The sun was beginning to make its descent when Kithara, Raven and her familiar, Aegis arrived at the village of Estolad. They left their camp at Ered Annon Mountains early in the morning and it took them the whole day to reach Estoldad. It was an exhausting trip because they had to take long roads and fight if any monsters appeared but finally...they were there.

"There is not much people around here." said Kit, looking around.

True it was. Some citizens of Estoldad were already in their homes, preparing for the night. The place wasn't as busy as it was during the day or at least, that's what she remembered. Although...she spotted a few travellers, a couple of guys hanging around the alleys and so. She also spotted a few more wandering around and they didn't look that nice. She couldn't deny that she could feel a bit of danger just by looking at those thugs. Kithara turned to her friend, ignoring what she was thinking.

"You okay there, Rae?" she asked.

“I’m fine,” said Raven, glancing around at the people around her. She frowned in distaste. Perhaps she was being a bit too much like Aegis, but she didn’t like the look of these people. They reminded her too much of what she saw in Lomedor.

She had not wanted to venture into Lomedor for precisely this reason, and she had hoped that Estolad wouldn’t have had people like this either. Still, she guessed there was no help for it. There would always be good people as well as bad.

One of the thugs glared at her, and Raven ignored him, making sure to keep a hand on her bow. Aegis growled softly from beside her. She calmed him with a hand on his head.

“Don’t,” she whispered, “Just ignore them.”

The wolf glared at them balefully, returning to his walk. Raven edged closer to Kithara.

“Be on your guard,” she muttered, “I don’t much like the look of those people.”

She glanced around, noticing that they were now muttering amongst themselves.

((The fight will start when a few more people have arrived. ^__^))

Wind smacked Teferi's face as he walked into the village bustling with life, but when you lare close to a major city you should expect much traffic. It is a thing that would be a possible and definate place to study others and gain knowledge of outer lore around Arda. Taverns were good for that, and so were contacts. "Hmmm........where is the man........."Teferi asked himself currently looking for a lurking informant, but these devils were sneaky so not likely easy to find. "

"Pssssst........." A man hissed in a corner of a building wearing white rags and a turban. Teferi smiled walking over knowing that this was the spy he was looking for. "You have the lines needed to be known my friend?" The man simply nodded handing Teferi a piece of parchment. Looking at its fragile state Teferi red the ruins and confusing mix of dialect. "Very interesting this will teach me much." Teferi muttered. The man was as he was known gone now disappeared. Even before Teferi could glance up.

Teferi had received all that he wanted from this town, but it would be a day before he would be needed back in Lomedor's court. The Strenuous weight of magic and law had been relieved for this moments being. Now like always it seemed a logically sound idea to explore the town and search for items of interest.

Walking slowly his Blue and Silver robes swayed trailing behind him as he wiped the top of his smooth head. "Hmmmm...... What to do." He asked himself holding his elbow and stroking his chin. He was now looking down an alley. Two women and a wolf stood at one end and close near them a group of thugs looking ready to promote trouble glanced at them. *This....does not look good........ I shall stay..I must see whether this is will be an event....I cannot strand women as such.....* He told himself keeping a watchful eye as he made quick effort to look as if he had never noticed them and was just minding his business by retrieving his book of spells, leaning against the wall, and faking reading.

“Be on your guard,” Raven muttered, “I don’t much like the look of those people.”

Kithara kept silent, glancing around. She felt a lot of presence from the area and she felt really strong and bad vibes. Aside from those thugs, she could feel the presence of a few more people lurking around but she wasn't sure if they were on the good side.

"There is something different about them." she slowly whispered at Raven, "For thugs, they have demonic aura."

She quickly turned to her left where she saw a couple of thugs starting to move. They weren't coming closer but they were exchanging places and throwing glances at them.

"We should leave this are--." she said.

Suddenly, she felt a movement from her dark side. She paused for awhile, staring at the ground.

"Hm hm hm..."

She shook her head and returned to the situation. She was okay...or so she thought. She can manage herself. What she was greatly concerned is getting out before trouble arrised.

Airell flew over the village, keeping his eyes on the activity below him as he did. Nothing much seemed out of the ordinary. Estolad seemed like a peaceful sort of village—much more peaceful than Lomedor at any rate.

His eyes paused over one scene. A group of thugs appeared to be banding together, and across from them were two women, one of which had a wolf with her. A mage also appeared to be leaning against a nearby wall, reading.

Airell frowned. He didn’t much like the look of this situation. The angel flew downwards, landing on the roof of a nearby building. He scanned the situation below, frowning as he noted that one of the women was a Rauko. As a celestial, he didn’t much care for Rauko.

He placed a hand at the hilt of his longsword, watching to see how this would turn out.

Blaire Neoblade walked silently. He had arrived in the village of Estolad a day or two and he was still there, preparing for his next travel. He stayed in an inn during the day for the reason that there was heavy traffic of people. He only went outside when night fell. Most stalls were closed during the night but there were rarely a few who were still open.

He looked up, glancing at his familiar who was enjoying its flight. The hawk always loved flying around in a quiet environment.

"Silver, scout around." said Blaire.

The hawk gave a loud screech and flew off. After a long while, Silver flew back and perched on Blaire's shoudler. He screeched tow times and Blaire listened.

"Really?" he said, "Two girls and a wolf surrounded by thugs. There's also a mage and an angel?"

Silver screeched in assurance. Blaire took a pause and used his skill, scry.
There, he saw them. Two women and a wolf standing still at the center, thugs roaming around, an angel watching from a roof of a building, and a mage reading. He was surprised when he identified the two women as Raven and Kithara.

He ran fast, heading towards the area. Silver flew ahaead and flew in circles just above the two girls and a wolf.

"Kithara! Raven!" he called, stopping just right in front of them.

The newly annoited favoured of Lothlómendil cast his eyes over the Village of Estolad. He travelled on foot a way some would call unbecoming of one of his position, but he far prefered the modesty of the earth beneath his feet. Besides, this also gave him time to bond with a new companion. Upon his ascendance to the 'rank' of Chosen he had been showered with many gifts of congratulations, from the Goddess Herself, the resplendant blade hanging at his waist, and many peers in the Temple. Of them though, three truely hit home. The first were the robes gifted unto him by the Goddess, which he now wore. They were endowed with her blessing, granting him protection from foul magics. The second was a prayer book to call his own: He wore it at his side, bound to him by a length of sturdy cord.

The final gift circled far above him, where his booted feet gently pressed the earth her's kissed the sky with a sense of utter freedom. His left arm was burried up to the elbow in a thick leather gauntlet that, though new, was already scarred with the marks of cruel talons. His gift had been from an older man in the order, one who trained such messenger birds, as a congratulation for his ascention to the realm of the Chosen. And Grégoire had been thrilled. The bird, called Jadzeia by the older man, was a magnificent specimen: Her feathers were a silvery grey, trimmed with a sharp black, and the underside of her wings had a tint of blue that matched the tamest storm clouds. The Paladin could appreciate it fully as she wheeled lower, coasting down off of thermals raising from the still warm flagstones of the city streets.

His mail rustled softly beneath his robe, muffled both by that and the cloak he wore, that hung heavy over his shoulders and kept the cold out, the colour and function so like his falcon's feathers that he couldn't help but smile at the thought. Being young as he was such simple coincidences would bring a certain light to his face, one that had vanished for a short time after his part in the war. That battle, the mass dealing of death at such a scale, had shaken the Paladin through and through. He had lived through it and was still sound of mind and body, but the meaning of death, the stillness and pain was still fresh in his mind. So many pure souls had fallen under the waves of Chaos and Evil, and yet he still stood here. There wasn't a day he didn't pray for those departed souls, pray they had true rest, and gave them thanks for his life.

During the war he had been unarmoured to begin with. He had stood alongside a group of medics, providing an escourt to them, and healed the wounded. There were those at the Temple who swore they owed their life to him and his medic's swift work, but he denied it. It was truely he, who had entered a cacophony of bloodshed and suffering without protection of any sort, who owed his life to them, many times over. They had stood against the enslaught, their faith stood the trial of battle and held firm. And he would always remember it. Later he had acquired armour, and entered deeper into the fray, leading a powerful squad of medics and knights into the heart of the battle, to push at the very heart of the dark army. It had been the first time he had taken life, and though it was of a corrupt soul the sight of so many lifeless eyes would haunt him the rest of his days.

It was partially because of this that it was he who had spoken at a massive pyre outside of the Light Encampment. He needed to have the closure. To know that it was he who lived and the others that had fallen, despite his best efforts and prayers screamed into the heat of battle. It was at the pyre he found folks, some of different faith, but who shared the same sentiment: That there was indeed too much suffering in the world, that the age old balance between good and evil, light and dark was tipped dangerously in favour of the latter in each pairing. They came, specifically, from three different faiths: Those who served the Goddess of Light, the Lady of Balance and the Maiden of Light.

Together an idea had been born: Of an organization that would span the very length and breadth of Eä, one dedicated to the relief of suffering in all its forms, and hunt those that would cause suffering and put an end to their deeds. They had known, collectively, that the Guild would make many enemies, and quickly, and had decided on the necessity of a guise in which the Guild would function, something aside from the aforementioned purposes. It was an oddly simple solution, for they all came to it, or came to find it desirable, as if it was from one collected mind that the thought spread its wings and took flight, like a falcon onto the horizon.

A Library had been their solution and it was such that the young Paladin, the chose of Lothlómendil, took it upon himself to seek a place for it. It would not be dedicated to his Goddess alone, but the three whom they had paid collective homage to: Threnody, Kieraline and Lothlómendil. It would be a library dedicated to that Divine Trinity, housing the books of the three faiths, and texts of others as well. They would hold their doors open to the masses and educate, both in the ways of the world and of faith, for a shrine to the three would be a part as well, along side a massive garden, with statue and living art together to express the harmony of the Guild.

Thus he had set his feet to the road, carrying his winged companion aside him. Estolad had been his second stop, after Lómëdor. The latter wasn't contending for a location of the Guild, nay, he had stopped there to speak with one he concidered a friend dear to his heart, and a brother in faith. One Thavron Ráma, an angel brown of wing and enlightened of mind, was stationed there as a high ranking officer in the Lómëdor Guard, and it was he whom Grégoire had once taken a parcel from to deliver unto an angel with the surname of Meria. His heart had fallen when he found the angel slain, and the visit he paid Thavron was one of both sorrow and joy: Sorrow in the loss of one who served so valiantly in the Light, and joy in his offer to the brown-winged seraphim. The offer was to help him lead this band of Lightbringers, help him better understand the sacred scale upon which the world was balanced, so that their own actions would not harm existance in its own right.

It seemed, however, that Estolad left much to be desired. It was but a small town after all, with little movement through the city. And though the Library of the Divine Trinity would draw many here, the comings and goings of the Guild members would be noticed far too much, and they would likely be astonishingly frequent, too much so to hide with ease in a place of such little population. It was this that was upon his mind and probing his thought as he came upon a particular square in Estolad, one which was full of a palpable tension. He felt Jadzeia kick off his arm, taking to the sky, to safety, and his hand slowly crept downwards, towards the blade kept safely on his hip. The square seemed all too quiet, the only real noise coming from hushed words spoken by a pair of women, one of which he had an odd feeling about, and the flapping of two sets of wings, one belonging to his beloved falcon, the other to a hawk who came and went, with seeming purpose. His eyes flashed and his mind cleared and he ascended to a higher level of concentration, clearing his mind of thoughts of a Libray and the Guild which he was soon to sit in the Council of.

The silence was shattered, and the words of a protection spell ushered himself softly over his lips. "Lothlómendil, Lady to whom my soul is devoted, grant me a Shield of Faith that echos the strength of my conviction." The words slipped out rushed, yet precise, and traced Her symbol quickly over his heart to bind the spell to his flesh. Miniature forks of lightning danced betwixt his fingers as the enchanment bound to his flesh. Once he had inquire about that very discharge, for none of his classmates nor kin-in-faith shared that particular trait. It was said by a priest that it came from an element that was not of the Holy Sphere, and it would be part of him forever: It would just be matter of him to bring it to reign under his faith and not let it rule him.

And the Paladin had, using the very lightning in his soul, welded his faith to his heart. The very presence of it gave him strength and conviction, a sense of greater purpose many mortals would never attain in their lives. The purpose, for him, was to uphold the very essence of virtue in the world. And if that meant standing firm against evil and others who would spread suffering, he would do it without qualms. The shout that broke the clearing attested to such: It held a sort of worried wonder within the reverberations of the two names that echoed in the stillness of the square, and the Paladin stepped, putting his back to the triad of folk and their canine companion, betwixt them and the remainder of the square his senses alert, trained for combat from birth.

But the years of training struck firmly upon the recent horrors of war, and he felt a chill grip his heart firmly and twist. Could he take life again? Now? So soon to the grotesque splendours of war? Bile rose in his throat at the very prospect and he turned his head, spitting the bitter residue onto the smooth cobblestone of the street in defiance of the chill in his soul. He would not take life here. Grégoire knew that much to be true. But force? Oh yes. That he could use, should it prove necessary. The palm of his hand itched, craving the soft hilt of his new blade, urging him to lift it now, in a situation that was so far removed from the training sessions of the Temple. His grey eyes, cold and smooth, rumbled with a contained storm.

And finally he spoke aloud, casting those eyes ablaze with purpose to all who stood in the square. His voice was soft, yet firm, like a gaunlet of mail wrapped in so much silk. The very tone offered the gentlest compassion in one hand, and fierce retribution in the other.

"If there are those here tonight that would cause so much unrest and disturb the peace of such a quiet town let them seek the counsel of their mind again, for it would be too much a tragedy if this place were to erupt into something other then the serenity which is so saturated into it."

The echo back from such a softly spoken speech was eerie, like so many whispers into the ears of those present. He paused and let it resonate before driving the point home.

"So I entreat those that have less than moral actions upon their mind: Heed my advice and keep them for a more suitable place and time, for this is far unto the realm of neither."

With that the Knight took a single step backwards, as if clearing an unseen stage and welcoming a rebuttal, or action of any sort, poised to act with blade in hand and prayer embracing his tongue.

Estolad, yes yet another stop on the path to the great city of Lómëdor for a rather young looking human woman. It was always rather funny telling beings within the world of Arda you were only a normal Atani Human, by nature most thought of humans as nothing more than a weak slave race to be controlled by those with more of a magical ability, or those with amazing physical power. This, however, was a great mistake made by many. Yes Humans might now excel in any of the three basic areas, those areas being magical ability, physical strength, and lastly mind power. Yes even though humans did not excel in any of these three areas what others did not think was that there were infact in perfect balance to all three. This is turn would make a human warrior more likely to be able to defend themselves in a lot of various situations.

But enough about the human race. Our story is not about the differences between races, but with the forces of both light and darkness in Arda, and a woman’s quest to restore the balance between both. The woman’s name was Juliet Meria, she had been slain almost fifteen years ago but was brought back to life in a finally act by her son Zenith before the angel had faded away into the heavens. It had not been long since this woman had been told of her sons’ death, and the fact that he had used his own life to stop the forces of darkness. Infact Zenith had died trying to protect those of Arda; he had given his life to stop a force that was hidden within the Ered Annon Mountains known as Hruka. Not only did Zenith do this to stop Hruka, but he also used his own body to stop the force so that his close friend, and father like figure, Sraxen would be safe.

Since hearing the news of her sons’ death from Sraxen, and being given one of Zeniths blades, the human female had stayed in Estolad. She was finding it hard to face the world once more. Why did Zenith have to bring her back to life? If the angel had just left Juliet where she was then the woman would be able to hold her child in her arms once more within the heavens. But now Juliet was back on Arda and was alive once more. She was both angry and sad at the news of her sons’ death. The reason she was sad was rather obvious, but the main reason the woman was angry was because after fourteen years within the heavens she is brought back, and yet still can not hold her graceful son Zenith within her embrace.

For now Juliet was keeping herself to herself within her room she had rented at the near by Inn. She was resting upon her bed in basic clothing still with tear stained eyes. A mother should never need to outlive her child; Juliet now knew exactly how hard it felt to go through that. The thing making it even worse for the female was that her stepson, Alba Meria, would also want nothing to do with her since Juliet still served the side of Balance. It was starting to look like the human woman would have to defeat her own stepson in order to help restore the balance of Arda for its entire people. But for now she would have to place those thoughts to the side. Juliet had a job to do, she had to go to the city of Lómëdor and meet with an angel, and Guardsman, known as Thavron. If Juliet could get to this man then maybe she could start to live her newfound life as a member of him section within the Guards of Lómëdor. Yes for now that seemed like the best plan of operation to start ahead on.

Getting up to her feet Juliet slowly walked over to a large chest that was set up for her belonging to be kept in during her stay at the Inn. Within this large chest lay Juliet’s armour and her weapons, along with an amply sized Travel Pack. Her armour was one that would make her stand out in a crowd for sure. It was a full set of the golden Resplendent Armour of the Goddess of Life. Juliet did not know exactly why she had gotten this armour, but deep down within her where thoughts of Zenith whenever she wore it. It was as if this armour served as a link between herself and her son in the spirit realm, as if by wearing the same kind of set used by Zenith would make Juliet have her son by her side in battle.

She began to place the armour onto her person and soon all that was left to place on was her Cloak and Heaume, Juliet did not mind the Cloak but the Heaume always messed up her hair. Although in battle having messed up hair is a lot better than having a greater risk of losing your head. The woman placed her Resplendent Cloak onto her bed along with the Heaume; they would be the very last things she placed on her person. For now Juliet picked up her Resplendent Tower Shield and placed it onto her back. This would better help the woman as it always served as more protection for her back area. The rather attractive looking woman then reaching back into the chest and pulled out two mighty blades, her main tools of defence. One of these blades of course went with her armour; it was the Resplendent Blade that Zenith had given to Sraxen to, in turn, give to Juliet. The woman closed her eyes as she held this blade, a faint smile creeping along her lips. She then placed it onto her waist at the right side and soon placed the other blade on her left side. The other blade was more powerful than the one given to her by Zenith but meant just as much to her as the Resplendent Blade. It was the Blade of Balance, the most powerful of Arda three brother blades and her husband many many years passed had given it to Juliet. All that was now left uncovered was the face of Juliet, her long blue hair flowing in the gust of air that passed through her room. The woman had her hair up on this day, like most days, in a pony tail from the back of her head. Her deep purple gaze shifted around her room until they landed back onto her Resplendent Cloak.

With all her equipment in place Juliet picked up her Resplendent Cloak once more and places it over her shoulder, and tied it at the front of her chest. The last thing she placed onto her person was the travel pack, which now had the Resplendent Heaume packed away inside of it. She then closed the rooms chest and made an exit, although when the woman her exit from the room a large purple thing seemed to follow her out.

It was her Anima that also once belonged to Zenith; the amazing bird now followed Juliet everywhere and would help her whenever needed. Yes Heru was a great help in many difference ways for the human woman. The purple bird hand landed onto the right shoulder of Juliet as the pair made their way out of the Inn and into the large open town of Estolad. She had to now find her way to the great city to meet Thavron, but something caught her eyes for the moment.

An ever-increasing group of people seemed to be gathering more and more attention by many thugs and bandits. This was not looking good and Juliet could not just leave the town without helping out. She would first try to keep peace between the groups, but it that did not go to well Juliet would have to help the ground that so far consisted of two women, a wolf, an angel on the room, a man reading, another man running towards the two women and lastly a mighty looking Paladin. It seemed there group was growing larger every passing second but still Juliet knew these thugs well by now, they had tried the same tricks on her when she had first come to Estolad, only for them to learn that women can fight back!

She began to walk towards all these beings but as she did this the woman muttered to herself, “Bless my blade with the power of Holiness!” After saying this the woman drew her Blade of Balance, which was known better to Juliet as Eternity, and walked closer to the growing mass of people. Her blade however was now glowing with a white light as the powers of Holiness swept through it. Even though she was one of Balance Juliet still like to use both spells and objects of Life and Light along with Balance.

She began to weave her way through the thugs and bandits to make it the place where the two groups met. Juliet looked from the two women to the Paladin then back to the thugs and bandits. It appeared that the woman had only just missed anything that had been said by any of the beings as there was a creepy silence falling around her. The silence was soon broken as one of the thugs said to Juliet; “Ah not you again! What ya want wench?” A slight smirk formed along the soft lips of Juliet as she said in reply, “I will not let you hurt these people. I thought I taught you by now that violence is not the way. Live by the name of the Goddess of Balance. Live by the ways of Threnody and bring balance among the ranks of this town. If you chose to ignore this last piece of advice then I shall have no choice but to aid these beings in getting rid of you! I, Juliet Meria, Shall not stand by and watch as people take others lives. The ways of Balance should be brought throughout Arda. To end all the wars! To save the ones we love most and bring peace throughout the land.” Juliet then stood waiting on the mans reply. If he chose to send his men into attack then both Juliet and Heru would have no choice by to aid the others. Only time would ultimately tell!

Kithara continued ignoring the thugs but she was thinking of a way to get out of the place. She realized that they should've done that earlier because now, they were surrounded. She didn't fear the thugs for she knew that she can defend herself and her friend but what alarmed her was the intense demonic aura coming from those men. It was hard to decipher the situation.

Her attention shifted when she spotted a hawk flying over them and then, retreating. That bird was very familiar...she has seen it somewhere. And then, she heard a voice calling both of them.

"Kithara! Raven!"

She quickly turned and a smile spread on her face when she recognized the person.

"Blaire!" she said to her fellow rauko.

Blaire, together with her familar silver, ran towards the three of them. the thugs, upon seeing him glared and started whispering to each other. Not a moment too soon, a powerful looking paladin arrived. He made a small speech apparently for the thugs. And then, another woman arrived. she also gave a word for the thugs and to Kit's surprise, the thugs already knew her. The young Rauko was astounded, looking at the two holy people.

She was a Rauko which is an opposite to them but still, she had respect for those on the other side. She just kept quiet and listened to them. Her mind was now focused and she could sense every person around. There were the thugs, Raven, Aegis, Blaire, Silver, the Paladin, the woman, a person reading a book, and finally, an angel on the rooftop.

"Well...this is relieving." she muttered, "Some people on our side."

The thugs grew a smirk and mocked the woman.

"Whatever you say lady." one said, "We just wanna 'play, got it?"

With a wide grin Teferi slammed his book shut. He laughed at these holy crusaders, for he did not see the point in being so boisterous in their efforts when with patience and time anything could be solved effectively. Being a Court Mage of Lomedor...... this was what he learned....Law and honor grazed his being pressing it down and making an iron clad wit cladded wit with the authority prove it. Hi s fingers twiddled like ebony flashes as he gripped his staff he carried on his back. He could only go into thought as in his mind another war of sorts raged.

"Teferi........You see what is of this plane......I could not manage to planeswalk here twice in fear that this world would strip me of it." A young mans voice echoed deep inside the depths of the Court Mage's mind. The world in their was very displaced and chaotic in essence with swirling two swirling abyss that clapped thunder from head and below like caustic dragging vortexes that pulled away the lies and subtle untruths. He Teferi stood in a way unlike him now. His stand of authority here was lean and stern. Almost unmoving to detail. His robes held a slight glimmer to the also while his eyes were a milky white. the other man who spoke wore similar, but slightly more exuberant style of fashion as the colors of red, gold, and silver painted the wardrobe in a way most becoming of High mages and those of prestige in their home world of Dominaria.

"Not much Urza........Unlike you my friend......I lost my Planeswalker spark long ago....I cannot simply burst into my gallant and notable status. This world is quite different proving many things I have learned false, and things I believed to be false true. Time is different here....Spells are different here....Even I myself am different here."

Teferi replied as if teaching the young blonde haired man who was a former mentor of his. "I am too old to take teachings from you Teferi, but that spark of yours in not burnt out or vanished.....No...More so changed...You have much potential in this world.....Being a Planeswalker is not of te idea...Planeswalkers do not exist here....whence I came here in the briefest moment I felt the world strip me of it slowly before i could send myself back to Dominaria like a rambling fool" Teferi nodded with a slight chuckle as lightening spurted into action in between them and thunder roared in a almost deafening clang.

They both once again as before the Teferi known by himself in the living world was the viewer looking down into a small mirror telling its own story. Both of the men stared at him with a smile. Teferi stared at Teferi one in amazement the other in complete calm and hidden intention...not of evil though as his smile had proven that thus far.

Before Teferi could react to say anything in this dreamlike state he whipped himself hurling into reality stumbling forward a bit in his pace stepping near the group now. A large shuddering quake ran down his spine like he was just spat into a whole new world or awaken from a warm dream by an icy lake. Either way it was most uncomfortable. Keeping his balance and look of integrity Teferi neared toward the seeker of Balance and the thugs. I a most coy smile that defied his age making him seem much younger Teferi gave a light, "Ahem..." Before he actually asked politely, "Seeker of balance might you wish the granted aid of a Lomedor Court official to sway these heathen like brutes?" His presence was comforting and far from any idea of unwelcoming.

Raven looked up, hearing a familiar voice. A half-demon was now running towards them. The shapeshifter stared at him. She was sure that she had met him before, but she couldn’t quite recall his name.

And then, it hit her. She smiled slightly.

“Blaire?” she asked, “Blaire Neoblade?”

It had been a long time since she had seen Blaire, but there was no time now to catch up. As she watched, a Paladin stepped out of the crowd and began making a speech. Raven glanced warily at the thugs. They were eyeing the Paladin with looks of distaste. No doubt there would be a fight now.

She held onto her bow, ready to fire if need be. A woman ran out of the inn behind them, dressed in a full set of Lothlomendil’s armor. As Raven glanced up onto the rooftop, she saw an angel watching them. A mage leaned against a nearby wall, reading a spellbook.

"Well...this is relieving,” muttered Kithara, "Some people on our side."

Raven nodded, continuing to watch the men warily. They now appeared to be even angrier upon seeing this woman—Juliet Meria. The thugs began closing around them, and Raven sighed.

“Why is it that we get into trouble wherever we go?” she asked, fitting an arrow to her bow.

"Whatever you say lady." one said, "We just wanna 'play, got it?" said one of the thugs.

Raven watched as the thug placed his hand on the hilt of a sword he wore around his waist. Aegis growled softly from beside her. The wolf bent down, preparing to lunge. Raven stopped him with a small shake of her head. She watched as the mage made his way closer to them.

"Seeker of balance might you wish the granted aid of a Lomedor Court official to sway these heathen like brutes?" he asked.

“Aw, shut up already!” said the leader of the thugs, drawing his sword, “I’ve had enough of ya!”

He turned to his companions.

“Let’s get ‘em!” he said.

The leader took a step forward, sword drawn. Raven loosed the arrow. It sunk into the ground right in front of his left foot.

“That was a warning,” she said, “The next one won’t miss.”

“There ain’t gonna be a next shot!” cried one of the men, taking a dagger from his belt and throwing it at Raven.

These thugs had the nerve to talk back to Juliet as if she was nothing. This was one thing she never did like. Aragent males that seemed to diminish the actions of any female that dares stand up against them. It was almost enough for the woman to attack the man on the spot but she held the urge back knowing it would pass over in due time. But this aragent male would not change his ways so easy, which was one thing Juliet knew for sure. Soon both of the young women near her seemed to react well to the arrival of one of the others. At least they had a few people on their side willing to help them out. Before Juliet made any comment on the words of the pathetic male thug before her she took a moment to look at the others around her again. That was when her eyes fixed onto the form of the Paladin once more. Juliet had not gotten a proper look at him before, but now she realized that she infact knew this man.

It was Grégoire Del Istolla, a Paladin of Life and Chosen of the Goddess of Life. Juliet had met this remarkable man at the sending of souls of the fallen from the battle on the moon of Arda. The words that had been spoken by Grégoire that day were so elegant, infact it was thanks to this man that Juliet had vowed to aid the Goddess of Life and the Goddess of Balance while also serving the Goddess of Balance. A small smile spread along the lips of Juliet and said over in the direction of Grégoire, “Hello once again good Sir. It seems as though faith has brought us together once more.” After these words softly left the lips of Juliet she returned her gaze back to the man that had spoken to her in such a vulgar manner.

Yet before Juliet had been able to get a word in she heard a voice coming from beside her saying, "Seeker of balance might you wish the granted aid of a Lómëdor Court official to sway these heathen like brutes?" The woman looked to her side and seen the man that had been reading a book. He was now standing next to Juliet and offering his help to her. Well at least one of the new males she met on this day was not full of arrogance. Juliet said to him in her usual soft and calm voice, “Help would be rather nice Sir. Although in truth, these brutes are all pushovers in their own way. You just need to find the most effect place to strike them!” Once saying this the woman let a small laugh pass by her slightly parted lips. Her hair began to flow gently behind her but there was something rather strange about the wind, it was as if it was acting of its own accord, but what was infact going on was Juliet. She had the power to control the winds, both their speed and power; ever their direction could be controlled perfectly.

It was then that the leader of the thugs began to talk; his voice seemed rather muffled as he spoke, and was rather deep at the same time. The man was about to have his men attack those standing in their way but one of the women behind Juliet fired an arrow. The arrow landing in the ground in front of the leader and serving as a warning shot. Allow one of the thugs did not take this very well and ended up launched a dagger towards the bow using female. Seeing this in time Juliet said only one word, “Heru!” The Anima that rested on her shoulder than vanished from sight only to appear above the soaring dagger with its large purple wings folded out. One of the Animas talons grazed against the dagger causing it to fly off course and crashing into the ground below. At least nobody had been hurt as of yet, and that was one thing Juliet was happy about.

Juliet was now slightly madder with these thugs, the only reason she was not furious was since no harm had come of the dagger being thrown. Her eyes however began to narrow and he gaze fixed onto the figure that had launched the dagger towards to the woman before hand. Before Juliet did anything her Anima had teleport back onto her shoulder with its wings tucked in once more. Juliet then took one step forwards and again only said one single word into the wind; “Suffocate” With this word the woman had cast a rather powerful spell.

The air within the lungs of the man that had thrown the dagger was ripped out. He now had no air within his lungs and fell to the ground gasping for air. It was clear then that there was more to this woman, known as Juliet Meria, than first caught the eye. Not only was she a skilled melee fighter, but she was also studied in the Arcane Arts. With the man gasping for air and trying to refill his lungs Juliet said out to the rest of the thugs, “So who will try their luck next? I may not be so kind next time. And you have no idea of the magic I hold within me. I ask you once more, leave this place. I do not want a battle to break out here, but if you so chose to attack then know that my services will go to aiding these people behind me!” Slowly the woman’s words stopped and her eyes fixed onto those of the thugs leader. It was clear she was getting angrier by the second, yet still Juliet would not show her rage. She would not give it into it.

Yes the woman hated the forces of evil, but she still lived her life trying to create peace between them all, and with the forces of light. Sure it was a laborious task to say the least but in the eyes of Juliet it was worth every second of her life she placed towards it. She would now have to wait for the foolish thug leader to answer her question. As she waited his grip began to become tighter around the Blade of Balance held within her right hand, the Holy Hammer spells still in effect upon it. If these fools did attack then Juliet would not kill them, just weaken them to a significant level.

Airell frowned, seeing a half-demon run towards the two girls. As an angel and a follower of Lothlomendil, Airell didn’t care much for Rauko or for half-demons. He brightened up, however, as another paladin stepped out of the crowd. This, at least, was someone he could relate with. He had heard of this particular paladin—Gregoire Del Istolla, Chosen of the Goddess of Life.

Airell spread his white wings, gliding down towards the paladin. He landed behind Gregoire.

“Hail, Chosen of the Goddess,” he said, “I am glad to see a brother in faith here.”

He turned his attention back towards the street. A woman had appeared, wearing a full set of Resplendent Armor. This woman, Juliet Meria—a follower of Threnody, spoke to the group of thugs, who didn’t appear to have much regard for her.

As Airell looked on, the mage who had once been leaning against the wall began walking towards the three women, offering his aid. One of the thugs, apparently their leader, attempted to move forward, but was stopped by an arrow from one of the women—a warning shot.

A dagger soared through the air, thrown by one of the thugs. Airell spread his wings, ready to take action, when Juliet called out to her Anima. The Anima succeeded in deflecting the dagger.

Juliet turned to the men, a look of anger on her face as she cast the Suffocate spell on the one who had thrown the dagger.

“So who will try their luck next? I may not be so kind next time. And you have no idea of the magic I hold within me. I ask you once more, leave this place. I do not want a battle to break out here, but if you so chose to attack then know that my services will go to aiding these people behind me!” she said.

Airell stepped forward, hand on the hilt of his sword. He did not want a battle, but he did also did not want to be caught off-guard should one arise.

“I also do not want a battle here,” said Airell, “Leave this place now.”

He was also angry at the turn of events. These people had come here for the sole purpose of causing trouble. It was people like them that Airell hated most.

Things were now beginning to heat up. Kithara watched as more and more people arrived. The mage whom she thought was only reading already stepped forward. The angel who was on the rooftop also descended and landed beside the Paladin.

She glanced at the people around her. Apparently, they were on the good side and they tried to convince the thugs to retreat. Too bad it didn't work. She had already encountered these kinds of men before and they always brought trouble. If there was one thing she was sure about, it was that they never give up. They had no respect and concerns for anybody.

She couldn't deny the fact that she was getting irritated every time these men spoke. She wanted to shut them up but Raven got ahead of her. The shapeshifter had fired an arrow just inches away from the foot of the leader of the thugs.

Then, one of the men released a dagger heading towards Raven but the woman--Juliet Meria had called upon her familiar to stop the dagger.

“Suffocate” the woman spoke.

The leader of the thugs fell on the ground, unable to breathe. Perhaps it would teach them a lesson but why did she sense that it will only trigger them more.

"Who are you to tell us to stop?" asked one of the men, eyeing Raven, the woman and the angel beside the Paladin, "You think you're all that because you have power?"

Hearing this, Kithara slowly stepped forward. Her eyes were blazing with anger. Not only did these men insult everyone but they tried to make an assault to her firneds. She looked straight at the thug's eyes.

"Get a life." she said, "Don't bite off more than you can chew."

She raised her right arm forward and sudden gusts of wind blew directly at the man. The force of the winds pushed him back, slamming him against the nearest wall.

"You won't prove anything." she added.

The Knight of Life let his hand hover just above of his sheathed blade. His shield hung on his back, covering the cape that lay beneath. It provided a sort of protection, yes, but also hampered his movement enough to make him a touch edgy. He knew he had enough might in prayer alone to deal with this encounter, and by the sounds of hushed voices behind him the vagabonds that first attracted his attention were more then human.

The shadow of a smile touched his lips. Now he felt it too. Something utterly wrong with the figures ahead of him, as if suddenly noticing a foul fragerance, registered in his thoughts. Was it perhaps that their skin looked to be pulled on over other unnatural forms, or simply the sadistic gleam in their eyes? Grégoire couldn't quite tell, but knew under the doctrine of Life all were seen as equal, to be treated without prejudice until earning of the wrath of the righteous. And though these ones did make their intentions clear, the Paladin would gift them with mercy: He would not take life today. Nay, he would not take life given another choice, and the choice was his alone.

He drew his longsword, the mighty gift of his Goddess, and the delicate resonance of metal on metal echoed in the air. Jadzeia joined in with her shrill cry, casting the entire euphoric note into a sense of supernatural righteousness. He started forward, but caught movement from the corner of his eye as a voice, sweet yet hardened, reached his ears.

"I will not let you hurt these people. I thought I taught you by now that violence is not the way. Live by the name of the Goddess of Balance. Live by the ways of Threnody and bring balance among the ranks of this town. If you chose to ignore this last piece of advice then I shall have no choice but to aid these beings in getting rid of you! I, Juliet Meria, Shall not stand by and watch as people take others lives. The ways of Balance should be brought throughout Arda. To end all the wars! To save the ones we love most and bring peace throughout the land.”

A true smile kissed the lips of the young Paladin, both enchanting and predatory in its virtue,and he moved a step closer to the lady knight. “Hello once again good Sir. It seems as though faith has brought us together once more.” He nodded, his eyes still upon the gang of fiends infront of the pair. "It is indeed well met Lady Meria. In such a place I'm glad it was you whom the Gods wished to have cross my path." The aforementioned Lady Knight was the mother to an angel now departed of this land, one of which he hadn't had the pleasure of knowing, but heard of his exploits through one Thavron the Brown-Feathered. That the mother of one who lead a life of such good followed the ways of Balance had initially made the Paladin wary but it was her fire that had burned in the veins of her son, and that Grégoire could see now in the shadow of what could be violent conflict.

The Paladin's reacquaintence with Juliet was cut short, however, by both the illfated words of one of the thugs, presumably the leader, and a balding middle aged man. He frowned, his stormy eyes flicking between the fiends and this new comer. The fellow's words seemed purposeful, but the Knight couldn't help but wonder what it was one of his frail stature could bring to the battle. He said nothing though and turned his attentions back onto the urban bandits as Lady Meria replied to the stranger.

He had no care of such diplomacy right now, for this battle seemed inevitable already, especially with the disregard of his warning, and the exchange of words beginning to take place. It was at this time a winged figure touched down beside him, and the Paladin nearly spun in surprise. The voice that spoke, however, brought calm back to his limbs. "The pleasure is mine, I assure you my winged-kin," he replied, and hastily at that. It seemed that the very square would soon erupt in blood.

The lead fiend drew his blade, the steel of it gleaming meanacingly in the slowly dying twilight and rallied his men, preparing for the ensuing brawl. Within a heartbeat an arrow sprouted from the earth by its foot. “That was a warning,” a voice called from behind him, “The next one won’t miss.” The retort was flung through the air, its silvery beak intended to split asunder the archer who so pointedly tried to stave off the conflict a little longer.

Without his shield the Paladin could think only of trying to dash the blade from its tragectory with the flat of his blade, but he knew he had not the speed for such an endeavour, and watched wordlessly as it sailed along its murderous path. As it passed him he tore his eyes from the projectile, instead turning his wrath back on the Rauko infront of him, oblivious of the one and half-breed that stood behind him. One writhed on the ground, clawing at his throat in a vain effort to breathe. His fate was not to be desired by any of the living, but Lady Meria wasn't to be trifled with either, so it seemed.

Grégoire cast his baleful eyes back to the angel again, after his plea for peace. "It so seems that it is too late for such things, brother." And such seemed to be the truth. Another fiend brandished his sword and started foreward, shouting angrily at the angel beside him only to have his words cut short by a woman who stepped up to the battle lines. There was something about her that shook the Paladin, urging the Holy Warrior to take notice now, but his focus was still upon the vagabond, now being pushed steadily back by the woman's witchcraft.

The Paladin's focus narrowed, the words of a prayer flowing through his very form as static charges leapt through his mane of hair, their delicate dance spanning strand to strand. He reached behind his left hip, fingers coiling around prayer made manifest. His fingers plucked the long ethereal coils of a set of chains that appeared mithril in hue from the realm of faith and, with a pronounced swing and snap of the wrist, sent them towards another fiend.

"To me, heretic!"

He bellowed the words, his face contorting into a mask of sublime revelation. The chains, minute strands of the lightning dancing through their ethereal links, snaked through the air with deadly quickness, wrapping themselves around another fiend, one who had just loosed a dangerous looking ax, but now looked dumbfounded at the lengths of ethereal chain clenched around him. Grégoire smiled an easy smile, the smile of one who was at one with his faith and power, and grabbed the suspended chains, pulling the tethers of magic back towards him, the Grapple spell resolving its casting within that final motion.

The figure wrapped in chains flew towards the Paladin without grace or ceremony. It flailed viciously, sneering through its surprise and swinging its impressive ax with the momentum. The blow could've taken the Knight's head off, had he been any slower in turning aside the crescent edge with the blade of his own, savouring the ease in which it slid the crushing blow away. He brought the the hilt back up with remarkable speed and ease, driving it firmly into the temple of the man-shaped beast. Its eyes widened then went slack, consciousness slipping away from it on the swift wings of the mind's hawk.

The Paladin dropped the creature and it collapsed like so much dead weight. "Once I will offer absolution to the lot of you, for even the most damned of Rauko can find the err of their ways! But cross me twice and you've refused the gift of redemption. For that I'll send your soul before my Lady the Judge, and it will be to Her that you will answer!" His storm grey orbs flickered with contained lightning, and he cast them to meet the eye of whoever would be the first to reply to his promise.

((Please ignore this post. THere's something wrong with my dad's computer. I'll post again when I get home. If I'm still the last to post, I'll edit this.))

Blaire had observed this thugs carefully. They did not seem like ordinary human beings. They were engulfed by indeed a demonic aura which was very familiar to him. He had encountered creatures with those kind of auras before but never humans with the same demonic energy.

His observation was cut short when he realized that so many had already arrived. First, a Paladin had arrived and tried to talk to the thugs. Then came a woman who also did the same but to his surprise, she already knew those men. Another would be the mage who was reading a book. He stepped forward just beside the woman and asked her to bless him.

Blaire kept quiet, feeling kind of out of place being surrounded by these holy people. Well for one, he was half a rauko, half human. He was an outcast for the Raukos and also an outcast for humans. Both sides did not take him well. And being with holy people also did not go well...for there would always be a clash of races.

He just decided not to intervene with their ways and just watch out for the thugs. His Familiar flew above him, preparing for combat. He listened as the thugs released their insults and threats towards the group. As usual, they did not listen to the warnings. the thugs planned to make an assault but Raven shot an arrow just in front of the leader of the thugs. this caused one of the men to throw a dagger towards her. It was stopped by another bird like creature owned by the woman. In addition, the woman also used a spell to suffocate the man who threw the dagger.

"Who are you to tell us to stop?" asked one of the men, eyeing Raven, the woman and the angel beside the Paladin, "You think you're all that because you have power?"

Blaire shook his head, with disbelief that these men are so thick as not to understand that they do not stand a chance or do they? that was one thing he wondered. Just then, Kithara stepped up front and used a spell that threw the man, slamming him against a wall.

Also, another assault was made and this time, the Paladin was the one who stopped the man. He then said a last warning.

Blaire whistled, signalling Silver to move. The hawk flew just right in front of the thugs, forcing them to move back a bit. Blaire then, walked slowly to his fellow Rauko.

"Kit, do you also feel that aura?" he asked, whispering to her ear, "There is something odd about them."

Raven frowned, watching the turn of events carefully. She was sure that conflict would break out now. Already, the men were beginning to whisper among themselves, as if plotting what to do next.

And then, one of the men attacked the Paladin. The Paladin made quick work of him, using a Grapple spell, but in Raven's mind, he could have done without the long speech. Such things seemed to be the way of Paladins, however, and so Raven ignored him.

She turned her eyes back to the group of men. They didn't seem to want to take this sitting down. With angry snarls, they charged forward, some of them wielding axes, others using swords.

Raven muttered the words to a spell, the tip of her arrow bursting into flame. It flew through the air, striking one of the first men. He cried out, staggering forward. His comrades charged forward into the group, hungry for blood. Aegis growled at her side, ready to attack.

Out of the corner of her eye, Raven saw one of them sneaking up behind the Paladin. She drew back the string of her bow, firing another arrow at that man. It flew through the air, soaring over the Paladin's left shoulder and striking the man in the shoulder area. He cried out, falling backwards.

"Are you all right?" asked Raven to the Paladin.

((OOC: At this point, only Blaire and Kithara, having Rauko blood, and those who have some sort of sixth sense or an extremely strong faith (like Gregoire) can tell that these are demons. To everyone else, these are just normal bandits. ^__^))

Kithara glared heavily at the man she just slammed against the wall. She observed every movement he made and none of them were of human reaction. This guy did not scream or anything but just passed out for a bit and then, tried to stand up again. It seemed like he didn't even feel anything. She also noticed that from the other thugs who were attacked earlier. They just stood back up again.

"Kit, do you also feel that aura?" a voice asked from behind her, whispering to her ear, "There is something odd about them."

Kithara was brought back to her senses when she heard Blaire.

"So, you too noticed huh?" she said, "Yes, these are not human beings. I believe we ARE in trouble."

Just as soon as she said that, the thugs charged forward, all of them eager to attack everything in their sight. Their lust for blood was immensly strong and Kit worried about that.

"Kill....Kill...." a voice echoed in her mind, "Ha ha ha..."

She gritted her teeth, thinking that now, she had two problems. She turned to Raven, who just fired an arrow to a man who was sneaking up on the noble Paladin. Blood gushed out from his shoulder area. He fell backwards, crying in pain.

"It has started..."

Kithara shook her head.

"This must stop." she said, "We must avoid bloodshed."

With that said, she ran towards the group of thugs, hoping to make a bloodless assault.

Why do they refuse redemption? He wondered, as the his words died away in their final reverberations. When handed the light to see why do they cast it down, in preference of grasping blindly in the dark? His soul sighed. Jadzeia let loose a piercing shriek, splitting the silent din of the coming twilight. He stepped forward, past the fallen body of the bandit he had dragged to its fate. The Knight locked eyes with another, the words of powerful sorcery coming to his lips. "Let the heathen fe-"

Grégoire heard the tell-tale thrum of a bowstring from behind him and knew the archer was at work again. He stepped abruptly to his right and watched the arrow take the so-called bandit in the shoulder. The Paladin watched as the fiend collapsed to the ground, and stepped further to the right, avoiding the body. The archer called out to him, her voice cutting through the din of battle. "Thanks to you archer," he replied, turning to face the fiend he had intially locked gaze with, his form a blur of mail, a jet black mane of hair and midnight blue cloak. The thug, however, wasn't there anymore. "Wha- Umph!" It was this that cost him, and the thug hit him hard from his blindspot.

He felt his breath rush out of his body, and fell to a knee. He saw the shadow of the figure, mace raised high, eclipse his in the moonlight. Grégoire waited. The seconds felt like hours. He knew what to do, it was ready, pounding in his veins. In a flash the weapon descended. The Paladin pulled himself aside, averting what would've been a fatal blow to his exposed head and felt the head of the weapon crack his shoulder. Had he not moved as fast, his didn't doubt his left shoulder would've been shattered under the impact of the blade.

He spun to his feet, watching the momentum of the swing carry his attacker forward, looking befuddled. The Knight lashed out, driving the point of his boot into the fiend's diaphragm. The breath came out of it with a whoosh as it doubled over, losing grip on its bludgeon. Grégoire swung down, driving the hilt of the blade soundly into the base of the creature's skull. It collapsed with a grunt. Blood clung to the base of the hilt and his nose wrinkled at the smell of the infernal ichor. From what felt to be far away he heard someone say that bloodshed was unnecessary today. Finally, it seemed someone agreed with him.

For all the good it did.

The blood dripped onto the cobblestones, and the Knight clenched his jaw, eyes ablaze with righteous fury.

It was a seizing tremor in his mind that took him into another dream... another world in his mind. "TEFERI DO IT NOW!" a voice yelled in this black abyss a womans light hands graced his cheek and pushed him off. He felt her emotions tremble shaking his heart. He had no idea what he could do confusion swamped him as cold grip of the supposed dead dragged him into the swamps abyss. He felt cold waves chill his body and slip into his throat filling his lungs. He could not move, speak, or even mumble, only think. He could not staring at the darkness as he drifted into the murky depths he had no direction....He was weightless.

As he closed his eyes words and phrases stormed his mind by a dozen people at once hen growing more and more. It was a Bombardment of words all congaing his name. Why though.

"Teferi welcome to Tolaria..."

"Hello Teferi i am Jhoira"

"Teferi don't!"

"Teferi are you mad."

"Teferi won't you help us"

"Baldy stuff it!"

The sounds slowly came to halt and one voice rang over the quiet darkness. It was the blonde haired man Urza again, "Teferi...use your mind...use your knowledge seek back what time has taken...I gave you that second chance." Teferi was clearly confused by this statement and retorted quickly, "What do you mean.....Who are you? Why can I not remember you?" The man laughed silently and the world began to flash with a light making the Dark abyss dissipater like a melting candles wax dripping from its walls of reality. Teferi gasped feeling air fill his lungs.

"Only time will tell Teferi... Planeswalker" Urza's voice hushed through his mind as if in those words were a solution to his troubles. To every single conclusion of his life with those words they would all make sense.

Meanwhile out of his mind he had been fighting off thugs with his staff. If Teferi was not going to be there to defend with a spell his body would react by taking his staff and smacking these brutes around and running down a alley where he closed them in and used his staff to knock them down. Moving next to the others he seemed to be back in the real world making sense. "Friend Enclose and surround.....Make their ranks tighten. Make them have to watch what they do.." He told the Chosen of Life Grégoire. A staff end knocked a thug in the head and shoved him into a cart of Manure that covered him in a ungodly smell.

Airell sighed at Gregoire’s words, watching as several of the bandits began moving forward.

“Yes, I suppose you are right,” he said, drawing his long sword from it’s sheath. He frowned. There was something strange about these men. They didn’t seem quite like normal bandits. He put the thought out of his mind as he attacked.

One of them came towards him, brandishing a sword. Airell blocked his strike with his own sword, slashing through the man with another strike. Blood soared in a wide arc, splattering onto the tiled street before the man fell to the ground in a heap.

Airell turned around, hearing a voice cry out against bloodshed. His eyes widened in surprise as he saw the Rauko woman from earlier dash into the battle, weaponless. The bandits swarmed in on her on all sides, wielding spears and axes.

Airell spread his wings. He did not like Rauko, considering them to be creatures of darkness, but he was a paladin still, and a follower of the Goddess of Life. He flew towards her, landing in time to parry a strike from an enemy blade.

“What are you doing, Rauko?” he asked, “Have you taken leave of your sanity? It is not wise to rush into a group of armed men without a weapon.”

He frowned, pushing on his sword and driving the man back as well. He sent a strike at the man, which was parried as well. He didn’t like this situation much, having to fight to defend a Rauko, but she wasn’t his enemy now, these men were, and it was not his job to pass judgment. That task fell on his goddess.

He slashed out the sword in a wide arc, and the man with whom he was fighting fell to the ground.

A feeling of assaurance came over Blaire Neoblade as his Rauko friend confirmed him about the odd aura from the bandits they were against with. This was definately going to a fast and easy battle because they weren't facing real humans. No hesitations can be encountered.

"This must stop." Kithara said suddenly, "We must avoid bloodshed."

As she ran off towards the very group of bandits, Blaire was left with uncertainty.

"Avoid bloodshed?" he asked, turning to Silver, "That will be very difficult to do."

He looked around seeing that blood has already spilled. He turned and saw that the holy Paladin was attacked by a bandit and had fallen on his knees. Contrast to him becausee the differences they had between races, Blaire could not stand just watching. He took out his thworing knives and tried to aim at the bandit. At the point of his release, the Paladin, luckily, managed to stand up again and kill the bandit.

As fast as he could, he laid his hand at rest, with relief.

"Well, looks like he's got it." he said, "Silver, now!!!"

The hawk swiftly flew above him, heading towards the bandits who were trying to sneak up on the rest of the group. Silver instantly screeched, warning the others about the men who were just inches away behind them all.

Hearing the bird's cry, the bandits looked up and paused. Blaire closed his eyes and concentrated. He was going to cast a favorite spell of his. The sky began to darken more and clouds began to form. And all of a sudden, lightning bolts stiked down, hitting the bandits. Luckily, no blood was spilled....yet.

“This must stop,” said Kithara, "We must avoid bloodshed."

Raven turned to Kithara, about to tell her friend that this would not be an easy thing to do, when the Rauko ran forward, running into the group of men. Raven was not unduly worried. She was sure that Kithara could take care of herself in a fight. And yet, with the way she was acting, she wasn’t quite sure what Kithara would do now.

“Kithara!” called Raven, running forward as Kit was surrounded by bandits. As she watched, the angel flew forward, blocking a slash aimed for her.

The shapeshifter made to move forward, but found her advance blocked by several of the bandits, all of them making threatening faces at her. She backed up a bit as they moved closer towards her.

Raven shifted her bow to her left hand, extending her right. She muttered the words to the spell, and a whip of fire appeared in her left hand. The shapeshifter sent the whip at the nearest man, and he cried out in pain as the flames seared his flesh. He dropped his weapon and Aegis tackled him to the ground, finishing the battle.

“Kit, are you okay?” called Raven over the din of the fight as she sent the whip towards another of the men.

Kithara indeed ran off to the group of bandits, not holding any weapon at hand. She did not care about that fact though. All she planned was to knock those creatures out without spilling any blood. She was afraid of what might come about when blood was involved.

As she made her way through the group, she saw that the others were also engaging in combat. She gave a grin, seeing that they could pretty much handle theirselves.

"Good, lets keep it that way." she thought to herself.

It was clearly a risky idea to just ran towards the enemy, weaponless. There was a possibility of being mobbed and killed in the process but anyway, she took the chance. She had her own way of dealing with these things but...some people might not be able to see that. She was dumbfounded when all of a sudden, an angel landed down, blocking an attack from a bandit which was meant for her. He quickly disposed of the man.

“What are you doing, Rauko?” he asked, “Have you taken leave of your sanity? It is not wise to rush into a group of armed men without a weapon."

Kithara had met with his eyes and it only showed one thing--coldness. And she knew the reason why. She had just been aided by an angel, a creature born of holiness, but it seemed that he did that out of his principles. She knew that he did not like her race.

Nevertheless, her irritation grew. She knew what would have happened to her if he never blocked that strike and she was grateful but...she knew what was wise or not. She wasn't that stupid to just make an assault empty handed. She still had her spells. She did not want to use her blades because of the very reason she did not want to see blood but...what was the point of explaining that to the likes of him. They have already planted one single beleif in their minds and that was that Rauko's are always blood thirsty.

"I beg your pardon but I have not lost my sanity!" she answered back, "I am trying to avoid pointless bloodshed."

she soon spotted another bandit rush up behind the angel. Kithara moved nearer to him and used her winds spell to throw the man away. Afterwards, she paused, seeing lightning bolts strike the bandits. Most of them fell on the ground, helpless. She turned to the caster seeing that it was Blaire Neoblade.

“Kit, are you okay?” she heard a call.

She turned again towards the direction of the voice and saw her friend, Raven. she was glad to see her alright.

"Yes I'm--" she stopped.

Her eyes widened and she began to pant after seeing what she had feared to come. There was the blood...it was everywhere now. On the floor, on the walls, on the nearby carts and stalls, and most of all, on people. At that very moment, she felt a strong pulse deep inside her.

"No..." she muttered, breathing faster than usual.

"Yes, that's it." spoke her darker side, "More....more..."

Kithara turned back for awhile, trying to regain herself but in every direction she turned, there was blood and at the rate of this fighting going on, it was surely to increase. she had to get away....she had to...but how?

"Friend Enclose and surround.....Make their ranks tighten. Make them have to watch what they do.."

Grégoire turned those storming eyes briefly on the man, fending off a fiend with a stick before kicking him into a cart full of manure. Odd that no one noticed that before, he couldn't help but think, here in the middle of the city it seems rather out of place. No reason for it to be here. The sound of a snarl from his left brought him about, snapping his blade up with the strength of years of training, adjusting it in mid-arc so the flat would connect firmly with the creature's jaw, shattering it and dropping it in a hissing heap.

It coiled and made to spring back at him again, lauching itself bodily through the air, the weapon it once carried forgotten in the face of an age old foe, found in the very essence of the Chosen of Lothlómendil. It all but foamed at the mouth as it uncolied, the very fluid motion of supernatural muscles sending it through the air with an unholy howl of defiance. The creature reached the zenieth of its ascent, falling now towards Grégoire, who calmly lifted an empty left hand and held it palm facing the Rauko, as if to stop him simply by its power alone.

The fiend screamed again.

"This is the judgment of the righteous, scum!"

The Paladin's voice boomed through the shriek. From his palm erupted a blinding beam of light that seemed not to shine upon the fiend, but through it. The fiend shriek turned from on of anger to one of unspeakable agony as each of its sins was illuminated in holy fire, condeming its soul to damnation. Such power was a gift belonging only to those within the ranks of Lothlómendil's Divine Protectors, Her elite warriors, insurpasable in their faith, power and service to the Goddess. The light cleared and the remains of the demon were little more then flakes of ash, drifting to rest on the cobblestones.

Another of the bandits advanced, swinging a heavy axe down, intent on removing the light-projecting arm of the Knight. He stepped away, pulling his arm back fast. Speed, however, hadn't been the Paladin's forte, especially when facing creatures unnatural of speed, strength and toughness together, and he felt the blade of the ax slice deep into his forearm, splitting flesh, muscle, tendon and vein. Grégoire snarled, cradling the arm close, checking quickly over the shoulder. As expected the melee raged on all sides, and he could see another of them closing from behind him. His eyes flicked back to the one advancing on him, prying the tip of his ax free of the cobblestones the momentum so decided to bury it in. He knew he didn't have long before the battle turned foul for him.

It came free with a soft tink, and a new notch was taken out of the blade. The fiend didn't seem to notice, and Grégoire didn't care. His arm burned, and he questioned the cleanliness of those blades. He'd have to heal it, and soon if he wanted to prevent excess blood loss, but with two fiends naming the Paladin as a threat, he couldn't help but put it off. He glared at the first, his lip turning up in a snarl. The fiend laughed, hefting his ax and stepping closer. Grégoire kept his eyes locked with the demon's, waiting for his cue. The 'bandit' chuckled darkly. Its murky orbs flicked for a second, looking past the Paladin's shoulder, and that was his cue.

Abruptly he stepped backwards, throwing his right elbow high and hard. The mailed point hit and crushed what felt like it used to be a nose. A startled yelp of pain accompanied the crushing, squishing sound, along with the clatter of a weapon hitting the ground. The eyes of the 'bandit' ahead of him widened in surprise before narrowing in anger. It hissed and growled something in the language of his kind. Grégoire cradled his arm close, circling with the fiend, blade at the ready.

Raven drew the tip of the Fire Lash across the cheek of one of the men in front of her, making the man cry out in pain. The Fire Lash in her hand disappeared as she lifted her bow, fitting an arrow to it. The bowstring sang, and the man fell to the ground. The shapeshifter looked around her. There were still more men, more than a few of them intent on stopping her from ever firing her bow again.

“Damn it!” she shouted, turning to Blaire, “They just keep coming!”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Paladin get hit by an axe. She winced, watching the blood run down the Paladin’s arm. He would lose too much blood if he didn’t act fast. Unfortunately, he was currently being attacked by one of the bandits.

Raven didn’t have much time to dwell on this, however. As she watched, Aegis, who had been fending off most of the bandits, fell to the ground, a gash across his muzzle. The bandits closed in on her, ready to attack.

“What are you gonna do now?” sneered one of the bandits.

Raven frowned. She was cornered now, that was for sure. She didn’t do well in close-combat, and even if she did shapeshift into something that would aid her—even if she did take down one of the men—there were about four more. Aegis snarled, blood dripping from his wound as he moved closer to her. One of the men slashed at her with his sword. She stepped back, instinctively shielding herself with her arm. The shapeshifter cried out as the sword cut across her arm.

She cradled her arm close, panting slightly as she thought over her situation. The men were now beginning to laugh at her, talking amongst themselves about ‘having some fun’.

Raven drew an arrow from her quiver, firing at one of the men. She winced as the effort caused the wound on her arm to sting. She would need to heal that, but now was not the time.

One of the men grabbed her by the hair from behind. Raven let out a sharp cry. The man smirked, holding a blade to her neck.

“Now, don’t move,” he said, sneering, “You don’t want to die, do you.”

Raven glared at him, shifting her form. The man cried out, finding that what he held was no longer a woman but a venomous serpent. Raven lashed out, tasting blood as her fangs bit into the man. With a cry, the man through her, clapping a hand over the wound as the fast-acting poison began to spread.

The shapeshifter flew through the air as a snake, transforming back into human form as the snake form became difficult to hold. She let out another cry as she hit the bloodstained cobblestones. Pain shot through her back and the back of her head, and she wanted nothing more than to lie there until it passed, but she knew that she had to move.

Raven got to her feet, aiming her bow at the other two men who were now heading for her. The wound on her arm bled steadily. She fired her arrow at the other two men, before hitting the man that was cornering Gregoire from behind.

The man fell to the ground and Raven ran over to the injured Paladin. She frowned.

“Looks like you got hit pretty bad,” she commented, casting Greater Heal on the Paladin’s wound. It looked like it needed more attention than her own.

Blaire moved back as another bandit fell just on front of his feet. He was getting exhausted...exhausted from casting lighting bolts for the intended targets--there were just too many to begin with. Wait! He noticed something odd about them. everytime these men would fall, seemingly dead, more and more other bandits came into the scene. What was going on? Were they all together summoned?

Blaire casted his spell one more time, striking the bandits ojne by one. Silver was also doing his part. The hawk scratched the men with its sharp talon, creating wounds.

"This is not getting anywhere." Blaire said, moving back again.

He turned around to see how the others were doing. So far, they were still in combat. The angel surprisingly helped Kithara who was almost mobbed by the bandits although it was turning out that there was going to be kind of an arguement between the angel and the rauko.... He glanced at the Paladin only to see that the noble man has been struck by an axe. A great amount of blood spilled on the stone grounds. The wound caused him a lot of pain and if he doesn't do anything about it, he might get weaker and weaker. But then, Raven got to that.

The shapeshifter has just finished fighting with a group of bandits. she had been cornered for a second but then, she transformed into a deadly snake, and attacked the men. Blaire watched as she casted a spell to heal the man's wound.

Just then, he saw about 5 bandits inches away from him. There wasn't any time to cast his spell. Without any choices, he took out his shurikens and sent them straight at the men. They all fell back, blood gushing out from their injuries. He felt a little bad because of another blood pool that formed on the floor but then, he had to do that.

"I guess I have no choice." he said, taking out his daggers.

Airell turned to the Rauko as she began to answer. Her voice held a certain note of irritation, and Airell knew that she didn’t like this situation any more than he did.

"I beg your pardon but I have not lost my sanity!" she said, "I am trying to avoid pointless bloodshed."

Airell’s eyes widened slightly at this. He had never before met a Rauko that didn’t seem to enjoy spilling blood. Perhaps this one was different from the others, or perhaps that was what she was trying to make him believe. Either way, Airell couldn’t dwell on the situation for long. As the Celestial watched, the Rauko walked up to him. She raised her hand, and a strong gust of wind blew just over his shoulder. A bandit behind him blew away, hitting the ground with a loud crash.

Airell frowned. This was one thing he never counted on, being saved by a Rauko. Still, the code of a paladin bound him to being courteous and honorable at all times. With a sigh, Airell turned to her.

“I thank you,” he said, half-reluctantly.

A call rang out, coming from the archer. The Rauko raised her head, responding, when suddenly she stopped in mid-sentence.

"No...” she said, her breath coming faster than before.

Airell drew his sword, slashing at another bandit who was sneaking up on the stationary Rauko. He turned to her.

“If you stand there and do nothing, Rauko, you will find yourself dead,” said Airell, blocking another sword strike heading for her, “I suggest that you move.”

Kithara was not in a good state. The worst she feared was happening--self-lost. Blood....that was all her eyes kept seeing. Blood...that was all she could smell. Blood...it was everywhere and it was awakening her darker side. It enjoyed this blood bath.

"Ha ha ha ha ha..." the dark voice echoed in her head, "You cannot escape anymore...You cannot..."

Kithara slowly placed both of her arms on her head, to hide herself. Her teeth were gritted as she tried to fight the loss of self control. All the voices that were calling or speaking to her were nothing more than just whispers now, echoeing in her head. Those voices were mixed up, none of them making any sense to her.

She found breathing difficult, she felt her lungs run out of air and she felt her heart being squished harder each second. It was very difficult. She turned back, trying to leave but! There it was again--blood. Everywhere she turned, it was there.

"You cannot do this forever!" the voice echoed in her head, "You cannot fight your TRUE nature!!!"

At this very moments, the voice of her darker side was the only voice she could hear. The only voice that got through to her... and how she wished that she could hear someone else's voice rather than this.

She could not take this anymore. She saw the others still battling and the angel actually defending her from another bandit but...through the price of blood. No! She did not want to see this anymore.

"No...no..." she muttered as she felt faint, "I DON'T WANT TO!!!!!"

She gave out a loud cry before turning silent and calm once again.

The slow circle continued, the age old cycle and balance of Good and Evil: Always apart and in cyclic opposition. In the grand scale of things this epic balance was rarely tipped in either favour. Here, however, in the realm of the mortal the Chosen of Life stood across a Rauko, a creature of unspeakable evil. Here the balance would tip, and soon. The Paladin could feel his strength waning as the blood poured freely through his arm. Briefly the idea that the Rauko might've poisoned their weapons crossed his mind, but the burning of the wound wasn't anything from the realm of the toxic, simply the screaming of severed nerves and the salt of his own sweat in the wound.

He snarled, his eyes locking with the fiends as they came together, testing one another's defense, and backing off again. He felt, more then saw, another person come up next to him, softer of step and calling to him in a concerned voice.

"Looks like you got hit pretty bad, The archer said, mending the wound in his arm with a deft heal spell. He nodded and grunted, his eyes still on the Rauko he circled. Patience, it seemed, would be on his side. He uncoiled his arm, clenching and unclenching his fingers as the spell knit together the tattered ends of his veins. The Rauko growled low and deep, the rumbling in its throat superhuman and vile. Grégoire flashed a savage smile and stepped forward. The demon lashed out with its ax and he swerved to avoid its leathal edge, stumbling in his haste, and stepping back from another disembowling swing.

The momentum carried his foe too far though, and Grégoire leapt forth driving forth a fist full of longsword hilt into the jaw of the over extended Rauko, and watched as consciousness fled its eyes. Many of the Rauko had been incapacitated, bloodlessly or otherwise, and yet it still seemed that there were more clining to consciousness. It was times like this he almost wished he had taken the path of Cleric, or Temple Mage, so he could reign down Holy Justice on the masses rather then deal it out one by one via the blade.

"Archer," he said sharply, unstrapping his shield from his back briskly, "know you any witchcraft that could put these ones to sleep? Or better, to slay them without the shed of bl-" His words were cut short by a loud cry of defiance.

"I DON'T WANT TO!"

His eyes flicked to the other young woman, the Rauko who fought against her own kind. "What troubles the kin-slayer?" He asked Raven, his eyes on the now still and quiet Rauko. With his shielf fashioned he slowly started towards her, keeping near the archer. He shifted, seeing a pair of Rauko closing on the left, and raised his shield defensively, readying his blade to continue the fray.

Raven watched as the paladin swerved sharply, avoiding the other man’s blade. The paladin stepped forward, the hilt of his blade hitting the man’s jaw with a sickening thud. The man fell forward. Raven watched as another man stepped forward, hoping to avenge his fallen comrade.

The shapeshifter reached up a hand to her quiver, feeling the rough fletching of the arrow underneath her fingertips. She placed the arrow to her bow, drawing back the string with a practiced ease. The arrow sailed through the air, hitting its mark. The man clutched at the arrow reflexively before falling over.

Raven watched as the paladin removed his shield from his back.

“Archer,” he said, "know you any witchcraft that could put these ones to sleep? Or better, to slay them without the shed of bl-"

Before Gregoire could finish his question, a voice rang sharply through the air, meeting Raven’s ears. The shapeshifter whipped around, looking in Kithara’s direction.

“I DON’T WANT TO!” cried Kithara in defiance.

"What troubles the kin-slayer?" asked Gregoire.

“Kin-slayer?” asked Raven, “Kithara?”

She glanced closely at the Rauko, concerned. Kithara had been saying something about not causing bloodshed ever since the battle had started. Come to think of it, Kithara had always tried to end battles without bloodshed…because of…because of…

“Liara help me…” said Raven under her breath, as she began to comprehend what was happening.

Raven ran forward, heading towards Kithara. She needed to snap the Rauko out of it.

“Kit!” she called, finding her way blocked by several of the bandits, “Kithara, answer me!”

The whole area seemed to have fallen in complete silence after a long while. Nothing more was creating any sound except for the blowing winds, and the bandits who were still creating havoc. Raven, Blaire, the angel, the mage, and the Paladin have greatly defended themselves against these demonic creatures and also knocking them out in the process yet, these bandits were still there.

Kithara was standing still, a bit further away with her back turned from the group. Her feet have brought her away from them trying to escape from the sight of blood. She has never been afraid to see blood in her whole life but for a certain reason, she must avoid it now...Looks like, she failed. She was calm and silent all the while as if she just woke up from a deep slumber.

"Kit!" somebody's voice rang out.

The young archer ran towards the rauko but found herself blocked by the bandits. Kithara was in the middle of the group of bandits and naturally, she would be killed but! these bandits did not touch her. In fact, they blocked the archer and the paladin who moved closer so that they won't reach what they are trying to protect...

"Kithara, answer me!" cried Raven.

"Yes." replied Kithara.

The rauko slowly turned around, facing the group only...she wasn't the Kithara they knew anymore. This Kithara had dark, blood-red eyes instead of the normal grey. Her stare was immensely cold but psychotic. Sharp vampiric fangs appeared on her mouth. Also, her nails grew a bit longer and sharper than usual. She casted her eyes on the archer.

"I'll answer to you." she said, grinning.

Meanwhile Teferi was forced out of the alley by a large brute who delivered a devastating back hand to his face sending him searing through the air into a brick wall causing the dust to shake off the bricks upon impact. "What....happened?" He painfully asked the open wind that whistled in replying. He felt his forehead a bit shaken, and let his lower lip bleed freely. He was having double vision trying to regain focus seeing the Rauko who had batted him away carelessly move forward holding a nice hefty dagger more like a meat cleaver. "Filthy maggot..... I am gonna gut your body like a fish.... heh..." The giant bulk of muscle barked in a mill grounded voice staring down upon Teferi like a looming spire of rock and steel.

Teferi gave a dizzied glare and replied as if not noticing that he was about to be stabbed, "Hey tiny if you do not mind giving me a hand..... I would much appreciate getting ahold of the foul smelling lunk of Elephant droppings." The big thug towering gave an insulted, "Hey" and grabbed Teferi by the neck of his robe sand spun him up to his beady eyed crooked nose face, "Them be words of death and pain ye hear!" Teferi still dizzy laughed with a crimson smile and manage to say, "Well there you are you big ol blockhead..... thought I missed ya there....i guess I could not considering you look like a giant boar" The Thug two times Teferi's size wide eyed fuming from the nostrils grabbed his cleaver raising it, "That it ya pansy dress wearing man!" Teferi's vision snapped into focus at the mans words, and clarity filled with disgust and slightly damaged pride. "Dress!!!" He retorted in abruptly as the giant mans knife was coming down.

The hand came down striking air as the the cleaving blade hovered suspended in the air. The obviously confused and wrought giant thugs stared at his hand with the amazement their was nothing in it. "Where did it go?" The dumb founded ogre man asked staring at Teferi then with a loud *THUD* the blunt hilt of the Cleaver fell on the thugs head, and with an even louder thud the man fell forward. Teferi was now trapped beneath this mass groaning trying to lift, but failing in humiliation. "Great.....my fine robe is called a dress and now I am trapped...." He grunted then tried reaching out for others screaming, "HEY GET ME OUT FROM UNDER THIS THING!!!!"

Airell blocked another man’s sword, watching as the Rauko put her hands up over her head, as if she was hiding herself. He heard her gasp, as if breathing had somehow become difficult for her.

“No…no…” he heard her mutter.

Airell turned around, about to ask her what was troubling her, and to tell her that she should move out of the battlefield, when she suddenly let out a loud cry.

“I DON’T WANT TO!!!” she cried.

And suddenly, she was quiet again. Her eyes were downcast, and her back was turned to him. Airell frowned. Somehow, she seemed strangely familiar to him. The angel couldn’t remember where he had seen her before. As far back as he could remember, he had had no dealings with Rauko. Perhaps he had merely known someone who resembled her.

Airell watched as she stood perfectly still. By now, the angel was beginning to think that she really had taken leave of her sanity after all. He heard the archer call out to her, but the Rauko did not answer.

Suddenly the Rauko turned around to face them. Airell turned to her, looking deep into red eyes. Red eyes? He was sure that her eyes hadn’t been red before. And there was something different about her now. Her stare was cold and piercing, and yet at the same time, Airell could detect a trace of insanity beneath the surface. This wasn’t the insanity that he had thought had taken over the Rauko before. That had been an irrational insanity, coming from one who had completely taken leave of her senses. This…this was different. This time, she had complete control over her senses, and seemed to be thrilled at the prospect of dealing death. Airell shivered slightly under that look.

The young paladin raised his sword, ready to defend himself should she attack.

One rushed from his left.

Grégoire hunkered down, planting his right foot firmly. He held his ground, until the feral panting closed, until he could smell the decay on the Rauko's breath. Abruptly he pushed off with his right foot, slamming the length of his kide shield into the Rauko. He imagined, and hoped, that over the snarl of surprise and pain that he heard a handful of ribs shatter. Fluidly he bent at the knee, pressing up and locking the top edge of his shield against the base of his assailer's jawbone. His hips slip felt, moving his body under his shield, and the 'bandit', and he lifted. The brute was heavy, and he grunted at the exertion, yet he stood. The movement forced the demon up and off of his feet, and sent him head first towards the cobblestone, up which he landed with an audible snap.

The Paladin lowere his head and took off towards the now red-eyed Rauko. Briefly he glanced over his shoulder: The flipped demon lay still, its neck bent at an unnatural angle. Good, he though, a touch of cold in the tone, one less to stand in denial of the light. He picked up the pace, charging towards the small congregation of his so-called allies. Another of the Rauko stepped into his path. He ran faster, and the fiend waved his blade warningly. It snarled and licked its lips in anticipation, its eyes narrowing with vicious intent, into slits of bloodstone. The knight smiled.

Smiled.

In a moment the fiends eyes widened with surprise, as the clatter of a Resplendant Longsword hitting the ground rang out through the square. With that the Paladin was upon his foe. The bandit swept his blade down, only to find it dashed roughly aside with the shield as the Paladin literally leapt upon him, grabbing a handful of hair. It cried out angrily, exposing its teeth. Grégoire yanked down hard, driving his rising knee to collide with the white teeth roughly, painting them crimson with a mailed brush. The head snapped back sharply, leaving the Chosen of Lothlomendil with a handful of hair, and hints of bloody scalp. The Rauko swayed, demonic fingers releasing a sword as the Knight collided with it, driving him backwards towards the cobblestones.

The demon hit with the ground with a whumph, the air rushing from his lungs and sending up a fine spray of blood. The Paladin followed, landing atop the Rauko's chest. Weaponless hands scratched against his robe, pulling him down towards the gnashing red teeth that looked almost too sharp to be human. His stomach churned at the smell of the infernal blood. "I promise you death, Paladin." The words were hissed in an infernal tongue, and blood bubbled around the teeth and over the lips. At once the essence of the fear spell came into being, the insideous tendrils seeking to grip and crush the Paladin's resolve.

And yet he was protected. A ring was fit upon his right hand, upon the ring finger, that glowed against his skin with a warm orangish light, absorbing the foul energies and glowing brighter in the night's gloom. A surprise borne of madness filled the eyes of the fiend, who pulled roughly on the front of the Knight's robes, reaching up to catch a handful of the Knight's long hair. Grégoire snarled, and roughly grabbed the demon over his eyes, pressing on the temples. He lifted the head and dashed against the stone. The demon cried out in pain, and the Knight echoed it as his own hair was torn at. Again skull met stone, and the might of the earth prevailed as a sick crack emenated from the fiend's skull. The cry became a whimper, and the hair-filled fist loosened and fell away, twitching like a spider. With a flick of his wrist he freed his hand from shield's grip, and placed the head of the demon between his palms.

"I forgive you." He whispered, and sharply twisted the Rauko's head to the side.

Another series of pops, followed by a loud snap, filled the night. He pushed himself up and off of the cadaver, scooping to retrive his blade. Grégoire checked back over his shoulder, and the other corpse still laid quiet, unmoving. He felt his skin crawl, and his sweat run cold. Twice already, in a span of minutes, he had taken life. At least twice, for the other Rauko could very well lay dead too. He shivered, a subtle rush dancing down his spine. The path behind him of a half dozen bodies served to all a fair reminder of Lothlomendil's other side: The Lady of Death and Judgment. His compassion served Her daily, but it was this he had been bred for. The blood in his veins screamed it.

But it was not always the place for that, and as he ran towards his congregating allies, his prayer was for a non-violent solution, that there would be no more bloodshed tonight.

Grimly he smiled again: No more demons chose to cross his path.

With another spell casted, Blaire wiped out the bandits in front of him. He was plainly a lucky rauko that he was able to summon lightning in just a few seconds. If he had casted it much later, he could have been killed by the mob of men. Truly, things were not getting better seeing that most of his 'allies' or better yet, the peoople who fought against the bandits were partly injured and well, exhausted.

After the last spell that he had casted, he turned around in order to see the current situation. He spotted his fellow rauko who seemed to be having some sort of trouble. It did not look like she was physically injured but there was something wrong. As he decided to check it out, he heard her yell out the words: "I DON'T WANT TO.". Afterwhich, she became silent and calm. He was reminded when Kithara had told him to avoid bloodshed and...he failed at that. There was no other choice.

Kithara had her back turned from the rest of the group and it seemed that she was semi-conscious. This was dangerous because the bandits could just attack her, dead but...they did not. They instead, blocked the others from going closer to the rauko.
Silver flew back to his master and watched the same situation. The hawk screeched loudly, telling him that it was not Kithara anymore. Just in time, the young rauko turned around, revealing blood-red eyes...

"Oh no..." muttered Blaire.

His familiar screeched in agreement. Would they be fighting Kithara now? He was fighting the other raukos which were his kin but he did it because these demons were going to kill them. It was hard enough to fight your own kind and now...will they have to fight a friend?

Just as he was in his deep thinking, his attenion was shifted when he heard another voice. This time, it was that mage. Blaire could tell that he needed help because he was right under a what seemed to be dead bandit.

"Quickly, get up." said Blaire, hoisting the mage up, "We have more to face."

Blaire faced this darker Kithara and the rest of the bandits that were surrounding her. He hesitantly took out his shurikens, if ever she would atack.

A shiver ran up Raven’s spine as she heard her friend answer her. For a moment, just one fleeting moment, relief flooded her. If Kithara was answering her, then that meant that the Rauko was still in control of her senses. At least, that was what Raven hoped.

The feeling of relief disappeared just as suddenly as it had come when Kithara turned around. Raven couldn’t suppress a gasp. Her friend’s eyes were no longer gray as they had once been. They were now a deep red, the same color as blood. The desire to kill and hurt was evident on her features. This was no longer the Kithara that she had once known. This one was different.

“I’ll answer to you,” said Kithara, her face twisting into a cruel smirk.

“Kit…Kithara,” muttered Raven, staring at her friend in shock. Words to spells that had recited themselves so freely in her mind slipped away, leaving her with a strange feeling of helplessness. What was she supposed to do now? Was she supposed to fight her friend? Was she supposed to hurt her friend in order to return her to the way she was?

“Kithara!” called Raven, “Kithara, get a hold of yourself!”

She knew that it probably wouldn’t work, but she had to try. The shapeshifter had to try to bring her Rauko friend back to her senses.

Kithara eyed each one of these pathetic beings who looked as if they were surprised to see her. She could also sense a bit of confusion in them...to attack or not? Great! This could work to her advantage. Well, it looks like her weaker side was useful after all. It would make the kill faster. She casted her eyes slowly to the shapeshifter, to the Paladin, to the angel, to the mage, and to the half-demon. Hmm...a creature like him should be on her side and not in theirs. Well, no matter. If he gets iin the way, he dies. Simple. A creature like him tainted with human blood is worth killing anyway.

“Kithara!” called the shapeshifter whose name was Raven, “Kithara, get a hold of yourself!”

Ah yes, Raven Silverflame. A close friend of her weaker side. Beside her stood her loyal wolf, ready for combat. Hmm...that wolf always got on her nerves. It was about time to get rid of it. Kithara glaned at the other demons around. The five must have killed most of the demons, about 20 of them at least....Now, only a few were left specifically 4 raukos and 7 of the undead. They were still attacking especially the paladin. These peopl have reffered to them a bandits...Maybe they should see their real enemy. The rauko signalled the rest of these 'bandits' to hault and return to her side. At once, they did so.

"Let me reveal to you what they really are." she said, snapping her fingers.

A small demonic and unholy aura began to fill the place, not coming from Kithara but coming from the creatures that surrounded her. The rauko grinned, watching their transformation. Slowly, their human flesh began to disintegrate. Yes, it was true. Some of them were raukos but the others were undead or what they called zombies. That is why they never died. Only the light could kill them...

After that was done, the small remaining number of these beings remained still and waited her orders. Kithara glanced up at the dark night sky. There was not a star in the sky only the bright, full moon that served them light. The rauko returned to her normal view again. This time, the real battle was just about to begin and there was no interferance from the real Kithara. Let her remain unconscious for the time being..

Now, this darker Rauko prepared herself fro the heating up battle. She reached to her back, pulling out the Sword of Air. This sword was never used by the real Kithara unless the situation called for it but now...it would not be bad to take it out for a test play.

"Now, shall we?"

At once, the remaining demons and undead charged towards the five.

(OOC: edited a bit)

Raven watched in shock and slight terror as Kithara turned to them. The Rauko began to speak, and the shapeshifter listened to her words. Her voice was cold and harsh, not at all like the voice of her friend. But Raven knew better. This was no longer Kithara Darkmist. This was something else.

"Let me reveal to you what they really are,” said Kithara, deftly snapping her fingers.

A dark aura filled the place, making Raven shiver slightly. The darkness seemed almost alive. She felt that if she reached out a hand, she might be able to touch it. As the unholy power passed through, a change came over the bandits. As Raven watched, four of them became Rauko. On the other seven, human flesh disintegrated, revealing them for what they really were—undead.

The shapeshifter stood there in shock for a moment, watching as the undead prepared to battle. Her eyes turned to Kithara as the Rauko’s hand closed around the hilt of the deadly Sword of Air. Raven had yet to see her friend use that particular sword. Kithara pulled, and the Sword of Air came out of its sheath.

"Now, shall we?" asked Kithara.

The undead and Rauko charged towards them. Raven stood there for a moment, still in shock. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. What was she supposed to do? Could she turn her arrow on her friend?

Aegis growled, catching her cloak in his teeth and tugging. Raven nodded at the wolf, returning to her senses. Now was the time for action, not thought. The shapeshifter raised her hand to her quiver, fingers closing around one particular arrow. This was one of her special arrows—a Light Arrow.

The shapeshifter drew back the string, firing it at the nearest undead. The creature cried out in pain as the light from the arrow began to burn, searing its flesh. Raven pulled out another Light Arrow, fitting it to her bow.