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Oberon Heylin

The goddess speaks through me . . . And she is vengeful today

0 · 436 views · located in The Kingdom of Ethene

a character in “The Cost Of Paradise”, as played by Aethus


Oberon Heylin


There are seven gods, but only one worth worshipping.



Says the Goddess Spoke to him to watch this woman.



Height | Weight
6'4", 190

An exorcist carries very little other than his robes and the sharp chains he wields. The chains are said to be blessed by the Goddess, but in reality, the exorcist's control over his weapon is very much from his own doing (though what this control is, is very much unknown to the populace). The metals used are said to be hard enough to crush diamonds into dust, but if that was the case, how could any one forge it. Surely no one could possibly make weapons from impossibly hard materials . . . right?

Powerful Telekinetics, hidden under the guise of magic
Clear Telepathic Abilities, also hidden under the guise of magic
Intelligent with Runes and the magic behind them
Foresight into the future
Combat Capabilities
Little is known about his religion

His religion has many hidden enemies that tend to worm their way into his way
Emotionally detached most of the time, cold if at best
Religiously Fervent (BURN THE WITCH but with 20% more magic and slamming people into walls with mental powers)
Incapable of processing emotions properly (He's . . . difficult)
Little is known about his religion
Sexist (Sort of . . . you'll see)

Physical Description
He is a tall sort of man, all exorcists are, covered in white robes and green sigils that mark his faith to the goddess. His clothing is otherworldly, perhaps created through the magics and powers that the Tyralins keep to themselves. I would talk about his face, but he keeps it covered . . . at all times. Even when he eats, people have never seen the mask taken off. The only indication that he did eat is the disappearance of his food.

"The Goddess grants me wisdom . . . and a spiteful edge too boot."
Intelligent, but boastful
Calm, but Easy to snap
His words come out like untainted waters, but they feed no man. Some say that he has lost his way with the Goddess, but it is more likely that he has simply lost his way with himself.

Brief Background
The religion that the ever so reclusive Tyralins follow is something that they worship by themselves. They do not seek active members, mostly because they say non-Tyralin cannot percieve their goddess in any way shape or form. However, when this new cult woman appeared, they remained silent as the tales began to spin. While none of their members were coerced, it was clear that they needed to watch this woman.

Enter Oberon Heylin, an exorcist of high worth. His past, like the Tyralins themselves, is shrouded in mystery, but it is clear what his motives are. What he is to do with this priestess is unknown, but what may come out of their interactions will, no doubt, change things.

Better or for worse.

So begins...

Oberon Heylin's Story

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#, as written by Aethus

The pungent smell of blood was the first thing he noticed when he broke down the door, one he had expected long before he had even reached the degraded entrance. It was to be expected of course, when you dealt with anything from the fourth, it was always going to involve some sort of blood. Blood price, blood rituals, or whatever the case, Oberon wished the goddess had taken his sense of smell along with his ability to speak, hear, and see.

Had anyone looked at the man, they would have immediately steered away before noting the metal mask over his face. Some had suggested that he was looking through verily thin slits or using some sort of sound based method of watching the world around him. Neither was true, but none could have ever guessed what he could be.

In fact, the way he looked was other worldly, what with his green and white color scheme. He was covered head to toe in either elegant white cloth or an equally ornate green metal. Then of course there was the mask, a full metal helmet that consumed the entirety of his face with a mirrored front. There were no markings, only green ridges near the jawline that held the mask in place and flowed downwards towards his neck. It usually drew others to the eye-like symbol on his chest, the sigil of his people.

As he moved through the doorway, Oberon walked with a purpose, unfazed as dust and cobwebs seemed to deflect off him. His nigh perfect clothing had not been cleaned in ages, but any and all things that attempted to damage it were pushed away. Little things such as these were unnoticed by the general populace, but they were just as crucial as his foresight and he was glad to have these.

When he reached the end of the hallway, it cut towards the right and pushed him towards another door. This one was well care for, but still showed signs of wear. Oberon could not feel anything around him; no living thing in his sight was something to be alarmed about. However, there was a rising suspicion that he had with this and when he opened this new door, it seemed to have paid off.

Everything was as it should have been. From the sigil on the floor to the mangled corpses near the sides of the room, a ritual like this was nothing compared to the larger gatherings for the fourth. The candles and numerous toys that lay around were either covered in blood or knocked around and the few lit candles still alive were nearly consumed by the limbs and bodies around it.
Of course, since he didn’t use his eyes to see, Oberon was quite keen to those darker parts of the room.

When he kneeled, he grabbed an arm that still happened to be attached to a torso. The figure, a woman, had only the mangled bits of a broken off neck and her lower body were nowhere to be found. The ring on the female’s finger was ornate, familiar, but nothing out of the ordinary as he could tell. Tyralins never really did appreciate jewelry as his people were keener on appreciating the longer lasting parts of life. Wealth, physical pleasures, and more were nothing to a Tyralin, but he did know a person that would trade the ring for something more important, a little something called knowledge.

The other bodies were unremarkable, most of them having been cultists that most likely sacrificed their own lives and thus, were not marked with anything of significance. The female’s wrists were darkened and bruised, a clear sign of restraints, and the overall damage seemed to denote her less than willing status.

Moving forward, he kicked up dust against the blood mark on the floor. The sigil was the first thing he got rid, but any idiot would have thought of that. Ritual marks sometimes remained inactive and kept their charge at bay until completed and if you were able to disrupt the seal, the ritual would always fail horribly. Unfortunately, when he broke the mark, it did not act up. It seemed as though the ritual had already been completed.

“You really take yuh time yuh know.”

Immediately the exorcist whipped rightward as a single metal tendril flew from the cuff on his right wrist. Despite the lightning fast speed of his weapon’s thrust, Oberon already knew the creature had dodged his initial strike. He took a spin backwards as he felt three sharp knives aim straight at him, and with his acrobatics, the Tyralin had managed a quick repositioning as he got his other whip to snake out of his left cuff.

The creature was gone . . . well not entirely anyways. It was more that it faded and now that Oberon was aware of the creature’s existence, he had taken a more active approach to searching it out. Indeed, his mind was now scouring the depths of each part of the room, searching frantically for any sign of life. There, right at the opposite corner of the room to him, was he, the annoyance that had forced his hand.

“Kilroy,” Oberon said as his weapons sheathed themselves into their respective cuffs. His voice was heavy and moody; a cold priest’s voice couldn’t be much else, “I’m assuming you rid us of that . . . ritual creature.”

A tooth filled grin opened as though the mouth of darkness widened itself. Wide eyes began to show themselves at the mere mention of Kilroy’s name, even glowing an ominous yellow. The creature even began moving towards the dim candles, seeing as Oberon didn’t need any form of light to detect him. With that, the shining gaze of the weak flame covered Kilroy’s short form, even making the scales on the Slarth’s skin glisten.

To say that Slarths were a deceptive much would have been an understatement. The fish creatures were some of the most elusive beings he had been ever graced to meet. The only reason why he even knew they existed was because of Kilroy himself. Of course, as the Goddess dictated, he was perhaps destined to learn about these beings as he himself was chosen as her charge. Still, that didn’t change the fact about what they were, deceptive little fish-amphibians.

Kilroy was the average type of Slarth: short in stature, having sharp talons on his webbed feet and hands, and most definitely illusive when keeping in the shadows. The blue glint of his scales seemed to gleam like water atop a sheet of glass that undulated back and forth. In the darkness, the scales almost lost all color, turning gray and losing all sheen when faced without light. The dark hood that covered his head hid Kilroy’s gills and frills from view, but other than that, there was nothing else covering the Slarth’s body in terms of clothing.

“Long time no see too, Obi,” Most Slarth’s had an accent, something having to do with their tongues and mouths being filled to the brim with razor sharp teeth, “And yea, I did get rid a it. Di’n’t thing you’d take this long tuh find this place yuh fookin’ coont.”
Oberon scoffed, Kilroy always had a way with words especially when it came to the exorcist. Sure he was always rude and brash with everyone, but with Oberon, the Slarth was always trying to poke at his weak spots, or at he tried. The fish creature had yet to spark any conflict with the exorcist after their initial meeting.

“Was it a wrrim?”

“No, it was a trick rabbit they pulled outta their arse, COURSE IT’S A FOOKIN WRRIM YUH DUMBASS. What else is a tiny arse cult supposed tuh make with two corpses, eh?”

Ignoring Kilroy, Oberon took to admiring the obelisk in the corner closest to him. There were several questions he had, but most of them he knew would be shot down before the Slarth. Then came another thought.
“I didn’t think that your God had any problems with the fourth.”

That seemed to keep the Slarth quiet. For a moment, a tense atmosphere began to form between them. Sure, Oberon had his back turned to Kilroy, but they both knew the other’s potential in combat. Luckily for them, Kilroy gave a small chuckle as he moved towards Oberon’s side, picking at the very same obelisk with a curved, tooth-edged knife.

“Eh, well times are a changin’ Obi, shit’s ‘bout tuh get real funny ‘round ‘ere. Didjah hear ‘bout that priestess thas coming ‘round and getting’ dem humans in a rustle?”

Oberon did, but as much as he liked the Slarth, he couldn’t share Tyralin secrets with the creature.

“No . . . why?”

“People disappearin,’ mass hysteria in some kingdoms. ‘Ell I heard that them priestess got’s a secret worth keepin’ ‘bout. She doesn’t age . . . at least in looks.”

The Slarth was nodding to himself and Oberon pondered at the Kilroy’s words. A few moments passed before he answered, “There has been a lot of movements in the Fourth deity’s cult . . .”

“Yea, makes sense right? First, they go ‘round healin’ every little shit-stain of every known fookin disease, injury, and asshat they can think ‘of, then they get ‘em all brainwashed fer some God that wants tuh be all nice an ‘appy with ‘em. By the time they realize was’ happenin’, BOOM, too late yuh dumb fook. God damn blood-sacrifice to the Fourth.”

Oberon nodded, he had suspected something of the Priestess of the new religion. Humans always had a tendency to sway back and forth towards newer customs as times grew for either the better or worse. Tis a shame that they were worshipping empty images for the deities that made their world . . . and beyond.

“Do you really think it is the fourth?” Oberon queried to the Slarth, “What of the others?”

“Nah, doesn’t make sense. First hasn’t been ‘ere since they made this this place. My boss doesn’t do stupid shit laik this. Third would’a probably started some apocalypse by naow. Fifth doesn’t get worshippers. All that’s left is your deity and the fourth, and I know fer a fact that the sixth HATES ‘umans, so that leaves the little shit stain of a twat.”

“There is the . . . seventh.”

That garnered a few chuckles, both from Kilroy and Oberon. The mentioning of the seventh was something of a joke between him and Kilroy. They knew the seventh existed and they had been told explicated by their own deities that he was certainly real. The only problem was the fact that the seventh was clear in its belief to stay away from everything. Suggesting the seventh had anything to do with . . . well . . . anything, was just ludicrous.

“Alright then, think my work ‘ere is dun.” There was an audible neck cracking as Kilroy stretched. When he finished, he was well on his way out the door when he asked, “Got anythin’ else planned Obi?”

Oberon nodded, “I was told to keep an eye on the fourth’s activities . . . I think that means following this priestess of ours.”

The fish man snapped back, almost getting whiplash from his own movement, “You wot?”

“I will be following this priestess of the-”

“OH COME ON ‘THEN. Just let it go . . . you know laik that song how did it go-”

“Mention a single word of that audible piece of terror and I will wring that tiny neck of yours.” Oberon snarled. There was a lot more venom then the exorcist had initially though he had put into his words, “Forgive me . . .”

“Heh,” Kilroy was snickering to himself, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good, but back to the topic at hand. Why?”

“Why wot?”

“Why are you so worried about the priestess?”

The fish man groaned at Oberon’s notion, but as the Slarth pondered, there was a shrug. Oberon was a damn stubborn fool sometimes.

“She . . . she’s off.”

“Off? Like how off?”

“Well . . . my boss don’t got a list a’ her.”

“So? You have no list on my activities.”

“BUT THAS THE THING! You work fer anotha’ diety. Who does she work for? What fookin’ God she suckin’ off tah do what she does?! Somethin’s up with that bitch and I know this world’s got a fookin’ mark fer obliteration.”

“You’re being paranoid, Kilroy. Perhaps you need to walk it off.”

“Betta’ yet, I’m jumpin. Leavin this place.”

“You cannot simply-”

“Too fookin late mate. Mah boss already transferin’ me outta ‘ere. Da’kness is givin’ me a break till ‘dis shit gets so’ted out.”

Oberon sighed, “I doubt I have such options . . . the second deity has always been the most lenient with his charge.”

“Oh, come on. Just fookin’ come with me fer a day . . . month . . . year . . . decade. She’s got other people.”

“I cannot simply do such things. I have a mission, a job, a purpose.”

“Bullshit, I got a job too, but that doesn’t mean I jus’ throw away my life fer nothin’. An’ I know you don’t worship the damn fourth.”

“And WHAT DO I DO WHEN I LEAVE. What do I do if I have nothing but this?!?”

They were quiet . . . both staring down the other, however, the Slarth’s gaze was softening. A sigh broke the silence between the two as they looked away.

“Don’t fookin’ kill yah self-ova’ a mistake.”

And with that, the Slarth slithered into the shadows, disappearing into the darkness. Oberon simply stared down at the floor, the blood stained floor of a ritualistic murder. How quaint that he stand right in the middle of it all . . . perhaps he was to be a sacrifice after all.

“Death in all things sacred . . .” Oberon muttered to himself. And with that, he left for the kingdom of Ethene.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Aimi Haruki Character Portrait: Oberon Heylin Character Portrait: Humphrey Conway Character Portrait: Lion El' Johnson Character Portrait: Elisa Character Portrait:
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#, as written by Aethus

It was quiet at the gates of the city. The guards of the western gate had mostly been bored for the past week as most of the guests came in through the other entrances due to their positioning near the central castle. Westward there was less roads, more monsters, and definitely not a lot coming by to enter. For most of the men stationed here, they were happy to get anything coming by and thus, was the fate that they were given on this day.

Oberon had walked briskly through the night, unfazed from outside eyes, but still somewhat slow in his usual movements. The Tyralin had little patience for games, and he was hoping that these guards would let him through quickly.

Unfortunately for him, the bored guards weren't keen on letting him leave soon.

"State your business, stranger." a voice said near the right of the gate. From his thoughts, Oberon detected curiosity, nervousness, and excitement. It would make sense; his garbs were absolutely unfamiliar except to his own people. Why, the only humans he had ever let see were those that ended up a bit more . . . dead than alive.

"I require time with an individual in this city, a specific priestess if you will."

There were curious looks all around, even those that didn't show it on their faces, many still had their surface thoughts shrouded in confusion.

"You don't look like any religion I know."

"As it should be, human."

At the mention of human, they grew tense. Again, he had placed a lot more venom than he originally intended, but it was too late to take back words now.

"Oh, so you're one of those kinds of people. You think us humans aren't good enough to respect, eh?"

"Does a worm shit out dirt, or manure?" The question threw the men off guard, giving Oberon time to respond snidely, "Either way, its mouth shouldn't be where it shits . . . like yours."

"You fuckin-"

"HENSON," a voice broke the tension, bringing all their attention to a single man. He was an older guard, shrewd but wise in his ways. Oberon could instantly see the chain of command right where it needed to be and kindly quieted himself as the man continued to berate the guards.

"You idiots. That's no elf. That's a Tyralin."

From the mention of Tyralin, the men backed up from their posts. Rumors and stories that they had now viewed as a fool's story were quickly recanted in their heads, many of them recounting feats of impossible heights. While some were quite exaggerated, they still knew that stories originated from some line of truth and with this being their first encounter, the men were quick to give their leader command of the situation.

"Sir, forgive me." the officer said solemnly, "If you need entry, we will be happy to give it to you, if you give your word to not cause any harm or create chaos within our humble city."

Oberon was impressed, Intelligent and humble. Perhaps there was some hope yet for this place.

"You are fortunate to have such a leader," his words were directed to the others, "I suppose I will give my word."

With a nod, the men moved out of his way as they opened the large gates before him. Oberon could hear them talking amongst themselves as the doors closed behind him.

"God damn idiot, you could have gotten us killed!" Oberon chuckled. He could do so much more than that.

The news of the priestess' presence had been easy to find, mostly because everyone had been speaking about it. Every time he cut down the voices around him to only give up anything related with his target, the answers were always pointing him towards his destination. Any others spoke of either how saintly or demonic the woman was. From the perspective of lowly humans, she was all powerful, capable of curing even the most fatal of wounds. To his eyes, or his mind's eye, she was just another manipulator in the grand scheme of things.

Frankly, he didn't care. Whether it was the old or the new religion, the humans wouldn't know how their world was made or how anything really went. They would be stuck in their mindless, sightless lives surrounded by more of their disgusting kind. Like cockroaches, they would breed and consume everything around them with no regard for others, a fate that would most likely lead them down a path of self destruction.

"Mal-ey-Vihon," he muttered under his breath. Indeed the priestess was the bringer of strife, both to come and to be, "Let them choke on their own filth."

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Lion El’ Johnson followed the priestess as they moved down the hallway. The young lady, Priestess Haru whom he had expected to walk along side her lady held herself back and stood next to him. At first he believed that it was because of her role, to walk behind were as Johnson was doing it do to the fact he knew not where he was going at it was easier to watch them.

Yet then the young lady did something surprising she spoke to him. Not that that was unusual but the manor of speech caught him a bit off guard “So…you’re coming with us then? Having someone like you along is marvelous. Not that there’s anything, you know, special about you. I mean, you’re special, but… then the girl blushed quite hard, the red of her cheeks completely shined on her white skin
The lion was a rather calm man but she was quite beautiful. He could not help it as a small curl came to his lip though you would have had to be looking at him quite closely for it was a very minor change. “You need not worry priestess, I am quite aware that my size is abnormal you need not fret over it. It is good to know that we shall be seeing much of each other.” The lion responded in a way trying to be kind to the young lady.
The girl offered him a strawberry “People know me as the White Priestess but you can call me Haru.” before he could respond to her, she scurried back to her lady head downwards but still blushing.

“As you wish lady Haru” He said under his breath. He looked down at the strawberry that lay in the palm of his gauntlet. It was such a small piece of food that he doubted it would be of any use to him. Still he had never eaten on. The food which was served by the cooks of the Order’s base and when camping was very bland. For the most part they ate meat and bread, normally with some light vegetables. The most extravagant thing they prepared was either the meat of some rare monster that had been slain or head cook Ronalds stew. The strawberry was something the lion had never eaten or had seen prepared in any of the meals he had ever had.

The lion pressed the small piece of food into his mouth. He closed his jaw and began to chew it. The lion almost lost his composure and had to keep himself from closing his eyes from the taste. It was nothing like anything he had eaten before, it was light and the flavor was strong, yet it was not bitter, it was not spicy, it was….. sweet. He knew the word but never found anything that he would use it for less describing some of the children he saw when they played or a kind young lady.

Johnson made a note to himself to get more of those latter, for they were fantastic. As they began to walk out of the castle the lion began to watch for those who would be dangerous, although he was sure nothing would happen, he knew better then to let down his guard.
AS they began to leave Johnson made a wave of his hand. Goven and Azrial, along with the rest of the dark angels moved into formation around himself and the priestess. They stayed to the sides as to not interrupt their path. The lion looked to Goven and gave him a small nod

Goven, the only one of his men who had not been given the strict order to never speak with any of the priest spoke “Greeting priestess I am Goven, Lord Lion El’ Johnson's second, were are the guards who have been handpicked to escort you on your journey on our honor and on the honor of the dark angles we will protect you.”

It was a Simple preplanned greeting. Goven was old and set in his ways and was fiercely loyal to the order and the least likely to ever be converted. He would act as there represent if he ever became unavailable.
They had only made it a short way when a group of paladins appeared before them. Johnson recognized the colors from his studies of other knightly orders. The paladins were one of the largest knightly orders and served the Sistirio. When the group got closer all but two of the group gawked at him. Only one of them seemed to pull his eyes off of him and looked over towards Haru. He seemed to be studding her as if trying to figure something out.

One so much they his eyes never seemed to leave him. Yet the men if front gave off a much better appearance. They were lead by their grand master, Sir Eric Fay he believed he was called.

Even in the Order this man had a reputation of being a skillful warrior, a cunning strategist and a insightful leader. “Sir Eric Fay, it is a pleasure to meet you.” Johnson said in the same calm voice he addressed the king with. “I have heard a great many things about you.” He spoke as he looked around.

Though the man before him was formidable something told him someone else was nearby, something dangerous but he could not quite put his finger on it. It was coming from past the wall were the gate was still open. Then he saw him. From a distance but his sharp eyes managed to pick him out. A man whom he could not make out clearly but had some odd clothing he had never seen before. Johnsons began to track the man while keeping his eyes open for anyone else who may be a threat. He was still a ways off so he would not say anything yet but if he came to close he would interfere. He looked to the others as they began to speak.

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The company of the Lion was tolerable, almost enjoyable as she snuck a curious glance over her shoulder at him as they walked. She watched him pop the berry into her mouth, watching as his stonewall face melted, his composure dropping as the sweet taste flooded his mouth. She turned back, giving a small giggle as she reminded herself to make sure he got more of the berries. It was only when Elisa came to a halt that Haru noticed the group of men coming towards them. Heavily armored and unannounced, Haru found herself stepping back a few steps, her hand resting on her sword as her eyes narrowed. Elisa motioned for her to back down and she did, steadying herself as she shifted anxiously. The smell of sweat and hot steal made her anxious. Men, there were so many men around her now, staring at her body and casting curious glances at the way she hung to Elisa’s hand even as she dropped it. Her hand hovered on the handle of the sword, fingers playing with the silky threads that made the hilt beautiful. Out of the newcomer’s one was especially studying her, his face never once leaving her own. Why was he so fascinated with her? Why her and not Elisa?

Her lips parted. Drawing in a ragged breath as she slowly began to move back, hopefully to get away from anyone’s view. She let her eyes close for a moment, keeping her face forward. She heard the deep voice of the Lion, acknowledging even naming the front man. A moment later she’d bumped back against his massive form. She froze, her head slowly craning backwards. Her breasts heaved as she took a stuttering breath, her soft lips parting in a small gasp. Their eyes met and she leapt forward, muttering an apology.

“Sorry! I—I didn’t mean…” she blushed and stepped away, “I’ll meet you back at temple.”

With head bowed she stepped around the group of people, hand tightening as she brushed past the paladin that had been staring at her. She didn’t know she was heading towards the man in the metal mask until she’d nearly run into him.

“Dinhra forgive me,” she muttered, stumbling over her feet as she shook her head. Her eyes went wide as she stared into the metal face and the words faltered in her mouth.

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#, as written by Aethus

When Oberon finally began reaching the group, the exorcist had no doubts that he would take as much control as possible. No human, whether they were of high stature or not in their inner circles, could ever come up to par with his standards of leadership. They were too weak, too short-sighted for such things and he was not willing to get commanded around by a bunch of lackadaisical gibbering idiots with no concept of the word foresight.

But just as he was about to confront the men, Oberon was legitimately surprised when he bumped into an unknown woman, both because he hadn't known she had been there in the first place, but also because he was unsure what this person was. It did take a second or two, but when he saw both the inklings of elven and human blood, he had almost been taken aback by her presence.

To say she was different was an understatement, rather different was such a weak word to use. He would have said she was "Ira-phan," or "Worlds different" from the gutter trash around him. There was an elegance to her, both in mind and body, that seemed to transcend his normal thoughts. Sure her clothes seemed a bit off, but what fool would judge a creature by their resources. The most important parts about her were what counted.

That being said, she wasn't the priestess, no he confirmed that when he scanned her surface thoughts. The priestess was somewhere through the crowd of people, but she was unimportant at this moment. Indeed, he had never met anyone as bubbly or . . . bright as this half-elf. Even among his own people, he had never seen such a person before him. Intrigued, he felt a need to keep his mouth shut about himself and focus on the very beautiful woman before him.

"I . . . I -um," he almost wanted to kill himself. To say that this was the first time he had ever stuttered would have been the absolute truth. He hadn't even said anything and he was already acting like some foolish idiot school child with a crush.

"Forgive me," Oberon stated as he lifted the woman up, "I could not detect your presence. It is of my own fault that we have come to this . . . predicament."

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Haru didn’t even brush herself off from the fall she was so captivated by this sudden newcomer. His dress was so odd, his touch and voice left something to be desired that all she could do was stare. She knew it was rude and she quickly dipped her head, shaking it as loose strands of hair flopped around her eyes. But even as she broke from the spell, the moment she opened her mouth to speak it grabbed hold of her again and she tilted her head. The stranger wore high boots. Black, or were they a grey green, she couldn’t quite tell in the light and shadows that were dancing from the rest of his clothing. What she did know is that there was an odd strap that crossed the tops of his boots along the feet. The tops of his boots were likewise detailed, intricately sewn, or was it carved, in the same shimmering material. Maybe they were black, judged from the thick black gloves he wore around his hands.

Just like her own? she wondered, eyes darting elsewhere.

A silver-grey cloak was secured over his shoulders and waist by two body cross straps, only to open at the groin in a dramatic flair. Black and white trim outlined and highlighted these subtle works in detail, drawing her eye into the different forms that went all the way back up to her neck. Here was where her curiosity really peaked. She had quickly recognised that his face was hidden from sight even as her butt hit the ground, but she hadn’t quite thought of this. The metal around his face was so different to anything that she’d ever seen in all of her travels, anywhere. Like a dome it rose, polished to flawless smoothness, not a wrinkle or dent in sight, flowing smoothly like water on a small pond. It appeared almost beaklike in the shapes that held, what she could only assume as enchanted glass, around the stranger’s face and yet it shimmered and glittered with all the qualities of a steel helm.

She wanted to touch it.

“N-No,” she finally managed out, holding her hands by her side, one arm crossed over her waist as she did her best to reign herself in. To keep control. In the mean time she broke her eyes from him, looking around for her basket. There. It was laying tipped over by his side, the cloth keeping the food hidden had been dropped to the ground and a couple of the strawberries were resting atop it. She wasn’t about to bend in front of him and the thought made her body quiver with an unknown response. She blinked, putting on a smile as she waved her hand in a brush off movement, then keeping them busy as she brushed at the dirt on her butt.

“It was my fault really. I wasn’t watching where I was headed. Are you alright? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

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The first thought that Oberon seemed to retrieve from her mind was the thought of touching his face. For a second, he swore that she looked like a perplexed kitten, wide-eyed and innocent enough. When she suddenly said NO, he nearly jumped at her remark.

"I . . . uhh . . . hmm," Oberon stuttered, he then noticed the fallen basket. He casually flicked two fingers upward, causing the basket to float up along with anything that had fallen out. The dust and germs that situated themselves on such things were dispelled in an instant with another motion and with that, the case floated towards Haru.

"I am not hurt, Mi-ha Vihon, and it is of my own fault. Twas not your eyes that failed you, but my own."

“You’re right,” she said after a moment, watching the basket with a strange curiosity as she reached up to pull it from the air, “It wasn’t my eyes that failed me but my mind. I know I should watch where I’m going but I didn’t. I fell for the most common of human emotion, worry.”

She laughed, voice tinkling like that of rain on metal, like bells on the bridle of horses. It rose through the air as she shook her head and then sighed.

“In the end we’re all susceptible, I suppose,” she gave a little shrug and held the basket close against her breasts, looking into it, “How—how did you manage to do that? Magic, yes. But without saying a word? You really must be some high wizard or something. Unless…Mi-ha Vihon….”

The world rolled off her tongue, smooth at first but as it left her mouth she felt dizzy, almost nauseous. Instantly, the exorcist froze as she tried to speak her words. He had spoken Tyralin in such a casual manner towards this stranger. Had she seen his face, the girl might have seen a blush or a worried tick to his gaze. Still, it was better late than never to speak to this wonderful lady.

"I am . . . Tyralin," he said. Oberon didn't want to come off as too pretentious as he continued to speak, "My name is Oberon . . . Exorcist of the highest order, second to only the Praetor in honor and class. Do . . . you have a name?"

“Priestess Haru, but you can call me Haru,” she said with a small smile giving a little shy wave of her hand. Suddenly she paused. Wait. Had he said that he was Tyralin?

“Tyralin? Like,” she paused, eyes going wide as her brow quirked, “the stories mothers tell their children to make them behave? That type of Tyralin?”

"You could put it like that, madam," Oberon nodded, "We are an elusive people . . . and we prefer to keep things like that when they have the chance."

For a moment, he was quiet, but when he realized what she had said, he snapped.

"You said, priestess? Of . . . of what."

His last words were quiet and somewhat saddened.

"It...It doesn't matter. I won't try to convert you so you don't try to convert me. We'll be friends," she beamed, getting a sudden horrible feeling that she shouldn't tell Oberon her religion just yet. Besides, she was so curious to learn more about him and by far, still determined to touch the metal dome over his face.

"Will you walk with me?"

He had a bad feeling in the back of his head as he heard the voices in her head. Though he did not know what she was, he did know she was trying to hide something. However, the request had softened his heart just slightly.

"Yes, I will."

Haru smiled and walked gently past him, carrying the basket on one arm as she cocked her head.

"May I ask about you?" she smiled, "I'm guessing you don't like to talk about who, or what you are or stand for, but...I just have to know! Is it true that you guys sacrifice little kids? And no I don't mean the goat type."
He scoffed but spoke playfully, "Do you sacrifice children? I doubt that's a very legitimate question"
She stopped, turning to him for a moment as her face grew serious, “Maybe I do."

For a moment she let that sink in before laughing, beginning to walk again.

"I don't I promise, I like children. So I suppose that is a silly question. Well how about this one. What does," she stopped, not wanting to say the word again as her stomach felt queasy at just the thought, "those words you said earlier mean? The ones that nearly made me sick."

He was quiet then and there. He didn't want to reveal to her the intricacies of his language to a foreigner . . . but then again, it was only one word. He had no idea why he was so intrigued with the woman, only ignoring another half of his brain telling him to keep away from the woman.

"It means mysterious one . . . we . . . well I am . . . I . . ." he kept silent as he tried to change the subject, "You seem like a wonderful person."

Now he just sounded creepy. He wanted to slam his head against the wall now.

"Thank--thank you. You're not as bad as the tales seem to say," Haru paused, blinking as her cheeks flushed, "Well, I'm not...Mi-ha Vihon, mysterious. Hey! I think I got it!

But no, I'm pretty well known though these parts. People call me the White Priestess. Why? I can't really say. Maybe because I wear white, or my hair is white. I don't know. I'm a healer too. Half-elf healer, so I know a little bit of magic. But I don't think I could make the basket float through the air."

She was leading them away from Elisa, towards the temple that beckoned like a house of safety from everything that was happening around her. People grinned to see her with someone, to see her smiling face. It was such a rarity to see Haru walking with anyone, much less a man. Those that knew her whispered happily between themselves; Haru walking blindly through the noise as she turned her attention back to her companion.

"Why do you wear gloves?"

". . . reasons," he answered. Now her questions were starting to be more personal than anything. Still he should have obliged with an answer, "it’s cultural . . . hard to explain."

He was seeing the people's face around him, the disgusting humans giving him and Haru strange looks. Their surface thoughts, however, gave him quite the info, info that made him question why even he was walking with her.

"Is there are reason why you are all staring," Oberon's voice grew incredibly cold as the onlookers kept watch. Honestly, it was more of a nervous reaction than anything else. Most Tyralins like him were quite self-aware and when people were staring, they knew that something was up. His hand right hand was slightly shaking as he tried to raise his cold front as much as possible.

"Come on, leave them to their gossip," she beamed, waving as she grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him in a back alley. Here there were few eyes that could pry, and those that did belonged to animals.

"You can blame me for their curious stares. I'm not an outgoing person. Well, only half of it is me. The other half is your strange appearance. Can't blame people without hope," she gave a little shrug, "So, back to the glove thing. So it does mean something to you. I wear them too but it's mostly to protect my hands from dirt and burns."

Her eyes flickered down to her hands and arms, frowning as she sensed a tension in the air.

"Sorry. I don’t really mean to pry. I’ve just never seen anything or met anything like you. You’re a mystery to me. See, I’m not really afraid of you like I think most people would be, and that fact that you’re male,” she blushed, “Well, maybe. I haven’t seen your face. But to be perfectly honest I don’t much care for my own kind. I mean, I do! I care about them, it’s just that I cannot picture myself taking one as a mate or husband or whatever you call it. Too many bad memories,” Haru shuddered, for an instant a face flashing across her mind’s eye. He was gruff, scarred, and larger than life with mead on his breath and greasy black hair. His teeth were rotten and his piggish eyes crinkled as he sneered. She shook her head.

“Of course, those memories….Well anyway. I feel at ease with you. Not, well…We just met but you have a calming aura,” she bit her lip and looked the other way letting her hair form a curtain between them. How silly she must seem, talking on and on about herself, spilling whatever came to her mind. Was this the effect that he had on her? Did all Tyralins have this ability? She let out a small sigh, her shoulders slumping as she could just begin to see the temple in the distance as she popped out of the alley and to the street which lead up the hill.

The white building stood tall and bright against the green hillside, dominating the area with its pillars and peaked roof. The architecture allowed for a small collection of statues in the peak of the roof. The entire place was made entirely or marble stones, stacked and ridged in a beautiful rectangle. She tossed a curious glance at Oberon, wondering if he too had taken notice of the structure.

As quiet and respectful as he was, he caught sight of her memory for just a split second. He didn't see the face super clearly, but he could feel the emotions behind it. Fear, dread, pain, hatred . . . yes . . . how relatable.

"Humans are disgusting, pitiful creatures . . . it is a shame that you were marred by their careless, pathetic, idiocy. You have far more worth than any mass of these cockroaches combined . . . and I hope you find someone that recognizes such things."

For a second, there was a distinct sort of rage that was fuelled within him, but he stopped. She didn't need to see anger, humans provided plenty of such things to her. For what it was worth, he needed to keep quiet and stay respectful. That would do much more for her than to get permission for bloody vengeance. When they did get to the building, Oberon nodded as he noted the architecture of it all. Before they had even gotten inside, he had a general map of the premises.

"You have a lovely garden," he said carefully, "And the inside is well made . . . for non-Tyralins"

"You are kind," she said quietly, leading him into the main alter as she turned around and spread her arms wide, "This is it! My home. I guess I can admit right now I'm a priestess of the New Religion. Have you heard of Elisa?"

He was slow to nod his head.

"Yes . . . my goddess has asked me to watch this Elisa . . ."

Needless to say, Oberon was tense as all hell at this. Now that he knew she was aligned with his target, what did all his feelings mean to him? Confusion hit him like a stone but that alone was not the worst of it. However, another presence had drawn his attention. One he knew all too well.

"OI, Wass' 'appenin' Obi," a voice said aloud. The voice came from one of the numerous seats in the alter room and Oberon didn't need to turn around to see who it was.

"Ugh" he groaned.

Haru whirled, fuidly drawing her blade in a moment. Her eyes were frightened as she caught sight of someone lingering in the shadows. But, suddenly she remembered herself and the silver tip dropped, tapping against the floor.

"Erm, yes? Hello?" she said carefully walking forward as she gave a glance at Oberon, "Is he with you?"

"Unfortunately," Oberon growled. Kilroy was quick to smile at Oberon's annoyance, feeding off of it like a battery.

"Noice, tah meetcha, miss. 'eard you're a priestess."

As he came into the sunlight, the light reflected on his blue scales as he walked towards Haru without care.

"You're kidding?!" She squeaked, backing away a frew steps, her blade hand quivering as she lifted it once more, allowing it to click back into the sheath. Any normal person would have been running and screaming, frightened to see, what Haru could only describe as a Land Fish walking towards her. She gulped, stepping back behind Oberon as she slid her arm against his and tucked herself slightly against him and behind his back.

"Erm...yes. Haru, my name is Haru."

"HAHAHAHAHAHAH! Priceless," Kilroy said as he wiped the tears out of his eyes, "Dunno was' foonier, that reaction or seein' Obi with a girl!"

The fish man continued to laugh hysterically, only stopping when Oberon smashed two rows of seats into him. The fish man seemed to plop out from the shadows, however, without a scratch on him.

"Well, shit Obi. Look, If yuh that inta' her, maybe you should be a bit less mean to yuh friends."

That almost sent Oberon into a catatonic state as he realized what he was insinuating, "Y-YOU! SHUT UP!"

But before he could do anything, the fish man seemed to phase out of existence, disappearing right behind Haru and holding her hostage with his deadly blade.

"Nah, hold on a minute there, boody. Gotta get mah infa'mation and finish mah job for I leave this place."

"You said you were leaving, you annoying carp."

"Well, chang'a plans. Second wants me tah watch ova this place for I leave. Tell me, did you wanna' make me bleed?"

"Tell me 'den," Kilroy said ever so menacingly, "Wassa your religion doin' with them 'umans."

"Oberon," she gasped, her gloved fingers against his scales as they pressed and tried to pull his arm from her body. The fabric caught and tore slightly, her throat tipped back as she shook.

"Kilroy stand down!"

The fish looked at Oberon, confused as ever as he kept the knife on her. Slowly but surely, did Kilroy let go, eventually leaping off as he reappeared on top of the alter.

"Yuh know, you're the last I pegged fer a man that talks with his dick."

"And YOU are over reacting. This is not THE priestess, this is A priestess."

At this revelation, Kilroy widened his eyes in surprise, trying to look back and forth between Oberon and Haru.

"God damn it, you can't be serious right?"

Suddenly, the air grew cold, "Leave before I send your god a good helping of salmon at his doorstep"

But all the Slarth did was scoff, "Fine, coont. Be that way."

Darkness swirled around him and with that, he disappeared. Unsurprisingly, Oberon had remained quiet after he left. To say that he had been embarrassed was an understatement. Haru had slumped to her knees as soon as the cold touch of steel had left her skin. Doe eyes blinked as she stared atop the altar. body shook and her lip trembled as her body gave a small hiccup and her white hair fell around her face and across the floor. Her hands curled into fists, clenching tightly as droplets of water splashed against them.

If Haru had hated men before, nothing compared to the feeling in her gut now for fish. Hell, it would be the very last time she even ate fish. Her shoulders trembled and the bravery she'd put on earlier dissolved like like sugar in water. While Elisa had delt with attempts on her life, this had been Haru's first. She cried. Her quiet sniffles boomed off empty walls, filled the space around them as she pulled the ruined cloth from her hands and pressed them against the white marble. What type of creatures were these men, or was it fish. It smelled like a fish. It had scales and gills and teeth lile a fish and yet this thing had betrayed her curiosity and put her into harm's way. And for what? Because it thought that she was something else? No. Someone else. Had Oberon come for Elisa's life? Was

Her sniffles stopped, eyes wide open in horror as her jaw nearly dropped. The tears lingered in the corners of her eyes, softening her cheeks and leaving her lips shimmering. Her hands clenched into balls and her eyes flickered to the blade on her hip.

"No, I am not a fish" Oberon spoke trying to ease Haru's fears. Indeed, he was quite aware of her thoughts of him, but he also knew they were quite justified.

"And, no, we were not attempting to take your life . . . my friend is of the impression that your new religion is dangerous."

Dangerous was an understatement, but he didn't want to say that the God of Darkness most likely wanted her priestess' head. Haru, being startled as she was, broke a part of his heart that had been far too close for comfort. Leaning into Haru, the exorcist rose two fingers just like before, trying to heal the mark Kilroy's blade made against her skin. Afterwards, he held out his hand just as he did earlier that day.

". . . forgive me, priestess . . ."

"It's Haru," she said quietly, looking towards the hand with a sideways glance before taking it delicately. She allowed herself to be pulled to her feet, looking at the smashed benches with a small sigh and a quiet shake of her head as her eyes watered. They stared into the mask, threatening to spill over.


"Why not," Oberon said shrugging, "While he may have been forceful, have I been anything but accommodating? You are quiet blind to some other forces at play, beings beyond your understanding . . . . Priestess Haru."

"You think I speak to the gods like you?" she nearly laughed, "No. All I know is that I am here and so are you. I can touch you, hear you, see you, that the Celestial Being put you here for some reason. That I can heal minds and bodies and yet, I cannot quite heal myself. It is not my place to question the god or goddess master! It is my job, my duty to protect that which I love and help those in need. To be placed in moments like this..." she had a small smile on her lips, "to learn and grow. To be curious. So, now you tell me, Oberon. Why were you so kind to me? A lowlife, miserable human being?"

He was quiet when she spoke of such things. He really shouldn't have continued to speak really, in fact he should have just run. Yes, kill her there and then and leave this place. But there was another part of him that just yearned to answer back.

"You are not human, you are only half." he said struggling to find an answer

"Which most consider even a lower form of life. Half-breed. Orphan. Urchin," she said quietly, looking down at their laced fingers as she blushed and withdrew her hand slightly.

"Perhaps you should speak to your goddess. Or maybe your own self to begin with."

"A true deitium does not speak with her subjects simply because they want guidance. What kind of God or Goddess would that be . . ." the second option had grabbed at him, like a piece of tweed getting caught on clothes and fibres. What was even his own thoughts on the matter?

"All I know," he said, trying to define himself, "Is that you are worlds better than the cockroaches you try and help. They don't deserve to breathe in your presence, let alone speak or touch you."

"Am I? I don't believe so. You are as good as me who is only as good as the farmers who feed us. But I don't expect to change your mind. And you never know. Sometimes the gods do surprising things."

Haru smiled, turning towards the benches with a small shake of her head.

"I have to perform a ritual here soon," Haru said with a quiet little blush, pushing the benches back into alignment. They squeaked across the floor, her muscles straining from the work as she made sure that everything would return back to it had been.

"Erm...I guess you can have my room and I'll sleep with Priestess Elisa," she grunted as her back pressed against the side of one of the benches, "Of course I'm assuming that you have nowhere else to stay...let me grab a second change of clothes and--"

"It is fine," Oberon raised his hand and moved with her, "You may sleep where you sleep. I will stay outside."

He would have been uncomfortable to stay in the house of a different religion.

"You're sure? I don't bite and it's a quaint little place not far from here," Haru grunted, getting the final bench in place as she wiped her palms on her legs, "Thanks."

"I-we . . . I need to-" Oberon really needed to go, or else she might have gotten him on something he shouldn't have. Then again, did she already hook him, "I think we . . . are you going with the priestess then . . . priestess Haru"

"Hopefully," she answered chipper, hands on her hips as she beamed, "If all goes well tonight then yes."

"Then I shall follow"

"Follow me? Or the Priestess?" she giggled and walked up to the altar, rearranging things as she then hopped down and walked into a back room.

He paused for just a moment, "I supposed . . . you then"

"You flatter me," she said behind a closed door. Behind it she was stripping, changing into different clothing.

"But why?"

Unaffected by seeing her nude form in his minds eye, he calmly replied to Haru.

". . . I trust you . . . I don't know why . . . but I seem to trust you more than most others. It's a . . . terrible flaw of mine. I think I'd watch the world burn before I trusted someone I didn't know . . ."

"Then the world must be alight," she giggled.

He coughed to himself at this turn of tone, "I . . . that is debatable . . ."

He hoped it was.

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Character Portrait: Aimi Haruki Character Portrait: Oberon Heylin Character Portrait: Humphrey Conway Character Portrait: Lion El' Johnson Character Portrait: Elisa Character Portrait:
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Through out all of this Elisa had remained quiet. In silence, she took on the role of a spectater and merely permitted these things to take place. And while outwardly she appeared to he happily watching one could not help but noticed how she stared, how she wasn't just watching individuals...She was observing them thoroughly. If one looked at her as she did th is they would have gotten the chills, how could someone so sweet make you feel so...uncomfortable. This did not last long however for she made a sharp turn and continued on her path without saying a word to Sir Lion El Johnson  or worrying about her pupil, Priestess Haru. Elisa continued on, speed walking ,ever so elogently , further and further away from those who were supposed to escort her.

 Her path eventually took her from the polished and radiance of the Cloud District where the Nobles reside to where everyone else lived. The filth of the streets, the stench of disease and death and a few other things, and the misery in those that lived here were a common sight to all. Men and women made active  efforts to stay away from those who were sick and the beggars received scarce charity. Elisa walked these streets with ease for a time, thought  after half a block they swarmed her. Arms were extended out to her, some hoping to touch her or her clothing, voices were raise, begging, pleading, and other swearing, for a the Priestess to help them and she did. She permitted them to touch her, extending her arms out back at them so more could reach her, she audibly blessed every face she saw, every name she heard, and every child she could as she continued to try navigating through the mob.

 There eventually came a point when she could advance no further and  the crowd became too ravenous. She could go no further. The people tugged on her robes, some even gripped her rather than it and bruised her. Her robe did not stain nor did it succumb to the filth on their hands and it did not tear at their tugging and pulling. As always, the city Guard appear later rather than sooner and slowly disperse the crowd around Elisa. When all the bodies are cleared away, one can see Elisa kissing an old cripple on the forehead, pink lips made brown from the dirt and filth on the foreheads of others. This man who came to her with a limp, walked away without one. Elisa smiled as she watched him depart, she had received little thanks for her doing but she knew it was Dinhrara, not her, who should be thanked. After a few moments she continued on to the Temple.

 The Temple of Dinhrara, or the new religion, was considered Elisa's home and office. If she were not in the streets or up and about on the roads,  she would be here and those in need of healing or salvation would not shy from coming here so do not assume she had come to avoid her duties. There is no rest for the wicked. There were two reasons she had come to that place, to break fast and to  collect her staff.

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Haru had finished changing, finally removing her travel clothes as she opened up the door. She'd slipped into something a little less sightly, the laced front the only suggestive thing about the black dress she'd slipped herself into. Her breasts rose under the red string, taking a deep breath as she sighed. Yes, they most definitely called her the White Priestess because of her hair. The clothing must have been adopted later. The corset around her ribs and waist had made it painful to breathe but left her with a killer hourglass figure. Oberon was a few steps away, seemingly staring off into nothingness as she swept her hair back. With cat like quietness she made her way across the temple floor, disappearing behind the public altar and into the back room where there was a much smaller version of the altar outside, but also several rooms. One belonged to Priestess Elisa and held the mighty staff that she claimed was her direct line with god. Though Haru would've liked to test it, the staff was guarded day and night by a fierce knight who hated Haru. To be fair she hated him back. He wasn't cruel, not to others, but in a battle for Priestess Elisa's attention, Haru was always considered a threat.

It was little wonder that she didn't bumb into him back here. He was probably locked up with the staff, she thought as she knelt before the altar. Her green eyes appeared black in the candlelight, her skin like ivory as the soft touch of firelight made her features more accented. Here she lost nearly all trace of human, her high cheeks, wide eyes and poined ears the attention dawers as her cherry lips parted in ancient tongues.

"Þik sér óvíss grœnn lopt.
Shikku shāru ōbisu gurōn roputo!"

Her hands extended forward ahead of her, swirling lights around her closed eyes as each breath she drew became more and more ragged. She flinched, a small jagged line appearing in her flesh as she let loose a small gasp. The skin tore, breaking into muscle and breaking bone as she did her best not to scream. This was wrong. It wasn't supposed to be at all like this! Elisa's spell didn't do this! It didn't hurt her, didn't send blood splattering across the stone table as Haru finally screamed, her bones cracking under the sudden stress in her arm.

How?! She jerked her arm to her chest, shaking and trembling as her vision began to blur. She stumbled back, shaking her head back and forth as her legs gave way and she crashed back atop the table, slipping slightly down to the stairs as the spell grabbed hold of her chest. Her eyes went wide, fingers grabbing at her breast as another hand grabbed at her heart. It began to squeeze, holding her tighter even as she struggled. Weakly her hands rose, her breath a cough as her eyes flew wide.

"Þeír fylla gullin öl, helgask allr Þeír fylla gullin öl, helgask allr eitrið, rísa folk.

Seā firra gūrin ēru, herugasuku arūru eitorudō, rīza foruku!" she gasped between squeals, the spell the strongest healing spell that she knew. Slowly the pain began to subside and the tingle of flesh regenerating took its place. It was like an undeniable itch, one that she couldn't scratch as she lay slumped before the altar, white hair spread like a halo round her head. Blood dripped down the stairs, oozing across the stone with a crisp tang. Haru didn't move. She couldn't move. Trapped like a fly in a web she lay there, her blood dripping across the ground in a black ooze.

"Ob..." she whimpered, eyes closing as the wound closed, all but two fanglike marks on her wrist.

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#, as written by Aethus
Oberon, feeling the sudden change in mood from Haru, ran towards the door and smashed through without question. It was a heavy feeling that struck him, something that felt absolutely off and yet familiar. He knew a curse when he felt one hanging around his head.

Upon seeing the blood on Haru, Oberon froze up for just a second before running up towards her. He clutched her hands and felt around for the wound.

"MILI-AN," he cursed, "Haru, what ails your form?"

Haru squirmed, blinking back tears as the fire ate at her heart and at her flesh. Pain rippled through her body like the waves through the sea. Tears welled up in her eyes, her vision swamped in red and black as definable details began to swamp into fuzzy shapes. Oberon's voice was just an echo, shouting over her now as Haru begged for death. Her skin seemed to be devouring itself, disappearing more and more from the two points into larger and larger holes. Blood and tissue, veins and arteries were being severed at an alarming rate and little by little, Haru was dying.

Her heart beat, rapidly expanding as her chest quivered and jerked and she found she could suddenly scream as the pain intensified at the source. Her arm twitched, her lips parted in jagged breaths. The pain left her chest, her lungs drawing in a wet breath as Haru suddenly went very very still.

Not wasting a minute, he pulled her clothes back to keep the wounds in the open air. His mind frantically searched the area around him for something, anything, that he could use to treat the ailments, but there was nothing. A few precious seconds and he gulped, there really wasn't much he could do other than heal her himself.

Though there was some initial backlash in his mind, like the point about him simply touching her, he didn't seem to care about such things seeing as this strangely calming being was now dying in his arms. She was important, he told himself as he tried justifying removing his glove.

When his uncovered glove touched her wound, a sudden shock was sent through him and Haru. The feeling was absolutely invigorating as his inner energies forced itself through and into Haru. It was . . . pleasing . . . was this sex?! Wait, OH GOD, WHAT IF HE GOT HER PREGNANT FROM HIM TOUCHING HER!?!??!

He almost pulled back before he could heal her fully, but kept on as he powered through the embarrassment.

Haru gasped. Her hand grabbed at his own, tenderly, her skin silky and soft, as a strange sensation filled her body. It wasn't a feeling of dread, a knowing that one is about to die. It was a feeling of life and of power. It surged through her body, crashing against her quivering breath and stammering heart. She quieted under him, struggles vanishing as little by little the pain in her chest left, creeping back up along her arm until it had been replaced by a thick humming coursing through nerves. It was a feeling often given to her by Elisa in the dark of night, a rejuvenation ritual. Did he know of it too?

Her eyes fluttered and she locked them onto that strange metal helm, daring enough to reach up and touch the cold steel.

The first thing that Oberon did was pull back and put on his glove. With the look on Haru's face glaring into his soul, he just couldn't handle it embarrassment of being so naked in front of her. As soon as he did this, however, he pulled her in for the hug. Though he wouldn't have admitted it, he had been very much afraid of what had occurred. The thought of her passing was just such a earth shattering realization that he was shaking to the core.

"Obra-da-jael" he said with bated breath, "You made me feel fear priestess Haru . . . what was that?!"

"I-I," she stammered quickly, blushing as he pulled her close against him. Her cheek rested against his shoulder, her body giving a small tremble as she rested against his robes. What had happened? She hadn't been wrong in saying her illumination spell. It had only backfired into her. By what? It had to have been a curse, a backfiring curse. But who would want to kill her?

The only people who used the altar were her and Elisa. Elisa! Haru's eyes flew wide and her voice grew urgent as she pushed herself up to meet Oberon's eyes.

"I think someone tried to kill Priestess Elisa!"

"I think that is to be expected, no?" Oberon said still holding her in his arms.

Oberon didn't have much to say in terms of what she was suggesting. An assassination attempts were of the norm within Tyralin society given the amount of sects and sub-groups within their religious community. Indeed, though they were united under one banner and under the leadership of their Praetor, the Tyralins were, as they said, squabblers. Honestly, he was surprised that Haru wasn't remotely aware of being near a large political figure.

As his panic passed, he helped Haru up, looked around with his mind to see if there were any traces of magical intrusions. There were none and even the damn fish-man was no where to be found. Then again, Kilroy never did use curses . . . he preferred to carve his prey up.

"But what of you, has it passed?"

He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from her. It would have made him feel better.

In all truth this was the first time she had been exposed to an attempt on Elisa's life. The Priestess had been wise to keep Haru in the darkness about the attempts. It was said Haru was so sweet and innocent, so pure and white as freshly fallen snow, that news of an attempt would have broken her heart. Elisa hadn't wanted to worry her pupil and so didn't divulge the information. However, this experience had shaken her to her core and as Oberon held her she trembled.

"I think I'll be alright," she said, smoothing down her dress with a small blush, "Thank you, Oberon. I don't know how you did it, but you saved me."

She reached up and gently kissed the metal mask where a cheek would be. She held both of his hands, her eyes were fearful, burning with a blue flame.

He was quiet at this. Technically, since he was only watching Elisa, he didn't have to stop Haru from warning Elisa. Following her would be the best option, or so he said to himself.

"And I shall follow," he said coming along her side, "If the assassin knows of his or her failure, you may be attacked as well."

"Or maybe I should wait here," she said suddenly, "You don't think they wanted me, right? Of course not, nobody would want me."

She shook her head, looking into the seeing glass above the altar.

"No, Elisa's being protected by the Lion, I'm sure she'll be alright. I'll tell her about it when she gets back."

"I would have liked you-" he said with the slip of the tongue.

He froze, that was not supposed to come out of his mouth. Immediately he tried to catch his words, "That is, if I was with them and you were away. You are pleasant company . . . and you would most likely prevent me from murdering one of the idiots around her."

Haru gave a small smile.

"Thanks. But you shouldn't joke about killing things, Oberon. I don't think you're a killer," she gave a small shrug, "Come on, we shouldn't linger here. Only Elisa and I come back here."

With that she walked forward, staggering slightly as her head spun. Blood loss was no small thing and Haru felt so thirsty. Her head hurt as she made her way to the entrance of the temple and out towards the soft glow of sunset with Oberon following as faithfully as he said he would.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Aimi Haruki Character Portrait: Oberon Heylin Character Portrait: Elisa Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Sunlight rose across the hill, gently caressing flesh though the window. It started along the hollow of her throat, kissing up along her jawline to land softly against closed eyelids. Pink lips parted in a breath and slowly muscles stirred, stretching and popping as bare flesh prickled at the brisk morning air. A hand wrapped around Haru’s chest and pulled her tighter, closer against the sleeping body as Haru gently stirred. Elisa mumbled in her sleep, pulling tighter against Haru as she released a little squeak. It wasn’t uncommon to find the Priestess’s sharing a bed, or time, or a meal, but the morning routine always found them apart. Haru rubbed the sleep from her eyes, the green orbs blinking against the light of day as her hands dropped to push gently against Elisa’s breasts. The High Priestess groaned and released her hold on her youngest, letting Haru free to sit up. Pale skin prickled at the cold of day, her breast bouncing as she shivered and placed her hands over them. Shirt it was. Haru was not about to poke someone’s eye out.

She rose, walking towards the high set window where the light shone like a beacon across her flesh, illuminating and highlighting her curves and darkening her shadows. Soon she appeared as glorious as she was mysterious, her muscles rippling as Haru pulled on her dress. It was the same one she had worn the day before, wrinkled and abandoned on the cold marble floor as her feet happily dove into the much warmer boots. Today was the day, she realized excitedly. The final day to prepare for the journey! There was so much to do! So much to pack and get ready so that she, Priestess Haru, would finally be allowed to go! Without a moment’s hesitation she finished quickly running her fingers through her hair, turned to kiss a sleeping Elisa on the cheek, and bolted out the door. Her footsteps echoed through the vast altar room, her eyes locked eagerly forward as she swung wide the wooden doors and greeted the lightening sky.

As promised she didn’t actually live inside of the temple. After completing the building, she had taken the liberty to build a small gift for herself. With the remaining stone material she had built, by herself, a one room cottage on the hill just below the temple. It was there she went now, a small dot of white darting across the green hill along the dirt trail. Her boots scuffed against the trail, kicking up puffs of dirt until she’d hit her garden, through the roses and past the small bird bath by the front window. Her hand flew to the brass doorknob when she finally paused.

Vines rose and curled up along the old stonework, locked into niches as bluebells and foxglove opened up to the light of the sun, drinking light like nectar. Two windows faced out towards her, Haru’s hand trembling on the door. Her eyes were locked onto a figure in her bed, curled up under her blanket. She’d nearly forgotten that the reason she’d forgone her bed was not because of the ritual with Elisa, but because of Oberon. She hesitated. Did she go in and try to move about stealthily? Did she leave him be and let him sleep? Haru was stumped. She let out a small groan, leaning back against the door as she puffed away a strand of hair hanging between her eyes. She only needed to grab a few things, most of which she knew exactly where they were. Surely he wouldn’t wake. Right? Haru turned, opening the door to her house and slipping inside, quickly removing her boots by the door. Her bare feet tip-toed across the wooden floor as the door closed behind her. Her hands grabbed the backpack behind the door on a hook of deer antler, the buckles on it clinking loudly as she flinched and quickly pulled it against her chest. The lump under the covers didn’t so much as stir. After a small sigh, she began collecting her things. Moving without so much as a sound, she danced around her house grabbing a cape, a few shirts, her pants, belt, bread, cheese, and a flask that she would later fill with water. All of it was stuffed into a bag when finally she rose on her tip toes to pull out a small coin purse from the rafters. She paused at the door after pulling on her boots, her green eyes resting softly on her bed. He still had his helmet on, her face reflected back at her curiously. How strange and horrible. They said his kin were worse than murderers: torture and limb removal were not uncommon when it came to their victims the stories used to say. And yet, here one was, sleeping as innocently as a newborn before her. He didn’t look the least bit dangerous, so was it true? Could he really be capable of doing such horrible things? Could he do them to her?

Oberon claimed he hated all the human race, calling them vile names and looking down upon them as if they were no better than….than… Haru frowned. There was nothing in the world that was a scourge. Every living thing had a purpose, a duty. The question remained, what was hers? Haru slowly closed the door behind her, giving a small shake of her head as the sun struck her in her face. Today was a new day, another chance to figure out what had brought her here, now, in this moment. But first she needed to visit her horses. She smiled, pulling on her cape as she secured the backpack round her shoulders and took off down the hill and into town with a joyful laugh.