Waking in the Sanctuary of the Angels hushed Stella's jumpy attitude. And she walked through the Sanctuary Silent, awestruck at the statues and the overall greatness of such a grand place. She had come here almost on a whim, feeling the need to see the place that had once caused her so much trouble... but that was in the past. Her blue winters cloak was pulled tightly around her, the hood pulled over her head, yet her glow could still be seen brightly, silvery blond hair falling safely out of it, her blue eyes wide with curiosity.

Ahead the alter loomed, and Stella approached it, feeling nervous. The air was frosty, her hair coming out in white clouds in front of her, dissolving once more into the air. Sighing with relief, she sat down at the foot of the alter, resting her head on the cool stone and closed her heads, enjoying the way the coldness flooded through her. It was relaxing. A silence was disturbed by the sounds of increasing footsteps, becoming ever closer. Holding her breathe, Stella opened her eyes carefully, her sight blurred slightly.

Her vision came back sharply, and she saw a tall man stood above her, his blackened cloak obscuring his face, casting its details in shadow. Her breathe still held, Stella rose slowly, and then smiled shyly. Taking in a great gulf of air, she finely spoke. "Hello" It was pitiful, silent. Lifting his head, she finely saw his face, his mischievous smile and eyes bright, focused on her new necklace. With a gasp, Stella took a step back; her eyes never once left his.

He began a slow walk towards her, and soon Stella was pressed against the wall, the coldness now a warning. His shadow loomed over her, and she heard his cackle loud. Closing her eyes fearfully, Stella cowered, the motion to take out her staff never once coming to her. Shock did that; otherwise she would be able to take him out. But she couldn't. A tiny scream began to build in her throat, and soon she was able to muster enough courage to let it out, the sound echoing from the walls like a ball and a bat.

"HELP!"

The White Knight returned to from his wayward ventures always to the same place, the Sanctuary of Angels was a relaxing and brisk place. It was never changing but always shifting the strength that came forth from its bowels always gave him peace. This place had a horrid past and the cool, smooth statues proved that. Certain areas had been left to a troubled history, ruins wasting away. Mot of the sanctuary managed to be a magnificent place. It was an amazing feat to enter the former home of the Imperial Archangel and not be awed in temperance of their existence in Aman. Marcus had come to this place as he always did, bearing his sword on his right hip, and his cloak upon his back. Marcus left his Paladin's mail safely tucked away; this was not a place for war.

Marcus approached an Altar, dipping his fingers into the holy water that stood before him in a glistening pool of wonder and forgiveness. The Knight confessed his sins to the Mother goddess hoping that she would forgive him of his sins upon this earth, he sought to please her and for that he was happy. He always looked to her for guidance and would always do so, strong and powerful in the face of the lawbreakers and those of chaos Lothlomendil had always been an inspiration to him, maybe just maybe he could do the same. The Saint rose from his position and expecting the striking pain from his weathered joints Marcus was relieved to see he was not in pain. Had the Goddess cured his aliment? Or did she simply allow him not to hurt for once in his life? Whatever the cause holy or coincidence Marcus was proud to call himself a knight this day.

The glistening Paladin with a new found confidence began his way toward the chapel interesting enough he heard to his right a scream a cry for help. He turned quickly and with a sense of alarm he noticed the twin of the altar he had just been knelt before was victim to a horrendous crime. Some creature of a man was attacking a young woman, without thought he ran towards the pair with blinding speed. His sprinting skill would close the distance quickly. As he ran he looked for convincing details about the pair should he need prove this man's guilt. He was tall shrouded in a black cloak; the woman he clouded over was in a blue overcoat and had an odd glow about her. Marcus had no time for more descriptions his need was to save this woman and so he did. Reaching the man the Knight drew his word. Having the speed that Marcus possessed from months of training he managed to slip his sword between the pair.

Its target... the neck of the harlot. Landing a slight blow to the man the Knight’s blade rested not to gently upon the thief's neck, warm blood seethed form a cut caused by the blade, it ran down and trickled down to the ground. Like a drum sounding a parade Marcus waited for the first drop of blood to crash upon the cobblestone walk. When the crashing form splattered down Marcus spoke words of warning in low and powerfully enforcing tones. "Your business is not here...LEAVE! Before I slice more of your pathetic existence clean OFF!" Lowering his sword slightly he managed to allow the thief to escape into the dark alleyways to reconsider his life and lick his wounds. Re positioning his sword Marcus turned to the woman and spoke in a tender tone, "Are you alright meh lady?"