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[NOT Malorn]

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His heart collapsed as his head hit the floor. The tent above him was spinning in his large yellow eyes. Every fiber of his being was filled with a horrible pain, that did not emanate from the stab wound. (Who can know with you?) If he was in any state, tears would have poured from his eyes. (You flip-flop so much The whispers of her voice echoed softly in his head.) Instead, he simply stared at her, eyes wide, full of fear, confusion, pain and accusation. Each twitch brought a new twang of pain. Each convulsion sent him one step closer to death.

[Daeynaries]

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Daeynaries couldn't stand the game anymore. He was toying with her heart once again. Why wouldn't he just let her go when he did. She had moved on and was beginning to become her old self once more. But no... He had to leave then come back, only to leave again the next time he got confused. The game was killing her and quite frankly pissing her off. She made her decision that night before ever arriving at the Umbra Tavern. He was going to pay for breaking her heart. As Daey sat across from him, smiling and giggling at their conversation, she could only think of the knife hidden along her back, tucked snuggly against the waistband of her skirt.

"Jovrick, I...I need to know if you were telling the truth the other night. Do you really want to make this work? Your not going to run off again?" She asked him in the softest tone her anger would allow.

"I assure you Daey, with anything that is right in me, I was telling you the truth." Jovrick reached out and patted her hand gently, smiling so sweetly at her.

They sat in silence for along time just gazing at each other. It took everything inside Daey to hold herself back from gutting him like a fish for lying to her yet again, playing with her heart as if it were a childrens toy. He is going to pay. She said over and over to herself silently.

Daeynaries could take no more of this cat and mouse game and made her way to the finish line, standing up slowly and closing the distance between them. She used her usual charm, straddling his lap. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, her heart sunk. This would be the last time he held her. The last time his fake loving gaze met her eyes. She knew it was a farce, but it still felt so real at times. He was just that good. "That was a pleasant surprise." Jovrick said, chuckling softly at her. What he did not know was the surprise to come. She leaned and and gave him a delicate kiss on the lips, lettings hers linger on his. As she kissed him, she reached behind her back and pulled the dagger from her waistband. In one quick thrust, she jammed it into the side of his neck, burying it as deep as possible. His eyes flew open in agony. Daey jumped off his lap and watched him fall off the chair onto the hard, cold, dirt. He did this to her, he had turned her into this monster. No man would ever use her again, not after Jovrick. She would make them all pay.

Daey walked over to where he lay, and looked down at him, her face full of hate, her eyes aflame. She pressed her foot onto his neck, watching blood gush from his wound. He struggled gently, his eyes wide in fear.

Daey leaned over, her face close to his. "This is for breaking my heart." She pressed her foot down harder. "This is for using me." She pressed her foot down harder. "And this.... is for all you would have done if I cared to stick around long enough to find out." She pressed her foot down harder, watching him gasp for breath.

He seemed to be attempting to say something, but for once he was rendered speechless. She didn't care to hear anyhow. She had had quite enough lies to fill a lifetime. She watched as he died before her, all the faces and forms he had taken became one blur of constant movement. He gave her one last look, his yellow eyes filled with pain, emotional and physical, before he went motionless on the dirt. Daeynaries kneeled down next to time and put a open palm to his eye-lids, sliding them down. She couldn't bare the cold, accusing eyes staring at her. She leaned down and gave him one last kiss, a single tear sliding down her cheek. This would be the last tear she ever shed for Jovrick. All things come to an end she told herself, and what a glorious end this was.

Daey stood and took one last look at her fallen love, the man she gave her heart too only months prior. "Goodbye.." She whispered before slowly pushing past the tent flap and walking out into the deep, dark, night of Umbra.
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Deadly Vixen
Dark Knights of Chaos, (DKC)

[Galathan]

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Her fingers squeezed his hand. Such a deft gesture, but opened up a world of subtle meanings. He smiled at her. For the first time he actually felt as if she had experienced something he could relate to. It was a feeling he himself was all too familiar with. “Did it feel good?”

Her head laid against the back of the chair, her red hair splayed out along her shoulders like crimson waterfalls. Stray strands of hair would dance across the front of her throat as she lulled her head occasional from one side to the other, feeling the air was caress her cheek. Her locket dangled from her neck, as if drained of energy, resting beneath her collarbone. He couldn’t see her face directly, but he knew that she was smiling, too.

“Mmm yeah … it was amazing.”

“It’s so visceral … deeply stirring. It’s all in the eyes. What were his eyes like?” A tinge of excitement crept into his voice. For the first time in a long time he felt a familiar sensation creep up through the back of his stomach, rising ever higher until it floated like the ether itself. It aroused a certain excitement deep inside, but also fear. He did not want to indulge once more in that feeling.

“They were cold, distant. Dead. It felt amazing.” Daeynaries lifted her head up to look at Galathan’s face, recognizing a certain satisfaction. Perhaps not satisfaction of her performing the deed, but of her gaining her freedom from Jovrick.

Bubbles quacked secretively into Galathan’s ear so quiet that Galathan could hardly hear the baby green duck’s warnings. Daeynaries’ simply cocked her head to the side a little, a brief, fleeting look of confusion crossing her face before her smile took hold of her lips once more.

“What happened?” He asked, not heeding Bubble’s quacktastic advice. He leaned forward and propped himself up on his elbows.

“Well … I first settled into his lap, and then I kissed him. For a moment I felt sad because it was the last one we were ever to share. But then I did it.” She smiled wide like a little girl all proud of herself. She played absently with the locket, rubbing it between two fingers. The tip of her tongue slid silkily along her bottom lip before continuing. “I took the knife from my back and jammed it into his throat. I watched him die on the ground.”

He couldn’t help himself, further ignoring the well-intentioned baby duck. “There is something unmistakable in it. Watching the spark fade from their eyes. There is a little thought about connection, you know.” Daeynaries leaned forward on the table, looking at his face with a glazed interest. “A connection between killing and the act of love.”

The smile never left her lips, and waited to hear more.

* * *


“If you can’t defend yourself from me, then what chance do you have of defending yourself from an enemy?” Galathan stood, holding the orange-hued halberd horizontally, the sharp point delicately brushing against the thin lace of her bodice.

“I am not afraid of my enemies. I‘m afraid of you.” Her eyes narrowed in near defiance, but the tremble in her voice and quaver of her lip betrayed her true bravery. She did not move, and the shield on her arm shook a little from nervousness.

“Look, it’s quite simple. It’s one of the basic sword techniques. Just move your shield arm to knock the halberd to the side, step in with your left foot, and bring your knife in close. Be sure to stay inside the range of the long-handled weapon so that it can not harm you.” Galathan steadied the halberd once more.

She sucked her lip in between her teeth, steeling herself for the practice. In a slow, controlled motion, she knocked the halberd aside with the shield, and swiftly closed the distance between them with one long step. He grinned satisfied.

“Now,” he began, gently placing his fingers on her wrist, guiding her slowly. “You have a number of options of where to strike when you get in this close. You can strike here, if the neck armor is weak.” He pointed to the side of his neck. “Sever the jugular. You can strike here on the shoulder between the plating in the armor. There is a bundle of nerves there, and it would cause considerable damage to stab there. If you can’t do those, and the chest plate is weak, pierce the flesh here,” he motioned to a spot on his chest, “or here.” He guided the knife’s edge to his stomach. “Thrust it in and pull up hard. If there is weak leg armor, slash the femoral artery.” He guided her hand through the motions of each swing and thrust.

She nodded her head, practicing the motions with her arm, making swift, deft slices through the air. He stepped back, watching her form. However, his eyes darted to her face, almost admiring how locks of sweaty, stray strands of hair fell in front of her eyes, and yet she did not miss her swings. He watched the fluid grace of her Elven blade swim through the air.

He stepped behind her, placing his leg gently against the back of hers. “Your stance is off.” He gave her leg a gentle nudge, prompting it into a wider position. “Your center of gravity was too high, so you must widen the stance, otherwise you can be thrown off balance too easily.” He could sense the deepening of her breathing.

He gripped her wrist once more, firmly but gently, and guided the movements of her arm. “You told me that you had the passion required to be a true warrior. I believe you.” He put a hand on her waist. “It takes as much passion to fight as it does to love.” He pressed against her hip, guiding her movement, watching her footwork as she swung the blade in an arc. Through her wrist he could feel the rapid beating of her heart. She was silent, simply letting her body be guided in the art of swordsmanship.

“Both killing and loving require a certain … fire. It’s that very fire that you see in a lover’s eyes that you feel inside of you, swelling, consuming you in the heat of battle. Indulge in it. Feel it.” Her fingers slipped on the blade and it fell with a clang to the ground. She avoided looking at his eyes and her chest heaved with each heavy breath.

“You’ll be a great warrior, Bathory. One of the most important things to remember when traveling down this road, living this life, is to celebrate as much as you work. You never know when you will never return home again.”

A delicate smile crossed her lips as she wiped the glowing sheen from her forehead. “And you can show me how to do that, too, I take it?” Her grin widened.

Galathan nodded with a smile.


* * *


Blackgard had changed. Galathan remembered it being much easier to sneak up into the King’s room before. However, it had changed. Now it had a series of metal doors and winding halls that went nowhere in order to confuse would-be invaders. The Sanctus goons were lunatics.

It took Galathan a little under one minute to traverse the maze of doors and make his way across the narrow walkways above, meant to drop the unsuspecting onto the floor below. He was fast on his feet thanks to years of militia drills. Getting past the obstacle course, Galathan walked quickly past a huddled group of people wearing the golden colors of Sanctus, and darted up the stairs on the far end of the room. He didn’t know where he was going exactly, but if he were to find the King’s room, he would have to explore.

Doors and stairs everywhere. The Sanctus goons were lunatics to have so many doors and stairs. In a quick walk, Galathan crossed the large room and reached a metal door. It was not locked. He opened it and stepped into the darkness of the room. It was small and only a counter jutted out from the wall. There was no furniture or anything else in the room.

He was about to turn back, but something caught his attention. It was soft, muffled, and vaguely familiar. He took several steps into the room, closing the door behind him, and listened once more.

There it was again.

The dull muffling sound of the King’s voice came from a crack in the architecture. No doubt a fault in the rearrangement of Blackgard. Galathan put his ear closer to where the sound came from and listened intently to Talon and another man converse about current events in Sanctus. Something about the queen.

WHAM!

A loud slam came from behind him and he couldn’t help but jump. “Ahh!” He dived behind the counter. No doubt it was some lunatic Sanctus guard coming to arrest him for breathing Sanctus air without a permit.

He listened, but heard nothing. After a brief moment, Galathan peered from behind the counter. It was not a Sanctus lunatic.

“Hey, you’re not one of those lunatic guards.”

A small girl shook her head, looking Galathan over. He felt a little foolish, and his face felt red. The muffled voices continued unabated.

“My name’s Cecilia.” The girl stated. She didn’t seem too surprised to find a strange man in the middle of Blackgard hiding in a darkened room.

“What are you doing here, Cecilia?”

“I was exploring the castle. I was hoping to find secret tunnels or something, but no such luck. What’s your name?”

Galathan’s eyes darted from the girl to the doorway and back again. He didn’t want to rouse any more suspicion than he had to, so that meant getting rid of the girl without her running to the lunatics who ran the place. “Lord Box.”

“Box?” She asked, as if it was a funny-sounding name. “What are you doing in here?“ Galathan smiled, the muffled conversation floating freely into the room. He put his finger to his lips and pointed to the source of the talking.

“Listening to grown-up talk.” He was expecting her to be bored with such an idea and turn away, leaving him in peace, but she did no such thing. If anything, she looked curious. Cecilia’s name was uttered by the King. Something about protection and the current war.

“They’re talking about you, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. They talk a lot and don’t tell me anything because they think I'm too young. But, I hear more than think.” Galathan felt something inside of him give way. He felt intrigued, strangely, by the girl. He took a long look at her. She was not clothed like a commoner, but like that of someone of station.

“Do you know a lot about the war that is going on? Do you know who Beleth is?” Galathan’s voice took a more curious and softer tone.

Cecilia tilted her head a little, and then shook it lightly. “No, not really. They don’t tell me anything.”

Galathan smiled. Strangely, he saw himself. He remembered in his earlier days that nobody would tell him anything of the news of the realm. He was left in the dark for ‘his own sake’ just as she was. He felt a certain compelling need to tell her everything that he knew, and he could not entirely figure out why. There was something else gnawing at the back of his mind that failed to show itself in the light of consciousness.

“Maybe sometime I could tell you a little bit about the war and everything that is going on.”

She smiled. “I would like that … My father teaches me how to fight, and he told me if I ever see a person in a hood, to run home right away. I gotta go, my daddy will be looking for me!”

With those words, she left the room as fast as she had stumbled into it. Galathan was left alone in the dark. He hoped he would run into the little girl again. He was unaware of the fact that the King’s conversation had ended, and stood with nothing but his thoughts in the dark.
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Galathan
"Survivor of Ormus"

[Jack Kelly]

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Jack was walked through Umbra whisteling happly,a blood soaked shovel thrown over one should,he continued to amble down the road.Finnaly he started to make his way to the Tavern,surely some kind of fun would spring up in Umbra.To his suprise Jack saw the crimson haired one storm out of the tavern,it diddn't take him as unusual,but what lie in the tavern did.Jack looked down to the mass of body parts,faces,clothes...it looked like a necromic spell gone wrong,and being where he was Jack would spare the poor thing a horrid painful life,he brough the shovel up high in the air,still whisteling the scale followed the elevation.He was about to bring the shovel down onto the masses faces,when he saw a dagger...a very famliar dagger,Jack would never forget a blade that tasted his blood,"Oy...what..er...who...are you?".No movement,nothing to indicate it being alive.Jack shruged,if this thing had stabbed him he diddn't wanna kill it like this,he'd face it with some honor.He threw the shovel off to the side and began to ponder who to move the thing,but always the determined one he managed to get it to a healer,with a flick of his fingers he left a card with his name and pidgeon on it and headed out the door,casting a gaze back at the nurse,"Good luck wit' at' lass.".He went back to his merry strolling.
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