Shu's Quest

[Purg]

Drin faltered, breaking eye contact with his friend. "I... I don't know, Eltiar. The way things are looking, I won't have much time myself. And I've proven in my own life that I can't take care of anyone, hardly even myself... How many times did you have to remind me to eat or drink, when otherwise I would have let my body waste away?" He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. "... But I'll do what I can. I'm not sure Stark will be happy to see me, or if Yuki even remembers who I am - I'll keep them out of whatever trouble I can. At least I don't have to worry about my own children," he said, turning back to watch the boys deeply involved in a ritual circle. "Anything is preferable to either of them following my life."

"... It used to be something I could consider fun, working like this. Something changed, though... It doesn't matter anymore. We had best part ways here, friend. I strongly doubt any eyes will remember seeing us here." He held his hand out, to shake, for what would likely be the last time. "It's... been an honor to work with you, my friend," he said with a nod, his emotions numbed from the severity of this meeting. "Perhaps we'll meet again. But if not..." He shook his head. "What am I saying? Foolish old man. I imagine I'll see you again, here before too long."

With that, all of his things gathered, a new responsibility on his shoulders, Drin left the sacred structure, unsure of where his trail led next. To Yuki, or to Stark, he supposed - whichever was closer.

~-~

Dom rose quietly, sliding through the door to his room and into the lobby. Yuki sat by herself, which was shocking, to say the least, although she looked sufficiently upset by it herself. He couldn't see any of the others nearby - if Stark wasn't around, then it was possible that he was the reason for her distress. He sat on a bench across from her, thinking for a moment before opening his mouth.

"You may have none of the familiarity with me as you do with Stark. However, we find ourselves to be traveling companions at the moment. If there was some way I could help alleviate your concerns, I would be happy to help."

It was clear to him now that, despite being raised with sisters, he had never learned how to properly speak to girls.

[rn7]

"Well, I dunno about you guys," Some guy named Fargo quipped. "But I'm starving! I'm going to fill up my insides with the tastiest, fattiest grub here! Oh, boy, do I hope they serve mystery-meat-on-a-stick here!"

Fargo pranced off merrily and recklessly, nearly crashing into several people who thought it might be cool to hold a tower of expensive, fragile pottery just this day. Fortunately for Fargo, no major incidents occurred on his walk through the city. Everything was so nifty and neato in this town. It was filled with religious art and displays, most of which depicted some grand battle that occurred in the past. In fact, if Fargo ran fast enough, the pictures seemed to animate, like flipping through the pages of a flip book with drawings in the corner. It was quite gruesome for something so public-- detailed depictions of festering, bleeding intestines and gleaming, shining swords were proudly displayed all about. Literally! Every house had a drawing of some sort. Fargo suspected it might be a pastime or tradition. Who knew what the Keeparchists did in their spare time. Maybe bad artists were killed on the spot, or deported to Highrise.

Fargo kept running about the place, until a random puddle in the area made him slip and fall, not to mention getting his socks wet. Fargo yelled dramatically at the sky to demonstrate his frustration-- after all, these were his last clean pair of socks. While he looked up at the sky to scream, he was met with a watery smack to the face.

"Rain? Rain! Ahh, shucks! And I left the tarp back in the wagon too, oh man, oh man, this sucks!" Fargo cowering under his arms to shield himself from the quite sudden rainfall. He huddled under the roof of the nearest house, staring out at the drenching torrent in front of him. Yep, it was no fluke. This one was gonna last a while. Fargo sighed and shrugged, then began moving between the roof covers to find his next destination. A pungent smell attracted him, and he followed it. It might not be mystery meat on a stick, but right now he'd take just about anything warm and moderately delicious.

And there in front of him, the grand display made itself apparent. Keeparch's KeepEating, home of the world-famous Archsandwich. For a world-famous burger, it really made an effort to be completely unknown outside of Keeparch. Fargo figured he could do worse, and so just went inside.

The inside was bustling and animated, full of people eating odd-shaped sandwiches and odd-shaped fried potatoes. The door jingled when Fargo opened it up, and immediately everyone fell silent and directed a hard stare at the door. Fargo stood there frozen for a bit, as if he were caught doing something illegal. For a full minute, the place was quiet, the people were staring, and it was all too eerie. But just as suddenly and abruptly as they had stopped, the people inside continued on with their business. Fargo sighed in relief, closed the door, and walked up to the counter.

"Oy, what can I get ya?"

"Hey there!" Fargo extended his hand out for a high five, but was left hanging. Fargo grinned nervously and scratched his head. "Ha, ha... eh."

"Order?" It was a firm response, cold and direct, but also bordering on annoyance.

"Oh, just get me one of them Archsandwichs, and an Archshake, whatever that is."

"Right." The cashier turned to the people in the kitchen and yelled out some orders. The kitchen staff replied in unison, and seconds later the area was filled with the sounds of sizzling and fire. The cashier got out some fruits and a variety of strange ingredients and began mixing up Fargo's shake. A few minutes later, a tall cup slid down the smooth countertop, stopping perfectly in front of Fargo.

"Yer shake." The cashier noted, in case it wasn't immediately obvious.

"Thanks." Fargo sipped the shake through a straw. It was surprisingly good, full of flavors Fargo hadn't even had the pleasure of tasting before. "Good stuff!"

The cashier merely grumbled in response.

"So hey, if you don't mind terribly if I ask, what was with that silence treatment back there? I thought my fly was down or something! Wait, is it down? Lemme check." Fargo looked down at his crotch and found that indeed, his fly was undone. Quickly, he zipped it back up. "Haha, silly me."

"Don't think nothing of it, stranger. People round these parts don't take likings to foreigners."

"Why's that?" Fargo asked innocently. Immediately the entire restaurant hushed up again and stared at Fargo. A nervous trickle of sweat ran down Fargo's back.

"No good's come of it, that's why." The cashier broke the silence. He talked with a overbearing sense of malice and hatred. "Ever since that damn mage walked into town, things ain't never been good. It all started with that damn mage. Then foreigners spilling into the city like some broke toilet, walking all over our library with their filthy hands."

A burger slid down the table and stopped in front of Fargo. Fargo wrapped it, only to see that the sandwich inside was arch shaped. No surprise there, but was it really necessary? Not that he'd tell these guys, they might lynch him for that. Fargo took a bite out of it. It wasn't nearly as good as mystery-meat-on-a-stick, but it was adequate enough.

"Shhounds pree-etty baad." Fargo managed to speak through his food filled mouth. The loud noises of his eating filled the area.

"Taint that bad no more. Library's secure now. Only real Keeparchists can get their hands on our knowledge. But foreigners still waltz in, trying to get their grubby, oily mitts on our knowledge. And we don't take a liking to that."

"Well, you don't haveta worry about me! The biggest thing I've read is the funnies in the local paper!"

"So long that it stays that way, you're welcome to visit. Just don't get too comfortable." The cashier turned around and began to clean a glass cup. Oddly enough, it looked as if it was already clean, as clear and crisp as a gentle stream.

Fargo munched slowly on his sandwich, the bad vibes in the room making him slightly uneasy. How absolutely weird this place was.

Edited October 31, 2010 by rn7

[SuperFush]

Eltiar stood in silence as he watched his friend leave. Well, it isn't as though I expected any different. Everything had unraveled in such a short time that Eltiar was almost surprised every time things went smoothly. He had half expected Remus to refuse to help him. Silly of him to think that -- Remus had always been his staunchest and most powerful ally in the Organization. But very few things had gone well for him recently. Bright light still hurt his eyes, even after they were clandestinely healed. Mr. Light was able to get some modicum of a final revenge in the end, it seemed.

Another problem. Mr. Light's proteges, Fuego and Klints, would likely be on the trail of whoever killed their mentor. Since their mentor was killed by the other mentor, they'd certainly be enraged. Eltiar was relatively certain that he could handle them without hurting either seriously, but it would take concentration and a great deal of energy. If he was attacked by a more senior member of the organization at that time...then there would be trouble.

There was something else that had to be taken care of first, though. He saw the familiar figure walking through the crowds by the great library. No doubt he wouldn't be happy, but perhaps it was time for Eltiar to finally offer him the truth.

"Hello, Stark."

~~

Yuki was pouting. There really wasn't any other way to put it. Even after they'd been so happy to see each other again, and had spent so much time together and talked and bonded all throughout the trip here, Stark just up and left with barely a word! It wasn't fair! People were always just up and leaving her. She was tired of it. She looked up when that Dom guy who had helped her find Stark sat down on the other side of the table.

He wasn't much of a smooth talker, that was for sure. But, still, he seemed like an okay guy.

"I just wish he didn't leave me already, y'know? I hadn't seen him for years..."

[mr_e_s]

Stark

He'd been sitting on the steps, lost in his own petty worries for a minute now. Something about Eltiar always made him feel like a child worried his father was disappointed with him. Funny thing, even if he met his real father these days, he probably wouldn't give a damn what that deadbeat thought of him, even if he were still alive. Stark didn't know either way, though. Didn't really care. This whole line of thought was his way of distracting himself from going in there for as long as he could. Which was stupid. He didn't even know if Eltiar was in there, and if he was, Stark had come all this way just to see him, to help him.

Stark saw a familiar face leaving the library. Not Eltiar's Another man from that same group, though. The machinist, Drin. Had he known where Eltiar was this whole time? Had he been keeping things from Stark? It wasn't worth getting angry over now though. Especially after that outburst in Corthrone. Oh Lightkratos. Had he told Eltiar about that? This just wouldn't be worth it. Stark got up and started to walkaway, back to the inn. He'd bring back Yuki with him, then he'd have an excuse not to ask the hard questions and give the harder answers. He didn't make it very far though, before Eltiar had called out to him, haling him in place.

"Hello, Stark." Such innocuous words. He wanted to run. It felt like so much had changed since the last time the two of them had spoken, outside of Oakheim. Were they even the same two people? As Stark turned around, he saw Eltiar looked very much the same. Maybe it was just Stark then. Maybe all these revelations and death and pursuit had broken him somehow. Or maybe he'd barely slept in the last two days and he was letting it get to him. He couldn't really tell right now.

He tried to smile, but couldn't really force it. after a few seconds of halfhearted attempts at a grin he gave up. "Hello, Eltiar." All that time on those steps and he never really put any thought into what he should say to his friend. Stark had never been one for words, but he wasn't easily tongue-tied, either. This was a little foreign to him. He just mustered up what he could for now. "I think.... Could we sit down somewhere and talk?"

[Purg]

"I haven't known Stark for nearly as long as you have. In fact, I can honestly tell you that it's been less than a week. But he's demonstrated to be a man of conviction and strength, both physical and mental. He wouldn't leave alone without a terribly important reason, after everything that happened in Corthrone. All we can do is wait - I imagine trying to find him would only result in unnecessary tension, both between us, and in whatever task he finds himself doing." He sighed. He was speaking logically, but the words didn't feel right. Perhaps it was Yuki's age that was making this conversation feel so... unnatural. He would have to push past the feelings - this wasn't something he could halfway do.

"This city is notably safer, so long as we keep our mouths shut regarding the arch. I can't think of anything that could bring harm to a man like him, within these walls. He'll return, and you can ask him about his business, if you wish. For now, though, there is nothing to be done about it. If you wish to better distract yourself, there are a great many things to see here, whether you believe in the religion or not - a walk, even in the rain, would likely do some good."

[SuperFush]

Eltiar looked as his old friend gravely for a moment. He'd...aged. Eltiar hadn't noticed before, but he seemed much more weary than he once did. Perhaps that energetic sword of justice was gone forever. One could only pray not. The world needed men like Stark, even if he didn't necessarily agree.

"I think...that we should. It seems that I've kept my secrets for far too long. I...hope you can forgive me."

~~

Yuki sat in sullen silence. Everything Dom said made a lot of sense, but Yuki didn't want to see sense right then. She wanted someone to vent to, to just lend a sympathetic ear until she had talked herself out.

"...Fine. I don't wanna go alone, though."

[rn7]

The restaurant returned to its initial level of activity. The people inside had apparently gotten used to the fact that a dirty customer was patronizing at their favorite burgerhouse. Maybe Fargo had that innate ability to convince people that he really was just an ordinary, swell guy. Kinda like that dude he met back when he was leaving Corthrone, that guy that Fargo happened to already forgot the name of. Well, in the occasion that he'd need to be daringly rescued, he'd probably remember the guy's name then.

Same thing happened here. The cashier (who Fargo already forgot the name of) was warming up to the wind user, showing a genuine interest on Fargo's recollections of the world outside the Land of Arch. The other patrons stopped giving icy stares at Fargo, which was probably in their best interests any way, being that their eyeballs were just about to pop out of their sockets. (Worth it if you can master the Archstare)

In the meanwhile, Fargo ordered up another Archshake. It was quickly becoming a high competitor for not only his favorite drinks of all time, but also his favorite food consumable of all time. Almost. Mystery-meat was still up there, hanging upon its pedestal and throne, waving its scepter at the plebeians congregating below him. Unbeknownst to him, the invisionary revolutionist Archshake was chiseling away at that very pedestal. It wasn't quite clear what would happen should that pedestal fall. Maybe every food and beverage will start tasting the same to him.

A jingle of the door alerted the people inside of the visitor outside. A large man in a gray raincoat walked in, with face completely covered by a wide-brim hat. Rainwater licked the edges of his hat and coat, and washed themselves off onto the restaurants floor. The man unbuttoned his coat, revealing a shining, golden badge on his plaid shirt. The cold stares of the restaurant goers instantly faded back into whatever they were doing before, but the silence remained. Fargo sipped his shake quietly as the man made his way to the counter. He sat on the stool next to Fargo, then ordered the Archshake. A second after touching his lips to the straw, the man spat out the shake, and threw the entire cup onto the wall, splattering it and making a tremendous mess.

"Don't you Archies serve anythin' that ain't scooped up from a sewer gutter? Friggin' embarrassment. No wonder this glorified toilet stop ain't never seen business out of this trash heap of a city. Hey, how's scraping off the feces of pigeons doing for ya? If it weren't for them, I'd bet you'd run out of meat to put on your burgers. Lemme guess, those buns were formed lovingly by from the hole in your behind, right?" The man gave an endless string of insults and jabs, directed toward the cashier but meant for every single person in the restaurant and the city. The cashier didn't respond, opting instead to clean up the mess from the thrown shake.

"Yea, I knew you spineless sidewalk lickers wouldn't give a hoot. Bet you'd say thank you, then go home to your mother and cry into your worn little blankets. But I ain't here to talk about how unbelievably stupid you are, cuz that would take an entire year to get through my first list. I'm looking for someone.. hey! Hey, you listening, punk?" The man burst into a spontaneous, unprovoked fit of rage, drawing a large sword from under his cloak and jabbing it at the cleaning cashier. The sword tip ripped through the cashier's apron and shirt, just under the man's left armpit, and pinned the cashier to the wall.

"What do you want?" The cashier said, in a calm, reserved tone, but with a small hint of hatred and disgust.

"I'm looking for a Fargo. Fargo Crapcillion." The man bellowed out to the restaurant, to make sure everyone knew. Fargo almost choked, and turned away to avoid the suspicions of the coated man.

"Don't know him."

"Don't ya? DON'T YA?" The man burst into a rage again, this time slicing part of the countertop away. Despite all this, the cashier remained calm, as if it were a common occurrence.

"No. Never knew him. Not now. Not ever." Slow, calm words, like those of a teacher to a child throwing a tantrum.

"F....Fine. But don't think this is over. Cuz if I find out if you've been keeping this Fargo guy from me, you're gonna wish you hadn't. Cuz I'm gonna bring the whole thing down on ya, and ain't none of ya getting outta here with body parts that work. I'll be seeing ya." The coated man got up and walked out, threw aside a passing waitress, and broke one of the windows to get outside. The cold weather started seeping down into the restaurant, a quaint closer to the destruction wrought by just this one man.

Fargo looked around at the restaurant. Despondent, luckless faces were everywhere. Someone helped up the waitress, whose platter full of glasses had fell, spilled, and shattered. Someone in the back quickly ran forward sweeping up the broken materials, while another put up a black cover to shield the inside from the rain.

"Foreigners. Damn foreigners." The cashier somberly cleaned up the rest of the mess.

"Um.. thanks for covering for me. I'm... I'm sorry that happened all because of me." Fargo offered to help the cashier.

"No, no. It's not like that. I ain't interested in saving an outsiders skin. But we never tell the Sheriff. We'd give him a bounty, in hopes he'd leave us along. All it does is make him come back here more often, make more trouble. Ain't no trusting that guy."

"Well," Fargo plainly asked. "Why don;t you just off him?"

"No way, no how. He's protected. Like all that filth the mage brought in. Ain't nothing good. Ain't nothing good at all."

Fargo looked at the black cover, flapping relentlessly against the rainy wind, then back at the countertop, split up in a straight line, then at the waitress, brushing off glass shards off her uniform. As he reached the end of his shake, he realized these people weren't quite all that weird after all.

They've got problems, he's got problems, we've all got problems. Fargo pushed a stack of dollars over to the cashier.

"Another shake, please. Keep the change."

[Purg]

"Ah..." He hadn't expected that - or rather, he hadn't expected her to take to the idea at all. He was surprised he had even suggested it - as interesting a city as it was, he had a great distaste for the senseless following of the religion, and the unnecessary hatred of his own hometown, based on a series of events that made no logical sense. He was glad his family had never been particularly patriotic, or else he would likely never have found himself here - and here was where he needed to be, to help the others. He supposed a sentiment like that made friendship official, then. He wondered if they thought the same.

"Very well. If you'd like to grab anything from your room, feel free. I'll wait for you outside."

He stepped out the door into the rain. Enough to keep people inside, but not enough to send those outside rushing back in. He thought of grabbing his cloak, but decided against it - a little water never hurt anyone, after all, and, though the wind had a certain chill to it, the walk would likely remain pleasant enough, so long as the rain didn't increase.

All things considered, he supposed he could turn this into a good day.

[mr_e_s]

Stark

An old cafe, not as old as the arch, but the state of it wouldn't have surprise him if it had been called the New Arch cafe at some point early in it's existence. Actually, they weren't even that close to the arch. It just looked more decrepit then it should have, given the generally pristine nature of a town so full of pride. Stark wondered, if not their appearance, what did this place take pride in? It certainly wasn't their coffee. Stark told Eltiar as much,and a little bit more, babbling. He had a lot to say, bu the couldn't seem to do mroe then make smalltalk.

He was furious with himself, disappointed wwith his hero, and disgusted with this coffee. Why on earth was this place so full? He passed on that thought to Eltiar, or he meant to, but it came out mroe like "Who are you? Have you been a member of this secret evil organization this whole time? What about Yuki? Do you even care? Is she just your cover? What have you been doing all these years? Killing people? Why... Just why?" Huh. Those questions came out easier then he'd thought they would. Unintentionally even. The coffee tasted better, too.

[rn7]

Perched up on the windowsill, he waited for his target. It was one of the more comfortable windows he sat in. It opened outward, swiveling on its sides, then locked into place a few degrees from the edge, so that the wind wouldn't blow it back closed again. He figured it wasn't much of an issue. What was an issue was the rain. It was letting up a bit, which was nice, but the roof cover above the window had holes in it, forcing him to sit half-inside and half-outside. He hoped this wouldn't cause him to miss who he was waiting for.

The sound of rain drew back, as if to signal that something big was passing through. A calm before the storm, or maybe even after. A dull thumping sound approached, it slowly becoming clearer and louder as time passed. He peered out the window just enough so that he could see the passerby, but not be identified himself.

There it was. Clad in the same manner that was encountered before. A brute, intimidating presence, lacking in all subtlety. To grab that man's attention, he built up spiddle in his mouth, and spat a vat of mucus down in front of the man's foot. The man turned his head toward the source, and clasped the handle of his giant sword, clattering it about and making full well what his intentions were.

"Heard you were the Sheriff! Well, that's too bad, it really is."

"Oh? And why is that?" The Sheriff grumbled in response, clearly unamused.

"There's a new deputy in town, and he doesn't really like how you go about doing your business here!"

The Sheriff wasn't in a humorous mood, not in the slightest. He drew his sword and began charging towards the door of the house.

"Now, now, Sheriff. You don't hafta be like that! You see, Sheriff, this deputy knows where Fargo Capcillion is!"

The Sheriff immediately lowered weapon and demanded some information."You know where Crapcillion is? Tell me immediately, and I will not kill you now!"

"Yea, yea! I know where he is! Right.... over.... there!" Fargo pointed in some random direction then stepped out of the windowsill and swiped his arms together, releasing a spinning packet of wind. The wind projectile smacked into a rope suspending a pack of boxes, tearing the first few layers of string. Fargo jumped from the windowsill to the hanging pack of boxes, stomped heavily down on the boxes, then leapt away, to a building on the other side. The giant pack of boxes went soaring down to the ground, and crashed violently.

"GRAAAAAAAAAAH!!" An agonizing scream rung out through the area. When the rubble and dust had cleared, the Sheriff stood there with the debris piled all over his left foot, shattering all the bones.

Huh. Fargo had hoped that would have killed the Sheriff in just one shot, but apparently the guy was good at dodging, even when surprised.

"You're DEAD!" The Sheriff bellowed like an awakened giant. With his giant sword, the Sheriff bashed away all the broken bits of wood and supplies that were on his foot, and began stalking toward Fargo.

"Sorry, but you'll have to catch me first!" Fargo taunted the Sheriff while making his way across windowsills and rooftops.

The Sheriff stumbled behind, keeping the pace despite a broken left foot. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to provoke the guy after all. Well, too late to consider that alternative. Fargo rounded a corner, and then dropped to the ground, hiding behind a pillar of pottery. The Sheriff followed, his movements dictated far in advance from the amount of noise he made just walking around. As soon as the Sheriff approached the corner, Fargo slashed at a hanging tarp, making it land on the Sheriff, then quickly pushed over the pillar of pots. The lower levels crashed and burst into sharp shards, while the very top pot flew up, over, and onto the Sheriff's head, becoming stuck. Fargo then made a sheet of slippery wind on the ground. Carefully, he walked up to the Sheriff, and knocked on his potted head a few times. A muffled scream of rage leaked out from the pot, and in the next moment, the Sheriff had swung his sword down. But with the slippery ground, and with no ability to see and a dulled sense of hearing, the Sheriff stumbled and fell into the bed of pottery shards.

"GRAAAAAAAAAH!!" The Sheriff yelped in pain again. Fargo didn't want the moment to go to waste. Fargo grabbed the Sheriff's sword, and brought it down on the Sheriff's head. The sword was much too big and heavy for Fargo to wield, and so his striking motion was less of a slashing and more like swinging the mallet in a carnival game. Fargo bashed the pot, shattering it, and causing a wave of pain to drive through the Sheriff all the way from his head to the tip of his toes. Fargo imagined the sound of a bell ringing as the Sheriff's toes twitched in pain.

It was too early to celebrate, however. The Sheriff got up despite all the damage, and swung violently at Fargo. The slippery wind sheet and grievous wounds made it so that the Sheriff missed, but Fargo wasn't too keen on testing the effectiveness of each a second time. He made off and ran, and the Sheriff pursued. Fargo swung past doors and windows, through alleyways and streets. Being relatively new to the place, he didn't quite know where he was going. It was going good so far, as least until he ran into a dead end. Fargo turned around and attempted to find an outlet, but it was already too late. The giant Sheriff stood there, anger awash over his face, blocking every way out. Fargo had to fight. Or did he?

"It's done now, you spineless, slippery snake. You can't possibly hope to defeat me, you scrawny, cowardly brat. I've dug up skeletons with more meat than you. I ain't gonna bury your bones, but I am gonna make you into bones. Tell me where Crapcillion is, and I slice your head off. Don't, and I slice your head off slowly, so you can tell me where Fargo is while you eventually drown in your own blood."

"Never. Never! NEVER!!!" Fargo was needlessly dramatic, and slashed out packets of wind in two directions. The wind packets nicked off a restraint holding two shafts in place. The loose shafts swung violently, and smacked the Sheriff in the face, knocking him over. Then the shafts deposited the contents of the containers they were connected to. A large pile of grains seeped down and poured onto the Sheriff, who desperately tried to get out, spitting the grains out of his mouth in an attempt to keep breathing. It was futile. The Sheriff had been beaten by a wholesome part of a good breakfast.

Fargo brushed the grain off of the Sheriff's eyes, so the man could see. Fargo kneeled down over the Sheriff's face, staring into his eyes. The Sheriff's breaths were heavy and labored, the weight of the grain pushing down on his chest and slowly crushing it. Fargo put his hands around the Sheriff's neck, as if he were choking him, but it was a loose grip, barely touching skin. Fargo's bucklers began to glow with a green energy, and the grains around him rustled and moved. Larger and larger, until eventually his entire vision was basked in green.

"Okay," Fargo said. "I'll tell you where Fargo is. Right.... over.... here!"

Fargo let go of the energy he was gathering, sending a slice of wind down into the man's neck. A loud clacking sound, like that of a stapler punching through multiple sheets of paper, was heard. A few moments later, a cleanly severed head rolled down the pile of grain, settling at the bottom before being covered up. Fargo walked away, leaving the pile of grains to slowly dye a nice, deep red.

[SuperFush]

"I'm sorry that the only part of the organization you've seen so far has been...less than pleasant, but you must understand. The organization it has fallen in recent days, but it wasn't ever what I would call "evil". Nor is it at all monolithic. At any time, two members of the organization might be working completely at odds with each other. Many of the members, myself included, dedicated themselves to protection of the people. That was...how I came to meet you." Eltiar hesitated a moment, then continued. "Truth be told, I had hoped to initiate you into their ranks as well. Your retirement forestalled that plan, though I had hoped you would eventually recover your will. As for Yuki..." Eltiar turned his eyes away. "She is genuinely my daughter, and I genuinely love her. I...my greatest regret, perhaps, was not being there for her as much as I should have. For you, as well."

Eltiar rubbed his face and took a slow look at Stark. It wasn't just Stark that looked tired. Eltiar, to, was more weary than he had felt...he'd never felt this weary before.

"There are...elements in the organization that have subverted it. Further and further it has drifted from the ideals I once held and still do hold dear. I do not know who it is, though I have suspicions. And I'm afraid that I, as well as likely you, know why Oakheim was destroyed by the Prophet.The phylactery...that is to say, the strange cube...that is the key to this mystery. Keep it with you at all times."

~~

Yuki followed Dom outside, mouth still twisted in a pout. She glared at the sky and pulled her cloak around herself.

"Well? You seem to know this place. Where are we supposed to go?"

[Purg]

Even as she wrapped herself even more heavily into her cloak, the rain appeared to be letting up, although the sky was still shrouded in haze and clouds. He shook his head, droplets falling to the ground around him as he thought. "I've never been there myself, but I suppose we could start with the arch itself. Everything else worth seeing would be around it anyways, and if there is some holiness in this place, it's almost certain to be found there." He shrugged. "If not, the exercise should be good enough. Perhaps the weather will turn around." Thunder rumbled overhead. "... Perhaps not." He considered getting his cloak a second time, but before he could turn to the entrance, he had already taken a few steps, before turning back to Yuki.

"Shall we?"

~-~

The rain had stopped, but it couldn't shake his doubt and sadness that had taken hold of him. Drin had taken a seat across from the great arch, watching the robed figures as they did their business, glad he didn't recognize any of them. It had come to this - the end of his life was drawing close, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. That was the condition of being mortal, but he hadn't thought it would happen like this - it just seemed so sudden. Where had the time gone? He could still remember days of heroics and happiness, as distant as they had been. He... no, he had to snap out of it. Eltiar... Eltiar had trusted him to watch over his daughter, and his... son, that was how he felt about Stark. He wouldn't fail his friend - he couldn't.

A man sat beside him on his left, in robes, unlike those of the followers of the arch. There was something familiar about him - Drin wasn't sure what, until he removed his hood, revealing a scarred face, and as he turned, Drin saw that his left eye was sewn shut. Prophet was grinning, madness shining in his expression and his one eye. "Hello, Tinker. It's been some time."

Drin frowned immediately, standing, not wishing to be in the same city with the man next to him, let alone sitting on the same bench. "Prophet. You look as mad as ever."

"Even madder, I hear from others. Not that you've ever cared for it." He stood as well, always within a few feet of Drin, no matter where he tried to go. "This is your city, isn't it? Where your family is."

"I don't see how that matters," he said quickly, regretting it as his reaction only served to reveal the truth.

"Ah, good. I had been curious, you see. I hear you have children, too, a pair of boys." His grin widened, always increasing, the look on his face ever crazier. "I do love kids, you know. As do my minions. Perhaps we could arrange a meeting?" He laughed - Drin felt ill, but he could feel something that hadn't been awakened inside of him in a long, long while. Without thinking, he had pulled his sword, stepped forward, swung at the man who had reminded him how to ignite his passion, his fury, something that had been dormant for decades.

The blow connected, the robe sliced open. No blood seeped from the wound, though - through the torn cloth, Drin saw something that made him want to retch. Prophet... He wasn't even human, was he? The madman laughed, tearing a wider hole exposing his chest. Bones, veins - there was nothing covering them, they simply sat exposed to the air now that the robe was ripped. His cackling continued as the exposed heart pumped slowly.

"Weren't expecting that, were you, Tinker? Perhaps you didn't know - the only man who can control monsters is one who has become one. It was a powerful doctor that stitched me together, one that insured that I would remain in one piece, despite my unique condition." He stepped forward. "You simply are too fun. Alas, I just came here to remind you of your place, although it seems you've made up your mind, to attack so passionately." He began walking away. "I imagine Internal Affairs will be after you, as soon as they've dealt with your friend Eisig. I hope the hell you're pushed into won't be too far from mine - it's so fun to taunt you, you know."

Drin blocked out the abomination's words, sheathing his blade and trying to calm himself. Now he certainly couldn't afford to fail his friend.

[rn7]

Fargo saw Dom all standing there in the distance, and figured he would go to meet him. He already had his fill of food and drink, so it was just about the right time to unwind and let the others do the thinking. Fargo dashed up to the two figures in front of him, leapt up into the air, then flung his arms over the two's shoulders. Fargo was light enough so that they wouldn't fall over, but they did stumble a bit from the flying windman suddenly lazing about on their shoulders.

"Hey guy, and uh, gal! Hope I'm not interrupting something, haha! Where ya headed, huh? Dom? New chick?" Fargo sloshed his head side to side while addressing the two of them, goofy grin plastered on his face. Fargo looked down at his hand and noticed it was soaking wet. Fargo flicked off the water into the two's face."Whoops, sorry if I got you guys wet! It's no fun dodging raindrops any way!"

Fargo slumped down like the dead body, arms still over the shoulders of the two. He made vrooming sounds while dragging his feet along the floor.

"Go, go, go! Zoom, zoom, get me outta here! Fargo away! Yeaaaa..." Fargo nudged the two forward, urging them to go and carry him along with them.

[mr_e_s]

Stark

He subconsciously felt at his right pocket, where he'd been keeping the thing. He'd almost forgotten it was there. Hard to believe considering it poked at him at the most inopportune times. Wait, so this thing was connected to this organization somehow? If anything that made Stark not want it at all. He was about to quickly hand it off to Eltiar. Tell him that it was his problem now, that he could deal with whatever that thing was. Stark really didn't want any of it, after all. Something else caught him off-guard first. The mention of Yuki.

Stark was such a selfish asshole. Looking for Eltiar and leaving Yuki out of it. He wanted to sort out his own shit, and completely disregarded the fact that she might want to see her father. Now that he found Eltiar he wouldn't have to hold onto this stuff. He could ask anytime. Truth be told, he was happy to havean excuse to put off the hard questions a little longer. "Yuki! I almost forgot! She's here! I ran into her in Corthrone, She was looking for you. Just... wait a second, I'll get her!" Stark got up and started jogging off towards the hotel which was just a few blocks away. He thought enough to turn around and call out "You're not going to disappear on me again are you?" Before he went out of sight.

[SuperFush]

"...No, I suppose I won't." Eltiar remained where he sat. There wasn't a lot of time he had left. And still so much he had hoped to say...of course, it was all his fault for not saying it sooner. Even so, they deserved to be told the truth, after so long. And furthermore...Yuki, here? That was not something he had foreseen. Perhaps it would be for the best, though, if he could tie all his loose ends at once.

~~

"The arch, huh." The giant monument was visible from anywhere in the city, it's silhouette always looming over every other building. "I guess. You know the way, right?"

[Purg]

"All roads in this city lead to the arch," he said calmly, pulling Fargo off his shoulder. He had no issue with the younger man - if he wanted to join them on their walk, that was certainly fine by him, but he wasn't quite sure that he needed to be carried for it. "You just have to make your way to the center."

The stones were slick from the rain, but the streets were clear, of both other people and carts making their way through the city. Now that the torrent had stopped, it really was pleasant weather, despite the gray skies. It wouldn't be long, though, until mist began to rise from the cobblestone, giving the foreign city an ethereal feel - perhaps that would serve to make their walk a bit more interesting, though. All truths be told, he rather enjoyed the dreary and damp days over the bright sunlight - he found that, the less people he had to push past to do what he liked, the better he thought his experiences were. With virtually no one in between the now-trio on their way to the arch, Dom could honestly say he was enjoying himself. A shadow of a smile was the only sign of it, the only feature out of place.

[Android]

Darrain walked out of the shop grumbling. One decent bowstring and some arrows had cost him the rest of his savings. His equipment had been with everything else that had been confiscated when his owner’s business flopped, so he had to start gathering everything from scratch. These would be a start.

Some group nearby was causing a commotion. He looked over and saw Dom, Fargo, and Yuki walking by. Fargo was piss drunk and leaning on the others for support. Darrian grinned and threw his new purchases in his bag; this would be interesting.

“Hey, what are you guys up to? I was just resupplying, myself.”

[SuperFush]

"Eh? Darrian!" Yuki waved over to the boy. After traveling with him for a while, she'd gotten to know him a bit better and realized that maybe, just maybe, she was being a little unfair with him back in Corthrone. She sure as hell wasn't going to admit that to him, though.

"Dom's showing me and Fargo around the city. I guess he knows the place pretty well. Are you coming along? Great!" She took her cloak off and shoved it into his arms. "Here, carry this for me, thanks. Alright, Dom, let's go!"

[Purg]

She seemed in a better mood now. Fargo and Darrian both had a way of improving the mood around them, something Dom could appreciate for this task. He considered letting them all walk on their own, but had a feeling that they would only get lost, something that had happened enough in Corthrone. While he may not know the city as well as Yuki implied to the others, he at least knew his way around the main parts - so he simply nodded and set off at a brisk pace, careful not to slip on the wet flagstone. He hoped they would keep up.

As the group wound their way up the hill through the twisting streets, Dom found himself enjoying their company more and more. They were beginning to remind him of his family, almost, always trying to act, to do something. He had found himself in a state of lethargy ever since monsters had become more frequent. If war brewed, he could serve his purpose better, but he had found himself unable to even stun the majority of the beasts stalking the wilderness now.

It was undeniably a good thing, then, that he had stayed with this group.

[rn7]

A fully-robed figure walked out of the Holy Arch and appeared in front of the four or so buddies. The four were standing around talking about.... something. Fargo didn't even really remember any more. Complete stranger guy that he should know the name of but didn't at the moment had just appeared, wanting to join the group, then ice lady said something about showing her around the city. Fargo had been around most of the city already, albeit he didn't take that long a look around, considering he was leaping and running all over the place. Now a strange dude who came from the Holy Arch was waltzing up to them and trying to talk them up. He hoped he hadn't cause any unintended trouble.

The figure thrust off his hood, revealing a bald pate covered with an arch tattoo. The tattoo was lined with runic symbols and an ancient form of language. Fargo didn't bother to make an effort to try to read the thing. The baldy grinned, his mouth forming into a toothy, archy grin and extended his hand out to shake.

"Hello, hello, hello! I am Lorenz Archival, one of many monks studying under the influence of the one and only Holy Arch!" The monk went around forcibly shaking hands with the group, a friendly yet frantic gesture, all the while blabbering about the Holy Arch and just what it was that he did as a monk. "Yes, yes, the holy arch! Such a wonderful structure, is it not! HA HA! As my father once said, that is one big, quote unquote, mother hubbard! Haha, what colorful language he had! Yes, well, the holy arch itself was blessed, and created, oh yes, it was created, not descended from the skies as most would want you to believe, by the Great Archfiend of No Form! Some consider the Archfiend a god, but oh my, that is too much! The archfiend is merely a formless entity, originated before silly things like gender or appearance or even this world existed! The archfiend then created this mighty arch, oh yes the Great One did! And with the blessing of the Arched One, it was made so that the Arch would never fall to anything magical in nature, yes, yes indeed! Hoo hoo hoo hee ha! But then the EVIL archenemy of the Arched One appeared, giving form and order to the world! Oh a war raged and lots of destruction happened, ironic, given that the archenemy Lightformus was an entity of order, but any way! Lightformus made it so that the Holy Arch would wear down by normal, unmagical physical means! The gall of Lightformus! And not only that! The devilish Lightform sealed our great originator in the very arch itself! And so to protect the Arched One, us Keeparchists have banded together to reinforce the structure of the Holy Arch, to keep it sacred, and to prepare for the Great One's re-- oh, my!"

Lorenz had just spotted Yuki in the middle of his long winded speel, and came up close to her, grasp her hand softly and kissed it. "Apologizes milady, for boring you with that story. It is not good to praise oneself needlessly in the presence of a pure spirited maiden such as yourself. Well, trouble yourselves no further, come join us inside the arch! The Arched One returnth this day!"

Lorenz held the door open for Yuki and the rest, beckoning them inside the holiest, most sacred place within the city.

[mr_e_s]

Stark

It was almost perfect, how fast he had found her, she was with Dom, Fargo and...Stark really didn't knwo that kid's name. They seemed to all be getting along. Having fun even. It made Stark really happy for some reason he couldn't pin down. He walked up to the group as non chalantly as possible, giving a brief nod to Dom and a few heys and hellos to the others. He let the conversation go on for a bit. He was about to grab Yuki when...Lorenz Archival came and completely railroaded the goings on prior. Stark really didn't have a lot of patience for this, and at the first possible juncture, he pulled Yuki aside and told her he'd found her father.

Some quick apologies and some light ditching of Dom, the kid and Fargo to the certain madness of Lorenz Archival. Stark dealt with enough crazy on a regular basis, he didn't need more. And he didn't want to keep Eltiar waiting. He could at least make a happy family reunion.

Whistler

Here's the thing about our cell. We got two brains, and two guys doing all the gruntwork. Now, in your average cell, Cog, he'd be a brain, but in our cell, he's a grunt like me. You ain't never seen a grunt do so much cool shit with gears and camshafts though. They don't always work, like one time, this machine he made to dispense bird seed over a large area so all the birds could have plenty of food and you wouldn't need feeders all over the damn place, well, it caught fire and started spitting out burning seeds all over this park he put it up in. Damn near burned the whole city down over some bird feed, he did! So you always had to take his inventions with a grain of salt. Drin was a bit more reliable, cause he liked to test things and test them again and give 'em more tests before he'd even really let anyone else use 'em. Cog figured letting people use them was a test.

So you can understand why I was feeling more then a little uncomfortable in his little horseless cart. Damn thing was louder'n horses, for starters. Slower, too. And god damn did it rattle. I figured Doc Beaker was just driving it wrong, didn't know which lever accelerated and which one dispensed after dinner mints. Whether it was the ride itself or the driver, the trip was an unpleasant one. Not just cause we'd lost contact with Cog and Tinker, cause we really didn't know where we was headed. The doc, he wanted to go to Carthica, and I thought that plan was alright. But Carthica, she's pretty far, and I didn't care to spend more'n a day in that deathtrap, soes I figured I'd suggest we check someplace closer, like Highrise.

Truth be told I was getting pretty motion sick too, and between that and those weird creaking noises that made me sure every time I heard them would be the last time, cause some camshaft or rod or joint or something would burst through the floor and impale me on the wall, as some kind of warning to anyone else stupid enough to get on that thing. I didn't complain about it though. Beaker tied to grow me wings once and that was way worse.

[SuperFush]

Yuki was, to put it lightly, rather taken aback by the priest's...boldness. He was charming, and if he was younger and better looking, she'd have no doubt been charmed. Instead, she was somewhat off-put, and very, very grateful when Stark suddenly appeared to pull her away.

"Phew, thanks. Ugh, that guy gave me the creeps!" She shuddered rather theatrically, then threw her arms around Stark. "Much rather stay out here and see the rest of the city than...eh?" Her blue eyes widened. "M-my father? Here?! How? Why? Ah...let's go, then!"

[Purg]

Dom didn't particularly like the way that this Archrival was looking at Yuki, and, as he thought that Stark probably agreed with him, the man led her away. He had seemed to be restraining excitement about something, but it appeared the business was between them. That left him, Fargo, and Darrian with the strange man within the holy arch. He shook his head at the man's zealotry, careful to not allow himself to show his discontent with the place - it could be a dangerous mistake.

[CATS]

Mior stood in place and waited after his challenge to Eltiar echoed out across the town. Everything around him was silent; a few Keeparchists stared at him from far away before hurrying to distance themselves from him, most did the latter without bothering to do the former. Yet still, no Eltiar. He wasn't sure how long he stood and waited, focused only on the task ahead of him, knowing that his opponent would come. It could have been five minutes, it could have been an hour, Mior neither knew nor cared. He only knew that however long, it had certainly been enough time for Eltiar to show himself, and still he had not done so.

"Hmph. I was told that this man is honorable or brave or some other such thing.... I suppose I was misinformed. How bothersome. Then again, he was also supposed to be wise, and he's done something to draw my attention, so I suppose the things I've heard about him are nothing more than trumped-up nonsense," Mior mused.

It didn't take much longer to find Eltiar on his own. With his patience worn down to nearly nothing, Mior began to act more aggressively in order to acquire the information he desired, threatening to use his powers against the Holy Arch itself if someone did not bring a certain ice mage for him to use them upon instead. The Keeparchists complied all too willingly, ready to do almost anything to get this dangerous and unclean man out of their holy city, and almost immediately Mior received word that his man was sitting at one of the city's more popular cafes.

Mior entered the cafe and took a seat across from Eltiar as everyone else in the establishment fled. There was no one else present. Mior had been told that Eltiar was speaking with a younger man, but the man must have left.

"Hello, Eltiar. No doubt you understand who I am, why I am here, and what I am about to do. I will make the situation quite clear to you: You have hindered the cause to which you were once dedicated, betrayed your allies, caused quite a disruption in this town's business simply by coming here, forced me to waste my own personal time hunting you down, and made a general nuisance of yourself. I am going to give you what your actions have earned.

"I ask only that you do not resist. Consider: Your death is inevitable. You may be able to hold me back for a short while, but however considerable your abilities may be, ultimately they will not save you. Even supposing that you could deal with me, that would only postpone your death, rather than prevent it; the organization would hunt you all the more relentlessly for killing me. I repeat, your death is inevitable. Now, if you do resist, and your powers are what I've been told, this town will sustain significant damage in the ensuing battle. Innocent bystanders could easily be injured or killed and I daresay that enough people have died because of you, not to mention that you've already wasted more than enough of my own time. If you wish to cling to whatever dignity you might have left, then do not allow your actions to cause any further harm, go peacefully; however, if you wish to be remembered as a coward who forced destruction onto this city and its residents, then feel free to make a scene. The choice is yours. Between you and me, I do not think it is a particularly difficult one," Mior said.

[rn7]

"Noooooo!" screeched Lorenz in a high-pitched, girly wail as the young ice maiden was wrest from his hands. How close he had been to her, to the final objective, the sacrifice. For the Holy Archfiend required a medium of which to reincarnate, or rather, simply a form to assume as it exited the gate. Now that she was gone, all hope was lost. The archfiend was to sleep for another seven hundred, maybe even a thousand--

WAIT! Wait, wait wait, wait, wait wait wait wait wait wait wait! Lorenz spotted it, a spare strand of hair that must have fell off during the encounter. Lorenz pounced on the little hair like a tiger upon fresh prey, cupping the little precious thing in his hand. He chuckled and snorted gleefully, like an obsessed collector having just received his new action figurine in the mail.

"Well, well, well! Come on in, come on, come on! The arched one's return begins! A feast to this spectacular occasion!" Lorenz said, in a much too excited manner, then ran inside the structure flailing his arms like flags in a tornado.

"Wow, that guy's pretty into his stuff! Seems trustworthy to me! Let's go stuff our faces!" Fargo happily followed the cultist inside.

The Holy Arch chapel was actually built completely around the arch. It was designed to reinforce the place and ensure that it would never fall to old age and simple erosion. The expanse of the chapel was huge, wrapping around the already massive arch and having stairs and walkways connecting paths. It was just as easy to get lost here as it was in the Arch Library, though here, if you found a window, you might be okay with an escape. Unlike the Arch itself, the chapel was completely physical in nature. So, while it was durable physically, magic was quite the issue for it. Or would be, if the opportunity ever presented itself.

"Lorenz! Why have you brought these outsiders here?" A wizened old man with a gray beard extending down to his waist questioned the gleeful cultist.

"Hatseph, do not be too quick to judge! These outsiders have brought the KEY." Lorenz jiggled his fingers, to symbolize magic.

"You don't mean..." The old man raised his bushy eyebrow so high it seemed as if it would fall off, land on the ground, and begin life as a new organism.

"YES. THE KEY." Lorenz brought out the strand of hair and revealed it to the old man. Both men stared at it awestuck, then pranced around in a circle like schoolchildren, chanting, "THE KEY, THE KEY!"

"No time to waste, start the ritual!" The old man and Lorenz pranced off to the center hall, at the point where the sun would strike perfectly when it reached its zenith. It was a clear room, spherical and made of a thick glass. Lorenz immediately began painting some runic symbols and ancient jibberjabber on the glass's surface, and began chanting. He hung the hair strand up on a hook, and waited for the sun to get into place.

"Wow! This is like the weirdest cooking method I've ever seen! I can't wait to eat whatever it is, though!" Fargo commented. In mere moments, the summoning would complete.