай. Встрей ко мне.” He responded.

“Побистрее...” she commented under her breath, and walked towards the front of the temple after Nikolai. Gado followed close by. She knelt once in front of the statue. Nikolai bent slightly, and he anointed her forehead with jasmine.

“Be careful on your journey,” he said in common language. “When you go, the mother will awaken. If you fail, and all fails, then this land is lost to the ancient. Do you truly wish to awaken someone from their deserved soul’s rest?”

Kayde nodded slowly. “Though I do not wish it, I must get Hevn back. She was my charge as much as I was hers.”

“Hevn is indeed a very special soul. Bring her back safely to the confines of this temple.”

“Райвлин, будет жить... и я, тоже.”

“Good luck, Lilith,” he said softly, and Kayde rose to her feet, and made her way to one of the doors to the left behind Nikolai. Gado kneeled in front of the statue, and his head was also anointed with oil.

“You are a fierce warrior, Gado. This is a game of the minds, remember this. Bring back Hevn safely. You will have to leave Kayde’s side. Take my advice.”

Gado nodded, and while he wasn’t happy with the notion, he would do as he was told. He got up and walked to the door to stand next to Kayde.

Vosh scoffed within his own mind at the very thought of religion, or anything related thereof, to include the very temple he stood in. The temple, the only one he really cared about, was a soft spot on the side of the skull, a prime target when you wanted to destroy someone's brain matter...

"Are we done here?"

He'd remained in the doorway, choosing not to enter out of personal objections to such edifices. Instead he stood in the doorway, arms crossed and silhouetting himself against the night sky, again another posturing tactic designed to demoralize potential foes he unconciously employed...

Blackmarlin quirked an eyebrow at the...err...ritual, probably. A part of him, the analytical, curious part, found the entire thing fascinating. It was an Ascended thing -- characteristic fascination with religion, not because they believed, but because they often didn't. The Ascended deity -- Kendri-Kalis -- was, for the most part, a distant deity. Thankfully. Blessedly.

Having witnessed firsthand some of the more terrible results of excess of religion, and knowing full-well the potency of his own kind...well, small favors.

That said, his right hand rested upon his Warblade's pommel, not because he felt threatened -- the time it took to rotate his hand to a proper grip and draw was significant in the every-instant-counts combat style that the Guardian Temple taught -- but because it was one of the more solemn positions that he could assume at such a time. The action, for a Gunslinger, was about as close to 'very respectful' as you got. Anything more was just putting on a show.

Still, he hadn't entered the temple to any great extent, either -- having moved inwards so that the Argonian could loom in the doorway in a properly dramatic manner.

"The chamber of the Fayth is in this temple," Kayde said, her voice changed slightly. If you want to enter, you have to be blessed by the high priest. If you are accompanying me, come forth and kneel to be blessed. Otherwise, the chamber will not let you in." Nikolai stood at the alter, waiting. He didn't think it was a good idea for people unaccustomed to their nation's religions to be entering the chamber of Fayth, yet he was open for surprises.

"Rose oil for descendents of Ravelyn, Jasmine for healers, Clove for sages, and earthroot for guardians. Lets' go."

Blackmarlin shrugged, unwilling to argue the point, at this point...besides, he was no stranger to being blessed...or cursed. One seemed much like the other, when you got right down to it. As such, he approached the altar at a slow, purposeful pace, then dropped down to one knee -- which was the only 'kneel' he was capable of.

"Well, I'm kneeling. Get on with it..."

And because he was efficient, he took the time to do a little blessing of his own. Came with the job he hadn't mentioned yet, the one that came with the sword...

Nikolai looked at the man purposefully for several seconds before opening a small container of some liquid salve and running his fingertips across the man’s forehead. “Those who yield are not always weak,” Nikolai said softly. “Strength is immeasurable, unless you can delve into the depths of the soul.” Nikolai stepped back a bit, allowing the one that kneeled enough space to get up and go to Kayde’s side. There were two left, and silently he wondered if they would join.

Blackmarlin rose slowly, his hand dropping to caress the hilt of his Warblade, his lips forming the words: 'D'varan Dar Khas.'

Gunslinger Oath.

Oh, yes, things were about to get really, really shiny.

Which went a lot towards explaining the way his eyes flared with a silver light of their very own, though not all the way. At any rate, he made his ways towards Kayde, finding a spot of choice wall close enough for reactionary purposes but distant enough to provide some sort of separation. He hadn't quite made up his mind on the girl, yet.

Vosh wasn't too keen on getting blessed by anything, it was against everything he stood for, his personal belief system or lack thereof, and it really just seemed kind of weird...

Oh what the Hell, he needed to kill something, and he had no other promising leads...

"It had best be quick..."

The assassin strode forward, abandoning his dramatic posting at the door, and kneeling close to where Blackmarlin had done the same...

"I suppose you will need this removed..."

He pulled the hood back, revealing the full extent of his tattoo work with the grayish Argonian tribal running up his neck and around his left eye and down his snout, then up his left ear-fin. Green eyes flitted between shadows, apparently looking for places to hide, to vanish into. He hated being in a vulnerable position, and kneeling before anyone was such a position...

As the lizard man removed his hood, Nikolai didn’t flinch. It appeared he was familiar to such appearances. Three candles went out around the statue. “My, my, peculiar,” though he wasn’t saying it towards Vosh. He took the same salve he had used for blackmarlin and anointed his forehead. “It is strange that you do not know Ravelyn Shentavo,” Nikolai commented quietly. “But she recognizes something in you.” Nikolai closed the salve. “Be safe.” He dismissed Vosh and waited for the last woman to come foreward.

Vosh stood, unsure whether or not to wipe the stuff from his head or not. The hood, however, went back where it was supposed to go, over his head, and he took a place on the wall near Blackmarlin. The two were somewhat alike in a way, but worlds different as well...

A large male approached the group, seeming to have come from nowhere. Dull brownish-green scales covered his body and his whole aura said 'old', despite the fact he was obviously a warrior. He ignored any words spoken to him and instead strode directly up to Kayde. There was a glint in the old reptilian's eyes.

"You are of her clan," he rumbles. "I am coming with you, as part of my debt to her... and I have been inside this building before. I have no need of his blessings, for I was blessed by Azrael herself, many years ago. I am Goor, defender of what Azrael defends."

Kayde was a bit more than suprised. She bowed her own head towards the man who had arrived in respect. So he was one of Ravelyn's fighters, perhaps one of her former students, perhaps not. She wasn't going to argue. If he was lying, then he would not be able to get past the entrance. She didn't sense that there was anything vial in his speech.

"My name is Kayde," she introduced herself softly, but it was still audible. "I am also a seraphic, though I am not awakened. We go to retrieve a priest that was taken from us. Hevn; twelve years old." If he had been in the temple before, chances were he had been in the chamber of fayth before it was sealed, and perhaps before it was created.

This revelation seemed to surprise the old beast. "Another? Interesting. I knew Ravelyn before she was fully awakened, before she was cast into The Pit with Mephisto. I was one of the Academy's first graduates... so much has changed since then, without changing at all."

Destrii frowned and leaned over – or rather, up to, she was many things, but tremendously tall wasn’t one of them – to BlackMarlin, “If it weren’t for that thing with the Litravore monster and the smelling salts, I’d think this was a complete waste of time…” she said, picking at a string of cloves¹ and trying to get it to fit with the grey Prada jacket she was wearing.

Of course, Destrii limited herself to kneeling on one knee too. Put simply, the reason was 50% arrogance and 50% genuine, deserved confidence.

“So, unless the history’s relevant, let’s get moving. Time waits for no man…” she said with a slight wink.


The Doctor frowned, the ornate but old fashioned telephone was linked into a miniature telepathic circuit to let it derive a target ‘number’ with appropriate precision.

Amazing. No matter how technically sophisticated the recipient; they always managed to take a while to pick up.

¹ Assuming of course, that’s what she got.

"She sleeps now," Kayde said in return softly. "Where I do not know. None of us do." She wondered silently if this former student of her realized that she had awakened long before the ideas of an academy came to mine. Kayde was not so lucky.

"There are twelve seraphic in total, it is strange that two fall within the same bloodline, however."

correct you are

Nikolai bent slightly. Such arrogance and no respect for history. He wondered which ones wouldn't come back, which would. He could find out the answer, but if the seraphic was among one of them, he didn't want to know. He anointed her head with clove oil saying something in enochial, before releasing her to join Kayde's side.

Kayde ran her hands over the door, and pushed it open. Once everyone was inside she closed the door, and ice spread over it. The chamber was an empty, dark room, made out of old carved stone. In the center was a ring of some sort drawn into the ground. The ground inside of the ring looked unstable, yet when stepped upon it didn't move.

"Start reading," Kayde said softly, bent low to the ground. Her blue eyes glew brightly, and scripture around the ring and travelling up to the walls lit up to match the color of her eyes. It would be quite some task to decipher, and hopefully destrii was up for the challenge.

Vosh observed the older reptillian creature with a mixture of sizing up for combative purposes and his own inborn curiosity...

"And then there were six... Our little band grows ever larger..."

The comment was made with a blend of sarcasam and contempt, though not directed at anyone in particular, least of all himself. While fluent in several languages, this wasn't one of them. Assassins had to blend, after all, and not knowing what someone was saying was as good a way as any to get you killed. The writing, however, interested him, the shape of the characters seemed to call out to him, begging to be studied. It was this attention and obsession with details and information that had made him so effective at his chosen profession, but he had never had this effect when looking at text.

This was truly going to be an interesting endeavor...

Goor shook his head at the others. "Such arrogance in these new followers... they remind me of that first band of upstarts, who hunted down a serial killer so long ago. A shame that arrogance will not help on this journey." He was one of Ravelyn's few living true friends, so one might consider he had a frame of reference for such things.

He stepped towards the entryway and passed through without any problem. Apparently he was truthful in his words. "Ravelyn will return to us, in time, as she has done before. Hopefully it will not be so long a time as last. I would like to see her face again, before I grow too old to recognize it." He intones, taking a place around the circle as if he had done so before. He draws his warblade, which was as long as his forearm and muttered something quiet as he looked at the ornate etchings on the blade. Even if it was heard, it was in a language none of them would know. He re-sheathed the blade and then stood motionless, watching.

Vosh took a slight bit of offense to the comment, but shrugged it off without a second thought. It was a common mistake. His mood was not one born of confidence, or arrogance for that matter, that was just how his mind was wired. Feelings, his own or those of others, were a detatched and distant thing, foreign to him as the writings on the walls. He wasn't a creature of feelings, but of instinct, a survivalist of sorts...

"It takes arrogance to recognize it, old one... Reserve your judgements for the enemy, we are gathered for the same purpose, so let us not waste time with words..."

There was a long pause, as if he wanted to say more but thought better of it. If his observation was seen as arrogant then a clairification would probably do more harm than good...

"I hate words..."

The comment was more of a soft hiss into the darkness, a thought escaping the trappings of his mind though his mouth in a rare mental lapse. The assassin was a solitary creature, and as such saw little need to talk, for talking to one's self was an un-need waste of time and oxygen, a petty luxury used by others for comforting purposes, or perhaps a nasty habit held over from younger days. In either case, it was rare for Vosh to display such behavior...

“Silence,” Kayde said simply. “No one is to speak until Destrii and I have finished. Do not interrupt; for I would hate to have to have us start over again.” Her eyes glowed brightly in conjunction with the words. As Destrii spoke, she began repeating the scriptures in enochial. Kayde’s voice, for the first time, sounded musical, heavenly. Despite the black bangs which covered nearly entirely over her eyes (which one may not have seen except for the fact that they glowed), she had a strong presence, and it was growing stronger with each word.

Blackmarlin let his eyes dance over the script, and though he did not immediately recognize the writing, it was a simple exercise to trace derivatives and create an approximation. Which was rather amusing, in the end....

His right hand dropped to Shadowdrinker's* hilt, and the gleaming amethyst in the pommel seemed to twinkle in response to his touch, far more significant than the casual contact he had made with the blade prior to this point. There was something odd about that sword, something frightening on an instinctive level...something visceral, down on the animal level.

Almost as if that base part recognized, understood what that sword represented. Knew the truth, so to speak, behind the act.

But that was impossible.

-

*Shadowdrinker (http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y95/Revenia/Chaos%20Theory/Guns%20and%20the%20like/Shadowdrinker.png)

Goor had planned to ignore the comment from Vosh, anyway. He had been one of those arrogant youths tracking the serial killer. And he had paid for his arrogance many times over. And what to do if their arrogance proves a threat to this expedition? he thought, never taking his eyes off the ring and betraying his thoughts to the others. He came to an answer quite quickly. If they become a threat, I'll remove them. Years ago, he might have sugarcoated the thoughts to comfort himself. Not now... he had no use for such tiny lies.

Sitting behind a desk, Mathias turned through page after page of the many reports they were displaced over his desk. He leaned back in his chair, stretching out his tired muscles. The artificial lights set to a dimmed light Mathias was accustomed to working in, automatically turned on with the fading light of evening. He kicked back from the desk and walked across the small dark room he often found solace in. Pouring a glass of bourbon, he returned to desk and grabbed some of the reports he had been reviewing.

He found his way onto a comfortable area that acted as both a place to sleep or place for many visitors to sit should anyone join him in his little "hole in the wall" as he was fond of calling it. Kicking his legs up, holding his drink in one hand and the reports in another, he skimmed them to see if there was anything relevant or noteworthy.

It would soon be the time Charmaine usually retired from some of her duties as Empress, so he hastened his reading to have the reports done in order to summarize for her anything he thought relevent....and it was important they settled those matters as quickly as possible so the night would be theirs. The thought made him grin, as he turned over the report, finding nothing of interest. With the glass done, he grabbed a handful of other reports and refilled his glass.

Browsing over them, words stuck in his mind temporarily Child missing. Body found. Temple vandalized. The usual, he thought as he turned back. The reporters always told the negative. He was tired of the doldrums that encompassed that world of negative violence and yet it oddly called to something within him, a part of him he tried to leave behind when he left that old place he called home. Brief memories of a world of violence flashed before him but he pushed them back, moving past that time of his life. Turning back to the reports he skimmed for other words of interest, Government stronghold. Another missing child. Another body found. Priestess missing. Strange disease reported. Flooding from recent storm.

He was about to toss the report aside until the thought struck him, missing priestess. Priestesses normally were well protected. This was definitely noteworthy. He read more of the report, but vague descriptions were given. Apparently there was some difficulty in gaining information.

Charmaine..... his mind reached out for her, I found something. You need to see this.

He planted himself back on his chair and brought the glass to his lips. He heard the faint clinking of sharp teeth on glass and felt the pangs of an insatiable hunger deep within. He suppressed them as he began to tear through the reports fiercely, looking for any bit of information that may help.

A white mist sifted though the windows, gathered, and took the shape of a woman. Charmaine had long white hair and beautiful violet eyes outlined in charcoal. Her lips were a pale pink; and her skin paler than the moonlight. She wore dark purple robes, and her pale hair, which may have been blonde at one point but had since then lost all traces, flowed freely over her shoulders providing a wonderful contrast between dark and light.

"What is it?" she said, her voice still humming from her transformation. Charmaine had grown stronger since she became empress. This could be because of the call to be a strong leader, or that she had Mathias. Mathias was her fledgling; she was his sire. That link provided a strong bond. Mixed with the blood of the Shentavo family, both Charmaine and Mathias had found that being near one another strengthened them. She looked into his eyes, gathering what information she could.

"Priestesses don't go out of the temple unless for three reasons. The first reason being that one of our summoners needs one for their pilgramiges. Second would be to come here, to my side, and thirdly to accompany an awakening. Since there have been no requests for a summoners journey, and I have not sent for any priests, she must have been accompanying someone for an awakening. What they were trying to awaken I do not know, but it is strange that no one has caused such a big deal out of it. What temple was the girl from?" She looked at Mathias, an d got her answer. She smiled softly.

"Turnika temple is one of the most protected and most revered. It was where Ravelyn opened a chamber to the void realm. That has been since sealed. I think we should check this out...I need to change..." She had to wear civilian clothes, she didn't want the attention. Mathias knew the attention she got when she went out. Couldn't go anywhere without a camera. She started undoing her robes, and caught his eye. She smiled.

(ooc: bump. waiting for The Lords of Gallifrey)

Goor stepped slowly around the new arrival, as if appraising her. "Just wondering, how many angelic, demonic and vampiric beings are there in this nation? I think I've met all of them and then two or three more pop up..." He sounds rather amused by that fact.

Mathias could not help but smile....his silence never really silence between them, a special bond that had originally connected them. He placed his glass on the desk top, a small clink of glass on a hardened surface sounding. Indeed he would join Charmaine if she asked him to or he would stay back and run business in her absence, but this moment was theirs.

Something within him pulled him to her, an attraction stronger than any magnet. He felt he could travel the universe and find his way back to her that's how strong those feelings were. Standing up, the pain that used to plague even that simplest gesture was now only a residual memory his body sometimes responded to at odd moments. He slid his arm Charmaine's waist, pulling her closer, wanting to be as close as possible to this mystique beauty. He brought his lips lightly to her's as his mind sought her out. My love.....

Reluctantly he pulled away, feeling sensations within him arouse, wanting more but knowing duty called. What would you like me to do my dear?



OOC:
"Revenia
Posts: 666"

That's noteworthy! :D

The writing was difficult to interpret, not because it looked strange to her, but rather, because the style of the script seemed strange to Destriianatos. But then, she had had similar experiences before, the Script of Oblivion which she had been brought up with had been quite different from the many others she had seen.

It had consisted of strings of characters read vertically, from bottom to top, and in lines from left to right. Each character was a pictographic representation of some contextual key and a morpheme. This made it dense and complex. In comparison, most other languages, say, English, seemed a little clunky, but easy to pick up on.

In her mind, the Enochian text quickly took on a similar context and form. Of course, there was one other problem to deal with in translation, and that was the context. She could get names and places and cultural things phonetically, but they meant nothing to her.

Sitting cross legged, she took from her pocket something that looked a lot like a PDA, but unlike most such devices, in a light grey that seemed to sparkle with gold and silver trim. A narrow stylus came out of one of the inside pockets of her jacket, and she began to write, rather than read aloud the transcription.


Far away, in another time, another place, artists gathered in the dust laden high-roofs of a timeless city in glass. Before them stood a statue composed of dreams, a thousand times a million, whispering wisps. “Which shall we call?”

A pale, lofty figure shrugged, a languid, measured gesture under wide, stiff shoulders, “It matters little. Let us call the one of the current date divided by Lagaranthinma’s number…”

“As you wish, that should be nine seven two oh four.”


The door swung shut behind the Doctor. He smiled, with a faded brown leather roll tucked under his shoulder. “Damn… Where are you now,” he said, reaching into his pocket, coming up with a Jen-Dan trans-histrionic communicator, he made a few adjustments, “Captain Rache? How’s it going?” He could use the reply to get an idea of where they were…

Blackmarlin had expected to regret giving the Doctor his 'number,' which was, to say, the 'frequency' for his implant comm system, though it wasn't at all a frequency, because the implant comm didn't use radio waves. Probably.

Exactly how it operated...was difficult to describe, not in the sense of overt complexity, though that was certainly part of it, but because it was a component of the so-called 'Gunslinger Implants' and was thus designed to be useful in the same situations in which a Gunslinger must be useful -- which was, to say, all of them. Needless to say, if the thing wasn't self-repairing, and if dearest Maggie hadn't been around, he would have been screwed royally and left with a chunk of non-functional...something...in his hand.

But it did work, and as such...

'Doing fine, Doc. Inside some kind of fancy chapel thing, staring at glowing walls. Very dramatic and ritual-esque. Been typecast again, but what else is new?'.

"Hurry. We can't stay in here forever you know. There isn't any more oxygen until the seal is opened. I can breathe, but you my friend, probably can't." Kayde said, and leaned up against one of the walls to observer her bracers seemingly deep in thought. These recent allies she had taken up, if that is what you would call them, unnerved her.

The man waiting took a breath. Normally he was sent right to where he was needed, but this time he had been sent to approach through a more round-about method. The breeze wasn't enough to move his coat, a black leather item that had numerous intertwining blue lines that focused at the edges of the sleeves. A single cord in each sleeve connected to similar patterns on his gloves, the connection of just the right length to stay hidden within the coat sleeves.

Gathering his resolve, he stepped forward, entering the building and taking his hat off to reveal dirty blond hair and turquoise eyes from the shadow of the brim. Noting where to go, he approached one of the receptionists, whom asked his name and reason for visit.

"I am called Casey Lonnergan, and I was told to present myself for a matter regarding a priestess from the temple of Turnika. Please send word by whatever channel appropriate for such a matter, though my directions were to ask that the currently reigning lady of the Shentavo line be notified at some point, the sooner the better. Where may I wait?" he asked politely, silently wondering why in Hell he was sent to this place. Reminding himself for thousandth time, he normally didn't work with the head of state, but he had been told to make himself available to the current empress. At least it might mean a modicum of street level involvement from this country's leader. Haven't seen that in a while, he thought to himself.

Destrii frowned, “No rush, then?” she said, writing quickly, her hand across the device, “Done!” she said, and passed it up over her shoulder, lines of English phonetic text giving a full translation of the text before her.


“Right. I’ll be with you shortly…” the Doctor said, and Blackmarlin could swear that he could hear him calling ‘Taxi!’

Vosh crossed his arms across his chest, rapping his four fingers on his left hand on his right bicep in a combination of annoyance and impatience, not that he'd admit to such traits. He wasn't used to such an amount of inactivity, especially since a young life was in danger...

“It would have done better for me in Slavic tongues, but common phonetics should be fine,” she took the text from Destrii, scanning it over quickly. “Good work.” She mumbled. Gado paced. He was growing restless, as were the others. It wasn’t her fault, she concluded. They are the ones that wanted to come along. She didn’t know any of them personally. She took a breathe and began to read the words. The tongue was clearly Slavic, even though they had been written in common phonetics. As she read her words became more distressed. Her cerulean blue eyes glowed in the dim light from the words. The light from the glowing scriptures on the walls and floor slowly gathered and streamed into either of her bracers. For a moment, one could see a glimpse of the long chains which hung from them before they disappeared. Tattoos seemingly hidden before glowed dimly across the left side of her body. Something was clawing at her insides but she continued. Soon all of the light was consumed within her bracers and the depths of her eyes.

“Prepare yourselves,” she said softly. Her voice was rich with darkness. She was Lilith, one of the void; pure darkness, cold. She lifted one arm up as she walked into the center of the large circular section of the floor. She slammed her fist into the ground, driving it with all her force. The light from her bracers surged into the ground, and the earth beneath her plummeted into a matterless void, and she with it. Gado took a few steps back before taking a running leap and jumping into the bottomless pit.

She fell slowly through the void that had formed. Flecks of what seemed to be suspended light moved out of the way as she fell. She felt pain surge through her back. Inside she wanted to break free of this earthly body, but no matter what she tried she could not find release from the vessel. She landed upon stone ground. There were three pathways in front of her, one down the center, one left, one right.

“I wish it came with a map,” she said quietly, her voice slowly reverting back to normal. Gado rolled when he fell. Apparently it was not so easy for people falling without the chains and affinity for the method of transportation that she had. He shrugged it off, and walked next to her. “Which way is the question.”

“I have not sent out a message,” the ‘receptionist’ said, turning around and flicking her bright red hair with her. Her left eye was a burning red, glowing and intense, while her right was a plain brown. She had pale skin, and wore a black button down shirt with a grey denim skirt and thick black boots. She stood up in an instant and a large red blade extended, attached to her right hand to just below the main’s throat. The blade was wide, and seemed to be attached surgically to her arm if not part of it, but it had not been there a minute ago. “You remind me of an inquisitor,” she continued with a displeased expression. “So tell me, who are you, and why should I even consider letting you leave here alive if you don’t even know the empress’?” This receptionist, if that is what you would call her, really didn’t put up with any bullshit.

Casey eyed the blade at his throat. She was good, though he didn't like the Inquisitor reference. "I did not here the message from you, but from, well, other sources. As I have said, I am Casey Lonnergan, and I swear my oath that I come with no intent to wish harm upon the Shentavo family. True, I don't know the empress, but events are conspiring that she is no doubt aware of, and the outcome is very likely to be apocalyptic. Such an outcome could spread beyond these borders, and more importantly, the balance on the other planes would be significantly destabilized. I wish to limit the former, and am Sworn to prevent the latter."

Casey paused and eyed the blade again, noticing that she had not drawn blood. she was very good. But then, if his help was denied, then he could leave, and wait until he was called on again, either at another point in this matter, or some matter entirely. "If you have authority to kill one that presents himself in peace for your Lady, then you also have the authority to send me on my way. Simply declare that the situation has been sufficiently appraised, and that my assistance is not needed, and I will walk out those doors and no longer bother myself with this matter."

Casey stood, still as a statue, not bothering to hide any emotion, for he had felt steel at his neck far too many times to take offense to it. He was more interested in looking closely at the woman's eyes, for it was rare to see heterochromia, and even more rare to see it where the one was so distinctly different that it was probably non-human. Granted, there were plenty of not-quite-human beings out there, Casey an example mostly unto himself, but having a case of heterochromia such as this was not yet part of his long experience.

Blackmarlin sighed, "...all that for a friggin' hole..." Then he shot a...significant...glance at Destrii, made an odd gesture with his hand...annd...

Stepped out into nothingness and fell away...seemingly unworried -- and logically so, he was Ascended, after all, and there was more to him than met the eye.

He took the landing with a bending of his knees, rising slowly, never seeming off-balance...if anything, he seemed annoyed at the exertion. Though that assumption of calmness was accompanied with the way his hands moved to brush his longcoat behind him as he landed, clearing his draw. Similarly, the way his hands barely strayed only slightly from his holstered pistols...

Satisfied that there was no immediate danger, he moved a hand up to brush a stray strand of silver the heck out of his eye -- long hair looked nice and everything, but it got in the Grfnarhk't way. Often.

He turned his attention to Kayde, for all of a moment, presumably to insure that she wasn't injured or otherwise requiring his action -- which she wasn't -- then focused on the terrain ahead...blinked...spat a curse, turned back to Kayde, and raised an eyebrow.

"I suppose now is when we split up, hmm?" His voice just positively dripped sarcasm.

Charmaine had changed into a plain white tank top and a pair of dark leather pants. They suited her well, and apparel was unique in the TUE. She could easily get away with it. She pulled up her long, wavy, white hair into a small clip, and was lacing up her boots when it hit her. She felt a blinding pain rip through her mind and push her into the back of the chair. Mathias could feel it to, in greater degree, for he was younger. She grit her teeth and wrapped her arms around Mathias, shielding him from the pain. When the wave was over, she slowly let go. “One thousand years ago, Ravelyn Shentavo had opened a portal into the ethereal realm where Daja’s spirit dwelled. It was there that she had contained him within a sphere along with her protectors. When she returned, she sealed it with enochial scriptures. Someone just broke through the seal.” She rubbed her temples gently, and walked over towards one of the large bookcases.

“It also means I know where our priestess is,” Charmaine continued, searching through the books. “She wasn’t accompanying a summoner; she was accompanying another seraphim…there is another…” she let out a quick breath. “Why the seraphim broke the seal, I don’t know…but mother must be awakened.” When she found the right book, the bookcase began to rotate, and she stepped back. When it had rotated halfway, it stopped. On the other side was a large golden tree, with gems, and leaves. There were leaves on the ground for the Shentavo members who had fallen, and stemming upward all was connected to the mother of them all. “Gives a new meaning to the family tree doesn’t it…”

She brought her fangs to her skin and bit down upon her wrist, and turned it over to let the blood fall near a basin at the base of the tree. Her wound glowed with a white light, and that light traveled into the basin. The blood flowed up the tree, running through its metal veins up to the leaves which remained. A new one formed, and Charmaine looked at the name. “Kayde Shentavo…descendent of Quissera…my my, what a stir you have caused.” Awaken… she thought silently. The white light returned to her, settling upon her back, and unfurling outward forming a white set of wings. The empress turned towards Mathias. She wished there was time to explain. “In the Shentavo line there were three seraphim, two hidden, one remaining prevalent. Ravelyn was known throughout the world. Since I was with you…during the war, my awakening was not recorded. The other wanted to simply keep his identity unknown. He was afraid his so called father would come back from the grave to reach him. His father came back from the grave to reach Kayde.” She walked towards Mathias, her wings now completely solidified. They were as pure as snow, like her skin.

She was the white seraphic; of light. Mathias knew this, though probably never understood this. Titles meant something else from where he came from. Azrael, seraphic of death. Quissera; seraphic of war, Lilith, seraphic of the void.

“We go to the temple, and wait for the other two to awaken. If I have enough strength, they will, if not, then perhaps we will get one. If none come within the half hour, we go alone,” she paused. “I’m not sure if I want to risk loosing you Mathias…you are so young.” She ran her hand over his cheek, her long nails brushing against his skin tenderly. “We go to the realm of the man who gave us our vampiric blood. The reason Ravelyn nor any of us can return fully to our right states. He is the father of all of us, even you. Master vampires are known to have some control over their kin, if our blood is not strong enough, if yours isn’t, he might take control of you…”

“No…” Kayde said, levitating slightly off the ground. What is this… she commented to herself silently. I feel…feel so good. “No…I know the way. I know the way we are supposed to go. This realm…speaks to me?” she said, and felt her invisible chains reaching out and pulling her along towards the left path. She paused. “This way. This way to find the girl…”

Gado watched her meticulously. He had been right all along; she was Lilith. If she could just awaken with Hevn…she could have this realm as her own, but she couldn’t awaken without the girl. What would happen first? Would she awaken? Or would they fail trying?

Nagi tapped one foot on the ground, and immediately reverted back to her normal form. “She gave notice she is leaving soon. Wait over there,” she said, pointing her polished fingertips towards a large leather sofa. She then sat back down in the chair and resumed her game of <<Spades>> over the internet.

"Thank you," said Casey, inclining his head enough to return the courtesy. She hadn't made it personal, and Casey didn't hold it against her. The business of kings, or something like that. Replacing his hat, he sat on the couch, leaning back a little to enjoy the comforting nature of the furniture. It was well made, and had he been tired, it would have sufficed for a place to rest his head were it not in such a location. As it were, he simply closed his eyes, listening for when he would be called, his right foot quietly tapping the floor to a song he had remembered from his past.

Mathias felt the numbing blinding pain surge through him from seemingly no where. He collapsed to the floor as his knees gave into the pain. For a few moments he lay crumpled on the floor, an airy moan that was his voice escaping, until a comforting embrace surrounded him. He knew it was Charmaine although he could not see her, and he let her love fight that pain. Just as quickly as it came, it disappated and Mathias stayed in Charmaine's arms for just a moment feeling the residual effects die away.

His mind sought out the question, what was that? but all to naturally Charmaine had anticipated his question and answered it.

He followed in silence, watching her her open the family tree. He did not try to suppress the grin that spread across his face. Charmaine was always a constant amazement to him, always something new and unexpected.

He watched in amazement as her wings formed. He remembered the glimpses of wings he had seen from his mansion in Stadt des Meeres. Memories of those dark confining walls and desolated cities filled him, but the faded when her wings tooks form, as a calming wave overtook him.

My love.....you look so.....divine...

The grin stayed on him as he listened to her story of Daja, but it slowly faded as he began to realize how serious Daja was. He felt Charmaine's hand, a warm feeling pass through him, orginating from her touch.

I cannot leave you my love. You are my strength.

He watched her contemplate it for a moment before he smiled please let me come.....I'll be a good boy....I promise...

Charmaine couldn’t help but to smile. “As long as your good,” she said. This was serious business. She searched through one of her many wardrobes, pulling out clothes from Mathias’ section, which she had chosen to add to simply because she could. Long pants, though the fabric was durable and contouring, very good for fighting, boots, a t-shirt. She pulled out two very large guns. She had them custom made. She didn’t think he would be as apt as using a sword as the others had been. He did, however know how to use a gun. “Hold out your hands…” He held them out, and she placed them in his hands. As he gripped the handle, small spires came out and burrowed into his wrist, locking them in place. The pain dissipated quickly, and the guns recognized him as their permanent owner. “When you release your grip they’ll flip back to rest on your forearms, and won’t be able to go off. Rounds are packed with enough blessed platinum from Turknika to make the devil cry. She apologized about the sudden pain he had experienced with a quick kiss.

For herself, she picked up two blades of equal size in the shapes of crescent moons. The handles were perpendicular to the blade making them easier to spin. She had been an assassin for most of her life. Now, the head of an empire. She hooked her blades on either side of her belt and pulled a light grey robe over her figure. She handed Mathias a brown one. On the back of both was the seal of the Shentavo family. They would be allowed into the chamber of fayth. She walked out with Mathias, both fully dressed, and met eye contact with Nagi on her way out. Her wings were tight to her figure, unseen underneath the cloak. Only her lips were visible, and the bottom of her shoes. She looked towards the couch.

“Your intention and your purpose,” Charmaine said blandly, awaiting an answer.

Blackmarlin nodded, moved towards the left path, his eyes flicking about, never resting long over on spot...but you got the feeling that he missed nothing. His nostrils flare, his mouth opens, his tongue flicks out, as if he were tasting the air...though that would have been ridiculous.

Still, there is that sense to it...

"Fine. Left. Appropriate. Just out curiosity...no, forget it."

He shook his head, threw his hand down in a dismissive gesture -- not directed at her, so much as at himself. The questions answered themselves...

He swept his coat back to clear his warblade for a moment, then detached it from his belt, running the sling out to loop it over his head and shoulder, so it ran diagonally across his back with the hilt protruding over the left shoulder.

A few simple motions served to unstiffen his hands, then he glanced over his shoulder to where Kayde and Cat-boy stood...as if reminding himself that he was not, in fact, alone...and his glance said: "Your game, play your hand."

Not something he did often, that.

Dressed appropriately and now armed, Mathias performed a small series of movements as he became accustomed to the feel of the clothing on his body and the weight of the new guns. From his years in cold ruthless battle, he learned not to step foot on a battlefield with an unknown enemy without first knowing yourself. The problem was he was now a new man and the powers granted him he was still unfamiliar with. He would have to be ever vigilant and on his guard at all times; he was a weak link among this family and he knew the potentials of a weak link in any fighting force....strike it first.

He was hoping his foreign antics would at least aid him in a fight, it was really the only stronghold he could grasp at during this time. He was an unknown amongst a family of familiars and he was hoping wielding that card might prove beneficial should a fight for his life ensue.

Feeling the youthful spring to his step, he followed aside Charmaine. It felt good to feel this young again, he thought to himself as he stretched out his arms, preparing them for the demands of battle. Looking at his hands though he remembered who he once was, a man whose mind was capable of seeing the opportunities of war....he had to keep that mindset as they prepared out into a situation he did not fully understand. He knew he might die there if he was fortunate, but most importantly he knew he might become a tool Daja might use to hurt others. Hardening his resolve, he locked away the most valuable pieces of information he contained. He only hoped he would be strong enough to not become victim of Daja.

He stood aside Charmaine, hood covering his head, concealing the harsh foreign features of his face as they stopped. Even if he was not as easily identifiable as Charmaine, the look of a foreigner traveling with a cloaked figure might surely raise suspicions. Moreso, the cut along his neck was always a dead give away, but he was finally beginning to accept it as Charmaine seemed never to mind how the thick jagged grotesque scar ran across his neck. When he heard Charmaine speak, he stood silently, unmoving, the hood drawn down so his gaze remained on the floor.

[listen, this is REALLY confusing me. Are there two RPs going on at once or something? And can you differentiate them? And tell me who is where?]

[ooc: this is one rp...i'm playing two main characters. 1) charmaine, the empress, 2) kayde. it isn't that hard to follow if you read through each post. the thing is that both are happening simultaneously and both are important to the storyline. if you have questions tg me, please do not post here (sorry)]

Casey stood and was about to answer when his jaw dropped in recognition. "Charmaine? You've involved yourself? Then this does merit my full attention." He briefly shifted into a truer representation of himself, revealing a silvery aura with black ink marks in various letters and motifs from many languages, before returning to his more normal appearance. He was Metatron, the Scribe of the Architect, and while he recognized Charmaine in her more ethereal form, he was still surprised to see one other than Azrael in these lands. He spread his arms and bowed his head, for straightening and letting his arms drop again.

"My purpose is the same as always. I am to bear witness to the great events of this plane and ensure that the influence from Other Places is limited to necessary amounts. In this venture, my intent is simple: serve you until this force no longer threatens what I must later witness. So, what can you tell me about this priestess from Turnika that has my boss sending me to you?" he asked, pointing upwards at the mention of his boss.

“No time,” Charmaine said. “The priestess is of no importance. She is only a consequence.” Charmaine walked past him without a second glance. Another ethereal scribe, just what she needed. She remembered the stories of how they bothered Azrael, never giving her peace. As empress, who was to give her peace? “If you think you can help come along, but don’t get in my way.” She looked back towards Mathias, and wanted to hold his hand but couldn’t. She headed towards the door.

“An escort, m’lady?” Nagi asked, extending her blade after putting her ipod in her pocket, and placing the headphones around her head. Charmaine nodded, and Nagi joined the group of four as they walked outside, and traveled towards Turnika Temple.

Vosh landed lightly for something of his size, seemingly floating to the floor, although that was beyond his means. Assassins of his sort were well-trained to free-run across just about anything they encountered, and falling was sometimes part of the equation. If you could stick the landing and continue on, and your pursuer didn't, so much the better.

He rose from the awkward position, his left leg stuck straight out backwards with the right bent underneath him. His good right hand had aided in his balanced landing, evenly distributing the force from his fall through his body and back into the ground...

"And now what?"

Like any good assassin, his patience was seemingly limitless, a trait hammered into his psyche long ago, and a trait that had saved his hide more than once. Knowing when to strike was just as important as the where and the how. Bad timing might be your last mistake.

His demenor had shifted slightly, a response to the adrenaline surging through his veins from his recent hole-dive into what looked like an abyss, and now he was in some sort of arboretum. His movements seemed crisper, more deft and defined, with an added level of precision he'd either been hiding or not deemed vital for the moment that the adrenaline had brought back out...

As they traveled, Casey reached into his coat, drawing out two wooden staves that he fastened together. He drew a third, attaching it in the same manner to form the tail end, and then withdrew another object that he fastened on, forming a decent sized staff that he held in his right hand. He used his left to do...something...inside his coat, which caused the numerous lines running over all of his clothing to glow briefly before returning to the dark appearance that barely showed in contrast to the rest of his clothes.

Goor landed behind Vosh, looking as if he'd stepped off a curve, rather than fallen through whatever freaky pit of doom they went through. "Now the fun stuff starts gearing up." He answers, moving past the other reptilian towards Kayde.

Almost glad this priestess got snatched. he thought. Finally getting to hunt again.

Kayde traveled along the path, confident in herself for an unknown reason. This place felt like home to her when in fact it was not her home. The fragments of memories and people’s lives drifted through the air as wisps of light. To them, it was nothing, but to her it was so much more. She felt as if there were eyes watching her, only these were from an internal force. The group walked at a slightly fast pace, but she stopped as she came to an open room. Across the room was a door, bars across it. The door they had entered from closed behind them. Kayde took out both her guns.

The room itself was magnificent. Finely sculpted stone and marble walls with a high ceiling. There were no windows in the room, which could provide unfortunate consequences should they need to remain in there for an extended period of time. The strange thing she felt about this room was the fact that there were no wisps. The air was completely clear. Towards the opposite entrance were two large statues, about ten times Kayde’s height and a good many times her width.

“What are golems doing in a place like this?” Kayde questioned, but wasn’t sure who she was asking the question to. Golems themselves were normally protectors in the ethereal plane. The nether realms had golems like these too, and perhaps because they were in a void was why they were there. Golems were always peaceful, and most slept with no means to waking up.

“Good thing they are asleep,” Gado said, and began to walk towards the door across from them.

“No,” Kayde said, grabbing his arm. “Wait!” At that point the eyes of the golems illuminated with a dark red color, and began to move. Their movements were heavy, but very strong. One hit from those could knock someone unconscious if not kill them. Kayde stepped forward and shouted something at them in enochial.

“No, no, void child,” the right one said. His dark brown frame was quite a contrast to the left’s tan. “Too long have golems remained under the control of your kind. Perish.” He swung his hands down to hit the ground, and the ground shook, cracking a bit. Kayde had rolled out of the way in time and had scrambled to her feet. She pointed a gun at either one.

“I’ll send you both to oblivion,” Kayde growled.. Her allies had been looking for a fight. This very well could be their last.

Charmaine pushed open the doors to the temple, and was greeted attentively by priests. Nagi took the lead and walked to the head priest to get anointed. Charmaine did the same as did the rest of the party. Nikolai pushed open the door to the chamber of Fayth, and they walked in. There at the edge of the open void chasm was a figure in a dark black cloak. Charmaine walked towards him as the chamber closed behind them. There was something unnerving about the person standing there, so much that it even put Charmaine on edge.

“You are empress,” the masculine voice sifted through the hood of the black cloak. There was a bit of animosity in his voice. “Shouldn’t you keep this chamber a little better protected?”

“And shouldn’t you have told us you had a daughter, brother?” Charmaine retorted with the same cold tone. The man growled.

“Are you saying that she did this?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Charmaine coolly removed her cloak, and extended her white wings fully.

The man laughed, and removed his cloak. He was far different then Charmaine. His hair was shaggy and white, his skin pale, and his eyes two different colors. The right was completely white, while the left was an ice blue. His body was quite sculpted, so much so that you could tell even underneath his shirt and faded black denim jeans. He wore leather cut off gloves, and the tape from wrapping up his knuckles showed in spots. He extended his wings. His wings were black, and the left one had been severed in half at one point in his life, and only half of it remained. There were many large piercings on the bone of the wing all the way to the tip.

“She takes after me then,” he continued, and laughed with a sickening smile. He was quite handsome, but also, very frightening. Quissera was the first child of Ravelyn Shentavo. His aura surpassed Charmaines ten fold. “I have been sleeping for such a long time. I was not aware that my daughter had the soul of a seraphim, or else I would have payed greater attention.” His fangs rested on his lower lip. “Shall we?” he questioned, and extended his hand to Charmaine. He looked at Nagi for a moment.. Suprisingly, Nagi didn’t move. She was a strong woman, and took Quissera’s glare easily. He smirked, and waited for Charmaine to accept the offer.

Blackmarlin pivoted about at the sound of golem-fist impacting terrain, though he'd been aware of the entire confrontation, he hadn't chosen to reveal that knowledge -- he'd stopped to study thing he'd seen back a few yards, stopped for a moment, because the last time he'd been fooled by the 'guardian statue' trick was before the Fall...

His hands were moving already, brushing his coat back to clear his draw, then his pistols slid free of their holsters, rising, rising. Quicksilver eyes surveyed the situation calmly, calculating trajectories with the ease and sureness that had always been his trademark -- in combat.

The barrels of his pistols -- not the Guardian Temple blast pistols that he'd carried for so long, but a pair of Sentinel-Knight manufactured SKAP-8s, much less conspicuous than the blast pistols. Of course, someone who recognized the manufacture of the pistols would be somewhat suspicious, but they were excellent weapons...and there was a point at which blending in became just too much of a hassle.

Then he stopped to actually think about what he was doing -- everything up to this point had been pure reaction, and had occured within the span of a few seconds. A glance at the golems drew a quick snort, and he thumbed the safeties of his pistols on and dropped them back into their holsters...

It was a logical move -- the .40 caliber round that the SKAP-8s fired was powerful -- it was a fairly close analogue to the 10mm Norma Auto round -- but Blackmarlin had never been a particularly huge fan of wasting ammunition, so the pistols went away.

His right hand slid into the gauntlet held parallel to the run of his body on his belt, slightly higher than the pistols in their drop-down holsters. He wiggled his fingers and felt the gentle pressure on his forearm that signified the Gauntlet's activation. He brought the gauntlet off its hook...

Then he ran forwards, his left hand moving to take a grenade from his belt -- a slightly rounded flattish thing, probably not designed for ease of throwing...which didn't mean he couldn't do it. Of course, there was always the chance that he would miss, and being responsible for the lives of others limited him considerably, soo...

He cut an arc, looping wide around to the side of the room, then moving in at a sharp angle towards the nearer of the two golems, accelerating rapidly. At the proper point, he hurled himself foreward and up, catapulting into the air towards the Golem, his right arm flicking down, the hand balling into a fist then twitching oddly -- the trigger gesture for the Hellcaster Gauntlet's forearm blade, which snapped into place with a gentle click that was drowned out by the crackle of the blade's slice-field.

He'd cut around behind the golem he was heading for, and put just that little extra bit of force into his leap, the little bit that went beyond his powerful build and the efficiency of his Ascended muscles...and so he came down on the Golem's back, striking first with both feet to little intended effect, then with his gauntlet-blade, the slice-field enabling the Eldensteel blade to penetrate easily. A thought, relayed by his implants, disabled the slice-field, giving him purchase for a moment -- long enough to slam the grenade down onto the golem -- then he kicked away, turning a flip in the air to land facing away from the beast, on his feet, and moving.

About five seconds later, the grenade detonated...which wasn't all that impressive, just a puff of smoke and a hissing sound. Of course, the jet of plasma and explodinghurt that was the result of the detonation made a little more noise...

The Revenian Mark XI Anti-Material Charge was a wicked little thing, ideal for coring engine blocks, punching holes through bank vault doors, digging post holes, and also made a decent anti-tank weapon in a pinch. What it did, generally, was cut a six-inch, two foot deep hole through whatever was in front of it when it went off.

Very nice because there wasn't much collateral damage. Backblast was almost non-existant, in fact. Which was, of course, why he'd used one...

The appearance of Quissera caused Casey to pause, but the mention of another Seraphic soul was what really got to him. Casey said something, a rather foul word in Italian, even as he began thinking about the situation to himself. So, this one is about another Serpahic being. No wonder I'm supposed to Witness this.

"Quissera, I must say, at this point I don't really know whether or not it's a good thing to see you here. You care to fill me in, or should I just try and pick it up as I go, much as I have always been doing with this matter? It looks as though I'll learn soon enough either way, but the sooner the better," he said, hoping that they could get all of this over with rather quickly. Somehow, he didn't envision that happening.

Goor had his warblade drawn, as soon as the door had closed. He had briefly considered escaping back the way he had came, before the opening shut... but that would leave him separated from the others and viewed as cowardice, most likely.

In the midst of the streams of gunfire, he looked positively archaic. He carried no firearms, just a wide selection of blades. He charged one of the beasts with a carnal roar, leaping up and plunging the warblade deep into it's right arm. The blade was no ordinary metal though, carrying ancient incantations and runes etched in it. It would create a more fiery wound than any puncture could. No sooner had it jabbed in, it was out again. If he could get away... come around for anoth-

Goor sailed backwards and rolled as soon as he hit the ground. The damn things were faster than he thought... the smack he took was going to bruise his ribs nicely. He raised his blade again and grinned. "Just like old times." he muttered.

The grenade which had gone off caused exceptionally little damage. The darker golem shifted from the impact and progressed forwards towards Kayde, whose bullets caused even less damage. She cursed in another language, and took off running back towards the side that they had come in through. The darker golem was fast; and surprisingly so for something that large. The young woman dove out of the way as its fists as part of the wall crumbled to the side of her. Gado had transformed and leapt impressively upon the beasts back, distracting it for enough time for Kayde to dart away. The girl was also quite fast. She climbed up the smooth wall, onto the ceiling, defying what gravity earth bound humans to. These bastards are immune to physical damage. How the fuck are we supposed kill them? she thought silently.

The darker golem threw Gado off to the back wall and emitted an earthen growling noise. The rocky appearance of the skin sharp like jagged rocks caught Kayde’s eye. She was strong, fast, and precise, yet there appeared to be no vulnerabilities upon these creatures. The tan golem made a rush towards Vosh and Goor; while the darker one looked up towards Kayde.

“You want ether, golem,” she growled. “Okay…take it from me.” She dropped down from the ceiling falling straight towards the golem. As it grabbed her, electricity raced through her body and surged into the golem. It shrieked, but remained standing. It tossed her to the side, slamming her against the wall to which she slid down, and did not get up. A shard on the golem’s chest glowed a brilliant blue, as Kayde’s eyes had. It shouted to Gado as a weak point, yet it was so well guarded by stone claws and hunched figure.

The fire had slightly wounded the tan golem's arm, but it shook it off quite well. It was, however, a greater effect then the grenade had. "Come Goor," he roared, shaking as would a dog, and abit of rock falling off of its stone shell. "Do you really want to see her that badly?" The golem's eyes glew brightly.

“Who is this uncivilized fuck?” Quissera questioned Charmaine and raised his rather large broad sword to the man’s neck. He caught Nagi’s eye once more, and winked at her. She turned away from him. Quissera chuckled.

“He’s a scribe, listen… your father is a dangerous man. We need all the help we can get.”

“What about him?” he motioned towards Mathias.

“Question him and I’ll cut your tongue out,” Charmaine said.

“You, challenging me Charmaine?” He laughed, and drew out the beginning of her name so that it sounded like a hiss.

“We are both ethereal, Qui, don’t pretend.”

“An angel of war versus an angel of light is hardly a contest in a match of life and death,” Quissera retorted, and grinned. Nagi jumped through the void. Apparently, she could take no more of the sibling rivalry. That, or she could take no more of Quissera. Quissera shrugged, turned from Charmaine and followed after Nagi. Charmaine grabbed Mathias’ hand.

“Ready?” she asked him.

Mathias did not bring his gaze to meet Quissera's, keeping it firmly on the ground before him, his hood still pulled over his head. He could feel the power of this man eminate and knew for both his and Charmaine's sake it was best to just hang his head low and wait until addressed.

Charmaine's hand grabbed his though, snapping him to attention. He lifted his head to meet her eyes. "Ready?" she asked him, her voice more then just questing for an answer.

He nodded, the only response needed at this moment. He could tell that he would need all his strength for whatever lay beyond, a nod was sufficient enough of a response for Charmaine, he knew this.

Goor chuckled. The beast knew him, eh? He considered the situation. These golem seemed more intelligent than the traditional lot, who were stupid and literal minded creatures. Perhaps some of that still rang true?

Goor flung his warblade into a high arc... if the beast acted like any sane creature, it would attempt to track the blade and avoid it. When it did so, Goor had a surprise for it.

Charmaine took a hold of his head, and hopped backwards into the void, pulling Mathias with her. They didn’t fall quickly; it was like sinking through water. Her eyes were closed; she was concentrating. Quissera somewhere lower was doing the same. Her free hand was illuminated so they did not fall into total darkness. They landed firmly upon the ground, and Charmaine kept the light burning brightly with mild concentration. She still held Mathias’ hand. Quissera had landed smoothly, and was looking at each one of the paths. Nagi’s right eye glowed red, and illuminated everything in a sanguine wash.

“Three paths, and which to choose?” Nagi questioned.



The tan golem rushed straight towards Goor. “Two came, and she did not,” the golem taunted barreling towards him at a rather decent speed. He kept Vosh in the back of his mind.

“Oh I hate it when they’re giant and metal…” Destrii thought, “Well, rock,” she thought, and scurried for cover, the nearest convenient cover being Blackmarlin, who was pretty close to solid cover at the worst of times. And usually had more than a few grenades, of various powers.

Vosh, being the nimble bastard that he was, was already off and moving when beasts attacked. After watching the grenade of Blackmarlin's do little damage, he became somewhat concerned. He had nothing more than his blade, and sharp as it was, probably wasn't going to penetrate, but then again he might as well try.

Rocketing off his feet with a mighty leap he landed closer to one of his opponents, taking a diving roll between its legs and kicking off again as he came upright to attatch himself to its back by virtue of his short claws, which found purchase on the rough stone. His left hand released its hold, gaining enough clearance for his hidden blade to extend, the black substance barely visible in the dim light as his hand closed into a fist, the missing finger allowing roughly six inches of neutral volcanic glass to protrude from his fist like a push-dagger on steroids, a lethal instrument that he brought forward three sepereate times, punching small triangle-shaped holes in the golem. It did not, however, have any effect. While the neutral material negated any sort of resistances the golems posessed, golems didn't rely on circulatory systems to sustain life, and therefore didn't have kidneys or lungs, which his previous attacks had targeted.

Disgusted, Vosh retracted his weapon and flung himself higher, landing in a crouch on top of the Golem's head. Hopefully Goor had something that would bring the beast down, and Vosh would do his best to keep the creature distracted until then. The blade extended again, and Vosh drove it downwards into the top of the Golem's cranium three more times to see if it had any effect beyond punching holes in an otherwise impervious hide...

"...aight, that is just really, really screwed up...I mean, I've cored tanks with one of those. A guy goes to all that trouble to hand-plant a friggin' charge on your back, and you don't even have the common decency to die? What is this world coming to..."

He stood silent for a few instants, then withdrew a small flask from his belt, unscrewed the cap, took a slug, rescrewed the cap, and returned it to his belt. Then he shivered, turned his head, and spat onto the floor. When he looked up, he was smiling.

He snapped his right hand back, retracting the Hellcaster Gauntlet's blade. He'd need it, probably, but not yet, and it'd just get in the way. The Hellcaster was a gladiator's weapon, because it wasn't a simple weapon at all, being, by nature, a multi-function weapons gauntlet...and all of those functions being potentially disasterous to user as well as foe.

It was also a weapon employed by some of the Ascended Supremacy's most legendary warriors -- Paul Stark, Stephen Maern, Oryth Chovas, Daos Kagari, Wraith Blackstar, Adrian Stark, Alexander Maern, Dysaryn Stark...and Blackmarlin Rache. Mostly because those self-same warriors had made names for themselves in the Arenas, and the Hellcaster was a flashy weapon, very popular with the crowds...

But the blade would be about as effective as the assassin's implant-blade against the golems, being a thrusting weapon and all that. The slice-field gave superb penetrating power, but, despite the name, it lost much of its effectiveness once it had pierced the target, having to disperse its effect over much of the blade, and the Hellcaster didn't mount as powerful a generator as a Warblade would...

Noting Kayde's present state -- inconvenient, that -- he supposed that further action was necessary, though the Argonian might eventually be able to re-sculpt the golem he was riding into something less threatening. All the Time in the World.

He closed in on the darker of the golems, hands out to his sides, fingers spread wide.

"I wonder...do y' feel pain, Rocky? Are you alive?"

His left hand lifted a small object from his belt, about the size and shape of a pen, the color of brushed steel. He twirled the little cylinder between two fingers as he advanced, still moving relatively slowly.

Then, when he judged the distance right, he let fly with the cylinder -- a perfect throw, as was inevitable. Practice and innate skill made things like that routine. It was even easier since he wasn't really trying for pinpoint accuracy, though he'd had plenty of time to aim directly at the big shiny thing in the golem's chest, because it was an easy target to pick out. He didn't really care if he hit it or not, that wasn't the point, but...aim small, miss small.

He sidestepped rapidly, circling around the golem and out of the cylinder's path-of-origin, because he didn't really want to be there when the thing hit...

Vosh nearly tumbled from his perch as the Golem reacted to the faint sensation of something entering its head, and he retracted his weapon, feeling the shaft of the blade riding up alongside his left forearm. It wasn't so much an implant as it was an attatchment, but it might as well have been. The straps were almost as old as he was, and he never removed the weapon from his left forearm, lest he remain defenseless.

The assassin readjusted his perch to the shoulders, again extending the blade and striking through where the brain stem might have been located if it were human, again it a three-hit pattern from three different angles to leave a much larger hole. It occoured to him that he might be able to decapitate it if he were to commit that much time to stabbing around a hundred and a half times around the neck to link the small holes he was making, but he didn't really want to commit that amount of energy to one foe. Blackmarlin, on the other hand, seemed content to expeirament on the creatures with his myrid explosive options. Vosh hoped, deeply in the back of his mind where he allowed such emotions to exsist, that one of them would work. He was a killer of flesh and blood, not of solid stone, and this was getting annoying...

“I am alive, I feel nothing,” the dark golem replied, and grabbed the cylinder within its hand. It laughed. The son of a bitch laughed. A small explosion went off within the hand of the golem, but did not travel outside. He turned his attention off of Blackmarlin and away from the half lion which had managed to take off only clawfulls of earth, and redirected it towards Kayde. The vampire lay half on her side, eyes open, and yet she was not awake.

The tan golem was very displeased at the swordsman who kept hacking at his skin. Bits were coming off, but nothing substantial. He did, however take the tan golem’s attention off of Goor. The tan golem growled. “What jester could distract a king to leave his queen to die?” Strange words, very strange indeed.

Vosh didn't read much into the comment, he simply rotated his position around to the face of the Golem, driving his wrist-blade like device into the thing's left eye before switching positions again to stay on the back of the creature...

"Shut up and die! I have no use for your words! Bleed dammit! Bleed! I am no jester, I am that which lurks in the darkness to destroy such kings, the very substance of nightmares and fear!"

The Pavlovian reward of every assassin was blood. Whether drawn by bullet or blade, it meant you did something right. There was no crimson reward this time, no matter how many times he drove his blade deep into his foe's flesh, or lack thereof. Even a power-assisted slash did little but carve a furrow in the Golem's hide. Again, he tried, this time jumping from his back-perch to drag the blade down the spine of the Golem with his entire bodyweight behind it, making a deeper cut, but leaving him again on the ground as he yanked his weapon free of the stone and wasted a second checking its edge, which was still as sharp as ever. Foolish of him to distrust his equipment, leaving himself open to attack.

He ducked sharply, narrowly avoiding a backhand from the Golem, but giving him the opportunity to slash across the elbow joint with yet another power-assist from his right hand, trying to hit something vital. Vosh wasn't familiar with Golems, that they were not but animate hunks of matter, and had no nerves, organs, or blood vessels for him to target...

"Damn." Goor did the only sensible thing. He went up.

Clawing his way up the walls as if they were nothing more difficult than a ladder, he considered his options some more. Explosives didn't hurt them near enough to kill them. Blades just annoyed them. "Anyone happen to have a small nuke?" He called out, while leaping from one wall to another. The one time I wish that ass Delta was around. He'd just swallow these things up and send them straight to Hell.

Well, if he couldn't blow them up or make them bleed, he'd have to try something else. He lept around up top some more and then fell down, landing on the back of the darker Golem. Runed ax out, he started hacking away at it's neck. Maybe he could decapitate them. The runes would increase damage, but it would take maybe a dozen blows to reach half way.

Blackmarlin quirked an eyebrow.

"That...was a fountain pen. It was a rather nice fountain pen, though not of any particular significance...something that you should be profoundly thankful for."

He had simply been testing the golem's reflexes. After his initial attempt at a swift resolution had failed, he had fallen back a few steps, knocked off his stride, so to speak. He'd lost the momentum, so he was forced to fight smart...and that required more information. Of course, sometimes there were complications.

He moved at a reasonably swift pace to interpose himself between the golems and Kayde. He didn't have to be particularly close to her to do this, as the golems weren't likely to be sneaking up on him or anything. Still, he wasn't about to let some hunk of animate rock turn this whole escapade into a waste of friggin' time.

"Rocky, you're annoying me. You don't go after a player who's been sidelined due to injury, not until the Game's over, that's just poor sportsmanship. You wouldn't want to be a poor sport, would you?"

His right hand moved upwards to touch the hilt of his Warblade, where it protruded over his shoulder. He had hoped to leave the blade out of play for some time yet, but, of course, his hopes were unlikely as ever. Something about this place just made him...hesitant...to draw Shadowdrinker. He couldn't put his finger on it, though, and as he touched the blade's hilt, he felt the old warmth spread through his hand, though he was wearing both a glove and the Hellcaster gauntlet...

He did not draw, not yet...

The tan golem sneered, or as much as it could. "I have no blood," the golem replied. "I have only my purpose, and that is to protect the ruler of this void..." He grinned. "As for you, king..." he looked towards Goor, who continued to hack at his back. "How could you leave your queen so unattended?" There was a haunting tone to such a bland voice. He reached back and threw the warrior from his body. With that, he turned towards Kayde, and took off to join the other golem.



"She is a seraphic! She is never helpless..." the dark golem growled at Blackmarlin. Gado had rushed behind Blackmarlin's cover, and had cradled Kayde's head within his arms.

"Wake up," he whispered to her. "We need you to wake up, Lilith..." No response. Damn it... If only someone could wake the god damn girl up.

"Get out of the way," the dark one pressed, and ran towards Blackmarlin, and in turn, Kayde, who was right behind him.

Vosh went sailing, landing in a rolling crouch, and coming up to shoot off again like a stray bullet towards the charging tan Golem, blade extended, and again took a diving roll between the legs, narrowly missing being trampled. His blade, however, bit deeply into the ankle area, nearly removing the foot from the creature. All he needed was one more good lunge, and he coiled to strike, like a vicious cobra with a single, deadly fang...

Blackmarlin eyed the oncoming golem with a distinct look of disgust and irritation.

"Cat-boy, if you don't wake her up by the time I'm done making a friggin' lawn gnome out of Rocky, here, I'm going to smack the living crap out of her. Are we clear?"

He turned his attention back to the Golem.

"Alright, Rocky. You wanna dance? Let's dance."

His right hand tightened around Shadowdrinker's hilt and with a motion smoothed by countless repetitions, he drew the Warblade from its scabbard.

The blade itself was a backsword just over three feet long with a 'tanto' point for sheer simplicities sake. It was crafted of the famed Ascended Eldensteel, a material unmatched in strength and edge-holding. Period. But some flaw in the forging had resulted in the tell-tale blue tinted steel become a pitch black in color...except, of course, it hadn't been a flaw in the forging at all...but there were some things one didn't talk about.

Veins of purple, similar in coloration to the amethyst pommel-gem, chased the blackness down the blade, pulsing in rhythm with the amethyst which had seemed to come to life with an inner light as he took the blade fully in hand.

Shadowdrinker, the second of the two great blades of the Ascended, the other being Heartsflame, the Blood Red Blade, the Changerbrand. That sword was not his -- it was the Creator's Sword...and he was not possessed of that aspect of the All-Maker. Rather, Shadowdrinker, the Dark Blade, was associated with the other facet of the Kendri-Kalis, being, of course, the Destroyer, the Un-maker.

By this point, the golem was almost upon him, a decidedly undesirable position. Unfortunately for Rocky, it was child's play for the superhumanly (which was a poor term, as he was Ascended, and thus not human in the least, and Ascended were 'superhuman' by nature, thus Blackmarlin is properly 'Superascended.') agile Gunslinger to dance momentarily out of the Golem's reach, then lash out with Shadowdrinker, striking at the Golem's arm, slice-field spitting.

The full-strength slice-field generated by the Warblade was capable of penetrating capital starship armor without being overly challenged. The Ascended Warblade was one of the most dangerous tools ever to have been created -- for wielder as well as foe, but Blackmarlin was many times over a master in its employment.

There was a Goddamn Reason that Rule One was "If you see a guy with silver hair and eyes, carrying a sword and talking like he's crazy -- Run like hell."

"If we don't wake her up, someone is going to die," Gado said, picked Kayde up, and leapt out of the way of the dark golem. The dark golem's arm fell off, and it fell to the ground from impact, but was still alive.

The tan golem had lost it's ankle, and had also fallen. There was silence amongst the room for a moment, but the door across from them did not open. The fallen pieces of the golems, dust and all, returned to their respective owners, and the golems stood up again. Was that magic? Could it possibly be why it was targeting Kayde? To truncate her use of ether before she could stop theirs? In a room of physical fighters, a sage, and the seraphim rather unconscious, things did not look too good for the group.

The dark golem was t he first to speak. "Hack, hack, away, but ether sustains our life force, and it is something you cannot touch with a blade." It laughed. The tan golem cracked its rocky neck and smiled.

Blackmarlin raised an eyebrow.

"Well, now, isn't that interesting"

He pondered, for a moment, seeing the effects of his vitakinetic talent -- his Lifehand -- upon the golem. Theoretically, if the thing lived, then he could attack its lifeforce directly, tearing great rends in that, even if physical attacks failed...

Or he could give Shadowdrinker a chance to do its thing -- the blade didn't just cut on the physical level. It couldn't, not and do what it had done. After all, what mere sword could claim the 'lives' of gods? There were, of course, arguments that the Blade, either of the Blades, were merely channels for the power inherent in their wielders -- both himself and Dysaryn being the true source of the powers the great powers they wielded when aroused, represented best, perhaps, by Dysaryn's slaying of The Devourer and his own battles with the entities associated with Rash Kantharcha...

Instead, he detached another grenade, throwing it at the ground between himself -- and Kayde and Gado -- and the two golems. The grenade popped, then a glimmering wall of...something...flashed into existence, expanding out to the confines of the room to create a barrier of some significance. The technology involved was quite advanced, it was a Guardian Temple device, and thus decidedly precious...luckily, it was re-usable with a relatively quick recharge from, say, one of Maggie's utility ports.

The barrier itself was practically impenetrable -- it had been tested to withstand capital warship weaponry, though it could withstand such force for only a few instants...but, then, considering that a shot from a capital warship primary was capable of destroying several city blocks without much trouble...

Such resilience was not without its limitations -- the barrier was short-lived, lasting maybe fourty five seconds, sometimes a little more. But it was fourty five seconds that Blackmarlin wasn't going to waste...

He ran, far swifter than he had as yet to this point, to where Gado had Kayde.

"Let me try, hmm?"

Goor landed with a roll and picked up his warblade. He ignored the golem for a few moments as he produced a vial of blood. He dipped a claw into the nearly black liquid and smeared it over the etching. His mouth moved again, but the words were lost in the din. He replaced the vial in it's shock proof holder and turned on the battle again. He was on the side of the barrier with the two golem and advanced slowly.

The blade's etching glowed faintly as it neared the beasts. "Golem! Hear me! I am Goor, protector of what Azrael protects, defender of her realm in her absence and now, the one who makes you sleep for eternity." He broke into a run, leaping up and hacking down into the tan golem's arm. The blade was carrying the blood of three people on it. Ravelyn, Qui and Goor himself. The incantations on it's blade and spoken in it's presence should allow him to remove the arm and keep it from reattaching for some time. As he hit the ground again, he struck out again, targeting the middle of the golem's chest, attempting to drive the blade into the area he saw earlier had glowed.

He rarely used the power he wielded now and had never used his blade in this way while among the Shentavo... there had rarely been reason to. She had always been there, scythe in hand. Now Goor had to use all the tools at his command.

ooc: i know i said no ooc comments, but my msn is ravelynshentavo@hotmail.com if you need to get in touch with me for plot twists and such =)

IC:

“If you hit her, I’ll kill you,” Gado said with a low growl. He wasn’t pleased at all at Blackmarlin’s offer to help. The man was rough, and with Kayde in such a fragile state, not physically necessarily, hitting her would cause nothing but more damage. Kayde's black bangs fell over her eyes and deeply contrasted with her very pale skin.

The tan golem backed away from Kayde and Gado as Goor ran towards it. He was surprised of the blood he carried with him. “This is not Azrael’s realm any more,” the golem growled, but failed to dodge or block the direct hit to the chest. It shattered upon the ground, spreading across the floor in crumpled pieces. Yet the pieces still glowed with a blue light; the same color as Kayde’s eyes had been. Some still vibrated just as they had before when the golem had reanimated itself. They only had so much time...

The dark golem threw itself into the barrier over and over again, feeling it give a bit, he tried harder with no concern about the damage to himself. His one concern was Lilith.

Casey came last, holding off his landing until he was sure that he would not land on another's head. They thought he was just another scribe. Fine by him, though if they wanted it to be correct, they should have called him the Scribe, or the Chronicler, or heck, the Witness. It was different from simply recording events into ethereal tomes to actually being the luckless one tasked with witnessing those events unfold. Casey wasn't getting any rest until He returned, and that would not be happening for some time.

Listening to Charmaine's question, he paused for a minute, not wanting to rush off blindly into the unknown. "So, can anybody hear anything? Void jumps being what they are, my ears haven't finished their adjustments to where we are now."

Goor laughed. He actually laughed. The harsh sound seemed out of place in the situation, but dammit, he was actually having fun. "I don't care whose domain it is!" He rounded on the second golem and lept at it, bringing the blade down across it's left leg. "But you two need to learn that I'm a lot scarier than you are!"

He did not look at the goings on across the barrier. Why bother at the moment? There were no beasts on that side. He did speak up though. "She's a Shentavo, isn't she? Treat her like it!" As if that would shed light on the situation.

Blackmarlin shook his head, "Worry more about Rocky and less about me, hmm?"

He thrust Shadowdrinker into the floor by Kayde's head, disabling the slice-field so that the blade was securely embedded and capable of supporting itself, not in hand, but still at hand.

Moving very quickly indeed, he stripped the Hellcaster gauntlet and glove from his right hand, baring the green crescent tattoo -- the sigil of Great House Rache, which was more or less appropriate.

Blackmarlin was a Lifehand, possessed of a vitakinetic talent, the ability to affect organic matter and 'spiritual energy' through sheer force of will. The Talent was, with one exception, exclusive to the Rache bloodline...and was responsible for a fair amount of the notoriety that that name possessed.

The talent did not require direct skin contact to function, but it did help...and though Blackmarlin was not intending anything fancy, every little bit helped. What he intended was actually quite crude in comparison to his normal skilled work, but...desperate times, and all that.

He knelt down next to Kayde, placing his hand upon her forehead, then closed his eyes. The crudity of the action apalled him on several levels, but he didn't have time for anything more refined, so he simply tapped his own reserves and, for lack of a better term, fed a portion of his own life force to the comatose girl...though 'life force' wasn't exactly the right term -- his reserves were renewable...eventually. The crudity was in the lack of direction, the inefficient nature of the action that would result in wasted energy...but it was fast, and it was effective. Theoretically.

He'd never actually tried it before, there were generally better ways of achieving the same thing...and All-Maker only knew what effects His unique essence would have upon the girl, but that was something that would have to be dealt with later.

Blackmarlin opened his eyes, turned his head to the side, and spat blood.

As they jumped, Mathias felt himself slowly fall, falling through air so thick and viscous it was almost like falling through blood. The thought of that brought a deep pang of hunger to him that momentarily clenched his stomach in a knot, but he used his strength to fight it back, knowing that now was not the time. Looking into the air, he saw nothing, felt nothingness, as if nothing existed here or would ever exist here, as if they too were just nothing here. But the darkness and empty feelings in him were washed away with the emergence of light from Charmaine.

He felt himself restored, no longer feeling that despondant despair of nothing that swept over him. It was so dark that even the light Charmaine shed did not penetrate far ahead into the thick air.

He felt his feet touch ground and the rest of his body firmly plant itself on this blacked surface of nothing that took form of a ground. He could not longer see Quissera or the others and could barely make out Charmaine's entire form....but he could feel their presences nearby.

Still clutching onto Charmaine's hand, afraid to let go, as if letting go would send him falling again, he used his free hand to remove his hood. He tried to find the figure of Quissera among the presences he felt, but could not see anything past the touches of Charmaine's light.

"Quissera.....where are you?" his mind sought out, hoping he too could read the thoughts like Charmaine had. "Can you hear me?" he more wondered to himself, but knew if Quissera could hear his thoughts, he would hear that too.

He took a step forward still feeling firmly planted on the ground. Breathing a slight sigh of relief he turned to Charmaine. Do you think we're in danger here? Quissera won't try to hurt us will he? his mind asked, pondering the questions over, unable to fight a deep pitted gut feeling of caution that gripped him.

“She is more then a Shentavo; she is a seraphim,” the dark one responded. “No, no, no…Can’t hurt me.” He grinned. And why was that?

There was a moment where nothing happened. It would seem that Kayde had not responded to Blackmarlin’s attempt to awaken her. Then, her body started to glow the color that the fallen golem was, and a pulse was sent off, pushing both Blackmarlin and Gado back at quite some speed. Gado hit the wall, but was able to take the hit and regain his stance pretty quickly. The light around her faded; and she was still asleep. There was more than enough life within the girl. There was more than enough entities within the girl. Lilith did not like making room, and it was bad enough that she had a seraphic spirit within her trying to break free in a body that did not have the wings it desired. That inner contest between soul and body, agitated by repelling the energy siphoned, stirred Kayde to consciousness. Perhaps the war inside of her wasn’t a bad thing after all.

She managed to get to her feet and regain her composure. She struck both hands outward, looping them skillfully as if a rope were dangling from the end. The dark golem tensed, and grasped at it’s neck; but there was nothing there. The tan remnants vibrated more heavily. “I’m taking my ether back now,” she said calmly. The light from the tan golem traveled on an unseen wire and was absorbed by the left bracer. The fallen golem stopped moving, and turned to ash. Kayde looped her now free arm towards the other golem, somehow pulling his hand away from his neck. Electricity surged through the air, traveling along something, and tore into the remaining golem. She released the golem from her invisible grip.

“Kill him…” she said, and fell to her knees, doubling over. Goor’s blade came down hard upon the golem’s chest (for the golem had turned slightly in shock). It fell to a pile of rubble, and this time, it did not move. Gado walked over to Kayde’s side and helped her stand.

“Care to explain what the fuck happened?” Gado said. Those were strange words coming from him, especially to Kayde.

“Golems are made from pure materia, run on a life force known as ether, the same that I have and command. With ether follows that there is a type of magic used by enchanters inherent within the being. I can nullify that magic, which is why I went for the golem directly on, but I wasn’t aware the beings could absorb ether, just that they were made of it. Once magic is nullified, they are vulnerable to physical attacks.”

Goor rises up and sheaths the blade across his back as he looks over the scene.

"We should keep moving. If this battle did not alert something else we are here, they are either deaf or stupid." He seemed to pay little sympathy towards Kayde, merely looking at her for a moment and turning towards the exit the Golem had protected.

Blackmarlin stumbled back, his hand coming up to clutch at his forehead. Mother of all migraines...but it passed. Thank the All-Maker, it passed.

"...Vitnara K'rth!"

A wave of his hand and a mental tug sent Shadowdrinker flying back to his hand -- his telekinetic talent was decidedly minor, but Shadowdrinker was a focus, so it didn't really matter...

Reflexively, he flicked the blade out to his side, as if to scatter blood from the blade, save there was no blood, of course, but the action was automatic. Then he returned the blade to its scabbard, walked to where he'd left his glove and gauntlet, stooped to pick them up, pulled the glove back on and replaced the Hellcaster on his belt.

Then he walked to where the spent grenade lay -- the barrier had fizzled some moments prior -- and retrieved it, dropping it into a pouch on his belt for recharging at a later time...valuable things, those grenades.

Clean-up complete, he stood very still for a few moments, just breathing, letting his emotions settle to a proper neutrality. He wasn't angry, really, so much as he was hurt...well, for a few seconds. Then he suppressed the emotion and his mind was once again calm, harmonious. For the meantime.

Destrii frowned, she was good for dealing with practically anything that had nerves, and if she had a decent gun on her, she supposed she might be able to do something. Unfortunately, she didn’t.

And she questioned whether she had immediate access to anything capable of harming anything that resisted Revenian anti-tank grenades so handily. The first thing one learnt about Blackmarlin was that he had grenades for every occasion – they were practically how he communicated.

Despite having spent the vast majority of her time as a child being punished or being made to fight something or other, Destrii had at least a second rate technical education for her original time and place, though nothing like the Doctor’s knowledge of course, she had a good idea how much energy was in one of those grenades. Oh yes, they were shaped. They were very shaped indeed.

If they were omni-directional, she’d be dead by now, very dead. Fried Halibut.

Which, all in all left her feeling rather irrelevant. Of course, the good news was that an arm was off. One thing she noticed that she’d not seen before was the green crescent – one of several ‘universal’ symbols for healing she was familiar with - tattoo on Blackmarlin’s hand. Interesting.

Course I can hear you, Quissera muttered, and then shouted back to Charmaine, “Have you taught the man nothing?” Charmaine sighed softly. Now she had to deal with Qui; the delinquent of the family, though the oldest of Ravelyn’s children. He was also quite possibly the scariest.

Quissera is Ravelyn’s oldest son, he’s my brother. You are technically his brother as well now. He won’t hurt family. As far as Daja’s hold goes, I believe Qui is far too broken away from Daja’s blood to be any threat whatsoever. Don’t get me wrong though, Qui is not someone you want to mess with. He fought Ravelyn a few times, won once, but I believe that was because of other factors. If you concentrate you can feel the energy pulsing through him, it is very strong. Try…

“Let’s split up,” Charmaine said. “Qui, you can take an area by yourself I am assuming, take the right path. Mathias and I will take the middle. Scribe, honestly Qui will probably kill you if you go with him…” After which, Qui scoffed in agreement. “I particularly don’t want to be responsible for you, so go with Nagi, take the left path.”

The door across from them where the golems had stood opened, and Kayde was the first to walk through, Gado behind her, favoring his left arm which had been severely damaged in human form. “Do you hear it?” she said as she stepped into total darkness. “Do you hear it?” she asked again, her eyes slowly brightening the father she walked into the darkness. The room they were in seemed to be empty; dark, and no light except what the party produced to light it. The air seemed damp; and the room was chilled.

“There is no sound,” Gado said in reply, “Except our footsteps and breath.”

“How can you not hear her?” Kayde questioned, levitating off the ground as she traveled, no longer walking.

“Oh, shit…” Gado grabbed her and tackled her to the ground, shifting in the fall, and biting down into her shoulder. She let out a cry, and Gado slowly released his grip. The flesh at her shoulder was torn, but began to heal as if nothing had happened; oh vampiric blood. She breathed in heavily a few times; unneeded air.

“What happened?” Kayde asked quietly, after shoving Gado off of her pretty damn quickly.

“Your other half wants out,” Gado said in reply. “Now is not the time.”

“Why not let her out?” Daja’s voice clearly rang through the room. A light glowed off to the side, and…downwards? Kayde levitated, traveling to the light; she was traveling over water, which was better seen as her eyes brought light to where she went as well as flickers of electricity. The water looked greenish-blue; and deep. She recognized something familiar, within a …bubble was it? A bubble with some sort of symbols circling around it. Hevn?

“Why not let her go first…” Kayde said in response.

“Where is the fun in that?” Daja responded; yet was still no where to be found. Kayde lowered herself towards the water.

“Don’t!” Gado shouted at her, she turned around. “If you awaken underwater…everything in this place is shot to hell. Water is a good conductor Kayde…you’ll kill Hevn.”

Kayde was surprised. She hadn’t thought about it. Slowly, the water level began to rise; ever so slightly, she floated higher.

“Uh…” she said. “So someone want to go get my priest?”

Goor says nothing. He just leaps and dives into the water. He swam down to the level of the bubble and eyed it.

Something in the back of his mind told him that the fact he could not see the bottom of this pool was a bad thing. He reached out towards the bubble...

"Killing me wouldn't help him any," Casey said, in response to the remark about Qui killing him. "Bullshit job that I have means I can't stay down and grab a few centuries rest that I am desperately due to receive. Besides, Qui, you're war, and with me down, who will you have to witness your greatest feats of handiwork. Granted, I'll be back, but wouldn't you hate it if I missed something important for nothing more than a little grudge?"

He walked to just inside the entrance of the left tunnel, then turned to Nagi. "Do you want point, or should I go out and get hit with whatever is waiting for us first? I'm far too jaded to care, really, but as a rule I try to be polite to ladies, especially ones that have damn good blade work."

Blackmarlin quirked an eyebrow at the pool of water, turned to Destrii, reached behind his waist to draw a small pistol from a holster at the back of his belt, and handed it to her.

"You're up, Gills. Try and make sure whateverthatthing is doesn't get killed, and don't die yourself. I'd feel positively awful about it..."

For his own part, he knelt down and drew his fighting knife from his boot. Shadowdrinker wasn't exactly the best weapon for fighting in an aquatic environment, though the blast pistol he'd given Destrii was quite capable. But. Destrii was better in water than he was...

He took a quick breath and hurled himself into the water. Moments later, his thinsuit responded to the change in environment, black material crawling up over his neck, up his chin, to cover his nose and mouth. Magnificent things, Thinsuits.

“Not a grudge,” Quissera said honestly. “It would just be fun killing you. I don’t need a reason other than my personal enjoyment.” That statement summed up Quissera’s character pretty damn close to a T. Quissera eyed Casey, and turned back from the path he had started to walk down. He paced behind him, grabbing him by the shoulders, and drawing him in closely to whisper in his ear.

“Don’t flirt with her, scribe,” he whispered. “Or I’ll cut out your heart and feed it to the dogs, and make you watch…” With that, Quissera turned, giving the scribe a light shove and lopped his broadsword up onto his shoulder, and disappeared down the right path. That man; was scary.

Nagi made no comment, and started to walk down the left path with or without the scribe.

Casey walked beside Nagi, heedless of the threat that Quissera had thrown out. The prospect of dying and coming back was nothing new, to him, it was as normal as breathing. Getting his heart cut out, though, that made him think. It had been done on three separate occasions. Casey still had the scar in the middle of his chest to prove it, though the years had worn it down, so that now it was little more than a raised line above his sternum. His neck showed no scar, a fact that he was grateful for. When the decapitation had failed, he had worried that he would be sporting a nice scar circling his entire neck, but it had disappeared long ago.

As they walked, he spoke, not bothering to turn his head. "I'm sorry to have to ask you about this, but did you think I was flirting with you? My remarks were meant to be taken at their face value, nothing more, thought too many people seem to think I've got another agenda."

Focusing intently, Mathias closed his eyes to block out other distractions as he searched for Quissera. It did not take long to feel his power for Qui's strength was great. A sudden feirce pulse snapped him out of his focus and Mathias stopped in his tracks.

"Some brother you have. I guess I won't be asking him to go out for drinks some time. I also don't think brotherly love quite fits into his agenda," Mathias mentally nudged Charmaine, letting a slight grin spread across his face.

They walked for a moment before Mathias again "spoke", "That scribe with Nagi? Who is he? Is he someone we need to watch out for? You know me....just trying to get a feeling of the entire picture so I'm better prepared for the next step. I know we're heading for some serious trouble....I just want to be sure we don't have to watch our backs in that process. Can we trust this scribe? Scribe's don't usually interefere do they? They just observe right?" Mathias's mind ran like a wild man. It was evident the anxieties he had were beginning to manifest in his obsessive collection and organization of thoughts and information.

That’s something Ravelyn would know a lot more about than I. I am assuming he won’t interfere. As for Nagi, I don’t really worry about her. She is a zoanthrope, though unlike the rest of them, she wasn’t born with it. She was stabbed by a zoanthrope called the Unborn. Part of the Unborn’s DNA merged with her human cells. It saved her life from the fatal blow, however it changed her DNA to the point where it looks like she can mimic a zoanthrope. She can shift from her human form to half an unborn form, which is where she gets that red sword from. It isn’t actually a sword; it’s a rather sharp claw like found on the Unborn. She’s quite a unique girl. Anyway, don’t worry about her. Zoanthropes heal quickly, and Nagi is very good. Charmaine assured him and kept walking. There was a light coming from the end of the tunnel, though it was hard to see what from.

“Looks like we will come to an end soon…”

“Does it matter?” Nagi asked without any intonation in her voice. They had reached a room with fallen stone o the ground. There were traces of blood, she could sense it; smell it. “Someone came this way.” She wasn’t sure who or what, and was oblivious to what the shards of rock on the floor had come from. She didn’t really care. Honestly she hoped that she wouldn’t find anything this way. It wasn’t because she was scared; but rather for the fact that she wasn’t in the mood to deal with anything right now. Still, serving Charmaine was her duty, and she would do so to her fullest.

The light fragments which rotated around the bubble smacked Goor’s hand away with quite some force. The girl seemed to be sleeping inside. Her short red hair floated in the water, and she looked peaceful; just twelve years old. The fragments of light which circled her looked like some type of inscription; but it wasn’t enochial. It was a strange script of the ancients, perhaps untranslatable, perhaps not.

As the water level continued to rise, Kayde had already latched onto the ceiling, waiting to see whether or not she would continue this mission alone or not. Daja simply couldn’t just give them Hevn back. Something was seriously amiss, though she could not spot it.

Goor shook his hand to drive away the numbness. That hurt. He considered driving his runed blade into the bubble, but that would put the girl at risk. Too bad. He drew the warblade and sliced out in an arc.

If the bubble burst, he would have to get the girl out of the water as fast as possible. If not... let one of the mojo slingers try their hand.

Vosh had remained in the background for some time, carefully watching and waiting until the time was right again for him to make his presence known again. His kind being what they were, his swimming abilities were nothing short of excellent...

"Would you like me to retrieve her?"

Casey stooped to pick up a piece of broken rock, muttering as his eyes frosted over to become completely white. He stood, and walked in two small circles, before letting the piece he held fall back to its brothers and his eyes returned to their normal appearance.

"This was recent. We follow rose oil. And I hear the powers of the Void stirring. It has passed muster. The wheels turn, and now they come to moment that must be recorded. Do we press on alone, or go back and bring the others? That is now the question."

"Just do whatever you can to get her out of there," Kayde said in return, hovering near the ceiling. The sphere shattered, and water encased Hevn. That was too easy. The water level, however, was still rising. If it reached Kayde...well, electricity and water mix a little two well. Both enterances were closed. There must be some way to stop it, shouldn't there?






"We keep going," Nagi said, shifting into her half unborn form. "The others have set off on their path and we on ours. I am certain that those two do not lead to dead ends. Everyone has their part to play. Am I correct?"

Gotcha.

Goor reached in and grabbed the girl, than swam for the surface. As he broke it, he moved moved to the others. "Take her. Revive her. Everyone else... look for a way out of this chamber."

Blackmarlin mumbled something under his breath, though it was muffled once by being under his breath, twice by his dive-mask, and thrice by the water...but it was something along the lines of "The Water Temple always Grrthrraking sucked."

He refrained from his first instinct, which was to remove this 'Goor' individual, who was presently doing a magnificent job of getting on his nerves...it would be so very simple to cause a sudden infarction...simple, at least, for a Lifehand of his aptitude...but he didn't, because he didn't hadn't cared that much about another living being for several hundred millenia. Just wasn't worth the effort.

He surfaced rapidly, a few powerful strokes bringing him over to where Goor had left Hevn so that he could get a better look at her...grumble...grumble.

For his own part, the threat of electrocution was null -- he had several methods of avoiding it, primarily the fact that his thinsuit was well and truly insulated against electric current. Beyond that, water wasn't really conductive in the least, it was the trace elements of non-water that conducted. Of course, he couldn't exactly distill the whole lot but...meh.

He'd blow the wall in a minute or two if there was no other option, and not skimp on the charge this time, either, though it'd probably kill half the people in the room -- explosions propagated a little too well when water was involved, y'know?

But...not like he really cared. Destrii knew enough to stay the hell behind him when he was playing with explosives, and the rest of the scum could live or die on their own merits. But that was for the future...for the now...

Poke. Poke. Prod. Grumble.

"It's always something..."

Taking caution, Mathias stepped a few steps before Charmaine, walking in a protective stance he often maintained during the heat of a battle field advance, alert, protected, and ready to attack in a moment's notice. But as the light came closer and they continued to advance, something inside of him stirred, a long ago feeling rushing to the surface.

Visions of his mansion came back, the dark corridors and the sounds of rushing footsteps slipping and tumbling down his halls. His heart began to race again, the feeling of excitement overtake his consciousness, the prowl of a killer consumming him. No longer was he cautious and protective, but rather he had become a hunter, alert, with a hunger to break bones and smother the life he stalked.

He glanced back at Charmaine, but looked right through her as if she did not exist. It was clear his mind was stuck in one mode, hunt and destroy. Turning back, he rushed toward the light, nothing in him anticipated what would be at the end of the tunnel, but that faint shimmer of light was all his memory needed to re-engage itself in his pre-war state of mind before he learned to harness that energy into creative strategies.

Goor didn't seem to care in the least if he was annoying someone. He was, without exception, the most experienced member of the party. And he was too busy scaling a column. "This is fast becoming tiresome..." he states loudly, looking around. If they could get the doors open... "I don't suppose a tank-killer to the door would do much good, eh?"

"There must be a switch somewhere," Kayde said in reply. "But the thing about vampiric architecture is that that switch might not necessarily be in this room..." she trailed off. "See if you can find a way out at the bottom. If you can find something that leads to another room or something that looks like it could be opened. Go through if you can....and get out of the water as quickly as possible. You don't have much time...."

At the very bottom of the farthest wall was a rectangular imprint, but it was not open.

Vosh's kind had a unique aptitude for breathing beneath the surface of water, and he made full use of that gift, diving into the rising pool and thrashing himself to the bottom, looking much like an alligator in its natural habitat.

It was cold down there, more so than he'd like, but something had to be done. He knew he'd been warned to get out of the water, but putting the switch to deactivate the rising tide at the bottom of it seemed like a bit of poetic irony to him, and it was here at the bottom he was going to look.

Sensetive hands brushed across the smooth stone walls, looking for something out of the ordinary as he bobbed in the murky depths. This might take a moment. Blackmarlin, being the explosives whiz he was, was probably going to try to blast his way out, and he'd need to be out of the water beforehand, to avoid death via amplified sonic wave...

The others have set off on their path and we on ours. I am certain that those two do not lead to dead ends. Everyone has their part to play. Am I correct?

"You are indeed. Though experience teaches that the part one plays is not always how it is expected to end. As the events now stir, the chance of balance being destroyed supersedes my edict of non-involvement. To preserve what has been planned, and what must be written, I am forced to act once again."

Casey gripped the staff head, detaching it from the rest of the shaft. Placing that within his cloak, he withdrew his hand, holding a spearhead. This he placed where the knobbed piece of wood had been, and as it was fastened, the spear briefly illuminated. Finished, he moved on, now holding the pole-arm at the ready, instead of the vertical position the staff had been held at.

Goor hung from the walls, letting the younger generation do their thing. He looked at Kayde. "It's times like this I wish I had half of Azrael's abilities with fire. Then we'd all get a nice soothing sauna out of this chamber." Clearly trying to lighten the mood, hoping that those down below could find a way out. He wasn't about ready to die like this.

Blackmarlin was not amused. Not amused in the least. Which was, when you got right down to it, not that very many of the others were liable to care...though they, perhaps, should have. But ignorance excused many things, and, admittedly, he hadn't exactly gone about advertising exactly what he was...which was kindof the idea. Generally speaking.

At any rate, he stripped his glove off his right hand again and let his fingers brush across Hevn's face, his eyes going all unfocused as he did -- he wasn't actively projecting energy as he'd done with Kayde...attempted to do with Kayde...whatever, so much as he was simply diagnosing.

It was about the most basic application of the vitakinetic talent possible, but it was also among the most useful, especially for those lacking the sheer strength of Blackmarlin's talent -- simply knowing what the problem was allowed one to pursue treatment with conventional means.