Shu's Quest

[CATS]

"Hm. Thirty minutes--nothing. Surely it would not take this long for Eltiar to arrive, in the event that he were present and intent on answering the distress call. How bothersome. I do wish he would show himself already, I have other, better things to be doing."

"Oh, there you are again, mister John. What was that?" Klints asked.

"Oh, nothing, nothing, simply muttering to myself. Come along now, we must continue our search."

"Ok!"

[mr_e_s]

Stark

Stark kicked a random bucket as a vent for his anger. It got some good air, sailed pretty high and double banked off two tent canopies to come to rest just short of a wagon, not his wagon, but a wagon. And...hey a familiar face, how about that. Stark felt better, but only a little, at the sight of his 'companion', truth be told, this was probably the last guy he wanted to run into out of all the guys he'd been traveling with, but beggars can't be choosers, and desperation as setting in as the ring of paladins, plus any other guard that was around at the time would likely know what he looked like, and wouldn't let him off with a stern talking to.

"Harris!" Stark was trying to shout and whisper at the same time. It came out more hoarse then anything. "Harris!" He tried again, a bit louder, neither attempt grabbing the attention of the dubious merchant. Even worse, he was heading away. Stark wasn't about to lose contact with the only person he could find, even if that person had tried to sell him on a bunch of obviously fake coins. Stark opted for physical notice this time, grabbing Harris very abruptly by his shoulders. "Harris!" Stark said, probably a bit too loud for how close he was and how wanted he'd no doubt be, but he was agitated. Not really at Harris so much, more that the cart wasn't there. "Where is everyone? Did they leave us behind? I swear to Lightkratos is they left me for that I wo-" Stark cut his speech short, lowered his cloak's hood, and pretended to inspect the wares of the stand he was at. The stand turned out to be selling little souvenirs of Corthrone, teacups and plates with poorly drawn pictures of the moving market littered the area of the set-up Stark was in. Funnily enough, none of the pictures were the same. He supposed whenever someone took a landscape of the city, the tents would be in completely different places, making for a different city. That was....not the point of what he was doing.

"Listen, if we're going to get out of here, we need a plan, and all I got so far is don't be here. You got anything better?"

Fuego

He felt bad about that little accident back there. He let his anger control him, and if his emotions were in control, he wasn't. Mr. Lightning taught him that. It took him a while to get through his head, but he really understood it now. Had to be calm, had to focus. Klints just had a way of getting to him, and he didn't even mean to... maybe that was why. Fuego just filed it away as a mistake to learn from, and went about his search for Klints. Then he saw it, Klints had sent up a signal. Fuego did his best to make it to him, but....this market was just so confusing. There were no landmarks to work from but this big central building. He was sure in the time he'd stopped to question people about Klints earlier, he'd passed the same merchants numerous times, each times with different layouts of their goods. He hated to admit it, but the little changes in location and items almost made him buy some things he didn't need, and Fuego was a pretty frugal guy. These merchants knew their stuff.

...Half an hour. Fuego wasn't even sure he was heading in the right direction. So hard to keep a straight line when the lines move on you. No guarantee Klints would even be there any more. But he still had a general direction to check, and that was better then before. Blocking out the calls of vendors now, Fuego just focused on figuring out where that signal had been shot up from, if he could get there, he could probably keep track of Klints... maybe. He finally started seeing it, a bunch of fallen dust and dirt clumps, mostly crushed down, but still too persistent in the surrounding area to be coincidence. This was where the signal was shot up, or where it came down, anyways... No Klints though. No obvious dirt surfing tracks, he could be anywh-there he was.

Fuego had to admit, the golden armour was useful, and as flashy and dumb as it was, it drew less attention then a leash. Wait, who was that guy Klints was with, walking away? Fuego could swear he'd seen him somewhere, maybe he was on the job? But how would he know Klin-dumb question. Klints probably threw up this signal, and this guy had probably heard stuff about the Shizen cell like rumours pass around the cells somehow all the time. He probably just answered the call before Fuego got a chance to. Still, something about the guy nagged at Fuego. He'd have to keep an eye on him.

Always be vigilant, even if your opponent doesn't look like much. Some of the greatest warriors prefer to look like pushovers, never hold back if you don't know your opponents strength. Better to use more force then necessary then be on the receiving end. His old training had been coming back to him a lot these past few days. He'd really learned a lot from Mr. Lightning, and he didn't even know his real name. What would they put on the tombstone? Would there even be a tombstone? Would Fuego get one when he died? Would it say Fuego on it?

Somewhere in that line of thought, he managed to catch up to Klints and this stranger. He considered hanging back and keeping an eye on them, but with his luck, someone would set up shop between the two of them and he'd lose them for another few hours. He opted instead just to show up. "Klints, you need to stop running off." Fuego said matter of factly, like he'd been there all along. He kind of abandoned that right away as he turned to the stranger though. "And who are you?"

Edited September 27, 2010 by mr_e_s

[Script]

Derwood

Derwood was a very brave man, so when a shockingly powerful pair of arms grabbed his shoulders he beat his attacker off and totally didn't scream like a little girl. His scream, oddly enough, didn't draw a whole lot of attention. Curse those rapscallions! They were obviously in on this mugging. But, wait? This guy was acting like he knew Derwood, and Derwood wouldn't fall for such a terrible plan!

"Sir, I say sir!' Derwood looked at the man addressing him, it was that Stark guy. Oh dammit! "Right, plan, and my name is Harris, no, let's go with Binky! Fake names always help avoid suspicion!"

Derwood weaseled a bit away, but not so far that it would upset his companion. Yes, always keep everyone you know happy until they lose their things! "Uh, plan, plan, plan, so... uh... well, um, let's see. How good's your grip? Hoping a free pass on the undercarriage of a wagon always works wonders, yes."

Derwood loked around, seeing nothing he would classify as out of the ordinary. "Or hey, find and make a, whaddya-callit, dangit, what are they called? Ah well, can't be that useful if I can't remember, haha..."

Derwood inspected one of the plates that he saw Stark quickly glance over. It had some sort of picture on it. Why, what a waste that was! Who would eat off of something like that! It was downright disturbing.

[CATS]

"Oh, hey Fuego! This is mister John. He's from a really new cell, it's called interna something, like eternal effects, or something like that. I'm showing him the ropes while we look for Eisig," Klints said.

"Yes, something like that. I assume you are the pyrokinetic? Pleased to make your acquaintance. I desperately need to find the leader of your cell; I fear that you may all be in grave danger. Hopefully you will prove to be more helpful in this endeavor than your enthusiastic associate. Eltiar does not seem to be anywhere here in Corthrone, judging by his failure to answer the distress signal, although sources inform me that he was here recently. Would you know where he might have gone from here?"

[Android]

Andy took Drin's help up and brushed himself off. As the leader of his cell gave him his orders, he realized why the kid who walked up looked familiar. It was the earth mage that had knocked him over earlier! Seemed he knew the man that Drin and Stark had been talking about earlier, some Eisig. Sounded like a codename for a cell in the organization. He'd have more time to think about it after he'd caught up with the kid, who had just run off.

Andy burst out of the tent, looking around wildly. The giant mass of people fighting made the best cover one could expect in this city. He sighed and sat down for a minute, thinking about what to do next. He noticed an odd shadow on the ground, and looked up, seeing the fountain of dirt in the sky. At least the kid had the common courtesy of revealing himself.

He pushed himself through the crowd, knocking people down to get to the source of the magic. Luck on his side, he managed to find the kid he was looking for talking with two other people. Andy did his best to put his hand lightly on the kid's shoulder.

"You're a jumpy little bastard, aren't ya?" He squeezed slightly. "Before you run off again, we need to figure out how we're going to find Eisig."

~~

Darrian took off after the nameless girl. He managed to catch up to her, and started pulling back on her arm.

"What are you doing? That man's a criminal, they're probably going to execute him. Messing with him will just make them execute you, as well! Look, why don't we just head back to the restaurant and get something to eat? Easier than getting yourself killed, isn't it?"

[SuperFush]

Yuki struggled to shake the boy's arm off, grasping at his hand. She was nearly crying. This wasn't how the day was supposed to be! It was supposed to just be a nice little trip outside of town, she'd be back home in a few days, and Father would never have to know she had left! Instead, she had seen Stark, and while she realized that he probably wouldn't be happy to see her out in a place like Cothrone, but that was outweighed completely by the fact that it had been years since she last saw him. For that brief moment, she'd been full of joy and was ready to throw her arms around him like she had when she was but a little girl. Now he was running from corrupt knights in an uncaring town, probably alone, possibly hurt, and all she wanted was to find him.

"Y-you don't understand! He's like family to me! W-we have to help him!"

All she wanted...

The skin underneath the boy's hand on her arm began feeling colder.

[mr_e_s]

Stark

"..." Stark had really tried to say something, but the complete lack of anything resembling forethought or strategy in those plans made him think it might be best to just let those ideas sit there in the aether. Somehow it felt like addressing them would be giving a certain credibility to them that they just didn't deserve. It was probably best to pretend the last little bit of the conversation hadn't happened, like they stepped into some alternate reality where Stark hadn't asked Harris for his advice on anything. "...Do you know where anyone is? Did they leave or did they just move around or what?"

Maybe asking for something more concrete would yield better results, Stark mentally prepared himself to take a step into another alternate reality where he hadn't made the same dumb mistake twice, though.

Fuego

Eternal...what? Oh....Oh! Oh... Fuego did his best not to betray his surprise and fear at the mention of the cell responsible for discipline and enforcement. He'd heard it's official title was the Generic cell, but everyone knew it as internal affairs, a sick joke about a sick group. Fuego had seen this guy before, once, when he was still new, talking with Eisig. He didn't look like much, but Eisig had done everything in his power not to be confrontational with him, so he could obviously hold his own in a fight. Was he here just for Eisig? Or did he want to clean house? Fuego had heard stories of entire cells being wiped out because of worries of dissent after one person didn't follow orders or went against the Order's goals. How was he supposed to deal with this?

A plan hit him, not a great plan, but better then standing there like an idiot staring. Fuego reached out his hand to shake the man's "Yeah, I'm Fuego, from the Shizen cell. Do you mind if I ask your code name and cell, as a precaution?" He left his face unchanged, and did his best to keep balanced. If things coul just move smoothly for 30 seconds, he might be able to get out of this situation.

...But things never go smoothly. Not ever. Another guy came up, with big arms, they didn't look like htey were really his. He could probably crush stone. The IA enforcer. Fuego had heard their enforcer had claws, but looking at this guy's arms, he could probably change them out for claws or any other kind of fighting/torture device. These were just civilian arms. Okay new plan, get out of there. Now.

"Klints? Remember that time in the caves, with that griffon? Remember the order we got from Mr. Lightning?" Fuego reached out with his mind, as best as he could, this would be tricky, at best. He felt them all out there, little heartbeats. "I think it's time for a repeat."

The handy thing about being a pyrokinetic, and not a fire mage, is that you don't need all those controlling motions or spirit pacts or however you draw on your source for it. You are the source, and what's more, after a few years of intensive training with a guy who throws lightning bolts at you as punishment for failure, you pick up some really neat ways to manipulate it. This... was not going to be subtle.

From all around him, tents lit up and people dove out of the way... a few didn't make the dive. But this was a lifeline for him, and he'd rather be a killer then killed, he decided that a long time ago. Much faster then he would usually move it, fire came rushing at him, he lost his sight of the outside world, but that didn't matter. He wasn't going to be here much longer. He felt like he had enough, and as he thought that, a swirling pillar shot up from the very concentrated base A cylindrical twister moved into the sky with a speed reserved for the most dangerous birds of prey. in this whirling fire tube Fuego rode in the eye, pushing himself with his living transport system, moving the fire and himself with it at the same time. He really couldn't see anything but directly ahead now, streaking across the top of the town and outside, and he just hoped Klints would be smart enough to take the cue and not hang around to ask the two very deadly members behind him what that was all about.

[CATS]

Klints watched in awe as Fuego ascended into some kind of fire-tornado and sped away. What an amazing partner! What did he say first? Something about a griffon? Klints tried hard to remember what Fuego was talking about, and after a few seconds he succeeded. He remembered it cause it was a particularly cool maneuver on his part. That was what Fuego wanted him to do? Klints didn't really understand, but Fuego was the smart one. So without any further hesitation, Klints slammed a fist into the ground; the earth all around him went blasting upwards, sending a tremendous shower of silt and dirt into the air. The surrounding area was blanketed in the falling earth for several seconds, completely obscuring vision and causing most people to crouch down and cover their faces.

When it cleared away, Klints was nowhere to be seen. Mior shrugged; his body glimmered for a fraction of a second, and all of the fallen dirt seemed to leap off of him.

"How troublesome. I suppose they are in league with Eltiar, if they would flee so readily from me. My presence is no cause for concern to those who are truly loyal. Oh, hello there," Mior remarked, taking note of Andy. "You must be......Cog, I think? What are you doing in this place? Most members of the Order do their best to avoid me. An unfortunate and ironic side effect of being a little too good at what I do, I think. Regardless, unless you have useful information for me, I would like for you to shoo, if I could be so blunt. I am a busy man, and it appears that I now have not just one traitor to deal with, but an entire mutinous cell. Very, very bothersome."

---

Klints sped along the ground, following Fuego's fire tornado as it moved away from Corthrone. After they had given the city a fairly wide berth, he decided to stop.

"Hey! Can we stop now? What was that for?!" Klints shouted up at Fuego.

[rn7]

All that running around, smacking chairs on people, and dodging guards really made a number on Fargo's shoes. He was looking around for a new pair, but the entire market was in chaos. It was always weird how everything suddenly went to hell when the merry little group arrived. Now there were mad mages walking the streets, super ninjas saving people and chucking knives everywhere, and paladins prancing about like it was a huge commercial for new armor products. Though Corthrone always had its share of eccentric and often weird events, it never did get so out of hand as it did now.

As luck may have it, all the shoe shops had closed for the way, by which it meant they had already moved on. Realistically, they would've stayed a bit longer if it weren't for that crazy mage spewing dirt everywhere. Now the spewing dirt everywhere wasn't necessary the problem. It was the dust that was kicked up that was the problem. It'd get on the shoes, make them completely dirty, and the shopkeeps would have to spend all their time spit cleaning the shoes to a shine, only to have another layer of dust cake onto their shoes. The line was getting too long at the well, and all the shoeseller's tongues were getting dried out. So they just decided to forget the whole thing and take their business elsewhere.

Fargo wasn't aware of this. It wasn't like there were memos or bulletins put up. So he looked and looked and circled around until he was dizzy and then after that he looked some more. Without even noticing it, he accidentally bumped into someone.

"Ooof! Oh, man that smarts! Sorry about that.... hey wait, it's Stark! How's it going man, we were totally looking for you and everything! Dom and Jeph and Lyle were like, 'we gotta get outta here!'. I was like, 'okay, but I need new shoes'. Any way, that's not important right now. We gotta get outta here, Stark! Dunno why, but Dom said it, so it must be important."

[Crimson_Edge]

“Long, long ago, in a distant universe, beyond the deepest reaches of space, there was darkness. Total, black darkness. And this darkness, it was alone. It had no friends, no family. It lived all by itself, in the middle of space and time, with no one and nothing by its side. So, as years passed, the darkness grew lonely, and, one day, it left its place in the corner of space, and traveled across the galaxies. It passed planets, stars, moons, and suns in search of a place it could call home. That place turned out to be our world, the planet earth.

“The darkness fell onto the earth thousands of years ago, in a time you or I could not imagine, not even in our dreams. It was an awfully small piece of darkness, no bigger than your thumb, but when it struck, it left a massive crater in the surface of the earth. It was near this crater, many centuries later, that a man—whose real name has long since been forgotten—venturing, perhaps, on an adventure whose goal we will never know, came to encounter the darkness. And it swallowed him. Whole.

“What remained of the man when the darkness consumed his soul was less a man and more a monster. He looked just like you or I, but in his heart sat the darkness, the darkness from space, and his hands swelled with the power of thousands of years of loneliness. The darkness, by coming to earth, had become human.

“But what a monstrous human it was! With the dark powers of the darkness, the creature, who called himself Masuar, flew around the earth terrorizing human life. He killed and he tortured, he destroyed and he conquered, and at the end he smiled. And he did it all because he was so lonely. For you see, it wasn’t enough for the darkness that he had humans with him now, or trees or plants, or water or animals. No, the darkness needed something more. The darkness was more powerful than anything else in the entire galaxy. And that was too much for it. That made it lonely. It was the same sort of loneliness it had always felt out in space. And that was why it killed. Because it was alone.

“But at this time on the earth, there were two magicians whose power rivaled that of the darkness. One had brown hair, and could take the form of a druid. He was a master of anima magic—fire, lightning, wind, water. The elements of the earth. The other had golden hair, and could take the form of an angel. He was a master of holy magic—light, healing, wisdom. The two magicians were known as Mior and Meronanar.

“Although they were very different, the two magicians knew that the darkness would overwhelm them if it were not stopped. So, to stop the path of desetruction set out by the darkness, they fought the darkness, above a mountain where it always rained. In the rain, the powers of light, earth, and rain collided, and eventually united. The darkness saw that he was not alone, and his heart was pacified. He had found in these other magicians his equals, and that was worth more to him than all his destruction. Masuar the man came to be friends with Meronanar and Mior, the mages.

“For years after that, the three magicians went everywhere together, almost like little children. Their common interest in magic and lore united them, even if their hearts and minds were much different. The darkness, for the first time in its entire life, felt like it was home.

“But all was not well. The other magicians, being curious about the nature of the darkness, willed for the darkness to share its dark powers with them. But the darkness refused, because it knew that to impart its great power on others as powerful as itself would mean only more destruction. And it wanted only to be happy. Masuar, the man, wished only to never be alone again. The darkness wanted to forget its dark powers, as much as it could. But this was not good enough for the others. One night, atop the same mountain on which they had battled, the other two magicians attacked the darkness, in order to see the extent of its power.

“The attack did not go as they planned. Instead of revealing the nature of the darkness, they destroyed it, sealing it away inside of the mountain where they had originally fought. Their own powers, too, were weakened, because the darkness was strong, and took their powers with it when it was sealed up. They regretted what they did, but it was too late: their immense powers, as well as their friendship, were gone. And Masuar, the darkness, was no more.”

“Wow!” a little voice squeaked. “What happened after that? Did they get the darkness out of the mountain?”

“Why, yes, as a matter of fact they did. It took the sum of all their powers to do it, but Meronanar and Mior eventually released the darkness, and got their powers back. And the darkness forgave them for what they had done, on the condition that they never asked to see its power again. Together, they lived their lives to their ends, in search of knowledge. To do this, you could not imagine happier friends than the three of them. And that is the Legend of Masuar.”

“Wow!” the voice said again, a gasp following. There was a pause, and then: “Daddy?”

“Yes, Leona.”

“Is that story true?”

Ernest Malbritch laughed and smiled gently at his daughter’s inquisitiveness. “Why, I don’t know, Leona. What do you think?”

“I think it’s true, and it’s a great story. That the darkness was never lonely again. I can imagine it, all alone, with no one to love it. It must feel like our guinea pig did right before she died!”

“You have quite the imagination, Leona,” said Ernest. “Now, how about you go to bed, hm?”

“Okay, daddy! I’ll go brush my teeth.”

“That’s my girl.”

As Leona passed rapidly out of the room, her little slippered feet thudding against the wood, Ernest looked out of the window, up at the night sky. Masuar, he thought, I only wish that story were true. But I hope my little girl is right—I hope that you were never lonely.

[Android]

Andy took a step back when he realized who was talking to. Internal affairs. Best to make this brief.

"A couple of traitors, eh? Our cell was assigned to this city a couple days ago. I was talking with our leader when the earth mage came up to us and asked us to help find Eltiar, so the Tinkerer asked me to offer my existence." Andy shrugged. "Didn't realize he was still in league with him, though. Well, with that said, I guess I'll quit bothering you and let you get back to your work."

Andy gave a short wave and moved back towards the center of the town. Drin would want to hear about this.

~~

Darrian sighed.

"Look..... even if we did try to help, what could we do? We'd be risking our lives and our futures for the off chance that we could save that guy. Just..."

He hesitated. For one thing, he wasn't quite sure what to say to get his point across. That, and he noticed his breath clouding in front of him, a bit odd for the middle of the summer. The general area felt colder, at its most intense where his hand had grabbed onto the girl. He looked around the alley and didn't see anyone, sending a shiver up his spine.

"....We should leave. Something isn't right here."

[Purg]

He couldn't find his way back. He couldn't find the others. His luck had changed so suddenly, and now he didn't know what he could do. The tents were always changing - he thought he was going in all the wrong directions, but there were no other ways to go. Merchants called out to him, apparently not dissuaded by the heavy cloak that obscured his features. The armored men had lost him in the crowd - unsurprising, even while the chase had gone on, the ocean of people hadn't shifted into low tide. Deciding to break the path, he pushed his way in between two tents, emerging into a dark patch of ground, behind several of the shops. It lacked any people, except for a few lost tourists, a man that Dom was fairly certain was insane, judging by the ragged clothes and stained, straggly beard - judging from the tracks, knights had been here, though whether that was before this path was closed off, or during it's existence, was hard to say.

Hoping his internal compass was leading him the correct way, he set off through the narrow alley, pushing past others, navigating towards the location of the cart as best as he could. It came soon that his path split into two different directions - again, both what he thought would be the wrong ones. So he shoved through the canvas wall again, rejoining the moving mass of people, sort of. He appeared to be in between another set of tents, although much more trafficked than the previous one. He shuddered involuntarily, suddenly realizing it was several degrees colder here than it had been just before pushing his way through. That didn't seem possible - neither of the shops held anything cold, from what he could tell - but a girl, and a young man stood not too far from him. He exhaled slowly, watching the ice crystals bloom up in front of him, before approaching them. The chill... The man that had helped them before - Eltiar. He was a user of ice magic. Perhaps he was nearby?

"You haven't happened to have seen a man, with an eye patch and a broadsword, have you? Or a rundown cart, with a pitiful display of stock?" He felt a growing dread along the back of his neck - he wasn't sure if he should attribute it to the lowering temperature, or the long amount of time it had been since he had seen any of his comrades.

~-~

Eltiar wouldn't be here. Certainly not after what was after him - he would have fled, to another city, to somewhere the organization couldn't penetrate. But was there a place like that? He couldn't say, didn't know. His years of traveling, working, hunting for its sake screamed no, but there had to be somewhere, some place the mage could have fled to, some location he could speak to him peacefully.

He wouldn't find that place staying here with the others. He didn't have anything he needed to gather - all of his projects were stored with the others, or in his belt, things he could work on as he traveled, in case he needed something to occupy his hands, occupy his mind.

He wasn't sure where he was going, but that and Corthrone were the last things on his mind as he left.

[Crimson_Edge]

Where am I?

His first thought was this. But his second was: Mior.

Far away, deep in a jungle long unknown, atop a mountain long unvisited, amidst rains and winds long unfelt, there was darkness. The same darkness that had for many years been unseen, unheard. The world had not known the terror of the darkness in many centuries. But the darkness did not think of its own slumber. The darkness knew only one thing. The darkness thought only, of Mior.

Revenge.

His muscles ached, and he could feel his bones. The long years had stiffened his skin. But revenge ran through his spine. His heart beat to the thought of revenge. All else was forgotten. He had even forgotten the loneliness he had once known so dearly. No, in fact, even his name escaped him. The sound of his voice was unfamiliar. The beat of his heart was foreign. But only Mior. The single word Mior. That was all he knew.

He took off, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. His flight was clumsy, and his eyes half open. But the thought of Mior drove him on. He could smell the mage’s scent. Images flashed through his head. Anima magic. The brown hair. The eyes. The cloak. He rushed through clouds and flew for days beneath the sun in search. Slowly, his unused muscles regained their strength. Dust and dirt fell off his body. A layer of soot flew off his face.

Hunger. He felt hunger. He held a hand against his stomach. “I haven’t eaten,” he said. His words were hollow and robotic. The years had been many since he had eaten real food. The darkness did not eat. But the human body, Masuar, needed food. During his long years of slumber, Masuar had fed off his own dark power, slowly depleting it. But now, awake, he needed food again. Like a human being. He was alive.

Yet Mior came first. Even above his own hunger. First, Mior. Then, all else.

Masuar’s desire to find Mior was so great that only two hours passed before the darkness stood before the mage himself. His voice, still hollow and uncertain, rang out clear: “Mior! I have found you, traitor!” The darkness descended from the sky and stood before the anima mage. Anger flooded his veins. The hunger in his stomach was held back. Revenge was going to be his.

[Dark Sage]

Edit: This is embarrasing. Posted in the wrong RP. Sorry!

Edited October 1, 2010 by Yoshimitsu

[CATS]

The darkness found its target on the edge of a small forest, far away from Corthrone or any other town or settlement. Mior's work had given him cause to leave Corthrone by now; Eltiar was not there, and obviously the other two traitors had fled from the city, so he had no further reason to be there. The mage had been on his way to a new destination when this strange man interrupted him.

"Traitor? Ah, no, you must have me mixed up with that Eltiar fellow. You see, we are both powerful magi, but only one of us is the traitor; I am the one tasked with ending the traitor. Regardless, as a member of internal affairs, I do appreciate your enthusiasm for punishing those who are not loyal, even if it is more than a bit misguided. Tell me, to what cell do you belong?"

[Crimson_Edge]

The anger of countless centuries flooded through Masuar's veins and erupted from his hand. A dark beam of light slammed into a tree near Mior and set it afire with. Black flames exploded from it, and then the tree withered, and it died. Masuar's fury was not controllable. The tree had failed to shatter. It had been too long since he had exercised his dark powers. Most of them had faded away. So the darkness with an angry look spoke again: "What is this nonsense you speak, Mior? Do you not remember who I am? I am the darkness! I am Masuar! I . . . am the man you betrayed hundreds of years ago, atop Mt. Valimir. I have set myself free from a centuries-long imprisonment, and I am here to exact my vengeance. You die here, traitor!" The speaking was strange, for the darkness had not spoken so many words in many, many years. But the intent was clear: Masuar wanted nothing but Mior's death.

[CATS]

"Excuse me, but I have to ask.......what??? Is this a prank, or do you truly believe yourself to be the character from that old children's tale? If it is the latter, then I am sorry to inform you that I will not be participating in your delusions. I am named after the anima mage from the ancient legend, it is true, and my family is rumored to be of relation to the character, but rest assured: It is only a legend, founded in fantasies, not in facts. Why, I turn forty in a few weeks! I cannot possibly be the man you think me to be. Now please, try and get a hold on reality. Clearly you have some power to throw around; but I should warn you that I do as well. I do not wish to exercise it, but if forced to, I will not hesitate," Mior answered.

[SuperFush]

Yuki stared blankly at the man. Even looking under his hood, she couldn't recognize him, and he didn't look entirely trustworthy. She shrank back, as the temperature around them grew even colder.

"W-why do you want to know? Who are you?" She let go of the boy's arm and held her wand outstretched towards the strange man. Her hands were shaking.

"I-if you've hurt him, I'll...y-you better not have hurt him!"

[lunarAegis]

Jeph.

He pulled his sword from the back of the Paladin. Looks like Lyle did one thing right in his life before he died. There were benefits to fighting such zealous opponents, such as unexpected rat-attacks brutally murdering one of their comrades sending them into a rage. Now Jeph stood over three corpses, two thirds of which were his fault. Damn shame those Paladins had to die. They were probably good guys aside from being Paladins. Jeph looked through their stuff, pulled whatever valuables he could find, and left all their armour and weapons. This could look like a simple 3 way brawl instead of the clusterfuck it was.

Jeph then worked his way back through the moving city towards the cart.

[mr_e_s]

Stark

Fargo, that made Stark feel... a bit better, anyways. He looked completely oblivious to the situation around him as always, and he seemed not to realize that a lot of the commotion and confusion was Stark's fault. Well, actually, things were already settling down for the most part, this town was remarkably good at adapting to anything. They'd probably sell authentic I was at the hanged-man's escape T-shirts within the hour.

"Alright, you two. Here's the plan." Stark didn't actually have a plan, but he was hoping one would form as he spoke. "We get everyone together, or everyone we can, we find the cart, and we get out of here, with anyone in any trouble with the law riding inside, and also you two." Stark added that last bit in there because he figured either of them had the capability to say exactly the wrong thing to get them inspected by some random passing paladins or something. He already escaped righteous justice once today, he didn't want to push his luck with whatever deity they worshipped any further. That reminded him to utter out a quick thank you prayer to Lightkratos. That helped. "Okay you two, we're going to go find the others, I want you two to make a bit of a commotion as you move, be noticeable, and I'm going to hang back a bit. Please, stay where I can see you, we don't need this getting worse then it already is."

That seemed like a workable plan.

Whistler

I was ready to get out of there, right then, take a trip with Beaker to some other town and watch him play god with something else. Funny how things never play out like they should. I kinda wish that's how it happened no. but I saw Cog, Andy, walk up to the guy from IA and start a conversation with him. I ain't no hero. In fact, I don't think anyone could call me really brave, but you give a guy the ability to walk around undetected, and he feels a lot braver'n he actually is.

I told Beaker I had to go help Cog, cause really, I ain't got a lot of friends and I was looking to keep the ones I did have. So I go around a corner and take my layer of clothes off, and make sure beaker's gonna take care of them for me, then I make a quick jog over to the two of them. Funny thing is, conversation was just wrapping up when I get there, seemed pretty pleasant, actually. I was wondering if maybe I got the whole Internal Affairs thing way off, rumours and the like tend to get out of hand. I know better now, though. I should have been more afraid.

You know, when I was a kid, my pops used to tell me I get too lost in the little things, was never much of a big picture guy. I'd get so concerned about something small, and something big would pass me right by, else-wise it'd smack me right in the face on it's way through. never really learned my lesson though. Hell, when I joined the order I was so wrapped up in what happened to me, I never even bothered to ask what the Order was all about. That wasn't the end of it, either. There I was running to save my friend from this IA menace, and I didn't even see the bigger picture. I don't suppose many of us did, but still, looking back on it, I feel like I should have done something about it, you know? That ain't really my lot in life though, I guess.

But yeah, I decided to wait, give it some time, see if anything went down. But it didn't. So when Cog made it a good way away, I stopped him myself, and tried to ask him what the Hell was going on and why he was talking to a killer. Cog, he's more upbeat then most people I know. Definitely more upbeat then me, anyways... Sorry, I guess I was just thinking about stuff, you know? Where were we, anyways?

[Crimson_Edge]

Mior's words excited in Masuar all the hatred building up in his soul for centuries now. He raised his hand and said the words, "Curl of Infinite Sorrow," not yelling, but speaking clearly and loudly. In his youth, if it could be called youth, one blow had been enough to vanquish an entire civilization; the curl summoned a plague so furious and fast-working that it had easily drowned out multitudes of people upon Masuar's utterance. And his fury now was such that it would entirely wipe Mior from existence. A black spark lit up in Masuar's hand; his arm grew quickly ablaze. Dark fire erupted from his veins, igniting his skin and roasting the outer layers. His eyes grew wider as the flames rode up all the way to his cheek and neckline, like plumage adorning half of his body. He waved the burning arm in the air and a shrill sound, much like wind whipping through a hollow log, whistled as he did so. Now he had only to unleash the attack, and its fury would smite his foe Mior. He thrust his arm forward, to let loose the curl. There was a flash of brilliant white light, followed by an all-engulfing darkness surrounding the two magicians.

A ferocious boom rose up and echoed through the forest. Smoke billowed high and fast. Masuar, the darkness personified, stood before Mior, his right arm missing completely from his body. For a full thirty seconds he stood absolutely motionless, silent. Then he gritted his teeth and pulled back the bleeding stub of an arm that he had created. The curl had backfired. The plague that he had sought to summon failed to even leave the arm it originated in. Mior had not been touched at all, except by the pulsing, throbbing waves of darkness that had emanated from the destroyed arm. The awesome power of the curl had not been unleashed.

Masuar began to raise his other arm, to try again, to eviscerate his foe with the might that had incinerated his own arm. But the victim arm, splayed and sliced roughly as though a sword, and not an explosion, had spelled its end, held his concentration. Masuar could only look at the arm, and think to himself, horror and disgust flooding through his mind. How could he have lost that much power over the years? What had that centuries-long slumber done to his body? He had once been the most powerful being on the planet, no, maybe in the universe, unrivalled in his magical prowess by any creature, man or beast! Or so he had believed. And now he was inchoate and incompetent.

To smite Mior with the wrath of his hate had been his goal, but now that goal seemed meager. What use was revenge if he were nothing but a lowly magician? What good this hate, if he could not even be the powerful darkness that enacted revenge?

But wasn’t it Mior who had left him in this state? Wasn’t it because of this anima mage standing before him that he had been reduced to nothing, less than a shadow of the glory that had once floated as an aura wherever he walked? Should he not kill the mage, and through his death resolve the conflicted sorrow rampaging through his own heart? The betrayal, the loss of his power, the years of bitter isolation and loneliness—all of that must have some meaning!

Yet, he now picked up on a craving in his body. Somewhere near his stomach, but it wasn’t hunger. That craving was the reason he was here, the reason he had flown all this way, persisted through years of motionless thought and self-containment. And killing Mior would not satisfy that craving. The hole that the craving had burrowed in his body was too deep for urgency to fill it, the desire so immense that no guts-driven action could move it. Once he had killed Mior, then what? The desire would remain, gnawing at his insides, and he would be alone, with only a corpse lying before him to quell his bitterness. Maybe he would even cry, cry because Mior had once been his friend, one of the only two living creatures across space and through time that had ever meant anything to Masuar. And it would be heartbreaking to kill him, even if he had wronged him so.

And what if the mage spoke truth? What if this Mior were not the Mior he had once known? They looked exactly alike, except for the color of their hair, and they spoke exactly alike, and both were mages. Masuar had sensed Mior’s aura and traveled miles and miles to meet this man. Could it be possible that this wasn’t the real Mior? Masuar had spent years and years in a waking dream, imagining, as his sole comfort through the profound pain, how this encounter would play out, how he would take revenge. And to have to think afterwards, having made the kill, that this Mior was not the Mior who had wronged him, not the Mior that he had spent centuries thinking about and wishing to kill, would deprive the moment of all the luxury, the peace of mind that he had hoped it would give him.

But again, looking into the mage’s eyes and seeing that same cold expression, the attachment to duty, the drive to perform that bent even his own human will—Masuar knew this was the same Mior who would let nothing stand in his way, eliminate any obstacles to get to achieve his goals. But a legend? Grounded in fantasy? How could that be? It had to be a lie. Maybe Mior had cleverly devised the story to divert Masuar’s fury, to stall or buy time. Maybe the mage had anticipated Masuar’s arrival. No, it was only right for Masuar to kill this being before him now, whether or not it was the real Mior.

But he couldn’t do it.

He could not do what he had come to do any more than he could rip out his own still-beating heart. It would be purposeless, a waste of time. If he killed the real Mior, he would burst into tears, the blood of a friend staining his bitter and lonely soul. But if he killed a fake Mior, he would feel nothing, and coming here would have been a waste, meaningless for all his sorrow and hatred. He would only hate more, and destroy more, and at the end of it all, remain powerless. The loss of his power trivialized all else in his mind. If he couldn’t be the darkness, the all-consuming darkness he had once been, then there was no point in meeting petty ends--ends belonging to the powerful darkness, and not the lonely, weak soul that he now harbored in his body.

No. He could not kill Mior. The loss of his power had stifled all such desire in him. He needed instead to satisfy another sort of desire--the hunger in his stomach. Wordlessly, soundlessly, Masuar clutched his bleeding arm stub to his chest, more to spread the warm, thick blood over his skin than to nurse the wound, and rose up into the air, to fly away from the forest that had been devised in order to keep this scene separate, in search of food. He said nothing to Mior, mostly because he did not wish to excite any more of the sort of pent-up bitching in Mior’s RPer that his admittedly excessive but easily over-writeable backstory had created, but also because his hope to gain revenge had flown away from him. Revenge was petty, much like talking about an individual without his presence, and would ultimately lead to the expansion of an eternally dissatisfied heart. There would be no satisfaction in this kill, nothing to gain from this encounter. Masuar's revenge would not be fulfilled on this day.

[Script]

Derwood

Eyepatch Stark didn't make any acknowledgments of Derwood's ingenious plans? Maybe they just went over his scary head? Yes, that was probably it and not that the plans were terrible. Derwood was just too smart for anyone else. Just like that other guy who bumped into them! Whatshisface, Cargo! Yes, that sounded close enough. Derwood's good buddy, best buddy. How much would he get for turning two of them in? Ah, well, he'd figure that out latter. It looked like Stark had a simple plan of his own, one that required Derwood to... put himself in danger! But that was against the prime directive of not-thieves! Oh dare he ask that! "Yes, yes, very good plan!" Derwood agreed. If he didn't he would probably just be poked or prodded into doing it anyway. So much easier to just nod his head, go along for a bit, then make a break for it.

[rn7]

"Plan, plan, plan!" Fargo excitedly yelled while causing a commotion. He ran haphazardly into shop displays, careful not to knock them completely over (he had too much respect for shopowners to mess them up that much) but enough to gather yells of, "HEY, WATCH WHERE YER GOING". In a way, walking around stupidly was harder than just strolling down the street. It was then that Fargo found something that caught his eye. A new shoeseller had entered town. Fargo waltzed up to the saleman and began bargaining with him, very loudly and obnoxiously.

"No no no! I won't take that price! Cheaper! I want cheaper!" Fargo screeched and stamped his foot on the ground.

"What's the matter with ye, boy? You want me to go to the poor bin?"

"It's only a shoe! I'll not take it for more than a few ducats! You know how much it's REALLY worth."

"Aye yes I be do knowing how much it worth, and it be much more than what you have, boy!"

"What? Ridiculous! Stupid, stupid!"

"You got a problem with that!"

"Yes I do!"

The merchant and Fargo began grabbing each other's collars shaking the other guy about. Without his hands on the shoes, the shopkeep dropped the pair. By shaking Fargo, the shopkeep made Fargo's old slippers crumble and fall off.

"AH! Look what you did! Ruined my shoes!" Fargo pointed accusatorially at the shoeseller. "You'll be hearing about this in the next merchant guild meeting, MARK MY WORDS."

"Dang ye boy, you have ousted. But next time, next time, I'll get ye. AND YOU SHALL RUE THE DAY!" The shoeseller took Fargo's money and then left. It was still twice as much as it was worth. But at least Fargo had new shoes.

"Today is a good day!" Fargo claimed happily, and went to cause more commotion.

[Purg]

The temperature dropped more as the girl grew more panicked. Correlation implies causation - she was in control of the sudden chill, then. He had better try to calm her down, before someone was hurt - he remembered the fight in the Alabaste arena, grimacing as he thought about the possibility of being skewered by a weaponized icicle. Not something he would like to experience, if he could so choose. He would careful not to move too much in front of her - if he seemed too erratic in his actions (something he had actually never been accused of), he would probably be shot first, interrogated later.

"My name is Dom - Dom Anton," he started, speaking slowly and clearly. "It seems we both know the same person. I'm one of his - Stark's - friends, actually, and am looking for him. It's in our best interests if we leave Corthrone - if you're looking for him, you should know that as well. I don't know how many of us are wanted by the paladins now, but I don't think any of us plan on being captured. The only thing stopping us from leaving is the fact that we've been seperated in this annoying city." He sighed, shaking his head as he tried to think of more things he could say to convince her. "You have no reason to trust that what I say is anywhere near the truth - for all you know, I could be a hunter out looking to nab the reward that will no doubt be placed on Stark's head. I suppose I look the part, too," he said, examining his arms, feeling the weight of the sword at his hip. "The only solution I can see is if you and your friend accompany me while we both look for him. Stark can tell you himself that I've done him no harm - and if I'm lying, than you can join him in cutting me down when I try to harm him. I've seen him fight - it wouldn't be difficult for him."

Crossing his arms, both to try and warm himself in the chill, and to feel as though he were doing something, he was beginning to feel pangs of impatience, fully aware that "holy" knights could notice the exchange in the alleyway at any moment. "Well? Are my explanation and terms acceptable?" he asked, anxious to be able to continue his search, with or without their help.

[Crimson_Edge]

The darkness descended into the middle of a forest, only a few miles north of the forest where it had encountered Mior. Its injury was great, but even more than that, the strength of its hunger, and the hopelessness of its powers, forced it to land. Trying his best not to think about his own miserable condition, Masuar focused on the hunger pitting deep in his stomach, and scanned the trees for fruits and nuts. Many years ago, when he had first come to the planet, he had been forced to scavenge the forests for berries. It was somewhat remarkable, how a creature of such power and immeasurable strength had, like all other living creatures, to find its food in this manner. Tree by tree, branch by branch, berry by berry, fruit by fruit. It took him as long to search as it did the next creature; he was just like any other animal here in the forest when he was looking for food, despite all of his strength.

Well, his former strength. The dark flames that had been ablaze on his arm rose in his mind, and the stinging loss of his powers came over him. He recalled civilizations that he had ended; people he had singlehandedly killed; forests, mountains, lakes that he had eviscerated cleanly, without the slightest effort. How he had raised but one arm, and all the dark energy contained in his body had flooded out of that arm and into the land, and razed it simply by moving into and through it. He stared blankly at a tree, his eyes acting as capsules into that past time again. Had all of that been a dream? Or was what he experienced now an illusion?

A large, black beetle crawled up the tree, moving straight through the center of his line of vision, and he realized that the present was not an illusion. Nor was the past, because he remembered it as clearly as though it had happened mere seconds ago. Everything down to the skin on Mior’s face was just as it had always been. From the first moment he remembered being out in space to that last moment with his friends, before his imprisonment, the loneliness finally abating--it was all real; he remembered every second of it.

He had to come now to face the reality that both his past and present were real. That had been who he was, and this was who he was to be. The most powerful being the world had ever seen had been reduced to a mere image of itself, just a shadow of what it had been. Pain wrung his veins and arteries. There was a sting deep inside. And he felt a sudden trickle along his cheek, and he saw a patch of blackness run through his vision. Had he just . . . cried a tear?

“Graaaaan!”

The sound of a growl, and a half whimper, pierced through the forest into the clearing where Masuar stood. Within seconds, a grizzly bear was standing in front of him. The shadow stepped back and let go of his fruit. It had been a long time since he had laid eyes upon a creature like this. But what really made it shocking was that he encountered it now in his reduced state. He could not bend it to his will with the power of his curl; he could not destroy it with a single wave of his hand; he could not simply blow it away with a powerful gust of dark energy.

The bear bounded toward him at top speed, and the shadow jumped back. Claws and teeth came bearing toward him as he jumped again, this time to the side. He waved his remaining arm in front of him, ready to unleash a curl—but he stopped as he remembered how badly the previous curl had gone. If he lost another arm, he would be armless, and he no longer had the power of dark regeneration that he once possessed. He would be permanently without his primary limbs.

“No!” he yelled as he dodged again, the bear’s teeth swiping past his shoulder, and a vicious claw scraping his side. Masuar’s head hit the branch of a low tree, and he slumped awkwardly to the ground. He cringed in pain--although he had experienced a lot of pain over the past few centuries, that pain was nothing like this pain. The throbbing agony that he had harbored deep within his soul and his body and his mind during those long years of solitude could not compare to the simple pain he felt now, in his weakened body. A pulsing zipped through him, as though it were his blood and not his heart that was beating.

He prepared to send his fist flying into the underbelly of the goliath before him, but he froze again as he recalled the failure of his curl. There were other techniques he could use, but they were all based on darkness, and the darkness could consume him now that he was so weak. No, he had to use a human attack. But what? He knew of nothing. What could humans do? The bear threw itself on top of him, bringing its teeth to bear against his cheek, and then his throat. He had to do something, had to fight back. He had no choice. He would have to unleash the darkness.

He groaned and started to yell, “Curl of Inf--“

Just as Masuar was about to finish summoning the curl, the glint of metal floated in front of his vision. “A sword!” he gasped, reaching out his hand and grabbing the metal by the edge. Blood spattered the ground as the metal cut into his palm, but he drove the blade straight into the head of the creature as he felt its fangs upon his neck. There was the sound of gushing blood, a groan, a crack, as of bone, and then at the end a thud. The bear froze, its teeth dangerously close to puncturing Masuar’s beating neck veins, and then it flopped over, landing heavily on the ground beside him, one massive paw still resting on his chest.

The shocked Masuar pushed the bear’s arm up and rolled out from underneath, subconsciously acting as his eyes stayed unfailingly on the bear. He was shaken, but then, he noticed the sword. “Huh?” he gasped, looking at the blade he had grasped firmly in his hand. “Did I . . . do this?” he said. He felt a rush of power surge through his body, even circulating through the fabric of his skin; he shivered. And in that moment, as he stood triumphant over the bear, sword in hand, it all came to him.

“My name will be Jack!” he yelled at the top of his voice, the words flying high over the canopy. He swung the sword, which he had now grabbed by its hilt, and cut clean through the air before him.

And so the darkness Masuar was lost forever. And Jack, the one-armed, human swordsman, came to be.