[IC] The Prophecy

[cthulu]

Thaler looked up at Olan as he spoke of Jaelnec's approach, her ears picked up the nightwalker but she wondered why she didn't hear Aemoten or the beast. Jaelnec announced himself and began to speak about things. Thaler listened silently, it was good Etakar was healing and it was goo they'd found people to travel with. Though then came the bad news, they were going to be delayed, again, she blinked slowly and sighed deeply. Another delay, it was inevitable though and she had no right to argue any way. She'd just do whatever she was asked/told by Olan.

[Dark Jack]

The Duchy of Zerul, by a road in southwest

"Heh, you hear that? More people for our troupe already," Olan chuckled, somewhat too preoccupied with Thaler's state of mind to worry too much about Jaelnec being confused about what he was talking about. Her silence, along with the things she had said shortly before the squire's footfalls became audible in the distance, worried the old man quite a bit, and he was concerned that she might end up doing or saying something that she was going to regret if she was not somehow lifted out of this pit she had dug for herself. "You know what they say: a stranger is just a friend you haven't met yet, you know? It'll be nice with a little time to get to know them."
He put his arm around Thaler's shoulders and leaning in, grinning mostly for Jaelnec's benefit as he merrily jostled the girl. "I'd never blame you for anything, even if I did remember what happened," he whispered to her through his grin. "And I might not remember much about Rilon, either, but I do know that 'evil' is subjective; it's not the same to everyone, you know? Even Rilon might have 'good' qualities, just as any demon might. And Rilon's a tricky one, too, so I'm sure he'd have tricked anyone, given enough time. The only one who blames you is yourself, and I'd really wish you didn't."

Letting go of the Daywalker and pretending not to notice the puzzled expression on Jaelnec's face, Olan stood and beamed his younger kinsman a smile. "Well then! Let's go meet our new friends!"

[cthulu]

Olan's arm was comforting, it was warm and just heavy enough and had she the choice she would have stayed there for...well who knew. That thought and all others were blown from her mind by the strength of Olan's words, he didn't blame her and she was relieved but it was his words on Rilon that nearly made her cry. Why was he so good at articulating things? It was what she'd been trying to say all along to the others, yes he was a demon but evil was subjective. The raiding hoard were evil to the local villagers, while the villagers were evil to the hoard for stealing their crops. Rilon had done many bad things and he would do so throughout time she had no doubt but she couldn't deny he'd helped her too and he could easily have taken those gifts from her when she betrayed him like she had and he hadn't.

With Olan's final words in her ear she smiled faintly, he was such a good man, certainly didn't deserve half the torment he got for his kindness, "I'll work on it." She whispered back, it wasn't after all as simple as it sounded but if it would make the nightwalker happy she'd try. Wiping her eyes she stood to her feet slowly, laughing gently at Olan's ever persistent optimism. New friends? Perhaps. Their delay couldn't be helped now, Olan was intent on meeting new friends and of course it struck her odd Aemoten hadn't attended with Jaelnec, perhaps the exhaustion had finally caught up with him and he'd needed to rest?

Brushing at her clothes the best she could without dislodging them she shook her head lightly and took up her fingers against the tree bark, "Would one of you be so kind as to help me through the trees? Her head still hurt and was far too clouded for her to try and use her skill and she was a little nervous that if she tried Rilon would know and steal it from her at the most unamusing point. I am sorry. She thought to herself, doubting the god would hear her, sincere as she was though what was done was done and she couldn't change it now, not yet anyway.

[yoshua171]

I'onriyi Stonehand

---

Then, before the man could reply one of the sisters turned to him causing the penin to raise a brow at her forceful words. When the innkeeper responded he gave him a sidelong glance and nodded, before the Deo'iel cut in ferally. I'on's eyes narrowed and he glanced back at her as her magical energies expanded, an air of violence briefly suffusing the atmosphere. He couldn't help his fingertips grazing his staff, despite it being on his back. He made an effort to draw his hand away from it, reaching into his coin purse and retrieving two rodlin for the innkeep when he returned--despite the man stating it would be on the house.

In that moment, as he retrieved the rodlins, he had decided that he didn't like that they'd be in an enclosed, private place with these two. The thought made him somewhat uneasy, even as the more human of the sister calmed her sibling. He turned away from them as the innkeep returned, spilling a tiny amount of the Finest as he did so. The penin almost kept his coin, but instead decided to speak as he slid the two rodlin across the bar, "Nonsense. You run a business. I'm the customer, not these two," he said pointedly, barely stopping himself from adding, '...and they'd do well to remember it,' to his statement. Instead he left the rodlin on the counter and snatched the drink up, taking a long swig wherein he finished at least 1/3rd of the drink.

The penin then walked right past the sisters, making a point not to look at them. When they were soundly behind them he gave Ixion a look, weaving sigils with his free hand at an angle the Deo'iel couldn't see. The assassin would feel an impression of caution as the mage finished and passed him. As he did so, stopping at the exit from the inn's dining hall, he turned back, gesturing in the direction they'd been heading, "Well? Come on then. Don't have all day."

He still felt the Finest's sting in his throat and mouth, but he liked it. The drink's sharpness took a bit of the edge off of his current situation, not to mention the fact that it made his exhaustion swiftly recede. Still, he'd keep to being careful till they were done with these two and well out of the tavern.

Funny how he'd returned to have a nice rest, but had instead ended up embroiled in no less than three conflicts since his arrival, perhaps four if this situation got out of hand. Five if he counted the close call with the guards.

This was getting ridiculous.

[Rhaevnn Xeno]

'And it begins.' Morgan thought, readying himself mentally for the private meeting. A side glance was given to Ixion, when the red hooded assassin had confirmed the impromptu meeting with the sisters. The sniffer didn't consider himself a team player - hadn't been since he was with the Seculyrian army, and even then, it wasn't as if he had a say in the matter. Even so, the claim on leadership hadn't gone unnoticed. Strangely, Morgan was satisfied with the choice, albeit temporary at best. 'Between the penin and the assassin, the hood seems stronger, if not more experienced.' Granted, Morgan was biased towards the one that wasn't connected to the law, but...

Morgan felt an extreme sharp pain to the temple, his knees slightly buckling as the twisted sister gave off an incredible magical power spike. Normally, the sniffer would have been able to retract his talents inward, given enough warning. But the sheer display of magical energy caused his mind's eye to see stars. A gloved hand pinched his furrowed brow as Morgan steadied himself with his staff. Also, due to the sudden and painful infliction, an animalistic response was the only natural instinct that Morgan could manage, causing him to issue a sharp hiss, recoiling from the pain that wracked his head. Hateful, masked eyes whipped to the twisted sister, who was more than likely not paying attention to the one that had said less than five words since the party had arrived to the inn.

'Such power!' The vampire thought fearfully as he slowly recovered with the calming words of the blue haired deo'lei. 'These two - I've never seen anything like it...' Any uneasiness or dislike that Morgan had felt from the beginning of their interaction had now transformed into complete distrust and severe hate towards these two sisters. To be forced into a confined space? With those two? Especially when their hushed words mentioned something about not destroying the city?!. The penin began to lead them towards the private meeting, but everything inside Morgan screamed that this would be the end of them. The vampire wouldn't be forced into a trap; he wouldn't just go along with something that was supposedly set in stone at this point, no matter how badly his faith to The Wanderer demanded that he ferry the heretic called Death to his master's waiting arms. The alarms in his head only increased in volume as the penin passed by his companions, and the energy of magical weaving was issued from his hand. What I'onriyi meant as a signal for caution, Morgan interpreted it as the last straw. If one of his companions was already nervous.

"No - no meeting. We answered your questions... I think we're through here."

Morgan's words would be quiet, but behind the emotionless tone, there would be a menacing strength. Morgan had already received enough attention for today, from the law, from these sisters. Enough was enough.

[Mercinus3]

To say that Ixion was dumbfounded by what happened next, after the deo’iel acknowledged their cooperation, was an understatement. It wasn’t the fact that the masked demonspawn barked orders to the innkeeper to get I’on’s order done pronto, though people who didn’t know that these were powerful members of the deo’iel would find them rude. It was what he had sensed afterwards. He felt the vibrations from the floorboards, nevermind what he was hearing from across the counter. Then, as they came, the vibrations resided without notice. The assassin noticed the cracks in the demonspawns’ eyes, so he assumed that both of them were using magic. Thoughe was uncertain on the specifics of their individual powers, he got a basic idea on what their magic was. The masked one seemingly had the ability to interact with everything that was around her, which could explain why everything that was vibrating just a moment ago. The blue-haired demonspawn’s capabilities he figured were down to supressing the magic abilities that her companion had. Extraordinary, he thought, the powers giving him some questions to ponder on. The sword on his hip were now in the back of his mind, forgotten, with all this new stimuli.

Shortly as the cracks in their eyes disappeared, the innkeeper returned with I’on’s drink, clearly overwhelmed with what happened. Despite him saying that the drink was on the house, the penin still paid for the drink. Ixion thought that the first thing I’on had said was a tad brash on the sisters, but he left what was said unrebuked. He put it down to the fact that his compatriot was weary from whatever he was doing before all these events. However, as the penin walked away, he noticed the mage cast something out, the woven sigil created deliberately out of the sister’s gaze. A wave of caution would have enveloped him if not for his previous experiences while being the assassin he is in the present day. I am way ahead of you on the caution, he mentally replied, keeping the mental note in mind.

His thoughts strayed when he heard the vampire mutter something. It was only when I’on had casted his sigil that he muttered something. From the looks of things, he is on the point of having enough with today’s events, he concluded, though being distracted by the sigil didn’t help him catch what was said. He turned to his worried compatriot, “They have not shown us hostilities this far, it wouldn’t hurt to listen to them just a little further.” Just as he was about to follow I’on to where the doorway was, he whispers, “And from their short demonstration, I suggest in not doing something rash.” As he reached the doorway, he turns to the sisters, “Shall we?”

[Dark Jack]

The Duchy of Zerul, by a road in southwest

Jaelnec almost went immediately to offer Thaler his guidance in getting to the clearing across the trees, but unsurprisingly Olan - always eager to help and much closer to her as he was - took her hand before the squire had even moved from the spot.
"This way," he said, leading her by the hand and gesturing for Jaelnec to show him the way. Jaelnec started to make to retrieve the donkey and raven instead, but discovered that the two of them were already heading their way. The raven made a hoarse noise that almost sounded impatient, as though it was hurrying them along. Weird...
The walk was short and quick, and soon the three of them arrived to find Aemoten, Etakar and their new acquaintances just where the young Nightwalker had left them.
"We're here," he said, more for Thaler's benefit than to announce their arrival to the ones already occupying the area. Stopping near where he had left Aemoten and Domhnall, with Olan and Thaler not far behind him, he gestured at the older Nightwalker and the Daywalker, indicating them to Domhnall and Iridiel. "This is Olan... well, just Olan, I guess," he shrugged, unsure how to introduce the ageless man. "And this is Thaler, apprentice in the Knighthood of the Will."

---

Zerul City, the Drunken Dove

"If you don't want to talk, we're not going to force you," the blue-haired sister assured them, patting the air with a weary smile, even as her masked sibling started hobbling her way after I'on, heading to their private room without even bothering to check if they were following. "We don't really have any authority over you, anyways, and whoever you are or whatever you've done to make those guards decide to dump you on us, we don't care. The deo'iel don't enforce laws or hunt criminals, we hunt monsters." She sighed. "But if you're telling the truth about meeting who you said you met, I think it'd be a good idea if we talked... or you could end up getting a whole lot of people killed, including yourselves."
The blue-haired demonspawn turned to leave as well then, following her sister as they headed to their private room - which was on the ground floor, just a few doors down the hallway they were heading for - to hopefully make these people realize just why them having met the Fixer was such a big deal. The Fixer never spares a witness, she thought sadly, thinking about the deo'iel she had heard had met the Grand Master's nefarious right-hand man, most of whom were dead now. He only ever saves them for later.

As she walked, her gaze fell on her sister's shrouded form in front of her, and she felt her heart grow heavy with sadness at the same time as it was warmed by the fondness she felt for her. Many people - most, probably - would be surprised to know that such a thing was even a part of a demonspawn's emotional repertoire in the first place, but she loved her sister dearly, and she knew that her sister - at her core, deep beneath the corruption of her demon blood - loved her as well. The two of them had always been together, right from the day of their birth, and everything they had done, they had done as partners.
Joining the deo'iel had been the masked sister's idea, and the blue-haired one had been fiercely against it, citing that their mother - their real mother, not the Dread Mother - would be against it as well, if they told her. But the masked one had convinced her, eventually, that they had to do something; that simply hiding in some remote place at the edge of the world would not do anyone any good, least of all themselves. She wanted to make a difference and prove that even demonspawn could make the world a better place, if only they received the right guidance and support, and if only they had someone they loved to lean on when times got hard.
People who looked at her sister only saw the monster she had become, though... which saddened her immensely. They saw how her form had been twisted and her mind made wicked by the use of her demon-power, but never stopped to think what it really meant. Other demonspawn made the decision not to use their abilities to avoid corrupting themselves, to avoid becoming progressively more evil until they lost themselves to the sinister essence of Himyth within them, but her sister decided to use her power to hunt the dangerous ones, the ones that did not care who they hurt or killed, or whether they tainted themselves by tapping into the infernal power of their blood. She sacrificed herself to the evil within so that she could protect others from evils with less restraint... and one day, when she could no longer control herself - or no longer cared enough to control herself, rather - her blue-haired sister had to be there. She had promised her sister years ago that when that day came, she would kill her. Only she could do it; no one else had the power to kill her sister.
She had not exaggerated much when she had she had warned the masked demonspawn against destroying the city; though she probably - hopefully - would not be able to do so simply by letting her emotions trigger her power or losing her cool for a second, there was no doubt that the masked sister was capable of such a thing. If she put her mind to it, she could probably wipe the entirety of Zerul City from the map within a few minutes; reduce it to rubble, shift the entire area into the sea, letting it be swallowed by the ground... The masked sister's power was enormous and terrifying, which was what made it so vital that Gaath was not allowed to sneak up on them, especially if he got to both of them; that would very likely make him nearly invincible.
Luckily, her sister was not so far gone yet that she would do such a thing; in fact she did not think that her sister would even kill a single innocent, if it could at all be avoided. And the second such was not true anymore...

[cthulu]

Thaler was glad for Olan's assistance, his hand in hers Jaelnec lead the way with them not far behind. It was strange to rely on someone again, properly at least, back home she'd relied on her kind guard but she'd always kept her senses sharp enough to avoid any potential hazards he hadn't' seen. Now she was putting her complete faith in Olan. She could sense the trees and knew Jalenec was nearby but aside that she was vulnerable and completely blind. If fear alone hadn't stilled her the knowledge of her own ability did, even if Rilon hadn't spitefully reclaimed his other gifts she would not be able to focus, with the stress of the day she was exhausted and trying to focus while exhausted wound up with her feeling nauseous and heady.

She though managed to avoid any drastic calamities, stumbling only once on a tree root and slipping on a half buried stone but otherwise managing just fine. By the time they reached the clearing she felt a little better. She still didn't want another detour, another delay but at least it ought to be short enough, Aemoten and Etakar needed the rest. When they came to a stop she remained by Olan's side, uncertain where everyone or thing was. She'd heard the donkey and the crow following them and was relieved to hear them behind her still. She heard Aemoten's horse not too far away and Etakar's breathing a bit further away. Tilting her head ever so slightly she could make out the breathing of two other people and what sounded like a great big dog or some other beast snoring. Two new people and their pet? She wasn't sure so she said nothing.

When Jaelnec introduced them she briefly cast a sideways look to where Olan was beside her, Olan really had no better descriptor than Olan. As strange as he was marvellous, all knowing yet naive, fantastical and mundane, how could one define that into a title? Adventurer extraordinaire, about to speak she was stilled by Jaelnec's introduction of her. Her crimes didn't leave his lips and he addressed her as an apprentice, she'd forgotten about that, no, not forgotten, given up hope. Jaelnec though still thought of her as worthy enough? It was enough to touch her and still her into silence, her cheeks flushing a faint pink and her free hand slipping across her stomach as if to protect her.

[Rhaevnn Xeno]

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Morgan responded to Ixion, his voice now louder than the assassin’s. “For all we know, they haven’t been hostile just trying to—“ The vampire’s retort would be interrupted by the blue haired sister:

“But if you're telling the truth about meeting who you said you met, I think it'd be a good idea if we talked... or you could end up getting a whole lot of people killed, including yourselves.”

Morgan wasn’t one to show emotions, at least not unless his full animal side was rising, but this statement caused the sniffer to scoff sharply. “Let’s make this simple.”

If the masked sister had not yet reached the doorway, Morgan would make to cut her off, roughly brushing aside the blue haired one, and firmly using his body to block her path. Simultaneously, the vampire’s own mask turning to both sisters as he continued to speak in stride, “Instead of holding these secretive talks, with long winded discussions, here’s the deal: you need to find Death, because of the greater good, or the death of many, and so on.” ’Whatever bleeding heart reason you need the need to redeem your twisted souls.’ Taking a single step back, Morgan continued, “I’m sure whatever sudden interest you have with complete strangers,” A gloved hand pointed to his companions and himself in circling motion, “Can wait. Go hunt your monster. Because I am sure as all of the hells I am not entering into a confined space with her, and only fools would do so.” Shrouded eyes pointedly looked at the masked sister and then to his companions as Morgan finished speaking.

Ixion’s logic was sound and much more subtle than his companion’s, but logic had yet again escaped Morgan - animalistic instinct was replacing his sniffer’s cold calculations. Even with his outspoken proposal, the sniffer couldn’t help but wonder why he was making such a claim. Subtle and practiced caution should be the demanded action, but the more he was around these sisters, the more Morgan was feeling uncomfortable, threatened. Without a doubt, these sisters were setting a trap, and he for one, would not be caught. ’This is madness — can’t they see that? Her sister is too far gone, barely even recognizable other than demon. So, so twisted…'

[Dark Jack]

Zerul City, the Drunken Dove

The blue haired deo'iel was surprised when Morgan rushed up to her just before she would have passed through the doorway, but she was completely terrified when he pushed her away from it, her face and soul both shamelessly portraying the depth of her horror, as through the hand forcing her aside had instead been a white-hot poker on her skin. Even that might not have been a very good analogy, though, for she felt no pain - and even if she did, the name Himyth had given her had made her quite accustomed to such - but only a sharp and all-consuming fear the like of which she could not imagine being caused by anything else.
"No!" she exclaimed, her voice betraying her panic as much as everything else about her as she looked around frantically, disoriented and dazed by how unexpected this situation was and how scared it had made her. Her eyes were intermittently flashing white from their center, but her power was not fully activating. She was not listening to a word Morgan said, because she knew - with extreme certainty - that unless she located her sister right now, chances were that nothing he said would even matter. Oh no, no, please no! "Reina's mercy! Don't -"

A short ways down the hallway beyond the door, Morgan's rebellious monologue had made the other deo'iel slow her limping stride some and had her half-turn, looking over her shoulder to keep an eye on her sister, and the sight of her blue-haired sibling being roughly shoved aside, and of someone placing himself between the sisters, made her turn around entirely and face back towards the common room. For about a second, the masked sister just stared back down the hallway, trying to process what had just happened and what the current situation was. Her sister was much weaker than her, she knew; she was faster and nimbler, certainly, and had the ability to render anything relying on demonic power almost completely impotent, but she was greatly lacking in brute strength. The masked sister was the "muscle" of their partnership, the one doing most of the fighting; her body - grotesquely mutated as it was under her clothes - was difficult to move properly, but she did not fight with her body. She did not have to move to fight. She did not have to lift a finger.
Watching someone else bullying her beloved sister, the only person in the planes she cared about, the only one she loved, was enough to light a spark of rage in her heart that sent torrents of demon-blood rushing through her veins, but the fact that he went to separate them was what made her lose her calm. She needed her sister by her side, always, until the end. Her sister could not be put in danger. I have to protect her. She has to live, and I will destroy anything that tries to get in the way of that.
Her eyes shone with brown light, much clearer than before, and the building shook for just a second. Morgan was unbelievably lucky to have decided to take a step backward from the blue-haired deo'iel, because in the next instant the floor was rapidly slammed upward where he had just been standing, the floorboards shattering from the sheer force so that wooden splinters flew everywhere. The broken floor gave way to what appeared to be a cylindrical pillar that appeared to have been formed from hundreds, if not more, of smaller bits of rock and stone of the sort one would expect to find in the soil, with ordinary dirt filling the space between them. The pillar ascended incredibly fast and would probably still at least stagger Morgan, if not knock him off his feet entirely, and only stopped when it slammed against the ceiling with enough force that it would have continued upward unimpeded, had she not willed it to stop. Had Morgan not moved, he would either have been upstairs by then and in a very bad shape or, more likely, would simply have been crushed against the ceiling.
"Don't touch her!" she cried hoarsely, ignoring the frightened shouting and screaming from the common room, where the patrons and innkeeper were starting to flee for their lives. The building continued to tremble slightly, and across from them the pillar of soil was reshaping itself into a three-inch thick wall; not one that blocked the door, but simply one that separated Morgan from the blue-haired sister.

[yoshua171]

I'onriyi Stonehand

---

Having been nearer the masked sister than the blue one, the penin mage had no way of stopping the violent event from occurring. However, having been between the masked sister and Morgan, he had plenty of agency in dealing with the man he not yet knew was a vampire. If he had known he would have kept a closer eye on the man, or outright revealed him to the city guard as a dangerous element. The man's unfortunate timing and aggressive actions, accented by his incredible stupidity--at least from the penin's standpoint--were making him believe that he ought to have let the city guard take him in anyways.

Such was his certainty that something terrible was going to happen the moment that Morgan shoved the blue sister, that he began muttering and moving his fingers each in different patterns at his side.

He did not pull his staff from his back, but his gauntlets began to glow. Each of them emanated a light bluish hue as his energies channeled through them. He was weaving runes in the air at his sides with both hands. Each finger wrote a rune, but he mirrored the same runes on each hand so that he was writing them twice to increase his chances for success.

The incantation went thusly, its words barely whispered, "Seal its form. Bring calm and diffuse stress. Create aversion to aggression/violence. Expand outwards like air, with speed of lightning. Permeate and remain."

This was a spell that he had developed in his free time several years back after he had encountered situations in which he had to reduce aggression levels for a variety of reasons. It also made fighting hordes of enemies easier as the spell briefly put them at ease to such a degree that it made the group passive as he cut them down or entrapped them in a second spell. With his fingers and lips both working to complete the spell, he managed to cast it as the pillar struck the roof and began to expand into a wall.

The spell, which he had aptly named Ego Subduction, spread out as a nigh undetectable wave of energy, which upon contact with anyone within the inn or several feet around it, would curb aggression, bring serenity and calm the nerves. It brought forth an aversion to violence or the cause of further distress in any within the area, and made chaos a concept which one wished to avoid. While the effect would not violate the mind, it would infuse impressions into it on a baser level.

While it was surely possible to detect the spell's creation, once it was used, the presence of the spell vanished almost entirely leaving it difficult to detect at best. He had yet to encounter individuals who could detect the spell, or the point where its effects ceased. However, it was surely possible that some could.

As the spell was cast, I'on felt the energy he had devoted to it leave him and was forced to lean on the wall near him for a moment as he recovered. At his best the spell would not have staggered him as it was, but he was not at his best. His day having been long he was more physically tired than he was magically, and so the effects had hit him harder than they ought to have done. Nonetheless, he managed to recover enough to add verbally to the situation. "And I'm sure as all the hells that you should shut yer damn mouth!" he said, a form of distinct annoyance in his tone. Nonetheless, the Finest was taking off the edge to the situation for I'on. He'd have been angry enough to knock Morgan out and restrain him, then haul him off to the authorities had he not downed several gulps a few moments before.

Instead, he was annoyed and suspicious. He had still made the conclusion that Morgan was dangerous. In fact, he considered the man's inability to truly read situations properly more dangerous even than the masked sister who had nearly killed the man just now.

[Mercinus3]

The assassin was a little surprised with the blue-haired sister’s response to him trying to convince the vampire to meet with them. Her little spiel on what they are or what happened prior to their arrival at the inn. True, they do not have absolute control over them and they are free to dismiss them as if it wasn’t a big deal, but these demonspawn are members of the deo’iel. And it is not often that you encounter members that are in the 6th circle of the organization, despite their reputation being well known. If there is any wisdom that they can partake on the trio, especially if it is related to the Fixer, then it is ideal to listen to what they have to say. He turned to the demonspawn, “While it is kind of you to say that we are free to finish the conversation, any of the information that relates to the Fi…” He paused, remembering that he has spoken that name before and what the sisters have said. I have already let slip his name before. He unconsciously clenched his left hand, the fist brushing against the handle of the dirge. I will not allow anyone else die by his hand because of me. “… to him, then it would certainly be appreciated.”

However, he heard the vampire pipe up and started walking towards the doorway. Ixion was taken by surprise when he brushed past the blue-haired demonspawn, his eyes visibly showing his surprise. Not again, he thought, remembering that the vampire had done a similar thing with the guards prior to coming here. He remembered his masked compatriot also doing a similar thing when confronting the Fixer prior to learning the latter’s identity. He has no idea on the concept of rationality or intelligence that would help against a common enemy. He had tried almost everything to get through to them to realize that behaving irrationally would get him into trouble ranging from the illusion he cast to flat out knocking him out with the butt of his dagger with his manipulation magic. Despite knowing that he knocked the vampire out and is still irrational, Ixion had thought about doing everyone the favour in putting the man down once and for all. But whilst the guards still needing to question them about what happened earlier, killing the vampire outright would seem like a last resort. The urgency in the more-human deo’iel’s voice confirmed that something needed to be done.

Suddenly everything shook, nearly throwing Ixion off of his feet. As it took a moment for him to process what had happened, there was a pillar of stone in front of the vampire. It was another moment later when he felt at least half a dozen little stabbing pains all over his body. He looked down and noticed the splinters that have managed to embed in his body. Luckily, none of them were fatal or crippling, but it was enough to send a flame of anger in the assassin. The vampire had gone too far this time and simply leaving his behaviour unchecked or partially sorted isn’t going to cut it any more. He had noted I’on beginning casting something which resulted in his gauntlets going. He felt the wave of calming energy wash over him as soon as the wall began to form. Unfortunately for the penin, the assassin had felt this magic before and knew what it does. While he allowed for the magic to wash over him in a sense of calm, the irrationality from the vampire was still in his mind. While the penin spoke harshly towards the vampire, it still was in his mind on what was to be done. Reluctantly, his left hand reached for one of his throwing knifes. Initially, his right hand was to reach the familiar grip of his modified kama, he instead reached for the dirge. If it wasn’t for the fact that what he wanted to do to get his message through to the masked man’s head in such close quarters, the kama would have been used no questions asked. He turned to the penin, fire within his eyes. “I’m sorry to cause some hassle again,” his started, a cold, calculating tone in his voice that was oddly without its usual rasping tone. “But this madness has to end now.”

Without waiting for a retort from either the blue-haired deo’iel or from I’on, the assassin disappeared into thin air. It was fortunate for him that he memorized the image of the scene prior to the pillar/wall was created. He reappeared again behind the vampire, though what he does next depended on the state that the vampire was in after the pillar. If the vampire simply staggers, the assassin would have stepped up to him, the dagger in his left hand aiming right at the vampire’s left kidney, his entire left arm attempting to wrap around the target’s arm to disable its use. The dirge in his right hand would have been brought up to the vampire’s neck, the skull hilt pressing on the right side of the neck. If the vampire had been knocked down from the force of the impact, he would step over and press his right heel into the vampire’s wrist, rendering it useless to move. The tip of the dirge would then be pointed at the target’s Adam’s apple. Either way would produce the same result: the dirge digging right into the vampire’s neck and ready to draw blood should he struggle. “Now listen and listen well,” he spat, his rage visible in his eyes. “You have caused far too much trouble in the past couple of hours due to you being incompetent in thinking rationally. I am tempted on ceasing your existence right here and now, especially since I know how to deal with your kind and despite my condition.” While the ambiguity of the last sentence could have meant irrational people, but since the masked man knew that his identity as a vampire was known to the assassin that this was the meaning he meant. Ixion had dealt with vampires before, though they were a challenge, so another one was not going to hassle him too much. “However, since I know that we have a common enemy in him and your abilities are needed to defeat him, I am not planning on cutting your life short and meet Death himself. But heed this as my ultimatum; cease this behaviour now or the next time, regardless of which deity you serve, you will end up lifeless in the gutter. Do I make myself clear?”

[Shienvien]

Domhnall McRaith

The young lad offered him a smile and a quick nod before jogging off, allegedly to fetch the rest of his and his master's party. Lots of trust to be put in a couple of strangers, he supposed ... that, or alternatively his faith in said strangers' self-preservation instincts and the dekkun's ability to relieve anyone who dared harm his human of their limbs and lives was unwavering. The forestfolk could feel the noble beast's watchful eyes on him, even as his his own followed the squire's departure and then turned to the sleeping or unconscious man. He was probably a taller and stronger - when healthy, anyhow - man than Domhnall himself, and certainly of the warrior-sort, but now he just looked ... harmless, somehow. Granted, hardly anyone looked particularly impressive when they were asleep - mostly people just assumed whatever position their limp bodies had ended up in. Still breathing, the least.
"You better be right about just needing rest, ya know?" the male éireannach commented, though not quite loudly enough to be heard by anyone but himself. More just to fill the silence left in the wake of the black-eyes. "Quite fond of my head, myself." He shot a look in Etakar's direction.
The beast did not actually look hostile - if there was a way for eight thousand pounds of bone and muscle to not look hostile -, more so simply idly curious. Nevertheless, he abstained actually showing a discernible grin on his face despite his last remark being not entirely serious (he hoped). Who knew how the beast would interpret it.
Iridiel remained up in the tree, quietly praying to herself as her fingers deftly moved to braid a lock of her hair to mark her recent achievement of dealing a killing blow to the grey brute. - It was an old tradition amongst Éireannach hunters to mark big game kills on their persons, whether it was by braiding their hair if it was long enough as Iridiel was doing now, daubing themselves in paint, or, in instances where the kill was of truly impressive, giving it a more permanent form in a tattoo. He had been a hunter longer, yet had little to show for it ... never mind he often used various contraptions and traps to aid him, rather than getting up close and personal.
In any case, it was best to let the highlander pray and rest in peace. Healing did not seem to affect her as much, but using the divine lightning appeared to left her drained. Something about having all this energy coursing through your body and directing it, perhaps.
On another thought, it appeared that something had perturbed her. She was talking to herself - or her Goddess -, but that in and of itself was not unusual, especially when she was praying. It was more the tone of her voice, which was somehow agitated, as if she were arguing with herself of some unseen entity. Agitated and ... nervous? He could not quite make out the words from here...
No time to ask, though; it seemed that the guy had been right about not taking long, as the rustling of branches announced the arrival of both the squire and two more individuals, another black-eyes, though this one was notably older than the first - at least middle-aged - and a lithe white-haired woman who looked to be about in her mid-thirties, leaning on the older black-eyes. Her eyes were empty, milky-white instead - an aspect of her appearance that somehow stood out much more than the uniformly black eyes of two of her companions. And then there was a raven riding a donkey. Iridiel was distracted by the arrival of the rest of the small party enough to cease her muttering. He would probably have to ask what the matter was...
As the others drew close, the male forestfolk swung his leg back to the ground and got to his feet (seemed appropriate). The squire took it upon himself to introduce the remainder of the party Olan (just Olan, he guessed) and Thaler, yet another member of the thus far unknown (to Domhnall, anyway) order. The woman looked a bit embarrassed at the introductions.
"And I'm Domhnall McRaith - just a travelling hunter -, and she'd be Iridiel Taileflaith Caomhánach, marked by Sulis herself," he announced. Might just as well match the amount of flair these folks (minus their incapacitated leader) seemed to be adding to their introductions. "Well met."
Regardless of his enthusiasm with the introductions, he remained a bit concerned.

[Rhaevnn Xeno]

Before Morgan knew what was happening, the whole world around him had transformed. What had once been an inn of usual standing (minus its two demonspawn inhabitants), had become nothing short of a war zone. The vampire hardly knew how to react to how poorly his attempt to verbally batter the blue haired sister, let alone the pillar that might have very well been the end of his existence. However, the aftermath of the pillar’s appearance, the vampire reacted surprisingly well, given the circumstances.

Upon the creation of the twisted sister, the pillar’s force knocked the sniffer cleanly off his feet. The brute force that pummeled the inn’s floorboards pushed him back an entire body’s length backwards, punching splinters that had punctured Morgan’s back firmly into his clothing - luckily, his layers, due to his cloak and thick robes, prevented the offending pieces of wood from penetrating his skin. The impact, however, was not as lucky, as his body heavily hit the floorboards, the back of his head bashing into the floorboards, his arms partially bent. If one were to look at an angle above the fallen vampire, his upper torso would resemble a letter “w,” due to the position of his arms.

The sniffer wouldn’t feel as much pain as he should have as his head smashed into the floorboards. For all of his previous and supposedly current frustration, he would feel any of it - the anger towards the sisters, the frantic caged feeling, even the the pent up beast that was so close to emerging once more within the hour. It was as if someone had purged his mind for a brief moment, a blank canvas. Hooded eyes would gaze up at the ceiling that had been torn by the twisted sister’s pillar, an expression of relaxation forming under his mask. “What are you doing?” The vampire would murmur as Ixion suddenly appeared above and behind him, the red hood turned upside down. It was odd, seeing the assassin in the midst of this chaos and watching him step over Morgan’s fallen body and…

The canvas would not stay empty for long.

Ixion’s aggressive move snapped Morgan from his dream like state when the assassin’s heel fell downward onto the vampire’s right wrist, pinning it efficiently. At this moment, Morgan’s eyes snapped wide open, completely focused. Even in his magic induced calm, the survival instinct that had been developed from living on the road since his last moments of his previous life had sprang to life and pushed back the haze. For a normal human, the reaction time would have been impossible. However, for a vampire, the world had to move slower than he. Red eyes snapped onto the dropping blade, time seemingly slowing as Morgan’s free left, gloved hand mirroring Ixion’s blade holding hand. The idea was to catch the arm at the armored elbow. With both stiff arms locked due to the vampire’s viselike grip, Morgan would half rise at the waist, using momentum of Ixion’s action and Morgan’s own unnatural strength to smoothly and instantly throw Ixion head over heels with a grunt. With any luck, Ixion would be caught off guard and off balance, tumbling away from the vampire and allowing Morgan to most ungracefully to rise to a kneeling position.

However, with the magic brushed aside for the moment, all of his previous pain would hit Morgan like a freight train. A wave of dizziness would hit the sniffer, causing his vision to sway violently to the left. Even for a vampire, his reaction time would be poor at this sudden shift, causing him to fall on his left hand in a staggered fashion. If Ixion had not recovered quickly enough, Morgan would recover unsteadily, rising upward only to pounce on Ixion’s fallen form, the sniffer’s right hand producing his dagger from his right sleeve with a practiced twisting motion. If Ixion did not or could not retaliate, the red hood would find the tables turned, the vampire’s own blade under Ixion’s throat, just above the Adam’s apple.

Morgan’s voice wouldn’t be snarling anymore as his blade’s steel none-too-gently pressed up against Ixion’s covered flesh. The words that came from behind the sniffer’s mask would cold, calculated, the only two emotions a sniffer could share with the world. However, while his voice would start strong, it would fade into a confused tone, the fog of I'on's spell swiftly returning. “Don’t ever... do that again...”

Then, the most astonishing thing: Morgan pushed himself off Ixion’s fallen form and quickly retracting the blade to its hidden place in his right sleeve. Walking over to his staff, he would retrieve his weapon, run the wooden pole through a cupped, empty hand and then plant its butt onto the shattered inn floor, masked eyes slowing rotating to those on this side of the wall. I’on’s magic, while its initial affects shaken off, had managed to push the beast within back into its cage and allowed the sniffer to take its place. Morgan's masked gaze stopped on I'on, in which he said the (possibly) most baffling thing:

"Well? You wanted to talk - so let's talk."

I'on had managed to put a collar on the beast - for now.

[cthulu]

Thaler wasn't really sure what to say, she held lightly onto Olan's arm, her milky white eyes focused on nothing though pointed in the direction of the one speaking and the silent pair behind him. She waited for the introductions to be over, trying to vainly remember the name's she was told but excepting she'd probably forget them. There was a strain in the stranger's voice that hinted at his discomfort and Thaler quietly released a sigh. It didn't feel safe to her but Olan seemed content, Jaelnec too and so she attempted to bury her feelings of uncertainty. When granted a 'well met' she offered a faint nod in return and turned her attention to Olan once again. "Olan, can you take me to Aemoten please? I don't trust myself on this ground."

[Dark Jack]

The Duchy of Zerul, by a road in southwest

Oh my, Olan thought, smiling amusedly to himself as he came to stand before these new acquaintances Etakar had found for them, barely even paying attention to Jaelnec's words and paying no mind to himself being introduced as 'just Olan'. He looked around with blatant curiosity, excited about what he was seeing, and was particularly interested to examine the great black-furred one snoozing off to the side. Now this is interesting!
He paid enough attention to what was going on to note their newly encountered man and woman's names - Domhnall the hunter and Iridiel, the marked by Sullis - and grinned at the mention of the goddess, a deity mostly marginalized in eastern countries as her sphere of influence overlapped with both that of Reina and Gaia, both of which were much more powerful entities. It was all just so delightfully unusual, it made him all tingly with the sense of experiencing something new, and indeed perhaps even something never seen before in the history of Rodoria... and one might argue that such sights were particularly common these days, with the ravaging of the Withering and the consequences of its reign, but to him, this was better.

It was only when Thaler requested his assistance in getting to Aemoten's side that he stirred from his state of dazed wonderment. "Of course," he immediately assured her, and unfailingly lead her to where the Sekalyn slept. "He's napping, you know? I guess these last couple of days have been tough on him. Must be hard, making everyone's safety his own responsibility like that, you know?"
Once they were by their leader's side, however, Olan could no longer contain his curiosity and, as soon as Thaler was safely at her destination, swiveled around to look excitedly from the furry creature to Domhnall and Iridiel. "Okay, okay, I'm dying to know," he exclaimed with a grin, "what two éireannach and a del-korm are doing here? And together, too. That's probably about the most unusual thing I remember seeing, you know!"

---

Zerul City, the Drunken Dove

While I'on's spell technically affected both of the deo'iel and successfully exerted its influence on both of them without meeting any real resistance, its effect was - on both of them - exceedingly weak and short-lived. It was not that the blue-haired one realized what was happening and refused to let her mind be manipulated by magic, nor was it a matter of the masked demonspawn's primal rage being so intense that it burned straight through the fabric of the spell. No, the reason that the magical energy that momentarily permeated the air before wrapping around them, trying to force their minds into new molds, seemed to quickly exhaust itself and scatter, was quite another: it had a competitor that was far beyond the meager scope of its influence. Indeed, how could the spell of a mortal mage ever hope to cancel out and reverse the perpetually renewed influence of demon blood?
For a second after the spell was cast, the sisters felt oddly light, and found themselves visiting an inner place of serenity that they had not known since they together had occupied their mother's womb. Their eyelids would flutter and their breaths catch in their throats... and then the writhing serpent inside of them that was Himyth's infernal heritage reared its head and, with shocking ease, completely shattered the spell that audaciously tried to dethrone it as the supreme force shaping these two puny creatures.
...or at least, it would be. Eventually. Once it finally gathered the strength to shatter the shackles put on it by the sisters' mother.

The blue-haired sister kept staring fearfully as Morgan and Ixion briefly clashed, looking not at the pair fighting one another, but at the wall of soil and stone that stood between her and them, trembling ever so slightly as though it was a living thing, a lumbering creature of dirt, so eager to hunt and crush its prey that it could barely even contain itself.
And indeed, the masked sister mimicked the wall created by her power, shaking all over her body as she stared at Morgan with undisguised hatred. But her trembling was not, as her sister thought, a symptom of eagerness and anticipation; it was the result of her trying desperately to stop herself from succumbing to the demonic bloodthirst within her. She wanted to do it - she could almost hear the music of dying screams and bones being ground to splinters and dust, could almost smell the aroma of flesh and blood being blended into a shapeless paste by a writhing mass of rock and dirt, all while keeping her victims alive for as long as possible - but she made the conscious decision not to. Her logical sense of ethics was locked in struggle with her core nature, which bade her to attack, torment and kill everyone in her vicinity.
Only once Morgan spoke, declaring his willingness to cooperate, did she manage to reign in her beast, and with a surge of effort she managed to quell her rage. Slowly the wall she had created retracted back into the ground from which it had come, until nothing was left of it but the broken floor and cracked ceiling.

The blue-haired demonspawn breathed a sigh of relief. "That could have ended very badly," she murmured, almost to herself, gently resting the fingers of her left hand on her chest as she smiled. "But I suppose that you have a point when it comes to you having no reason to trust us... though believe me, my sister is just as dangerous in wide open spaces as in confined ones."
The masked one returned to the common room as her sister spoke, the mirrors of her eyes dark and smooth once more as her power slumbered. The two of them shared a look, and then nodded in unison.
"How about this: so that we all have no choice but to trust one another, everyone here wearing a mask takes it off, and we share our real names - which I'm sure you must realize is very dangerous for us to do. Normally we would simply be the Sisters of Torment, but if it calms your nerves..." She sighed. "My name is Violet, and this is my twin sister, Rose."

[cthulu]

Thaler smiled lightly and quietly thanked Olan for his help, once they made their way to where Aemoten lay sleeping Thaler thanked Olan again. She could hear it now, the steady in and out of the foreign warriors breathing. Olan's parting comment made her nod lightly, it couldn't be easy being the leader, making everyones safety your problem to deal with and your issue to fix. No one had asked him too and yet he'd felt he had to.

Carefully she got herself settled in the dirt beside Aemoten, fingers reaching out carefully to find the sleeping man's head and brush his limp hair from his face. Briefly her head lifted at Olan's stream of questions, he was nothing if not curious and it was adorable.

[Shienvien]

Domhnall McRaith

The young lad appeared to have no more words to spare him, and the white-haired and white-eyed woman just offered him a curt nod before quietly inquiring something of the older black-eyes next to her. Olan, was it? He had never been too good with foreign names...
The old guy himself was looking around with an almost childlike wonder, from him to Iridiel to their new slumbering friend, and, perhaps more notably, showing signs of positive recognition when Iridiel's goddess was mentioned. Unusual. From what he had seen and heard, the people of this land did not appear to recognize neither her nor the nine other Éireannach deities - Epona of hunting, Sulis of healing and nature, Aedh of honorable warfare, Lugus of learning and knowledge, Rosmerta of fertility and agriculture, Belisama of rivers, lakes, seas, and storms (or perhaps water in general), Belenus, the secondary god of healing, Andraste of victory, Belatucardos of bloodthirstiness and anger, and Arvernus of government and society.
Instead of them, the people of those lands appeared to worship a plethora of entities foreign to the Éireannach, who generally had little contact with the outside world and its various religions. The most they were generally aware of was the monotheistic religion of Thessaleia - their old rival and arch-nemesis. From what Domhnall understood, the "eastern" deities often stood for the same aspects Éireannach deities did ... which was probably also why in each respective region, only one or the other was recognized. Water alone had something like at least two ... maybe three or four or more "eastern" deities assigned to it; who knew how they all managed it without constantly squabbling amongst themselves. (Or perhaps they did bicker all the time, unable to agree on where a river or another was supposed to go or what place to flood or which area to subject to drought?)
He would probably never learn all the names of those "eastern" deities. There were far too many, these were not their deities, and he was not a particularly religious man. There was an obvious benefit to traveling with someone capable of healing or dealing massive damage at the mere utterance of a deity's name (not that it was the main, or even a particularly prevalent reason why he had stuck with Iridiel for those last years of his life; thankfully, those services of hers had not turned out to be necessary all that often thus far), but other than that ... he simply did not think he would have had the faith or devotion to become favored himself. More often than not, his relation with deities could be summed up with "try not to piss them off too badly, and you will most likely do just fine".

The older black-eyes replied something to the white-eyed woman, and they both carefully made their way over to where the little group's leader lay, seemingly still asleep. The male forestfolk lingered for a bit, uncertain on whether he was still needed there or he could go and check up on his companion.
Aemoten was normally a very light sleeper, and generally tended to regain full alertness within moments of waking (though in instances where his sleep had been cut particularly short, he also tended to be significantly more irritable than otherwise), but not there and then. The events that had transpired since he woke this early morning had taken a too heavy toll on his soul, and in an effort to replenish itself, it now clung to the Spirit Realm with all ten nails, figuratively speaking. While it remained at least possible to wake the foreign warrior, it would have taken considerable effort to do so.
The blind woman's fingers tentatively running across his face as she brushed aside errant strands of hair did not suffice to stir him, and as such he remained in his slumber, head tilted to the side, breathing evenly, though still shallowly.

The older black-eyes did not seem to wait long before his attention was back on him, "Okay, okay, I'm dying to know - what two éireannach and a del-korm are doing here? And together, too. That's probably about the most unusual thing I remember seeing, you know!" His exclamation even diverted the white-eyes' attention to him, for a bit.
"Myself and Iridiel - we were hunting, caught a deer before setting up a camp nearby" he began after a moment's pause. "Now we're headed for Zerul City ... large place, should be good fer trading."
He heavily suspected this was not what the old man had meant, but it gave him a bit of time to think over what he could actually say of his and Iridiel's shared past. Or the pasts of them individually. He did not think it was his right to share why Iridiel had originally been forced to leave his home, and he was not entirely certain these newcomers would look at him the same way if he shared the less fortunate bits of his past right away. All in all, he found himself in a bit of a predicament.
It was strange, though ... the man actually knowing what he and Iridiel (who was much more humanlike than he!) were, and furthermore also knowing what manner of creature Claw was. From what the wolf-man had told, he was from some isolated island up north, and probably even father west than the Éireannach lands.
Absentmindedly, he scratched his bearded cheek as he pondered, then clasped his hands together in front of himself.
"Been traveling' with Iridiel fer a few years now... Met her not far from my old home; never been to her lands meself. She's a hunter like me back home, aside of a Favored one of Sulis, from a small place called Loch Garman, I believe. She's sent out to learn and improve herfelf by her people." Which was technically a correct statement, and probably a much nicer way to put it than "exiled"... He himself had not been made to leave as much as he thought it might be for the better himself.
"Traveled east for a good while... Heard there's not much but ashen rocks and some sandy desert further east from here, so decided to take a bit of a break. Leas' gave me some time to learn some of the language. Claw we met not long before you lot. Seems like the honorable sort."
Odd, to think of it for a bit - aside of their profession, he and Iridiel were practically opposites in many things, and not only because he was a man and a forestfolk, and she a woman and a highlander, but she was also a devout woman while he was practically irreligious, she was a fairly reserved individual and did not do well with people whereas he was always the one to do most of the talking stuff... As they somehow had ended up staying together until this day rather than splitting ways, he supposed that they complemented one another well enough in the end. That, and there simply were no other Éireannach around.

[Mercinus3]

It seemed that the message that Ixion wanted to get into the vampire’s thick skull didn’t get through. The hand of the vampire that gripped the arm that the blade was in that gave the indication of that. While the response from his fallen comrade took him by initial surprise, the retort was something that he had expected. As his frame fell backwards, he rolled over his right shoulder and got back onto his feet, the blade pointing right at the vampire’s head as he recovered, halting any possible attack to him. Despite the defensive position, ready to go onto the offensive if the vampire attacked, only the muttered words came out. Still uncomfortable from resisting I’on’s spell with everything he has, he retorted his words. “If it wasn’t for the fact that there are forces in work that are greater than the both of us, I would be more than happy to strike you down. And being able to fend him off…” The emphasis on him was referring to the Fixer. “… By myself whilst you had been clearing things up with I’on, you can be assured that you will be dispatched without much difficulty.” Despite the words, the sword arm slowly dropped to his side. “However, we have a common enemy and a possible proposition from the Sisters, so we have to settle our differences at another point in time.”

He turned to the sisters as they spoke to them. The spell that I’on had cast, while it did eventually wash over him, was dispelled. Resisting the spell for as long as he did in order to get his message through to the vampire had tired him out both mentally and spiritually and made the spell’s effect last for a shorter amount of time. While he was still annoyed with the vampire with the fracas, he wasn’t at the level that wanted to kill him. As the sisters spoke, the assassin hesitated at the thought of unmasking himself. He certainly didn’t want to unveil his face in the group with the possibility of being seen by an outsider, but he also didn’t want to scare his comrades with the hideous features that lied underneath. However, trust was the only thing that was needed at this moment in time, so he had to do what was must. “While I shouldn’t reveal my face due to my profession and creating a target on my back with rivals, if that is needed in order to create more trust, then so be it.”

Without another word, he reached across with his left hand to the right side of his face, unfastening the cowl. As he relaxed his hand, the fabric slowly tumbled from his face, swaying from its tied location on the right side until it stopped. He finally revealed what was underneath the cowl for the first time since wearing it in the presence of other people: A scarred mess. The tip of his nose, the uppermost point that the cowl was covering, was completely gone, the split to the nasal passage visible to all. While the scarred flesh didn’t have signs that they were caused by any weapon, it certainly had looked like it was melted, though weather by an unknown potion or by flames. On both side of his face, gaps in the flesh revealed damaged teeth, appearing to be damaged from the same attack that revealed them. On some cases on either side of his face, his jaw line was eroded down to the bone. The scarring carried on down his neck, hinting that it carried on down to his torso. He decided to hold onto his affiliation to the Grand Master when introducing himself. He’s still yet to decide on whether to revealing it if asked. “My name is Ixion Ecthalion, the sole survivor of the Ecthalion line.”

[Rhaevnn Xeno]

Ixion would not be able to see it, due to Morgan's shuttered masked eyes, but eyelids shifted to small slits of disdain as the vampire replied to the assassin's threat, "Indeed we shall." As Morgan stood and directed his attentions to the sisters with "request" to talk, he couldn't help but wonder if he had been over his head just a moment ago. The hooded assassin was fast - uncannily fast. But nothing pointed to something vampire-esque. Was it magic that made his adversary so fast? Or was it something else...?

However, the unfolding events caused Morgan to push such thoughts aside. He had not expected such an outcome; out of all of the things that could have happened during the rapidly evolving, and definitely dangerous, affairs, the sniffer would have never expected such secretive people to literally unveil their identities so quickly. It was to the point where Morgan thought that the blue haired sister - or rather Rose - was making a sarcastic quip, until her mask and her sister's masks were removed with a reluctant sigh. 'Surely she isn't expecting all of us to--' But then the assassin revealed his name with the removal of his own mask - his full name. Such power lied with knowing a full name. 'Is he mad? Giving away such information is suicide in some circles... Is it not?' Despite hunting those who practiced magic, Morgan knew actually very little about magic or how it exactly worked. Knowledge of such affairs was limited to campfire rumors and military myths. All he knew was that depending on the type of user, he or she was able to spew fire from their hands, call upon the elements, or something of the like. The vampire cursed his lack of knowledge for the second time that day, reaffirming his need for information beyond what he assumed or guessed.

Rose was right, though. The point of no return was upon them. Trust must be given fully, otherwise they would reassume their hostile position. 'Judging by my "allies" and the sisters... Survival would be a slim outcome...' Looking once to each person present, Morgan was torn between secrecy and survival. In the end, however, his choice would be living another day. With a irritated mixture of a sigh and hiss, gloved hands reached into his deep hood to untie his mask. Once the task was done, the mask would be removed with his left hand, his right hand brushing back both hood and his copious amount of hair from his crimson eyes to reveal his bearded face and heavily tattooed face. Morgan's gaze would be cold and sharp as the vampire spoke half bowing in a subtly mocking manner towards the recently introduced assassin, "Greetings Ixion Ecthallon, last of his name. I am Morgan."