@Jeyma@Emuxe

"That'll be 6 gold pieces"

Before the words had left the barmaid's mouth Crow felt warning bells sound in the back of his head. Oh come on, an attack now?. He downed the rest of the glass, slamming it back on the bar with another hand rifling through his pockets. "I only just got that too", came the disgruntled mumble as Crow pulled a diamond slightly smaller than your pinky nail but that shone like star from his pocket, setting it in her waiting hand. In one fluid movement he was up and opening the front door, stepping out into the evening air before calling out over his shoulder, "Start a tab if you could". An instant later a bolt of lightning enveloped him with acrack of thunder and he vanished.

An identical bolt light up the sky at the boundary to the city where the flesh spinner had attempted to enter and Crow hit the ground with a thunder crack of impact that sent a few of the nosey civillians flying back in all directions. An immediate groan of pain left him as he once again pulled himself from the kneel, this time he had cracked the stones beneath him. Theres no way in hell I'm paying for that, the thought in his mind echoed the look of annoyance crossing his grimanced face as half the crowed jeered and the other half backed off as fast as they could without looking too conspicuous.

Crow resisted the urge to hold his side which was only now at a point where he felt as if it were about to tear open on him, instead casting steely eyes to the scene playing out before him. Not only was there the archmage of the Neph riding on by (When did the old man ever pull his nose from a book long enough to travel), but there was no full assault on the boundary that had called him. A hastened, wasted drink had earned him the spectacle of a farmgirl leaning over a twisted mess of a being."You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me." Each word was punctuated by a striding step as he came before them, only pausing briefly to give a respectful nod towards the archmage. At this range he could recognise the cacophony of parts making up the creature before him. Although he didn't touch the pummel of his sword, the death rune of burning light glowed just faintly across his palm as warning. While his magic was corrupted it was not by essence evil but you don't live long as a Nephilim by blind trust. "By Alithe's wastes what do you think you were doing Fleshspinner? You should be dead!". The silver flecks in Crows eyes flared up to match then raised tone of his voice. He allowed the barest of moments to flick his eyes over to the farmgirl before letting them lay heavy back on the flesh spinner, awaiting an answer. Something warned him that something was very wrong with the girl but he still ached and had more pressing matters at hand.

The woman stared at the small diamond that the Nephlim had dropped in her hand, a look of disbelief on her face. Diamonds were a rare sight, only rarely seen outside of The Institute; Skye was sure that only the highest of Nephlim even had access to them. Just who was this man? she wondered.

The man had requested that she'd start a tab on the diamond right before he'd dissapepared in a flash of lightning. "Right, this would buy you drinks for a year..." she muttered under her breath as she momentarily disappeared into the back of the bar, dropping the diamond into a small lockbox in her office.

---

Sophia offered the icy Nephlim her own icy stare after he'd spoken such harsh words of the poor creature that lay by her. How could he say such a thing?! Nephlim were meant to protect life, not leave a poor creature to die! Before she could open her mouth to berate the man, an elvish girl had chimed in, "and what makes you so high and mighty that you get to say such a thing?!" Sophia was pleased that someone was defending the creature.

The farm girl looked down to see the creature perform the most horrifying act: A slimy scarf of blood had choked out of it's mouth, and as the creature rose to it's feet, it forced the rest of it out of his mouth and splattering to the ground. Sophia had to scramble back to avoid being covered in the red filmy substance. The girl picked herself up, simply staring at the strange creature as it spoke: Well, he was certainly right - she did need answers. Just what was he?

The girl couldn't gain the courage to speak as the creature looked him up and down, and Sophia had to hug her arms across her bare stomach, bright red in embarrassment. Due to the small shirt she wore, her stomach was slightly exposed whenever she lifted her arms more than an inch.

Strangely enough, the creature had somehow assumed that she already knew what he was - and he was far from right. She wondered how, but upon looking down, Sophia noticed that the very bottom of her birthmark was uncovered by her skirt. Sophia instantly moved a hand down, pulling the hem of the skirt down a little further to hide it. The girl had pressed her thighs together, in another feeble attempt to cover the seered mark.

"Or maybe... you've already heard of the Fleshspinners."
"The who-what?"

Yet another Nephlim had suddenly joined the crowd, and Sophia had to wonder if there was a warrant on this creature. "By Alithe's wastes what do you think you were doing Fleshspinner? You should be dead!" the Nephlim man had exclaimed: There it was again, fleshspinner.

What was a fleshspinner, anyway? she had to wonder. But by the Nephlim's words, the creatures sounded to be Revenant creatures. Is that why the creature asked if she already knew what he was? Because he saw her birthmark? That was exactly the reason why she hid it - she had nothing to do with the Revenant, and she was only born with the mark. She only hoped that the creature wouldn't bring it up, for if the townsfolk thought she was aligned with Alithe, she'd be chased out of the living Terran lands.

"And what makes you so high and mighty that you get to say such a thing?!" The elvish woman's remark made him realize how rude what he'd said must have made him sound to the public of close-minded neutral like herself. Still, the arch-mage of the Nephilim wasn't about to let this woman make him sound a fool. He dismounted his horse and stepped forward about a meter, and directed his words towards the elf. "I'm terribly sorry, but have you seen the thing? It's absolutely hideous! And that sounds horrible I know, but its by complete choice! Does that not baffle you? It's basically begging to be hated."
The creature stood swiftly, frightening the crowd around it. The women and children screamed, and the men gasped. Unsurprisingly, as it revealed its repulsive self as result. "Begone, people! Do you have any business monster-slaying? Otherwise, you're wasting you're own time." Of course, they did nothing. Kaezira strongly disliked the common neutral. After all that the Nephilim had done for them and now they are opposing the holy light? Raziel himself? Unspeakable. The monster began to speak to the young girl, it started analyzing her. What horrible things does it have on its mind? She began to hide her body from it as if she was feeling violated.
Bright and loud lightning struck the ground near the group, and Kaezira was quickly aware of what it was. Carlisle, his brave Nephilim brother. "Ah, thank Raziel's light that you're here. I hate dealing with this neutral crowd and that discomfortable being that's caused this." Crow nodded respectfully towards Kaezira, and pointed towards the Fleshspinner. Kaezira now standing to his side, arms crossed. "By Alithe's wastes what do you think you were doing Fleshspinner? You should be dead!" The crowd around them were once more frightened by the Nephilim warrior's raised voice and shimmering eyes. He was aggravated, even a neutral understood this. "Tell me, Corvus. Do you have your Braidh? I've left mine in my quarters. I didn't think I'd be needing such a thing in Wellborough. We might as well put the horrible thing out of its misery while we can, agreed?"

---

Shertul had barely gotten on his feet, and already another threatening white knight had appeared- in a flash of light and lightening, no less! How very Nephilim of him.

"By Alithe's wastes what do you think you were doing Fleshspinner? You should be dead!"

Shertul's counter was faster than the crack of a whip. "And you should show basic ethical sympathy, so I guess we're both disappointing."

But before the angel could grow any closer, he thought back again to the Crest on the farmgirl's thigh. Few Revenants would have stopped to save a suffering stranger, Fleshspinners included, unless... could it be because he was a Fleshspinner? Perhaps she hoped to earn instruction. There was always a vampire banging on the Monastery doors, asking to be granted the powers of Flesh, then leaving in disappointment when they discovered the decades of devotion that would be needed to prove them worthy. Shertul always wondered what they expected: was the Monastery just going to wave a magic wand, sprinkle some fairy dust and force new limbs to simply sprout from them?

Of course, this pretty little thing looked too young to be a Revenant. And too weak. He would question his teenage savior in time, if his life had any time left. For now, he but whispered. "I will always have gratitude for what you've done."

He nodded in the angel's direction. "I will distract him. But perhaps you run, marked of Alithe. No doubt, they'll slaughter you if that mark is seen. I'll find you another time, if I'm left alive." He spoke with an unintentional, semi-holy reverence.

Shertul took a wide, combative step to hide her from this newly appeared enemy's unwavering gaze. He was careful to disguise it as a natural movement- the sort made by any man bucking for a fight. A shade of endless black spilled slowly into his eyes. He relaxed his claws back to their full length... maybe just a bit further.

Yet before the bloodshed could properly begin, he had to at least try to talk his way out if it. There would be a bounty on his head if he ripped up two Nephilim.

He ignored the mage. He had heard of the abhorrent Kaezira, and knew that he was not worth words. But the new angel. He might have the decency to feel remorse.

First, Shertul spoke only to the crowd. "Do what Kaezira says. Go back to your homes. I am a monster, yes it's true, so flee before your valiant knights accidentally kill half of you on the way to me!"

The crowd moved back only a few yards. I suppose we'll have an audience today.

Then he turned a pinning gaze to the second Nephilim, the teleporting one. The Fleshspinner's words were an assassin's daggers: quick, sharp and coated in poisonous accusation. "A Nephilim, of course! Who else could find such evil in themselves to speak insults to a near-dead man? I foolishly believed those in my Monastery were exaggerating, when they warned me of how cruel Raziel's followers were. My misguided friend even risked arguing to them on your behalf." His tongue became wet with hate. "I'm sorry to see... they were truthful all along."

He took a gasping breath, and continued before the fool could interrupt him.

"What, are you feeling sorry for yourself? That you had to come check a gate and threaten murder against me, a neutral man who has never harmed a soul that did not first harm him?" He gestured to the hand that glowed ever so faintly of Blinding Light. "I just had every part of my body thrown into a level of agony that I don't think you could even begin to understand. But yes, poor you, having to accost a dying traveler." Shertul twirled both his right arms into a mocking bow. "You are clearly the victim here. I'm sorry my torture ruined your day."

---

In her decades of life, Windleaf had never once felt more confused. This... this thing was dying only moments before. But now it was up on it's feet in an instant, speaking calmly to the kind girl who had struggled desperately to rescue it. Everything about it- it's all-too-fluent motions, it's appearance, the ease in which it changed itself- screamed to the her soul that it was not of nature. Some twisted work of magic, no doubt.

She felt a pang of guilt, knowing centaurs may be just the same.

Even so. Sutagara believed herself to be a servant of nature, first and foremost before all other obligations. She heard the mage shouting, and if he spoke the truth, it was Windleaf's honor-bound duty to slay the abomination. The Nephilim still held some respect in her eyes. Granted, their laws often spawned civilization spreading like disease into the beauty of forests, yet Raziel was the very one who held Waste at bay.

"Begone, people! Do you have any business monster-slaying?"

The pride of a warrior painted her tone. "I do." She drew her heavy blade in a light motion.

In the end, if the worst comes, the centaur will stand with the angels.

"And you should show basic ethical sympathy, so I guess we're both disappointing."

Carlisle felt every muscle in his body tense light taught steel cable, the muscles and veins along his body pronouncing and forming like marbled stone. Lacking of ethical sympathy? How..could.. He steadied his breath, this was just another day. Some core part of Crow's training, literally formed within his genetic code, flipped as the arch-mage asked whether he carried his Braidh. Unlike the old academic, leaving his Braidh would be like leaving an arm. His fingers trailed just across the Pummel as the Fleshspinner spoke to the somehow-wrong farmgirl.

Then the creature slid into a steady but well disguised stance, forming before the girl in a protective manner. Carlisle's eyes narrowed like a hawk, his feet sliding across the ground to match without a muscle losing tension. Who was the girl? Cogs spun within his mind and some deep intuition screamed of the dark and Crow let his silver flecked eyes flick to the girl just visable over Shertul's shoulder. But before any more connections to be made the creature began again, apparently attempting to send the civillians back to their homes. This was enough to give the Nephilim pause only to be taken immediately by a barrating speech as much to himself as to the crowd. The creature spun such words of passive hate against him that it struck Carlisle so dumb he actually blinked which might not seem like much but to the battletrained as he, blinking had to be timed and perfect.

"You are clearly the victim here. I'm sorry my torture ruined your day."

Each and every rune spattered across the Nephilim's body flared with silvery light. From his peripheral vision Crow could see the crowd warming to the fleshspinner's speech, eyes filling with bile as they turned on him. Before he could stop himself, his hand had reached the Braidh at his time. The length shimmered with brilliant light, the form melting and reforming down to the binding silvery chain that near all feared and children's tales had been spun. "How..DARE.. you", his voice boomed backed by his bloodline's power. It filled the area not only to Shertul but as if addressed to the despising onlookers as he cast his gaze around to each of them "Not five hours ago I nearly lost a brother, nay, may still lose a brother! Not by lording it over a neutral, but by finding a cult trying to sacrifice YOUR. PEOPLE! Neutrals! To try gain some twisted favor from Alithe's wastes! Maybe your memories are too short but I assure you mine is not and it has always been this way". Carlisle lifted his shirt enough to show the lattice of age old scars and the freshest from earlier that day finally forming into fresh silver lines through the brilliance of the lit healing rune fueled by his anger. As the shirt fell he rounded back on the fleshspinner, "So don't you dare twist my purpose. You took no heed of the pillars that hold the chaos at bay at the small price of inconvenience, calling me as if the city were under attack. You were the one to choose your path of flesh magic, Edging as close to the darkness that consumed the world and thousands of my brothers and sisters without actually being so that the insult is unbearable!". Crow took a couple slow measured steps forward, the now blazing chain scorching the cobbled stone but paused dead in his tracks. He had caught sight of the farmgirl that Shertul protect, a wide eyed fear in her eyes. In an instant, like an electric shock, he was thrown back into memory with a girl not much younger than she mirroring the same look. He saw the light burst from behind her eyes by his very hand and the slackened body hit the ground lifeless with such a sound you could never imagine. Crow blinked but as many times as he tried, the girls eyes and the farm girl's would not separate. With a shaky breath, the glowing runes faded along with the Angelic fury exhuding from him. The chain went slack as the weary look crept back across his face with a voice to match it "Just...go".

Amber watched as the onion was crushed, wincing a little. "Aw, you didn't have to destroy it! I could have tried at on somebody else!" she whined, before kicking her feet, and starting to walk away, when she heard him growl. She pieced it together, and knew why this man seemed familiar, where she'd sensed him before. With fear and curiosity, she got closer.

"Are you a wolf?" she whispered. "I'm positive I watched you kill a man in the woods, but you were but a beast!" She sniffed at him, but he was definitely a man, albeit one who had spilled blood recently.. How strange! Was this magic? No, it couldn't be! Her magic wasn't working so why should his be? "How do you do it?" She asked. "It can't be magic, so how is that possible?"

As she did this, her hands were running up and down her pan pipes, almost as if she was getting ready to play it, but there was also a nervous security about the movements, reminiscent of a man's hand on hos sword hilt. Were these pan pipes her weapon? She looked down and noticed what her idle hands were doing, and stopped, slipping the pipes back into her dress.

"Tell me, Corvus. Do you have your Braidh? I've left mine in my quarters. I didn't think I'd be needing such a thing in Wellborough. We might as well put the horrible thing out of its misery while we can, agreed?" the Archmage had spoke, and Sophia's eyes widened in fear: Were they to kill this creature just for what he was?

"No!" Skye objected as she rushed forward, placing herself between the creature and Nephlim, her hand habitually reaching back to press on the creature's chest, feebly attempting to push him back a bit. "What has this man done besides scare a few citizens?" she questioned, trying her absolute hardest to keep her voice from shaking; honestly she wasn't used to, or frankly liked, being the center of attention - and standing in the middle of two hostile parties in the middle of a ring of citizens certainly didn't help with that problem. "You can't just claim something to be evil just because it comes from an evil place!" she emotionally tried to reason.

Though it sounded like she was solely speaking of the creature she was defending, Sophia was also talking about herself: Just because she had a sentientally angry birthmark of the Revenant's crest, it didn't mean that she was one - the young woman hadn't even been to the Wastelands. And she couldn't have been born Revenant, because it was common knowledge that the Angel of Entropy couldn't create life.

"I will always have gratitude for what you've done," the Fleshspinner quietly chimed into the girl's ear, "I will distract him. But perhaps you run, marked of Alithe. No doubt, they'll slaughter you if that mark is seen. I'll find you another time, if I'm left alive."

Although she hesitated for a moment, the young farm girl finally adhered to the creature's will, backing away from the Nephlim and the creature. Though she knew that she should run, Sophie just couldn't pull herself away from the situation: She couldn't really do anything to help, but she couldn't just flee and let the innocent creature be slain. She remained quiet through the creature's rant: While harsh and a little unorthodox, the creature did have a point - the Nephlim cared for the Nephlim, not anybody else. They only "help" the neutral citizens to further their feelings of superiority.

The sheer power of the Nephlim's booming voice sent a paralysing chill up the girl's spine, and the girl could only stare up in fear at the darker Nephlim man as he spoke. His words filled her with guilt for thinking such bad things of the Nephlim - Sophie had selfishly seemed to have forgotten that the Nephlim were too citizens of the living Terra.

The furious Nephlim man trudged forward a few steps toward the flesh spinner, his body language indicated that he was filled to the brim with fury. Though surprisingly, when the Nephlim's eyes at met hers, the man's fury seemed to just... Melt away from him. "Just...go," the Nephlim quietly said, his voice spent.

Though she wanted so badly to ask why he was letting them go, Sophie remained silent as she slowly moved away from the two Nephlim; she gently grasped her hand around a few of the fleshspinner's claws as she passed him, quietly pulling him along with her. She couldn't help but keep her eyes on the Nephlim as he slowly disappeared from view over the retreating horizon, a confused and curious look touching her features: She had so many questions for the man, but she knew it was best to remove the creature from the situation before the Archmage had time to protest.

@Soragoku

Sybil looked at this... man?.... in shock. Was the basis of his hate of this person truly just their appearance, "If you are truly condemning him because of his looks, you would need to condemn many other people and beings- what sort of judgement condition is that? I bet you're a real looker under that hood of yours- see this is why we remain neutral, because we don't want to be so close minded as those who "pick a side"," she growled at him before looking at the other man he spoke to as a comrade, almost relieved he told him to leave. She looked at the centaur that had stepped forward and scoffed at her willing-ness to join in on the madness. What was wrong with people?
She looked for Wyn, wishing for his backup on this, though his advice would be to get involved not berate someone she had no previous knowledge, no understanding of his life and therefore his choices. She sighed, hearing his lecture without him even being there. Crap.

@shmektheshmuck

Wyn looked around at the crowd the barkeep had managed to draw from his loud shouting. He sighed in annoyance before looking at him, leaning on the bar, "Is this truly how you treat your paying customers, or did I do something in particular? I made no sign that I intended to drink the whole thing here so I find it highly annoying and contemptuous that you would make such an annoying situation. And here my comrade was going to order food from you, but I think we'll go elsewhere," he said, putting the money out for the drink before taking the bottle and looking for where said comrade was before starting to the exit realizing he must have left her outside. He walked out, pushing his way through the crowd if he had to, not wanting to stay in the tavern anyways. He purposely tried to avoid getting into scenes and drawing attention to himself and to have him do that hit a nerve. He put a hand to his face seeing Sybil in the midst of the scene with the Fleshspinner and made his way over.
"My passionate little friend, you let your mouth get the best of you again, didn't you?" he muttered as he caught her arm, looking to the Nephlim, "Ignore whatever idiotic drivel has come out of her mouth. We'll leave you all to this situation, good day," he said, pulling her away, looking for an inn to stick her in before she said something else.

"I do." The warrior centaur stepped forward to show her allegiance with the Nephilim. Kaezira adores horses and centaurs alike, they are noble and strong creatures. Both of them great fit for a furry friend. "Ah, quite a beautiful mare you are. Strong warhorse. I adore your physique. Now then, you're here to slay monsters? Help us rid of this beast."

The creature began its speech upon the two Nephilim men. He'd agreed with Kaezira, telling the crowd to flee before their own guards slay them on their way here. Hardly imaginable, he'd think the guards of Wellborough to be thoroughly trained. Nevertheless, the creature has a hate for Nephilim he'd like to share. He accused the Nephilim of being truly evil and selfish at heart. Mockery is this creature's form of religious discussion. How neutral of it. No real insight into the things it believes, it blindly follows the rest of the sheep, all under the same unreasonable influence. They simply ignore the great the Nephilim have done for them. Of course, the Nephilim at any time could abandon the neutrals to fend for themselves, and see just how long they will last without a higher protection.

Carlisle was angered by the monstrosity's speech. While Kaezira simply ignored the redundant, passive-agressive hatred, Crow took it to heart. He became enraged with the holy light surrounding him. His eyes glowing as bright as the runes on his body. Now, a real argument could be heard against the creature's speech. How informed, how logical. Music to the ears.

As crow approached the foolish vermin, his gaze glanced towards the girl with the Revenant birthmark. Kaezira had before noticed the Revenant marking on her thigh, but knew the girl was innocent. He thought not much more of it than a purely unfortunate coincidental resemblance. This girl, however, reminded Carlisle of his memory. Carlisle often sought out mental help because of how scarring the event was for him. In following traces of dark magic, Crow was eventually led to a young woman, who'd had the darkness inside of her. She was a corrupted soul far beyond repair. Crow followed through on his duties, and the woman's dark soul was laid to rest.

After seeing the young woman, he collapsed. His energy drained from his very being. "Just...go." He sent the creature off, and the girl followed with. Kaezira wasn't content with Carlisle's decision, but he thought it a waste of time and effort to take care of the useless creature himself. At least Crow would have gained something from it.

"You must come to terms with your past, Corvus. You're becoming weak because of it, you mustn't let it get the best of you. You have to be strong if you are to continue out your duties of defending Terra, weakness cannot hold you back. Do you understand?" He held his arm out towards Crow, to give him a hand getting off the ground. "You will ensure that girl is safe from the Fleshspinner. Who knows what should come of her if she spends too much time with it. If you believe she has a connection to the Revenant, I have no doubts she could be persuaded to join them, or become a Fleshspinner herself. She's well known in Wellborough, I can't have more neutrals blaming the Nephilim for something happening to their people."

"Not five hours ago I nearly lost a brother, nay, may still lose a brother! Not by lording it over a neutral, but by finding a cult trying to sacrifice YOUR. PEOPLE! Neutrals! To try gain some twisted favor from Alithe's wastes! Maybe your memories are too short but I assure you mine is not and it has always been this way"

Shertul responded in equal anger. "That's sad, of course, but it has nothing to do with me! I was not sacrificing the girl, nor have I ever sacrificed anyone. I will not be killed for another person's crime!"

While he spoke, the hidden third eye opened upon Shertul's forehead. All of his distortions were visible now. A woman in the crowd gasped. "Oh, please. Are you even surprised at this point?" A few relieving chuckles sounded off, at least. One of his normal eyes winked.

"The cold-hearted one is right," he confessed to his audience, "I am what I am completely by choice. It's magic." The chuckles turned to narrowed stares, and the half-horse swiped her sword through the air as if she could cut it. A warning. "I knew it! Monster! Abomination!" Each word was punctuated by a swelling in her chest, as if she was going to huff and puff and spew fire.


But the Fleshspinner ignored the centaur's posturing, turning on her like a cornered rodent, all claws and teeth and venom. "Have you ever seen what the Wasteland does to a soul? Have any of you ever seen what it can do to an innocent? Think of it: I was but ten years old, a starving child in the horror of Alithe's lands. I was smaller then than I am now. I never stood a chance at life, until the Fleshspinner mages took me in, taught me how to survive. I became what I am so I would not die."

Such shock ran through Windleaf that her hooves even reared up a bit. A mental vision assaulted her: an emancipated child forced into distorting his body to survive. Defying nature... simply for the right to life, the most natural thing of all. She had never before been made to feel sympathy for an unnatural.

The Fleshspinner's eyes darted between the warrior and Kaezira "And so would you." He met the stare of every face in the crowd, and some of them even returned his gaze. "Each. One. Of. You."

But the angel's eyes were locked into the farmgirl's.

"Just... go."

Windleaf's voice boomed with such force that Shertul almost thought he felt the ground shake. "No!"

What was she denying? Shertul's story? His release? Her pity for him? He didn't know, and neither did she.

But it proved not to matter. Before he could get himself in any more trouble, the farmgirl took her pet monster's hand and led him away from the Nephilim, the centaur, the crowd, and the execution.

---

The brave centaur glared swords at the disgusting "Fleshspinner" escaping, but did not give chase. It was not the time. She came to Wellborough for supplies, not hobbyist monster-slaying.

Fittingly enough, supplies were still the last thing on her mind.

She was hoping to find the Institute, but it seems the Institute found her. Truly, Espeeria must be smiling on her today, for two Nephilim to simply appeared before her- one even came in a bolt of light from the sky itself! Even more fortunate, she was already given the perfect opportunity to prove herself, and to frighten away some scampering little abomination. Perhaps she did not need Raziel's aid at all: clearly, her Gods were watching.

She stopped just short of a gallop, for the sake of dignity, yet still she sped her way to the warrior and the wizard-angel. With the sort of straight-line bowing motion that could come only from years of military service, Windleaf introduced herself.

"I am Sutagara, a warrior from the tribe of Windleaf. I will be straight to the point: I need to be led to the Institute. I need to see it's library." She had that forceful-but-respectful tone most ex-soldiers could never shake-off speaking in.

@Soragoku@Arkaotic@Jeyma
They hadn't gotten more than a foot or two away from the scene when Daewyn suddenly stopped moving, put the booze in Sybil's hands, and turned and walked back, "I'm sorry, not really, but I couldn't happen but to overhear that you're going to the Institute?" he inquired, stepping around the centaur to get the two Nephs she was talking to in sight, "I would hate to presumptuous and just follow you, but my companion and I, for who I again apologize, were actually trying to get there ourselves. There's such limited knowledge outside its legendary halls and I would literally kill her a chance to see it for myself- my uncle Nero absolutely raved about it but would not tell me how to find it."
"Pretty sure he did, but you were too busy reading to hear him," Sybil muttered to herself, annoying that he was trying to curry favor with the people she had just been basically standing against all because of that damned Institute, but then again, they did sort of own the place. She sighed and opened the bottle and sniffed it. She reeled back, quickly closing it, feeling like the hair in her nose was on fire, [crimson=crimson]"By the stars, what is this?"[/color] she gawked at the bottle, though Daewyn clearly was not listening to her, paying attention to the people who could give them the direction they needed. She pursed her lips, looking at it again, wondering if it was really that potent of a drink or if it just smelled strong.
"I should clarify that we'll probably follow you anyways, or track your trail later, I'm just trying to be polite and go through proper channels. Have a mentioned I'm a tad desperate? If I haven't, I'm a tad desperate." he said, holding a hand towards Sybil to basically keep the snide comment that was on the verge of bubbling from her lips from actually bursting forth. She just smirked, saying the joke in her head anyways.

---

Ah, the girl was an observant one. Gellert made efforts to conceal his shapeshifting powers purely to surprise his enemies. In his mind, there was little harm in her knowing of his powers. Except if she blabbed to every bandit this side of Terra, but that seemed unlikely. Regardless, now his memory was refreshed. Back in the woods when Gellert was ripping the Strong-Arm's guts open, he had just barely caught the presence of a scared individual. As it turns out, that had been this Fae in front of him.

"So that was you back there," the Grey Wolf said simply. "In any case, you've made the right choice in making yourself unseen, young madam. I could've easily mistaken you for one of his accomplices and you would not be standing here now." He rose from the crates and began walking away, but turned back towards that Fae girl.

"It is magic, by the way. I am a shapeshifter. Were it not for the anti-magic runes surrounding this city, I could demonstrate." Gellert left the girl there to ponder over what he had said. If she had not been a Fae, he surely would not have been so open with his secrets. He fully expected her to trail behind him, to steal away another conversation or otherwise. The Grey Wolf shall not grant her the satisfaction, even if she was a Fae.

The lowlifes that infested the 'Lawless' parts of town had nary a watering hole to frequent but the Rogues Gallery. According to Gellert's keen instincts, there was a high chance his prey would be lurking there. If not, then he could always find someone who knew, and beat that information out of them. Passing through the dirty, unsanitary alleys, the Grey Wolf was met with various expressions of disdain, distrust and especially fear. Despite him not being a guard, Gellert's presence carried a sense of law, at the very least an aversion to crime. He killed criminals for a living, after all. And mercilessly, too. And such a presence probably might not be wanted in the so-called Lawless Zone.

The Grey Wolf walked into this miserable ruin of a tavern, greeted with a stunned silence. The whole of the Rogues Gallery seemed paralyzed as he made an entrance. And guess who was among them. Maintaining a grimly neutral expression, Gellert slowly walked to his target, like how a real wolf would circle its prey. But, you know, in a straight line.

"Lark Sylvsson. Thief, burglar and extortionist," the Grey Wolf sternly uttered out for him and everyone else to hear. His voice was that of a man ready to kill. He always sounded like that, granted. "You are to come with me and be served justice. Do so calmly and peacefully, please, I've already had to mutilate one criminal this morning." Though he appeared still, Gellert was fully ready for a chase...or a slaughter.

@Lawful Newtral

Amber looked puzzled as she comprehended that. "Ah, so it's like a spell, instead on a natural, ongoing thing. So are you a wizard?" After she asked this, she kept following him, waiting for an answer. Giving up waiting after a few minutes, she instead asked another question. "So, do yo kill for food like a wolf, or sport like a man?" Awaiting and being ignored for a second time, she huffs and stops following him, muttering "rude" under he breath.

She noticed the had travelled substantially further in this maze of buildings of people, now lost and far away from familiarity whereas this distance would be nothing in the forest. She also noticed the people seemed more dangerous, and were starting to notice her, and stare at her in the same way that male species stare at female species when the act of mating for said species doesn't involve the act of asking consent. She quickly caught up with Gellert, smiling sheepishly. "I'm just going to follow you, and be quiet" she muttered.

The building she entered looked a lot more promising. Many of the residents were children. She now left Gellert while he started to thraten somebody she didn't know or care about, and joined the children, being the size of one but looking more mature, and elven, they were in awe of her.

"Hello, little men and women. I'm Amber. What are all your names?"

"You must come to terms with your past, Corvus. You're becoming weak because of it, you mustn't let it get the best of you. You have to be strong if you are to continue out your duties of defending Terra, weakness cannot hold you back. Do you understand?"

A low sigh winded from Crow's chest as his brother scolded him. Of course he knew this, many a time he had come before Raziel for forgiveness and guidance, many a time the torment had led him to a bottle. How could it not? He knew what he did was for the greater good, that without the Nephilim providing protection and the rule of law to the Neutrals, the walls of civilization and order would crumble about their ears. It had been so long since the last great war and yet another war still waged, this one was just quieter. That is what he could not stand, in those days the Neutrals praised the Nephilim war banners as his brothers and sisters marched side by side, heads held high. When they had an enemy that would show itself and allies they could count on. When the war was just and clear. A time, as he had seen in the depictions created by the mages, where Raziel himself stood upon the battlefield. He remembered the vision still, the Nephilim battle formations marching to meet the dark hordes of Revenant. The sound of the war horns calling and Raziel, in all his glory, appearing in a blast of light and thunder. His impact shook the earth to the very core, his armour shining like the sun on earth and those eyes.. The eyes that burnt the darkness from within a soul with a glance and bolstered the fortitude of his brothers and sisters so much so that their eyes reflected his righteous purpose. By the light how Crow wished to stand with them, even to see Raziel who was now more a father figure that his biological Humani father but Raziel hadn't been seen walking the earth for hundreds of years.

Carlisle was pulled out of his reminiscence as the arch-mage offered a hand to steady himself, "You will ensure that girl is safe from the Fleshspinner. Who knows what should come of her if she spends too much time with it. If you believe she has a connection to the Revenant, I have no doubts she could be persuaded to join them, or become a Fleshspinner herself. She's well known in Wellborough, I can't have more neutrals blaming the Nephilim for something happening to their people."

Before being able to reply, thinking to argue that resources were spread thin enough (not to mention a bar tab to get back to), to be able to chase after young farmhands and abnormalities when the Centaur rode up in a distinctively military style. Crow had noticed her outburst when he let the creature go, close as one could get to an ally in these days. "I am Sutagara, a warrior from the tribe of Windleaf. I will be straight to the point: I need to be led to the Institute. I need to see it's library." Once again, as Crow opened his mouth to reply but before any words could come out two more traveling companions sidled on into view. By the light anyone would think the Nephilim were suddenly popular. Each of them begged or commanded passage to the institute, with one of the duo going to so far as to state that they would follow them inevitably whether Crow agreed or not.

He held his hands up in a settling manner, glancing between the newly formed group. "Hold up hold up, You people do realize the Institute isn't some public library that people get to waltz right into because they're interested right?" A hand came up to massage the bridge of his nose as he tried to figure out the situation, his other flicking in a motion at Daewyn, "And as much as I find your blatantness amusing, I could arch out of here and there'd be nothing to follow so just settle your fine little self and find a way to reel in that tongue for a moment". He paused long enough to give the Centaur a respectful bow of his head, she at least was ready to stand by him and deserved as much. His eyes flicked to the arch-mage for assistance, as he didn't have time to baby-sit and hunt a child nor would he want to. He certainly wasn't used to dealing with this many people in conversation that's for sure. "I'm Carlisle Corvus, feel free to call me Crow.. and you are?" the last he directed at the elf duo. Something told him he wouldn't be going back to the bar for some time.

Sophia never expected that her day off would turn out the way it did: First, she was nearly knocked out by drunks that were hurtled at her, then there was the incident with the stranger in the tavern. And if that part of her day wasn't bad enough, she'd just made it so much worse for herself just by trying to be humane by saving the Fleshspinner's life: She'd exposed part of her godawful birthmark, she could have died from the combination of her almost-reveal and defending the Fleshspinner from execution: Today just really wasn't her day.

She didn't even know what she was going to do with the fleshspinner now that she'd rescued him: What were you meant to do with one? Release it into the wild? No, he'd probably end up in the exact same position again; Sophia doubted his chances of walking away from the Nephlim in one piece a second time. "Wait..."

Sophia suddenly stopped in her tracks, jolting both herself and the fleshspinner to a mildly-unbalanced halt. The duo had, rather aimlessly, wandered into the Eastern Forest: It made sense that that was the way the Fleshspinner had come for in the first place, for the further East you walked, the forest started to thin as you approached the Dwarven City and Alithe's Wastelands where death reigned.

The young woman finally released the fleshspinner's hand as she turned to him, a puzzled look on her face. "Why were you in Wellborough anyway? Everyone knows that magic has no place there."

Damn these elves, damn them both to the worst of the Wastes! First they defend some hideous abomination, then they almost ruin her best chance to the Institute!

And how the elf-man spoke... He grinned and "charmed", then threatened to stalk them like a coward. It was an insult hiding under a sheath of compliments.

Windleaf knew: she had no choice but to convince the Nephilim she was different from the elves. She thought rapid, she thought hard, but she thought of no magic words to salvage this. She was not a diplomat. The stupid, blubbering lies of politicians made her head spin, and so did this arrogant elf. His words were smooth like honey, but each was for himself. The centaur urged to beat his smug face in with her hooves.

She took in a deep breath, fought it off, and beat the dirt in instead. If the elf was smooth but selfish, she could be rough but righteous.

"No. It's more than that. It's important."

Damn again! She would have to do better than that. Racking her mind for all it's worth, she spat out: "It's very important." She stopped and sighed and felt like a fool. That impish rat, that Fleshspinner, he had such complex insults. He sounded like a madman, sure, but he sounded like an educated madman. Windleaf couldn't even shake her centaurian accent: she still stretched all her "R"s a mile long, turned every "E" into an "A", every "O" into an "A", every "I" into an "U", and most "D"s into a soft "Dr". "It's very important" becomes Ut's varrry umparrrtant.

She knew what she wanted, but she did not know how to put it into words.

In her heart, the goal was honest. Her grandmother had been telling Windleaf of her tribe's gods since before she could even understand the language. She grew with those gods, those myths, buried in her heart like a treasure. Much time passed, but it could never erode her belief. She stood on a mountain of faith.

Until, one typical day, she met herself. Another who was a centaur, a warrior, a tribeswoman, an explorer, and a keeper of infinite faith. A different faith.

It was then that the most painful reality of all hit Sutagara like a hammer: both their gods can't exist, and if this woman can have so much doubtless faith in a false religion, what makes the Windleaf tribe any different?

Much time passed, and her belief eroded with it. Now, she fears that the Gods she has always worshiped are only deluded myths spread by bored centaurs. What if Raziel and Alithe are all there is to the world? A desolate truth.

A truth she would have to live with forever. A truth that also meant Raziel created all life, and all nature. A truth that means Raziel is the God of the woods- the God of her.

The accented centaur concentrated hard on what she said next. She was determined that no poor speech and no inflection would hold her back. Focus, she said to herself, do this and focus. Focus, focus.

"Since I was a little girl, my tribe told me the stories of our ancient Gods. They were everything to me. They guided me when I feared. But I doubt them now. I don't know if they are real. I do not know if anyone can tell me of whether the Gods exist, but if anything can, it's the library at the Institute. It might not have what I need, but it's my only hope to find it out. If my gods are false, and all the world is Raziel and Alithe, then I know that Raziel must be a god, and the God who created all my forests, and all my nature, and all my world. If that is true, I will never waver from him. I will join the Nephilim. I will serve Raziel."

Sutagara Windleaf may not understand speech, but she does understand combat. She had delivered the greatest blow she could, now it was time to force the enemy into defense.

She looked the elf in his dull eyes. "Will you, friend?"

---

Shertul had almost been tempted to launch himself on the second Nephilim. He couldn't control it. An impulse. An instict. Then he felt the girl's small hands around his claws, and knew it would be wrong to risk her life for his anger. She led him away in silence for a good time, heading all the while for the east woods- right back where he had come from. Only deep into their walk did someone break the silence.

The young woman finally released the Fleshspinner's hand as she turned to him, a puzzled look on her face. "Why were you in Wellborough anyway? Everyone knows that magic has no place there."

"Of course", the Fleshspinner replied, "of course, but Fleshspinning is a complex art. I had no way of knowing whether it would impact me or not. We absorb the magic into our skin and bone and muscle and... well, our flesh, so much so that it becomes a part of us. Literally. Unsurprisingly, we're immune to many anti-magic techniques. I asumed this would be no different. Arrogant of me. But I'd say I've paid my price." He hung his head a little. "Unfortunately, you've paid it as well..."

Anti-magic techniques? Sophia wondered, her brow furrowing into a small frown. She didn't even know that such a thing would work - she knew that there were magic boosting charms to counteract Wellborough's runes (although she'd only seen one or two in her lifetime due to their rarity). In her extensive travel, Sophia had made note of the few places that such a rare trinket could be found in Terra:

Firstly, there were few elves hidden in the deeper Terran forests who would actually conjure up such a charm, though they were few and far between. Closer to the capital, there is also an unearthly old fae woman in Norione Village who's life work is to create these trinkets. However, due to her age, the availability of her charms is dwindling as she can only create a single charm every few years. The hardest location to obtain the charm was in Raziel's Insitute. It sounded simple enough to just travel to the Institute and request one, but due to the power that one could obtain from one little trinket, the Nephlim will blatantly refuse anyone who isn't among their ranks.

Sophia had to suddenly raise a brow at the flesheater's comment: It was the second time he'd made a comment on (what she could only assume was) her birthmark: She could only expect that such assumptions could be made about it, but the truth of the matter was that she'd never actually met Alithe, or even knew who she was until years after she arrived in Terra. "Paid what?" was all she could ask.

The Fleshspinner frowned. "I think you misunderstand me." He stopped to wrap the cloak back around himself. "Allow me to rephrase. Because you took the chance to save my life, you paid the price that Nephilim and neutrals will always suspect you. It's not right, but it's a reality you'll have in for my mistake. Fleshspinners are viewed as Revenant allies: you may be thought as such because you had mercy. I am so, truly sorry."

Sophia had to chortle at the Fleshspinner's final comment; "Please, people who've seen this already think I'm a Revenant ally," the girl said, hitching up her skirt a few inches to reveal just how large her scorching birthmark was: The crest took up the entire inside of her left thigh; it was difficult to cover, hence why Sophia took to wearing longer skirts. The young woman had unwittingly caused herself to remember the first time that someone had discovered her mark:

She was much younger than she was now, only being around 8 or 9; Sophia had taken shelter with a small elven settlement in the northern forest, and when the young girl had prepared to bathe with the rest of the children, her birthmark had come into full-view: And this was when she'd discovered what her mark actually was - it was the Revenant crest, the mark of Alithe herself. Needless to say, the reaction she recieved wasn't a good one.

Since that near-death experience, Sophia took it upon herself to make sure that no-one could ever see that mark again.

The longer his third eye was open, the more pronounced it became: something was insidiously wrong with this girl. You couldn't see it on her surface, but it was bubbling right underneath.

She possessed a faint darkness, or it possessed her. Shertul's third eye saw it as an ebony smoke, gently slipping out.

Shertul sighed: his way of bracing himself before saying something difficult. "Please don't take this the wrong way: you need help. That sign on your thigh, it is much more than simply a sad birthmark. There's dark magic on you. I can see it." He pointed to the now blood-red eye on his forehead. "It's faint, but it's everywhere. Most worringly, it's coming from you. It's closely a part of your being."

But of all people, Shertul knew he should understand that your body is your business only. No, no, he told himself, I shouldn't try to get information out of this girl. She doesn't owe me any explanations; I owe them to her. His third eye dimmed out and closed.

"I find it strange that you say that," Sophia chimed in, forcefully dropping her skirt, "someone once told me that it was the mark from Alithe, but I don't understand how I would have gotten it; I don't remember ever seeing her, let alone meeting her to get this... thing." She sounded frustrated by the fact - she wished it only were an unfortunate birthmark, but deep down she knew that it was something a lot more worse: No birthmark would burn in the presence of Nephlim influence, no birthmark would send dark thoughts and feelings into her mind, ruining her friendly and sweet reputation.

I've never seen or met Raziel, yet his Runes nearly killed me a moment ago."

"I just want to know why," she admitted, her voice lowered and her face slowly dropping into a saddened look. She wanted to know why she was the unlucky one to be cursed with such a mark, she wanted to know why it made people view her with distain and want to violently remove her from the living world.

Shertul thought deeply for a few moments. "The form you see before you..." He spread his arms about, "...much of it was unintentional. I meditated for an entire twenty years. When I at last emerged, I was no longer human- I had been shaped like a predator, like a killer. It was as if another had sculpted me. I know for fact that every part of a Fleshspinner's body is in their control at all times, yet it felt unintentional; subconcious. I was casting magic without ever knowing it. Perhaps... perhaps your mark is a similar phenomenon. You have a gift for dark spells, and it's expressing itself without your knoweldge or consent." He did not want to offend her, so he added: "That's just a theory, of course, and even if I am correct, it's not your fault- and could perhaps be fixed."

Sophia's eyes widened at his explanation - it certainly was a strange phenomenon, but she certainly knew that she needed to know more: Could anyone do it? Or did they have to do something special? Could they feel their body change when they meditated? Sophia just had to see it happen; although she'd only just heard about what Fleshspinners actually were, but she was absolutely fascinated by them.

She was pulled from her racing thoughts as the strange creature suggested that she had a gift for dark spells. Her? Sophia had no affinity for magic, beside the strange thing that happened at night, so how could she possibly have a gift for spells of all things. She couldn't help but let out a chuff of a laugh. "Me? I can't cast a spell no matter how hard I try: I'm a physical kind of person."

The Fleshspinner shrugged. "I can't perform spells either. That's why I need strength, claws and speed. In fact, it was dwarven apprentices were a common sight at the monastery. Magic can cast itself, if your soul wants it badly enough. Or at least, that's what my life as a flesh-mage has taught me."

Though the suggestion of her... condition being fixed intrigued her - could they really make it go away? She found the thought of being normal quite appealing: She wouldn't have to wear long and hot clothes every day; she wouldn't have to hide her body, and visiting Wellborough wouldn't hurt her.

"I've gotta say, the thought of being able to cast magic is certainly attractive..."

He nodded. "You've saved my life today. I wish I could help. As it were, Fleshspinning is intertwined irremovably with dark magics: if I even touched that mark, it would only steal a small bit of my power to add to it's own. These entities have their own minds. The only place I can recommend you to is the Monastery of Flesh, where I learned my powers: yet, they are allies to the Revenants, and may only "cure" you by encouraging your dark powers. If that is what you want, it is your choice, but if not..." His voice trailed away. He tried with all his mental might, all he could muster, but could remember nothing to help her.

"But... I've always been told that this is bad..." Sophia said quietly, tracing her fingertips over her marked thigh.

"I certainly think it is bad. Yet it is your choice. You saved my life, do you really expect me to tell you not to expand your power if it is your desire? If you want to remove it, I know of nothing to help you, except..." he tried to say "the Nephilim", or but it wouldn't come out. A shudder ran through him: his jaw locked up, his tounge stopped closed. This had never happened before. It was terrifying. He attempted to say "users of Light magic" instead, but even that was apparantly not allowed.

Shertul thought back to the Raziel's runes. Could they have done this? Is he cursed?

Concentrating all his might, pumping magic through his veins, he only scarcely managed to blurt out: "Nevermind... I... I can think of nothing. I hope you the best in finding a cure, my friend. If there is ever a way I can help, simply tell me."

Sophia remained silent for a moment, deep in thought. There was no way that she could go back to the Nephlim anyway, their cure would to be to kill her. The Nephlim Archmage already suspected that there was something dark about her, and she supposed that he too had caught a glimpse of her mark: If someone already thought you were evil, there was no point in trying to convince them that you weren't until you're blue in the face.

She hesitated, and she bit her lip with a frown: Could she really succumb to whatever dark power that resided in her? She'd lose her place in the living Terra, she'd never see the farms again, she'd never be able to freely explore Terra. But she supposed that she couldn't now anyway, it wouldn't be long before the news of the incident spread among themselves and the settlements - her life in the open was over regardless.

"... I'll do it."

Shertul's third eye slid slowly open. This time it was even more intense than before. He stared into her for what seemed like the longest time. "Think about this carefully. Are you certain? I can grant you a little power now, but then we'll have to go to my people's home, the Monastery. Once they get their "hands" on you, there's no going back. You're sure?" He already knew what her answer would be. He could see the gaze in her eyes.

"I just have one thing, though: I don't mean offense by it, but... I don't want to... pysically change."

His response was short and grim. "Very well. You won't."

He allowed his hand to bring itself to her, guided by the dark magic inside him. It touched her briefly, and he could feel the corrupt power slipping from him to join with her.

---

"Idiot klepto! The Grey Wolf just isn't someone you can run from!"

It was normally rowdy at the Rogues' Gallery given the nature of its customers, but today was especially so. Mink and the other children who used the tavern as a safe haven were all panicking after Lark's declaration. There were even some who put down their drinks to give Lark an odd look. His history at the Rogues' Gallery was not a normal one, but everyone who knew Lark knew he wasn't completely suicidal. He was brash, impulsive, and reckless, yes, but not suicidal. A small amount of laughter even rang out through the tavern as one patron tossed down a few pieces of gold.

"Seems like Sylv's number is finally up! Barkeep, get the kiddos a round on me. They're going to need it when the wolf rips out his throat." This was met with more than a few venomous glares as the man sat there and downed his drink merrily. There was a certain code of honor to be had amongst thieves. It was every man for himself, but respect was to be given where respect was due. Lark has earned his fair share of respect despite his antagonistic ways.

"Oh blow it up yer arse. We don't wanna hear it," Mink spat as he continued to give Lark pleading looks, "Plus Lark here can--" Whatever Mink was about to say was immediately interrupted when the door banged open and the whole tavern, normally filled to the brim with noise, fell completely silent.

"Lark Sylvsson. Thief, burglar and extortionist," Lark heard a threatening voice call out from the entrance, "You are to come with me and be served justice. Do so calmly and peacefully, please, I've already had to mutilate one criminal this morning." Speak of the Devil and you step on his tail. In this case it was a wolf in man-form. Immediately the children began to crowd around Lark protectively as Gellert drew closer and closer. Lark watched as Gellert approached while attempting to hide the shock and nervousness from his face. Lark was not expecting Gellert to show up so soon and had planned to slip away as soon as he was finished pacifying the children. He was about to respond to Gellert's demand when something had caught Lark's eye. A small elfish child who Lark had never seen before had followed Gellert into the tavern and begun to mingle with the children around him. Almost immediately the matter with Gellert was banished from his mind as he reached into his vest and grabbed a broken rock that exposed sparking crystals that had formed inside of it.

"Hello little one. I don't think I've seen you here before, but the world is cruel and I see new faces around here far often than I'd like," He said as he knelt next to the elfish child with a genuine smile on his face, "Here take this. You'll be able to sell or trade it for some food either here or in the markets." The other patrons in the tavern couldn't help but sigh as Lark revealed his biggest flaw. When something caught his eye there was nothing that could distract him from it. Children, especially the kinds of children you find in the lawless area, were one of those things. Placing the rock in the elfish child's hand Lark stood back up and stared back at Gellert like nothing had even happened.

"Tsk, only my friends get to call me Lark. The likes of you can stick with calling me Sylv." Lark was annoyed as he recalled on the fact that Gellert had called him Lark.

"You know you are quite brave to walk in here alone. Although I guess they wouldn't call you the Grey Wolf otherwise. Like a lone wolf here you are, and you'll die like one if you're not careful," Lark said as he glared at the man. "This is the lawless zone after all. You might scare some here, but don't think you scare us all. There's quite a few who owe me favours, after all." Gellert being this close to him actually put on quite a lot of pressure on his mind and Lark was sprinting through his list of ideas in order to find something to save his hide. It was true that many people owed him favors, but only a few were in the vicinity, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to cash in on them. This was Gellert after all, and here in the lawless zone the law of the jungle prevailed. It was then that a clicking sound could be heard as a thin, weaselly, thirteen year old child hefted a small crossbow in his hands. It was smaller than one normally used by adults, and had a lever built in which assisted in cocking it.

"Get away from Lark you stinking dog before I turn you into a pincushion." Mink, who had disappeared earlier while Lark was distracted with the elfish child, was now standing on a balcony with a crossbow aimed directly at Gellert. Lark looked up at Mink with a look of crisis in his eyes. If Mink were to fire at Gellert--and miss--who knew what the man would do to him. He wasn't about to see Mink get himself hurt on Lark's accord. Suddenly an idea lit up in his mind and he pulled out a sack of coins.

"Mink, no need to be so quick on the trigger. I was just about to offer this sellsword a deal. After all he is just a sellsword, and sellswords love their coin just as much as thieves do. There is a bounty on my head so it makes sense that you're here, dog. So how about it? I'll triple that piddling little bounty you've accepted. In return don't let me see that face again, eh? Nothing spoils the drink more than the smell of wet dog."

@Jeyma@Arkaotic@Soragoku

Daewyn crossed his arms and Sybil walked over hearing the centaur talk, and Sybil tilted her head, actually intrigued by what she had to say. She looked at Daewyn, wondering what he had to say about the claim of gods and following the Nephilim. He'd made it clear to her a long time ago that he would never follow a side, though he had never said why. It was just his reaction towards those who tried to sway him towards one side of the other. The ones that he nearly killed for that reason.
"Careful, dear, you're going to hurt yourself talking so much," he said coolly, "But no. I've seen enough of both sides to convince neither are worth my efforts. I seek something more.... base than gods and religion. I'm after knowledge. Sure there are plenty of books and things to learn outside the Institute's walls, but what I seek lies there," before looking towards the Nephilim, "I realize I came off a certain way, but I couldn't retain my excitement at the chance of finding those halls finally. I don't seek it out like some basic library, the knowledge there is....too important to treat it as such. But there are things in this world that can only be explained by texts within the Institute. Plus, my comrade here seeks answers to her own mysteries. She cannot recall anything of who she was, and simple magic has not been able to correct the problem," he motioned to Sybil, who fidgeted a bit, not liking that knowledge being made public, "My uncle, Nero Zaheer, says he once had the pleasure of being within those halls- he himself follows your ways- and he said that there were records that might assist in that matter, as she was clearly a soldier at some point from her skill with a sword being almost natural to her, though he is too busy in his wandering ways to go there himself to look for those answers for us," he explained.
Sybil looked towards the Nephilim, holding the bottle in her hands a bit tighter. Something about them felt.... familiar to her, but she certainly couldn't place it, but she felt the need to speak, especially to the one she had mouthed off to, "I.... I wasn't necessarily... siding with the Fleshspinner, but... I don't feel like he should have had to die simply because of what he was. There was no provocation to fight from him, he wasn't threatening anyone," she said in a quieter voice than before, though she did not look away from them, "There is enough tension as there is, and these people don't need to be in the midst of when than tension snaps," she said, referring to the people of the village.
Daewyn looked at her, raising a brow at the latter statement she made. But he didn't comment aloud on it. He simply looked back to those they were talking to and wondered how they might take it. He wasn't lying about his uncle. Nero and Amera both had joined the Nephilim ranks, their skills with magic and in battle almost unparalleled- they both wielded nature as if it within itself was a sword. But he couldn't buy into the idea of joining sides. No side was perfect, each had their flaws in his opinion, and those flaws were enough to keep him at a distance. Their treatment of each other, regardless of if there was an actual fight going on, was proof of those flaws. They shamelessly brandished threats and swords in public arenas, not caring if people who weren't a part of their conflict got caught in the cross hairs. Whether the Nephilim were the "keepers of the law" or not, he did not care for their philosophy. He would support them more than the other, but we would never "Join" them. Sybil on the other hand did not particularly feel the need to swear allegiance to anything. There was plenty going on in the world than wondering which God was about to try and claim "justice" next. She also just felt like there was something already there, something she was trying to remember, but it was so far out of her reach it was almost migraine inducing trying to dig it out.

---

"Get away from Lark you stinking dog before I turn you into a pincushion." The moment Gellert heard the telltale clicking of a crossbow, his hand immediately moved to grip the hilt of Dire out of instinct. That dirty little boy would've met steel hallowed with Fae craftsmanship were it not for his 'guardian' calling him to stand down.

If the Grey Wolf could give Lark Sylvsson credit for anything, it had to be for hiding his fear so expertly beneath a guise of the man of advantage. Prior to making his move, Gellert had decided to allow a few words out of his prey before arresting him proper, in case he needed to make a few last request or beg for mercy. Turns out they were wasted on petty boasts and threats most likely to be empty, even going so far to appeal to the old man's nonexistent thirst for riches. It was at that moment, when he offered the deal, that the Grey Wolf saw desperation incarnate.

The Rogues' Gallery was filled with the most uneasy of silences for a moment until Gellert defiantly unsheathed Dire and slashed forward at...the coin purse, all in a swift motion encapsulating barely a second. Gold pieces rained down onto the dilapidated tavern floor, making those endearing clinking metallic sounds that men and women of greed seemed to never tire of hearing. The blade missed Lark's anything entirely; the thief was left intact and would presumably only feel a tuft of wind and the sudden spike of adrenaline.

"By what means does a bird who thirsts for riches tempt the wolf who thirsts for blood?" Gellert asked the boy, resting the sharp end of Dire on his shoulder as if knighting him. "You mistake my profession for my desire, boy. The bounty on your head cannot be paid by mere coin. Only with justice long overdue. Now, come with me if you want this to end well for you, me and everyone under this roof, really." He sheathed Dire on his backstrap and held out his hand invitingly to Lark. This was his first and last chance at a completely peaceful arrest that involved no violence whatsoever and chances were, the boy knew it. Whether he'd take the chance as it came was up to his immature mind.