Seraphin

Defiance

Major Interactions:@Hokum & @Polaris North

Ren turned to his companion, signing to her in hopes that she would express his thoughts to the unlikely ensemble gathered in front of them. His arms rapidly moved in the air before he cast his glance on the archer who reveled within the shadows of uncertainty and demise.

'We are strong together. We need to protect each other, because I do my best to protect us.'

Ren gazed at the torn sleeves of his habit, his head tilting in curiosity at the mild stinging sensation. The trickles of blood crawling down his arm as well as the crimson drops from his feet drew a shiver from the boy. He wondered whether his haste to run towards the cave contributed to this; though, he remembered slamming a bit against the rough, stone-encrusted entrance as he sped past the threshold of their salvation and demise.

A puff of air escaped his lips as the gashes and sores lining his body let out a hiss before being sewed shut, replacing the boy's sickly pallor with a healthy shade. Ren's eyes sharpened in the darkness, a burst of confidence fueling his steps as he crouched over to the puddle of blood. He dipped his fingers into the coagulating red liquid, and judging from how he could still feel the cells moving within the pool, Ren judged that whoever did this was not far ahead. The dangerous shadows still loomed around them, weaving webs of deceit and pulling them along like puppets on strings.

'The person responsible for this is not far. Blood is fresh. Maybe, the danger here is greater than the one outside.'

Ren stood up before facing the party in front of him. His fingers pointed to his left chest before moving to his right, followed by his hands moving from his chest forward a few inches. Next, Ren brought his hands together, moving it in circles. Without stopping, Ren pointed to his left chest to his right chest again before he gestured to his eyes, only for it to be followed by his left hand making a space between his middle and ring finger where his right hand passed through.

'We move forward together until we see it through.'

Let's Go Save the Princess!

Hi, there! If you're okay with my character, I'd love to join :D

Hider

Azadun Valishin

"The scales must never be robbed of its balance for each weighing crucible represents the black and the white-- the simple colors of the world's actions."
- Azadun, moments before the silver scales of the Inquisitors was stolen by the brigands -

Relentless ♦ Inflexible ♦ Fair ♦ Absolute Obedience ♦ Law Enforcer ♦ Organized ♦ Strict

Name

The Inquisitor

Age

Twenty-five (25)

Appearance

When not donning the official uniform of the Inquisitor Order, one can notice that the auburn-haired Azadun likes to keep his his locks slicked backwards to avoid interference with his line of sight. His pale yet sinewy physique speaks of his training as an inquisitor, alongside the twisting scar which coils down from his nape to the ridges of his abdomen. Numerous slashes also litter his arms as if some feral beast scratched and tore at his flesh. His olive eyes often gaze at people with a half-lidded stare which complements his duty as an enforcer of the balance through neutrality. He does like to keep himself clean-shaven, and as such, his face is almost always clean. Additionally, Azadun stands at an average five-foot-eight.

Personality

Azadun sees the world as black and white-- evil and good. There are no grey areas, because he believes that once people start making exemptions, those same cracks will be the same crevices from which evil festers. The scales of justice dictate his views on the people around him as the scales weigh in the same manner regardless of one's standing. Due to this perspective, Azadun clashes easily with people who do anything, good or bad, that will cause a backlash of evil against others. He is vocal of his accusations and perspectives, and will often deliver judgement on his own. Complementing this is his unrelenting drive to purge all evil from the face of Gardenia. Once he decides to pursue something or someone, there is little anyone can do to dissuade or veer him away from his tunneling vision and psyche. But, deep inside, the inquisitor is often conflicted when delivering justice on the unfortunate. At times, he questions his beliefs-- what would really be heavier, doing the right action or the lawful one? Such questions usually plague the recesses of Azadun's mind, but before anything else, he is truly unbiased and neutral when viewing the world through the lens of the cold, hard law.

Class

Manhunter - Inquisitor

Strengths

Heartlight Forge - Azadun's affinity for magic allows him to manipulate the light around him with his very own energy. With this, he is able to craft weapons from light itself. Whether it be a sword or a spear, Azadun needs only his imagination to procure a weapon of his choosing. However, it should be noted that he can only craft a weapon that he has already thoroughly studied. Which means, he cannot craft weapons that he has just seen once. Since this ability is highly dependent on his energy, the more fatigued he is, the weaker the weapon will be-- to the point that if he creates a sword while exhausted, the sword would be so dull that it won't even nick exposed flesh. Of course, he is able to create multiple weapons at once, but the more he creates, the less the quality would be as opposed when he only creates a single sword with a great amount of energy.

Weapons Adept - As a trained fighter, Azadun is capable of fighting with varied weapons. From chains to swords to bows, he is decent in using them. However, he is more of a jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none type of fighter as he would inevitably lose to a master swordsman when he fights with a blade.

Survival and Medical Skills - One needs to know how to survive when hunting down criminals. As such, Azadun is also trained in first-aid techniques, though, anything greater than a minor wound would be out of his grasp. His survival skills allows him to adapt to a number of environments with little problems, though, extended exposure to dangerous surroundings will definitely end him.

Weaknesses

Cursed Scar - The twisting scar was dealt to him by a witch he was hunting down in the past. Though Azadun brought the witch to justice, he was afflicted with a curse which debilitated his health. Currently, Azadun may experience bouts of violent coughs which scrapes his throat. His body may also weaken due to this chronic illness which intensifies the more stressed the inquisitor gets. It is unknown if the curse can be lifted.

Narrow-Minded - With his beliefs enshrined mostly in the law, Azadun can be narrow-minded and would often refuse to listen to reasons which he believes is evil incarnate itself. This makes him unwilling to cooperate once he begins clashing in ideals with a companion, and would often lead him to accusing the person with crimes.

Heartlight Limit - Since his magical affinity relies on light, once the sun sets or in complete darkness, his ability becomes nigh on useless. What were once swords of mithril would become potato carvers when summoned in the tendrils of night. What were once arrows of glinting steel would become dull needles when crafted within the shadows' cloak.

What were you doing when the princess was kidnapped?

After bringing in a criminal to the Hall of Justice which stood beside the western gate, Azadun had walked outside of the great stone halls. As he rested against one of the circular pillars which held up the stone roof of the hall, his eyes caught sight of one of the merchants delivering the new silver scales that would be used in the future trials as decoration.

He remembered marveling at the ornate scales with etchings of dragons engraved on its base and arms. It was a beautiful thing worthy of his attention as he mused on the symbolism of such objects when placed within the halls of justice. Just as he finished his soliloquy of pretentious symbols and meanings, his eyes widened at the sight of a group of brigands speeding through the western gate, but not before snatching the scale from the merchant's hands.

Azadun had sprang towards the thieves, but a sudden bout of his knee-buckling illness brought Azadun to his knees as he toppled face-first on the stone pavement. His mouth opened in voiceless coughs as his throat screamed in pain from the rabid bouts of air being dragged out of his lungs.

The last sight he witnessed before passing out was a woman flailing in the arms of the brigands before the shadows took him into a dreamless world of worry and doubt.

Defiance

Major Interaction: @Hokum
Minor Interaction: @Polaris North

Oh, come on,

Ren snapped his neck backward, his eyes gazing at the skies shrouded in shadows. The spine-chilling roars echoing from the rampaging undead bears charging towards them only served to entangle fear around the boy's heart. His hands crept up to his face, fingers digging into his flesh before clawing down with a tremble. The dirt and soot stained Ren's face, his teeth gritting in frustration at their sordid luck. Choked tears ran warm down the lad's face before he looked at the catacomb entrance behind him and Devlin. There was only one answer-- an answer so given that it seemed as if the gods themselves dictated that they say 'yes'.

Ren turned to his companion with a stern gaze. No actions were necessary to convey the doom of the situation. Hell's wrath bared upon them with claws and maws made from Morrun's bones, and there was no honor in dying to a bunch of marionettes that are being pulled along by the strings of a puppet master, filled with too much cowardice to face them in person. They were not the most effective of teams, but they were the only ones they had left.

'Let us go, Devlin,'

A burst of cells flooded through Ren's system as all traces of fatigue and exhaustion left him in an instant. He breathed out heavily before sprinting over to the catacomb entrance with surprising speed. He took a second to examine the gaping jaws of the doorway, almost as if it was a living creature opening up its mouth to devour them into a bitter end. However, Ren knew-- and everyone should, too-- that he refused to enter completely without his companion. He spared a scowl at the archer's expense as he began mumbling about what an interesting day this turned out. There was nothing to laugh about their predicament-- especially, when their lives were at stake. Though, he was secretly thankful that one of their unlikely allies brought along a torch to guide their way. The orc would do good as a powerhouse should push come to shove, but Ren wanted them to avoid a fight as much as possible.

Ren looked at the rogue once again as he reached out his hand to Devlin in order to assure that she would make it with them. He knew not of the shadows which haunted her, but he damn well knew that the only way he could help her stave away the tendrils of night was to help her find the nemesis plaguing her every thought. And, for that to happen, they needed to stay alive.

Fighting against those undead bears would go against that prerequisite.

This was a bleak step, but, Ren believed, that it was a step in the right direction.

Defiance

Major Interaction: @Hokum

Ren let a sad smile curve his lips, his head shaking in disappointment as the ragtag team they put together reared their heads into the chance to jump into the breach once more. Hadn't they just wrenched themselves from the jaws of the dead just a breaths ago? Hadn't they danced with death already? There were only so many times that Morrun allowed mortals to spit upon his sandals, and when the god of death swung his scythe on the defiant, he slashed hard. Death scared Ren, because his soul waltzed upon that thin line between here and the hereafter for times too many to count. His ability activated unconsciously when his body is brought to the brink of death. And, whenever he came close to that Blessed Sleep, miniscule stains of fear crept upon his heart as to what laid beyond his grasp. Slowly, these tiny flecks of terror coalesced into a trauma of dangling over the edge once more.

Heren knows how many straws Morrun was going to give him; although, Ren felt that with every escape from death, his rope grew shorter.

Ren stood up with a grunt, steadying himself as he observed the orc and another man take the lead as they stared down the abyss gaping back at them from the now open catacombs. The lad took in a deep breath as if to fill his lungs with whatever remaining cool air he believed he would experience. As he felt the air escape through his scarred lips, Ren glanced at the archer who now stepped forward to join the ensemble attempting to enter the darkness.

Back into the shadows, then.

In all fairness, this ragtag group of strangers, meshed together in an entangling mystery beyond life and death, were destined to the forks of doom if Ren would have to put it bluntly. However, the lad knew that Heren would not have intertwined their paths if they were not meant to achieve greater things... together. Ren believed that each of them clawed out from the dark tendrils in their own lives. Each of them had walked through the shadowy tunnels. If anything, they could have meant to be the light after the dark for each other-- os elk tarnen beoren.

A certain electric rogue came to mind, and at this thought, Ren faced Devlin whose fingers gripped expectantly at her blade. Perhaps... just maybe.

Ren returned to her side before placing a gentle hand on her blade, lifting it up slightly until the sword hovered between their eyes. Orbs of purple gazed into lilac once more before Ren, using his free hand, began to sign.

'You be the blade to cut the dark. I be the shield to cover the light,' He grinned at her before turning to the catacomb entrance and letting go of her hand. 'Let us bring every single one home.'

Defiance

Major Interaction/s: @Hokum & @Polaris North

Though the days that Ren spent with Devlin bordered on the level of strangers, the lad began to see the little quirks and actions that the woman did which gave away her otherwise unreadable façade. Slight twitches as well as dim eyes signaled the internal storm of hatred brewing within his companion, and while anger guided this woman's hand through victory a hundred times already, Ren believed that the cycle of hatred will never end. After all, as long as there were two people alive, hatred will always cause one to want the other dead. Vengeance and vendettas must all cease if one was to have a sliver of hope for peace, and Ren did not want her to be consumed by a rage that was not rightfully hers to bear. Ren had already forgiven the northern jarls for their venomous grip, and it was time to heal. Even for Devlin.

A calming hand rested on Devlin's shoulder as they walked on through the forest. Once Devlin would turn to face him, Ren crossed his arms over his chest, open palms tapping his shoulders. "Relax," Ren smiled softly at her, his serene purple orbs gazing at churning onyx in an attempt to calm the fury within her irises. "It is past. Cannot change it. They gave me cruelty, but I will not pay it forward. I pay kindness instead. I break cycle before it breaks others."

Just as they trudged on deeper into the embrace of the woods, the smell of cinders and ashen wood wafting in the air, Devlin stopped walking when they arrived at the entrance of the catacombs. Ren took this opportunity to stand in front of the woman, his hands resting on each of her shoulders before he placed his forehead on top of hers. He inhaled the scent of pine needles, blood, and ash on her hood-- a mixture of aromas so strangely Devlin.

"I will never break," Ren signed to her as he pulled back. "But, others can when faced with the things darker than them."

His thoughts were interrupted as a deafening crash sent a slight ripple through the air as the large orc pounded his fist against the stone door. His eyes quickly caught the startled reaction of the other individuals conglomerating in front of the entrance. With the rude woman desperately trying to reason with the orc, Ren shook his head as he left Devlin's side. Curiosity getting the better of him, he walked towards the archer who busied himself with gazing at the gems of shifting hues within the pit. The lad looked at the archer with a confused expression.

Suddenly, Ren grinned at the man who didn't really differ much in age with him. He placed his hand on his lips before bringing it down on his raised left palm. "Thank you," Ren signed before continuing, accompanying his actions with mimicking lips. "For helping us at Nadska. You are a good man."

He pointed his finger at him, trying to form and mimic the words with his lips as he tapped his temple before motioning to the gems. "What do you think are those?"

Defiance

@Hokum
Purple eyes widened in surprise at Devlin's question. Most people would often ask about jobs or hobbies, but, as fate would put it, Ren would get the strangest of companions who dug their noses straight into the grindstone. Not that he was hiding it or anything, but most people just did not care much about the jet-black sutures lining the spaces across his lips. Soon, the look of surprise turned into a flustered reaction as a tint of pink dotted Ren's cheeks until a nervous yet voiceless chuckle followed suit.

He turned his sights behind him, taking note of the rather unique set of individuals now accompanying them. How Devlin managed to snag them all was beyond Ren, but, perhaps, this socially-challenged girl drew people to her side just by being herself. She needed no theatrics, no show of bravado-- just her words of iron and will of steel. Which came as no surprise when she threw these kinds of questions around. Heren forbid that she asked their new companions this right away.

Ren faced her once more before nodding in response. His eyes looked forward, gazing at the endless myriad of trees which shadowed over them. In the dark, all things were laid bare, and this was the same with the winding road which served as the tapestry of Ren's life. His hands trembled for a moment as the surge of memories slammed against the walls of his mind, like the waters slowly chipping away at a dam's structure before it breaks. Then, he raised his hand, pointing it in the direction of the north as a reference to Aryali, before his two hands straightened. Then, he circled his hands backwards in an alternating fashion before it landed on his shoulder.

"Once upon a time,"

Ren paused before continuing, a flash of pain glinting for a split-second within the purple irises before he breathed in to continue.

Long Backstory

"Oi, Ren! Jarls Krias and Maard are here. Get your ass inside the room!"

The fifteen-year old Ren nodded as he clutched the tattered tunic closer to his skin. His eyes wandered over to the unknown figure looking back at him from the borders of the stained mirror. Short and spiky shadows sat on top of his head, his lips muttering a silent prayer to Ragas for deliverance as he dove once more into the breach.

"How bad are their moods today? They lost another skirmish against Jarl Ayasu?" Ren's baritone, somewhat silvery voice echoed down the dim, torch-lit halls of the Warmth House. "I pity the brothers. They sacrificed so much and gained so little from their campaigns against the jarls of Frijosa."

Tuvan, the head of the Warmth House, turned around the corner with his arms crossed. The skinny man shook his head at the young Ren before flicking his finger up to denote that Ren should already start taking off his shirt. Tuvan spoke of how Ren's mouth should be as enlightened when servicing his customers lest he face the wrath of the defeated jarls.

"They just knocked out one of the guards at the front. I'm pretty sure they'll beat Heren out of you; then again," Tuvan winked at the boy before ripping the tunic from him, exposing Ren to the merciless bite of the frosty air. "You don't break nor die, do you? But, you cannot protect everyone, Ren. Tonight, maybe you were able to deliver Alayan from this fate with this sacrifice. But, what about tomorrow? The next week? How long until your body breaks?"

"I will never regret what I did for her. And, I will never break." Ren gritted out his answer, his hands curled around his skinny figure before a harsh hand struck from the shadows and dragged the boy by the neck through the halls. Jarl Krias' violence was only matched by his twin's sadistic tendencies, and by the time Krias slammed Ren for the last time against the wooden post of the bed, Maard had already driven a short dagger through Ren's gut. Ren let out a suppressed cry of unimaginable pain. Soon, Krias' gripped at the boy's throat, launching him across the room before Maard picked him up again to fling him back to the bed with a loud thud.

Like an animal, Ren clawed at the sheets in a futile attempt to escape until one of the jarls caged him with a dagger straight through Ren's hand. The burly jarl's breath fanned against the boy's ear as Ren choked out a sob, snot and tears dribbling down his mouth.

"Tuvan reckoned dat ye can never hurt anyone-- dat killin' be not fer ye." Maard scorned at the boy, digging the knife deeper between his carpal tunnel. "Ye had the chance to kill Jarl Ayasu in exchange for yer freedom, but ye didn't take it 'cus ye lacked da spine to stain yer pretty little fingers."

Out of all the torment flowing through his nerves, Ren's consciousness could only focus on the intensifying burn in his sides where the blade struck him. What was once a burn became a sear, and what was once pain became agony. Ren swore that white-hot knives scraped against his bones as he could only think that the blade was envenomed. His restraint broke, heralded by the screams tearing out from his mouth as Krias and Maard laughed in glee.

Immediately, Krias jumped at Ren with his fingers locking Ren's face in place. "Shh, shh," He cooed, licking a filthy path along the boy's frothing mouth. "Wouldn't want the guards to hear this."

Now, Krias was a man who dabbled in curses. And, he felt it fit to use his talent on Ren. He uttered a demonic incantation as eldritch threads and needles hovered in the air. With Ren's howls unrelenting whilst Maard lavished his fury on the boy, Krias sealed the spell which caused the needles to pierce Ren's lips. The demonologist sewed the threads into place with each puncture and stitch lasting like a lifetime. With each completed stitch, Ren's voice lessened and lessened and lessened until it was naught but a squeak of air. Soon, the signature raven puncture marks stained the lad's lips.

By the time the sun rose on the morrow, the boy was nothing but a pile of twitching limbs and gasping sounds as the bed ran red with blood. While his cells desperately anchored his life to this wretched world, Ren's consciousness hovered between reality and dreams, one desperately wanting to escape into the other. Ren gazed at the stone ceiling, etchings of deities and wars long gone chiseled upon its face. Then, he closed his eyes and tried to utter a prayer to Ragas.

However, instead of a desperate and incoherent litany spilling from his lips, what came out was a whoosh of voiceless air and a sudden realization that, perhaps, the gods have abandoned him.

"If I remember correct," Ren signed with his right thumb coming down from his temple to tap on his raised left thumb. "As Krias said, I can only be free," His balled hands swung outward to the sides as if breaking shackles. Then, his hands made a stabbing motion before looking at Devlin. "When I use my gift to kill a life."

Ren let the information sink in for a while before he shook his head with a sad smile. He turned to Devlin to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder as if to make her confident that he was now okay.

"I know what hides in the heart of man. I experienced the pure violence in a beating heart." Ren nodded his head before raising his index finger. "But, a heart can do great a violence, and while it beats, it can also do great kindness." Ren's index, thumb, and middle fingers straightened before they curled towards one another. Afterwards, Ren placed his straightened left hand on top of the mirroring yet horizontal right, then, he slid his left hand to the left side, ending it with a chop.

"I cannot end a life," Ren shook his head. "Because as long as it beats," Ren raised his hands and opened them together which was followed with Ren raising his left index finger to pursue his right index finger. Finally, Ren straightened his palms and swept them down over his eyes. "There is always light after darkness."

After he expressing ideas, Ren shrugged his shoulders before baring a fanged grin at Devlin as he scratched at his nape. He began to sign again in a more comical manner as if he wanted to erase the depressing tale he shared.

"Of course, if someone could remove curses, then, that too would be great. Save me the blood and the tattered clothes."

Defiance

@Hokum@Dartbored Fairy

As it turned out, Ren's ally had a knack for grabbing at the shortest straws, and for not conforming to the niceties of social conversations between strangers who lived worlds apart. The lad gritted his teeth as he felt a sudden tension hanging in the air whilst Devlin and the witch stared each other down. There could have been different, politer ways to go about this situation in order to avoid offense. But, what tremendous combat prowess Devlin possessed was only matched by the equally opposite social manners she used in the most untimely of situations. However, Ren should have seen this coming, and if that person hadn't sealed off his voice, he would have gladly done most of the talking. After all, this woman beside him just pretty much told him that she would jump on him in the near future just moments after they barely survived in Nadska.

Oh, and she grabbed that archer's map without asking for permission.

That... should have been the sign that Ren would need to help her with her manners. Or, her social life in general.

Ren knew that Devlin signed for him to be ready for any scenario, but at this moment, Ren had to try to diffuse the friction between Devlin and the witch. The witch herself looked younger than him, but her stance exuded confidence beyond centuries and powers beyond mortal men. She, like Devlin, may have stood at the top of the pyramid whilst Ren glanced helplessly at them from the bottom of the chain. What help could he offer that Devlin could not provide for herself? What could he express that a fearsome witch who had the ability to end him would accept?

The answer was nothing. But, just because you faced the jaws of the beast with no escape doesn't mean that you should not do anything to even delay the end. He had to do something-- for him, for her, and for those people tumbling out of the woods with a burst of winds rushing around them.

Ren walked until he came between Devlin and the witch, his palms facing up to display his lack of malice. His head bowed to the witch before he rose up. With his index finger, Ren pointed to his heart, making a circling motion over his chest before motioning to his companions. He looked into the witch's purple eyes which reflected his own before gesturing to Devlin and the others, followed by his fists grinding against each other.

"I apologize for them. They are working hard,"

His fingers touched his chest, elbows up before edging downwards. Then, he followed it with his index finger pointing to his head which curled as it moved outward. Finally, he ended his sign with a combination of his hands turning upside down, then, putting his hands up to resemble the roof of a house which was destroyed with a stabbing motion afterwards.

"They are tired. The dead killed our home."

Ren never really tested his remarkable constitution against magic except for that one time which led to his mouth being sewn shut; however, he knew one thing: he refused to do nothing if this witch harmed her and them. He continued to sign to the witch, in vain it may be. He warily eyed the stave that the witch carried, noticing the seemingly lifelike skeletal hand protruding from one end. He wondered how they could survive this encounter without losing a head or two. Or, they could just walk away. But, knowing Devlin, she would just force her way again.

You cannot heal a wound by making another; nor could you make allies by punching a hole through them (or, them punching a hole through you). He'd have to educate her on that concept, but Ren had a feeling that it may take a while.

"They do not mean offense. We just try to find answer as anyone who lost home would do. My name is 'without bounty'--Ren." The lad introduced himself--his name a negative derivation of the name of the god of agriculture and life, Heren--to the witch, not really expecting anything out of his actions. For all he knew, she barely understood him. This was always his problem: he could never fully communicate what he wanted to say. If only... he could go back in time and not...

No! He would never regret that.

Defiance

@Hokum

'Smells like brimstone and molten steel, something similar to the excavations at Aryali'

Ren thought to himself whilst he whiffed at the soot of elder ash. His eyes examined the ash staining his fingertips before they trailed around the shattered barks and broken branches of the surrounding trees. The entire setup reminded him of moths foolishly slamming themselves against the lamp in an attempt to touch an unreachable fire until they incinerated themselves in their folly. The ominous windless chimes on the wide-brimmed hat on top of the massive skull unnerved the lad when the subtle metallic clicks brought back fading memories of the temple bell plummeting to the earth with a resounding toll-- a grim knell echoing through the ruins and rubble of Nadska to serve as a reminder what befell those who stood in the path of the damned.

Was this another warning?

Most probably.

Ren observed Devlin's heightened guard, her body tensing in an anticipated confrontation. This moment of relapse allowed Ren to think back on the woman's words a few moments ago. She had mentioned something about bearing his child, and when those words danced through the lad's ears, he briefly wondered whether that phrase meant differently from where Devlin came from. His cheeks had flushed red at that point, like, they have not yet even had a proper courtship yet. No normal female in their proper mind would ever wish to bear the child of a man they only met for a day, but then again, as Ren watched her talking to the mystery stalking them, the lad smiled knowingly-- Devlin was far from normal (if her rather erratic ways of skipping the stages of romance was any indicator of it).

And, that made her great.

Snapping his focus back on the task at hand, he returned Devlin's commanding gaze with a slight nod before slowly prodding over a few feet behind the rogue. He knelt on one knee before watching the woman's blind spots at her back, just in case whoever Devlin was talking to decided to have a more... aggressive diplomatic solution. The point of his toes dug deep into the soil as Ren gripped the hilt of his sabre, even though his knowledge in the way of the sword was practically non-existent.

Devlin's decision to call out to whatever spawn of Morru pranced within the shadows of the woods was shaky at best, and Ren could not help but feel that this would end in another scrap for them. They barely survived in the siege at Nadska, and now, she was courting Death again with those feisty eyes of hers.

A creeping sense of dread climbed up Ren's spine, making the lad shudder in subtle terror. The chimes echoing in the background serenading Devlins' voice as she continued to call out to the darkness surrounding them. His free hand snaked its way out of the sleeves of his tattered habit, his fingers held up close to the exposed flesh on Devlin's sides, caused by the tears inflicted on the woman's attire in the siege of Nadska. One could never be too prepared.

He raised his hand up at Devlin as she looked at him over her shoulders. With his fingers pointing to himself and then to his eyes before gesturing towards Devlin's backside, Ren wanted her to always remember this day where she did not stand alone. And, hopefully, she would never need to again.

"I watch your back."

Defiance

Major Interaction: @Hokum & @Candy

Friend...

Ren let the word float inside his head even as the rather hyperactive woman beamed at him. She was not the first one who drew a kick from his disability, and frankly, Ren never found it in him to get irritated at any of her insults. However, he did find a bone to pick towards her comments about Devlin, regarding her as a 'psycho'. Sure, killing a guard from out of the blue, diving into Death's kiss, or even bursting out in enigmatic strength could all fall into the category of crazy, but every single act that she did had been an attempt to save a life that she barely knew. It all stemmed from a desire to help someone other than herself; it was the spirit of self-sacrifice, and that, for Ren, was the antithesis to what a psycho embodied.

The musician could not help but allow a gentle smile to curve his lips while his eyes trailed on the visage of Devlin slowly disappearing into the woods.

She was really amazing. Quite the opposite of this young woman beside Ren who looked at everything as if it was a joke. The lightness of how she treated the situation irked the musician, knowing that countless of his brothers and sisters gave their lives to protect the civilians during the attack on Nadska. From how she treated the entire scene, Ren had an inkling that this woman only dreamed of her own benefit without a thought for the good of the masses.

He turned to the strange and bubbly woman, giving her a smirk before he raised his hands. 'I see her as my friend. I do not know how she sees me.' Ren released a sigh before letting his right fingers dance over the tear in his habit where the sabre he now carried once pierced through him. 'I do not believe in destiny. But, I tire of running.' And, it was true. Every time that a problem struck at where Ren stayed, the musician decided to take the easy way out and flee for life. Whether it was the incident at Aryalli or the siege of the Desert Raiders, he left behind the problem, hoping that it never happened again. But, not this time. The strength that the young woman inspired in him was nigh on unbearable, and Ren wondered how such a mysterious stranger ever drew such courage.

As of the moment, Ren never really understood why he decided to follow her. Be it a misplaced loyalty or an ardent affection, he knew that he would gladly fight by her side once more.

Purple orbs challenged emerald ones with Ren giving her a fanged grin. His confidence now erased any of the lost and broken features his visage once possessed. 'The path she walks is not without conviction. And, only the brave have conviction. So,' He paused for a moment whilst he faced the energetic girl as she took a drink from the suspicious bottle she carried. Then, before he dashed into shadows, he looked down at her before edging his thumb to the side of her lips to wipe away a stain of the liquor. A condescending grin plastered itself on Ren's face just as he shook his head. 'You little lamb. Try not to hurt yourself, kid.'

He placed his right finger above his eyes before pointing at her. 'See you around.'

Then, he dashed into the woods after the rogue.

---

Finally, he caught up to Devlin.

He announced his presence by snapping his fingers, and when he got her attention, the musician gave a gentle wave of his hand.

Walking a few paces behind Devlin as she led the way into the dark embrace of the woods allowed Ren to entertain the thoughts constantly stabbing at the back of his mind. Never had he felt as if every bone in his limb trembled with powers beyond the mortal realm until what Devlin cast on him. He could still taste on the tip of his tongue iron and honey from when Devlin bit at him too much. Which brought him to another question: Devlin was usually the cool and calm archetype, but at that moment, she seemed drunk and rabid. Was what he saw the true daughter of Despiun? The brutal claps of thunder serenaded the forks of lightning sundering their foes brought a tinge of fear in Ren's heart, but alongside was also awe.

Ren knew she harbored secrets that he was not meant to know. But, as much as he believed that everyone deserved to hide some of their masks, he just could not wrap his head around what happened to him. He wondered whether that was the addicting feeling that people latch on to when they eat his flesh. He wanted to know what happened, and he knew he could get his answers straight from the horse's mouth.

The lad jogged a few paces, taking in Devlin just walking on her own even though danger lurked at every corner. She was so used to her own solitude; she did things her way. Then again, things were different this time. When he walked side by side with her, Ren glanced at Devlin with an inquisitive look in his eye.

Ren allowed Devlin her secrets, but not the one that just recently happened to them.

'So, do we talk about what happened back there?' Ren gave her a smile. 'My ability is my body. I make people heal, I make myself heal. But,' He latched his pinky at hers, trying to get a connection or anything that resembled what he felt back at Nadska. 'Never has that happened before.'

Defiance

@Hokum

The overwhelming connection seared him like moth to a flame, threatening to reduce the shocked musician into ashes as she took him by the hand in a mad dash towards the western gate. Every nerve lining his body sang to piercing heights, a look of pure ecstasy clouding the musician's features with his half-lidded eyes and lolled tongue. Without thinking about it, his legs paced one after the other like a maverick's gallop which allowed the dyad to batter through the wall of undead surrounding them with violent surges of lightning which lashed out at anyone foolish enough to come in range with the shield of concentrated storms. Ren always refused to look at his clients whenever they toyed and mangled his body in their desperate attempts at morbid pleasure; he found it impossible to ever gaze at something that willingly sought out to harm another, even if their hands forcibly threw Ren over the precipice. But, now, as he felt a euphoria like no other, Ren's eyes refused to look away from the tantalizing sight of Devlin in a blood-crazed state, her devilish smirk and scraping voice making the mute lad's blood run wild.

He never really processed how much time has passed, but when his consciousness slammed back into his body with the force of a sledgehammer, Ren could not stop himself from falling face first into the stone pavements of the western gate as Devlin's grasp left his. Immense rivulets of sweat cascaded down his dirtied skin, his body now writhing in an attempt to compensate for the intensive fatigue inflicted upon it by whatever frenzied mayhem Devlin led him into.

With the last remnants of the mutated cells flowing through him, Ren sat up with a gasp as his arm began to regenerate the skin it lost when the open wound began to close with subtle gurgles. The gashes and wounds on his face also closed, blocking off the blood from bleeding out on Ren's face. When Ren felt confident that all wounds on his body now laid healed, he switched off that strange switch in his head which allowed his ability to rest. However, the repercussions began without mercy. Ren's chest constricted, almost cutting off his air supply. His arms weighed heavier than two caravan carts, and his legs seemed as if they melted right off his bones.

They were safe, for now. And, the brief lull allowed Ren a few seconds to at least stabilize himself.

When he felt that the world stopped spinning for once, Ren forced himself to his knees, and then, to his feet as he focused his attention on Devlin who also walked a few paces ahead of him. Ren could make out a few figures standing meters ahead, and while his eyes blurred too much for him to get a definite clue of who they were, the mere fact that the figures were not yet shambling towards them meant that they were not part of the undead. That offered a slight respite, at least.

The golem's sudden crash against the walls of Nadska drew Ren's attention, his eyebrow raising in exhausted confusion before he moved towards Devlin. He dragged his feet against the concrete earth before finally managing to catch up to the rogue who looked just as messed up and terrible as he was. The once fierce and confident visage she possessed a few moments ago was now only the ghost of a distant memory, replaced by a sickly pallor which crept all over her face. He really could not muster any strength to produce any signs, but as they reached at least a few feet away from the gathering of the survivors, Ren could pick out a few of their conversations.

Most of their topics as well as their body languages suggested that they were itching to leave this god-forsaken place, and he could not blame them. But, for Ren, this place was all he had ever known for the last months or so. Where would they go? What was the assurance that the undead had not taken up shelter in the caress of the trees, ready to pounce on unsuspecting drifters?

The lad glanced at Devlin once more, and a moment of clarity dawned on him. He would not leave this woman. Aside from his curiosity to find out what exactly in Heren's name caused that event to transpire, he had also developed some sort of camaraderie with this woman. He enjoyed being with her, and if anything, he felt safer knowing that she kept an eye out for Ren's back.

He could only wish that she thought the same.

When he managed to at least get in front of her, Ren raised his arms to start signing. 'What do we do?' He grimaced, using the word 'we' as if there was a definite unit which consisted of him and her. 'They plan to leave. Where do we find safe place?'

He so wanted to talk to her about what had happened; how he desired to know more about the truth of who she was and what she had done to him, but all that gratitude and adoration would have to come later. Before he would pour his thoughts and gratitude on her, he wanted to make sure that they could continue to breathe even until the morrow.