[center][img]http://orig00.deviantart.net/5a2a/f/2016/341/7/8/partyanimal_by_fenixking13-daqu8gj.png[/img] [color=fdc68a]Olipher "The Heartseeker" Blightbreak[/color] [@liferusher][@ZekariVoblis][@ADamnFiddle][@Sir Lurksalot][@FamishedPants][/center] [color=fdc68a]"How you look doesn't change what is in your heart Mr.Aleph Banton. Every breathe of air, from the freshest to the most foul, defies a cruelty of our world. Drink up and celebrate your chance to be a hero. Be it today.. Or tomorrow."[/color] Olipher had practiced the motion many times. Putting the wide brimmed tankard to his lips as the outer rim of it touched the visor on his helmet, then craned his neck to get the sweet nectar without needed to take off his helmet. [quote=@Lucius Cypher] [color=forestgreen] ”Bug off, plebe. I need a drink, not a dick.”[/color] [color=forestgreen]”If you’re still sitting here in the next six seconds, your ass is going to be floating in the river.”[/color] Atisha wasn’t even buzzed yet and she was already acting like a hostile drunken shitkicker. While one of her hands was holding her mug, her other hand was inching to area one of her daggers. [/quote] Olipher was mid-sip of his freshly poured drink when the fiery lady at the bar offered up her threats and it proved too much for him. Spitting out his drink (away from his new friends direction) he laughed as hard as he could in between coughing as the ale he bought searched for his lung instead of his stomach. At one point, Olipher pounded on his chest while slamming on the table to further accentuate the hilarity of it all. With a contented sigh he swiveled on his chair, resting an arm fully on the table (with his hand near the quiver of arrows). [color=fdc68a]"What a coincidence. Neither do I! Nor any other part for that matter. Nay, what I need is company worth keeping and drink worth [i]drinking![/i]"[/color] Another, smaller, laugh echoed from below his deathly visage. [color=fdc68a]"Now, come have a few mid day drinks on my dollar. Wouldn't kill you to have a friendly drink and some gossip before we part our ways would it?"[/color] Olipher pointed his mug towards Ezekiel and motioned for him to come over too. [color=fdc68a]"No reason we can't all be friendly. Would hate to start the day with more murders in this city."[/color] Of course he was referring to the man he had claimed the bounty on this morning. News of the other killings had not reached his ear. [center][img]http://orig04.deviantart.net/992f/f/2016/274/0/9/blackblood_by_fenixking13-dajgrkh.png[/img][/center] [center][color=1b1464]Mithril Blackblood[/color] [color=Gold]The Golden Sword[/color][/center] [color=0072bc][i]Heavy..[/i][/color] [color=0072bc][i]My body feels.. so heavy..[/i][/color] Mithril vaguely recalled departing from the bloodshed, acting by his own demands for seemingly the first time since grabbing the accursed blade, and wandering the streets long into the night. His 'ally' was a person of incomprehensible power. His presence alone had dominated the fight in its waning moments. Mithril could not even recall the faces of the people he had killed in cold blood... But he remembered [i]her[/i]. [color=0072bc][i]Maria.. [/i][/color] [color=0072bc]"HNNG"[/color] A sharp pain exploded in his mind. Cold talons dragging in the aftermath scraped his mind and soul in excruciatingly painful waves. For just a brief moment it was too much and the broken form of Mithril Blackblood swooned, threatening a black out; But a colder presence denied the satisfaction. [color=ed1c24][b]STAND. UP. [/b][/color] Mithrils body obeyed without question. All traces of fatigue fell away in the presence of that absolute authority of his mind. [color=gold]The Golden Sword.[/color] That foulest of monsters that lurked in the depths of the sword. The soul of a witch. [color=0072bc][i]We don't have to do this.. We can leave this place, go anywhere, be anything! Please![/i][/color] [b][color=ed1c24]YOU ARE NOT THE MASTER. OBEY.[/color][/b] The scene unfolding in his mind was quite simple. Mithril was to ambush a street performer and a mercenary nearby. His own equipment was scorched and torn, blackened and bloodied, and his own body was still in need of healing. His cauterized wound was no longer capable of being restored to the pink flesh it had been.. Another memory of the lives he had taken for the whim of a parasitic entity. [color=0072bc][i]As you command..[/i][/color] The performer and the mercenary walked willingly to their own doom. Promises of gold and fame, weapons and women, power and prestige! All the worldly desires they dreamed of were flaunted on a string before their eyes as the sirens call lured them into the hiding spot of their killer. The shimmer of gold with a flash of red flame stole their voices and strength, collapsing onto the ground like puppets with their strings cut. The fatal slash was sealed with fire when the light left their eyes. Better not to leave trail. The harvest began not long after in the warehouse he now used as home. Both men were stripped of clothing and equipment as Mithril threw away his own shabby garbs. Bracers, pants, silken clothing and boiled leather, chestplate and chainmail.. A hood and a mask. Two bodies lay on the cold stones as the newly garbed [url=https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/fe/db/1c/fedb1cba3f467042aa7c89f0b5585b72.jpg]swordsman[/url] fled into the streets, two stolen swords and a familiar item covered in cloth hanging from his back. His outfit was peculiar but not terribly out of the ordinary. Most saw a mercenary on his way to find work.. It would take him a few hours to wander the streets towards the home he sought.. The home of the one named Chastity. Specific instructions had been given to the sword as it spoke to the crazed madman that had come to its aid. [b]--------------- S E C R E T LAIR OF 'Chastity' ---------------[/b] Mithril had entered the lair of the Archbishop without being spotted. While not familiar with the concept of entering someones home without intentions of destroying it, the commands of the sword had quieted as it allowed the more normal reasonings of its puppet to guide them in the formality of an alliance. So he had simply sat down on the nearest chair and awaited the host to show himself. The sword hummed in his mind in excitement, but all Mithril felt was anger. How many more would die from what was created today.