[Open] The Battle of Blackwood Tower

[Paroxysm]

Realizing that its meal had been more than interrupted, that it had been outright prevented, the creature howled with rage, not horror, and much stronger than simple anger; pure, untamed rage. It didn’t even care how it had happened, it didn’t connect the souls disappearing to the reaper, it wasn’t even aware to the existence of such beings; in fact, all the Shadeling saw was a girl who seemed a cut above others, as far as being delicious was concerned, and that was it.

The heat that it had felt was enough to make it let go of the reaper, it had been completely unexpected, but it hadn’t caused any major harm, from the looks of things. Indeed, after it had been literally blasted with heat, the creature had crawled from the bush, nothing more than a puddle snaking its way across the ground, and the reaper would be able to see it reform itself, in plain view.

It wasn’t a physical thing that crept from the shadowy, oil-like puddle. No, it was the puddle itself that seemed to defy gravity, floating upwards. Instinctively, the creature knew exactly what to do, how to reform itself, how to become solid, and vice versa. First, would be its body, which formed from a simple, gelatinous outline, sloppy trails of liquid flowing freely from its body, and back into the puddle. Before it went solid, however; a make shift mouth had formed, an unseen frown was expressed upon its face, hidden only due to a good portion of the orifice not being quite defined just yet, instead, its lower and bottom halves were connected by liquid lines that flowed downwards.

After a few moments of forming its outline, the creature’s body would begin to fully take shape, the puddle slowly vanished from atop the ground, as though it were being drawn into the earth, but in reality; it was simply being drawn into the creature’s body, as it had now formed both sets of its limbs, legs first and followed by arms. Its head and torso would be the last to define, its head preceding its center, as there was no law or logic that dictated what order its solid body had to be formed; it wasn’t human.

The creature had no discernible gender, as it had no obvious reproductive organs that could be seen, and its chest wasn’t particularly defined, either; however, it still looked more female than male, due to its hair and small body frame. There was also the chance that the creature may have very well been female at one time and, for one reason or another, it lost those distinctive characteristics, that would have explained a lot, about how it looked, but there was no real means of knowing this, either.

Finally, the creature seemed to be perfectly constructed, what may have seemed like forever to on-lookers had actually been a few short moments, it was a natural thing for the creature, liquefying and solidifying its body, but to others; it must have been quite the spectacle to watch, if not a bit gruesome in appearance.

The creature pointed a clawed hand at the reaper, closing each individual digit until only one remained, its index finger, which was pointed up towards the sky, and then that, too, would be closed. Using that as a signal, the girl’s shadow would seem to come to life, three sharp spikes darted out from the pool just behind, perhaps, even, to the side of the reaper, if only slightly, and would attempt to impale the girl.

Regardless of whether or not blood had been drawn in this attack, the second it had come close enough to make contact with the girl, the reaper would find her enemy nowhere in sight, it had used the attack as a distraction, and would be either cloaked in darkness, or preparing for another attack.

[paradigm]

He was finished, Habeus help him. The beast was too strong and he was but a man. The young girl’s presence, though strange did not set him on edge. Had matters been different he might have assisted her, asked her why she was out here, did she need assistance? However, he could do no such thing with this monster of a man battering at his lithe form with fists the size of his head. He felt death approaching, ready to take him.

For a moment, it occurred to Veit that the young woman was death incarnate, come to claim him. Take me before he can get his hands on me He prayed. Yet, he knew such thoughts were foolish. Most likely, she was just a poor girl in the wrong place at the wrong time. For, once the beast had finished with him, he would most assuredly turn to the girl. Breathing labored and ragged, Veit collapsed. There was no fight left in him. Martel had won.



The little man had fought well, but this was still not a battle worth remembering. Martel had faced so many opponents over the course of his life that the young Stone Sword was barely among those Martel even considered giving a painless death. For all of his strength, Martel was a slow hulking brute, but his stamina was almost unmatched. He could fight all day and night with little fatigue, even injured as he was.

Caught up in the heat of battle, Martel did not notice the arrival of the young woman. Blood lust had claimed him, this man had shed his blood, and this man was as good as dead. As Veit’s form collapsed before him, Martel pulled his fist back for one last haymaker that would surely be a deathblow for the Lieutenant.

All within the vicinity would feel it. An unexpected, yet refreshing, gust of wind that blew through the battlefield, flapping coats, cloaks, wisps of hair and banners alike. As abruptly as it had appeared, it was gone. Among all those present that day, there were perhaps a handful who could claim having seen him arrive and only two of another world, who would have sensed his approaching presence.

He was Cizokian in origin, his features made that clear as did the clothing he wore and the large katana at his hip. However, the large stone sword held firmly in his right hand was of an alien nature. No mortal had made that blade and, it was clear, that no mortal held it. Thick, powerful fingers dug into flesh, tightening around the warrior’s massive throat. Kogato’s arm shivered from the strain he had put upon the muscles of his left arm in restraining the brute.

“Lieutenant.” He said, his voice was as gravel. “Return. Burna. Renna.”

Barely twitching his arm, The Stone Sword, hurled Martel backwards, the massive warrior landing with a thud.

Being of a transcendent nature, Kogato knew of the two outsiders’ other worldly nature. Although he knew not specifically what they were, he knew them to be something more than normal.

“This land. I protect. ”

[Nayt]

The Reaper kept her eyes on the beast as it formed ahead of her. Veit was down, and Martel was ready to finish him off, but the Reaper wasn't concerned with that just yet. Sadly, there was nothing she could do for him--nothing that wouldn't break her code of neutrality, that is.

Instead of regard Martel and Veit, despite of her proximity to them, the Reaper regarded instead the creature before her, the enemy. It was a bit of distance away, not quite in range for a proximity attack, which was good. That's the way she preferred things. This had suddenly become a rather simple situation, actually--albeit a simple situation laid flat on top of a complex one. The Reaper was defending herself, now. She had enough evidence to suggest that this beast was responsible for the erratic behavior of the spirits earlier. She had enough reason, now, to kill it and be done. Clearly it wasn't going to listen to reason, mainly because this particular Reaper wasn't one to spout off reason in the midst of a fight. That wasn't the way an efficient fighter did things. If there was a chance to ask questions before a fight started, then so be it. But fighting first and asking questions later was the solution, more often than not. And it was a good solution.

So, liquid was this creature's game. That was annoying. Liquid usually entailed cold, and cold . . . oh, cold. This Reaper had a bad history with the cold. This girl, this extremely soft spoken, prim and proper girl who consciously tried to follow pre-Revolution Cizokian tradition almost to a T, never cursed. Never, ever. Except regarding the cold. One mission in the midst of winter didn't go too smooth. It resulted in her getting a lot colder than she wished to. She hadn't cursed before that, and during a span of two minutes, made up for fourteen years of completely respectful speech.

Needless to say, if cold was going to be involved, then she wasn't going to be a happy camper.

The Reaper lifted off of her knee at about the same time that Kogato arrived. The gust of wind that announced his arrival upon the battlefield was unexpected, shaking the Reaper, forcing her to step to the side a bit to catch her balance. Was this also an enemy? No, it had to be--

"Nff!" the Reaper suddenly grunted a high pitched grunt, followed by a muffled moan of pain, N-nngghhh--"

Again, she fell to her knee, now a couple of feet forward, now placing her just two feet from the fallen Veit. What-- what the hell just happened? She looked down, reached her hand down to the side of her stomach, and felt warm blood slip between her fingers.

Aw, hell. She was stabbed, wasn't she? The girl looked back, and upon seeing nothing behind her, looked forward again. By that point, though, the creature was gone. As the pain flared between the right side of her stomach to the right side of her back, she determined that she'd just been run through . . .

She was wounded, and so soon, too. It wasn't a flesh wound or anything minor, either. This was a pretty serious injury. Yes, she'd be okay for at least an hour or so, but after that, her life would be in serious danger. The Reaper clutched her side. Carelessness had lead to this, and now here she was, in the midst of a battlefield that was not hers to interfere in. She wanted to keep her eyes on the brush, to look out for the dark creature that assaulted her, that no doubt was responsible for the loss of so many souls back in the tower--but she couldn't. It wasn't for the best, anyways. Hastily, she glanced behind her, and then to the shadows of those that just arrived, namely the Cizokian man.

He'd noticed something about her. She didn't know it, but he seemed to have noticed something, indeed. What, exactly? Well, it might be a lot less spectacular than Martel's origins.

Outlandish and otherworldly though she may be, the Reaper was little more than a fifteen year old girl. A transcendent being would still have a hard time figuring that she wasn't much different than any other fifteen year old Cizokian girl. A year ago, yes. A year ago, it would've been easy to sniff out who she was and what she did. But now? Now, she didn't inhabit Purgatory. She hadn't the smell of Death on her any longer. There was something there; a lingering otherworldly feel, but it could very well be something akin to a special sort of lineage, that maybe she was a descendant of a special kind of family.

Which wouldn't actually be too far out of the realm of truth. If the Cizokian man knew much about pre-Revolution Cizokian noble families, he might recognize her-- or at least her lineage. Scarlet eyes, pale skin, and azure hair? It was the telltale sign of a certain family, a family that began hundreds upon hundreds of years ago with a rare set of albino twins, both with warm eyes, pale skin, and blond-is-blue hair, that fell in love with each other. Over the years, a clan founded on a string of incestuous affairs was founded, lasting many generations, until what was originally a genetic mutation became that of a genetic trait. Only a couple of generations later, they branched out; the children of the clan married others, and most of their descendants bore similar traits as they.

Centuries after the clan ceased to break family taboos (something which was, incidentally, not too terrible of a taboo in Cizok, especially with noble families), and ten years prior to Cizok's recent revolution, a man from that very family was a Daimyo, directly under the command of the former Shogun Gardini himself.

The clan's name?

Hikane.

[Paroxysm]

Immediately following the attack, the creature had ducked back into the shadows, while perhaps an obvious maneuver on its part, it hadn’t actually been witnessed, and that could work to the creature’s advantage. Similar to the spikes that had launched form the girl’s shadow, two clawed hands grabbed onto solid ground, which brought forth two arms, a head, and then the creature’s body; it slowly ascended from the darkness, like it had before, except solid this time, its crimson eyes peered at the girl, secretively, and its tongue seemed to anticipate the blood that had been spilled.

It took no further action, however; it had noticed the appearance of yet another person on the battle field, either today was the all you could eat buffet, or the universe had aligned in favor (or disfavor) towards the life-eating dark-thing. That would have to wait, though, as the creature, still behind the Reaper, Hikane; reached its hand out towards the girl, but stopping just short. It had wounded her; that much was obvious, the scent of blood was in the air and this almost drove the thing wild, if it wasn’t already wild, to begin with, that was.

Its outstretched hand seemed to ripple slightly, its fingers, held wide, rather than close together, or in a fist; would begin to increase in length, although thin, the liquid-like fingers would be sticky, no longer retaining a water-like consistency, and once they got upon the girl; she’d be hard pressed to get the substance off. Regardless, what had once been its fingers, would stretch out towards the girl, and go right for her wounds; where it would seek to cover them, in their entirety, spreading out as though it had a life of its own, but may have been control from the shadeling or residual consciousness. However it worked, it would cover the girl’s wound, disconnect from its source, and enter her body. At any rate, she wouldn’t have to worry about bleeding to death, now.

Surprisingly, this was not an attack, not a simple one, at least, but more subtle; it could drain the girl’s life force, but not by very much in a quick amount of time, despite this, she wouldn’t know what it was doing, although that didn’t mean she wouldn’t instinctively try and get it off, either, but there was a good chance of ripping off some skin in the attempt.

Finally, if the creature had succeeded, it would again try to duck back into the shadows, the amount of time it had spent out of them, behind the reaper, may have been disadvantageous, however; as the girl would become aware of the other’s presence, either through her fighting instincts, or the very second she had been touched--again. This could bode badly for the thing that Hikane most likely wanted to murder, at this point. But at least it didn't manipulate cold, though, right?

[paradigm]

(Sorry if this post is lacking or confusing in any way. Please feel free to IM or PM me if there are any issues. Life is a bit hectic at the moment.)

Lieutenant Veit did not need to be told twice and as quickly as Kogato had arrived the young Lieutenant had taken his leave. Commandant Burna and Captain Renner approached just beyond the horizon; they would see to it that Veit was taken care of. Wounds would need to be treated and not just physical ones. Facing a foe such as Martel left emotional scarring as well. Seeing foes ripped limb from limb, torn apart, facing the monster that caused such destruction, being near death, accepting death and fighting through it; Veit had experienced the inevitable fate of all warriors and had survived. Yes, Kogato, thought. Veit ‘s battle has only just begun.

Cold Cizokian eyes fixed themselves upon the blue-haired girl. Yes, there was recognition in his eyes. “Hikane.” He uttered, his voice barely above a whisper. Behind the Stone Sword, Martel’s figure stirred. Not dead, it seemed. Kogato knew there was little he could do for the young Cizokian woman, yet his honor beseeched him to do all that he could for her. He had moments to intervene, but his speedy entrance had exhausted a fair amount of his spiritual energy. Kogato, being an ascendant, had far more spiritual energy than an average mortal, but such power paled in comparison to other powerful beings native to the spirit world.

“Protect. Hikane.” Kogato spat, drawing the katana at his hip. The cold cizokian steel shimmered with an otherworldly glow and Kogato moved. He had only a few moments before the monster would be upon his feet and even less time before this shadowed being was upon the Hikane. Exhausting yet another substantial amount of his precious spiritual energy, Kogato closed the distance between the Hikane and her opponent. A thin sheen of light overtook his form and extended to cover that of the Hikane’s. A small bead of sweat fell down his brow. His energy was all but used up, but if he had acted quickly enough the dark beings strange attack would not connect with the Hikane’s flesh.

“Regroup. Then attack. “ He said to the Hikane, nodding towards the approaching army in the distance and the limping form of Veit followed closely by his remaining men.

[Nayt]

Wait a second . . . the Cizokian man that arrived in time to save Veit's life . . . he recognized her? The Reaper caught his stare when she looked up to him, following Veit's departure (Veit practically walked right past her, even). She could see, however mildly, that there was some recognition in his face. That, however, did not mean the Reaper actually recognized him. In fact, he looked nothing like anyone she'd ever met before. Or-- well, maybe he didn't recognize her at all? There was a fair chance of that, yes. Yes, that had to be it.

Of course, her conclusion was interrupted when the man was suddenly in her vicinity, casting what appeared to be nothing short of a blinding light. The Reaper covered her face with her arm. Light-- she used to appreciate it, even when it was blindingly bright. Now, though, after certain events of her life, it hurt her eyes just a little more than normal. She could still enjoy a bright summer day, but she'd enjoy it more with sunglasses. This one, this light the man cast-- it hurt. It really, really hurt. She winced, and she would've normally felt threatened, and perhaps even retaliated on instinct alone, but the man also said something in the midst of it . . .

Protect. Hikane.

He really did recognize her. But how? Why? If only for this moment, she'd completely forgotten how outlandish her own appearance was, and how only a single family in Cizok had accidentally created these genetic traits, and how seemingly anyone with the obscure hair color of blue or any shade of it were somehow of Hikane descent. It didn't really matter who. If a person were native to this world and had azure hair, then somewhere on their family tree, some branch that inevitably lead to their conception, there was a Hikane. That person could have been hundreds of years dead, but that person's genetic heritage clearly continued on. This girl, however, was a direct descendant of the Hikane clan. Nonetheless, as her own outlandish appearance was commonplace for her, the girl temporarily forgot that it was so indicative of her descent.

The Reaper also wasn't aware of the threat which nearly came from her shadow. She figured, perhaps that something she didn't notice came from the front, or something from Martel, who she wasn't paying too much attention to, and hadn't regarded much at all since she figured out the real threat she was after.

The fading of the light allowed her to see again, albeit somewhat painfully. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes, only in time to hear the man state that it's time to regroup, before walking away, towards the gathering of soldiers in the distance.

This put the girl in a terrible situation, actually. When she was on the job, she wasn't supposed to be seen. Already, she'd been seen and regarded. Granted, these people did not know what her job was, so that was sort of all right. It hindered the process, though. She also wasn't supposed to get involved with their conflicts, too. If the girl followed this man, Kogato, she'd no doubt be dragged into his conflict with Martel. That'd be another thing to make her job harder. Martel wasn't supposed to be her target. Her target, her goal, was to ensure the safe passage of souls to the next world, whatever that next world was. Of course, if Martel were to die in her vicinity, she'd have to make sure his spirit traveled safely to Hell-- but that didn't mean it was her task to kill him. In fact, it was strictly forbidden; while on the job, Reapers had to remain neutral in these sorts of affairs.

But at the same time, she was injured. If she didn't get medical treatment, it would be a life threatening injury. Likewise, she needed to consider what she was up against. It'd been awhile, so she wasn't used to the mess a shadow creature could make, but she had her experiences with them.

There was a reason light hurt her eyes a little more than it did before the world ended.

Without a word, she acknowledged the necessity to follow Kogato. She regarded the forest with a final glare, before forcing herself to stand, turn, and follow Kogato. Though she'd been run through, it didn't appear to bother her nearly as much as it would've someone else. She barely limped, and while she did hold onto her belly, it was really just a means of putting pressure on that side of the wound, to make it bleed just a little bit less. Sure, she winced, and walked with her shoulders hunched forward a bit, but she wasn't in tears. She'd already gathered her fair share of scars from life, both as a Reaper and before becoming a Reaper. Physical pains weren't nearly as bad as they used to be anymore . . .

[Paroxysm]

The creature didn’t pursue any further action after its attempt had been foiled, it was, however, not pleased, no; not at all, in fact. Even despite the fact that this newcomer apparently commanded quite a bit of spiritual energy, meaning he was perhaps just as appetizing as the reaper, if not only slightly less so, the creature was enraged by what he had just prevented, and would have liked nothing more than to kill him on the spot. It didn’t, of course; there were too many hostiles for it to face now, the reaper was alarmed, there was Kogato, and Martel didn’t seem a safe bet anymore, not at the moment.

Fortunately, it didn’t look as though the reaper had been alerted to just how much distance the shadow had actually cleared, between itself, and the reaper. Indeed, although the reaper was heading towards the reinforcements, the shadow had hitched a ride with the girl, in perhaps display of some lost sense of intelligence, although one couldn’t be sure, it may have very well weighed the pros and cons of attacking the girl in the open, and attacking her when surrounded by people, preventing her from really getting a fix on her attacker’s location.

The creature would reach its arm out from the dark pool of the reaper’s shadow, which seemed to ripple just slightly, like a tear in reality, or something of that ilk. Its hand would reach just above the girl’s legs, but not to touch or attack her, after all; it was biding its time, now. No, it would pause just before the girl’s large clothing, just before the shadow that the clothing cast, actually. From here, the creature weightlessly brought itself into that shadow, the reaper would be none the wiser, of course. It wasn’t as though the creature was physically touching her, and it couldn’t really attack like this, either. It couldn’t do much of anything to the living from within the shadows, not even drain the life from them, spirits were one thing, but the living were something entirely different. They had physical bodies, after all. Not to mention the differences between a normal person and a reaper.

And so the reaper was free to go to these so called reinforcements, for what good it would do her, she could heal, the Shadeling wasn’t specifically after her death, but instead; the creature wanted to feed on the girl, killing her was merely one of many ways to bring this into effect, it would have preferred being able to feed in a more prolonged manner, it would, however, kill the girl if it absolutely had to; it had lost bit of mass simply from the wear and tear it faced in this short period of time.

[paradigm]

Had it really been two weeks? Surely not...no, it was not. Barely a minute had passed since the strange man had appeared from nowhere with his death grip of doom. Pulling himself off of the ground, Martel struggled to catch his breath. He had been taken off guard, it seemed these warriors were not to be underestimated. Before Martel could risk a battle with the stone bladed warrior he needed to locate a weapon of his own and let his wounds heal. Peering at the fleeing form of the Stone Sword and the strange blue haired girl, Martel slammed his knuckles together, grunting in rage.

Turning, the massive warrior jogged off towards the tower in the distance. If he was to win this battle he would have to play it smart...or at least not like a raging idiot.

The arrival of the Stone Sword and the legion had been a miracle. Veit had been sure of his death, certain that he would be crushed beneath that massive warrior's hands, certain that he would share Hargraves fate. Poor Hargraves, he lamented. The young corporal had died saving Veit's life. The Commandant rode up, pulling his horse to a stop. "Lt. Veit, report."

Saluting, Veit described the events that had transpired. His discovery of the massacre at Blackwood Tower and the ensuing battle with the frightening beast. Ever the hardened warrior, Burna listened to it all never betraying a hint of shock or outrage. "This is most displeasing." He intoned. "The man managed to defeat a patrol of Stone Swords...unarmed. We cannot allow him to live, he must be brought to justice. "Check in with the mage corps. They'll see to any healing that might be needed."

With a nod, Veit made his way towards the group of mages gathered near the center of the Stone Sword forces.




Leading the Hikane back towards the army, the Stone Sword sheathed the large katana, keeping the stone blade balanced upon his shoulder. "Hikane" he said, gesturing towards the army. "Rest." There was little he could do for the girl now, but give her rest and offer his protection. There would be questions later, but at the moment Kogato was required to speak with the commandant.

Tugging at his beard, Bruna sighed. "It seems this warrior was quite a handful. What do you think Stone Sword?" Nodding his head, Kogato spoke, the somber look upon his face never fleeing. "Strong. Big. Deadly. We Bring Justice."

Turning his hardened gaze from the Stone Sword, Burna chuckled. "Very well, then. Let us bring justice to this monster."

[Nayt]

Retreating to the army was a painful experience, both because she'd been run through and because she was, through some freak accident of circumstance, associating with normal people while on the job. While she had been injured and could thus justify this association (they did seem willing to treat her wound, after all) to, say, a tribunal of any sort, that didn't make the Reaper feel like any less of a failure.

When amongst the others, she made a conscious effort to follow close behind Kogato, to keep pace with him until he stopped and addressed her. That was a bit of a long walk for someone who was as injured as she-- but she couldn't hold that against anyone. It was actually impossible to tell how bad her injury was unless someone explicitly investigated it. Assuming there were good medics here, that was likely to happen-- but still . . .

". . . I--" she began to speak, but thought better of it. No, it was best-- in fact, it was customary --to accept this man's hospitality. She may have been in pain, but she bowed low with her hips-- the same way a woman would bow to any man in Cizok.

Truth be told, the Reaper understood who her father was, and recognized the social status she was raised to represent. However, that mattered only with men. There were some things she could do, certain things like, say, almost walk next to a man, rather than follow perfectly behind him, but in such situations, she was obligated to carry herself like a noble; she had to walk properly, dress appropriately according to her family income, and say very little-- otherwise, onlookers might see her as some form of harlot. For whatever social freedom she gained with class, she lost a different one. Sometimes it was just easier to disregard her higher social class and act as if she were simply the daughter of a poor farmer, just like she did now.

The girl then whispered with pain laden in her voice, "Arigatou gozaimasu, Ishitou-sama."

She did not make eye contact with the man, and when she sat to rest, she made sure to sit upon her shins with her knees pressed closely together. When she addressed him, she used the second most respectful term that she could think of. The single most respectful honorific, however, was reserved for use by slaves or otherwise extreme lower class when addressing members of nobility or above.

The Reaper remained silent in Kogato and Bruna's presence. Her face was clearly very pale, unhealthily so, and she appeared to be extremely fatigued. Provided there were torches in the vicinity, illuminating the area, they might even see how badly she'd been bleeding this whole time. Still, it would have been disrespectful to force herself and her problem upon her host-- a host which was clearly of great status, a powerful warrior, and judging by the looks the men were giving him, very likely to be their leader. According to status, he might well have denoted the same sort of respect that a Daimyo might-- and the Reaper knew very well how to act around such men.

[Paroxysm]

Laughter.

It was not loud laughter and there was only one person in the soldier’s camp who’d be able to hear it; the azure haired girl, the noble-born Hikane, would be almost surrounded by the laughter, it came from nowhere, and everywhere all at once; and ultimately, it ended just as quickly as it had begun.

The reaper would feel a chill run through her body, like something other than physical had passed through her, ran its hands up her back, and played with her spine.

“Ari-ga-tou,” the thing whispered into the girl’s ear, playfully, and then again it’d say the word; it would repeat this a few times, toying with the reaper, who would be unable to do anything to stop the shadowy creature; the thing would instantly disperse whenever it thought it might be caught, or even seen. It ducked and dived into shadows mere fractions of seconds after coming out of them.

In truth, the creature didn’t know what word it was saying, it didn’t seem to know any of the Dystopian languages, but it obviously had the capability to at least mimic language; and probably even learn to speak fluently, given the chance.

Although the reaper was wounded and may have even been weaken to the point of being easily overpowered, the creature did not press its luck, or take advantage of the situation. Instead, it waited and merely stalked the girl, still moving from shadow to shadow, but preferring to stay close by the girl-reaper. Only occasionally did it torment the girl, repeating her words, or merely letting its presence be known. For all Hikane knew, the thing may have been playing a game.

Martel was being watched as he moved forwards, jogging, and most likely at a decent enough speed that nothing would want to be caught in-between him and his objective; the giant would no doubt find it curious that a woman stood before him, she was still off in the distance, but close enough that he’d have heard her without trying too hard. The woman standing before Martel was small, her hair was black, but pulled back and tied; her face was relatively hidden, but her eyes could be seen; and there were three scars running across her face, one directly over her left eye, another one just beside that, and then a much smaller one at her left temple.

Despite the difference in size between the giant and the woman, there would be no fear of the giant, from the woman, and most likely vice versa. They were merely two sentient beings standing opposite of one another …

“’Lo,” the small woman waved to the giant with but a simple gesture. “We need to speak,” the woman said, her voice was elegant, and well pronounced even despite the fact that her looks placed her from or around Cizok.

If Martel had stopped his advance towards the tower and paid even the smallest bit of attention to the girl, she’d clear the distance between them, instantly, and appear nothing more than a blur to the giant; there weren’t many who could make the claim of following a scout’s movement.

“I represent an interested party of certain individuals who facilitate towards the objective elimination of hostilities between honored individuals of a second-party nature,” the woman smiled as she spoke, not missing a beat, her eyes said she was uninterested in what she was saying, though; and for good reason, too, she was mostly just occupying the creature long enough for her brothers to get in position, just in case Martel decided to attack, but they were just precaution, really.

“Do you understand me?” she asked the giant, not entirely sure if he actually spoke common, but it was still worth a try… She had her orders, and orders had to be followed. “You are in trouble, you know. You’re hopelessly outnumbered, even despite your … advantages, and that other guy; well, he seemed pretty damned dangerous!”

The woman rolled her shoulders into a shrug and gestured towards the giant before her, she vanished, then, and reappeared beside him; facing the giant, she quirked her head a bit, a finger held at her chin, giving off the impression that she was thinking, and, likewise, that was exactly what she was doing.

“Let me cut to the chase, Mister Giant. The Faction acknowledges your strength and also your need for help, and it just so happens we require a vial of your blood. There are things we can do with such a potent ingredient, you know. Can’t use those amanita phalloides against everyone, after all!”

Even if, for some reason, Martel could not understand the full extent of the woman’s words, he’d no doubt understand that she was offering help, but in exchange for a vial of his blood. Not much, just a vial, and the deal he was getting was a pretty good one. Emperors, kings, businessmen, and politicians usually had to pay much, much more when it came to help from The Faction.

[paradigm]

Despite his wounds, Martel moved with amazing speed, his massive legs bounding across the countryside. The warrior came to an abrupt in front of the dark clad figure. Although Martel was not the listening type, his foray in Corania and his recent injury were causing the man to re-evaluate the way he did things.

Her lack of fear did little to impress him. Martel had met many who claimed to have no fear of him, but Martel knew the truth. Everyone, even the gods, feared him. 

"Then speak."

At the woman's mention of the warrior who had bested him, Martel snarled. "He is nothing. The fool will not survive our next meeting," rubbing a bloodstained hand against his chest Martel pondered the offer for a moment " but you can still help. In return for my blood I will be healed and given a weapon...and none of these puny knives. I need a real blade."

Taking the offered vial, Martel pressed it to the wound on his neck. Once the vial was filled Martel tossed it back to the mysterious woman. "Alright, Faction Lady, heal me and give me a weapon."


~*~

Kogato finished his dealings with Commandant Burna easily enough and soon turned his attention to the injured girl at his side. "You are wounded." he said in fluent cizokian. " They have very accomplished healers here. I will see to it that you are mended and taken care of until the end of our hunt"

" Forgive my presumptuousness, I have been away from Cizok for some time now. I had thought the Hikane Clan long since dead." 

((short post is short and phone post is phone))

[Nayt]

At the man's reassurance, the Reaper bowed low with her waist and head, no matter how much it hurt bend at her waist, or move her stomach in any way at all.

"Thank you very much, sir," the Reaper replied with the utmost appreciation. ¹

In Cizok's language, there were polite ways to form words and there were impolite and casual ways to do it. Such aspects were absent in Common; direct translations of Cizokian seemed to be polite, proper, and respectful no matter what, while a study of the language showed how verb conjugations made all the difference. The Reaper spoke with all the politeness that a Cizokian lady was obligated to, despite her age. She might have only been fifteen, but she'd been raised to approach everyone she met with politeness and respect.

The Reaper was surprised to hear her house name again, though. The girl genuinely wasn't accustomed to people recognizing her house name just by looking at her, which was a bit idealistic, but she'd spent an uncomfortable amount of time with non-Cizokians for the last year/year and a half or so. Before that, she was fairly sheltered; she was a former nobleman's daughter, she wasn't supposed to go out to town without her family, and her family didn't go out to town with any degree of regularity. It was safe to say she'd only met two dozen people outside of her family before becoming a Reaper . . .

"No, sir," she replied in regards to her clan, "It is very much alive. My clan was dishonored, but I have no doubt it will one day return to its former status by the Emperor's side."

That all was really just a side thought. The Reaper may have been loyal to her job amongst the supernatural, but she was just as loyal to her clan. If it were possible to live and fight for it still without revealing her presence amongst the living, she'd have done so in a heartbeat.

Medical attention was necessary sometime in the near future, though, and if Kogato were to summon medical professionals to come get her, she'd present absolutely no resistance.




^1. I'll use green BatangChe font for Cizokian speech, since I'm too lazy to do custom translations right now. I'll keep doing this for now on. If a character doesn't understand Cizokian, then ignore the green BatangChe font.