( I've never roleplayed with myself before; wonder how it will turn out? Either way, this is meant to help me flesh out my NPC-lead organization, B.A.D.I., and introduce Sartana to Saria, beginning their friendship. Ah, after quite a bit of distrust, though. Feel free to read it. )

East of Lomedor sat several small estates, just outside the city walls, some large manors and others smaller farm houses surrounded by fields of wheat or vegetables. One particular house, a small stone building with a fairly large tower protruding upwards from one side, sat just a mile from the greater portion of city. It was located amidst a green expanse of fields, separated by crumbling stone walls and overshadowed by several oak trees that swayed in the wind, letting loose a leaf every so often, which would fall on the slate roof of the building. This peaceful, unassuming building was actually the entrance to the organization known as B.A.D.I – The Bureau of Abyssal Defense and Investigation. Few knew of its existence, other than high-ranking Lomedor officials and members of the secretive organization. It had been created centuries ago, around the time of the founding of its city, and now housed several hundred members, most of the located in the underground labyrinth that made up much of the complex, while other members scouted Arda on assignment. Every so often B.A.D.I. would hear of a prospective new member, someone who had become known in Arda as a beacon of good, or at least a resourceful, good-natured being. They would contact the would-be member, ask them to come to the estate, and propose that they join. If they couldn't get the being to join, its recent memory would be erased by mages standing by, and let go. But if the prospective member accepted, he would be let into the group, and begin his assignments. Del Cid, head of recruitment in B.A.D.I., was expecting company today. A powerful being had emerged in Arda, and agreed to meet with the organization to discuss possible employment. Cid had a good feeling about this meeting. Others, however, were not so thrilled.

“A demonhunter! Are you kidding me?” Shouted Saria, arms firmly planted on the desk of an elderly, mustached man, who leaned back in his chair and puffed his pipe He watched her passively. “Surely this blatant danger sign did not get past you, Cid!” She yelled again, standing up straight, all six feet of her, and placing her hands on her hips. “What of the implications? And a human! Are you trying to give Anderson a reason to get rid of you?” The elderly man named Cid removed his pipe from his mouth, and scratched the side of his frizzy gray hair with it, shrugging. “Danger signs? Get rid of me?” He asked in a bright, incredulous tone. “Nonsense. Anderson asked me himself to look into the human. You think I can refuse? And what if he is a demonhunter? We've had worse: assassins, dragon slayers, necromancers-”

“But over half our members are demons, Cid. Myself included. What of us?” She asked, crossing her hands over her chest, her long, white cloak folding over her arms. Honestly it wasn't this that concerned her as much as the fact that he was human. Saria could handle herself; she was quite the fighter, and few could best her in battle. Humans, however, were ambitious, vain and greedy; this was her experience. Lomedor was riddled with conniving politicians and guile-driven thieves, most of them human. The short-lived race was something she tried her best to stay away from.

“Don't worry about it, Saria.” Cid piped in, conscious of his interrupting of her thoughts. “If it does come down to a fight- which it won't- Leroy is standing by in the main passageway. He'll take care of this man if he finds himself... overcome with an urge to fight. You'll have to leave now, however; he's entered the complex grounds, and will be entering soon.” The old man finished, waving her off as he picked up a rather large tome, and began to read it. Saria turned, her white cape flaring behind her, and left the room, where she descended into the underground labyrinth, and made her way to the divining room.

Cid yawned, scratching the back of his hair. “I wonder...”

The blanket of wheat stretched over the landscape, shuffling and swaying in the warm breeze, glistened beneath the sun’s adamant gaze, and brushed the sides of a well-trodden path that cut straight through it, with shadowy designs writhing on the dirt as the pale yellow grass turned. No sound other than a lonely cicada’s shrill call could be heard in the field, as the weaving of wind tendrils through the ground and plants was utterly silent, and soft, a pleasant contrast to the sound of the insect that made its home in the serene landscape. Through the field, slowly along the dirt path walked a man, clothed nearly from head to thin leather boot in black, flowing clothing, that made no effort to resist the gentle wind that blew through it, and twisted as he walked, flaring to the side on the whim of the summer breeze. The tall figure wore a wide-brimmed hat, only adding to his imposing height, and casting a dark shadow over his face, which was already partially hidden by a dark red scarf. The crimson scarf’s ends were clasped together by a large, dull silver emblem at his chest. It read, somewhat comically, ‘I Hate Demons’, and was outlined with thin runes. The man stopped, and tipped his hat up, facing a small stone house under the shadow of a massive oak tree. His multicolored eyes watched it with passing interest, and moved on to distant buildings- only to return a moment later, and linger on the form of the small, descript-looking abode.

“This is hardly what I was expecting. Such a small building… hmm… An illusion? I can’t seem to detect anything. Maybe the building is merely a smaller station, one of several that make up the main organization.” Sartana mused to himself in a low tone, coming to the building’s entrance. A week earlier, he had been approached by a cloaked man who asked if he’d be interested in joining a virtuous organization bent on the destruction of evil; creatures from the abyss in particular. The demonhunter was wary, of course, but agreed to meet with a member of the organization a week later, at a specific contact point, to receive more information. He was there now.

Up close, the building didn’t look any better. Wiry vines clung to the poorly-laid stones of the building’s walls, and climbed the entire length of the structure’s tower, jutting to the right into the sky. A leaf passed the demonhunter’s face, and landed softly at his feet. Aside from the gentle brushing of leaves to his left, there was no sound; even the insect he had heard earlier had quieted down. It was an ominous silence, but he liked it. Reaching a gloved hand forward, he twisted the rusted iron knob of the thick, ancient-looking door in front of him (indeed, he could nearly smell how old it was) and stepped into the building.

The first thing that hit him was the smell of cinnamon that hung in the air. Second was the realization that he was not alone. To Sartana’s left, beside the wall that stood a few feet in from the entrance, sat a man on a wooden bench. He was dark-skinned, far darker than even the tanned demonhunter, with large lips and dark brown eyes that seemed to sparkle in the sunlight that pierced the stillness of the room, sparkle like the light hitting his smooth, hairless head. The dark-skinned man sat with his hands on his golden-clothed knees, his shoulders relaxed, and his eyes barely open, gazing out of the window that faced him, on the other side of the room. His hands themselves were wrapped in red leather and looked to be as hard and unmoving as bricks chiseled from solid mithril. The demonhunter took a step forward, and the man moved, turning his head slowly to the right to look at the guest. He nodded in the direction of the door, directly in front of Sartana, closing his eyes shortly after. The demonhunter moved forward with well-placed steps, steady and fluid in motion. He watched the dark-skinned man at his side, prepared to fight if necessary, but strangely calm... very strangely so. He fought to keep his thoughts clear, and immediately discerned the smell of what he had thought to be cinnamon earlier as something else. Tranquility incense. Hmph. He thought, coming towards the second door. The incense had magical properties, and calmed those that breathed in its vapors. It made them passive, and less likely to get angry. Sartana was conscious of its effects, though, and the spell was immediately broken by his mind’s willpower. He wouldn’t be affected by such simple spells. Opening the second door slowly, he stepped into the next room.