Since the Fall of Veiron the Kingdom of Valeria has not been a hospitable place to call home. The infernal hordes roam free. Some seeking mindless destruction, others plotting and planning the increase of their own power and some just enjoying the world crashing down all around them. Dangers are everywhere, demons walk the earth and even when distanced from them travelers still fear their servants, the orcs. These tribal creatures do the bidding of the Abyss and are often as dangerous as their masters simply by numbers alone. Then the people of Valeria are a hardy folk. They refuse to be driven from their lands by anything least of all the minions of The First. These are times of strife and suffering but despite that some still manage to eek out a pleasant existence. For some however that's not possible, for some peace isn't something they can ever hope to have again because they were there that day. They were at Veiron the day of the fall and they paid dearly for it. For some it is something to hide from, for others it fuels the fires within and pushes them to fight but for most they do everything they can to forget it ever happened. They are those marked by the demons.


Susanna starred straight ahead focusing on one point in space. Her vision tunneled till all she could see was that speck of light. Susanna let everything fall away from her, sights and sounds and smells and simply was... For about ten seconds.

"You cannot think that meditation can rid you of me?" the demon inside her asked, a laugh echoing inside Susanna's head.

Susanna's concentration broke and the sounds of the bar she was sitting in came rushing back. She was at a corner booth, securely away from anyone watching her. She sighed "Do I look stupid?" she asked covering her mouth with her hand so as not to attract attention. "I thought maybe you might leave me alone with my thoughts for a few minutes."

"Why would I do that? Who else do I have to entertain me?" Lilith paused for a fraction of a second. Susanna had lived with the demon a long time and while it might not have facial features or a voice at the moment Susanna knew enough about it to know when it was going to do something nasty. "Then again he's cute." Susanna could almost feel the smile that accompanied the words.

Susanna glanced up, instinctively knowing where Lilith was pointing her towards. At the bar sat a man, a large physique with black scraggly hair and a three fingers missing from his right hand. Susanna's breath caught in her throat. She recognized him. An image flashed into her mind: a knife held meticulously between her thumb and forefingers, blood staining the front of her shirt, a man chained to a table as Lilith almost lovingly sliced the knife slow and sure through his flesh. Susanna gave a gasp of fright and the memory died. She was looking in horror at the man with his fingers missing. Then he turned to order another beer and Susanna saw his face. It wasn't him, it wasn't the same man.

"You are too easy Susan. Try to lighten up some, I think the blonde boy by the window is glancing this way." Lilith spoke, her voice slinking through Susanna's mind.

"Fuck you." Susanna whispered into her hand.

"Why waste it on me? He looks willing enough, but then when did we ever need consent."

Susanna could feel the smug edge to her words as they pulled up so many painful memories. At that point Susanna might have been willing to down a gallon of holy water just to get Lilith to shut up, though that wasn't exactly an uncommon thought to cross her mind she was prevented from acting on it by what happened next.

A rowdy group entered the bar. Four uproarious men with swords at their sides, perhaps come from a fresh kill or else another bar, whatever the case they were more than excited. The crest on their tunics proclaimed their identities well enough.

"Stormbringers." Lilith hissed. "Leave. Now." No matter how much Lilith might have loved torturing Susanna with her words and wished desperately for her freedom the demon didn't want to end up dead and since neither of them knew what would happen to Lilith if Susanna perished they were both set on one thing: Self preservation.

Susanna got up discretely, placed a few gold pieces on the counter to pay for the drink she hadn't touched (it was cider, she didn't drink anymore) and she started to walk towards the door, her footsteps even and unassuming. Unfortunately for Susanna the same thing that had drawn Lilith to possess her all those years ago at Veiron also drew the Stormbringers attention. Susanna was very beautiful, even with her hood pulled up casting her features in shadow her face turned heads.

"Hey girl." said one of the demon slayers, taking in her full figure. "Why don't you let one of us warriors buy you a drink? What do you say sweetheart?"

As he said this the Stormbringer sidled up to her and put his arm on her shoulder intent on guiding her to the bar. A surge of intense annoyance flashed through Susanna. Who was this fool? Just cause he could use a sword with some skill didn't make him God's gift. How'd he expect any self respecting woman to talk to him if he treated her like that? Her hand twitched towards the knife at her belt. Half of her wanted to grab the weapon and slice his hand off her body. What stopped her was the thought that she didn't know how much of that near outburst was actually her and how much came from the demon within.

The Stormbringer held a gold piece in front of Susanna's face. "How 'bout it girl? You and me could have some good times."

Susanna hesitated. She didn't want to be anywhere near this man or for that matter any of his friends but she was very scared that if she rejected him as he was, half drunk, he might get and angry and if he did Susanna might call on Lilith's powers of of instinct. It was like having tornado inside her. When her emotions ran wild the storm burst out of her in waves. And they called themselves Stormbringers.

The warrior took Susanna's hesitation as a yes and slammed the gold piece down on the counter. "Another round for my friends and my beautiful girl here!" He shouted to the entire bar.

Susanna was so close to slapping the Stormbringer and walking out but the fear that she might let Lilith's powers out, that they might find out what she was kept her rooted to the spot. She needed a way out of this and quickly or one of the two of them was going to end up dead.

Ten years. Ten long years of searching. A road Alicia could only travel alone. She had hoped to find others, other surviving Royal Guards, any information about their whereabouts. For all she knew, she was the last one. She had no hopes for her family either - their mansion was in the heart of Veiron. Well, actually it was more like a castle, but that made it even worse. The Royal Guard had safe houses accessible only to them, in case they needed to travel. The King did not want his elite resting in various guard posts and inns, and it also served the purpose of surprise inspections. After all, it would be rather big news to find out that a Royal Guard is traveling somewhere - someone was about to be in trouble, and they would have time to cover it up. Yes, that was the most exciting thing Royal Guard did. That, and helping the local guard to rout particularly troublesome bandits.

Not many things make Alicia laugh these days, but the fact that she was constantly BORED ten years ago was almost her sole source of entertainment. Having a scroll with a huge list of safe houses all across Valeria she had hoped to find pretty much everything. The boy Charles and her had went different ways long ago. It was a lonely road indeed, and one without any results yet. However, there were still quite a few safe houses she had not checked. Even the sign that someone WAS there would mean she's not alone out here. Of course, some locations were out of the question - particularly the ones near or in Veiron. While many times she considered to simply abandon her futile search and take down as many demons with her as possible, she knew she is too weak for that. And the the weight of being the last of her bloodline. Letting her family die out just like that terrified her, even though she was a Cassaris in name only. Her family is long dead, and the heirlooms passed from generation to generation most likely stolen by demons. And even if Lockdown was activated in her home, it was doubtful it could contain demons. And even if it did, the location itself would be unreachable. And with the Lockdown in effect, it would require a lot of strong people to bypass it.

Then there was the matter of Stormbringers. The final King's order before he told his Royal Guard to evacuate. It was given to many officers, not only to Royal Guard, though the Royal Guard did receive a rather high authority rank in this new regimen. The first few years after the fall Alicia actively looked for capable recruits, mostly guards, soldiers and mercenaries. Eventually, the lack of discipline and dedication that she was used to in Royal Guard, she just stopped caring. While she did cross paths with many different Stormbringers during the years, none of them were up to her standards. "Common rabble without a cause they believe little in." was her opinion about them. Even though she did have to work with them, only if to get money for her travels. Not many of those Stormbringers even understood the concept of working together, formations, chain of command, etc. They questioned orders, they even questioned Alicia's authority.

Too much bother to train. Though if her search would turn up nothing, that's the only route Alicia has left for her. While she wasn't in any way old, she was no longer young either. Her speed suffered, and her armor and weapons felt just a little bit heavier, and her stamina was waning bit by bit. In her prime she was even called "The Thunderbolt" by her fellow Royal Guard. Although to most people she would be still considered fast, they never saw her 10 years ago. The Alicia 10 years ago, one with boundless energy and the skill to use it. And with no experience of reality whatsoever. The younger Alicia would lose decisively against the current, far more experienced one. But her increased experience in battle will not offset her waning strength sooner or later. And that's what she'll be, a trainer of people who want take her or their cause seriously and will ultimately learn nothing, and then just die. That's why the option of a suicide attack on Veiron was pretty attractive.

Alicia followed the road to her next destination. A town was nearby, called Vi'Zur. The tavern there was her destination. It would be the final stop before another safe house. After all, she did need supplies, and some rest. And of course, a stiff drink. Inside was a tavern like any other. In the center of attention was a bunch of guys in Stormbringer attire harassing a young peasant girl. It was a rather shameful display. "Is that what The Stormbringers are doing these days? Harassing the peasants?" she said to them sternly as she firmly grabbed the warrior's hand holding the coin. "The King did not order for a formation of honor-less thugs with his last command. I would know, I was there." She spoke to the rather astonished Stormbringer as she increased her grip on his wrist. "This is not a brothel. Then again, peasants have no sense of honor or pride. Nor are they taught the art of combat." Alicia emphasized her point by tightening her grip with all of her rather considerable strength. "But I can fix the last part. I can make men out you boys, men that can fight and act like men. The initial cost for that would be this coin." she said as took the gold coin from his hand, releasing him.

There was no expectation for this not to get violent. It was not the first time Alicia done something like this. The peasant girl didn't matter much. It simply was a matter of entertainment, pissing off overconfident "Stormbringers". They most likely will not even acknowledge her authority, let alone work and train under her command. Most likely they will start a fight, and either get kicked out by the establishment or give Alicia an excuse to bash some skulls in, to put the wannabe demon slayers in their place. In her eyes, they were not worthy of bearing that title. And worthless pretenders have no business pretend to be heroes. Mongrels, most of them. And unruly mongrels need to be disciplined. And if by some miracle they do agree to her terms, she might actually beat some skill and discipline into them, and get some coin on the side.

Silvana was finishing up the order she had on hand, and finishing up take her lunch. The order would be done a bit ahead of schedule based on what she told the client, a Stormbringer, but it was a trick she often pulled, often doubling the amount of time it will take or adding between a few minutes to a few extra hours to complete the order, at that was after her close scrutiny of the her own work. It helped her with maintaining a good reputation within the town. Looking up from her anvil, she sees a Stormbringer standing there, waiting patiently. Not the one who dropped it off, but probably one of his brothers.

"Silvana Ravensblood, at your service. Can I help you, brave Stormbringer?"

"What are you doing working the Forge, Miss Ravensblood?"

"Closing up actually. Finished up an order for one of your brothers. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"I have a spare set of armour, and it needs some repairs, well within your ability I suppose?"

"Easily. But as I said, I'm closing up right now. And busy with other orders. Drop it off in the morning, unless you want to make it a rush order?"

"No, I'll see you in the morning." The Stormbringer smirked walking away.

Silvana hung her eight pound hammer on a hook on her belt, and walked around the shop, locking all the doors and making sure the windows were firmly shut. And once she was sure it was locked up, she would head to the Tavern, which is probably where her client was, off harassing some poor girl. She sure her coin purse was in its proper spot as she reached the front door of he establishment. As she opened the door, she heard someone at the bar, squeezing a Stormbringer's, and it was indeed her client's, hand rather tightly, and saying, rather loudly, "This is not a brothel. Then again, peasants have no sense of honor or pride. Nor are they taught the art of combat." This did piss her off, as she knew how to fight and she has a strong sense of pride and honour. "But I can fix the last part. I can make men out you boys, men that can fight and act like men. The initial cost for that would be this coin."

Silvana walked over to the bar and sat on the other side of the woman that fool of a Stormbringer was trying, very poorly, to flirt with. She shook her head and ordered a drink from the bartender. "Looks like I missed the beginnings of the festivities, what all did I miss? You're recruiting for what group? Oh and Stormbringer, your stuff finished, stop by in morning and pick them up. And behave, it isn't wise to anger a Blacksmith." She scowled.

Panicked breaths permeated quickly through the large room as Beringer's brow wrinkled harshly. After a few moments, he opened his eyes, his bleary vision dashing about the room before calming down. "This again?" Waking up suddenly from a dream, Beringer could only grasp his bearing at a slow rate, looking down to the arm cast across his chest under the thin sheets of the sizable bed. With eventual understanding and recollection, he realized he had participated in a banquet and landed himself in the bed of the lord's daughter. Looking over, Beringer confirmed her appearance, brushing stray strands of hair out of the way of her face. With a satisfactory nod, he nimbly slipped out from under her grasp and quickly dressed himself, his lame leg offering very little resistance to his practiced movements. Placing the mask from the bedside table onto his face, Beringer walked to the balcony, looking over the side of the railing. It was on the second level of the manor, hanging over the well kept garden.

Without a single second thought, Beringer jumped down from the balcony, landing heavily on the mulched ground before walking out of the manor from the garden. His first destination was a bar to which he could relax and enjoy a morning drink. The crystallization of his leg had yet to seize his leg, thus it showed very little in his stride beyond a slight rotation of the hip to compensate for the increased weight. His features showed his content for the morning weather, however, they were hidden behind his opaque mask. Beringer was fairly well off in his current state, he had recently taken on a few chore jobs as well as having completed a Type 2 demon subjugation, he had plenty for living expenses, including a few drinks.
"Vi'Zur Tavern, huh?"
Beringer entered with a light push of the door. His masked gaze took in his surroundings, without much thought, he glanced over the entire tavern before taking a seat at one of the far tables, ordering some ale and leaning back in his chair. However, even as the ale had arrived, Beringer never removed his mask, only raising the lower brim to his mouth so that he had just enough room to drink. After a short while, a small commotion occurred between a girl and a group of Stormbringers, followed by the intervention of authoritative redhead. Beringer judged both girls to be of very good appearance, and considered placing himself among them despite the trouble, but he decided to simply wait and see, standing with his nearly empty glass and downing the rest. He lowered his mask back down to wrap about his chin, his hand resting on the pommel of his blade as he sauntered forward at a slow rate, approaching the group of commotion without any circumstance or purpose.

Despite the drama, with its brazen assertiveness, stinging condescension, and brusque indignation, the patrons of the tavern of Vi'Zur proceeded with their business for the most part as normal. Though in Alicia's eyes the entire group had been harassing Susanna, perhaps to suit her idea of how men behaved, in fact only one had been. None of the other soldiers felt obliged to help their overeager companion now that he'd gotten himself into a scrape, even though Alicia had in fact now stolen from him -when did people with royalty not take from the smallfolk?- and the unkind belittlement of Alicia gave them no obligation to listen to her. Women with sharp tongues could be found everywhere, and while the men of the Stormbringer company were, as she said, little more than a band of peasants, they had been fighting and killing demons nevertheless. For all their apparent lack of honor and pride, theirs were brave souls, and inklings of pride deafened them to Alicia's rant. Golden heroes radiant in valor they were not by any means, nor did most of them harbor any delusions concerning their status. Next to none knew the exact nature or history of the Stormbringer order, but all knew and followed by its most renowned tenet: to fight demons. Yet, in retribution for a single man's lasciviousness and in accordance with her prejudice against lesser soldiers than she, Alicia likened their collective worth to dirt. The men aside from the one she gripped, therefore, remained with their cups, quietly nursing their pride, and nobody else acknowledged her challenge. Their recent victory had left nearly all of them with wounds and fatigue, but joy and celebration had drowned them out until the Royal Guard slew them.

The Stormbringers' collective attention did shift, however, when a chorus of metallic clanks and scrapes reached them through the tavern door. After a moment of anticipation, the door swung open, and in limped a knight in full armor leaning heavily on the shoulder of a fellow mongrel, a heavy-set and brutish-looking man who nevertheless bore the weight gladly. One of the men broke off from the bar to assist him, and together they navigated the wounded knight to the counter sufficiently far away from Alicia and the newly-arrived blacksmith. Collapsing weightily onto the stool, he fumbled at a little satchel for a small object of glass, which his comrade helped retrieve for him. “Water,” the big man rumbled, setting the blue-stained flask on the countertop. Fascinated, the bartender obliged, filling the flask to the brim with plain water. Instantly, an unnatural glow emanated from the cup, and a plethora of wide eyes watched as the water became a cobalt-blue concoction, softly luminescent. Without waiting on ceremony, the knight grabbed at the flask, tilted his head back, and upended the whole thing onto his helmet. The potions ran into the helmet, some of it presumably into his mouth, and the knight sighed in relief. Shoulders quivering, setting up a quiet but steady clink-clink-clink, he composed himself before he said in a rather high and raspy voice, “Thanks. That was awful. Good work back there, guys.” Seemingly pleased with his unsophisticated turn of phrase, he allowed himself to relax somewhat. To anyone looking, it would by now be obvious that this knight's eyes glowed yellow beneath his helmet.

A few of the Stormbringers glanced at Alicia defiantly. Their looks seemingly said, Look at this guy. He's one of us. We're better than you think, lady. One, after casting such a glance, even moved around to clap a hand on the knight's shoulder, saying, “Alistair! You did good yourself. Tell me: are we Stormbringers thugs without honor? Are we just peasants pretending to be heroes?” He crossed his arms.

A moment passed in quizzical consideration before Alistair's voice issued from his helmet. “Well, maybe, but we're good peasants. We don't rob or hurt people. That's honor, right? We kill demons. I got two in the last fight!” he bragged, though his following wince could be sensed by others even through plate steel. “Even though that one jerk did get my leg.” As it happened, though, that wound's recovery was already underway thanks to the contents of his flask. He followed his questioner's glance to the lady with the fancy armor, down the bar. Unaware of her comments, he gave a little wave before pushing his flask at the bartender to be refilled. He gripped the flask with fingers of iron, ready to splash it over his face as he had the first. “We're not, um, storybook heroes, but we're the good guys! Definitely.” His friend clapped him on the back, and beneath the helmet, Alistair grinned despite the pain. Though to Susanna, Alicia, or Silvana he might seem out of place among the poorman's Stormbringers, he in fact cherished belonging and believing—naive, idealistic, and even childish perhaps, but a testament to the fundamental purpose of the order overall. The other Stormbringers raised their mugs to affirm Alistair's statement before drinking, and the young knight followed suit.

These people were delusional. But they were not wrong. Alicia's anger was replaced with pity. And almost maniacal laughter. "I apologize. I took you for pretenders and thugs. You are clearly none of these. But you are, in fact, really fucking stupid." The thought of these people actually fighting an actual demon, not a demonic pest, was just so comical. "Without a doubt you can be called hunters. But demon hunters? What you are fighting are nothing more than demonic rats, and maybe an occasional orc." These men clearly had no idea just how much an actual demon would outclass them. "I was able to casually walk up to you and grab your hand. If I was an actual demon, you all would already dead. A demon would not grab your hand, he would rip it off and before you even had the chance to feel the arm being ripped it he would chop off your head." Alicia touched his forehead with her armored finger. "You may be good people, but that's not what the Stormbringers were meant to be. They were meant to be the best fighting force Valeria could offer, to take back our kingdom. In those ten long years, I've seen little of that part."

Paying for her drink and sitting down, she turns around, with the mug in her hand. "My offer still stands by the way. Your chances of survival could increase dramatically with actual military training. Besides, I haven't caved in a demon's skull in a while." At this point, Alicia could at least read people who fought for a living. Their posture, their behavior, all the little things. Alicia rarely entertained the thought of actually trying to teach rabble how to fight properly, but these guys seemed like they could potentially be whipped into shape. "I assure you, in your current shape, I could take on all of you at the same time and defeat you without even breaking a sweat. And I assure you, I've heard about demons that would end me faster than I could blink. And those weren't even close to the top of the demonic hierarchy." she started staring and measuring up each and every Stormbringer. "But demons usually lack any sort of finesse or tactics. They rely on brute force to overpower us. And they have a lot of that."

Alicia paused, gulping the entire contents of the mug in one go. "With the right training, a strict chain of command and proper discipline, the Stormbringers could maybe even start making a difference. But all I FUCKING SEE is amateurs flailing their weapons wildly and hoping for the best. As you can notice, it really, REALLY pisses me off." She slammed the mug back on the table violently. "So instead of terrorizing the local female populace, you could strive to be more than just peasants with sword." Alicia stood up and walked up to the group of Stormbringers again. "There are many instances, however, of peasants rising to greatness. It's not your birth that defines you, but your actions. So, are you content being demonic pest control, and do you actually to stand a chance against a demon who can fight back?"

A pure primal instinct inside Susannna told her to draw her knife and slit the idiot's throat, let his blood replenish her. Even though Susanna knew those impulses were not her own she was so tempted it almost hurt to keep her arm at her side. She was just about ready to punch the man when they were interrupted by a woman in full battle armour with fiery red hair. She berated the Stormbringers for their actions and from all appearances seemed to be a superior to them. She was clearly of a much higher caliber of warrior than they were.

She grabbed the hand the Stormbringer held his money in, compressing it to a painful degree. Susanna could feel Lilith's glee at the look of pain that crossed the man's face. His arm fell away from Susanna's back which she was more than grateful for. The other Stormbringers looked hesitant to get involved now that their was someone (at least in outward appearance) more equipped to defend herself against advances. They averted their eyes from the scene in the middle of the bar and continued to sip the drink that had just been delivered.

Susanna rolled her eyes at the events taking place around her. A moment before all she'd wanted to do was escape but now she didn't feel anything remotely close to fear of these people. The Stormbringer colors on their tunics had given her a fright when she'd first seen them but that was before she realized what incorrigible idiots they were. The girl with the flaming hair might pose her some problems but at the very least Susanna could escape from her. She leaned back against the bar and watched, her sense of urgency gone.

"Pathetic isn't it. You know in the first days of our siege on Veiron we actually feared these 'Stormbringers'. They were a force to be reckoned with. Now, they're just a bunch of fools with an over inflated sense of pride because they killed a couple of Imps. You could take all of them without breaking a sweet."

Susanna remembered the siege Lilith spoke of and the Stormbringers who'd fought their in more detail than she ever wished. For almost a week she'd channeled thunder and lightning, called down snow and hail on the humans of Veiron and been covered in their blood as she slaughtered them. It had taken days for the gore to fully wash from her body after leaving the cursed city and sometime Susanna though she still felt it on her skin.

"My my, doesn't he looks mighty imposing." Susanna could feel the smile attached to that last statement but she could see nothing funny about the man that Lilith was indicating as he entered the bar. He wore a full set of black armour, it seemed to be designed to inspire fear in his opponents as she could liken it to a number of demon hides she had seen the days when Lilith commanded her body. When he sat down and had water poured into his flash the whole bar watched as it turned into a bright blue liquid. A high whistle pierced the air, one that Susanna knew only she could hear.

"That's old magic. I haven't seen a Rejuvenation Flask since a hundred years before the Great Deal was struck. Whoever he is that knight has some secrets." Despite his appearance this knight seemed to run with the sorry excuses for Stormbringers that sauntered over to him and started talking loudly about their most recent battle. Clearly they were trying to impress the girl with the flaming hair by claiming they fought with the man wearing demon armour. It was pathetic, made even more so by the way the armoured man spoke. His words sounded naive and idealistic. He might have been scary to look at and a decent fighter but clearly his brains weren't all their.

It was pretty clear to the flaming haired girl as well the kind of people these were as she started to rant about how insufficient they were to bear the Stormbringer name. It was clear she'd make a good drill sergeant but her words were severly out of place for someone sitting at a bar who was still sober.

"Can't you feel it?"

"What?" Susanna asked under her breath, so low no one could hear her.

"Them, all of them, look at them closely."

Susanna did so instinctively knowing that the demon was referring to the girl with the flaming hair and the man in the demon armour. Her eyes were drawn up to the girl's hair and to the man's eyes which with a shock she realized glowed with a soft light.

"You mean?"

"Indeed, they are all marked. They were at Veiron the same as you and they're not the only ones." Susanna's attention was drawn to a man in the corner who wore a mask, something drew her eyes to his leg which he held stiffly. Then she glanced at the blacksmith at the bar. Her mark was far more visible. "Tell me, how many of them have you already met? How many of them lost family and friend at your hand? How much of the blood we cleansed ourselves with was of their houses? How many still remember my name?"

"Shut up!" Susanna shouted, wanting the demon to stop. Her words carried with them images of bodies and gore and atrocities done with her own hands while her features smiled like a child at market.

Susanna became instantly aware that most of the pub including the Stormbringers were looking at her. She quickly turned the sentence around. It was something she was used to having to do when Lilith drove her to breaking point in crowded areas. Susanna turned to look at the female Stormbringer as though the comment had been directed towards her. "Just shut up already. Everyone knows the real Stormbringers watch the old city from Servant's Hill. This pathetic rabble probably hasn't been within a thousand leagues of the city since the fall. And if you're desperate enough to try to recruit them you can't be much of a Stormbringer yourself."

The sound of clapping echoed inside Susanna's head. "My how cruel. I didn't think you had that in you." Susanna didn't answer the demon. She knew the best way to distract someone was to make them angry and as one of the marked this woman would clearly take her role as a demon slayer seriously. Call that into question and everyone in the pub would quickly forget her out of place outburst in favor of seeing how the girl would react.

The peasant girl's outburst was unexpected. She thought Alicia being a lowly Stormbringer, similar to the rabble she wanted to shape up. "Had the fall never happened, or if my pedigree held any meaning now, you would have faced some unpleasant consequences." This was rather insulting really. Or it would be, if Alicia still cared about that sort of things. She was way past from being hurt by words, especially words of an ignorant, yet observant commoner. "I suppose I stopped being relevant ten years ago. I mean, being a Royal Guard is kinda pointless without a king." Alicia's face was complete unfazed. "I was under the direct order from the King himself to form the Stormbringers, right before the fall. But as it turns out, not everyone was willing to follow military structure and discipline." She frowns a bit. "I abandoned this foolish notion when it became apparent that most of this rabble was beyond any sort of training."

Alicia approached the girl. She expected some sort of fear from a commoner, she was used to intimidating them. Yet this one did not show the signs of being intimidated. "But you are right, I'm no Stormbringer. I'm not desperate for recruits, I just want to kill some demons, preferably something scarier than an imp, and maybe even teach these buffoons a thing or two about combat." At this point Alicia noticed she was the center of attention. Again. The odd part was because she only had a rather civil argument, not a bar brawl. Though in her case, it was more like a one-sided massacre. "I'll be honest, girl. Unlike those guys over there, you didn't even flinch when I approached you. You would probably even do better with a sword than them. Without a doubt they would piss their pants the second they faced an Orc charge. That should tell you just how much of a joke these Stormbringers currently are."

Mezdon Hadirial

The travel to Vi’zur was not long for someone living in the forest next to it. Truth be told Mezdon had actually been a few times when he and his grandpa needed supplies. This was, however, the first time he had been simply for pleasure rather than business. He had been exploring the surrounding area for hidden caves or lost ruins only to come up empty. Hoping to hear some rumors or local myths that might guide his journey, he made his way to the town and went to the one place you could find such things; the tavern.

Opening the door expecting a calm scene of relaxing patrons with a few passed out drunkards, Mezdon instead came in just in time to see a red haired women dressed in unmistakably Royal Guard armor scolding a pack of Stormbringers. She wasn’t alone either, another woman, a blacksmith from what he picked up, had stepped in and kindly asked the man to let the lady be. This was definitely going to be a show Mezdon didn’t want to miss.

Taking a seat at an unoccupied table, Mezdon signaled one of the waitresses and ordered a bottle of whatever wine they currently had. Though he longed to once more taste the wine of his kin, Elvish made things weren’t common in these parts, and importing anything was nearly impossible due to the rising ork troubles. As such he had learned to make due with what was given.

In the time it took him to order his drink, a suit of armor held up by more Stormbringers entered and made their way to a table away from the angry women. As he sat down and got a drink Mezdon was astonished as he saw the drink turn from plain water into a sort of blue potion. Was this witchcraft? No, there were no incantations before hand. This was either a magic item, or a magic person. This knight would be someone of interest to the elf.

Things only got better from there as the knight began to counter the redheads arguments of the Stormbringers, but almost did so casually as if he really had little interest. Truth be told Mezdon nearly joined the Stormbringer’s himself. But not wanting to throw away the dreams he had as a child to wander of his own accord, he figured it would be best if he only did the occasional job for them.

His thoughts of the past were cut short as another armor clad man stood up from the table next to him and attempted to approach the man holding the girl; his hand resting on sword. Unsure if his intent was hostile or not, Mezdon grabbed the masked man’s arm and halted his movement. A fight hadn’t broken out yet and if at all possible Mezdon wanted to keep it that way.

“Hold on, friend.” He spoke calmly and released his grip to show he meant to harm, “I suggest you sit back and order another drink. After all…” He watched as the cloaked maiden twisted her holder's hand and escaped his grasp, “I think the ladies can handle themselves.”

With that the waitress brought out his wine and poured a glass. Mezdon returned to his seat and offered the masked man a chair at his table. Company during a show never hurt, especially now that the once damsel in distress had turned on her heroin and the two had begun their own fight about the Stormbringers. Taking a satisfying sip from his wine, he continued to watch to see if anymore twists in this clashing of ideals would occur.

@Laue@Prince of Seraphs

Glancing at the girl over her outburst, Silvana couldn't help but let out a slight laugh. She turned back to her drink for a good while, but couldn't help but spare a glance back at the strange girl. It wasn't until the former Royal Guard went and said, "But you are right, I'm no Stormbringer. I'm not desperate for recruits, I just want to kill some demons, preferably something scarier than an imp, and maybe even teach these buffoons a thing or two about combat," that she even returned attention to the other woman. It was surprising that the bar hadn't erupted into chaos. And then the former guard went and said, "I'll be honest, girl. Unlike those guys over there, you didn't even flinch when I approached you. You would probably even do better with a sword than them. Without a doubt they would piss their pants the second they faced an Orc charge. That should tell you just how much of a joke these Stormbringers currently are."

"I've seen two charges, definitely not something to take lightly." She said, turning toward the guard. "Given their skill, they've got a right to be a bit scared. I sure was my first time, stood my ground though, with my lot of refugees. Must have taken at least fifteen of em down on my own with my hammer that day. Not bad for a peasant, wouldn't you say? And I take it you at least took a few daemons out over the course of your... Travels?" Silvana inquired, her drink in her left hand, her right reaching for her hammer, just to make sure it was still there.

Silvana glanced over to the young girl the guard was talking to and set her right hand on the bar. "I might not be a Stormbringer, but this is the first place I've been able to call home since Veiron. I do my best to arm the Stormbringers. I also do my best to defend this town even though I don't go out like them. But I can personally attest to the fact that... Most of them didn't piss themselves on an Orc charge. I was standing there next to em." She said, turning back to the bar and waved for another round.

The derisive, nigh-insane laughter of Alicia caused Alistair to look toward her in concern, rivulets of potion running off his helmet to spatter across his greaves. Had he not been clad in armor, the knight would have been visibly deflated by the woman's first comment. For him, after all, it came completely unwarranted, and touched on his low self-esteem to bite particularly hard. When she next hurled insult against him and his allies, she asserted with staggering presumptuousness that the creatures they fought and died for were no more than paltry scum. Alistair's yellow eyes lay wide open, baffled by how or why someone could say something like that. Proceeding to further slander them with a rather contrived argument, the woman sat down with an attitude of callous casualness, and over a tankard of liquor she declared that she could utterly defeat the entire group of eleven men, thee women, and a monster without so much as perspiring. That, more than anything else so far, caused Alistair's eyes to smolder and his teeth to clench. Who does this lady think she is!? The image of a javelin piercing her throat sprang into his mind, but at the same instant he reigned in his anger. No matter how monstrous he seemed, Alistair would not allow himself to dishonor the idea of heroism.

In the moments that he took to calm down, Alicia rose and approached the Stormbringers again—or at least, she sidled closer to the greatest congregation of them, for the group had naturally spread throughout the tavern, most trying to ignore the woman shrilly attacking them for no discernible reason. Alistair quietly stood to his feet and made his way over to her and, allowing Silvana to defend herself against the pretty woman's tirade, before hailing Alicia. His sarcasm bubbled up within him. “Hey, what's your problem, your highness? Why do you care about what a couple of us lowly peasants do? And why the hell are you so bent on making stuff up about us? So you know, we killed Looter Demons early this morning. Not long before it was a bunch of Ghouls in an old mausoleum. Where do you get off being so...so mean? For no reason. I bet we've helped more people than you ever have, flailing or not. You're just picking fights in a bar with people just trying to help. Sounds like you gave up on your cause, can't blame you; hard to stand for something when your high horse is doing all the standing for you.” He kept his voice level despite the acidic rebuke he weaved with it. Anyone listening could easily identify Alistair in this situation as the advocate of the little folk and of hope, stoic and formidable, while Alicia seemed the very essence of a violent drunk lashing out.

His yellow eyes paid special attention to her weapons, expecting her to try and assert her dominance against him by force any moment. Few men knew female rage and violence like Alistair did. Only a week and a half ago, he had once again visited a far deadlier example than Alicia. “Beat us all without breaking a sweat. Teach us a thing or two about combat. Huh. If I were as much of a thug as you thought I was, this 'joke' woulda already smashed you flat, teach. I'm an moron and a monster, sure, but I'm good at one thing: If you and me were to fight, you'd be the one getting' schooled.” He stood, arms hanging by his side, to see if his suspicions would be proven right.

She was a damn noble. That explained a great deal. The superior attitude, the fairly impressive weapons the idea that no one could beat her in a fight. Susanna wandered what she'd do if she knew what lay inside her. If she knew there was a demon standing right in front of her and she didn't even know it.

On top of being a noble this woman was also apparently a former Royal Guard. Susanna had always thought the Royal Guards were a noble and professional line of soldiers, mostly because her Papa had been one but like everything in life you had the good and the bad. This girl was clearly an example of the latter, self centered and self absorbed. An anger flared inside Susanna at the woman's words. "Yeah and if you'd done anything to earn your pedigree before the fall maybe Valeria wouldn't be in such a sorry state but then you spent most of your life protecting a king who sold our land and all of his subjects to the Abyss so I suppose none of you were all that bright." As the woman stepped closer to Susanna the infernal girl stood her ground. Alicia was not the most terrifying thing she'd ever seen and if it came right down to it Susanna was more worried about hurting the woman than she was about any bodily harm Alicia could do to her. Susanna stood their unblinking returned the warriors gaze.

Susanna let out a mirthless when Alicia commented on her skill and her lack of fear. "I didn't flinch because I see nothing here to be afraid of. You're just an overgrown child in her father's armour. Just because he used to carry meaningful name doesn't mean anyone gives a damn who you are anymore."

When the blacksmith spoke up Susanna snapped at her to. She was about done with these people. All bloat about how many demons they could kill or how many orc charges they'd seen. Half of it was made up and the other half exaggerated. It almost made Susanna enjoy Lilith's company. The demon might be cruel but at least she wasn't a fool or a liar.

"Please, like this town has ever seen an orc charge. There's reinforcements a half days journey in three directions. Orcs are big not stupid." As someone who had ordered numerous orcs do to despicable things in her days as a demon Susanna knew full well what they would and wouldn't do, even at the order of a demon. It wouldn't surprise her if they attacked Halber but an insulated place like Vi'Zur. It would never happen unless the town had something worth sacrificing a thousand orcs for.

Susanna smiled when the demon knight started talking. He sounded far less threatening when he opened his mouth, like a child, he was probably simple. Still he was clearly a decent fighter, at the very least he could recognize someone putting on airs. When he approached them his hands on his weapons however Susanna sensing trouble drew the sword off her back. Its brilliant steel glistened in the low light and the golden handle shown brightly, the king's crest gleaming for anyone who knew what it meant to recognize. "I don't much care for her company my good knight." Susanna said with a hint of sarcasm on the last two words. "But I'd thank you to keep your distance from me. Her companionship is a lot more preferable to yours."

This was really getting out of hand. Everyone was full of it. "You know what everyone? Forget it. It degrades all of us to engage such childish bickering." Alicia simply wanted to back off from this carnival of fools. It didn't matter what she said, didn't matter what she did, it wouldn't make a difference. Ordering another drink, she simply turned her back to everyone and pulled out her map. Every town had it's own safehouse, and she would rather rest there. After all, only the Royal Guard were able to open these hidden rooms. If she's lucky, she'll find something on the weapon rack.

The orcs she knew were the kind that could easily rip a man in half with their bare hands, their charge was an equivalent of a cavalry charge. The peasant was full of it. But it did matter. It never did. Soon after the fall, Alicia still tried to train the Stormbringers to be an elite fighting force the King asked for. The elite fighting force she envisioned. But training commoners and militia proved extremely hard. Following orders, chain of command, and discipline in general were near impossible to instill, and only few took to her training. And she lost some of her trainees in their first encounter with orcs. Taller and bigger than a man, many times stronger, with thick green skin that was nearly impervious to low quality blades. They never even hoped of holding out against their charge, they had pikes for that. Pikes that they dropped as soon as the orcs moved past them, though a few orcs who underestimated the pike defense died rather painfully. One died when an orc grabbed his sword, ignoring the shallow cuts and pulling him in, swiftly ripping out his arm in a swift motion. Then he started bludgeoning another Stormbringer who broke formation to help with the said hand.

Alicia too has lost her sword this way. Although she just let it go, and since her sword was of far higher quality, it nearly severed the orcs fingers. Her force was equal in numbers against the orcs, and they lost a third to the orcs. Another third was grievously wounded. But that was nine years ago. Last she heard, the ones that were receptive to her training were now in high positions among the Stormbringers. As for her sword, she had no money to buy a new one of similar quality, nor were any blacksmiths left that could produce such a weapon. A mace was a cheap and replaceable alternative. Recovery of her original sword was impossible since orc reinforcements were on their way, and they had to leave the area fast.

Alicia never really drank. For most of her life, it was above her, a vice that clouds the mind. But now, it was a disgusting fix for the sorrow and rage inside her. Imbeciles and idiots boasting about their meaningless feats, pretending to be something they are not. Maybe not pretending, because they honestly believe that they are Stormbringers. They honestly believed they are making a difference. And why should they care? Neither of them lost as much as Alicia. Neither of them had a personal stake in Veiron or in the Kingdom itself. For common folk, rulers and noble families come and go. All their life, all their menial struggles and toiling in their trade does not change. The wilderness was dangerous to them before, so the Fall made little difference. For all they had and did, they were content. A town, a small region - it was their entire world. The Last Royal Guard had no such luxury. Alicia was almost envious of their simple mind. To not care about your bloodline, to not care about your social standing, being very careful of not compromising it. Of not caring about the world outside. How lucky must be a beast, for his only care in the world is to eat and procreate, and simply avoid death. No worries, no feelings of remorse or guilt. Just the simplicity of survival.

Another mug. Was that the 4th or the 5th? She couldn't tell anymore. Some part of her mind felt disgust in herself, as she degraded herself to a common alcoholic. The map she had in front of her eyes, barely paid attention to. It was another round of self-loathing and regret. Alicia was too weak. At one point, she was near her peak, among other Royal Guards. They were all at the limit of human bodily strength. Man is simply unable to push past that. Of course, such restrictions don't apply to orcs, or demons. It was just so unfair. Demons - a force of chaos, pain and destruction, and no force being an opposite of them. No divine help, no celestial creatures to help the mortals in their time of need. Only weak man, to be just a meat puppet to the demons now inhabiting this world. If she could gain power to fight them, even if it costed her soul, she would agree in an instant.

Alicia finally found the willpower to focus on the map, after her 5th mug. At this point, her alcohol tolerance allowed her to be quite sober, thought a bit tipsy. A state where her mind no longer dwells on her misery. The map said something about a graveyard, thought Alicia was not in a mood to aimlessly wonder. Taking out another gold coin from her pouch, she approached the peasant girl that told her to shut up first. "Here's the deal: You lead me to the town graveyard and I pay you. What do you say?"

Beringer glanced towards the opened palm of the arm that blocked his path as if he were assuming he was being offered something. His indifferent glance suddenly coming to the realization he was being blocked after scrutinizing the lack of objects being held. His menacing mask simply swiveled at a slow rate towards Mezdon, maintaining the point at which Mezdon could feel Beringer making eye contact despite the lack of visible features.

With a lighthearted chuckle, Beringer quickly broke the atmosphere, waving his hand slightly as he was offered a seat,

"I fight for a living, why would I fight for fun?" He mused jokingly, "I was only going to ask if I could join in on Ms.Hero's army of demonic suicide. She seems like she'd turn into a wraith if she died from her hatred, I figure I'm just helping humanity."
Mezdon can hear Beringer's grin behind his words, "Of course, you should join me, you look like the adventurous type." He motioned for Mezdon to follow him carelessly as he further approached Alicia.

By the time Beringer had made it to Alicia and the others, he could only stand through their long-winded conversation while staring blankly at one of the waitresses who looked quite beautiful for common blood. Finally, Alicia looked fed up with the group and was readying to leave when Beringer entered her line of sight with a raised hand, "I'll join in on your special elite force. I don't really know if I need too much training or anything, but it seems interesting, probably." He greeted with a smiling voice. His posture was plainly relaxed, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword while the other was raised to catch Alicia's attention. His fur and leather armor gave off a faint bloody scent, but it was too muted to become prominent to the senses.

The golden eyes of Alistair smoldered with a hurt curiosity when Susanna drew her sword. To be certain, the atmosphere surrounding them both and pervading the tavern as a whole felt anything but friendly, and Alistair in particular felt the tension of an imminent attack, but not from her. If anyone, he expected Alicia to be the one clamoring for assertion, but instead the pretty peasant woman produced a blade of exquisite craftsmanship. Her rich blade gleamed before him—the only weapon currently drawn in the establishment. The question why have you done that? lay etched on his face, were it only visible, and he considered reaching for the metal corkscrew rod stuffed into a knife’s leather sheath on his right hip.

Ultimately, he chose to ignore the blade, though his skin prickled at the not-at-all veiled threat. While the fine arts of war and metal escaped him, he knew from experience more than learning that no matter how fine the blade, metal armor could not be cut. Maybe, he reasoned, Susanna was simply afraid of him; he knew the feeling well. Suddenly feeling very awkward and out of place, Alistair took a step back. “Aye…” he murmured. “I am sorry, ma’am.” He glanced at Alicia, gratified at least somewhat to see her back down. As much as he wanted to say something along the lines of unhappy with the argument you started? Next time, just keep your mouth shut, he felt defeated. Sufficiently reinvigorated and healed by his flask, Alistair saw no reason to bear the scorn of anyone else, and abruptly left the premises.

Outside, a light and crisp rain had begun to fall. Alistair watched it beginning to pool in the miniature trench cut into the dirt by his own dragged leg minutes before. Familiar with the habits of his Stormbringer comrades to stay a night after a successful hunt, he started walking. Emmitt, one of his comrades and as sick if not more of the mood in the tavern, followed him out and trailed behind him, his gait barely affected by a mug of alcohol. In short order the man, a former member of a far-off city’s watchman, caught up to the knight and the two walked together. Though the refreshing coolness and rhythmic tapping of the rain soothed Alistair, he kept an eye out for a suitable place to sit and rest. Walking abreast with his friend, he circled a townhouse to a crude vegetable patch, where they sat beneath an awning purposed for the elemental protection of various sacks. “Rain washes away the sins of the world,” the other man said, looking at the silent knight. A strange intensity came across his rough features. “Alistair, how long have we been workin’ together?”

A shrug greeted his inquiry. “I’d say about three weeks,” Emmitt continued. “But never did I see you without yerr armor. I asked the others, and nobody’s seen you either. Just yer eyes.” He frowned. “Alistair, why do yer eyes glow yellow?”

After a moment, a sigh escaped from the dark armor. “I thought someone might ask eventually. It’s because of what happened to Veiron. I was there when it happened.”

While this sank in, Emmitt laid his cheek on his fist. “So you ain’t exactly human.” He hiccupped, though appeared otherwise unfazed. “But you ain’t a demon either. Demons don’t kill their kin. An’ you’re too much of a hero to be a demon, unless you’se really good. But we ain’t even proper Stormbringers.” A dry smirk appeared on his face. “What would some big-time deceiver want with the likes of us?”

Alistair’s head turned slowly. Like pools of forge embers, his eyes burned. “Who knows or cares? Anyone could be a demon far as I know. Even if I were more demon that human, it’s what I’m doing that matters. If I see a demon, I’ll try and kill it.”

A moment passed before Emmitt replied. “Yeah. Good on you.” He looked away, definitively bored.

The rain continued to fall.

Mezdon Hadirial

Mezdon’s offer was met by the gaze of the man’s mask. While he couldn’t see his face, Mezdon could feel his eyes make direct contact. The short tension was broken by a small laugh from Beringer who dismissed Mezdon’s suspicions, claiming he had no interest in fighting as it was his way of living. He moved on to let Mezdon ponder the offer to join Alicia in forming a real group of demon hunters. It was awfully tempting. Roaming the country fighting demons. but again he preferred the freedom of wandering alone.

Then things got heated. The once in distress girl pulled a sword on the glowing eyed Stormbringer. He set his glass down and put his hand on the hilt of his own blade; didn’t want to be caught off guard if things got ugly. Strangely, this didn’t seem to phase anyone. Not even the other Stormbringers moved to help their comrade.

Realizing the situation was getting out of hand, Alicia backed down and Alistair swiftly left the premises; the show was over. Removing his hand from his sword and going back to his glass Mezdon was able to get a second look at Susanna, specifically her sword. He recognized the crest on the hilt, even if he didn’t only a fool would miss that it matched the crest on the royal guard's sword.

”Now where did she get that?” he wondered to himself. Clearly these two didn’t know each other, therefore they both couldn’t be royal guards. She could have known someone or come across a deceased guardsman, but blades that were strictly to be used by those under the service of the king. Though laws like that weren’t exactly enforced anymore, many still honored codes such as that. It’s why he buried his grandfather’s sword with him rather than take it on his journey.

As interesting as this was, Mezdon couldn’t help but think about the yellow eyed man in the armor and how he had turned water into… something. He hadn’t met another magic user other than himself and Donden and was eager to discuss the arcane with another user. Setting enough coin on the table to pay for his drink he finished what was in his glass but took it and the bottle with him.

It had started raining now, while not too heavy it was enough that anyone would rather have shelter than stay in this weather. This was especially true in Mezdon’s case as his demon mark sizzled with steam as any drop of water that hit it simply vaporized from its heat. Moving quickly he found Alistair and his friend asking about why he fought with them rather than the real Stormbringers. Hearing Alistair simply brush off the question, Mezdon decided to chime in.

“They hurt us so we hurt them, that’s all there is too it eh?” Mezdon sat down next to Alistair and poured himself another glass. “Funny how we don’t look for reason anymore isn’t it? Demons terrorize our lands yet we never stop to ask ourselves why? Is this simply a game to them, or is there something to gain? Or more importantly, is there something here they fear? You would think after all these years we would know, but alas how could we when our soldiers can’t even explain why they fight. How can we know our enemy if we don’t know ourselves? And if we don’t know our enemy, how can we expect to win?” he sipped from his wine hoping his words were strong enough to make an impact on one so armored.

Alicia's proposal was interrupted by a masked man in armor. He actually took up on the offer. Alicia was a poor judge of character, but she was a rather good judge of warriors. Judging by his stance and general behavior, he seemed like he had sufficient martial training. It was the tactics and working as a squad he may lack. "Is that so? There's little I could teach you in martial skills. The way you walk, the way you stand, there are patterns in it those who trained in war possess. What I can offer you, or anyone willing is more than simply swinging a sword." Alicia turned her full attention to the warrior, whispering to the girl quickly: Consider my offer. Putting back the coin in her pouch, she considered her options. It was only one man, but that one man, probably a local, could make others follow. Despite the general incompetence of the populace, with proper guidance they could become a great force.

"You could have an army of the most skilled swordsmen in the land, but they will fall to an army less skilled that works together. You, specifically, probably know most common sword techniques. It's not about that. Brute forcing a battle rarely yields anything, unless your force massively overpowers theirs. And in our case, we are both individually weaker and far less numerous than the demons. What we can have, however, is strategy and tactics. A proper spear wall can counter any orc charge, then transitioning into a shield wall to deflect their initial blows and slowly march forward, finding opportunities to strike. As a unit." As a unit. A thing that is rarely seen nowadays. A thing Alicia would love to revive.

"And mere marching in a formation takes practice. Changing formations and tactics as the situation demands in the middle of a fierce battle requires discipline, clear understanding of chain of command, and simply doing that over and over and over again until you don't even need to think about it all." Alicia pauses for a bit, recollecting the few promising people she trained and lost. "And I assure you, instilling said discipline is very, very hard with the local militia. But if you're willing to learn some advance warfare, I'm more than happy to teach."

That man, as a local, most likely knows any potential areas needing cleansing. Alicia's quest could wait. After all, it yielded little these years she spent traveling the Kingdom. Besides, she hasn't killed any demonic scum, or orcs for quite some time. "At this point I don't have any expectations, but... I'll go with you to any combat scenarios you might have. Could use some exercise."

Beringer tilted his mask slightly when Alicia began to explain the importance of militaristic coordination and formation; otherwise, he made no move to interrupt her, but rather gave off the sense that he was listening intently despite his featureless expressions. Alicia eventually finished with an offer to aid Beringer in his plights around the town, to which Beringer nodded in agreement,

"What an eloquent and grand explanation of the grave importance of teamwork!" He clapped his hands together to punctuate his sentence, "Unfortunately, I am lacking in combat scenarios as, like your appearance, I am also but a mere traveler. I was simply reaped in by word of a rather boisterous banquet. To which it truly was." Rubbing the back of his neck with somewhat of an embarrassed gesture, Beringer looked to the side as if he were being bashful,

"It is true I have just about no experience in operating as anything more than a group of 6, however, toiling as a soldier isn't exactly something that holds my fancy. The only orders I hold dear are those from my mother and between the sheets." A sly smile echoes through the mask, "Otherwise, I was thinking more along the lines of a hunting party, but I have no interest in being some subordinate." Praeth said with a well natured voice, but his statement stood firmly on its own. Quickly, his attention was distracted by the sword that Susanna was holding, his gaze moving up and down Susanna before pressing downward on the blade slightly with his armored index finger, the claw-like gauntlet clacking against the metal of the sword. What a nice blade, Beringer thought with slight surprise, glancing up to analyze the features of Susanna, only for his own hidden features to actually show hints of surprise and mirthful delight,

"Ah, such a moving piece of craftsmanship, as expected, god has yet to forsake us completely." Beringer chuckled with a smile, not being entirely clear on whether he was referring to the blade or Susanna, "Surely your background cannot be simple, how formidable." He announced eccentrically, looking back towards Alicia with a hidden, but prominent stare, "We should go adventuring, go grab some demon hunting jobs, and kill some big game." He suggested with a stubborn tone.

It was scenes like this that reminded Susanna how much she hated being around people. Always with there sense of self righteous, self indulgent attitude. Everyone in this bar thought far more of themselves than they had any right to. A handful of demons could probably destroy this town if they had a mind to and what would these people with there grand speeches and flippant attitudes do about it? Nothing. There were only a handful of real warriors here and just because some of them possessed a mark that spoke of there escape from Veiron didn't mean anyone of them had the slightest clue how to deal with a true blood demon.

When the Royal Guard offered Susanna a coin to show her where the cemetery was she spat on the ground. "Trust me, you don't want my help. With anything, you're foolish crusade or simple directions. It wouldn't end well for you."

When one of the masked warriors put his index finger on Susanna's blade she was so tempted to run him through with the finely crafted steel. It would be so easy to kill him right here.

"Son of a bitch." Susanna muttered under her breath.

"Oh, so close. It really is getting harder to trick you. Not like it was in the old days. You remember that inn keeper? Put a knife right through her hand. You used to be so much fun. Now look at you, always in a sour mood."

So no one else could hear her Susanna said. "Damn you." to the demon inside her.

"Far too late for that dearie, how do you think I got here."

Doing her best to ignore Lilith Susanna caught the armoured warrior eyeing her figure. Did men have a mind for nothing else? It was the end of the world and there was still only one thought in his brain. She sheathed her father's sword in the scabbard on her back. "Simple stock maybe but I'm hardly ordinary. Not that you'll ever know." She said with withering look in her eyes and a knowing smile on her face.

This whole group was a disgrace. Susanna held up her hand, signalling the bartender so she could pay for her drink and leave. This place had ceased to be amusing to her and she had almost a day's journey to Ashbourne ahead of her.

Mezdon received a perplexed and even wary stare from the two Stormbringers as he seated himself alongside them. Never really designed to accommodate people, the cover seemed a little crowded. This did not discourage him as he poured himself a drink before continuing. His words clattered off Alistair’s armor, not unlike the rain, and they evoked a sneer from Emmitt. “Huh, a philosopher,” he snorted. For certain, Mezdon replied to an unasked question, and his answer bore little relevance. If the spiky-haired stranger had been eavesdropping on them and saw nothing wrong with interrupting a quiet moment, why would he try and change the topic? A severe case of the lonelies seemed probable. “We know ourselves plenty. We fight for what we care about. Don’t ya think demons do the same? If humanity loses, it ain’t because they don’t know themselves. It’d be because they’re weak, or don’t care enough.” He crossed his arms. Outside of the crude shelter, the rain picked up slightly.

Taking his cue, Alistair said, “S’right. We know who we are and why we fight. Doesn’t have to be a profound truth. They hurt us, we hurt them. Just like you said.” He reached up to adjust his helmet, wincing audibly as he did so. Gingerly, he rested his head in his hands and looked out at the rain. Some time passed before Emmitt reached out and punched Alistair lightly on the shoulder. “Ey. I was thinkin’. It’s been a couple of weeks, right? Ya said you’d have to leave again. I oughta go with ya this time. Get a breath of fresh air away from the louts. Stormbringers’ll be in this town for a day or two, livin’ like lords off the spoils of that demon hunt, then we move on like always.”

With a shrug, Alistair replied, ignoring Mezdon’s presence, “I guess. Nobody’s ever come with me before. It’s a dangerous and bleak trip. I might as well tell you now: it’s Veiron I visit. Or what’s left of it anyways. There’s something there I need to see.”

If anything, Emmitt appeared unfazed, however much common sense dictated he should be terrified. “We all die sometime. Why d’you think I’m part of this suicide squad anyhow? Haven’t seen my family in years, don’t have a home, don’t have any money or anyone but what’s in the Stormbringers. Veiron sounds like an adventure.” He grinned darkly. “I been there once, while ago, before it all went to hell. Might be nice to see it again.”

Alistair shook his head. “It really, really won’t.”

Emmitt received this with a shrug. “Whatever. When we leavin’?”

Alistair’s gaze returned to the rainfall. By now, the dirt roads of the town were a muddy marsh, fit for neither foot nor wagon. “Soon as the ground doesn’t suck.” He seemed weary and resigned. His comment ended the discussion, and Emmitt laid his head back on a potato sack.