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Maren LeChance

"Y'gotta create your own happiness!"

0 · 326 views · located in Ter'Ciel

a character in “Eulogy for the Immortal”, as played by ~Evil Cream Puff~

Description

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Name: Maren LeChance

Nickname: None

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Height: 5'11"

Weight: 170 lbs



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Appearance: Maren believes himself to be quite average in appearance. He stands at 5'11" though his occasional lazy slouch makes him appear shorter. His eyes are a strikingly vibrant hue not unlike glistening topaz gemstones. They are sharp and catlike, set against healthy-colored skin. Maren's unruly hair falls about his head in jagged, rust-colored locks with a few strands reaching past his chin. With a strong jawline and rugged yet handsome face, the young man is naturally attractive - though not through any extra effort on his part. His body is fit with defined muscles. Many get the impression that he works hard to maintain his impressive physique, but this couldn't be any further from the truth. In actuality, Maren is simply blessed with insatiable metabolism.

Personality: With hair and eyes reminiscent of a sunset, Maren possesses a warmth and positivity to match. Many are drawn to his natural charisma and easy-going attitude. Indeed, the young man seems to breeze through life casually. Honest and upfront, he sees little point in playing games or beating around the bush when it comes to social interaction. This is not to say that he is apathetic, however. In fact, he has been known to possess a stubbornness that borders on foolish when it comes to something he feels strongly about. Maren values trust and loyalty and does anything in his power to see that those he loves are protected and happy.

The young man seems to be quite lacking in social graces. He does not differentiate between social classes when it comes to his actions and thus, is as equally charming as he is offensive to those around him. He is self-indulgent and oblivious to it, often partaking in temptations such as food, drink, and women to the point of excess. He simply believes that life is too short to spend it being bored. Although Maren is quite sensitive, he feels embarrassed about showing his softer emotions. This makes for delightfully awkward situations when someone catches on.

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Likes
+ Anything edible
+ Sleeping
+ Females

Dislikes
- Injustice
- Hunger
- Boredom

Fears
x Weakness
x Being alone
x Darkness

Talents
o Eating
o Fixing things
o Physical strength

Flaws
= Overindulgent
= Foolhardy
= Gullible

Background: When Ter'Ciel was in its infancy, there existed countless gods who governed the laws of the universe. One such deity oversaw all creation on the planet. His name was Creir, although eons later he would be known as Maren LeChance. Creir was a revered god, worshipped by many. Humans would pray to him to ensure good fortune in all their endeavors. He dutifully escorted the souls of those who had yet to be born as they descended to Ter'Ciel. This was a great responsibility for the god and he took humble satisfaction in keeping all life on the planet in balance. A balance that would one day be tipped...

Creir was among the remaining gods and goddesses who stood against the evil alien force that threatened to extinguish all life on Ter'Ciel. When it appeared that their efforts would not be enough to save their beloved planet, the gods were forced to make a drastic yet necessary decision. Sacrificing their immortality, they were able to seal away the parasitic evil, albeit temporarily. Today, as the temples to the gods lie in ruin and prayers are no longer uttered, there are those who claim that somewhere, Creir still exists, awaiting the day he may resume his place as God of Creation.

Maren LeChance does not remember the faces of the parents who birthed him. His earliest memories are enough to recall that they once cared for him, but aside from that, his mind is foggy. For most of his life he was raised by a family who once knew his parents. Growing up with five other children in a household, his early life was never dull. His days were happily spent and, although the boy's true origins were made known to him, the couple and their children loved him and accepted him as one of their own. His hometown was a farming village on the eastern coast of the Thalian continent known as Serf. Farm life is seldom easy and Maren was doing his share of the work since he was old enough to carry a pitchfork. While he detested the physical labor and often found creative ways to evade the responsibility, it did his body good and he soon grew into a very strong young man. The most enjoyable aspect of his time on the farm was spent caring for the various animals the family kept. Maren loved spending time with the cows, sheep, and pigs and often rose earlier than the other members of his family in order to score the task of feeding them. As such, he developed a compassionate manner when dealing with animals.

Before long, Maren began to wonder what existed beyond the fields and pastures of Serf. The family who raised him had sensed his wanderlust and encouraged the young man to follow his own path in life. After much convincing that they would be all right without him, they bid Maren goodbye on his 20th birthday as he set out for unknown adventures.

"Adventure" turned out to be found in the city of Davonshire, an overcrowded, heavily industrialized place in southern Thalia. It was there that Maren decided to stay, if but for a time. He soon found himself working at one of the city's many factories, acting as a sort of handy-man and mechanic whenever one of the machines would malfunction. Work was uneventful at best, but that was not what the young man lived for anyhow. What kept him in Davonshire was the nightlife. Maren found himself living paycheck to paycheck while enjoying the many temptations the city had to offer. Parties were hosted every night and the young man soon became something of a small-time celebrity with his fun-loving attitude and insatiable appetite for great food, strong wine, and pretty girls.

This lifestyle continued for a few years without issue. Then, one day, Maren awoke with a restless longing he couldn't seem to place. Slowly but surely, the life he had made for himself grew dull. No longer satisfied, he began to think of a place that would perhaps prove to be more fulfilling. Kirlsa. He would travel to Kirlsa, the town by the Belen Sea.

"Hah. All the women in Davonshire know me already. I wonder what an Kirlsa girl is like!"

It seemed to be as good a reason as any to him. With his lucky bronze coin in his pocket (can't believe I'd ever misplace that!), Maren set off for Kirlsa, not even casting a final glance back at Davonshire as it was swallowed by the horizon.

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So begins...

Maren LeChance's Story

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Character Portrait: Maren LeChance
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Maren LeChance



The dirty, paved streets of Davonshire had soon given way to endless hills of green foliage. The sky overhead, usually dismal and gray due to the industrial city's factories, was now a kaleidoscope of warm pastels. The sun set over Kirlsa in much the same way it set over his dusty hometown of Serf. Too much time in the big city was enough to renew one's awe of nature's simple beauty.

Maren would have considered it peaceful. Nostalgic, even...if he wasn't so goddamn bored.

The young man's journey from Davonshire seemed to be a distant memory from his past. In truth, Maren had only been in the town of Kirlsa for one week. The excitement of adventure, the adrenaline rush of freedom he'd felt when leaving Davonshire...all of it now seemed so damn stupid. This wasn't an adventure at all. It was a punishment for a crime he'd never committed. And the only adrenaline rush came from whether or not he'd make it to the local inn's shower stalls before the water ran cold.

Move to Kirlsa! Where the sea awaits! Where the women are gorgeous! Where the wine runs like...well...wine.

'Hmph. The hell was I thinking, moving to some backwater like this?'

Indeed, the thrill of traveling seemed to leave him not moments after entering this simple little town. The initial disappointment would have been enough to cause Maren to turn and leave right then...if it weren't for one tiny little problem.

He was broke.

Maren had never been very good with his money. His life in Davonshire had been from paycheck to paycheck. Bread on Monday, watery porridge by Thursday, and then a weekend of roast pig, pumpkin pie, more wine than he could handle, and even a pretty girl by his side...before counting his remaining copper pieces in disbelief and begrudgingly taking half a loaf of bread to work with him the following Monday. It was a delicate system that had taken months to balance. But now? This damned trip to Kirlsa had taken nearly every coin in his meager savings. He couldn't afford to move back to the city so soon.

And so he'd stayed.

Maren spent his first night in a barn, unbeknownst to the property owners. The next day he was all over town, working odd jobs and helping out the townspeople with manual labor in exchange for paltry sums. Caring for horses, moving bales of hay, building sheds and chicken coops, even repairing the blades of the old windmill in the center of town. Maren worked hard every day and tried his best to save every coin. He'd taken up a room in the shabby inn. It wasn't too different from his own apartment in Davonshire. Small. Sparsely decorated. Efficient. Maren didn't need much to be happy. His pleasures in life came not from material possession. Unless you count a roasted leg of lamb as a material possession.

Today he had just finished up a few more repairs on the old windmill. The mayor of Kirlsa, taking advantage of the strapping, young drifter in town, had asked him to fix it up personally.

The sun began to set, bathing everything around in golden crimson that signaled the end of another day's work. Climbing down off of a ladder, Maren leaned up against the side of the windmill. The cool stone foundation felt good on his back. Stretching a bit, he watched as the townsfolk began their evening ritual of packing up and heading home to dinner.

'Oh, man...looks like potato broth again for me tonight.'

Maren would wait near the windmill until the inn was about to close. Once the usual patrons had finished up their meals, he would go in and hit up the cute girl that worked the counter. Well...she wasn't exactly cute. But she did have a certain country charm about her. The type to easily get taken in by a hotshot young man who rolled into town...at least that's what he thought, anyway. Maybe she would give him some of the night's leftovers so he wouldn't have to eat that tasteless, poor man's excuse for soup again.

And so Maren sat. Waiting for nightfall. Arms behind his head, he leaned back and closed his eyes. Yeah. Tonight he had a good feeling that he just couldn't deny, and that could only mean one thing...a delicious meal was in his future.

The setting changes from Ter'Ciel to Kirlsa

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Character Portrait: Maren LeChance
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Maren LeChance


She smelled of wildflowers. Maren recalled the fields of them near his old home in Serf. Softly, he brushed aside the auburn curls of hair, revealing her slender neck. Arms around her petite frame, he leaned in, pressing his lips against her sweet skin. He felt the softness of her neck. Heard her stifled gasp in his ear. Leaning back, Maren faced her. Eye to eye with the tavern girl now, she gave him a coquettish smile. Maren cocked his head.

"You just have to try my new cherry pie recipe, Maren." Her country drawl seemed intoxicating now. Maren cleared his throat, unable to hold back the wide grin across his face.

"Sure thing, babe. But first I want to taste more of those sweet lips of yours..."

The tavern girl giggled and Maren was mentally high-fiving himself.

'Maren, you are on FIRE tonight! Smooth as hell.'

Suddenly, her face changed. Eyes narrow and mouth curling into a devilish smirk. Without warning, she shoved Maren backward and into the wall.

"W-woah! Hehe...Somebody wants to take charge."

The girl put a hand to his head, running slender fingers through his hair before firmly gripping it and pulling. With strength that belied her slight appearance, she threw him to the floor.

Maren stumbled, clumsily attempting to get back on his feet.

"Hey! T-take it easy, babe..."

Her face was different now. Dark. Sinister. Rearing back, she slapped Maren across the face.

"Get up!"

'Whaaa...?'

He was fading. The room, the furniture, the tavern girl...everything was fading away

"Get up! Now!"

Another slap and Maren was opening his eyes. Or at least he thought he was. The room seemed to be very dimly lit. Slowly, his sleepy eyes adjusted to make out the form of a person standing before him. Two people. They were dressed in robes and had their hoods drawn up.

'What in the hell...?'

Maren's head hurt. He moved to place a hand to his forehead and was alarmed to find that he couldn't do so. Just then, the feeling of stiff pressure cut into his wrists. He was bound. Hands tied behind his back with rope or...something.

"Wh...what is this?" His bewildered voice broke the eerie silence around him.

The floor was dirt. Sliding himself into a sitting position, he leaned against the wall and found that it was dirt as well. Candles were placed about the room, illuminating the sparsely furnished chamber. Just where in the hell was he?

"Hey!" Maren shouted to the figure standing opposite himself. "You mind telling me what the hell is going on here? Where is this place? And who the hell are you!?"

He felt a painful lump rise in his dry throat. Heartbeat echoing in his temples.

Slowly, the figure across from him rose a single finger in the air and brought it to their lips.

"Ssshhhh." The man whispered. "The others will be arriving shortly."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hans Amsel Character Portrait: Caedes Risus Character Portrait: Mackenzie Truko Character Portrait: Celsia Vorrine Character Portrait: Maren LeChance
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Hans Amsel


The rusty blades of the windmill creaked in the wind. It reminded Hans of the moans of an elderly woman. A banshee whose cries echoed throughout the night in this godsforsaken hovel.

The greaseball woman had apparently felt it perfectly acceptable to have an evening stroll with the knife-wielding strangers. Where there was a tiny, glimmering shred of doubt in his mind just moments before, Hans now concluded with regrettable certainty that this woman was an idiot. Plain and simple. But he'd kept his mouth shut and played it cool. For now, at least. It would probably be best for him to first find out why he and the woman were wanted by these creeps in the first place.

The mysterious couple had led them to the windmill in the center of town. Now they stood before the rickety wooden door that led inside.

'No. No way. Bad. Not a chance in hell am I going in there.'

Hans opened his mouth to protest, but stifled himself immediately once he felt the unmistakable tip of a dagger placed at his back. His skin crawled with dread as a wave of fear swept over his body.

"Inside, if you please." The stranger's voice was just as sickeningly cordial as before. As if he were being invited to a dinner party with some new acquaintances.

Swallowing hard, Hans decided now was not the time to lose his cool. Mustering the courage to move, he began to walk inside the windmill. It was then that his eyes caught sight of something. Movement. From the corner of his field of vision. He turned to see two figures, a tall male and short female. They were walking toward the windmill where he and the greaseball stood. Without thinking, Hans called out to them...

"Hey! Over here! Hey!!"

...before he felt a large hand at his back, pushing him inside. Hans stumbled through the threshold and heard the despairing slam of the door shutting behind him.

One of the hooded strangers moved past him and kicked aside a small throw rug that was placed on the floor, revealing a trapdoor underneath. He pulled it up and a blast of cold air was released, blowing across Hans' face.

Knife at his back once more, he was ushered down into the basement where he found a few more people, all clad in the same crimson robe. Except for one individual...

A young man with red hair was on the ground in the corner of the room. His hands were bound behind his back and he looked just as dazed and bewildered as Hans himself did...

'That man...do I...know him?'

The thought only crossed his mind for a moment before it returned to the grim situation at hand. Here, underground, in a backwater town miles from any place he ever called home... Hans mind raced with questions...and the unmistakable feeling of dread because he knew, deep down, that he would soon have the answers.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hans Amsel Character Portrait: Kai Seward Character Portrait: Caedes Risus Character Portrait: Mackenzie Truko Character Portrait: Celsia Vorrine Character Portrait: Maren LeChance
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This place was so weird.

First the place was dead quiet and boring, then two individuals who shattered all gender stereotypes had to fight off a couple drunks, then these robed cultists came out of nowhere and threatened said ambiguous individuals who just sort of went with it without putting up a fight. What was so special about that rickety windmill after all? Kai didn't know what to expect from this village anymore. Maybe this was why nobody ever talked about it.

Whatever. It'd been a long day, and Kai just wanted to rest. As he turned to make his way toward the Inn, a robed figure standing before him made him jump.

Instinctively, his hand reached for the hilt of his sword. Where the hell did this guy come from?! Kai hadn't noticed somebody approach him at all. Surely he hadn't been so distracted by the scene before him to let down his guard enough to be snuck up on.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The man said, low and menacing, though not enough to intimidate Kai.

"What the hell do you want?"

"You are to accompany me to the windmill. You can walk along with me, or I can take you by force. Resistance is futile."

Kai almost laughed. Who did this guy think he was? The main antagonist of a bad story? Like hell he was going along with this weirdo. "Look, I don't know who you are, or why that stupid windmill is so important, but the only place I'm going is to bed. I didn't come here to start trouble, so just leave me alone."

"So be it."

In an instant, the man was behind Kai, ready to bring a dagger to his neck. Kai barely had time to react, ducking just in time to avoid contact with the blade, sweeping his leg underneath his assailant and delivering a swift punch to his jaw as he fell. It was enough to bring him down. Unfortunately, the man fell by the feet of two others. Just where were all these people coming from?!

Kai drew his sword just as the shorter of the two robed individuals did the same, blades clashing. While sword-fighting had been a past-time of Kai's, he had never been formally trained, and facing against somebody who had could prove to be problematic. Luckily, he had been in enough fistfights to make up for his lack of skill in armed combat. As the taller person moved to get behind him, Kai pushed against the one in front, breaking the hold and causing the person to stumble back slightly. He was physically stronger- good. He spun around, bashing the hilt of his weapon into the shoulder of the one behind him, knocking them off balance. He quickly repositioned himself so that he was facing both opponents. Taking advantage of his strength over the shorter attacker, he went on the offensive, knocking away his opponent's blows easily and causing their sword to fly from their hands. Kai smirked and aimed a punch. Before it connected, the cloaked individual ducked out of the way and out of reach. Before Kai could attack again, they rushed forward, kicking him in the stomach with enough force to send him slamming into the ground gasping for breath. What these guys lacked in physical strength they made up for in speed.

Next thing Kai knew, his own sword was pointed at his neck.

'Shit'

"Shall we try this again?" A feminine voice came from underneath the hood of the shorter individual. Did he just get bested by a girl?!

Without waiting for a response, he was roughly brought to his feet by both people, hands quickly tied behind his back tight enough that he suspected he might lose circulation. As he tried to struggle, the first person he had fought had regained his composure and returned the blow he had previously received. The unmistakable taste of blood filled his tongue as his lip split, and, while not an unfamiliar taste by any means, Kai knew he was defeated.

"You guys think you're so tough." The girl said, swinging Kai's sword. "That's what happens when you overestimate your abilities."

"Silence." The tallest of the three said, ending any and all conversation.

It wasn't long before they had reached the windmill, though it felt far too long to Kai. There were two other people in sight- a fragile-looking girl and a man who looked like he could give anybody else Kai had ever fought a run for their money- including the local cult. He glanced at them as he was shoved into the building- they didn't appear to be being...escorted...like he was. In fact they looked as if they were waltzing up as if this whole thing was normal. As he descended into what he could only describe as a scene from the aforementioned bad story, three other non-robed people came into sight: a redhead bound as he was, and the pair from earlier.

"What the hell is going on here?"

The setting changes from Kirlsa to Ter'Ciel

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Character Portrait: Hans Amsel Character Portrait: Kai Seward Character Portrait: Mackenzie Truko Character Portrait: Maren LeChance
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Mack had been ready for things to come to blows, but for the time being things had calmed. It was probably for the best considering the seemingly delicate nature of the lady beside. She stayed close to Hans as they walked, giving the men with blades a hard look when they edged too close. Every time a blade-tip pressed close to either her or her companion, the iron-filled duffel would swing behind just enough to drive them back a bit. The show of force was understood, but she made it clear she wasn't going to be menaced by it.

She had done work for the city planner and other fine upstanding organizations in the past, but that was not the extent of her experience. Seldom was there a large industrial city with no seedy underbelly. The bigger and more dangerous they were, the more they had to spend and without the bureaucratic red tape, criminal organizations were often at the forefront of technology. This wasn't the first meeting she'd attended at the tip of a blade, and they had often turned out in her favor.

Still, she would not be intimidated by matching uniforms and pocket knives. She walked with the same confident swagger she always did, whistling off key as her bag swung behind, forcing their escorts to either dance back and forth to avoid it or keep a respectable distance. When one reached to try to grab hold of the bag, she turned, heavy metal wrapped in canvas striking the extended fingers hard. "Hands off," she warned before continuing her walk, the man clutching his blade with one hand as he nursed the broken fingers of the other.

The windmill itself was far from inviting, but that was no surprise either. When they were invited in, Mack stepped through the door, turning just in time to see Hans panic and call for help. She moved to catch the distraught young woman as the door slammed behind, helping her steady herself with a reassuring grip at her arm. Whatever these pretentious toughs were trying to sell, she wouldn't let them rough up an innocent girl.

Following the cloaked man's lead down to the basement, Mackenzie looked around at the scene. Candles, more hooded guards, and a man bound on the floor between them, none of which were reassuring. She moved a hand to grip at a wrench, sliding it loose of the pocket this time, calm but ready to swing. She positioned herself protectively beside Hans - it wasn't yet clear whether the girl was in a heap of trouble or if she had been dragged along from her proximity to Mack - but in either case, she wasn't about to let somebody she had only just rescued fall victim to more violence.

"Alright. We're here now. Who's in charge?"

She glanced around as another was added to their number, this time a dark haired man with blue eyes. Escorted by guards and demanding to know what was going on, this man was obviously not the answer to her question. This was getting to be concerning. Still, the more captives they brought down, the more allies there would be if it came to a fight, and this guy looked like he might actually stand a chance. If she could get something sharp to the man on the ground, that would be three fighters plus one delicate princess. Not bad odds by her count.

The setting changes from Ter'Ciel to Kirlsa

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hans Amsel Character Portrait: Kai Seward Character Portrait: Caedes Risus Character Portrait: Mackenzie Truko Character Portrait: Celsia Vorrine Character Portrait: Maren LeChance
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From the dark, unseen corner of the room, he watched them. One by one, brought into the basement, their bewildered visages illuminated by candlelight. His skin crawled with anticipation.

One of the hooded figures approached him. Kneeling to his left. He leaned in, giving them his ear.

"Sir, we located two more subjects but were...unable to detain them. My apologies."

Lips curled into a smile. With regal confidence he spoke...

"It matters not. They will soon arrive of their own volition."



Maren LeChance


Several others had joined him in the abyss. The first was a female. To say she was stunning seemed insulting. Long hair of gold fell to her trim waistline and, although she was quite flat chested, her long legs more than made up for it. Even now, in the face of uncertain doom, Maren couldn't help his eyes from resting on her.

Several moments had passed before he even realized that another individual had been brought in with the girl. Another female...although this one was anything but eye candy. The way she carried herself reminded Maren of the guys he used to go bar hopping with. Her expression was more annoyed than frightened over their shared situation, as if being detained by creepy hooded freaks had interrupted her drinking time.

'Probably has, hehe...'

Maren suprised himself at his ability to find humor even under these bleak circumstances. Perhaps it was due to him no longer being in here alone. In fact, the sight of the other two actually filled him with a renewed sense of confidence. Slowly, he felt the warm, familiar feeling of optimism return. This was only bolstered further when the next victim was brought in moments later.

A guy this time. He appeared to be about Maren's own age. If looks could kill, everyone in the room would have keeled over when he showed up. His face scowled with disgust and it seemed as if he would lash out at any moment. Loose cannon was good, however. When it came to getting out of here -

'Which we totally will.'

- a little bit of fire and passion could go a long way. Maren hid his smile as best he could, but the feeling in the room was shifting. It was beginning to feel more and more...dare he say it? Exciting.

It was then that two more people made their way into the chamber. Unlike the rest, these two weren't escorted by someone wearing a gaudy hood. The man was tall. In the dim light, Maren could make out the many scars than ran across his face. It was clear that this was someone who -

'Heyyy now...'

The girl behind him was cute. Petite and soft, her fair skin almost radiating in the candlelight like some kind of shimmering beacon. If only he wasn't bound on the floor like a loser, he could be acting all suave and cool right now. Probably reassure her that everything would be okay and that he'd get her out of here.

As soon as they entered, the couple was swarmed by several of the hooded people jumping to action. They surrounded the two, blades drawn and for a minute, Maren felt his stomach lurch with dread.

'They can't take on this many...can they?'

He didn't have to wait a second longer to find out. As the first figure moved in, the silver haired man moved to the side, tripping them over his foot. As the figure went down, the others jumped to action.

Silver Hair revealed a blade of his own as he repelled the first knife to come at him. In one fluid motion, he was twisting the attacker's arm behind them, using their body as a human shield. The lone assailant to come up from behind him had his knuckles swiftly sliced open by the girl. Cursing, he dropped his weapon and withdrew his bleeding hand. And then...silence. The couple stared down the group, waiting for the next move. The only sound was the heavy breathing of the poor bastard in the grip of Silver Hair, knife at his heaving throat.

'...oh.'

"That will be enough!" A voice echoed from the back of the room. All heads turned to watch a single man step forward from the darkness.

He was large. Not as tall as Silver Hair, but with heavy features. He walked with calm purpose, chest puffed out with an air of regal confidence. And when he spoke, it was with a foreboding etiquette that suggested nobility. The hooded figures stood firm, blades still at the ready, but it was clear that this man was the one who commanded them.

"Forgive my rather...crude methods of escort. But I hope you all will understand, given the circumstances..."



Hans Amsel



Hans watched in silence as the man in charge addressed them all. His attire was different from the rest, though just as lavish. Perhaps more, even. His robes were of a thick, black brocade with gold embellishments. Detail work traced the edges of his turned up hood and cascaded down the full length of the garment. It was beautiful. Even now, Hans found himself admiring the gentleman's taste, however unsavory his personality may be.

"It appears you've left me in a bit of a predicament." He spoke to the couple who had just fended off his lackeys.

"For you see...I had hoped that this evening would proceed gracefully for all parties. Alas...I admit, I did not account for your...tenacity. Nor did I foresee the tragic inability of my subordinates."

The last comment was laced with bitter venom, and a collective shudder could be felt among the hooded group.

The leader was silent for a moment. Perhaps weighing his next move carefully. No one spoke before him.

"I suspect none of you have yet realized the reason you've been brought here. Nor do you yet comprehend your role in all this..."

He strolled about the room casually, head upturned as if speaking to an unseen presence.

"Enyo...Venor...Nost...Sonheit...and who knows how many else? They walk among us today! Free! Unaware of themselves!"

'Sonheit...'

The name struck a chord within Hans. He'd heard it before, of course. It was supposed to be the name of an ancient, mythological deity. He really didn't know much more than that, aside from some people's tendency to use the name in vain, cursing their misfortune or expressing disbelief. Why did the man bring this up? Just what was he getting at with this tired speech?





"I lament I was not able to detain all of you. Indeed, I sorely underestimated your capabilities." He nodded to the silver haired man still holding his hostage.

"I admit, I am at somewhat of a disadvantage here. And thus, I propose to you the following... The individuals you see here before you are a danger to this world. Such danger must be avoided by any means necessary."

He waved his hand and gestured to Hans and the others who were on the other side of the room. Without a word, the remaining cloaked figures withdrew from the couple and instead focused their weapons on the other four.

"For the sake of Ter'Ciel, these four will die here tonight. But for you two...I propose the following; you share a destiny with these other souls. You possess a power too great for this world to handle. Surely, you must be aware of this...even somewhat. Things you do that others cannot? Feelings and instincts that overpower you? The constant, nagging feeling that you a different from ordinary people?"

He extended a hand to the silver haired man.

"Join me. Follow me and I will reveal exactly what your true destiny is. I can promise you power beyond anything you have ever imagined before."

From below the hood, a snakelike grin crept across his darkened face. He let his words sink in for a moment. The plans had to be changed somewhat, but things were still under control. The next few moments would determine exactly how this situation would play out. The pieces were in place. The game had begun. And here, under the forgotten windmill of Kirlsa, Lord Grayson hoped to make a swift and decisive checkmate.

Drawing one of the lackeys to his side, he spoke.

"The time has come. Go and fetch Devlin."

The setting changes from Kirlsa to Ter'Ciel

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hans Amsel Character Portrait: Kai Seward Character Portrait: Caedes Risus Character Portrait: Mackenzie Truko Character Portrait: Celsia Vorrine Character Portrait: Maren LeChance
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#, as written by Celsium
-Celsia Vorrine-


The room was dark, save for the dim light that emanated from the small candles nearby. The groan and grind of the windmill overhead churned away, muffled.

Where am I?

Celsia opened her eyes. The walls were still dirt. The candles still flickered. The cloaked crimson figures she had seen before now stood before her, threatening them all. All of their faces were ones she recognized, and yet she knew none of them.

The leader of the group spoke. He was clearly a nobleman of some type- his clothes were spotless and he carried himself with a sort of pompous arrogance. So why was he bothering with the people in this room?

"For the sake of Ter'Ciel, these four will die here tonight."

She felt her heart beat harder. He wants to kill them? Her eyes scanned over them again. Other than the fair maiden that wore beautiful lace and had golden hair, the others all looked like relatively normal people. The other woman looked like she made a living by working with her hands, and vaguely reminded Celsia of her friend, Gar. There were two other young men sitting near them, one with a sort of bemused look on his face, and the other clearly irritated. What threat could they be?

"But for you two...I propose the following; you share a destiny with these other souls. You possess a power too great for this world to handle. Surely, you must be aware of this...even somewhat. Things you do that others cannot? Feelings and instincts that overpower you? The constant, nagging feeling that you a different from ordinary people?"

Her eyes shot back up to the man. He was right. She felt that way quite often- when she had her strange dreams, or saw things she felt she shouldn't see. Did he know something about her she did not?

She watched as the man extended his hand out towards Caedes, with a sickening grin creeping onto his hooded face. It made her feel uncomfortable, though it was not the first time she had seen it. With a sideways glance towards Cae, she wished desperately that she could speak to him. But the room was quiet as the grave, and she knew any words she spoke would be heard by the others. I need you to trust me on this one. She thought, hoping maybe he could somehow hear it.

Though he reached to stop her, Celsia brushed past Caedes and stepped towards the man. "I don't want to fight anymore." Her quiet voice seemed very loud, cutting through the silence. "You say that you can tell me what my destiny is, and why I'm this way..." She gave a defeated sigh. "If I go with you, you swear you'll offer mercy to me?" The words felt selfish as they left her mouth, but it was the best option she could think of.

The man gave her a dark smile, and leaned a little closer, clearly pleased with himself. "Your wisdom belies your age," He gave Caedes an irritated look. "It appears the wisdom of the ancients is not completely lost..." Cae narrowed his eyes at the man and her, perplexed at what she could be doing. Still though, he remained silent, watching the events play out.

She stepped closer to the man still, "I want to be strong," She mumbled, "I want.. that power you spoke of." The man reached out his hand to her once more. "And I can give it to you," he promised. She took his hand in her own and gave him a sheepish smile.

"But.." Her smile faded, "Someone as weak as you couldn't offer me anything like that." In one fluid motion Celsia summoned her strength and held his wrist fast, pulling out her blade and stabbing it into his palm. With a roar of anger the man struck her, knocking her dagger to the ground. He roughly pulled her to him, retrieving a blade from his long sleeve.
"Insolent whelp!" Grayson pushed the tip of the dagger into Celsia's neck gently. A small droplet of blood began to form at the indent. Lord Grayson regained his composure, turning back toward Cae. "If you wish to watch this foolish wretch die before you, by all means, advance." He paused a moment, sizing the man up. Then, he called to his underlings. "Bind him."

Caedes gave Celsia an incredulous look. "I told you to be prepared, not fall into his trap... "He shook his head and let out a gruff sigh as the lackeys began to bind his hands behind his back. I can't believe she thought that would work.

Shit. Thought Celsia, I really thought that would work.

The setting changes from Ter'Ciel to Kirlsa

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hans Amsel Character Portrait: Kai Seward Character Portrait: Caedes Risus Character Portrait: Devlin Íobairt Character Portrait: Laelynn Wyght Character Portrait: Mackenzie Truko Character Portrait: Celsia Vorrine Character Portrait: Maren LeChance
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The man Devlin had asked for help wasn't the type of person Laelynn would normally have approached. He was tall, intimidating, and looked as if he'd seen his share of bloodshed. This wasn't quite a normal circumstance, however, and the girl beside him appeared every bit his opposite. They were a strange pair to see traveling around together, but now wasn't the time to ask such questions. The real question was why was this man leaving his decision up to a coin flip? It seemed quite odd to leave such a decision up to something so very insignificant, and she didn't like the idea of chance deciding whether or not such a rough character would help them. Luck didn't seem to completely abandon them, however, as the coin had landed the way Devlin had called it, and the man agreed to help them. He had offered them his boat- a gracious offer- and Devlin accepted.

As Cae and Celsia (so they had introduced themselves as) headed toward the windmill, Laelynn and Devlin made their way to the boat. What was happening at the windmill? And who were the "weird cultist guys" Cae had been talking about? None of it made much sense, and it all felt very wrong. As Devlin began to climb into the boat, Laelynn paused and glanced back at the creaky windmill.

"What's wrong?" Devlin asked, feeling her hand pull away from his. "We should hurry."

"I don't know. Just...this whole thing. It doesn't feel right. I don't know what it is, but something's just wrong." It was almost as if the windmill itself was calling to her. No, not the windmill, something inside of it. Some nagging feeling that she couldn't place. Actually, it was quite similar to the way she felt about coming to Kirlsa. Something pulling her in, something she couldn't identify but couldn't ignore.

Laelynn turned to Devlin, unsure of what to do. He, too, seemed to pause at her words. He must have felt it as well. But what could they do? Devlin didn't exactly seem to be the fighting type, and Laelynn had no self-defense skills either. Well....except for...

"What do we do?" Devlin asked, stopping Laelynn's thoughts before they went down the wrong path.

Before Laelynn could answer, a voice shouted out from behind them.

"There he is!"

The two jumped. As Laelynn whirled around, several robed men ran at them, grabbing her as she tried to scramble into the boat. She glanced over at Devlin as he was grabbed as well, eyes filled with terror.

"Y-y-you-! He sputtered out, completely frozen in their grasps.

One of the men grinned one of the most sinister smiles Laelynn had never hoped to see. "You are needed, Devlin."

The two were dragged away from the boat, toward the source of all this confusion. Laelynn tried to pull free, but their grips were far too tight. They entered the windmill and were directed down a staircase into what could only be described as a dungeon. Several other individuals were already there, including the pair they had asked for help. A few of the people there were bound, including Cae. Celsia had a dagger to her neck. What was happening? Where were they? Why was this happening?! Laelynn was beginning to find it hard to breathe as she took in the situation she had found herself in. The voice that squeaked out of Devlin sounded like a mouse trapped in the paws of a lion,

"L-L-L-Lord G-Grayson?!"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hans Amsel Character Portrait: Kai Seward Character Portrait: Caedes Risus Character Portrait: Devlin Íobairt Character Portrait: Laelynn Wyght Character Portrait: Mackenzie Truko Character Portrait: Celsia Vorrine Character Portrait: Maren LeChance
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The dumbfounded child was as clueless as ever. Even now, Grayson felt nothing but contempt as he gazed upon Devlin's pathetic form. The boy had been nothing more than a tool. He'd gone through so much trouble to confirm the boy's existence, his location, to secure him and keep him confined in the manor for all these years. Always scampering about underfoot, trying to remain unseen, without any sense of pride or self. It was revolting to think that his, of all the souls on Ter'Ciel, was the one they needed. The one they all needed.

A tool. A tool he'd kept safe and polished and prepped for this very moment. Such a long time...but now the anticipation was unbearable.

With a voice that was all too familiar to the boy, Grayson called him...

"Devlin! Come!"



Devlin Íobairt


He was frightened. Lord Grayson's dress...his mannerisms...his face... It no longer resembled the man he'd feared his entire life. Twisted in terrifying display, Devlin stared at his master, eyes wide in disbelief. The man he saw scared him. But more than that, beyond the black cloak, the dagger, the trembling girl in his clutches...was his voice. It was unmistakably the voice of his master. Had it been just as unrecognizable as the rest of him, Devlin could have steeled himself. But the tone, the pitch, the accent, everything about it was burned into his mind just as it had been since he'd taken his first innocent steps into House Grayson. The fear and dread that accompanied was nearly instinct to the boy. As it reached his ears, he felt the pain of every lashing, every beating, every night spent without supper, all in a flash. And then it was over. He was moving. Standing before his master, awaiting his command. Ever the dutiful servant...

"Devlin." Grayson spoke, "The time has come for the most important command you are ever to receive. This girl is a danger to us all. To all Ter'Ciel. She and the rest of these cretins have eluded justice for years, but we have finally prevailed!"

The girl in his grip struggled to free herself. Instantly, Devlin recognized her.

'The girl from outside...'

He had just seen her moments before, walking with the silver haired man in the corner. He'd offered them his boat. Somewhere he and the maid girl would be safe. How long ago that seemed now...How far away that lonely, unreachable boat felt to him now. Almost like a daydream he wasn't sure he'd had.

When Lord Grayson spoke to him again this time, his voice was unrecognizable.

"Devlin...You must help me. Help us all. What I am saying will make no sense to you now, but you must trust in me. You are the only one who is capable of this!" Grayson sounded kind. He sounded...fatherly. Gentle yet firm. It was the way he'd speak to his sons during their fencing lessons or when they learned to ride horseback.

'Wh-what? Me...? What could I possibly do?'

The boy was speechless. His mind was racing to wrap itself around this entire situation because it was so far out of the norm from anything he'd ever known before. Ever since this trip started, his entire life had been turned upside down. Grayson had never been able to stand so much as the sight of him before. And then he goes and requests him as a personal servant for a trip to the middle of nowhere? And now here they were, underground in some scary looking dungeon with strangers who were tied up and...and...

Devlin felt out of breath. He needed to know what was going on here. Now.

One of the hooded people approached and grasped his hand. Devlin looked down as they placed a small, golden dagger in his grip. The hilt was warm and the blade felt surprisingly heavy despite its size. He glanced back up at his master quizzically.

"Devlin...you must steel yourself and end the life of this girl. Of all these prisoners!"

'What!?!?'

"Obey your master and kill her now!"

'No no no no no no...'

It was unreal. He was asking him to...to kill someone!?

'Why me!? Why do I have to be the one!? What have these people done? How are they dangerous?'

They didn't look dangerous at all. In fact, most looked to be about his own age. They were normal looking people. They weren't the ones wearing cloaks and holding knives!

'What is going on...?'

Grayson noted the boy's hesitation. He raised his voice, anger and impatience getting the better of him.

"Kill her!!"

Devlin's mouth opened in protest, but no sound left his lips. His entire body was trembling.

'I-I can't! I can't do that! I can't kill her! I can't kill anyone! I can't do it...I can't...I can't...!'

Suddenly, Devlin was being grabbed from behind. He watched in horror as a crimson clad arm reached over and grabbed the hand clutching the golden dagger. Squeezing their grip, they forced the boy's arm up. Blade poised above the girl, he was unable to move, the girl's eyes squinting shut in terror. Someone screamed. Or was it his own voice?

Devlin's vision whited out as the figure readied to bring the dagger down, his hand down and plunge it into the girl's chest.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kai Seward Character Portrait: Caedes Risus Character Portrait: Devlin Íobairt Character Portrait: Laelynn Wyght Character Portrait: Mackenzie Truko Character Portrait: Celsia Vorrine Character Portrait: Genevieve Oullet Character Portrait: Maren LeChance
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Things…spiraled out of control rather quickly. Guards scattered, people began to shuffle about the town, and men and women donning cloaks began to descend upon the small town of Kirlsa. It was difficult to describe the sight that Genevieve was viewing within the town. It became both more lively and more cryptically empty at the same time. It was clear activity was taking place, the townsfolk retreating to their homes, shops beginning to close up, but this overwhelming darkness began to sweep over the dusty roads, and Genevieve did not like it.

Augusto looked over to the young witch, beckoning to her. “Come with me my lady, I believe the gathering is nearly complete. You should witness the fruit of your labors.” Augusto spoke with an otherworldly arrogance that was not of his regular show of ignorance. She was slightly unnerved to follow him towards the windmill, but in the role she was playing, she had no choice.
“Of course my lord, I would be happy to accompany you. To where are we going?”

“To the windmill darling, we have a stronghold there and that is where we will complete our work.” She didn’t like the way her used to the word “we.” It didn’t feel like he was using the word to refer to the High Council of Airyglyph, but a more personal, intimate group of…”we.”

As she followed Augusto into the base of the windmill, to find the captives that he had taken, she realized just how much of her original plan was falling apart. In the dark hole that was the subterranean lair of Augusto and his group of followers, she saw all of the people that she had summoned with her spell months before. They varied from looks of panic, fear, determination, and indignation. She saw the young maid and Devlin, obviously failing to get out of the city.

As commotion and yelling between parties was commencing, Genevieve blocked it out and got to work. She removed her family’s grimoire from her bag and began to search through for the spell she needed. She didn’t want to see the death of these people, and she was going to have to work quickly to stop it. First, she needed to link together the group so that whatever happened to one, happened to all. Also, she needed to use Devlin’s power and her own to begin to the process of reawakening the gods. At least, she hoped that her hunches were correct and that her family’s grimoire was pointing her to the right conclusion about the young lives that were now so precariously hanging in the balance.

It was just as she saw Devlin about to plunge a dagger into the young girl’s chest that she found what she needed, “Motis!” With a blast of pure force the man let go of Devlin’s hand and flew against the nearby wall, slumping to the ground unconscious.

“What is the meaning of this Genevieve?!” Augusto spat at her.

“I’m sorry my lord, but I cannot let them die so soon. At Lydia’s request I need to complete a final spell to make sure they are the ones we seek…and that their powers are not yet awakened,” Genevieve lied. She wanted to try and give as much information to the group of young captives she could, so that maybe they would understand that she was on their side, at least for the moment.

“Lydia always did like to be thorough…fine, but make it quick,” Augusto said.

Genevieve worked at a frenzied speed. She set up candles throughout the room, drew blood once again from Devlin’s hand and her own, and took a strand of hair from each captive. Sitting in the middle of the room she muddled together all of the ingredients in her mortar and placed it in front of the candle.

In a low voice, she began chanting, “O ni om naha, ma pharenu , o ni om naha, ma pharenu…” She continued to chant, power welling up inside the room slowly, winds picking up around them, howling to life as she continued to chant, louder and louder over the screech of the winds in the cave, flames from the candles licking the walls, blood beginning to run down the nose of Genevieve, the spell taking a very heavy physical toll on her body. Chaos was completely erupting from within the small room, and her spell was taking effect. Genevieve was casting a spell that linked together the reincarnations of the former gods, Devlin, and herself. Genevieve acted as the conduit for power, Devlin as the key to which it traveled through, and the gods as the recipients of the power. But, she was missing one critical ingredient to the spell that even she did not know, and thus was casting magic that was rather unstable and taking a much harsher toll on her body than she would have imagined.

Waves of energy crashed over everyone in the room, and she could not hold on to the spell any longer, and with one final scream of her incantations, she collapsed unconscious, blood freely flowing from her nose, eyes, and mouth, and weakened beyond all recognition.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hans Amsel Character Portrait: Kai Seward Character Portrait: Caedes Risus Character Portrait: Devlin Íobairt Character Portrait: Laelynn Wyght Character Portrait: Mackenzie Truko Character Portrait: Celsia Vorrine Character Portrait: Genevieve Oullet Character Portrait: Maren LeChance
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"Kill her!"

Laelynn watched the scene play out before her in horror. It all felt so surreal, and yet, she knew it was very real. All around her were prisoners- herself included. They had been gathered up to this slaughterhouse for reasons she couldn't begin to figure out. Devlin was being forced to kill the girl they had just met, the girl who had tried to help them escape. As Laelynn saw the dagger rise up into the air, her entire body froze.

Glass Shattering.

Screams.

Blood.

The overhead lights glinting off of the knife as he turned to face her next.


The screams from the room mixed with the screams in her head as past and present melded together. Somebody yelled something. A body flew back, slamming into a wall. She knew this scenario all too well. It was just like that time.

What time?

That's why she had wanted to leave her city. So many lives lost, because of a single person, years ago. Was it years ago? What had caused it? Why hadn't she remembered until this point? Though, she hadn't ever truly forgotten. If she had, it wouldn't be coming back to her now. The memories that were buried were pushing their way up, forcing through the barriers that had kept them down since the incident- the barriers that had kept her safe.

An uncontrollable fear welled up inside of her. Death was hovering just outside the room, waiting to reap. How many would die was uncertain, but lives would certainly be lost tonight. Those who didn't kill would be killed.

A woman began to chant something. Laelynn's eyes were fixated on her. She recognized the woman's face, though could not place who it was. The chants got louder, but were gradually got drown out as the winds picked up and the world around Laelynn grew dark, something heavy pressing on her senses. Soon, the only thing she could see was the face of the woman, blood pouring from every crevice.

'Destroy.'

The ground around her feet began to split. A line shot out, running along the ground and up a wall. The sound of cracking rocks echoed through the room as an unseen force tore up the walls. Wood splintered as it continued to the floor above. Genevieve collapsed. Panicked voices began to rise up amongst the noise. (Was there any other noise?) An uncontrollable power surged through the room, threatening to engulf them all. Dust and debris fell from overhead.

The windmill was going to collapse.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hans Amsel Character Portrait: Kai Seward Character Portrait: Caedes Risus Character Portrait: Devlin Íobairt Character Portrait: Laelynn Wyght Character Portrait: Mackenzie Truko Character Portrait: Celsia Vorrine Character Portrait: Genevieve Oullet Character Portrait: Maren LeChance
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Iron, stone and building pressure, Mackenzie took in everything as it occurred. The prophecy of her death gave her expression a hardened look, but little else changed in her stance. The little slip of a girl showed spirit, but the timing was wrong. The witch’s distraction held more promise, drawing more gazes away from her and her companion as she began her ritual. She glanced at the others, counting captives and captors with disappointing results. She might be able to make it to the doorway, but hauling Little Miss Fancypants through was not going to be easy, let alone getting any of the other captives out. She knew she wasn’t responsible for any of them really, even the lady from the tavern, but she wasn’t the type to run from a fight when help was needed.

The energy filling the room did not go unnoticed either. Whatever the witch was doing, it seemed like this would be her chance. She gripped the handle of her wrench more firmly, the familiar sensation of metal against skin strangely more intense, as if she could feel the entire length of the tool and all its parts. For a moment it seemed a shame to use such a solidly wrought tool as a weapon, yet she knew more deeply than ever the endurance forged within the iron.

Blood dripped from the witch’s face and she started to slip downward. Mackenzie surged, erupting from stillness just as the ground split. An arcing swing connected, reshaping the skull of the nearest hooded figure in a way that could not be recovered. The earth moved, a shudder racing through the foundations of the mill. Glass shattered, solid beams groaned under the strain. Gaining a firm grasp on Hans’ arm with her free hand, she swung again, letting momentum pull the girl to safety as the next guard crumpled.

When the timbers gave way, they appeared as a flash, visible yet not throughout the entire structure. Having already shifted her momentum, the strangeness of this did not stop the ironworker in her path. Another swing brought another strike, this one meeting the delicate steel of a dagger drawn in defense. The guards were rousing themselves, struck by the confusion but scrambling to defend. The dainty weapon and the fingers that grasped it gave way, only managing to redirect the blow to the man’s ribs and send him flying. Another flash from the structure, another groan of wood, this time alarming Mackenzie in a way she could not yet identify. Shoving Hans roughly away from her in the direction of escape, the two separated just as a pile of debris rained down onto the spot they had just stood. How she had recognized the instability would come down at that moment was unclear, but now was not the time to mull it over.

“GO!” she barked, a swift order of a woman accustomed to making herself heard, ordering Hans to seek safety as she went for the next nearest captive, pulling a short utility blade to cut the redhead loose – the more free hands the better. The mill was falling around them, but she knew there was a chance to help at least some of the others to safety.

The setting changes from Kirlsa to Ter'Ciel

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Hans Amsel Character Portrait: Kai Seward Character Portrait: Caedes Risus Character Portrait: Devlin Íobairt Character Portrait: Laelynn Wyght Character Portrait: Mackenzie Truko Character Portrait: Celsia Vorrine Character Portrait: Genevieve Oullet Character Portrait: Maren LeChance
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#, as written by Celsium
She squeezed her eyes shut as the boy before her raised his blade high- but no harm came to her. With a powerful shove by an unknown force, the cloaked assailant in front of her was slammed into the wall. She whipped her head towards a dark-haired woman and felt herself become faint upon seeing her face. Was it because she, too, was familiar? No, it was something more than that. Some type of power radiated about her. A witch?

Celsia complied and offered her hair to the mysterious dark lady. It wasn't like she could say no- after all, the woman had just prevented her untimely death. Watching in a trance, the woman began to chant incantations, stronger and louder with each word. The air in the room felt thick, and heavy, as if they were underwater. And yet the air began to swirl and rush by with great force.
It was hard to breathe. Like an intense and powerful heat wave, something in the air was overpowering. Celsia looked up to face her friend, but instead a raging storm at sea crashed at her feet.

What is happening?! She looked up into the clouds and the sky opened up like a canvas, hosting blurry visions and images. They flashed by her eyes one after another- some places she had never been to- some faces she had seen before. She looked back down. Perched atop scorched earth, a great chasm had torn through the earth and there was no sign of life anywhere. Where am I?!
The world around her began to spin uncontrollably, the wind blowing around like a raging tornado, the visions swirling before her. There was grass beneath her feet- snow- cobblestone-- she couldn't keep up. Trapped in a torrent reverie, she thought she could hear someone scream one last incantation.
The ground stopped shifting, the world stopped spinning. Celsia closed her eyes and fell away with her visions into the darkness.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hans Amsel Character Portrait: Kai Seward Character Portrait: Caedes Risus Character Portrait: Devlin Íobairt Character Portrait: Laelynn Wyght Character Portrait: Mackenzie Truko Character Portrait: Celsia Vorrine Character Portrait: Genevieve Oullet Character Portrait: Maren LeChance
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The mans eyes were frantic, looking for an opening, looking for anything that he could use to try and help Cel out of the dire situation. Only one thing came to mind, while everyone watched the boy with the blade, Cae's hand went to his sword. He inched slightly as the boy fought with himself, clearly not wanting to do stab Celsia, but from what Cae could tell, starting to lose himself to the will of Grayson. 'Sorry kid.. nothing personal.' He thought to himself as he readied himself to slash through the guard that was guiding Devlin's hand, and cut off Devlin's hand if needed. Right as he took his breath, a woman yelled out a foreign word, and there was a sudden blast of energy. With the confusion, Cae fixed himself, trying to not look too obvious, but he was just as curious as the rest of the group was. What had just happened.

A witch? Here? Just what he would have liked the least to be there, was someone using magic. While Cae had some run ins with wannabe mages or witches, he had never really experienced a spell up close like this, a shudder vibrated through his spine. He couldn't even see the spell, so how was he going to fight a witch and manage to get out. His mind was a race, his eyes scanning around constantly, but always finding a moment to look back and make sure Cel was alright.

As the witch spoke, Cae started to get a feeling from her. It was almost as if she was stalling.. And she surely was giving out a lot more information than anyone else had since entering here.. Was she trying to save them? 'Woah. Hey there.' He thought for a moment as the witch came and plucked one of his hairs. His eyes gave her a glance over, despite her attire, she had a figure, and he couldn't help take notice. Shaking his head clear for a moment, he noticed Cel had been released, so that the witch could retrieve a lock of hair from her as well. 'I hate magic...' He thought again before his eyes widened at what he was witnessing. He could feel a strange energy churning around him, the hair on his body standing on end as his instincts to run went crazy. The floor vibrated, the cave they were in shook, he could feel it all, he could sense the disaster incoming. This was no place to be with this much energy going rampant. He made a move to get to Cel as all eyes were on the witch. Except for the larger, more built woman that had come in ahead of him. He glanced over at the familiar sound of a head being caved in by a blunt tool. His grin that had been lost since Cel's capture had returned. 'Looks like the party is starting.'

As he took his steps towards Celsia and Grayson, Cae felt some weird pressure on his head, but he didnt think anything of it. All that was on his mind was grabbing Cel and getting out of this cave before it collapsed. All this energy was freaking him out for some reason, but he took deep breaths, remaining cool and collected. A guard that had turned from the magic faced him, looking up slightly, just above Cae's head, his brows furrowed in confusion, but Cae didn't question it. In a swift horizontal motion, Cae cut him open then moved to the next, each one, for some reason looking up, above his head. He didn't have time to look around to see what was going on. Everything was clear around him. He could hear every breath in the room, he could smell the scent of blood pouring from the victims of the wrench and his own blade, the scent of fear as the cultists were slowly realizing what was going on. His eyes were sharp. While the pirate had been known for his good vision before, this was to the next level. Every little detail could be seen. Every movement, he could see, process, and react to, it was like he was an animal going for the kill. Nothing was going to escape him. Unknown to him, he had infact grown a pair of black furred, canine like ears from the top of his head, and his eyes had shifted from their normal deep red, to a bright, vibrant yellow.

As he got closer, the cultists backed away, afraid of the demon walking before them. Despite Grayson's commands to attack, they started to mostly ignore the pirate with glowing yellow eyes, pushing each other back to get away. "Smart choice. Guess you recognize the Silver Fang finally. " The scarred face smirked as he made his way to Cel, who thankfully had stepped a few wobbly feet closer to the witch, and luckily away from Grayson. Before he could get to her, she started to collapse. "CEL!" He yelled, jumping to her while putting his sword away, catching her in his arms before she could hit the dirt. She was unconcious, the magic must have done something to her. Or maybe the shock of almost being a sacrifice... oh well, she was safe now. Shifting her onto his back, he hunched over a bit and wrapped her arms around him, both his hands supporting the small girls legs. He knew she was light, but for some reason, she felt lighter than normal, like he was stronger. Maybe it was all the adrenaline kicking in, but it felt like she was nothing.

Next were the two kids, Devlin and the black haired girl. From the sound of it, the larger woman was helping out one of the other prisoners, so they should be ok. And most of the cultists were trying to leave as well. "Hey, kid!" He looked down at the two, not sure what was going on with the black haired girl, but she looked like she was having a panic attack. "Dev. Snap out of it. Get her out of her. COME ON KID! Be a man and help me get these two out of here." They didn't have time to stand there trying to comfort everyone, and they were now becoming more separated from the other group of prisoners from collapsing ceilings and walls spliting open. His head turned back to Devlin. "If you don't hurry up, I'm leaving without you." He spoke rather harshly, but he needed the boy to snap out of it and move.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Genevieve Oullet Character Portrait: Maren LeChance
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Maren LeChance


'Gimme a break here!'

Maren rolled to the side as a large wooden beam came crashing down upon the spot he'd just been sitting. Sawdust and dirt clouded the room upon impact as the entire structure seemed to be collapsing. He stumbled, trying to get to his feet, but with his hands still tied behind his back, it was next to impossible to get sure footing as the very ground below was trembling. Maren felt his knees buckle and he fell back to the floor.

It seemed that the entire universe was determined that he should die tonight. Again, he shifted his weight and tried to stand...

'I promise, Gods, I won't have anything to do with girls anymore. I won't drink. I won't go out. I'll become a monk and serve you guys for the rest of my peaceful life. Just pleeeeaaaase get me the hell outta here!'

He looked up, squinting through the chaos, to see the rest of the captives making their way to the exit.

"H-hey! Hey! What about me!? You guys - Oof!"

He was pushed to he knees once more by one of the cloaked lackeys. They all seemed to be in a panic. Clearly they hadn't accounted for a sudden earthquake to ruin their plans. A really, really well timed earthquake at that. Maybe the Gods were looking out for him...

It was then, as Maren was trying to get to his feet once more, that he saw her.

'Hey...isn't that?'

The witch from earlier. She had performed some kind of complicated spell. But for what purpose? Maren wasn't sure. But whatever it was, it must have been powerful, because the chick was out cold. A tiny trickle of blood was still running from her nose.

He had seen a few women who had called themselves witches, back in the city. Really, they weren't much more than overpriced prostitutes with a few parlor tricks up their sleeves. But this woman was different. Maren had felt the energy in the room become charged when she spoke her mumbo jumbo. He'd actually felt the impact of a...[/i]something[/i] when she'd finished her incantation.

All around her, people clamored as the structure continued to fall. Did they not see her? Was everyone really so selfish that they didn't care about her anymore? He wondered if, perhaps now that she'd served her purpose, that this cult or whatever might be done with her?

She was beautiful, that was for sure. Even covered in a layer of dust and dirt and with blood on her face. Strands of dark hair fell across her features and Maren's eyes couldn't help but follow the curves of her figure despite the current crisis at hand. He had to help her. Had to get her out of here. It was bad enough leaving someone to die down here. But a gorgeous and dangerous woman? Hell no! Not today.

Classic one-track mind in full force, Maren got to his knees, scooting over to the unconscious beauty.

"Hey! Hey, lady, can you hear me!? C'mon, get up!"

He nudged her, only to have the woman roll limply to the side. No good. He was going to have to carry her out himself. But he couldn't do anything with his hands still tied.

Another surge of power hit the building and more of the structure began to break apart. He could hear the anguished cries of those unlucky enough to get caught under the falling wreckage. Time was quickly running out. Frantic eyes scanned the room for something, anything that could help.

Crrrrrrack!!

Another support beam hit the ground mere feet away, the once sturdy wood splintering on impact. Just then, Maren was hit by a flash of inspiration.

'In a time of destruction, create something.'

The words echoed in his head. Words he'd often spoke to himself over the years. It was a personal motto, of sorts. One that served as a reminder to use his creativity and ingenuity - traits that had always come easy to the young man, to get him out of life's trouble spots. And this was one hell of a trouble spot.

It clicked in an instant. Maren slid toward the support beam, kicking in the weakened area with the heel of his boot. Another kick. And another. With every hit, the wood cracked and splintered until, finally, it looked jagged enough to be usable.

Turning around, he backed up into it, rubbing the coarse rope that bound his wrists against the sharpened wood. Maren rocked back and forth in a sawing motion until he felt the liberating snap of the rope breaking. Instantly, the pressure on his wrists was relieved. Shaking the feeling back into his hands, Maren jumped to his feet.

From what he could see, the path to the obvious exit was all but blocked off by debris. If they were going to escape now, they would have to find another way out. Returning to the unconscious woman, he wrapped his arms around her and picked her up. Thankfully, she was rather petite and easy to carry. Not like this one girl he'd met outside a tavern once in Davonshire. Big Bertha, the guys had called her. She'd had too much to drink one night and he'd had to carry her back -

Boom!

The ground shook as another large support beam fell. Nope. It was definitely time to go. Young woman in his arms, Maren made his way toward the back of the large room. He thought he'd seen the group's ringleader retreat this way into the shadows when the chaos began to erupt. Sure enough, there was another way out. A darkened path that seemed to lead away from the main part of the building. A back exit, perhaps?

The odds were good enough for Maren. Readjusting his grip on the woman (and keeping his hand on her bottom for just a second too long) he began his descent into the passage, creating his own destiny with each step.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Kai Seward Character Portrait: Devlin Íobairt Character Portrait: Celsia Vorrine Character Portrait: Genevieve Oullet Character Portrait: Maren LeChance
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"I'll tell you now I'm the one to survive
You'll never break my faith or my stride"


Kai Seward


Things couldn't get any more bizarre. There were now several more people in the room, presumably also dragged here by the cloaked individuals. There were no noticeable similarities among them- the prisoners ranged from a man who had clearly seen his share of battles to a rather frail looking girl. Some of them looked terrified, others were keeping their cools and waiting for the right moment to make a move. There was no indication of why they might have all been gathered there. At least until the presumed leader finally spoke, announcing that they were all to die.

Kai tensed, ready to fight back. He was at a great disadvantage, but there was no way he was going to die here, not in this place, not to some psychos who apparently had nothing better to do with their lives. Whatever was going on, he was going to get out of there.

The first one to make a move, strangely enough, was the most frail-looking girl there. Not surprisingly, she was quickly apprehended, giving the cultists another advantage over the rest of them. Kai wasn't exactly the one to let innocent people die, but if it came to kill or be killed, he'd have to put his own well-being over the girl's.

As the man, apparently known as Grayson, ordered a young boy to kill her, Kai glanced around, searching for an opening. Would it cause enough of a distraction for him to break free? He was still flanked by two of the cultists, but maybe they would be so busy watching this unfold that he could overpower them...

Before anybody was able to make a move, however, something was shouted and a man went flying into a wall. This was followed by a rather beautiful dark-haired woman collecting strands of hair from everybody and setting up what seemed to be a totally different ritual than what Grayson had in mind.

Okay, so things could get more bizarre. But surely nothing could top this, right?

As the woman continued her ritual, some unknown force began to well up inside of the room. While he still had absolutely no clue what was going on, something told him this would be their chance to make an escape. The energy picked up as the woman continued to chant, louder and louder, the spell taking a heavy toll on her body. As she collapsed, the ground began to shake. An earthquake? The guards holding him were beginning to panic, conflicted about whether or not to keep their grip on him or save themselves. Taking advantage of their confusion, Kai headbutt one of them in the nose. As he stumbled back, the girl's grip weakened, allowing him to shove her away. The tremors grew in strength, and a large crack echoed throughout the room as a support beam broke. Now was the time to leave.

The man who had been holding his sword dropped it on the ground as he ran to escape. Kai ran toward it before realizing he was still bound. With a heavy, frustrated sigh, he dropped to his knees to reach his sword, grasping the hilt between his hands. Unfortunately, there was no way to use it to cut himself free- not with the place collapsing. He wouldn't have had time to prop it up so that he would have access to the sharp edge, and he didn't want to risk spending any more time in a collapsing windmill basement.

He made his way back to the entrance, narrowly avoiding being knocked out by a falling beam as he crossed the threshold to the staircase. He hobbled up the stairs, sword clanking on each step as it dragged behind him. He couldn't help but think how stupid he must look as he ascended, thankful that everyone was too panicked to really pay any attention to him.

The cool night air welcomed him as he ran out of the windmill. Kai caught up to the others, who had briefly stopped a short distance from the windmill.

"Well, now what?" He asked, glancing from a small-gray haired boy to the tall man with...wolf ears? Whatever, he would question that later. For now, he just needed to know how to get out of here.

"Through our strength, we'll make a better day
Tomorrow, we shall never surrender"

Setting

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Character Portrait: Genevieve Oullet Character Portrait: Maren LeChance Character Portrait: Lera Dothen
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#, as written by Celsium
Lera glanced down at her worn map for the hundredth time. Where is this stupid town, I should be there already.... She continued to stroll through the woods, whistling a tune to herself, her heavy jewelry clanking together with each step.

The overgrown path led Lera to a posted intersection of the road, with 3 signs on it. She squinted to read the old words aiming in the direction of her travels.
'KIRLSA'.

"Uh..." She pulled out the map again. "What?" Looking between the post and the map, she let out a loud groan. Kirlsa. To the south....

"I went the wrong way....." Lera scrunched her nose in a pout and stuffed the map back into her pocket. The sun was setting so it wouldn't do to go all the way back now. I might as well just go there for the night. Maybe they'll have something interesting to do in town. Her boots loudly clunked along as she continued her journey.

----------------------------------------


Still on a winter's night they say,

when the wind is in the trees

when the moon is a ghostly galleon

tossed upon the cloudy seas--


Lera's loud voice echoed through the quiet woods. Barely seeing the path in front of her, she still marched on ahead without hesitation. Her boisterous entrance probably spooked any dangerous animals, so she had nothing to worry about.

The road was a ribbon of moonlight

and over the purple moor...


Lera paused as she felt a strange energy building around her, wrapping itself between the thick foliage and winding about her body. Her arms started to quiver.

"Huh..?" She lifted her hands to inspect them, when suddenly a powerful gust of wind forced itself from her hands.

"Ahhh~! What the fu-" Facing her hands away from herself, the forceful gale whipped around the forest, nearly tearing the leaves off of the trees. The deafening roar of wind tore through the silence so suddenly, as if a tornado made contact where she stood. Her metal bangles clashed together violently like bad wind chimes.

"Stop stop stop st--" The gust ceased seemingly as quickly as it began, leaving Lera frazzled. Her hair flew in disarray and parts of the woods around her now lay bare, the smaller shrubs being torn up and blown away. "Oh, Gods...." She lifted a shaky hand to her mouth. "...That was SO COOL!" She laughed to herself loudly, stomping her feet in excitement. Waving her arms around, she grinned. "Do it again! Ah!"

Her gleeful moment was cut short as a loud boom and flash of light in the distance caught her attention. Was that a firework?! Kirlsa must be close by! And so cool! She picked up the pace, leaving the crime scene behind her.

----------------

Lera pushed herself through the dense shrubbery and out into the moonlight. Kirlsa lay before her, with the sea just behind it. She couldn't quite hear what they were so excited about, but hearing the townspeople yelling and running about surely meant there was something fun going on in the town!

While casually making her way into the town, Lera made note of some interesting looking people running towards the docks. Ooooh, does Kirlsa have a troupe here too?! Before she could make her way to follow them and ask, her gaze was caught on a red-haired man on the ground. Hmmm.. She noted the destroyed windmill. Uh oh......maybe something happened with the performance... With all the best intentions in mind, Lera ran over to the man.


"I'm so sorry I missed the show! Are you guys okay?"

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Character Portrait: Maren LeChance Character Portrait: Lera Dothen
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Maren LeChance


"Mister LeChance."

The regal voice echoed throughout the banquet hall, practically dripping with authority.

"As Emperor of all Ter'Ciel I humbly thank you on behalf of all mankind."

Maren bowed his head and dropped to one knee.

"Thank you, Emperor. It is an honor -"

"Nay. Rise, young hero." The Emperor cut him off. "If not for your valiant efforts, that dragon would surely have razed these great lands into little more than a scorched desert by now. It is thanks to your quick thinking and strength that there wasn't a single life lost."

"Well, except for that dragon, hehe!" Maren scoffed, confidently flexing his bicep.

The Emperor spoke again, "As remuneration for your deeds, I shall hold a feast in your honor! -"

Maren could feel his mouth begin to water.

"- as well as any of my ten daughters' hand in marriage!"

With that, ten of the most gorgeous women Maren had ever seen sauntered into the banquet hall; blondes, brunettes, redheads, well-endowed, modest, statuesque, petite. Each one of them a perfect specimen of femininity, and each one was looking his way.

"Go ahead, Maren!" The Emperor's voice boomed. "Choose your bride to be!"

The young man felt his face grow hot and sweat began to form on his forehead.

Just one!? How on earth could he pick a single girl among this...menagerie of blossoms?

"Uh...uhmm..." Maren swallowed hard, "I...uh...I...duhhhh...I-I choose...I choose..."


"I'm so sorry I missed the show! Are you okay?"

Suddenly, there was light and his eyes were straining. He blinked once...twice...and saw a pair of boots in his direct line of sight.

'Whaa...?'

Someone was wearing the boots. Groggily, his gaze followed a pair of legs upward until...

"Nice..." Maren whispered, still half asleep. A dopey smile crept across his blank face.

Suddenly, he remembered everything. The windmill. The hooded figures. The witch. He saw her in his arms...they were escaping...but what happened then? The forest? Had he fallen asleep?

The young man's eyes flew open, and he sat upright in an instant. It was then that he saw her. Well...more of her.

She was tall and thin, dark hair framing freckled cheeks. She was looking down at him with an amused look on her face.

Maren frantically wiped the drool from his chin, trying his best not to blush.

"H-hi. I'm Maren. Uhm...what are you doing here? Wait, what am I doing here? Where is this, exactly? Is Kirlsa near here?"

He looked around...

"Hey...where's that witch lady!?"

The woman he'd rescued from the windmill was nowhere to be seen.

"What the hell...? She was just with me, I swear!"

A moment of silence passed while Maren attempted to piece together all that had occurred the night before as well as the potential whereabouts of a certain busty, raven-haired witch. He felt someone's gaze on him and realized that new girl was still staring at him, wearing that same pleasant expression as if it were painted on her face.

Realizing how strange he must seem to her, he made an attempt at humor...

"Usually it's me who's gone in the morning! Hehe...heh...heh..." he cleared his throat awkwardly. Turning toward her, he spoke again.

"My name is Maren. Wait...I said that already, didn't I? Uhm...what are you doing here? You, uh...you don't look like a local."

He'd hoped the sudden appearance of this mysterious girl was a sign of his luck beginning to pick up. But like any seasoned gambler will tell you, Lady Luck is fickle and has an odd sense of humor...

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Character Portrait: Maren LeChance Character Portrait: Lera Dothen
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#, as written by Celsium
Lera Dothen

Lera listened intently to the red-haired man as he rambled about a mysterious witch. Poor thing, he must've hit his head when the performance went awry. She offered him a hand "I'm Lera Dothen!" She grinned at him, her smiling face a stark contrast against the atmosphere of the town around them. "I heard fireworks I think, and so I came here. But I guess I missed the show. It looks like your team did a number on that windmill, huh? Hehe."

The oblivious smile never left her face as she watched the frantic townspeople run by. Now that the initial shock of the impact had left them, it seemed they were growing angry, and wanted answers.

"Hummm." Tapping her chin with her index finger, she looked back towards the woods, then towards Maren again, leaning close to his face. "You must be in a pickle, huh?" She whispered. "It's okay, I've caused a bit of trouble before after some of my stunts too. If you'd like there's a trail in the woods that leads back North. We could get out before you have to pay for the damages...?"

The man looked as if his brain still hadn't caught up to current events. Lera eyed him up for a moment. His shaggy but vibrant red hair fell in disarray around his face. I wish I had red hair, lucky! He stood a few inches above her- even with her boots on- and she noted his lean, yet muscular figure. He's too cute to be dangerous! She decided, grabbing his hand.

"What do you say, uh..." What was his name again? "...Marlo?"

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Character Portrait: Maren LeChance Character Portrait: Lera Dothen
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Maren LeChance


"Huh...? No, my name is Mar - woah!!"

Maren felt the girl take his hand, her skin soft and her grip...terrifyingly strong. He winced slightly as she dragged him to his feet.

"...Maren." He finished, dusting himself off. "Maren LeChance. And you are?"

She was cute. Freckle-faced and beaming happily. But despite that, Maren couldn't deny there was something foreboding about her. The way she smiled was mischievous and almost...sadistic. It reminded him of a girl he'd grown up with back in Serf...

Gretta. Gretta Hoogenak. Just remembering her name sent a chill up Maren's spine. She was a year older than him and about three times as large. She'd lived on the farm next door and her favorite hobby (besides chewing on screws and lifting 100lb bales of hay) was tormenting him to the point of tears. It was Gretta who had taught him that a knuckle sandwich wasn't very tasty.

But this girl was small and friendly and cute. She couldn't possibly be like Gretta...or could she...? Maren couldn't help but feel like he knew her from somewhere else.

"Hey, you ever happen to visit Davonshire before? You look familiar somehow."

It was then that the sounds of clamoring townsfolk caught Maren's ears.

"Oh, man. These people can't be happy about their windmill. I think you're right, we should get outta here. I'll explain what happened on the way. Uhm...where'd you say that trail was?"

At the mention of the trail, the girl beamed again, her eyes shining with excitement. Nah...there was no way this girl was trouble. If there was one thing Maren was an expert on, it was women, and this one totally fit the girl next door type; innocent, homely, and eager to be swept off her feet. All he had to do was play the hero, make her feel safe, and she'd be putty in his hands.

"Welp...let's be off." Maren stretched, being sure to flex his muscles while doing so, his voice dropping half an octave. "Just be sure to stay close to me. This area can be kinda dangerous."

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Character Portrait: Maren LeChance Character Portrait: Lera Dothen
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#, as written by Celsium
Lera Dothen


Ooh, he's lean, Lera raised her brows and watched the disheveled boy stroll toward the forest trail. She picked up the pace to walk next to him, never taking her smiling eyes off of him. He almost seemed a little nervous under her unending, intense stare. It wasn't long before the dense wood muffled the sounds of Kirsla. It was quiet now, and Lera hated quiet.

Maren had opened his mouth to say something, but it was quickly cut off by Lera's boisterous and off-tune voice. Even the evening birds dared not to try and interrupt her deafening serenade- they knew she would just get louder.

And with no trace of hesitation,
she keeps going head over heels!
Paving the way!
Pushing through unknown jungles every day!
She's a girl with a taste for the world--



Lera halted for a moment, her eyes suddenly becoming wild and frantic. "Wait a minute." She scurried off into the thick brush off the trail, leaving Maren alone. Returning with two large sticks, she handed them off to the boy. "Here, you can hit these together! It'll sound better that way." And without taking no for an answer, she began to march forward again, her voice cutting through the night.

Approximately one long hour later, Lera decided it was time for a quick rest. Plopping herself down onto a mossy rock, she smiled at her new travel companion again. "You're quite the percussionist. Are you in a troupe? Is that what happened at the windmill?"

She leaned forward, barely giving him time to process her barrage of questions. "Are you from around here? Do you have siblings, how did you get here?" Her voice increased in intensity with each sentence, she seemingly never ran out of breath. "DID YOU KNOW I CAN MAKE A LITTLE TORNADO?!"