[M] Sanctuary: As Daylight Dies (IC)

[RedKayne]

This is rated M for blood and gore, heavy violence, language, nudity, sexual content, dark sexual themes, and contradiction of religious beliefs that may be considered blasphemy outside of creative context.

Link to the OOC (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=74995&p=2577815&viewfull=1#post2577815)


Sanctuary

http://i.imgur.com/K25aQhZ.png

Prologue: City of Broken Angels



Intro Music (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QB3pxBDZvf4)



Fair maiden, draw in silver, the stars web their hope from your blood...

A woman screamed, thrashing about as a Templar warrior dragged her through the mud. The middle-aged woman’s clothes were completely ruined by the grayish sludge, and heavy rain poured down from the skies above. The templar, a young man clad in silver armor, dragged the woman roughly by her dark-brown hair, streaked by gray hairs of elderly age. She continued screaming at the top of her lungs, begging for help from the nearby bystanders, but nobody would intervene. The crowd of citizens only looked down at the woman with a solemn expression, knowing there is nothing they could do.


Fair maiden, won’t you be joyed by the sight of the three? Their sole eyes of fate is carried at you...

She was being dragged away from her home, a building that was nearly falling apart in the slums. Her husband tried to fight back and save his wife, but two more templars were already taking care of him. They pushed the man down to the ground, constantly kicking him and ignoring his pleas and cries of agony. The man continued to holler in pain as the templars physically beat him down, but the emotional pain of never seeing his wife again was even worse. The man’s little girl, a brunette child no more than six years old, was crying at the front door. She watched her father receiving a physical abuse from the Templars, and her mother being dragged away and will never be seen again. She kept on sobbing for her mommy, tightly holding on to a stuffed bear in a feeble attempt to find comfort in this madness.


Behold one, turn from this side to this side, shave thee beauty from the lies of the lips...

The middle-aged woman continued to struggle, her voice becoming coarse from constantly screaming. They finally reached their destination, right before the front gate of the city. There were dozens of more Templars dragging other people, many of them were mentally sick and old in age. Most of them received the same treatment, and were being dragged roughly by their hairs, arms, or legs. Thunder boomed overhead, and the heavy rain continued to become harsher. The sky was grey from the dark clouds, and the atmosphere itself was completely morbid. It seemed like hope was nothing but a child’s fantasy in this world.


Bathe in fire... Glorified skin anew... with good morning, as the eyes still draw at you.

Lord God, I pray to you... Amen.

Divine Lady Camilla finished her prayer, standing up from her kneeling position. She was dressed in a regal red-and-black dress (http://weddingdecorideasdiy.biz/wp-content/uploads/2015/05/gothic-black-and-white-wedding-dresses-lxHg.jpg), but it was getting soaked by the dreadful weather. She stood on top of a balcony in the castle, overlooking the front section of the city. Her heart swelled with pain as she watched the process of the Pilgrimage, witnessing Inquisitor Darkwood’s Templars gather up those deemed useless in society, and being transferred out of the city of Sanctuary... their beloved home.

“I see that you are troubled, Lady Camilla,” Divine King Mathias glanced to his left, commenting on his Divine Lady’s troubled appearance. Even though he was Divine King, Mathias wouldn't want to miss the opportunity of watching over the Pilgrimage and ensuring it runs smoothly. Today, he was adorned in black regal clothing (http://shrinestore.com/store/catalog/images/DSC_0005_web.JPG), which also getting soaked by the heavy rain, but he paid no heed. He sighed lightly, before glancing back down and watching as one of the Templars toss a middle-aged woman with dark hair into one of the several caravans. These were large steel caravans, barely hovering above the ground with the excess amount of people locked up inside. There were many cries for help, and many demands for releases, but none of their pleas were answered. “You must remember, this is what we must do to survive. We must sacrifice a few... in order to save many.”


At the center of the operation and standing right before the front gates, was the tall and intimidating Masked Inquisitor. The heavy rain clanged loudly against his silver-like armor, and the dark slits of his eyes watched everything carefully. Once all of the caravans are full, the Masked Inquisitor will proceed with the next phase of the operation. He will lead the caravans outside and transport them to another town in the Borderfields. Yet, it is unknown where these people are dropped off, and oftentimes family members completely lose contact with their loved ones over this matter.

Off in the distance, within a small building, two shadowy figures watched the entire process of the Pilgrimage while within the safe confines of the indoors.

“I don’t understand why Lord Mathias doesn’t delay the Pilgrimage for a couple of days,” Inquisitor Darkwood growled, his steel-clad arms crossed against his chest. His beady black eyes watched his troops drag the people across the muddy ground. He cared little for these ‘dregs’ of society, but he had severe issues that his men are to work in a harsh weather condition such as this one.

“He seemed rather determined to stick with the schedule,” Inquisitor Cox commented, leaning against a wall next to the window. She held one hand on her hip, and stood in a completely relaxed position. She hardly cared for the condition of Darkwood’s troops, but her attention was completely focused upon the mysterious warrior: the Masked Inquisitor. After working in the espionage squadron for many years, she still has little to no information regarding the Masked Inquisitor’s identity. He comes and goes as he pleases, and answers directly to the Divine Trinity alone. Hell, she wasn't even sure if the Masked Inquisitor was a man or a woman.

“Pff,” Inquisitor Darkwood scoffs. “I remember the days when the Pilgrimage happened only once a season, that’s four times a year. Now, we are doing them once every month. I think its almost borderline unnecessary to do the Pilgrimage so often,” he stated aloud. However, he had little regards for the politics and population control of Sanctuary, he was more worried that he and his troops were being overworked.

The raven-haired woman paid no attention to her companion’s opinions, and her bright crimson eyes watched the figure of the Masked Inquisitor. It seemed everything was finally completed, and the Templars thrown all of the ‘dregs’ into the steel caravans. The Masked Inquisitor turned around, facing the three guardsmen protecting the front gate. He motioned them to move aside, so they can begin moving.

“Oh?” Inquisitor Cox raised a bemused eyebrow, taking notice the guardsmen ignored the Masked Inquisitor’s order. In fact, one of them drew his sword and pointed it directly to the Inquisitor, positioning himself in a very aggressive stance. Another guardsman lowered his spear, while the third one raised his crossbow. “What’s this? Now this is a first...” In all of Sanctuary’s history, the Pilgrimage has gone uninterrupted. Now, it seemed like there was a little rebellion going on.



“You... you release my mother right now!” one of the sword-wielding guardsmen shouted, his face flushed with anger and hatred. He was a very young man, either in his late teens or early twenties. This militant was the son of the one middle-aged lady taken away earlier, and he will not let this Pilgrimage ruin his family. He will not let his little sister grow up without a loving mother.

The other two guardsmen were his companions, but were older in age and near their late twenties and early thirties. All three of them had family members being taken away, and this was more of a spur-of-a-moment rebellion, rather than a planned act.

A couple of Darkwood’s Templars laughed out loud, nearly in disbelief that these pathetic guardsmen will stand up to them. They walked forward, drawing their own weapons, but then a raised arm stopped their movement. The Masked Inquisitor held up his arm to the Templars, before taking a menacing step forward towards the guardsmen. It seemed that the Masked Inquisitor intended to take down nuisances on his own, and will not need the help of the Templars.

Inquisitor Cox paid attention to the weapon behind the Masked Inquisitor’s back, it was apparently a large two-handed sword in a black sheathe. Now, they will finally see both the Masked Inquisitor and his weapon in action for the very first time.

The spear-wielding guardsman already charged forth, not giving the Masked Inquisitor time to draw his weapon. The militant raised his weapon, releasing a battle cry simultaneously when another thunder boomed overhead. He thrust his weapon forward and directly towards the Inquisitor’s chest, intending to pierce through his armor with a solid attack.

However, the militant’s eyes widened with shock and disbelief when his lance suddenly halted. The Inquisitor’s hand moved lightning fast like a viper, immediately grabbing the shaft of the lance with his gauntlet-hand. The Masked Inquisitor halted the attack immediately with his physical strength alone, and the steel tip of the lance was only a mere few inches away from his armor. The Masked Inquisitor squeezed his grip on the iron shaft, and then shocked everyone by easily snapping it in half as if it was wood.

The guardsman didn’t had time to react when the Masked Inquisitor’s hand wrapped around his neck, raising the militant up in the air. The militant struggled against the Inquisitor’s grip, thrashing about and attempting to pull away the squeezing hand. He could barely breathe, and would more than likely suffocate. However, the Inquisitor wanted to finish this quickly.

There was the sickening sound of a snap, and then the militant’s body slumped over lifelessly. His eyes were completely devoid of any life, and his neck was snapped by the brutality of the masked warrior. This Inquisitor would display no mercy to these treacherous soldiers.



“What is he doing, Mathias?!” Lady Camilla demanded, her face appalled as she turned to face the Divine King. “He is killing those men! Are you just going to let him do that, when we can simply incapacitate those soldiers and lock them up?!”

King Mathias stared down at the scene, and watched as the militant with the crossbow shoot several bolts towards the Masked Inquisitor. The Inquisitor simply maneuvered the corpse he was holding, and allowed body to act like a shield as the the bolts pierced into its back. The silver-clad warrior then threw the corpse with incredible force and speed, and it crashed against the cross-bow militant. There was a yelp of pain as the militant dropped his crossbow on to the ground.

“They are traitors, Camilla, and the punishment they deserve is immediate execution,” King Mathias stated with finality, sharing no empathy for these poor souls that dared to defy his rule.

The militant struggled to get the corpse off his body, but then his eyes widened in terror as the Masked Inquisitor was already standing above him. He apparently tried to scream the Inquisitor to stop, but the Masked Inquisitor raised his leg and then stomped down. The guardsman’s head easily crushed beneath the Inquisitor’s incredible strength, leaving it nothing more than a squished pile of flesh, bone, blood, and brain liquid.

Lady Camilla only gasped at the grotesque sight, and saw the last guardsman - a young boy - shaking with terror as he watched his companions easily killed by the might of the Masked Inquisitor.

“You can’t do this, Mathias!” Lady Camilla quickly turned to face the Divine King again, her fiery-red hair swirling around. “You need to make the call and stop your Inquisitor! That is just a child, will you seriously execute him? He is just a boy! Spare him, and let him be fairly tried for his crime! He doesn't deserve to have his young life taken away in such a barbaric manner! He is just a boy!”

Divine King Mathias stood there silently for a short while, holding his breath while he watched the Masked Inquisitor take a few menacing steps towards the young militant. Mathias raised his hand, fixing his wet blonde hair and wiping away the water droplets on his forehead. “That will be a sign of weakness, Lady Camilla,” he stated aloud, not bothering to look at her in the eye. “This is the first ever rebellion of the Pilgrimage, and we need to ensure it is the last.”

The militant swung his blade across, attempting to decapitate the approaching Inquisitor. However, the masked knight simply raised his left arm, letting his left forearm block the blade. The weapon didn’t even make a dent against his durable armor. Immediately, the Inquisitor’s right arm grabbed the boy’s weapon hand, gripping it tightly while slamming his right elbow against the boy's face.

The boy cried out in pain, releasing his grip on the sword - which the Inquisitor quickly took away. The young militant’s nose was smashed, blood dripping down like a small torrent. The boy looked up, and completely froze with the image of the monster before him. The three guardsmen couldn't do anything to stop him, and the Inquisitor didn't even need to draw his own weapon. The boy felt tears pour down from his eyes, and then his legs gave in and collapsed against the ground. The boy knelt before Inquisitor, sobbing and begging for his life, begging to be spared so that his father and little sister didn’t lose two family members in one day.

“If we spared this young man for his treachery, others more sinister will take advantage of our act of kindness. And that will be the beginning of a new war in Sanctuary, one that may threaten to tear us apart from the inside-out.”

The Masked Inquisitor raised up the blade, aiming directly at the young man’s neck.

“May God judge his soul now...”

The blade swung down.




One Day Later...

Anna Catriona slammed the glass shot down on the wooden counter, sighing in relief. It has a been a rather long week of work, since Inquisitor Caleb's squadron has been stationed at the town of Jericho for the entire week. Monsters attacks have been on the rise lately, and so they ensured the safety on one of the most vital towns. Throughout the week, there were a couple of attacks from the Scourge Beasts, but they were easily handled by the squadron. There were about only ten to fifteen monsters per raid, and thus the Templars and the militants easily outnumbered the Beasts and killed them off.

They just returned to the city of Sanctuary this morning, but the weather was still pretty bad. She could hear the heavy rain pour outside of Jacob's Tavern (http://cornucopia3d.e-oncontent.com/storeItems/Objects/Interior/Realms_Art_Medieval_Tavern_Interior_Vue_25_0_img.j pg?mod=1), along with the occasional thunder. Once they arrived at Sanctuary, the squadron was allowed to break and enjoy their free time. They shouldn't have another mission for about another week. Anna Catriona intended to take advantage of every precious second. Once released, she quickly returned to her small home, taking a quick shower and getting rid of her battle-armor. Now, her body was adorned with tight leather black pants, fashionable black books, and her signature black chiffton blouse top - and one could easily see her black undergarment and creamy-pale skin beneath.

Anna glanced around, it was a rather lively place tonight. Many of her fellow Templars also decided to enjoy themselves tonight at the tavern, drinking and interacting with each other. Anna herself might smoke a Beatus or two later on tonight, just to get herself that exhilarating high. She glanced at the bartender, beckoning him for another shot of hard liquor. Most of the squadron already heard the news of yesterday's events, and learned that the Pilgrimage had a small interruption with a foolish rebellion by three guardsmen. All three of them were quickly executed by the Masked Inquisitor, and now many more questions surround the mysterious warrior and his incredible strength. Regardless, Anna herself wasn't interested in the Inquisitor's secrets, and was more interested in having fun for the night, and get a couple of thrills.

Anna smiled to herself as she waited for her next drink, glancing around the room again. She is the newest recruit to the squadron - and the youngest - but Anna already felt like she found a family. It was such an amazing feeling, especially after living in the slums for the past several years. She owed everything to Isaac for changing her life, and then briefly wondered where the Senior Templar's location.

She would assume that Isaac would also be in the tavern, enjoying the company of his closest friends and co-workers. Then again, he could still be in a debrief with Inquisitor Caleb, which is mandatory for a Senior Templar after every completed mission. Also, he could be spending time with his daughter, especially it has been a terribly long week for him, and surely he missed that little rascal.

Anna smiled to herself again as the bartender quickly returning, handing over another shot glass.

[Maya]

Did anyone else notice the rain seems unrelenting these days? Maybe it was all in her head. The dark clouds and pummeling drops looming over them the entire way back had a way of drenching not only her clothes; but, that jovial demeanor which normally got Kiera in trouble in the first place. Might chalk that up as a positive if only she wasn't soaked through to the very bone. Even so, man it was good to be home! Already, her sites were aimed towards a hot bath, warm meal and, perhaps a trip to the tavern if sleep didn't claim her first. Her little house was just as she'd left it with the exception of a spider on the windowsill and a few dust bunnies. She wasn't a glam girl, so there was just enough furniture to be comfortable; yet, not enough for the whole squadron to cop a squat for too long. After kicking off those muddy boots and placing them on the doormat, the spider and dust were quickly dispatched outside with a few sweeps of a broom. The bath was filled with steaming hot water and a bit of vanilla bubble bath. Thirty minutes and two pruney feet later, that drain was finally unplugged on the sweet piece of heaven until another day.

Slipping into jeans, a dark green button up shirt and a rain coat, Kiera would tug on those muddy work boots, because there was no reason to get her good shoes muddy, and head out the door with the hood tucked down over her head. First stop, the bakery to see her stepmother. They'd have a short reunion, make small talk,share a blueberry scone and work out an order to be delivered once she'd left. Then the girl was off to see what was shaking at Jacob's.

Back at Isaac's, there be a knock on the door as a delivery boy dropped off a package from the bakery with a note that simply said. "To Kaitlyn, from K" The box, tied with a pretty, purple bow, was brimming with chocolate brownies, sugar cookies and melt in your mouth fudge. An absolute sugar high in the making. Kiera had been sending Isaac's daughter a gift box every time the squadron returned from a mission since Kaitlyn's mother had vanished. She'd noticed how much Isaac hand changed after the loss of his wife and realized how hard it must be to raise a child alone. So, in her own little way, she was letting them know somebody cared. Maybe the sentiment stemmed from the loss of her own mother at such a young age. Maybe he knew who was spoiling his daughter completely or maybe he didn't. The tradition would carry on regardless.

Even so, she never waited around to see the delivery take place. By then, she'd be walking into the tavern offering a grin to anyone she knew. Anna being first on the list. "Hey, pup. What's going on?" Ruffling the woman's hair while plopping down beside her at the bar. With the girl being the youngest member, of course there was some ribbing to do. "What are we drinking? Milk?" Rapping her knuckles on the bar top to get the tenders attention.

"Usual, Kiera?"

"Yep.." tossing the guy a quick wink and some coins for payment. In return, he'd slide a cup of hot tea with lemon her way. Ooo, heavy drinker here! Look out! "I learned my lesson about alcohol and strange drugs a long time ago." Just waiting for Anna to make a comment. "Laugh if you must. If I'm going to railroad someone at cards or dice latter, I need my wits about me." Letting a little chuckle slip before puckering those lips to blow over the steaming cup. "Seriously though, how's things going?"

[Cfavano]

Giggles could be heard from a secluded corner of Jacob's tavern. Matthew was sitting there with one of the local girls on his lap. Currently, he was doing body shots off of her, and was licking excess salt poured around the glass tucked in her copious bosom. Putting his lips around the glass, he picks it up with his teeth and, tilting his head back, he downs it. While this happens, Matthew snakes a hand up her skirt and begins fondling her slightly firm, yet plush. The girl blushes, "Master Tannhauser!" she whispers, "People will see!"
"And?" Matthew replies, "Why should we care?"

After saying this, he would pull her into him with his free hand, and kiss her long on the lips, working his tongue into a dance with hers while continuously fondling her bottom. For her part, she grinds her pelvis onto him, moaning with pleasure. Matthew finally pulls back from her. "Why don't we take this to somewhere...more private?" He says, and the girl blushes furiously as she leads him to her quarters, down in the basement. They won't be disturbed there.

[Kris]

The stallion hooves rocked and trashed the ground as Lady Grinz'berg rushed it for the hut, about two hours away from the main city.

The hour of dusk was drawing near and the latest thing she wanted was to get back when it was nightfall.

Some distance away a lovely, familiar voice rose from the small wooden cabin. Renee descended and walked carefully by the window.

Someone was singing.

"They say they turn by the four
Four ends of the wind.
They say they call for all
All that could be seen.

And yet, one, tremble, soul
Cannot fathom, cannot recall
The last of the smiling days..."

The door opened and the music stopped at once. Seven lasses and four boys, about fourteen or so stood up at the sight of the new comer.

The lady who played the lute, Madam Debra, somewhat heavy middle age woman smiled kindly as she put the instrument down, ready to stand and show hospitality.

"There is no need, wise lady", said Renee as she removed her hood.

The Madam nodded softly, "Would you care to stay, m'lady? I am just getting them ready for bed", she smiled, "And then I will have all the time in the world to talk".

"Let it be so"

***

"You've never cease to amaze me, Debra", Renee sipped the tea from the tiny cup which was offered to her, "You've done wonders with the place".

The woman nodded, "Nothing would have been achieved without you and many other good hearts... I hope the tea is to your liking".

"Of course..."

Debra leaned carefully, sitting on her rocking chair, "The kids are happy and that is what important. While their parents perished in the war, there is still a place for them to call home".

Renee smiled, "What about Ryan?"

"He is getting to... The kid hasn't talked at all however..."

"Nothing, huh?"

"The lady of fate was graceful enough to not allow the children witness the death of their folks. That cannot be said of Ryan. He has been traumatize... But fear not, he is a strong boy... I'm sure he will recover in no time".

"I know...", Renee nodded as she was recalling the events under which she found the boy.

"It's already dark, my lady... I would offer you to stay, but I know you will refuse, so better you make haste to your post".

"It's been a lovely visit... I've brought some food and toys...".

"They would love to have them. I will sure to give it to them".


***

Renee has made her way for her mount when she noticed blue eyes piercing her from the upper floor.

She froze for a moment, somewhat in fear.

That boy, Ryan.. the mystery of him was still a puzzle she was unable to solve and often she wondered if bringing him to the orphanage was the right thing to do. In truth, her often visits was for her to keep an eye on him.

She guessed only days will tell more...

For now she rode back to the city.

[Yamimoon]

Letum was walking home with the rest of his troop, as the rain continued to fall. Though the rain was relentless he figure that was a good thing. With the rain came the cleansing of everything that was foul with the battlefield. The scourge they had finished eliminating not more than two days past was being cleaned away. The blood that soaked the battlefield was being cleansed by the rain. Even the blood he had on himself was no more. Now they were almost home, and he was looking forward to getting to the bar and having a couple of drinks. He loves the battlefield, but even he needs to get away from everything that haunts him.

Like how in the two years that he has been on his mission, he has had no real success in his endeavors. He has failed to find an opportunity to kill any of his targets. None of them even have a moment of weakness, nor are they easy to get to. He shook his head at this as he continued to march towards the city. Though his clothes were drenched from head to toe, he was not going to miss going to the bar once he gets back.

The moment he got back into town he went straight home to change his outfit, and allow his armor to dry. He entered the little one bedroom apartment where he stayed. He didn’t live in the slums, but it was close enough to them to make the rent dirt cheap. He felt more at home in this neighborhood then in the main city. Besides it makes it easier when a member of the assassins come to try and take his head. Beginning to remove his armor he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, but he didn’t react to the sensation. ‘Speak of the devil!’ Letum thought to himself as he continued to get undressed. Once he was down to his undergarments is when the assassin struck.

Dropping from the rafters in the roof to try and impale the traitor with her sword, but she had been found out and her target moved with such speed that she truly had no time to react. By the time she hit the ground and looked around for Letum, the man already had the tip of his sword at her throat. His eyes betrayed his calm demeanor, and she could almost feel his blood lust. “So they sent a woman after me this time. Maybe they think I will show you mercy and let you kill me.” He said in a calm but deadly tone.

He looked over the female assassin with a sinister smile on his face. Knowing good and well that he would have to kill her, no matter if she was family or not. There were things he needed to do to keep his cover, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t use her to send a message to the rest of the assassins to back off. Though he would have to wait till most of the people in town were asleep. Besides he didn’t want to break his habit of going to the bar after a mission. So he would come back to finish playing with her. “Sorry my dear, but you are going to have to take a nap.” He said as he quickly moved behind her, and struck her at the base of the head with his sword. Just hard enough to knock her out.

He tied and gaged the woman throwing her into the closet. He would deal with her later. For now he got dress in his usual casual clothing, and walked out the door. This time locking the door behind him. He didn’t want anyone to find her until he was done with her. So he quickly made his way over to Jacob's tavern, hoping not to get too wet in the process. Where most of the others would be gathered.

By the time he got there most everyone was already in the Tavern doing what they usually do. Matthew was doing his thing with the women that he liked to play with, and thankfully he did it in the privacy of a room. Letum was not in the mood to watch his actions tonight, besides he will be having his own ‘Fun’ later. But for now he took a position at the bar, and motioned to the bartender that he was ready to order a drink. He saw that Kiera, and Anna were at the other end of the bar having a little chat. He really didn’t care to socialize unless he needed to. Once the bartender asked him what he wanted he ordered the strongest spirit they currently had in stock. He was only going to have one drink. Just enough to get a buzz, but not enough to hinder his judgment.

[TheDoctor]

Another dreamless sleep.

Templar Jerris Greymir lay in his undergarments upon his bed, his sheets tangled around his legs. His eyes gazed lifelessly at the wooden ceiling above, watching the unmoving framework which held his roof aloft. After their return from Jericho, he immediately returned to his home and took ample time to rest. Days outside of the city frequently resulted in little sleep for Jerris, so he took what time he could to rest and recuperate in preparation for whatever tasks could await him.

He hadn't dreamed for thirteen years. Did he even know what dreams were in the first place?

Had he ever dreamed before?

Jerris swung his legs to the side and stood, arms stretching with quiet pops. A pair of slim khakis and a white button-down lay in a pile upon the bedside table, his standard attire for non-combative affairs. Minutes later, he was fully dressed with a pair of black shoes upon his feet. His eyes scanned over the bedroom, all so very plain in its appearance. A bed, a table, a desk, a lantern; the bare necessities.

As he descended downstairs, he found the setup similarly bland. A kitchen with a stove, oven, and meal utensils, a sitting area with a fireplace, a couch and a few chairs, a restroom, and a storage closet under the stairs. Matching colors and homely decorations were unnecessary, but small home was kept in perfectly clean condition. Jerris may not have cared about comfort, but a lack of cleanliness showed a cluttered mind.

The outdoors seemed even less colorful than the indoors with a gentle rainstorm over the night sky. With a gentle exhale, Jerris dawned his navy cloak, raised the hood, and exited his home, locking the door behind him. Isaac was most likely meeting with Inquisitor Caleb if he hadn't already, but he would be at his home regardless. Jerris frequented there between missions to discuss various aspects of the Senior Templar's squadron, for he never really felt like he was "off the job," so to speak.

The Scourge Beasts were always preparing, always working, always slaughtering. Why shouldn't he?

Turning down the melancholy row of houses and stepping across a puddle on the long cobble road, he navigated down the street to another intersection lit by bold torches. Isaac's home resided in a much more lavish district than Jerris's, for not only was Isaac a Senior Templar, but a father. He was a family man with a daughter and a wife...well, without a wife. Jerris tried to avoid that topic when possible. Emotional sympathy was not his strong suit, and he was far too apathetic to trust himself to talk about in sensitively. He may have had Isaac's trust, but there were some things you just didn't say.

And his daughter, Kaitlyn? In her presence, even Jerris sometimes found it difficult to remain stoic. Her aura was warm and welcoming, and her attitude just as snappy as her mother's from what Jerris could tell in the short time he had known her. He never worked well with kids--or really, worked at all with them--but when he looked at the girl, he felt a spark of life kindling a subtle ember behind his cold, icy blue eyes.

Were they even his eyes, though?

After an uncomfortably soggy walk, Jerris brushed the sodden front of his white air away from his eyes, gazing upon the Hills' household. It was as good of a home as one could find for a little girl in Sanctuary, which, although not ideal, was better than many of the living districts in the metropolis. He quickly stomped down the footpath to the front door and knocked punctually, standing beneath the extension of the slanted roof over the front door. An uncomfortable drip fell from the edge directly onto the center of his back, causing his dull eyes do grow even dimmer.

But one did not rush a Senior Templar.

[Sonic]

.

[Scottie]

Thumping her head into the lumpy mattress, Sophia let out a frustrated groan. It had been a long week and to return to grey weather only made her more infuriated. She rolled over onto her back, staring at the rafters above her. Counting the knots in the wood, like she did when she could not sleep. Hearing the rain patter against the glass only made her press her hands to her forehead and let out another loud groan. She grumbled to herself, swear words flying as she tore off the rest of her heavy armour.

Letting herself slide into a hot bath, she tried not to think of the news that met them when they arrived home. Three guardsmen slaughtered in the streets. For trying to protect their family. For trying to keep their families together. Her forehead crinkled as she thought of it all, it was stupid. So fucking stupid. But she couldn’t complain. No, it was for a higher purpose, all those pilgrimages. Another stream of curses fell from her lips as she dragged herself from the bath and got dressed.

She left her hair down, the ends still wet and curling as she exited the small room called home. It was a simple room, above an old tired tavern. The man there knew her father, gave her the room as soon as he saw her searching. As she exited through the tavern, with only two resident drinkers within, she forced a small smile for the man who got her a roof over her head.

Once outside that smile disappeared. With her normal attire of dark brown trousers, beige tank with a greenish loose open blouse over it ,she didn’t truly stand out. Her heavy boots made sure her presence was known when she wanted it. Her presence in the streets was skimmed over, she looked almost boyish as she walked along the streets towards the Tavern. She didn’t care for the rain, letting it wet her hair again and soak through the thin blouse.

Entering the warmth of Jacob’s tavern was a welcomed relief. Sophia flicked her eyes over the occupants. Hearing the shrill giggles of the working women in the corners, made her internally groan. She rolled her eyes seeing Matthew disappear off into the darkness with one. Another few Templars were dotted around the tavern but she didn’t feel like speaking with them just yet. Moving to the opposite of the bar from her fellow Templars, she ordered a pint of ale then disappeared upstairs.

Taking a seat near the open banister, she took a small gulp of the golden liquid. Resting her feet up on the table, she rested the chair back until it hit the wall. She never liked to leave her back open to attacks, even in one of the safest places in the Sanctuary. She tapped her fingertips against the glass, watching every person who entered the tavern with hawk eyes.

[☆Catwoman☆]

Their squadron had just returned to Sanctuary that bleak, horrid morning, so she had missed the debacle of the previous day. Still, the city was rife with rumors, and to these the young woman listened with interest. Another Pilgrimage, same as every other.

Until it wasn’t.

Foolish guards had defied the Divine King and thus defied God Himself, or so the rumors went. The Masked Inquisitor had dealt with their impudence swiftly and without mercy, slaying them to the last. Then the old and infirm had been “escorted” out of the city, as usual.

Yelena could imagine the spectacle well enough without hearing the morbid details whispered of around her. Her lip curled slightly in disgust at the deceptive name of the drama; “Pilgrimage” sounded so righteous, so idealistic, as if the victims of it were making some kind of honorable and faithful journey for their God. Yet what Yelena had witnessed time and again was no faith-induced ascendance into God’s good graces. It was a round-up, pure and simple. Men and women considered useless to society were dragged into caravans and taken away, never to be seen again, their loved ones crying and screaming to the heavens with only silence to answer their pleas. It was a nightmare scenario, one that had Yelena drinking herself into oblivion more than once.

But it was necessary. Sanctuary and her outlying towns could only support so many. The Pilgrimage was the grim answer to their dilemma.

May I never grow old, she thought, sipping the watered-down swill this tavern called whiskey.

She thought of her parents then. She had not gone to see them yet, perched comfortably in their estate in the highest levels of Sanctuary. In truth, she knew that she had nothing to fear in growing old, as unlikely as it was to occur, and neither did they. Nobility was protected from the Pilgrimage, their support and wealth too important to subject them to such a dreadful ordeal. For this, they were quietly despised.

Yelena’s icy eyes were glued to her glass as she sat contemplating life’s little annoyances in Jacob’s Tavern, the go-to place for Templars to drink themselves under the table after a difficult and dangerous foray into the Borderfields and beyond. She sat in a corner booth, legs neatly crossed, bouncing her foot unconsciously in time with her forefinger, which tapped silently against her glass of whiskey. It was a tick of hers, one that betrayed an otherwise cool demeanor, signaling that she was anxious or deep in thought.

She looked up in time to see one of the tavern’s patrons leering at her. His eyes traveled up her long legs, visible from the slit in her black and crimson dress, appreciated the contours of her body, lingered on her bosom, then finally met her own gazing orbs. Rather than looking chagrined at having been caught staring, he offered a salacious grin. She batted her long lashes and gave him a warm smile in return, then polished off her drink, set the empty glass on the table, and stood. The graying gentleman’s grin broadened as she strutted towards him--

--then died as she walked right past.

Yelena’s ruby lips curled slightly in private amusement, then tempered as she approached two familiar faces perched at the bar. She had spotted Matthew, his appetite for women voracious as usual, and glimpsed Letum seated by his lonesome and looking content to keep it that way. Sophia, too, had entered moments before and chosen a dark little corner to squat in, obviously not interested in socializing. So for now, Yelena entered into the company of Anna and Kiera, gesturing to the bartender as she approached and ordering her third so-called “whiskey”. She slid a coin across the polished wooden bar as she slipped into the seat beside Kiera. The currency was soon exchanged with another small glass of cheap alcohol--cheap, but it still did the trick. Eventually.

“A fine, muddy day to you, ladies,” Yelena greeted. Her eyes fell to Kiera’s chosen beverage. She could swear it was tea. “Seriously?” she asked, tone colored with mild incredulity. Then she shrugged her bare shoulders and took a swig of her liquor. She nodded towards Anna’s shot glass appreciatively.

“She at least knows how to party,” the young woman quipped with a smile. But her eyebrow raised and her lips puckered in a pout as she glanced into the contents of her own glass. “Well…at least she would know how, if this tavern’s alcohol was worth a damn.”

She was beginning to think she had an unhealthy obsession with spirits…

[AngelWing]

The golden haired man looked out of place, standing outside of the tavern dressed in a loose tunic and black trousers. His boots were worn but were comfortable--some of the only remnants from his past before Zion or the Sanctuary. He already didn't like it here; he'd heard about what happened at the Pilgramage the day before. Those guardsmen... He already hated the Pilgramage, and what happened the day before only made him hate it more. Elders weren't useless--they controlled his home town of Judah; and the mentally ill were useful as well--given the chance they could do most jobs put before them. This was why he hated the Sanctuary. Even still, he smiled and laughed, letting his true self hide beneath the face he wore. The promise he was keeping to his oldest friend.

This place can't get much darker than what it already is...no point in changing my smile just because I hate it. He chuckled at himself, shaking his head as his gold eyes flashed in the light. His tunic covered most of the scars on his body save for his face and his good-ball nature covered the scars on his mind. For the most part, he could play the regular guy; which helped him out around here. He could talk to just about anyone and, while they would think him slightly too peppy perhaps, they'd never know that his true nature was something much darker entirely. He looked up at the quiet steps coming around the corner, his seismic sense telling him who it was instantly and his grin growing slightly. "Hiya, Leo."

This Leo was actually a girl, despite the masculine touch in the name. Her hair was a golden color with blond streaks. Cut short it hung around her face in a wild look, making her look a bit, well, wild. Just how she liked it. Leo, whose first name was actually Leona, lifted her right hand and waved slightly at the other golden haired being. Lighting up, her eyes portrayed pleasure at seeing her friend, one of the only ones she called friend. Her legs are up the ground and she reached the side of the Tavern in no time.

"Hey Saul!" Her voice was quiet but carried as she stood in front of him. Her stature was an inch shorter than the six foot man who stood before her, a smile on his face. Leo smiled up at him, a rare feature for her when she was around others, and her smile quickly dropped off her face. Still, her eyes showed compassion for Saul, just as his smile was a bit softer than usual and brighter in a way. Stuffing her hands in her pockets of the skinny black leather jeans she wore, knives visible by her thighs and hidden in her combat boots, she tilted her head towards the Tavern. Her corset she wore covered her chest and most of her stomach, some scars able to be seen from her hips and small of her back. "Wanna go in?"

Saul smiled at her, chuckling softly as her smile faded as quickly as it came. She wasn't peppy, really, and always spoke quietly, but she could always make him smile. The scars on his face wrinkled slightly more when he smiled at her, a sign his smile was just a bit different to her than to others. He enjoyed her company where others wondered how she was any fun at all. Perhaps because she was staying in the guest room at his house, but he understood her better than most of the others in the squad. She was withdrawn, true, but only to those that deserved it. She was picky about who she called friend was all; just as he was picky about who he was loyal too. She was one of the few people.

"Sure, if you're up for it." Saul said, smirking at her. It wasn't often he could get her to go to the tavern with the rest of the squad, so it was nice to at least see she was here. "I'll buy the drinks this time around, yeah?"

Nodding, she reached up and patted his chest, just three pats, which was like a hug from her as she was not one for touch unless in her room and scared, then she was a massive cuddler. But around a bunch of strangers, even with her only friend in front of her? No way. She straightened her back, and looked up, meeting the pretty eyes, and nodded once, before leading the way to the Tavern, opening the door and holding it for Saul. He was a charming man, all smiles, and he was quite lively. In her mind he was her brother than lived, one not connected by blood but by friendship. He seemed to never stop smiling, but he had his own scars. Ones he hid, just as much as she showed hers off by wearing short shirts.

She turned her head following Saul's movements, and blinked in amusement. "You do that." She never really went out, it was a hassle to be crowded in a bar, with people who did not know who she was wanting to try and take her home. never ended well. But this place was local and known to house Templars so she hoped it was better than the past few experiences. She would try something, she could handle the hard liquor but she preferred juice. Just something about her that Saul knew.

Saul nodded, ducking inside and smirking at the crowd, keeping close to Leona as they made their way through the other Templars and to the bar. He waved the bartender down, waiting till he came over. Usual for me, and a rum juice for Leona. One part rum, two parts juice." The bartender nodded, making the drinks easily as Saul put the money on the counter. He took the drinks and handed Leona her's. "Give that a try."

He looked around the tavern as he drank his whiskey and rum, gold eyes flashing again as he spotted Anna and the other members of their squad. "Looks like almost everyone is out relaxing tonight, that's a good thing." The next mission was a distance away, as long as nothing else came up between now and then. He'd be fine, they all would, with a few days or weeks rest. That was all it would take really.

[IronQuill]

"Every day is great when Iago is Iago~"

Iago busied himself that morning with grooming, he cleaned his teeth and ironed his clothing. It had been a busy last few days and Iago needed to resupply. Beasts of the plague were of hardy stock, and the humble Templar had nearly run out of quarrels to pierce their thick hides and his windlass had nearly broken from all the winding he had to do. A talk with a quartermaster would fix that, but right now Iago had to do what made Iago presentable after sleeping for most of the day. Braiding his hair.

"Careful... Careful..."

Many he knew in his old line of work criticized him for having such distinct appearance with braids and baubles. Iago often defended that any spy, distinct or not, can be killed while looking like a common citizen as often as they would if they a certain "fashion" to them. And Iago was simply right on that many were, granted those who were caught and expectantly violently executed wihle looking like a vagabond or common bureaucrat were often pointed out by Iago himself, but that's beside the point. That point being that Iago liked to look good.

"And.... done! Ha ha!"

Iago had just fastened the last bead onto his braids and smiled at himself in the mirror. His home was a small room situated on the top floor of a low class boarding house. Suffice to say his was the cleanest after the land lord's own suite. Underneath the floor boards, he could hear the squawking and laughter of those residents. If he was in the mood to care, he could probably pick apart the muffled voices beneath. But not right now, for tonight Iago planned for merry making the only way Iago knows how: Make other people miserable with his presence.

"And tonight shall be Iago's night!"

With a skip to his step, an umbrella in hand, and hood swept over his head, Iago left the squalor of his board house and wafted down the rain slick streets of Sanctuary. The Spy knew of many places to get a good drink or a good time, but what Iago was looking for required something with... familiarity of a sorts. Somewhere he knew those he knew would gather, and that would none other than...

"... Jacob's tavern."

Iago chuckled mirthfully as he stood outside the homey establishment, many in his squadron were fond of drinking here and so provided Iago a steady supply of amusement and secrets to prod. Tonight he shall be a spectacle to them, tonight he shall be the Iago they all knew. He shall be....

"Greetings my fellows, Iago has OH!" Before he could even finish saying hello to his fellow Templars, he tripped on his shoelace and fell flat on his face.

And so Iago the Fool arrived.

[RedKayne]

"You better watch it before this pup bares her teeth, Sanford," Anna said jokingly with a sly smile as Kiera sat down next to her fellow Templar. Anna rolled his eyes with bemusement when Kiera teased her about drinking milk, and slightly shook her head before downing her next shot. Her facial expression slightly soured from the hard alcohol, but she slammed the glass back down before leaning back on the seat. "Woo, that hits the spot," Anna giggled, before turning to face Kiera. At the sight of the hot tea with lemon, Anna immediately raised her hand in a feeble attempt to cover her snickering mouth.

Templar Sanford defended herself, stating that she needed her wits in order to hustle a few folks tonight. Oh well, at least Anna could respect that, but it was still quite amusing to drink hot tea in a tavern nonetheless. "Don't worry, Sanford, I won't judge you..." Anna patted the other woman's shoulder with reassurance. "Much," she finished her sentence with a broad grin.

It wasn't too hard to notice the disgusting show going on at the corner of the tavern. Templar Tannhausser was getting very physically intimate with... well... a whore in his lap. This time, Catriona rolled her eyes with disgust, shaking her head as the two of them departed the floor in order to find a more private place downstairs. "I know that I'm a loose girl," Anna stated aloud to Kiera and freely admitted about her sexuality, "But even I wouldn't touch that noble jackass, even with a ten-foot pole, even if I was drunk." She beckoned the bartender for another drink, but this time a pint of ale. She had plenty of the hard stuff, and didn't want too much of a bad hangover in the upcoming morning.

"Unless, of course, if its to kick him hard, right at his small dick," Anna snickered deviously, before thanking the bartender for the ale and then paying him with another coin. She certainly would pay money to see Tannhausser rolling around and crying on the floor after being getting kicked in the nuts. It wouldn't entirely get rid of his attitude problem, but it would certainly kick him off of his high-and-mighty platform he built upon himself.

Afterwards, another one of their comrades approached, Templar Renakovic. The noblewoman greeted them, and then Anna had to laugh out loud over seeing Yelena's facial expression once she noticed Kiera's tea. "I know, amusing, isn't it?" she commented to Yelena. "But hey, she has her valid reasons," she pointed out, trying to slightly defend her fellow Templar.

"She at least knows how to party," Yelena said.

"Damn straight," Anna's head nodded with approval, before taking a large swig from her ale. The poor taste itself didn't bother her, its wasn't like Catriona was an alcohol snob or anything like that.

The tavern was certainly getting crowded, many people of their squadron members were certainly enjoying their time. There were even several people from Inquisitor Lyon's squadron enjoying themselves at the tavern, interacting with one another. In fact, the Inquisitor himself - clad in black clothing (https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/06/93/3a/06933a0b602157f050aaea20132d5896.jpg) - just walked up to the bar area, clearly looking a little tipsy and rosy-cheeked.

Inquisitor Edmund Lyon approached the bar, slightly off-balanced, before stopping to Yelena's right side. His left arm leaned over, trying to give the bartender another coin. "Yo, boss, can I have another one?" he questioned, while his overreaching arm gently brushed against Yelena's bare shoulder. Upon physical contact, he glanced to the young woman, holding a small smirk on his face. "By the way," he began, raising up his other hand and pointing towards the fuming man that Yelena walked by earlier. "That man has no class," Lyon stated to her, displaying that even with his dulled senses, the Inquisitor still had eagle eyes to be aware of his surroundings. He winked at her, before finally walking away to rejoin the company of his squadron. It wasn't a strange sight at all to see Inquisitor Edmund Lyon to hang out with his squadron members, as he is known to be the most personable and friendly Inquisitor out of the six - well, seven if you include the masked one.

"Oooh," Catriona began, her bright-blue eyes sparkling with delight. "I think he has the hots for you, Renakovic," her gaze followed the Inquisitor, admiring the man from afar. "If I were you, I would totally go after him," she giggled again, before taking another large swig from her pint.

It didn't take long before Anna felt the alcohol to take its effect in her small frame. She already felt her face slightly flush, and had that pleasant buzzed feeling in her head. Her drunk personality was known to be a fun one, since she would be even more bright and giggly. She turned her head at the sound of the entrance door opening, and then a loud person attempting to announce his presence to the entire room. However, that person quickly tripped and slammed his face against the ground.

Anna burst into a loud fit of laughter at the sight of Templar Santoro - or better known as Iago the fool - making a joke out of himself yet again. She felt tears welling up the corners of her eyes, and it took awhile before she managed to compose herself again. She shook her head, muttering something along the lines of Iago being a damn lunatic.

"Well, ladies," she turned her head towards her two companions, grinning widely. "I don't know about the both of you, but I'm looking forward to the rest of this week. Its gonna be a fun one."

[Maya]

To put things in perspective from Kiera's point of view, she didn't come to the tavern to drink herself into oblivion, try to get laid or sulk in a dark corner while bemoaning this thing that is life in all of it's many facets. Nope, all she wanted was a cup of tea, bit of conversation and maybe a game with old, man George later. He was always sitting at a corner table luring someone into a game. The man got riled every time she beat him at cards; but, couldn't figure out how she did it. To be fair, he'd beat her at chess every single time so they were always even in his way of seeing it. Those small victories made the guy happy, which made Kiera happy. So it was worth losing to him time and time again. Besides, George had known her from working in the orphanage and instantly bonded with her wry, little sense of humor and spunky attitude when so many other children came in broken and stayed that way.

As for Tannhausser..ugh, just ugh. "Poor girl's dredging the bottom of the barrel." Feeling more sympathy for the whore than the boorish Templar. Good thing the show was moved somewhere more private or she might have needed a good, stiff drink after all. "Makes you want to scratch your own eyes out doesn't it?" Before she'd became a Templar, Kiera had always envisioned them as noble, kind, God fearing warriors who would save the world. Please! Now she knew they were a rowdy, drunken band of misfits and renegades who barely liked each other but somehow managed to work together in spite of it. Leaning in to whisper in Anna's ear. "I heard he only has one nut. Lost the other one when an angry mule bit him right in the crotch." True? Nope. And that's how rumors get started.

There was a friendly smile as Yelena took the seat next to her, Kiera still perfectly happy with the choice of drink steaming in her hand. Even as the woman voiced her surprise by the preference. "What?" Those eyes bouncing from her squad mate's whiskey to her own cup as if she had no clue why the woman would even bother to point it out. "Why do you guys care what I'm drinking? Besides somebody has to stay sober in order to make sure the rest of you sloppy drunks get your asses home. Or I'll just have the staff roll you in a corner somewhere to sleep it off which is easier." Stifling a laugh about Anna knowing how to party. "Enjoy your hangovers, that's all I have to say." To each their own. The two could tease all they wanted, she wasn't going to be jumping on the that bandwagon. Going so far as to remind them. "You won't be able to judge cause you won't remember I was even here." Not with the way Anna was slamming them down. Chuckling while looking over the room as more people made there way in.

Noticing the Inquisitor was making a wobbly path straight for them, Kiera nudged Cat..cause she didn't want to miss this, and watched with mild fascination as he pulled in close to Yelena while getting another drink and stated, "That man has no class." Regarding Tannhausser. Somehow, she managed to reign in her burst of laughter until after Inquisitor Lyon was out of ear shot. "Yes, Yelena, go for it. You should totally tap that."

Have to be blind not to notice someone may have had her fill of libations. Making Anna all the more interesting to watch as the giggles set in. That was up until Santoro tumbled down the steps with the grace of a one, legged dog. "Oh, snap!" Surely someone would help the man up. The girl's laughter proved to be infectious and, despite her best efforts, she'd be giggling at Iago as well. You never knew if he was joking or serious for certain. He knew how to keep the tavern on it's toes.

She'd nod to Anna, hoping her words would be true. "Been interesting so far."

[Aureyon]

“May your soul find peace in Heaven; I hope you are proud,” his words echoed off the barren walls of the darkened cathedral, meeting his ear drums as though he were the racket and his words the tennis ball. His hair shimmered in the flickering of the candle-lit interior making it seem as though he had a field of wheat growing from his scalp.

It had only been a day since he had returned from his mission with his fellow squad-mates at the borderlands town of Jericho. But, he always managed to find his way into the House of God after each and every mission, detailing his mission and the events that occurred to the spirit of his mother wherever she had gone after death. This particular cathedral was always sparsely populated in the later hours of the day, and rather close to the child who had become the light of his life; Annalise.

He had found her on second mission as a Templar, the only survivor of her family at the hands of a group of Vampires. He did not know why he had brought her back to Sanctuary with him, but ever since the first time he had gazed into the sapphire eyes still alight with a burning light of hope and innocence despite all that they had bore witness to, he found a sense of duty ignited within his heart so powerful that it physically pained him to ignore it.

So, he brought her to Sanctuary; obviously not the smartest of ideas. The city had fallen from grace, a far cry from what it used to be in the old days – or so far as he heard anyway.

It did not matter either way to him. The only thing that mattered was her safety, and he guaranteed that through the payment that he delivered every month to the noble family that had agreed to his terms as well as his payment. Greed ran deep in the hearts of the citizens of Sanctuary, yet another example that lent credence to the idea that the city had indeed fallen far from what it used to be.

In his eyes, the city had been defiled by human nature in which he included his own nature as well. He was the furthest thing from the perfect human being, but he hoped to attain a semblance of that idea through the path of Gadriel, whom represented the aspect of Kindness.

To his knowledge there were not many who followed the same path, but several in his own squad followed the paths of the other Archangels; Orfiel being the one that came to mind most prominently. He was an inspiration to the younger Templar, though if asked, he would never openly admit to it.

It was a part of the reason that he had agreed to bunk with Marcella and Orfiel. He felt most at ease around them, though he wasn’t sure if it was more because of Orfiel than Marcella. Nor did it really matter, he was just glad to have found a sense of camaraderie with the two of them. He trusted Orfiel to protect his friends, and Marcella was smart – though her analytical nature sometimes led her to dangerous situations, he still found that he willingly gave them his loyalty and trust.

He stood from his position on the floor before the cathedral’s altar, and gently brushed himself clean of the dirt that had taken residence on the legs of his trousers. As he stood and disturbed the stale air within the empty cathedral, he could smell the must and withering of the old building. It felt old, even as you entered through the massive oak doors; it radiated an elder power – a divine presence. It was yet another reason why he chose to come to this particular building, it was where he could feel closer to his mother, and to God.

As he opened the great doors and stepped out into the night, his shoulders visibly fell, as if the weight of the real world fell upon him as soon as he left the oasis that was the old cathedral. He looked up at the sky, the moon seeming being reflected perfectly in his own eyes as if he had stolen its light into his own eyes. He looked away and began to make his way to Jacob’s Tavern, assuming that the rest of his squadron would be there. It was the known Templar haunt, and as it was so late, he wouldn’t be able to see the young Annalise.

--

It wasn’t much longer before he had found his way to the tavern, and he could feel the noise within the earth before he had ever come upon the building. It seemed that there were quite a lot of people within the tavern tonight, and all of them seemed to be having a good time by the vibrations of laughter and general boisterous behavior that danced within the earth unseen by all save for the Blackguard; one of three abilities they were given.

As he approached the door, he drew in a deep breath and released a softer one before passing through the doorframe and into an entirely different atmosphere than what sat outside. Celebratory, is the one that came to mind as he was assaulted by various scents as he stepped into the interior; not all of them pleasant.

It seemed as though the moon itself scanned across the crowd in search of familiar faces. He paused as he began to make his way through the crowd towards the bar, helping Iago to his feet, and stepping away without a word to him.

“Interesting indeed,” His voice, as gentle as silk gliding across bare flesh, carried towards Kiera as he caught her words after helping Iago to his feet. His voice didn’t match his appearance, but it certainly didn’t detract from it either.

“I’ll have some Gin, if you please.” He added to the barkeep before placing a coin on the bar and sitting at the edge of the table closest to the bar to rid his self of the chill that came with his rain-soaked shirt. The shirt was all but non-existent due to the rain having soaked it so thoroughly that it could be seen through. His wheat-colored hair shifting to a burnt copper as it flickered in the intensity of the fire in the center of the room.

He looked over as one of the barmaids brought him a Gin and thanked her with a soft nod of his head before turning his silver eyes back to the fire.

[Sonic]

Rain came down in a steady flow all throughout the evening causing low laying areas to fill with water and for the ground to sink when you stepped on it. The dark and angry clouds loomed over the Church (https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/10/4f/05/104f0523e23cee02513576aabfdaf302.jpg) as it slammed rain onto the stained glass windows; the sound of the rain hitting the glass filled the empty Church. The inside (https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/85/43/e2/8543e22e915c9915e6d35dfad9f6019e.jpg) was dark tonight, the usual candles that brought light to the beautiful Cathedral had been blown out when a gust of wind ripped through the front doors. The storm was taking a toll on Selenada at the moment as she ran throughout the large building trying to catch the constant drips from the roof. Even though the inside had been completely redone and the outside had been redone she still needed to do the roof. She kept putting it off to do some other time, but with the storm right on top of them it was apparent it needed to be done soon.

A loud crash from the top floor, her bedroom, echoed off the walls. Selenada had knocked over one of her pale buckets and now the floor was soaking wet. “I am going to go insane!” She huffed as she quickly soaked up the water with some towels and set the bucket upright again. She checked the other buckets in the room to make sure they weren’t over flowing before leaving her room and making her way down the stairs, stopping on each floor to check the buckets there.

“Oh my, it is so dark in here!” Selenada whispered to herself as she entered the nave. Finding some matches she quickly ran along the pews and lit all of the candles. The candles gave off a small glow, but with as many as she had the room was well lit and it made it feel so safe. Selenada took a seat on one of the pews and let out a loud sigh. It was nice to sit down after the day she had no thanks to that nasty, vile Pilgrimage. The torn families always came to Selenada to seek words of guidance and prayer and to have some form of direction for their new life. She would cook for those who no longer had a mother, watch children throughout the day until the family could figure out how to get their life back together, she did anything and everything for these people during times like this. She didn’t mind it, but this time was different. People were slaughtered in front of the innocent by that masked devil. Selenada always supported Sanctuary and the decisions the Divine King made, but she refused to accept or tolerate the Pilgrimage. She found it to be barbaric and this time it truly was.

“I believe I deserve a glass of wine,” She muttered to herself. A soft jingle underneath the pew indicated that her new kitten, Raavi (pronounced rah-ah-vee), was hiding from the storm. “Oh! Raavi! You poor thing!” She scooped up the pure white fluff ball into her hands and clutched it to her chest, rubbing her face against the kitten.

“Let’s go get some wine, shall we?” Selenada extended her arms and held the kitten above her and rubbed their noses together.


Amittay opened the doors to the church, but before he could close them again; the rain and grime from outside had already seeped in. He shivered involuntarily and leaned his back against the door where the storm knocked, loudly, like a beggar. Rainwater sloshed inside his boots when he moved, sending a chill up his legs, to his groin, and then to the base of his neck. He had already changed once after returning from Jericho and the prospects of changing a second time in the span of an hour did not sit well within him.

He hated the rain.

The walls of the church rose skyward, as through stretching towards their Creator’s home. Seleneda had lit several candles prior to Amittay’s entrance, but they only offered a modicum of light, which did little to push the darkness to the corners of the church. For a moment Amittay wondered if this was how a bat saw the world—just a bunch of outlines in no apparent order—and it took several heartbeats for Amittay to make out the oblong figure standing not too far away.

Before arriving at the church he had thought long and hard of what he would say to his closest friend. The mission to Jericho had been enlightening to Amittay who normally deplored the senseless murdering he was commanded to. Well, perhaps ‘senseless’ was not the correct word, but Amittay used it all the same. There must be, he thought, a way to reason with these Beasts; to make peace. This time, however, he had retrieved a piece of information that would be instrumental in his research to return the Beasts their humanity—those who had been human before, at least.

He saw Selenada as he always did—seeing his mother first, and then the girl herself. This illusion brought to Amittay a feeling of guilt and self-depreciation that clung to him, like lichen and would stay there until Seleneda’s seraph-like voice brushed it away. He remained at the door, suddenly uncomfortable, and cursed himself for not bringing an umbrella.

Certainly, Seleneda would have reminded me. He sighed and peeled out of his dark trench coat—underneath which was a black long-sleeve; wet but not terribly so—and folded it over a nearby pew. As he performed this gesture, he spoke thus: “It is not healthy for a young woman to speak to cats, like they would another human being. You will not get married if you keep that up,” he smiled, playfully, and walked towards his comrade in arms, leaving his trench coat behind. Scratching behind Raavi’s (he pronounced it “ray-vee”) ear, he continued “I have news for you—about Jericho and the Beasts.” His heart began to palpitate. “I think I have discovered another clue for my research. I am still far from finding a way to revert Beasts back into humans, true, but I tell you Seleneda, every day I feel like I am coming closer. I think that it can be done!”

He had yet to avert his attention to her blue irises. His heartbeat settled, and his countenance suddenly became somber. “I prayed for them earlier—not too long after we returned. I pity them, you know?” This time he did meet her eyes, and he hoped that in them he would find reassurance.

The sudden gust of wind and the slamming of the door startled Selenada, turning around quickly her eyes fell Amittay, a dear friend of hers. Amittay was one of the first people she met in Sanctuary and was one of the very few she could be her complete self around. Their conversations flowed and didn’t have any awkward pauses and Selenada wasn’t clumsily tripping over her words.

“Oh hush!” She gasped and pretended to be offended by his statement. “When I find someone I deem worthy to marry they will love me for the crazy cat woman I truly am!” Before she could get in another word her friend was hurriedly moving on to the next topic, obviously Amittay was excited about it. When he mentioned the Scourge beasts she felt a cold chill run down her spine, those creatures were the very epitome of terror. She had hoped and prayed that they could find a way to turn those back to the humans they used to be.

“Really? What information did you gather from our trip?” The Templars had just returned from their recent mission in Jericho. The Scourge Beasts seemed to be attacking more and more frequently so they were sent out there to squash any attacks before they started. She had gotten used to their missions of going and killing these Beasts, the only way she could continue on was reminding herself that these creatures were not of God, but of hellish nightmares. She was killing in the name of God and to protect innocent people, God wouldn’t have called her to the Templars if it wasn’t what he wanted.

“Just remember, pray for their soul and not for the Beast itself. We pray for the soul of our lost brothers because they are of God, the monstrous form they take is not.” There was a pause between them. Selenada looked her friend up and down to suddenly realize he was soaking wet and must be cold.

“Oh!” She said and blinked rapidly. “Amittay! You must be freezing! Come now, let’s go get you some dry clothes and something warm to eat and you can tell me all about the information you found,” She said and gently took his hand and led him out of the nave, up the stairs to the second floor and into her alchemy room.

The alchemy room was unchanged from the last time Amittay had seen it. There was an orderliness to it that only a bishop could emulate, and the common adage: ‘a place for everything and everything in its place’ was surely exercised within these borders. All along the walls were shelves that held a variety of alchemy paraphernalia—these latter being encased in a variety of bottles that extended from the inconspicuous to the obscenely conspicuous—Amittay, as he walked by, noticed an ochre concoction imprisoned inside a jar that looked like a glass, Wendigo effigy.

He thought of what Selenda had suggested to him—about praying for their souls, and not their flesh—and realized that there was truth in that. It was their souls, after all, that were of God; the flesh was only a transient host of which all immortal entities were housed. “The soul is good while the flesh is evil,” he wondered and instantly knew that this theory did not apply solely to the Beasts.

They arrived at a small niche near the back of the room where there stood a closet. When Amittay stepped inside, he only realized the warmth Seleneda’s hand had offered him when she had let go. He wiped his brow, and stripped out of his clothes, folding the long-sleeved shirt and denim jeans on a white plastic chair, which was in the closet with him.

Above Amittay was a small window, which was opened by just the faintest gap, and it was through this gap that he heard a song he did not recognize. He supposed that it was a war song—there were a lot of those lately. He wiped his brow a second time, leaned against the wall, and allowed the music to lull him before he remembered what he had initially come to Seleneda for.

“The information,” he said from behind the door which separated them. “Yes. Do you recall, Sarah, the girl who was bit by the vampire? We did not see her the next day and so it was generally agreed that she had transformed in the night and fled. I don’t disagree with this. But, tell me Seleneda, why did she flee?” Adrenaline. Yes. Amittay was familiar with this chemical. It surged through his veins, as if being pushed by some biological pump. “Normally, a vampire will feast on the nearest person. At that time, the nearest people were her parents, so why did she not bite them? The only conclusion I can come to is that she did not want to—because somewhere, deep inside of her, she knew that they were her parents. Now, I am not sure how long after her ‘change’ she would be able to recognize her parents, but I do know this: ‘there is a very limited time span right after someone has been ‘changed’ when they still have in them a bit of their humanity.’ Now, I’m not sure where this humanity goes after this duration is over, but I don’t think it leaves them. I think it just becomes dormant, you know, it seeps into the unconsciousness.” He was on a roll. The music from the window raised its volume—or at least seemed to, as Amittay neared his finish. “Therefore, I think that the answers I seek lie in the unconsciousness. If I can wake up that dormant part of the Beast’s brain, I think I can restore their humanity.”

Somehow he knew this to be true. It had been the same with his father when he had transformed into an Arachne—that hesitation when he was about to kill him and his sister; that irresolution. Amittay breathed deeply, as if he had just run a marathon. His palms were sweaty. He wiped them on his naked legs, and then, comically, knocked on the door and asked, “Can you get me some clothes, please? I’m getting a bit chilly.”

Selenada strained to hear what her friend was saying as he changed in the closet. It was an interesting idea, but she didn't see how that would help come up with a cure. Of course she suspected that Amittay had that idea figured out and if he didn't he would soon, he was very intelligent.

"So, you're saying you to experiment on an actual Beast? Amittay, that can be extremely dangerous...fighting them is one thing, but being in close quarters with one? Or would you want a dead one?" The thought of slicing into one of those Beasts made her rethink the red wine choice, so she switched to blush instead.

"Oh! There aren't clothes in there? I guess I forgot to replace them! One second!" Selenada took off to her bedroom on the top floor and grabbed a pile of clean clothes.

"I'm back!" She announced and closed her eyes as she made her way to the closet holding out the clothes for him to grab.

Amittay opened the door by a sliver, reached his hand out, and grabbed the proffered clothes. It was not that he was insecure of his body—to be sure, however, he did not think there was anything marvelous about it; though there was nothing pathetic about it either—but rather he did not think it appropriate for an unmarried man to show himself naked before an unmarried woman. He smiled when he noticed that Seleneda had closed her eyes, and wondered if she thought the same.

“Well, a dead Beast would not make a good specimen,” he pulled the clothes over him, and stepped out of the closet. They were the perfect fit because, of course, they were his; a pair he had left here just in case (he was at her house rather frequently, after all). “And I doubt any of the Inquisitors or Senior Templars will give me a live one so, for now, this hypothesis will stay a hypothesis.”

Again there was that mischievous smile which seemed incongruous to Amittay’s pious visage, as though it had been placed there by a Daemon. Then, this smile broke into a grin, and was no longer mischievous—it was the grin of a child who knew a secret that no one else knew. “But, enough of this. Let’s have dinner Seleneda. I do not want to go to the Tavern tonight—the music is always too loud and the drunkards are always too drunk.” He chuckled, lightly at his own joke. “If it is wine you want then you must have some here, and if it’s good company you want then look no further.”

From up the stairs Raavi meowed. Amittay walked passed Seleneda to scoop up the little cat. She purred close to his breast. “Even Raavi agrees with me, it seems.”

[Megilwen]

Seated near the open window letting the cool wind of the rainy evening dance over his back and head. It has been a long week of defending Jericho from various monsters and Orfiel the Repenter was sipping at a tall mug of warm cider and slowly reading over the words of The Book of Requiem. His mouth moving in slow stuttering forms of the words and his eye squinting as they moved over the same passage a few times.

There was a thud as Marcella dropped her own tankard in the seat next to Orfiel, the liquid sloshing out slightly onto the table. She was dressed in casual black leather pants and a black sleeveless top, comfortable out of her armor for once. Leaning back in her chair as was her habit, feet placed on the table top, she looked over the big man's shoulder watching as he read. She watched quietly for a moment before speaking. "You've made quite the improvement O. Practicing on your own again?"

Broken from his concentration by the sudden arrival of one of his best friends Marcella or M as he fondly called her. She and Octavious were his roomates and they were all good friends, but M had taken a special place in the Repenter's heart.

Smiling lightly the Crusader nodded.
"Yes, M and thank you." His smile faded a little as he looked around at the other Templars hoping they weren't listening to closely before he continued. "But the larger words in this passage still confuse me." He sighed dog-earing the page in frustration and closing the book before picking up his mug of cider and taking a long drought of it. Placing the mug down he pulled off his navy overcoat and tossed it over the back of his chair his leather undercoat being enough to keep him comfortable.

As was his proclivity when he was getting frustrated he pulled a knuckle duster out of a back pocket and began spinning it into the table using one of the spikes. He'd been learning to read for nearly three years now, but progress was painfully slow for a man raised in a nomadic life and used to always moving forward.

Marcella moved her mug out of the way of the spinning weapon so as not to disrupt its path as her sharp eyes looked over the Tavern. Spotting a few of their team already there. Matthew was in a dark corner, probably thinking he was hidden in the shadows. Anna was at the bar and Kiera and Letum soon entered the tavern afterward.

After giving O a few moments, she turned back to her big friend and leaned forward grabbing his mug, knocking over the spinning knuckle duster in the process before she presses the mug into his hands. "Don't fret. You're moving along fine. 'He who is patient receives the best gifts from the Lord.'" She said quoting a passage to him, one that he had a habit of quoting to her....especially when he was hogging the single bathroom of their apartment.

Marcella flashed O one of her rare smiles, reassuring the big man that he was making improvement. "Now this is the first night back. You can throw yourself into the Scriptures tomorrow. Tonight is for friends, companions, and relaxing. Now drink." She holds out her mug and taps it against his before taking a deep draw from it.

O chuckled at his usually stoic companion and picked his knuckle duster back up and returned it to his pocket, they were the only weapons he carried off-duty. His size usually did the trick to scare most froggy fools away, but those it didn't got a warning then a swift smack, very rarely did he actually have to lays hands on someone. But those that did quickly learned the pain a big man can cause with a pair of metal spiked knuckles.

As his friend clinked mugs with him he nodded and nodded back to her. Marcella was one of the greener Templars in the unit but Orfiel took a liking to her, she was bold and confident for such a young warrior, but also a little reckless and her overuse of Vigor Potions needs some tempering. She helped him and he helped her, a symbiotic relationship in it's purest form.

Sipping at his Cider he noted many of their comrades entering the Tavern. Kiera, Letum, Sophia, Saul, Leona, Iago the Squirrel, and a slightly tipsy Inquisitor joined himself, M, Anna, Yelena, and the lecher who were already present and enjoying the Tavern and it's many liquids.

Eyes scanning each of them wondering which he would see after the next attack and who he wouldn't.
Sipping the last of his drink he nodded to M.
"Well placed reference to one of my favorite passages M. So how are you enjoying the rainy night?" He asked swishing the last of his drink around in his mug and drained it's contents.

"I learned from the best." She said acknowledging him. "Plus how could I forget that one. You use it all the time on me." She paused taking another drink from her mug. "And you know me O. Dark, wet, and gloomy. Always the best."

It was more than just making it easier to hide, the rain. Marcella had always love the rain, even before she became a Templar. There was something about the sound of rain against the roof that just relaxed her, more than another else could, well mostly anything else. While everyone else normally complained about the rain and hated being out in it. She relished the feel of the rain causing her clothing to stick against her skin. Hearing the rain clink against the window made her long to be out in it.

She finished her drink and waved down one of the waitresses to order them both new drinks seeing that O's was also empty. "I am glad for the break we're getting however. It's been a while since we've been able to take a break. Or at least it feels like that." She paused against quietly observing the room and noticing more enter. Including their other roommate Octavious.

The big man gave an amused hmm as the server walked up all bounce and corset. Orfiel wondered if the Lecher had gotten his hooks into this one too. Pushing the thought out of his mind he ordered two more of their drinks before sitting back letting the cool air wash over him from the window.

He agreed with M's views on rain, he enjoyed the cool and wet air as opposed to hot and humid.
"Hmm indeed I do know you." He took note of Octavious as the young man entered, he was a good lad, and a deep follower of Gadriel like O was of Orfiel. The Archangels are the great servants of God and should be followed and looked to for examples of how the mortals should live. He also helped maintain their upper end townhouse not too far from the tavern.

The young woman returned with their drinks and O thanked her and flipped the girl a coin.
"So how long do you think it'll be before we have to load up our comrades into a wagon and carry them to their beds?" He asked chuckling lightly looking around at all the drinkers, alcohol was something the Black Crusader was familiar with and knew better than to mess with. He was quite the drinker in the past, it was one of the rituals his.....group participated in to appease one of the Dark Lords. It made him dangerous, and the last thing this squadron needs is a danger his size.

"You might have to load me up in there as well." She said glancing into her mug of ale. Granted she wouldn't get there as quickly as some of her companions like Anna, who appeared to be taking shots, or even Matthew who'd also been doing shots, though of a different manner. Though he'd disappeared so had apparently found his bed for the night. She took another long draw from her cup.

Normally, she wasn't one to follow in the "let's get pass-out drunk" like her companions as she felt that it impaired her judgement and her judgement was what kept her alive. However, after a long, mission she tended to let her hair down as it was. Which helped to make her an incredible lightweight.

O smirked at his friend continuing to sip his cider.
"Well I know where you sleep. Means I'll have to cart you out last." He gave a short laugh as a particularly strong wind blasted through the open window behind him sending a chill up his back and blowing out candles all across the tavern.

Chuckling again the big man got up and closed the window.
"Oops." He smiled sitting back down with M waving to the other patrons. "Sorry folks."

"Leave it a little open O and you could just leave me in the wagon. I'd sleep well enough in the rain." She chuckles. The cold air had blown her hair forward across her dark eyes and face. She pushed it back out of the way as she shifted in her seat so she was leaning closer toward her friend, head resting slightly on his shoulder as she gazed out over the Tavern still. "Filling in the blanks?" She asked nodding back toward the book in his pocket. She knew Orfiel had always wanted to study more thoroughly, however he was limited by sermons and the like. Now he'd be able to read all the stories that he'd only heard before.

O nodded wrapping one of his long arms around M's shoulder giving her a slight hug as she rested on his shoulder. It was always interesting to see how comfortable M was around him, especially with her stand-offish personality.

Sipping his drink some more he nodded down at the book.
"Yes slowly but assuredly. The lessons you've taught me seem to stick...most of the time." He chuckled again going over some of the said lessons in his head.

"Don't squeeze to tightly." Marcella said with a small smile, rare enough for her. It was only O that she had this personal relationship. She was growing closer to Octavious with them being roommates, but if anyone besides Orfiel were to call her M they'd probably meet the end of her sharp tongue. Glancing around the room again, she noticed that nearly everyone from their group was there. "Seems like everyone had the same plan this evening. Eat, drink, and be merry." She raised her drink again to knock against his before taking another large swallow of her drink.

[Maya]

So many of the squad did seem to wander into the tavern for whatever reason. Perhaps it was the relentless rain driving them here. Or the need for a stiff drink to find their happy place. At least within those walls, it was dry, warm and rather festive. She'd glance from Anna to Yelena, both enjoying their drinks, then around to all the other familiar faces they'd spent hours traveling with. Not everyone was accounted for which was to be expected. Some had families, some were tired and others may not care to mingle. Kiera and the ladies were doing just fine. One sober. The other two, maybe not so much.

When it came to Iago and his tumble, in the suddenness of the moment, she didn't know what to do for the man. He was known for being silly, doing prat falls and having quirks which made some laugh, others cringe and many just ignore him completely. She couldn't help but smile when Octavius was kind enough to offer the poor chap a hand. He was such a sweet, kind hearted guy for someone in their line of work. Didn't hurt that he was easy on the eyes too. Which is why the two women flanking her would hear a mumbled. "My god, he's got muscles on top of muscles.." The small description alone should be enough for Anna and Yelena to know she wasn't talking about Iago. Gawking much? Maybe just a wee little bit. She was a woman after all. Good thing Kiera did have a rule about not dating anyone she worked with. Deeming it way too risky to ever get that involved..causes distractions one does not need when back in the thick of it again.

Yes, yes, this was a very interesting night. Too interesting. Meaning it was a really good time to leave. She'd had enough of the loud laughter, the boisterous joking and the tavern in general. Grabbing the bartender's attention. "I'm leaving. Let my friends have a good time on me for a bit." Clinking down enough coin so the tender could cover a round for the squad. Would make up for the alcohol Kiera opted not to drink. As for the money, she still helped out in the bakery and lived for free in the home next door her step parents owned. There weren't many expenses on her part nor much she had need to buy. "Been a long day, I'm heading out. Have a good night ladies." Allowing Anna and Yelena to continue their revelry minus one. Waving to the jester. "Watch out for those two left feet, Iago.." As for Octavius, there was nothing rolling around in her head that wouldn't sound just plain dirty coming out her mouth so it was kept to a simple. "You just stand there and look pretty." As for all the other familiar faces in the room. "Be good.." deciding to add. "If you can't be good, at least make it look good."

Her way home included a stop at the orphanage which was once called home. Inside was a small chapel where the children gathered for worship, prayers and song. She remember the place well from her own time spent within those walls. Was always such a peaceful place.

"Ah, my wayward sheep returns to the flock. It's been a long time, Paladin Sanders. I've heard you're doing well for yourself."

Was not hard to recognize the timber of this particular man's voice as she stood by the alter and somehow managed not to flinch as he'd managed to sneak up on her. "Reverend Jameson, it has been awhile." Nodding. "You might say I'm holding my own." Fingering the crisp, white fabric the golden cross sat on.

"Quite a bit healthier than when I last saw you. As I remember it, you lay here.." Pointing to the floor in front of the alter. "after filling yourself full of something foul, your body trying to sweat out those deadly chemicals. I thought we'd be burying you the next day.."

Kiera seemed fixated on the spot, still vividly remembering gasping for air as her very heart tried to beat it's way out of her chest. Insult to injury, the vomiting and dry heaves were endless as every internal organ seemed to be revolting against the copious amounts of whiskey and ale she'd consumed in a drinking challenge that night. She couldn't remember what drew her into the chapel. Maybe because it was a peaceful sanctuary during her youth or maybe she'd believed it was the best place to die. A holy place where her stupidity might be forgiven in the afterlife. Kiera was all of twenty at the time and had been introduced to Leto by another recruit who suggested it as a wonderful aid to help get in shape for the rigors of the tasks they were required to do. Still a new Templar trying to fit in with the rest of the group and so easily led, it hadn't took much to convince her.

"Yes, that was many years ago. Trust me, it was a lesson well learned.." No amount of teasing or taunting by the others would ever move her down that same, destructive path again.

"You look very healthy. A complete contrast from that night so long ago." Talking in a whisper as the children were being put to bed. He didn't need to be giving them any little reason to get up. Was hard enough to settle them into sleep most nights. "Sometimes the Good Lord has to give us a wake up call. Some will heed it, others will not. I always had high hopes for you. I see that hope was not spent in vain." He'd start heading out the door to check on the children's bedtime progress. "Stay as long as you like."

She'd stay for another hour, contemplating what could have been, before walking the short path home for the night.

[Yamimoon]

Letum just watched all of the people in the room, as they continued to talk and socialize. Even though he has been in the Templar ranks for two years he still finds it hard to make friends. Even if it would make keeping his cover easier. It is always tough to have such ties, since they could be a target. Though he did think of the assassins as family at one time, but now that he has had to cut ties with them. They are no different than his targets. So making friends is almost an impossibility, though he is never mean to them he just keeps his distance. The bartender brought Letum his drink, and he paid the man with coin.

He was watching one man in particular inside of the bar. The Inquisitor Lyon was there as well. Though this is not the first time he had been drunk at the bar, it was the first time he seemed to let his guard down while doing so. Though his eyes betrayed his body's actions. Maybe he did this because of what happened just yesterday. Letum had heard that three guards had tried to take on the Masked Inquisitor to stop the Purge. Paying the price with their lives. Even though his mission was to eliminate all of the Inquisitor’s he wasn’t even stupid enough to try and take him on in a frontal assault. That man scared him the most out of all of his targets.

He almost felt sorry for Inquisitor Lyon since he is the most kind of the Templars, well as kind as they can get. This was the first time any of his targets had let down their guard. His thoughts were interrupted when the doors to the tavern opened and Iago the Fool made his entrance into the bar. Letum looked over the door giving a grunt of disgust. The one man he hated most under Senior Templar Isaac Hills command just arrived. This is the one person he could never get along with, and tries to avoid like the plague. He didn’t trust this man one bit. Not because of anything more than the fact that he was just annoying.

Remaining where he was he just looked at the man making sure he didn’t make any attempt to come his way, and keeping an eye on his target at the same time through his peripheral vision. The thought of having to deal with Iago was disturbing. Though if he needed to he would. Just for the sake of keeping tabs on the only Inquisitor that was in the tavern. Though there are too many eyes here to successfully kill him without raising suspicion.

So he was going to wait. The assassin that came to kill him could live a little longer. This took precedence. Just then a cool breeze blew through the taverns, through an open window where two of his fellow team mates were sitting. The breeze was refreshing and well needed. The stench of all these drunkards together was getting a little rough on the sinuses. Despite all of the variables in the room that were against him he took his time and waited. So he continued his vigilant yet secretive eye on his target. In hopes that he gets even more drunk, or shows a better opening.

[☆Catwoman☆]

Yelena simply kept quiet for a short while, enjoying the hubbub going on around her; the Tavern’s alcohol left much to be desired, but the company was good, the surroundings familiar and comfortable. She enjoyed it here, mingling with her comrades and knowing that her status as a noble meant little to those she would fight and die alongside--at least most of them. Yes, she enjoyed the perks that nobility granted her--one need only look at her expensive garments and accessories to see that--but here, surrounded by the family that she bled with in the eternal battle against their evil foe, was where she truly belonged.

Inquisitor Lyon approached, brushing against her in his quest for more liquor and drawing her from her reverie. Her eyes stuck to his handsome face as he, by all appearances, flirted, and she returned the gesture with her most winning smile, all pearly teeth and crimson lipstick. He winked, briefly stealing her heart, and she watched him hungrily as he took his leave all too soon.

Her peers’ comments wiggled their way into her slightly muffled ears, and she all but purred in agreement, gaze remaining firmly glued to various parts of his anatomy as the Inquisitor made the rounds, chatting and laughing with his subordinates.

Then her fantasies were rudely interrupted. Iago the Fool arrived, then promptly fell flat on his face a few paces in front of her. Yelena’s expression shifted in a heartbeat, turning cold and irritated. Here was a man she despised, possibly more than that egotistical rat, Tannhauser. That he yet lived was, in her mind, a miracle. She still awaited the day that he would trip headlong into the waiting jaws of a ravenous lycan.

She found the thought oddly amusing.

But that cold expression warmed once again when another handsome young face silently lifted the fool back to his feet. Octavius was a gem, a true heartbreaker, making women sigh and swoon everywhere he went. And to prove that point, Kiera did just that. Yelena’s lips lifted in delight at her fellow’s murmuring, and she responded with a quiet noise of affirmation. She couldn’t blame the girl; his silky voice, so gentle for one so adept at slaying monsters, made her skin prickle in pleasing ways.

Kiera took her leave shortly thereafter, bidding a fond farewell to everyone as she passed. Yelena might have waved in response, but she couldn’t be certain. She was far too busy eating Octavius with her crystal eyes. His shirt was completely soaked, sticking to his muscular body and accentuating all the little tidbits that she enjoyed on a man. She could even make out the outline of his extensive tattoo. Her gaze flicked to Anna, eyebrows wiggling in pleasure as if to ask, are you enjoying this as much as I am?

Her enjoyment increased when the young man ordered gin. Not her preferred beverage, but hey, it had alcohol. That meant that he was, in all likelihood, no angel, heavenly visage be damned.

She leaned against the bar, multicolored hair spilling over every side of her body, and downed the rest of her whiskey. Yes, she was staring. And no, she made no apologies for it.

“Someday,” she said to Octavius as he peered into the fire, the flames only deepening the shadows of his musculature, “you’ll have to tell me how you got that scar.”

She referred, of course, to the long scar tracing a line from his cheek to his ear. He had already borne it when they met, so she knew he had received the wound before his time as a Templar. While to some it may have been an ugly mark on an otherwise beautiful face, Yelena thought it suited him.

[IronQuill]

Ever jovial to all he knows, Iago chuckled mirthfully as he was lifted back to his feet. “Iago thanks his brother-in-arms,” He said to the retreating back of the Templar Octavious. A kind soul if he ever knew one, Iago almost feels remorseful that one day he will destroy that good man’s trust. Almost. Iago was a lesser man and so only sought to look after himself. Right now, for himself, he sought to bring liveliness to his day. He approached the bar were many of his comrades sat, taking note of what they were drinking and how ebriated they were.

“Iago greets his brothers and sister-in-arms on this fine rainy day,” He said cheerfully to them, leaning on the counter space nearest Yelena. “How do you all fair?” He motioned for the bartender to give him a drink. The man shrugged and slid him a pint of lager, Iago took a long pull of the dark drink. Only for it to go down the wrong pipe and send the Templar into a coughing fit. He hacked into his sleeve and he when he finished he smile apologetically to his fellows.

He could see the emotions in their eyes, the disdain and amusement that arose when he made his presence known and that made Iago only smile more. Oh how he loved to evoke such things in people. Iago could not explain why though, but it always seems so stimulating to simply stimulate others. Especially Templar Yelena, oh especially her.

That woman held a special disdain for Iago; the highborn always looked down on him like a rat. A vermin that should have died long ago, a wretch that should not have been a Templar to begin with. And Iago agreed, he certainly was never meant to be a Templar or a killer of beasts. He always saw himself meant for much greater work. Yet for all that disdain, the feeling was not mutual. Iago knew better than to quarrel with the likes of the “illustrious” Templar Renakovic, he could use that hate to his advantage. If Yelena saw him as only a Fool then she would never suspect as the Spy. How she could she? For he was merely the humble and simple Iago the Fool.

[Scottie]

Crossing her ankles on the table, she took a deep drink of her ale. One would do her. She didn’t like to dim her senses, nor did she like the person she became when drunk. She became…what some could call…pleasant…eugh. Flicking her eyes over the women who sat at the bar like a group of clucking hens, she placed her mug back down on the table.

Two were drinking, one was easily going to have to be helped home. Sophia wanted to be gone before that happened. More and more of her fellow Templars entered. It seems all bar two had decided to drink their night away. She liked being high up, none would truly come to bother her and she could watch them all. See how they flicked their hair or swiveled their heads around craning for another friend or annoyance.

As if on cue in came the annoyance. She shook her head softly and could almost hear the chorus of groans from the patrons of the bar. She watched as the man landed flat on his face and raised an eyebrow. Not entirely certain of the man she gave him a wide berth. She couldn’t place him and that annoyed her enough to leave him well alone.

Another familiar face helped the fool to his feet. Sophia could almost hear the purrs coming from the three women from her seat high above. The women at the bar were not trying to be coy, they were not the type to sit and wait for attention. They demanded, they grabbed it and they near enough always succeeded. It was a type of confidence she was a tinge jealous about.

Sophia watched the man sit by the fire, her eyes burning into the back of his head before sliding off him to another. Picking her mug up, she sank another gulp of the golden liquid. Kiera left, probably the wisest decision of the night. Sophia swirled the liquid in her glass and promised herself she would leave when the glass was empty. Leaning her head back against the wall, she finally moved her eyes from the others and instead stared into the rafters of the tavern. Sighing deeply as she drummed her fingers against the glass in her hands before humming to herself gently.

[AngelWing]

Seems like everyone--or almost anyway--has come out tonight. Saul thought to himself, taking another drink from his rum. It was a lively bunch, no mistake. Iago the fool, Octavious, Yelena, Sophia; among others. He only barely remembered the names of the Templars in his squad, save for Leo. It was mostly because he didn't share much in common with any of them. They had their beliefs, and he had his own; and he wanted to keep it that way. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy their company--he did. It was just that the difference lay between their faith that kept him from feeling any loyalty to them.

His gold eyes flicked around the tavern, watching everyone as the night went on. Some could hold their drink, others needed to stop, and some would probably not make it home in the morning. He wasn't sure what he would be classed under--he knew he could drink quite a few before he had to stop, but he also knew that this rum wasn't very strong until you had more than you should. He was on his third glass and was bound to have a fourth and fifth. It just depended now on when the feeling would hit him. He'd at least make it home--Leo would drag him back he was sure.

He sighed, smiling and laughing a little, before taking another drink. Ah well, after the mission they'd had, he couldn't say he blamed this squad much. Letting loose just a little was nice every once in a moon. Some of them needed this more than he did--some needed it less. Whatever his squad needed is usually what they did.He was glad he could be here with them and smile a little more; he'd make them laugh too, before the night was over.

He'd gotten so used to this life it was hard to imagine that he'd had another. If not for his scars, he would have thought he'd always been a Templar. But his scars reminded him that he came from a harsher world than most of these others--save maybe a scarce few. It was a world he would return to if he lived through this--because he had a promise to keep.

[RedKayne]

The Senior Templar marched down the red-carpet hallway, still wearing his battle-armor from the mission. Unlike everyone else, Senior Templar Isaac Hills did not have the time to enjoy the luxury of a nice bath or shower, and was immediately called to debrief with his superior. Sweat, rain water, and mud coated his body, which stood out like a sore thumb in the middle of the regal hallway. Bright lights dazzled around his figure, his footsteps muffled by the expensive red-carpet floor. The hallway itself was adorned with portraits of all past Inquisitors in the history of Sanctuary.

He was within the Templar Order headquarters, a small-like fortress higher up in the city of Sanctuary. The first floor contained the offices of the Senior Templars, but the second floor is where the Inquisitors resided. He reached the end of his hallway, his face appearing stern. In his left arm, he carried a folder with several documents, and he ensured that they were secured. He raised up his right hand and then knocked on the dark-wooden door once, and awaited for a response.

“Enter,” a loud, authoritative voice called out from the other side of the room.

Immediately, the Senior Templar opened the door, marching directly to the desk at the center of the elegant room (http://s1147.photobucket.com/user/landofmakebelieverpg/media/Castle%20Features%20Page/full%20sized/researchersoffice.jpg.html). Various old books of history and antiques decorated the room, including sculpted figures of the previous members of the Divine Trinity. Isaac stopped himself two paces away from the front of the desk, caging his eyes forward. He was standing in the position of attention; back straight, shoulders back, arms pinned to his side, and carried a powerful aura of confidence about him. He raised up his hand, performing a salute. The tip of his fingers reached the right side of his face, just barely touching the end of his right eyebrow.

“Inquisitor Bartholomew, Senior Templar Hills reports as ordered.”

Sitting at the other side of the desk, was the legendary Inquisitor known as Caleb Bartholomew. The master monster-slayer that everybody respects, and one can only aspire to reach his legacy. He, too, wore his heavy plate-mail armor because he didn’t have the time to change. His long dark-brown hair was tied up into a tight ponytail, and his gray eyes observed the Senior Templar’s stature. The Inquisitor nodded in approval, usually he prefers that his subordinates would call him Inquisitor Caleb - by his first name - because he likes to be personal with his companions. However, this was a military procedure and needed to be formal, and the Senior Templar was performing well.

Inquisitor Caleb raised up his hand, saluting back the Senior Templar before dropping his hand. “Take a seat, and sit at ease,” the Inquisitor stated, which allowed Isaac to promptly drop his salute and take a seat across from him. “We’re going to review the success of the mission briefly, because we have far more important matters to discuss and too little time,” the Inquisitor leaned forward on his chair, placing his elbows on his desk and having his hands clasped together in a relaxed position.

“The mission was clearly a success, we had very minimal casualties and managed to protect the town efficiently. As usual, you and the rest of your squadron performed remarkably well. My comments about your leadership style has not changed since our last meeting, and so you should know what are your strengths that you should frequently emphasize, while constantly improving upon your weaknesses.”

The Senior Templar nodded understandingly, but remained quiet and would only speak when asked to.

“Now that we gone over the mission, we need to discuss about the members of your team. Have you collected all of the memorandums?” the Inquisitor inquired.

Isaac nodded once again, “Yes, sir,” he answered quickly while placing the folder of documents on the desk. He opened the folder, revealing a pile of hand-written memorandum paperwork, all done by the members of the squadron.

“Excellent,” the Inquisitor stated, reaching forward and lightly grabbing on to the pile of paperwork. He skimmed through them, quickly turning from page to page, and constantly nodding in approval. “Alright, Senior Templar Hills, I would like to hear your evaluation over each Templar warrior in alphabetical order, starting with Adams.”

The Senior Templar reviewed all of the rankings beforehand, and made his final opinions regarding his squadron members. Some of them did are doing an excellent job, and were highly consistent with their ranks. Others had very mixed reviews, and were often ranked in opposite sides of the spectrum. Overall, some people have done extraordinarily well in the squadron, while others struggle to find a placement in the tough crowd. A few more needed to significantly improve themselves in order to have any hope of surviving out in the wastes.



“Templar Adams is not a team player,” the Senior Templar quickly began with the negative feedback. “She does not cooperate well with others, and is known to crack under pressure. The squadron worries over her severe mood swings, which can be detrimental at some points. However, she is an excellent fighter, and has a rather unorthodox manner of battling the Beasts. Templar Adams, like the rest of the squadron, understands that she is not leadership material. However, she ranked herself in the top third, but doesn’t understand that the rest of the squadron feels completely differently over her. Regardless, she is a fighter of vengeance, and still makes her contribution to our squadron.”

“Next is Templar Alexander, and he is known to be laid-back individual. He is an excellent fighter, and is considered to be a calm and confident warrior in the battlefield. However, many of his fellow squadron members are quite... unsettled... by his love to kill. They do not trust him, and I agree that we should monitor him closely. In fact, one of the squadron members had an eye-opening comment for me.” The Senior Templar leaned forward, pointing to one of the memorandums and one specific comment by a trusted warrior.



This man is far too laid-back, sly, and relaxed. Most of all, his satisfaction and enjoyment with murder worries me greatly. He's an extraordinary warrior, and that's why he's at the bottom of this list. Such a man could snap at any minute and eliminate a sizable proportion of our squadron. I do not trust this man.


“As I said before, he needs to be monitored closely,” Isaac continued with his comments. “He ranks himself a little more highly than he should, but he's a decent Templar warrior. We best be careful, though, around this young man.”

“Templar Caesar is known to be the thinker of the group. A self-proclaimed philosopher - he wants to hear all perspectives, and is thus rather openminded as an individual. However, one of the Templars commented that there are some orders he should not question, and I fully agree. He also suffers from insomnia, and we all worry if this condition continues. His lack of sleep would be extremely detrimental in the long run.He's also in the same boat as Templar Alexander, and ranks himself a little more highly than he shoulder. Overall, he is a decent member of the squadron, but there is much more room of improvement that he can do. Mainly, he needs to work on making a decision and stepping up as a leader.”

“We now have our youngest recruit, Templar Catriona,” the Senior Templar began with the next person on the list. “She mainly suffers from inexperience, naivety, and lack of discipline. However, many do agree that she has the potential to become a leader and admire her free-spirit. In fact, there’s this one comment that addresses how she can improve.” Isaac points to a different memorandum paperwork, which the Inquisitor glances over the next comment.



She’s blunt and sure of herself, never really questioning what she does. She’s a thrill-seeker, but also very honest. She won’t lie, and she has a snap attitude that automatically draws people to her. No one else really does that. She’s a leader without knowing she’s one—fix that, and she’d move up in the ranking here.



“Strong willed, she’s already able to captivate attention from others, and that is excellent for a person her age. She needs a few more years of experience, and Templar Catriona should easily move up to the middle-third of my list.”

“And now, we have Templar Hoefler. I will start with the negatives. She is young and inexperienced, and she also has the tendency to be reckless in her decision-making. However...” Isaac paused, almost adding a small dramatic effect as his lips curled up into a small smile. “She is one of the best Templars we have in the squadron, and the rest of her colleagues fully agree. Her skills as an analyst and tactician have become a boon for the squadron, and she is incredibly versatile. She’s a confident individual, and shows many signs to be a great leader as she is not afraid to speak up and voice her opinion.”

“And now we have your unofficial assistant,” Inquisitor Caleb commented, glancing at Templar Greymir’s own memorandum work.

Isaac nodded, “Yes, and so far, he has been a great asset to our squadron. However, due to his stoic and withdrawn personality, some may not truly consider him a part of the team since he keeps himself at a distant from others. However, after working closely with him for the past few years, he has been groomed for leadership, and he has an outstanding command presence. His fellow Templars obey his orders both out of fear and respect. He is an excellent swordsman, and many of his fellow Templars agree that he is one of the best - if not the best - Templar in our squadron. Best of all, he knows his worth and ranked himself very highly, but still remains humble enough to understand that others may be better than him.”

“Next, is the Repenter,” Isaac grabs a couple of the memorandums, glancing through them quickly to refresh his mind before placing the papers back on the desk. “Orfiel certainly has a strong command presence, and has gained the respect out of many of his fellow Templars. He is one of our most experienced soldiers, and he is the prime example of pure, unyielding strength. However, as you know, he tends to go through matters at his own pace, and some members of the squadron have complained that he can be rather... slow.” The Senior Templar picks up one of the memorandums, again pointing to another specific comment to show to Inquisitor Caleb.



I commend him for his strong obedience to God, but that does not mean that he should blatantly disobey his commanders. In that light, he is a little arrogant, as though he is higher than everyone else. I don’t like him very much. His combat skills are good, though.


“It seems that Templar Orfiel’s major flaw is his devotion to the Templar Order. He has disobeyed his superiors before, which can be highly disrespectful and unprofessional. I do agree that he does have a touch of arrogance by placing himself first, and believing he is superior to everyone else. Perhaps he needs a better awareness of his own flaws, and the strengths of others. Despite these personality blemishes, myself and many others still consider him an excellent Templar.”

“Moving on,” Templar Hills went to the next person, and one of his personal favorites, despite the two of them constantly butting heads in several matters. “Templar Renokovic is also one of our best Templars, and many others also agree upon this. She is helpful on the battlefield, a sturdy ally, and obeys orders easily. However, her rough personality causes her to clash against many of her comrades, including myself. Hardheaded, callous, defiant, she is not considered a cohesive team member. Ironically, she does fulfill her role as a noble, and has a slight hint of arrogance, just like Templar Orfiel. She considers herself superior compared to everyone else, and despite her logical reasoning, I hope she can find a side of humility one day. Overall, she has great confidence and an outstanding command presence. She always focuses upon the end result, and at some points, we do need that person that has ‘the end justifies the means’ mindset.”

“Templar Sanford is an excellent long-ranged fighter, and has proven herself invaluable in the battlefield. Templar Sanford carries a quiet air of confidence about her, which shows that she does have the potential to be a great leader. Other great leadership qualities include being very focused while on duty, but can still be personable with the rest of the squadron. A few others have commented that she can be far too laid-back, and that she can be rather opinionated. Overall, she’s doing a good job as a Templar, she knows exactly what her worth is, and she is on the right track to join my top-third. However, she does have a lot to improve upon, and I personally would like to see her take the initiative more often and lead by example.”

“Templar Santoro... now that one is difficult to place in my rankings, and everyone else is sharing the same difficulty. He is often placed either in the top-third or bottom-third in the memorandums, and is thus considered to be a mixed bag and lands directly in the middle of the pact. Some consider him to be an idiot, and question how he managed to survive after this long considering that he may be more of a threat to himself than anything else. However, some have recognized that he is usefully deceptive, and they have seen hints of leadership and intelligence behind his comical demeanor.”


Santoro is usefully deceptive, talented, and, most of all, fluid. He can adapt well to the most dire of situations, and he obeys orders without hesitation. His cool head will be useful in many encounters.

Senior Templar Hills pulled back the memorandum after showing his commander another comment written by a squadron member. “He is a decent Templar, and there may be more to him than meets the eye. However, several of our squadron members are rather uncomfortable with him, and many simply do not trust him. This is his most fatal flaw, if the squadron cannot trust him, then he has no hopes of being a capable leader in their eyes.”

“And now we have Templar Leona Savage, or better known as Leo by some squadron members. This one is rather interesting, because she is a strong and independent woman, but she is also plagued by several personality flaws. Templar Savage clashes with others and refuses to cooperate, and she will stick with her ideals rather than being flexible and obeying orders. She alienates herself from the group and only protects those deemed [i]worthy in her narrow-sighted eyes. I personally have a pet peeve with her sarcastic nature, and view that incredibly unprofessional as one of God’s warriors.”

“Templar Savage is a strong-minded person, but she is also very emotional and will let her personal feelings cloud her judgment. She views herself as a decent Templar by placing herself in the middle-third, but many members of the squadron feel differently. She has a long ways to go in order to become a leader, and many members of our squadron view her as a detrimental member. However, very few people commented and respect how she is willing to protect and lay down her life for those she considers a friend...”

Senior Isaac Hills let out a sigh, almost dreading to speak about the next person. Regardless, he needed to make his opinions, and every else’s, known to the Inquisitor. “Templar Tannhausser is a prime example of why I disliked the noble lifestyle throughout the early years of my life. He has a horrible attitude problem, and considers himself superior to everyone else. Yes, I do admit, he can be an impressive fighter with his vast arsenal of weapons and experience on the battlefield. However, his cocky, arrogant, and pompous nature strikes a discord with the rest of the squadron. Many are, in fact, ashamed to be working with a man dedicated to sex and money. Due to his unbearable personality, he can neither be considered a leader or a follower. And despite his ambitions of becoming an Inquisitor, or even a Senior Templar, he has no chance of achieving his goal at this point unless drastic changes are made.”

Now, after going through the excruciating details of Templar Tannhausser, Senior Templars Hills was more than glad to speak about the next person. “At first, I only considered Templar Vitraid a decent member of the squadron. However, after reading through everyone else’s memorandums, I realize just how much of an important person he is to our team. Templar Vitraid’s memory skills, quick judgment, and a solid fighting ability molds him into a well rounded warrior in the Templar ranks.”

“Even though his rather goofy nature can be noted as unprofessional - especially in the line of duty - it has proven to be an invaluable morale booster to our team. That is what I can respect, because our squadron always needs the optimism while facing the forces of darkness. He may not exactly to be dedicated to the Templar Order itself, but he is dedicated to his fellow Templars, which is another thing I can highly respect. I especially like his humble-nature, and appreciate that he ranks himself in the middle-third while the rest of the squadron recognizes him as one of our elites. He has the vast potential of being an outstanding leader in the Order.”

“We next have Templar Volkov, whom is known to be the most religious person in the squadron. Her faith and dedication to God is quite admirable, and I personally highly respect that. However, due to her gentle and fragile nature, she is unfortunately viewed as dead weight by the rest of the squadron. Templar Volkov is not suited in the battlefield, especially when facing the abominations out there in the wastes. Her leadership potential is in question, because she is too emotional to make the heavy decisions needed out there. Here is a rather... interesting comment from one of her fellow Templars,” Isaac handed over another memorandum, showing a rather aggressive comment towards Templar Volkov.


[i]I’m sorry... but a Lycan will not be swayed by your tears. Nor will “God” stop a vampire from tearing your throat out. Stupid girl. I don’t know how she got through training. She looks like a doll. Too fucking precious for such a dirty world.

“I personally think she is rather under-appreciated by her squadron,” Isaac Hills pulls the memorandum before returning to his attention at the discussion at hand. “She is a very kind young woman, and can be viewed as the mediator in the group. Also, her skills invaluable skills in alchemy have not been commented at all throughout the memorandums. She suffers mainly due to her lack of self-confidence, and even placed herself at the bottom. If Templar Volkov only starts putting herself out there, instead of letting her shy demeanor defeat her, then she can begin the road of improving herself as a great Templar.”

“Last, but not least, is Templar Warren. He is another excellent fighter, and has proven to be physically capable of tackling down the Scourge Beasts. Many members of the squadron view him as a warrior, through and through. He is adept at both sword and bow, which is helpful when we require either. He is extremely kindhearted and has the desire to protect the defenseless, which is quite admirable. We need more Templars like him within our ranks. However, others have noticed that he can be rather single-minded, and so he needs to improve upon his mental flexibility.”

“Also, some question his inability to obey orders of the more difficult nature, such as abandoning comrades in the face of danger. However, he has heart, and will prove to be an excellent leader. Many others have not commented on his healing capabilities, and that should be noted considering he is an adequate healer with his herb supplies. I appreciate that he is aware of his own flaws, but I do wish he thinks more highly of himself. He placed himself at the very bottom, when he’s honestly right behind the elites of our squadron. Once his self-esteem improve, no doubt, he would be one of the greatest Templars our Order has seen.”



There was a brief moment of silence, once Senior Templar Isaac Hills reviewed over every single Templar in the squadron. It was a rather timely process, but it was necessary in order to recognize the best of the best, and those that need to improve upon themselves in hopes of surviving out there in the wastes. Isaac picked up the folder of memorandums again, handing them over to the Inquisitor to keep and pass down the information through the chain of command.

“It seems that your squadron has come a long way, Templar Hills,” Inquisitor Caleb stated, and watched many of these Templars grow into outstanding leaders and superb fighters. “So, if you happened to be promoted as an Inquisitor, who would you choose to be your Senior Templar?”

Senior Templar Hills was already prepared for this question, it was nothing more than a theoretical idea. In case if something happens to Inquisitor Caleb, Isaac will immediately have to step into the Inquisitor role and appoint a brand new Senior Templar. That was one of the main points of evaluating every single Templar, to understand who would be best suited for vice commander position. The memorandum of rankings helped influenced Isaac’s decision, but overall it was his final choice to decide a viable Senior Templar.

“Templar Greymir would probably be one of my first choices,” Templar Hills began with his unofficial assistant. “We already have been working with each other closely for the past few years, and it would be the smoothest transition if he was appointed as my Senior Templar. As I stated before, he has an excellent command presence and everybody in the squadron readily obeys his orders.”

“My next choice might sound surprising, but I would also pick Templar Renakovic as my Senior Templar. Even though we have clashing ideals, she would be the perfect balance for me. I would be focused upon the people and ensuring their safety, while she would be focused upon the success of the mission. I predict that working together will be rough at first, but eventually we will gain the best of both worlds.”

“Templar Vitraid would also be another excellent candidate as my Senior Templar. I’m not sure if he would readily accept the position at first, since he is not exactly dedicated to the Order. However, he is dedicated to our Templars, and hopefully he will realize that being in this leadership position would be the best option for everyone. Everybody in the squadron thinks very highly of him, and he is a well-rounded soldier. “

“Finally, even though she is slightly young and inexperienced, Templar Hoefler shows promise to be a great Senior Templar. Her tactical skills and analytic mind are currently unrivaled by anyone else. Despite being young, she has outstanding confidence and is willing to make a decision, and will accept any personal responsibility along with it.”

Inquisitor Caleb took note of all four possible candidates, nodding with approval over Isaac’s reasoning over each individual. “Great, I’m glad to hear you gave this a lot of thought,” the Inquisitor stated. It seemed that their business was nearly done, as the Inquisitor began to pack up his paperwork. “Now, there is one more matter we must discuss, and I think it would be a pleasant surprise for you,” the Inquisitor began to form a small smile, causing the Senior Templar to slightly frown in confusion.

“I was just notified by Archon Denaris over this matter, but your promotion is official. You will join the ranks of the Inquisitors in a few short weeks, and the promotion ceremony is already in the works.”

Senior Templar Isaac Hills was stunned over the news at first, and didn’t understand how to react at first. “B-but, sir, based on my understanding, there are only six squadrons... How can there be a seventh Inquisitor?”

“Archon Denaris has also approved of the concept of a brand new squadron - a seventh squadron. You will be leading it, along with your own vice commander. More details about this squadron will come out later in the next few weeks, but for now,” the Inquisitor stood up from his desk, holding out a hand for Isaac to shake. “I would like to congratulate you, Senior Templar Hills - or, should I say, Inquisitor Hills.”

It took a few more seconds to process through overwhelming information, but finally it began to sink into the Senior Templar. A gleeful expression arose on his face, and he nearly jumped from his seat to shake the Inquisitor’s hand. “Thank you, sir! Thank you so much!” he shook firmly and excitedly. Even though the Senior Templar has been working diligently as a Templar for nearly a decade, he never would have expected to join the ranks of the legendary Inquisitors. Truly, God favored those that followed in His path.

“I won’t let you down, sir, I promise you that,” Templar Hills stated, and couldn’t wait to share this information with his young daughter.


It seemed that that the rain hasn’t slowed down at all since the morning they arrived, and the heavy rang clanged loudly against Senior Templar Hill’s armor. He walked through the muddy streets of Sanctuary, walking quickly and heading directly towards his home. His own house wasn’t too far from the Templar Headquarters, he only needed to take a few turns in the upcoming intersections. Fortunately, it wasn’t too crowded outside, considering everybody was staying indoors and avoiding from the dreadful weather.

He took a quick turn, passing by a small shopping district. He noticed a few of his squadron Templars approaching from the distance. They were probably searching for a place to dine in, because Isaac knew that the both of them tended to avoid the loud Jacob’s tavern, which was quite understandable .

“Good evening, Templars,” Isaac smiled and nodded his head with the greeting. Fortunately, the two Templars weren’t in uniform, and it wasn’t necessary to salute Isaac despite him being in his battle-armor. He passed by the two because he really couldn’t afford to waste any time with chit-chat. He wanted to see his six-year old daughter right away.

He finally reached the front door of his home, opening the entrance and stepping inside, and was immediately greeted with a loud squeal.

“DADDY!”

Kaitlyn (http://static.tumblr.com/ho6agjw/Urmm9ptqh/lor_little.jpg)heard the front door open, and rushed from the kitchen and towards the entrance. Her upper lips were adorably smeared with fudge, and she raced through the indoors of the home (http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-La7ROaX1KBY/TxpJY8hONfI/AAAAAAAABEg/-TGBbAn_DaI/s1600/Greystone+court+f.jpeg) and towards her father. She immediately jumped up, and Isaac joyfully picked her up in her arms and held her tight.

"Daddy, you're home!" Kaitlyn held on to her father, never wanting to let go again. He has been gone in longer trips before, but nevertheless she was always joyful to see her father again. She was not detracted at all by the mud and rain water covering Isaac's Templar armor, which was partially ruining the little white dress she wore.

"I missed you, too, sweetheart," Isaac chuckled, before glancing up at the young Sophia Taylor (http://pre05.deviantart.net/1ef3/th/pre/f/2012/195/7/a/portrait_2_by_haryarti-d577imu.jpg), who is Kaitlyn's babysitter while Isaac is out during his Templar missions. Sophia, a young woman in her late-teens and actually just became a Priestess. She has been more than happy to watch over the little girl, and Isaac usually paid her in kind with a hefty salary. That is one of the perks for Isaac being noble-born, as he inherited his parent's entire estate once they both passed away.

"She has been a good little girl," Sophia giggled, approaching the two of them before patting the top of Kaitlyn's head. "She's right now enjoying some sweets that Kiera dropped off earlier, she's a very darling woman, Isaac."

Isaac nodded in agreement, ever since Elena passed away, Kiera tried to step up a little and help take care of Kaitlyn. It was a very welcomed support, since Isaac struggled at first to find the strength to continue without his beloved. He finally lowered Kaitlyn to the ground, allowing Sophia to wipe the chocolate from the little girl's face with a napkin.

"I like her a lot," Kaitlyn mentioned aloud and referenced to Kiera, while enjoying another piece of chocolate handed over from Sophia. "Don't you, daddy?"

"Yes, she's a very nice lady, you little rascal," Isaac chuckled, slightly ruffling his daughter's hair. He had a small feeling that Kaitlyn was trying to ship both Kiera and Isaac together, and even though he does admit that Templar Sanford is an attractive woman, he couldn't afford forming any more relationships in the squadron. Also, he still isn't quite ready to move forward from Elena, despite it being quite a few years since her death.

"Well, I best be off, Mr. Hills, my parents are probably worrying about me..." Sophia said lightheartedly.

"Thanks again, Sophia, I truly appreciate your help," Isaac nodded in thanks to her. "I will pay you right away tomorrow morning," he stated, and he is a man of his word.

Sophia slightly waved her hand in a dismissive manner, "Oh, do not worry, Mr. Hills, I am more than happy to help," she stated with a small giggle. She picked an umbrella, and approached the door just as it knocked. All three of them turned towards the entrance, wondering who it was. Sophia opened the door, revealing the stoic Greymir standing outside.

"Oh, good evening, Sir Greymir," Sophia blushed slightly, completely off-guard by the striking young man. "Please come in," she beckoned the Templar to come inside and away from the dreadful weather.

Isaac was slightly surprised to see his assistant, but really shouldn't be considering that Greymir was always active and on the move about Templar matters. Even though Isaac understood Jerris's reasoning and knew that the Scourge are never at rest, the father was slightly frustrated about the interruption. He really wanted to spend quality time with his family and take advantage of every second in the company of his little girl.

"Good evening, Templar Greymir," Isaac nodded at Jerris, forming a small smile as a greeting and banishing away any frustrations. This is the life of a Senior Templar, and his life would only become more busy as an Inquisitor. He would have to get used to spontaneous meetings regardless. Isaac turned his head to the teenager, "Sophia, I apologize, but can you please look over Kaitlyn for a few more minutes while Jerris and I have a meeting in my office?"

Sophia was slightly taken aback, but understood quickly and nodded her head. "Yes, that's no problem at all," she put down the umbrella at the nearby table. "Let's go, Kaitlyn, before I eat all of the cookies myself," she teased the little girl, who immediately raced off to the kitchen to consume more of the bakery goods.

Isaac turned to face his companion, beckoning him to follow. "Come, would you like any drinks, Jerris?" Isaac questioned, as they headed down the hallway before taking a left turn. They entered a medium sized room, which was slightly messy and cluttered. Isaac never really had the time to clean up after himself, but it was organized chaos since he was always able to find any important paperwork.

"And how can I help you?" he questioned, after closing the door behind him.

[The Texan Queen]

Images of Amittay running various tests on a beast that tried to attack him any chance it got flashed across her mind causing her to shudder. She couldn't imagine being in the same room as one of those things, with no escape…so close to another. Selenada’s heart raced and she feared for her life enough when she faced those creators on the battle field.

She was relieved when Amittay changed the subject, she didn't like to dwell on such dark topics after returning from a mission. “I wish we could've gone earlier, before everyone else arrived, the soup there is just delightful. No matter, I can whip us up something here!” She heard the familiar jingle of her cats collar causing a faint smile to cross her lips. That little ball of fluff brought her so much happiness she wondered why she didn't get one sooner. She found Raavi hiding underneath some rotted wood in a rain storm, she couldn't just leave the little thing laying there so she took her in and instantly bonded with her.

“Raavi, my sweet, you really are an attention hog,” Selenada chuckled as she watched the kitten snuggle up to Amittay right away, meowing happily at the attention.

“So, dinner…what sounds good?” She asked as she poured her friend a glass of wine and slid it towards him.

“Anything, Seleneda. I just don’t want to be the guinea pig for another one of your cooking experiments,” A shudder crossed his features upon recollecting the last experiment—some amalgam of two food choices that prophets mentioned in the Requiem may have eaten.

The sky ripped open, releasing a fresh din of thunder and lightning that knocked, hard, against the alchemy room. Although the rain was worse than thunder, the latter was not good either. It made Amittay shiver, though the alchemy room was not cold. He took the wine Seleneda had offered him, pressed the contours of the glass to his bottom lip, and took a sip. Before he could take another, the candles that had illumined the room were snuffed out.

Darkness, emboldened by the sudden eradication of the light, seeped forth from its corners, and engulfed the entire architecture. No light came through, as if forms had been swallowed by this impregnable void. Instinctively, Amittay took Seleneda’s hand. “Don’t be afraid,” he was afraid, though his timbre was steady. “Wind just snuffed the candles out. Why don’t we just go out and wait for the lights return. No need for candlelight then, right?”

Selenada blushed deeply when he mentioned one of her experimental dishes, sometimes they turned out amazingly but most of the time they turned out to be disasters. “Oh, come on, they aren't that bad,” she chuckled and gave him an apologetic smile. “My little Guinea pig,”

The clap of thunder was followed by a yelp from Selenada, her cheeks reddened and she giggled nervously. She hated thunder. They were suddenly engulfed in darkness and she gasped, she forgot just how dark this old church could get. She usually kept candles lit at all times so she never got to see it in its true darkness, it was actually pretty creepy. She was glad Amittay took her hand it made her feel safe and the warmth of his hand was nice.

“Running around lighting candles doesn't sound fun, I've been fighting with the wind all night. When I get more time I'm redoing the roof and replacing all the windows and doors! Where would you like to go?” Selenada’s eyes were starting to adjust to darkness, the outlines of the alchemy room were taking shape and slowly she could see bottles on the shelves and the details of her friends face again.

“Anywhere is better than the dark,”

Amittay did not respond at once. If you listened closely you could hear the gears in his brain shifting, like a machine that has been well-oiled. He then smiled, mischievously—though he did not know this—and tightened his grip on Seleneda’s hand; not enough to hurt of course, just tight enough to remind her that he had not left her side.

“To be honest Selenada, I don’t mind the dark too much. It helps me think, to be honest. Let’s stay here, just for a while and once the storm breaks we can go.” He interlaced his fingers with hers, and would have continued if not for the knock on the lower level. Amittay started at the sudden sound that did not belong to either of them. At first he thought he was only hearing things—that wasn’t too uncommon in Sanctuary—but then the knock came again. And then a third time.

Without a doubt it came from the lower level. Someone was knocking just outside the church and then, a shout came: “Is anyone in there? I would like some shelter. Please!”

Selenada probably would not have seen this in the dark, but Amittay looked towards her for an answer to this question: “Should we let this person in?”

“I suppose we could stay, we can drink our wine here or go sit in my bedroom. I just got this new couch and it feels like a cloud!” She wasn't too keen on staying in her old dark church, she was still getting used to all the creepy noises it made at night. It whined when the wind blew too hard, it protested when you stepped on certain spaces and it was always making weird noises as it settled into the lot. Selenada was also convinced there were some lurking spirits in her home that liked to cause a ruckus in the night.

The first knock went unnoticed by the spiritual blonde, she just assumed it was the storm trying to make its way inside. The second knock caught her attention, but she didn't full acknowledge until there was a third knock followed by a faint voice.

“Of course! It's probably another poor victim of the pilgrimage. Did you hear about that?” She asked over her shoulder as she quickly fled down the stairs to greet their new guest.

Selenada reached the nave and pulled open the massive doors, not bothering to look at who it was before saying, “Do come in! I'm so sorry, I would've come sooner but I thought your knocks were caused by the storm!” She quickly, but gently urges the person inside and out of the cold rain.

He was a large man and his torso had an incongruous shape as though he had just eaten a fridge and it was having difficulties digesting. He did not seem to notice Seleneda at first, as though the storm had blown out any attention he had. His jowls rested on his collar bone—an unfortunate feature shared among all the obese—and his eyes were set deep within his forehead, like a bear. He wore a sleeveless, black shirt, which accurately delineated the rolls of fat, which ran up and down his arms.

Passing Seleneda, the man walked towards the front of the church, and went knee bound. When Amittay followed after Seleneda, the man was still on his knees, mumbling what was more than likely a pray although you couldn’t quite hear the words he was saying.

“Letting strangers into the house again?” Amittay stepped abreast Seleneda, suddenly weary. “Who’s your new friend?” He could just see the man’s back. The rain had made his shirt see-through so that one could also pinpoint the hair growing from his flesh—there was so much that you could make a fur coat with it.

The man drew to his haunches, and then rose to his full height. He then looked in Amittay and Seleneda’s direction, and his face broke. Amittay shuddered, but the realised that the man’s face was intact. He had only grinned. “Sorry for the intrusion. My name is Tyler. I was walking from the slums of Sancturary when I had a sudden craving to kill a Templar and I heard a rumour that there was a little Templar girl living in this abandoned church over here,” Tyler scratched his head, and he looked a bit embarrassed all of a sudden. “I didn’t know that she had a boyfriend over. Like I said, I hate intruding, but I cannot reschedule. I just finished praying to God and so I cannot back out now—I just can’t. You know how it is, don’t you?”

The moved his eyes from Seleneda to Amittay and then back to Seleneda. Amittay shuddered, suddenly wishing that he had not left his bow and arrows at home. He didn’t even have the pistol which his father had given him all those years ago. “You’re sick,” he said. “Please. Let us help you.”

A laugh—boisterous, but true. “Of course I’m sick!” From his pocket he produced a pistol and brandished it, like a knight withdrawing his sword. “I’m sick of you Templars just doing whatever shit you want to do—it pisses me off.” A vein traced a line on his forehead. His breath came quickly. “I have to kill you one at a time, see? First the girl and then you, and then the rest of your squad.” The man’s voice was smooth. He sounded like a business person trying to coerce his customers into a deal: If you act now I’ll throw in a 2-for-1 deal on murder just for you!

To tell the truth, Amittay was not as worried as he should have been. Somehow, after fighting large, grotesque monsters for so long, disarming a human with a pistol did not seem so bad. Further still, he knew Seleneda could handle herself in a brawl. She was tougher than she looked.

“We can’t hurt him,” Amittay said. “If we do then we’re just as bad as he says we are.” He looked sidelong at Seleneda. “What do you think?”

Selenada smiled as she watched the man quickly run to the front of the church and drop to his knees, he needed comfort from his God and she was happy he chose to come to her church to find that comfort. Just as she was about to go fetch him some dry clothes and try to make some soup in the dark Amittay appeared teasing her as always.

"Of course I am, some people run to their loved ones when in need, others..." She gestured to the man who was praying, “others find that coming to a church and praying and hearing the word of God is more comforting than anything.”

Selenada sighed happily, more and more people had been coming to her church and it made her heart swell with pride. She noticed the man was getting up and about to addresses the two of them, she stepped towards him with a warm, but shy, smile. “Good evening! Would you like some warm clothes? Something to eat?” His response was not what she was expecting. Frowning she looked to Amittay to judge his reaction, he seemed less than interested with the present situation.

“Sir, please, I think you are placing a blanket judgement on the Templars. Yes, there are crooked people within our ranks, but I assure you there are people, like Amittay and myself, that are good, honest people. God would not want you passing judgement on people like this and deciding who is granted life or death,” her voice was slow, steady and very gentle.

“I don't want to fight him if we don't have to. He needs help.” Her eyes wore true worry for the man and her voice sounded hurt, like one of her own children just said a bad word for the first time.

“Tyler,” Selenada’s voice turned more stern as she watched him whip out his gun. “Let's talk. Put away your weapon and let us both talk before God and work out your problems.” Selenada prayed the man would listen to her words, fighting in a church seemed so dirty.

The man tsked and Amittay wondered where he had seen this gesture before. “Can’t do that, sister. I really wish I could but I can’t. I thought you could understand that, but I guess I was wrong. I heard you guys just came from Jericho. I have a sister there. A cute little girl, perhaps you know her.”

Then it came back to Amittay. “You’re Sarah’s older brother,” the room became colder and the storm outside lulled into silence. He knew he was right before the man confirmed his hypothesis. Sarah had ‘tsked’ a lot when she did not agree with what someone had said.

“Bingo to the white-haired lad,” the man laughed again. “And I heard all about your little trip there and back. Next thing I know you let my sister get bit by one of the Scourge Beasts and she’s who knows where?” He pulled the trigger of his pistol, aiming it skyward. A strident bang emanated from the barrel, filling the church, like a prayer. Amittay winced, but other than that, looked utterly unperturbed. On the other hand, the man looked worse off than he had when he entered.

He was crying.

“Do you have any idea what it’s fucking like to lose a sibling? Do you?”

Amittay thought of his own younger sister and how she had been killed by his father. For the first time in weeks he remembered that he was wearing her medical bracelet around his wrist. Engraved on it was her name: Judith Caesar. Looking up now, “I do understand. I lost a sister myself; she was very beautiful, too. Just like Sarah.” He smiled, softly, but the smile did not reach his eyes. “I’m sorry for what happened Tyler. Really I am.”

Tyler softened slightly, as if Amittay hugged his troubled soul with his words. Tyler went to shout back words filled with hate, fueled by his desperate need for revenge but Selenada beat him to it.

“Tyler, we've all experienced harsh loss in the times we live in. We all handle it differently and I respect your wish to get vengeance on your sister. But, Sarah sounded like a sweet, amazing young woman. Do you think she'd want you to taint her name with the spilled blood of the wrong people?” She took a deep breath and moved forward, took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Tyler flinched and pointed the gun at her as she moved towards him, but he didn't feel the need to pull the trigger.

“Come, let's go get some dry clothes and hot soup. We can talk about what happened for as long as you want,” Selenada smiled up at the troubled man, “and I promise you, your sister will not parish in vain. Amittay,” she gestured to her friend, “is working on a way to reverse the effects of the bite.”

Selenada didn't have to say another word. The man dropped his weapon, Amittay quickly gathered it, and sobbed into his dirty hands. Muffled apologies, cursing and praying could be heard as Tyler broke down. Selenada understood where his rage came from, even though it was misdirected.

“Amittay, why don't you talk to Tyler about your work while I fetch clothes and food?” Selenada pulled Tyler up onto the pew and kissed the top of his forehead, like a mother would a child. Amittay silently nodded and took a space next to Tyler and began to explain everything as best he could.

[Maya]

Before Kiera had left the tavern, she did get a good look at Octavius and would comment on the assets that make almost any living, breathing woman take a second glance. It would be understandable that Sophia may believe the Paladin was a shameless flirt with a desirous need for attention. But, if one was truly paying attention, Kiera did not command, nor grab or lay a hand on, or ever even try to succeed in claiming any of the men in their squadron for the night. She also didn't pursue any other man in those very walls for that matter. To do so would be completely out of character. Sure, there may be jokes or teasing banter; but, no one would be able to truthfully say she'd ever had romantic ties with anyone as anything having to do with her personal dealings was always done privately.

Within the hour, she'd be right back in the bar waving to those she knew who were still present. However, she didn't return to talk shop or ogle all the sexy males. Her reason for returning? Kiera never left without playing at least one game with old, man George. By gosh, she'd had a complete and total brain fart and forgotten to keep her word. "I'm so sorry. Do you still have time for a quick game of dominoes?"

He'd tap the tip of his cane three times on the floor, let out a little laugh and nod. "Sure..my night isn't finished until I've kicked your ass. What happened? Pretty boy over there turn your brain to mush."

"Oh, ha ha ha! I'll have you know, I plan to beat you this time." Pulling up a seat across from the round table. Her face blanched when even a half, blind elderly man thought she was gaga over someone. "Yes, I blew you off to stare at someone I see almost everyday." said in a deadpan voice. "We gonna do this or what? Let's play down from twelve or we'll be here til morning."

He'd cast her a toothless smile while shuffling the dominoes. "Plan all you want. It never works. ..aright, aright, don't rush the decrepit!" The game beginning in earnest as each took their pieces and squared off in a battle of wits and cunning.

Thirty intense minutes passed,low and behold, George won. He always won. She let him claim the victory because it made an old man happy when there was often little in his world to be happy about. "Damn it, George. How do you do that?" Pushing her remaining dominoes away in mock disgust.

"Honey, I'm just that good." He'd have both of them sitting there laughing.

[Aureyon]

Octavius felt the eyes of his comrades on him still, even as he sat peering into the flame. His silver eyes shifted to his right as he felt movement within the earth and noticed that Kiera was getting ready to leave the Tavern. He smirked at her remark to him, and bowed slightly before turning back to the fire and shivering ever so slightly at the cold touch of the shirt against his bare skin.

He noticed Marcella and Orfiel across the way talking among themselves. They were his roommates and he couldn't ask for better people to live with, but he felt as though they had formed a bond between one another that would prevent any others from really being a part of that duo. He didn't blame them though, they were similar souls, and in that they found a lasting friendship that could grow into more - or at least in his eyes, it had the potential to grow to something more.

It was as Templar Renakovic's words reached his ears that he turned his eyes of moonlight to her and one would see a mischievous smile dance across his features before he answered, "I doubt the tale is as magnificent as the scar may appear to others, Lady Yelena. But, if you so wish, I shall share the tale with you one day."

There was something in his words that caused the light to fade in his eyes and pools of moonlight hardened to solid silver as though he were remembering a darker time; which, in fact, he was. He would not forget the day that he received his scar, it was a day that he learned never to underestimate the cunning of the Scourge Beasts.

He had to grow up quick when he lost his parents, only having remained in Hirod because of the generosity of the survivors the night his parents were killed. The village had taken pity on him and had allowed him to live in his home for a meager rent, that he was able to pay by working in Hirod's mine.

Shaking his head slightly, as if shaking the memories from his mind, and it seemed to have worked as the light that usually danced in his eyes returned and the smile that had so briefly graced his features crept back. He looked directly to Yelena, waiting to see if she would want him to share the tale with her now rather than later.

He'd spoken true when he told her that the tale wasn't as daring, or grand, as the scar itself appeared to be. It was a rather short tale that was a product of his own youthful arrogance and hatred at the time. Of course, that had changed when he discovered the path of Gadriel. He had devoted his self to the kindness that was exhibited to him in Hirod, and as such, he had had to let go of his hatred and arrogance.

Granted he hadn't gotten rid of it entirely, as was evident whenever he met a Lycan in battle, but he has been trying to let it all go. Humanity wasn't perfect and neither was he, nor did he ever claim to be. So, he would take it one day at a time, carefully nursing his long-ago injured pride, until the day that he could truly let go of his hatred for the Scourge Beasts.

[Sonic]

Explaining scientific research to a vagrant whose greatest educational achievement was a PhD in Pauperism was not a simple task. Fumbling over word, backtracking, simplifying, Amittay found himself traversing from one topic to the next with little preamble and yet, excitement galloped through his veins.

Where the soon-to-be murdered had been, there was now only a student—Amittay’s student. Tyler; and although neither were perfect at their new professions, they both did their best; the one to teach, and the other to be taught. When Amittay finished, he wasn’t sure whether or not Tyler understood most of what he had said, but what he extrapolated was easy to discern: There was a chance for his sister to, once again, become his sister. With this news in mind, a smile crossed his face, lifted his eyes. He rose, and without saying anything, left in that same inscrutability he cloaked himself in in order to enter.

Watching him leave, Amittay was certain that this was how a prophet must have felt when he had just encountered some example of God’s divine intervention. For the second time that night, he could, palatably, feel the cold steel of his own sister’s medical bracelet touch his wrist, squeeze it, as though trying to preclude any blood from reaching Amittay’s fingers. It was a comforting squeeze, though, because it reminded the wearer of how his sister used to squeeze his arm.

He thought: I miss you.

He thought: You’re gone. Forever.

The storm was not as terrible as it had been prior to Tyler’s unannounced entrance. The thunder was quieter, the rain hit the earth more softly, as though taking mercy on the ground it had, before, pillaged. Amittay rubbed his eyes, realized that he had been crying, but unsure whether these were tears of joy, anguish, melancholy, or some twisted amalgam of the three, he wiped them away, grabbed the cloak he had left on his pew, and folded it over his arm.

He sniffled, and looked down at the cloak, undecided, immobile, and irresolute.

He thought: Forever.

He thought: I haven’t slept in two nights.

He was tired, exhausted, and drained. He felt like a spectre losing its tether on the world. His body was weak and so was his mind.

[Cfavano]

Matthew Tannhauser's Formal Progress Report


Matthew enters the headquarters, dressed in his finest suit, brightly dyed and elegantly stitched, truly looking like the noble he was - with the Tannhauser family crest large on his lapel, and noticeably, not his Templar badge. He was to report in to his commander, likely because he was to receive yet another commendation. It would have been long enough, as he had not yet received one since he transferred from his previous Senior Templar.

He walked past the portraits of the past Senior Templars, quite a few of which were related to him, and some directly. Finally, he got to Hills's office, knocked, went directly in and stated, "Senior Templar Hills, Templar Tannhauser reporting as ordered." While standing at attention and saluting, then he would drop his salute when it was returned.

Isaac looked up from his paperwork as soon as Templar Tannhauser entered the office, reporting in and saluting. While the Templar held his salute, his superior observed his stature. The man held an aura of confidence about him, over-confidence to be specific. He appeared formally dressed for this reporting in procedure, but more than likely, Isaac would assume that the man dressed for one of the noble extravaganzas occurring later on that day.

Finally, Isaac saluted back to him, allowing the both of them to promptly drop their salutes. "Take a seat, Templar Tannhauser, and sit at ease," Isaac beckoned him to take sit at the chair directly across from him.

Isaac took out a folder from his desk, which held all of the details regarding to Templar Tannhauser's performance within the squadron. "I'm sure you are familiar with this procedure," he stated aloud, skimming through the paperwork to refresh on some key points in this process. "We will be doing a progress report based upon your current work, which include details about your overall ranking from the memorandum assigned earlier. And may you please remind me how long you have been in the Templar Order?"

"16 years," Matthew Tannhauser began. "16 highly decorated years, I might add. You see that five years ago, I was awarded the Golden Cross (Templar VC equivalent), for clearing out a massive hive of Arachne that was threatening Sanctuary. But now's not the time for that."

After Matthew answered his first question, Isaac would quickly close the folder, before glancing back up at the seated Templar. "I would like to begin by asking a few more questions. What do you believe is your greatest strength? And what do you believe is your greatest weakness? You may take some time to give these answers some thought, if you wish."

"My greatest strength would be my cool head under pressure," Templar Tannhauser immediately stated. "Being able to strategically coordinate my fellow team members during missions. My years of experience in high-risk missions allows me to easily prioritize targets, especially when I can get up high and snipe targets from afar, or keep flying vampires away from my team. My main weakness, however, is that I feel I fail to impress upon my current teammates that what I am telling them is the proper course of action. They feel that since they took on their Templar Heraldry, they no longer have to listen to those of higher social standing, which is wrong. The High-Born have always commanded the low, it is the way of the world. Are there any other questions, Senior Templar?"

The Senior Templar listened carefully, nodding in agreement to certain parts of his strengths and weaknesses.
"I do agree that you are an excellent fighter, Templar Tannhauser," he glanced down at the papers. "However, you should be mindful that there are many other warriors who are also superb fighters," he commented. Based upon the ranking memorandums, Isaac asked the Templars to rank each other based upon leadership skills, follower skills, and warrior ethos. Templar Tannhauser does have great warrior ethos and is a very effective fighter, but many others also are on par with his skills. The Senior Templar will begin to mention Matthew's skills on leadership and follower-ship a little later.

"And also, when you mentioned you're weakness, you're making it sound like its everyone else's fault, but yours..." this time, Isaac cast him a sharp glance. Isaac had little to no tolerance for petty excuses, and it seems that Tannhauser views that he has no faults - which is typical for a pompous and spoiled nobleman. "And I believe that there are exceptions to this rule - that you mentioned - about how the High-born always command the low-born."

"Should I remind you that our current Divine King was born as a farmer in the town of Levi? He was not a noble or high-born in any sense of the word, yet he nearly single-handily brought us victory at the end of the Third Plague." That is one prime example how a man's destiny is not shaped by his birthplace or origins, and Isaac intended to teach this lesson to the Templar before him. "I myself am a noble-born," Isaac stated, even though he barely considered himself one. "Yet I do not share that same belief system. A person's performance is not determined how wealthy he is, or how expensive is the fabric of his dresses, or how many parties one is invited to."

Senior Templars Hills leaned back, his facial expression slightly stern. "Unfortunately, your own performance as a Templar has been less than sub-par, Tannhauser. You are ranked 14th out of the 15 squadron Templars, you are placed in the bottom two." He now would await for the Templar's reaction, waiting for the information to sink in. More than likely, the corrupt nobleman would not be ecstatic about this.

"The Divine King is king because God himself chose him. That overrides our human way of life." At his mention of ranking, his eye twitches. "I see... I'd like copies of those memorandums. Slander is a crime, after all, and make no mistake, I will be bringing charges. And you mentioned parties... are you aware that my family gives more than fifty thousand gold coins annually to the poor, the downtrodden? Do you know how we raise that money? We hold social functions, and we get donations from other nobles, from merchants. People would starve, if that dried up."

He leans forward. "You think my life is all easy, all fun and games? Do you know, I rarely ever get free time to myself? That's why, when I do, I go wild. I work my ass off, day in and day out, not only to improve myself as a Templar, but to also ensure that people less fortunate than me can eat. I guarantee you, my 'squad mates' think that nobles get to just sit back all day. I deserve command. While they were still shitting in their hands and rubbing it on their faces, I was getting my ass beat for twelve hours a day, seven days a week, not only in combat, but in strategy, in academics. I have earned my right to command. Now, I do, in fact, have a function to go to. In fact, I am a special guest of the Divine Lady, and I gather you'd not leave her waiting. Now, good day to you, Senior Templar." With that, he stands up and begins to storms out, almost reaching the door.

"Templar Tannahauser," Isaac rose from his seat, nearly jumped out of it. His voice began to raise, before he quickly shouted, "You stay in my office right NOW!!" Isaac ordered and slammed his left hand against the desk loudly, angry veins bulging from his neck. He raised up his right hand, pointing - nearly jamming his finger - towards the departing Templar. Isaac's face became completely red with anger, and this was completely unexpected of him. He rarely loses his calm or cool demeanor to anyone, but when he does, one knows he means business. If would be wise for Templar Tannhauser to listen to his vice-commander, otherwise, that would be considered insubordination and his career as a Templar warrior would be over. "Get back over here, and sit at attention!"

Matthew resists the sudden urge to cold cock the Senior Templar, such an act would be quite scandalous. He does as he is told, and he sits at attention in the front six inches of his chair - quite an uncomfortable seating position. He is firm, rigid, with his eyes facing forward. If he is feeling any emotions, they are not showing on his face. It is almost as if he was carved out of stone. If the Senior Templar was trying to intimidate him... it was not working. He is the perfect image of discipline. It was as if he knew this would happen. He might not like Hills, in fact, he did not. But he was given a direct order by his commander. Even if said commander is an incompetent simpleton, since no one's life is in danger, he had no reason to refuse, and every reason to acquiesce.

The Senior Templar glared at the man as he returned to his seat. Templar Tannhauser followed his orders and obeyed his commands, as he rightly should. Isaac very rarely has to raise his voice to any of his squadron members, but in the occasion that he does, he displays that he is not messing around. Being in the position of leadership required personality shifts. He had to be very coaxing and relaxed around Templar Volkov to ensure that she does not break down, and so that she can come out as a stronger woman from the meeting session. However, in this situation, Isaac recognized he needed to be stern, blunt, and to-the-point with Templar Tannhauser.

"Now, Templar Tannhauser, we are here about your performance as a Templar, and how you can improve. I am not interested in discussing religion, your noble lifestyle, or how hard you work. To be frank, I simply don't have the time with you to discuss these matters." To be honest, Isaac found it ridiculous if Tannhauser considered himself a religious man, but that was not his place to say as of right now. "We are here to discuss about your performance," he reemphasized, trying to get his message across. Despite Tannhauser's perfect form of discipline, Isaac immediately recognized that he was a much more sensitive man than he appeared - hence the outburst from earlier.

Isaac sighed heavily, speaking to people like Tannhauser can be quite draining. He glanced back up at the Templar, whom was still sitting at the position of attention. "Believe or not, Templar Tannhauser," his voice began to soften slightly. "I am here to help you. I am here because I want you to succeed as a Templar. I want you to improve yourself to be a better man. And I think it would be wise to listen to my advice, otherwise, you will never have any hopes of becoming an Inquisitor - or even a Senior Templar. At this point, you will not live up to your family legacy."

Hopefully, the Templar can realize how severe of a situation he was in. Matthew made it clear that his ultimate ambition is to become a respectable commander - one of the highly elite Inquisitors.

"You may sit at ease, now," the Senior Templar stated. "Do not..." he began, his voice becoming slightly stern again while his eyes hardened. "Make me regret this decision." If there are any further outbursts, Isaac will not resort to simply demanding him to sit at attention. No, the matters will be handled up the chain-of-command, and Inquisitor Caleb Bartholomew will be a lot less tolerant of Matthew's ill-behavior.

Matthew sits at what would be considered 'attention at ease'. He's technically at ease, but his mind has not switched back to the 'at ease' mentality. It was as if he was in the field, his body seemly relaxed, yet tensed and ready. His face still was as if it was set in stone. Almost as if he was afraid to be completely at ease. The difference was now he was sweating, though it was not hot. What Hills would notice now, was his eyes, and the thousand-yard-stare he would see in them. "What must I do, Senior Templar?" He questions, in a dull monotone voice.

Isaac observes the man when he switches his sitting position, but could tell that his mind seemed really off. However, Isaac was pleased to hear that the man was still willing to listen to him. This shows promise.

"Alright, as I stated before, you are a superb fighter. You have great warrior ethos, and can handle your own against the Scourge Beasts. However, what you need to work on is leadership and being a follower. Right now, your largest hindrance is your own personality," Senior Templar Hills began to explain. "You lack the charisma to command others, because you demand attention and respect. You don't just get respect because you ask for it, you must earn it. Right now, you haven't earned it from anyone in the squadron, and that is where your leadership skills suffer. If your fellow Templars can't respect you as a leader, if they cannot trust you as a leader, how can you expect them to readily obey your - or even listen to you on that matter?"

"Now, moving on to being a follower, you seem to have issues listening to those that are not high-born, or those that you believe to be incompetent. Unfortunately, in your eyes, it seems like nearly everyone falls into one of these two categories. As I stated before, you need to start respecting your fellow Templars. It they have a good idea, it may be wise to actually listen to them, instead of concentrating on how it makes yourself look good."

Isaac sat there quietly for a minute, observing and always evaluating the Templar before him. "I understand that fixing your personality can be a rather difficult task, and that you can't easily change how you are as a human being. Right now, focus on giving respect to others - genuine respect. People can easily tell if its fake. That will be the first step in the process of improving yourself as a Templar warrior. And I believe that you can achieve this, if you have the willpower and heart to do so."

"I see.." He says, droning. "I shall take this to heart. Is there anything else that you require or may I go?"

Isaac slightly frowned at the man, unsure whether he is truly taking this information to heart. However, Isaac will accept that he has done everything he can for the man, and it is up to him to make that change happen.

"That will be all," the Senior Templar stated with finality. Hopefully, something positive came out of this scenario.

Matthew blinks a few times and Senior Templar Hills can see his eyes refocus. He stands up, steps back, salutes and says "Good afternoon, Senior Templar Hills." He then leaves.

[The Texan Queen]

Selenada made sure to keep out of Amittay's and Tyler's conversation. She knew Amittay's words would be more helpful than what Selenada could say to him and if she was needed the men would call on her. She fetched some soup and some dry clothes for Tyler so he could be more comfortable in her church.

"If you need anything I'll be in my alchemy lab," Selenada patted Tyler on the back and gave Amittay's head a quick peck before she disappeared up the stairs. She wanted to work on her idea for a new potion, if it worked right it would allow the person that took it to turn invisible for a few seconds. Well, not invisible, more like camouflage. The person could change their skin tone and texture to blend in with their surroundings, kind of like she can do.

This time Selenada would add some of her blood, but she wasn't sure if it would pick up on the right strand of DNA. What if the potion made the user spit webs? She shuddered at the thought, it was so disgusting but it came in handy when she was forced to use it. Cranking up her burners she grabbed herbs, various mixes of liquids and other potions she had already made. Hopefully she would reach some sort of breakthrough tonight but she wasn't too sure she would. Creating knew potions was a long and tasking process, you had to get every little detail to be exact, everything had to balance and everything had to have a reason for being in the mixture. It usually took her months to create a new potion, it was a frustrating process but the end result was so worth it.

--------

The loud slam of the church doors snapped Selenada out of her concentration and she poured too much of one mixture into her potion causing it to boil over. She let out a frustrated groan and quickly cleaned up the mess and put away everything she was working on. Selenada couldn't concentrate so she decided to go down and see how Amittay was after the long conversation he had with Tyler.

"Amittay?" Selenada called out as she entered the dark worship room. "How'd things go with Tyler?"

[☆Catwoman☆]

Yelena kept her attention firmly set on Octavius, blatantly ignoring the irksome voice of Iago behind her, asking how everyone was doing before choking and sputtering on his lager. That he was no fool, that he was in fact quite clever and had her fooled, never occurred to the proud woman. In her mind, he was but a pest, and one that would meet a very quick and grisly end due to his own stupidity. The tricks, the clumsiness, the goofy appearance and disingenuous behavior: these were his tools, his weapons of deceit, and he wielded them well. He had his fellow Templar utterly duped.

Thus it was that she did not give him a second glance or moment’s consideration, to her own detriment. If she were to look closely enough, perhaps she would see through that meticulous guise.

But she would not.

Octavius’s pale eyes met hers as he responded to her question, and though a smile played at his lips, that gaze turned distant, that grin faltered. What, she wondered, plagued his thoughts? But as quick as that look had come, it vanished with a light shaking of the head, and Octavius was once again master of his emotions.

“Oh, I doubt that,” Yelena replied to his modest answer with an impish look, lifting her hand and gingerly tracing the scar with a finger. Too thick to be a blade, too curved for a bullet. This, she determined, almost certainly came from a beast, and such tales were exciting indeed. “And you most certainly will need to regale me with the story someday soon. But for now, drink with me, darling, and celebrate our safe return from a successful mission.”

And with that, she downed another shot of whiskey, ignoring the warning buzzing deep within her head.

[Sonic]

As a sort of response Amittay rolled his shoulders and gave one of those sidelong looks that intimated, ‘I have no idea. Good, I think?’ He could feel his knees about to buckle, but he grabbed the pew before he could fall.

“I’m feeling very tired all of a sudden,” Somewhere he was thinking that he was also very hungry, but in the hierarchy that priorities obeyed, tired came first, and hunger could be mollified tomorrow. Yawning, he placed a hand on Seleneda’s shoulder. She was so soft, not really like a doll, but rather how Amittay’s mother had been soft. Again, he felt the lichen of self-depreciation and guilt climb up his person. Shaking his head, a grimace marred his visage, and he continued, “On second thought, I’d really like to go to the Tavern; I haven’t seen everyone since Jericho and though I hate to admit it, I miss them; even Matthew.” That last part wasn’t entirely true, but it was true enough for the most part. Really, though, he wanted to see Orifiel—perhaps even get a few pointers on how to wield a pistol. (Amittay had left his own at his house, but that did not seem to matter too much).

A redolence he could not quite place wafted from the opening Seleneda had just passed through. It smelled oddly like cabbages that had been in the steamer for too long, and Amittay quickly connected the scent with another one of Seleneda’s experiments. He wondered what she had concocted this time and then thought it better not to ask.

Being tired was one thing.

Being sick was another.

He yawned a second time, but by the time he yawned the third, he was already putting the cloak about his shoulders as a signal for Seleneda to get ready herself so that they may depart and see their comrades.

[The Texan Queen]

Selenada Volkov's Formal Progress Report


Selenada had been a nervous wreck ever since she had received orders to speak with Senior Templar Hills. She assumed it was about their recent mission, but she still got nervous speaking to her superior. She had about an hour before she has to report to him and she was trying to keep her mind off the pending meeting. She took to repairing the bullet holes from last night, tending to those who stopped by, cleaning the nave and replacing old candles that were melted stubs. After doing anything and everything she could think of she was still left with time to wait before the meeting.

“Why do I let my nerves get the best of me?” Selenada asked Raavi as she flopped down onto her silk sheets. Her cat responded with a soft meow and took its place on her stomach. They laid on her bed in silence, Raavi slipped into a deep sleep quickly and Selenada just stared at the ceiling above her. She thought about last night. About what Amittay told her and about that poor man.

“Tyler,” she whispered and rubbed her temples. He was a handful. She knew he was broken, physically and mentally so he wasn't acting like a sane human being, but he was so hard to work with. He would have fits of rage, yelling at Selenada, then he'd cry or turn around and laugh. They stayed up most of the night comforting Tyler, eventually he left and he seemed to be in a better place but she demanded that he come back and see her soon.

After a few minutes of letting her thoughts of last night and the meeting run wild she removed Raavi from her stomach and forced herself to get up. She removed her white fluffy robe and picked a gown (http://i577.photobucket.com/albums/ss217/Beki_Beaulieu/image.jpg1_zpswke00evy.jpg)from her wardrobe, dressing herself, tossing her hair into a quick braid and slipping on a pair of white heels she left her personally sanctuary.

------------

The beautiful twinkling lights reflected off the pictures of the past Senior Templars, their painted eyes passing judgement on those that walked the red carpet in the halls. She reached Isaac’s door, she stood outside of it for a few seconds before reached a fist out to knock. Again she paused and took in a shaky breath before her hand met the wood with a firm knock.

"Enter!" Isaac's voice called out from the other side of the door.

Selenada entered quickly and followed the protocol of standing at attention two steps away from his desk. She saluted her senior Templar before speaking.

“Senior Templar Hills, Templar Volkov reports as ordered.”

Isaac Hills sat from behind the desk, adorned in formal clothing (https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/24/88/02/248802e6492e6ee4dd1e6273b837139c.jpg) for Templar Volkov's feedback session. He briefly studied the young woman, his eyes always seemed to be evaluating his fellow Templars. He observed the young woman's posture, she was standing correctly at the position of attention and reported in properly. However, Isaac could already tell that she was extremely nervous, and that she needed to work on self-confidence.

Today, Isaac hoped that she can help her out with that.

He raised up his hand and saluted back at her, dropping his own hand quickly. It was a good rule of thumb to wait until your superior drops their salute first, before dropping your own - its another sign of respect. "Take a seat, and sit at ease, Templar Volkov," he offered a small, warming smile and pointed towards the seat across from him.

Selenada quickly took her seat, mentally telling herself to breath and to relax. She knew she was oozing with her nerves and that Isaac could sense it, but she couldn't help it. Isaac was slightly intimidating. She felt any superior must be intimidating at some point.

Once she would take her seat, Isaac took out a folder from his desk drawer and placed it on top. "So, how are you doing, Templar Volkov?" the Senior Templar questioned her, before briefly glancing up. "I hoped you enjoyed your break yesterday and took advantage of it, because tomorrow is a big day after all."

"I'm well, thank you." Selenada folded her hands in her lap and squeezed them trying to center herself.

"Now, I called you here today to discuss about your progress as a Templar," he stated aloud, continuing to read over some information before nodding his head. He closed the folder, before directing his attention at the young woman. She was adorned in a bright blue dress, and braided her hair in a very fashionable manner. She looked more like a noblewoman, than a warrior. That may be another issue that needs to to fixed.

Selenada's heart leaped into her throat when he mentioned discussing her progress, she always worried that she wasn't adequate enough for the Templar title.

"Think of this as a progress report, and I will begin by asking you a few short questions," Templar Hills began to explain the process, hopefully presenting himself in a very relaxing manner. He knew how Templar Volkov can immediately withdraw into a shell if she detected any hints of a stern voice. "Could you please remind how long you have been in the Templar Order?" he questioned at first.

"Six years, sir."

Once Isaac heard her answer, he nodded his head understandingly. "Alright, you may take your time to give these next couple of questions some thoughts. What do you believe is your greatest strength? And what do you believe is your worst weakness?" he questioned, immediately wanting to know how she thought of herself.

Selenada didn't need to take time to answer these questions, she knew exactly what her weaknesses and strengths were, and she knew that her peers focused on her weaknesses more.

"I believe my weaknesses are..." She bit her bottom lip nervously, discussing herself out loud was more uncomfortable than she thought. "My weaknesses. I know I'm slower and not as strong as my other peers. I do work on that. I have a kind heart so killing the beasts does affect me. I don't... I don't like people yelling at me, which everyone seems to do and it bothers me. I can be emotional." She was looking at the floor now, she seemed to be ashamed of herself.

"But," her voice seemed to carry a bit more confidence. Selenada took in a deep breath and looked Isaac in the eyes, "I'm still strong, I kill swiftly and cleanly, my stamina surpasses some of my peers. I'm loyal to a fault, I have confidence of that battle field because I have God on my side and my alchemy skills are the best anyone has ever seen. I know I'm overlooked, I sometimes even overlook myself since I know I'm not the best out of everyone, but I believe... that I am at least an asset to our team." Selenada bit down on her lip again, worried that Isaac didn't agree with her on where she stood. Worried that she was going to be cut, worried for his opinion on her, just damn worried in general.

Isaac's eyes observed the young woman's demeanor as she began to speak about her weaknesses, and she appeared to be on the verge of breaking down. Isaac worried about her significantly - because if she's keep herself together in this simple session, how is he to trust her when lives are at stake? Its a wonder how she managed to survive this long as a Templar.

However, Isaac was more than pleasantly surprised when she looked up and directly into his eyes. The confidence in the young woman began to overflow, and she spoke more confidently about her strengths than he has in his entire career. He formed a small smile, more than happy about this turn of events.

"Now, that is the confidence I would like to see, Templar Volkov," the Senior Templar nodded at her in approval. "And yes, I do fully agree that you often overlook yourself. We both know that you placed yourself at the bottom of your own memorandum of rankings, and we both know that you have much more worth than that."

"Oh," Selenada blushed slightly. She didn't view herself as someone unconfident, but maybe she was.

He leaned back in his chair, now a significantly less worried about the young woman. However, he still needed to reveal the news to Volkov about her own personal ranking. The revelation of this may upset her deeply, but Isaac will ensure that Volkov will come out of this meeting stronger than before.

"Confidence is the key thing you need to work on. Confidence is very contagious... if you are confident, everybody else around you will believe in you and will fully support you. However, if you do have not have confidence, the people around you will not be able to trust you," he stated, it was just a small lecture to hopefully help her understand what to do. He then sighed lightly, almost dreading to tell her the next bit. "Unfortunately, Templar Volkov," he began slowly, a little hesitant, but he couldn't draw this out any longer. "Confidence is the key reason why your overall rank is placed in the fifteenth position. You are placed last out of everyone else..."

He finished, watching the young woman carefully, and wandering how she would react. Despite this just being a progress report, the Senior Templar is always evaluating his fellow squadron members. If Templar Volkov reacts too emotionally, she may jeopardize her own spot in the squadron and be transferred to a different one; more than likely Inquisitor Darkwood's squadron. And she would NOT want that, considering that the squadron was full of corrupt barbarians, and many of them would try to take advantage of the blonde beauty and would easily get away with it.

Selenada sat there a moment and let his words sink in. She had a general idea that her peers viewed her as the weakest link, but to have it confirmed was kind of a painful pill to swallow. On the inside she was dying of embarrassment but she tried to keep it together and professional in front of Isaac.

"Well," Selenada cleared her throat. "I'll keep that in mind and consider it something I need to constantly work on. I didn't think I was considered that way and I do look forward to changing everyone's opinion of me," her voice was steady, not wavering like she thought it would.

Isaac nodded again, glad to see that she is more than ready to improve herself. He was dreading to see Templar Tannhauser later on that day, because more likely than not, that obnoxious nobleman would react poorly after hearing his own low ranking.

"I'm glad to hear that, Templar Volkov," Isaac leaned back in his chair, appearing to be in a more relaxed demeanor. "There's a few more points I should address, though," he pulled out another piece of paper, reading it through it quickly.

"Okay," Selenada didn't know if she was prepared to hear anymore negative news about herself. She was forcing herself to be strong, she wanted to be strong and knew she needed to be strong if she wanted to continue her work.

"Some of the squadron members feel... uneasy... about your lack of armor during the line of duty. Now, if I recall correctly, you believe that God's grace will protect you from the Scourge Beasts, correct?" Isaac questioned, slightly tilting his head out of curiosity.

"Yes..." She bit her lip nervously again. She didn't like when people doubted her beliefs and believed that they shouldn't. God was always around even if people did not believe in Him, He would protect them.

"I do not fear death. God has a plan for me, a plan for everyone. I believe He called me to be a Templar and that is why I am here today. When I die, it will be because God is ready to take me. Whether I be taken violently by a Scourge Beast or peacefully in my sleep, it will be on God's time."

Isaac couldn't help but form a small smile at her words. It wasn't a mocking smile, no, he actually respected her strong beliefs in God. In this corrupt world, many have lost their faith in God. Isaac himself nearly lost that faith when his wife passed away. However, it was very refreshing to see a youthful soul so full of faith and life.

"And I highly respect that, Templar Volkov," Isaac nodded at her in approval, still displaying a warming smile. "That faith will carry you far, do not let others sway you from it." He raised up a finger, though, about to make another point. "There is one thing that I would like to question, though, and see if you would ponder upon this yourself."

"If you believe that God will provide you with protection, how come you do not believe that form of protection comes with the Templar armor? I'm sure you are familiar with the passages of Paean, specifically the one about the Blessed Armor?"



"Therefore, equip the Sword of Truth in your right hand, and wield the Shield of Justice on your left.
Adorn yourself with the Helmet of Fortitude, and the Boots of Grace.
Finally, put on the Blessed Armor of God, warrior. God provides you with His strength, and darkness withers before it.
The power of light is behind you. March on, warrior of God, march on."


"Verses 33-36, chapter 16 of the Book of Paean, correct?" He glanced at Volkov quizzically, so that she can confirm whether or not he quoted correctly. He would accept that she was more of an expert on the three Holy books than him. "One of my favorite passages," he commented, forming another smile. "But, based upon what I interpret, God provides us with His blessings in many different kinds of form. Perhaps the form of protection you seek would be the Templar armor?" he inquired, wondering about her opinion in this subject matter.

Selenada nodded her head, "You're correct. I'm surprised you knew it off the top of your head, not many people can do that."

"I am very familiar with that passage as I am with all of His writings. God blessed those things and granted them to us if we felt we needed a physical barrier. Some are not as confident in their invisible armor as I am, which is sad but I understand. It was very terrifying to face a beast with just my flesh to bare, but I came out victorious and with little damage." She sat back in the chair and thought for a moment, thought about why she was here. Progress, and in her eyes - a chance to improve, not only improve upon herself but the opinion of those around her.

"But," she sighed, "If it makes my fellow Templars uneasy that I wear no armor, I am more than willing to put their minds at ease and begin to wear it."

Isaac slightly nodded his head in approval, holding his small smile. "I'm glad that you are able to see that way, Templar Volkov," the Senior Templar stated. Isaac was incredibly impressed by her faith in God, and was even slightly envious of it. However, he needed to look after his squadron, and even if Templar Volkov was not afraid of her own death, Isaac would not wish that fate on anyone. Choosing to wear armor would be one of her best decisions, and she already took a step in the right path of improving herself as a Templar warrior.

"Before I dismiss you, I have two more things to discuss about," Isaac once again leaned back against his chair. He glanced down at the memorandums, knowing many of the comments towards Templar Volkov were rather unpleasant. He glanced back up at the young woman, acknowledging that being placed in last place in never a good feeling.

Selenada took in a breath and held it for a few seconds before slowly letting it out, she was ready to leave. She didn't know what else they could possibly talk about and she was growing anxious. This was the longest meeting she ever had with Isaac, and she was completely over with having negatives being thrown at her.

"I understand that you may be upset about your ranking, Templar Volkov, and that it may be difficult to get over that stigma. However, the rank doesn't dictate who you are as a human being... you make who you are. We both know that you are capable of great things, and I'm sure that once you build in your confidence, that you can be an outstanding Templar. Will you rise to the occasion, Templar Volkov?" the Senior Templar questioned, hoping for a positive answer. "Will you prove the rest of the squadron wrong, and show that you are not just as asset, but that you are incredibly invaluable to the team?" he questioned, forming another small smile. He hoped that these words would encourage her to push forward, despite any obstacles presented to her.

"Yes." Selenada didn't hesitate to answer. She was ready to step up and change what everyone thought about her and most importantly improve on herself. "I promise I won't let you or the rest of my squadron down," she returned Isaac's smile with a small one of her own. Working on confidence would be a difficult task, but one she was happy to work on. If she needed to be a better fighter she would train, practice and workout; but how was she to go about working on her self confidence?"

"Outstanding," Isaac was glad to hear that. "I think the best way to help build your confidence, is to appoint you in a leadership position. In our upcoming mission, I will be placing you in command of a 5-person team. You will need to be responsible over your team, and make sure that everyone is accountable. You may have to make some tough decisions. Do you believe that you can handle this?" he inquired.

Her jaw dropped the second the words left his mouth. Lead a group of people that didn't trust her and most likely didn't care for her that much? They didn't respect her so how in God's name is she supposed to lead them?

"I," she hesitated, feeling extremely flustered she felt her cheeks redden. "Of course. I think... I think it's a great opportunity for me to grow and I will do my best to succeed." On the inside she was mortified. She didn't even know how to raise her voice to command attention or how to demand respect. She was happy following orders and doing her job as usual. This was going to be a true test.

"Outstanding," Isaac repeated, even though he could easily discern the hesitance in her voice. This was Selenada's time to blossom, and he hoped that the results would pleasantly surprise everyone in the squadron. "Well, I'm glad to hear you are prepared for the challenge. Unless if you have any questions or seek any more advice, that will be all, Templar Volkov," he nodded at her, now that the time of their formal counseling was coming to an end.

"No sir," Selenada said as she stood. She snapped back into attention, stepped back and saluted her superior. "Good Morning, Senior Templar Hill." She waited until he saluted back before dropping her hand and exiting the room.

Once outside the building and in the fresh air she buried her face in her hands and pushed herself uo against the building. That was so embarrassing to hear. She forced herself to not cry and took a couple deep breaths before marching on back home to let the meeting fully soak in and she could deal with her emotions in privacy.

[TheDoctor]

Jerris nodded to Kaitlyn's caretaker as she beckoned him in, and he removed his hood upon entry. He rubbed his shoes upon the doormat to avoid tracking mud through the house before locking eyes with Isaac, giving him a nod in return. The white haired Templar knew when to salute and when to stay at ease around the Senior, and treating him as he would on duty would only stiffen the man in his own quarters. During informal circumstances, lax responses were much preferred. "Senior Templar Hills." Titles, however, were never inappropriate.

As he stepped into the entrance hall, Jerris's gaze fell upon the young girl who Sophia currently chased to the kitchen. What immeasurable life that child radiated from her inner soul. Not even the death of her mother could extinguish or even lessen her unyielding glee. It was admirable in a sense that such a young girl remained so embracing of others while shut away with only her caretaker during Isaac's missions, a quip which Jerris struggled to comprehend. Her giggling echoed through the house as she escaped his sight, and only then did he return his attention to his superior and follow him into his office.

"I'm fine, thank you." Jerris settled as well as he could--so, not at all--by standing at the door of the office as he closed it behind him, his arms resting beneath the folds of the cloak. He spoke with a monotonous, almost bored voice of a man who would not--or could not--embellish his tone with emotion or expression. He could not be bothered with such trivial things.

"Alright, suit yourself," Isaac stated, wandering to his desk, picking up a small pitcher of fresh, ice-cold water. Sophia always prepared things like this ahead of time, always doing her best to take care of both Kaitlyn and Isaac. He poured himself a small glass of water, sipping slowly while his gaze fell upon a small picture frame residing on one of his many shelves. It was a picture of both him and Elena during their wedding ceremony, which was taken about seven years ago. They had Kaitlyn about a year later, and Isaac was only a young 21-year old adult at the time. Those were the happiest moments of his life.

Then, three years ago, he was promoted as Senior Templar, and then the chain-of-events occurred that caused his wife's death. The memory was still very bitter, but at the very least, he still had little Kaitlyn to hold on to. To this day, Isaac is always astonished that Kaitlyn had a striking image to her mother, and Isaac is happy that Elena's memory still lives on through their child.

He straightened his body as Templar Greymir began to speak again, turning to face him.

"I'm sure you noticed as I did on our recent mission..."

Jerris's gaze flicked away to a window. "They're growing."

A soft silence fell upon the office, and Isaac immediately understood what Templar Greymir was referring to. The Senior Templar nodded his head, his own gaze looking out of the window and watching as the heavy rain fell outside. Somewhere out there, the monster threat was still looming... and growing. Their last mission at the Borderfields proved this, as some of the raids became more frequent and larger in size. It was still nothing that the Templar Order can't handle, but it was still quite worrisome. Everybody thought that the monster threat had been quelled during the last Plague, which was only ended about 24 years ago.

Every once in a while, there was the occasional disaster missions where many Templars are wiped out by a single large group of Scourge Beasts. However, despite these setbacks, the population of the Beasts seemed to be relatively the same size, until recently...

"I know," Isaac stated quietly. "There are rumors that a Fourth Plague is on the rise," he stated. Which was only a rumor for now, a non-plausible one. The chances of another Plague occurring after wiping out the majority of the Beasts - about two decades ago - was very slim. However, Isaac couldn't help but have a bad feeling about the near future, and he could only worry about the safety of his daughter.

"We best remain vigilant," the Senior Templar glanced back at his assistant. "Only God knows whether or not the darkness is rising."

Jerris's gaze remained distant as he remained at the door, his chest rising with a deep inhalation. "The darkness is rising, sir. We don't need to leave that to God." He took slow, steady steps towards the window he stared at, his black shoes padding with gentle muffled impacts.

When he came within arms reach of the window, he extended his fingers to lightly trace the frame. "I only wonder what triggers these Plagues... and what horrors this one will bring."

"Well, I personally rather not wonder that," the Senior Templar stated promptly. If this was a true Plague, he did not want to imagine the horrors that it will bring. He did not want his daughter to live through the Fourth Plague, and wanted the little girl to live a peaceful life. It may be idealistic, but that would be Isaac's wish. If he had the power - if he had the opportunity, he would stop this Plague before it will ever begin.

He took another sip from his glass of water, before sighing heavily. Rain continued to pelt against the window, casting a dim mood inside of the room. The two of them became silent for a couple of minutes, before Isaac finally began to speak up once more - intending to switch the subject matter if nothing beneficial can come out of it.

"So, I recently spoke to Inquisitor Caleb earlier today," Isaac said aloud, and this news should come to no surprise to Jerris. The Templar knew that the Senior Templar always had mandatory meetings with the Inquisitor after the completion of every mission. "For the first time in a long time, I have received fantastic news," he set his glass on the desk, before turning to face Templar Greymir. A smile came across his facial expression, "I am to be promoted as Inquisitor within the next couple of weeks, and I am to lead a brand new seventh squadron when the time comes."

Jerris retreated from the window, his eyes landing upon Isaac. "That is indeed good news. Congratulations, sir. You've earned it." He gave a respectful nod to him, his hands clasping behind his back. "A seventh squadron is also good news. We've needed more Templar support as of recently."

He turned away, scanning Isaac's office slowly. "This means, of course, we would need not one new Senior Templar, but two. Was this your reason for our progress reports?"

Isaac nodded in gratitude towards his assistant. "Yes, that is why we will be conducting them tomorrow. I am looking for a suitable Senior Templar candidate. Inquisitor Caleb informed me that most of the squadron will be transferred under my control, just to ensure that the process runs smooth. Inquisitor Caleb's new squadron will be composed of the new recruits who finished Inquisitor Alexius's training. More than likely, a more experienced Templar from another squadron will be transferred and become his new Senior Templar to replace me."

"So, on the topic of Senior Templars, Jerris," Isaac began slowly and then turned his attention to his companion. "How would you feel about becoming my Senior Templar, and the vice-commander of the seventh squadron? We have been working together quite well for the past few years, and you have certainly proved yourself. The rest of the squadron think very highly of you, and your own overall ranking is fourth - well within the top-third. I certainly believe it would be a smooth transition if the two of us continue working with each other, but how do you feel about this matter?" he questioned, and found it slightly ironic how the Templar would feel. More often than not, Jerris tends to be apathetic on many different topics.

Jerris was silent for a moment, his mind ticking to the tune of the Senior Templar's proposition. The transition would be simpler than most, although still rocky at the exchange of Isaac's understanding nature for Jerris's apathy. He understood the ways that Templars ticked in groups, and during his time as Isaac's assistant, he learned of general and some complex tactical executions. The squadron did in fact respect him, and he could strengthen their efficiency to its absolute maximum potential.

"I... decline, sir." His eyes fell upon Isaac's once again. "As I mentioned in my report, there are others who I feel are more fitting for the role of leadership. Several of our comrades, Santoro and Hoefler in particular, are worthy candidates in my opinion. I am more effective following orders, not determining what needs to be executed." He glanced back to the window. "My counsel is always welcome to you, of course, but I'd rather it not be as a Senior Templar--for the good of your seventh squadron."

Isaac turned his head to Templar Greymir, slightly surprised with his declination. However, it was a little expected, Templar Greymir never stroke Isaac as the ambitious type, and thus that may be another reason why he wouldn't want the role. He had mixed opinions about the two he suggested for the vice-commander role, but he will keep these suggestions in mind.

"Understood," the Senior Templar turned around, walking back towards his desk. "We have a lot of work with the progress reports, but fortunately we can do them throughout the week," Isaac stated with a relieved sigh. He was thinking about having a formal session with Renakovic and Volkov tomorrow, and then Hoefler and Tannhauser the next day.

"Anyways, is there anything else we needed to discuss, Greymir?" Isaac turned around and questioned.

Jerris shook his head. "No, sir. I only wished to share my thoughts on the growing Plague." He navigated towards the door, turning the knob and opening it. "Have a good evening, sir. I can see myself out."

When Jerris pulls the door towards him, a dining room table was revealed to be pressing against the doorway, essentially blocking him from exiting. Giggling could be heard from the other side, before finally a little girl burst into laughter.

"I got you! I got you!" Kaitlyn suddenly appeared by hopping around the area behind the table, jumping up and down with giddy delight. She was very full of life, and immensely enjoyed pulling a small prank on Jerris as he was about to exit. While Kaitlyn was laughing hysterically, Sophia was standing at the far side of the wall, blushing slightly and giving an apologetic look to Jerris. She really couldn't say no to Kaitlyn whenever she has this big plan, especially when she gives the adorable puppy-dog eye look.

Isaac chuckled as he approached from behind Jerris, he found it especially hilarious considering that the Templar was always a very serious man, and thus would typically never be in situations like this.

"She got you," Isaac shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant manner, still holding a small smile.

Jerris's stared at Kaitlyn, then Sophia, then Isaac. He held his gaze upon Isaac, his eyebrow rising in a rather unamused fashion to his comment. After a moment of silence, he returned his attention to Kaitlyn, who was still bubbling with anticipation for the Templar's reaction. Feigning amusement to childish games was not his cup of tea, but...

"Well...you definitely got me, Kaitlyn." Jerris's voice and facial expression remained stoic, but they were softer in tone and essentially as close to jovial as he could show. "Now you better make sure your daddy doesn't let me get you. I'll close my eyes and count to ten, and if I catch you after that, you'll be in big trouble, missy."

His mouth did not tug upwards into a smile, nor did his voice rise in pitch. But the rare playful twinkle in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Kaitlyn let out a loud squeal before running off, before running loudly up the stairs. Thump, thump! Poor Sophia of course had to run after her and make sure that she didn't get into too much trouble on her own.

Isaac let out another chuckle, actually quite amused by what happened. "Alright, I think you had your fun for the day, Templar Greymir. Have a goodnight," he stated promptly.

Jerris opened his eyes immediately after the girl ran off, gave the dining table a healthy push, and edged himself out of the room. "Good night, sir."

[AngelWing]

Saul glanced around the bar again, gold eyes flickering in the light as they looked from person to person. Each member of his squad seemed to be enjoying themselves, laughing and generally making eyes at other members of their squad or another squad. Who could blame most of them? Many of the members were built well, which for most had an instant... sex appeal.

Saul was used to this type of thing, these types of gatherings. So, he found it easy to smile and laugh at their antics. Then, his eyes drifted to Anna Catriona, watching her as she watched her friends make eyes with other males in the vicinity. She seemed a little out of place, while at the same time right at home. Among the people in his squad, he respected Anna for her ability to draw people to her. Even when she didn't want them there.

"Leo, don't wander far, yeah?" Saul said to his companion, smirking at her and waving for the bartender to bring her another glass. "We'll walk home together, so try and be a little social." He laughed a little, gave her nose a gentle flick with his finger then turned and walked over to Anna.

He leaned against the bar beside her, looking around at their companions again before turning his attention to her. "Enjoying the party, Anna?"

Anna was certainly filling a little more than tipsy at this point, but that was the greatest part of the evening. She didn't have to worry about any stupid missions during the next day, and can let loose without any inhibitions. She giggled to herself when her two gal pals decided to goggle over Octavius. She certainly agreed he was a looker, but she found him a bit too... benevolent... for her taste. Then again, it wasn't like she was looking for a soul mate or anything like that. The last time she gave her heart to someone... well, that person nearly broke it in two.

Her attention was caught by the person that decided to approach her, Saul Vitraid. Her bright-blue eyes glanced to her fellow Templar, mischievous delight twinkling in her eyes. Her lips curled upwards to form a slightly sly smile, apparently quite content to enjoy the company of Saul. She found him highly attractive - more so that Octavius or Lyon. Then again, maybe her type of guys include those with golden hair and a lean figure.

"Very much, Saul," Anna nodded, almost in slow motion. It was quite clear she was feeling the effects of her earlier shots. She took another sip of her beer, before placing the glass on the bar. That was enough... for now. It wouldn't be wise on her part to continue drinking, and then puke her guts out in front of everyone else.

Her eyes glanced towards his former company, Leona Savage. At the sight of the other woman, Catriona's eyes ever-so-slightly narrowed. She wasn't particularly fond of Leona, mainly because the woman was a judgmental bitch. Anna knows very well about her own sexuality, and accepts that she is a rather loose girl and would have sex on a daily basis. Apparently, Leona absolutely hated Anna for that, which the young Templar couldn't quite understand. It was her own life, and her own body, and she could do whatever the hell she wanted with it. Anna herself wouldn't have too much of an issue with Leo's judgmental nature, but she had severe issues whenever Leo did those accidental bumps and pushes whenever they cross paths.

If Leona decided to come across her way tonight, Anna would do her best to behave - only if Leo behaved herself. If not, all hell was breaking loose.

Anyways, enough about her.

Anna quickly returned her attention back to Saul, "How 'bout you?" she questioned, smiling brightly while brushing away a few loose strings of hair her from her face. "You drunk yet?" she giggled, always being forward.

"Nah, not entirely--I feel a bit buzzed is all." Saul said, chuckling at little. Anna was clearly tipsy, but still in control of herself. Saul wouldn't feel the affects for a little while, and that was if he had more to drink tonight. "It's a good feeling either way," he enjoyed Anna's company when he could manage to talk to her--though usually it was only here at the tavern.

He wondered why she enjoyed talking with him, drunk or sober. He wondered that about everyone he talked too. Sure, he was a regular goof with a funny side as big as the plaguelands, but even still. Octavious was a important person and he wasn't a bad looker either he supposed in girls' eyes. Any of the others, even, were better than his scared and lean form.

"Gonna be a good day to sleep in tomorrow after tonight."

Catriona nodded her head in agreement, placing her elbow against the bar and raising up her hand to rest her head against it. She still held a warm and happy smile on her face. "Indeed, no more silly business with the wastelands for a week," she stated happily. She looked around the room, her gaze falling upon many attractive folks within the tavern. Many of them were mingling with each other, obviously attempting to get into each others' pants for the night. Anna herself was looking for a good fuck tonight, its been a while since she had a little bit of fun.

She glanced back up, wondering the kind of person that he is. He also seemed to be the benevolent type like Warren, but he also seemed to be the kind of person that enjoyed to have fun with everyone and not be so uppity - hence his goofy personality, which she appreciated very much. "It seems like everyone is horny as hell tonight," she commented aloud, taking a notice of Yelena literally purring around Warren. A few other ladies were swooning over Inquisitor Lyon, and of course many of the guys were attempting their hands at flirting with the lady Templars.

"I don't blame them," she giggled, glancing back up at Saul and winking at him.

"No one's had action in a while--I can't blame them either," giving her a mischievous smirk and winking back. He wasn't perfect, and he was very much male; sleeping around wasn't exactly something he did, but he enjoyed a bit of fun every once in a while. Besides, he wasn't walking hand-in-hand with God, so he was already being judged for that--what worse could happen if he fucked someone?

He smiled naturally again, glancing around the room and watching their fellow Templars. "And with the mission next week, we need a little time to play I'd say." He looked at each of his squad mates, watching them as they went after one another. Some would sleep around, others would stay up until morning having some of the deepest conversations he'd ever hear. It was a diverse group--he was respectful of most of them. So, he enjoyed his time with them; and enjoyed the fact that they were all so different.

"Hmm, and I agree," Anna said slowly at first, before she gave a thoughtful look. She appeared deep in thought for a second in her drunken state, before she finally nodded to herself and made a decision. "Well," Anna glanced back at Saul, straightening up her body slightly. "Could you then blame me if I did this?" she questioned innocently, before placing her hand on top of Saul's inner thigh, running it up slowly. Her brilliant blue eyes watching him, waiting to see how he would react.

Only slightly caught off guard, Saul had his glass half-way to his lips when he felt her hand on him. He paused, for a second, then looked over at her with a gleam in his gold eyes. He downed the rest of his drink, holding back a shiver the higher her hand went. He looked at her as he sat the glass down, smirking a bit, "Only if you blame me for doing this." He lifted his hand and ran it from her jaw and neck, slowly down her to her chest, between her breasts.

Ah, he is a naughty boy after all, Anna was rather happy to find that out once his hand glided over her skin. She was highly aroused by his touch, and certainly craved for more. He may be a little older than her, but that was perfectly fine for the young woman. "Oh, I wouldn't blame you at all," she smile mischievously, before leaning forward towards his ear. "How 'bout we go find a more private place to have fun..." she whispered into his ear, her soft lips gently brushing against it. "Such as my place," she suggested, before sensually tugging on his earlobe with her teeth. She pulled back, biting her lower lip in an innocent manner, but it was more towards anticipation and need.

Saul shivered, his other hand gripping the bar a little while giving her a smirk in return. It had been a while since he'd had fun--that kind of fun anyway. He didn't sleep around a lot, but he did have needs. And he'd never ask as much from Leona, because he understood her so well. She knew he went out once in a while to have a bit of fun and she seemed not to mind as long as he came back safe and sound. Sometimes, he was even a bit more of a goof-ball after. Besides, he didn't let small arguments between different Templars ruin his mood--he let them think what they wanted while still doing what he wanted.

"Innocent little devil..." he muttered, giving her a wink before turning and looking over at Leona. "Oi, Leo! I'ma be late tonight. All your drinks are on me, okay? Stay as long as you like--try what you want." He called over to her, giving the bartender a nod and Leo a smirk. He had an open tab, because he was good for the money and usually paid within two days after a night out.

He turned back to Anna, smirking again and lifting his hand, giving her earlobe a soft pinch between his fingers, teasing. "Sorry, gotta take care of my housemate. Let's get lost."

"No worries," Anna playfully said, though she tried to ignore Leona at the moment. She wasn't quite sure how Saul managed to get along with that wicked witch, but it is his own life after all. Anna gently took his hand with her own, before standing up from her stool. "I'm glad you decided to approach me tonight after all," she stated, raising up her free hand and playfully tussling his hair, before leaning forward and planting a small kiss on his forehead. "Now, let's get laid," she tugged upon his hand, almost impatiently, and directing them to leave the tavern.

Saul only grinned, "I'm glad I did too." He chuckled as she tugged on his hand and stood, running his hand through his hair and fixing it. Not that it would stay that way long, but he still had to walk out in public. Had to look half decent. He followed Anna out of the bar and onto the near deserted street, letting her keep a hold of his hand. A simple touch, but it was the start to a good night ahead. He was enjoying every minute tonight, he promised himself that--and, that it wouldn't be awkward between them come tomorrow.

For now, however, he had more pressing issues on his mind: how fast they could get to Anna's home and how quickly thereafter he could get her out of those clothes.

[Maya]

Sitting there in that tavern watching everyone else having such a great time, Kiera smiled at their interactions while internally betting with herself how many of them were going to hook up tonight. Who could blame them? In a few days, they'd be back out in no man's land fighting who knows what. Why not cut loose while you can? She watched Anna with Saul. There was nothing timid about their interactions. Seemed like a good match, even if only for one night. Even found herself laughing softly as the pair slipped away for some privacy. Yelena still had eyes for Octavius. Sophia seemed to be happy just watching the comings and goings.

"So, who catches the fair Lady Sanders' eye tonight? Will it be Octavious? I saw you looking at him." George offered up that toothless grin again while packing away the dominoes.

She'd look down at the double seven in her hand, shaking her head as those blond locks fell in delicate waves to hide her face. "Everybody looks at him. He's easy on the eyes." Given a second to put herself in his position, she felt a wee bit guilty for doing so. "Most of the men are easy on the eyes. I think someone else wants him as her prize. Besides, you know I'm not ready for that."

"Bollocks! You're ready. The problem here is you need to snatch the reigns back from the icy fingers of your past. Yes, you made a mistake. Yes, it was a huge lapse in judgement and yes.." Whispering low. "You nearly died. But trust me, my dear, you are not dead. Though..me thinks it's not so much about that anymore is it?" Plucking that last domino from her hand to place with the others in his wooden box. "You want something you can't have. Sweetie, you need to give that up."

Countering matter of factly. "I don't want anyone."

"I said something. You just confirmed it was a person." Letting out a hardy, belly laugh which earned a roll off her eyes. "Keep telling yourself that, kid." Giving Kiera a knowing glance just before ordering a shot of whiskey. "You hold the keys to your own prison, my dear. Don't go telling me you may die next week. I'm seventy years old. If I used that philosophy to avoid getting close to someone, I would have been a very lonely soul."

He knew her way too well. Sometimes she didn't enjoy hearing the man's insights. "I'll keep that in mind. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go talk to someone."

"You mean someone else." George found himself to be pretty funny. Especially when it ruffled Kiera's feathers. "See you next time."

Sophia may have thought no one noticed her; but, she had noticed the woman alone upstairs for most of the evening. After escaping from the endless wealth of wisdom and insight her elderly friend kept spewing, Kiera would make her way up those steps to take a seat by Sophia at the table. "Hey, having fun? Seems like everyone else is having one form of a good time or another." Clearing her throat on that. Yeah, there was a lot of humping about to go on somewhere tonight.

[Scottie]

Even with her eyes closed and her humming getting steadily louder, the goings on of the tavern still harshly interrupted her thoughts. She snapped her eyes open and let her eyes flick over those still left. Almost blaming them for interrupting her silence with their good times. The return of a familiar face made her raise an eyebrow. She had thought the woman wise, leave before the others get so drunk they are like children...but yet she was back.

A deep pang of jealousy flooded through her as she watched Kiera play with the older gentleman, their soft laughter floating to her even upstairs. She dropped her eyes to the tankard in her hands, thoughts of her father passing through her mind. She used to adore just sitting with him, they would both read in silence but they had each others company. He was the only one to truly understand her, to not cast her aside because of an angry outburst. He held her through the times that she snapped and never once spoke badly of her.

Swishing the golden liquid around the tankard, she heard more giggles. Dragging her eyes lazily over to the two templars by the bar. She rolled her eyes mentally counting the problems it would cause before taking another drink of her ale. One more gulp at most. Then she would leave. Tilting her head back once more to rest on the stone wall, she was closing her eyes when the soft squeak of the stairs told her someone was coming up to where she was.

She flicked her eyes over to the woman coming up, a soft frown crossing her features. She blinked slowly, why was she coming over...and speaking to her...out of her own free will. Sophia raised her chin before moving her feet off the table. "You could say that." She said glancing through the railing once more at the others. "Many may have quite a few regrets come the morning." She said with a small twitch of her lips. "And you?" She said snapping her eyes back to Kiera. "Are you a good time?"

[RedKayne]

"So, I'm assuming that Senior Templar Hills was ecstatic by the news?" the dark red-haired woman questioned, sipping a small glass of red wine. She was adorned with black regal clothing (http://stuffpoint.com/goth-style/image/317910-goth-style-miss-gothic.jpg), and her hair was held up in a fashion and noble-like braid. She licked her crimson lips quickly, before placing the glass on the desk.

"Yes, he was, Archon Denaris," Inquisitor Bartholomew answered, sitting across from the high-ranking Church member. Since she wasn't a part of the military Templar Order, there was no need to follow strict protocol such as standing at attention or reporting in. He leaned back against his chair, still clad in his battle-armor, and formed a small smile. "I'm glad that you gave him this opportunity, Archon. He will make an excellent Inquisitor."

Archon Denaris nodded in agreement, her emerald-green eyes sparkling within the room's bright lights. The two of them were meeting inside of a very large office - stainless white-carpet floor, several book shelves containing the history and politics of Sanctuary, along with portraits of her family's bloodline.

Several folders stacked on top of her desk, and thousands of paper required her attention. The duty of an Archon is never done, but despite the heavy demand, Amelia Denaris always remained enthusiastic and tenacious over her duties.

"He certainly does deserve it," Amelia stated, "He worked extremely hard to get where he is now. He's leagues ahead of the rest of the Senior Templars, and I believe its finally time for him to show his true potential as a leader." She took out a memorandum paper, reading through it before nonchalantly tossing it away into the nearby trashcan. Apparently, that piece of paper didn't require her immediate attention.

After Inquisitor Bartholomew was finished with his debrief with Isaac, Caleb was required to immediately meet with the Archon of the Templar Order. They just needed to go over a few details about the previous mission, the squadron evaluations, and any other matters that need to be settled.

"A pity that his uncle does not share your mindset, Archon Denaris," the Inquisitor commented. Archon Balthazar Hills was already fully aware of his nephew's upcoming promotion, and immediately disapproved of it with a venomous attitude. Archon Hills did not embrace the idea that a member of the royal Hills would become a leader of the barbaric Order.

Archon Denaris rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly, "Don't remind me," she angrily mumbled. The two Archon butt heads on far too many matters, as Balthazar has yet to stop his overzealous crusade against disbanding the Templar Order. It didn't help when the general public didn't trust the warriors already, and Balthazar was making matter much worse with his frequent tirades.

The Inquisitor managed to crack a small smile, "I apologize, I should know better than mention him," he stated, almost in a joking manner. He glanced at the tall grandfather clock at the side of her office, noticing that it is rather late. "Well, if that is everything, Archon Denaris, then I best make my leave now. Even legends like myself need sleep every once in a while," he chuckled, beginning to stand up.

"Hold it, wait please, Inquisitor," the Archon immediately raised her hand, halting Caleb from leaving. She released another loud sigh, sounding frustrating. "Unfortunately, I have bad news."

The Inquisitor slightly frowned, but quickly took his seat again.

"There is a crisis in Hirod, the monsters have been attacking the town frequently. The Divine Trinity has ordered your squadron to move out and stop the assaults." She picked up a folder from her desk, before handing it over to Inquisitor Bartholomew. "You can find more details here, but your squadron needs to depart in two days."

The Inquisitor froze upon hearing the news... two days?

Normally, squadrons have at least a week to rest up after their last mission. Why two days? "Ma'am, I'm quite confused over this, why must my squadron depart? Is there not any other squadron who can handle the matter? What about Inquisitor Lyon?" Caleb questioned the Archon.

Amelia shook her head, "Inquisitor Lyon and his squadron are leaving for a different mission tomorrow. Only your squadron is available to move out quickly and face the Scourge Beasts. This mission takes utmost priority, and again - these are the orders of the Divine Trinity themselves. You have a very important decision to make regarding to this mission, Inquisitor."

This time, the Inquisitor let out a loud and frustrated sigh. "This is bullshit," he mumbled, rubbing his forehead with his hand. However, there really isn't much he can do about the matter. "I will read the mission details tomorrow," he picks up the folder before standing back up. "Is there anything you else you need from me, Archon Denaris?"

The noblewoman shook her head, "No, that will be all, Inquisitor Caleb."

"Good evening, Archon Denaris," he bowed his head respectfully, before turning around and walking out of the office. The news of the upcoming mission just completely ruined his week, and he couldn't understand why they couldn't contact another squadron to take care of the matter. Yes, Inquisitor Nolan is still busy with his own mission, but isn't there a possibility that Inquisitor Alexius or Darkwood could send their own soldiers?

He shook his head, knowing the answer fully well. If this was a very important mission, then the Divine Trinity could only trust the legendary monster-slayer to ensure the safety of Hirod. He wandered through the hallway of Archon Denaris's estate, but right before he stepped outside, he briefly halted. He grabbed a small leather pouch from his waist, opening it quickly and dropping a couple of pills on to his hand. These were very small doses of the painkiller, Dolor, and he quickly downed them in his mouth before swallowing.

"Damn headaches," he muttered angrily under his breath, before walking outside and into the heavy rain.

[Yamimoon]

Looking into her mug, she saw it was empty and stood from her seat. "I'm going to go get something to drink big guy." She said looking at Orfiel, before she wove her way to the bar between tables and chairs. On one side of the bar sat a bunch of the other female Templars, they were all chatting and swooning over Octavius by the sound of it. She'd never been really good at all that.

Instead, Marcella slid into a spot next to Letum flagging down the barkeep for a refill of her mug of hard cider. As she waited, she glanced over at the man next to her. "Having a pleasant evening Letum?"

Letum just continued to watched the people in the building since he was there watching the Inquisitor. Then he saw that Marcella was making her way over to the bar. As she weaved through the crowded tavern she stopped for only a second to determine where she was going to head. She then made her way over to him. He smiled at his fellow Templar as she took a seat.

"Well the night is beautiful and the spirits are just as sublime. So all around a great evening. Much better than the trek home. Though that had its own beauty about it. The rain cleaning this horrid world of is impurities." He said with a happy tone as he looked over to the woman. He may not have been the most liked among his group, but at least some people weren't as afraid of him as others. "So how is the night treating you my lady?"

"It's going well Letum. It's nice to be able to relax a bit and the rain is never bothersome." She said as her dark eyes expressive as she looked at the man beside her while sliding onto the barstool. Letum had always intrigued her since she met him and she could never determine why exactly. It was bothersome for someone who was normally able to read people and situations so well. "Do you have any plans during our short break?"

Returning Marcella’s gaze he could tell that she was interested in him, but in what way he was uncertain. He doubted in any other way than curiosity, but then again the way he was raised relationships were unacceptable. So he never did learn anything about how those thing worked. Pushing those thoughts aside and keeping his thoughts hidden behind his mask. He raised his glass and took a sip of his beverage. “Well I really don’t have any plans per say. More than likely I will just laze around until it is time for us to deploy again. Though there is a few errands I have to run, and some supply’s that I will need to get before we get sent out again. Other than that there is nothing that I have to do nor have planned.”

Taking another sip from his drink he continued to smile at Marcella. He liked talking to people. You could learn so much about a person just by having a conversation, though there are some people that are harder to read and he was one. “So do you have any grand plans for this interlude we find ourselves in?"

She just shook her head, not smiling back, but that was just Marcella and most of her fellow Templars knew that was just her personality. Though she nodded in thanks to the bartender as he placed her drink in front of her. "No I don't have anything in particular planned. Will probably spar with O at some point and I have my review with Senior Templar Hills tomorrow."

Her father had mentioned that he was going to be in Sanctuary this week in his last letter. However, she knew better than to anticipate being able to see him. Normally he was too busy to get together with his daughter, but that was the life of a Bishop.

He finished off his first drink as he then looked to the bartender to bring him another. He didn’t want to get drunk, but he knew his limits. So this little bit more to drink would not affect him too much. “That is a shame that you have nothing planed other than that. I would think that you would at least have a little time for yourself.” He said as he looked over his shoulder as the tavern doors open once more. Two men entered the tavern, and he recognized at least one of them. The man is one of the guardsmen he had seen patrolling the main gate some times.

Not thinking anything of it he returned his gaze to Marcella. “Well come to think of it I have my own Progress report to attend tomorrow. That would have not been good, I would have missed it yet again if it weren’t for you. Thanks.” Letum said as he looked at his empty cup thinking of what he still needed to do this evening, and his smile shifted to a more sinister smile, then it faded almost as fast as it appeared. Hearing the two men that entered the Tavern talking about what had happened the day before, and that the Templars were all to blame. “I think that there is going to be some trouble in a bit. Those two men that entered might be looking for a fight.”

Marcella glanced over at the men whom Letum was referring to with a very disinterested stare. "If they pick one, then they'll be beaten. However words are just that words and unless they're paired with action they're meaningless." She said as she turns back to the Templar beside her. "And these two are just drunk. I'd like to think that the Templars are better behaved than two drunks off the street. Even when we're drunk."

The woman took a drink from her mug, but kept an ear out for the two troublemakers in case she had to step in. "And how do you feel about the events that we missed yesterday with the pilgrimage?" She asked him, partially curious about as to where he stood on the issue itself.

Letum chuckled slightly at her words. She was right after all. Most of them could keep their cool even when soused. Though those two being drunk was not the problem. He didn’t recognize the second man as a guardsmen. Which worried him a little even though he didn’t show it. “Well you have a valid point there. They might be all bark with no bite.” He commented though he doubted it. The second man had too clear of eyes to be drunk. Maybe it was just an act? Well never the less if it was an assassin he would wait till later to strike, or when there was a distraction to keep everyone’s attention.

“Well I have mixed feelings about the pilgrimage to begin with. I don’t believe that status should stop the Noble’s from being taken as well. It should be fair all the way around, but it is not. They only take the people they think are dredges on society. That being said I also thing the three guardsmen wasted their lives. Granted they wanted to protect their family, but they truly lacked the strength to do so. One should no one’s limitations before challenging someone.” He said calmly as the bartender brought him his second drink. “Besides no one in their right mind would challenge the Masked Inquisitor. He is just too dam strong. I don’t even think the combine forces of all of the Templars could actually take him out.”

Marcella watched Letum with her keen eyes as he spoke, he seemed concerned about the men who were finding an empty table. She took another drink as he talked. "By definition, the dredges of society are just that. The bottom of the bunch. They have little to contribute, whereas the nobles at least still have money that they can contribute. It's a hard fact, but Sanctuary can't support everyone." She paused for another drink. "When it comes between saving the many versus losing a few. It's a hard choice, but it's the right one. The Pilgrimages are also mandated by the Divine King who is the Voice of God. We are but God's hands."

Marcella knew her opinion wasn't probably unpopular with the population of Sanctuary, but also even with the Templars. However, as it was an order from the Divine King and so if ordered Marcella would help to carry it out herself. Though at the same time she saw how strained the city was and unless people made the decision to leave on their own to the other cities, then the Pilgrimages would no doubt continue.

Though he disagrees with Marcella, he knew that she was right. Nevertheless there was more to his argument than that. “You are right, but who made the decision on who would be considered Nobel’s and dredges? The people that are born to the lower class had no choice in the matter, and there is no way to change your fate. That is unless you would like to risk your life and become a Templar.” Letum said with a slightly downed voice. He was born in the lower class sold to the Assassins, and now plays the role of a Templar. This bothered him quite a bit. He could have been born with a silver spoon in his mouth like some others, but alas he was not.

“If the Nobles are so important why don’t they try taking the money they have put into fortifying the outer towns? Make it where the farmers are safe and the crops tended to properly. Rather than spending their money on themselves, and not helping the problem. If we made the other cities like Sanctuary then there would be no food shortages because of the beasts attacking and destroying the fields. Then the Pilgrimages would not have to take place, and family's torn apart.” Letum stated as he never had a real attachment to money, so he could not see why it was so important to some to horde it.

"I suppose the decision rests in God's hands. He's the one who decides where a man is born and the trials he must face." She could tell that this subject was pulling him down, so she continued meeting his eyes as she spoke. "It makes life rough for sure, but succeeding in the trials that have been set before you shows tenacity. Not to mention that the Divine King arose from the dredges of society to become the most powerful man in the Sanctuary. So while yes, having a lower birth does make it harder to move up. It it not impossible and God rewards hard work."

"As for why nobility love their money, you'd have to talk to Matthew about that. Though I feel like the conversation wouldn't be as enlightening as you would want. It's a hard road we walk Letum and we're faced with misfortune daily. All fights can't be won, but as long as the RIGHT ones are things can only move up." She took another drink from her mug, before looking at the swirling liquid for a moment before looking back at Letum. "Try not to over think it."

Sighing once more he decided that talking about a subject like this will only bring down all parties involved. He knew better than anyone that the path to changing one’s life was a hard path. He didn’t want to have the life he has now, but his parents told him to make the most of the new life he was given. So he did, and now look at him. He was an assassin that was forced to leave the life he knew for a mission that truthfully had no end. Taking a large swig of his drink he just smiled at the whole situation.

“One life is what they make of it. Whether for good or bad, but still it would be nice if everyone could have a life worth living.” He stated as he stared into his glass. People will never change unless they are forced to. At least that is what he had been told all of his life. Even though these last two years he himself has changed little by little. “Sorry to be such a downer. This is not a subject one should have on their first day of a short lived break. Soon we will be back on the front lines. We should be having fun not arguing of something so trivial.” Letum said as he could feel someone staring at him. Making him just a little uncomfortable.

Letum smiled on the surface, but Marcella knew there was still something bothering him. She wasn't one to prod into someone's personal life. If he wanted someone to talk to he'd talk. If not he wouldn't. "It's fine Letum. I'm always interested in intellectual discussions with peers. I don't view it as arguing." She said her voice still calm as it had always been. "It's how we learn and improve ourselves after all. Though our interactions and discussions with our fellows."

It was not abnormal for his life to be in jeopardy every time he returned to town. The assassins would not fallow him beyond the city gates because they feared the outside world. Well fear might be a bold statement, but he has never had to worry. Well he truly didn’t have to worry even now, but here there was no way he could let his guard down. Though listening to what Marcella had to say did relax him just a bit. “Well it seems that meaningful conversations are lost now in days. Most of the time if you step on someone’s toes they fight back tooth and nail. It is a refreshing to find someone that is willing to truly listen to another’s point of view even though it may be against all they believe.”

"Most arguments are pointless and those that are meaningful are either solved better through civil conversation or at the end of the sword. There's typically nothing that falls in between." Marcella said with a nod. "Anytime you need an ear Letum, I'm always available."

“Well thank you for the offer. I will defiantly keep that in mind, and take you up on that offer at another time.” Letum said as he finished his second drink for the night. “Well it is getting late, and I have an early morning. It has been a pleasure speaking with you. Have a wonderful evening!” He said as he stood up from his seat, and left the tavern. He needed to get the rest of his business finished this evening.

[Yamimoon]

(Double post!)

[Maya]

There was no rule that Kiera had to make sense. Not one she knew about anyway. Sophia was rather elusive. To be honest, it was a surprise to see her in the tavern at all. From what little she knew, the woman wasn't much of a people person. They all were expected to work together so it might be a problem if a few opted to fly solo all the time. With this particular Templar, there was always the risk of getting her head bitten off. What would life be if one did not take chances?

Kiera didn't ask if she could sit by Sophia, she just sat down as if the move was to be expected. Plopping both elbows on the table, further taking up real estate in the girl's dance space. The small talk earned another glance at those still on the hunt for a warm body to roll around with. She'd even chuckle at Sophia's comment. "Yeah, well, life without a few regrets isn't much of a life at all." Had plenty of those moments under her belt already. "We all deserve a little break now and then. Take our minds off what's coming next."

Was she having a good time? Meh..maybe. Was nice to be around people and hear all the joking and laughter filling the walls of the tavern. Made life seen normal for a time. As normal as one could expect in a place such as this. "Can't complain really." Hearing George grousing about losing a card game over the din of the room made her laugh. The old fart even muttered out her name in a not so glowing manner. "I should have returned the face cards to his deck I guess." Reaching into her back pocket to pull those oh, so important cards out, fanning them across the table. "He'll get over it. Do you like cards? Dominoes? Dice games? George could use another competitor. Preferably one who doesn't cheat him blind. If you do play with him, know those stories he tells about my childhood ways hold no truth.." Wagging both brows while leaning that chair back on two legs. That man had way too much Intel on her illicit habits back in those teenage years. "He'll tell you I was a 'borrower' of things, would sneak into places I shouldn't have been, shoved pillows in the church bells so I could get more sleep. At fourteen, I even managed to get my hands on some Holy Fire from somewhere..'ahem'..and set it off in the middle of town. Nothing was damaged and my curiosity was sated on how the stuff worked. The Priest put me on latrine duty for a month. Was soooo worth it."

Moving on. "Anyway, so what's your scoop? Got your own eyes on someone around here?"

Sophia rested her drink on the stained table and raised an eyebrow at how close the woman had gotten. Most kept their distance, their distaste of her was not often well hidden. She didn't care, she had little love for them each as well. But this was peculiar. The woman came out of her way to speak to her, to make conversation. She rolled her eyes back to those in the tavern, many were finding others in which to take their minds off the coming day.

Flicking her dark eyes back around to Kiera as she laughed, with another twitch of her lips in what could be seen as a smile. She shook her head as the cards were laid out on the table. She was about to make comment on how cheating an old man seemed a bit much...or did she struggle to beat him at his own game, when Kiera asked if she would like to play games with the older man. She would not admit that she had thought of it before, to ask the man for a game. To keep conversation with someone outside of their party, one who seemed to joke and laugh and not be plagued by the death they saw each day.

She picked up her tankard once more, downing the last mouthful , watching the woman lean back in her chair. She raised an eyebrow "It seems like you were quite the rouge during your younger years...Changed your ways hm?" She asked curiously, placing the tankard back down. A little while longer she promised herself.

Sophia heard her question and blinked slowly with a slight frown. "Word of the Pilgrimage floats through the streets. Man defending his family struck down, their blood left to sink into the ground. It's enough to make even me drink." She said flicking her eyes back to the group in the tavern. "And my eye....Not particularly. They all seem a little preoccupied with each other to even notice I was here."

Sophia didn't scare her. None of those in the squad scared Kiera. She may not like being around some of them for one reason or another. On the other side of the coin, there were those who did not like her. So it was a wash. Besides, life is fluid and people change. But, only if you give them a chance to do so.

"Think about hitting him up for a round or two of cards or whatever it is you like, he'd love it." Leaving the offer hanging out for Sophia to consider in her own time. Wasn't about to push her into anything might make the woman uncomfortable.

Might not have been the best idea to go blabbing about all of the stunts she used to pull around the city. What's worse is that was just a tiny example of the hell she used to get into. Shrugging those shoulders, trying to look innocent enough. "I wasn't very well supervised. My step parents had their hands full in the bakery. So, kind of had to entertain myself. Not always in the right way." From the goofy grin on her face, Kiera was still able to find the humor in it. "Anyway.." enough about her.

Mere mention of the latest pilgrimage caused a slow shake of her head. "Yeah, that's just.." sighing. "Hell, I don't even know. Wrong. Everything about it feels wrong." Lifting the ace of spades card to roll back and forth through her fingers. "If drinking helps, then..by all means." However she would not join. Another sweep of the room was made to see who was up to what now. When it came down to it, what the other Templar's did was their business. She'd leave them to it. Though, she would whisper to Sophia. "You know, sometimes you have to be the one willing to make the effort to get noticed." Men often tend to have a shy side as well. They may need a tug or push. "Like this.." Righting that chair to four legs again, beckoning Sophia to follow, then taking the stairs two by two to the first floor only to head behind the bar. It was getting late after all. So why not have a little fun before it ends?

Sophia snapped her eyes back to the woman, she didn’t respond but nodded. She wouldn’t mind playing a game of cards with the older man but maybe not tonight. Another twitch of her lips, ”Entertainment doesn’t always come in parent approved packages.” Thinking of the secret “adventures” she went on as a child, getting into trouble easily and being hauled back to the church by the scruff of her coat.

She blinked slowly, her fingertips back on the empty tankard. She scoffed at the woman, “And if I wish to go unnoticed. I do not need their company in my bed.” She said before leaning back abruptly as the woman stood. She gestured for her to follow and Sophia sighed. If she stood and went downstairs, at least she was closer to the door. She made her way down the step slowly, taking each step one by one, her shoes thumping on the weathered wood.

"Not much around here comes in parent approved packages no matter what the age." Kiera was not nearly as much of a wild child anymore; but, there was still that little streak of orneriness allowed to appear now and then. Especially in a place like this. "You know, it doesn't have to be a bed." Safe to say, this little conversation probably wasn't going to make the two women best friends. They were complete opposites. On the bright side, for a few minutes, they got along just fine.

The bartender shook his head at Kiera while drying off the freshly cleaned glasses. "How's your singing voice tonight, Max?" Raising her voice as she spoke. "I think these folks deserve a song. Care to join me?" Yep, she was NOT shy at all. It's start with tapping out the tune on the bar with their fists. She'd try to get Sophia to do the same. Even if that meant moving the girl's hand for her.

By now, she figured the majority of the room should have had plenty of time to get a nice buzz on if not be full on, shit faced drunk. Which was especially entertaining to most of those who somehow remained to be sober. Sophia had put up with her thus far when it was already assumed their interactions would have come to an end much more swiftly. So, the woman's comfort zone would be given another nudge what by coercing the bartender to help get the drinking song started.

"Here's to all the smokin' vixens waitin' for the band.
Thinkin' maybe one of them might make a one night stand.
But please don't take offense, because this song is not for you.
We'd be happy to oblige you when this fuckin' crap is through.

Well, bugger off, you bastards, bugger off (fuck you).
Well, bugger off, you bastards, bugger off (fuck you).
You're like a herd of fuckin' swine that refuse to leave the trough.
You'll get no more this evening so you fuckers bugger off.

Now you've promised the ladies a night of love and bliss.
When truth be known you're far too drunk to stand up straight and piss.
So give it up you fuckin' wad oh cunt you'll not be laid.
The sooner you were out of here the quicker we'll be paid,

Well, bugger off, you bastards, bugger off (fuck you).
Well, bugger off, you bastards, bugger off (fuck you).
You're like a herd of fuckin' swine that refuse to leave the trough.
You'll get no more this evening so you better bugger off.


The song was a lively, little diddy filled with everything a completely sloshed person would want. Yelling, clapping, talk of women, plenty of dirty words. OK, so it wasn't for the sensitive or faint of heart. Apparently, from the way Sophia was staring at her, it wasn't for her either. So many others were enjoying the song, it was hard to comprehend how one could not.


Sophia stopped at the end of the bar, watching the woman get the bartender to sing. She stood blank faced even as the woman tried to get her to join in. She merely blinked slowly, she was brought downstairs….for this. For this song. It took to the second verse, then she spun and wandered through the small crowd of people. Why was did Kiera think she would sing along to this? Or stamp her feet, thump her fist against the bar? Was this some big joke? To try and see her more relaxed side. Nope. Sophia pulled the door opened and headed out into the dark cold night.

"Where are you going?" Kiera yelled after her. The answer in return was wordless as the door slammed in Sophia's wake. Leaning her head on Max's shoulder as the second verse kicked in. "Was it me? Was it my singing? .." Having to yell in order to be heard. He'd just shrug and keep pouring drinks. Seemed like it was time to call it a night anyway since she had an early morning to contend with.

A string of curse words fell from her lips as she headed down the road away from the tavern. The song was now breaching the walls and was spilling out onto the streets. She rolled her eyes, kept her hands clamped at her sides with fingers curled into fists. She kept walking, away from their stupid games…what she presumed was a big old joke for many of them. She brushed her way past those standing outside, “getting air” from the tavern where her bed lay. Not even giving one glance to the bar tender as she stormed her way up the stairs. Slamming her door promptly behind her, locking it tight and thumping herself face down onto her bed. There she would stay, stewing in anger until morning light came through the flimsy curtains of her one window.

[SikstaSlathalin]

As he and M slipped into companionable silence, the big man took to watching his fellow Templars. Such a varied bunch they were, Nobles like Matthew, Low-Born like Letum, born outcasts like himself. What bound them all was the armor they wore and the duties they all were sworn fulfill. After a life of chaos and not knowing if he'd be the next one tasked with hunting down some poor farmer and bringing him back to the Black Mountains to be sacrificed for the glory of Astaroth and attempt to stay his cold, black, hand so they could live longer than humans should.

The only true immortality comes from believing the Lord God is your Savior and living your life to be the epitome of his good word. Orfiel was on his way towards that goal, but each day he only made small steps towards it. Even after all these years he still found himself going over the Daemon's prayers in his head and kissing the skulls on his knuckle dusters before every battle and mission. Old habits die hard as it were...but a big step would be his learning to read the good books and take the Lord's Grace into his heart to replace Lord Death's darkness.

With the eyes of an audience member watching a play he stared disconnectedly out at the other Templars. The ladies drinking and making goo-goo eyes at Octavius, the men simply drinking and trying to get closer to the women, and other guards and patrons being absorbed in their own thoughts and drinks. It was amusing to watch, but it was also somewhat lonely. M and Octavius aside the Crusader didn't speak much with his other comrades, he was unsure if it was just intimidation or some unknown to him character trait they find so off-putting. Maybe he would have to ask someone someday, but as Saul and Anna left for some rolls in the hay and M went to speak with Letum, Big O found himself without anyone he wished to speak with and his stomach full of cider, he would leave his fellow Templars to their drinks and merriment and get a nice work-out in before bed. If he worked himself to near exhaustion he slept the dreamless sleep such a state brought and it kept him from falling so far off the path when he found himself trapped in a dream constructed by one of the Daemon Lords beckoning him back to their evil fold.

Tossing a little tip onto the table he was seated at he pulled on his coat and ambled for the door patting M on her shoulder as he passed.
"Heading out M, be sure you don't get lost on the way home."

He passed Octavius nodding to the man.
"Be sure to keep the women happy mate, I'll be doing some training if they scare you off though so feel free to join me." He waved to the other Templars and ducked under the doorway stepping back into the rain. He felt its cool fingers run down his face and body soaking him rather quickly, he didn't mind though. Like Fire, Water was a purifying element, unlike Fire though it cleaned the world without violence. No...water purged with the persistence and the steady wisdom of Phanuel in each drop of water. Slipping his hands into the deep pockets of his coat Orfiel moved through the mostly desolate streets of Sanctuary, aside from the usual drunks and street walkers the big man was the only other person walking the muddy and water logged roads and gutters.

Keep his head down and his shoulder hunched in, Big O was going over the many passages he had read in his mind when he heard a pained scream down an alleyway between two tall, red, brick buildings he was passing. Immediately he looped his hands around and slipped his fingers into the loops of his knuckle dusters, this was something he should go to the Guards about, but "He who fails to help a soul in need as soon as the trouble is known, goes against the Grace of the Lord." Following the screams Orfiel moved in long determined strides picking up his speed to nearly a jog he soon arrived on the scene of a rape and robbery of a young woman. Two men were holding the poor girl down while the third was roughly ripping away at the clothing she was wearing looking to strip her as well as search her for valuables.

Stepping into the torch light the big warrior growled flexing his hefty fists together.
"Release her and there will only be unconsciousness until the Guards come and fetch you. The Lord does not like his children breaking his commandments."

The man that was ripping the girl's clothes off snarled leaving off cutting the rest of her corset off and exposing her breasts to his companions groping hands. He was middle-aged with short blond hair, deep blue eyes and wearing what looked like a torn up Bishop Habit.
"Well lookie here, one of them Templars what decided me mum weren't allowed to stick around her family and enjoy her golden years in peace. Shipped her out to die in the wastes!"

The other men grunted keeping a firm hold of the crying young woman. The leader spun his long knife around in his hand and stepped closer to Big O.
"Knock the bitch out for later, we can handle this one, the three of us." There was a scared yelp before the solid smack of a fist hitting flesh then silence. With that deed done the three men focused on Orfiel who simply clenched his jaw.

The big man lifted his fists giving one last warning.
"For I am God’s servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for I do not bear the mantle in vain. For I am the servant of God, an avenger who carries out God’s wrath on the wrongdoer."

This only seemed to anger the three men more and gripping their weapons in dirty angry hands each filled with his own self assurance in overcoming the Crusader. This would prove to be the last assumption they would make for a long while. Remembering his training he clamed up his arms and took the first attack, a billy club in the thick part of his shoulder before flipping his hand and grabbing the weapon. He yanked it out of the way then crashed his heavy knuckle duster squarely into the thug's mouth knocking him out and sending him tumbling into a refuse pile.
The next man came at the Templar with a heavy knuckle duster of his own, the man was an amateur fist fighter so the swing was practiced. It caught Orfiel in the chest with a resounding thud, taking a hit was all a part of being a fist fighter. While Big O could take hits all day he was sure this man couldn't, jerking his head back he smashed his forehead into the goons and stunned him enough for O to grab him by the throat and spin around hurling the bad guy head first into the wall.

With his companions so easily dispatched the blond man was losing heart. Backing up he looked around him hoping to find a way out, but there was none. Fight or give up were his only options, he knew this, O knew this, God knew this. The man let out a defiant roar and charged at O swinging his long knife at the big Templar's head. Leaning back Orfiel dodged the first swing, he then ducked under the back swing and punched up ramming the spikes of his left knuckles into the man's forearm. The impact resulted in a loud pop and the crook's high-pitched scream as his arms was broken and the spikes impaled his arm. With his weapon still plunged into the man's arm Big O wrenched it down ripping more of the flesh away before he came up with his right hand and uppercutted the bastard right under the chin sending him a few inches off the ground before he came to earth like a bag of rocks.

With the criminals beaten O went about securing them for the Guards to pick up later. Using some old wire salvaged from one of the many refuses piles he tied everyone's hands' together then tied them to a drainage pipe attached to a building. With them dealt with his last course of action was to take the young woman to safety. After sheathing his knuckle dusters he walked to the girl's side and quickly checked her over for injury. Luckily these were minimal only a few cuts and one big bruise across her face where the goon had struck her. A low growl rumbled his throat and chest as he quickly covered her partially naked body lifting her into his arms like a bride.
He wasn't a Doctor of any kind, all he could tell was she wasn't dead. The Guards would be better suited for getting her help and he could send them on the criminals.

Luckily the outpost was nearby and it looked like there were some Guards hanging around watching the rain. They must've looked quite the sight because they fully drew their weapons as he approached his clothes bloodied and soaking and a half naked girl bruised and unconscious in his arms.

Keeping his voice level he nodded back the way they had come.
"Three men tried to rob and rape this girl, I subdued them and tied them up in the alley between those two tall red brick buildings. Take her to a Doctor, while I show the others the scene of the crime" He carefully handed the girl over into the arms of a guard that had joined the others outside before the big warrior gave them all a nod and marched back to the alley, three guards followed him in their off-duty clothes. They rushed to keep up with the big man, but once they found the crooks Orfiel stopped and let them take over, his job was done here. Shaking some of the rain from his shoulders the Templar moved to leave when a guard stopped him.

Speaking in a low authoritative voice he stopped the warrior.
"Who are you?"

The Repenter simply looked back with flat eyes before responding.
"A servant of God, doing what is asked of me." He huddled his shoulders back in and walked into the sheeting rain heading for him and the personal Gym of himself, M, and Octavius.

[RedKayne]

The Next Day

The morning rays seeped into the bedroom, causing the young woman to slightly groan. Anna opened her eyes, trying to glare at the window - apparently she forgot to cover it with her black curtains during last night's misadventure.

It was a damn good misadventure, though, and Saul's warm body pressed against her back, one of his arms wrapped around her naked figure. She wasn't sure how much sleep she got, but probably only less than a couple of hours considering that they stayed up really late last night.

Slowly, she raised up from the bed and slipped away from Saul's grasp, intending to make sure that she didn't wake him up. She sat up at the corner of the bed, sighing very lightly while raising up her hands to rub her temple. She had a really bad headache, but it wasn't from a hangover. In fact, Anna knew the exact problem.

She leaned over to the nearby bed drawer, opening it quietly. Inside, there were several needles, many of them containing the pure liquid form of Beatus. After years of drug abuse and building up her own toleration, only the strongest forms of Beatus can sate her craving.

Anna scowled, raising up her hand and slowly reaching towards of the needles. Her hand almost shook, before it picked up one of them. She held up the needle for a second, staring at the sapphire-blue liquid inside. She gulped, shaking her hand again before pointing towards her arm, intending to inject herself with the dangerous substance.

She paused in her movements, though, and sat there silently for a very long time. She has been fighting against the drug for the past year, trying to reduce the need of it. Ever since she became a Templar, she held high expectations for herself, and that expectation also included to be drug-free one day.

Maybe she needed professional help, but for now, she won the battle. Anna closed her eyes briefly, before slowly placing back the needle into the bed drawer and closing it. She turned her head to look over Saul, trying to distract herself from the throbbing pain in her head. He slept very peacefully, and the sheets covered the lower half of his body. However, Anna hungrily drank in the sight of his toned upper body, and was more than ready to have a bit more fun with him again.

She lowered herself, crawling beneath the sheets. Perhaps he would happy over a good morning blowjob?


"Thank you, Templar Greymir, I appreciate it. Good morning," the Senior Templar stated before putting down the phone, sighing heavily.

He just received notification from Inquisitor Caleb that the squadron was heading out for a mission tomorrow at midday. The news was absolutely shocking, and nearly heartbreaking. He was hoping to spend more time with his daughter, Kaitlyn, during this week-long break. Unfortunately, it seems like that will not work out in the manner he expected.

He cursed his luck, knowing that being a Templar is always a busy life - a life full of sacrifices. Well, this is the path he chose. In the end, Isaac tells himself that he is still glad he chose the Templar life, and fighting as a warrior of God. However, he couldn't help but be frustrated by the current situation.

After receiving the news, he immediately notified Templar Greymir first. His unofficial assistant will help him out notify everyone else in the squadron, so that they can be prepared for leave tomorrow.

He sighed heavily again, looking in the mirror. He was adorned with black noble-like clothing, which was necessary for the formal counseling sessions coming up. First was Templar Renakovic, and the Templar Volkov. Afterwards, it would be Templar Hoefler, and finally Templar Tannhauser. Isaac was especially not looking for the last of the counseling sessions, but it would be needed to confront the despicable noble-man.

He turned away from the mirror, quickly leaving the room and walking down the hallway. He stopped before one of the doors, which was slightly opened by a crack. He opened the door further, making sure that his movements were silent. Inside of the room, his daughter Kaitlyn slept on the large bed. The little girl laid beneath white sheets, her tiny arms wrapped around a small stuffed mouse that she called Onion.

Isaac made a small, sad smile - before slowly closing the door and getting back to work.

[TheDoctor]

"Yes, sir."

Jerris set the phone down slowly after his conversation with Isaac, exhaling deeply as he made for the door. He was to be available for the admission of progress reports to those who desired them for half of the day, providing rankings and notable comments to those wishing to improve themselves. A dull task for sure, but one that had to be done. Isaac would be otherwise occupied with meetings with the top and bottom of their squadron, along spending what little time he had left with his daughter before redeployment. Jerris's plans had consisted of basic maintenance and recuperation, but those could easily be prolonged.

After all, they only had one day.

The Templar's mind buzzed with excitement at the concept of returning to the field. They may have just came from there the day before, but time spent in the city was time wasted. If he was not battling the Scourge, then he remained on standby until ordered to fight again. Otherwise, his mind became anxious, constantly questioning what prey the tireless Scourge were descending upon while he withered in the luxury of a roof overhead. The sooner the order was issued, the better.

Was it wrong for him to think in such a way?

Picking up the phone again, Jerris dialed the numbers for the soldiers of the Templar squadron. They were in for a rude awakening.


Minutes later, Jerris, dressed in a similar getup as the day before, sat at a corner table in Jacob's Tavern. The day was quite young, and the workers of the tavern still cleaned from the events of the night before. The Templar had little doubt that much of the filth was caused by his very own squadron, but he paid little attention to it. Everyone had a job. The workers were to clean; the Templars, to destroy.

He sifted through the thick folder of progress reports that he had picked up from Isaac's home earlier that day, brow twitching in occasional intrigue. Perhaps no Templar would arrive, preferring instead to enjoy what little vacation they had left until redeployment. No, there would always be one or two, the ones who wished to show their dedication to the squadron or maybe try and impress their uppers.

With a sigh, he set the folders on the table and crossed his arms. Who would be first, then?

[☆Catwoman☆]

Yelena Renakovic's Formal Progress Report

Her head throbbed. It was a gnawing, persistent pain and one that she would have much rather been dealing with in the warm arms of a man or, at the very least, the comfort of her estate. But instead, Yelena made the trek to the Templar Headquarters, steel boots sinking slightly in the congealing mud, each lifting of a foot accompanied by a lovely sucking noise as the earth released its hold. Her only comfort now was the lack of rain and the crispness of the morning air, though a thin mist still blanketed the city and clung to her bound hair, dampening it.

Yelena lamented that she had not known of this meeting until it was too late. The deed was done, the drink drunk, and now she would be entering into a formal session with Senior Templar Isaac Hills with a hangover. She was, frankly, lucky to have remembered the summons at all. If God existed, He surely hated her.

Uncertain as to the nature of the meeting, Yelena had chosen to arrive in full armor. It covered her from the neck down, the steel plating layered and abundant enough to give her coverage in the important places while maintaining the utmost flexibility. She wore a black cloak as well, hood down despite the fog, allowing the cool vapor to help ease her aching head. Her luxurious locks were braided and bound in a tail, her make-up muted, as was sensible.

After what felt like an eternity, she stepped through the double doors and into the Templar Headquarters. She marched down the rather extravagant hallway with easy familiarity, giving only cursory glances to the portraits honoring Senior Templars past. She meant no disrespect; moving her eyes left and right repeatedly simply hurt. Hell, having them open at all hurt. These people really loved their damn lights. It felt like a small victory, tracking mud in on the expensive red carpet.

That’s what you get for summoning me hungover, she thought grouchily. It was petty, she knew, and the only person responsible for her current state was herself, but that hardly mattered in the moment.

Yelena came to a stop outside of Isaac’s office. She took a second to mentally collect herself. The discipline valued in the Order was second nature to her, but recovering from inebriation was not. She breathed deep, willing the headache away--which worked about as well as one would expect--then raised a gloved hand and rapped once on the door. She waited for the call to enter, then walked in, eyes front, and stopped two paces before the desk. Though it rarely bothered her, today she found the protocol to be irksome. But then, she was finding everything to be irksome at the moment.

Was it worth it?

Yelena, standing at attention, saluted. "Senior Templar Hills, Templar Renakovic reports as ordered.” And you better consider yourself damn lucky for it.

The Senior Templar felt perfectly fine that morning, and awoke rather early to perform his daily workout routine back at his estate. He felt fully refreshed, and he vividly recalled how Kaitlyn was jumping around with joy and excited after she heard the fantastic news that her father was being promoted. Sophia, the darling young Priestess, was looking after Kaitlyn again while Isaac took care of businesses at the Templar Headquarters.

The only thing that dampened the mood of the day, was the news he received from Inquisitor Caleb early this morning. The squadron had until tomorrow to prepare themselves for yet another mission, and their week long break was significantly cut short. Such was the spontaneous life of being a Templar.

Right now, he needed to focus upon the progress reports of those that he had summoned. Templar Greymir should be notifying the rest of the squadron about the breaking news, and so Isaac already prepared himself by adorning in some formal clothing - as required by the protocols of the Order.

And just on cue, the door knocked sharply once. He called out for the person to enter, and Templar Renakovic properly reported in to him. She stood at the position of attention, her facial expression completely stern - perhaps even sterner than usual? However, she still carried a strong presence, and all of her movements were still crisp. The Senior Templar nodded his head in approval, before saluting back to the woman.

"Good morning, Templar Renakovic. Please take a seat, and sit at ease," he beckoned her to the chair right across from his desk, which she took with a brief nod. "I hope you enjoyed your well-deserved break last night, because we have a lot of work ahead of us tomorrow. Which I will explain a little later, but right now, I summoned you here to go over your progress as a Templar warrior."

He began to explain the details of this progress report, "I'm sure you are very familiar with this process. Today, we will be going over your strengths, and areas that you need to improve upon, along with your overall ranking based upon the memorandums the squadron handed over to me earlier."

The Senior Templar took out a folder from the desk drawer, skimming over the paperwork quickly, which contained the details of Renakovic's performance thus far. "So, its been about seven years since you joined the Order, correct?" he questioned just for clarification.

“That is correct, sir,” Yelena responded politely, shifting a bit in her seat in an effort to get comfortable. It was a difficult task, what with the armor. No doubt the plates were busy scarring the wood and leather, and she thought that perhaps her choice of attire had been a bit unnecessary.

After hearing her answer, the Senior Templar would begin the process by asking the standard questions. "As I stated before, in this progress report, we will be reviewing your performance. In your own opinion, what is your greatest strength? And what is your worst weakness? You make take some time to answer these questions, if you wish to give these more thoughts."

Yelena allowed a short silence to fill the air as she pondered the questions. This was not her first review, nor would it be her last, and she was quite familiar with the line of questioning that would be presented. However, it always paid to give the queries the time they deserved; her answers could be the difference between receiving a promotion and not.

“My greatest strength, I believe, is my ability to see things clearly even under the heightened stress and tension we often find ourselves enduring in the line of duty. I do not allow the emotional turmoil of the situation to cloud my judgment,” here she kept her face carefully neutral, but they both knew that this was a matter in which they tended to butt heads. “The mission is priority, the protection of humanity as a whole my main concern, and while others may falter in their duty due to the carnage and horrors that they witness in the field, I am able to stay the course and do not let secondary issues compromise our goal.”

Satisfied with her answer, Yelena paused yet again to consider the second question.

“My greatest weakness,” she started slowly, tone thick with thoughtfulness. She knew what some would say: her pride, her apparent arrogance, her confidence. But she would disagree with such presumptions. Her confidence kept her alive, her pride was earned, and her arrogance…well, she really didn’t consider herself an arrogant person. She believed quite firmly that she dealt fairly with all whom she encountered. She held her head high, certainly, but she did not think that she looked down on others while doing so.

“My greatest weakness,” she repeated, “is perhaps the flip side of my greatest strength. I freely admit that I occasionally have tunnel-vision, so intent on my goal and what I believe to be the best course of action that I may come across as cold or ruthless, blind to what else may be happening around me and my team. I push hard for what I believe to be right and true, and this sometimes--as you well know--causes me to, shall we say, clash with others of differing opinion. I do try and not be insubordinate in the heat of the moment, but I am a passionate person, which I do not consider a flaw in most instances.” A small smile accompanied the last comment, a hint of a twinkle in her blue eyes.

Isaac appreciated the thoughtful answers, all the while skimming through further comments of Yelena's characters based upon the memorandums written by everyone else in the squadron. "I do agree that may be your greatest weakness, Templar Renakovic," Isaac nodded his head. "Others know very well about your strong and passionate personality, but they also comment upon your callous nature as well." He lays down the memorandums on the desk, so that he could read clearly. He glances back up at Yelena for a second, "If you don't mind, I would like to share some thoughts on the behalf of the rest of the squadron." He began to read aloud many of the comments, and several of them were quite unpleasant.


"She has a tendency towards vigilantism and bullheadedness, neither of which are good for a leader of God's warriors."

"Has the drive and strength needed to make it far. But her callousness may well be her end."

"Too hardheaded, follows herself - not the best leader..."

"A fighter, though her sense of entitlement could be troublesome."

"And finally... She seems to have a personality which could cause discord among the squadron. Selfish and self-serving, she pushes her own ethics on those around her. Yelena has not proven to be a cohesive team member which may cause the rest of the squadron to distrust her."

Isaac sighed, finally finished reading through these negative views by many of her fellow squadron members. He glanced back up, his eyes always evaluating and wondering how she would react. He hardly needed to worry about her being emotional like Templar Volkov would, or having an outburst like Templar Tannhauser would... but Isaac can assume that there may be some expression frustrations about this. After all, Yelena does speak her thoughts quite often.

And so, she would probably be in the surprise of her life after hearing the next bit. "And so, as you just heard, many of the fellow squadron members have trouble working with you due to your nature to clash with others, as you have just stated. However, they do admit that you are an invaluable member to our team, and that your mindset is needed when working out in the wastelands, and that is why..." he slowly paused, almost in dramatic effect, "…they placed you in the overall ranking of 2nd, Templar Renakovic. You are in the top 2, and counted as among one of the elites within the squadron. Congratulations," his lips curled up into a small smile.

Yelena had remained passive in demeanor throughout the remarks from her fellow Templars, not allowing her reaction to be read on her face. In truth, they came as no surprise, considering that these comments were commonplace within each of her reports. What effect they had on her, if any, was unknown, though her eyebrow did raise quizzically at the mention of “vigilantism”. That was a new one.

The common theme throughout was often “callousness”. Did she consider herself callous? Yelena had spent a lot of time in the past dwelling on that particular description, and had concluded that it may have been fitting. She was hardened by a tough world, a world that was not for the weak--in body or in mind. Just as the Pilgrimage was deemed necessary--a removal of fragile and withering limbs in order to protect the whole body, as one might amputate a decaying appendage to prevent the spread of disease--Yelena knew that decisions often had to be made that were difficult, sacrificing a handful for the good of the many. Such a choice, in her mind, should only be left to those with the strength and willpower to make it and stick by it. She fought for the preservation of humanity, not the preservation of morality. The latter could be focused on once the former had been achieved. If this attitude made her callous, then so be it. The world was cruel, and a bunch of bleeding-heart Templars were of little value in a brutal, no-win situation. Survival oft required ruthlessness; that was a cold fact of life. Her peers wanted to be able to trust her? They could trust her to put humanity’s best interest first.

The young woman allowed a slight raising of her brow in pleasant surprise when, despite the comments, she was announced as being in the top two. She dipped her head gently in acknowledgment.

“Thank you. I admit that this is a bit of a shock, all things considered.”

Isaac couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, completely understanding Yelena's perspective. "Indeed, but it certainly helps out when people ranked you first in their memorandums - more often than not. You have the confidence and the regal aura, and people find themselves drawn to that. You may be rather defiant a couple of times, but you never cross the line into insubordination," he commented, and actually had some interesting memories about some of their previous arguments. When Isaac made a final decision on a few matters, Renakovic refused to drop the topic and continued voicing her opinion aloud. Isaac had to use his Senior Templar authority and order her to back down quite a few times.

"But, in the end, you have been working in the Order for several years. You know your strengths and weaknesses extremely well, and you know what you need to work on and improve as a Templar. However, as I said before, you are regarded as one of the elites in our squadron, and I believe it is about time you are recognized for your hard-work."

Isaac leaned back against his chair, smirking slightly. "I received notification from Inquisitor Caleb that I am to be promoted as a brand new Inquisitor within a few short weeks, and I am looking for a suitable Senior Templar to work closely with me. Both the Senior Templar and myself will be in command of a seventh squadron, and I was wondering if you would be interested in that leadership position, Templar Renakovic," he offered her, knowing quite well that she is more than likely interested. "I understand that the both of us have opposite mindsets when it comes to the mission. I focus on the safety of our people, and you focus on the completion of the mission - regardless of the costs. I already expect the first few weeks to be rough between us, and that we will be clashing several times. However, in due time, I believe that we will find the perfect balance between the two ideologies, and we can be one of the most successful squadrons in the history of Sanctuary."

"So, Templar Renakovic, would you be interested in becoming a Senior Templar?"

Yelena was, for one of the very few times in her life, momentarily frozen. She sat very rigid and blinked a few times at Isaac, as though not quite believing what he had just asked. It was more unexpected than being ranked second among fifteen, especially given the history between her and Isaac. There was great mutual respect to be found, certainly, but for him to choose her as his Senior Templar…

“I most certainly would,” Yelena responded quickly, as though afraid he would withdraw the offer. Her mind was running a mile a minute, but she recovered from her shock and turned her thoughts towards the future--the very promising future.

“It is an honor to be considered for this, and most humbling,” she continued, bowing her head lightly to convey the proper respect and modesty. “I thank you for the opportunity.”

As she considered the position, she understood Isaac’s reasoning. While it was unfair to suggest that she did not care for the safety of her peers--this was most untrue, as they were her family and she cared for no one more--it was true that her focus was more on the success of the mission. They were her family, yes, but they were also Templars, and she trusted them to know their duty and to be able to survive it without coddling. Nevertheless, Isaac had a point: between the two of them, they had the bases covered. Once they were settled into their new roles, they would work very well together.

"Excellent," Isaac formed a small smile, nodding in satisfaction. "I will put up your name as one of the potential candidates. You should be notified of the result once we come back from our next mission," Isaac stated. 'Other than that, I do not have anything else for you, Templar Renakovic. That is all."

Yelena nodded, smothering her smile as she rose from her seat to stand at attention before her superior. She stepped back, saluted crisply, and intoned, “Good morning, Senior Templar Hills.”

Feeling lighter than she had in a long time--even her headache had eased--Yelena dropped the salute and headed for the door. But as she opened it, she paused, lingering for a moment. Then she peered back at Isaac, her expression oddly soft.

“I’m sorry you didn’t have more time with your daughter, Isaac,” she said, uncharacteristically kind and sincere. A breach of protocol, perhaps, maybe inappropriate, but she meant it from the bottom of her heart.

Isaac was already busying himself with more paperwork and memorandums to take care of when Templar Renakovic reached the door. His heart slightly dropped and swelled when she apologized over the misfortune. Isaac nodded solemnly, but never glanced back up at the young woman. Instead, he spoke aloud. "Thank you, Templar Renakovic, I truly do appreciate that." He glanced back up, forming a small and sad smile. "You are dismissed."

[The Texan Queen]

Copost between Cat and Tex.





A very defeated Selenada walked the streets of Sanctuary. She decided to take a detour before heading home so she could cool off from that meeting and the fresh air was nice. The sun was shining bright today but it wasn't too hot thanks to the breeze that would whip around the streets. She could hear people carrying on conversations, most of them light and happy, some children darted about as she walked and every now and then she would hear a bird chirp. Being outside relaxed her and she knew that if she went back home she would have let her emotions get the best of her. Selenada was proud of herself, she was no longer upset or ashamed about the meeting from earlier and she seemed to be able to get her emotions under control.

“Oh, that smells divine,” Selenada smiled and followed her nose as she inhaled deeply. She knew there was a bakery near by but she had never been. Maybe some delicious pastries would ensure her good mood stick around.

She turned the corner of the next street rather sharply and almost ran into someone. “Oh!” Selenada gasped and jump backwards so she wouldn't completely bulldoze the person before her. Her cheeks darkened in color when she realized who it was, Yelena Renakovic, a fellow Templar. Her heart stopped and raced at the same time. Yelena was everything Selenada was not and at times she envied the dark haired beauty. She had confidence, their peers respected her, she excelled at all things Templar and she just exuded leadership qualities.

“Oh, Yelena, I'm so sorry.” She pushed some loose strands of hair away from her face and took in a shaky breath. She could feel the heat from her cheeks intensifying. But then, she realized something. Yelena was everything Selenada wasn't! Everything she needed to work on Yelena had down to perfection. If a light bulb could sprout from her head it would in that very moment.

“I'm...actually glad I ran into you,” Selenada forced a nervous smile and hoped the woman would be up for what she was going to suggest.

Yelena’s eyes widened in amused surprise as Selenada not only managed to avoid a collision--which might have been a tad painful for the girl, considering Yelena was still wearing her plated armor--but leapt back out of the way with all the agility of a rabbit. And she had thought she had good reflexes…

“It is no trouble,” the young woman responded, her typical wry smile assuring her fellow Templar that all was forgiven. Her head cocked slightly in curiosity at Selenada’s latter comment, however. “Are you indeed? Well, don’t be shy. Do tell.”

Don't be shy? Who did Yelena think she was talking to, herself? Selenada bit down on her lip anxiously, what if the woman just laughed in her face? The thought made her stomach turn viciously, but she has to suck it up. Even by asking Yelena she was taking a step in the right direction.

"Well," she started, her voice slightly shaky with nervous. "I just finished my progress report with Isaac...and we discussed some things I needed to improve on." Selenada was finding it hard keeping eye contact for this long, normally she would break it every now and then and glance somewhere else and then back at the person, but she knew that was a sign of low confidence.

"The main...issue," she took in a breath and chuckled nervously, "was my confidence." She paused and thought of how exactly to go about asking what she needed of Yelena.

"Okay. So, uh, I'm leading the next mission. Isaac thinks is the perfect opportunity to show leadership skills and confidence and I'm honestly...overwhelmed." If her face wasn't red before it certainly was now. "I was hoping...that since you, uh, since you have such confidence and that the rest of our squadron, um, views you as a leader that..." She paused again and looked at the woman to try and judge how she was taking what had been said so far. Selenada worried that after informing her that she would be leading their next mission would put her off, even Selenada knew she wasn't fit to lead anyone anywhere.

"I was hoping that you would help me? Not with the leading part so much, but any help there would be amazing. But with confidence and self empowerment. You just ooze leader and confidence so, I was hoping I could...I could count on you to help?" She almost winced at the silence that followed her questions as she waited for a response.

Yelena watched Selenada closely as she talked, her expression shifting from curious amusement to puzzlement to open shock. When Selene said that Isaac had assigned her a squad, Yelena positively blanched. Knowing Selenada was a sensitive soul, she tried to compose herself as quickly as possible, but it was difficult with that particular pile of bricks crashing down on her head. Selene? In charge? During a training exercise, fine, have at it, but during an actual live-or-die mission? Had the Senior Templar lost his damn mind? He had only just asked her to be his Senior Templar when he took up the mantle as Inquisitor, and already she was ready to bash his fool head in.

“Um…” Yelena replied stupidly as she fought to recollect her scrambling thoughts. She ran through the scenario in her mind as fast as possible. Selene wanted her help, which she was glad to give under any circumstance, but most especially under this particular circumstance. After all, were she one of the unlucky ones to be selected for Selene’s trial run on the field, she’d like to live to tell about it.

“I’m glad to help however I can. Damn it if I couldn’t use more time, though.” The last slipped out before she could rein it in. Oh well.

Lesson one, she thought morosely, try not to get offended by me.

"Wonderful," Selenada said and forced a smile as she tried to ignore the last part of Yelena's answer. "I'm willing to do what it takes and I greatly appreciate you accepting to help me, it truly does mean a lot." There was a bit of an awkward silence between them for a few seconds, she didn't know what to say to continue or even end the conversation.

"Um," she said nervously and bit down on her lower lip. Oh how she wished Amittay were here, he always knew how to make her feel comfortable even in the most uncomfortable situation for her. "I really am worried about leading a mission. I've never done anything like that, ever."

Yelena allowed a reassuring smile to paint her face despite her silent misgivings. She hooked her arm through Selenada’s and started to stroll, heading leisurely towards the bakery that had drawn the younger woman down this alley in the first place.

“A little concern is perfectly fine,” she began encouragingly, “and certainly expected. But you can succeed, and I’ll teach you how…”

[AngelWing]

Saul stood at the kitchen counter, sighing as he was making a quick breakfast for him and Anna. He'd had a pretty good wake up call to say the least--Anna was amazing under the sheets. And her body matched her moves every step of the way. It had been a long while since he'd had a good night; maybe he could play with her again sometime if she was this good. However, some habits still couldn't be broken. Usually, when he woke up back home, he made breakfast because it was how he started his day. Otherwise, he felt sluggish all day--so, while Anna was getting cleaned up and set, he decided to poke around the kitchen and start his day the usual way.

He was fully dressed already; he had on his black pants and white shirt from the day before, though his feet were bare. He may have been fine being naked in bed--it was usually dark or low lighting, but his shirt was there to cover his scars. Even in the middle of the hottest summer day, he wouldn't take it off because not many needed to see those scars. Simple as that. In the daylight, the first thing he did when he got out of bed was to put on clothes to cover up his scars. Another habit, another part of his routine, that he couldn't break. He ran a hand through his hair, whistling a low tune (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4zLfCnGVeL4) as he cooked, a haunting sound. It was an old song from Judah that the kids sang day and night. It clashed with his personality, but it was his favorite song.

"But my words like silent raindrops fell...and echoed in the wells of silence..." He murmured the words, his voice a low baritone at best, but it didn't matter much to him. He smirked--dark as the song was, it brought back good memories. Often now, whenever he felt distant or fake, he'd hum or whistle a snippet of the song. Then, he'd smile again and it would be like nothing ever happened. Made him feel better, even if it was dark to other people that overheard it. And only made him seem far more crazy because it brought such a bright smile to his face. Not that it bothered him; he was a goof-ball after all, it paid to be a little different.

He sat the plate on the table top and waited till Anna was through getting ready and joined him before eating himself. It wasn't fun to eat alone--it was rather boring. It was going to be an okay day--and he was determined to make it at least a good one.

------------------------------------------------
He'd gotten the call not long after breakfast. Jerris was giving progress reports--in a sense, anyway--to help them improve on everything. Saul was hesitant to go, but then again, he was curious. There was only two ways it could go for him really. Either he would be well liked or he'd be considered an annoyance. He was thinking more an annoyance, but then again, who could say.

He stood at Anna's door, looking back at the woman with a smirk on his face. "I'm heading off to meet Jerris--I'm curious as to what I ranked. But...I wouldn't mind comin' over again sometime." He gave her a wink before opening the door and walking out, heading to the tavern. He whistled a happier tune now, smiling like always.

[TheDoctor]

Copost between AngelWing, Maya, Yamimoon, and then Maya again

Fact remained that Saul wanted to know his standing. Somewhat. In truth, he could go without knowing as well. Those memorandums had been a pain in the ass to write, but he thought he did his squad justice. Maybe. He didn't hate any of them, and he didn't respect all of them. Just the ones that needed respect; but, no matter how little he cared for them, he'd fight beside any one of them. Those were the people he relied on; he wasn't going to be some hindrance to them. They could rely on him--if not for battle, then at least for a smile and a 'let's to that again!' at the end.

He walked into Jacob's tavern again, looking around the room before his eyes found Templar Greymir in one of the corners, with the files before him on the table. Apparently, Saul was first to arrive. Saul swallowed and thought of just going home; but, he smiled like always, a gleam of glee and anticipation in his eyes as he walked over to the table and saluted.

"Templar Vitraid reporting for brief, sir." While not always required to salute, it was a given that Greymir was next in line to be Senior Templar should Senior Templar Hills be promoted to Inquisitor. And, Saul respected him quite a bit.

Jerris's cool gaze landed upon the blonde Templar, his narrow blue eyes shouting curiosity and eagerness. His first approacher was unsurprising, although he almost expected Catriona or Savage to arrive before he had even shown up. The young man, however, was an honest hard worker, and he knew that he would take his advice to heart.

"Take a seat." The white-haired man nodded to the chair in front of him and sorted through the paper in the folder, withdrawing Vitraid's comment sheet. "Templar Vitraid; you were ranked third overall. Many of the comments of your peers are extremely similar in content: effective skill set but lacking loyalty. Your charisma has earned the admiration of your comrades, but it also seems to be your handicap." He shuffled through a few of the papers before returning his gaze to the blonde Templar.

"Senior Templar Hills ranked you first, therefore he clearly holds you in high regard." He spoke with virtually no emotional expression, a level plane of audio. "If you want my opinion, it is available."

Saul sat, though not at complete ease, and waited as he started talking. He knew his loyalty was one of his problems--but it was hard for him to accept others was all. His one true friend had died when they were seventeen--he'd cut back on who he gave his loyalty too. The simple reasoning was that if he didn't bond his loyalty to someone, then he had less a chance to loose his smile and have his true self surface. He was trying to protect his squad from the monster he knew he was, so in a sense that was loyalty he supposed. A different kind, more toward protecting than loyalty. He'd try harder to seem more loyal at the least.

His smile and laugh his handicap, huh? Yeah he could understand. He acted like a mad-man on the battle-field; wielding his sword, minimal armor. He could see how that could be viewed as a handicap to some; but there again, that came down to what they didn't know about him. Maybe eventually they'd see--well, he was sure they'd eventually see--how he was without his smile. He was careful about it, so as not to hurt someone with him.

The biggest surprise, however, was the first and last thing that Templar Greymir said. He was ranked third by his peers, and Senior Hills had ranked him first? That was unexpected. He smiled a bit, but at the same time his mind was racing. He wasn't that great of a Templar. It was an honor to be considered in such high regard, but he'd ranked himself seventh for a reason. He wasn't a fan of being in charge and sometimes his own goof nature could get him into trouble--he knew that wasn't the qualifications for someone in high regard. He wasn't even noble born, either! He was low born, a bastard son. It wasn't as though he kept that history of his life a secret.

He looked back at Templar Greymir, smirking a bit and nodding, "Your opinion matters to me, sir, same as Senior Templar Hills. I'd enjoy hearing what you think of me and what I can improve." His voice was steady and held a happy note to it. He was always upbeat, and always smiling. That was one thing that was his signature for anyone. That along with his gold hair and gold eyes.

Greymir nodded and set the report aside, interlacing his fingers and locking his gaze upon the eager young Templar. With a long exhale, he took a long moment to prepare the deliverance of his judgement upon Vitraid, taking in the young man's appearance. He may have been laid back, but when he wanted to give a good impression to his seniors, he certainly knew how to do so well. Greymir viewed it as deceptive, but at least he understood his place.

"I put you in the middle of my list. I understand you're useful to this squadron in terms of combative means, but that is a given requirement when enlisting under Senior Templar Hill's command." His eyes were unyielding as they stared into Vitraid's, betraying nothing but focus. "Although your charisma has earned the trust of your comrades, it is my belief that your attitude lacks the strength and structure required to command your peers. I question your dedication and loyalty to the mission rather than the safety of your peers, which is essential to the success of our order."

"However," His gaze slackened ever so slightly. "You understand as I do that this is not a world of color. You lack the naïvety that some of our fellow Templars still hold close, and I know that you are unafraid to confront your fears. That will permit further correction to develop quicker and more efficiently."

Jerris finally blinked and leaned back slightly. "Questions?"

"None, sir, only a statement." Saul said, his grin fading just slightly. "I ranked myself in the middle of the list. I know I can fight--as you said, every Templar under Senior Templar Hills must--but I know also that I can't lead. Loyalty to ones squad is...important, required in a sense. I know well that I lack the ability to claim to be loyal to my squad, or the Church, or the Templar Order. Without loyalty, it's hard to lead. I know that and so never considered ranking myself among the top of our squad, who are far better than I."

He blinked, gold eyes flicking in the light. "I do, however, respect my squad--most of them. And even the ones that I don't I won't let die in front of my eyes. I trust them to do the same, though I'd never ask them to risk their life for mine." He paused again, thinking of his next words as his smile curved into a small smirk instead. "I have no loyalty to the mission--I have no loyalty to anyone. Respect, admiration, trust--these I have. Loyalty cost more. I trust my squad to follow their mission orders the same as I. I'll just be there to smile and tell them that the day was fun at the end. Make them laugh."

He looked up at Templar Greymir, his eyes hiding nothing as his smirk changed to a small smile again. "I'll work on my loyalty, sir--it's a hindrance even I know will be a problem later. If I may, sir, say...I am loyal to Senior Templar Hills. He gave me a chance. I owe him for that; the loyalty of his soldier is among the least we can give. I won't say it's progress--it's not--I just say that it's a base for me to work and extend to others." He laughed, more at himself for making such a realization here of all places. He was loyal to Hills; and it was a scary, worrisome thought.

"Anything else I can improve on, sir?"

Jerris's gaze remained cool at his responses, and he knew that what Vitraid said resounded with his analysis. The man was far too chipper, and he would most certainly be unable to carry a mission through. He may have been loyal to Hills, but if he was asked to sacrifice Hills' life for the safety of the mission...no, it was impossible.

The Templar shook his head. "Only what I've said. You're dismissed."

Saul knew that his words, however truthful, we viewed by his senior in a very harsh light. To him, and to others, the sacrifice of a squad member for the sake of a mission was the best course of action. Saul would have agreed--he'd lost men before back when he was a guardsman. He hadn't been close to them and had been focused on the mission. When his loyalty to Tryst was broken when the man died, he saw things different. Saw that being loyal put others at risk the moment the loyalty was broken. He smiled because it was who he wanted to be. Because whenever he didn't, he prayed to God for forgiveness for what destruction had followed.

To sacrifice someone was what he would have done years ago. Tryst had labeled him well as a mad-man who wanted to leave this world with a smile and his blades in his hands. If ordered...he wouldn't argue a sacrifice. He'd hate it--he'd lose his smile--but he would obey. And, if the time ever came to where he was ordered to sacrifice another--or had to give the order--he'd allow his smile to fade so he could feel his true self. The one that only cared for bloodshed and battle.

Saul's smile faded and his lip became a thin line as he stood, saluting, "I'll be better, sir--it'll be up to you and Senior Templar Hills as to which of me you prefer." He turned and walked away, flashing a smile to the next in line, his usual good-ball self back in place.


Kiera had tried to sneak out early enough in the morning to slip past her stepmother's shop before heading to the Tavern to meet with Templar Greymir. As usual, the woman had an eagle eye, rarely missing anything that moves in front of her window. "You forgot your breakfast. Here's a sticky bun ..for luck."

For a half second, she thought about waving off the food; but, that would just mean getting from A to B would take listening to a dissertation on the importance of breaking the morning fast and how Kiera was way too skinny to begin with, blah, blah, blah.."Thank you. I appreciate it." For time's sake, she'd kindly accept the carefully wrapped box of straight sugar to save her own sanity from the tongue lashing.

Upon arriving at the tavern, she noticed Vitraid finishing his meeting with Greymir. Kiera would wait until the other Templar made his exit, giving Saul a quick. "Hey, how ya doing? Here, have some breakfast. Enjoy!" Offering him that wrapped sticky bun box before slipping inside for her own review.

"Good morning, Templar Greymir. Templar Sanders reporting for my review." Which might have been said a little too perky for the likes of Jerris. He was always so stoic in nature. He would get a proper salute then wait to sit until he directed her to do so. Maybe she should be nervous; but, she wasn't. If Kiera's performance wasn't up to par or was completely shitty, her butt would have been in that office long before now. This wasn't her first progress report and, hopefully, wouldn't be her last. She knew Greymir had brought her here to discuss the good, the bad and the ugly (though she'd hope there was little or nothing in the last category) as noted by the powers that be. Simple as that.

As Vitraid exited and Sanders took his place, Jerris raised his gaze to the blonde woman standing before him. "Have a seat, Templar Sanford." He put Vitraid's report aside and sorted through the folder in search for Sanford's. "Among your comrades, you were ranked seventh overall. Their comments were rather varied in content; gambling problem, card cheat, laid back, solid set of skills, et cetera. Some of them believe that with proper advancement, you could obtain the skills to become a leader."

He lifted his eyes from the report and fixed them upon Sanford's. "Senior Templar Hills ranked you as seventh as well. If you desire my opinion as well, then it is available."

She'd take the seat once offered and listen to what he had to say. Mulled it over for a minute or two. "Seventh.." Seemed about right as she tucked an unruly blonde lock behind her ear. Nobody wanted to be the one dragging in last and, up until now, she had no desire to be first. Maybe he'd look down on her for being satisfied with the ranking. It was what it was. "That's fair."

However, she would take offense to one comment over all the others. "I don't have a gambling problem. Honestly, I don't. They're just parlor tricks. Subterfuge can be a handy skill. Say we need to obtain a document or piece of equipment without being caught..one has to practice you know." He may not look impressed with her side hobby. It was all done in fun. "There's no money involved. A card gets switched, I move someone's pawn without them noticing. Yes, it's cheating and sometimes I get caught. It only hurts their pride, not their wallet." Thieves take things of value. For that they are punished. She enjoyed playing mind games with people. Did they have an ace? Maybe. Maybe not. "I always buy them a drink at the end of the game. Ask the bartender."

Some of them believe that with proper advancement, you could obtain the skills to become a leader.

Being a leader had never even entered her mind. Wasn't something Kiera thought would be in her cards..so to speak. "What skills? Would that mean changing what I do on missions?" She was really good in the position she had right now.

"I would appreciate knowing your opinion. There's always room to improve." Like playing less card tricks in the tavern for one. Seemed that little game managed to sully her reputation.

Jerris bypassed Sanford's comments on her card tricks. Whether she was serious or merely jesting mattered not to him, for there was little he could do to change her mind. It was a petty problem that he cared not to correct.

"Said skills are less of a lesson plan and more of an...acquired set, if you will." He set the paper aside and steepled his hands. "It comes with spending less time off of the job and more time on it, working towards the complete success of the squadron's endeavors rather than the individuals themselves, and acting as the head that your peers both adore and abhor."

"On the topic of behavior," His eyes settled upon hers. "My criticism of your performance relates to it. Combative skills are exemplary, but that is the expectation in the a Templar squadron. I am of the belief that your nonchalant attitude out of the field is far too slackened to be seen as soldierly. However, my chief concern is with your personality in combat."

The white haired Templar's chin rested upon his hands, which were folded and raised by his elbows on the tabletop. "You are too brittle and lack fluidity. Your focus requires silence and concentration, when it must remain unbroken by even the most jarring of distractions. If your focus is shaken, then I can't help but question how you would respond."

He paused for a moment after his comments were finished. "Any questions?"

As Jerris started to roll down that list of her highs and lows. She easily realized there were more of the latter. With each negative remark, she'd slide a wee bit further down in that metal chair. This would be what one may refer to as a wake up call. For Kiera it was a sobering moment because she honestly did not realize Jerris or Isaac's opinion of her was so low.

Running only the bad remarks over again in her head. Needing to spend more time on the job, more time with the squadron. Become a leader. Fix the attitude, stop being so lax. Act like a soldier. Too brittle, not fluid, might lose focus in battle. Hell, she might do better staying in Sanctuary and baking cupcakes.

"I see.." How in the hell did she rank seventh with all those bad marks against her? As for questions, she was kind of afraid to open that door again. Some other aspect of her personality might take a hit. "No. I..uhm..well, you've made me realize I have a lot to correct. I'll see that I do." How does one test their own focus? With lots of distractions? The underlying point, as Kiera understood it, was learning to more flexible and able to flow from one issue to another without getting bent out of shape. Was a matter of life and death in many ways. "Thank you. I'm sure you're busy. So, if there's nothing else?"

Was a safe bet she'd need a little one on one time alone with herself for a good ass kicking. Templar Greymir had definitely opened her eyes. It was sort of ironic that most of the squad found her to be a bit stuffy enough as it was. She didn't drink when at the bar. Didn't party until the sun came up. Now, she was being asking to tighten up her behavior even more more. Just before leaving the tavern, she'd turn to ask. "Is there anyone you could recommend that I train with before we redeploy?" Most would be ready to go home and relax until their next mission. In her case, it was made quite evident Kiera had done enough relaxing.

Jerris was not one to bite his tongue when providing advice. He was harsh, realistic, and, as some would call him, cruel. It was not uncommon for encounters with him to result in the other conversationalist appearing as if he had just smacked them, or reacting with aggression towards his cynical commentary. Sanford most certainly retained the appearance of the former, her stature slackening as if receiving a blow with every word he spoke. Such reactions were far from surprising.

What did surprise him was Sanford's final question.

Frequently, Jerris was met with either retaliation or was blown off. When she suggested someone to train with, he clenched his jaw for a moment in thought, comprehending an answer which he did not have prepared. "Well...Senior Templar Hills is far too busy to be bothered with training. Some of your fellow Templars are competent enough, but they are not properly prepared for training another Templar."

He lifted his head from his hands and set them upon the table. "Perhaps you should train with me, Templar Sanford."

The truth hurts. Pain can be a great motivator. It greatly pained her to have him be so damn honest. However, had he taken a different route and pussy footed around the improvement Jerris felt she needed to make, there would never be any progress made. In truth, she'd never been given such an honest, open and brutal opinion of her performance before. Yes, she did feel he'd dumped a lot of bad news on her shoulders. Yes, it stung her pride. Still, Kiera was someone who was willing to give every ounce of blood, sweat and tears for what the Templar's stood for. For what SHE stood for.

Despite what others may think of him, she appreciated how forth coming he was about what needed to change. There's was no reason to be angry or rude to the messenger for pointing out where the opportunities for improvement were to be expected.

At the mere mention of Senior Templar Hills name, he'd get a quick. "Yes, he's far to busy for the likes of me." Surely there was someone who would be stern enough and firm enough to get her where she needed to be in both mind and body.

Then he wiped everyone else in the squad off the list in one fowl swoop. No one was left. No one but Greymir that is.

"You'd do that?" Unable to hide the surprise in her voice. Jerris seemed as busy as Isaac most days. If there was anyone who could help her fix all the issues listed, it was the man who'd made the list. "It would be great if I could train with you. Thank you.." Kiera would hug him; but, that would be out of line. So those words of gratitude would hopefully suffice. "When do we start?"

This time, his response came quick and prepared. "Today, training yard, one hour. We shall progress to sundown, when you shall be released to recuperate for the next day's deployment. Between then and tomorrow at midday, rest as much as you can and increase your nourishment to provide you with enough energy." He may not have appeared so, but Jerris appreciated it when Templars went the extra mile to improve their performance. Perhaps not from the suckups, but this one seemed much more honest.

"If that'll be all, Templar Sanford, then I will meet you again in one hour."


Letum began slowly walk to Jacob's Tavern. He had heard from Senior Templar Hill’s that their progress reports would be available at the Tavern. The rain the night before had left the ground in a sopping mess as with each step the mud slopped under his feet. Though usually he would not care what the rest of his fellow Templars think of him, but for some reason he had this feeling that most of them didn’t trust him. Though he truly didn’t know why. He hasn’t picked fights with any of them nor has he truly given them reason to think badly of him.

Well figuring that it might be a good idea to attend at least one of his progress reports. To see where he stands amongst his fellow Templars. Continuing the tavern under the darkened morning sky. The clouds have refused to relinquish their hold over the city. Making this another great day. He walked into the tavern as he looked around there went too many people around. In fact there was only two people sitting at a table. One was Templar Greymir with a set of files next to him. Then there was Templar Sanford who must have just finished her progress report.

As soon as she got up out of the seat she was making her way out of the tavern. As she passed him he nodded his head at her as he then made his way over to the table. He stopped right before the chair stood at attention and waited to be allowed to sit. “Templar Alexander is here to receive his progress report.”

Him.

As Templar Sanford rose from her seat, Jerris's eyes sparked upon contact with Templar Alexander. This was the weapon, the revenant who took pleasure at the sight of shedding blood. He was the greatest hinderance to their squadron in Jerris's own opinion. "Templar...Alexander."

Jerris sat up slightly higher as the lanky tattooed man approached, and he nodded to the chair. "Sit." He withdrew the Templar's report from the folder with ease; he knew that he would come, and he came ready. "You were ranked tenth by your comrades. Almost every one of them voices the same concern: your apparent excitement for murder. They agree that your composition in difficult situations is admirable, but..." He raised the paper as he quoted one of the comments. "'when he fights, he…enjoys it. Too much. It’s got nothing to do with a mission from God or a good reason. He just likes to kill. That’s why he’s in this spot—I’d have ranked him higher if not for that.'"

The Templar lowered the paper and focused his gaze upon the man before him. "Senior Templar Hills rated you fourteenth overall. If you want my opinion, then it is available."

Taking the seat across from his superior officer he could tell that the man was not fond of him in no way shape or form. Well it was no secret that Letum was not really appreciated by this man. He made it all too apparent in his actions as well as his tone of voice. Having a relaxed mannerism he listened intently to what Templar Greymir had to say. He didn’t show any kind of negative emotion on his face as he was read his report. Though he was a little surprised about what he was being told. So the whole reason all of his squad members acted the way they did was because he took pleasure in killing the Scourge Beasts.

Giving out a long sigh as he thought on the matter. He didn’t think this would truthfully be a problem. It seems his fellow Templars were in agreement that he had too much fun killing the beasts. Maybe they though he would go after them for no reason? He could see where this would cause a slight problem, but that was no reason for some of them to treat him like they do.

“Well this is a surprise. I didn’t think that there would be a real problem in the method used to kill the Scourge Beasts. Nor that taking pleasure in killing them would cause such a problem since they aren’t human anymore.” He said as he leaned back in the chair. “As you know I am not a holy man, and I really don’t understand what God has to do with doing our job. We are charged with clearing out the Scourge Beasts so we can all live in peace. Fighting and killing is all that we excel at. Though I can see where people might get the wrong idea about me when I take pleasure in killing that which I hate.” Letum said taking a moment to read his fellow Templar before continuing.

"Your method is not what is concerning to your peers, Templar Alexander, it is your mental state." Jerris's comments came swiftly after Alexander's as if he had been previously prepared for such a response, his eyes remaining on the other Templar's. "Fighting the Scourge is not a leisurely activity. It is an occupation and a responsibility. If you were supposed to derive pleasure from it, then we shouldn't have to pay you."

He interlaced his fingers and set them on the table, leaning forward but remaining perfectly composed. "In my opinion, there is no 'wrong idea' to be obtained from your motives. I believe that you are unstable, and that frightens the others." His gaze, although hardened, refused to yield to any sort of emotion.

"I don't trust you, Templar Alexander."

Calmly smiling at Templar Greymir as he continued his attack on Letum. He just listened to him as he knew that this man must have really hated him from the bottom of his heart. So the truth is finally out. He admitted to not trusting him finally after two years of holding it in. Though loving to kill is far different from being mentally unstable. He guess that some people put them hand in hand. Shrugging his shoulder he began to speak once more.

“Well that is a completely different story then. But there is no reason to argue semantics here. So do they fear my mental state, and question if I am going to go homicidal on the squad, or is that your fear?” Letum said as he just looked back at his superior remaining calm. “One’s ability to adapt to any situation is needed to understand a variety of different people. Some find pleasure in the arms of a woman. Some find that god is where their calling lies. Then there are some that only wish to do what they think is right. To understand everyone is an impossibility, and to say one is unstable just because he finds pleasure in killing instead of being killed. Takes a kind of sight that I think you lack. Try walking in another’s shoes before judging them insane.”

He then leaned forward in a non-threatening manner as he then continued his thought. “But on the other hand I can see where this would cause some problems with those that are highly religious, and or afraid of thing that they themselves don’t fully comprehend. I have known for quite a while that you don’t trust me, but that being said that doesn’t mean that I don’t trust you or the rest of the squad. So there is no reason to get so hostile towards one of your underlings."

"If you believe me to be hostile, Templar Alexander, then you clearly cannot read me." When Alexander had leaned forward, Jerris did not budge. His gaze was unwavering, his facial features like stone. "But believe me when I say I will never fear you. You are not my enemy. I do not care whether you believe me to be needlessly judgmental, for I value the safety of our squadron over petty philosophy."

"A truly useful Templar is identified not for his skills, but for his ability to effectively cooperate with his comrades." He shifted the weight of his elbows slightly, innerly resenting the young man's smile. "Regardless of how open-minded you are to pleasures of the mind, I believe that you are a handicap to this squadron with your current mindset. You can work to improve it, or you can potentially face dismissal from duty in the future."

He slackened his shoulders, leaning back slightly from his previous position. "Any questions, Templar Alexander?"

Letum just shook his head as he leaned back once more taking a relaxed position. It seems arguing with a man that has a one track mind was a pointless matter. Though it is fun trying to see if he could break his demeanor, but alas it was not meant to be. Though his eyes betray his calm composure. “As you wish. I will work on not enjoying the killing of the beasts. But one can’t change ones nature so easily. Though do you have any suggestions on how I should go about that?”

Once again, Jerris's response to Alexander was prompt as if prepared beforehand. "Treat this like the job it is, and stop treating it like a game. We're protecting lives, and if you start acting like it then maybe you'll come around." He shuffled the Templar's report and slipped it back into the folder with the others. "Unless you have any other questions, you're dismissed."

“I have no other questions only on little word of advice. You can fool the world, but you can’t fool yourself. Your eyes betray you.”

Jerris almost found amusement at the Templar's final comment, but remained composed all the same. He was quiet for a moment while Alexander stood, and as he started to turn away, his eyes narrowed slightly. "If the day comes that my eyes betray me, then I shall cut them out. If the day comes that you betray us..." His gaze slackened. "Well, let's hope that day never comes."


From the early morning call, she knew the squadron was being sent out the next day. Kiera was surprised he'd willingly take on the challenge of working with her personally under such time restrictions. Even more so that the training was to happen in one hour. She did not expect that. But, Jerris always seemed to be the efficient, straight edged, timely member of the group. His advice about eating a good meal once they were done earned a silent nod of understanding. Her stepmother loved to cook; but, she knew the ins and outs of a kitchen herself and would use her own skills to follow Greymir's directions. "Yes, sir. Thank you." They two may be on the same playing field; but, she'd give him the same respect as those in higher positions.

It took her less than thirty minutes to run back to her house and change from the casual clothes of a day off and into shorts, a t shirt and running shoes to work out. Not knowing what all he had planned , her gear was also placed in a separate bag in case he felt it was better to train as if they were in an actual combat situation. The bow and arrows, the knife, her limited armor and even the cape often used to blend into the landscape all were taken to the training field. On top of that, Kiera had already spoken to the the blacksmith the day before about upgrading some of her weaponry before the next mission.

Jerris was different from everyone else. They all knew it. They had abilities; but, his was unique from the others. There were whispers and plenty of gossip about him floating around. Had even heard the word monster applied to him a few times. Finally having the chance to talk with him a bit and personally see how he interacts with those in his squad during her own review, Kiera didn't see him as some crazed psycho. Might be a bit introverted; but, he was dedicated. Greymir was honest. Some may take offense at his blunt delivery. For some of them, Kiera included, the acerbic way he delivered it would be exactly what was needed to bring clarity. Isaac respected and trusted him enough to make Jerris his right hand man, which had to speak for something.

"I may not have needed all of this; but, I wasn't sure. Better to be prepared."

"Yes, better to be prepared than helpless. But you won't need any of those yet."

Jerris had arrived to the courtyard immediately after their meeting to prepare for their improvised training session. He had little time to develop a series of lessons and exercises for her, but by the end of the hour, he had decided exactly what needed to be done and how. Sanford clearly had a comfort zone in terms of combative situations.

It was about time that he destroyed it.

"Before we begin, you need to become exhausted. Never are you going to find yourself in an exceedingly difficult situation while at full strength when you're in the field. You must be prepared for the worst when you are fatigued at your worst." He took her gear from over her shoulder and in her hands and set it underneath a roofed set of benches.

"Twelve laps around the training yard, sprinting as if you were hounded by a horde of Wendigos. Take a one minute break, then repeat."

Kiera wanted to ask if he was a perfectionist; but, it seemed easy to tell that, in certain areas, he was. Greymir was right, she did have a comfort zone and a routine pretty much set in stone. Listen to any mission details..who, what, when, where, get her gear on and move into position where she was told. Right up until shit hit the fan, it was fairly rote in nature.

Kiera thought she was ready for whatever workout he'd toss her way. While she'd been trained during the process of becoming at Templar, it was more of a group dynamic so it did seem a wee bit odd to have someone to work one on one with. Might explain the reason she was shifting from one foot to another in a nervous fashion. All the fidgeting ceased once he gave her something to focus on. As the gear was taken, she'd silently mouth. "Twelve.." Not a problem. However, he also said rest and repeat. Meaning he was not going to go easy on her. Being one who liked a challenge, it was on.

Speed was part of her forte. The first twelve laps went by quickly. That one minute rest time, even quicker. The second twelve still went smoothly; but, not with quite the same zip as the first. After that last lap was complete, Kiera was finally breathing heavy and had a sheen of sweat across her forehead. Both hands rested on her hips while trying to catch her breath, yet still bouncing on the tips of her toes with untapped energy.

Jerris would find her eyeing him as if to silently say... "What's next?" Not doing so since he had created the agenda.

While she sprinted her laps, Jerris had provided in the middle of the wide sparring ring a large dummy in the approximate shape of a raised Lamia which Templars frequently practiced on. All else had been cleared, leaving only the false enemy in the center of the circle. He glanced at her as she returned from her brief set, gesturing towards the dummy.

"In front of you is a Scourge Beast, this one in particular is a Lamia." His focus returned to her. "It is trying to kill you. You kill it first."

She'd noticed the dummy he'd set up in the center of that circle. It didn't look as daunting as a real Lamia would. When told to kill it first, Jerris would gain his first opportunity to fluster her. "Without any weapons?" Kiera knew the facts about these creatures, they were nothing to trifle with when ill prepared. With her bow, she could kill it from a distance. The silver knife could embed in it's heart or throat. With weapons, the task was not so daunting. Bare handed against a Lamia..really?

Even with the objective being just a dummy, there was hesitation. Hesitation was bad. She knew that. But failure..failure was much worse in her mind.

"Not a single weapon in sight. Now kill it. Fast"

Kill it fast with what? By the nature of the beasts shape alone, it'd be hard to knock it off it's feet..it doesn't have feet. Those snake like bodies are very stable. She was very familiar with what the beasts looked like. The thing was all twisty and gnarly with poisonous fangs. Kiera wasn't afraid of dying. It was inevitable. However, his whole purpose for this challenge was to take it down quickly, preferably without dying.

With no armor or weapons, one had to use what they had on hand. Which was her hands, speed and strength. She had a split second and took a risk regardless of the lingering idea it would be wrong. Kiera would mimic the sound the creature made then speed around behind it to jump on the dummies back, from there, she'd twist it's head to break the Lamia's neck or rip it off if possible.

Once done, there'd be an anxious wait for his criticism.

Jerris nodded from his position as the dummy's neck twisted, and he crossed his arms. Yes, she technically eliminated the target, and she did so with adequate speed. However, it was also stationary, unmoving, and most certainly not trying to kill her.

Plus, she wasn't tired enough. "Great. Go sprint another twelve laps, and do them faster this time."

Yep, it was just a dummy. Which was one reason the challenge was so challenging. Even after getting over the biggest hump of no weapons, trying to imagine what a Lamia really looked like and knowing what one was capable of, attacking a mere stuffed beastly shaped body wasn't the same. Didn't matter though. Even in a simulation, there was no room to hesitate. You fight the way you train, so you train the way you want to fight.

For the effort, a mere..Great. was given in return. From a man like Jerris, she'd accept that as a positive. Even if it was followed by twelve more laps. "You're enjoying this aren't you?" Those lips were still moving and she was able to grin while kicking up those heels in a flat out sprint. Counting out 1..2..3..every time her foot touched the starting point again until hitting twelve. Pride does not allow one to admit being tired. That same pride couldn't hide being winded. .."Next.." coming out as more of a rush of air instead of a word.

As Sanford returned considerably more tired than before, Jerris stood next to the large beast-shaped dummy, a wooden practice sword in hand. He nodded towards it again and slapped it on the side with the wooden blade. "Now kill it again."

Yes, even though she wouldn't admit it, all this running was accomplishing his goal. Here she thought they'd be doing push ups, maybe some hand to hand combat stuff. Jerris wanted her to run. A lot! Still, one shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. He was willing to offer up his own time to help her, Kiera should be even more willing to do so.

At least there was a sword this time. She'd trained with a sword; but, archery was her specialty. A fact he had to know. It soon became apparent, Jerris had no intentions of letting her use said sword to 'kill' the beast. For which he just might notice a millisecond of the stink eye getting shot at him.

This time, Kiera went up and did a turning back kick into the dummies mid section, which would send it toppling over. Out of frustration, she'd stomp on it's head to boot. Apparently, the woman truly desired to remove a head for some reason.

Even after knocking it down, she didn't seem the least bit satisfied with that. Throwing up both hands. "Are we completely ignoring the fact a Lamia can not be killed with a boot kick or a palm strike. Nor would it be likely I could get close enough to rip it's head off by hand." Her voice still calm; but, Kiera was getting a little ticked off. Her jaw set tight while looking over the dummy again. "Why bring me out here if you're not going to train me?" Or was this his way of proving she didn't belong in their ranks. Somehow everyone else was capable of figuring out how to destroy the creature without any benefit of weapons, armor or anything at all.

"How would you kill it? Using the same scenario."

Ah, now they were getting somewhere.

Jerris shouldered the wooden sword as Sanford spoke with clear frustration, his brow rising at her questioning of his preferred tactic. Her true frustration was coming forth from the seams of her skin, evident in the emphasis she placed upon particular words. Yes, that would come in combative situations.

"Perhaps you'll find out. Another twelve laps."

There was an exasperated huff aimed directly at him that time. He'd hear her muttering. "Twelve more laps..twelve more laps." She could have ran laps by herself on her own time. How long had she been out here sweating her ass off? Still didn't have the answer to any of her questions. By lap twelve, Kiera was feeling the those leg muscles starting to protest the quickened pace she purposely pushed on herself. Pain she could handle. Feeling as if she was some type of test dummy was really pissing her off. So there'd be a lap thirteen and fourteen as well. Slowing her speed down to a walk when back at the starting line.

From there'd she'd start pacing back and forth like a caged animal. One being poked at with a stick. "You say twelve more and I'm out. As you can see, I know how to do laps.." Pulling her fingers through sweat soaked hair.

She'd step right into his dance space so he'd have to look her in the eye. "Did I do something to you? Are you mad at me? Huh? Do you think this is funny?" Wait, this was Jerris. Everyone said he was incapable of having fun. "This is MY job!" Beating a fisted hand to her chest. "YOU may not give a damn; but, I do. So, I'd appreciate it if you would just cut the bullshit and train me or let me get the hell out of here!"

And there it was.

Sanford came close enough to Jerris to unsettle a standard human being, a violation of personal space. Yet as she somewhat literally spat her comments at his face, his gaze refused to flinch. He stared at her as she ranted, permitting her to carry on with her frustrations. Even after she had finished, he continued to stare at her, dully watching her heaving breaths.

Then he took it a step further by taking a step back and lowering the wooden sword to his side.

"Kill it again." The wood groaned slightly as his grip tightened around it. "Lamia are extremely poisonous. It would be a shame if it managed to make contact with its teeth. Therefore, if I so much as touch you with this," he raised the point of the sword and lowered it back down, his stature calm and unrevealing. "Then you start over. Begin."

Part of her wanted to strangle him right now; but, the other half was thinking maybe she was starting to comprehend where he was going with this train of thought. There was no magical, perfect move he could teach her that would guarantee success or survival. She was good with her bow. But, what if something happened and she couldn't use it? Kiera needed to give herself more options.

Kiera fully expected to get tapped with that sword more than once. The next attempt included picking up a small rock she'd found on the ground to toss into 'lamia's face to create a distraction. Utilizing the resources around her. Even if it gave just a small advantage. Again approaching the 'beast' from behind, swinging onto it's back poking her thumbs into it's eyes then trying a head lock. They both knew you'd never subdue a Lamia with a head lock. But, it might work on someone or something else one day.

The moment that Sanford was clambering upon the dummy's back, raising her hands in preparation for an imaginary eye-gouging, Jerris's sword flashed. In a blur of brown, the flat of the blade rose to smack Sanford upon her side. She may have had speed on her side, but the white-haired Templar's reflexes were unparalleled.

His gaze leveled upon Sanford. "Lamia also have tails. You're dead. Start over."

"Lamia's have tales..no shit. I did not know that." Sporting a lovely eye roll as her jaw set trying not to say anything else. Both hands fisted into her hair as if she was going to yank every last golden strand right out. "Before you go tapping me with your little, wooden sword again, answer me this." In hindsight, everything about that statement might sound dirty. Good thing Kiera was not focused on that right now. Turning to face Jerris as she honestly tried to figure this puzzle out.

"Is there any scenario in which an unarmed person, with no weapons or protective gear at all, could possibly defeat a Lamia? Cause.." Strolling over to the make shift beast to give it a little pat on the belly. "If I l hit, kick, bite, spit on, toss and rip this dummy apart only to be told there's no way in hell it can be done, I may have to kick you in the balls."

Jerris's lip thinned as Sanford went off once again, his wooden blade settling upon his shoulder. There was really no point in him interrupting her tangent, for it was part of the exercise. Let her get mad. Let her get frustrated. Let her anger cloud her judgement. Only through experiencing it further would she learn how to escape it.

"There are many scenarios in which an unarmed person could kill the beast. As you have frequently demonstrated, the head is a potential weak spot. Punching through the eyes would result in dangerous acidic burns, but breaking bones like the neck and spine without breaking the skin are most certainly possible for a well-trained individual to accomplish."

"However," He shifted the weight on his hip, his knee bending. "If you choose to enter the fray while blinded by frustration at your situation, your foe will remain victorious. Yes, battling the Scourge without your weapons may seem futile." His gaze lowered upon her. "Imagine how the Divine King must feel fighting a never-ending war against an infinite army."

A breeze of afternoon air pushed a strand of wild white hair across his brow, which he did not bother to brush away. "Any situation, no matter how hopeless, can always be turned in the loser's favor as long as said loser keeps their wits about them. Even through the clouds of exhaustion, you must remain tactical. Yes, an unarmed person could kill this beast. But you're not an unarmed person, you're a Templar. You're a living, breathing weapon."

The blade rose from his shoulder, the tip lowering to the ground. "Now, kill it again."

Aah, so Jerris could actually say more than 'twelve more laps' or 'kill it again'. Was nice to know. Was also amazing to see how the man remained completely calm no matter what she said or did. Nothing cracked his stoic facade. In many ways, his ability to maintain such an even keeled sense of self helped. Kiera was fighting her own frustration, self doubt and sheer aggravation at not knowing the answer he wanted to hear. Anyone who watched her when not on duty could easily see she was a people pleaser and often the life of the party. A wee part of her wondered if the threat to smash his crown jewels might have contributed to his sudden offering of more information. The rest of her knew he would never be so generous.


But you're not an unarmed person, you're a Templar. You're a living, breathing weapon.

Maybe she'd needed a reminder of that fact. They were powerful forces of nature in and of themselves.


"Now, kill it again."

He'd get a nod of understanding then head back over to the dummy where she'd do a quick, little duck as if avoiding the claws on the Lamias arms, slam her elbow up into the rib cage with extreme force, reach up grab hold of that left arm she'd just ducked under, yanking the appendage hard enough to send the dummies momentum forward and around to lay flat on the ground facing up. From there, she'd try to avoid the beasts mouth and apply a throat crushing blow to it's neck.

The moment that she slammed the beast to the ground, however, another smack of wood landed upon her shoulder blade.

Jerris stood above her, gazing cooly upon her hunched figure. While his eyes may have lacked life, however, they softened slightly, lessening the unyielding judgement that was previously channeled. He removed the wooden sword from her shoulder and raised it to his shoulder again, giving a gentle nod.

"Better. Do it again, and do not let yourself die."

The drills continued on and on until the sun blazed brightly upon the horizon. With every resuming round, the stoic Templar pushed Sanford's mental patience further and further, and although her frustrated outbursts didn't end, they certainly slowed. Diligence was not learned in a day, but it could certainly be improved in such a time.

Finally, after Sanford executed a Wendigo dummy with careful practice, Jerris waved his hand. "That's enough for now. Get some water."

Do not let yourself die. Great advice. She'd have to remember that. Especially after several more hours of feeling that sword tapping her out due to a slip somewhere in Kiera's approach. She'd broken the beasts skin, exposing herself to acid, left her back exposed, etc. Jerris did not miss any little mistake she might make nor was she able to count how many times he told her to "Do it again." Even though the sun was trying to bake her like one the cookies her step mother made. She'd take a deep breath, muster up whatever energy reserves were left and try, try again. Her and that dummy were going to be best friends before all this was over.

Once he was satisfied with the how she'd executed a Wendigo and called for a water break, Kiera dug the water bottle from her bag and allowed her body to completely collapse to the ground. Sweaty, dirty, more than a little stinky and with every muscle crying out for mercy, the now warm drink of water was a pleasant treat. "You know, despite my ravings, I do appreciate this." Pouring water on her head to cool off.

Jerris nodded at her comment, set the practice sword upon the bench, and hauled the Lamia dummy out of the ring. Several other guards, soldiers, and even Templars been training about the courtyard, and many of them were now flowing out of the courtyard as their light began to dim. Some of the heads turned as Jerris hauled the dummy out and threw it next to the bench.

"Unfortunately, that is all we have time for." He took a seat upon the bench and poured himself a cup of water from a nearby pitcher. "Because of our emergency redeployment, our impromptu training is limited to today. You'll have the rest of today and part of tomorrow to recover, so you should be at full strength when we leave."

Like ants, the other fighters flooded from training field. She was grateful there were no longer so many prying eyes watching her ups and downs. Mainly the downs. "Tomorrow..." Yes, it was aggravating to hear. No doubt everyone else felt the same. Orders were orders so she'd just have to accept them and prepare accordingly. "Tell me honestly, am I ready? Or at least better? Don't sugar coat it."

"Are you ready to fight the Scourge? Of course, you've been ready for a while, which is why you're in Senior Templar Hills' squadron." Jerris took a healthy drink from his cup before setting it on the bench and watching Sanford. "Are you prepared to handle the very worst of situations on your own? Absolutely not, but now you're taking steps in the right direction. The only way for you to truly improve, however, is through experience."

He stood and took the wooden sword by the hilt. "Unless you have other questions, that'll be all for tonight, Templar Sanford."

Ask for honesty and ye shall receive honesty. Was a quality about Jerris she was grateful for and could easily respect. Sometimes ones confidence needed a boost or kick in the ass. Even when he stated she was not ready to handle the worst situations alone, there was no bristling as if it were the ultimate insult. How many could handle the worst possible scenario all by themselves? Better yet, without even a wooden sword? That's why they went out as a team

Spending half of the day training with him gave her a better insight into the man he was. If only just a peek. He may not be a jokester or have much of a funny bone; but, Jerris knew what he was doing and did it well. He'd been patient and understanding with her. Never raising his voice or tossing his hands up in defeat when Kiera didn't perform up to his standards.

'Do it again.'

Three words she'd never forget no matter how bad shit got. Keep going, don't quit, don't give up...do it again.

"No, no more questions. Thank you, Templar Greymir. Have a good evening."

[Yamimoon]

The sun was illuminating the inside of the small house that Letum calls home through the only window he had. It was right next to his bed this would usually wake him from his slumber, but this time he was already awake. Not getting a wink of sleep. All though he usually didn’t sleep much anyway. That was a luxury that he didn’t have time for when he was in town. So he was used to functioning with little to no sleep. Sitting at the edge of his bed he was not wearing a shirt, and the sun’s rays shined on his shoulders where his brand was. Though he was concerned with other matters right at the moment.

Looking around the house to see if he missed anything. He was making sure that all traces of what had happened last night was thoroughly erased from his house. He didn’t want to have anything around that would possible point to the fact that he was involved with the little lovers spat he had set up to cover him killing the two assassins. Well one was only still an apprentice, but that didn’t matter. They came after him so they were fair game. He had a sour look on his face as he remembered what he had to do.


He had left the bar right after he finished talking with Marcella. The rain was still falling as hard as it was when they first arrived home, but it didn't bother him as he walked outside without a second thought. He knew right away that he was being followed by the man that came into the bar. So he acted like he was starting to get drunk by staggering as he walked, and he led the man straight to his front door. Fumbling with his keys as he tried to unlock the door. He knew the assassin would not attack him outside of his home so he didn't worry about it. He finally got the door open and moved into the house closing the door behind him. He didn’t want to do what he needed to do because they were family after all.

Then he quickly moved behind the door and pulled a syringe from a hidden pocket that was stitched in one of the hems on the inside of his shirt. He pulled the needle cover and waited for the man to enter his house. And almost like on que the man opened the door and entered his house with a dagger in hand. He thought he had the upper hand, but little did he know that he was walking right into a trap. As soon as the man closed the door Letum grabbed him from behind and he jabbed the needle into the assassin’s side, and injected a lethal dose of the Daemon’s Kiss poison into the man’s system.

He didn't want him to suffer so he hoped that he didn't get the dosage wrong. HIs fellow assassin fell to the ground in pain, but luckily he passed very quickly, and now he needed to finish off the Female assassin as well. He moved to the nightstand and pulled out a second syringe and walked over to his closet. He opened the door, and sadly smiled at his fellow assassin. "Sorry that this has to happen, but you should have never came after me!" Letum said as he moved closer to her.


The telephone began to ring and it snapped him out of his thoughts and back to reality. No one had this number except the Templar order since they were the ones that provided him with the phone. A sour look came across his face as he could only imagine what the call was for. Worst case scenario was that they would be calling him on regards to what happened since it was close to his home. Though he would never know if he just let the phone ring. So he reluctantly picked up the receiver and answered with a simple hello.


The call was short and sweet, and the news was not as bad as he first thought. The call was to remind him of his progress report. The second bit of news was not as bad as the first. It seemed that they were being deployed yet again to the battle field, and they only had today to get ready. Though this was not bad news he welcomed getting away from Sanctuary, and all of his worries here. Though he was looking forward to getting a little of his work done. Shrugging his shoulders in a natural manner as he then sat up from the bed walking over to the kitchen to make himself something to eat.

As soon as he finished with breakfast he got dress in his casual clothing, and left his home locking the door once more. The rain had stopped, but the ground was still saturated, and a few straggling clouds could be seen floating across the sky. Closing his eyes for a moment as a breeze blew through. He cleared his mind as he then opened his eyes, and started to make his way to the bar where Templar Greymir was waiting.

-------


As soon as he was finished with his progress report he walked down the street to the nearest apothecary that had the drug Dolor. He hadn’t had his dose today, and he is starting feeling it. His body is starting to hurt all over, and he knows that he needs to get his fix. He has been taking this drug every day since he passed his assassins trial. It was meant to help with any injuries they might receive during a mission. That way they could complete their mission without fail. The masters didn’t care about the negative effects that were going to happen.

He didn’t want to lose all feeling, but it was too hard for him to quit. He tried to quit once he joined the Templars, but the pain he felt when he tried to quit was unreal. He couldn’t handle it after a day. So quitting on his own would not be an option. So he had no choice but to stay hooked on the drug. He walked into the apothecary shop. He wiped his feet off on the rug that was at the front door. Then walked over to the counter. “I need 50 20 Milgram caplets of Dolor.” He said as he placed the coin on the counter. He already knew how much this would cost him.

[Scottie]

They were a pitiful excuse for curtains. Not a single shred of light was kept from her eyes. Sophia had turned twice already, both attempts to escape the light were in vain. She was just about to push herself from the bed when a loud thump echoed through the building. The heavy …thing that had fallen had made her bed jump with its violent impact on the straining floor boards. She had pushed herself up now, then the lovely curse words floated to her through her door. “FUCK. FUCK…YOU FUCKING BRATS.” Sophia stayed in her spot, blinking slowly at her new morning entertainment.

The sound of a door being quickly closed and then booted back open got her off her bed. “Who the fuck let you brats in here? This is tavern. Not a fucking playground.” The voice was now in the room to her right and she used his voice to follow his walk further into the room. It was the introduction of a young boys voice, that got her moving. Scraping a knife off from it’s hiding spot beside her bed, she was out of her door and into the corridor in seconds. “S…She didn’t mean to…I…It’s the o..o..only place she can play where I can see her.”

Sophia glanced at the floor and couldn’t help but to chuckle at the marbles that littered around her feet. A few were cracked from under the heavy arse of the man who had fallen. She was picking up a few when a harsh crack filled the air. A body hit the thin wall between her room and theirs and then slumped to the floor. “C’m here princess. We are gonna take a walk.” Sophia raised an eyebrow and pushed the door open. It’s hinges near enough off the frame.

A small boy of at least ten was crumbled in the corner, already attempting to drag himself over to his sister. The girl was five…maybe…All children of the slums looked younger than they actually were. The man was a massive brute, with small fragments of cracked marbles over his back. Sophia chuckled again, enough to make the man turn as she pinged a marble at his face. Smarting off his forehead, it only seemed to anger the hungover bull more. “Fuck off bitch. This is none of your concern.” He said moving to block her view of the small girl.

Sophia rolled her eyes at him and sighed dramatically. “You woke me up. It’s my concern now….bitch.” She said as she spun a knife between her fingertips. The man seemed to change as soon as the weapon was in his line of sight, especially with the ease she twisted and turned it in her grip. He glanced between both children and thought correctly it was better not to give up his life to teach two brats a lesson. Keeping his distance from her, he thumped his way from the room. The small boy went to say something and she raised a hand gently. Just in time for the large lump of anger to go crashing down again. She smirked, happy she had moved those marbles back into the centre of the hall.

Another string of curse words as the man continued downstairs, firing off his complaints to the poor man at the bar. Sophia moved over the small girl in the corner, her dark hair hung in rat tails around her face. She placed her knife back into the holder on her thigh and placed a hand gently against her cheek. “Maybe play inside the room mkay?” She said pressing the marbles within her hand into the little girls grasp. The boy of ten had stood now, the bright crimson mark stood out against the almost grey skin. Sophia rooted around in a pocket, bringing out some coins of silver. Pressing those into his hand with a small smile. “Get yourself breakfast. Speak to Joseph about your door....and maybe a better lock.” She said before moving back into her room. If she hurried, she could still get to that familiar alchemist before she was needed elsewhere.

[Megilwen]

Marcella opened the large double doors that led into the fortress that was the Templar Headquarters. The plush red carpets leading down various hallways as well as up the stairs, while the portraits of former Senior Templars lined the first floor walls. As she walked down the hall, the lights reflected of the buttons of her military coat and shiny black boots.

This wasn't the first time that Senior Templar Hills had called her in for a meeting. They weren't regular, but on occasion he liked to meet with each Templar on occasion to discuss strengths, weakness, and how to improve. She wasn't concerned. She was confident in her skills, but was also aware she still had areas of growth.

Arriving at Senior Templar Hills door, Marcella pulled at her coat, straightening the fabric before rapping sharply on the door once and waiting for her superior's answer before opening the door and walking confidently to his desk stopping exactly two steps away. Her boots snapped together sharply as she saluted him. "Senior Templar Hills, Templar Hoefler reporting as ordered."

The Senior Templar already prepared himself for Templar Hoefler's arrival, and her folder of evaluations laid neatly on his desk. He heard the door knock, calling out for the person to enter. His brown eyes observed the Templar walk in, before she saluted and properly reported to him. He briefly examined her posture, taking note of her professional attitude and strong confidence surrounding the young woman.

He raised up his hand, saluting her quickly and allowing them both to drop their salutes. "Good afternoon, Templar Hoefler. Please take a seat, and sit at ease," he beckoned the young woman to sit across from him, so that they could go over this process.

"So, I'm sure you are a little familiar with this process, after going through it a few times in the past," Isaac began speaking. "This will be another progress report of your performance, and we will be going over details regarding your strengths and weaknesses, along with your overall ranking from the memorandum assigned earlier."

He took out a piece of paper from the folder, quickly skimming it over. "Alright, you have been in the Templar Order for about four years, correct?" he questioned, before placing the paper back down on the desk. Compared to most other Templars, Marcella still was a little inexperienced and didn't had too many opportunities of leadership yet.

"I would like to begin by asking you a few questions. What do you believe is your greatest strength? And what do you believe is your greatest weakness?"

"Good Afternoon and thank you Sir." Marcella replied as she moved to sit in the chair in front of Senior Templar Hill's desk. Even though he said to sit at ease, she still sat at the front of her chair, straight backed and at attention. She respected her superior too much to not remain polite and professional. Especially in this setting.

"Yes, some where around four years now." She said with a nod. "My greatest strength would be being able to analyze a situation and determine the best course of action to follow. My greatest weakness would be in that I tend to take too much onto myself instead of relying on my fellow Templars." She responded short, sweet, and to the point. She saw no need to get all flowery and overly embellish her abilities and weaknesses. The point of the meeting was for her to learn in order to improve herself.

The Senior Templar raised his eyebrows after hearing her own weakness, something he didn't really consider before. There were no comments on the memorandum regarding that specific matter either. "Interesting, that's good on you for catching that, Templar Hoefler," he stated, quickly pulling out a paper form the folder and scribbling a quick note on it. While he was writing, he glanced his head back up at her, "Oh, and please sit at ease, Templar Hoefler," the Senior Templar advised with a small smile. He understood why she still sat at the position of attention, but he wanted her to be relaxed, and he wanted to see her reaction after hearing some great news.

After he finished the note, he put it back into the folder. "And I agree about your strength. When you are given time to analyze a situation, you tend to make the best situations - which is fantastic for someone your age. I know several other experienced and older Templars that cannot rival your mind's tenacity of making the best laid plans and decisions. However, when you make snap decisions, it seems like you give them little thought as they tend to be reckless. I'm not sure if its overconfidence, or if you're trying to rush through matters... I would personally advise just to take a step back at certain points, take a few seconds to breathe and think, before making that decision. When you do take your time, the results are outstanding."

He then leaned back against his chair, his small smile widening slightly. "And that is why you are placed first out of everyone else in the squadron, Templar Hoefler. Even though you are young and inexperienced, you have proven to everyone that you are more than capable of leading others. Congratulations, and job well done," he nodded his head, and awaited to see how the young woman would react.

Marcella had scooted back in the chair at Senior Templar Hill's insistence, nodding and paying close attention to the suggestions he had for her improvement. A few seconds didn't seem hard to do, though at the same time a few seconds was the difference between life and death.

The next little bit of information that he shared however caught Marcella off guard. Surprise broke through her normally straight face. "Thank you sir." Was all she managed out. How did she manage to be top of the group, when there were so many others with much more experience than her? "I hadn't realized I'd earned the trust of all my fellow Templar's to such a level." Her face flushed slightly in an embarrassed way. Then there was the part of her that was proud and wondered if maybe it would make her father proud of her as well. It would give her something to talk with him about if they did actually end up meeting while he was in Sanctuary.

Isaac nodded, happy to see that Templar Hoefler was pleasantly surprised by the good news. "Indeed, many of your fellow Templars think very highly of you," he took out copy of a memorandum, glancing at one of the comments that he especially liked. He read it out loud to Templar Hoefler.



She is young, but already Hoefler shows great promise. She has a sharp mind, always watching, always listening. She can analyze a situation and determine the best course of action for it quicker than almost anyone I know. She will make a fine Senior Templar one day, perhaps even an Inquisitor, but first she must learn the difference between confidence and carelessness. And, of course, she must get a few more years tucked under her belt.


"That's one comment that they stated, and its a very informative one about your nature... and your future, Templar Hoefler. The person that thinks that you would be a great Senior Templar... I think that you would be a great Senior Templar. In fact, Templar Hoefler, I am being promoted as a new Inquisitor in a few short weeks, but this is not about me... this is about you. I am looking for a Senior Templar to work closely with me, to ensure the safety of Sanctuary and its people. You would be a viable candidate as a Senior Templar, and this may be a stepping stone for your future. You very well may become an Inquisitor also, one day. However, I would like to hear your own honest opinion, Templar Hoefler. I want to know whether or not you are interested in this leadership position."

Marcella liked to think she was a good judge of situations and as such was rarely surprised, however her superior had managed to surprise her twice in the course of a few minutes. She'd never considered that her fellow templars respected her abilities so much to rank her so highly nor would she have been expected to have been offered a position as a Senior Templar with so little experience.

"My honest opinion sir, is that I believe in comparison to some of the others on our team that I'm still too inexperienced in order to properly lead the team. It is my goal to move up within the ranks of the Templars in order to better serve as a hand of God and to the Divine King. I would think that Templar Greymir would be the most logical choice to follow after you as Senior Templar." She responded slowly after taking a few minutes to think through the situation. She DID want to eventually become a Senior Templar, but with only threeish years of experience Marcella believed that there was much more she needed to learn about leading first. As more of a scout for the group, her experiences in leading where all too few.

Isaac nodded, completely understanding Marcella's reasoning. She was rather young to be a Senior Templar, Isaac himself was about 24 years old when he was promoted. He had about 5-6 years of experience under his belt at that time, and if Hoefler was promoted, then she would be known as one of the youngest Senior Templars. Despite that, in history, there are quite a few exceptions. Isaac could name a couple of Senior Templars whom were promoted at the young age of 19 or 20, and they proved to be excellent leaders.

Marchella could very well be one of those leaders. It would prove that the next generation would be even better than the last.

"Templar Greymir has actually decline the Senior Templar position for his own personal reasons," Isaac commented aloud. "So that is why I'm holding these progress reports, to help determine who may be my Senior Templar, and the vice-commander of the squadron. I understand why you may be hesitant with such a large leadership position with your young age, but I think everybody in the squadron can agree you have more than proven yourself as a potential leader. If your final answer is a declination, though, then that is perfectly fine - and as I said before, I completely understand," Senior Templar Isaac formed a small smile at her.

"I see. May I ask about the others that you are considering for the position?" She had been recommended by the rest of unit as a proven leader, maybe she should trust that they believed she had the experience. However, before she accepted or denied the position, she wanted to know who else was being offered the position. It would help in her making the best choice when it came to her fellow Templars. Not moments ago, he had recommended she take the time to consider all angles and not make snap decisions.

Isaac leaned back, thinking of the names at the top of his head. "Templar Renakovic is also a viable candidate as a Senior Templar, and has expressed interest in taking that position. Both Templar Vitraid and Orfiel are part of the top-third, so I will but their names down for eligibility. I will confirm later on whether or not they are interested. Right now, though Templar Renakovic has the best chances so far, unless if you express interest as well. Then both of you have better chances of becoming a Senior Templar, even if Vitraid and Orfiel would like the leadership position."

Marcella took a moment to carefully consider before replying. "Renakovic and Orfiel would both make excellent Senior Templars and I believe I ranked them both quite highly in my own reviews. Renakovic especially. She'd be a great leader for the team, after you sir." She paused. "I think, despite my rankings and people's trust in me as a leader, I would like to learn more about how to lead as a Senior Templar before becoming a Senior Templar. Perhaps there would be an opportunity to discuss with you or maybe with Templar Greymir on how exactly to run a Templar unit? I'm sure there's more to it than just ability to make snap field decisions and leading a charge. Those things I feel prepared enough in. Then, should another opportunity present itself in the future, I'll feel more prepared to appropriately take on a larger leadership role."

Isaac Hills listened carefully to Hoefler's answers, nodding at her suggestions. He personally agreed that Renakovic would be a great Senior Templar, but he was rather unsure of Orfiel. He is only being recommended simply because he was in the top-third... barely. He ranked himself first, and the person that ranked sixth overall, Templar Warren, ranked himself dead last. If Warren had more self-confidence in his own abilities, then he would have been placed in the well-deserved position of the top-third instead - among the elites.

Regardless, Isaac accepted and understood Hoefler's declination over the Senior Templar position. "Understood, Templar Hoefler," he leaned back against his chair again. He was slightly disappointed about her answer, because he definitely sees the potential in the young woman. However, she was right, she could use more experience to flourish more as a leader. "Once we have the new squadron settled down, then perhaps we can give you more leadership positions to undergo more self-growth," he nodded, forming a small smile.

"Other than that, Templar Hoefler, that is all."

"Yes sir. Thank you sir." Marcella said in response to his offer, before she stood back up standing at attention in front of his desk and giving him a sharp salute. "Good Afternoon, Senior Templar Hills." She dropped the salute before heading back out the doorway, down the hall, and then back out in the the damp dreary day. Overall, Marcella felt the meeting had gone well. She still wondered over her decision to decline and as much as she did regret saying no, she felt that it was the better decision.

[Maya]

Come early morning, she'd wake up right as rain and feeling fine even after what Jerris had put her through the previous day. A few minor aches here and there; but, nothing worth grouching about. Kiera wasn't really one to complain much anyway. Apparently all of the lip service had been reserved for yesterday's training session. She'd went to the blacksmith first thing to pick up the new 'toys'. Ten silver tipped arrows, a bracer made of a mix of leather and silver studs that covered the entirety of her hand while leaving those fingers able to easily maneuver. The bracer also had a feature hidden on the top of the hand as well. A slender dagger that could slide out at the push of a button. That particular function required a bit of teaching by it's maker.

"If you're going to use it, don't bend your wrist back when you hit the release button. Keep it straight or down lest you lose some skin or worse." He'd have her practice the move until both were satisfied no major injury would occur. Only one more alteration was done. She wanted every piece of visible armor or weaponry to take on the green, mottled tarnished look as if it had been neglected for years.

"Why on earth would you want that? Especially after I shined it all up so well?"

The answer was easy. "Shiny reflects light. I need to be able to keep a low cover when I can." Handing the smithy his healthy payment knowing he'd keep to his word and have the armor meet her specifications. Since Kiera lived simply, wasn't a clothes hound and didn't spend much of her money on things she didn't need, it was easy to make an investment in herself for once.

He understood the why; but, damn! It was so shiny one could see their reflection perfectly as if it were a mirror. "Right, I see. Give me an hour or so and I'll dirty it up for you."


The next hour was spent packing up the rest of her gear so she'd be ready to move out. Afterwards, it was down to the bakery to start the long, and always over emotionally dramatic process of saying goodbye to her step parents. The goal was to get in, get out and get going. Which never, ever ...EVER..happened.

"Oh, Kiera..there you are darling! I was looking for you." Her step mother, Judy yelled out all too happily. "I need you to do me a favor. Take this box to the Hill's house for me, please."

Of all the things she had expected. Tears, wailing, clinging to her for dear life..being asked to play delivery girl wasn't one of them. With much hesitation in that request, there'd be an almost apprehensive "Uhhhhmm..why?" asked with a tinge of dread.

"I have a wedding cake I need to get done before tomorrow. So, I can't deliver the box to them myself. Since you're here and you know where they live..I mean, it's not that far. Won't you be a good girl and help me out?" Notably, there was no cake in the process of being made. So there was just a bit of fibbing taking place. Maybe her daughter wouldn't pay that close attention? Doubtful, the girl had an eagle eye.

Nope, Kiera noted the immaculately clean kitchen right off. Something fishy was going on here. "You have two delivery boys." Rapping her fingers across the shiny, metal surface in a rhythmic fashion. Just waiting for the trap that was being set as they spoke.

There was a wee laugh. The kind Judy always used when trying to slip something by. "They're both sick."

She need only to look outside to see that one of the 'sick' boys was playing ball in the street. "Mhmm..I can see that. Suffering immensely." From the deadpan voice, she wasn't buying into the story at all. "May need medical care at any second now." Crossing both arms to imply the jig was up. "What's the real reason you want me to do this?"

The woman's flood gate opened. "You hide it well but we all know how you feel. We know why you avoid him at all costs. You two have known each other forever. You're the same age. You've always gotten along so well. He's good looking and successful. My gosh, Kiera, we've seen how much you adore his daughter. Why not let him know instead of pretending he's not what you're waiting for?"

"Oh my god.." Quickly being corrected for using the Lord's name in vain. It seemed reasonable considering the conversation now taking a massive twist. Her face visibly paled, she'd grab the bridge of her nose and silently prayed for a bolt of lightning to strike her dead before this went much farther. "Are you talking about Isaac? I'm not waiting for him. That idea doesn't even make sense. He's a Senior Templar. You do understand this? What you're proposing is not only unattainable, it's highly in appropriate, against the rules and I can't even begin to count the vast amount of possible, negative ramifications."

The older woman would not be swayed so easily. Even by rational facts. Besides, her daughter didn't say it wasn't true. Just rambled off a lot of reasons why it was not possible."If you were not a Templar, would you take care of Kaitlyn? Imagine how much peace that would give Isaac to know someone with your training was watching over her? You adore that little girl to no end and it's clear she feels the same towards you. Poor thing is with a sitter all the time. You're practically family. I think you're being very selfish, Kiera."

"I can't..I just can't do this today." Wishing her step mother could just be proud of the daughter she had right in front of her instead of the girly girl with a husband and three kids Judy has always wanted to have. Had Kiera truly done so badly in life there was a need to fix her? A long, deep breath was held with the passing of several seconds before allowing it's slow release and giving herself time to reset before speaking. "I know you mean well. And I can see that you've put a lot of thought into this idea of yours. What you're proposing sounds very sweet and all; but, I'm also a Templar. I have responsibilities to my squadron. We are going to war with things that could kill me or someone else. If we don't go after them, they'll be right here at our own doorstep. In my own way, I am taking care of Kaitlyn. So long as I live and breathe, I shall always try to watch over her." quickly reiterating. "From a distance. Every time I leave Sanctuary, I recognize it could be my last. How cruel would it be intertwine myself into someone's life, especially that of a child, when she has a father in the same position? I keep my distance from him, and every other male out there, because it's better to not get involved. Those happy times you speak of were when we were young and still talked and joked, those times are gone. There's no room for feelings. So yes, I plan to keep give him plenty of space. He does his job and I do mine. I would like to leave it at that. However, I will take your box and deliver it for you. That's it."

Her step mother knew it was a huge concession for Kiera to make. No package was ever delivered to Isaac's door by her in person anymore. Was always one of the delivery boys doing the deed. She wondered if they all lived such a lonely life or was her daughter the only one punishing herself with solitary confinement. Still, there was more personal prying to be done. "What about the man who trained with you?" eyebrows raising with hope all was not lost.

Gee, jump the track much? "Nice guy, amazing to work with.."

"Good looking?" Prying just a wee bit more to see how far Kiera would go with this.

"Very.." but aren't they all? Seemed to be a trait for the male Templars. "I don't think Jerris knows what a gem he is. Still" And the hammer was about to fall. "doesn't change anything about my decision. I've no plans to date anyone. Templar or not."

Stubborn girl. How would she ever get more grandchildren if Kiera chose to stay celibate forever? "Fine. We'll talk more about this later. Oh and I'll have a huge batch of cookies for you to share on the journey."

Did they have to talk about it later?

Wanting her to lug around baked goods all over hill and dale was the last straw before giving Judy a resounding. "NO! Absolutely not! I'm have no room to haul large amounts of cookies or cupcakes or candy or whatever else it is you think I can drag out with me. You do realize I have gear that is needed more than a peanut butter cookie? I am not a pack mule. Not happening."

"They're chocolate chip." Mumbling low before raising her voice again. "But..but.. you have to! I've already made them! It's my way to show appreciation for what you all do! So many here do not trust the Templar's, this way I'm showing my faith in those who fight for us. Kiera, do not deny me this. Take my cookies with you tomorrow." The woman's lip gave a little quiver, looking all pitiful.

So many times, she'd bend to her step mother's whims. Not today. "NO! N - O.. NO! I don't have the time. There's more important things I need to be concentrating on."

Thus came the pout, bit of sniffling and even a tear. It was all an act. Kiera was not the only sneaky one in the family. "Very well." Deciding she'd just head there tomorrow to offer them the treats herself. Making a show of pulling out a handkerchief, blotting up those tears then, slowly placing a hand over her heart. "I understand. Thank you for agreeing to deliver the box to the Hill's for me. It will really be a huge help." Especially since not one single cookie was even in the works yet. Would take all night to cover up that fib. "Let me get it for you." Disappearing into the back room only to emerge again with a massive box that was almost half of Judy's height and she was taller than Kiera. "Don't worry, It's not as heavy as it looks. There you go. I put a note in there to assure him we'd all watch out for his daughter during his absence ."

She watched as that immensely large box seemed to walk through the doorway on it's own two legs. "You're joking, right? Did you put a small person in there or what? ..Tell me it's not a puppy."

"Oh no, not a puppy or kitten. It's a few nice things for Kaitlyn. Has to be hard to see her father leaving again. Don't look so skeptical..it's just a care package."

It seemed like most of the Templar's didn't have the same parental issues she'd often have to deal with. Many were orphaned and were not lucky enough to be placed in a permanent home as she had. There were plenty of times, even now, where she and her 'mother' would butt heads over many aspects of her life. Her chosen profession was one. Dating a close second. Or Judy expressing the desire for Kiera to refer to her as 'Mom'. Wasn't going to happen. So much time had passed, it was very possible her real mother had departed this life. But, she was still her mother's daughter. No one else would ever fill that gaping hole. Which was yet another reason why she'd pulled away from Isaac and Kaitlyn. There were too many whispered assumptions she was trying to replace his wife. Nothing could be further from the truth. Kiera identified with his daughter. They'd both lost their mothers at a very, young age. She was such a sweet child, who could resist that smiling face?

There were plenty of chuckles from passersby as Kiera lugged that big ass box from the bakery all the way to Isaac's front door. While the contents may have been light, it was still awkward to carry especially over a large distance. Once the box was set down on the porch, she'd knock/ring the door bell, wait until hearing foot steps to make sure someone was home, then try to sneak away before the door opened.

Isaac, adorned in his formal black clothing, approached the front doorway and about to depart his house and head towards the Templar Headquarters where he would conduct the formal counseling sessions with the selected Templars. However, right when he reached the door, he heard a knock from the other side. He raised an eyebrow out of curiosity, before opening the door and revealing the guest.

"Templar Sanford?" The Senior Templar was quite surprised to her as the guest, because normally she wouldn't visit his household. In fact, he noticed that she tended to stray away from him and keep her distance. The Senior Templar assumed it was simply because she was a relatively introverted person that focused upon keeping the professionalism of the Templars. Despite the fact, Kiera always seemed to fully enjoy the company of his daughter, Kaitlyn.

However, he was even more surprised by the large box right right next to her. At first, he questioned the contents, but then formed a small smile and realized that Kiera's stepmother, Judy, has once again decided to give Kaitlyn some more presents. He certainly appreciated their pleasant thoughts, as it always eased the transition of Isaac departing for yet another mission.

"So..." his eyes flicked back and forth between Kiera and the box. "What's in the box?" he questioned, forming a small smile.

Her plan had been to drop, knock and get the hell out before getting caught. The sheer size of the package made maneuvering with any form of speed or grace next to impossible. Which was why Kiera found herself caught on his doorstep red handed and slightly red faced from embarrassment. "Yes, sir.."

In many ways, she had put Isaac in a box and pushed him off to a desolate corner somewhere far beyond her reach. He'd moved up the Templar ranks with the speed of a shooting star. Which is where he belonged. Because of that, they didn't have the same camaraderie as when the two were younger. Their little chats, jokes and long, winding conversations slowly had come to a halt over the passing years. Probably more due to her backing away from him than anything of his own doing. She wasn't introverted so much as just unsure of where she even fit in anymore.

It was OK for Kiera to allow herself to miss him, it was not OK for anyone to know she did. So, she pulled back and pulled back further and further trying to shield herself from a family that was not truly her own. It was a sheer accident, Judy had chosen this day to reopen those deep, festering wounds. Bluntly pointing out facts her daughter did not want to hear and inferring Kiera was letting Kaitlyn down by putting her own wants before that of such a beautiful child. Her step mother did not play fair and did not want to watch as her child left to go on yet another deadly mission. Even so, Kiera would still leave to fight. Only this time, her heart would be forced to carry more burdens.

When Isaac asked about the contents, casting that almost impish grin, she'd even smile herself. "Honestly, I have no idea what's in the box. Just that it does not bark, meow or pee." Thank goodness. "How about you call Kaitlyn out here and we all find out together?"

Isaac chose to do so, and first things first, his daughter would get wrapped up in a huge hug topped with a kiss to the forehead. "Hey, Katydid! ..I've missed you. Goodness, look how you've grown. How old are you now? Twenty?"

The little girl squealed as her little arms attempted to wrap around Kiera's legs. Other than Sophia, the caretaker, Kiera was the only other person that would look after the little girl. The two of them spent a lot of quality time together, and if even seemed like she was fulfilling the motherly role for little Kay.

That box was sure to become the center of attention. Even Kiera was curious as to what lay within. Soon enough, they'd discover a giant sized teddy bear with a T-shirt that said. "I Love My Daddy". In addition, there were three frilly dresses in pink, blue and yellow with hair bows to match and handmade bracelets, necklaces and rings in a rainbow of colors to play dress up with. Someone around here would have a sweet, well dressed girly girl if it's that last thing Judy ever did in life.

The little girl shrieked with joy after discovering the contents of the box, hugging the giant teddy bear and jumping up and down with joy. "Daddy, daddy, look what I got!" Kaitlyn laughed loudly, running around the porch and holding to the several dresses.

Isaac raised his eyebrows with quiet surprise as he saw the box opened, and noticed all of the gifts by Judy. After going through several battles against the Scourge Beasts in the wastes, dealing with corrupt politicians in Sanctuary, and hostile townsfolk in the Borderfields... this was quite unlike anything he has seen. A giant stuff teddy bear and a whole bunch of pretty girly girl dresses... all in one box.

Isaac chuckled, letting the little girl have her fun - she was chanting a song about being a rainbow fairy princess of the little kittens... or something along those lines.

The Senior Templar glanced back at Kiera, giving the woman a nod of appreciative thanks. His small smile widened, quite happy to see his little girl ecstatic, especially since he needed to leave for tomorrow's mission.

"Well, it seems that Judy has outdone herself again, Kiera," he chuckled.

Katy had the magical ability to make even the most stone faced of statues smile. So it was always a pleasure to fill in for Isaac or Sophia when needed. Behind closed doors, a lot of giggling and girl stuff happened. They'd finger paint, play dress up and make up stories with unicorns and butterflies. Fanciful, innocent stories which would easily lull a little girl right to dreamland after a night of play. While Kiera might not admit it to anyone else, she looked forward to those moments.

Kaitlyn's excitement at the gifts inside that box was contagious. Judy had went all out this time. Kiera went from that normally blank facade she wore so often these days to a full on smile and even a laugh as Katy squealed and ran around with a handful of dresses. "That bear is massive. Looks nothing like your daddy though, thank goodness.." Winking at Isaac if only to show she was joking. Senior Templar's can take a joke right? Maybe, if only for a few short moments, neither had to be a Templar.

Catching a few words in the girl's song, her brow raised while leaning in a tad to whisper to him. "If Judy hears this, there may be a kitten in your house when we get back." Fair warning. The woman paid no attention to boundaries.

There was yet another grin as he nodded in approval. "She did outdo herself." Now Kiera felt a wee bit bad for giving Judy such a hard time. "They'll keep watch over her until we get back. You know that." For all intents and purposes, her stepmother considered Kaitlyn as her own granddaughter. No one, not even Isaac himself, would be able to change that view.

"I still have a bit of gear to pick up." Mussing up Katy's hair to get her attention one last time before heading out. "Alright, princess... I gotta go." Dropping down to lean on her right knee to steal one last hug. The two girls had this little saying between them. Isaac may never have been privy to it before now. Was silly yet had grown into a tradition. They'd hinge their pinkie fingers together and both say. "Even when you're far away, I'll think about you everyday." If he looked at them even a tad bit funny, Kiera would just shrug. "It's our girl code. I doubt men even understand these things."

Time was wasting and she really needed to get moving. Once standing again, there was one last ruffling of Kaitlyn's hair. Even Isaac earned a little bump of her fist to his left bicep and a softly whispered... "Take care of yourself." Before heading in the direction of the blacksmith again for her now tarnished weapons and armor. On the positive side, at least she didn't have to carry the box back.

Kaitlyn waved goodbye to the older woman, giggling to herself before Isaac picked her in his arms. "C'mon, young lady, let's get you inside. Daddy has to get to work now," he chuckled, before walking back into their house.

Kiera retrieved the ugly, ass gear from the blacksmith, who still seemed to be lamenting over blemishing up that beautiful shine which once was, then went back to her house to get everything organized and packed for the road ahead. Last; but, not least, was the visit to her parents for the dreaded goodbye.

This time, Judy wasn't overly focused on Isaac or Kaitlyn. Reality had hit the woman square in the heart. "Do you have everything?"

"Probably too much."

"How long do you think you'll be gone?" Both Judy and Ramone were wringing their hands, knowing the dangers to be faced beyond Sanctuary.

She'd just shrug as if they were discussing the weather. "However long it takes."

Cue the waterworks. From the way her family started crying and holding her, she could have saved the money spent ruining the armor. The two could have done it for her. "Hey, hey, hey..you're getting me all wet." No need in trying to pry them off until they were good and ready to let go. Was one of those things that had to be endured for however long. "I've left plenty of times before."

"And you've been hurt before.." Sniffling, Judy would finally peel her fingers from Kiera.

Being very pragmatic about things, she wouldn't argue the point. "I have. It's to be expected. I really have go to now." Offering no 'see you when I get back' nor anything which might sound like a guarantee everything would be OK. Instead, each earned a quick kiss on the cheek on the way out the door.

[IronQuill]

A new morning has come and so began another wonderful day as Iago. The weather maybe gloomy and the streets wet and cold, but Iago did not let that deter him from being happy. What did was the sense of urgency and secrecy he needed to maintain as traversed the Royal District. He wore a long dark cloak to stave off the weather and keep his identity obscured. As he walked he pondered just how many times did he creep through these streets in the dark hours of night, away from prying eyes with secrets and lies hidden in his pockets. It was enough for Iago to almost sigh nostalgically. Those were the prosperous days of Iago the Spy, no more cartels, no more thieving, nothing but playing the game of power between nobles to his profit.

Before long, Iago turned a corner and arrived to his destination. A mansion, embossed in gold and built with granite, guarded by men encased in the hardiest armor the city artisans can craft. A domain truly worthy of its master, and worthier than any king of old. Iago approached the guards at the gates, one of them stepped forward and spoke through the grilled visor.

"Halt, what is your business on his Holiness's domain?"

Reaching into his cloak, Iago pulled out a badge bearing the Hill Family heraldry and held it to the guard. For a moment, no words came from either guards, their expressions hidden under their ornate helms. One then nodded, and turned around to wave at a window, likely a spotter that Iago could not see.

"Go to the foyer, wait there. He will see you soon..." The guard said, opening the gate for the Spy. "...We never saw you," He whispered just as Iago passed him. The man who entered mansion was not simple and clumsy Iago the Fool, but Iago the Snake.

As Iago entered the foyer, he could the distant music of a dark and haunting melody (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d3Q87ZOhxoE) playing from a piano in the other room. The music came up from the stairs, echoing loudly throughout the mansion.

Within his office, Archon Balthazar Hill's fingers danced across the keys of the majestic piano. He was quite the talented musician, and he kept his eyes closed while playing from the heart. There was a brief knock at the door, which abruptly paused his music. He sighed loudly, before calling out the person to enter.

One of his servants entered the room, notifying that the Archon has a visitor waiting within the foyer. "I see," he muttered quietly, before promptly standing up. Clad in royal clothing, he quickly fixed his suit before walking pass the servant and exiting his private office.

He descended down the stairs, noticing the familiar figure of Iago standing in the middle of the foyer. "Ah, greetings, Iago," Balthazar stated while climbing down the steps, his hand brandishing the banister. He took the last step, and approached the Templar-spy.

"Do you have any news to share?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow before placing his hands behind his back, clasping them together.

Iago sunk to one knee, one hand closed in a fist pressed against the small of his back, the other open palm, laid gently against his heart. A gesture of respect made out of fear.

"Your Holiness," Iago began, words pouring out like warm oil from a deep urn, nothing compared to the nasally tones his peers are so used to hearing. The Iago the Templars saw and the Iago the Archon knew could be no more different than the sun and moon.

"Iago regrets to report he has yet to unlock evidence that would incriminate the Templar Order. Nothing that would impact their credibility with the Divine Trinity. The Inquisitors guard their secrets far better than the noble slobs that plague these villas," Said the Spy. He looked up to meet the firm gaze of his Master. "However, I have one thing that may prove worthy for your ears."

From a pocket in his cloak he produced a parcel, and presented it to the Archon, reaching up with both hands with head bowed down. Intercepted and duplicated word for word, from the office of one Inquisitor Caleb Bartholomew, what the Archon Hills had in his hands was a letter address to the office of his counterpart, Archon Denaris.

"It would seem your nephew has risen in the ranks, you Holiness. Templar Isaac Hills has been been pegged for promotion. Not only that, but he will lead a newly christened seventh squadron...."

The Archon reached for the parcel, took it, but never opened it to read the contents. "Yes... I'm already aware of this, Iago," Balthazar slightly scowled. However, he did not scowl at his servant, because he was a very competent spy. He did scowled due to being reminded that his nephew - the son of his diseased beloved sister - is rising up as an Inquisitor, something that he viewed utterly despicable to the Hills family bloodline.

He turned around, walking away and approached a window to observe the world outside. The setting itself was still quite dreary with the gray clouds above, always threatened of another harsh rainstorm.

"Apparently, he is the shining beacon for the Templar Order, and best represents the so-called virtues of the Warriors of God," he spoke the last few words in a very mocking manner. He does not view the Templars as saviors of Sanctuary, they are simply corrupt crooks and barbarians. The Pilgrimage is one of the best examples to prove so, considering that the mistreatment that many of the Templars display to the average citizen.

"In the last memorandum you handed me earlier, Iago," Balthazar began, glancing back at his servant. "You stated that the squadron was full of overzealous warriors, religious fanatics, heretics, and corrupt scoundrels." He then fully turned around to face Iago, "Tell me, do you include Senior Templar Isaac Hills as one of these categories?" he questioned. "Do you find any faults within this man?"

Iago let out a low rumbling chuckle.

"Hmhmhmhm... Now that is something even Iago, a lesser man, can answer," said Iago. The spy stood straight, still dwarfed by his master, and looked to him with small smile. "Iago does not. Templar Isaac Hills is a very different man, a better man if you will. A cut above the dregs that the Order attracts to their ranks. Others join the Templars out of zeal not truly understanding what it means to be faithful; others join them because they know only violence and seek a purpose to apply their violence; then there are Iago's personal favorite, the ones who join because they see opportunity to rise above the rest of us through the Order."

"Isaac Hills is none of these, he is a truly good man, a rare thing in this World. Faithful without the zeal, formidable without the need for violence, trusting, and humble..." Iago took a deep quiet breath, relishing in how could speak normal again. "...But that is why Iago thinks that is his greatest fault. For Iago believes that Isaac Hills' own exemplary behavior will be his undoing. He trusts those who lie, rely on those who cannot stand on their own, and does not know when to abandon those lost. That would make him a most useful pawn."

Iago opened his mouth to continue, but closed it shut and smile almost apologetically to the Archon.

"Forgive Iago, for he has rambled. To return to your question, your Holiness, Iago does not compare Isaac Hills to anyone in the squadron...."

Archon Balthazar Hills listened carefully to his servant's report about his nephew, and his face deepened while forming a scowl. "So, it sounds like Isaac is the perfect little Templar, isn't he," he muttered angrily under his breath. This wasn't really anything new, even Balthazar understood that Isaac was an exceptional Templar warrior, unlike the rest of his corrupt brethren.

"Unfortunately, I do not believe those are strong faults, Iago," Balthazar stated aloud, but didn't turn around to face him yet. "He grew up as a noble, he knows how to deal with the political side of Sanctuary, and understands the conniving ways of liars. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he's already on to you, now," the Archon shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

"I would assume that under years of experience, he wouldn't rely on those that are weak. If he does put someone in charge that is rather... questionable..." The Archon already heard the news that Isaac will be appointing a weak-will woman as a team-leader in their next mission. Iago isn't the only spy that the Archon has, but he has proven to be one of the best. "Then past performances have shown that he has a plan set up in mind," Balthazar sighed heavily.

"And it is precisely the main reason why he does not abandon his comrades, is the reason he gains their respect. It is the reason the public respects and trusts him." He finally turned around to face Iago. "If we are to move one step closer to disbanding the Templar Order, then we need to bring down their precious shining beacon of light."

This time, Balthazar's lips slightly curl up into a small smile. "Even the greatest of men have the darkest of secrets. Once we reveal that dark secret... once everybody knows that he is no different than any other corrupt barbarian within that Order... the destruction of the Templars will be at hand."

The Archon's most duplicitous servant bowed his head. "Such is your immense wisdom, you Holiness. Your humble spy shall follow your example," said Iago.

"How shall Iago act out your will...?"

[SikstaSlathalin]

Morning came earlier for Orfiel than he expected. After returning home from the Tavern and playing hero to some young woman, the Crusader didn't have the energy left to spend training. He went right to bed, didn't even stay up to see if his roommates made it home alright. But upon exiting his own room and seeing their doors closed he assumed they made it back in one piece.

Just before dawn peeked through the windows of the upper floor Big O was dressed in a pair of loose cotton pants and his hands and forearms wrapped in soft leather strips acting as padding for his work-out. He grabbed a pitcher of water and a glass before heading downstairs to the home gym he, M, and Octavius built when they moved into the townhouse. Descending the worn wooden steps his bare feet slapped down on the dusty stone floor and he looked around in the dimly lit basement.

It wasn't a large room, 12 foot wide by 15 foot long by 7 foot high. It had a bench-press, some free weights, weapon racks and plaques, some punching bags, a couple of practice dummies, and at the very end a dented wall made of strong aged oak. Foregoing the other equipment the large man moved directly to the wooden wall clenching and unclenching his fists. This was how he started each day, while he did his prayers he visualized all his sins and the darkness of his soul plastered all over the wood and he would spend some time just pounding them into nonexistence. It was unconventional, but it worked for Big O.

He had woken early that morning, as was his daily ritual, going to the wall and praying to God and Gadriel for guidance and compassion. He would then run into little Annalise and spend the better part of the morning with her, relishing in her youthful innocence and excitement. It made him want a kid of his own, but the lifestyle that he carried with him did not allow for such amenities - at least not in his opinion.

As he opened the door to the townhouse that he shared with Marcella and Orfiel, he could feel the vibrations of punches being thrown against wood, and the resounding vibrations traveling through the earth giving Octavius a picture of what was going on, almost as if he was already in the room himself. He hadn't spoken to his roommate since their return, and only briefly the previous night at the tavern when the big man was walking out of the door and likely returning home.

So, he decided to make his way downstairs, his footsteps light and airy, so as to prevent any disturbance to Orfiel. He knew well that this was his roommates way of dealing with his sins and accompany anger or guilt. He felt sorry for the big man, though he was sure that Orfiel would wish no pity to be taken upon him.

It was as he decided to sit on the bottom step and allow Orfiel to hammer out his sins in the wood, that he deigned to speak, "You spend your mornings beating that wall and hammering away your past regrets, but you needn't worry about them. God is forgiving, and I can think of no one on his good earth that deserve his forgiveness more than you. You are not your past."

He didn't know if the big man would heed his words, but he felt that they needed to be said nonetheless. He would speak no further until Orfiel completed his morning ritual and prayers.

Each sin flashed before Orfiel's eyes as he relived portions of the shameful thoughts in his head.

For raping the Grain Farmer's daughter one night after a Daemon worship ritual. WHAM!

For feeling wrathful against my brother then striking him with his back turned. CRACK!

For being whiny after not being allowed by my parents to go to a social in a nearby town. WHUMP!

Each sin was recalled and each time it was met with a hefty punch against the battered wooden wall.

For wanting to kill Matthew for his selfish ways. THUD!

For calling Jerris a souless wretch under my breath after training one day. BOOM!

For wishing Iago would fall down a well and be removed from the squad for good. BANG!

Sweat was freely dripping from Big O's brow and coated his thick corded muscles.

For thinking I should've killed those three thugs like worthless dogs last night. BAM!

For lusting after the young woman I saved and wishing I had used my saving of her to weasel some sex out of her. THUNK!

For being jealous of Issac because he is able to be a father. CRASH!

A section of the wall came loose and clattered to the floor, as the Crusader turned to look at it he heard Octavius's voice coming from the steps. Turning quickly Orfiel panted sporadically staring at his roommate with eyes clouded by guilt and pent up rage. He had not expected to see either him or M so early in the morning, M likes sleeping in and Octavius doesn't hang out around the house much.

At first he felt the desire to rush the young man and shatter every bone in his face for daring to tell him what he need or need not do. Only himself and God would know that, but remembering his training Orfiel took a deep breath and began unwinding the scuffed and torn leather straps around his arms as he walked to the sweating pitcher of water pouring himself a glass. He removed the straps and looked at his scarred hands noting the new blood spots and signs of somewhat healed breaks deadening and turning his hands nearly stone like.

He digested Octavius's words as he took a few long droughts of his glass then responded his deep slow voice bouncing around the room.
"Thank you Octavius, you follow Gadriel's teachings of Kindness better than most I know my friend. But forgiveness needs to be earned, and repentance is how you earn it. " He held up he gnarled and bloody hands for Oct to see before picking up his glass again and moving to sit on the weight bench that was facing the stairs. "So how have you been young sir?" He asked pulling a small sliver out of his knuckle.

He could sense the anger and hatred emanating from the big man before him, one didn't need to be an empath to know it - the man wore his emotions on his sleeve for all to see during his morning rituals. Octavius remained in silence so as not to disturb his roomate any further, allowing him to regain control of his emotions.

"Forgiveness is not earned, but given. Redemption is not earned, it is learned. The path to redemption is learning to let go of your faults and sins - allowing them to fuel your drive to be someone different. We cannot erase our pasts, or our present, but the future is fluid." He spoke solemnly after Orfiel had calmed down. He had to be careful to not anger his companion, his strength was immense.

"I am doing quite well. Gadriel has seen fit to challenge me as it seems.", He calmly strode towards the wounded hands and took them in his own gingerly. He immediately began to pull the wooden shards with hawk-like precision before producing a vial of liquid from his jacket pocket; the liquid was a mixture of numbing oil and his own saliva - it sounded gross, but the numbing oil supplemented his own saliva's numbing qualities, producing a more potent and effective pain reliever.

He would then produce a vial of healing salve, which he carefully spread over Orfiel's knuckles, "That should heal cleanly within a few hours at most. Do not open it further." His tone was hardened, likely one of the only times that he would sound forceful.

He then stepped back from Orfiel and began delivering swift punches to the adjacent punching bag, his arms flashing in repetitive motions as his knuckles connected with the bag.

The big warrior chuckled softly as Octavius countered him with other lessons from the Archangel of Repentance then used his speed and skill to pluck every shard of wood from his hands before using some concoction to heal him.
"You are right young sir, thank you for the reminder and for the remedy. But I cannot assume I have been your only act of kindness this morning. Did you run into your little friend...Annalise? She usually brightens your day and children could always use a bit of kindness even simple acts of it." The man stood up from the bench and moved to some of the weapon racks pulling down a wooden sword and began going over some basic combat exercises against a stuffed dummy. Nothing that would rip his wounds open, but enough to get him ready for the day.

At the mention of Annalise, his eyes lit up with the same youthful exuberance that he held the previous night, "Aye, the little one enjoys following me and observing my morning prayers. She is growing swiftly, I only wish that she could be provided a better home. I love the girl as if she were my own, but she cannot have a place in my life; not so long as I have no promise that I will return to her." As he spoke, his eyes fell to the floor and his shoulders visibly sagged - making clear that this often crossed his mind.

Each time he struck the punching bag, he seemed to hit harder as if the thoughts were causing him anger. But, in a matter of moments he had ceased punching entirely, instead turning towards the small window to the cellar, and staring towards the sky in silence.

O's heart both gladdened and saddened as he watched the young man's reaction to mentioning the little girl. He knew of Octavius's affections for the girl and his desire to give her a better life. Slowing his bladework the Crusader watched his comrade stare out the window, being familiar with the red demon of rage himself, he could feel the other man's anger.

Placing the wooden sword back on the rack, Orfiel walked up to his friend and patted his shoulder firmly.
"Seems like she would be a good reason to come back. Like the Senior Templar and his daughter, I have seen many men with families overcome the greatest of the Beasts and take back life an inch from death. And when I asked them how they said because "I saw my children's faces and refused to force them to live without a father." Maybe little Annalise can do such a service for you." He removed his hand from Octavius's shoulder and began wrapping his hands in clean white bandages. He did this everyday after prayers, they kept his wounds clean, but the rubbing against his armor reminded him of his path towards Repentance.

Octavius smiled sadly at the big man's words.
"Maybe, but that is for another time. Come we must get to headquarters soon." With no further words the Blackguard moved up the steps from the basement to get ready for the duty day.

Orfiel nodded at his friend's words as he finished wrapping his hands and following the smaller man up and out.

[Yamimoon]

As he waited for the apothecary to return with his drug he though on what he needed to do to get ready for tomorrow. His list of errands was small but that didn’t mean anything. It would take time to complete. So as soon as he got the drug from the Apothecary he would have to stop by his house and gather his weapons and equipment to take to the Blacksmith. He needed to visit the Alchemist, as well as the cemetery. The Man returned with four bottles of Dolor. The man had a worried look on his face as he handed over the drug and accepted his payment.

“You know Letum. Taking this drug as much as you do is not going to bode well for you. You know that! So why can’t you ween yourself off of the drug?” The Apothecary said in a worried tone. The two weren’t comrades or friends, but he has gotten to know him over the two years that he has been visiting the shop, and knew he was not a bad person. Just addicted to a drug that will one day rob him of his ability to feel anything.

Letum only smiled at the man as he knew what to expect him to say. Every time he comes in he is asked the same question. Though he expected it he didn’t want to give the same answer that he always did. So he changed his tune just a little. “I did try to stop cold turkey one time, but I couldn’t handle the pain that radiated through my body. Though I have decreased the dose I have been taking. I though you would remember that I usually come and get the 30mg caplets.” He said with a smile as he turned his back to the man and began to walk away. “Thanks for your concern. See you next time.” He said leaving the shop to return to his house and get the rest of his things ready taking one pill in the process.

The blacksmith that takes care of his equipment was not a man that liked to speak with Letum if he could get away with it. Though his patron pays him generously for his work he just didn’t like the man one bit. So he just speaks when spoken to. Letum though trusted the man with his equipment. So there was no need to worry about the fact that the man didn’t like him. Letum only smiled as he handed the man his payment in advance. “I will be back in the morning to pick up my stuff. Also I would like to commission you to make be a bracer that can hold three vials of poison, and not have them break inside of the gauntlet. If possible I will pay you double what the work is worth.” He said as he left the Shop. He knew that he would not get an answer. He would just have to see if the craftsman would be able to pull it off.

Then he entered Alchemist store. The woman that run the shop was not one to ask question on why Letum picked up what he did. She knew the life of a Templar was one of peril, and had no problem supplying him with all the Poisons and items that he would need for his work. So when Letum entered her shop she knew almost immediately what he wanted and began gathering the required elements. “Your here a little early aren’t you Letum?! You just got back and now you are here. Did they send you back out early?” She asked as she pulled some Daemon’s Kiss from the shelves.

“Well you are well informed as always.” Letum said as he reached the counter. He knew that she keeps tabs on all of her best costumers. Especially if they were Templars. “It is as you suspect. I am heading out tomorrow, and need a restock on my supplies. Though I am going to need a couple of other things this time.” He said as he looked to the shelves and looking through what she had in stock. “I need my normal amounts of Daemon’s Kiss, as well as Snake Bite. Though this time I also need some two vials of Torpor, and three vials of the Catseye Elixir.” He said as he just waited for the items to arrive.

The Alchemist was a little taken back by his new additions to his order. She wondered what they were for, but knew better than to ask. So she just gathered the required materials and headed over to the counter. She had a worried look on her face, but still refused to do anything other than ring the man up. He was a strange one from the first time he entered her shop two years ago, but he paid well, and he seemed like a nice enough young man. She just hoped he doesn’t get himself in trouble. “Well don’t’ get killed on your next mission. Would hate to lose a good costumer!” She said as someone else entered the shop. She didn’t have time to brood over what might happen.

He chuckled at her as she left to take care of the next guest that entered her establishment. “We will see what Fate has in store for me. See you later!” He said as he walked out of the building. He could tell his order troubled her, but he couldn’t let it get to him. In his line of work there were no guarantees in anything. After making one more stop after he took all of his materials home he went to the graveyard. He walked to one specific tombstone and looked down at the name. Leon Sheilding.

This man was his one true friend amongst the assassins order. Yes they were all family, but this one man was the only one among them that he would have trusted with his life no matter the situation. If he had any emotions on the matter they didn’t show as he bent down at the grave and pulled out a bottle of Bourbon. He placed it on the tombstone. “Well old friend sorry it took so long to get here. I was out on a mission and couldn’t return home till now.” He didn’t show any emotion but you could tell that he was sad even though his face didn’t show it his eyes did. It was just the way they were trained. Emotions were a burden that they could do without.

It had been two years since he was forced to kill his best friend because the order sent him after Letum. Shaking his head as he didn’t want to remember that night right now he stood up and walked away from the grave. He only visited him on the eve of the day he killed him. Offering him some Bourbon his favorite liquor. He may be a cold blooded killer, and a fake when it come with interacting with other people. He was still human in many ways and hated how his life turned out. By now the sun was starting to go down so Letum made his way over to the wall that protects them from the beasts that roam the outer lands. He liked watching the sunset from the wall so he used his increased speed to easily climb the stairs be for twilight took over the sky.

Watching as the sun set and the sky changed from the normal dingy blue/grey to beautiful shades of reds and oranges. Not to mention the glowing shades as they bounce off the renaming clouds from the storm just last night. He was just sitting on the edge of the wall not paying much attention to the world around him.

Since the assassins wouldn't strike until night fall, and none of his fellow Templar's usually enjoyed watching the wonders of nature. He would have his time to himself. Though truthfully he never appreciated them either until he lost everything for his mission. Now he felt that this was the only place he truly belonged. Among the fleeting light of the twilight hours. Like clockwork the guards left their posts to give report, and he would be left alone for at least ten minutes. During this time of complete silence he just closed his eyes listening to the wind, and the sounds of the city life below. Taking his mind off of his own troubles and worries.

Though he wondered what his life would have been like if his parents would have continued to raise him rather than give him over to the assassins. He doesn’t truly remember anything about his life before the Order took him in, but he knew how the order worked. This gave him the knowledge that his parents didn’t want him for one reason or another. It didn’t bother him too much. Though he did wonder why they didn’t want him. He then cleared his mind as he just forgot all of his worries and relaxed.

He opened his eyes as the light faded from the sky. Giving a light sigh as he watched the twilight give way to the darkness, and the stars filled the sky once more. "Another sleepless night!" He said as he sat there as the night continued on. He would more than likely stay there most of the night. As long as no one bothered him.

[RedKayne]

"Daddy! I don't wanna go to bed!"

"Sorry, sweetie, but it's bed time."

"But I want to keep playing!"

"And how are you gonna have the energy to play tomorrow if you don't sleep?"

Kaitlyn pouted her lip as she walked morosely into her room in her night dress, her father herding her in. "I...I dunno. I can make more energy during play time."

Isaac chuckled as his daughter sulked towards the bed and attempted to climb up on her own. He went to pick her up under her arms, but he immediately stopped as her head whipped around. "I can do it myself, Daddy." He shrugged as she struggled for a bit, then nonchalantly gave her rump a lift to help her in. She gave him another look and sat cross-legged on the top of the covers, as if awaiting an explanation from him.

He tried to crack a smile in response, but he knew it was futile. "You're upset about tomorrow?"

"No, I'm fine!" She looked defiantly away from him for a moment, before looking back at her folded legs. "You just got back. Why do you have to go again?"

Isaac knew the conversation was coming. It popped up every time he left for another assignment, but this time she was actually right. Little more than a single day had passed before their reassignment, so the girl had every right to be upset. Sitting down at the end of her bed, he looked down at her softly. "I'm sorry, Kate, but it's part of the job. It's what I have to do to keep you safe."

"But why can't you keep me safe here?"

"I wish it was that simple, but it isn't. Don't worry, I'll be back before you know it."

"Nuh uh! I know it right after you leave!"

He sighed and reached out to brush a black lock of hair behind her ear. "Look, Miss Sophia will be here all the time to take care of you, and everything will be fine as soon as I come back. It shouldn't be more than a week."

"But..." Kaitlyn looked away from him forcefully. "Daddy...I get scared when you leave. I get scared about you. There's bad stuff out there."

Isaac tilted his head slightly. "You don't have to be scared. Your daddy can take care of that bad stuff no problem. He's big and strong, and he won't let any of those beasts lay a finger on him or you." He took her chin and gently turned her face to him, although her gaze still remained downward cast. "So don't worry about your daddy. You just worry about being a good girl for Miss Sophia."

She mumbled to her feet. "Why can't you just stay here..."

He paused for a moment, settling back and exhaling. "How about this: your seventh birthday is right around the corner. I promise that I'll be back in time for it, and I'll bring lots of big surprises back for you. How does that sound? Think you can hold out for a week?"

The girl kept looking down, but her shoulders settled in defeat. It wasn't what she wanted, but it was enough. "...Fine. You promise?"

"Yes, yes, I promise. Now get into bed, kiddo." He stood up as she climbed under her covers and tucked her in, her head just barely peaking over the edge of the blankets. "And you'll be a good girl while I'm away."

Kaitlyn pursed her lips in frustration. Well, better a little peeved than upset. "Yes, I'm always a good girl while you're away. Didn't Miss Sophia tell you that?"

Well, Sophia told him a lot of things. "Of course she did. Hey, you wanna know what you're gonna get for your seventh birthday?"

The girl's eyes immediately ignited like fireworks. "You mean you already have it?! Tell me tell me tell me!"

Isaac leaned over her. "A big hairy bear kiss!" He smacked his lips on her cheek as she giggled and tried to shove him away, and he made certain to rub his peppered whiskers on the side of her face.

"Stop, Daddy, that's not fair!" Her giggles finally subsided as Isaac withdrew, a big smile spread across her face that she tried so very hard to hide with anger. "What are you really getting me?"

"You'll find out when you turn seven, hun. I don't want to ruin the surprised." He stroked her nose, which triggered her to settle further into her pillows as he straightened back up. "Sleep tight. See you tomorrow morning."

"I love you, Daddy."

He turned blew out her lantern and started to close her door. "I love you too, sweetie." The door clasped shut, and he quietly withdrew to his room.


A couple days earlier...

“Send the Templars to eradicate the abominations,” King Mathias ordered, standing before the war table. The other two entities of the Divine Trinity, Elijah and Camilla, both scowled at their King’s order.

“Please wait a second, my lord, let us not be so hasty,” Elijah raised a gangly hand, attempting to halt his Divine King’s progress. “Killing them all with prejudice would a wasted chance for the scientific community. Have the Templars stop the Lycans, but capture them alive and bring them back here,” the old man suggested. “That way, my team can study the live subjects and thus further exploit the weaknesses of the Scourge in the future.”

“Or...” Camilla sent a sharp glance towards the scientist, wary of his conniving and manipulative ways. “We can have the Templars rescue the citizens of Hirod. The scouts have reported that villagers retreated into the mines for safety after the Scourge assaulted their town, but there was a cave-in and several of them are trapped down there. There should only be a couple of monsters over there - mainly a few Arachne, so it should be a relatively easy task for the Templars to assault the mine and save the innocent.”

“This is our only chance to attack destroy that group of Lycans, Camilla,” Mathias growled, shaking his head lightly. For the past few weeks, towns have been terrorized by a large group of Lycans, and now the public is beginning to fear about a rising Plague. “We cannot afford to waste this opportunity. If we attack the mine, the main forces of the Lycans will retreat back into the Plaguelands. Our soldiers cannot pursue them into that valley of death, and if the Beasts escape... we cannot prevent future deaths upon our civilians once they make their inevitable return.”

The King glanced back towards his royal adviser, normally trusting him in most cases involved with the Scourge Beasts, but not this one. “And it is too much of a risk to capture those monsters alive. If something goes wrong, our Templars will pay the price. We need to keep the stability of our lands, and send a message to the beasts. We need to put the fear of God back in them, and make sure that future attacks will not occur.”

“The benefits of capturing these monsters outweigh the ‘so-called’ risks, my lord,” Elijah stated promptly, raising a hand and brushing away a few strands of gray hair form his forehead before quickly readjusting his glasses. “We need those monsters alive if we have any hope to-”

“Since when did we value the lives of those abominations more than our own people!” Camilla sharply cut in, her bright-blue eyes filled with anger. “There are woman and children among those trapped! Are the both of you actually suggesting that we simply abandon them - in order to continue our eternal crusade?” Even after working with the both the Divine King and the royal adviser for so long, the Divine Lady still couldn’t believe the callousness of these two men. “Time is of the essence, we need to save those people.”

The Most Noble sighed heavily, becoming frustrated by the naive young woman’s constant and annoying interruptions. “We need to focus on the bigger picture, here, Camilla,” Elijah growled under his breath. “It is rather unfortunate, but this is reality. Saving the lives of simple villagers does nothing to help our cause.”

Camilla simply rolled her eyes when the old man stated that they needed to focus on the bigger picture. “And so instead... we have to rely on your twisted experiments to help our cause, great,” she angrily muttered in a sarcastic tone.

King Mathias was tired of all this bickering, but he had to agree with his royal adviser. “Sacrifices have to be made, Camilla,” Mathias has been involved with this damn war for far too long, and he already made several similar decisions beforehand. However, he could see the benefits of all sides.

Capturing the monsters would help study the anatomy of the Lycans, and the Church’s research may prove viable in the future against the abominations. However, keeping those monsters alive is a dangerous risk. If a Templars suffer even one casualty during this high-risk operation, that itself would be a travesty to the Order.

Saving the hostages is an idealistic goal, the people of the Borderfields already suffered too many losses. The Church can prove to the town of Hirod that Sanctuary is still there to support the people. By saving the townspeople, the grand city may gain some useful support. The relations between the towns of the Borderfields and the city of Sanctuary may prove fruitful in the long-run.

Finally, annihilating the monsters seemed to be the safest bet. Decimating the large force of Lycan monsters would secure the safety of Sanctuary and the Borderfield. Many future deaths of the innocents could be prevented, and the Lycans would think twice then to cross the Church’s path again, because it would take them a severely long time to recover from such a great loss.

“We will let our Templars make the decision for themselves,” Mathias declared firmly. This surprised both the Divine Lady and the Most Noble, but both of their heads nodded in agreement. They were not making any progress with these arguments, and letting the Templar Order decide is the best resolution to their current predicament. “Now that we can all finally agree, send words to the Templars. We have work to do.”



Present Time

Inquisitor Caleb Bartholomew slipped a couple of pills of Dolor into his mouth, trying to use the painkillers to relieve the throbbing sensation in his head. The headaches haven't been too troublesome before, but now they were becoming a bit of a nuisance. A lot of stress and lack of sleep must have significantly increased the painful sensations.

He turned to face the squadron of Templars, who were all clad in their battle-armor and standing outside of the front gate of Sanctuary. It was midday, but it seemed many of them were already tired and stressed about the upcoming mission. They barely had the time to relax before packing up and preparing themselves for yet another mission - one that the Divine Trinity themselves deemed to be of the utmost priority.

All of the Templars were carrying heavy packs, and clad in their respective battle-armors. Normally, they would toss their backs into the steel caravans, but they were still being currently used by the Masked Inquisitor and the Pilgrimage he was carrying out.

Since they lacked the resources of transportation - considering that the other squadrons were already out and about, the Templars only had a few hoverbikes. The floating vehicles were only reserved for the team leaders. The rest of them will be traveling with horses, ones raised from the city's stable. They gallant animals have been well-trained, and are clearly capable of long-distance travels.

The squadron was separated into five different 5-man teams. Three of the teams stood directly in front of him, with the other two standing near the background. The Inquisitor eyes glanced at the three team-leaders standing near him; Senior Templar Hills, Templar Volkov, and Templar Warren. The Senior Templar assigned the other two as the team leaders to push them even more to become better leaders. Generally, it seemed like the both of them needed to work on self-confidence - considering that the both of them ranked themselves at the very bottom. Hopefully, in this mission, they not only prove to everyone else that they are an invaluable member, but also prove to themselves that they can be outstanding soldiers.

"Templars!" The Inquisitor's authoritative and deep voice bellowed, so that the small crowd of twenty-five soldiers could hear him. "A couple days ago, I was notified that a large group of Lycans have assaulted the town of Hirod. Many of the townspeople retreated into the mines for safety. They managed to escape from the Scourge Beasts, but an unexpected cave-in has trapped many of the townspeople within, including several women and children."

He paused briefly, awaiting for the information to sink in to the rest of the squadron. Surely, several of them already feel the need to go out and rescue the innocent civilians. However, this mission would be much more complicated than they would have expected.

"However, the monster threat has moved on, and is moving back to the Plaguelands. This group of Lycans has been terrorizing the towns of the Borderfields for the past few weeks, and this may be the only opportunity to put an end to their madness and severely cripple their forces. If we move out now and head directly towards them, we will be able to catch up to them and attack. However, if we choose to head towards them directly, there is the severe consequence of abandoning the civilians. They will die without our aid."

Inquisitor Bartholomew paused once more, understanding that the Templars will be receiving a huge load of information and doing their best to process through everything: including the consequences and benefits of the decision they will make.

"Yet, it we do not stop the Lycan forces, they will make their return... and many more people of the Borderfields will suffer from their tyranny. We can bring back stability to the Borderfields if we eradicate the Scourge Beasts."

"But, there is one more variable I have to add. If we feel up to the challenge, the Most Noble has expressed interest that captured Scourge Beasts will be beneficial to the scientific community. If we capture the Lycan forces and bring them back to the city of Sanctuary, the Most Noble and his team can research the Beasts and further exploit their weaknesses in the future. Of course, there is a dangerous risk in capturing them and bringing them back alive."

"The decision on what direction we should take for this mission... is far too heavy to make for a single person alone. Templars, I want each and every single individual to come up with their own decision. Discuss your decision with your respective teams, and report them to your leader. Team leaders, once you receive the opinions on all of your team members, please report to me right away. We don't have much time to waste, before moving out."





Senior Templar Hills
Templar Volkov
Templar Warren


Templar Sinclair
Templar Greymir
Templar Orfiel


Templar Adams
Templar Santoro
Templar Renakovic


Templar Alexander
Templar Hoefler
Templar Tannhauser


Templar Vitraid
Templar Catriona
Templar Sanford

[Maya]

Team Warren:

The Inquisitors had given Kiera a lot to think on. There was no win/win scenario in her mind. The Templar's were spread thin as it was.

'With the lycan horde being an immediate threat to hundreds of people right now, we need to put a stop to these attacks on our people. The Lycan's should annihilated. Every last one. I absolutely do not agree with bringing any of the beasts within Sanctuary walls. We have the training and ability to kill them. The general populace does not. Should even one slip free, imagine the damage it could do. Most of us don't have to imagine do we? We have seen it with our own eyes.

I feel for those trapped in the mines. It breaks my heart to know we can not help them. But, the risk for higher numbers of mass casualties is greater to those being attacked in the Borderfields.

That is my opinion. Considering the number of people in danger right now, the longer we take to hash this out, the more innocent lives are at risk.'

[Yamimoon]

Team Hill

Letum was standing behind his team captain, and for some reason he was on Senior Templar Hill's team. From what happened with his progress report that Templar Hill's would not want to have him anywhere new him. Though on the other hand if he didn't trust him then this was the smartest decision. Like the old adage says, keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.

Just then Inquisitor Caleb stood before them ready to address them. As the meeting continued and all of the options were laid out before them they all had a decision to make. He figured that each of the options were handed down by a different member of the Devine Trinity. Well no matter on that he had already had his mind set on witch choice he would make, and since he was to report his choice to the team leader. He made his way over to Isaac. Since he was the first there he immediately addressed his superior officer.

"Senor Templar Hill's. My decision is simple. I would suggest that we kill two birds with one stone. Send one or two of the five man teams to rescue the town’s people. The rest of us head to eradicate the lycans. We are all skilled enough that this should not cause a problem. Once the rescue mission is complete then the others can join us in the fight against the beasts. Well if any of them are still alive at that time. But since this will probably not be an option then I would say killing all of the Lycans would take priority. The civilians will probably hat us even more, but showing our strength now would be the best option." He said as he then wanted to add his two cents in about the thought of brining a live lycan into the city.


“As for brining one of those beast into the city. I think that would not be wise. Having one get loose would cause a lot of damage.If they want to study one alive make a place outside the city walls. Then let them catch one. It is a fools errand to risk Templar lives to catch one. They are better off dead!” Letum said as he then stepped to the side to allow the others to speak.

[Chihana]

Team Hill:

Lorelei stood for a moment, thinking about what they had been told, before she listened to the words spoken by Templar Alexander. She agreed with the other Templar to some degree, but bit her finger in thought, before putting her opinions into words. This was going to be her first mission in company with Senior Templar Hills and his group, and she wasn't quite sure whether she should take this as an upgrade or degrade of her status. Was this a way of scolding her? Or a way to praise her? For now, she'd have to save those questions for later. When on a mission, one would need a clear mind to complete it properly.

"I agree with Templar Alexander." the young woman spoke out, not leaving her spot. This wasn't a one on one discussion, this was something the teams should conclude in unison, to avoid frustration building between the members "It shouldn't take three groups of well trained Templars to do either of those missions. Two should suffice for the Lycan mission, and one team should head for Hirod. We don't know how bad the cave-in is, so two people might be insufficient, despite strength or other special abilities."

"As for bringing a Lycan back alive..." she thought for a moment, before she looked back up at her commanding officer, her determined eyes piercing into his without a shred of doubt "We should bring one back. A single Lycan should pose no problem to three groups of Templars, let alone an entire city. If we make sure others are ready to greet us once we return, and we have the required items to capture and keep it under control, it should pose no threat to neither us or the citizens." she put a hand on her hip and sighed "But if some feel threatened by the possibility of getting a scratch, then let us at least bring a dead one back to be studied."

And with that said, she put her hands on her back, having said what she needed to say about the matter. Unless Senior Templar Hills was going to make a completely ridiculous decision, she didn't have anything to add to this discussion.

[TheDoctor]

Team Volkov:

How could this church girl possibly lead a squadron?

Jerris leaned with his back against the hover bike, his arms crossed uninvitingly over his chest. He was a tad irked upon discovery of his team designation; not from his squadron, but his leader. Volkov lacked any sort of backbone or demand for absolute authority, and her ability to decide and act was far below his own standards. Without a doubt, Isaac wanted to help her improve, but there were many better ways to bring her up to speed than hurling her headfirst into a leadership position. Sure, it may have been the fastest way, but certainly not the safest one. She was hardly ready to be a Templar, let alone a leader.

Along with that, Isaac put her on a hover bike. The noise the vehicle made and the figurehead-like position that Volkov would be placed in would draw unwanted attention from vagrant Scourge, putting her in much more danger than she needed. Her so-called "armor of God" was foolishly fragile, and Jerris was only slightly relieved by her decision to wear a few plates of leather armor. Even then she was a prime target, and any beast with a hint of intelligence would identify her as a leader on that bike and mark her in an attempt to destroy communications. She wouldn't stand a chance if any Scourge clambered onto her vehicle. Was Isaac trying to kill her?

Despite his disagreements, Jerris held his tongue. Insubordination only ever made things worse.

On the plus side, most of the difficult Templars were assigned to separate teams. His team consisted of mostly competent and obedient soldiers, the exception being Catriona. The presence of elder Templars would push her to succeed, and she was still of greater contribution than Volkov. All in all, their collection could be better, but it could be much, much worse.

His chest rose and fell with a short sigh. They would have to do.

Before Bartholomew had finished his briefing, Jerris already knew which option to pursue. A few potential civilian casualties were undoubtedly worth the risk of achieving invaluable knowledge of their enemy. The civilians that they would eventually lose to the war without said knowledge vastly outweighed a cluster of citizens trapped in a mine, for putting out the extra effort to capture at least some of the beasts alive could reveal a treasure trove of information about how the beasts operated...and, of course, how to most efficiently kill them in mass.

"It is my belief, Templar Volkov, that capturing as many of the beasts as possible should be our priority. Knowing our enemy to the fullest degree is the only way for humanity to gain the upper hand." Jerris raised his unfeeling gaze to her with a nod. "Civilians are always a sacrifice to conflict. If we can take advantage of this opportunity while we have it, we could finish this war." He tapped his foot on the ground before shifting his weight, his voice neither energetic nor predisposed. "The choice is yours and I will follow it as any soldier should, but try to put your ideals aside for a moment and consider the strategic advantage. Bringing Scourge into the city is hardly a risk. If we can kill them out here, we can most certainly kill them in there on the slight chance that they do break loose."

He turned away and looked upon the barren horizon before them, speaking more to himself than the Templars. "And if others can't, then I will."

[☆Catwoman☆]

Yelena was more than a little anxious as she stood with her fellow Templars discussing their options. Seated easily upon her ink black stallion, her gaze shifted constantly to Templar Volkov, not bothering to hide either her concern or anger at her foolish designation. She had not had the opportunity to question Isaac on the decision, but the noblewoman seethed. Yelena was working with Selenada on her leadership skills as requested but half a day was hardly enough time to make any sort of progress. Confidence was a skittish mare, requiring careful nurturing and coaxing; it did not magically ignite after one lecture.

It seemed clear to Yelena that Isaac thought this was some sort of game. Why else would he throw a completely green Templar into a leadership role that she was utterly unprepared for when her ability to command would be the difference between life and death for Yelena’s comrades?

Her family?

Yelena clenched her jaw hard and took a deep breath to steady herself. Her fiery eyes returned to her assigned group, discussing their options among themselves. Warren was a capable Templar and she trusted him enough to follow his command. Her team was satisfactory, with the exception of the hothead, Matthew, but out here in the field of battle when cooperation and trust were all you had, personal feelings toward a peer had to be set aside. When her gaze fell on him, it held no sign of enmity or disgust.

“I agree with Kiera that the lycan are the priority,” she said, looking at the woman. For her presence, Yelena was particularly grateful. “It is unfortunate, but the truth is that the lives of the trapped villagers will be given so that many more may live. It is a sacrifice I would make willingly in their shoes--my life is not worth that of the others who would die in the future should the lycan escape.”

“But I believe that, if possible, we should capture at least one or two alive. The rest can be wiped out, but the possibility of finding weaknesses that we can exploit in order to dispose of them more efficiently in the future should not be ignored based on ‘what if’ scenarios. There are plenty of Templars within Sanctuary to guard against a couple of these beasts; I do not believe it likely that they would manage to escape--I have more confidence in our ability and training than that.”

“We know the stakes better than anyone. If we are willing to sacrifice the villagers in order to ensure a better and safer future for Mankind, why should we be unwilling to risk ourselves for the same? Our scientists could unlock secrets about these beasts that could lead to the salvation of our people. Is that not worth any risk?”

As her monologue drew to a close, Yelena could not help but glance over at Isaac. Again her face grew stony, and it was all she could not to march her steed over to him that second and give him an earful. Brashness in this scenario would not be her ally, however, and so she held her position and her tongue.

But if she yet found the opportunity to discuss her feelings regarding Selenada’s placement with him, she would.

[Cfavano]

Team Warren:

"I am in agreement with Kiera that the Lycans should be destroyed. Their existance is a clear and present danger to all. If the Most Holy wishes to examine a scourge beast, perhaps we can collect blood or tissue samples from the corpses. While the civilians being trapped is certainly not a good thing, they got that way because they fled in cowardice." Matthew said, pacing slightly. "Our mission above all else is to exterminate these beasts, that is all."

Matthew thinks for a bit, "Yelena, Beasts are unpredictable, we have no means to capture one, we do not know how to sedate it, and how would we transport it? We do not have cages strong enough to hold them, and even if we did, the thing would be too massive to move quickly, and would leave us open to attack after attack. Plus, the thing would likely draw more beasts to us."

[Scottie]

Sophia let her eyes trail over the groups, raising an eyebrow at the choice of leaders. Obviously a message was being made. She snapped her attention back to her group when Letum stopped forward. She frowned at his response, it wouldn’t be what she would choose. The civilians should be their priority. To protect the cities, the people of this world from those beasts. If we leave helpless people behind what message are WE sending to the public.

Lorelei stood to Sophia’s left and spoke next, Sophia merely frowned again. Maybe it was something against her nature. Or maybe it was the idea that people would easily throw away innocent townsfolk in exchange for crippling the Lycan forces, she knew they would be back at a stronghold within months. Maybe it was that these townsfolk would have been first priority if they were the wealthier ones of the city, if they had connections, if they had money.

She dragged her eyes up to the man before her and thought for a good minute before speaking after Lorelei left the floor open. “Senior Templar Hills. I believe we should put all effort into saving the Citizens trapped .” She said keeping her hands clasped behind her back and her chin raised as she spoke. “If we can split up, then easily two teams can be sent to dispose of the Lycan pack while another helps those in the caves. But truly the townsfolk of Hirod should be our priority. We do this to protect those in this world from the Scourge beasts. We cannot leave people behind.” She said rather matter of fact before glancing at the others around her.

She turned her eyes back to Senior Templar Hills, “If we were to bring back one Lycan to this city. It would mean chaos. To bring back a pack. Alive. Would mean this cities ruin.” She said before dropping her gaze, signalling the end of her contribution.

[IronQuill]

Team Volkov

Iago was amused. Most amused.

The fearless leader of his Squadron seemed more suited leading a Church choir and more prone to shake like a shitting dog in the face of danger and intrigue. There was a certain irony in how pure she was compared to this tainted world and that tickled his sense of humors. Then there was the whole dilemma of deciding the next mission; Iago liked the premise, kill or capture a pack of Lycans tormenting the outlying settlements. Or save a handful of civilians who had the foolish notion to hide in a mine that collapsed during a monster attack.


Iago ponder during the journey of what to say. He could suggest capturing some Lycans and supporting Templar Greymir's argument for it. As the study of the captured scourge would no doubt further the machinations of his Master. Let the people in the mines suffocate, their lives were marked the moment they slunk into that pit. But that would seem too smart, too pragmatic, too cruel even for the likes of the Order's most humble Iago the Fool. He was a kind and generous soul, all too willing to save those stupid and in need. With that in mind, Iago rushed up to Greymir and Volkov and interjected.


"Iago disagrees!" Iago said, leaning in close to Volkov, or as close as he could get with on that hover bike. "The Order cannot simply ignore those in true danger. Scourge beasts will come and go, just as they always have, but we humans have only so much to our numbers. So we, as defenders of all people, should not ourselves to compromise the one principle that makes us Templars. So Iago would suggest that we as Templars go to the aid of the trapped civilians and help them in way Iago and company can. It is the right thing to do after all."

[RedKayne]

Team Volkov

Anna Catriona stood near the back of her team, listening over the instructions of the Inquisitor's brief of their next mission. She made a small scowl upon hearing the news that Hirod's townspeople were trapped in a mine. At first, she thought the obvious objective was to save the civilians before they suffocated to death; however, it turns out that the mission was much more complicated than expected.

She sighed heavily, slightly stamping her feet on the muddy ground in frustration. She thought deeply about the decision, and watched as both Templar Greymir and Templar Santoro made their opinions known to their team leader.

Templar Catriona was rather uncertain about Templar Volkov being assigned as the leader, but it was Senior Templar Hills's decision, and she greatly respected him and banished any doubts from her mind. She glanced at Greymir and Santoro. She also highly respected Templar Greymir, knowing that he was an excellent fighter and leader. Templar Santoro was also an experienced Templar, but she was rather cautious around his... eccentric... behavior. Regardless, she was surrounded by elite Templars, and that would push the young woman to do her best in the next mission.

"Templar Volkov," Catriona took a step forth, making her presence to the group. "From what I understand... the Scourge Beasts have been a menace since the Aeon of Chaos," she commented. Believe it or not, she did pay attention to the history lessons back during their Militant training boot camp, and is rather familiar with certain parts of Sanctuary's past.

"The Scourge Beasts will come back if we save the citizens. Even if we do slay all of the Lycan forces, I can't imagine that it will be a long-term effect to stop their forces. It would certainly put a dent to their numbers, but the Scourge always come back regardless. I agree with Templar Greymir, I think it would be best to capture some of the Lycans and bring them back to Sanctuary. Yeah, there are risks of endangered lives due to possibility of the Lycans escaping, but honestly, if we don't do anything to truly stop the Lycans or any of other Beasts for that matter... the lives of every single living being will always be in constant danger."

She glanced back at Templar Greymir, nodding at him in agreement. Templar Catriona made her decision, but wondered what the majority of the squadron will decide.

"The citizens in Hirod's mine may die... but if we are successful with our mission... they will not die in vain."



Senior Templar Hills

The Senior Templar stood silently after the Inquisitor's briefing, before turning around to face his five-man team. It was a rather interesting group: the newly transferred Sinclair, the bloodthirsty and suspicious Alexander, the lonely but aggressive Adams, and the goofy but focused Vitraid.

He listened to his group's responses, after hearing everybody's collective thoughts, the Senior Templar formed a deep frown. He was honestly unhappy about their decisions, but he does understand their perspectives. They were focused upon going after the Lycans and slaying them, instead of rescuing the townspeople trapped in the mine. Only Templar Adams spoke up and revealed her thoughts, which the Senior Templar nodded once with gratitude.

Despite his own personal disagreement, he will - of course - report to the Inquisitor with the truthful opinions and will do nothing to distort the decision-making process. However, he will speak his own thoughts aloud, regardless if it changes anyone's opinions.

"Well, to be perfectly honest," Isaac began, looking around the group. "I disagree with many of you," he spoke out, announcing his decision. "We are the Templars... the Warriors of God... and it is our objective to protect His people. Women and children are suffering in that mine, and in my good conscience, I cannot simply make the decision to abandon them. We must do our best to save those people, even if we miss the opportunity to slay those Lycans."

The Senior Templar's eyes glanced back and forth between his group members. "I understand that they may come back in the future... but we will be ready for them. Remember, we will have a brand new squadron of Templars. While we may not have put a dent to their numbers... our own is still increasing significantly. Do not doubt your abilities, we will be able to protect the citizens of the Borderfields when the time comes."

"Not only that, but Hirod's people already distrust the city of Sanctuary. If we actually do abandon their people... then we burn down one of the few bridges left we have. Our relationship with that town is destroyed, and the consequence could be more dire than expected. They control the flow of ore for the city of Sanctuary... with that flow cut-off, our weapon and armor products will be significantly more limited. Imagine, in the future, trying to fight a vampire or lamia with only your bare fists and casual clothing?" he expressed himself. This possibility may be an extreme, but the truth of the ore's flow cannot be denied. Once the people of Hirod discover that Sanctuary did not save its people, they will more than likely dissolve any negotiations they had.

"We only hurt ourselves, if we do not save those people."

He gave little thought to the third and last possibility. From his perspective, the risk of capturing the Lycans and bringing them back to Sanctuary was not worth it to discover any possible exploits. The scientists under the Most Noble's command may discover an exploit that might turn the tables against the Lycans... but then they may only discover something minor... or worse, discover nothing at all.

The Senior Templar turns around, ready to report to the Inquisitor unless anybody else had any final words to say.

[Chihana]

Lorelei bit her lip as she listened to the thoughts of her commanding officer. She hadn't thought about the situation in Hirod through, she now understood, but that was not what puzzled her the most. Could it really be? Had she forgotten what a Templar was, in the search of reaching her own goal? She looked slightly down, ashamed of her own realization. But there was no time for that. If Senior Templar Hills were going to report, she had to intervene before hand. She couldn't just let him report without putting in her new perspective on the matter.

"Sir! I retract my statement from before. I realize I hadn't thought the situation through properly, therefore my opinion shouldn't be accounted for. I'd like to restate my opinion, if that's alright." Lorelei's head was spinning. None of these scenarios were for the better, but Hills was right. If they only hunted monsters and never stopped to save their own, they'd soon have none left to protect. But what about the Lycans? She had to agree that the man was right, though she once again felt a bitter sting of shame by the thought. They had Blackguards, Paladins and so on, and though they weren't monsters compared to these beasts, they were still freaks compared to ordinary men. And if they couldn't protect their city from a group of Lycans or other beings in the future, how could they expect to be able to slay the beasts now?

"I'd like to save the people of Hirod. If possible." she finally said, lifting her head and meeting Senior Templar Hills' gaze "And that is my final stay. I won't change my mind again." this wasn't just a statement. That was a promise. She wasn't easily persuaded, but the officer had had fine arguments, ones that she couldn't disagree with. And part of being a proper Templar - a proper human being - was admitting when you were wrong.

[Maya]

Kiera didn't want to be agreed with so much as for them to make the right decision. Defining what the right decision was is the problem.

"We don't have the luxury of sitting here and debating this any longer. Each second that passes, someone in the mines is dying ..someone in the path of the lycan horde is dying. To be honest, I don't give a fuck about catching a lycan to drag back for some higher up to play with while letting our people suffocate or get torn to shreds. He can go catch the creature his own damn self or wait until we're not knee deep in a bloody fight to get his 'toys'."

Letting those trapped in the mines die sat like a boulder in her stomach. They needed help and they needed it hours ago. If the lycans were attacking civilians in the borderfields as well, then they were in a lose/lose situation. Precious seconds were ticking away and Kiera felt as if they didn't understand the urgency of the matter. Knowing this, she'd offer up her final thoughts.

"This entire squadron needs to get their ass in motion or, by the time we get to wherever we decide to go, there will be no one left to save. So, ask yourselves this, when you look back on this battle later, what will you regret the most? Ignoring those trying to claw their way out of a cave in? Those desperately seeking refuge from the scourge beasts? Or disappointing the Most Noble because he won't get a toy to poke at? Seems pretty straight forward to me the Most Noble is out of luck. I can see where studying the lycans alive could be useful at some point. But, not in the middle of the shit storm we have going on right now."

If she were to speak openly and honestly, at the speed they were currently moving, she doubted they'd get to the mines in time to save anyone. As was already pointed out, they'd be on horseback or walking, which meant a slower pace as it was. Her mind envisioned an hour glass with the sand draining ever faster.

"For God's sake, can we please choose one so we can get moving." Her eyes set on Templar Warren. As the team leader, he was on the hook to make the final call after hearing from the rest of the team. With so many opinionated team mates, he was surely feeling the pressure. "I trust in your decision."

[☆Catwoman☆]

Yelena was not infallible, nor impossible to persuade. Thus she listened intently as not only her own team spoke their piece, but as others nearby did as well. Some advocated for slaying the lycan, some for capturing them, and some--though fewer than expected--for saving the villagers. The most stirring voice for the latter was Senior Templar Hills himself, and Yelena would have expected no less from the tender-hearted man. That his argument would be so compelling, however, was unexpected.

Matthew’s comments rankled Yelena. While she had spoken in favor of abandoning the villagers to their ill fate, Matthew not only sentenced them to death but then proceeded to distastefully spit on their corpses by referring to them as cowards for running from dread monsters. She fixed him with a withering look.

“And the civilians should, what, have raised their pitchforks and torches against the fiends and gotten themselves slaughtered rather than seek safety and shelter? Indeed, perhaps the children should have pelted them with rocks! Or, better yet, their mothers ought to have just offered their babes up on silver platters and saved the lycan the trouble of a chase. But no, while you claim that we Templars could not handle transporting a few of the beasts for study, surely the poor townsfolk would have fared better attempting to hold their own rather than fleeing in the face of certain death.”

The word imbecile was not spoken, but undoubtedly felt as the noblewoman diverted her fiery gaze.

Kiera strongly urged them to make a decision, and Renakovic couldn’t have agreed more. But when so many Templars were congregated and tasked with making a decision with heavy ramifications no matter the choice, it was difficult to rush the process. Yelena did not say so out loud, but asking that your peers make a rushed decision when the sentence was between life or death for innocents was not necessarily wise, though understandable given the unfortunate circumstances.

And so once again Yelena found herself pondering her own opinion on the matter, one that seemed to morph each passing second. On the one hand, Hills was right: Hirod was critical to not only Sanctuary in general, but to the Templar Order. Their ore and minerals were required for the armor and weapons that armed the warriors against the monster threat and made even relative safety from the beasts possible. If they abandoned the people now, that flow could be disrupted and the Templars’ peacekeeping ability crippled. Sanctuary would have to take back the mines by force, diverting a portion of the forces needed for fighting the true threat in order to fight their own people.

Hills was right on another account: the monsters had always been and would continue to be, regardless of whether or not they slew a horde of them today. But whose blood would be on their hands if they let the lycan escape, leaving them to grow further and become a graver threat? If not Hirod, then some other town would be crying against the Templars as they ever were, blaming them for their woes. They would save Hirod only to possibly doom another outlying settlement. Hirod may praise their name for their salvation, but other lips would curse them for not slaying the beasts when they had a chance.

Question was, would the town doomed by their inaction against the lycan be of any greater import to Sanctuary than Hirod?

Son of a bitch.

“I recant,” Yelena said through gritted teeth, ever wondering if her decision would be the right one. But what was right, in this hellish world they lived in? “Hirod is too important to risk the favor of. They already whisper ill-tidings against Sanctuary; to abandon them now would cause chaos. We cannot lose the resources their mines provide, and if they refuse to trade with us, we may find ourselves turning our blades against our own rather than the monsters we should be fighting. It is a distraction we cannot afford. Too much is already at stake.”

“We should rescue the villagers. We know the price of abandoning them to die; we do not know the price of letting the lycan go.” Had she not argued against operating based on “what if” scenarios when advocating for pursuing the lycan? Yet, it seemed, that was exactly what that course would have entailed. The ramifications of abandoning the people would be known and felt immediately; they did not know the extent of the damage the lycan would cause. Perhaps it would be crippling, perhaps not. But losing Hirod most certainly would be. That they would be saving innocent lives in addition to the more political goal of garnering favor was just a happy by-product.

[SikstaSlathalin]

Marcella had hurried home to pack right after her meeting with Senior Templar Hills. They were to be sent out again, not even getting the full week of promised time. An emergency requiring them to go out again no doubt. She always packed light. Heading out of her room she ran into O in their home most likely having been getting ready too.

"Ready to go already O?" She asked adjusting her bag as it sat on her shoulder.

Dressed in his black crusader armor and about to strap on his sword Orfiel ran into his young friend and nodded slowly attaching his blade to his belt.
"Yes, I just need to pick up my helm from the local blacksmith, a beast managed to put both a dent and a crack in it in our last mission. Walk with me." The big man rumbled as he easily lifted his heavier bag up and tossed it over his shoulder.

"Of course." She replied as they headed out of the door and down toward the blacksmith that O always went to for his weapon's repairs. While most of the Templars tended toward a heavier armor. Marcella had always favored the flexibility gained from wearing leather armor. It wasn't the best protection, but she'd customized hers with some metal plates in a few strategic places, keeping the flexibility in the process. Plus she'd always been annoyed with the clanking sound of walking while wearing so much leather. Which also didn't help with the stealthy nature of her job as a scout.

"You left the tavern early last night O." She said as they walked.

Big O nodded keeping his longer stride under control so M wouldn't need to scramble to keep up. He was never one for carousing into the night. He had enough of that with his Daemon worshiping heathen of a family.

"Yes, well you left to chat up one of the hunky men you females like in our unit." He smirked lightly nudging M a little before continuing. "And I didn't see anyone else worth bothering with, besides the Lord needed me elsewhere. I stopped some men from raping a woman last night." The big man said this all so matter-of-factly anyone not used to him wouldn't know if he was joking or not.

Marcella looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "It is always important to follow the Lord's call." She settled on a simple response as they walked. She was quiet and appeared lost in her thoughts, but that's what she appreciated about O. They could just walk together without a lot of conversation if needed or talk about the scripture. She walked quietly behind him still lost in thoughts over her meeting with Senior Templar Hills. Part of her wondered if she made the wrong decision by refusing the offer of leadership.

As Big O and Little M arrived at the Blacksmiths the Crusader noticed the man in a debate with a costumer about the price of a blade, not wishing to interrupt he settled back on his legs and waited his black armor glistening lightly in the sun. Looking back he saw M's eyes squinted lightly as she tend to do when she was lost in thought. The big man usually let her be in her thoughts, but something felt off about her eyes this time.

"Is something wrong M? Your eyes seem off."

"No nothing's wrong O." She said as they sat there waiting for the Blacksmith to be free. "I'm just thinking about my conversation with Senior Templar Hill during my review. It made me aware to a few things that I didn't see before. Have you ever considered becoming a Senior Templar O?" She asked her friend.

The Crusader quirked his eyebrow at the woman's question. He had thought of it, and ranked himself at the top of the list for those reviews they had to do. He didn't get called in for a personal review though so he moved it out of his mind until now.
"Yes, as most Templars should someday, but I have a feeling the slow and methodical way I conduct myself didn't put me high on the overall list. What happened in your conversation with him?"

"I was....ranked number 1 by our peers. Senior Templar Hills asked if I would consider taking a Senior Templar position should one become available. I turned it down. I personally didn't feel like I had the proper experience for such a position, however, I'm wondering if I should have. It's clear that the squad trusts my judgement, even if I don't trust my own. So then shouldn't that be proof enough in my ability?" She asked turning her face to look at him while chewing on her lip, another thoughtful habit of hers.

Orfiel nodded lightly, he ranked her pretty high himself. But he also said she was too young and inexperienced to be given a leadership role right now.
"Well you need confidence in yourself before you listen to the confidences of others. If you don't trust your own judgment it could undermind every decision you make. You are skilled that is without a doubt, but more experience without the stress of leadership will benefit you greatly."

"I trust my judgement when it comes to combat decisions O. That's never been an issue. In the moment, I know when the decision is the best one." She paused. "That's what I told Senior Templar Hills, that in the scheme of the group I needed more experience as a Templar and that there were plenty of experienced Templar in our team who would make a great Senior Templar. But if you don't take risks O where is the reward? 'God helps those, who help themselves.' It was something my father always said. If you can't take the time to improve and better yourself, then why should God waste his time on you? What if I was being presented an opportunity to better myself, but I had to take the risk to take advantage of it and I didn't?"

It was strange for Marcella to be worrying over a decision that she made, a bit out of character. Looking at her watch, she realized why she was acting all anxious. It had been a few days since her last dose, which with their squad supposed to be having a week long break, she was going to use the opportunity to get some of the potion from her system as she'd been getting close to that point of too much. Now they were back on assignment, so it would have to wait until they returned and she'd have to find a moment alone at some point. Not now though. She could hold it together until it was really needed.

O nodded watching the Blacksmith finishing his previous business and looking at them expectantly.
"True, nothing ventured nothing gained, but such great changes are best done in moderation. Starting by leading a scouting mission or training exercise. Just like you did in training, I too trust your combat choices but a leader's job continues even after the last monster is slain and their squad is safe at home." He said as he walked up to the smith and pointed to his black helm sitting on a shelf in the smithy.

That was what she'd said to Senior Templar Hills, or near enough anyways. Hearing O say her thoughts from earlier made her feel a bit better about her decision. She nodded making a noise of agreement as he haggled with the smith.

O had the money ready to pay for the work, and even when the Smith tried to boost the price claiming "extensive damage not known at first inspection" O got his helmet back good as new with no more loss of coin than he expected. He quickly attached his helm to his heavy pack and turned to smile at his young companion.
"Well that's me taken care of, do you need anything?"

"No I took care of my restocking and my armor when we got back yesterday. There's always a chance that we'll be sent back out immediately, so better safe than sorry. Not to mention got to make sure your work's done before you can play." She smiles at him. "Shall we head down to where we're supposed to meet?"

The man nodded at the young woman then began walking to the Templar base. The news of such a sudden redeployment sat unevenly in Big O's heart. They were great warriors (most of them), but they needed their rest. Even the Lord rested after he created the world, surely they had earned at least a full day to rest.

But such worries were for around the campfire or in the arms of a lover. Idle and generally held in low esteem.
"So what do you think of this sudden mission M?"

"There must have been an emergency to call us back out so soon after just getting back to Sanctuary or that there's no other teams available. It worries me O. We shouldn't be sent out so soon. Have the beasts become so rampant that we can't keep them in check anymore?" She spoke as they walked.

O let out a deep hmm that bordered on a growl. She voiced his own concern perfectly, he doubted they were the only teams available. The Templar Order was large and strong, but maybe the Holy Three wanted to test Hill's ability as Inquisitor with this.
"It worries me as well M. Something in my bones tells me there is more here than just a routine monster hunt. Sadly that is as far as the insight the good Lord wishes to bless me with goes. I doubt we're the only choice for such a mission, maybe the higher-ups are wishing to test the Senior Templar's skill before promoting him?" The big man asked side stepping a couple of carpenter moving a cumbersome table through the crowded street.

"No," She shook her head as she stopped as well. "I don't believe that's it. A promotion seemed pretty set in stone. I think that the beasts are too many O." She looked at him seriously as they started walking again once the carpenters were out of the way.

Orfiel hmmed low in his throat continuing on the path to HQ, she had a point. But he never ignored feelings this deep in his bones, he would be on the highest alert he can muster until this is all over. He may not be a leader, but he would still look out for his comrades should the leadership fail.
"The beasts have always been too many, I remember many nights in the Black Mountains where I ran and hid for many hours because of them." This words fell out of the big Crusader's mouth with more venom and disdain than most believed he was capable of.

Marcella nodded. "Yes the creatures have always been too numerous, but for a while there it seemed like their numbers were steady. Now, however, there seem to be more beasts, more attacks, and more death. But less Templars to handle it. As a child I always wanted to be a Templar and now we're hated. It makes recruiting for people to be the Lord's hands difficult and means less of us to fight the rising tide of creatures." They were nearing the meeting location and Marcella could see the rest of her squad members already gathering around next to three hoover bikes and a dozen or so horses.

Team Warren

Orfiel let out a low rumble of agreement and bid farewell to M before joining the muster. Standing near Octavius, O listened to the orders coming down from on high. He was not pleased with some members of his group, but Octavius would make a good leader. What displeased him more was the stark win/lose scenario they were being presented with. No matter what innocents died when they shouldn't and their leaders seemed blind to other possibilities. The big man could see a few right off the bat that would allow them to save everyone, but he knew how the higher ups worked, they were looking for the bottom line, not the best case scenario.

He would voice his thoughts even if they were for naught.
"I say we can do each task, but if we must choose...then I choose we save those trapped, use the civilians guards and willing volunteers to dig. I also must confess that proper planning will gives us the ability to split our groups up and still have tactical advantage over the beasts and maybe with enough silver line we could trap one."

[The Texan Queen]

Selenada could feel the eyes resting upon her as she stood beside the hover bike. She knew what they were thinking and as much as she wanted to say it didn't bother her, it truly did. Knowing her team and the other teams were looking down and question inner ability to keep her team safe made her stomach clench. As nervous as she was she knew she had to prove herself not only to Isaac and her peers, but more importantly, to herself. Selenada had prayed for guidance and confidence for hours on end and she felt that God would help her step up to the plate.

Her eyes shifted slowly over to Yelena. It was obvious she was peeved about something and Selenada knew all too well that it was about her position as a leader. She was thankful that Yelena was going to help her out but she wished they had more time to work together until their next mission. They only got to spend a couple of hours together and even though it felt like enough lecturing for a life time it was not enough to prepare her for today. Why couldn't Yelena be on her team? It would've been nice to lean on her and have her there to guide her. Selenada saw Yelena shifting and turning to look her way so she quickly looked away and focused back on the Inquisitor.

Of course Selenada believed they should go and save those trapped in the caves, because to her every life mattered, but she knew that wouldn't be the first choice of her peers and probably wasn't the safest. Going into a cave with only one exit would be dangerous and could possibly put them in a life threatening situation. Killing the monsters was easy, it was something they dealt with all the time, but capturing them? She immediately thought of Amittay. Why wasn't he here? She hadn't seen him since the night they returned from their last mission, it wasn't like her friend to not show his face at least once a day. She wished that he was here and on her team. Amittay was the only person she was close with out of all the other Templars. Selenada was happy with her team, she felt they were all great soldiers and really had nothing to complain about.

“Okay,” she cleared her throat and turned to face her team. Her heart began to race and she could feel her stomach clench. This was the first time she was addressing her team as their leader and she was extremely nervous. It was also the first big decision she would have to make with her team and she wanted to make a good impression as their leader.

“Thoughts?” She tried to make her voice sound authoritative but it didn't work. It just sounded strained, which she did not want. Jerris was the first to speak up and she was glad he did, he was someone she looked up to so she was glad he was apart of her team. She listened to his opinion and nodded her head as he spoke. She did agree that capturing the Scourge Beasts could lead to a great advantage in their war but the risk of getting close to catch one was weighing on her. She didn't want to put any of her fellow Templars in any extra danger if she didn't have to. If someone died or was seriously injured on this trip it would fall on her and she would never be looked at the same.

“Iago disagrees!”

Iago leaned in close, invading her personal space bubble but she knew that's just how this man was. She cleared her throat and leaned back, “Boundaries, Iago,” she said with a somewhat stern tone. Selenada might be timid at times but she didn't like when people invaded her space, especially extremely eccentric people like Iago. His opinion actually surprised her, she didn't expect anyone in her group to suggest saving those trapped to be honest. Anna pulled her attention away from Iago when she stepped forward and spoke. Like Jerris, she believed capturing the beasts was the best option and the more she thought about it she was starting to side with her two Templars. She planned on going with whatever Jerris suggested anyways, he was the wisest and the best fighter out of the five of them. But if they were to kill the beasts and the other teams did the same or saved the people they would miss their chance at figuring out these demons. If they attempted to save those trapped they could potentially attract Scourge attention. As much as she would love to save the helpless in the caves she knew she couldn't lead with her heart, she had to think like a leader and not like the church girl she was.

“Well,” Selenada took in a deep breath and slowly let it out as she went over her options one last time. “I say, with a heavy heart, that capturing the beasts is our best option. I would love to help those trapped, but,” she could feel her voice shaking so she cleared her throat and took in another breath before continuing, “but, we won't be able to bring this whole war to an end without an upper hand. I believe capturing those monsters is a great start. If you feel overwhelmed and can't rein in the beast for capture slaughter it, your safety is the most important thing to me.”

Selenada looked between all of her team members and smiled nervously. She wanted to say something to her team but she was fighting herself on it. The thought of saying it out loud to them made her stomach flip a million times over and she almost fully decided to not say anything but she knew she had to.

“Also, before I go report, I have something I'd like to say to you.” Selenada’s heart leapt into her throat and she felt warmth rush to her cheeks. “I, uh, know I probably wasn't the first pick as your team leader. I understand and respect why, but, I….I am going to be the best leader I can be. And I do hope I impress you all, along with myself, on our mission together. I want you all to know I would die before leading you down a path that was questionable.” It was silent. She knew they were judging her words and who she was as a Templar.

“Uh,” she chuckled nervously and sucked in a deep breath of air, “unless you have further comments or concerns referring to our mission I think I'll go report our team mission.”

[AngelWing]

Team Hills

Saul folded his arms over his chest, listening to everyone with his head angled down, a slight smirk still on his face. While this wasn't a situation to smile in, what made him smirk was Senior Templar Hills opinion. Even the others had stable arguments that one couldn't deny in the long or short of the situation. His own opinion, however, was one that was biased by his past. Which is why he let everyone else speak first; why he made sure he knew what everyone else thought before he spoke his peace on the matter.

As the Senior Templar turned to report, Saul was about to speak--before Lorelei spoke up and changed her opinion. Saul smiled a little wider, looking from his teammates to his leader with an even gaze. There was a reason Templar Hills was their natural leader--he could sway almost anyone to his opinions if need be. Not that Saul needed to be persuaded; his opinion hadn't changed since the options were given. He agreed with Sophia from the start; the citizens needed to be a priority over the Lycans.

"I'm in agreement with Lorelei, Sophia, and yourself, sir. We can hunt the Lycans and Plaguebeast all we want, but there wouldn't be much a point if we continued to lose citizens along the way. I'm all for hunting them--I'm a fighter and it's an adrenaline rush to me. However, it's not like there won't be another chance after this." He shrugged a little, smirking; he was always up for an adrenaline rush and fighting was a good way to satisfy that.

"This time, I have to say that the citizens come first. We need to protect them, save them. That's our job--that's what I signed up for at least. If I have to fight to do that, fine--if I have to find a way down into a collapsed mine-shaft, fine. That's what we're supposed to do." He uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands into his pockets, completely at ease with his own decision. "So, instead of chasing down a pack of Lycans that would eventually be replaced anyway by another pack, I say we save the people. Who knows, the next great Templar could be in that group, or perhaps a...'chosen' of God even."

He chuckled a little--did he believe the latter? Not really. But, it was a good point that needed to be made. If the Templars and Church believed in God so much, then they should have easily believed as well that a person they let die might have saved the world. The less people they let die, the higher the chances were of a 'chosen' living, Saul assumed. From what he could gather, God did everything in his own time and own way so perhaps it didn't matter what they did; but, that was why free will was something he did support and believe in. "Besides, fighting Lycans is a safe job, too easy even--yanking rocks out of an unstable mountain? Now that will be a hell of a lot of fun."

[Yamimoon]

Listening to what his other team mates had to say, as well as what Templar hiss said as well. It made sense that saving the civilians would be the best bet, even he admitted to that. If they got made enough to stop the ore trading with Sanctuary that all hell would break loose here. Even among the ranks of the Assassins. He knew that he would need to change his opinion, but he still wanted to kill the Lycans. He was fighting with himself on what he wanted to do more. Then he realized that there was a chance that there was something more to the caves than just saving the civilians. He decided to change his mind.

“Senior Templar Hills. I would like to retract my previous statement. Though I am more interested in killing the Lycans, you are right the people are more important. We are small in number this day and age, and we need to keep the human race as plentiful as possible. Besides you never know what might be waiting at the mines. So I choose to go save the civilians.” Letum stated to Templar Hills as he was starting to leave

[RedKayne]

All five of the team commanders reported to Inquisitor Bartholomew about the collective decision made by the squadron. The results were... rather surprsing, in the Inquisitor's opinion. He would have expected many of the Templars to take the safe option and simply annhilate the Lycans, which wouldn't risk the lives of the Templars by attempting to capture the beasts. He would have expected many of them to look at the larger picture, and would decide to kill the Lycans and abandon the people of Hirod to their fate.

Yet, he was pleased to hear that many of these Templars still have a bit of humanity to them, and are willing to travel to Hirod and save those trapped in the mine. A small smile crept up on his face, quite content of the squadron's decision. After the last of the team leaders reported and return back to the squadron, the Inquisitor turned to face the entire group.

“Templars!” Inquisitor Caleb's loud and authoritative voice bellowed once more, capturing everyone's attention. “The squadron has spoken, and we will depart to the town of Hirod shortly to save the lives of the civilians. We will need to leave quickly, every second is precious. There will be Arachne within the mines, so make sure you all prepare yourselves to face those Beasts!”

He let the Templars find the time to gather belongings useful for their journey, including – but not limited to: Catseye Elixir, which would be useful in the dark mines; and Holy Fire oils considering that the Arachne were especially vulnerable to flames. While the Templars were gathering their belongings, two lone figures stood at the top of the front gate and observed the squadron.

One of the figures raised up his cigar, taking a puff of it before releasing a small cloud of smoke from his lips. “It seems that they have made their decision, Lord Mathias,” the Most Noble stated. Elijah's gray eyes watched the Templars with a dull expression, “I must admit, I am rather disappointed.”

The Divine King nodded, watching the squadron from up high. “Indeed... but they have made their decision... I just hope they are ready to accept the consequences that will come shortly in the future," the monarch stated ominously. His bright blue eyes stared down at the group, as if knowing exactly what fate awaited them.



Chapter One: Discords of Treachery


Templar Theme Music (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ocXjr9nPnvg)


Three days have passed since the day the Templars left the city of Sanctuary. Traveling through the arid wastelands of the Borderfields was always a burdening trek – traveling around with heavy equipment called for frequent stops to hydrate and also eating their fair share of field rations.

They arrived at the town of Hirod, which surprised many of the townspeople there. The majority of them were astonished that the city of Sanctuary sent Templars to save their loved ones whom were trapped in the mine. There was hardly time for introductions, as the town chief quickly lead the squadron through the town and directly towards the entrance of the mine. He warned them that the mine has been unstable ever since the first cave-in that occurred a few days ago, and advised the Templars to be careful in their mission.

Inquisitor Bartholomew quickly made the game plan for this mission, considering that the townspeople trapped were most likely dying at this point by either dehydration or suffocation. They couldn't afford to waste further time, and needed to act fast.

Templar Warren's team would head in first, and would basically be the frontal assault team. They will attack the brunt force of the Arachne, and cut them down and ensure the safety of the rest of the teams.

Templar Krayton (http://orig14.deviantart.net/c0d4/f/2012/361/b/6/b616a881163a1db5ece39105ec010b94-d5pcltb.jpg) would lead a five-person team, which consisted mainly of strong Crusaders, including Templar Leviet. They will focus on clearing the large rubble blocking the corridors within the mine.

Senior Templar Hills would lead his team to support Templar Warren's assault against the Arachne, but their main goal was to search for the Arachne nest and demolish it.

Templar Creed (http://pre05.deviantart.net/68fe/th/pre/f/2014/049/1/d/allijay_websize_by_anathematixs-d7730nx.jpg) and her team will concentrate their efforts on communication between the five teams. Her templars will essentially be runners with messages for each team. They would also readily support any teams if necessary.

Templar Volkov and her team mainly consist of Chevaliers, and thus would be considered the stealth group. They will devout their time to find the trapped civilians, and rescue them by escorting the group back from the mine.

“Last chance to speak up and ask questions,” Inquisitor Caleb announced to the squadron. They stood near the front of the mine entrance, which appeared to be a large maw of a beast – leading them into the darkness of the abyss. Who knows what horrors awaited for them in there...

“Also, double-check your equipment, make sure you have everything you need before we move out.”

They had only a few short minutes left to prepare themselves, before moving out.

[Sonic]

For a brief moment Amittay Caesar remembered a story his mother had always told him before bedtime; that little tale about a young girl who had melted from the merciless heat. He tugged at the collar of his cassock and prayed laconically that he would not receive a similar fate.

Being born in the Borderlands, he should have known better than to wear his 10kg, bullet-proof, black heat-absorbing cassock, but recently, he had taken to wearing it whenever leaving Sanctuary, and what was that saying about how difficult it was to murder old habits?

Wiping sweat from his brow, he took a short glance at the members from the other teams. He had missed quite a lot in the days he had decided to stay locked up in his house like some demented hermit—he had been cross-referencing conspiracies about the Masked Inquisitor—and probably the most surprising revelation was the appointment of Selenda as a leader of her own squadron. Having just returned to the group, Amittay already figured that his teammates weren’t very inclined to have her as their leader, but they didn’t say this openly, which was probably for the best—more pressing matters were at hand, after all.

To be sure, Amittay would not have supported the plan to rescue the civilians of Hirod if he had been given a chance to voice an opinion. It was never good to lose lives, but it was even worse to allow Lycans to go about their own business—Lycans that would, without a doubt, murder the first people they saw. Besides, Templars weren’t police officers or fire fighters or whatever. The people of the Borderlands were not to be underestimated; even if they had not shown up, Amittay was confident that the citizens of Hirod would have found a way to rescue their own. Anyways, a Templar’s task was to push back the Beasts; not save several miners trapped in something of their own creation.

“Oh well.” He raised his arms in a shrug that didn’t reveal anything about what he was thinking. And, as per usual, doubt intruded on his mind like a foreign army. Was it really the worst decision to save these miners; the lesser of two evils? “I don’t know…” Amittay muttered.

He found a seat near a rather large boulder and sat, stretching one leg out and folding in the other. His bow was strapped to his back and a quiver lay just above it. Around his waist was a holster which held the revolver he had ‘stolen’ from his father and a pair of black gloves he would dawn when it was time to fight.

The warm aluminum of his sister’s medical bracelet seemed to throb of its own accord around Amittay’s wrist, as though imitating the heartbeat of its previous owner. Amittay found himself scowling though he did not know why.

Probably the fact that we’re near Arachne.

And then he laughed, quietly and to himself.

[Maya]

Was hard to say what part of this mission she hated most. The drudgery of how slow the days of travel would be or not knowing what they would be walking into once arriving at Hirod. The people may not be the most welcoming after they've seen little of the Templar's presence for so long. What weighed heaviest was the unknown inside those mines. It could be too late and they'd find no survivors. There was also the threat of attack, not just by the Arachne; but, any other means of beasts who could be roaming about. What if the people themselves were the danger? Paranoid much? Until she got a better feel for what was going on, hell yes. Kiera would prepare for as best she could for the various scenarios they might encounter while still trying to keep the load light. There was no way to cover all the bases.

As they walked through the city, it was surprising to note all of the people who'd taken to the streets to see them passing by. The crowd seemed surprised at their arrival. It was hard to tell if their presence brought relief or fear. A few people reached out to touch her arm while walking past. Whispered thank you's escaped the lips of weary faces who'd dealt with too much pain and loss over an unknown amount of time. With no way to guarantee the mission to save their loved ones would be a success, Kiera could only offer a smile and pledge they would do all they could to help.

Once the teams were gathered at the mouth of the cave, she'd listen as the assignments were handed down. Their team was going in first to clear the area of the dark creatures within and offer more safety to those that would follow. In some small way, it helped to know that Templar Hill's team would be providing additional support to eradicate the Arachne as well.

Without even realizing it, she stood there rubbing her hands together in anticipation not because they were sweaty or cold so much as the knowledge one should never underestimate the enemy. Especially when they couldn't be sure just what the enemy would be. She was more than ready to get this show on the road. Kiera wasn't one to believe in wearing lucky charms or doing a certain repetitive routine to help raise her chances of success and survival. Death would come when it came. Until then, you moved forward. Everything relied on how well she and the other Templar's had trained physically and mentally for each task that may land in their lap. Now was the moment to trust their training again.

[Megilwen]

Hearing the decision that was made put Marcella in an even fouler mood then she'd gotten into once finding out who the leader of her team was. The girl wasn't built for leadership and throwing someone green into such a position was as if asking for things to fail. Then there was the fact that she stuttered through what Marcella had believed was supposed to be a rousing speech to get the group's support. If anything it would bring down morale over raising it up. She had to give the girl some credit though. At least she'd chosen an option that didn't involve going to save the few citizens trapped in the caves. Whatever idiots choose that option enough that the mission was determined of an importance to save a few, she couldn't believe it.

Yes, it was terrible that some of the citizens of Hirod would most likely die, but what about the hundreds that would die as the Lycans continued their path of destruction through the Borderlands. It wasn't like they were just going to avoid the other towns out in the area, just skip around them with a sorry, please excuse us. No, they would ravage the towns. Killing hundreds along the way. So these few trapped souls were worth more than the untold dozens that would be slaughtered as the Templars ignored the real threat. Even IF there were Arachne in the mines, they were trapped in the collapsed mines just as the citizens were. There was a chance that the large spiders had come to call the mines home, however if that was the case, wouldn't the Templars have heard about the miners of Hirod going missing? Wouldn't the Arachne concern have already been brought the the attentions of the Templars BEFORE the citizenry went and got themselves trapped?

She glowered silently on the inside but kept her face calm on the outside. There was no fighting it now, so she should just go ahead and get ready for the fight. She dug through a small pouch at her side, pulling out a Cateye Elixir as well as a Potion of Vigor. Pushing each inside the gauntlet of her left hand, she wasn't ready to take either yet, but digging for them in her pouch later would take time that she might not have. With the potions pulled out and tucked away for easy reach, Marcella checked that her armor was fitted correctly and that her sword was loose in it's sheath, before unholstering the repeating crossbow and making sure it was loaded properly and ready.

It was strange for Marcella to not be going into the caves first...not to mention being on rescue duty. She was a scout, she was used to going in first and accessing the situation, but this time that wouldn't be the case. Turning her head she saw O off with Warren's team prepping his own equipment. Catching his eyes for a moment she gave him a small smile and mouth "good luck" as they waited to go in.

[TheDoctor]

Jerris was displeased. Displeased, yet obedient.

His journey to Hirod was spent in contemplation, contemplation of their squadron's decision and his placement amongst his present group. They had decided to pursue the villagers, a choice which Jerris found idealistic and regrettable. Every moment that they spent on the defensive was another victory for the Scourge. Clearly they were on the losing side of the war, and they had been since the start of the Aeon. Was it not insanity to do the same thing again and again and expect a different result?

In terms of his mission assignment, Jerris found himself disappointed. He was bred and crafted to serve as the Church's sword, not its shield. His skills were more properly suited for Warren's or Hills' teams, not for rescue missions. The reason for his placement was clear: Volkov's team needed someone properly suited for leadership. Still, Templar Hoefler and Templar Santoro were more than competent in terms of command. It wasn't a matter of battle enjoyment or glory from murder. It was a matter of futility, uselessness, vanity.

He didn't want to be praised as a hero. All he wanted was the warmth of Scourge blood to embrace his skin.

As they collected before the gaping cavern, Jerris assembled with his group in what little armor he had. A leather breastplate and his jacket were the only protection he required, for his superior hyperkinesis shielded him better than any armor could. Swift and efficient death by his blades' unyielding grooves walked hand-in-hand with his superb ability to create the ultimate weapon against both man and Scourge.

But as he stood behind Volkov, his blades remained at his hips, snug in their sheaths. He was no weapon today, he was but an escort. Yet whether or not he liked it, he would follow, for revolution was self-destructive.

"If you require assistance, Templar Volkov, speak without hesitation." Jerris shift his weight, arms at his sides. "Failure to do so could result in unneeded casualties."

[The Texan Queen]

Even though it was not the mission that her team had decided on Selenada was glad that the overall decision was to save those trapped. It hurt her soul to go against what she truly that was right when she initially made her decision to capture the Beasts and leave those trapped to die. She knew that the rest of her team was probably not as excited as she was to save the people, but she knew they would follow orders without complaint, hopefully.

There wasn’t much chit chat on their journey to Hirod and she honestly preferred it that way. She didn’t have to force herself to chat uncomfortably with people that doubted her leader ship skills and probably didn’t like her very much. Selenda was hoping that after the mission they would become closer but she wasn’t so sure any team bonding was actually going to happen on this trip. Selenda spoke with God on the way. Since she was ahead of her team members she could speak freely and the hum of her vehicle kept anyone from hearing. She prayed for a safe mission, to save all the lives in that mine, to come closer to those on her team and to have success in being a team leader. If she didn’t succeed as a leader today she knew that her reputation of a Templar would never recover and she would forever not be trusted and looked down upon, she would lose any respect her fellow Templars had for her.

“I can do this,” She reassured herself as they drew closer to the opening of the cave. “I can do this,” she whispered over and over until they reached the opening of the cave. She adjusted her armor; it was still uncomfortable for her to wear. Like Jerris she had minimal leather armor on, but it was still an adjustment for her. The leather made her skin itch and the straps rubbed her wrong, it felt unnatural and weird but she knew this had to be worn.

The mission that was given to them seemed to be the easier of tasks when compared to what the other teams were given, but she knew not to let her guard down. They had no idea what lied ahead of them in those dark tunnels and going in there for any reason posed a serious threat. She could feel her heart begin to speed up and her cheeks flush again, get it together. You. Can. Do. This. Jerris’s voice startled her slightly and broke her away from her thoughts.

“I will,” her voice was slightly hoarse. She cleared her throat and took a breath, “I won’t hesitate, I promise.” She knew he didn’t mean to hurt her with his statement but his words stung slightly, he really had no faith in her.

“Is everyone clear on what to do? You all have the proper equipment and weapons?” Selenada turned her attention to her team members, it was time to step up and lead.

[Yamimoon]

As always the long trek from Sanctuary to anywhere in the Borderfields was the only thing Letum hated about leaving Sanctuary. The daunting trip through barren lands. Though it gave you plenty of time to think on anything that might be on your mind, and for Letum that was his mission. It had been a little longer than two years since he had entered the order, and he has had no luck with killing any of the Inquisitors. None of them let their guard down at any time, an on top of that even if he kills one another Templar takes their place. It is a never ending cycle.

Knowing this only made him angry at the elders for giving him this mission. Forcing him to kill his fellow assassins in cold blood to protect himself. Granted he loved the thrill of killing and playing with his prey, but even he had a line that he didn't want to cross. With this last set he has killed a total of fifty members of his family, and he was getting tired of it. Especially since they don’t feel the same way about him. Though he guessed he understood why. They think him a traitor, and the masters aren’t telling them the whole story. Sometimes Letum thinks that the elders want him dead, and this was their only way of justifying killing one of their own. After brooding over this fact for two days Letum needed to get his mind off of this, and onto something else.

So placing these thoughts at the back of his mind he began to think on how much fun he was going to have using his new toy the blacksmith had made for him. Instead of just making him a new bracer he took the liberty of adding a new clawed glove as well. Making it where the poison that is stored in the bracer to feed to the glove into the fingers. Allowing him to inject the poison into anything he scratches. This was an interesting new feature, and he didn't hastate to pay the man. Now that he had time to really admire the craftsmanship the man had defiantly put a lot of time into the piece. Now he was not so sure if the man hated him, or he just didn't want to lose a patron to the Scourge. Well it didn't matter any way. The man had his reasons for what he did as did he. The time for thought quickly came to an end when the city of Hirod appeared in the distance.

Once they arrived he saw that the people had mixed feelings about their arrival. Though they didn't spend much time in the village. They were lead to the caves and their assignments were handed out. A smile formed on Letum’s face, as he and his team would not be helping with the rescue, but they were assigned to eliminate the nest of Arachne, as well as support Templar Warren's team. So now all he need to do was wait to get this all started.

[Maya]

A cool wind blew outward from the mouth of the cave, the breeze teasingly lifting strands of her hair, as she stood just inside the large opening. Many a time, she'd went hiking with her step father. He loved exploring around Sanctuary. Kiera could imagine how excited he would be to go deep inside a cave to find the wonders within. If only for the fact that many of them held dangerous creatures within their dark walls, it might be fun get lost inside one for several hours.

This trip was not going to be fun or easy. Arachne, the stench of those who've died and the cries of those close to dying; plus, only God knows what else lurked in that all encompassing darkness. While she would not outwardly admit it, Kiera also wondered about those in her team who should be watching each other's back. Tannhausser especially. The man was arrogant, egotistical and a complete pain in the ass. She didn't trust him at all. Didn't help that he was a flagrant womanizer who didn't have even any semblance of common decency as to not have sex in public. Ugh..made her sick just to say his name. Yet, they were teammates. She'd have to watch his back. Maybe, if he stayed in front of the group, it would keep him from gawking at hers too closely.

All those little aggravations the mere sight of that cretin brought to mind had to be packed away for now. There was a job to do. A dangerous one at that. After checking her gear, the idea of leaving the bow and arrows was mulled over for a time. If space was tight, lugging such long gear around might make it hard to move through the mines. Instead of off loading now, she'd cross that issue when there was one. If no one else had bothered to breech the threshold of the cave yet, Kiera would do so. Taking several steps forward as the light from the outside relinquished itself to the blackness within.

Somewhere in the distance, she heard people crying, moaning, begging for help, what might be fingers scratching at the rock ..perhaps trying to claw their way out. "Some live; but, the voices are soft. They're buried or very deep within. It's hard to tell with all the echoing off the walls." Would make pinpointing locations a bit harder. After a few more steps in, Kiera would lean her head to one side to get a better chance at discerning all the different sounds. There was movement as well. A movement along the rock in a different way than that of a human moving the stones around. This sound came from above. She heard it as a very soft tapping sounds at a quickened pace. Surely the other Paladins could hear it was well. "They're up in the ceiling of the cavern. Two..maybe three. I'm sure they smell us. They're coming this way." More likely still lay low, hidden in the black hole beyond. Big bastards must not be the least bit afraid of who was about to enter their domain next. "What do you say, Warren? Should we start kickin' some spider ass or what?"

Kiera didn't want to be a leader or a follower. Perfectly happy right smack in the middle of the pack. Few understood why she didn't reach for some higher goal. It was simple really. Protecting the people, maintaining the peace, being down in the trenches of a battle, that's where she belonged. It's where she felt most useful. Watching Templar Hill struggle to find that precarious balance between the ever growing demands placed on him as a high standing Templar versus finding the time to tend to the needs of his daughter often seemed to leave him torn on what was most important. She knew without a doubt, moving 'up in the world' as he had was no world for her. If they ever tried to lock her into higher position, there'd be one less Templar.

[SikstaSlathalin]

The journey to the mines was a long one, but one filled with a strong sense of moral duty to Orfiel the Repenter. He knew the Lycan horde would cause much damage, but there was that small ember of hope that other Templars or even normal citizens could make a difference. One must always have hope when one is the sword of God on this mortal plane.

Keeping his thoughts and worries to himself Big O was the picture of stoic confidence and purpose even when his fellow Templars seemed to darken with worry and doubt after each step. The Crusader knew some of their worries for they were shared by him, "Was this the best chocie?" Should we have gone after the Lycans and save many more lives than the few trapped in the mines?" It was a common part of human nature to doubt the unknown, but the faithful could take comfort in the fact they were still doing the Lord's Will and those they saved would live to see another day and possibly change the black mark looming over the Order a little, or make no difference because the Lycans kill everyone else. Such doubt was venomous though and did no one any good, the choice was made and there was no way to go back and change it. Something good would come of this though, Big O could feel it in his bones.

The group finally reached the mines and the tasks were given out, Orfiel was glad he would be on the team that would strike first maybe it would harden the spirits of his comrades. They weren't killing Lycans, but the spiderthings were as much Scourge beast as the Lycans were and they would die the same way. Pulling the blunderbuss off his back the Repenter load some silver scrap into the barrel and made ready for Warren's order of attack. He smiled at M as he caught sight of her and returned the "good luck" wish to her as he took point staring at the darkness before them.

[RedKayne]

Octavius Warren stood near the front of the squadron, only a small distance away from the mouth of the mine - the maw of the abyss. He closed his eyes, trying to focus his seismic sense to determine the location of the trapped citizens or any nearby arachne. He could feel small movement, but it was difficult to discern whether it was a simple rat scurrying through the mine, or an arachne lightly crawling across the ceiling of the cave. Of all the Scourge Beasts, the Arachne were probably the bane of the Blackguard-class Templars, since their quiet and light movements makes them difficult locate.

He reopened his eyes of determination, overhearing the words of Templar Sanford. He formed a small smile, looking back at her and giving a slight nod of his head. "I'm more than ready to start," he stated, before glancing back at both the Senior Templar and the Inquisitor, awaiting for either of their words to begin the operation.

When Templar Warren first heard the news of being appointed as a team leader, he must admit that he was slightly surprised. He wasn't quite sure what leadership qualities that the Senior Templar saw in him, but rumor had it that Senior Templar Hills appointed both Templar Volkov and himself since they had low-confidence. Octavius never really considered himself an unconfident person - but then again, he could understand the Senior Templar's perspective, considering that he placed himself at the bottom of his own ranking list. Octavius couldn't quite figure out why exactly he placed himself at the bottom - maybe it had to due with lack of confidence? Or maybe because he was more than willing to sacrifice his own life for every single member in this squadron? Perhaps he viewed himself as an expendable soldier, and perhaps the Senior Templar wanted Octavius to see his own worth and importance in this squadron.

Templar Krayton's group stood directly behind Templar Warren's team, awaiting for the commencement of the operation. The members, including Templar Leviet, would shortly go into action and begin clearing out the tunnels. They will have to be time-efficient and be wary of their surroundings, and also cautious so that they do not cause any further cave-ins.

At the center of the squadron, stood the Senior Templar. His face was quite stern at the moment, practically in warrior-mode. He stared at the mine entrance, ready to begin the mission. Yet, his mind was slightly distracted by the emotions and tensions of the squadron. Already, many questioned his decision to appoint Templar Volkov as a team-commander. One of the Templars already made her disapproval quite clear to him, and the confrontation was none too pleasant.

However, despite the opposition, the Senior Templar was firm with his decision. Perhaps he was the only one whom could see the potential within Templar Volkov, but he could easily see her excelling in this leadership position. The best way to grow as a leader, was to go through a trial-and-error process; along with surrounding oneself with the best of people. That is why Isaac placed both Jerris and Marcella under Volkov's command. Both of them proven to be exemplary Templars, and their leadership skills should influence Selenada in a positive manner.

Some may say he placing these top-tiered Templars in unnecessary danger, but the Senior Templar knew their capabilities and they will all rise to the occasion. Jerris himself may question his place within the group, since he is surrounded by Chevaliers that were given an objective to find and escort the civilians. Templar Greymir was placed in the squadron because he is one of the best fighters in the squadron, and thus if the situation starts going downhill with the appearance of the Scourge Beasts, Isaac can rely on Jerris to protect his team and cut down any of the monsters with ease.

Regardless, people will be unhappy with Isaac's decision; just as many people are unhappy with the decision to save the people of Hirod while letting the Lycans run amok. You cannot please everyone, and you have to do your best with what is presented in the situation. There will be benefits and consequences of every action they take, Isaac himself knows that cold-hard truth. The decision to take the mantle of Senior Templar cost him his wife. To decision to remain as a Senior Templar, and perhaps stepping up as a new Inquisitor, will cost him quality time with his daughter.

In the end, though, he was overall responsible for every decision he makes. Hopefully, he made the right one in this case.

The Senior Templar glanced to his right, awaiting for the Inquisitor's words. Once given, the Senior Templar will immediately assume command of his team to track down the Arachne nest and destroy it.

Inquisitor Caleb stood to the side, supervising the entire squadron. They were all prepared and ready to take action. Who knows how much time they had left, before the townspeople of Hirod paid the price?

His hand rested on the hilt of his claymore - which was strapped to his belt. Inquisitor Caleb has served in the Templar Order for many years, almost approaching the fifteen-year mark. One important lesson he has learned throughout this years: never become complacent. By letting one's guard down, even in a routine mission, is the perfect opportunity for a Scourge Beast to strike and rip open your throat.

At the end of the day, the Inquisitor was responsible for each and every single Templar, and he was determined to ensure that they all return home by the end of this mission.

"Templars!" he shouted, drawing his weapon. "Move out!"

The rescue operation finally began, and Templar Warren's team was up front. "Move, move!" he cried out, fearlessly leading his team into the entrance of the mine. The other teams trailed shortly behind them.

The mine corridor was dark, and nearly impossible to see with only normal vision. Very fortunately, they all have taken minor doses of Catseye elixir, ensuring that they all could see clearly in this darkness. They only had a limited amount of time before the effects wore off, and hopefully the operation would be complete by then. Otherwise, they will have to take another dose and risk the side-effects of the elixir, or rely solely upon the vision of the Knights.

Despite the disadvantage of his seismic in this scenario, Templar Warren was in command of a well-rounded group of soldiers. Orfiel's enhanced sense of smell, and Sanford's enhanced sense of hearing, could quickly locate any hidden Arachne. They will not be taken by surprise.

They stormed down the long corridor, and quickly found themselves at a forked pathway. Octavius looked back-and-forth between the two pathways, and quickly decided that the group needed to separate to cover more ground. Before making the command, however, Templar Tannhauser interrupted with troubling words.

"I smell trouble," he growled, before quickly turning around.

A large black body dropped from behind them, landing softly on the ground. The dark figure turned briskly, its sick grey-skinned body shimmering in the darkness. The upper-torso of the arachne revealed the body of a young man. His eyes were completely black, and his scalp was completely bald. The creature opened its mouth, revealing his horrifying mandibles. It acted quickly, and a sling of web shot out from its mouth and towards the group of Templars.

"Watch out!" Templar Warren called out.

[Sonic]

You could hear them, of course—the yells, that is. The cave amplified their voices like some earthly trumpet.

Amittay rose from the boulder he had been sitting on and traversed to the mouth of the cave. The sun’s light only penetrated several metres into the cave, the remainder of it—the remainder that housed his companions—remained sheathed in an intrepid blackness. However, as a Knight, Amittay could make out faint outlines, and decided that they belonged to his friends—either that or the Arachne which they had more than likely encountered.

“It’s too dark to see…” He told everyone near him. “My vision can only penetrate so far.” He turned to Templar Creed. “What should we do, ma’am?”

He was not itching to fight really. Out of all the Scourge Beasts, Amittay hated fighting Arachne the most. Not that they were difficult to kill—though that was certainly part of the reason—but that unnecessary thoughts flittered through his mind every time he knocked his arrow and took aim at their mandibles.

Amittay felt cold arms wrap around his waist, hugging him from behind, and he wondered if they belonged to his father. He rubbed his eyes, chuckled softly, and yawned.

I have to start sleeping, he thought.

From the corner of his eye he saw Selenada. She was rallying her squadron as best as she could, which was good, of course, but Amittay wondered if it would be enough. “Good luck.” He said through pursed lips, not quite sure if she had heard.

"Ma'am?" He inquired to Templar Creed again after a brief silence.

[AngelWing]

Templar Vitraid had been off away from his team, kneeling on the ground with his fingers touching the rock beneath his feet. He'd had his senses tuned since the moment they entered town, but only let them heighten once they were at the mines. The collapsed tunnels in the mines were worrisome to say the least--there was no longer one singular path, but multiple branches--thankfully that meant less of a bottleneck against them when they went in. They could block off the branches pretty easily and defend them better.

Saul's eye twitched a little, even closed. He could hear, in a sense of the word, movement in the tunnels. Different kinds of movement--panicked to stealth. Sorting through the louder ones to find the quieter Arachne was a bit troublesome. He was forced to block out some of the tunnels and branches of the underground entirely so he could hear over the silence in the other ones. He was more practiced at mapping the ground above, the ground that was ahead of him rather than beneath him. But, for the sake of his team, he'd push through and find a way to keep them safe and smiling at the end of it all.

Arachne truly were the bane of most Blackguards, even himself. He'd never say that he could track one for miles through seismic sense alone--though he'd joke about it day and night and give people a run if they tried to say otherwise. Just for the fun of it and to make them laugh. Even now in this dire and serious situation, he still had a smirk on his face. He enjoyed this part of being a Blackguard, because it was what he was good at and what he liked to improve the most.

He stood just as Inquisitor Caleb gave the order to move. He trotted back to his team, flexing his hand as a map of sorts echoed through his mind each step he took. He looked at their Senior Templar and spoke quickly, that same smirk still there. "I won't say for certain, sir--Arachne are a troublesome lot to be sure--but get enough of them together and they give themselves away." He chuckled a little, "They sound like rats, but I doubt many rats are moving in this mine. So, I think I have a general location of the nest. There isn't a straight path to it--lots of branching ones."

Saul shrugged, looking back at the mine as Warren's team went in. Frontal, tunnel, and then their team--the nest hunters and eradication team. Saul found that to be the most fun job, mostly because he liked the hunt more than the kill. Tracking something for miles over different terrains only made him better at what he did, and allowed him to be more confident when he offered help to the rest of his squad. He looked back at Hills, nodding, "What's our play, sir?"

[Scottie]

Concentrate. All she had to do was concentrate. She felt safe enough in that moment to close her eyes, trying desperately to feel any vibrations through the limited contact of her boots on the gravel. She didn’t want to lower herself to the dirt like her fellow blackguard Vitraid had done, not just yet. She couldn’t pin point anything, everyones footsteps jumbled together and she snapped her eyes open in annoyance at herself. She shook her head softly, letting Saul inform their team of any movements. She had already tipped all her weapons with her blood, the mere glimpse of the rust coloured edge made her calm.

A long thin red line was already present on her left arm, barely visible under the black strips of her armour. Staring dead ahead into the darkness, her eyes started to pick out the shapes of the rocks. She hated these spider ones. The other beasts would attack quickly, their heavy steps or rough skin dragging against the dirt was easily picked up. These ones liked to hide, they were quiet. She couldn’t always feel them coming and she hated that.

When Inquisitor Caleb gave the order, the groups all began to move forward. She already had her bow in her right hand, an arrow loosely gripped between her fingers. She wouldn’t deny the fear she felt deep in her stomach. To feel fear was human. It meant you knew what you were running into. If she was numb to this, she would become cocky. Risking her skin because she didn’t fear the outcome. Sophia didn’t fear death, death she would welcome with open arms. She feared failing these people. The ones who lived off the land, who struggled to survive in this world. The nobody’s, the commoners, the peasants. The fear of a day…one day when all that is left is one city. Those safe behind those walls because they could afford it.

Her eyes snapped once upwards before dropping back to her fellow blackguard. Hearing his words to their Senior Templar. She did agree with him, crowding all the Arachne together was their best bet. Rats. She had never thought of it that way. She raised an eyebrow at his smirk, she disliked how happy this one could be. Nevermind, her eyes flicked to their leader. What was their plan of action. If they ran in head first, they would be play cat and mouse with creatures that knew this cave. They burrowed out sections, it was their home. Unless they had a good plan, they were merely a game for these creatures.

[☆Catwoman☆]

After three days spent traveling across the wasteland and listening to the discontent grumblings of some of her fellows regarding their chosen task, Yelena was more than ready to stab something. Her foul mood was exacerbated by what had proved to be a rather heated and ultimately futile debate with Senior Templar Hills about Selenada. While Yelena had been relieved that the young woman wouldn’t have to lead her group against a small army of lycan, this safer alternative had come about by chance. Had the majority voted in favor of eliminating the lycan threat, Selenada’s assignment would have taken a very different turn, and likely for the worst. As it was, there was still plenty of time for things to go wrong.

Yelena was brushing her obsidian horse, Ebon Storm (http://stablemanagement.com/content/content/6806/friesian-stallion-1.jpg), talking softly to the noble stallion as she worked the coat to a clean shine. She ignored the hubbub around her, using the soothing task of caring for her steed to settle into the calmer frame of mind more suited for monster hunting. She was already geared and ready, donned in her lightweight but sturdy armor with her sword and revolver-dagger strapped at her waist and her shield slung across her back. Her cloak, unnecessary for this venture, remained packed away in a sack on Ebon Storm’s saddle. Her cohorts were likewise preparing in their own ways, some engaged in their own unique pre-battle ritual, some simply fidgeting anxiously, others staring into space brooding or questioning their mission or roles. As for Yelena, she kept her icy eyes glued to her horse and tried to push her doubts and anxieties from her mind and channel her anger into determination.

And there was plenty of anger to channel. It had been simmering since she found out about Selenada’s assignment as team leader, had built up until she nearly choked on it, had nearly exploded with what would have undoubtedly been career-ending vehemence when she had finally found the opportunity to pull Isaac aside and question his motive. But she was a noblewoman, extensively trained in etiquette and hardly willing to sacrifice her hard-earned position for even something such as this. Thus she had met with Isaac privately, away from prying eyes and eager ears, and spoken her piece while maintaining a surprising amount of composure, all things considered. Yes, it had grown rather heated when she had asked what the hell he was thinking, more so when she had stated bluntly that if he wanted to play games and toy with his men’s lives then the consequences were his to bear, and gotten palatably tense when she said she would hold him personally responsible for any Templar blood that was shed on Selenada’s squad, but he had given her permission to speak freely and so she had taken advantage of the opportunity. Isaac had held his ground, but at least he knew where she stood.

The last call stirred her from her sour thoughts. The teams were preparing to move, and hers was at the forefront. She stowed the brush and bid Ebon farewell with a fond pat on his thick neck, then moved to take her position. This was what she was trained for, what she lived for, and Yelena settled easily into the role of a warrior.

It was time to shed some blood.

A few short minutes later, Warren gave the command to proceed. Sword drawn and shield forward, Yelena followed her teammates into the black. For this mission, she was muscle; her enhanced sight did little good here when all that lay ahead was one turn after another. In here, Orfiel and Kiera were their guides.

And yet it was Tannhauser who first alerted them to trouble. The words had scarcely left his mouth before the familiar and horrifying form of an Arachne appeared in their midst.

Yelena darted to the side as it spit a web from its macabre mouth, pressing herself against the wall of the tunnel until that particular danger had passed. Then she charged straight at the beast, trusting in her hyperkinesis to combat whatever the arachnid threw her way and in her allies to help distract and redirect the creature. Yelena altered course at the last minute, jerking towards the wall and using her built-up momentum to jump off of it, seeking to land on the Arachne’s slick back by planting her sword, glistening faintly with a coat of Snake Bite, into its abdomen. If she could land a deep blow, the venom would immediately set to work and make the monster easy pickings for her fellow Templars.

[Yamimoon]

Letum stood with the others waiting for the order to move out. Even he knew that jumping into a cave full of creatures that wish to kill you was not a good idea. Especially since fighting the Arachne was like fighting an assassin who is hiding from its prey. A shiver ran down his spine at the very thought that maybe all of the Arachne might have been assassins at one time. Not liking the thought he pushed it out of his mind, and concentrated on more important things. He looked at the cave as he sharpened his hearing to make sure that they were not walking into a trap. No matter how good they are at hiding you could always hear heart beats, well at least of things that were alive.

But that was just the problem he could hear many things, this included the movements of his fellow Templars, and anything in the cave that was still breathing and moving around. This was also the down side to working in a group of people, though it was nice to know that someone has your back if something went wrong. He continued to listen to everything around him. Though he toned it down a notch as he looked to the others that were still around him. It seemed that Templar Vitraid went to the cave to see if he could pinpoint their location in the darkness of the cave. Every Templar class had their strengths and weaknesses. Though that information has yet to help him in his true mission, but that was not important at the moment.

Once the order to move out was given by Inquisitor Caleb, Templar Warren’s team made their way in first, and with that Templar Vitraid had returned to their side. He also mentioned that he may have found the nest, but he wasn’t one hundred percent sure about his findings. Though that didn’t matter. There was always more than one way to skin a cat. But his other reference that they reminded him of rats scurrying around was a little uncalled for since he thought of them like himself, but at the same time it mad a lot of sense. Especially since they were nothing but mindless creatures that killed for fun, rather than for a reason. So he shook it off., though he never showed it bothered him in the first place.

As he waited for Senior Templar Hill’s to make his decision, and tell them the plan for the extermination of the nest Letum took a bottle of Catseye elixir to take before entering the cave. He knew his sight was not as good as the Knight class of Templar, but with this at least he will not be relying on his hearing to fight. To fight like that against more than a couple of opponents was suicide, and he wasn’t quite ready to die yet. “So when do we get our chance to play with the Arachne?” He asked with an excited tone as he waited for the Senior Templars reply.

[Chihana]

Lorelei had spent the journey to Hirod in a conflict with herself. Of course she was happy and relieved that they had decided to save the citizens trapped in the cave in, but at the same time, she couldn't help but feel like they should have sent someone for the lycan threat as well. Sure, they had the training to take care of the lycans, as they had done multiple times this far, and she wasn't even considering sacrificing the people of Hirod again, but she still thought striking at multiple locations at the same time would have been the better solution.
But, she also accepted the fact that this was not an option. The senior Templars and inquisitors had already made that very clear.

After several days' journey, they finally arrived at the cave, the people of Hirod surprisingly helpful with showing them the cave. With her enhanced hearing, Lorelei had to hold her breath a few times to focus on the task handed to her. She could hear the Arachne that lured in the darkness, their insect-like legs against the stone floor inside, along with the stressed breathing of the survivors inside. But as it was for now, her group was not to do anything before Senior Templar Hills gave the sign, and while waiting for it, she swallowed a bottle of Catseye. Though she did not fear the dark, she felt there was a lot left to do before she was willing to die. And with the amount of sound that was bound to be inside the tunnels, with echoes and shrieks and screams that were bound to be in there, she doubted her hearing would do her any good at all.
As they waited, she stood still, readying her sword and claw gauntlets, not daring to rely on her bow in the small corridors of the caves. With the confining space of the tunnels, there was too big a risk of her shooting a comrade or a civilian rather than an Arachne. With her sword, she would know who she was striking for.

[The Texan Queen]

She could barley hear the Inquisitor's orders over her lots thoughts. In all honesty she was completely horrified for this mission, not if the mission itself but hey position in it. Selenada had banished all thoughts of fear and doubt from her mind, but she still couldn't keep herself calm. Her hands trembled slightly and her heart pounded hard against her chest.

"Move out!"

Selenada snapped mentally into gear.her shadowy hands steadied, her breathing relaxed and her heart resumed a normal pace. It was time to work and lead her team. She motioned her head for her team to follow her into the cave, her hand gripped the small sword on her side and she slowly entered the cave. Her ears immediately picked up on the suffering cries for help deep within the darkness, "it sounds like they are trapped in the very back eastern side of the cave," Selena whispered and changed direction to get to the taped civilians.

[SikstaSlathalin]

The stench of the Arachne was something one can never forget. Rotting flesh from eating people, a dank mustiness from living in caves, and the nose stinging bite of oozing venom. Out of all the Scourge Beasts he's fought Orfiel the Repenter disliked Arachne and Vampires the most. He did not like the constant skulking in the shadows they did and being a slower warrior he often looked like a lumbering fool when fighting them.

Lycans and Windigos he could handle, while still fast they were bigger and less jumpy. He could nail them with his attacks easier. But these twitchy spider things could dodge even close-ranged attacks and still drop down onto your head from the ceiling. They were liars and Big O hated liars, so when one of the grotesque beasts dropped down and charged his group spitting out a long string of webbing looking to ensnare the assault team and no doubt try to feast on them later.

O wouldn't have it though and it seemed neither would Yelena. The female Knight drew first blood by stabbing the monster with her poisoned blade. The creature let out an ear stabbing screech and forgot to snap off the strands of webbing. O reached his large hand out and grabbed the web using all his might to yank the monster over to him.

"GET OVER HERE!" He roared as the creature stumbled to the Crusader. Quickly slinging the Blunderbuss over his shoulder Orfiel drew his templar blade and ducked under the monster arching the weapon up and beheading the monster's human half before he spun it around and stabbed his blade into it's back alongside Yelena's. Once the creature laid still the big man quickly cut the webs from his hand staring through his bucket helm at the twitching monstrosity.

With a low growl he sheathed the sword and drew the blunderbuss once more.
"There is one monster down." He crossed himself before stomping on the Arachne's ugly black body continuing deeper into the caves.

[Maya]

The time for debating their task was over. The assignments were given while the clock ticked ever faster. As was normal for Kiera, she was ready to get this show on the road. The longer they stood at the mouth of the cave, the more opportunity the Arachne had to prepare their own assault. Prepared with Catseye Elixir, Holy Fire and an oddly shaped necklace made of two conjoined half moons, she'd chosen not to utilize the elixir immediately upon entering the cave as so many others had already partaken of it.

As the first Arachne spit out a web at the team, it seems everyone managed to avoid the snare with Kiera able to spin just out of the sticky trap before getting caught. "Slimy little turds..." Muttering softly to herself as Yelena and O took the creature to task. Of course, O earned a wee, little grin when he told the Arachne to "get over here" as he yanked the monster to him for the death blow. Was even funnier to see him storm of into the cave to find another one to beat on.

"Hey, save some for the rest of us." Seems there was no better time to check the quality of the new gear. With the silver sword in hand, Kiera crept further into the darkened depths of the cave along side her fellow Templars. The assault on the nose came first. A mix of Arachne stench and bat guano. Bats she didn't mind so much; but, they weren't the least bit happy with the 'invaders' or the damage done to their caves which had managed to stir them up from the deepest, darkest hideouts down below. Their use of echolocation at such an ultra-high frequency bouncing down and throughout the stone walls of the cave served to help gauge how deep the expanse before them truly was as it branched out in all directions. She wouldn't focus so much on where the sounds came from as much as where they did not.


As Selenada's team joined them in the cave, Kiera offered a nod in agreement along with another observation. "It's not what we can hear that bothers me. Not even the bats are willing to venture just to the west of where the people are trapped. It's like a dead spot. Makes me wonder if a few of our friends are sitting in wait for us to try and save the trapped villagers." Taking a few more steps closer only to have one little bat nearly smack her right in the head before veering up. "Shiiiiiit..." Not daring to raise her voice. The Arachne were sneaky, quiet little devils. They could hide so well it was down right unnerving. If they had a large nest and some little ones ready to break out of the egg sac, it might be possible to hear them wiggling as well. "Vitriad, which direction do you believe the nest is?" If all of the eyes and ears were honing in on the same spot, they might be on to something.

[RedKayne]

Templar Catriona awaited with bated breath, listening to the Inquisitor's order to move out. It didn't seem too long ago that the squadron was defending a town from vicious vampires - in fact it was only a couple of days ago. Now, here they were, ready to invade Arachne territory and save some innocent lives. However, the circumstances of this scenario seem quite... disconcerting.

There have been no reports from the town of Hirod that there was an Arachne nest within the mine. If there were reports, it would have been minor incidents where a stray Scourge Beast or two attacked the miners. Yet, apparently, there were several of the Beasts populating the mines. If the leadership of Sanctuary heard about this earlier, they would have sent troops to quickly eradicate the monsters. Yet, it seem too coincidental that the Arachne made the mine their home when the large Lycan force appeared and attacked the town of Hirod.

Were the Scourge Beasts working together?

She had no idea - and that was an extremely discomforting thought. They never witnessed the Scourge Beasts fighting against each other, so it doesn't appear they were at war - unless if those battles took place in the forbidden Plaguelands. However, the abominations never worked together against the human race... other than when a Plague rises.

Now that was even more discomforting... a fourth Plague on the rise.

Perhaps Anna was over-thinking this, perhaps she just needed to scratch that itch and smoke some Beatus. Perhaps she needed to get that euphoric high in order to think clearly, but right now wasn't the time of course.

The Inquisitor ordered the squadron to move forth, and she did. She quickly followed the footsteps of her team leader - Templar Volkov. Hopefully, the religious and innocent Templar can rise to the occasion and save those citizens. Hopefully, Senior Templar Hills made the right decision, and it won't cost any lives today.

She held on to that hope very dearly to her heart.

Templar Warren watched the ordeal unfold before him. Fortunately, both Templars Renakovic and Orfiel made quick work of the first Arachne, quickly killing the creature off with swift movement. There was a brief silence after the first kill, and now Octavius turned around to face the branching tunnels.

Templar Creed quickly made an appearance near the front line - informing Warren's squadron that the civilians were more likely at the eastern side of the tunnels - while the Arachne nest should be located near the western side. Octavius nodded understandingly, glancing back at the two tunnels before him. It would be best to split up his team, but he didn't like the idea of only having two Templars facing the brunt of the Arachne forces in one of those tunnels.

"Is it possible if you could spare a Templar to aid us in our endeavors, Templar Creed?" Octavius questioned, glancing back at the red-headed woman. Templar Creed quickly nodded, and made a very swift decision. She pointed towards Templar Caesar, ordering him to help out with Warren's team. "Outstanding," he commented aloud, nodding towards Caesar - he was relatively fond of his fellow Templar, and could count on him.

"Alright, this is the plan," he turned to face Templar Orfiel. "You will be the deputy team leader, Templar Orfiel," Octavius announced, knowing that he can fully trust his friend to lead the Templars. "We will split up the team into two separate groups - I will lead Templar Renakovic and Tannhauser through the eastern tunnels and towards the civilians. You will take charge of Templar Sanford and Caesar - and clear the path towards the Arachne nest," he stated his plan quickly and concisely.

"Now, let's move!" he shouted, taking both Renakovic and Tannhauser down the left tunnel, letting Orfiel's group to take the right. Templar Krayton's team quickly followed them both, separating their own team as well to help clear the tunnels.



"Lord God, give me strength as I face the darkness.
Allow me to be Your beacon of light in this cold world
Just as you used Metatron as your sword in the Holy War.

Lord God, lend me the wisdom of Phanuel,
In this time of need, countless lives are at stake,
I need You by my side, Lord God.
I will fear no evil as long as You are there with me, through it all,

In Your Name, I pray this to thee, Amen..."

Senior Templar Hills finished the silent prayer within his head, right before the Inquisitor gave the order to move out. The mission has begun, and everyone has their respective objectives. Isaac Hills intended to quickly eradicate the Arachne nest, before further damage can be done. The rest of his team awaited his order, but Isaac was silent for a few minutes. He wanted to give the first two teams enough time and space to clear the path for them - it wouldn't be wise to crowd the dark tunnels with several Templars. Accidents can certainly occur - as friendly fire wasn't unheard of...

Finally, with the small amount of time that passed, the Senior Templar ordered his team to move out. They ran down the dark tunnels, which seemed to stretch down all the way to the abyss. A shiver ran down Isaac's spine, and he could easily imagine that they were heading down to one of the first hollows - where the Daemon reside - according to religious lore.

Regardless, the Templar banished the fear from his head, and will tackle the darkness head-on. He planned on coming back home to the city of Sanctuary soon, and he will return to his beloved daughter, Kaitlyn - and no force on this world will stop him from doing so.

They came across the first Arachne corpse, and Isaac was relieved to see no casualties so far. Hopefully, all of them would come out of this alive, but this is a cold and cruel world after all - and the life of a Templar is an extremely dangerous one.

One of Templar Creed's templars stood at the branching tunnels, quickly informing Isaac that taking the right tunnel should lead them towards the Arachne nest. From there, though, they would have to discern the exact location of the tunnel and ensure that no more Arachnes would populate the local area.

"Templar Vitraid and Adams, I want the both of you to lead the group and discover the nest's location," he ordered the both of them. Their seismic senses should help them discover the central activity of the Scourge Beasts. "Templars Sinclair and Alexander," he turned to face the two Paladins. "I want the both of you to stay near the back and keep your ears opens open - if you hear anything out of the ordinary, even if its extremely small, let us know immediately. It will be your responsibilities to listen to any nearby Arachne and make sure they do not get the jump on us."

The Senior Templar turned around to face the right tunnel, "I will take the central position," he stated aloud. He was the most close combat-oriented person on the team as a Crusader, and so he needed to immediately jump on any Arachne if they appeared on the front or back. "Now, move out!"

[Megilwen]

Being one of the last Teams to enter, Marcella merely had to step over the body of the dead Arachne as she continued into the mine. Once she was far enough in for it to become difficult to see, she pulled out the Catseye vial and tossed it back like a shot. It took only a few seconds for her eyes to become able to see in the darkness as if it was bright within the tunnels as it had been outside. She listened to the various bits of information, including the location of where it was believed that the citizens were trapped.

Her team moved toward the eastern branch of the tunnels behind Templars Warren, Renakovic, and Tannhauser. With a slight twinge, she watched as O walked down the western tunnels which was where the nest was believed to be. Seeing his large back moving away from her made Marcella's hair stand on end, something causing her to get a bad feeling that only traveled down her spine. She turned her own gaze the direction her team was supposed to be moving, reassuring herself that her friend would be fine. However when she couldn't get the feeling to leave, she pulled out her Potion of Vigor, downing that as well. The stress quickly disappeared and she pushed aside her worries. Of anyone in her squad, Orfiel could take care of himself.

In front of them, the rest of Warren's team moved forward weapons drawn. The clink of their armor and feet on the cave floor seemed to be so loud to her. So much that she felt that the Arachne would be drawn from all over the cavern. Looking around with her sharp and scout trained eyes, she looked for another way to go. It would be a risk to go off the main paths as that was more than likely where the Arachne would be hiding, but she was hoping that they'd be drawn toward the noises more. Not to mention it was slower going following after the others.

There just ahead was a thin crack in the wall, that headed deeper into the cavern. "Over here." She said quietly moving to the crack. "We need to find the citizen's quickly, before the Arachne do...if they haven't already. We can move quicker and quieter on our own. Templar Volkov, I recommend we try going off separately and finding a back way to the citizens while Templar Warren and his team distracts the Arachne as much as possible." Marcella wouldn't disobey orders, but to her this seemed the most logical step to take. The quicker they got to the citizens, the quicker they could escort them out or at least protect them until the rest of the Templars got there.

[TheDoctor]

As Jerris entered the tunnel, the Catseye churning in his stomach and pumping through his tissues flared to life, illuminating the passage ahead in a comfortable violet hue. The scuffle with the Arachne had ended as soon as it started, and the teams were already splitting between various stems of the tunnel. Jerris's mind ticked as he analyzed the cave structure, racing to predict strategic positions the Arachne could already obtain. Any shadow, whether phantom or foe, was a hazard to their team's safety and survival.

Ah, but this wasn't about survival, was it? This was a mission on the offensive, a hunt for both Arachne and civilian alike. In a situation like so, caution required restraint.

With the damp scents of rot, maleficence and fear testing Jerris's nostrils, he navigated smoothly behind Marcella, his swords now drawn and resting at his sides. His shoulders and grip remained loose and slack while his back tightened, prepared to flip the tip of his blade into the throat of the nearest shadow. Although he was satisfied with the group's decision to at least destroy the Arachne nest, the entire situation stank with credulity. When in the history of mankind were Templars meant to be used as rescue crews? By definition, the Templars were created to destroy the Scourge, not mop up its leftovers. You're smarter than this, Isaac. Why are we actually doing this, when you of all people know that it is a futile endeavor? When has the life of a civilian been worth risking the life of a Templar?

It was not the time to dwell on the past, however. The present was far too demanding of a fellow.

Jerris halted at Marcella's suggestion, and he glanced down the fissure she suggested they traverse. It was certainly a tight fit initially, limiting them to a single-file formation with no room for mobility. The crack did open up fifty feet farther, though, to a wider chasm in which they could move with ease. Marcella's suggestion was strategically acceptable; by drawing as little attention as possible from the Arachne, they would undoubtedly reach the citizens quicker, even if the tunnel was not a direct route.

"I am in agreement with Templar Hoefler." Jerris sheathed his second blade as he peered through the crevice. "I suggest that as soon as we pass this fissure, I take the lead, for I am the only Templar here not of the Chevalier class." He glanced over to Selenada, his pupils wide and expansive in their dark environment. "If all of you use your stealth abilities to follow behind and alongside me, we can give the impression that I am a lone Templar, which will provide all of you with opportunities to kill stray Arachne focused on me with one swift attack. This is, in my opinion, the fastest strategy to succeed in our mission."

His eyes glowed with a marble hue, a side effect of the Catseye, as he twisted his blade in his hand. "Thoughts, Templar Volkov?"

[Maya]

The matching of Orfiel as team leader for the assignment was one she felt comfortable with. Between he and Caesar, both were men she could trust not to panic if things in the mines went awry, which was highly possible considering the stealthiness of the enemy they were dealing with. She'd take a swig of the Cat'e eye elixir as final decisions were made on who, what, when and where. By now, every Templar should know she steered clear of most of the other drinks or potions many used to settle their nerves or make life easier to bare, most notably those with addictive tendencies. A path of ruin Kiera had no wish stroll down again.

Orfiel took claim to the first kill and seemed eager for the next. It might have been wrong to smile over his exuberance; but, it was funny how he did a cocky swagger while forging forward into the abyss. As the three ventured further down into their assigned area of the dark, cavernous mines to flush out trouble, she noted how eerily quiet it became the deeper their steps took them. "If people are dying down here, why don't we hear them yelling for help?" Keeping her voice low as the hair on the back of her neck started to rise for some reason. "Are they all dead?" Or was this some sort of trickery being used to lure the Templars in as prey? It was a cave. Sound usually traveled easily through them bouncing off every hard surface. The surroundings often made it hard to figure out where the source of any noise was coming from; but, rarely was there so much sheer silence. All her sensitive ears could hear was the drip, drip, drip of water draining from the ceiling above. At least, Kiera thought it was water. The elixir provided vision; but, the vision it afforded them also misconstrued and masked what the real colors of their surroundings were. When her finger wiped down the impact point for the liquid, it became easy to tell this wasn't water at all but a something of a viscous consistency. Took only a quick sniff to deduce what it was.."blood".

Before she had the chance to tell Orfiel or Caesar, their was a sudden shifting sound from above and the broken body of a man, covered in the creature's webbing, digestive enzymes and already partially eaten, nearly slammed right into her after being thrown by one very sneaky Arachne. She managed to dodge out of the way by jumping over a low rock formation. "Heads up..no seriously, UP!" From the sudden flurry of movement above, they was at least one other. A mating pair perhaps? Moving into position to protect their young most likely.The question in her mind would become, how many of the little Arachne in that nest might be old enough to cause trouble if they managed to get out?

"We must be getting closer. The natives are getting restless." Noting the hissing sounds the creature often makes when riled. If they were drawing the creatures out of hiding, the group was doing their job to help give the other teams time to destroy the nest. Right on cue, one of the vile creatures appeared right behind them blocking their exit. It sported the body of a beautiful, blonde haired woman; but, it didn't mean she was beautiful in the least. Even as they tried to direct their attack towards the first threat, another dropped down on the other side, sealing off the channel which may lead to the nest as it went for Caesar. With sword drawn, she'd stab the beast from behind. It seemed to scream in pain; but, did not relent from it's desire to kill the man in it's way. Kiera was going in for a second strike when the third Arachne emerged from a dark crevice behind her where it had lurked patiently waiting for the right moment. The creature moved swiftly, grabbing her shoulders, yanking her back then sinking it's fangs deep into her right shoulder, pumping the deadly venom meant to subdue it's prey.

She could only grit her teeth as the fangs broke through flesh and sank into muscle. If Kiera lost focus, she could very well be torn apart. Being a Templar did not save one from having their head ripped off or their innards turned into soup. But spiders do not like silver. For whatever pain she may be enduring, the evil bastard was about to suffer much, much more. She'd rolled her sword around to point backwards, impaling the Arachne in the gut with all the force she could muster then twisted it around before yanking straight up to slice it's stomach completely open. Even though the wound was fatal, she didn't stop there..no, she pulled the blade free, swing it high and lobbed off the beasts ugly head which offered some sense of satisfaction.

With the rush of adrenaline, the venom now coursed even faster through her veins. It felt as if her whole body was on fire..her vision was starting to blur and her fingers wanted to curl into a tight ball as the muscles tried to tighten. Every breath became a little harder to take. With the Templar blood also coursing throughout her system, Kiera knew she was not likely to die from the venomous bite; but, she would certainly feel like death was at her door for awhile.

"Kill them, Orfiel. Do what you have to do.." This fight shouldn't stop because of her little problem. There was a job to do and it needed to be done. "Go..I'll be fine." She still had weapons. She could still manage movement to defend herself. They needed to tend to more important issues. As for her, Kiera needed to sit down and did so with a sturdy cave wall at her back to minimize the risk of another sneak attack.

[☆Catwoman☆]

Yelena moved as silently as possible down the dank eastern tunnel, trailing slightly ahead of Warren and Tannhauser. That the nest was sensed to be in the opposite direction was of little comfort; it did not detract any from the possibility of more Arachne lying in wait for her team. The Knight was dissatisfied that the situation had forced her squad to split, but pleased to be accompanied by Warren and, surprisingly, even Tannhauser. The latter, after all, had just sounded the alarm on one of the monsters attempting a sneak attack. While she was not fond of the man himself, she could not deny that he was useful in combat.

Unbeknownst to her, Yelena’s thoughts echoed the concerns Kiera had voiced to her peers in the tunnel behind them. She could not hear any cries or calls from the civilians they were meant to be rescuing, and this concerned her. She hoped that they were simply being logical and not calling fatal attention to their position; however, she could not ignore the possibility that they were dead, and that this whole mission would prove to be a lesson in futility. Another prospect--slightly less grim--was that they were alive but preserving the precious amount of oxygen they shared. The Templars knew only that they were victims of a cave-in; they were uncertain of how many villagers were trapped or in how tight of a space.

Yelena suddenly gestured to Warren and Tannhauser, silently calling for a halt. A few paces ahead, she could make out a large, dark lump strewn across the ground. Certain of what it was, Yelena nonetheless approached with caution, then nodded to the others, signaling that it was safe to move to her.

It was a corpse, a few days old by her reckoning, though the dampness of the cave had accelerated the rate of decomposition. Male, face-down. Yelena kneeled beside him and rolled him over, eyes raking the scene. Middle-aged, ravaged. His gut had been torn open, and his innards stayed where they had spilled as she moved the body. Her nose wrinkled in disgust. His mouth was open in a silent scream and filled with maggots. One eye socket was empty, its contents having already been devoured by carrion beetles.

Yelena leapt lithely to her feet as the abrupt noise of battle echoed through the mine. Though the noise bounced relentlessly against the smooth walls, duplicating the sound and making its source more difficult to determine, Yelena discerned that it came from behind them, most likely where Kiera and her team trod. The Templar’s jaw clenched, her fist tightening around her sword, but she knew they could not turn back. Their mission lay ahead, dying and helpless; her fellow Templars could fend for themselves.

“We need to move,” she whispered to Warren and Tannhauser. “The sooner we find the civilians, the sooner we can aid our comrades.”

“Help us, please!”

Yelena’s head swung to regard the pathway ahead where the call originated. It was a child’s cry, pleading and desperate. With her keen eyesight and the aid of the Catseye, she could just make out a small form at the end of the passageway, peering at them from around a corner. Though she could not make out the boy’s face, she saw him wave frantically at them.

“This way! Please, you have to help them! They’re stuck!”

And with that, he disappeared.

“Wait!” Yelena cried out after him, abandoning the attempt of near-silence--the boy’s high-pitched voice had already destroyed their efforts at stealth. Spurred forward by the fear of the child being ripped limb from limb for his foolishness, Yelena started after him, soon putting distance between herself and her two teammates.

Too much distance.

Too late did she realize the critical error. Behind her, between her and the others, dropped an Arachne from the high ceiling. Ahead of her materialized another from around the bend--one whose upper half was that of a young boy. A grin bearing a mouthful of fangs greeted her wide-eyed gaze.

“Help us!” the Arachne repeated in its childlike voice, then cackled. As rare as it was, Yelena had allowed emotion to override training and good sense--and she had been duped.

Trapped between two monsters, the Knight cursed colorfully.

[Sonic]

Amittay had never taken Catseye before. It tasted bitter and somehow hairy on the way down and he made a quick prayer that he would not have to experience the taste a second time if it ever came back up. He wiped his lips with the sleeves of his cassock and placed himself just behind Orifiel.

Templar Sanford was at the helm of their little impromptu squadron, and although Amittay did not know her—or Orifiel for that matter—as well as perhaps a teammate should, they both seemed to be capable enough Templars. From behind them the other team had already moved off to pursue the innards of the cavern and when he looked back he noticed that his teammates had already gone ahead of him.

Amittay quickened his gait to catch up. He had just heard Sanford’s question when he approached Orifiel’s back and replied to it with all the concern it deserved, “Let’s hope not.” Still, she had a point. Earlier, at the cave’s lips, Amittay could easily distinguish the yells projected from his Templars, but now, closer to the cave’s centre, an eerie silence seemed to have descended upon the cave. It was as though all the noise had been sucked up by some metaphysical vacuum cleaner and now the only voices remaining were those belonging to his current group.

The more Amittay thought about it, the more Templar Sanford’s theory seemed to strip itself of its theoretical nature and dawn the clothes of Truth. The Templars had already encountered more than several Arachne, and it didn’t take Phaenus’s blessing for someone to figure out that there would be more the further they went inside the cave. How the hell did the miners survive?

How could they survive?

“Borderlands people are pretty tough,” he continued saying. “I’m sure they’re fine. They probably found a hiding place or something of that sort.”

Of course, life being how it was, and irony being how it was, the body of the man had plummeted from the cavern’s ceiling right after Amittay had finished talking about the miners’ probable safety. Amittay had only several seconds to analyze the man’s face
--empty eyes—
--ashen skin—
before the Arachne, that had thrown it, fell right after. Amittay had expected to see his father’s face—it seemed only logical since irony was being such a bitch at the moment—but instead what he saw was the mismatched visage of some man who had probably lived a life filled with the five food groups of the wealthy—cake, muffins, pop, whip cream, and candy for energy.

Amittay kicked at the Arachne before it had gained its balance upon the cavern floor, sending the creature about a metre or so away from their group and onto its back. A hissing came from his left. He spun round and took notice of the blonde woman who would have passed for beautiful if not for the eight legs she sported just beneath her spider-like torso. Amittay produced the bow from his back and knocked it with an arrow. “Orifiel get the one I just kicked!” The spider launched itself at the group, like a projectile, and at the same time, Amittay released his arrow. The air split in two. The arrow’s head found a comfortable place right above the Arachne’s mandibles.

Amittay lowered his bow for just a moment when a scream slammed into the cave. His knees bent, he turned, and was a bit surprised to see that an Arachne had tried sneaking up on him. Sanford had taken stabbed it in the back, thankfully, but Amittay’s skills were getting rusty if he had not sensed the Beast just behind him.

He stepped back to make room for Sanford’s sword as it moved around inside the monster’s entrails. He turned his head to search for the Arachne he had kicked earlier, but found only empty space. Immediately his bow was knocked with another arrow, awaiting for an ambush, but it was too late.

Another scream slammed into the cave—this latter one more disgusting in its plaintive tone and in its familiarity. “Templar Sanford!” Amittay was about to release an arrow between the creatures’ eyes, but its head was too close to Sanford’s. He made a step as if to intercept, but Sanford had already handled the creature in the same way she had handled the one before—a sword in the right place.

Amittay drew breath, but the cave’s oxygen was certainly not made for human lungs. It felt dry and oddly hot even though it was cool inside the cave. Or perhaps the air only seemed hot because of the adrenaline pounding on his cerebral cortex. He looked to Sanford who had drawn her body against a wall and was about to ask something completely ridiculous.

Are you okay?

Thankfully, common sense had a way of precluding stupidity. “I don’t remember if leaving you in a cave to fend by yourself was among our orders, but prove me wrong if you can.” Amittay placed his back to Orifiel. He wanted to do something about Sanford’s bite, but at the same time distractions were not very welcome under the present situation. Besides, he wasn’t a doctor—he didn’t know anything about poison or how to get it out of someone. He heard somewhere that you were supposed to suck it out, but somehow that didn’t sound like a strategy either he or Orifiel should take up unless one of them had experience in the operation.

The stench of corpses permeated the air as Death has a tendency to do at the worst of times. From his peripheral Amittay could make out the faint outline of the body that the first Arachne had dropped onto them. For the first time Amittay could make out what the guy looked like. Other than the empty eyes and ashen skin—and the webs, don’t forget the webs Amittay—there was something else.

“He’s alive.” Amittay didn’t know he had said these words and perhaps they were too quiet for either of his partners to hear, but he said them again. Louder this time. “Guys. Guys, he’s alive.”

'Alive' was such a relative term. Amittay, Orifiel, and Sanford--sort of--were alive in the sense that they could move around--again, sort of. The miner, in contrast, was alive in the sense of the word that is rarely used unless by a medical practitioner. His chest rose and descended in a pattern normally employed by the nearly-dead. Amittay lowered his bow, and rushed to the man's assistance. He tore away the webs that constricted the man's arms.

From here he wasn't sure what to do, but now that he was closer, Amittay had no doubt that the man was indeed alive. In fact, his eyes weren't as empty as they had seemed from further off.

They were milky green.

[The Texan Queen]

. The air clung to Selenada’s body as they moved deeper into the twisted tunnels. She took in a deep slow breath, the smell of blood and mold filled her nose. She made a face at the odd smell and tries to keep her mind off it but it seemed to grow stronger as they ventured into the depths of the cave. As the cave tunnels grew darker her teammates began tossing back Catseye and eventually she had to as well, blinking a few times as her eyes adjusted to the low lighting she focused on the path ahead.

Even though this was just a search and rescue mission it was probably the most nerve racking mission she had ever been on. Every step they took lead them further into the caves, lead them further into possible danger. The walls seemed to grow closer and closer leaving little room to defend themselves. They were packed in the cave like a can of sardines and she just new that the Arachne were watching their every move.

“Over here.”

Marcella’s voice startled her slightly, the sudden sharp noise of her whisper in the stark silence would make ones heart jump. She peered down the small path they would have to take. While she agreed that it would be better for them to branch off and find a faster way to the trapped citizens she also didn't like how tight of a squeeze that would be, even if it was only for a few seconds. Did they travel down this path and hope it lead them to their goal quicker? Or should they stay with the pack. Both had advantages, both had risks. She was leaning more towards staying with the pack, safety in numbers, and she didn't want to risk being in such a small space, it only took the Arachne seconds to strike and what if they trapped them on either side of the opening? It was time for her to make a decision. Her mind was running wild with scenarios and just as she felt like she was going to spiral she heard Jerris speak. His idea, while the exact same as Templar Hoefler, offered a little extra and hearing it from someone she admired as a leader helped calm her. She just needed to remember to breath and keep a clear head and she could be the one coming up with solutions and not letting her mind run wild.

“That's a good idea, Templar Hoefler.” She took one last glance down the crack before turning to face her group. “Templar Greymir, take the lead. Move slowly and cautiously. I'll follow behind and I'll watch for your signals. The rest of you follow me and use your stealth as Templar Greymir said.” Stepping aside she let Jerris take the lead and watched him squeeze in between the damp walls. Selenada moved forward slowly inching her body along the walls, checking behind her every few feet to make sure her team was keeping up. It felt like forever before they reached the opening, she quickly clung to the wall and stayed motionless and waited to move until Jerris had cleared the area. Keeping her ears open for any faint sound of human life she followed Jerris along the walls.

Eventually they came to a fork in their path. Both of the openings had old webs hanging around them and bones laid scattered about.

“Listen,” Selenada whispered sharply. She could have sworn she heard the sounds of voices coming from the tunnel on the left, slight movement could be heard as well.

“I can hear voices coming from the left tunnel,” Selenada remaied camouflaged up against the walls but she was looking right at Jerris.

[SikstaSlathalin]

As the Arachne ambush was sprung and one of his squad had already been injured, Orfiel's hand was already moving to the Healing Salve at his belt. He quickly handed it to Amittay pointing towards Kiera barking out a bit of sense.
"Give this to Kiera! We can't help that man at this point, but she we can. If you have a potion of Vigor use that too, we need to purify her blood somehow! Keep her awake too, I'll handle these beasts." With the order given the big man's hand quickly moved to the Fire Bomb at the other side of his belt and hurled it at the first monster turning it into a walking screaming bonfire. He turned to the second one and tried to pull his Blunderbuss over his shoulder, but the beast was quicker.

Crashing bodily into the Black Crusader it forced him to drop his gun. He heard the heavy weapon crash and bang into the wall. He hoped it wasn't damaged, guns weren't his preferred weapons, but that blunderbuss was expensive and has been a life saver a few times. Right now though it was time for his specialty. Tumbling backwards he fought off the monster's gnashing mandibles with one arm as his other looped around to try and get ahold of a knuckle duster. The monster's mouth chomped around Big O's gauntlet trying to bite through the hard metal. But he had this suit forged with combating Lycans in mind, and these spider things couldn't even dream of having the same power as their bigger comrades had.

After a few minutes of struggling he grabbed one of the hand-to-hand weapons and swung his large fist up. The creature's spider head let out a solid thud before it staggered off it's attack. Rolling to his feet O grabbed the second knuckle duster and slid his hand into it. Stampeding after the monster he let loose a series of skilled jabs, while each hit didn't make contact those that did we rewarded by the pained screech from the Arachne as it tried to get it's legs under it and escape. The Repenter wasn't in a merciful mood now though, stomping down on the monster's legs he slowly broke them until the creature was scrambling with it's human hands to try and get away. It had injured one of his comrades and it had to pay for that. Bringing his heavy boot up he kicked the monster down and held his foot against it's back before brought his fist down like a bullet and shattered the human skull before forcing it to splatter into a pointed rock on the cave floor. The body spasmed in death for a few seconds before it laid still, the stench of burning Scourge Beast filled the corridor and Big O knew they only had seconds to move forward with their mission.

Rushing back to his comrades he retrieved his blunderbuss and returned to his group.
"Have you given her the medicine Amittay?"

[RedKayne]

After several years of being in the Templar Order, both Tannhauser and Warren were unaffected when they saw the grossly sight of the ravaged corpse. Yelena examined it briefly, making acknowledgement that its been decomposing for quite a while, and that an Arachne was surely the cause of death due to the eviscerated stomach.

Warren tightened his grip on the hilt of his steel sword, his face becoming stern from the sight. Unbeknownst to his two fellow Templars, Octavius knew this man. The corpse was horribly disfigured, but Warren was still able to recognize a fellow neighbor during his time at Hirod. He couldn't quite remember the man's name - it was either David or Mikael - but Octavius did recall that this man was a father. His facial expression tightened, feeling a silent rage within his body. Even after all of these years of watching pain and suffering, the Templar was still upset to see another life taken by a Scourge Beast - especially a life that he was familiar with.

Octavius will ensure that the Arachne in this mine will be completely exterminated, so that they will not harm another innocent being ever again. And when he sets his mind to a goal, everyone knows he will do everything in his power to complete it.

Both of the male Templars' heads jerked up once they heard the voice of a little boy speak up, before disappearing into the darkness. Yelena immediately reacted by chasing after the boy, in belief that he was one of the survivors and would lead them to the rest.

However, the elder Templar knew that there was much more than meets the eye. The boy held the stench of an Arachne. "Stupid woman! Stop! You'll get yourself killed!" The infuriated Tannhauser yelled across, hoping she would halt in time before it was too late. However, she already created too much between herself and the rest of the group, and that was when the blasted Scourge Beasts made their move.

One of them fell from the ceiling, landing right behind Yelena and separating her from the two other Templars. "Fuckin' dumbass!" Tannhauser roared, cursing Renakovic out aloud, before immediately drawing both of his flintlock pistols. Warren was also already on the move, charging towards the Arachne with his silver blade and moving with the aura of a gladiator.

Several loud bangs echoed across cavern, as Tannhauser repeatedly pulled the triggers of his weapons, spraying the Arachne beast with multiple bullet. Several of the bullets pierced into its back, digging into its flesh. The creature screeched with pain, but it was durable monster and swiftly turned around to face the two opposing Templars. It was a another young male, his cropped raven-black hair covering the top of his head. Its mouth opened and it hissed, revealing the terrifying mandibles that threatened to ravage any living thing.

Adrenaline rushed through Warren as he rapidly approached the creature, fierce courage filling his eyes as his silver helmet gleamed in the darkness. He was unafraid of this beast, and thrust his blade towards the monster's gullet. The creature was swift, of course, and quickly moved out of the way. Several of its legs thrust towards the Templar blackguard, intending to impale him - however, Warren reacted just as quickly and rolled to his right. He dodged the creature and quickly stood up, crouching lightly in a battle stance.

Octavius had several sparring matches with O, the fearsome Repenter, and this Arachne was nothing compared to the Black Crusader. The blackguard slowly sidestepped, intending to circle around the Arachne while also being wary of any sudden movement. The Arachne watched the templar carefully, its mandibles wide-open and dripping with its poison.

Warren made his move right when Tannhauser another hailstorm of bullets.

The Arachne felt more bullets pierce through its size, and this distraction was all Warren needed before lunging forward and thrusting the sword into the creature's abdomen. The Arachne released an agony-piercing scream, as its black blood spilled on to the ground. However, the monster wasn't finished yet. One of its legs swung, slamming against Warren's chest and sending him flying with his blade.

Octavius's back slammed harshly against a wall, and then he suddenly felt something sticky on his weapon hand. His briefly dazed eyes glanced to his right, noticing that the Arachne spat some of its vile web which attached Warren's weapon hand - sword and all - to the wall. Damn it! Warren cursed in his head, his head jerking back towards the Arachne, whom was charging at him for the kill.

Until a few bolts of a cross-bow pierced its skull and stopped it dead in its tracks. The Arachne fell face-forward, only a few minor feet away from the trapped Warren.

"Damn it, do I have to do everything myself?!" Tannhauser growled aloud, holding up his automatic cross-bow. Apparently, during the ordeal, Tannhauser decided to drop his two flintlocks to the ground to draw his more powerful weapon, and immediately used it to strike down the Arachne before it managed to do further harm. Tannhauser then checked his left side, checking the progress of Templar Renakovic's conflict with the child-Arachne.


The Senior Templar's team moved forward, approaching through the tunnels that the combined efforts of Templars Krayton and Orfiel clearing the pathways. Isaac's team could hear a struggle from a distance, understanding that some of their fellow Templars are locked in heavy combat. Both Templars Vitraid and Adams continued leading the way, using their seismic senses to discern movement down a specific tunnel.

Their destination shouldn't be too much farther, but Isaac grew slightly concerned. He expected the air to be putrid with the Arachne's scent at this point, if they were getting nearer to the Scourge Beast nest. However, the air smelled somewhat... clean, which was strange. Very strange.

"Hold it," Isaac briefly ordered his team to halt, while still remaining in his central position. This didn't made sense... they traveled down a long tunnel and haven't met any conflict themselves. He understood that the Arachne were scattered across the area, but several of them should be lying in wait near their nest. The Senior Templar expected to get jumped by this point, but he couldn't smell a single Arachne nearby.

...

"-out there?"

Isaac's body stiffened, as he barely overheard the voice of young male. He quickly glanced behind him at the two Paladins, "Did you two hear that?" he questioned, but turned around before waiting to hear the response. He rushed forward, breaking away from the formation - which was something Isaac would never do unless if something dire was needed to be addressed. Isaac was well aware of the Arachne's deceptive ways of setting up traps, but Isaac's gut told him that something worse was going on.

"Is anybody out there?!" the voice of a young male barely echoed in the tunnel, and Isaac found himself of a small cave-in. There were a couple of large boulders in the way, but Isaac quickly went into work by sheathing his blade before grabbing the boulders. He used his enhanced strength to quickly push them aside, while also being cautious about creating another cave-in.

In only took a few short minutes when a few Templars from Krayton's team arrived and began to help out Senior Templar Hills. With the boulders removed and the dust settled, a small group of humans huddled together in the revealed passageway. They all looked relatively frail and weak, as if they have been starving for the past couple of days. Near the front of the pack was the young male, probably a teenager no older than 16. Fear filled their eyes as they cautiously watch the dark figures before them, before relief and realization began to spread amongst these survivors as they realized their saviors were here.

Isaac's team just found the civilians, and the Senior Templar's heart should be jumping with joy - since they were about to rescue these poor souls. However, Isaac knew this only meant one thing...

The squadron somehow received mixed information... Isaac's group was sent to save the civilians... while Selenada's group was sent to...

"Shit, no!" Isaac shouted, his eyes widening with realization, as his gut-feeling was right and his fear was true. The inexperienced leader, Selenada Volkov, was about to walk into the Arachne nest... and her team was about to step into a death-trap.

[Sonic]

The cacophony made by Orfiel’s gun shots filled the cave like a great orchestra about to reach their climax. Amittay ignored the noise as best as he could as he applied the healing salve to Kiera’s wound. He was no expert in applying medicine and his hands shook as he put the ointment onto Kiera’s cut although the reason for their shaking had nothing to do with his inexperience.

Amittay felt like he could feel the man’s eyes on his back; the man whom he had left so that for the benefit of Templar Sanford. That wasn’t right. Since when did we leave civilians to die so that we could save our own? Even without the medicine Kiera would have lived, but that miner…

When Amittay finished applying the salve, cleaning the wound, and bandaging it, he scanned the room. Orfiel was finishing off the final Arachne and the miner from before was staring up at the ceiling. Amittay went over to this latter figure and pressed his hand against the man’s chest. No heartbeat. And no bites either. The man would not have turned into a Scourge Beast—his death was the cause of starvation, which meant that he had probably been up there for some time.

"Have you given her the medicine Amittay?"

Amittay chewed on his lower lip and rose, faster than he had intended, perhaps, and with that motion and austerity employed exclusively by the indignant. His hands were not clenched, however his eyes had become slits. “He was alive Orfiel! And now he’s dead. We should have done something—or at least tried. Our main goal is to save the miners; not ourselves. Have you forgotten that?”

He had tried for a cold, stern voice like the one Templar Hills would employ every now and again, but Amittay’s timbre came out bereft of any control, like a young boy who was royally pissed at his mother for taking away his favorite toy. It was a childish voice to be sure, but the anger behind it was an adult’s—you could not mistake that.

Amittay breathed slowly. He hadn’t meant to allow his anger to get ahead of him like that and he quickly turned away from Orfiel. “We killed him, basically. May Zadkiel have mercy on us.” He turned back towards Templar Sanford who sat at the wall still and asked her if she was ready to keep going. They must have been close to the Arachne nest by now with so many of the beasts ambushing them.

The tunnel, however, still stretched for probably another four hundred metres or so. Amittay wasn’t certain. He used his enhanced sight and, coupled with his hyperkinesis and the Catseye, he could see to the end of the pathway. “There’s still some ground to cover and the path here splits off into two. No sign of the nest though.” And he did not see any more Arachne approaching, either, but they were clearly skilled ambushers so one couldn’t be too certain.

“You’re all…already…dead…”

Amittay directed his eyes to one of the Arachne Orfiel had shot. It had spoken in that nasally voice. The Templar drew his bow, but there was no reason for alarm really. It would die soon. The creature went on in that lethargic, quiet voice. “…will…” And then it said no more.

Still, Amittay did not lower his bow. A sort of neurotic paralysis creeped into his veins. In a moment without thought Amittay released his arrow into the already-dead Arachne’s skull. It stuck there, unmoving; its target unresponsive. “I hate spiders,” he whispered.

His sister’s medical bracelet constricted around his wrist as if for the first time; as if, in fact it had taken the form of a little girl holding onto her older brother.

From somewhere else in the cave Amittay thought he heard a man shout, but the voice was too distant for the young Templar to discern who it belonged to or if even existed. He stood still to see if another voice would follow, but none came and so he decided that it had only been his imagination.

Nonetheless, for a reason he would never be able to explain later, he felt a shiver run up his back.

[☆Catwoman☆]

Tannhauser’s critical words reached Yelena, but she pushed them out of her mind. Granted, they were completely true, but she hardly needed the haughty noble to give voice to such useless thoughts at that particular moment.

Despite her predicament, the situation did not prove unmanageable. Her fellow Templars were more than capable of disposing of the Arachne at her back while she faced off against the boy-monster ahead. Thus, she focused all of her attention on the childlike menace while the others went to work on the second creature.

The Arachne’s malevolent grin still in place, it charged at the Knight, eight legs scuttling across the floor like something from a nightmare. But such things had long ago ceased to unnerve Yelena, and with a cold glare she dropped her shield and drew her revolver-dagger, the movement but a blur, and fired. The grin melted away, replaced by a terrible grimace and echoing shriek as a bullet lodged in the humanoid ribcage with a spray of blood. The Arachne had paused ever so briefly as the round drove into it, but was soon on the move once more and angrier than ever.

But when facing a Knight, even the shortest pause was long enough.

Revolver holstered and shield secured once more, Yelena barreled into the beast with impressive momentum, shield bashing into the arachnid body with a resounding clang. The monster kept its footing but was knocked off balance, front legs flailing futilely at its attacker. These the Templar dodged readily before swinging her sword at the hairy abdomen, nicking the raised belly but nothing more. Despite her sword being coated with Snake Bite, Yelena could not rely on its effectiveness, knowing that the bulk of the poison had been wiped off when she had impaled the previous Arachne. There was no way of knowing how much remained on the blade, how weak it might be. Still, the silver blade--a veritable must-have for all Templars--was painful enough to the monster on its own. It practically sizzled as it sliced across the Arachne’s stomach, causing the monstrosity to rear back in pain. As it did so, however, it kicked wildly, and even the Knight could not evade every chaotic strike.

A spindly leg swiped at her from the side, striking her hard and knocking her roughly against the wall. The jarring impact sent her blade skittering across the rocky floor, coming to rest well behind the boyish arachnid. She managed to land in a crouched position, her weaponless hand reaching immediately to her belt, from which she pulled a vial containing a cloudy liquid. Her wintery eyes burned no less fiercely than the monster’s own as it hissed at her, certain of its impending victory. But just as it started towards her, it blinked, its visage wrinkling in confusion. It moved sluggishly, clumsily, and Yelena knew that what venom had remained on her sword was now taking effect. It had been enough to slow the creature, if not completely paralyze it, and that reprieve was all she needed.

She stood with taunting casualness as the Arachne continued to push itself forward, fighting against the sudden stiffness in its legs. Appearing unconcerned, Yelena tossed the vial.

The Arachne caught it in its human hands, peered at it suspiciously, then raised its eyes to its foe. In her hand she once again held her revolver, lowered at her side. She smiled sweetly and raised the weapon. The Arachne hissed. Yelena fired. The bullet struck the vial in its hands, which immediately shattered and erupted into fierce, white flames. The oil coated the creature, which expelled an agonized, ear-splitting shriek as it burned alive, hair sizzling, skin sloughing off, eyes melting. It collapsed in a heap but continued to scream as Yelena watched, wrinkling her nose against the foul smell but appearing otherwise indifferent to its suffering.

Finally, the monster died, and the screech died with it. The corpse continued to burn, but arachnids burned quickly and soon the flames were reduced to a low smolder. Most of what remained were charred bones, the beast’s skull collapsed in a bed of ashes, empty eye sockets peering at its killer and jaw still open in a silent cry.

Yelena looked over at Warren and Tannhauser, their own foe dispatched and both eyeing the blackened remains before her. She shrugged, holstered the revolver-dagger, and stepped over the carcass to retrieve her sword.

“Shall we?”

[Maya]

Somebody was watching all of this unfold while getting pretty damn pissy. Which was to be expected since she was the one who'd been bitten, it was quite a painful process to get through. Yet, she was doing a hell of a lot less complaining than they were. "I don't need you to baby me, Amittay. I'm a Templar..we get hurt, we get up and we keep fighting until the fight is over or we die. I'm not dead." Snagging the ointment away. "I don't want your creams or your potions. I can handle any injuries if and when we get home."

Kiera didn't like how losing the man affected Amittay. She didn't like how he'd turned his back on both Orfiel and her as if the site of them still alive sickened him in some way. They were suppose to be working together as a team. But, he seemed to be unable to control his emotions. If she had to look unfazed by the effects of being bitten in order to keep their heads in the game, so be it. Kiera would stand, take up her sword and give Amittay a hard look. "We killed no one. If a man dies at your feet of starvation only a few seconds after meeting him, no amount of food in the world would have saved him. He was already too far gone. Try as we might, we can not be everywhere and we can not save everyone." Food for thought. "If you can't deal with that reality, you've a long, hard road ahead."

Those mines were like their own little worlds. Wrapping up and down and around. The labyrinth reminded her of quick sand. Once it sucks a person in, they never come out. This place played with you eyes, your mind, your very soul if you let it. Even the best ears had little chance of knowing for sure where the sounds around them came from. When the voice emerged from the Arachne with it's foreboding prediction, she too had a feeling the bottom was about to drop out of this mission. While she was glad the creature was dead, part of her wondered what else it had to say. Likely trickery to keep them all off balance.

Just like the others, Kiera heard the yell. Maybe it was another attempt to lure them into a bigger trap or maybe their team mates needed help elsewhere in the mines. With Orfiel being the one put in charge, the weight of the the trio's world now landed squarely on his shoulders. One had to wonder if any decision had the chance of being right.

[Yamimoon]

Looking back at his group’s commanding officer and seeing him with his eyes closed in prayer was disturbing to Letum in so many levels. He was nowhere a ‘Man of God’ and he couldn’t understand taking the time to try and gain the figures favor by praying to them. He has seen many people do this right before he killed them when he was an assassin, and never once had that simple act stopped him from completing his given mission! Shaking his head he just waited for the man to finish, and make the orders to move out.

They made their way into the caves the darkness engulfed them as they went deeper into the caves. Not wanting to be caught off guard Letum took out a vile of the Catseye Elixir in one shot. The liquid was bitter to the taste, but not nearly as bad as some things he was forced to take during his training, so he just bared with it till the taste would eventually disappear. Closing his eyes for a moment to let the concoction work it’s magic. When he opened them again the world was painted in a different color that he would have to get used to. Though it didn’t take him long to adjust to the difference.

Once they got to the intersection on the mine he saw the corps of the first kill of the mission, and just stared at it for a moment. The Arachne were the most confusing of all of the beasts because they were the only ones that were human in nature at least half of them were. Looking away from the corps, and moving further down the tunnel that was said to have the beasts nest down it. As they progressed further into the cave Letum had been given the order to stay to the back and keep his ears open.

That he did, and he could hear the ruckus of the others fighting. The sounds of screams and shouts also the faint sounds of the Arachne scurrying against the walls. But on the other hand he could hear nothing in the area they were at. All he could hear at the moment was the sound of water dripping from the ceiling. This only made things more eerie the further down they went. The noise from the others became faint, and now he could only hear the people around him. Then he heard faint breathing, and before he could report it the sounds of a boy calling out could be heard.

Templar Hill’s didn’t skip a beat when he ran to the location of the noise, and found the civilians trapped behind some rubble. They had found the trapped civilians, and now he suddenly realized the error in the information that was given to them. He turned to face the other direction in almost a hurry. Then stopped himself from running to help the others.

Why in the world did he even give a shit about the people that are in his regiment? These people had not been his family, nor are any of them truthfully friends. Though he really didn’t understand the meaning of those words. In fact if the Arachne kill all of them off then his mission would be one step closer to completion, but he could not stop the urge that came over himself. He wanted to protect the others. He wanted to protect them for a reason that he himself didn’t understand. The feeling of panic that he was experiencing was something he had never felt before in his life.

He closed his eyes and concentrated his sense of hearing to the best of his ability, and he could hear what was happening with the others only barley. There had been gun fire, and raised voices, but nothing to really tell if the other groups had stumbled upon the nest or not. All he could do was report his findings. “Senior Templar Hills. I don’t know if they have found the nest, but I can tell you they are running into a resistance. A couple of shots were fired a moment ago, and there were some raised voices. That is all I can report.” Letum said without turning around though you could hear a strange sound in his voice. Like he was concerned over something. “Your orders?”


Letum was not one to break way from a mission, no matter what was happening. All he could do was just wait till he received orders. With his speed as well as Templar Sinclair they both could arrive before any of the other Templars present. but he could not figure out why he cared. He has no problem killing the people he calls his family, nor killing the man he called his best friend. So why is he concerned for the welfare of these people that he has only known for a short amount of time? He didn’t understand what the hell was wrong with him. He remained calm and didn’t show the torment he was going through mentally.

[AngelWing]

Saul had been put off from the start of this tunnel--usually, he could hear the spider-like beast. Even faintly and more as an annoyance than an actual location. But, they'd found nest before, and he knew what the it felt like in his mind and sounded like. If this was anything to go by, this wasn't the right way to go--they were a way off or they were walking head first into the worst trap of their lives. He froze when Issac yelled, turning his head slightly and looking down. He heard the voice the same moment that Issac did and took off after his leader, skidding to a halt and pulling the rocks away.

He stepped back, looking from the now revealed survivors to back down the tunnel. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head and giving a laugh even as Issac cursed. Someone had thought this through--but it sure hadn't been them. Now, one of their teams was in danger and didn't have any clue what they were walking into. He looked over at Sophia, a smirk on his face even as his eyes were narrow in anger at himself, "We shoulda known this was the wrong way. We should have said back at the start when we didn't hear anything."

He looked back at the now reveal tunnel, twisting his foot and watching it leave a map in his mind. "It'll be faster if we go that way and hang a right, rather than double back and waste time. Don't you think?"

The quiet should have hinted at something dangerous but her mind kept snapping back to these sneaky beasts. How they did whatever they could to throw them off their trail. Straining to hear anything or feel any vibrations with her fingertips on the walls had made her infuriated. The voice crying out was almost like a faint whisper until the rocks started to tumble down. A brief moment of relief for finding the citizens was quickly trampled by the realization that another group was heading directly into a deadly trap.

Sophia moved her eyes around her small team. How their leader cursed these foul creatures and she could see his mind whizzing as he thought out their next move. She felt someone's eyes on her and snapped them to Saul who had a stupid smirk atop his face. She frowned slightly, noticing the anger, but the smile always threw her off. "Yes and no," she said responding to his remark. "They are sneaky buggars," she said moving the piece of cloth over her mouth down to around her neck. She watched his eyes flick off, forming a next plan of action quickly in his mind. "Depends. They would have known where the citizens were. Leaving them alone surely wouldn't have been an option. There must be some near by. Even if to pluck off stragglers that try to escape." She said her eyes sweeping through the darkness. "But going back the way we came would only add time...." she said, furrowing her brow lightly.

"True that..." Saul said, looking around at the group again before chuckling. "We can handle a few beast I think--we won't waste as much time going down that tunnel than if we were to circle back. But the longer we wait around, the more time we do waste." He wasn't one for leaving some of their own out on a limb with no way back. He'd rather it be him than them more than half the time, even when the odds were impossibly against them.

He looked around again, nodding slightly to himself, "Krayton's team can take the survivors back the way we came. It'll be safest and the route is pretty straight forward." He nodded to the tunnel, looking back at Sophia, "We can take the tunnel--fight off whatever comes our way. We're warriors, this is what we train for. Sound like a plan?" He gave her an easy smirk, twisting the throwing star in his hand as he waited for her reply. Sophia, admittedly, had a clearer head than he did at the moment, so he wasn't against her opinions. But this was the only option he saw that got the survivors out and possibly saved their now unknowing and endangered squad mates. "As long as we have each other's backs we'll make it through."

Sophia heard him chuckle but snapped her eyes around to her other teammates. She could tell that at any moment they would leave, the others were walking straight into a trap. They needed all the man power they could get. "The citizens need to leave....But you know as well as I do that is when these creatures will strike. When they are not on high alert, when they have thought their saviors have found them. They will attack with a vengeance then." She let her eyes drift over the citizens who were crowding around the Templars. All were thin, there were a few young children dotted around. Hiding behind parents

She raised an eyebrow at his next plan of action, she liked the sound of that. The suggestion got a small tug on her lips as she nodded curtly towards him. "I agree. We'll get through to the others in no time...We just need his say." She said snapping her eyes to their leader. He was frantic but remaining calm. He had to be, for them all. She let her hand move to her lower back, loosening a knife which had been strapped there. Holding the blade loosely between her fingers. If he gave the go ahead, she would do as she always did before battle. Tear a new line through her skin, ready to coat anything she could in that poisonous blood.

Saul nodded, twisting the throwing star in his hand and turning his gaze to their leader. "You're call, sir--up the tunnel and hang a right or double back." He trusted Issac's judgement, but he was anxious to get a move on. He smirked a little again; this had become interesting in a very short time. He glanced at Sophia, his smirk faltering slightly. He wasn't one for cutting himself--he had vials set aside, but he didn't like to use them. Still, you did what you had too--he just had no interest in using his own poison blood yet.

[Chihana]

Lorelei nodded as the Senior Templar gave his orders, and took her place in the rear end of their party as they started their way into the tunnel. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be too much trouble, though knowing the Arachne, it would. With the Catseye potion, the darkness did not pose a problem to their party, but as they made their way forward, it became hard for the female Templar to keep track of which sounds came from their tunnel, and which were from the other teams. The sound of giant insect legs and hisses were a constant, though none of them were loud enough to be for her to worry about in their own tunnel. The echoes of the tunnels grew to be quite the hindrance for her though, and despite her hoping, she doubted her comrade paladin was fairing any better. As it was, the voices of other Templars and battles between sword and claw grew, and their echo made it hard to hear which sounds were supposed to be alarming to her team, and which shouldn’t.

But for now, it seemed they were lucky. The Arachne had for some reason decided to leave their nest, which was highly out of the ordinary. They usually always protected their queen. But seemingly, they had made another tactic for this specific den.
At least that was what Templar SinClare thought, until she heard a weak voice, not belonging to anyone on their team.

“Is anyone out there?!”

Though it was weak, it was like thunder in her ears, cutting through the regular noises of screams, yells and insects like a knife through butter. It was a boy’s voice. Young, probably not much older than 15. But could it be from their tunnel? It couldn’t, they were heading for the nest, not for the captives of this cave! So instead of speaking up, Lorelei speed up, almost stepping in the Senior Templar’s heels with each step, in an attempt to make them go faster, so she could find out if this voice was really from their tunnel or not.

But when she was finally certain, the Senior Templar ordered them to stop, and before she could speak her concerns, he had already heard the voice himself. As he broke formation, Lorelei was quick to follow. She’d rather be damned than listen to these poor people dying from suffocation. Fighting with the boulders to get them out of the way, she tried to help the Senior Templar out, but without any Enhanced Strength, she was only able to take care of some of the smaller stones, at least compared to the giant rocks that Hills took care of.

When they were finally through – after what appeared to be an eternity – Lorelei saw the boy and the group of other humans who fled from the cave-in. And for a moment, she forgot about their job assisting them in their way out, trying her best to keep them ordered in the narrow tunnels. But as the last one came out, realization came upon her. This was not the nest. The information they had been given was false.

They had been sent to save the civilians.

For a moment, Lorelei listened for more survivors in the tunnels. If they were going to rush to help Templar Volkov, they would have to make sure all the civilians were safe first. True, they had gotten the wrong assignment, but nonetheless, it had landed on their table, and they’d have to take care of it first, before they could help out their comrade. Else this entire operation would have been in vain, and they could just as well have gone after the Lycans.

[The Texan Queen]

Co-post between Doc And TQ

The choice to go left was an uncertain one. She had a weird feeling growing in her stomach but decided to chalk it up to nerves. Shouldn't they be hearing shouts for help by now? Or some other sound of human life? Volkov glanced back at where her fellow Templars would be, I just hope I'm leading them the right way, I don't want to look like a fool…or waste their time. She focused back ahead and on to Jerris, she wanted to make sure she could read any signals he gave and provide help when it was called for.

This was a surprisingly easy mission so far. They hadn't encountered a single Beast yet and all of her team members were alive and well, but she wouldn't hold her breath just yet. She knew that at any second the could be surrounded in this tunnel and it would a blood bath. At any second she could lose a team member, or her own life at that. God, I can't take the silence in here…it’s almost painful how quiet it is… Selenada hoped that the silence was a good thing, no gun shots or scraps from the other Templars in the cave meant no blood had been spilt, or were they so deep in the cave that they couldn't hear their friends being slaughtered? She shivered and she couldn't tell if it was from ominous thoughts or the dropping temperature in the cave tunnels.

“Wait,” she whispered and stopped in her tracks. She could tell that the tunnel opened up ahead into another pocket. Selenada signaled for Jerris to go in and scope out the area.

Step by step echoed as Jerris walked slowly down the passageway, his eyes darting to and fro at the slightest disturbance in his peripherals. The tension in the air was almost choking his windpipe, but he forced his body and mind to relax. It would not do to let the atmosphere dominate his ability to serve, but sometimes one really could not help it.

Not when they were watching.

Always watching....

Jerris jerked to a stop at Selenada spoke out, and he glanced back to his peripherals. A flicker of near-indistinguishable movement from her hand wave signaled for him to examine the chamber ahead, and with a gentle nod he took careful steps forward. His second blade slid from his sheath with a shimmer, his muffled footsteps echoing through the cavern. His caution, however, appeared misinterpreted, for the opening was, for all intents and purposes, empty. Hints of black and navy betrayed little to the drugged eye but a set of mangled tracks upon the ground.

With a wave of his arm to signal the all-clear, Jerris exhaled and kneeled, examining the tracks below him. Nothing moved, nothing breathed, nothing even twitched. Something was wrong here, the silence was all but accidental. But then what could these tracks...

Ah, but of course. These aren't tracks.

Jerris straightened, his blades flicking to a defensive position as something crunched beneath his boot. "They're eggshells. We walked straight into their nest."

Selenada motioned for the rest of their group to follow into the opening, which was completely empty...she looked around, puzzled, where were the trapped citizens?

She snapped around to face Jerris, panic filled her eyes, "Eggshells?!" She looked down and took two timid steps back but froze solid when she heard the sickening crunch beneath her feet.

"We need to get out of here, now," she insisted and drew her sword out. As if on cue four Arachne emerged from the walls, they must have been camouflaged the entire time. "Jerris..." Selenada looked to him for a brief second before focusing back on the spider-human hybrids that surrounded her team. She couldn't believe that she brought everyone to their possible death.

As she looked the creatures in their eyes she knew that this would be a fight to death for them all, she just hoped death was for the Arachne. "God help us."

The exit was cut off, Arachne descended from the ceilings and emerged from shadowed corners, and the air filled with the horrendous clacking and smacking of their mandibles. It was like something from a nightmare, an inevitable death guaranteed to to be as gruesome and torturous as possible. The Scourge would tear them limb-from-limb as they watched and snap at their soft insides with beastly relish. Thus was the world of the Scourge.

Jerris backed up as his comrades collected, each of their backs to one another as they cautiously eyed the beasts surrounding them. "God might be occupied at the moment, Templar Volkov." His dry humor seemingly fell upon deaf ears, if one could even call it humor. Flipping one of his blades backhand, he reached into the inner pocket of his coat for two small spheres of mineral, cracked them together in his hand, and threw them over the closing Arachne towards the entrance of the chamber. The spheres reacted with one another upon cracking and released a bright flickering red light, and upon contact with the ground they continued to sputter loudly. With luck, it would help to draw any of the other Templars towards their position; without it, they were all on their own. They had maneuvered initially with the intention of drawing as little attention as possible, therefore it seemed unlikely the other groups would be able to hear them. Perhaps Isaac's positioning of him wasn't so foolish after all, but he still assigned this naive girl as his leader.

His blade flipped back to a standard grip as his knees bent slightly, the tips of the swords pointing casually upwards with eyes darting. Adrenaline coursed through his muscles, but his mind remained unclouded by bodily desire. Every twitch of the Arachne triggered a plethora of potential actions to cascade through the Knight's mind. His body was loose and relaxed despite their imminent cataclysm, for he knew that tension would only slow him down. Bloodlust was a fickle friend; he would suppress it for the time being.

But he could at least whet his appetite with Arachne blood.

"A suggestion, Templar Volkov." Jerris's head pivoted slightly as he spoke over his shoulder towards Selenada, his peripherals detecting every movement of the spidery monstrosities. "Having our backs to the wall is preferable to our current circumstance. Before they attack, perhaps we should make the first strike and cut our way through to the back wall."

A nod bobbed from Iago, who had backed directly to Jerris's left. "Iago agrees. Easier to fight with the safety of a dead end." A nervous chuckle came from his figure. "Rather that than in Arachne belly."

"I completely agree, lets strike and get somewhat of an upper hand. Fight strong and fight smart," she took in a heavy breath before raising her blade and lunging into an attack.

[RedKayne]

Warren managed to free himself from the spider's web, walking up to both Templars Tannhauser and Renakovic, whom promptly killed the arachne-boy with a flask of flames. "Good job everyone," Elijah commented aloud as he glanced at the smoldered remains of the Scourge Beast. It was another sad fate, that a human boy from the village of Hirod to become corrupted and turned into monstrosity - and then to suffer an excruciating painful death. Small points like these make Warren wonder if there is any humanity left within the Scourge, and whether the human-being inside also suffer in agony.

Perhaps he was too empathetic for his own good, and perhaps he needed to banish these thoughts from his head before he's further distracted from the mission.

Templar Warren glanced straight ahead to the tunnel in front of the group of three warriors. Their objectives were to eliminate as many Scourge Beasts as possible to clear the paths for both Templars Krayton and Volkov. They took down two of the Arachnes so far, but there shouldn't be too many ahead if they were heading towards the direction of the civilians instead of the nest.

"C'mon, let's move forward," Warren addressed the group, knowing that there isn't much further time to waste. However, upon his first step, he paused. He frowned, because he could have swore that he heard an unusual sword. Something along the lines of a crackle? It was difficult to discern, and it sounded like it came from somewhere in the back, in the tunnel where they were previously walking in.

"What's the matter? Are we ready to get a move on or not?" Tannhauser sharply questioned, seemingly impatient by Warren's indecisiveness to get a move one. Apparently, he didn't hear anything, so it may have been Elijah's imagination about that one sound.

Elijah slightly scowled at Tannhauser's impatience, but understood that they needed to get a move on. However, he wanted to make sure whether or not his senses lied to him, and he couldn't help but address a gut feeling that something was seriously wrong. Now, if they had a paliden-class templar in their midst, it would have been much easier to address this issue since they would have more than likely heard the noise.

Instead, Elijah had to question the one other member in the group, and see if she heard anything as well. "Templar Renakovic," he turned around to face the young woman. He needed to ensure that he wasn't the only one that heard the sound, otherwise he could dismiss it as his imagination and that there was no reason to have such a negative gut feeling. "Did you just heard anything unusual?" It may seem like a completely random question, one that completely baffled Tannhauser - and who almost assumed that Warren was ignoring him in a childish manner.

However, hopefully Yelena would know exactly what Elijah was referring to.


Templar Catriona followed her group silently, obeying the orders of Templar Volkov as all four chevaliers were utilizing their stealth enhancement abilities. They did this to make sure they do not attract the attention of any nearby Scourge Beasts. However, even if they did encounter one or two of the abominations, Anna was fully confident in her team - especially since they had Templar Greymir, whom was simply the best close-combat fighter they had in the group. Surely, he would be able to easily cut down any of the Arachnes if they decided to make an appearance.

The team of five briefly paused at Selenada's order, and Jerris went ahead to examine some minor disturbances on the ground - more than likely tracks left behind by the civilians. However, the teenaged woman's heart dropped upon hearing his next words.

Eggshells?

The next few moments seemed like a blur. Everybody drew their weapons, and four Arachnes made their appearance out of the shadows. More of them descended from the ceiling, and threatened to surround the entire group if they did not make any moves.

Anna was completely shocked by this revelation of events. Since she was a new recruit, she was under the impression that her squadron was practically infallible and that everybody were competent warriors. However, this was not the case, as apparently someone in the squadron severely screwed up with the communications, and now her team was about to pay the price with their lives.

Templar Catriona snapped back to attention, her eyes now glowing with fierce determination. Anna was never known to be a coward, and has faced several other crappy situations throughout her young life: including be orphaned at a young age, then living as a prostitute on the dirty streets of Sanctuary, before undergoing the harsh boot camp training along with the asshole trainers, and also facing several other horrendous Scourge Beasts.

Yes, Anna did felt a slight shiver down her spine, because this is a scenario where she could truly die. In fact, this was probably the first crisis she had to deal with as a Templar, since all of the other battles were readily handled by her squadron. This time, it was different, and the odds were not in their favor at all. However, the young woman will not go quietly without a fight.

With a swipe of her left hand, Templar Catriona drew three throwing daggers that were strapped to her waist - each dagger was clenched tightly in between her knuckles. She also drew a large combat dagger in her right hand, and she took a step back to set up a defensive stance.

"Well, I'm ready whenever you sorry bastards are," Catriona announced, still maintaining her spunky demeanor despite the dire situation.


Senior Templar Hills and the other members of Krayton's team quickly went to work find any other cave-ins to release some more of the civilians. After they were done, there was about about a group of about twenty civilians. A somewhat smaller number than Isaac expected, but there were also several corpses lying about on the floor. Many of these people didn't manage to make it, and sadly there was nothing that the Templars can do about the matter.

However, they can still do something to save the group of twenty civilians still alive. They ranged from young children, to older teenagers, to middle-aged men and women. Now, these people needed to be escorted to safety.

Originally, Isaac's only intention was to demolish the Arachne nest, and his team of five soldiers were perfectly capable of doing so. Yet, it seemed that fate had a different idea in mind, and now Templar Volkov and her team were about to step into the Arachne nest instead. Isaac maintained a calm and cool demeanor around the rest of his team, because they needed a leader who could think clearly. However, he couldn't help but constantly worry about the well-being of his fellow Templars.

He was certainly glad that he placed Jerris in the team, considering that the Templar-Knight could hold his own against several of the Scourge Beasts. But despite this, Jerris and the four Chevaliers alone would have an extremely difficult time facing the Arachnes at the heart of their home. And Isaac knew that it was his responsibility if anything happens to them, regardless whether or not the screw-up with the communication was his own fault.

So, he could send a few templars down to aid Volkov's team, but that could also jeopardize the safety of the civilians. They had a group of twenty to supervise, and they needed all of the manpower that they could get. Templar Vitraid made the suggestion that they could separate, but Isaac wasn't a fan of this idea. Sending two templars alone in this cave would not be the wisest decision, and they could easily be ambushed by another group of Arachne before they even reach Volkov's team.

No, everybody needed to remain here with the civilians, this was the entire reason why the operation took place. Their main objective was to save the civilians, and Isaac will ensure that they will complete their task. Yes, Templar Volkov and their team are in a dire situation, but they are all military soldiers - and they fully understand that each mission could be their very last. Such was the life and risks of being a Templar. It was a sad truth, but one that Isaac needed to remind himself often as well.

Yet, even with this mindset, Isaac couldn't help but feel confident that Volkov's team will make it out alive. He might be the only individual to think so, but he fully believed that Selenada will rise up o the occasion. Not only that, but apparently many members of his team seemed to have forgotten about one major factor...

"Everyone, gather around," the Senior Templar ordered his warriors. The four other members of his team, including three more from Templar Krayton's, circled around Isaac. "Alright, our main objective is to escort the civilians safely. We need to back-track and head to the entrance of the tunnel," he stated. Yes, they were back-tracking, but it was the only known way to safety. He rather not risk going to a different tunnel and dealing with a closed-off pathway, or any hazardous situations like walking into more ambushes or cave-ins.

"I want everyone to take key positions around the group of civilians - protect them with your very life, and always remain vigilant. If we can, we must regroup with Templar Orfiel's team as well," the Senior Templar commented. From what he understood, Orfiel and two other templars were not that far away, so they may bump into them. If they do, Isaac may consider sending a few soldiers to help out Selenada and her team, but the civilians take the utmost priority.

"We need to complete the operation swiftly, move out!"

[Sonic]

In a couple years, Amittay might look back on this day and laugh. Now, however, at Kiera’s admonishment, he felt unsettled. Not scared; unsettled. The last thing he wanted to do was argue on a mission, specifically with Sanford who seemed to be out for Caesar-blood. A part of him wanted to admonish her sudden pronouncement, which did not seem to have been an attempt to abate the conflict, but rather a means to lash out. However, if he did that then he might as well scribble the word “HYPOCRITE” on his forehead. With a knife.

Instead, he rested his chin on his collarbone in a gesture of defeat and, hopefully, what would be perceived as atonement. “You’re right. I apologize,” he said and returned his gaze to Orfiel who hadn’t spoken throughout this petulant intercourse. “I wasn’t myself, Orfiel. You made the right decision, I know that.” Amittay paused, wondered whether he should bring up his father, but then decided against it. Blaming Chivav for his inability to control his emotions seemed too much like an excuse; a trait Amittay did not want to develop. “Forget my earlier self. What do we do know?”

He then moved his gaze between Kiera and Orfiel. “I’m sure I’m not the only one who heard that shout,” he said, referring to the bellow from earlier. “It was faint, hardly discernible amongst the echoes of our footsteps, but you two must have heard it, as well. It seems that another group isn’t doing so well.” Not to say that his group was doing splendid, of course.

He angled his gaze so that, from his peripheral, he could see the remainder of their path. “Like I said before, this path branches off into two. Should we follow it to see where it goes? Or should we go back to the other squadron; make sure everything is alright?”

To be sure, Amittay was completely ambivalent about the whole affair. On one hand he thought that completing their own mission was paramount, but, on the other hand, he couldn’t help but worry about the remaining squadrons. It wasn’t that he doubted their abilities—not in the slightest. They were all sturdy and steadfast warriors of Sanctuary. What he feared, then, was the predicament that had made one of their sturdy and steadfast Templars release a pained yell.

If she seemed harsh to Amittay, it wasn't meant to hurt his feelings so much as wake him up to reality. The time to mourn the dead is after the living get out alive. If there were any survivors or victims, even they were eerily quiet. Too quiet. Not many living breathing creatures could get past her ears. Kiera had a sick feeling something was very wrong. "Maybe we're barking up the wrong tree. We've all been split apart, not because anyone needs us down here; but, because it's easier for the beasts to divide and conquer." These creatures were deceptively bright and should not be underestimated as she already knew. Spiders sense vibrations and the slightest movements in airflow. Even the softest noise can be an invitation for dinner.

That hidden blade she'd commissioned was allowed to slide out from the bracer on the right hand as the heavier sword would be moved over to the left to compensate for the injury. Both were easy to coat in her blood thanks to the bite wounds. Despite it all, her two team mates would never hear a single complaint. If she was in pain, no one else needed to know. Besides, it was easy for her to mask discomfort by applying the grin and bear it strategy. Kiera may be a mere woman; but, she was far from weak. Match that with pure determination and a sheer will to live, the girl wasn't one to be trifled with no matter what type of beast may come.

There was still one more opinion, that of their team leader, who needed to weigh in. If, like her, Orfiel did not detect anyone else alive to save, it might be best to assist their own. The further they went down these mine shafts, the more they'd be segregated from the rest of the teams.

Big O shook his head at Kiera's refusal at simple medicine. It would need to be something to report later though, he could force it on her, but that would only waste time even if it would keep her alive longer. Taking back his medicine he checked the blunderbuss then looked around them, their job was to cut down the Arachne, and it sounded like nothing was down this tunnel. But these monsters are tricky they could be standing stock still and holding their breath and there could be something else interfering with his nose right now.

The big man growled softly looking back at the other two Templars.

"Can either of you sense anything down those two paths? There's a lot of scent around right now, I can't distinguish much."

From the way he was acting, Big O must have forgotten that Templar's are immune from being infected by a scourge beast. Sure, she's going to hurt for awhile; but, if death were to come, it would be from something more foul than an Arachne bite. Kiera could tell he was getting on the pissy side about it so she'd calmly offer up.. "If you have an issue with my decision, we can discuss it with one of the Senior Templar's once we get out of here alive." Trying to have a rational conversation with Orfiel about it would be the same as talking to a brick wall. Really, what would be the point? She shouldn't have to tell him her past history to get him to leave it be.

"From what I can tell, there seems to be nothing." Nothing could always be something. There was no guarantees. "If the nest isn't in one of these two tunnels and another team has came upon it, the Arachne may be moving to defend their babies." Glancing from O to Amittay then to the direction the voice had came from. "You were made team leader, Orfiel. Do we go further in or do we go back? "

Amittay rolled his shoulders, uncomfortable. The tension emanating between Sanford and Orfiel was tangible in a way Amittay could not describe. He wasn’t sure what to say. Each word might be taken as a declaration of friendship with one side or the other. Staying silent wasn’t much of an option either, of course. That may be interpreted as indifference to the whole matter.

He said the first words that came to his mind, “If you don’t want to make the decision, Orfiel, we can always have a vote.”

The big warrior shook his head further letting out a sigh his voice as calm as before.
"It's your pride and reluctance to put being a tough girl aside and let your teamates help you that is my problem Templar Sanford. The Lord loves it when his children are brave, but when pride gets in the way of sense he weeps for them." Stepping past the burning carcass of the Arachne, the Crusader tried to smell further into the tunnels even wafting the air into his nose some. Nothing still, everything pointed towards these tunnels being empty, but he couldn't shake the feeling that leaving this path and going back would bite them in the behind. "That yell could've just been one of these monsters dying too, or a distraction. And I cannot shake the feeling there is more before us than we see now, I don't have enough facts to make such a decision. What do you two wish?" He asked straining his senses for guidance

Amittay frowned. He had been hoping that Orfiel would have made a decisive decision—Amittay would have followed it whether it had been to pursue their troubled comrades or pursue the remainder of their path; which may or may not hold more Arachne. Oftentimes one hears that the position of a leader is a heavy one to hold. Perhaps Orfiel’s knees were buckling beneath it.

Amittay’s face remained sedentary, betraying nothing of what he was thinking. “I think we should go down the path. Our friends might be in trouble, sure, but they’re all powerful Templars. They can do without us.” He placed his hands into his pockets, a little tired now. “Let’s make a decision, now though. The more we wait here the more time that the Arachne have to ambush us.”
She normally wasn't one to lose her temper or act out of line during an assignment. Maybe there were other reasons for her shortness with her teammates. For one, the constant nagging over taking medicine for the bite was growing old really fast. By God, she was trying so hard to silence her tongue. Even her step mother did not hen peck her like that. What's worse is Kiera could not remember a time where the team leader kept passing the buck to the rest of the team.

Despite the rising irritation, she kept her voice low and soft. "Templar Orfiel, our job was to clear the path towards the Arachne nest. It's not here. We're in the wrong place. Can't you sense that? There's been nothing but a few stragglers who kept us occupied. I hear nothing..no one. Man nor beast." The Cat's eye elixir started to wear off, as did the ability to see into darkness. She'd remove the necklace often worn around her neck. It was a nice piece of jewelry; but, like most things she'd bring with her on missions, it had a purpose. The two crescent pieces were steel and the moon they surround was made of flint. She also wore a dark blue rope bracelet as well, made of slow burning cord. It was also removed to unwind and re-wrap around the tip of one of her arrows. With a few flicks of metal to flint, the spark would light the end of the rope tip. Not offering much light; but, enough to see the ground below. "Not making a decision is still a decision. A bad one at that. Think about what you know of Arachne. They protect their nest aggressively as any parent would if their children are threatened. If they were anywhere near us, they'd make sure we knew it. They would not let us get close.."

There was really nothing else to say. If the two were hell bent on roaming around in the caves for hours on end, so be it. There was nothing she could do about it. Kiera didn't intend to stay down here as the two twiddled their thumbs and hem hawed around any longer.

"They can do it without us?" Repeating his words lowly back. "Right. Because sitting down here doing nothing is oh so very important." They were wasting precious time as it was. "So yeah, maybe they can do it without us. But, what if they can't?" Orfiel was already going to report her for refusing to take a medicine on his command, she might as well give him another reason to have her written up. "I've made my decision. Feel free to join me or you can make your own choices." Which hadn't happened yet; but, miracles take place now and then. This wasn't really a coup or even a mutiny. She'd simply had enough of going round and round about making one simple decision that had somehow turned into a black hole.

If they wanted to stay and venture around in the mines, so be it. She'd gather up her gear and started trekking back the same way they'd came in. If her instincts proved to be incorrect about them being in the wrong place, Kiera fully understood she would be reprimanded or even removed from the Templar order. Even if she was right, and managed to help another teammate or citizen, she could still face losing her job; but it'd be worth it.

Amittay watched Kiera’s back as she exited the pathway. He knew that he would follow her; had known that as soon as she had resolved to leave them. By this it is not to be confused that Amittay reserved some clandestine affection for Kiera—the opposite, really, was more probable—but he was the paragon of indecision and this implicit denouncement of Orfiel’s ability to lead them persuaded Amittay to change his mind.

He gave his previous, temporary leader a perfunctory glance, which he held for a time, before departing, too, and following Kiera. He did not say anything when he caught up to her and they traveled in silence, pursuing the shout that had, too, fallen into silence.

[☆Catwoman☆]

Yelena nodded shortly in response to Warren’s question while shooting Tannhauser a glare. She put a finger to her lips to quiet her companions while straining her ears as she tried to pick up on the sound again. Then she heard it--faint, distant, but definitely there.

Her eyes widened as she discerned what was making the odd, sputtering sound, and she cursed. There was no mistaking it: someone had just set off the Templar equivalent of an S.O.S. The volatile mineral that had been activated--by Jerris, though that was as of yet unknown to Renakovic’s group--was a signal the Order used only in times of dire need, an emergency call for aid that meant someone somewhere was in serious trouble.

“That’s a bad sign,” Yelena hissed, hefting her shield and blade. “We need to help them, now. It sounds like it is coming from back that way--” she gestured with her sword, “--likely down the opposite tunnel.”

Her gaze landed piercingly on Warren, the team leader, urging him to heed her words and lead them on. Truthfully, he didn’t need to be persuaded; he knew the meaning of that signal just as well. He nodded his agreement. Yelena smiled grimly.

“We were sent to kill Arachne. So let’s go kill some Arachne.”

The trio backtracked, meeting no resistance as they made their way to the fork where they had split from the rest of their team. Careful and quiet but still moving as quickly as possible, they followed the sound of crackling, expecting that they would soon run into Orfiel and his team. The echoes down this way were lively, the bulk of the Templars located within its winding corridors. Warren held up a fist, drawing them to a halt. Yelena looked at him askance; he knelt to touch the ground and his eyes closed in concentration, and she knew that he was mapping the area in his mind’s eye using his seismic sense. She waited, albeit impatiently, until he was through. His expression as he opened his eyes was intense, his brows drawn and his mouth turned downward unhappily.

Speaking to no one in particular, he muttered, “How did this happen?”

“Octavius?” Yelena pressed. He turned his pale eyes on her.

“I sense a lot of activity. Too much. The nest is this way, and I believe some of our fellows have stumbled straight into it. They’re surrounded.”

Nothing else needed to be said. The three took off double time, following the map Warren held in his head. Despite their swift pace, Yelena feared that they would arrive too late...

[Megilwen]

Silence. Nothing more than the sounds of the soft boot steps along the stone and the slight drip of water from somewhere deeper in the caves. Logically, her suggestion to go down this tunnel made sense, however the further they moved the more the decision seemed to be the wrong one. She'd hoped that going down this side tunnel would put them ahead of the slower moving teams and that they would have already found the civilians before the rest made it through the tunnels. Instead, they'd found nothing.

Suddenly Templar Volkov's voice spoke out breaking the silence, making it seem like she'd nearly been shouting even if it was just a whisper. She signaled and Jerris moved forward, leaving Marcella to wonder why she just hadn't signaled their halt in the first place. She watched as Jerris moved slowly his blade in his hand only to see his signal moments later stating all was clear. Moving forward she drew up beside him in time to hear his comment about the tracks he was kneeling down to look at.

Eggshells. Fuck. We found the damn nest. Marcella thought as she checked her crossbow, switching out the bolts for silver ones. Most of the scourge beasts didn't do well with silver weapons.

"We need to get out of here, now," she heard Volkov say, but it was already too late for that. Not seconds later for Arachne appeared from the shadows.

Marcella could feel a bit of guilt settling in. Coming this way had been her suggestion. Selenada's order, but her suggestion. Stop it. Now's not the time to be feeling responsible. Get your head in the game. She felt the backs of her companions press up against hers as they were effectively cut off. A red blinking light drew her attention momentarily, causing her to squint against the sudden brightness as they all began moving first toward the back wall.

Aiming and pulling the trigger, Marcella fired four shots at the Arachne directly in front of her in rapid succession with her automatic crossbow and was already in the process of reloading as she moved forward. The Arachne that she had been aiming at screamed it's anger into the tunnels as it echoed off the walls and she could hear more Arachne echoing back. They were already surrounded by three or four Arachne and being in the center of their nest with the yells echoing from further back into the tunnels, she was sure they were going to have more company before any rescue arrived.

There had to be a solution. A way to hold them off. Think Marcella! THINK! She pulled the trigger again sending four more silver bolts into the same Arachne, this time one of them landing in the creature's eye causing it to crash against the ground, twitching in death a few more moments before stilling completely. They needed to block off the tunnel before the entire colony of spider creatures invaded.

"We need to block the entrance with something. Make it difficult for more to get in." With four chevaliers, they could generate enough web to block the entrance. Make it tight enough, then maybe they could keep the Arachne out for a little. "With web maybe? If we bind it together it would take a while for them to break through. Backing ourselves into a corner, is quite literally backing ourselves into a corner. We'll have no one else to go after this. Our back against the wall."

She understood the need to not have to worry about something coming at her back, but there was nothing to stop more Arachne from coming in. From overwhelming them. They needed to act now, while there were only four...well three. It was only a temporary solution, but it was better than just backing up and hoping they could kill enough Arachne to stay alive until help was able to arrive.

[TheDoctor]

"Hm. Interesting proposal, Marcella."

Jerris felt his back gently touch the wall, his blades still clean. Marcella did indeed bring up a valid point: it was ironically important to block off their only escape, for if they could limit the input of Arachne then their chances of survival could drastically increase. As more Arachne descended from the ceiling, their milky, bulbous eyes gleaming threateningly, Jerris stepped swiftly forward. "I understand its benefit to our situation, however I must question its cost"

The tendons beneath the beast's carapace tensed. The hardened exoskeleton shined with a light crimson from the flare as it moved. The angry eyes squinted with the hints of aggression. Time slowed to a trickle as Jerris noted the Arachne betraying the telltale signs of attack, and he reacted instantaneously. Its throat heaved as Jerris took a step to the side and rolled his shoulders. The sticky, milky substance had hardly emerged before he pivoted and turned. Not a second later and it's head had fallen to the floor with Jerris's right hand blade beyond its shoulders and bathed in sickly blood.

It was impossibly swift and efficient, but it was only one more Arachne.

If we lose even one Templar, our chances of survival drop drastically. He took two steps back and returned to formation. We cannot depend upon the others to find us, therefore we should make the best of our situation. We must also keep the attention of the swarm so they are unable to catch the other Templrs unaware, therefore retreat is not an option. Despite its initial risk, if we want to optimize our chances...

"Regardless, it appears to be our best chance of survival." Jerris fixed his eyes calmly upon the next Arachne, who circled much more cautiously this time. His demeanor remained controlled, his chest hardly rising faster than a resting pace. "Templar Volkov, I recommend that upon reaching the entrance, Templar Hoefler and myself defend the other Chevaliers while you all generate webs." He flashed his blade towards the beast, which scuttled back slightly. "We can punch a whole through these ones. I will force back the incoming Arachne while you obstruct the entrance. Hoefler, you hold back the ones in here from attacking the Chevaliers."

The Arachne in front of him lunged with its mandibles, but Jerris's right blade met them immediately with an uppercut that sliced one of them off. The other blade flashed through the other side of its skull, and he tugged it out before the creature's dead weight lurched to the floor. "I suggest that you make the order now."

[Scottie]

The metal was cold against her skin and almost damp as her blood tinged her fingers. She had a horrible sinking feeling that these monsters had planned this all along. That they were smarter than they thought, how foolish they were to believe they had them trapped. She didn't keep her eyes on him for long but she could tell their leader was weighing each pro and con. He had to make the decision. No matter how much she believed they had to go help her brethren, she had to follow what he decided. When Senior Templar Isaac's voice rang around the space they were in, she moved closer. She was a bit deflated by his orders but she wouldn't go against them.

She merely gave a quick nod before slotting that small throwing knife back into it's place. Gripping her main weapon in her right hand and an arrow loosely between two fingers on her left. The civilians seemed to realised something was up. Some children were carried and all made sure to get on their feet. Once they were ordered to move, she picked a place. Some of the civilians were scattered from different families, a few groups had tried to flee at once. She positioned herself next to a young family and a couple of weak looking adolescents. She let her eyes scan over them before giving them a gentle nod with her head in the direction they were to move. She caught the eye of the four year cowering into her fathers neck and gave her the slightest of smiles. Once the child looked away, the smile melted from her face and she tugged the black cloth up and over her mouth.

Wriggling one hand free from any heavy material, she pressed it flat against the cave wall. Closing her eyes and slowing her breathing. Almost in a silly attempt to feel her fellow Templars. She could feel distant clashes and the feel of rats. Tens of them, all scuttering around. The Civilans started to move, their heavy footsteps cluttering her mind. She dropped her hand, wriggling her fingers before gripping the arrow once more. Slotting it into place and keeping the weapon aimed low. For now. She let her eyes flick around them, making a mental note of where her group was. She couldn't help but to feel like they were a herd of sheep. All crunching along, staying close together heading straight for the slaughterhouse.

[SikstaSlathalin]

A decision was made and Big O wouldn't be following them. The nagging in the back of his mind refused to relent that there was more here than what his earthly senses were telling him, but whether the nagging sense was warning him about more being just in these tunnels or more being in the mines as a whole was unsure.

That portion of the divine guidance was still foggy for the Repenter. Shaking his head and knowing full well if they all survived this he and possibly the other two in his group would be slapped with a number of violations and possible prosecution by the Courts of the Templars. He couldn't very well grab Kiera and Amittay by the scruffs of their necks and drag them back like children now. He would follow the orders even if they refused to, they were meant to clear the Arachne from every corner of this mine and they couldn't very well do that without checking every corner first.

Orfiel would be mostly blind and deaf down here with losing Amittay's keen eyes and Kiera's keen hearing. He still had his nose though and a nose was difficult to fool when the one using it knows how to do it. Holstering his blunderbuss the big man tightened the straps on his knuckles dusters and set his mind at ease that he was doing his duty at being thorough and checking every part of these tunnels where trouble could be rather than letting it sneak up behind them.

[Iwazuma]

Well, this day couldn't get any worse...right?

Templar Trest Valencia quivered in his boots in front of the mine, filled with fear, anticipation, and anxiety. He had barely completed his Templar training before he had been whisked off in a flurry of orders, tasked with the rescue of lost civilians deep within the mine in front of him. In the time period of a mere couple weeks, he had gone from a new Templar graduate to his first mission as a Templar. And through all of this, only a single thought was able to pervade his mind: What the hell am I doing here?

Trest was not having nearly the time he had been expecting. Gone were his dreams of grandeur, adventure, and heroism, replaced by...a dark mine, death at every corner, and a feeling of fear for his own life. Maybe he was just being paranoid; after all, he had first-mission jitters and had been shaking even before he knew his mission. But wait...this wasn't his first mission, was it? No, he had been in Jericho too...but seeing the mine now, it felt like little more than a distant memory. But still, he couldn't help but wonder if everyone was going to make it out of the mine in one piece. Damnit Trest, don't think about that! He shook his head and refocused on the orders he had been given.

He honestly couldn't have been any luckier. Not only was he not tasked with destroying the Arachne, he had been given one of the safest jobs in the squadron: Clear out any blockage from the path so that the civilians could escape the mine. Just thinking about fighting something disgusting, something evil, something out for his life...the mere notion made his hair stand on end.

They were to follow Templar-who was leading that group, maybe Orfiel?-'s group into the mine, something Trest was perfectly fine with. The fewer Scourge Beasts he had to encounter along the way, the better his chances of not dying or, possibly more importantly, shitting his own pants. As the call to move out was issued, Trest waited a few minutes with the rest of his team, giving Hills' team more time to fight anything in the way. His leader, Templar Krayton, waited patiently, then gave the rest of the team the signal to move out; reluctantly, Trest led the way.

Being the new guy in the group, Trest was placed at point. 'Good experience for the fresh meat', Krayton had said. Trest nearly grit his teeth in frustration. Sure. More like traumatize the new kid with first dibs on all the blood and gore. Still, this would be the second time he was in the field, and it STILL felt like the first...the staff on his back felt heavier and heavier with each passing moment. Minutes went by in the tunnel with no interactions at all; no calls were heard from the team up ahead, no sounds of crawling overhead or hissing of Arachnae, no nothing. Why was nothing happening? The silence scared Trest more than anything else.

Soon, the group came to a dividing path; as instructed, Krayton went on ahead with another Templar to follow one team, he forgot which. Meanwhile, with a lanky Templar named Hodgkins or something taking over as leader, the group plodded on down the other path. Trest still kept point, afraid to break ranks by even a millimeter. His every sense was heightened for danger that never came; he almost wished it would, just to get it over with.

Just when he figured he could take it no longer, he heard shouts from up ahead. That sounded like Senior Templar Hills' team! Krayton seemed to agree; the team broke into second gear, chasing the sounds ahead. Trest only hoped it wasn't a trap; though his gut told him he was in for good news, he knew there was always a chance at the worst. His grip tightened on his short sword; his staff was not as useful in close quarters.

Luckily, he was rewarded with his faith by the team of five they had heard; the muffled cries of someone behind a rockfall could be heard as well. They had found them! Trest heaved a sigh of relief, and set to work carefully dislodging the stone. He made sure to work with caution; if he were to move the wrong rock, another cave-in could occur, the worst case scenario. Still, with patience, he was able to open the path, and the waiting civilians were soon free.

After a bit of searching around, his team and Isaac's had managed to recover as many civilians as possible. Even though he ought to be relieved, all Trest managed to feel was nausea. In the last caved-in spot, as two more civilians walked free, Trest had seen a form in the back. He had approached cautiously, even called out to the body, but he soon realized that's all it was: a body. A corpse. His first corpse. Chills ran down his back as bile rose to his throat; he had to double over to avoid spilling his breakfast into the mines. Someone...died down here. He hadn't been quick enough. He stood over the body a moment or two longer, but the interim leader's voice ordered him back into formation, and he hobbled back to the front of the pack.

Even now, as all the Templars and civilians gathered together, Trest felt sick. He knew he should be glad they had managed to save many people, but deep down he felt horrible for those that didn't make it. Somehow, he felt like it was his fault. His mind phased in and out of Isaac's talk, but he heard the order clearly enough; protect the civilians as they trekked back to the surface. Thank God. Trest heaved a sigh, glad they were getting themselves-and the defenseless victims-to safety.

"Right. Understood, sir." Trest spoke his assent, then proceeded to take the front right flank, where he would be able to pick off any approaching danger as best he could. With extra teammates, he knew he would have more support should the pack be ambushed...but they had many more people to protect. This was not going to be easy should they be attacked. Though it remained sheathed, Trest always kept one hand on his short sword, just in case.

He felt a tug on his pants leg, and he looked down to find a girl, no older than six, looking back up at him. Her plain dress was tattered and torn, and dried blood caked her right ear; it looked badly infected. "Mr. Templar? Are we going to be okay now?" Her question rent his heart. He wanted to say yes, but he just couldn't be sure! What if they were attacked? Trest closed his eyes a moment, and thought quietly. Come on, Trest...the Templars are beacons of strength and symbols of hope. You have to hold on to that ideal...don't quit now!

Trest bent down and patted the girl comfortingly, trying his best to give a warm smile. "Don't worry...the Templars have you under our protection. You will be safe now." The girl, overjoyed, gave Trest a quick hug, practically shouting with relief and happiness, then rushed back to a young woman, presumably her mother. Trest saw no father...was he one of the...*hurk*....corpses?

"That's right...we've got to make it out alright. All of us." Trest's helmet clanked a bit as he nodded to himself, steeling his nerves for anything.

[Maya]

Kiera had always been a patient person. Even when training with Jerris, it took several tries before he pushed her enough to raise her voice to him. So, it was out of the ordinary for her to get to the point she felt the need to respond to both team mates in the way she did. One thing she just could not and would not stand for was risking their lives and the lives of the others, Templar and civilian alike; by not being able to step up make one, single decision. With everything now going on around them, time was of the essence. "I feel like something is wrong. We should find the rest of our team." speaking to Amittay, though loud enough for O to still be included. Being a grown man, Orfiel could make his own choices and she'd let him.

As they moved on, she grew even more concerned that god knows what happening to her team mates somewhere further in those mines after hearing someone yell out. The sound seemed to echo from every direction. Even with sensitive ears, it was hard to discern exactly which direction the voice came from. She'd backtrack the way they'd originally came in an effort to find Templar Warren and the rest of the team. Wasn't long long before they found the fork in the path where the team members had initially split off into two groups.

It was then both she and Amittay would hear a sound coming from a tunnel to their left. A strange, crackling, popping noise.."sounds like fireworks." Whispering to Amittay. "It's a distress signal. They need help!" Taking off in an all out run towards the noise. In the quaqmire of the mines, up was down and down was up. It was hard to be sure if they were even going in the right direction at times. As luck would have it, she heard voices .."Shhhh...shh, shh, shh..." trying to discern where it was coming from. They'd turn right into a different tunnel and viola! "Tannhauser..I can hear your from a mile away." Funny, she could make out his voice over all the others. It was also a huge relief to rejoin the rest of the team.

"Templar Warren, we heard the sounds of a distress signal and were not encountering any more Arachne where we were located. That's why we decided to head back to find you." Before anyone asked about the missing person in their party. "Orfiel.." Looking back in the direction they just came to see if he decided to follow "chose not to do so."

Kiera was fully aware Templar Warren would have more than a few questions to ask them about their behavior during this mission. That would have to be sorted out later. In the mean time, they had other problems to deal with and it was nice to be back with the group to do so.

[RedKayne]

Isaac observed the Templars as they took their respective positions. His four team members, along with three of Krayton's team, surrounded the civilians to ensure their safety. With a total of eight Templars, Isaac knew that they will not be overwhelmed by enemy forces any time soon, but defending the civilians while battling any of the Scourge Beasts would be quite the test still. Isaac's eyes caught notice of one of the little girls among the civilians, barely any older than Kaitlyn herself. He sighed internally, knowing that no child should ever deal with dire situations such as this one, but such was the fate for those that inhabited this cold and cruel world.

Dear God... please guide us through these tunnels of darkness, and give us the strength to protect each and every single one of these innocent souls.

Isaac turned around, determined to protect the civilians as they began to move forward. The civilians were requested to remain silent, unless if there is an emergency situation. That way, they will not be able to give away their positions easily to any nearby Arachne, and the Templars would also have a better chance of being aware of an enemy attack.

They all walked briskly, attempting to reach their destination as soon as possible. The Senior Templar lead the pack, his vigilant eyes always glancing around at any questionable shadow or slightest bit of noise. His right hand gripped tightly on to the hilt of his pistol-sword, and his left-hand clenched the handle of his kite shield, he was ready for battle if it was thrown at his way.

Suddenly, Isaac paused, and he raised up his left arm to halt the entire group in their steps. There was a large shadow in the middle of the tunnel passageway, and Isaac took a few steps forward to discern it. His sense of smell deduced that it was a Scourge Beast, but something seemed off. He took a couple more steps forward, and finally the shadow revealed itself to be a dead corpse of an Arachne - recently killed through the means of decapitation.

The sight of a dead Scourge Beast should have relieved the Senior Templar, but it only made him more troubled about their situation. The corpse wasn't there before, Isaac's group didn't confront the Beast, and they didn't come across its corpse despite Orfiel's team being ahead. Isaac's eyes glazed to the ground, noticing there was a trail of blood from the Arache's body... it was dragged.

His heart lurched, and Isaac's head jerked back to the group. "Its a trap! Defend the civilians!" As if on cue, an Arachne appeared right beside the Senior Templar, camouflaging itself against the wall by lying completely still. The Arachne - with the body of a bulky young man - launched itself at the Senior Templar. Isaac raised up his shield just in time, as the Arachne's mandibles closed around the top edge of his kite shield.

Isaac cursed in his head, these Scourge Beasts were becoming more cunning with their traps. They knew that the spider carcass would have covered their own scent, and thus Isaac wouldn't have been aware of their presence. The corner of Isaac's eyes saw a couple more attacking the group behind in me. An Arachne stepped out of its camouflage near the back of the group, before launching towards itself. Another Arachne immediately descended from the ceiling from its web, and jumped down directly towards the center of the civilians and towards one of the little girls.

Isaac couldn't see what fate befell upon the girl, as he needed to concentrate on his battle at hand. He growled with effort, and attempted to push away the creature with the shield and his enhanced strength. It proved to be a lot more difficult with the Arachne's legs slashing around the shield, and the creature pushed back with its bulky body. Isaac felt some of the sharp edges of the spider legs nick his armor and skin, but fortunately his thick-skin from the dermal armor ability only allowed minor flesh wounds. With a swipe of his right arm, Isaac's blade sliced through a couple of spider legs, causing the creature to yelp out in pain and release its hold on Isaac's shield. He didn't miss a second, and immediately thrust his sword towards the monster's chest.

The Arachne was much more mobile than it appeared to be, which should have been expected, as it quickly leaped backwards. Isaac prepared himself for such a response, and pulled the trigger of his pistol-sword several times. Silver bullets sprayed against the Arachne's chest, as it screamed out in pain even louder as black blood trickled down the bullet wounds.

Isaac quickly attempted to close the distance between them, preparing to land the finishing blow on the Beast. At the back of his mind, he worried about the others and how they were fairing in their respective battle, and hoped against hope that all of the civilians were alright.


Octavius's team pushed forward, rushing through the tunnels in an attempt to reach the distress signal in time. Many thoughts rushed through the Blackguard's head, and he questioned how they somehow received misinformation. Apparently, they were much closer to the nest than they were told, and Volkov's group was nowhere in sight despite they were closely behind Warren's group earlier. They must have took a branching tunnel and then stumbled right into the Arachne nest, and now were in the fight for their lives judging from the activity level.

"How in blazing hell did they stumble into a damn Arachne nest?" Tannhauser questioned aloud, while in close pursuit of both Warren and Renakovic. "Are they fucking blind or something?" he growled, also frustrated with the situation. In his mindset, if Volkov's team was unable to defend themselves before Warren's group reach them, then they were incompetent Templars that deserved to die.

"Tannhauser, shush!" Warren immediately halted, as he sensed some incoming footsteps. Both Templar Sanford and Templar Caesar appeared out of the shadows, which relieved Warren that these two were safe. However, he quickly grew concerned as their appointed team leader, Orfiel, was nowhere in sight. "Where's-" he was quickly cut off by Sanford, who explained the situation that Orfiel went his own way. Many question formed in Warren's head, as he was still concerned over his close friend's safety, and questioned why he separated himself from the rest of the group.

Octavius will figure more out later, but right now, they needed to focus on rescuing Volkov's team. "Understood," he nodded his head. "Right now, we need to get mo-"

Once more, Octavius was cut off, but this time by the sound of an agonizing scream. The female scream was quickly silenced, and this only unnerved Warren even more. Judging from the sound of the scream, it sounded like an Arache, but he wasn't quite sure about that and it could have easily been a fellow Templar.

"Hurry!" Octavius simply stated before rushing towards the source of the noise. It wasn't long before they reached a dark room in the mine, and they discovered the origins of the scream. At the side of wall was a decapitated Arachne woman, its fresh blood pouring from the stump of the head. There was another Arachne corpse not too far off, a few of its spider legs were sliced off and apparently it was stabbed in the heart.

"These things were killed only short minutes ago," Octavius muttered under his breath. More than likely, it was a fellow Templar group, but which one? Isaac's group should have been at the other side of the mine, and thus too far away. Orfiel was wandering about, and there were a couple of other Templars around like Krayton and Creed, but whoever it was seemed to be able to handle the two Arachne on their own with ease.

Regardless, they still needed to keep moving forward and find Volkov's team. Maybe they might run into the fellow Templar(s) who just killed these Arachne, and they could work together to fight off the nest.

[The Texan Queen]

Even with the two kills performed by Jerris and Marcella the group was still out numbered and the odds were not in their favor. She could feel her heart beat pounding in her chest and hear it loudly in her ears, she needed to give her team direction but she was lost as what to do. Words failed her. Thankfully for her someone else spoke before they noticed the paralyzing silence that fell over their so called leader.

“And confine ourselves to this space?” Selenada’s eyes swept across the room quickly. The way they came in was the only way out, as far as she could see, and she was worried about trapping them in to certain death. But then again we can't afford more coming in either… Just as she was about to give the command one of the spider creatures lunged forward at Selenada, blood lust in its eyes. Ducking out of the way of its stretched out limb Selenada quickly brought her sword to meet the out stretched limb and swiftly cut it off. The Beast staggered backwards and cried out in pain and anger, blood spewing from the open wound. Selenada wasted no time and quickly lunged forward and spliced the Arachne with her blade.

Selenada quickly resumed her place in the small circle of Templars to hear Jerris voicing his opinion. Everyone seemed to have the same mind set, like they all possessed the same mind, while Selenada was on her own. She never would have thought the idea to seal them inside would be profitable to them in anyway, but what did she know? Marcella and Jerris were way more competent than she was and knew their way around the battle field.

“Make it so and let's do this quickly!” Selenada motioned for the other Chevaliers to follow her, she sprang forward knocking any Arachne out of the way so that they may make their way to the opening.

“Let's get this entrance closed immediately.” She took in a deep breath and buried her distain to using her web and began spitting the strong silk substance onto the entrance.

[Yamimoon]

Letum didn’t turn around immediately when Senior Templar Hill’s made his decision, and giving his new set of orders. He just stood there in shock for a moment taking in the fact of what he was wanting to do. He still couldn’t understand his reaction to the others being in danger. Shaking his head and returning to his composed self he turned to the others, and moved into position in front of the group of civilians, with Templar Hill’s leading the way. He would fallow his orders, and think about everything else on another day. He needed his wits about him for this next little mission. He was used to protecting himself, and helping the others in his unit, but protecting people that were not even able to help in a pinch would prove to be a challenge. The only thing he could hope is that they didn’t run into any of the eight legged freaks on their way out.

As they continued down the dark path Letum used his hearing to try and make sure the tunnel was safe. Listening for the slightest noise, trying to block out any unassay noises from the other groups that were fighting the Arachne, though this was impossible. He would have to rely on his other senses for the rest of this mission. Thus he was proceeding with caution and constantly looking around as to not be caught off guard. But just as they were reaching one of the intersections of the cave Templar Hills motioned for them to stop. Letum raised his sword in a defensive manner since he didn’t know what to expect, looking to the side something seamed off about the wall, and as soon as he heard Templar Hill’s say this was a trap the wall came to life and moved between him and Templar Hill’s.

As he fallowed the quick movement of the creature he found that there was two of them separating him and Templar Hill’s, then all hell brock loos behind him when the civilians screamed when an Arachne dropped in the group. There was no way for him to help the others without risking these two attacking him from behind. All he could do was hope the other would be able to protect the civilians while dealing with the Scourge Beast. The two Arachne that stood before him were completely different, one was a well endowed female with long blond hair, and the other was a young male with short brown hair. They were both looking at him with a lust in their eyes, a lust for blood and carnage. This is a look he knew quiet well from his days in the assassins order, many of his fellow assassins had that look in their eyes when they went on a job. He shook his head getting all of these unnecessary thoughts out of his head just in time to jump back from the young males attack.

He knew this was going to be a hard battle, but he would have to deal until events changed. Trying to fight one of these thing on you own was craze enough but two was almost certain suicide. So all he could do was use his speed and dodge and attack whenever he found the chance. The two creatures worked in tandem to try and kill Letum, but luckily he was fast enough to dodge the attacks, as well as get a couple of minor sword strikes in, but nothing that would even count as damage since the beasts only cringed with the cuts, and continued their assault. But without warning he heard gun shots, and then one of the Arachne screaming in pain. That was when the Female beast stopped her assault on Letum and moved to attack Templar Hill’s from behind to help her other comrade. Letum without thinking sidestepped the young male, pulling one of his silver daggers from his back and threw it at the female.
The dagger found its mark as it struck the female Arachne in the back of her human form, it imbedded deep into her back and a second blood curdling scream filled to tunnels as the silver blade did its job. Letum hoped that this at least would stop her from advancing on Templar Hill’s, though this dropped his own guard, and the young male was able to use it’s strong front legs to strike Letum in the chest causing him to fly backwards slamming into the wall, knocking the wind out of him. Unluckily for Letum the beast aimed its right below his breast plate, causing serval deep lacerations from the sharp ends of the legs as it slid across his skin. Cringing in pain as he slid down the wall landing on his feet.

Trying to regain his barring’s as he was trying to catch his breath the beast approached him in a matter of seconds, and attacked him once more with its front legs. Though Letum was able to dodge the attack by rolling to the side. Now he was behind the creature and he raised his sword to slice into the spiders backside, but what he didn’t realize was the female was no longer going to help the other she wanted his head, so she shot some of her webbing catching his sword hand right at the wrist and pulling the Templar backwards right before he was able to strike. Because of this he fell to the ground, loosing his grip on his sword it fell to the ground, and his left wrist was now stuck to the ground. He tried to pull himself free, but that was not happening so he quickly went to use his clawed right hand to cut away the webbing, but before he was able to the female was now on top of him.

Using her front legs she pulled him off of the ground and threw him into the wall once more, but this time she used her webbing to immobilize the Templar by sticking him to the wall. Now Letum was in trouble as he was not at her mercy, but she didn’t attack him instead she moved to the side to allow the male the privilege of the final blow. Only to things went through Letum’s mind as the beast approached. Eaither these two were a mated pair, and she was allowing him the privilege of killing him, or this was her child, and she was using him as the child first Templar kill. Though he doubted these creatures were that smart, but that was just the way it was. As the young Arachne approached him and opened his mouth wide reviling his mandibles, Letum knew that he was at a disadvantage. He would need to act quickly in order not to be killed by this creature.

The beast aimed for one of the weaknesses in his armor as it went to bite Letum to inject it’s venom into this system so it would slowly and painfully kill him. Though he was not going to let that happen. Just as it was about to bite him he was able to get his gloved hand free, and using the new injection system that would allow him to fill the tips of the glove with poison. He stabbed his clawed gauntlet into the abdomen of the Scourge Beasts human portion, delivering a fatal dose of the Daemon’s kiss poison. The male Arachne fell backwards as it writhed in pain while the poison went to work, killing the creature. Though it would take a bit of time since the Arachne was larger than a human the dose would take a little longer to kill the Beast. He was still stuck to the wall as the female went to the mail’s side for a moment. Letum was trying to free himself before the Arachne regained its senses enough to go for the kill.

[Megilwen]

Marcella nodded as the order was given. She was already facing the cave entrance as that's where the biggest threat had been, so she took the opportunity to spit out her own webbing against the space before turning around to help Jerris with defending their backs. By her count there were still two or three Archnae in the nest with them, that she'd seen anyways. It had always struck her as interesting that the classes within the Templars often had skills that were similar to the beasts that they fought. More specifically on her mind was her own group, the Chevaliers and their ability to camouflage themselves and spit webbing that was so similar to the abilities of the Archnae themselves.

It was hard to defend against something that you couldn't see. There had to be a way to draw out any other of the spiders that were hiding in the shadows. There was a moment of calm, as the other Chevaliers started to fill the space and Marcella looked around. There nearby was a pile of eggs. Well killing two birds with one stone.

"Perhaps while we're here Jerris, we should clear out this nest completely. The little Arachne always are the most annoying." She said aloud, so that whatever was hiding in the cave could hear her, as she walked the short distance to the nearby eggs. If this worked, the Arachne that were hiding in the cave would show themselves and they'd come after her in defense of their young, leaving the rest of her party to fill in the cave entrance. All in all, it was a terrible, yet good plan at the same time. There were few Templars that she'd trust to do this foolhardy thing with, but hopefully Jerris would understand the necessity of this.

Marcella placed one of her booted feet against a still whole egg and slowly crushed it beneath her heel. Sure enough, screams of anger echoed throughout the cave and four Arachane materialized from where they'd been lurking on the walls, more than likely waiting to strike the team unawares. All four raced toward her, one leaping directly at her to try and prevent more of the eggs from being crushed. Her back was to the wall, so there was a plus as she fired off the four silver bolts into the leaping Ararchne, causing major damage, but not taking it down.

With no time to reload, she dropped the weapon at her feet, pulling her sword from it's sheath on her back slicing downward across the Arachne as it closed in, taking it down completely. It had been much closer than the other three who'd been lurking in the back and they'd closed in while she was taking down the one. Three against one....were not good odds. Throwing up a prayer, she raised her sword and raised her buckler as the three massive bodies charged toward her.

[Chihana]

Lorelei could feel herself stiffen up when the group found the second cave-in, with another group of trapped citizens. But this time, it was different. These people were mostly dead, and those few who were alive, didn't look like they'd last long. This was wrong, on so many levels. It was wrong that these poor people had been left to suffocate, it was wrong that those who were in control of the information that had been sent out to the teams didn't know a rat's arse about what they were doing, and it was wrong that they stood here, Lorelei and the rest of her team, while a group with far less prepared Templars were heading into an Arachne nest, without even the slightest clue. If anyone got hurt because of these mistakes, someone would get to hear for it.

For now, the best Lorelei could do though, was take care of the about twenty people they'd been handed and make sure they'd get out alive. And if that meant she'd have to divert from the original mission, so be it. As long as these people got out safely. So for now, she found her place in the middle of the group, taking care of the citizens here, and making sure nobody tripped and got further injuries. With the Cat-eye still in work, it was hard to remember how dark the tunnels had been, but she could imagine how the people here - who had had no way of consuming the potion - were struggling to find their way through the shadows.

It was a blended gathering, consisting of both men and women of all ages. Some where mere children, and others looked to be as old as time itself. What were these people doing in the mines? Sure, she could see what the men were doing here, strong and obviously tough as they were, they were miners who actually had to work here. But what about the elders? The children? One little soul however, caught the female Templar's attention more than the rest of the lot. A wee little girl, who was so scared from her stay in the caves that she practically jumped at the sight of every rock she was able to see in the darkness. And Lorelei couldn't help but find herself walking closer and closer to the little girl, that was so unlike how she herself had acted at that age. She had never would have admitted to be afraid, even in a situation like this, where it would have been obvious to anyone present. And she'd probably have picked on this little girl, just to maintain a tough composure - unlike now, where she found herself wanting to put a hand on the child's shoulder and reassure her.
And for a moment, she reached out to the girl, smiling softly as the scaredy-cat looked up to her. And for a moment, Lorelei managed to open up her mouth, ready to utter some words of comfort and assuring the girl that they would get out.

But then that moment passed, and everything went to hell.

The senior Templar yelled out to them, and before Lorelei could really fathom what had happened, the Arachne were upon them. Two of them fought with Senior Templar Hills and Templar Alexander in the front, and a third appeared in the back. Templar SinClair was ready to sprint to the back with her Enhanced Speed, but that was when she heard the hissing of a Scourge Beast just above her head, lowering itself with its web, aiming for the little girl.
With a war cry tearing through her lungs, the young Templar hurled herself towards the beast, knocking it out of course, and away from the group, at least as much as the close walls of the tunnels allowed.

It hissed and quickly attempted an attack at the young Templar, but she was too quick, and evaded without breaking a sweat, before attacking again, her family sword singing between her hands.
She heard the women and children of the group let out screams after screams, while the men tried to keep the group together and help the fighting Templars out as much as possible that way.
Lorelei just hoped that the last Templars in the back would take care of the last Arachne, so they could get the people of Hirod out before more of the Scourge Beasts arrived.

For now though, Templar SinClaire could only focus on the strong legs of the Arachne in front of her, evading its quick attacks and planting a counter that would leave the beast screeching. But despite her speed, the Arachne was among the smarter bunch of the Beasts, and soon found a pattern in the young Templars attacks.
Lorelei grunted as a strong leg lounged into her shoulder. The limb would have pierced through the leather fabric with ease, had it not been for her quick evasion. Thanks to her speed, she was left with a flesh wound, rather than a limp arm dangling from what would have used to be her shoulder.
But despite the evasion, it still hurt like hell, leaving the Templar huffing for a moment, before she lunged at the beast yet again, this time feigning an attack from the front, before she made a spin and chopped one of its hind legs clean off. The creature shrieked, leaving an echo through the tunnels, before Lorelei jumped on the rump of the creature, prepared to cut the head of the Arachne clean off with her silver sword.

[Iwazuma]

As the team set forth, Trest shivered in his position. He couldn't help but feel this was going off...just a bit too well. He glanced about nervously, his nose on high alert for any sign of Arachne. He could catch the faintest whiff of them, and it was growing stronger....Senior Templar Hills stopped the group, and he could see why; a dead one, just...lying there. Trest cocked his head; what the hell...? Who killed this one? Why....?

His confusion was short-lived. He deduced right around the same time Hills did that they were in a big trap. He looked up, and let out a shriek; there was one of them RIGHT ABOVE HIM. He reached for his staff, hoping to hit it, but it leapt at the civilians before he had a chance...luckily, one of his comrades picked it off before it could harm anyone. It shrieked in a horrible noise...Trest cowered in the corner while the fights broke out. He didn't know what to do!

This was pathetic. While the other Templars were at work defending the people, Trest was against the wall, cowering from the Scourge Beasts like some little girl. Speaking of little girls, the one who had spoken to him before appeared at his side, her face buried in his leg. "Save me!" she cried out. Trest gulped. What kind of example was he giving? The shield of the people, hiding in the corner? It was embarrassing. Whether he liked it or not, he HAD to do something...

Most of the Arachne were handled, but it looked like Templar Alexander was having a hard time, fighting two of the monsters at once. Trest, worried for the man, rushed over as he saw him trapped; the female beast charged him, hoping to sink her poison-filled fangs into him...

Trest crashed into the monster like a missile, knocking the beast into a wall. Trest, now with time, drew his staff, a nervous, fear-induced glare in his eyes. "You won't touch him! You deal with me now." The Arachne, more angered than hurt, screeched at Trest, lunging at him. Trest narrowly avoided the swipe, using his staff to keep the monster at a distance. Both sides contemplated their options. Neither had an advantage up close...who would take the first move?

Trest went first. He swung his staff low, hoping to lop off a leg. The Arachne jumped, landing atop the Templar. Trest hit the ground, and the monster raised a sharp leg, hoping to stab him clean through. Trest groaned, but rose again, throwing the beast off. He was on it quickly, landing a clean stab with his staff in the creature's abdomen. Dark blood flowed freely, and the monster let out a pained screech. It rushed Trest, who wasn't expecting the return attack. He hit the ground again, the creature trapping him beneath it once again.

This time, it meant business. Though his head was covered by his helmet, his neck was exposed in this position. The monster lowered itself, looking to end the fight with one quick bite, which would put him out of commission. Trest panicked, and raised his staff....The monster's jaws closed on the staff, and it shrieked in confusion, trying to bite it clean through. Trest stared at the staff for a moment, then yelled out, twisting the weapon with all his might.

A sickening snap echoed through the tunnel, and the Arachne, too desperate and determined to finish the bite, had its head removed from its body. The body slumped to the floor, and Trest rose, breathing a huge sigh of relief. The head, still attached to the staff, took a moment to remove, but Trest tossed the head at the wall, sighing and crossing to Alexander, helping him free of the web. "That..was too close." He sighed weakly, glad his fight was over for now. But who knew what else was on the way?

[Scottie]

There was a big fucking shadow in the middle of the tunnel. That can only mean good things obviously. She stayed still, the arrow now locked in place as she snapped her eyes over the man moving closer to the dark spot. As he shouted, all hell broke loose. They had walked right into a trap, each and every side of their small cluster was being attacked. She raised her weapon and sent off an arrow in the general direction of the beast who dropped in amongst the civilians. Aiming high but she didn’t pay attention long enough to see if it met it’s mark. Another arrow was mounted, she ignored the beast attacking their leader. She knew he could cope with it themselves, the ones attacking the civilians were of priority.


The Civilians weren’t helping their case, screams bounced off every wall. Everyone knew their location. Excellent. A few of the group started to huddle into the sides of the walls. Away from the monstrous creatures who were being dealt with by her fellow Templars. One beast came down from above. The upper body of a young man, fire red hair and pale skin with striking blue eyes. It’s eyes fixated on a small group of women and children. She moved quickly before the crowd of civilians and swung her bow onto her back. Grabbing a knife from it’s place on her black. Slicing without hesitation down her arm, coating the knife in that deep red sticky blood. She kept her eyes on the creature as he almost slithered closer. She didn’t aim for him humanistic top body, instead the knife was flung directly to the long black leg closer to her.

The beast winced but smirked as the knife didn’t stop it from moving closer to it’s target. Amusing in fact how this small human thought she could stop him with kitchen knives. Enough to make him slow down, she used this to her advantage. Another knife was coated in her blood before aimed at the under body of the creature. The knife struck the creature, embedding firmly in its flesh. Again the creature merely smiled as the little knives couldn’t stop it. With his massive size, they looked like tooth picks. Another knife and then a final as the creature got closer and closer. She could already tell the civilians before were doubting her. This Templar was throwing what looked like dinner knives at this beast. How the fuck could that stop it. After the fourth knife made it’s mark, she swung the bow back around. Docking the arrow in place before coating the tip in the blood was that was now trickling down her wrist.

The creature was just one lunge away from them when it stopped in it’s tracks. The knives firmly embedded in his skin started to corrode him. His front legs collapsed before him as he looked back up in shock, the flesh bloody and painful as the knives fell out. He had no time to register the flying arrow until it was firmly lodged in his throat. He struggled to get the arrow out as it started to melt the flesh in his throat. Bubbling almost as his own blood mixed with hers. She forced the civilians further back, keeping in front of them. Coating another arrow and raising it, this time aiming for his chest. She hoped that he would remain still and that she could meet her mark before he moved.

[TheDoctor]

"As you command."

Jerris dashed to the entrance as fast as possible, his icy blue eyes targeting the Arachne creeping into the nest. With a flurry of his blades, he sprang ahead of the others, severing an arm off of an approaching monster and beheading it with his other sword. As one leapt for his exposed back, he swiveled and ducked with impeccable reaction timing and slashed both blades across its abdomen. The nauseating smell of innards struck his nostrils with a wave of heat, but he could not afford to be distracted. In fact, he almost welcomed the sickly aroma.

It was the smell of their destruction. They were Scourge, after all.

His blades moved fluidly, never halting as he tried his hardest to hold back the incoming Arachne from charging through the now partially-obstructed tunnel. His combative experience certainly wasn't lacking, for Jerris couldn't possibly count how many Scourge he had killed in the past. However, with three of the Chevaliers indisposed and the other one protecting them from the Arachne already inside the chamber, he wasn't in the most ideal of situations. He had no idea how many Arachne charged down the tunnel towards him, but his job wasn't to kill them all. He needed only to slow them down.

As the Arachne he finished stabbing through the head slumped onto him, Jerris heaved with all of his strength, shoving the body back to form as much of a barricade as he could. The incoming Arachne collided with it and became entangled, but another one scrambled from along the side of the cavern wall and attacked with its claws. The evasion and counter-attack was simple and swift, but as he disposed of it with two blades through its abdomen, a third charged from behind. Pulling the two blades cleanly out, he instinctively pivoted and leaned back with a reckless backbend. The Arachne's wicked claw carved a deep gash into his cheek as he tried to evade, and not a second later he had danced out of its reach.

Blood flowed freely from the wound, but the attack was unavoidable. Better a cheek than the attempted eye.

Fortunately, Jerris had bought them enough time to construct a substantial web barrier, and he quickly slipped through the only remaining hole before Iago filled it with a mouthful of web. The approaching Arachne charged directly into it, their limbs jerking frantically as they tried to tear it down. Jerris stabbed one of them through the throat, careful not to lose his own blades to the web. "You three, I suggest you continue to kill the ones trying to enter. Pile up their bodies and perhaps we can buy enough time for the other Templars." As he turned his attention to Marcella, however, he heard an absolutely dreadful proposition.

"Templar Ho-"

That utter fool.

As the three remaining Arachne charged Marcella with a wicked fury in their eyes, Jerris sprinted from the side and raised both of his swords into one's chest. His momentum carried him forward as the beast collapsed with him on top of it. It was not finished, though, as it seized Jerris's head with its claws and snapped frantically at him with its mandibles. Releasing the hilts of his swords and shoving his arms between its own, he grabbed at the top of its skull and forced his thumbs into its eye sockets. Blackish ichor welled around his thumbs as the creature shrieked, its jaws now biting at his arms and its hands pulling at his. Despite the wounds opening on his forearms laced with the venom from the creature's fangs, he forced his fingers deeper into its skull. It continued to shriek and spasm as he dug further in with the venom burning his arms to no end, until finally it stopped, its spindly legs twitching in a deathlike pulse.

Jerris exhaled forcefully and rolled of the creature, his hands grasping the hilts of the swords in its chest. His fingers trembled from the pain of the fiendish poison in his arms, but after a few hearty tugs he managed to pull the blades out. The job wasn't finished, and neither was he.

Hopefully Marcella could handle the other two.

[RedKayne]

Isaac's entire team managed to successfully fend off the Arachne, and managed to kill off every single one of them. Adams released an arrow that burned right through the Beast's chest, Sinclair swung her blade and decapitated another, while Isaac thrust his blade into a Beast's black heart. The Senior Templar let out a loud grunt as he pulled away the sword, letting the Arachne fall down to the ground as a fresh carcass.

Senior Templar Hills took a step back, looking around the area. The rest of the Arachne were all dead, slain by the works of his fellow Templars. The civilians were safe also, and none of them were hurt throughout the entire ordeal. Many of the young children were still crying and scared, but there were no other Beasts around that could cause them further harm.

The Templars managed to calm the rest civilians, before resuming their silent march down the tunnels. Hopefully, the sounds of the battle would not attract more Arachne, but they were on their guard regardless. At the back of Isaac's mind, he thought about how the Arachne used a fellow Scourge Beast's corpse in a deceitful trap. He knew that the creatures were rather intelligent, but it was remarkably scary how smart they were - and possibly forming strategies and tactics to kill off the Templar warriors.

Isaac vaguely remembered reading about similar stories in the history books, where many of the Scourge Beasts were suddenly becoming more intelligent and tactical - shortly before a Plague started. This greatly concerned Isaac, and he prayed to God that a Fourth Plague was not on its way. Facing against dozens of Arachne was challenging enough - facing off against entire armies would spell absolute doom for mankind.

After traversing through the tunnels, the group finally reached the first branching point of the mine. This was where Team Warren's team separated into two, and this meant that they were close to the exit. The Senior Templar beckoned the group to move faster, and hoped that they were fortunate enough to avoid any further fights.

And they were fortunate, and the all reached the end of the mine safely and found themselves in the outside world. Now, hopefully the rest of the squadron would appear from the tunnels soon. Isaac was well-aware of Team Volkov's plight, but was also aware of one key factor which just might save her team.


Three daggers flew by, striking the Arachne in front of Anna Catriona. The young Templar woman took a step back, tightly holding on to the combat dagger in her weapon hand. The Arachne - an elderly man with a skinny built - hissed in pain from the daggers, but it barely even staggered the Scourge Beast. Anna already knew never to underestimate the creature, regardless even if it had the built of an old man. The Scourge Beast was still extremely dangerous, and one wrong move can mark an early end for lady Catriona.

The creature hissed once more, its mandibles opened-widely before it lunged towards her. Anna swiftly rolled to her right, dodging out of the monster's way before immediately standing up. For a Chevalier, she was rather lithe and agile, which may help her out in this battle. Of course, she could not compete with the reaction levels of a Knight-class Templar, but she should still be able to hold on to her own.

She quickly drew her second combat dagger with her free hand, before performing an x-slash towards the Arachne. Anna managed to slice off one of its legs, causing the creature to stumble before it attempted to lash out at the Templar with another one of its legs. Anna responded by ducking under the leg, before thrusting one of her combat daggers into the Beast's lower abdomen. The Arachne screeched in pain, before one of its legs jerked and slammed against Catriona's side - sending her flying back before she managed to roll upright into a kneeling position.

Her right side throbbed in pain, the Beast was certainly much stronger than it physically appeared. The combat dagger was still stuck in the creature's abdomen, and black blood rapidly oozed out of the severe wound. She eyed that dagger, knowing immediately how to get rid of the monster and follow Templar Volkov's order. She ran towards the beast, drawing another dagger before throwing it. The Beast saw the attack, and raised one of its legs to block the dagger from its torso, but it still embedded itself into the creature's flesh. The Beast, however, did not react fast enough when Anna appeared right in front of it, and she promptly responded by grabbing on to the hilt of the combat dagger stick in its abdomen.

With a swift motion and a strong jerk, Anna pulled the dagger and tore it across its stomach - successfully eviscerating the beast. The Beast screeched aloud once more, as its inner organs spilled out on to the ground and black blood pooled before it. Templar Catriona did not waste any further time, and thrust her second dagger against the back of the Beast's neck. The blade ripped into its throat, and the monster was soon gurgling in its own blood while emitting its final death cries. Anna immediately ran towards Volkov and Iago, not bothering to wait and watch the Beast fall to the ground lifelessly. She immediately went to work, quickly spitting out several amounts of strong web to try and block out the entrance.

She only hoped that they can block the entrance in time before more showed up. They already had enough Scourge Beasts to deal with at the current moment. Anna overheard the sounds of battle behind her, hoping that both Jerris and Marcella are okay, and holding their own against the Beasts. She glanced back, checking on their status, and saw Marcella stomping on a few of the Arachne eggs and revealing the rest of the Scourge Beasts in the nest. Anna's eyes widened with shock, as four of the Beasts approached Templar Hoefler.

Catriona was half-tempted to abandon their attempt to block the entrance, but she needed to follow orders. She returned her attention to the entrance, but her eyes widened once more as she saw several large Arachne shadows scurrying towards them.

Oh no... we're in deep sh-


Legends (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dZEnQogAd8U)

Templar Greymir managed to kill off another of the attacking Arachne, but two of them were still charging towards Marcella. The odds were not in her favor at all, and both of the Beasts lunged at the young Templar at the same time, leaving no room for her to dodge at all.

Sshkt!!

The sounds of flesh slicing apart echoed throughout the room, and both heads of the two Arachne flew off simultaneously. The Beasts stood there briefly, decapitated, as black blood oozed down their headless stumps. On top of the stumps, were two spinning metallic discs, which appeared to be floating in midair. Finally, the dead Beasts slumped over to the ground, as the two metallic discs suddenly jerked back as if they were retracted, and soon returned to their owner.

Inquisitor Caleb Bartholomew easily caught his two blood-soaked chakrams (http://i48.tinypic.com/vdpj5.jpg)with his gauntlet-hands. He stood there silently, black blood covering his Templar armor, before he turned around to face the entrance. The tunnel leading towards the entrance was completed covered with several fresh Arachne carcasses that he single-handily killed. However, there were still another straggler or two to deal with. He walked back towards the entrance, where the shocked Chevalier templars were standing. He managed to reach them before they completely blocked the entrance with their thick web, and thus that's when he stepped in to deal with the final two Arachne attacking Templar Hoefler.

The Inquisitor saw two large shadows approaching the entrance, and two more Arachne appeared and charged towards him. "Stand aside, let me deal with them," Inquisitor Caleb stated, his expression stern as he took a few steps towards the charging Beasts. He swung both of his arms up and released his weapons, letting them fly towards one of the approaching Beasts. The two chakrams raced towards the Beasts, and a keen eye would notice a string attached to each chakram - which connected the Inquisitor's gauntlets. The mechanisms of the chakram-gauntlet combo allowed for the Inquisitor to easily manipulate the chakrams, whether its to quickly retract the weapons or maneuver them with a simple tug.

The chakrams flew in an upward arc, and moved way too fast for the Arachne to simply dodge. It slashed upwards, leaving two deep vertical gashes across the Beast's chest. The creature screamed in pain as the chakrams continued flying upwards, and the other Arachne lunged towards the Inquisitor. Bartholomew was completely unfazed by the lunging beast, and he simply reacted by quickly tugging both chakrams with the strings attached to his gauntlet hands.

The Inquisitor is known as a legendary monster-slayer for a strong reason, he was the complete epitome of a Knight-class Templar that fully utilizes the Hyperkinesis ability. The combinations of using chakrams, along with his perfect precision and accuracy, along with the right amount of strength and balance for each singular muscle, allowed him to create havoc on the battlefield. After nearly fifteen years of experience as a warrior, he was definitely a force to be reckoned with.

The two chakrams were tugged back, and quickly retract towards the Inquisitor. The Arachne beast practically leaped into the air, but the Inquisitor's timing of his next action was perfect. The two chakrams landed directly against the Beast's back, embedding themselves into its back and instantly severing its spinal column, killing the creature. There was still the second Arachne to deal with, despite it being heavily wounded. The Inquisitor wasted no time, and leaped forward, jumping on to the back of the slumping Arachne carcass, and immediately grabbed his chakram blades.

He raised up both of his chakrams and slashed, tearing apart a glob of web that the second Arachne shot towards the Inquisitor. Caleb quickly jumped off the dead creature's back, landing right in front of the wounded Beast. Despite the large Arachne towering over the Inquisitor, Caleb Bartholomew held no sense of fear or intimidation in his eyes. He has faced far worse threats and abominations than the creature that stood before him, and thus was fully confident in his own ability to deal with this creature.

Templar Warren's team arrived at the scene right as the Inquisitor silently approached the creature, and the Arachne quickly responded by thrusting two of its spider legs directly towards Inquisitor Caleb. Bartholomew's reaction speed worked out perfectly, as he sidestepped out of the way of one of the spider legs before pivoting his foot. His left shoulder faced the front of the Arachne, and now he stood between both spider legs and was unscathed by the creature's attack.

The Scourge Beast tried to be faster than him, and attempted to wrap its legs around the Inquisitor since he was in such close vicinity. It opened its large mandibles, ready to devour its prey. However, it would soon realize that it was not the predator in this scenario.

The Inquisitor pivoted his foot once more, turning forward before slamming his right chakram against the Arachne's chest, easily tearing through its flesh and embedding itself into its torso. The creature screamed out in pain, but Bartholomew wasn't done yet. He raised up his left chakram and took aim, and with his free hand, pressed a button hidden within the wrist portion of his left gauntlet.

The chakram from his left hand shot out with an explosive force, practically like a harpoon. He used one more nifty trick from the mechanical gauntlet/chakram combo, and can shoot the chakram like a harpoon, which was incredibly useful in short-range combat. It carried its risk, the explosive force may tear apart the string that attached the gauntlet, and thus the Inquisitor may no longer have control over that chakram.

However, in this scenario, it worked perfectly as planned. The chakram shot the Arachne's opened mandible as it screeched in pain, easily tear through its mouth and cleaving right through the head. The screech suddenly stopped, as the top half of Arachne's head slid off and fell to the ground. The Inquisitor took a few steps back while also grabbing the chakram that was stuck in the creature's chest, before allowing it to slump over lifelessly. He then glanced up, and saw his other chakram embedding itself on to the ceiling. He gave it a simple tug, and fortunately the string was intact and it quickly retracted back to him.

He glanced to Warren's group, giving them a simple nod. "My apologies, it seems you were all a little late to join in the fun," he formed a small yet playful smirk, something that was slightly rare for the usually stoic Inquisitor.


The mission was successfully completed. Shortly after Inquisitor Caleb finished off the rest of the Arachne at the nest, and Isaac's group escorting the civilians out of the mine, the Templars managed to kill off the last few Scourge Beasts stragglers in the mine. The entire gathered outside of the mine's entrance, each and every one of them looking like they went through hell and back.

But they all made it out alive.

That was another objective that the Inquisitor was proud of, because he promised himself to bring every individual back home safely to Sanctuary. It appeared they would all return home and celebrate another grand victory for the Templar Order.

The townspeople of Hirod also gathered outside of the mine entrance, awaiting for the return of their loved ones with bated breath. They were cries of joy when parents and children reunited, and long-time friends hugging each other in a loving manner. Many of the townspeople personally went up to the Templars, thanking them for saving their people and expressing an abounding amount of gratitude to the warriors.

Senior Isaac Hills briefly shook hands with the town's elder, before glancing around at the rest of his companions. Yes, he understood that several Templars wanted the option to go after the Lycans and kill them off. However, hopefully they can all feel proud of themselves of this great accomplishment. They saved dozens of lives today, and personally watched loved ones reunited after their dire situation. Not only that, but this should significantly improve Sanctuary's relationship with the town of Hirod, which was strained before. They can all look forward to a bit more brighter future.


Several hours passed by, and it was the dead of night. The squadron already began their journey back to Sanctuary. They set camp for the night in the middle of the Borderfields, like any other typical night for their travels. All of them Templars were certainly tired from their earlier endeavor, and were looking forward to resting for the night. It would only take a couple more days to reach Sanctaury, where they finally have some well-deserved rest, and maybe even some nice recognition for accomplishing a task set out by the Divine Trinity themselves.

Isaac let out a loud sigh of relief in his tent after he took off the heavy Templar armor and laid them on the ground. He was dressed in simple leather clothing, it wouldn't be long before he would try and catch some sleep for the night. It was certainly a long one.

Even though they successfully completed the mission, there were a few gripes that needed to be taken cared of - as his duty as the Senior Templar. Templar Warren notified the Senior Templar that Templars Orfiel, Sanford, and Caesar separated from one another during their objective of the mission. This was deemed unacceptable by both the Senior Templar and the Inquisitor.

The Senior Templar already set up an informal meeting for them that day, and had all three Templars gather at his tent. He went through the details of what was reported to him, and sternly scolded all three of them. Regardless of their feelings with the decision that they made in the tunnels - and went on their separate ways, they basically abandoned one another to their fates.

Yes, Oriel was the assigned leader and held the responsibility for looking after his subordinates, while also being accountable for their actions - left them behind and could be considered abandoning his own troops. Templars Sanford and Caesar were not off the hook either, and also made the decision to leave behind their superior and abandoned him as well. This kind of behavior was never acceptable for Isaac's squadron, you DO NOT leave behind and abandon a fellow Templar warrior. You work together, through thick-and-thin, because you are all a team.

Isaac marked down this discrepancy as a Conditional Event. Basically, it was a memorandum that was recorded, and that he will turn in to Inquisitor Caleb, who would respectively turn in to Archon Denaris once they reach the city of Sanctaury. If Archon Denaris were to receive three Condition Events from a single Templar, that Templar would immediately be transferred to a different squadron - more than likely to the likes of Inquisitor Darkwood's squadron, which was full of petty crooks and barbarians. It was not the kind of crowd that Sanford, Orfiel, and Caesar would want to join in the future. This was their first Conditional Event recorded, and hopefully it would be their last.

After recording the Conditional Event, the Senior Templar dismissed the three from his tent. It was a process that he rather not go through, but it was his duty. It was rather awkward giving a stern scolding to Kiera, because he understood that the two of them were a bit close considering she's always watching over Kaitlyn, his daughter. Regardless, he hoped that Kiera can understood that this was his professional duty, and does not hold any personal feelings against him for recording the Conditional Event - or Orfiel or Caesar for that matter.

Then there was the matter of dealing with the debacle of the miscommunication that lead Volkov and Isaac to completely different locations than the ones that they set out for. Templar Creed was in charge of the communications team, and thus it fell under her responsibility that the mistake happened. They also had an informal meeting, and apparently Templar Creed could not pinpoint who gave out the wrong information. Regardless, even if the circumstances were somewhat outside of her control, Isaac still had to give her a stern counseling. Again, a matter that Isaac rather not deal with due to Creed's bubbly and happy nature, but it needed to be done. She was also quickly dismissed.

Regardless, the day was nearly over, and the Senior Templar stepped outside of his tent. The night sky was clear, and there was a couple of small campfires scattered across the squadron's campsite. Dozens of more tents scattered the place, and many of the Templars had their own personal small tents. There was one tent that he was searching for, before finally finding it and walking towards it.

"Templar Volkov, front and center!" The Senior Templar immediately ordered outside of her tent, awaiting for the young woman to respond. It was time that they should discuss how the mission went with her as the appointed team leader.

[☆Catwoman☆]

Despite their urgent pace, Yelena and her team saw no more action that day in the mine. They had joined with Inquisitor Bartholomew as he slew the last of the Arachne in their tunnel and left the dank darkness of the mine shortly thereafter, weary and covered in grime, as it should be. Yelena shook many hands from Hirod, awkwardly accepted many hugs as she forced her way through the grateful crowds to get to her stallion, who snorted and tossed his mane in acknowledgment as she neared. She patted Ebon Storm’s neck and climbed atop him to escape the converging assembly.

In the hours that followed, she spoke with several of her peers and was mildly surprised that all had escaped alive, if battered. Simultaneously the worst and best report she heard was that of Selenada’s team, who had unwittingly stumbled straight into the nest; worst because the green leader should have never found herself in such a precarious position on her first mission as a commander, and best because she had conquered the odds and gotten her team out alive to the last. Perhaps, Yelena mused, there was some merit to what Isaac had done. But that did not mean she was not still displeased with him; luck steered a Templar’s success nearly as much as skill, and Volkov’s could have soured in that nest.

Renakovic had congratulated Selenada all the same, pleased and relieved when she had seen her emerge from the mine looking the worse for wear. But they had had little time to speak, much needing to be done and reported after the successful mission, and then they were on the move back toward Sanctuary.

At camp later that night, Yelena spoke only to a few of her fellows--chiefly Octavious Warren, whom she fancied--but most of her time was spent in relative solitude. First she unburdened Ebon Storm, secured a feedbag around his head, and brushed him while he ate. Then she cleaned her sword, wiping away the blood and whatever remnants of poison it held, polishing it to a lovely shine and sharpening the blade. Her shield followed, then her gun, then her armor; removing the latter left her feeling buoyant and free despite its lightness and flexibility. She kept her weapons close--they were still in the Borderfields, after all--as she used a damp rag to wipe her face and hands, the only bit of bathing she would be doing out in the middle of nowhere. Unfavorable, but she was accustomed to it. Clothed in the tight, dark garments she wore beneath her armor, Yelena let out her abundant locks and set to brushing them.

She was near to Selenada’s tent and thus heard when Isaac called the religious woman to attention. Curious, the Knight stood and strode nearby to the spectacle to watch, crossing her arms under her breasts, piercing blue eyes studying Isaac Hills, his demeanor, trying to read in his face and body what was about to transpire. Would Volkov be commended for her actions as team leader, the role thrust upon her by the very man who was now to be her judge, or would she be reprimanded for her handling of the situation in the nest?

[TheDoctor]

Jerris leaned against a wagon on the outskirts of a campfire, his gaze calm as he unraveled a length of thin bandaging from the open medical kit from the Templars' light supplies. He slathered a finger-full of numbing balm along the length of it to sooth the inferno burning in his arms, then followed up with a spread of antibiotic ointment to prevent infection. Once the long bandage was dressed, he slowly wrapped it around his exposed right forearm starting just past the elbow. He had lost any remnants of sleeves to the Arachne's maw, but rather sleeves than skin.

His jaw tightened as he steadily continued to circle the area between his elbow and his wrist, the thin bandage covering the jagged cuts left by the Arachne's teeth. The salve mixture was fiery the minute it touched his arm, but it soon soothed to an icy-cool feeling before numbing the skin. When he had covered the skin in multiple layers, he tied off the bandage with its other end and ripped it from the remaining bandage. The wound on his cheek had mostly stopped bleeding by the time they returned to the camp, but the left side of his face was drenched in dried blood that had spilled from it in the meantime. He hadn't managed to wipe it away to get a good look at the cut, but it most likely would require a few stitches to seal up.

That would have to wait for the salve to do its work. Otherwise his shaky arms would probably damage more than they could heal.

As he pulled at the length of bandaging again for his other arm, Jerris glanced to the side at the sound of approaching footsteps. The crunch of grass was calm and nonchalant, and it did not appear to indicate any sort of provocation. Likely a passerby with little intention to speak with him. Few Templars spoke to Jerris on their own accord. That made them all the more easy to identify.

With a snippet of bandage caught in his teeth as he applied the solution to the second bandage, his eyes returned to the work rather literally at hand. "Templar Hoefler. A word, if you will."

The first thing Marcella had done when they'd made camp was to shed her armor in her tent, grab her spare clothes from her bag and go find a private place to wash the stench and dried Arachne blood from her skin and hair. She'd wash the clothes later, if not burn them. Luckily there was a stream nearby that allowed her to rinse the a majority of the blood off, so that it wouldn't contaminate the water, before she bathed completely. Marcella had never been a girly type, but she was fastidiously clean.

Once finished she squeezed the excess water from her hair and then dressed back in her spare set of field clothes, her sword still strapped to her back as one could never be too safe, before heading back toward camp. Her pace was tired, unrushed as she went. A voice calling out to her stopped her in her tracks. Templar Greymir was standing there bandaging his own wounds, dried blood still covering his face. Marcella frowned wondering why there was no one assisting him, dealing with your own wounds was extremely inconvenient.

"Of course Templar Greymir. Would you like some assistance with your wounds as well?"

"Assistance is unnecessary, but perhaps more efficient." Jerris set the bandage upon his arm, his fingers clenching at the pain that spiked continually as he started to wrap it. He paused for a moment to exhale as another slender strap of medical fabric layered upon his skin, and the wrapping resumed. "I do hope you know how to stitch."

"Ay. I know how to stitch." She said as she moved near to Jerris, dropping her dirty clothes on the ground. They were already covered in lots of blood, so a little mud and dirt wouldn't make them worse. She picked up the bottle of alcohol and poured a little in her hands to cleanse them, before finding a needle and threading. "Your cheek here?" She asked as her hands worked, making sure that was all that needed stitching. She noticed his arms were already bandaged or in the process of being bandaged and she felt a little guilt at having been responsible for that. However, she knew the steps she'd taken had been the best course of action.

"Yes. I suggest cleaning it first. I was unable to gauge how damaging of a cut it was." As Marcella sorted through the kit and Jerris continued to wrap his arm, their conversation fell quiet for a moment before he broke it again. "I would like to hear your personal thoughts on the mission."

Picking the alcohol back up, she pour some on some clean bandages setting the needle and thread back into the kit for the moment. "This'll sting." She said as she began to clean the cut on his cheek with the fabric, cleaning off the dried blood first before focusing on the wound for a more thorough cleaning. "All things considered. We're alive. I suppose that counts as a success in my book." She paused. "Though there were a lot of mistakes, that should have gotten us killed. We got lucky."

Jerris blinked as she sterilized the wound, a rosy mixture of blood and alcohol dripping down his cheek. Blood started to drip freely from his cheek again but at a much slower rate, and it was no longer as obstructive. He finished wrapping his forearm by tying off the end of it, and as Marcella raised the needle and thread again he stared forward to provide stability for the stitchings. "We should not make a habit of relying upon luck to survive in combat."

His pupils stared at her from the corner of his eyes. "Nor should we make a habit of crushing Scourge offspring while in an already dire situation."

"We did not rely on luck." She responded back focused on the task at hand as she began making careful, small, neat stitches. The neater the stitching was the less likely it would scar in the end. "I just said we were lucky not to have gotten killed. As for crushing Scourge offspring, it was the most logical course of action. We had no idea how many camouflaged spiders there were hidden against the walls of that cave and we were sealing ourselves in. Should we just have waited assuming we were safe and that nothing was in their with us while they waited for their moment? Squashing a few eggs ensured the creatures appearing on our terms."

She finished off the stitches, knotting the end before turning back toward the box to grab the supplies to bandage and clean it one last time, as well as a healing salve to encourage a clean heal of the wound. Turning back she continued the precise work with care, "I assure you sir, killing the eggs was merely a poly to draw the creature's attentions in order to allow the rest of our team time to seal the cave door. I have no death wish, but if it came down to losing one of the team versus the entire team." She shrugged slightly, "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."

Jerris was quiet for a moment as Marcella started to bandage the closed wound, his gaze returning forward. "Your thought process appears logical, and perhaps it was a clever tactic. But your overall mentality is...troublesome." He spoke slowly and methodically, as if dissecting his own opinion as he gave it. "You are not incorrect, but it is unwise to be so willing to throw your life away. Contrary to popular belief, our highest priority in that mission was not the safety of the trapped citizens."

He glanced down at the ground beyond his feet, a patchwork of grass and dirt. "It was our survival. I do not care about those miners' lives. Whether they live or die does not matter, and that became immediately apparent when we entered the Arachne nest. If that mission was any more disastrous, it would be logical to call for a retreat, for sacrificing our lives for the sake of a citizen's is simply foolish." He paused for another moment before continuing, his face twitching as Marcella applied the other end of the bandage. "We are fighting an eternal war, not a battle. We need every Templar fighting productively for our collective victory, not for a mere group of miners."

Once again he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "Do you understand what I'm saying, Templar Hoefler?"

"Every templar sir. As you said. And what if those Arachne had remained hidden and then killed all five of us while our backs are turned?" She smiled and chuckled a little as she put on the finishing touches of the bandage. "I'm no where near suicidal. However, I can see the importance between losing one Templar and losing five. Believe me if I didn't trust in your skills sir, I would have hesitated more in making that decision. It was situational and doesn't mean I'm going to go jumping about into every fight like that. As to the highest priority not being the safety of the trapped citizens, I didn't even want to go after them. The people would have been better served with us going after the larger threat of the Lycan. But the majority saw otherwise. I hate to know what destruction was caused by that decision."

Jerris responded with a nod. "Then we are on the same page. If only the other Templars could understand it as we do." His fingers traced over the bandage experimentally, testing its durability with gentle pushes and pulls. "Your assistance is appreciated. Consider your debt for inspiring my wounds repaid." He tugged on the knots on the bandages around his arms and turned to the kit, replacing the thread, bandages, and balms to their proper slots. "I will no longer keep you from your tasks. Good evening, Templar Hoefler."

"Good evening sir." She said giving him a polite nod of her head and a smile, while he wasn't an officer he still commanded respect on his own. Gathering her dirty clothes from the ground, she headed off to her tent to put away her things before going in search of food.

[The Texan Queen]

All she could do was pray. Pray that somehow they survived, pray that they would all walk out of this nest and that they would leave without major wounds. She spat the silky web along the entrance as quickly as she could but she feared that their efforts would not make anything better. As Selenada and the other Chevalier’s focused on the entrance a lone Arachne dropped down behind the small group and quickly took out Selenada with a swift strike to her side. Selenada landed hard on her back and the air left her body immediately causing her to gasp like a fish out of water. She forced herself to stand, regained her bearings and sucked in a deep breath of air before attacking the Arachne from behind. Her sword sliced through its back, black blood spewed onto her as the creature cried out in pain before collapsing.

Selenada resumed her place beside her fellow Templars and continued to try and seal the entrance. They were making good progress when she heard the sickening sound of flesh splicing behind them. She feared another Arachne had dropped down and attacked one of her Templars, but as she spun around her eyes landed on headless Beasts and behind them, The Inquisitor.

“Inquisitor Bartholomew…” She couldn’t believe that someone else had found them! Maybe we won’t die today. She commanded the other Chevalier’s to stop closing off the entrance and to make room for The Inquisitor to pass through. They all watched as Bartholomew slaughtered the remaining Arachne. Selenada had heard the stories of his superior fighting skills, but had never had the honor of seeing them in person. He was always one step ahead of the Beasts, always moving and never standing still. You could just see the power behind each blow he delivered to the demented spider creature; it truly was amazing to watch.

Through her shock she thanked The Inquisitor as they made their way out of the caves and back to the surface of the Earth. She also thanked Warren’s team for coming to offer them any help as well. Selenada just couldn’t believe that they had made it out of there alive and with so little wounds, even though she felt she didn’t do an amazing job as their leader she was proud that she didn’t have to report any lost lives after her first mission as a leader.



Arachne blood had the worst smell in Selenada’s opinion, which is why she took to cleaning off her blood stained armor the second they got to their camp. She scrubbed the armor down despite the throbbing in her right side where she took a blow from one of the Arachne. The image of her being thrown back by the hairy spider leg reappeared every time she closed her eyes, making her tender side burn even more. Once the black blood was wiped away Selenada placed her armor at the foot of her cot and put on some clothes to sleep in. Slowly and gently she laid herself down on the cot and closed her eyes to rest. She couldn’t help but replay every second of their mission and realized moments where she could have shined as a leader if she wasn’t so inexperienced or timid. In the moment she felt completely lost and hopeless, but now looking back on their mission she couldn’t help but kick herself. There were so many things she could have done differently and if she was ever given the opportunity again she would do much better.

“Templar Volkov, front and center!”

Her eyes snapped open and her heart dropped into her stomach. “Coming!” She called out and pushed herself up as quickly as she could so she could greet her Senior Templar. Selenada took in a deep breath before stepping outside of her tent to face whatever Isaac had to say to her.

“Senior Templar Hills,” Selenada gave him a quick salute and stood at attention.

[Maya]

With the fighting over, the journey home seemed long and arduous before ever taking the first step. Having been one of the first to offer comfort to the worried family members on the way into the cave, she tried to keep her distance from them on the way out. The Arachne venom made moving smoothly a challenge; but, with no anti-venom, the effects would have to wear off on their own. Would be uncomfortable for awhile. Maybe this was some sort of cosmic punishment for what had taken place.

Once they paused to make camp, the majority of her gear was off loaded; but, the cloak kept on tightly. A protective shield, useless protection, from the bitter sting of what she knew was to come. While she may be a joker at times, when it came to her job, Kiera took things very seriously. So, to have their assigned mission disintegrate to the point of complete and total failure hit her like a ton of bricks. Compared to the other teams, their group had barely done anything at all..and yet they failed.

Shoulda, coulda, woulda, In hindsight, she probably should have kept her mouth shut and let the two men take as long as they wanted to make a decision in the tunnel. Then maybe they could have avoided all this mess and things would have turned out differently. It would be easy for each to find fault and point a finger at the other two. Perhaps the men would do so. Kiera was one who took ownership of her own mistakes. For bad or for worse. She'd let out a huge sigh as the the trio was called into Isaac's tent, prepping herself for what was to come. Once inside her head was up; but her eyes were downcast while trying not to flinch, wince or give in to the strong desire to clench her fist as the searing effects of the venom continued to run it's course. She was listening and digesting the gravity of the words the Senior Templar chose to reinforce the gravity of their situation. There was no defense for what had taken place. As the saying goes...'Excuses are like assholes, everyone has one.' He had every right to rant and rave for however long it took to feel as if he'd gotten the point across. Which he did as far as she was concerned. Especially knowing she now had a black mark attached to a once good record. It was a slap in the face; but, a deserved one.

As soon as they were dismissed, she left the tent to take a walk around the perimeter of the camp, get some fresh air and try to shake off the sick feeling balled up in her stomach. Kiera really needed to clear her head because it felt as if her brain was throbbing against her skull and threatening to turn the contents into a gelatinous mush. She had nothing against Amittay or Orfiel. Nor were there any bad feelings over Isaac doing his job. This was about her. While the other teams might be celebrating a job well done, Kiera would be kicking her own butt while going over all the ways this mission could have gone differently. Would be easy to use the injury card as an excuse. To blame the puncture wounds on her shoulder for those moments of aggravation. But, this wasn't her first time to be injured, it wasn't her first time to keep fighting through discomfort. It was the first time something of this nature had happened and also the first time she'd ever been spoken to in such a dire tone from a superior. If she didn't care, the reprimand wouldn't have mattered. It would have just rolled off her back like rainwater. But, she did care so this wasn't something which could just be shook off.

Two trips around the camp and Kiera would finally settle down enough to return to her gear and address the the main problem at hand. The bloodied cloak was removed and laid to one side as her fingers probed around the two holes in her right shoulder where the Arachne's tusk like mandibles had pierced flesh and muscle. Within the inner folds of her cloak was a pouch which held what few potions and salves were carried on the trip since she traveled light. The first thing drawn out was the numbing oil. Normally, it would be a god send; but, not with an open wound. "Shit.." muttering beneath her breath while pulling out a bottle of Holy Fire. "That's no help.." Lastly came the healing salve which would be used to clean and dress the wound as best as possible with one arm as the slow burn of the venom took it's sweet time to wear off. Even when it did, Kiera knew it wouldn't change the discomfort in her shoulder. The problem had less to do with the poison pulsing through her veins as the damage done by the ferocity of the bite. It was a issue that would have to wait to be addressed until they returned to Sanctuary.

By now, the rumor mill had probably heard about what happened and knew the trio had their asses handed over on a silver platter. How could that be? Nothing rattled Kiera, right? She was the steadfast, middle ground soldier who was rarely called out for doing something bad or noticed for something good. Her goal was to do what she was suppose to do and stay off the higher ups radar by never swaying too far over the line delineating right from wrong. She was known for slights of hand and making jokes to lift the mood after a hard days work and always sporting a sly, little smile because she was probably up to something. Like singing a raunchy song in a crowded bar. Truth be told, she could really use someone to make her laugh for once. That cloak would be yanked closer about her form as she listened to the sound of soft conversations drifting over from the campfires. In time, she'd swallow her pride and move to take a seat near one of the fires out of a desire not to be alone.

[Scottie]

She had managed to find a small space near the fire where no one else sat. She had hastily tied a tight bandage around her arm before they left the caves. Now that they had stopped for the night, she could deal with the wound. She unravelled the bloody bandage and let her eyes trail over the ripped skin. She had been a little more violent with this attempt than usual. Perhaps it was the creature just steps from her face that caused her to tear rather than slice. She pressed at the edges with her fingertips and frowned as blood continued to seep past her fingertips.

Hidden in her pack was a small needle and thread. Enough for a simple job before she could get home to what she needed. Before making a messy attempt at closing the wound, she raised her arm to her mouth. Trailing her tongue over the skin, feeling the cold trickle against the skin. It would help, even if only for the pain. The sight always had a way of tugging at her last meal. For the next few minutes, Sophia ground her teeth as she closed the wound. Tying a small knot and hiding away her instruments once again. She found a new bandage and wound it carefully around the now pinkish skin.

She raised her eyes to the fire, letting the weight of the mission slip off her shoulders. If only for a second. The vague whisperings beside her was rife with rumours of failure. How they failed. Sophia trailed her eyes over to the men, watching them speak in hush tones. She raised an eyebrow in curiosity as they mentioned names well known to her. Moving her gaze away before they noticed. Taking an apple from her bag, she unlatched a clean knife and started to slice off chunks. Munching on pieces as the whispers continued around her.

[Yamimoon]

Letum was shocked that Templar Valencia came to his aid. Out of all the Templars this man was not the most suited for battel and seemed to be a coward at times. Though this time he decided to forget his little draw back and help. A little confused by the kind jester he had stopped trying to free himself as he watched the man work. Once all was said and done Valencia helped him from the wall. Landing on his fee was not hard, and he looked to the man as he spoke. Letum shook his head, “Thanks for the assist.”

He then walked over to the decapitated body of the female Arachne. He grabbed a hold of his dagger, and placed his foot on its back. With a stomach-turning sucking sound he pulled his weapon from the corps. Black blood dripped from the blade as he then cleaned the blade with his cape. Then placing it back on his back. Retrieving his sword he waited till everything was ready to go keeping his ears open for any possible movement. As soon as everything was calmed down they finished their march out of the caverns, then it was time for the long trek home.

---

Once the day slowly turned to night Letum set up camp like the other Templars, removing his armor, and getting into a pair of black pants and an old shirt. Once he did he pulled a small medical pack, a mirror, his cape, and a couple of candles from his belongings grabbed his sword then left his tent. The moon was full so it was easy to maneuver the camp. Well it would be easy no matter what since the fires were burning bright. Though he would not be in the safety of the camp for very long. There was a stream nearby, so decided he would treat his wounds there. Away from the prying eyes of his fellow Templars.

Once he reached the stream he saw that someone else had decided to make use of the stream as well. Though they were finishing up and left without noticing he was there. That was a good thing since he needed to take care of his injuries alone, and didn’t wish to have a conversation at the moment. Finding a flat rock that he could use as a table he set up his candles and mirror. Using a small flint that he kept in his medical kit he lit the candles, and got everything out that he was going to need to fix his wound. Removing the shirt he looked at the lacerations that were caked with blood, and realized the injury was fare worse than he first thought.

Though it didn’t surprise him since he was not able to feel pain like the others, because of his addiction. Shaking his head he began to work on cleaning his injury with the water from the stream first, because there was too much blood for the little saline that he carried. The moonlight proved to be useful as he continued his work, once all of the blood was gone he worked on disinfecting the now bleeding wound. The lacerations were quite deep, and needed to be stitched up. So he began his work, though he was not officially trained to do this kind of work he was fairly good at stitches. The pain was there but not so bad that he would mess up his work.

At times like these he was grateful for the fact that he has such a high tolerance to pain, even though it wasn’t natural. This kept him from having to seek medical assistance, though it worried him that one day he would get a wound that will kill him and he will not be able to tell the difference. He moved to placing some healing salve on the wound to keep it from getting infected, and promote the healing process. Not placing any bandages over the wound he returned all of the materials to them medical kit, and then proceeded to not only clean the black blood from his cape, but clean the fresh blood from his abdomen from the bleeding wound he had earlier.

Once he finished everything he blew out the candles, put his shirt back on, picked up his sword and mirror returning to camp. Returning to the small tent that he called home when he was in the Border lands. He was not in the mood to be around the others, because he was pissed off at himself for letting his guard down enough to actually get hurt by a single Arachne all for the sake of saving a man that he should have let die. Placing the materials back where they belonged he laid on his cot looking to the roof of his tent trying to sort through the emotions that led to his mistake.

[Chihana]

The fight had been hectic, and Lorelei had been on her toes from start to end, her sword ready in hand whenever they passed a tunnel, ready to protect the people of Hirod with her life. But when the battle was finally over, and they had taken their leave from the city, she could feel how everything started to weigh down on her. The fact that someone had gotten the information wrong was hard for her to wrap her head around, when it was of such importance. They had been lucky that they hadn't lost any of the order. If luck hadn't been on their side, they would have had at least one team of fallen Templars to mourn this evening.

But no matter her frustration with the mistake, she couldn't do much about it. It wasn't her place. Had she been the one put in danger, it'd be different, but in this case, she had been the one who got the easy task. She sighed, as they put up their tents, and in the quiet of night, she started to do the one thing that could make her mind relax - taking care of her weapons, and keeping them sharp and shiny.

[Megilwen]

Seated off on his own at camp Big O was on the ground his back to the bulk of the group as he ate a plate of food and stared out into the black night. His heart and head were in turmoil, he did what he thought was right, he even saved a pair of innocents covered in Archne webbing and about to be digested. Two more lives that would've ended before the Lord deemed it necessary that he would've missed had he ran back to the team that abandoned him.

But he had also disobeyed orders and failed his team leaving them as they left him. And he got reprimanded by the new Inquisitor as well the other two. They all messed up and they all would get flak for it, it wasn't the first time for Orfiel and he was sure it wouldn't be the last. The Templars weren't full of proper Warriors of God, there were many yes, but they didn't seem to be the majority. He would continue to butt heads with prideful loners like Kiera and indecisive young people like Amittay.

He would find peace within himself soon, for now Big O would eat his food and worry about tending to his wounds, both physical and mental later.

Having finally found food, bread and a bowl of thick, warm, stick-to-your-ribs stew, Marcella went in search of O. She hadn't seen her friend since they made it out of the mine, though he hadn't been in the company of his team, which she'd found strange. Something had happened, but she hadn't heard what yet.

It seemed he was no where near the fire and the rest of the group. Looking away from the fire, she waited for her eyes to adjust before noticing a large shadow a little bit away. She turned from the beckoning warmth and light and headed over to join him. "What are you doing out here? It's chilly out. Come near to the fire O." She said standing beside him, her food still in hand.

Staring up at the moon Big O shook his large head slowly at M's request, his blood coated black armor behind him glistening in the distant firelight.

"The cold brings clarity, fair M, as does pain. Both of which I am in need of right now. Feel free to join me though, besides." He chuckled lightly patting his flat stomach firmly. "I have lots of body mass to keep me warm."

She wrinkled her nose a little as she sat beside him while she balanced her bread on her knee. "You still smell like Arachne and I don't." She shivered already in the cool air. Digging her spoon into the stew, she took a bite of the food and Mmmmm'd at the taste. "So what's on your mind O?"

He smiled again sipping from his cup of warm tea. "It'll scare the normal spiders and snakes away, but I wanted some warm food in me before I go bathe. As for what's on my mind, tis the turmoil of this mission. Almost everything went south from the getgo. And listening the grumbling of our comrades who wanted to hunt down Lycans doesn't make it any easier."

"We should have gone after the Lycans." Marcella said as she ate, using the bread as a utensil as much as the spoon. "O, we saved a handful of people today. What about the hundreds we doomed by leaving the Lycan free on their path of destruction?" She paused again for another bite of food. "But yes. This mission was a complete fiasco." She agreed. "Communication failed. Somewhere."

The big Crusader hmmed softly finishing his plate. "You make it sound like half the human race was wiped out, normal people can escape the Beasts given enough time. Yes, the Lycans might've killed a lot, but we don't know for sure, while on the otherhand the people we saved today had no choice but to die. Lycans can be fooled and escaped, Arachne might not be as powerful as their lupine counterparts, but once they get dug into a place like that mine no one escape without skills like ours. They can be a match for Lycans or Wendigos when on their own home turf. Personally I feel no choice we were given was the right one."

"You're right we don't know how many were killed, but Arachne also don't venture out much once they set up a nest. Lycans tear through villages moving from one to the next." She said with a shrug as she ate.

Big O gave a rumble of confirmation, she was right. It really was all just chaos and misunderstanding.
"Would good communications have made a large difference? These creatures have managed to fool our keener senses before...with increasing success." The big man growled this time looking down in thought. "Could these monsters be getting smarter?" He said more to himself, but loud enough for M to hear.

Marcella made a thoughtful noise. "I don't like to think that these beasts could get smarter." She quieted. "In the mines, they seemed pretty predictable like always." She said thinking about how the Arachne had come out of their hiding the moment she'd threatened their young.

O hmmed again finishing off his cup of tea.
"Hmm true, but something just isn't sitting right with me. One of those naggings in the back of my mind, do you share this?"

"I'm not sure. There is a nagging yes, but it may be different then your nagging as I don't know what it is that's bothering your yet." She replied in her normal way, looking at the picture as a whole, not just as a piece. "Our experiences within the the mines were a bit different. Perhaps it would help me as well as yourself work through things if you were to explain."

O hmmed swishing his empty tea cup around.
"I'm not sure how to explain it right now. Divine warning? The Hand of Fate? Maybe tomorrow it'll come to me."

"Well then perhaps it's time to retire for the evening. To allow yourself to pray over it. Maybe you'll get an answer." Marcella stood up and looked down at O. "Sleep well O." She said before she walked off toward the fire.

[The Texan Queen]

Co-post between Tex and Kayne

The Senior Templar dropped his salute, "Stand at ease, Templar Volkov," he ordered her - it wasn't necessary to stand at attention in an informal setting like this. Selenide grafully relaxed and placed her hands behind her back, interlocking her fingers together and gave them a reassurinbg squeeze.

"I called you forth to do an informal report on your performance with the mission - as the appointed team leader. I've already spoken to your fellow team members and received their respective inputs on your performance. Before I begin, I would like to personally ask how you think you performed with the mission?" he questioned, his facial expression remained rather stoic - making it difficult to interpret whether or not he was pleased with her leadership.

"Oh." Selenada had hoped that this could wait, she wasn't really in the mood for round two of the horribly low opinions of her peers.

"My thoughts?" It was more of a question to herself than it was towards Isaac. She knew what her thoughts were but she didn't feel like voicing them, she was self conscious.

"I think I did okay for it being my first mission as a leader..." Selenada took in a deep breath as she prepares to criticize herself, her least favorite thing to do in front of people. "Looking back over the mission and the events I realize now that I could have done a better job, I could have shined, but my inexperience in being a leader and my nerves got in my way. I was very fortunate for The Inquisitor to step in, I fear that if he did not we would not be standing here talking. So, overall, I feel like I could have done a better job not only for myself but for my fellow Templars." Now it was time to face the music of how her team felt about her leadership and how Isaac felt she did. She desperately wished this could wait, she just wanted to relax.

Isaac nodded, listening to Selenada and agreeing with many points she had. "Indeed. First, I will start of with this, Templar Volkov - with all things consider, you did a good job with your very first mission in a leadership position. Everybody in your team came out alive, and you were ultimately successful in adapting to a dire situation," Isaac pointed out, many others probably would have crumbled in a situation like Selenada's.

"And you are right about a few things. You are still rather inexperienced with the leadership concept, and many of your fellow teammates noticed that throughout the mission. They noticed your lack of confidence at many points, and many questioned if you were ever truly the 'leader' in the team. From what I understand, you more-or-less complied to the suggestions of others, never once making your own decision. Honestly, though, this can be expected for a person thrust into the role of leadership, so don't let this discourage you."

"Regardless of your inexperience, many of them were still impressed how you kept a calm demeanor throughout the stressful situation. A few of them even admitted that they misjudged you as a Templar warrior, and that you are starting to fit more into the Order. They saw the determination and resolution in your eyes to carry out the mission while fighting off the Arachne. One key positive thing - you never once lost control of your team. Everybody followed your orders, regardless of personal feelings," Isaac stated. Templar Catriona mentioned earlier that she wanted to help out Templars Greymir and Hoefler in their plight against the Arachne, but followed Selenada's order and stayed in her position to seal off the entrance. "You are beginning to earn their respect and trust. Sooner or later, you'll become an outstanding Templar that everyone in the squadron can respect," Isaac nodded with a small smile, encouraging the young woman.

"Do you have any questions so far about the feedback, or the mission, or anything else for that matter?"

"I," Selenada let out a surprised laugh and shook her head while she looked up at the sky, "I honestly can't believe that the feedback was so...positive. I was honestly expecting much worse..." She couldn't help but smile and the sudden flush of color to her face didn't bother her, nothing really could right now. It wasn't the best report but it was over the moon compared to what she was anticipating. Selenada was finally on track to gaining the respect she always wanted from her fellow Templars and becoming the person she knew she could.

"I just want to thank you, Isaac," She smiled brightly at him. "At first I had no idea what you were thinking, thrusting me in that situation, but I am truly grateful for the opportunity and hope for more chances to improve on my Templar skills." As much as she tried to hide it, it was obvious how happy the girl was from what Isaac had told her. No longer would her peers just see her as the church girl, they saw her as someone with value to their team.

Templar Volkov appeared ecstatic about the news, smiling brightly about the positive feedback. Isaac formed his own wider smile, nodding back to her thanks. "You are very welcome, Templar Volkov," he reached his hand, patting her on the shoulder briefly. "Do me a favor, and never doubt yourself again," he stated, taking a step back. "You're dismissed," he stated aloud.

"I promise I won't. Have a good evening," selenada gave him him a nod and watched him walk away. She would have to find Amitty later and tell him all about her mission and her time as a leader, but for now she planned on relaxing and sleeping with ease knowing she didn't completely mess up.

Selenada didn't realize this, but Isaac built her up for success for this mission. Many people would call what happened with the Inquisitor to be luck, but there was more to the Caleb's appearance than meets the eye. Both the Senior Templar and the Inquisitor knew that Templar Volkov may have difficulty in leading her first team, and so the Inquisitor agreed to stay in close proximity to her team throughout the mission and lend any assistance if needed. Even though others deemed before that placing Selenada in a leadership position was a screw-up, Isaac was confident that having an Inquisitor nearby should help out her chance of performing successfully.

That was the main reason why Inquisitor Bartholomew appeared extremely quickly to Jerris's emergency signal, and arrived before even Templar Warren's team did. And also the main reason why Isaac didn't appear to be extremely worried and sent more Templar to help out her team, despite finding out the misinformation. Did anybody need to know about this plan? Not necessarily, Isaac is more than willing to let Selenada take the credit of doing a decent job in her first leadership position.

[Maya]

Co-Post: Kayne and Maya

Isaac walked back from Templar Volkov's tent, after delivering the news about her leadership performance. He strode by a few fires, giving a small nod of greetings as he passed by some of his fellow soldiers. They were all an odd group - some were being jubilant and happily celebrating their victory in the mines, some were loners and sat by themselves and self-reflected on their own personal issues, while some were heading to the tents and about to catch some sleep for the night.

His gaze fell upon one of his fellow Templars, whom sat by herself and seeming rather gloomy than her usual self. Isaac temporarily paused in his steps, understanding that Templar Sanford - Kiera - was probably taking her own performance critically after being reprimanded by the Senior Templar. Isaac sighed heavily, knowing the feeling very well - he took his own failures harshly and took awhile to forgive himself. Fortunately, he was able to find the strength to move on and improve himself, learning from his mistakes. It was this mindset that probably helped him out be promoted to a Senior Templar - and very soon into an Inquisitor.

Perhaps Kiera could use some help, and Isaac was more than willing to do that. The woman would suddenly notice the Senior Templar taking the seat next to her, and he was staring into the flames with a small smile on his face.

"So, Kaitlyn's seventh birthday is coming up, what do you think is a good present for that little rascal?" He questioned aloud, before glancing at Kiera. He knew that conversations about Kaitlyn should turn Sanford's gloomy mood around, that little girl could always bring a smile to anyone's face.

Her thoughts had turned towards the night sky full of stars so vast it made one feel insignificant in comparison and left her wondering why was she even here? For every battle, another would follow..and another. When all is said and done, you crawl home battle worn, bruised and drained of every last ounce of energy and for what? A few days off before the cycle repeats itself all over again. It never ends. Perhaps her view of the world was skewed at the moment. Jaded by all that had transpired.

Going home again meant dealing with her crazy stepmother begging her to leave the Templar ranks for the umpteenth time because she wants grandchildren before being too old to enjoy them. "Face it, Kiera you aren't getting any younger. The butcher's son is quite a catch and you'll never starve with him around." Every single conversation with Judy was the same. 'When are you going to stop running all over hill and dale? Find you a nice man..or woman..settle down? It's unnatural for a woman to be single for so long.' They always wanted to 'fix' her when she wasn't even broken. Just different..

Then there was Kaitlyn. Judy had practically strong armed poor Isaac into allowing her to be the girl's adopted grandmother. The woman had a way of bull dogging herself into everything. Which made Kiera wonder just how often her stepmother had muscled her way into Isaac's life whether he liked it or not? Was kind of scary if she thought on that too long. On the bright side, he'd always seemed OK about the odd interruptions and there was no telling what type of girly gifts would be flooding to their door once Isaac returned home.

It was during that last thought she noticed the form taking a seat next to her by the fire. Her first instinct, she was in trouble again. But, Kiera knew better. Discipline was normally addressed in private. The question posed still came as a surprise. "Isaac..I mean, Senior Templar Hill.." Boy was that a mouthful. Her mouth fell open a little realizing Kaitlyn's birthday was so near. "Seven already? Where does the time go? Makes me feel so old." Which sooo was not helping to improve her mood much. As far as birthday presents, that was easy. "A puppy. Cute, little hound with long, floppy ears and a dark patch over one eye." Could it be that she knew just where to get said puppy? Maybe. "With you gone so often, it's about time she has a bubbly pet to keep her entertained. But, if you feel differently, maybe a goldfish. Less hassle."

Kiera was trying to avoid the elephant in the room. Why had he came all the way out here to talk to her? Was uncommon for them to carry on a conversation longer than a few minutes these days. "Just so you know, I'm not mad at you. I deserved it..the event." Glancing over at him as she spoke. "I'm sorry if I let you down." She wasn't one of those who tried to piss her team mates off, deliberately said things to start a fire and didn't give a shit about anyone but themselves. She was truly bothered by what had happened and her part in it. "I won't be as much of a pain in the ass once I get patched up."

"A puppy! Now why didn't I think of that?" Isaac chuckled aloud, forming a brighter smile as he contemplated on the idea of getting his little girl a new best friend. He very much liked the idea, especially since Kaitlyn should have good company while Isaac is about and about with his Templar missions. Things will only get more hectic once he is promoter to an Inquisitor - such is the Templar life and the sacrifices they carry, but he's doing it to ensure a safe world for his little girl.

Kiera immediately changed the topic and addressed the issue with her performance in the past mission. She apologize for her action, the one that involved abandoning a fellow teammate. She also mentioned that she will no longer be a pain anymore, once she's all patched up. Isaac glanced at her, understanding her feelings of failure. Isaac was no perfect Templar himself, he made several mistakes - he is human after all. Yet, he can see some similarities between himself and Kiera - they won't let their mistakes drag them down.

Isaac glanced back at the fire, still holding a small smirk. "All is forgiven, Templar Sanford," he nodded, accepting her apology. "And just to let you know, I'm not mad at you either," he cast a sideways glance at her. "You made a mistake... we all do. We deal with all kinds of stress and complications, we deal with a lot of crap that a normal person shouldn't... and yet we still remain strong. You haven't let me down, Kiera," he referred to his fellow Templar by her first name, being a bit more casual and informal with this meeting.

"You're a good Templar... and a good person. You always have been, and you always will be. You made a mistake, but you will learn from it... that's how we all undergo personal growth. Don't take this Conditional Event to heart, it won't matter in the long run, trust me. It will only become a stigma, if you let it become a stigma." Then, he fully turned his head to face Kiera, "And I know you won't make it a stigma," he stated with much certainty and confidence. What he said is true, Kiera is a good Templar, and she will not let this failure get the best of her.

"You didn't think of it because you do not have the all knowing, all impressive, creative and ever scheming mind of a woman." Spoken with absolute certainty and confidence, along with a bit of smile. "Don't feel bad. You're a good father. We can forgive you for your total lack of vision." Nudging his shoulder with her own. "I'm sure you have a lot more things on your mind than puppies, presents and birthday cake. In fact, I'd be willing to bet Judy is already on it. Probably some massive, seven layer monstrosity covered with every type of animal, plant or whimsical, flight of fancy Kaitlyn has ever said she likes." Was his daughter going to be spoiled? Yes. Most certainly.

Kiera needed to purge herself from the earlier incident. To try and make things right in her world again. The shift from 'Isaac', her friend, to the Senior Templar actually came naturally and with ease after all these years together. He seemed to always be in control and rarely had she ever seen him break. Which is why curiosity got the best of her and she asked. "What's the worst mistake you've ever made and how did you get past it?" Whatever it had been, Isaac seemed to have moved forward without too many scars left behind. She was holding on to this mistake more than any other for some reason and wanted to let it go.

"I'll try not to let this get to me more than it already has. It's just been a difficult few days. Part of me is trying to figure out my place. Sometimes, I'm not sure I even have one. Then there's the push and pull of the 'outside' pressure." Meaning her stepparents. Judy saw Isaac as family just as much as Kaitlyn. He was like her stepson whether he knew it or not. However, she didn't put the screws to him and try to apply her will on him as she did Kiera. "Nothing I can't handle though. Everything will be fine." Was she trying to convince him or herself? That was the question.

"Yeah, and don't remind me that most of the time, they are completely irrational with their thought processes," Isaac playfully jabbed back in response to Kiera's nudge. But yeah, Kiera was right, Isaac hardly had the time to figure out all of the minor details of the birthday party, with everything else going on. He tried his best, but he was certainly glad that people like Kiera, Sophita, and even Judy can help out. Despite some believing that Kaitlyn may be a little spoil, that little rascal nothing less than the best in this world. Unfortunately, the cold and corrupt world overrunning with Scourge Beasts was making everything difficult.

However, Isaac's body slightly stiffened when Kiera asked what his worst mistake was. There were far too many mistakes he made in his lifetime, but one still haunts him to this day. He accepted to take the Senior Templar position for Inquisitor Caleb's squadron - that decision caused Elena to transfer to a different squadron, which was later wiped out by the Scourge Beasts. Parts of him still blamed himself - blamed himself for causing the death of his wife... blamed himself for Kaitlyn losing her beloved mother.

It took a long time to move on from that, and there were still bits and pieces of him that have yet to still move on - hence the recurring nightmares about Elena. However, he came to accept that what happened wasn't his fault and that the circumstances were extenuating.

"Taking the position as the Senior Templar," Isaac said quietly, solemnly - and that was it. Kiera more than likely understood why he stated that. And what helped him out? "Prayers, lots and lots of prayers," Isaac glanced back at her, forming a small smile. He wasn't quite sure if Kiera was the religious type, but Isaac upholding his faith to God has helped him out tremendously. Every decision has its consequences - that's a lesson every person needs to take to heart. Yet, a lot of good has come out of the decision Isaac made - many lives were saved throughout the Borderfields under Isaac's leadership, Scourge Beasts are being taken down and morale is starting to rise up in the Order, and even the general public is beginning to trust the Templars a bit more.

Isaac nodded as he listened to Kiera, understanding the frustrations she was dealing with. "Well, last time I checked, you have a good place in this squadron - its kind of like a very big and dysfunctional family," he joked, casting another sideways glance. He then glanced back at the fire, watching the sparks fly. "Anyways, you're stronger than you know, I seen your strength many times myself and it is always impressive." He gave a friendly pat to Kiera's knee, before promptly standing up. "You'll get through these hard times... the both of us will," he stated aloud, about to take his leave.

Maybe she shouldn't give her family such a hard time on a regular basis. There was no one who loved Isaac, Kaitlyn and Kiera more than Judy did. The woman may latch on a little too hard, like a leech; but, it all was meant in a good way. Even had Kiera offering up the biggest grin she'd sported in days. "Don't worry, I'm sure she'll tell you when and where your daughter's birthday party will be." If he wanted to add any specific touches of his own, he might want to approach the 'planning committee' first.

In hindsight, the question she posed to Isaac should never have been asked for she knew the answer as soon as the words left her mouth. Losing a battle or being hurt, those were things one gets over. The loss of a spouse..never. "I'm sorry, Isaac. ..I didn't mean to..." This was why Kiera should bite her tongue more often. She felt awful about dredging all those bad memories back up. While one couldn't say the woman was overly religious as some were, she wasn't disbelieving either. As with almost everything in her life, she straddled the middle ground as people pleasers tend to do. Not straying too far to the left or too far to the right. Gotta keep everyone happy. Almost everyone.

"For whatever it's worth, I think you're doing a great job. You might be stressed; but, you rarely show it. You're tough when need be; but, fair. You care..that in itself is a rare quality. If it's prayer that keeps you steady at the helm, pray on." Apparently he didn't need the priest bugging her to go to chapel like she did.

The fact that he sat there and listened to her issues which, compared to his, were really not issues at all, further demonstrated Isaac was right where he was meant to be. Bolstering the moral when it needed a little kick in the ass. It was nice to hear from him that she was doing a good job despite the earlier hiccup and he believed she'd pull through it just fine. Being as Isaac was a busy man,she didn't want to tie up anymore of his time. " "Thanks..for the talk. I appreciate it. If you need a babysitter over the next few days, I volunteer." Right now, all she wanted was a hour or two of sleep. "Sleep well, Issac."

Isaac turned around, overhearing Kiera's words as she stated that he was doing a great job as a Senior Templar. It was very reassuring to hear that, knowing that despite initial thoughts that it was a mistake to take the leadership position, he was exactly where he should be. Transitioning into an Inquisitor may be daunting, be he more than welcomed the challenge.

"You are very welcome, Kiera, and than you for your kind words. Go get yourself some well-deserved rest," he stated. As for him, he might not be able to catch some sleep for the next few hours. He was on first watch for the night, to keep an eye out for any prowling Scourge Beasts. One never knows when the enemy will strike in the Borderfields.

And with those last words, he departed and headed towards his own tent.

[Iwazuma]

The long-awaited, underwhelming Sonic and Iwa copost!

The moonlight did not penetrate the darkness. Rather, the moonlight remained around the moon itself, projecting a milky haze around that celestial object. Amittay was busy wiping down his bow, but watched the almost ethereal visage from the corner of his eye whenever he got the chance.

He had left Senior Templar Isaac’s tent not too long ago and had walked straight towards his own. He did not notice where Templar Sanford or Templar Orfiel had gone, but their exit was as silent as the distance between two stars; so, he supposed that they had opted for isolation just like he had. He couldn’t blame them. Amittay wasn’t one who swore often, but if he did then his word of choice to sum up the whole disaster would be: ‘crap’ or maybe even ‘shit’ if he was feeling daring enough.

Amittay would not submerge himself in self-pity; that wasn’t his way of doing things, to be honest. Instead, he would re-examine the mission—analyze what went wrong, what went right, and plan accordingly for future operations. But, he would do that tomorrow. Tonight, he was tired and his mind was ‘crap’ or ‘shit’, or whatever. He wanted to sleep, but knew that sleep wouldn’t come for more than several hours.

He left his bow behind and meandered about the camp. As he walked, he noticed Kiera sitting close to the campfire. He wasn’t sure if she was depressed, anxious, calculative, or some combination of the three. She had tried her best not to show it, but it seemed obvious that the Arachne venom was hurting more than she would prefer to admit—more obvious, perhaps because of her refusal to say anything about it. A part of Amittay wanted to pass some friendly words her way. Then, he remembered the mission; how she had obdurately refused his help in the cave; how they had both left Orfiel alone. He decided that she could help herself. Not to say that there was bad blood between Amittay and Sanford; not to say that there was good blood between them either, of course.

He sighed heavily, passed his way between the others, and discovered Trest slightly aloof from the group. The two Templars had never spoken before—Trest was the newest recruit, from what Amittay understood—but, they had never had reason to speak. Sure, there was no reason for them to speak now, either, but Amittay had a searing feeling that if he stayed by himself for any longer then all the crap from the mission would be salvaged by whatever lobe in the brain that processed GUILT.

Perhaps that was a reason of some sort.

He squared his shoulders and stood beside Trest. Somehow, Amittay found that his gaze rested on the moon again; more specifically, the white light that wrapped around the moon like a cape. “I don’t know much about space, or stars, or anything like that,” Amittay began without turning to Trest. “But, that’s a beautiful moon, isn’t it?” He then faced the other Templar. Trest seemed younger than him—20, perhaps; nineteen? “You’re Trest, aren’t you? Trest Valencia?” He paused. Thought. “Valencia…sorry for prodding, but isn’t that some noble line?” What Trest may not have known was that Amittay had a strong adoration for philosophy and theology. Consequently, he made it his business to know all about the most famous scholars of those disciplines, which happened to include the Valencias.

A smile tugged at the corner of Amittay’s lips. “Your father is a great man. I’ve read all his books,” he grinned, then, and gave Trest his full attention. “I never even thought about it before. I thought everyone from the Valencia line became priests. I’m surprised to find one as a Templar. How are you liking us so far?”

Trest, now that the mission was complete and did not have any talkings-to waiting for him, fell to the dirt at the encampment. The day's events had been exhausting; he had defending himself and his fellow Templars from death, even killed a Scourge Beast, and yet somehow he still felt empty and unfulfilled. Of course, what he had done was a good deed, but what lives did these people lead? Probably poverty-stricken ones. Why wouldn't the church help those in the Borderlands? These questions rattled around his head, preventing him from even trying to get some rest.

He stood again, his feet dragging him off to the edge of the resting group to think to himself. Trest was not overly social, and the fringes were where he called home most of the time; this time was no different as he quietly contemplated the day's events once more. He had taken the life of something that had once been human...something lost to the Plague. Wasn't that a sin, to murder? Or...were they no longer human enough to consider murderable? Or was it self-defense? Trest let out a groan, shaking his head. He hated moral quandaries; instead, he chose to reconcile himself with the fact that, for once, he had acted bravely and saved his fellow Templar from imminent doom, rather than cower. Perhaps he was making strides after all.

His reverie was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder, making Trest jump and reach for his staff before realizing it was a comrade. It was....Templar Amittay? He hadn't memorized everyone's faces and names quite yet, so he wasn't a hundred percent on anyone's identity. He gazed up at the moon as Amittay spoke, noting the eerie halo that surrounded it. "N-no...it scares me a bit...like the moon itself knows and is judging the actions of all in the cave," he muttered quietly, shuddering at his own words.

"Yes, I'm Trest Valencia," he continued, answering the next question. "But...no, we're not nobility..." He was surprised that anyone here knew his father, let alone his whole bloodline. "Yes, the Valencia family has been priests for generations...but I always wanted to take a more, well, active role." Trest sighed lightly. "Well, it's...busy, to say the least..." He still wasn't sure what to think of the Templars. The nearly murderous training regimen, the harrowing tasks day in and day out...but it was all for the greater good, right?

"Wait, my father wrote books?" This was a new one to Trest; his father had never told him that. Even so, the comment about his father being a great man made him knit his brow in worry and frustration. WAS he? Truly? He just had no clue anymore and it was a vexing conundrum. "Why do you know so much about my family?"[/QUOTE]


Amittay frowned. He had been eager at finding someone with close relations to the Priestly Order, but perhaps his eagerness was uncalled for or unwelcomed. He knew that he could get too excited about things like this. Normally, his squad members just tolerated it, but they did so out of consequence of being around Amittay for so long. Trest was fresh out of the haystack.

To Trest’s first question, Amittay shook his head. “What I meant was that I have read a book or two about him. The Valencia Line by Craig DuBois,” Amittay said, recalling the book that he had read. “It was a short book, but I remember it well. If your father wrote any books of his own, then I’m sure you’d know more than I.” Trest seemed to have become more venomous at the mention of his father. That was clearly a touchy subject. Amittay would remember that.

He shrugged his hands into his pockets. “Don’t be suspicious. It’s not that I know about your family; but, that I know about the Valencias—a family you just happen to be a member of.” Pause. “Sorry, perhaps that was rude or confusing, but I hope you understand the distinction. I’ve had a strong interest in theology and philosophy for as long as I can recall and so I’m normally in the Sanctuary library reading up on any book that has to do with those subjects.”

Amittay’s frown inverted in on itself and became something resembling a smile though not quite. “Your eyes are similar to mine somehow. You have a lot of questions, but seemingly no answers. I get like that a lot, too.” Yawning, he placed a hand on Trest’s shoulder. “I don’t know what your questions are about; I don’t know what you’re uncertain about either, but it’s because you have those uncertainties that I know that you’ll fit in with us just fine. I guarantee it.” He nodded in the direction of the remaining squadron. “We’re all still trying to figure out our role in this world; one way or another. Some find it; most don’t. We just happen to be part of the latter.”

Trest was all of a sudden whisked through a whirlwind of exposition about Templar Amittay's interest in theology and whatnot, and it sort of baffled the lad. Why did he read up on his family history, exactly? And was his memory that photographic? And why was there a book written about his bloodline? He wasn't noble, and his family had done the same thing for generations before he even existed. And if he was IN that book...just how recently was it written? He might have to have a word with this Craig DuBois.


And then he began talking about not knowing one's place in the world. At least he understood THAT. He sighed, looking down at the ground. "I don't know. What plagues me isn't really something that I'm looking forward to the answer for." Trest had a feeling the Templars were more than just the upholders of truth, but he just...if he found out his entire world was a lie, what would he have then? Nothing, but nothing. Even if it kept him in the dark, he almost preferred not to know the truth behind the Templars now.

"To be honest, I'm mostly here because my father told me to be." Trest sighed; it wasn't a lie, but more a half-truth. "He...really talked up the Templars. Always made me wonder why he didn't just join them himself." Trest had always wondered about his father, why his own being a Templar seemed so important to the man, even more than his son's safety. It frankly didn't make much sense to him. But who was he to complain that his did shared an interest with him? "And now that I'm here, I'm wondering if I'm truly cut out to be a Templar."


For a moment, Amittay thought he could empathize with Trest. He had just told the kid that uncertainty and ambivalence were the sword and shield given to a Templar. Further still, didn’t they both share an awkward relationship with their fathers? If anyone could emphasize with the kid, then it should have been Amittay. Still, for whatever the case may be, Amittay couldn’t proffer some sort of condoling word to reassure Trest; his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth like a pancake some amateur chef had flipped too high into the air.

He swallowed, loosening his tongue in the process. “My father wasn’t the best either,” Amittay lied. His father had actually been wonderful. If he hadn’t been transformed into a Scourge Beast, then Amittay’s father would have been awarded with the GREATEST DADDY OF THE YEAR AWARD. In any case, his father had been turned into a Scourge Beast and if any such award existed, then Amittay’s father would not receive it. He swallowed, again. “I’d rather not go into detail about it, but…” his voice trailed and lines protruded almost surreptitiously from his forehead. “In any case, dads aren’t always the best—there’s no manual for fatherhood, unfortunately. Still, I’d like to think that they try their best—in their own way, of course.”

Then, nodding to the rest of the squadron again, Amittay persisted: “Everyone’s wondering if they’re cut out to be a Templar—on an unconscious level, if not a conscious one.” He yawned and rubbed the sleepy tears from his eyes. When he opened them again, he looked to the moon, which seemed to have gone higher since they had first begun speaking. He wondered how much time had elapsed. “I didn’t sleep last night, or the night before, in all honesty.” He chuckled and fisted his hands into his pockets. “Insomnia is a lonely friend.”

Amittay’s eyes returned to Trest and if Trest was perceptive enough then he would see the eyes of a man who had been dealt unfairly with life. This was a rare moment when Amittay had unintentionally lowered his guard—unintentionally, but not unknowingly. He permitted himself this moment of respite and then resumed his casual, noncommittal visage. Smiling once more, he raised his shoulders, indifferently. “I wish I could answer your questions, but I’m only a philosopher—and an amateur one at that. I’m afraid that I would only give you more questions than you had started out with—that’s kind of my hobby.” He yawned to show his exhaustion. “I’m going to get some sleep. I hope you don’t mind. I’ll see you in the morning and maybe we can pick up this conversation again when we get back to Sanctuary. There’s a café I know that sells the best pastries.” Then, he chuckled and admitted sheepishly, “I have a sweet tooth.”

[SikstaSlathalin]

As M left the large crusader to his thoughts he knew he wouldn't sleep anytime soon. Every since his youthful wanderings he's never slept well in the Borderfields. You never know when a Scourge Beast will find you...or in O's case when your family of Daemon cultists will finally hunt you down. Shaking his head the big man went to his tent and dressed in heavy coat, slung his longsword over his shoulder, and attached the knuckle dusters to his belt. He needed to go for a walk if he had any hope of sleeping after this long day.

Motioning to a nearby Templar from another squad the big man told her of his intent before he wandered off into the black around the glow of the campfires. He would get in trouble again for leaving on his own, but he needed the space and probably a little cleaning. It wouldn't be an involved process, just a bird bath as it was called among campaigning men. This was to be his first stop, it was later so no other Templar would be at the small river they all had been using to clean up. Kneeling down the man removed his sword, jacket, and shirt, folding them besides the bank before pulling out a handkerchief and dunking it into the clear cold water. Swishing it around in the running stream Orfiel began saying a potion of his evening prayers when he heard the long grass rustle behind him. Spinning from his crouch O glared through the moonlight at a ghost from his past.

"Zordecai!" He growled out staring into face of his almost forgotten brother. The once scrawny grim faced boy had become a tall and dangerous looking grim-faced man. He was dressed in what looked like black leather armor with two swords across his back and spikes going up and down his gauntlets and boots.

Smiling spitefully the other man placed his hands on his belt locking his eyes on his brother's.
"Brother Zark, still playing the good little genocidal murderer to a God who abandoned his spawn like a snake?"

O growled again rolling his shoulders around clenching his fists as if getting ready for a fight.
"You mean like you and the other wretches of the Astaroth Cult?"

Zord's smile darkened slightly while he took a defiant stance staring boldly at his larger brother
"You mean the family that clothed you, feed you, and gave you a warm bed at night?"

Clenching his fist Big O caused everyone bone in his hands to crack before studying his brother up and down, looking for the the give away of a fight.
"No the maniacs that forced me to rape a six year old girl at age twelve, starved and beat me for refusing to kill my pet rabbit as sacrifice, and committed every black sin against the Lord God Almighty!"

Zord chuckled shaking his head once more.
"Still the soft-headed little boy. And still thinking with your fist more than your head I see." He smirked smugly motioning to O's large fist looking poised to strike.

Looking down Orfiel growled lightly unclenching his fist. As mucha s he wanted to and as much as Zordecai deserved death O couldn't forsake his vows until his brother made an aggressive move.
"What do you want wretch? You know coming here is almost as good as signing your own death warrant."

The smaller brother chuckled again crossing his arms over his chest.
"Only if I attack first. But unlike you dear brother I have too much sense to be so foolish, but my fun will be doing something you could never do. Destroying with words."

Straightening his back O mimicked his brother's stance squaring his legs and crossing his arms over his chest.
"Because you lack the courage to face me in any other way. At least that hasn't changed since our youth."

Zord hmmed smiling still.
"Call it what you will Zark, but I'm not the betrayer here."

O growled glaring down at Zord.
"My name is Orfiel! Not Zark!"

This brought a loud snarky laugh from the other man.
"Couldn't even think of an original name? Had to take it from one of your God's lackeys?"

It was O's turn to give a snarky laugh.
"It's a name with meaning, Zark had no meaning, it just started with the same letter as your name and Zinerva so Standler and Griselda could think themselves clever."

For the first time Zord's smiled faltered and was replaced with the hint of a scowl.
"You mean mother and father, so respect Zark. They could kill you at any time, even within the walls of your beloved Sanctuary!"

O narrowed his eyes dropping his hands looking skeptically at his former brother.
"They have no power within those walls."

Zord chuckled once more.
"That's what you think."

I was then a hail came from a wandering patrol around the camp.
"Ho! Who goes there!"

Orfiel quickly looked back spotting the torches coming towards him.
"Templar Orfiel!"

The group of four Templars approached with weapons partially drawn.
"Just you? We heard another voice."

Quirking his eyebrow O turned to see his brother had vanished without even leaving an imprint in the grass looking around he saw no indication Zordecai had even been in the area.
"Yes, just me, maybe there's another Templar out here bathing." Gathering up his gear he threw them over his shoulder and walked slowly back to camp. He wondered if he should report this to Isaac even if it meant he'd get in trouble. If O's former family was out there watching them then this camp was in even more danger than before. But then again, the last thing they needed was sending everyone on high alert and losing the much needed rest they others deserved.

His eyes and brows were troubled as he stopped at the edge of the firelight watching everyone. Some looked up at him, but others just focused on their own needs ignoring the half dressed man. No, he wouldn't destroy this peace just now, maybe once he got back to Sanctuary he would tell someone, for now his evening prayers were late...and he would desperately need them tonight.

[☆Catwoman☆]

Co-post Between Tex and Cat

Yelena had watched the exchange between Selenada and Isaac with mixed feelings. It was true that her personal judgment was based entirely on second-hand accounts rather than from actually being there, but that was all she had to work with so it would have to do. She approved of Selenada’s honesty and humility, and was proud to hear that the young woman had handled herself with calm determination rather than panicking and furthering the chaos of the dire situation her team had found itself in. The religious Templar had behaved like a veteran warrior, never letting the impossible odds shake her, and that was certainly an accomplishment, as well as a key characteristic of a great leader.

But she had made mistakes, and Isaac had brushed over them and handled Selenada with kid-gloves, rather than treating her like the soldier she was.

Yelena approached Volkov after the Senior Templar departed, a small and sincere smile touching her lips. She grasped Selenada’s shoulder warmly, giving her a light shake.

“It’s a relief to see you in one piece,” she said, that relief coloring her tone. “I didn’t know how bad things got for your team until after the fact, but it was undoubtedly a bracing way to dip your toe into a leadership role.”

"Sore and tired, but in one piece!" She laughed nervously and bit down on her bottom lip. "It was, uh, definitely an experience, that's for sure."

Selenada was hoping that she could get some alone time here soon, to pray and just unwind from her stress day but that would have to wait. Her happiness from Isaac's words slightly faltered as she turned around to face Yelena, Selenada knew that Yelena would probably voice her not so gentle opinion on how she performed as a leader today. But who knew! Maybe she would be surprised by their conversation as she was with her previous one, either way her anxiety rushed back in anticipation of the conversation.

Yelena nodded as she released the young woman’s shoulder, her expression altering in time with her thoughts. Now her mouth turned slightly downward, and she studied Selenada in silence for a moment, as if determining how best to proceed.

“Today was a victory,” the red tressed Templar finally began, “and that is something to hold onto, to celebrate. But I like to think you are capable of handling criticism and advice given in the spirit of personal growth. I want to see you succeed, to grow in confidence and become the leader you are capable of being, and that won’t happen if you are being coddled.”

Her eyes drifted in the direction Isaac had gone, and they held a glint of disapproval.

“And I feel that the Senior Templar was coddling you,” she finished bluntly, still looking off.

Selenada contemplated telling Yelena that they could have this conversation later. She really wanted to end the day on a high note and listening to someone criticize her would damper her mood. She also didn't want to offend someone that was so willing to help her by saying they could talk later.

"Uh." Selenada felt her hands get clamy and her forehead start to sweat a little bit. She decided that she was done for the day, she didn't have the energy to take the blows Yelena would most certainly deliver.

"Yelena," she took in a long deep breath and slowly let it out. "I really....uh, appreciate you wanting to give me some pointers and help me grow, but I am ready to call it a night...." She shifted uncomfortably and ran a nervous hand through her hair.

"So, uh, maybe we could meet up once we return to Sanctuary? I know I wasn't stellar, that's obvious and I'm welcome to any and all advice and constructive criticism you have. I just really want to call it a day." Saying all that was more nerve-racking than the mission! She was so uncomfortable and couldn't believe she actually said what she did, she just hoped that Yelena wouldn't be upset with her.

But as Yelena’s eyes drew back to her companion, it was clear that she was not pleased by Selenada’s words. Her face grew hard, and the silent gaze she fixed the young woman with was weighty, as though sizing her up and trying to determine if she was worth the effort. Yet as quickly as the look came, it melted away, leaving no indication of what she had seen or decided. Yelena gave a curt nod accompanied by a faint smile--though the latter seemed a bit colder, and did not touch her sharp eyes.

“Fair enough,” the Knight responded, her tone slipping into formality, as though she were speaking to a mere stranger. “It has been a long night. Take your rest as you can, Miss Volkov.”

And that was it. Yelena turned and walked back to her tent, disappearing inside without another word.

Man, if looks could kill. Selenada felt like a little rabbit sitting underneath the gaze of an angered wolf, but Yelena turned her harsh eyes a bit softer and bid her a good night.

"Night," Selenada said weakly and watched the peeved Knight disappear into her own tent. Selenada knew she would pay the price later, but for now she was just happy to be left alone. And before anyone else could grab her for conversation Selenada darted into her own tent.

[TheDoctor]

Copost with RedKayne

Jerris eventually settled at his own fire pit, his wounds now treated and his hunger satisfied by stew. The twin blades rested side-by-side along the fire, both of them cleaned of Arachne blood and freshly oiled. A clean tan shirt clothed his torso to replace the one shredded by the mandibles of Arachne, but his jacket had no substitute. The sleeves would require tailoring upon their return, for the damage was far too much for Jerris to sew back together. His arms, wrapped from elbow to wrist in gauze, crossed subconsciously over his chest at the idea of the phantom coat.

His empty eyes reflected the churning embers of the fire, an ecstatic force of life which he could not express. Excitement, joy, sympathy, disdain, heartbreak; what did they feel like? Lacking those feelings left a constant, nagging hole in his mind, but to say that he thirsted for them was wrong. He felt no pain at their nonexistence, rather, only a persistent curiosity. Was he ever able to show emotion before the accident? Or perhaps, was he always like this?

Dirt crunching under boots caught his attention, and Jerris immediately stood and saluted to Isaac's incoming figure. Although they were somewhat acquaintances, the field demanded military ordinance. "Senior Templar Hills, sir."

After conversing with Templr Sanford, Isaac was intending to take care some last minute paperwork. Memorandums, rankings, and mission reports were part of the Senior Templar's duties and kept him rather busy. And of course, dealing with any Templar issues that arises in his squadron.

"Good Evening Templar Greymir," Isaac walked by Jerris, dropping his own salute in the process. The two already conversed earlier, and they discussed about Temple Volcov's performance along with the mission itself. Jerris already expressed his opinion about Selenada, and that it was still a mistake to place her in that team leadership, despite still being of a competent performance. "Go get yourself some well-deserved sleep," Isaac stated aloud, about to walk towards his own tent. "We got a long day tomorrow."

Jerris lowered his salute as Isaac started to pass him by, his brow furrowing in a slight frown. "Sir, a moment of your time, if you would." He pivoted to face Isaac fully. "I'm afraid this shouldn't wait until morning."

This caught Isaac by slight surprise, and he paused in his footsteps. He slightly pivoted with his feet, turning to face Templar Greymir. Isaac briefly examine Jerris's facial expression, wondering what he had in mind. "Speak, what seems to be the issue?"

"You noticed, but you have yet to say a word about it." Jerris glanced away, gazing at the shadows by Isaac's feet. "You know as well as I do that what the Scourge accomplished in those caves wouldn't have happened several months ago. It couldn't have. It isn't possible."

He raised his eyes again and locked them upon the Senior Templar's. "You know this to be true, but you say nothing about it. Why?"

Isaac stared at Jerris with a stern expression, but understood what he was pointing out. The Arachne managed to deceive the Templars on numerous occasions throughout the entire mission. Maybe it was a mistake on Templar Creed's squadron about the mis-communication, or it could have been the Arachne's doing the entire time. However, one incident truly displayed the horrifying tactile abilities of the Scourge Beasts. They set up a carcass of one of their own, one that clouded the scents of the surrounding Arachne as they prepared to ambush the Templars.

Did they know about the Templars's strength and weaknesses? How would they be aware that Crusaders rely on their enhanced sense of smell to locate their enemies?

"What do you think would happen, if I did addressed this, Templar Greymir?" Isaac questioned, curious about his answer. "What do you think will happen if I urge Inquisitor Caleb to pass this report up to the Archon - what do you think will happen from there?"

"Change, perhaps. Change in priorities, change in attitude."

His eyes hardened deeper than usual, and a stern shadow passed across his face from the fire's erratic dance. "Perhaps we would finally work on taking the offensive. Perhaps we would focus on eliminating the enemy instead of delaying our demise." His fingers rubbed together, curled into his palm, and opened calmly again. "Perhaps we would stop living and start surviving."

A tense pause was filled with the crackling of firewood, and a shower of sparks erupted playfully between them. "We shouldn't have pursued those miners, sir."

"Yes, and I want that change just as much as you do, friend," Isaac stated, referring to Jerris in a casual manner - yet still holding a rather stern facial expression. "However, we both know that will not happen. Even if I do pass up the report to the Inquisitor, he will not pass that report up to the Archon."

Isaac already knew about the Inquisitor's rather pessimistic view, and even if Caleb was aware of the rising monster attacks, he will more than likely put no effort making such a report. The Senior Templar and the Inquisitor were well aware that the Archon will simply pass it up as an oddity, just like in the last mission report with the surplus amount of Vampires attacking the one town. Or the reports about the lycan pack ravaging towns, that was simply considered a large group of Scourge Beasts and nothing more.

Nobody would believe that a Fourth Plague was on the rise.

There were also other factors to consider - the general population would not believe that a Fourth Plague was on the rise, they would rather hang on to the comforts of safety than believe on an upcoming Apocalypse. Even if Archon Denaris did voice her concerns to the Divine Trinity, there was still Isaac's own uncle to deal with - Archon Hills. More than likely, Balthazar would make outright claims that the Templars are creating conspiracy theories, in an effort to gain more funding. The public would more than likely support Balthazar than Amelia, and the Divine Trinity would soon follow.

It was all too political for Isaac's taste, but it was the way of the world for Sanctuary.

"However, once I become Inquisitor, I will help drive that change to occur," Isaac stated firmly. He was a Senior Templar, and one that many other Templars look up to - but his own rank is still rather low in the overall political hierarchy. Once he is promoted to Inquisitor within the next few weeks, his opinions would matter much more. He would voice his concerns about the Fourth Plague more aggressively to the Archon, and maybe from there they may have a fighting chance against Balthazar.

Then, Jerris stated his true opinion on the matter of their completed mission. The miners should never have been pursued, and they should have tracked down the Lycan pack instead. Isaac slightly frowned, knowing that Jerris voiced his opinion earlier before they left for the mission - but it wasn't his own individual opinion that makes that decision. "And I know you feel that way, Jerris, but we came to a collective decision - as the majority of the squadron - to save the miners. I know several of us believe that we saved only a few lives compared to stopping the Lycans... but myself and others are looking at the bigger picture as well. We need to keep good relations with the rest of the towns in the Borderfields, abandoning Hirod to their crisis would have presented a heavy cost to the city of Sanctuary and the Templar Order."

Jerris bit his tongue as Isaac spoke, halting his desire to interrupt the Templar's retort. It was clear that the soon-to-be Inquisitor's mind was content with the path that it had taken, and he was trying to justify his decision. His comments weren't wrong: yes, keeping good relations with the outer shelters was important. Steady, motivated supply was essential to run a nation, especially during wartimes.

But to call this--the infinite struggle of life-and-death against the Scourge--a war was simply incorrect. It wasn't a war, it was a massacre of mankind. Never was there a victory against their nemesis, only stalemates, draws, and defeat. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and if those measures included a lack of value for the townfolks' opinions, or even lives, then so be it.

Relations with outer towns were irrelevant, especially when the alternative to cooperation was utter destruction at the hand of the Scourge. To place individual human lives as the primary objective for the sake of "good relations" was not the way to win a war; it was the way to delay defeat. Regardless, Jerris understood why Isaac justified the choice. Had his daughter or wife been one of the trapped miners, he would've done everything in his power to retrieve them safely. It was unjust for him to prioritize those closest to him, for the miners undoubtedly had loved ones in Hirod that were waiting for them to come home. Condemning civilians to death when they worked to supply Sanctuary was morally unfair and despicable, therefore they deserve to continue living.

This is a dangerous mindset to have as an upcoming Inquisitor.

When Isaac had finished, Jerris inhaled deeply through his nostrils and exhaled. "With respect, sir, I wish to speak my thoughts. I believe that they are crucial to your, and our, success." He retained eye contact with the Senior Templar as he spoke, for averting his gaze would show both a lack of commitment and respect. "We shouldn't have needed to come to a decision. We are not a commune, we are soldiers. You give us a command, and we follow it. Most of the squadron is hardly fit to make strategic decisions and therefore shouldn't be offered a choice in their orders. Providing us with options permits room for insubordinate decisions, such as the ones made by Templar Sanford, Orfiel, and Caesar. It distracts our focus as a cohesive unit."

"We made too many mistakes, sir, and we can't afford many more of those." Jerris lessened his tone, his jaw unclenching. "This isn't effective. Providing Templars with a choice on our course of action, ignoring the Scourge's potential..." He paused once again and his brow furrowed. "Choosing a naïve Templar to lead an important mission."

"Making decisions in a leadership position is a lot more complex than it appears to be, Jerris, you should know that," Isaac quickly retorted, crossing his arms. Different situations required different styles of leadership - Isaac was quick to scold and be stern towards an insubordinate Templar like Tanhausser, but was much more uplifting when it came to inexperienced and reserved warriors like Volkov. Whenever Isaac had to give feedback to a person, he stuck to a simple philosophy - start with the positives, then detail the negatives, and then finish off with another positive. That way, people like Selenada understand completely what they need to work on, while being motivated to improve.

There are times when leaders needed to be stern and direct, especially in dire situations. Then, there were times when the opinion of others were needed, especially when it comes to complex decisions. If the Divine Trinity were unable to settle the biggest priority with their mission options, then obviously it was too much of a heavy burden for an individual to decide the fate of dozens upon dozens of lives. They needed as much input as possible, to figure out whether to save the miners or go after the Lycan pack.

Isaac scowled, a rare facial expression, when Greymir announced that what they are currently doing is ineffective. In Isaac's mind - that wasn't the case. They saved many lives today at those mines, and they didn't lose a single Templar in the process. Templars like Sanford and Volkov have undergone personal growth today that will surely improve their performances in the future. This is possible because Isaac treated these 'soldiers' as people... Not empty vessels devoid of any thoughts or feelings.

Isaac sighed heavily, the lines of his facial expression softening. "We obviously have differences of opinions when it comes to what is and what is not effective, Templar Greymir, " Isaac stated, a bit more formally now. "I understand your concerns... I really do... But I stand by these decisions that have been made." The Senior Templar uncrossed his arms, apparently done with the conversation. It has been a rather long day, and a matter like this could be addressed at another point. This was not the time to defend his own actions, especially when he viewed these actions in a more favorable light.

"And I will continue standing by these decisions - because I am doing what is best for this squadron... This Templar Order... For the people of Sanctuary and the Borderfields... And for my daughter." Isaac turned around, it was time to depart from this. "Good night Templar Greymir, we will speak further about this once we return to Sanctuary."

With a nod and another salute, Jerris retracted from the conversation. "Of course, sir." As Isaac left Jerris's fire, his shoulders slackened and his hand lowered slowly to his side, his eyes remaining on the Senior Templar's back until it was consumed by the night. He returned to his swords, the delightful sheen of the fire reflecting in the oiled steel. They rang dully as he returned them to their sheaths, wrapped them in their appropriate belt, and tucked them into his tent. With the ambient quiet of the night overcoming his ears once again, he sat once again to watch the flickering embers of the fire slowly die.

"Because I am doing what is best for this squadron... this Templar Order... for the people of Sanctuary and the Borderfields...

And for my daughter."

I knew you would never listen.

[RedKayne]

Templar Creed sighed lightly, taking a seat in the middle of her small tent. The crimson-haired Templar held a crumbled note in her left hand, one that she rummaged from her belongings. She unwrinkled the note, revealing the neat and legible handwriting from it.



Templar Creed,

There are reports that your squadron will be heading out to an important mission, one set by the Divine Trinity themselves. Rumor has it that you might even be appointed as a team leader. Whatever are the details of this mission, you have one simple task...

Sabotage.

Do what needs to be done to ensure this.


-B


Templar Creed made a small frown after rereading the note for what seemed to be the hundredth time. She thought that the opportunity of giving out false information - one misguiding Senior Templar Hills's team and Templar Volkov's team to different locations. Selenada, an inexperienced leader and a naive young man, surely should have doomed her entire team once they wandered into the Arachne nest.

Yet, that wasn't the case, as the Inquisitor ruined everything and saved their lives.

She sighed once more, completely disregarding Isaac's earlier scolding on her. It was a simple act to keep up with her bubbly personality, and so nobody should really expect foul play from a person like her. Besides, it seems others are quick to blame that the Scourge Beasts managed to deceive them. It was something rather unheard, but of course they are more willing to believe that than consider that one of their own has treacherous means.

Regardless, Archon Balthazar would be rather unhappy with this result. Maybe Iago might fair better with whatever he was assigned to...


Isaac stared at the small locket in his hand, which opened up to reveal two different small picture frames. On the left, was an old picture of his missing wife, Elena. On the right side, was his little girl, Kaitlyn. Isaac can still vividly remember the days when all three of them were happy together.

He can still vividly remember the first day he met Elena, and earned himself quite a few death glares from the scornful woman. Loud, aggressive, and fierce... usually not Isaac's type. Yet, she eventually became the love of his life. One that he missed every day... and one that he needed to move on sooner or later. Isaac understood he can no longer hold on to a ghost, one that disappeared years ago.

Isaac's eyes shifted to his little girl, forming a small smile at the picture. He was always amazed by her strength, for such a little girl. Kaitlyn was a radiant ball of life - almost had a bit of a fierce side. A death of a mother has tragic effects on a child, and yet that little girl manages to inspire Isaac to do his best every single day.

Jerris's words nearly got to him tonight - Isaac questioned whether they needed to change their ways to battle the Scourge Beasts. It may have been a victory today, but it could easily become a massacre tomorrow. They were on a fight for survival on a daily basis, and despite previous beliefs that the Scourge Beasts were wiped away after the end of the Third Plague, the abominations were still going on strong today. Isaac constantly worried about the future, and would question the best course of action for everyone.

Yet, whenever he took a glance at this picture... the one of his little girl, Isaac knew he was on the right. Nobody in this squadron wanted nothing more to defeat the Scourge than Isaac himself... he wanted to make this world safe for his daughter. A world where they can live in peace, and without fear. He will fight every day for that future, and will always give 110% into his efforts.

And with God by his side, Isaac can trust in His ways and the future in front of them.

With a simple clack, Isaac closed the locket before stuffing it into his pocket. Isaac picked up his armor, quickly adorning himself with it before leaving the tent. It was time to begin the first night watch.



Almost an hour passed, and it was the dead of night. Nearly all of the Templars were fast asleep, getting their much earned rest and recovering for the travels tomorrow.

But then...

Piiiiiihhhhhh!!!!!!!!!

Piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiihhhhhh!!!!!!!!!

Piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiihhhhhh!!!! !!!!!

It was a much familiar sound for the squadron, a whistle being blown by one of the night watch members. It meant that an imminent attack was on the way, and that they needed to be battle-ready immediately.

Several groggy Templars walked out of their tents, dressed in their respective armor and walking about in confusion. There weren't any attackers in sight, but the source of the whistle was coming from the front of the encampment.

Inquisitor Caleb walked out of his tent, having been abruptly awoken by the screeching whistle. He saw the Senior Templar standing near the front of the camp, along with a few nervous-looking Templars - also part of the night watch. The rest of them must be running around the camp with the whistles, awakening the rest of the squadron for whatever was coming.

"What's the situation, Senior Templar?" the Inquisitor demanded, apparently not too pleased about being awakened in the middle of the night. Such was the life of a Templar, never a dull moment.

Senior Templar Hills's face was completely solemn, before gulping and facing the Inquisitor. "Sir... we believe that the Lycan pack that has been terrorizing the village is here. There's a large force of them surrounding the camp..."

The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow, perplexed that the Lycan force managed to track them down. There were reports that they should have been retreating back to the Plaguelands. Why were they here all of a sudden?

"How many are there?" Caleb questioned, glancing around the area.

Isaac sniffed the air one more time, making one last check just to make sure. "About a..." Isaac paused, still not sure of his words - almost in disbelief himself - but knowing that they were completely true. "A hundred, sir."

...

There was a brief pause in the air, but then everybody's senses in the encampment ran wild. The thick scent of dozens upon dozens of Lycans filled the nostrils of the Crusaders, countless monstrous silhouettes could be seen by the Knights, and the seismic senses of the Blackguards would be going off the charts with the amount of movement surrounding the camp.

"Get the squadron ready, NOW!" The Inquisitor turned around and bellowed at the top of his lungs. They were in a crisis right now, the Inquisitor himself never had to face such a large force of Scourge Beasts at once. This is simply unheard of - the previous largest pack of Scourge Beasts recorded in the reports of the Order had about 30-40 creatures... and that was the pack which annihilated the squadron with Isaac's former wife, Elena, resided in.

Inquisitor Caleb turned around, his eyes widened with fear - a rare sight for the legendary monster-slayer.

"God help us..."

Isaac stood there, listening to the Inquistor's plea to the Lord above. The situation they were in was extremely bad... the squadron was exhausted after their battles in the mine. Now, they had to face the wrath of the Lycans.

The Arachne are dangerous creatures... but they mainly relied on their deception and cunning to outwit their prey. A lone Lycan, though, is a terrifying powerhouse that can easily slaughter a small group of Templars if they weren't careful.

Now, they were facing nearly a hundred of them. This was not in the reports of the pack ravaging the lands... where in the Hollows did they manage to gather so many creatures... and at one location?

And even stranger... the Lycans were standing still. Their bright yellow eyes watching from a distance, watching the Templars closely and their next move.

There will be no escape from this onslaught.

[Sonic]

In all honesty, running away hadn’t been Amittay’s first thought. However, for reasons that could only be explained by the psychoanalytic, he would tell everyone, if he were part of the ‘everyone’ who were still alive and not the ‘everyone’ who had died, that running away had been his first thought. To be sure, if his first thought had not precluded further thinking, then running away would have certainly been his second thought. Nevertheless, the situation being how it was, his first thought was an inevitable one.

Death. He would die here. It all made sense in a sort of scientific, perhaps, mathematical way. The night submerged everything into darkness, as though the world had been thrown into a bath of molasses. And yet, with Amittay’s enhanced sight, he could see more than just the outlines of one-hundred Lycans. He could see their fangs, as well, and the almost dreamlike way their fur bent against the night breeze. There were one-hundred of the Scourge Beasts and around 20 to 30 Templars. The odds told a predictable outcome.

Before alighting from his tent, Amittay had been nearly asleep. What had he told Trest earlier? Insomnia was a lonely friend? When the whistle had blown, it had taken him several heartbeats to identify its purpose. Then, after doing so, he had slipped into his bullet-proof dark cassock (http://www.henningers.com/slabbinck-cassock-sm.jpg), retrieved his composite bow (http://classic-bow.com/catalog/images/asian_archery_118.jpg), and for whatever reason, had grabbed the pistol (http://www.vikingsword.com/vb/attachment.php?attachmentid=113582&stc=1) that he had taken from his father all those years ago. He then grabbed his arrows and debated whether he should dip the tips into Daemon’s Kiss like he normally did before battle. He had chosen not to. No time.

When he had departed from his tent—You’re going to die, kid!—he immediately regretted his decision. Not that poison would have made any difference with this herd, of course. No. There were just too many of them for that to have any sort of effect. Still, it would have been some comfort. He remained at the mouth of his tent, frozen with something close to fear but more akin to confusion and disorientation. Then, the shrill whistle banged into his ear once more—Piiiiiihhhhhh!!!!!!—and his blood surged.

Senior Templar Hills and Inquisitor Caleb were already awake, along with several other Templars that had been part of the night watch. Amittay couldn’t see where Seleneda was—he had been among the first to awake, so perhaps she had yet to leave her tent. Amittay took his bow from his back and knocked an arrow. He noticed that the night watch had not put out the fire—although it was extremely low so that the Lycans could had not have seen it. Amittay drew towards it and dipped his arrow into the flame. It took several seconds, but the arrow soon burnt radiantly, as though the sun had been attached to it as some sort of ethereal secondary weapon.

He assessed the situation. The Lycans weren’t attacking. They were just standing there, waiting. That could all change if Amittay decided to send a volley of arrows there way. And, with half his squadron not yet awake, he didn’t want to be that guy who initiated their deaths. He shuddered, knowing full well that his indecision was arresting his faculties.

That was what had happened in the mines—with Orfiel; with Sanford. Amittay bit his lip at the recollection. Earlier, he had promised himself that he wouldn’t allow his betrayal—that was what he had done, hadn’t it?—to get in his way of performing better for the next mission. But, he had hoped that he would have had enough time to reflect on his actions. This was too soon. Amittay wasn’t ready.

Fight! Fight, please! Don’t die!

That had been his sister’s voice. Amittay was almost surprised to have heard it. He knew that it was just his mind playing tricks on him—that was what Amittay had meant by insomnia being a lonely friend—and yet, his breath became calm. His hand; steady. He couldn’t die here. There was still much to be done, after all. His father. He still had to reunite with his father.

Amittay pulled the arrow back so that the string was taut. He wouldn’t loose it on the Lycan hoard, however. Suicide and survival were opposites for a reason, after all. Instead, he would shoot it upwards (https://insidethearmory.files.wordpress.com/2014/11/flaming-arrows.jpg). With the night as a backdrop, the fire at the end of the arrow glowed even brighter so that it really did look like a smaller sun had been attached to it. The hope was that the Lycan hoard would be distracted for a brief moment by this rudimentary flare. Just enough time for the rest of the Templars to ready their gear and prepare for the incoming assault.

The arrow would travel very high. Before it attained its apex, Amittay would knock another arrow, dip it into the fire, and loose this second one into the air so that it followed after the first, like a second sun reaching towards Heaven.

“Senior Templar Hills!” Amittay yelled. “We need orders” Odd that he would ask Hills for orders and not Caleb—though the two men stood abreast each other. Amittay wouldn’t dread on it now. The first arrow had reached its apex and was already descending. The second arrow would reach its own apex soon enough. “Senior Templars Hills!” He shouted again. Amittay wasn’t really a shouting man. Later, he would wonder if he had been loud enough. “Orders. Now.”

Oh. The irony.

[☆Catwoman☆]

Yelena had awakened immediately at the start of the first shrill whistle. She was a light sleeper anywhere outside her home, most especially in the Borderfields where anything could happen. And something had certainly just happened.

She poured every ounce of haste into donning her armor and securing her weapons. Even then, it seemed to take an eternity. But with her sword and shield in hand, the Knight hustled out of her tent and into the swarm of alert Templars.

And she stopped in her tracks.

Her keen eyesight took in the view of impending apocalypse, icy eyes wide with shock. Never before had she seen so many Lycans gathered together; it was unheard of. Impossible. Packs were territorial, as likely to tear each other apart as they were a human. There must have been at least three packs standing out in the darkness, side by side, watching and waiting.

Waiting for what?

The thought was fleeting, forgotten as soon as she asked it; the answer was hardly important at that moment.

Many other thoughts and emotions crowded together in her mind, paralyzing her for a couple of breaths. Disbelief, anxiety, fear…would she die here tonight? Would they all? Fight or flight?

Her jaw clenched and she forced it all down. Down, deep into the pit where she hid her morality, her conscience, her compassion. These things did not belong on the field of battle. She was a warrior. She was a leader. She would fight until her final breath.

If you are there, God, the young woman prayed for the first time in a very long while, help us.

Steeled against the crippling emotions, gripping the hilt of her sword so hard that it hurt, Yelena picked her superiors out of the crowd and approached. Just moving her feet helped ease the commotion in her mind. Inquisitor Caleb and Senior Templar Hills stood together, watching the Lycans watching them. Yelena stopped beside Isaac, planting her feet and presenting her side to the lupine monsters in the darkness. She eyed them disdainfully, letting her hatred fuel her, melting away the fear and doubt until there was only bloodlust.

Two fiery arrows shot into the night sky, bringing light. Amittay’s voice demanded orders. Yelena blinked against the brightness, which momentarily ruined her night vision, and looked to Hills and Bartholomew inquisitively, awaiting their command.

[Sonic]

Warren allowed himself a moment of respite after the first whistles had been blown. He stared abstractedly at the roof of his tent, as though he believed that if he focused hard enough, he could see passed the tent’s fabric, and at the slab of black that was the night. For the first since he had returned from the mine, he could feel the soreness of his muscles, discriminate between them, and even rank them in order of pain if he so desired.

Surprisingly, he felt the pain of the wounds from time immemorial. The scars that circumnavigated his body, and the one just beneath his left eye in particular. He hadn’t felt these cuts in so long and had almost forgotten them; had almost deceived himself to forget them, rather. He cringed at the memories that clambered up from his unconsciousness, but would not allow them to say upon the conscious plane for very long. Just as soon as they had arrived to the front of his mind, Warren kicked them back down, suppressing them once more.

He rolled onto his side. A new set of pains shot through his ribs. He slipped into his hardened leather armor and grabbed the silver sword that he had retired in the corner of the tent just moments before. He debated taking his helmet, too, but decided against it. The night already provided little vision. There was no need to constrict that even further with a metal blindfold.

Stepping out from the tent, what Warren encountered frightened him—though his visage remained one of Stoic repose. With his seismic sense, he had perceived that a large hoard had descended upon the camp and had even decided that the hoard was larger than usual. But, this? There were a hundred of them, if not then more, certainly. Warren wished that he had a Knight’s enhanced sight so that he could see exactly what he was up against, but according to the vibrations from the earth, they were probably Lycans.

Marvelous.

Many of the Templar Order were already awake. Senior Templar Hills was with Inquisitor Caleb, and Yelena had just joined them. Two bright flares rocketed towards the sky. No. Not flares. Arrows. Warren guided his gaze so that they met the individual who had loosed the arrows.

“Amittay Caesar,” he mumbled. Warren wasn’t quite sure what his comrade was doing. Then again, the Templar Order hadn’t quite prepared them for something of this magnitude. Did anyone know what they should be doing? Brandishing his sword, Warren jogged steadily towards where the Senior Templar was. He gave a curt nod to them all and a smile that descended slightly into the morbid.

By this time, Amittay had left his post near the campfire and meandered his way towards Hills, Caleb, Yelena, and Warren. He looked as though he had seen a ghost. Warren wondered if it had been his own. Warren couldn’t blame him.

“I’d like to say that we’ve handled worse than this, but…” Warren's voice trailed off and he raised his shoulders as though that would finish his sentence. In any other situation, a smile would be tickling his mouth, tugging his cheeks. Even now, there was an aspect of charm that hadn’t quite left his face, as though he could just kindly ask the Lycan hoard to go away and they would comply. “Do you have a plan, sir?” Warren asked both Hills and Caleb. “We’re with you—whatever it may be.”

He smiled subtly and, he hoped, reassuringly.

[Iwazuma]

Trest never slept well when he wasn't back home. The young man, barely having entered adulthood, was tossing and turning in his tent, any potential passersby would notice. Even more worrying were the murmurs that could be heard escaping the tent's open flap every now and again. Trest's own cowardice came to full peak in his dreams, and he would often live the possible consequences of running away again and again and again in his dreams-er, nightmares. His world was a dark one in the subconscious; Trest rarely had a good night's sleep in the field, and after what he had witnessed that day, it would likely be weeks before he slept soundly anywhere.

Even so, when the night-watch whistle blew, Trest took more than a moment to jolt awake, his scream hitching in his throat and leaving nothing but silence behind. He rubbed his eyes groggily, wondering why in the name of the Lord they'd run a drill this late at night, in hostile territory.

Wait. That didn't come out right. In hostile territory...there was only one reason to blow that whistle here. An attack. Trest, shaking, got to his feet, his hands trembling as he fumbled for his armor. He had already endured one battle that day, killed an Arachne, seen death firsthand for the first time in his young life. What could POSSIBLY be going on now? The last piece of equipment, his staff, was gripped in his right hand as he exited his tent, gazing around quietly. What were all those tiny yellow lights? They glowed ominously in start contrast to the darkness...

Wait. For the second time tonight, wait. Trest's acute sense of smell picked up...no...please, not that...the uncanny stink of...God, why now, please, let it be ANYTHING else...no. Of course it was. Lycans. And based on the count of the eyes alone, there had to be dozens of them surrounding the encampment. Trest had avoided combat as much as humanly possible the first time he had run into these wolflike monsters, but this time, what chance did he have of getting away without fighting-and losing badly to-at least one of the beasts? Trest's senses dulled as his mind spiralled, his vision growing darker than the area around them.

"S-s-s-shit, no, I don't want to die today...not now, why God, why now..." Trest fell to his knees, quickly huddling his arms around his legs, the staff now sticking up out of the dirt. While many of the Templars were stricken, to some level, by fear, Trest was the worst case. The young, cowardly Templar was having a full-on panic attack, and the constant assault on his nostrils was not making it any better. His eyes glanced around constantly, permanently on the watch for the fangs or claws of the beast that would take his life.

A voice boomed through the commotion; Trest recognized it as the Inquisitor himself. Even his voice was plagued with a worried, almost fearful urgency. Rather than rally Trest, he only squeezed his eyes shut in panic. Even their leader, one of the strongest Crusaders Trest knew, was afraid of what was to come. What chance did they have? Trest was a new recruit, only two missions under his belt. He wasn't ready to handle even one Lycan on his own, let alone two, three, or even more.

But even then, Trest's bones shaking violently, his muscles still forced him to his staff, his trembling hands gripping the shaft for dear life as he slowly, slowly made it to his feet, his fears forcing his steps to slow to a terrified shuffle. "A-a Templar...does not f-fear f-f-for his l-life, b-but will pl-place his faith in the one and only G-G-God to watch h-his life," Trest shakily muttered to himself, as if this mantra was the only motivation he had to continue plodding forward. Just a few steps more...

Trest made it to the side of Senior Templar Hills, getting his attention with likely the hastiest and most rigid salute known to the man's history. "Templar V-Valencia r-ready, sir," he stammered weakly, his entire body a shivering statue. "M-my o-orders, pl-please. We're going to b-be okay, right?"

[Maya]

"Ugh..what the hell!" It felt like Kiera had just closed her eyes and fell asleep a mere second before the shrill sound of a whistle filled the air. In truth, it was probably a bit longer since her thoughts were momentarily clouded in the haze of sleep which explained why her brain was ready to tell her body to bash that damn whistle down somebodies throat. Then she heard the sound of people emerging from their tents, feet scrambling across dry earth and raised voices..Hill, Caleb, Amittay. "Shit..shit, shit, shit!" Now wide awake and scrambling to her feet, grabbing up her sword, knife and bow, pulling on her cloak as quickly as possible knowing something was very wrong. By the time the second whistle sounded, Kiera had joined the others now gathered by Senior Templar Hill and Inquisitor Caleb.

The low whispers from others already eyeing the horizon of "It's lycans" fell heavily against her chest. As she scanned the horizon to where unprecedented numbers of the beasts stood assembled, a whole line of eyes all focused in the same direction, waiting for some unknown reason. Sanford took a deep breath and steeled herself for the worst. They had dealt with these fierce beasts before; but, not in such great numbers.

How in the hell did all of those Lycans assemble right under their noses? Had she honestly slept so hard she could not hear them coming?

Sanford moved in closer to join the rest of the squad, standing by Templar Valencia, a new face she'd seen; but, had yet to speak with. Being so close, Kiera could hear the frantic beating of his heart and the very pulsing of the blood through his veins. Seemed unfair to have one so young and new to the Templar order already facing such a daunting task. But, such is life in this world. Unpredictable and, often, unfair.

She felt for Trest; at some point and time, they all had their moment as a new Templar, right out of training, a wee bit cocky and over confident. Then those first battles happen and the realization hits that they're using real swords and real arrows not the wooden practice swords and toys of childhood. As a Templar, they have responsibilities to their comrades and the people they protect. Trest was in the real world now. A world where the wrong decision can mean death.

Templar Hill did not have time to personally reassure every Templar this fight would go well and they would survive. He had a wealth of other problems on his mind. Kiera also knew this was not the time to coddle the young Valencia with words of assurance and promises all would be fine. But, she would not abandon him to his fear.

As Trest stood by Templar Hill seeking some sort of affirmation all would be fine, she'd subtly move to stand by his side. "Take a deep breath, Templar Valencia..hold it. Blow it out slowly." If he did not calm himself down, the poor boy might pass out. "Trust in your training. Trust in your fellow Templar's. If you are a man of faith, trust in your God." Giving the young man a pat on the back. "When the battle comes, fight with the strength of one who wants to survive, not with the panic of one who fears dying."

Kiera followed her own advice. Deep breaths in, deep breaths out. They were familiar with this enemy. They've been here before. Just take them one..two..maybe, three at a time. A hundred or so lycans versus how many Templar's did they have now? Didn't matter if there were a thousand, this battle would happen all the same.

[SikstaSlathalin]

Sleep had barely graced O's turbulent mind when the whistles for alarm came through the dreamless haze of light sleep. Reacting quicker than one would expect Orfiel rolled off his cot and got to his feet, grabbing up his cleaned and neatly lain out armor before his eyes were even fully opened. No thoughts of his troubling reunion with his former brother crept into his reactant mind as he donned the black crusader's armor.

It wasn't until he was picking up his helmet that the big man's ears picked up what sounded like huffing and soft growling near the wall of his tent. Being on the edge of the camp he could hear the unsettling sounds clearly. But the sounds were only a small part of his concern, especially when the smell reached his keen nose, Lycans...many many Lycans. A new urgency ran through the Repenter's mind grabbing all of his weapons he attached the knuckle dusters to their sheaths and slung the blunderbuss's holster over his shoulder. Picking up his shield he caught the glimmer of his Holy Fire Oil flask, the big man remembered an old legend he read while in training. There was a Templar, many years ago the name escaped the Crusader at the moment, but his exploits he had memorized as an epitome of what every Templar should strive towards when death is staring them in the face with escape or survival a faint or non-existent option.

The man was facing down a large pack of Wendigos, his comrades had been killed and he was the last to be brought down. He could feel it in his heart and soul that the Lord was about to call him to the side of the throne, but he couldn't let these things kill him and be free to continue on their murderous spree. All he had was a silver waraxe and a flask of Holy Fire, his axe alone wouldn't be enough and he only had the one flask, it might facilitate an escape, but these monster wouldn't stop. No he had to do something drastic, so he poured the oil over the top of his head and weapon and charged the beasts' line with his entire body aflame. What happened after that no one really knew, because when the other Templars found the man and his squad there was only the man's smoking body and three piles of ash and charred bone, it's assumed he killed at least three creatures while the rest ran.

But it did kill him, it is unknown if the man had a Crusader's tough skin or not, maybe having that trait would protect O if he had to do that. Hopefully he wouldn't need it though, grabbing the flask and his sword the big warrior exited his tent and was hit full in the face with the Lycan stink. Scanning around the moonlit plains and the weak glow of dying campfires. As he joined his comrades the man spoke in a distracted voice trying to count the beasts and wondering why they were just standing there.

"So we find ourselves before the forces of night, their teeth gnash and their claws gleam in the dying light of our fires. And lo we stare into the grim face of our possible destruction we shall not be moved, we will not go gently into the clutches of Death." Placing the flask of oil into one of the pouches of his belt Big O adjusted the straps of his shield and held his sword at the low ready.

[Iwazuma]

As Trest awaited his orders, he jumped as he heard the voice of someone he did not expect to speak at that time. She was Templar...he couldn't remember. Her name was Keira, he believed, but could not remember her surname. He listened to her words, doing as she instructed. He took a deep breath in, counting to ten as he did, trying his very best to stay calm. Stay calm...God would watch over his life. He knew that. The Lycans could not stand to the Almighty's endless strength and wisdom that he bestowed upon his chosen warriors, the Templars. He would be protected from harm, no matter the situation.

Hold, and release. He repeated this twice more, slowly willing his nerves to calm, his hands to stop shaking, his knees to stop quaking. The grip on his staff tightened, and he closed his eyes, finally feeling his heart rate fall. He sighed as his panic receded, simpler fear remaining. But fear provided courage, and Trest nodded as his eyes took on a slightly more determined look. He gave Keira a sympathetic smile. "Thank you."

He turned back to Senior Templar Hills, his face now set with quiet determination as he saluted more properly, his body losing many of the shivers he had moments ago. "My apologies, sir! Templar Valencia is TRULY ready now, Senior Templar! I await my orders."

[Yamimoon]

Letum had closed his eyes for only a moment then the shrill sound of the whistle rang out. His eyes opened to that sound, then the second shriek of the whistle sounded and he was out of bed in a flash. However, the sound of the whistle was not what made him move. The nails scratching the stones around the camp, of heavy beast like breathing that rang through his heightened hearing is what made him move with urgency. Quickly reaching for his armor and slipping his daggers into their sheaths. He wondered how in the Hell they were able to sneak up on the group of Templars. From the sound of things, they Beasts that were upon them were lycan’s, and they weren’t the quietest of all of the beasts.

He then quickly donned his clawed gauntlet, and checked his poison supply’s. Pulling his hood over his head, he grabbed his sword that was right next to his bed, and exited his tent. The camp was on high alert as each of the Templar classes could tell what their opponents were. Letum couldn’t not see, smell or feel them, but he could hear that there were more lycan’s here than a small group. He heard them surrounding them as the Templars prepared for battle. “Dam it to Hell!” Letum said as he made his way through the camp to find the others. The moon light that was so prevalent earlier in the evening was now nothing more than dim light, due to clouds moving in.

This is one hell of a mess that Letum had found himself in. Fighting a couple of Lycan’s was not an easy task, but a whole army of them was suicide. He knew that they should have gone after the Lycan hoard. He should have never changed his mind. If they killed all of these filthy beasts then they would not be causing them problems now. Now was not the time for regrets. He would survive this mess no matter what it took, so he could find the answers to the question that had plagued him since the mines. Even though his sense of smell was not as strong as the Crusader class Templar, he could smell the scent of water in the air.

Finding the rest of his company already around SeniorTemplar Hill’s, and Inquisitor Caleb was standing there was well. Even with the Inquisitor’s strength, this was not going to be a battel that will be easily won. Though Letum did wonder why the Lycan’s didn’t just attack them while there guard was down? It was as if they were waiting for their pray to be able to fight back. As he approached the others, a smile formed on his face. Even against these odds, he was excited for the fight. Even if this were to be his last battel, he would be sure to at least have fun, and take as many of these creatures with him.

Looking to the others, he could tell that they were ready to take on his hoard. However he could hear all of their hearts, and they told a different story. No matter how prepared you are to fight and die there was no way to keep yourself completely calm. Adrenalin made that impossible, though some controlled it better than others did. “So what is the plan?”

[Scottie]

The alarm pierced through her mind and she snapped her eyes open. Her mind flicking between possibilities before she forced herself up. Having only taken her top armour off, she tugged it back on. Tying the knots tight as she left her tent. She didn't notice the lycans at first, instead it was the men and women rushing around. Arming themselves for a yet seen enemy. She grabbed her bow and arrow, her eyes pinpointing her leader.

It was as she moved closer that she picked out the hundreds of golden eyes. Her steps slowed and she found herself getting lost in the sea of Lycan. A flurry of swear words shot through her head. Lycans were a bitch to go up against in single form....a pack was going to hell. Her fingers gripped the bow and arrow, her knuckles turning white as she clung to her only real protection. Doubting that any of them could survive if the group attacked, she moved even closer to Templar Hills.

Such a sight forced a deeply hidden part of Sophia to raise to the surface. She lifted her eyes to the sky and mouthed a silent prayer. Her lips moving softly as she almost pleaded with whoever was above to let them get through this. If there was one creature that she truly feared it was the Lycan. The Arachne had cunning on their side but the Lycans. They would power through as many as they could. Tearing limb from limb, they had no plan....usually. The fact that they stood there, waiting. Almost like they were waiting for their orders... well it made her blood run cold.

[Megilwen]

The blaring sound of the alarm woke Marcella from the sleep she'd finally found. She never slept well and if they were safe in the Sanctuary, she'd probably take something to help with her sleep. However, that was NEVER a good idea when it came to being out in the field. Rolling swiftly from her cot, Marcella reached out to grab her armor. At times like this she was glad that she wore reinforced leather. It was much swifter to don and didn't need help getting into like some of the heavier suits.

Heading out of her tent, she moved, ducking and twisting as people hurried around camp getting to their positions in as an efficient manner as possible. Finding the rest of her team, she made it just in time to hear the outcome of their predicament. One hundred Lycans to their small group. Lycan's strength made them some of the more difficult beasts to kill. She wondered if these Lycans were the same ones that they should have been hunting instead of being the hunted.

She could hear people shouting for directions as everyone gathered. "Calm yourselves! How can you expect to hear directions when you're yelling for them. Stop panicking."

Marcella stood her sword drawn, held loosely in her hands as she watched the golden eyes staring out at them from the dark. She was ready, just as she'd discussed with Jerris earlier, she wouldn't go willingly to her death, but if that's what was lost in saving her companions or the people of her nation then she'd go. She'd fight until the end, take down as many as she could and with the men and women at her back. Well they'd kill a lot of the Lycan in the process, however it was unlikely that they'd all come out of this alive.

The clamor of battle prep continued, but something still bothered her. "What are they waiting for?"

[The Texan Queen]

It seemed like sleep would not come to Selenada tonight and she couldn’t tell if it was her thoughts on how the mission went that kept her awake or her pending conversation with Yelena. Either way, the young blonde tossed and turned on her slightly uncomfortable cot until she eventually fell into a dreamless sleep. She always slept better in her church, she felt the safest there especially compared to sleeping in a tent so close to their most recent battle field.

At first Selenada didn’t wake to the alarms blaring off in the distance, she just grunted and rolled over before she actually realized what that noise was. Her eyes opened and she laid there for a second before it finally clicked in her head that she needed to get up and she needed to get up now.

“Shit!” It was rare for Selenada to swear but she couldn’t help but let that one slip considering the situation. Groggy and discombobulated Selenada shot out of bed and stumbled around her dark tent to find her weapon and armor. Somehow she stumbled into her armor and found her sword in a decent amount of time before dashing out of her tent and following the others in the direction they were running to. She hoped that this was just something Isaac came up with to help keep them on their toes and that this wasn’t an actual emergency, but as she rounded the last row of tents her eyes locked onto the ominous shapes in the distance.

“Lycans?” She was so confused and shocked. There were so many of them and they were all just standing there, taunting them with their presence. She was one of the last Templars to join the group and it seemed that everyone was pretty much on the same page as Selenada; how the fuck do they survive this one?

[RedKayne]

Several members of the squadron reported to the front of the encampment, where both the Inquisitor and the Senior Templar resided. Many of them asked for orders, hoping against hope that their leaders will come up with a solution to defeat the enormous Lycan pack. The Senior Templar's was spinning with several thoughts on how to combat these Scourge Beasts, but he knew that no matter what… they wouldn't be able to survive this battle in a head-on confrontation. If they had the opportunity they will need to escape, but that is nearly impossible when they were completed surrounded by the army of Lycans.

The Inquisitor himself was contemplating ideas on how to tackle against the Scourge Beasts. His Knight-enhanced vision scanning across the area, watching the creatures and their every movement. He could probably attempt to take on ten at once… maybe fifteen… but eventually, even he would be overwhelmed by the army of Scourge Beasts. Realistically, the rest of the squadron could probably take down about thirty of them… maybe a little more. But that would still leave the majority of the Lycans to overwhelm them…

“Sir…” Isaac began to speak up, his eyes still gazing upon the werewolves. “We cannot win this battle… we need to find a way to retreat.”

The Inquisitor stared directly ahead of himself, his frown deepening with each passing second. “Someone is approaching...” Caleb stated, temporarily ignoring the Senior Templar's suggestion. “And its not a Lycan...”

Isaac's gaze then fell on a dark figure, one that was approaching them from a distance. The shadowy figure held a humanoid built, and it didn't have the foul scent of a Lycan. It smelled remarkably like a… human? But what in the world was a human doing with a pack of a hundred Lycans?

Finally, the dark figure revealed himself (http://pre11.deviantart.net/9e2c/th/pre/f/2013/087/5/b/werewolf_by_lorandesore-d5zjoe3.jpg), and Isaac's blood suddenly went cold. The man was rather tall, and had rather messy and thick blonde hair. In his right hand, he carried a large two-handed sword with ease. Isaac immediately assumed that he must have the strength of a Crusader-class Templar, but he never saw this man before. Yet, the weapon and the massive strength wasn't what made Isaac's blood grow cold… no, it was the man's eyes.

They were the eyes of a Lycan. Golden, cold, small slits, and a thirst for blood.

“You there!” the Inquisitor's voice immediately bellowed, directing his loud and authoritative voice towards the stranger. “State our identity, and what is the meaning of this?!”

However, the stranger paid no heed to answer the Inquisitor, and instead continued approaching the squadron. His heavy steps pounded against the ground, a carniverous and wicked smirk held upon his face. He brandished his blade, swinging it slightly as if practicing for an upcoming battle. Obviously, the strange had ill-intentions towards the squadron, and the Inquisitor will not let this man come close to his people.

“Stand back for now,” Inquisitor Caleb stated, he didn't want the other involved in the battle just yet. If too many people display an aggressive behavior, then that might cause the Lycans to swarm them and begin the slaughter. He then turned back to the approaching stranger, who was approximately about 30 feet away. “You there, stand down otherwise I will have to attack!” the Inquisitor shouted, making his intentions known to the mysterious man. However, the stranger simply ignored the Inquisitor's command, his wicked smile only widening.

The Inquisitor's eyes narrowed, before drawing both of his chakrams, which were strapped to his belts. “I see how it is then...” Caleb mumbled under his breath, clenching his right chakram before raising it up above his head. He quickly threw the weapon in vertical over-head motion, and the blades sliced through the air and quickly closed its distance towards its target. The chakram was aimed directly towards the stranger's chest, who did not appear intimidated by the weapon at all.

In fact, right before the chakram made contact, the stranger side-stepped out of the way and let the blades fly right by him. The Inquisitor did not waste a second, and immediately tugged on chakram blade – he intended to shatter the stranger's spine the same way he slayed one of the earlier Arachne. However, the mysterious warrior performed something that caught the legendary monster-slayer off-guard.

The stranger swung his large blade down with a single hand, cleaning slicing through the steel-cable that attached Caleb's chakram with his gauntlet. Immediately, the chakram fell right to the ground harmlessly a few feet behind the mysterious warrior. Inquisitor Caleb was completely shocked by this setback and almost took a step back – the steel cable was nearly impossible to see unless if you are a Knight-class warrior. Not only that… but it seemed that the stranger was already aware of the Inquisitor's weapons and battle-tactics before, and cut through the cable and made one of his chakrams completely useless.

“Shit...” The Inquisitor swore, the situation becoming even more dire than before since he lost a weapon. However, he still had one more, along with his trump card… “Everyone, stay back!” The Inquisitor barked back to his squadron, he would not allow this single individual take him down. After all of these years, the Inquisitor had too much pride to retreat from a battle like this.

“Sir!” Isaac exclaimed, watching as the Inquisitor charged forward and ran towards the stranger. Immediately, the Senior Templar disobeyed his order and chased after his commander, extremely worried about his safety. Yet, right when he started running, a few howls echoed in the air, which immediately made him pause in his steps. He glanced around, noticing some of the Lycans took a few aggressive steps forward – but staying in their place for now. Isaac glanced back at the Inquisitor, who was rapidly gaining ground to the stranger. “Sir! Wait!” The Senior Templar cried out, every single fiber in his being immediately knowing that this will not end well.

Isaac should have more faith in his Inquisitor, considering that Caleb Bartholomew is known as the Legendary Monster-Slayer for a strong reason. Caleb is easily the strongest Templar warrior in the entire Order, and displayed his strength earlier that day in the mines when he easily took down several Arachne without receiving a single scratch. Yet, Isaac could not ignore the ill-feelings in his stomach – they were surrounded by nearly a hundred Lycans, and the Inquisitor was challenging a completely mysterious foe with unknown capability.

Inquisitor Caleb continued running, finally closing the distance. He clenched tightly on to his left chakram, intending to slay this mysterious warrior with one strike. Immediately, the blonde hair stranger performed a quick back-hand slash, swinging in a horizontal motion right when the Inquisitor came into arm's distance. Caleb reacted faster, immediately ducking beneath the blade before raising up his left chakram and pointing it directly at the stranger's chest. His right arm quickly moved, pressing the button on his left gauntlet to unleash the chakram as a harpoon. At such a close distance, the chakram should literally slice through the stranger.

There was the sound of the explosion, as the chakram burst from the gauntlet like a violent harpoon. This would be an early gamble in this upcoming battle with the Lycan pack, but the Inquisitor was aware that this stranger would be full of surprises, and that it would be best to put him down as soon as possible.

Yet, the result completely shocked everyone as they watched what unfolded before their eyes. In a blur of movement, the stranger's free hand raised up and grabbed the shooting chakram – using such incredible strength and treating it nothing more than a frisbee. Blood slowly dripped from the stranger's hand, because the brunt force of the chakram left a deep gash in his hand. The Inquisitor's eyes widened with shock, the feat that the stranger performed should have been physically impossible – even for a Crusader-class Templar.

Who… who is this?

These thoughts raced through the Inquisitor's mind, before he saw the stranger's blade raised up once more.

Shi-

Inquisitor Caleb jumped back right when the large blade swung, landing on his feet and several feet away from the stranger. The blonde-haired warrior simply smirked at the Inquistor, as the two faced down. Caleb's eyes were glaring at the stranger, who then dropped the chakram to the ground.

Then, a few short seconds later, a red line formed around the Inquisitor's neck. Quickly thereafter, blood began to seep from the line rapidly… before the Inquisitor's head slid off from the neck and landed loudly on to the ground. The decapitated body of the Inquisitor's body slumped forward, falling to the ground lifelessly.

There was a silence as the entire squadron watched their leader slain with ease by this stranger's hand.

The Senior Templar's heart nearly stopped when he saw the death of his commander… and then his eyes lifted the killer.

The stranger's wicked smile widened much further, revealing his razor-sharp canines. He lifted his free hand, pointing towards the squadron.

“Kill them all, my children!!” The stranger bellowed in a loud and deep voice.

And then all of hell was unleashed.


Only minutes have passed, and the entire encampment was nearly covered with blood and gore.

Isaac grunted loudly, pulling out his blade from one Lycan's heart before immediately turning around and slashed another one across the chest. The Lycan barely flinched from the pain, and Isaac quickly lifted up his leg and kicked the beast on its chest, sending it flying back a few feet. The Senior Templar was breathing heavily, several cuts already covering his body. Three deep gashes were across his left cheek, as he narrowly dodged a Lycan's claw that intended to rip his throat open.

However, he glanced around the rest of the area, and saw so many deaths. Templar Savage's head was left on the ground a few feet away, victim to a Lycan that tore off her head with its immense physical strength. Several limbs of Templar Leviet was scattered around the area, as one of the Lycans decided to treated the young woman as nothing more than a plaything. Templar Grinz'berg was another unfortunate casualty, and the experienced Templar was eviscerated and left at a dying state as she watched the rest of her squadron being decimated by the enormous Lycan pack.

Screams of agonies echoed across the area, as with each passing second, another one of the Templars was killed by a Lycan. The Senior Templar watched everything unfold around him, completely horrified by the slaughter. Many others would have frozen at this disgusting sight, and may have crumbled from this experience.

However… with the death of the Inquisitor, that left Isaac as the single commander of the entire squadron. And it was his duty to make sure that everyone else can make it out alive.

“Retreat!!!” Isaac shouted at the top of his lungs, hoping that the others can hear him. “Retreat!!!” he shouted again, before ducking right when a Lycan lunged at him. The beast flew over him, and Isaac simple ran from the creature. He needed to make sure everyone else can hear his commands. They were doomed to a horrific death if they continued battling these creatures, and without the Inquisitor, they didn't even had a hope to take down even a third of these Beasts.

The nearest town would be Zion, where the young militants and Templars were being trained. Once they retreated back to this town, they can fortify their defenses and prepare for any approaching Lycan invasions.

“RETREAAAAATTT!!!!”

[☆Catwoman☆]

Yelena was frozen for several seconds after watching Bartholomew’s head slip from his shoulders. She knew that she had just witnessed the impossible, that this strange new foe before them was unlike anything humanity had ever faced. But as the Inquisitor’s corpse dropped unceremoniously to the ground, thoughts of who or what the man with the lupine eyes was ceased, and one command conquered all: Protect Isaac!

As the Lycans began their charge, Yelena went into action. She tried to stay close to her superior--Senior Templar Hills was their leader now, and protecting him was critical--battling as wolf after wolf coursed through the camp like a hurricane of fur and teeth and claws. Her silver blade flashed left and right, but it was like shaking a stick at a whirlwind. The blood she scored seemed meaningless against the pure death before her eyes.

In only minutes, the Knight was surrounded by dead Templars. The dirt was soaked with blood, peppered with entrails and brain matter, and every now and then her feet slid in slippery substances she tried hard not to identify. In fact, the young woman tried not to think at all, letting instinct drive her actions lest the hopelessness of their situation overwhelm her.

Only a few paces away, Isaac turned heel and ran, shouting for a retreat. Yelena began to follow, but caught sight of Warren battling for his life. A Lycan was approaching from his blind spot, prepped to make a killing blow. The Knight sped towards it with all haste. It lifted a clawed hand, but as the appendage descended toward Warren, Yelena swung her blade, underhand and up. The Lycan howled as its arm was sliced off just below the elbow, then ceased howling altogether when the fiery woman turned the sword and cut diagonally down its torso. The blade sliced until it struck spine, and the monster dropped. Yelena yanked her sword free and took up a position behind Warren, watching his back.

“We need to retreat!” she yelled to him through the screams and roars surrounding them. “We need to protect Isaac!”

Warren felt as though he had done this all before—the Lycan hoard, the inevitable deaths. He chased his mind to try to remember when.

And then he did remember. It was at Hirod, when Warren had only been sixteen. A Lycan army had descended on the mining town. His mother had died that day. And his step-father, as well. He had hidden beneath their bodies and their blood had masked his scent as the Lycans killed off almost everyone else in the village before the incompetent Templar Order finally drove them away.

Warren wondered if the Templar Order would drive these Lycans away, too. Then, he remembered that he was a member of the Order; that it was his job to drive these Lycans away and no one else’s. “I have to do it,” and once he said this it seemed only a matter of fact. Not his opinion; just a universal law.

Warren squeezed the grip of his blade much tighter than necessary. He shook, he trembled. The Lycan army descended. He thought of Hirod, his mother, and his father. He raised his sword arm and was among the first to meet the hoard. Warren brought his sword horizontally on the very first Lycan of the pack. The blade landed just below the Beast’s left shoulder, severing its arm completely. Warren wasn’t sure if he had yelled some battle cry or not although some may have heard something akin to a growl leave his throat. He swung his blade again and this time it was the Beast’s head that was lobbed off. That one was for the Inquisitor.

He felt his squadron fighting on all sides of him, but they seemed distant somehow. His mind was so focused on the enemy that everything else blurred, like a picture taken by an amateur photographer. Two other Lycans pushed each other out of the way to get a chance at Warren’s throat. The one succeeded in pushing the other, but when it turned its head to bite Warren’s jugular, the Templar had already lodged his silver sword into the Beast’s abdomen. The hilt of the sword was pressed against the Beast’s stomach. Warren pulled his blade to the left and a bowl of intestines left the Lycan.

Already, Warren knew that he would kill them all. In an instinctive way, he knew that he would be the one to murder each and every beast.

“We need to retreat! We need to protect Isaac!” Templar Yelena yelled to Warren through the screams and roars surrounding them.

He felt her back press against his. He wasn’t aware that she had saved his life.

“Retreat?” He said. He understood the word, but it seemed strange to mention it here. Out of context, somehow. “Are you mad? If we leave then this Lycan army is going to follow us and kill everyone in its path.” As if to prove his point, a Lycan—probably the one who had lost the wrestle with his buddy—sped towards Warren’s right side. It pushed the Templar to the dirt and tried to restrain his arms. Before it could; however, Warren brought his sword and pushed it through the Lycan’s eye and ripped it out just as quickly. He then pushed the Lycan over and returned to his feet before any more Beasts could surprise him.

“I don’t run and if you were a Templar you wouldn’t run either.” Warren glanced to his side. More and more of his comrades were dying beneath the Lycan hoard. He felt sick, but mostly, he felt pissed. “If we leave, then what’s happening here will happen in the next village. I can’t allow that.”

He grabbed Yelena’s hand, hard. “Please. I’m begging you. Don’t let innocents die.” He thought of his mother. He thought of Hirod. “Do your job.”

Several Lycans rushed towards them.

Octavius’s intensity took Yelena by surprise, his grip on her hand bringing it to pins and needles. She pulled away in time to defend against a leaping Lycan, steeling herself and setting her feet for balance as she slammed her shield straight into its snarling muzzle with such force that its momentum reversed, knocking it backwards. It landed on its back, whining through a broken jaw, and she quickly dispatched it with a clean cut across the throat. Its whine devolved into a bloody gurgle.

Two more monsters surged towards the duo. Yelena dropped the shield and drew her revolver dagger. She fired twice at each in rapid succession, and both fell and slid to her feet, silver bullets lodged in their chests and between their golden eyes. She holstered the weapon and retrieved her shield, then rounded on her companion during the brief break in combat.

“Warren, we cannot stay!” she argued, trying to make the haunted Templar see reason. “Look around! We are being slaughtered! Don’t be a fool. If we do not fall back, there won’t be any of us left to protect Hirod. There won’t be any of us left to protect Sanctuary.”

She was right, of course. Warren still retained enough clarity to see that much. When he looked around him, as if for the first time he noticed just how many Lycans there were. It seemed that every time the Order killed a Lycan, the Lycans would take three of theirs. This was a losing battle.

"If we do not fall back, there won’t be any of us left to protect Hirod. There won’t be any of us left to protect Sanctuary.”

Warren bit his lip, clenched his fist. Veins popped up on his arms. He swung on Yelena and if the Templar was perceptive enough then she would see a mixture of anger and despair in his eyes. “You’re right,” was all the Templar said. He looked to where Isaac was running. Warren wasn’t sure how they would make it towards him. Not with so many Lycans around.

“We have to take the shortest route that leads us out of this pack. That might be in the opposite direction as Isaac; but, it’ll be safer. After we’re out we can take the longer path towards Zion—that looks like the direction Isaac is headed.” Warren did not ask Templar Renakovic for any criticism on this plan. He used his seismic sense to find out which part of the field was less populated with Lycans. “North,” He said and pressed his back against Renakovic’s. “From here, let’s go north, out of the pack, and towards Zion. Are you with me?”

For a moment, when the Templar had rounded on her, Yelena had thought that Warren was going to snap at her, or argue. His expression was piercing, livid, but she quickly realized that it was directed at her, merely at their situation. She did not know much about the man’s past, but the Knight perceived that something haunted him, something that was being brought to the forefront by their current, dire circumstance.

To her relief, Octavius agreed with her. She listened as he laid out their escape route; it was inconvenient, taking them out of the way of where Isaac had gone, but it was the best option. They needed to get to the Senior Templar as quickly as possible, even if it meant diverting from his course temporarily.

“I’m with you,” Yelena responded grimly, trusting in her companion’s seismic sense to get them through the onslaught. “And if we survive this, I’m buying you a drink.”

“If we get through this I’m going to need a lot more than one drink,” Warren chuckled. He didn’t think that he could laugh at a time like now, but why not? If there was a chance that he would die today then he would like to share a laugh with his comrade before he kicked the bucket.

Warren eyed the direction he would move to. Just like his seismic sense attested, the Northern route was peopled with the least number of Lycans. That wasn’t to say that there were hardly anymore; however, there were certainly less in this direction than there were in any other. Warren pushed through the wild claws and hungry jaws. His sword seemed to become independent from his body: hacking and piercing, slicing and impaling. His sword did it all and Warren was only a passive observer.

At his side, Yelena mirrored Octavius, only her sword shared the dance with her shield, which lashed out to crush bone and bat away pursuers. Each strike was accompanied by a guttural cry of anger and desperation, until her throat was raw and her muscles fatigued. But still she fought, and still she shouted her ire, until the monsters around them dwindled, the lupine beasts seeking easier prey.

He didn’t know how long his sword hacked away, or how long Warren watched it do so. In any case, an opening was made in the circumference of the Lycan hoard. Warren saw it and imagined that, if he and Templar Renakovic were in a cave, then this small opening would breed light to which they would follow.

There was one Lycan in front of him. “We’re almost there, Templar Renakovic,” With his free hand, Warren raised his sword, and brought it down on the last Lycan that blocked their exit. The Beast’s chest opened, revealing a thin crimson line that extended from its right shoulder blade to just above its pelvis. It stumbled to the ground. Warren jumped on it. For a moment, he was about to dig his sword deep into the Lycan’s face, but something—someone; his mother, perhaps—told him not to.

Warren threw his sword aside and brought a fist onto the monster’s face. He heard a crack, signaling that the jaw had just been broken. He punched the Beast a second time, and then three more. Warren’s breath became ragged. He punched the Beast again, although by this time it had already died as a result of its brain being smashed in by the relentless blows Warren had delivered earlier. Yelena watched the spectacle in silence, jaw set and eyes filled with understanding--and, perhaps, sympathy. He stood, spat on the Beast’s skull, grabbed his sword and, without looking back to see if Templar Renakovic had followed him, he said,

“Let’s go. To Zion. I pray that we meet everyone else there, as well.”

[Scottie]

Arrows were not much use to the force that was these Lycans. Yes they can be used from a distance but when the beast has you in it’s grip, not much can save you. Sophia had been frozen when the creatures started their attack, how could she not be. That was the man they were told glorious stories of, the man who could bring down tens of creatures and not break a sweat. Now his head was rolling in the dirt. It was with the first scream that she was brought back to reality. She was near the centre of the camp, she had enough time to try to pick off some of those running towards her. Even the arrow piercing through their arm could not stop these vicious machines. A few shots made it through the skull of some dogs, causing them to stumble and drop down. When she reached for an arrow and her fingers met thin air, she knew it was time to move.

Not a fan of close combat, she knew now was not a good time to be picky. She hoped her speed could save her until she reached some sort of weapon. The ground was firm and dry, allowing her to make quick time to a large tent. Screams and roars plagued the air. She grabbed another batch of arrows as a woman was tossed mere metres before her. She had the arrow flying through the air when the beast appeared past the tent. Smashing through its head sending blood and brain splattering to the ground. A small smile passed her lips as the animal thumped to its knees. That was her mistake. That small moment of relief that the closest animal had been disposed of. A snarl behind her made her blood run cold.

She turned just in time to be caught by the beast who vaulted towards her. She went flying backwards, hitting the ground harshly. The animal had stumbled but was now nearly on top of her. It snapped its jaws at her, aiming for her neck. One swift snap and she would be his next meal. She raised her arm in time, morphing the skin from the pale bruised flesh to hard scales. It’s teeth snapped down on the scales, pain flooded through her body and she screamed. The creature snarled, her arm still in it’s grip. The scales would stop the initial punctures but if the animal locked it’s jaw she wouldn’t get free. With her free right hand, she grabbed a knife from her back and thrust the knife into the side of the animals head.

Nothing, it seemed to clamp down harder. She never made the smartest of decisions when thinking on her feet. But she always got out of tough situations. She yanked the knife out it’s skull and thrust it into her thigh. The scales on her arm and the new fresh smell of blood seemed to only push the creature onwards. It dug it’s claws into her torso as she pulled the knife from her head and shoved it through the beast eye. Digging it in deep and twisting it. The creature let out a yowl of pain and dropped her arm. She kicked herself backwards, leaving the knife in it’s place. The animal started to crawl towards her, the knife dropped leaving a large blackened hole where it had been. The poison corroding it’s face as she scrambled to her feet and ran.

Narrowly missing other attacks, she kept running. She had no idea where but she knew if she stopped she would be dead. Using the horrific wound in her arm as a source for her arrows, she shot off another few into the heads of Lycans. The stench of blood was disgusting, the sight of limbs and organs made her feel sick. She noted faces she recognised, the men she had sat beside near the fire mere hours ago. Their throats torn open and their bodies only reminders of who they once were. Then came the call. Like a note from the almighty. Their salvation. Sort of. Sophia ran in the direction of the others, cradling her arm and trying to stop herself from limping. Tears ran down her cheeks, a mixture of pain and fear causing the burst of emotion. Stumbling through the darkness, she followed her fellow Templars as they ran towards safety.

[Maya]

Kiera stood there shoulder to shoulder with her fellow Templar's as they all assembled behind Inquisitor Caleb and the Senior Templar. All it took was a quick glance around the perimeter of the encampment at the massive number of lycans to know there was a snowball's chance in hell of getting out of this unscathed if alive at all. The very air around them was heavy. This was the calm before the storm.

In typical Kiera style, she did not pepper her leaders with questions nor show fear. Though it was there all the same, pushed down..way down. The discussion turned to retreat. A word she'd rarely ever heard when speaking of this team. They were warriors, they fight. To the death if need be. But, they'd never came up against an opponent this strong in numbers, in strength and in sheer savage force.

Her eyes fell on the figure walking out from among the beasts with what she could only describe as a cocky, confident resolve. In almost every way, he looked like any other man. For a brief moment, she was fascinated and wondered..How did he do it? How did one man control these beasts? It was then Kiera noticed his eyes. Golden in hue. A hybrid? Not saying such out loud for surely it could not be true. From the way he held himself and the determined gate of his stride, this man was hell bent on carnage. Inquisitor Caleb tried to make contact, tried to control the situation; but, the man advanced, paying no attention to the commands at all. From there, everything went down hill in a heartbeat right before her very eyes. Inquisitor Caleb, the monster-slayer himself with all of his power and speed, could not touch this mystery man. It was mind blowing to see such a strong figure so easily purged of his weapon. As Isaac raced forward after him, her hand reached out to try and stop him just as the ominous howls filled the air. Kiera froze where she stood as the sound made her blood run cold, looking towards where the cries emanated from as the beasts seemed to be chomping at the bit for blood.

Inquisitor Caleb was someone Kiera had always respected, as most did. He was level headed and an all around good person. When it came to fighting ability, he was one of most skilled warriors she'd ever seen. Never in a million years would she have believed anyone could take him down. When he released his chakram only to have the stranger snag it right out of the air, her breath hitched in her throat. She took a step back, shocked by what she'd just witnessed. The worst had yet to come. The dark stranger attacked once more. At first, the Inquisitor seemed to have escaped with no damage which offered hope all was not lost. Then the blood began seeping from around his neck as his head rolled to the ground leaving his body to follow.

This can't happen. Trying to convince herself it was a just a dream. She was still asleep. It'd been a rough and tiring few days, bad dreams were common. None of this was really happening. It can't be happening! This did not happen!

Oh, but it can and it did. No amount of denial would make what she'd just witnessed untrue. Kiera tried to shove the shock down, push the panicked feeling away and stop the wave of revulsion from clouding her vision. Tears welled up in her eyes which were given an angry swipe. Kiera did not cry. She did not display her emotions to the world. No, she worked far too hard to mask those feelings to break now. The loss of Caleb hurt deep. Kiera might be aloof most times; but, the Templar's were her family. A disjointed family at best..still, she'd never wish pain or death on any of them.


“Kill them all, my children!!”

Those icy words were the wake up call she needed to get her feet in motion and head back in the fight as the lycan horde was set loose against them. Mourning would have to happen another day.

Templar Anna Catriona more-or-less stayed in the background throughout most of the ordeal. Like everyone else, she was absolutely shocked and horrified at the sight of the Lycan army surrounding them and threatening to take their lives. Live everyone else, she was confused and perplexed at the arrival of the mysterious man who revealed himself from the shadows. And then, like everyone else, Anna's heart dropped once she saw their fearless and almighty Inquisitor slain with ease.

The strange man turned to face the rest of the squadron - those golden eyes with malicious intent sent a chill down the young woman's spine... not too many things could do that in the world. Even when the Arachne ambushed them, she did not let fear overwhelm her. She had a lot to prove as one of the new recruits, and she wouldn't allow herself to earn the reputation of being a coward like her fellow recruit - Templar Valencia. The poor boy already looked like he was about to have a panic attack, and it may be a mercy death if he simply had a heart attack at this moment instead of being slaughtered by one of the Lycans.

She overheard the loud and cold words by the stranger... ordering his 'children' to slay each and every Templar. Those words rang in Anna's mind... did this man create these Lycans? Was he much older than he appeared? Who in the world was he, and how was he so powerful that he was able to slay the strongest Templar without even breaking a sweat?

There were far too many questions, and now was not the time for answers. The Lycans were attacking.

Dozens upon dozens of them launched themselves towards the squadron - several of the Templars immediately put up a solid defense and managed to fight off the first wave. But their numbers were absolutely overwhelming, and very quickly - the young woman could hear the death throes of several of fellow peers - people that only began to befriend after these past few weeks.

Both of Anna's combat daggers were already covered with blood, fresh from slashing a nearby Lycan's throat before rolling away from another's swipe. Small gashes already covered her body, blood and mud from the ground smudging her skin. Her hair was left in complete disarray, and her pounded against her chest.

There was a very real possibility of her dying tonight... she should be scared. She should be frightened... but she couldn't think those thoughts now. If she did, then she would only collapse - she wanted to survive through this... she wanted to live... and thus she will fight with everything she had.

As a Chevalier, she wasn't built as a close-combat warrior like a Knight or Crusader class Templar. However, she still had a nifty trick or two under her belt. Another Lycan charged towards her, its strong legs pounding against the ground as it rapidly approached. It briefly appeared that Anna was chewing something, but then she quickly spat out a glob of web which directly hit the top half of the Lycan's face - covering its vision and temporarily disorienting the creature.

When the creature stumbled, that's when Anna took the opportunity to throw the combat dagger. The weapon flew across the air, sailing through it before piercing into the Lycan's throat - causing the creature to gurgle in its own blood. Templar Catriona rushed towards it, grabbing the hilt of her dagger before tearing it across the monster's throat, before ripping the weapon away.

She was panting, already feeling exhaustion setting in. Fortunately, she saw a fellow ally a few feet away. Templar Sanford was holding her own, and now the two of them can join together and do what they can against the Lycan horde.

The beasts were upon them in seconds. Even her inherent speed was no match against a horde coming from all sides. Kiera lifted her left hand, blade grasped firmed before deftly turning it back on the blood lusting Lycan racing towards her from behind. Skidding to a sideways stop, she dropped to her knees, thrusting the silver blade upward so the lycan's own momentum skewered it from stomach to spine as it crumpled on it's side to the ground. Bracing her booted foot to the body, the sword would be jerked free from one and jabbed straight through the throat of another as it's massive teeth came mere inches from her face, silencing the creatures growls forever. For every beast that died, countless more were still coming.

Kiera stumbled backwards, landing hard on the ground, as yet another was hot on her heels. She felt the heat of it's breath as the huge beast growled it's hatred while baring it's powerful maul as spittle fell from it's pointed teeth. It's nails raked across her side, leaving a trail of three jagged, bloody lines. While the creature managed to slice the skin, her mix of leather and silver armor minimized the bulk of the damage as the Lycan pulled back after feeling the burn of metal. She used the hidden blade on her right wrist to stab deep into the lycan's gut, slicing through skin, intestines and internal organs. It screamed, falling forward which allowed allowed her to roll through it's legs, slice through the Achilles's heel on both sides and clumsily fight her way back up on both feet to sever the head from the base of it's neck.

The stench of the beasts filled the air as the copper taste of blood was wiped away from her mouth. Who's blood? The last Lycan she'd slaughtered or her own? ...damned if she knew. Everything was moving so fast, it was hard to tell up from down or even which direction to go. The cries of the wounded and dying were magnified ten fold to her sensitive ears. It felt like they were trapped in hell.

She looked over and caught sight of Anna waging her own war against the throng of over sized dogs. For one so young, she was proving her worth as a Templar quite well. Kiera made tracks in the girl's direction; but stopped short upon seeing one of the beasts coming up at a fast clip behind Anna.."Catriona! Hit the ground! ..Now!" That warning would make sense as she'd see Kiera flinging a dagger right in her direction that wasn't meant for Anna. The knife impaled in the Lycan's neck; but, the creature wasn't dead yet. She would hurry to back her up; but, in those few seconds until they could pair up, Catriona had to stand her ground.

Anna's head jerked towards the sound of her voice being called, and didn't think twice to obey Kiera's order. She felt her body immediately fall to the ground, pushing out her arms and catching herself on the ground. Next thing she heard, was the sound of a werewolf's throat gurgling in its own blood. Templar Catriona rolled over, seeing the Lycan right above her flailing about with its claws and nearly collapsing right on top of her.

She rolled away just in time, but immediately felt the creature's claws slash across her lower back. It cleanly ripped through her light armor, leaving a couple of deep gashes. The pain seared right through the young woman, and she felt her eyes water and even a couple of tears falling across her cheeks. However, she needed to keep moving unless if she wanted to be ripped apart by this mad beast.

Anna rolled over again, trying to put as much distance as possible between both herself and the Scourge Beast. Anna's vision blurred, and she quickly found herself on her feet, holding on to both combat daggers. The Lycan itself was attempting to get up as well, but was struggling to do so with the dagger currently piercing its throat and draining every its life. Anna wasted no time in finishing off the monster, swing down both knives and smashing them against the beast's skull - piercing through its brain and instantly ending its life.

Templar Catriona quickly pulled up the blades, breathing even more heavily and trying to ignore the pain on her lower back. She felt blood rapidly dripped down from the wounds, but she needed to escape this slaughter. She looked back at Templar Sanford, giving the young woman a small nod of thanks - if it wasn't for her, she probably would have ended up much worse than a lower back wound.

She gripped her daggers tightly, watching as even more Lycan began to swarm around them. Anna's hope never faltered, they will fight through this and escape with their lives.


It's amazing how mere seconds can feel like minutes when trying to cover as much ground as possible as quickly as possible. Kiera saw Anna trying to roll clear of the angry Lycan, watched in horror as it's razor sharp claws lashed out at the girl. "No! No nonono!" Was hard to imagine she'd be able to survive the beasts attack. Unknowingly, Kiera held her breath while racing to her side; but, Catriona proved to be a scrapper and slayed the creature herself.

"Atta girl!" Offering a thumbs up which is all they had time for. Over the din of the fighting, someone was yelling.. "Retreat!" Was hard to fathom this was their only option..to run. As the unending flow of Lycans just kept coming, it seemed the best chance they had to make it out alive. "We gotta get out of here." A few team members were going one way; but, most were heading towards Zion, so Zion it was. Kiera knew Anna was hurting; but they had to push forward. "We stick together and join the others. If I go down, camouflage and keep going.." She was the fastest of the two; but, would hold to the pace Anna was able to keep up with as they fought their way together towards their teammates.

[The Texan Queen]

If there was ever a time to pray, now was the time. The young girl stood behind her Senior Templar and closed her eyes and began to pray. She knew that lives would be lost tonight, that blood would be shed and friends would never speak again, so she knew not to pray for an easy fight or for everyone’s safety. Instead she prayed that each life lost tonight would be met by their merciful God as they left their life on Earth behind, she prayed that the loved ones left to deal with their broken hearts would understand and move on, she prayed that those who survived tonight would not blame themselves for their fallen soldiers and she prayed that any death would not be drawn out and painful. Selenada slowly opened her eyes after she whispered an amen and looked around at everyone standing beside her. She hoped that after this she would see all their faces again, but she knew the chances of that were slim. If they all made it out alive it would truly be a miracle.

You there!

The Inquisitors voice snatched Selenada’s focus away from her fellow Templars and turned it back to the daunting image before her. A dark figure emerged from the Lycan pack and was making its way to the outnumber Templars and it was moving with a purpose. She had seen Bartholomew fight and she was confident he could handle a lone man approaching them, especially after he single handedly defeated multiple Scourge Beasts. The figure stepped into clear view and it made her heart stop for a second. It appeared to be just a man, which shouldn’t terrify any Templar here, but there was something about him that made her extremely nervous, so nervous she wanted to speak out and tell The Inquisitor to not fight alone but she felt paralyzed and she could not find her voice. The man just kept creeping closer and closer to the Templars, ignoring every word that Bartholomew spit at him, every threat, every warning. She could hear her heart beat in her ears and feel her stomach flipping nervously. Then the man looked in her direction and she got a good look into his eyes and she got cold.

“Lycan eyes…” She whispered in fear and looked around to see if anyone else had noticed that the man had the eyes of a Scourge Beast. A million thoughts and questions began to race through her mind as she tried to understand everything that she had just seen. Before she could comprehend what she saw The Inquisitor was charging the enemy and had ordered everyone to stay back. She had a bad feeling about this, if only she were good enough she would charge out there and aid Bartholomew like he had come to her team’s rescue. But she wasn’t and she was forced to watch as he attempted to slay the man and failed at every attempt.

The sickening sound of blade meeting flesh forced a silence over the crowd. Selenada sucked in air nervously as she waited for someone to move, to do something. What she saw next was not something she thought she would ever see, the fall of a great leader. It was like his head rolled off in slow motion and his body slumped to the ground over and over in her mind. She felt sick and horrified and deeply saddened and angry all at once. How were they going to survive this if the monster slayer himself could not?



The ground was littered with dead bodies, more Templar than Lycan. The dirt had turned to bloody mud within seconds and the once quiet night was filled with the noises of battle. She could hear the screams of life being ripped to shreds, swords clinking and Lycan’s growling all around her. Selenada had never been more exhausted in her life. Every Lycan that she managed to kill just conjured up another one more vicious than the last. She had no idea how she was still alive at this point and she just hoped that her luck wouldn’t run out any time soon.

“Retreat!”

Selenada glanced over in the direction of Caleb’s voice as she shoved aside the limp body of a Lycan. She couldn’t tell what he had said until she noticed people started fleeing in the other direction. This had never happened. They never had to run away from a battle. As she took one last look around at the corpses that surrounded her and the bodies still standing she realized how bad it had gotten in such a short time. Without a second thought she turned and followed the other fleeing Templars and hoped that they would make it out alive.

[Megilwen]

Marcella stood among the rest of the Templars as a man stepped out from behind the Lycans. His eyes the same cold, golden as the other beasts. How he'd not been torn to shreds...who was he that he could walk among them freely? She made herself stand perfectly still as the Inquisitor moved to attack him. Surely this man who'd save herself and the rest of her team in the mines would be able to hold his own against this man. Faith. She had to have faith that maybe he'd succeed. However her logical side knew, that even if the Inquisitor were to succeed, the Lycan would more than likely attack.

Under the surface, she could 'feel' the panic rising and so pulled a vial from the pouch on her belt to push it down as she watched. From the start, the fight seemed to be one-sided. The Inquisitor never stood a chance from the moment he engaged the man. She could tell that from where she stood. Sure enough a few minutes later, as the Inquisitor's head parted from his neck, Marcella drew her sword from her back as the man ordered the Lycans to attack.

"Fuck." They were surrounded and the Lycans moved in from all sides. "Circle up!" She called out to whomever could hear. They'd need to form as much of a defense as possible if they hoped to survive the night.

She'd stood her ground and waited for the creatures as they charged growling and roaring as they moved and then like a wave crashing against the shore, the beasts hit against the first line of Templars. Swords meeting claws. Soon the sounds of battle rang throughout the air, screams of the dying soon echoing in the dark. All around her, her companions fought for their lives as she fought for hers, ducking underneath the swipe of a Lycan's sharp claws as she brought her body and sword up with enough force to pierce under the creatures rib cage and up through it's heart.

As it went down, it's weight nearly pulled the sword from her hand as it stuck in the body. Marcella didn't have much time as another wolf was already on her. She blocked one of it's swings with her armored buckler, hearing the claws scrape against the metal as she put a booted foot on the dead creature in order to pull her sword free.

The air was thick with the stench of newly deceased. Blood of both man and Scourge soaked the grass like morning dew, and chaos thrived across the impromptu battlefield. Death himself was the only victor in such a horrifying quarrel.

But Jerris refused to fall.

Another Lycan collapsed to the ground with a slit throat as he spun about its lunge, his blades poised for his next opponent. Dismembered bodies and bleeding Scourge fell in a haphazard semicircle before him, victims to his unyielding defense. He could feel the effects of exhaustion from the day’s previous events creeping at the edge of his body, yet his mind was wide awake. The overwhelming odds denied any chance at victory with their current numbers, but the Scourge continued to die to his dancing swords.

The Inquisitor was dead. Hundreds of Lycans were tearing through the Templars one-by-one.

This battle was lost before it even started.

At the sound of Marcella’s call, Jerris retreated from the corpses around him, for they were becoming obstructive to his fights. He dashed towards a Lycan clambering to her from behind, and with a flash of his sword he split its spine. As it fell to its knees, he finished it off with slash deep through the side of its neck down to its chest and tugged it clean. The next Lycan lunged from behind, but the flurry of movement triggered his left blade to almost absentmindedly parry the sharpened claws to the side. It lost its arm in the next moment, and Jerris took the borrowed time to cover Marcella’s flank.

“It appears a bit late to call for formations, Templar Hoefler."

Marcella managed to pull her sword free, moving it swiftly up and under the Lycan's jaw in front of her, piercing to the brain. Behind her there was a growl, followed by a thump and then Jerris's voice. Panic tried to push in at the thought that she'd nearly been gored from behind, however the potion from earlier easily pushed that away.

"It should have been called earlier." She grunted as another wolf attacked. "Just like we should have hunted down the Lycan." The urge to say 'I told you so' still lingered on her lips. Things had gone to pot the moment they'd gone to the mines. To late to worry about that though, her back still to Jerris, she swung her sword in an arch cutting through the wolf's hand, sending it flying into the dark.

"Our back was open. Everyone focusing on the fight between the Inquisitor and the Lycan's....leader." She didn't like the sound of that. Of the Lycans having a leader. That they were mobilizing. Organizing.

With Jerris behind her, she was able to focus more solidly on what was in front of her, instead of what also might have been coming at her from behind. It made fighting more efficient and what she was hoping would happen when she called for people to circle up. When you have someone protecting your back and them protecting yours, well maybe there'd be less Templar's littering the ground dying.

Jerris's blades crossed to hold back a swipe of razor-sharp Lycan claws, and he pulled them outwards to open the beast's guard. "Of course we should've pursued them, and that choice may cost us our lives." With a short grunt, he rammed both blades into the Lycan's exposed chest, pulled them out, and immediately ducked under one leaping just over his head. Before he had time to strike back at it, he had to leap back quickly from another set of claws.

He could feel the lactic acid in his arms and legs, for the exceedingly tough skin of the Lycans made it even more difficult to deliver killing blows and remove weapons. Sweat freely dripped from his brow, and his chest started to heave with uneasy respiration. It couldn't be any more clear that they were due for death.

"Templar Hoefler." Jerris gripped his swords tighter, their blades almost entirely covered with the sickly glisten of Scourge insides. The two of them were almost literally back-to-back by now. "If I told you that I could handle the rest of these beasts and demanded your retreat," his words came between heavy breaths. "Would you do accept?"

A wind blew through her hair and there was a noise and Marcella turned, barely dodging to the side in time as a Lycan jumped over Jerris. There was a sharp pain as it's claws raked across her side, but she returned the favor. She pushed her sword into it's side, using the creature's forward momentum to slice it open. The sick smell of guts hit her in the face, mixing with all the other smells of death.

Turning, she cut through another Lycan arm, before shoving her sword down it's throat. Taking a brief second, she tiredly wiped sweat from her forehead as she heard Jerris speaking. "I'd call you a liar and remind you of our conversation earlier." She spoke flatly, while Jerris had the ear of the Senior Templar and worked closely with him. In the scheme of things, they were ranked the same. "That would be suicide and you know it. And there's no guarantee..."

Her words were interrupted as another Lycan made a charge at her. Swinging her heavy buckler into it's face, she knocked out a few teeth only to send it spinning into another Lycan who'd been about to attack as well. Causing the first to take the claws more than likely meant for her and Jerris. "... I'd make it away anyways. Our odds of getting away from this are the same, whether one of us tries to go alone, or we do this together."

"Hm. I suspected as much." Jerris ducked under a Lycan's claw and slashed it off, embedding his other sword in its back. "I think it unwise to resign ourselves to death so soon, though. You never know when--" He was cut off by Isaac's call for a retreat as he yanked the sword back out. So Isaac understood their battle was futile as well.

"Point made." He spun his sword in his hand as the Lycans momentarily hesitated. "How would you like to make our retreat?"

"I don't intend to die here today." She responded back just as she breathed deeply in exertion as she pulled her sword free from another body as the Senior Templar's call echoed through the night. "If the horses are still alive. They'd be the best method for retreat." She responded after a moment. "If not, well then it's on foot, fighting the Lycan horde as we go. Doesn't seem like much of retreat at that point." Another thrust, more Lycan blood splattering against the ground and her armor. "So shall we try for the horses?"

"Considering our predicament, I find it unlikely they're still in the camp, let alone alive. If a Lycan onslaught didn't frighten them away, they are fearless horses indeed." Jerris's blades danced threateningly before an approaching Lycan, who feinted a swipe at his gut and retreated. "Our choice was made for us then."

His eyes flashed with life as another Scourge Beast fell prey to his swords. "On foot it is, then, and as quickly as we can muster."

She nodded. "You're probably right." It did seem highly unlikely that the horses would still be there. "There are the three hoover vehicles. Those wouldn't have run away." She chuckled while swinging her sword again. She could feel her arm growing tired, but she knew if she stopped now...well her arm wouldn't be the only thing that hurt.

"I'll clear a path forward if you keep my back safe." She said as she started slowly cutting her way through the Lycan horde. She wasn't sure what good calling a retreat was. It's not like these creatures were just going to let them run away.

"So be it." The twin swords glimmered as they were bathed in another Lycan's blood, and Jerris quickly took position behind Marcella. If the vehicles were indisposed, they would have to run.

If they couldn't run any further, they would crawl.

If they couldn't crawl, they would die.

[IronQuill]

A Co Op with Megilwen

Then....

So Iago did not get to do much aside from nearly gotten eaten by arachne. But so what? Iago was still Iago and everyday was great when is Iago, and what he could certainly appreciate about today was that it was finally over and Iago could look forward to being himself tomorrow. He lounged by the fire, doing maintenance on his crossbow. A belt of tools laid beside him and every minute or so he would lay down one and pick up another with each tool used with efficiency. Surprising efficiency for a man of such clumsiness, but Iago could excuse this for himself as he knew others would assume this as more of his hidden depths and devotion to the cause. More than helpful for the game of ruses he played against them. Speaking of games, Iago spotted some potential fun to be had. Templar Tannhauser, that self centered fool, sat by his own tent drinking wine and looking pleased with himself. As always.

Time to play the Fool....

"Ah, Iago has forgotten his screwdriver...." He grunted aloud to those present. "He believes it is in his tent, excuse Iago for a moment."

He got up to his feet and walked his way to his tent, that just so happened next to Tannhauser's. Just as Iago would pass the Templar he tripped on his foot, clumsily and expectantly falling flat onto Tannhauser's lap. Wine spilled all over Tannhauser's clean cloths staining awfully and raising his temper. "You incompetent wretch!" Tannhauser screamed, shoving Iago off him and wiping what wine he could off his good pants.

"Ah ha... Iago apologizes for his clumsiness," Iago said nervous when the Crusador stood up fully and towered over the smaller Chevalier. "Please, allow this humble templar to make it up toGAH!"

Iago was grabbed by the collar and lifted whole bodily by Tannhauser. "Do you know how difficult it is to clean clothes such as mine, you little worm? Oh what am I saying, of course you don't!" The Crusader curled his free hand into a fist, looking ready to pummel poor Iago.

Marcella had been walking to her own tent after cleaning her dish by the fire. It was late and it had been an exhausting day. After the mine, her conversation with Jerris, and her conversation with O, she felt it was time for her to retire to her bed. However, rest was not something that was to come to her so quickly it seemed. As she was walking by the shadows of some of the tents, she happened upon Tannhauser clutching at Iago's collar, growling at him about something so petty as dirty clothes.

The woman was silent in her booted feet, her dark clothing and her natural tendencies to being able to blend in with her surroundings, Marcella was able to get close to the pair. It was as Tannhauser reared back his to punch Iago, that Marcella stepped in, catching his wrist in a firm grasp. The man was probably stronger than she was, but she wasn't about to walk by as another one of their members attempted to assault another.

"Tannhauser." She spoke calmly, but firmly. "What is the problem here?"

He tore his attention away from Iago, and glared daggers back at Marcella. He relaxed his fist but kept his grip on Iago.

"If you must know, Hoefler," Tannhauser spat. "This little oaf just tripped onto me like the clumsy idiot he is."

"Come now, Iago meant no ill intent!" Iago yelped, his lie perfect. He had intended to simply slip from Tannhauser's grip and dodge the coming punches, all the while bringing attention to the little scuffle. He would make Tannhauser look the fool, and poor humble Iago the victim. It would have been a nice little victory.

Still, Hoefler's intervention was not unwelcome. Iago could work with this. "Perhaps Iago and good company could come talk this out? Iago is quite partial to not being pummeled." He chimed with a nervous chuckled.

"Quiet you!" Tannhauser shouted back at him.

Marcella released Tannhauser's wrist. At this point, she was close enough to stop anything from escalating. "There you go. Iago didn't mean to trip and spill your wine." She crossed her arms under her chest as she stood there leaning on one leg. "Tannhauser. Perhaps you could calm down a bit. Yelling is quite unnecessary to civilized conversations, especially when involving those of a higher breeding." She played at the man's desire to be respected for his nobility.

She was well familiar with how to work and manipulate people. Having grown up around the politics of her Father. She disliked such pandering, having ignorantly believed that by joining the Templars there wouldn't be such politics. Oh how she was wrong. So now her she was doing the stupid dance of words with a man born to the. "If your worried about your shirt, then maybe Iago here could replace this ruined one?" She said making a suggestion

Hoefler appealed to Tannhauser's sense of nobility, and it worked. "I suppose acting against my fellow Templar is... Uncouth," He said as he dropped Iago without ceremony, dusting his hands as if wipe off some unseen grime he got from Iago. "However low his station is..." Tannhauser remembered that Hoefler was daughter of a Minister, already putting her status higher than the simpleton Iago. So he supposed that warranted some respect, or at least some formality.

"Iago likes this idea, he shall compensate you, Sir Tannhauser!" Iago said, the nervous air about him intensifying quickly. "Don't bother with that. I doubt you have anything with you in my size..." The Crusader said, his anger leaving but his contempt for the Chevalier remaining. He turned his contempt into what naturally came next: Arrogance. "And I highly doubt you could afford to, anyway," Tannhauser said, putting on an air of superiority.

Well that was a lot easier than she'd anticipated. Marcella kept the surprise from her face. "Well it seems like the problem is solved then." She looked between the two Templars. "It's getting late and it's been a long day, perhaps it would help if we all went to get some sleep? It'll help relax us as well as prepare us for returning to the Sanctuary tomorrow."




A Co Op with RedKayne

....Now

The Inquisitor was dead; slain by Tannhauser didn't know what. Now all that's left of the Inquisitor's venerable squadron are scrabbling for the hills or bleeding out on the dirt or worse. All seemed lost in one single night, but Tannhauser would see this through as with all dangers he faced. For he was a Tannhauser, and men of his family always pulled through even if they had to climb over the bodies of their friends and enemies. When all others die, the Tannhausers remain. All Matthew had to was prove it.

"The Lord knows his own, and you are not one of them!"

Tannhauser tore out his sword from the lycan's gullet and whirled his sword around and over his head to slash across the neck of another that tried strike him from his flank. "God smite you all" A lycan's came into his view, casting a long shadow from the nearby fire, and leaped for him. He had no time to react and found himself tackled away from where he stood and into a tent. Lycan and Templar collapsed into a heap of torn canva splintered wood. Tannhauser was first to recover from the spill and struck the monster. He had lost his sword in the fall but he reached for the next best thing. A stake still caked with dirt, he jabbed the wooden point into the mosnter's heart. Tannhauser left the creature writhing in agony and stood up from the broken tent.

He realized he was tackled farther than he wanted. He saw the other Templars and the lycan horde scrambling around each other a stones throw away. He was far from the worst of the fighting but he was alone now. That was until he heard sounds of fighting from behind him. He turned to see Iago fighting a lycan all by himself in the shade of tents that were not destroyed by the carnage and seemingly hidden from view from his peers. Tannhauser growled in frustration, he would have to save that pathetic wretch. He found his sword and brought it to bare, but as he bounded off to assist Iago, he noticed something off about this fight.

Iago was not just holding his own. He was toying with the monster.

Iago was a brawler. A scrapper; relying on instinct and tenacity to see him through a fight. What he saw here was more like the work of a professional killer. The Chevalier's simple dagger sliced and danced through flesh like a scalpel wielded by the careful hands of a surgeon. Every wild swing of a claw connected with nothing and were replied with deep gash in the arm left by a skillful slice. Tannhauser could not believe what he saw. Tannhauser stood stunned. This was not the Iago he knew, this was not the Iago anyone knew. A howl shot through the air, shaking him out of his stupor. Iago had killed the beast, a single stab to the lycan's heart and the Iago's knife slid from the beast as it fell dead. Not a sound came from him, but he turned to Tannhauser and smiled.

"What... How!?" Tannhauser sputtered out. Iago only smiled more, his grin the only thing visible under his hood and by light of wildfire. He took a step into the nightly darkness and the next thing Tannhauser knew he was alone again. "Wait, you! How on earth did you AAAH!"

Outside his peripheral vision a lycan attacked, pouncing the Crusader and pinned him to the ground. The only thing stopping the lycan from tearing out his throat were Tannhauser’s plated hands, grasping onto the lycan's slobbering jaws and holding it at bay. It was a contest of strength from then on out, a contest Tannhauser would slowly lose.

The Lycan continued snapping at Tannhauser, intending to rip open his throat with its sharp fangs. But suddenly, the large Scourge Beast stiffened, halting its movements. Templar Tannhauser could visibly see the life leaving its eyes, before suddenly it was sent flying away with a swift kick.

"C'mon Tannhauser, get up!" Isaac shouted, grabbing the man's arm and quickly pulling him up to his feet. Isaac's pistol-sword was stained with the creature's black blood, after he stabbed it in the heart by piercing its back. The sounds of carnage continued echoing throughout the night, and Isaac's job was not finished.

"You need to run and get out of here, rendezvous with the survivors at the town of Zion," Senior Templar Hills ordered. His eyes were determined and fierce - if wouldn't be the wisest option if Tannhauser decided to disobey Isaac's orders in a dire situation like this. "We have to warn everyone else about what happened today. You need to get going," Isaac stated all of this very quickly.

He himself will not leave this encampment until he ensures that every other survivor can escape from this attack. He is the leader, and it is his obligation to take care of his people.

"What of you, do you expect to hold off this horde alone?!” Tannhauser shouted, only to realize the horror in his words. Hills would and will hold off this horde if it meant the survivors could make it. This selflessness he and a few others had condemned Hills for. “You can’t…. You…” The Crusader heard the howls of more lycans come closer to their position, and did what he could only do. He turned on his heels and ran for the hills.



Tonight developed in a most interesting way. Most interesting indeed. Iago could not have calculated, no one in the Archon’s cabal of whisperers and stalkers could. How could they, this had not happened ever in Sanctuary’s long and ghastly history. A tragedy, a discovery, and a victory all in one single night; this could not go without note. Archon Hills had to know first, before anyone else in Sanctuary knew. Iago moved through the darkness encroaching the camp with the deftness that served him well during his days and as a throat slitter and sin trader. The wave of lycans had already converged in the camp’s center and focused on Iago’s fleeing comrades, leaving the perimeter almost unwatched. Perfect for Iago’s incognito escape.

Now if Iago remembers clearly, the hoverbikes are parked in the opposite side of camp. That should give Iago the kind of slip he needs. As well, ‘Templar’ Creed’s tent would be nearby, perhaps I should check if she yet lives….

"It seems you have faired better than I have, Iago," Templar Creed's spoke, although a bit more faint that usual. The young woman appeared from the shadows, her right hand clenching her left side, where she covered a deep wound where blood seeped between her fingers. It was not a critical wound, but it almost left the red-haired woman limping from the pain.

Despite the pain, Creed still held a small smile on her face - still upholding her giddy demeanor. "I'm not sure about you, but I think the Archon might be interested in hearing about what occurred tonight," she slightly chuckled, although nearly coughed instead. "Think you can manage to survive this night and tell him about this?" she questioned Iago, apparently not being as optimistic with her own chances.

Ahh... Speak of the devil, and she arrives...

"Iago agrees. However, do not discount yourself, you have fought through great adversity," He said with a minute of mirth. "Though Iago confesses this maybe the greatest tragedy. Let's us hurry, we are halfway to the bikes. Our escape is not far off."

Iago reached out a hand for Creed to grab. He needed her alive, it would not do for any spy of the Archon to fall, as its one less cog in his great plot.

Right when Iago reached out with his hand, a few howls echoed across nearby. Templar Creed glanced towards the encampment, noticing that several Lycans have already discovered them and heading directly their way. The red-haired woman could see their dark figures closing in, and it wouldn't be long until they are upon them.

She glanced back at Iago, gently pushing away his hand with a small smile. "I think it may be best if Iago left on his own, because I will simply slow him down at this point," Creed stated, almost chuckling from her words. The young woman couldn't move too fast, and if Iago was forced to drag her, he would be completely vulnerable to the onslaught of the Scourge Beasts.

Instead, Creed can make her final stand here, and let Iago make his escape.

"Send Archon Hills my regards," Creed nodded to him, pulling out her short sword with her free hand, while still clenching on to her side wound. She turned away from him, clenching on to her sword tightly, before walking straight towards the Lycans. She can maybe hold them off for a few seconds at best - but those few seconds would be vital for Iago... and thus vital for the Archon himself.

Valiant... and unwise...

Iago supposed that was inevitable. Such a naive wretch Creed was to run headlong into certain doom. Iago would not deter her and leave her to her fate. Those scant few seconds she bought for Iago he spent well. He slunk into the darkness, running for the hoverbikes. To his relief, the beasts have not reached the machines and defiled them like everything else they touch. "Let's us see if Iago recalls how to use them." He muttered, ever thankful the bikes issued to the Templar Order never have keys. For ease of utility he recalled. It took only a turn of a knob and the bike Iago mounted roared to life, a twist of the accelerator and he was off to Zion with a wake of dust and vapor.

[Yamimoon]

Amittay had not quite acknowledged The Inquisitor’s death at first. When the latter’s head plummeted towards the ground, it took Amittay several seconds to realize that the body had not followed; or rather, had followed several seconds after the head had already landed on the ground, which was much too long for a body to follow after its head.

He waited for tears to come to his eyes, but none came; he waited for some metaphysical scar to go across his heart, but none came; he waited for a scream to leave his throat, but none came. Odd, that. Philosophers wrote much about man’s ability to suppress hazardous emotions; an ability that seemed to be uniquely theirs. Amittay supposed that that was exactly what he was experiencing. It was strange that he could reflect on this numbness. He felt like an astral projection, watching the whole scene from outside his body.

Then, the Lycans attacked. The man who had killed Inquisitor Caleb disappeared as the army swarmed around him. Amittay breathed. The world descended into that of some war scene depicted in fairy tales. Lycan-fur clouded his vision, snarls infiltrated his ears. He felt an enormous heat radiate from the Lycans as they descended one after another. It was not a good time to be an archer.

He reached into his back pocket and withdrew his father’s pistol. He did not contemplate the fact that he had never used it before. He squeezed the trigger. A Lycan, which was in front of him, snarled in a vicious way. Blood oozed from the corner of his mouth. Amittay shot again and the Lycan fell. With the Scourge Beasts so near him, Amittay didn’t require much experience with a pistol. Every shot would reach its mark.

“RETREAAAAATTT!!!!”

Amittay turned just in time to see Senior Templar Hills running away. “He looks like a madman,” Amittay thought. It was a strange sight, indeed, to see the man that they [the Templars] had all revered as a fearless—sometimes Stoic—leader, running away. If Isaac did look insane then it was only because the world was insane.

Amittay felt a searing burn go across his back. The Templar screamed and his knees bent forwards. He had been so distracted by Isaac’s call for escape that he had missed the Lycan just behind him. If Lycans could glower then this one did, no question. Its chest rose and fell in a sporadic way that was congenital to their kind. Around him—around them, Amittay and his killer that is—Amittay saw his brethren fighting and dying. For a brief moment, he wondered if he would join the latter.

Then, Amittay’s potential executioner lifted his arm.

Time had slowed as Letum listened to the fight take place. He could hear the sounds of battle. The Inquisitor began to say something, but the words were cut short. Letum heard a weapon connect with it’s target, but he didn’t know who got the hit in. That was until he heard a weapon fall to the ground, and the sickening sound of the Inquisitor’s head falling off. Shock filled his senses when he heard the man stranger sicing the lycans on them.

This was almost more than Letum could comprehend. How in the world did an Inquisitor loose to this man. He had been trying for two years to kill even one of the Inquisitors, and couldn’t find a right opportunity, but this man killed him without even raising his heart rate. Was it that simple of a matter? Letum shook his head, as he would need to concentrate on the fight ahead. Even though this was not a battle, this was a massacre.

Letum was no longer smiling since this was not going to be easy. Yes, he loved to kill, but there was a difference when fighting an enemy you know you can beat, and fighting a battle that was almost certain to take your life. “This is not going to be easy,” Letum said under his breath as he readied himself for the first Lycan to reach him.

Luckly for him because of the speed he was gifted with he was able to keep up with the creatures, but even he knew that he would get tired after a while. Being able to dispatch two of the incoming lycand with his poised gauntlet was easy, but he knew that he didn’t have nearly enough poison to kill all of them. Then the sounds of his fellow Templars were being slaughtered all around him filled his hearing. This caused a stream of tears to run down Letum’s face. All of these lives being snuffed out for no reason.

“RETREAAAAATTT!!!!”

The order to retreat rang through his ears as these words stopped him from crying. He had come to a very selfish decision. He was not going to allow another member of the Templars die to this Lycan’s onslaught. This decision being made a little too late as the sounds of screaming slowed down. Letum then heard another scream as he turned to see that Amittay was on his knees and a Lycan was ready to deliver the final blow. Blocking an incoming attack from yet another Lycan he jumped back, and ran straight for his fellow Templar.

The Lycan was not paying him any mind, so he easily stabbed the creature in the heart with his sword. “Get off your Ass Templar Caesar. We have been ordered to retreat!” Letum said as he bulled his blade from the lycans back. This caused a spray of blood to come from the stab wound. The blood coated him from head to toe. Wiping the blood form his face he left himself open for attack from behind. Which the Lycan he was fighting earlier took fool advantage of stabbing the Templar in his right side with his claws.

Amittay could still see traces of Letum’s tears as the white-haired Paladin pulled his sword from the Lycan’s torso. Then, when the spray of blood painted him, and his hair was not so white, Amittay did not notice the symbolism. The shallow wounds on his back that the Lycan from before had left were beginning to heal. Amittay groaned lowly at the pain of their closing. He stood up quickly; just enough time to see the Lycan claw at Letum’s side.

Moving with the lithe of a Knight, Amittay brandished his revolved and squeezed the trigger. Two bullet left the barrel and pushed the Lycan backwards. It stumbled into another Beast that some other Templar had been fighting so that they both fell. Before the Beast, which had been pushed over by the Lycan that Amittay had shot, could get up, Amittay pushed a bullet between its eyes.

“Templar Alexander, are you okay?” Amittay yelled over the din of war. By now the wounds on his back had completely closed, but Templar Alexander did not have the healing capacity of a Knight. His wounds would take longer to heal no doubt, but how would it affect his abilities?

Then, it began to rain. Amittay did not know when he noticed the first drops; but, when they came, a million followed. The heavens yawned, and the sky seemed to collapse in heavy rain. The dirt beneath Amittay’s feet quickly turned into mud. The rain soaked everything upon the earth without prejudice or spite.

“Oh God…what do you mean by this?” Amittay whispered. He turned to Templar Alexander again. “In the book of Requiem…there’s a story about rain….a flood.” Amittay furrowed his brows. This wasn’t the time to tell that story was it? “In any case, it didn’t end well.” An odd calm descended over Amittay, like a pall. “Let’s run. Towards Isaac.”

A Lycan sped towards him. When it got close enough so that aim was irrelevant, Amittay shot its chest. It fell. “I have one bullet left and there’s not enough space to use my bow and arrow. Do you have a sword, or a dagger or something I could borrow?”

Letum cringed as the claws tore at his flesh, and ripped his muscles. Gritting his teeth as he then heard two shots whizzed by him striking the lycan that had attacked him. As the lycan fell, backwards and a surge of pain ran through him as the claw was pulled from his side. Letum fell to his knees immediately dropping his sword and grasping his side. If this was just a minor injury he would not have felt this much pain. Brining his free hand up to the injury. He moved his undershirt up to assess the damage, sticking his own fingers into the injury to make sure nothing else was punctured. Cringing again from the pain a relived look appeared on his face, as he didn’t feel any damage to his vital organs.

However, the pain was less than he would have experienced if he were not already physically numb to most forms of pain. However, he was still bleeding from the location, and it was not a nicest injurie he could have received. “Dam it to hell.” Letum cursed under his breath. This was not the first time he had let his guard down in the last couple of days. This was getting to be a pandemic. Every time he goes against his nature, and sticks his neck out for someone he ends up being injured.

With adrenalin on his side, he stood up not worrying about the injury. It didn’t matter if the injury killed him. He would more than likely fall to a lycan before he would bleed out. “I am fine Templar Caesar, besides there is nothing that we can do about it now!” Letum replied as then the heavens opened up cleansing the battlefield. The rain even washed away the blood that had covered him. Closing his eyes for only a moment, he breathed in the scent of the water. Then he heard another lycan approaching the both of them

Since the clouds blocked out the moon, and made the battlefield dark. There was no reason for him to open his eyes. With his eyes still closed, he lunged forward sticking his sword into the lycan. Though it wasn’t a killing strike it jumped backward and then attacked again. His speed was diminished just a bit, but he still took out yet one more of the beasts. “Well maybe there will be time for your story at another time, but for now let’s just work on surviving.” Letum said as then Amittay reminded him that he was a long-range fighter.

Swinging his sword so that he was holding it against his arm, he handed the hilt to his fellow Templar. “Take this!” was all Letum said as he was going to use his daggers. He would be able to use these better than Amittay. Besides these weapons were specially made for him, and he would be the only one to use them. Letum remover his clawed gauntlet, and connected the gauntlet to his waist. He was out of poison so there was no need to use it. “Do you think you can buy me a little time to take care of this injury?” Letum asked as he removed his cape. He was going to use this to make some strips to make a quick bandage.

Amittay had watched, surprised, as the Templar had mauled down several Lycans with his eyes closed. He was trying to decide whether that was impressive or reckless when Letum handed him a sword. Amittay thanked him quickly and faced the hoard that still stood in their way.

But, in our way of what?

Where were they to go after this? Isaac was nowhere to be seen; the Lycan hoard did a good job of hiding him from Amittay’s vision. He still remembered the direction from which his voice had travelled, and it looked as though Isaac was heading towards Zion from what Amittay could fathom.

“There’s no time,” he said, taking a defensive stance in front of Letum. He hadn’t used a sword since the training camp years ago. “We have to get to make a break for it. If we stall any longer, there are going to be less and less Templars for these Lycans to face and they’re going to start ganging up on us a lot more than they are now.” He had noticed earlier that the groups attacking the Templar were growing larger as more of the Order was being cut down.

Amittay grabbed Letum by the shoulder. “I know it hurts, but we have to run. To Isaac if at all possible. Stand up, Templar! Please!”

Letum stopped at Amittay’s words, as he knew his fellow Templar was right. There was no time to take care of this injury now. Though it didn’t hurt as much as it should, though Letum’s only concern was bleeding out. Amittay’s hand was now on his shoulder as he was not sure what was going on. In the assassins order if you are outnumbered and someone is injured you leave the week link behind. Since they would kill themselves before the enemy would be able to make them talk. He didn’t really expect the Templar to actually stay by his side. He expected him to leave when he asked him to buy him some time.

Dropping the cape to the ground, he stood up in front his fellow Templar. Pulling his silver daggers from their sheaths. “The pain is not the issue.” He said as he heard a lycan approaching from behind Amittay. He pushed the man to the side just as the Lycan was about to try and cut the man’s head off with its claws, and Letum used his speed to maneuver under the beasts second strike. He sliced both of his daggers across the creatures Abdomen causing it’s innards to fall to the ground. The lycan fell to the ground in pain as he looked back towards Amittay.

“If I heard right some of our fellow Templars said that Templar Hills was heading in the direction of Zion. It is going to be one hell of a fight to get through all of these Lycans. I Can you find a way out of this mess with your sight?” Letum questioned. His hearing was not going to be of any use to him on trying to find a way out. There was too much noise out there to pinpoint a safe route out of this mess, and without the Inquisitor, there was no way to be able to kill all of these creatures.

Amittay almost fell when Letum pushed him. He stumbled forward, but regained his balance relatively quickly and the grip on his sword, as well. He groaned audibly and quickly sidestepped another Lycan who tried to gouge his eyes out. Rotating, made a downward slash, severing the beast’s right arm from his shoulder. He then pulled his sword close to his stomach and thrusted forward just as quickly. The blade pierced through the Lycan’s stomach. Amittay pulled back, extracting intestines from the animal’s bowels in the process.

“There are too many. I can see far distances, not through objects.” He yelled. “My sight is useless.” He had noticed that Octavius and Yelena had gone somewhere—North by the looks of it—and, indeed, there had been an opening in that direction earlier; however, it was gone now. Amittay cursed at his irresolution. If he had made this fact known to Letum earlier, then they might have been saved, but now…

“Octavius,” the name interrupted his preceding thought. “That’s it.” Amittay grabbed Letum’s arm, trying to pull him down. “Get to the ground. Fine a dead body and hide underneath it. Quick.” There were several corpses around the two Templars. Amittay recognized some of the faces, but none of them belonged to the people he cared about, thank God.

If the other Templar trusted Amittay then there would be a good chance that they would be saved. Amittay had heard of this strategy from Octavius. Apparently, Octavius had hid beneath the bodies of his dead parents. As a result, the Lycans had not troubled him because they could not smell him. True, Amittay wasn’t sure if that technique would work here, but it seemed to be their best bet. The Lycans were only concerned about their immediate prey after all. Amittay doubted that they would try lifting up the corpses to ascertain that no Templars were hiding beneath them.

Another Lycan attacked Letum Though this time the ground was slippery enough that he lost his footing, and slid to the side. Though this was lucky for him since the lycan had jumped at the last moment, and he flew right past him. The creature lost its own footing and tumbled away from them. As this was happening he heard what Amittay had to say, and this was turning out to be nothing more than a bad dream.

If he had just ran from the beginning, he would have never have been in this situation, but for a reason he could not comprehend he wanted to help his fellow Templars as much as he could. Though at the rate the screams were fading it would not be possible. Then an idea popped into his mind. He might be able to help Amittay escape. He was built for speed, and the knight was not. Even if they had an opening, he might not be able to escape, but if he drew the attention of the lycans away from the man, at least he would be able to make it to Zion.

However, he has not resigned himself to die just yet. He has a plan on how to survive, but it wasn’t fool proof. At least he would be able to save his fellow Templars life. Nevertheless, before he could say anything Amittay pulled him to the ground and told him to hide under the bodies of their fallen comrades. Letum slipped his hand out of his fellow Templars grip. Hiding was something he was used to in his Assassin days, but now it almost seemed like doing this would be out of the question. Even if it meant survival.

“That will not be necessary. You hid until I get the Lycans attention, and open you a path. Then you take that path, and get your ass to Zion.” Letum said as he stood back up getting ready to challenge all of the lycans around him. As a Paladin, he could copy their sounds, and he had learned a lot in his time as a Templar. “Keep my sword safe. I will meet you in Zion, so you better take care of her.” He said with a smile as he listened to the commotion all around him. If anything this will allow him to be able to fight at his full capacity, and maybe help some of the other Templars in the process.

The rain continued to fall. Amittay had almost forgotten about it. He held tighter to Letum’s sword and thought that he could feel the Beasts that the weapon had cut through. He grimaced. “Stop pretending to be a hero,” he said, finally. “You’re not—none of us are. We gave that chance up as soon as we decided to become Templars.”

If Letum wanted to throw his life away then Amittay would let him. There were still people Amittay wanted to see after all this was over. He had to reconcile with Orfiel, and even a part of him thought about making sure he and Maya were alright.

And there was Seleneda, too, of course.

And his father.

“You can’t save everyone. People are going to die. Our friends are going to die. You can’t stop that—it’s fate,” and Amittay believed in fate wholeheartedly. Then, he chuckled, only because this mirrored so well what Maya had said to him in the cave. With that dead miner. He sighed, only now fully appreciating the weight of her words.

A group of Lycans began to close in on them. There had to be at least five, maybe six. They were running out of options and Amittay knew that Letum couldn’t fight them all by himself. He didn’t know where Isaac had gone and, for an instant, he despised him for leaving his team alone. Nevertheless, he couldn’t think about that now.

“I’m going to do what I can to survive; you do what you can, but we don’t work well together you and I. If your only interest is in protecting me like I’m a helpless puppy, then you’re going to be the death of me.” He sidestepped around Letum with an adroit swiftness that reflected his talents as a Knight. The wounds on Amittay’s back had already healed. He dropped Letum’s sword on the ground and in that same motion he grabbed his bow and arrows form his back. He then shot one off and it found its way between one of the Lycan’s shoulder blades.

It wasn’t supposed to kill the beast, though. Amittay still didn’t have enough space to exert the full skills of his archery. However, the arrow did a good job of pissing the creature off. “I’ll meet you in Zion, but on my terms.” Amittay ran quickly, doing his best to bypass a wall of Lycans while several of the Lycans that had, earlier, closed in on him and Letum, chased after him.

Letum was not surprised by the reaction that Amittay gave to his little offer. The man seemed to think that he was willing to sacrifice his life so that this man could live. Though that was far from the case, but he did guess by the way he articulated his words it could be taken that way. Though the clam that he was trying to be a hero was fare from accurate. He knew this more than Amittay that he was no hero. He was never given that choice since he was a child. Raised to be a killer, not a saint.

However hurting this man’s pride seamed to spur him into action not hiding and hoping that he might survive. “I am not your mother, so I am not here to protect you, but at least you know have the motivation to fight.” Letum said as the man dropped his sword to the ground and took up his bow once more. He then charged into the Lycans like a mad man. Dodging and fighting and dodging his way through the horde of Lycans that stood in his way of reaching his goal.

Amittay looked like a dancer the way he weaved through the attacking Lycans. Letum almost admired him for his tenacity. Taking his eyes away from the man that had leaft him, and hearing that sounds of what few Templars remained he picked up his sword, and sheathed it at his side. Just as one Lycan reached him. The Lycan slashed at Letum’s throat, but met only air as he ducked under the attack, and then using both daggers sliced open the creature’s abdomen. As its guts fell to the ground and the Lycan fell to its knees Letum sliced open it throat. Letum himself was not in the best of shape since he was still bleeding, but that didn’t stop his reflexes or speed since he didn’t feel the pain like the others.

The gurgling sound of the Lycan trying to breathe was a welcome sound, as a smile formed on his face and his eyes lost all emotion. Yes he was nothing but a killer of anything that got in his way, and now these Lycans were standing between him, and his way out. The man may not admit it but he wanted to live more than anything, where Letum was not that concerned for his life. There was really nothing for him, no true family and the members of his squad either didn’t like him or didn’t trust him. He was alone, and no one would truthfully mourned his death.

However, Letum had for some reason grown attached to the people in his squad, and would risk his life for them. He still was unsure why in the world he would do such a thing, and maybe he would never know, but for now, he would have to concentrate on the battle ahead. He used his ability of Sound Mimicry to get the attention of all of the Lycans around him. He then ran straight for the river. Killing and dodging any Lycans that got in his way.

[Black]

Something sinister blew in on the wind and Ezra looked up from his rifle, alarm sketched across his face. How on earth had they gotten so close without his noticing? He was sure he hadn’t nodded off, he didn’t even feel tired. But that could be the fear-fueled adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Ezra bit back a startled curse, knowing the sound would carry far through the dead air. He knew the Lycan horde wouldn’t be able to smell him yet due to the preparations he had taken to mask his scent with the smell of the plague lands, but that wouldn’t last much longer due to the fear now coursing through his body. He couldn’t just hurl himself out of his perch on the dead fern he sat in because they’d hear the branch scraping and him hitting the ground, but he couldn’t stay there much longer because they’d see him before long.

Clutching the branch he was sitting on Ezra lowered himself down to the borough below him very carefully, his feet lightly touching the branch and testing its weight before he rested the full weight of one foot on it. He repeated this process over and over with agonizing slowness until eventually he rested a foot from the ground. Hoping that it wouldn’t be loud Ezra dropped from the branch he clenched and flexed his knees taking the impact of the fall into his upper body and producing only a muffled whump.

He heard a low growl that vibrated his chest and Ezra threw himself forward, feeling the hot breath of the Lycan who had been waiting for him on the nape of his neck for the barest of seconds as jaws snapped shut where his head had just been. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to outrun the beast Ezra spun on his heel and pulled free his rifle, shouldering it and letting a rapid shot out.

With the crack of the rifle he knew that any nearby roamers would be alerted but he also knew the time for caution had passed when he had allowed such a hunter close in the first place. The first shot grazed the beast’s skull, which solicited a violent cry in response as the beast threw itself forward and out of the path of the second bullet Ezra had already loosed, it’s superb instincts saving it’s life. Such luck didn’t last a lifetime though, and the Lycan yelped in blatant surprise as it rolled forward and found a rifle barrel stuck in it’s face. Without a second’s hesitation Ezra fired the silver tipped bullet into the creature's mouth, shattering it’s jaw and watching with grim satisfaction as pink mist, teeth, and grey matter sprayed out the other side.

Without pausing for further satisfaction Ezra turned and sprinted back towards camp, where he could already hear the cries of the Lycan horde challenge to the Templar encampment. Moving quickly Ezra arrived just in time to witness the fatal slash that separates Inquisitor Caleb’s head from his shoulders. With his enhanced sight, he could even see the perfect half-circle of missing skin from Caleb's neck. Ezra then realized the fatal outcome before even the blood started to well.

“Fuck,” Ezra snarled as the Inquisitor’s body hit the floor and inadvertently drawing the attention of the Lycan’s nearest him. Ezra dropped to his knee and fired off two rapid shots felling a charging beast. Ezra calculated the distance between himself and the nearest Lycan and decided it was far enough for a reload, pulling out a stripper clip and sliding it into his rifle, forcing the 5 rounds into the rifle before pocketing the clip and clearing the rifle breech with a quick ejection. Bringing it to his shoulder he swung it around just as the beast neared him and blew it’s kneecap off then a follow-up shot blew the top half of its skull off.

Ezra drew his sword, bringing it in close to his body and low to parry a low swipe by a Lycan. The silver blade laid open the beast’s forearm and with a roar it reacted instinctively by snapping out with its teeth, only to find the sword had been moved with superb skill by Ezra, who now held it horizontally and in between the Lycan’s outstretched jaws. As the teeth came down on his blade Ezra yanked the sword forward and out, cutting through the Lycan’s teeth, gums, and cheeks and laying open the back of it’s throat from inside it’s mouth.

Ezra could hear the Senior Templar Isaac calling for the retreat and his battle-oriented mind shoved down his innate bloodlust to recognize the order as a sound one. Ezra took up the acting-commanders cry and echoed the words to those around him, holding his sword out in one hand and his rifle in the other, held close and to his body so that he could hip fire with some reasonable accuracy into a Lycans larger form. Their only hope was to get to Zion and reinforce. But even at Zion, unless it had been visited by another Inquisitor, Ezra doubted they could fell the Inquisitor Slayer with the golden eyes. They’d probably have to hold against the Lycan Horde until word could be sent to Sanctuary for reprieve. Even then, with the magnetic pull this Lycan had, the chances of there being an even larger horde when they reached Zion was pretty good.

Did things ALWAYS have to go so poorly? Trest panicked, dodging left and right to avoid slash after slash of the cruel Lycan who had chosen him as its next dinner. His staff was more of an encumbrance than a benefit, as its size hurt his ability to duck and weave. How could all this have gone so badly?

Sure, the dark man with the creepy eyes had seemed powerful, but Trest had all the faith in the Chief Inquisitor. As he watched the fight ensue, he began to shake with apprehension; he had never seen the powerful man have any trouble with a foe before, but this unassuming man was making him-Oh. Oh. Oh FUCK. Fuck no. Trest took a step back, tears coming to his eyes as his mouth dropped open in horror. Their strongest bastion, the commander of the squad, fell in a single strike. And now the army was upon them.

And here he was stuck fighting off the Lycans. Well...escaping more than fighting. He dodged back, only to find his back hit the side of a feeding Lycan, who swiveled its head, snarling at the human that had disturbed its Templar meal. He didn't recognize the mutilated corpse, but its sight didn't make anything any easier. Now he was fighting off terror, death, AND nausea.

He quickly dashed the other way, now having to escape the twin attacks of two Lycans. His mind focused on fleeing was not helping; they could outrun him, and if they got any chance to synchronize, he would be in big trouble. That's why Trest froze in his tracks and gulped as one of the beasts flanked him; he saw both monsters, one on each side, standing in a feral crouch as though victory was all but assured. Running was no good now. He had to do SOMETHING...

As the foes pounced, Trest acted reflexively. Using his great strength, he leapt high into the air, ten feet at least, and watched the Lycans miss their fatal strikes, looking up at the Templar who had nowhere to go but down. In that moment, his staff, which had remained useless, was moved into position in his hands as he fell, straddling one of the Lycans as the staff was driven deep into the creature's spine, paralyzing the beast. Trest yanked the staff from its hide, running on adrenaline alone. Seeing its comrade taken down, the other Lycan let out an incensed howl, its eyes trained furiously on the boy who now had to die. Trest gulped; it was all over now. "Someone, please, HELP ME!" His desperate cry rang out amongst the carnage.

Ezra snapped around and his eyes immediately found the call of the distressed Templar. If Ezra could recall correctly the Templar was Trest. He seemed to be shaken badly by the fall of the Chief Inquisitor and the routing of the Templar force. Ezra couldn't really blame him but still felt a surge of rage through his adrenaline. Without much thought for his own safety, Ezra stabbed his sword into the ground and pulled free his prized spear. With a heft and a roar, Ezra sent the spear flying towards the unsuspecting Lycan who had cornered Trest. The spear thudded heavily into the creatures lower back.

Though the Lycan snarled with pain, even the blood running down its back wasn't enough to do more than distract the beast for a mere second. That second was one Trest used wisely, not even noticing the spear or its hurler as he backpedaled as fast as he very well could. Unperturbed by the sudden wood and metal in its side, the Lycan prowled forward, still intent on torturing its prey. Trest continued backing away, his grip on his blood-soaked staff shaky as he kept his eyes on the creature, knowing the instant he looked away his death was upon him.

Ezra moved rapidly hardly believing the blood lust of the creature hunting Trest. Trest must have slewn its mate, that was the only possible explanation for the creature's apparently lack of notice for the heavy object dragging from its back. Sprinting forward Ezra pulled his sword free and rolled over a fallen log, its bark rough against his skin. Coming up rapidly on the Lycan and his prey Ezra shouted out, eager to get the Lycans attention away from the ailing Templar "Face me mongrel! Leave this pup alone and face the one who has slain so many of your kin already!"

The Lycan seemed more annoyed by the newcomer than fazed, but did not fall for the trick Ezra threw out; it knew the easier kill was the frightened, weak one. It snarled at Ezra once, then turned back to Trest, only to find he was not where he was. Thankful for the distraction, Trest had dove amongst a couple dead bodies on the ground, doing his best to be a corpse. Luckily, it was enough to placate the blood frenzied Lycan, who turned, almost dejectedly, to face the other Templar.

As the Lycan swung to face Ezra feinted left with his sword then pulled his sword back swiftly aligning it with his right hip and slashed upward into the Lycans chest, drawing blood and forcing the Lycan to dance backward, only the spear Ezra had lodged in it earlier caused the beast to stumble. Ezra flashed forward with his sword and laid open the Lycans left leg all the way to the bone, blood gushing out and splattering all over Ezra.

The wounded beast snarled and yanked the spear from its hide, chucking it at Ezra who caught it almost carelessly in one hand and nestled it in close against his side. The Lycans he had dispatched earlier were starved specimens, weak and on the edge of their true power. Their bones could break easily, their hides could be pierced with the barest of efforts. It was bound to happen in such a large pack, the land couldn't support so many ravaging beasts. This one he faced currently was muscular and lean, its power's at their peak. Already the beast's wounds we're beginning to knit closed and it's breath came on in short but controlled breaths. The Lycan was already beginning to gain control of its blood lust and realized it was facing a skilled warrior.

Ezra stepped forward leading with his right foot, spear held aloft and sword held in his off hand now. He was equally skilled with both hands but still considered his right hand to be his lead. The Lycan crouched low and Ezra could see with his keen sight that it's leg muscles were beginning to tense. Ezra snapped forward into a roll in the blink of an eye right as the Lycan lunged forward, swiping the air right where Ezra had been moments ago. Coming out of his roll short Ezra spun on his heel, pushing his spear forward and into the Lycan's lower back. At the same time he thrust downward with his sword into the Lycans upper back, skewering it.

Despite landing two solid blows Ezra yanked his weapons out and backpedaled as the Lycan spun on its heel, it's deadly claws leading. They raked against Ezra's armor, tearing it like soft paper and scoring a hit against his ribs. Ezra went flying sideways. Ezra landed with a heavy thump but was on his feet again in an instant, an instinct that saved his life as a second later the Lycan's foot shattered the ground where his head had been only moments later.

On the defensive, Ezra sheathed his sword and brought his spear horizontally across his body in both hands, before pointing it business end towards the Lycan. The Lycan came forward again rapidly, this time advancing steadily instead of lunging. Ezra thrust lazily forward with his spear, eliciting a snarl from the Lycan. With another casual thrust, Ezra forced the Lycan back a step.

Ezra poked forward a second time with his spear and the Lycan snarled and snatched the spear, pulling it towards itself. Ezra let go of the spear and brought his rifle up firing off an almost careless round into the beast's hip. The bullet easily pierced the beast's hide but it couldn't shatter the strong bone and instead fractured into a hundred pieces, shredding the inside of the beast's inner pelvic and pubic area.

Snarling in unimaginable pain the beast dropped the spear and fell backward, completely blinded by the pure waves of agony sweeping up through its body. Ezra took three swift steps forward, drawing his sword and with a feral cry, he shoved the blade into the beast's eye and into its brain, killing it and stilling it instantly.

Ezra took a sigh of relief to himself, the tension finally showing on his face and instantly anger swelled at the cowardly templar hiding under his dead comrades. With an angry snarl, Ezra sheathed his sword and picked up his spear before facing Trest. "Get your ass up Trest! Templars are dying!" Ezra's hoarse words echoed harshly through out the camp.

Trest was only able to watch as the battle between wolf-being and Templar made its pass, the carcass of the thing barely twitching. Trest heaved a sigh and was about to rise to his feet, but then the man who he believed was named Ezra shouted some sort of damning mantra at him...at the top of his voice. Trest may be a coward as opposed to the hero this man was, but being a coward DID mean you'd live longer.

Trest, recognizing the danger, scrambled to his feet, bolting to Ezra. He tackled the man just as another huge Lycan, drawn by the sound of his voice, came within inches of eviscerating him mid-pounce. Trest eyed the man with a half-terrified, half-indignant look. "You idiot! Don't give away our position!" Now they had one MORE Lycan to deal with. Trest's anger at Ezra's mistake only fueled him as he slowly rose to his feet. "I may be scared, but I know how to fight carefully."

The Lycan who had missed his meal skidded in the gore of his brothers and their dinners before turning around, auburn eyes blazing with a hatred and hunger he couldn't fathom. Trest cowered in his boots before the monster, the grip on his staff white-knuckle tight. The Lycan, sensing his fear, jumped forward, eager for the kill. Trest shrieked, but knew what to do. He dove forward, twisting his body onto his back as the Lycan sailed overhead. He then darted forward, cutting the tail off the beast in one slice. Enraged by the pain and the disrespect, the Lycan snarled in agonized fury, running in circles a moment before the pain began to subside. As it came to a skidding halt again, Trest was before it.

Using his great strength, Trest jumped again, using that might to bring the staff straight down, impaling the Lycan's head and stabbing into the ground. His jump, however, was miscalculated, and the wolf-being managed to take the extra hangtime to swipe at the boy, earning him a large gash on his thigh as he claimed the victory. Trest bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood; the last thing he wanted to do was scream and invite more trouble. He merely laid there on the ground a moment, blood gushing from his wound, before he stared up at Ezra. "Get me out of here...please...quietly..." He rose to his feet gingerly, wincing as he placed weight on the gashed leg. That'd need to be closed fast or he'd be in a lot of danger.

The air whooshed out of Ezra's lungs as the super-strengthed Templar body-slammed Ezra away from danger. "Ouch," Ezra wheezed, feeling his already bruised ribs fracture ever so slightly. "Next time just warn me, I move faster than you can even process the thought of pushing me out of the way" Ezra scanned the area immediately around them for danger and noted the number of Templar still standing. Then he crouched next to Trest and pulled a sword that had fallen into a fire nearby closer.

Trest recognized exactly what Ezra was about to do: cauterize the wound. He winced in pain as the sword seared his flesh closed, better in the long run but agonizing right now. He slowly made it to his feet, leaning on his staff for support and to keep himself as pain-free as possible. "Let's just get out of here...don't make a sound, we don't want to fight more of these monsters." Trest was fearful, but resigned now; he knew the only way out was to sneak by the feeding creatures...a harrowing task at the easiest.

Ezra sighed, knowing that convincing Trest to overcome his fears was going to take more than some words and an attempt at a rousing speech. "Alright Trest, we'll do this your way. Let's get moving," and with that Ezra set aside the sword he had used to cauterize Trest's wound and began to move through the carnage.

Stealth was something Trest wasn't bad at. "It's going to smell, but we...we gotta cloak ourselves." Trest looked down at the beast he had impaled, blood gushing freely from it. He gagged as he stuck his hand into the gaping hole, coming out with plenty of Lycan blood, which he smeared all over himself. "Mask our scent." Thoroughly smell-concealed, Trest nodded at Ezra and slowly crept through the area, hoping not to run into anything more.

Ezra nodded at Trest, "Good idea, but I am already covered in Lycan gore from my battles." with that Ezra stopped talking for the rest of their long crawl, eventually reaching far enough away from the Lycan horde that he felt comfortable standing and moving quickly towards the rest of their fleeing comrades.

[SikstaSlathalin]

When a man is staring into the immeasurable abyss with only darkness and death staring back. It is easy for him to allow the darkness fill his mind and corrupt his soul. It is easier to allow evil to win without a fight simply because you don't believe there is a greater power than dark and lack the mental agility to resist. It is easy to be weak and lay down before death, but men of strength always has one weapon left, one plan, one shred of hope. They always have faith in their Creator and trust in the power of their arm.

As the Inquisitor was slain and the strange hybrid man ordered his horde to attack, O's composure cracked for an instant. Fear crept into his heart for the first time in a long time, the Templar Order has faced seemingly insurmountable odds before. You read about it in the history books a lot, a single squad with their backs against a wall facing down the snapping jaws of twenty monstrosities. It looked like their times were at an end, but as if by the direct hand of God someone comes up with a perfect plan or reinforcement arrive just in time to turn the tides and save the day. Doubters would call that coincidence or the embellishments of the author to make things more interesting. But true believers like Orfiel see no problem in such things, God's will and influence are palatable if you know how to look for them.

And this moment, when the Lycan horde descended upon the Templar camp and his comrades fell back. Big O stood his ground and charged forward the crack of fear gone and replaced by fury and courage. His years of witnessing and committing horrendous acts with his Cultist family has given O the ability to numb his mind and body quickly, but neither would overcome his self-preservation and make him actually charge into the snapping jaws of a Lycan pack. He could feel the Lord God guiding him and he wouldn't spurn it. Holding his large shield out in front of him like a battering ram he met the first of the Lycans using his own strength, lower level, and momentum. As he clashed with the first monster he ducked under it's swiping claws and drove one of the spikes into it's foot pinning it in place with a howling agony before he stabbed up with the sword splitting the creature's head open. The monster died on the spot without even a scream, but one death does not a victory make. Pulling his shield free the big Crusader went back on the offensive, lost in the fires of battle big O drove further into the horde only slightly aware of the plights his fellow Templars were facing.

Time became an illusion, exhaustion took it's place, victory became a pipedream, survival was the only goal, and pain tied it all together. His armor did it's job the first few blows that managed to catch him, but as the meat clever claws of the Lycans began striking harder and quicker almost hunting for the weaknesses caused by their predecessors. It was only his tougher skin that was keeping him from being torn to shreds, but still his body was littered with long bleeding cuts. The sheer number of creatures had forced him back into the campsite and it was here he first saw the carnage. The camp was in tatters, dead bodies, both Lycan and human were scattered all over some were even in multiple places. Orfiel had lost track of his own record, but it looked like the Templars were losing this fight. His sword was broken and lost, his shield was only held together by the metal bindings, but the many holes in the wood gave him peeky holes to look through when defending. He had been using someone's cast off weapon to fight back to his people. But it too was on the verge of being broken, throwing it aside he quickly pulled on his knuckle-dusters and pulled the blunderbuss around to hang against his chest before slinging what was left of the shield across his back in it's place.

He hadn't used the gun yet for fear one of his allies would be in the horde with him and get caught in the crossfire. Now though, it looked like his people were pulling back retreat was the best course of action. But something had to be done to at least give them time to reach Zion or the Horde would hunt them down like deer and pick them off one-by-one. Taking flight behind some of the others Big O was frantically looking around for any idea. Not much can stop a Lycan, there was no natural traps around to use. No big ravines to try and run them into, no cliffs to go for, just flat ground, and fiery camp wreckage. The idea struck him with the power of a Lycan's swipe, fire was something every Scourge beast feared! Scooping up a flaming stick he began setting fire to any tent or dead Lycan body that wasn't already on fire zig-zagging through the debris until this stick was put out. By then much of the camp was a blazing inferno and the big man gave a soft smile as he heard Lycans howling with rage and pain.

He could see some of his fellow Templars in the distance and thought he was in the clear. But behind him he heard a snarl closer than the others. He had only enough time to throw his Holy Fire flask into the barrel of his blunderbuss and tumble back pulling the trigger and blast the creature with a full close range blast of the exploded flask. Caught in midair the beast fell onto O and began ripping at the Crusader with all it's remaining power. Pulling his arms in O was pinned under the flaming beast feeling it's swipes and arms losing strength as the flames took their toll. His nose was bombarded by the stink of burning flesh and barbecued dog hair. As the assault slackened O pushed with all his remaining power and freed himself of the monster's fiery corpse. The fires were in full power now and Big O climbed to his feet and took off after the remnants of his company hoping the fire would buy them enough time to make it to Zion.

[RedKayne]

The burning flames of the encampment spread like wildfire. Several of the tents already began to collapse, and the smell of burning corpses perverted Anna Catriona’s scent. She stood back-to-back with Kiera, still standing - but barely. There were quite a few Lycan corpses surrounding the both of them, but of course, there were still dozens upon dozens rampaging throughout the entire camp.

Her lower back seared with pain, the claw marks were deep gashes and blood still seeped profusely from the wound. All of Anna’s muscles felt exhausted, and her legs were shaking from all of the rapid movement throughout the battles. She grimaced, feeling another surge of pain throughout her body. She breathed heavily, sweat dripping from her face - it didn’t help when the heat of the flames began to rapidly escalate around them.

Amid the flames and the chaos, all Kiera could hear was the screams of the dead and dying mixed with the sounds of sheer panic from those trying to escape the barrage of lycans. In this line of work, pain was part of the job. She was busted up and blooded, scratched all to hell by the beasts and still bore the wounds from that damn Arachne. Even so, there was no time to dwell on those aches and pains. Keep moving or die..it was her mantra right now.

She'd look to Anna, bloodied, battered and way too damn young to be put in this position and couldn't help feeling a surge of sheer anger. Who to be angry with would be the lingering question with no answer for now.

“We need to get the fuck out of here,” Anna mumbled to Templar Sanford, knowing that if they stayed - it would only spell their doom in this God-forsaken battlefield. She wasn’t aware if everybody else already retreated, or if the two of them were the only surviving Templars. The feeling of being isolated was quite unnerving.

"I couldn't have said it better myself." With all the smoke from the fires, discerning which direction to go was problematic. The two didn't get far before the ominous howl filled the air again which made the hair on her arms stand on end. The lycans were on them like bees swarming from the hive.

There was a loud howl, and Anna turned to face a large Lycan rapidly approaching the two of them. The Scourge Beast was on all four limbs, his canines snarling and his eyes crazed with bloodthirst.

“Shit,” Templar Catriona cursed aloud, raising up her hand and throwing another combat dagger to the beast. The knife struck right into its shoulder, piercing through his thick hide and flesh. Yet, the creature was completely undeterred, and now it was only a few feet away from them.

“Shit!” Catriona cursed again, leaping away when the Lycan lunged at the both of them. Kiera managed to avoid the creature’s initial assault as well, but then the Beast quickly pivoted on its feet and charged right towards Anna. The monster was right on top of her, and the Beast raised up both of its bulky arms and swung them down to the young girl, attempting to pummel her. Anna quickly reacted, rolling away from the attack and hearing the impact of the Lycan’s fists smashing against the ground. The dirt of the ground bit into Anna’s wound on her lower back, and she had to clench her teeth from the pain.

The creatures were relentless in their attacks. Kiera, with sword in hand, tried to stick with Anna; but, a second beast blocked the way. On all fours, with it's head low showing the true predator it was, the creature walked a slow circle around her as if sizing up it's next meal. As the lycan sprang forward, she stumbled backwards as one paw swiftly swiped across her face, slicing three jagged lines along her cheek and forehead, leaving her landing flat on her backside. Once she was down, the beast lunged in for the kill.

Somehow, she managed to lift her sword up as the lycan jumped forward. There was a crunch as metal sliced through flesh and bone, the creature screamed loudly as it's body was impaled on the weapon partially pinning Kiera beneath it's dying weight. She'd kick and push with all the reserves her body had to escape from beneath the beast's body. Trying desperately to catch a breath or maybe two if lucky.

Anna Catriona quickly got up, lunging towards the creature’s side and slashing its right thigh with her other combat dagger. She cut open a wound, but again, the massive beast was not phased at all by her attack. The Lycan was also quick to react, and it swirled its body, swinging its right arm and smashing it against Anna’s side, sending the Templar flying away quite a few feet. She landed harshly on the ground, and she shrieked from the pain. She was unsure whether or not she broke any bones from the impact, but her entire body was nearly crippled by the agonizing pain.

Templar Catriona looked up, and already saw that the Beast was right above her once more. It raised up its claw, intending to finish off the young woman.

Anna closed her eyes, awaiting for the attack to kill her off. She didn’t even had time to contemplate about her upcoming death, but then she heard the sound of flesh being sliced. She reopened her grey eyes, and saw the decapitated head of the Lycan. Its body was briefly frozen in place, as blood spurted from its stump, before the creatures collapsed forward and on to the ground - right next to Anna.

Senior Templar Isaac Hills stood there, his sword soaked from the blood of the Lycans. Like everyone else, he too seemed to have his fair share of wounds from the battle. His body seemed worn from the constant running around, but his eyes displayed a fierce determination in them.

Isaac glanced between Anna and Kiera, whom was also nearby after that entire ordeal. He was breathing heavily, but managed to control his breath. He lowered his weapon arm, before reaching towards Anna with his free hand. “Come on, Templar Catriona, get up,” Isaac stated to her. “We need to retreat and head over to the town of Zion… we need to warn everyone about-”

Ssshktt!


Stumbling back to her feet, sliding in the blood, mud and the muck, Keira desperately search through the thickening plumes of smoke to locate Anna. Finding her just in time to see, what she assumed would be, the woman's last breath. She tried to scream out a warning; but, the sounds of beasts drown out all efforts to do so.

Kiera didn't even notice it was Isaac that chopped off the lycan's head at first. Her mind was in battle mode. Waiting for the next shoe to fall...the next beast to come. In that one moment, her eyes focused on who had saved Anna. Isaac..what a relief!. He was there. Just maybe they had a chance. They could evacuate to Zion, regroup and have some sort of chance at finding a way to defeat this enemy.

The bottom quickly dropped out of that theory.

Anna overheard another sound of flesh being sliced, but her eyes opened with shock and terror. Isaac gazed down, his own eyes completely wide-opened, as he saw his weapon arm and his blade lying on the ground… his limb sliced off. Blood splurted from the stump on his right shoulder, and then Isaac screamed aloud from the agonizing pain. His knees collapsed, and his free hand clenched on the stump of his shoulder - vainly attempting to slow down the bleeding.

Standing behind Isaac… was the terrifying figure of the man that slayed Inquisitor Caleb. The mysterious stranger’s golden Lycan eyes glimmered with delight, as his large blade was covered with Isaac’s blood. His small grin revealed his sharp canines, and he was apparently enjoying himself and the chaos ensuing around them.

The stranger… the leader of the Lycans… glanced at all three people: from the kneeling Isaac, to the crippled Anna, and to the last standing Templar… Kiera. The Lycan leader’s smile only widened, as he clenched his blade and prepared for the next attack.

Isaac's screams of pain ripped through Keira's heart like an exploding grenade. Without even seeing the man's face, Kiera knew who had done it. She could tell the stranger was far from finished with his plan to wipe them all out.

Bloody sword held firm, Kiera stood straighter, pushing down the pain, fighting off the sheer hatred surging in her gut, for it would only cloud her judgement. She literally stared down the murderer. "Only a coward attacks from behind. .." Dying wasn't on her list of to-do's; but, if it was her time, so be it.

The Lycan leader pivoted his feet, turning directly to Kiera as she spat heated words at him. His smile never faltered, and he only raised an eyebrow at the Templar warrior. "Really now?" the man spoke up, his gruff voice speaking in a quite mocking tone. "I could say the same thing about your fearless leader," he commented, his free hand briefly pointing towards Isaac - whom seemed temporarily shell-shocked after having his arm sliced off.

The Senior Templar still knelt upon the ground, clenching tightly on his right shoulder. His eyes were squeezed shut, still trying to fight back the pain overwhelming his body. Blood continued to spurt from the stump, practically pouring on to the ground.

"Considering that he killed off one of my children... in a cowardly manner," the golden-eyed stranger stated, finishing his sentence. He glanced back up at Kiera. He raised up his free hand, beckoning Templar Sanford to make the first move in this fight. Apparently, he was in no rush to kill them off... in fact, it was evident that he was only toying with them. He had the chance to kill off Isaac, but chose not to and only struck a grievous wound upon the Senior Templar.

However, one can only imagine what was going through Kiera's mind. If the legendary monster-slayer, Inquisitor Bartholomew Caleb, only left a small gash on the man's left hand before his quick demise... what chance did she have?

The art of distraction. She knew it well. If Isaac and Anna were to get away, she'd risk her own life and limb to let them do so. Anna was too young to die and Isaac. ...Well, god damn it, he was suppose to go home and be a father to Kaitlyn! To raise her and love her. Be there for her birthday party. A child deserves at least one, living parent.

Despite those thoughts racing through her head, she didn't try to make eye contact with Isaac or Anna. In fact, she didn't look at them at all. Her eyes stayed focused entirely on the man laying waste to so many of her friends and seemingly way to proud of it. Kiera even smiled at man while trying to maintain the conversation. Part of her was curious as to the origins of this 'lycan' and part of her wanted them to take this chance and get away.

"Your children aren't very well behaved." She stood there calm and collected, making chit chat with a predator of unimaginable proportions. Strange, in a way, to truly believe death was hanging over her head yet Kiera did not fear it. Unlike Isaac, she had nothing to lose. With few family ties, no one would mourn her for long.

The 'Lycan' cocked his head slightly, slightly perplexed that Kiera didn't try to assault him yet. But he quickly understood her reasoning, perhaps trying to waste his time through chatter and allow the opportunity for Anna and Isaac to get away.

"They listen to their father, I think they are very well-behaved," the golden-eyed stranger lowered his blade, even chuckling slightly. Well, if Templar Sanford did not intend to make the first move, there was more than one way to goad her into combat. His golden gaze then fell onto both Isaac and Anna, still holding his devious grin.

"So who shall I behead next?" the man questioned aloud. "The Senior Templar?" he questioned, briefly glancing at the kneeling Isaac. Then, his eyes shifted towards the younger Templar, "Or perhaps this youngling over here?" He took a few steps towards Catriona, slowly raising up his blade.

Anna managed to sit up, despite the pain. Her entire body felt battered and fatigued, but she needed to get out of this mess alive. She managed to get on her knees, slightly struggling to stand back up. Her eyes fell upon her approaching enemy, and they were filled with hatred. "Just try it, you son of a bitch," Anna hissed, practically baring her own teeth at the Lycan leader.

She pulled out one of her throwing daggers, a small one that probably would not do much harm to the Inquisitor-slayer. "I swear, we will fucking kill you," she growled.

The man laughed out loud, throwing back his head in a fit of laughter. "You naive young woman," he shook his head. He raised up his giant blade with one hand, preparing to finish off the girl. "I'll just end your life right here and now," he stated aloud, and unless Kiera would make a move - Catriona would soon join Caleb's fate.

He was toying with them. Like a dog that stalks a cat to grab it by the scruff and shake it like a rag doll for fun. If the goal was to kill them all, why the spectacle? It didn't make sense. Kiera preferred when things made sense. "Maybe they are well behaved. However, the marks on my body say otherwise."

She was really hoping Anna would keep her mouth shut. Yes, she was being threatened; but, goading the man would only hasten the process. "Anna! ..Shut the fuck up and be a good girl!" Putting herself in front of the blade, her hand on his arm. "Excuse her, she's young and brash. Just a child. Not as properly trained as your children." If the man was going to kill her, he'd have to look her in the eyes to do it. Even her weapon was dropped.

Was there a way out of this? If so, Kiera couldn't find it. Try as she might. "Take me. Kill me. Do what you will to me; but, let them go first. They're beaten and broken. No threat to you. The Templar's are beaten. You've won and you know it." He'd took out their best fighters. Right now, there was no one who could stand against him.

The Lycan leader paused right there, his head cocked again - he was incredibly perplexed. He was hoping to get a little fun out of this, but apparently Templar Sanford refused to combat against him. Instead, she offered her own life - to save the others.

"Well, that indeed is a noble gesture of you," he commented, nodding his head almost in approval. "Unfortunately for you, I don't plan to leave any survivors. I shall grant you and your companions a swift death," he stated, and then brought down his weapon - swinging it down and intending to slice down Kiera.

That worked our exactly how she thought it would to a point. It bought time. Time for Anna to get the hell out of there. Though she probably wouldn't. Time for Isaac to get help. Hell, even he didn't take the bait and try to leave. Apparently, all Templars are stubborn to a fault. When the lycan leader took the swing, Kiera had already resigned herself to her fate since there was no way to run and no weapon to fight with. Stupid move on her part? Yep..but, only because the other two didn't RUN like they should have! There was a reason she was trying to save them after all.

She wouldn't have enough time to pick up her weapon and defend herself, and it seemed like she was doomed. However, in a blur of a second, someone stood in between her and the golden-eyed stranger.

Isaac stood there, raising up his sword with his one good arm. He held the sword in a horizontal position, intending to block the stranger's attack. The Senior Templar's eyes were still fierce with determination - despite having his right arm sliced off, Isaac managed to summon forth the rest of his willpower to fight back the pain and pick up his weapon. He would not let any of his Templars die on his watch, because it is his responsibility to ensure their safety.

The stranger's large sword continued swinging down, about to meet Isaac's blade and collide with it.

The Lycan leader's sword shattered Isaac's blade.

The cleaving motion continued, completely undeterred by the Senior Templar's weapon. The golden-eye man's immense physical strength once again shocked everyone, as it sliced through Isaac's thick armor and slashed across his chest. Blood splattered against the ground, as the stranger's sword left a large and deep gash across Isaac's chest - which began to bleed profusely along with his stump.

Almost instinctively, Kiera closed her eyes as the man took the swing meant to cut her in two. Yet the blade didn't make contact. Not with her at least. Somehow, Isaac had been there to stop the blade. Even in his condition, he was still doing all he could to protect his fellow Templars. It was all happening so fast. The battle between the two men was a blur. Their enemy was relentless in his attack. "Isaac! ....Isaac, nooooo!" Most of the Templar's had heeded the call to retreat. Even had they not, the leader of the lycan's was proving to be far too powerful for them to overcome. She wouldn't leave him. She couldn't let him suffer alone.

Isaac could not even register the pain. He felt the slash, his body went completely numb. Everything seemed to blur to him, and he felt his body beginning to fall forward. His vision darkened, the light leaving his eyes as the momentum began to bring him down.

Kaitlyn...


“Daddy, where did mommy go?”

Kaitlyn, whom was five-years old at the time, was sitting upon her father's shoulders. Its almost been a year since Elena's death, and the question caught Isaac off-guard. He carried his daughters on his shoulders, while she set her hands on top of her father's head to help keep balance. The two of them were simply taking a stroll through the city of Sanctuary in the upper district, just enjoying the nice weather with the sunny day and clear skies.

The little girl usually enjoyed her time with her father, especially when she's on his shoulders so that the little girl could feel like an 'adult.' However, all day, she seemed to be in a rather odd mood, and now Isaac finally knows why. She was thinking about her mother… the beautiful, amazing, strong woman that Isaac fell for. Elena was taken away way too soon from this life, and Isaac was doing his best as a single father.

He could still remember the first week of dealing with the devastating news of Elena's death. He could still vividly remember the tears that Kaitlyn cried every single night in her bed, and Isaac was beside her in every moment until she feel asleep. He always gave her a goodnight kiss on the forehead, as a loving father should – he wanted to make Kaitlyn's childhood a better one than his own. Isaac was too orphaned at a rather young age, and growing up with Balthazar was a rather unhappy experience. This little girl deserved the best in the world, and already she was dealing with the cruelty of it.

Isaac glanced up, noticing that the little girl was staring at the sky with a rather solemn expression. “Mommy is with God right now, Kaitlyn,” Isaac answered, while still walking down the small street. “She's up there watching over us from the seventh heaven. She's always with us in spirit, and will always protect us – and make sure we are both well-behaved while at it,” he released a small chuckle, hoping to lighten Kaitlyn's mood.

However, the young child seemed rather unaffected. “Daddy… are you going to leave me too one day?”

Isaac paused in his steps. Like everyone else, Isaac is only mortal… one day he will have to pass on from this world and will meet the Lord. Who knows if that day is tomorrow, or another fifty years. The life of a Templar, however, is an extremely dangerous one. Just the other day, Isaac was in a mission where two of their soldiers were ambushed by wendigos and torn apart. These type of deaths always reminded Isaac that his time on this earth is limited… and Kaitlyn will be the one left behind.

“I will never leave you, Kaitlyn,” Isaac answered firmly, looking up at his daughter and smiling. “Daddy intends to live a very long time, and no matter what - I will always be with you. Mommy and daddy will always be there for you, Kate, and we will do everything to keep you safe.”

This time, Kaitlyn managed to form a small smile from her father's assurance. “Pinky promise, daddy?” she questioned, lowering her hand and raising up a very small pinky finger.

Isaac laughed out loud, reaching up and forming the pinky promise. “I pinky promise, Kaitlyn,” he chuckled. “Now come on, let's get you some ice cream.”

I promise to do everything in my power to keep you safe, Kaitlyn.



A Father's Love (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XG2usu-el68)

Kaitlyn!

Isaac's eyes opened wide – the fire of determination filling his eyes. He shifted his front foot forward, firmly planting it against the ground and regaining his balance – preventing his fall on to the ground. He struggled to regain his breath, as each wheeze was extremely painful due to the slash across his chest. Sweat dripped profusely from his skin, and blood dripped down from his body. However, he was not ready to give up.

He needed to do everything in his power to keep his squadron safe... the city of Sanctuary safe... his little girl safe.

“Kiera,” Isaac began, straightening his posture slightly. “Take Catriona and get the hell out of here,” he stated coarsely, his voice strained from pain and fatigue. Isaac gripped the handle of his shattered blade tightly, still ready to combat against this 'Lycan' despite being on death's door. He still had the pistol portion of his blade, which itself is still a formidable weapon if used properly. “I'll stay back and keep him busy,” his eyes never left the enemy, whom was watching Isaac with some honest curiosity.

Anna Catriona could not believe what she was witnessing. Isaac was nearly cut down by the Lycan leader, after another attempt to defend his fellow Templars. This mysterious warrior's fighting ability was absolutely insane – he managed to slice off Inquisitor's Caleb head despite the man being a Knight-class warrior and having perfected his reflex speed. Now, this 'man' or whatever he was, shattered Isaac's blade, sliced through his heavy armor, and even easily sliced through the man's dermal skin.

She couldn't even let out of a scream, she was shocked by everything going on. She could feel the emotions overwhelming her, and could barely fathom the events happening right before her. But, she clearly heard Isaac's words… and she immediately dismissed them. “No! We will not abandon you, Senior Templar Hills!” she shouted, pushing her body up and straightened it into a standing position. She was outraged at the possibility of leaving him behind… leaving behind the one person that changed her entire life around. She would rather sacrifice her own life then allow Isaac to die…

“Templars Catriona and Sanford… I order the both of you to get out of here right now!!” Isaac shouted aloud, feeling blood dripping from his mouth. The slash on his chest must have caused some internal injuries, Isaac couldn't tell specifically because his entire body was screaming from the agonizing pain. The Senior Templar knew that he was done for… even if he did managed to retreat at this point, he would bleed out from his two major injuries. There was no point in wasting another person's life in this lost battle, and he will carry out his final duty as the leader of the squadron. There was no other option but to stay back... to fight back. He will ensure the safety of his comrades, even if it meant paying the ultimate price

With God by his side, he accepts this fate.

The golden-eyed man… the monster… carefully watched all three Templars. He began to pace, in fact, taking a few steps to the left and then to the right. His cold abomination eyes watched them like a predator about to pounce upon its prey. He wickedly grinned, apparently entertained by this tragic situation. He nodded, as if approving the Senior Templar's last stand to battle against him.

“Kiera...” Isaac began more quietly, but this time to glance at his comrades one last time – managing to find a small smile despite the circumstances. “Please take care of her,” he stated, and nothing more was needed after that before Isaac returned his gaze back to the enemy.

Isaac was prepared to make his final stand... right here, right now.

When he stepped in to save her, she knew what was about to happen. He was their leader and, even with his wounds, he would be a warrior to the bitter end. Much like Anna, his decision made Kiera angry at first. Those feelings were soon followed by an immense sense of helplessness. What the hell was she doing all this for if he was just going to forge ahead regardless of the massive injuries? She should be the one who dies. Not Isaac. Kiera should be the sacrificial lamb. Isaac should be going home to his daughter.

Without even realizing that words were leaving her lips.."Don't do this..don't do this. Please, god..Isaac, don't do this.." the prayers just kept rolling from her lips in a mumbled whisper. But, the die was already cast. Isaac's decision had clearly been made. Regardless of how badly she hated it, Kiera knew the greatest show of respect and honor for their Senior Templar was to follow his orders. Even if they were to be his last.

"Yes sir.." Somehow managing to speak those words with conviction. She'd grab Anna forcefully by the shoulders with both hands to get her moving. "He gave us a direct order, Templar Catriona and we will follow it." One day, Anna may understand why she had to do this, why she had to follow Isaac's orders out of respect for the man he is and would always be. If not, she would hate Kiera for the rest of her life; but, it was still be the right thing to do. Painful..heart breaking..but right.

They'd only taken a few steps when Isaac called back to her.

“Please take care of her,”

"I will love her like my own.." He could rest assured she would. "And make sure she never forgets you or her mother."

If she was to maintain any sense of composure, they had to go now. Like it or not, Anna would leave of her own will or be pushed the entire way. "Don't look back. Keep going.."

Anna felt tears streaming down her eyes, she was very much tempted to disobey Isaac's order and stay there with him. But this was an order from the man that she idealized, and she couldn't disrespect his wish... especially his last one. "Yes, sir," Catriona solemnly nodded. Templar Sanford already began to push the young woman, and she allowed the older woman to because she almost didn't find the willpower to do so at first. Finally, though, she began taking steps away from the Senior Templar... and overheard his last wish.

Look after his daughter... and that caused the young woman to practically breakdown. A loud sob escaped from her throat, but she kept moving, refusing to look back. She was angry at herself and angry at the world - Isaac shouldn't be taken away like this. He represented the best of the Templars, he inspires his troops... he was suppose to be promoted as a brand new Inquisitor... and now he is sacrificing his own life for them.

"We won't ever forget you," she quietly whispered, before both her and Kiera broke off into the run and away from the burning encampment.

The smell of smoke was sickening to Isaac, but that was nothing compared to everything else going on. Physical pain without scale... exhausted and fatigued... and the emotional turmoil of leaving this world behind... leaving his daughter behind. Yet, he had to remain strong, he had to fight...

Isaac was well aware, he barely has a chance to kill this true abomination. Whoever or whatever this thing is... he will endanger Sanctuary and its people as long as he lives. Isaac was determined for one final effort to take down this monstrosity.

To protect his people.

I will fear no evil... the Lord is with me and I will not fear death itself... I will fear no evil... as the light's strength fills my body, mind, and soul... I will fear no evil... and I will fight on with every last fiber of my life! Isaac recited a quick prayer to himself, one that will give him the strength for the final push.

The 'Lycan' finally stopped pacing, and his eyes stared silently at the dying man before him. His wicked smile briefly fell, into what seemed like a monotone facial expression. "You certainly have my respect, Senior Templar," he nodded. Despite the man's cold-blooded nature, there seemed to be a sense of honor to him. "I shall grant you a quick death and end your suffering."

Isaac gritted his teeth, before glancing down at his shattered weapon. There was unfortunately only one bullet left in the pistol, after Isaac used the rest up to fight off the Lycans tonight. He glanced back up at his opponent, extremely determined to finish this fight. "I will take you down with me." One bullet to the heart or skull... that's all I need.

The golden-eyed warrior kept his weapon lowered, but raised up his free hand and beckoned Isaac forward with a solemn expression. It is time to finish this.

Isaac yelled, summoning the rest of his strength to charge forward and cut the few feet of distance in between them. He raised up the pistol-hilt, aiming right between the eyes of the man. Just one shot in point-blank range is all he needs... just one shot... he attempted to pull the trigger...

The sound of a bullet firing echoed across the tragic night.

His opponent was faster... much faster than the crippled Isaac. The Lycan leader's hand simply raised up and pushed away the weapon nearly the same time Isaac pulled the trigger. The bullet practically grazed his ear, but held no harmful effects.

The man's hand moved like a viper, and wrapped around Isaac's neck. He lifted up the Senior Templar into the air, squeezing lightly and beginning to choke the man.

Isaac's vision immediately blurred, and he felt his lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. His one hand dropped his weapon, and he vainly attempted to pull away the man's strong grip. He kicked his legs, doing everything he can do get away... but he knew this was it.

I'm so sorry... Kaitlyn...

Isaac's vision continued to blur... and he could barely even see the flickering of the night's flames.

These final thoughts of regret filled Isaac's mind. He's going to miss his daughter's upcoming birthday... he won't get to see her grow up... he won't get the chance to walk her down the aisle.

He could only hope that his daughter would forgive him for this... for breaking his promises... he promised to be back from this mission shortly... but he will never see her in this life again.

Don't... worry... though... I'll always watch over you...

Isaac's vision turned black, accepting this end.

Daddy loves y-

Snap!

[TheDoctor]

The irregular hum of the damaged hoverbike filled Jerris's ears for the rest of the night. After they escaped the bloodshed, he and Marcella located the safest rendezvous point available to them, a hilltop with a ruined fortress a day's travel from Zion. It was hardly more than two stories high, its rooftop ripped open and its watchtower toppled. The ten foot high circumference of crumbled stone and breached walls couldn't even be called defendable, but the higher ground and inept cover was the best location available to them before Zion.

The howling of Lycans had vanished long ago, but if they were still in pursuit, they would undoubtedly outrun them to Zion. Jerris knew that they needed to recollect their units if they wanted any chance at slowing the Lycan horde, let alone surviving. As he shut down the vehicle, doubting it would ever start again without serious repair, he sorted through the bags of supplies tied to the back. The other Templars couldn’t have mobilized yet, not in the chaos of the Scourge, which left the task to him. Signaling them all would most likely draw undesirable attention, but they didn’t have another choice. If the horde wanted them dead so badly, they would see it happen anyway.

Jerris’s fingers touched upon cold steel and grasped for the short rotund barrel in the erratic sorting of items. What had happened back there? His perception was blurred by the adrenaline that pumped through his limbs during the battle, so the details of the enemy were far and few. The Lycans were countless, a larger swarm than he had ever witnessed before, but outside of their numbers, he couldn’t determine anything that distinguished them from any other Scourge. Only their leader, the mysterious hybrid, stood out in his mind. His cold demeanor, his authoritative introversion, his oddity amongst his apparent peers; the aura about him commanded obedience.

Eerily, Jerris found himself connecting with him in more ways than one.

As daylight toed the edge of the horizon and the darkness of night relinquished to a dark grey, the Templar walked from the ruins to the fields directly past the walls, metal flare gun in hand. His legs felt heavy and nearly buckled, his knees locking with every step upon the dew-covered grass. The cylindrical barrel rose to the southwest slowly, his tired shoulders screaming in protest against every inch. He covered his ear with his other hand and fired with a noisy pop, and a streak of red smoke trailed high into the sky. The head of the flare drifted high above with a phosphorescent red glow that gently illuminated the nearby forests. It would probably glow long enough for the sun to rise, and the smoke trail would remain long after.

He lowered the barrel and navigated to the opposite side of the small fortress, his hands trembling lightly at his sides. He paused for a moment, watching the flare drift for a few minutes before loading another flare, pointing north, and firing again. This one shimmered green with a similar trail of smoke following it. It was a false signal, but perhaps the Lycans’ leader would believe that reinforcements were on their way. Anything that could deter the horde potentially on its way.

Well, if it was coming, they had some time to prepare. Lycans couldn’t outrun hoverbikes...most of the time.

Stumbling back into the ruins, Jerris tossed the gun on the ruined bike and searched through the pack again. “You’re still bleeding.” With a hefty tug, he pulled the leather pack out, stumbling to regain his balance as he turned to Marcella. “Remove your breastplate."

As Jerris grabbed a flare gun and went outside to announce their location to the rest of the surviving Templars, hopefully that everyone would gather in one place, Marcella dismounted the stuttering, extremely beaten bike. All her muscles ached from the fight and she'd give nothing more than to fall into a soft, warm bed. How had they gotten surrounded? How had this even happen? At this point, she could feel the potion wearing off that she'd taken at the beginning of the fight. Her hands shook slightly and she made a motion of shaking them out as she went about finding some collapsed roofing material in order to build a fire inside.

With in the building it would be protected from the wind and the light barely visible outside. Not that it would matter if the Lycan followed the flares anyways. At this point, Marcella was too tired to care. She had the small fire just starting to go by the time Jerris stumbled back into the crumbling building. She looked at him a bit quizzically only for her brow to furrow in pain as the attention was brought back to her wounds.

"I'd forgotten about that." She said looking down at her side with a forced chuckle as she began to undo the leather ties. With a hiss, she pulled the ruined reinforced leather armor from her body, causing the deep gashes to start bleeding quickly again. The gash ran completely from front to back and she could see some of her shirt sticking in the wounds. She made a noise of frustration. "I might need your help with this." Though she figured that was his intention in the first place. Reaching gingerly down, she began to pull her shirt over her head as well. Clenching her teeth together she pulled the shirt out of the wounds and over her head, allowing Jerris better access to the wounds.

"Major blood loss. Not too severe, but..." Jerris knelt next to her, his gaze unaffected by the removal of her shirt. His tongue wetted his chapped lips as he unbuckled the clasps of the kit and withdrew the distilled water and cloth. A swish of the bottle dampened a majority of the cloth, and he took a light swig of it before handing it to her. "You need water. Drink." He wiped away the blood both dried and fresh from the wound, exposing it again and permitting more to ooze forth. While anxiously deep, the three scratches along her side held no debris he could identify.

He pressed the cloth, now stained with crimson, on the lacerations. "Hold this here and press down."

The Templar did as ordered and drank from the bottle wetting her throat. That little bit just reminded her how thirsty she was after the long fight, but she settled with one drink. Ideally they'd make it to Zion tomorrow, but she didn't want to end up stuck without water. The Lycan horde certainly hadn't been expected so who knew what would happen next.

Marcella bit her lip hard as Jerris rinsed the wound with the clean with the rough cloth, slight noise of pain echoing in her throat. Before she pressed her own hand down against the gashes. "This is certainly not how I planned on spending the evening." She attempted to joke.

"Combat is hardly predictable, especially considering the vast numbers that we faced. No one expects to be wounded, least of all." Jerris's dry tone resonated through the ruined room as he reached for another cloth and the glass bottle of clear alcohol from the kit. He paused for a moment while he poured the alcohol onto the cleaner white cloth and corked it again. "Ah. That was the joke, I believe."

Turning his attention back to her, he lightly took her hand off of the soiled rag over the wound and gently peeled it back. "Well the sun is rising, so 'evening' is hardly applicable. Also, try not to scream." With no further warning, he wiped the alcohol-soaked fabric across her gashes, disinfecting the wound to the best of his ability.

"Yes, Jerris a joke. A poor one considering all that we lost." She said with a frown, not because he didn't laugh, she didn't expect such of Jerris. Instead, she found herself thinking of who was still alive. Was it only him and her? Was O? The young Templar Anna? Iago the Fool? The Senior Templar?

She felt Jerris move her hand and gently remove the blood soaked rag. For someone so gruff, he had his gentle moments. Though that though quickly vanished as he dragged the alcohol covered cloth through the cuts causing Marcella to bite down on her own fist to muffle the agonizing yell. Her vision sparkled slightly as well and she clinched her eyes shut taking deep breaths through her nose.

"Thank you for not screaming." Jerris finished disinfecting the wound and set the cloth aside. The wound was far too deep to leave open until they reached Zion, where hopefully a proper doctor could close it. He took the thread from the box and pinched a needle between his fingers, the eye of it rising towards his own. But as he tried to thread the string through, his hands continued to shake, trembling to the point that the needle fell from his fingers and he had to disinfect it again.

By the Scourge, he was tired. His body demanded sleep while his mind refused to rest, and it didn't help that his arms were slathered with Arachne venom not twelve hours earlier. Forcing his arms to remain still for even a second was almost beyond him, and even when he was able to push the thread through, it slipped out when the shaking resumed.

Muttering a calm curse under his breath, he bowed his head over the needle and tried again. "Your stitches may prove...messier than expected."

Marcella panted heavily as her body throbbed with a dull pain. "Just sew it up." She mumbled, struggling to stay conscious through the pain and the blood loss. Now was not a good time to be dead weight. She'd be pretty useless out. She would probably be pretty useless anyways, but at least she could still shoot her crossbow and swing a sword before she died. "The medics in Zion can restitch it when we get there and are safe...well as safe as can be. They can yell at you too for your shoddy job." She flashed a smile that was probably more of a grimace.

"Your criticism is..." Jerris went quiet as he forced himself to concentrate on the needle. "Unwelcome. I'm saving your life." Bracing his hands on her side and pinching the first gash, he pierced the skin above the wound. "Once again, try not to scream."

Many minutes later, daylight twinkled through the holes in the wall of the room, and Jerris leaned back, hands covered in blood. The stitches were...well, they held the skin together. They criss-crossed messily and varied in distance from the edge of the wound, but at least the cuts were mostly closed. Wiping the remaining blood from the wound, he took a roll of bandage from the kit and started cutting off several lengths.

"I'll watch for any survivors. You need to drink more water." He layered the first strip along her highest cut and taped it down. "And if it bleeds through the bandage, it will need to be replaced."

"It was another joke...I've got to try and ignore the pain someway. Unless you have...." She was cut off as she felt the needle pierce her skin above the first scratch causing her to bite her lip nearly through. She went back to biting into her knuckles as Jerris stitched. By the time, he was done there were half moon indentions in her skin, some even bleeding lightly.

Marcella shook her head. "We might need that water later." Her voice was strained. "Can't waste it." She replied as she sat quietly for the moment. "Jerris...how many do you think made it?" For being an experienced Templar, she'd never been in a situation that dire and there was a likelihood that no one else made it out.

Jerris rose slowly, his eyes closing momentarily to relieve his exhaustion. "I don't know. Maybe no one." He rested his hands on the hilts of his blades, dreading the moment he would have to pull them from their sheaths again. Could his arms even afford to keep them up?

He exhaled as he approached the broken archway to the outside. "But if that is all it takes to kill a squadron of Templars, then perhaps humanity never stood a chance in the first place."


As daylight dawned upon the fortress, Jerris watched as Templars began to arrive one by one. They were in terrible states, some with injuries that, while not life-threatening, were still severe. Such wounds were manageable.

Everyone knew that those with more dire injuries didn't make it.

But as the remaining Templars trickled into the ruined fortress by midmorning, Jerris's tired eyes still hadn't located the Senior Templar. Even if he were on foot, he should get here anytime now. He'd most certainly be of the first to respond to the flare.

He shook himself awake, feeling the pressure of exhaustion and dehydration behind his cold eyes. He better hurry before the others get restless. I'd rather not deal with mutiny.

[☆Catwoman☆]

What made closets problematic was that they offered little insulation against any noise on the other side of its door. Despite having his hands clamped firmly over his ears, Octavius Warren still heard what he imagined being a hairy beast decapitating his mother and castrating his father. There were screams that he attributed to his mother, pleas for mercy that he attributed to his father, death that he attributed to the Scourge Beast, and suicide, which he attributed to his soul.

Then silence, and he was uncertain as to whom that belonged.

Octavius opened the closet door a crack. A bar of moonlight fell through. He saw two bodies lying on the floor, blood covering each. Octavius opened the door fully and alighted from the closet. There was blood on every part of the room, as well: the carpets, the tapestries, the stove, the dining table among other home apparatus that was intended to make the home more welcoming.

A colorful drawing was crucified above one window. Octavius had barely noticed it before now, which was odd because he had been the one who had drawn it. It was a horrible drawing, but he recalled how his mother had praised it when he had brought it home to her. Odd that he remembered this now. He had made that drawing for her when he was six—odd, too, that she still had it, ten years later.

His parents smelled. Octavius drew towards them. He wondered if the Lycans had a sense of humor, or if the one who had killed them was practicing to be a comedian. Inside the closet, he had actually only heard indistinct noises and had attributed them to certain tortures that the Lycan was conducting, however, to see that his mother was actually decapitated was a scream. Her head leaned flaccidly to one side, away from her neck, and her eyes were unceremoniously open. On the other hand, Octavius’s father still had his pants on, so, Octavius could be assured that the monster had neglected to play with his genitalia.

“Are you crying?”

Octavius touched his cheeks. They were wet. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

“Well…I suppose that’s your right,” his mother continued. Her head still leaned to one side, and her eyes did not blink as she spoke in her natural, jolly voice. “I’m sorry that you had to see us like this. I hope you understand that this is your fault, though.” Pause. “You do understand that, right?”

“Yes.”

She smiled.

“Good, boy.” This time his father. “A man oughta take responsibility for his failures.” He chuckled, in that throaty voice he had. “You might as well had been the one who killed us. What were you doing, hiding in that closet?”

“You told me to.”

“Yes, but I didn’t think that you would.” His mother said. “What type of man hides in his closet while his parents are being murdered?” Another pause. “I hope you die.”

“Mom.” Octavius was surprised at how high his voice was. The tears came down faster. “Please…I didn’t—”

“That’s a wonderful idea honey,” his father said. “He should die. That’ll teach him to respect his parents. Isn’t that a commandment in The Book of Requiem? I bet it is. You’re a sinner boy. I mean, we all are, of course, but you more so than us.” He laughed again. And then he screamed, abruptly, and in a high-pitched shrill.

Octavius cried and clamped his hands over his ears. There was just enough space between his hands and his ears to hear his mother’s scream join his father’s. His father’s voice was of a higher pitch than his mother’s.“Stop, stop!” Octavius yelled, but his voice drowned beneath their din.

From the front door, Octavius saw a figure emerge. It was, at least, two bodies taller than Octavius. It had thick fur and lupine eyes. Drool and flesh hung from its fangs. Amidst the Lycan’s sudden entrance, Octavius heard his parents’ screams morph into a chant.

“Kill him! Kill him!” They both went.

The Lycan howled and leaped towards Octavius.

The last thing Octavius remembered was his own scream, which mixed somehow religiously with his parents’ chanting, and then—

***

He woke up. It was still dark out, but tendrils of sunlight could be seen from the horizon. Octavius’s chest was soaked in sweat. His pulse raced. His lungs felt as if they were about to burst. He gasped for air, as if he had just resurfaced from the ocean. After a moment, he regained his bearings, and sat still; in part because he was trying to remember where he was; in part because he was afraid to return to sleep.

Although he had slept in his leather armor, he still felt the cold of the Borderlands. He bit into his lower lip and shivered uncontrollably. Even before he sneezed and coughed, Octavius Warren knew that he was sick. Sick and sore; sore and tired; tired and despondent. He ran an arm beneath his nose, and coughed into his armpit again. Sleeping in the Borderlands was probably his worst idea ever, however, he had been so tired. So tired.

Hours before, as Octavius and Yelena ran from the Lycan hoard, right before the view of the campsite had pulled away, Octavius noticed a gout of fire spew forth from where he supposed their campsite was. The sudden flames were shocking, to say the least, but Octavius looked away quickly and didn’t mention it to Yelena. (He imagined that she had noticed the fire, too). So many things were going wrong already that there was no need to speculate about anything worse.

They had ran for a time, then they had walked, and, finally, they had stopped and taken a break. Before Octavius knew it, he had fallen asleep.

And then he had awoken from a nightmare into a second, not as horrible nightmare.

He stood slowly, careful to avoid any hidden pains. His knees wobbled, but he didn’t fall. Zion was miles away; getting there on foot would take some time. However, he could see the outline of the city, and Sanctuary, too, which was infinitely larger than Zion despite it being much further away. Briefly, Octavius thought of just heading straight to Sanctuary. It would take some time, sure, but the last thing he wanted was to reach Zion and be the only Templar there, along with Yelena.

"That looked like a pretty bad nightmare," Yelena murmured from where she was sitting, gazing dully at her companion with her arms wrapped around her legs for warmth. There were deep circles of exhaustion under her eyes, and her entire body felt leaden. Slowly, she climbed to her feet as every muscle and tendon screamed for mercy. The young woman had kept watch while Warren slept, but she did not think their break had lasted even an hour. The respite had been necessary, but she wanted to get moving as quickly as possible.

Yelena grimaced as she shifted her gear into place; her armor, weapons, and shield were proving a burden, but there was nothing to be done about it. She and Octavius had escaped with little more than cuts and bruises, but they were still in the monsters' territory, and there was always a chance that more bad luck was on the way. She would keep her weapons close.

"Care to tell me what the hell came over you back there?" The Knight's tone was casual, not confrontational, but her unblinking look seemed to burrow right through him. She had not asked about the incident sooner, having been too preoccupied with keeping her feet moving and muting the anxiety and fear in her mind. But now, with Octavius a bit calmer, seemed as good a time as any to pry.

“No worse than anyone else’s”, Octavius responded. He tore his gaze away from Sanctuary’s borders and looked at Yelena. He wasn’t surprised by her appearance: the crescent moons beneath her eyes and such. Octavius imagined that he didn’t look much better; in fact, he probably looked worse.

As she stood, Octavius felt himself draw towards her. He was half expecting her to fall. “Careful,” he said. Then, “Did you stay up to watch over me?” Even without a response, he knew the answer. He grimaced. Before he could ask anything else, however, Yelena tossed him a question he hadn’t expected.

“If you’re talking about the fire, then, I can’t give you an answer,” he smiled, broadly, as if he was about to break out laughing right there and then. However, the smile disappeared and what replaced it was the sobriety of a man who had just decided to quit alcohol. Warren sighed. He supposed Yelena deserved an answer. “When I was a kid a Lycan hoard came to my village.” ‘Came’ seemed like a safe word; safer, at least, than ‘attacked’ or ‘destroyed’. “I was just having flashbacks, that’s all.” Then, “I’m sorry.” He wouldn’t tell her anything more, and his face didn’t give the intimation that he was hiding something. The last thing he wanted was to treat Yelena like some personal diary, so, it would be nice for her not to ask anything more.

Octavius wanted to turn away from her then but decided not to for some reason that he would not be able to explain later. He instead met her burrowing gaze with one of his own. If anyone were to see Octavius and Yelena, they would most likely wonder why two, dirty Templars were having a staring contest.

He switched the topic. "I was just thinking how nice it would be if we just walked straight to Sanctuary. Just dropped the whole Templar Order thing, you know?" He grabbed his silver sword and for a second searched the area to make sure that he hadn't forgotten anything. And then he remembered that there was nothing to forget. All he had was the shirt on his chest, his sword, and, well, Yelena, he supposed, if he was allowed to suppose that in the way that was not proprietorial.

The slight downward turn of Yelena's mouth implied that she did not buy his story--Lycans did not just "come" to a village, after all--but the Knight did not press the issue. If Warren did not wish to speak further of it, that was his right and she would not tear open that scar. It was enough to know that he had a personal vendetta.

Yelena eventually gave a brief nod, her intense expression softening. She had not missed his concern for her welfare, nor his readiness to catch her should she stumble or fall, and found some sort of odd humor in it that produced a small smile. She knew she probably looked like crap, but so did he, and even with his minute amount of sleep, she did not think she was any more likely to fall than he was. They would just have to support one another, she supposed; all they had out here was each other.

His casual comment caught her off guard, however, and once again Yelena began to stare as she mulled his words over and tried to determine whether or not he was being serious. She failed.

The young woman began to walk--in the direction of Zion, despite her companion's remark--keeping close to Octavius for protection, support, and simply because she wanted to. Though she had not concluded whether or not he meant what he had said, she decided to keep her response relaxed rather than skewering him with sharp retorts about duty and responsibility and oaths and what not. At the moment, she couldn't truly blame him for the sentiment.

"After that debacle," Yelena said instead, "I want nothing more than to find that son of a bitch who killed Bartholomew and commanded the Lycans to slaughter our brothers and sisters. He'll wish for death a thousand times over before I'm through with him."

She knew the desire consisted of a lot of bravado. Bartholomew had been the best of them, and had been as little of a challenge for the strange, golden-eyed man as a child. She did not think any lone Templar could defeat such a foe.

But it felt damn good to say, at least.

Octavius did not say anything when Yelena changed the topic. He supposed that he had given the intimation that he would abandon the whole Order in a heartbeat, if given the opportunity. Perhaps that had unnerved her, or unsettled. In any case, Octavius was uncertain as to whether or not he would leave the Templar Order. Something told him that he would, but something else—something primitive and cancerous—told him that his balls were nailed to the Order and he wouldn’t be able to leave without inflicting some serious damage to himself.

He fell in line with Yelena’s pace, again ascertaining that the space between them was relatively narrow so that if either of them fell, then the other would be close enough to disrupt their plummet. The backs of their hands found one another, separated, and then found one another again. Neither said anything for a time. Then, Yelena’s voice interrupted the silence.

Octavius’s thoughts had been meandering to who knows where when Yelena spoke. He nodded in approval at the woman’s bravado. Someone else, perhaps, would have found Yelena’s assertion hilarious. Indeed, the idea that a Templar could defeat someone whom not even an Inquisitor could defeat was comical. However, Octavius did not smile at all. Instead, he regarded Yelena’s words with the seriousness that it deserved.

“That lupine guy just declared war on every Templar in Sanctuary,” Octavius added. “I doubt the Order will allow that to rest.”

The idea of revenge emboldened Octavius, however minutely. He wasn’t the vindictive type, in all honesty, however, he needed a distraction. If revenge could be that distraction, then so be it.

Octavius was about to say something else when a red flare pulled his gaze away from Yelena and towards the clouds. He followed the flare until the sun’s rays forced him to look away. There was no ambiguity about what it was and he supposed Yelena knew what it was, too. “It looks like we’re not the only ones who made it out,” he smiled. But, then his smile disappeared. A red flare was a signal for regrouping, however, anyone could get their hands on a red flare. It would be nice if it was one of their comrades, but was it not also possible that an enemy had set off the flare? If the latter, well, Yelena and Octavius were in no condition to fight.

“Let’s follow it.” Octavius said. They could have easily circumnavigated the area from which the flare sprouted, however, that would only increase their march to Zion by a couple days at the very least. Neither he nor Yelena had any water or food, so they would most likely dehydrate if they stayed out in the Borderlands for any longer. As if reaffirming this potential prophecy, Octavius’s stomach roared to life and his throat clenched, simultaneously.

He swallowed. “Earlier, you said that you’d get me a drink if we survived the Lycan hoard,” Octavius tried for a laugh, but all that came from his throat was a cough. He coughed relentlessly into his armpit again and waited for the coughs to subside before he finished his sentence. “Well,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. His eyes became rheumy. “If we survive dehydration, physical exhaustion, and starvation, then we’ll drink as much as we want to celebrate our sudden immortality.”

This time he did laugh, but not for long. Around him and Yelena he noticed other figures emerging towards the area from which the flare arose. He could not discern who they were and gave them little thought. He was too tired to decide whether the sudden oblong shapes were either friend or foe.

They were all heading to the same place, after all. They were all heading to a sanctuary away from Sanctuary.

Didn’t that count for something?

[Sonic]

When the fire came, Amittay left.

Exhaustion made it difficult to operate his extremities. At first, he thought that he no longer had the capacity for escape, however, he had luckily found a way out of the Lycan hoard and the few Lycans that had noticed his escape were consumed by the fire.

He still had Letum’s sword. He had promised the Templar that he would return it, and Amittay was not one who sidestepped promises. He only hoped that Letum would be at Zion to retrieve the sword.

Amittay groaned with each step. His knees buckled, but he did not fall. He stopped. Then, he began moving again. He did not know in which direction he went. He hoped that it was towards Zion.

From the corner of his eyes he noticed Seleneda. He called out to her.

"Amittay!" Selenada gasped and forced herself to run over to him. Flinging her arms around him in relief she squeezed him tightly. "I was so worried I would never see you again. Are you okay?" She could ask herself the same question. She had never felt this exhausted in her life and with each movement her body protested against it. The pain on her side increased with each breath, the breeze stung her open cuts, her feet begged to rest and her arms were so heavy she didn't know how she lifted them to hug her friend.

"Can you believe what happened back there? It was like that man, if you could even call him that, was leading the end of mankind as we know it." Selenada pulled away from Amittay and continued to walk in the direction of Zion. It was nice to see a familiar face, the other Templars she was running with had either fallen behind, went back to help those left behind or charged forward, leaving her to make the trek to Zion on her own.

Amittay nearly collapsed when Selenada wrapped his arms around him. The feeling was both cataclysmic in the sense that he was certain that he would crack his skull on the earth, and comforting in the sense that he did not know if he would ever see his friend again and was happy to see her alive.

He fell in line with her pace. Letum’s sword rested by his side in his right hand. “I don’t want to remember what happened back there,” he said honestly. And he definitely didn’t want to talk about that man who had gutted Inquisitor Caleb. Amittay just wanted to forget it all.

He paused in his perambulations and for the first time really looked at the destination that they hoped to arrive. “We’ll never make it there…” he grimaced. “We’re both beat up, half our comrades are dead or on their way to be dead.” Sighing, he continued to walk, albeit at a slower pace than Selenada. “What’s the point in even going to Zion?”

He could feel that the momentum he had felt earlier when fighting with Yetum was draining.

"The point is," she scooted in front of him and made him stop walking so she could look him in the eyes, "the point is that we are alive. We might be broken and tired right now, but we made it. We still have purpose, we still have life to live. We need to get to Zion to take care of the wounded and help our Templar order move on past this tragedy." Even as she spoke she questioned her words, but she knew she what she was saying was true.

"Stay strong. God has a plan for us and even if we don't understand it we have to go with it, and I believe this is part of his plan. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger!" Selenada smiled and him and linked their arms together and continued walking towards Zion. "I'm sure we are going to be the last ones to arrive! Everyone is probably waiting on us." She prayed that at least one living soul would be waiting for them

[Black]

Ezra limped into camp, made sure that Trest got to nearest Medic and then turned and took a survey of those who had arrived. The numbers weren’t reassuring, that was for sure. He couldn’t see Templar Hill yet, but he was sure that Hill would be in before the day was out. First, Ezra needed to see to his own wounds before worrying about the status of his commanders. He departed Trest without a word and took a seat on a brick not far from Jerris, knowing that anything that needed to happen would be ordered by Jerris until Hill returned. Ezra began to strip the top half of his armour off, discarding it gently next to him in a very specific and ordered fashion. Then he undid the top of his shirt and pulled his shirt over his head, wincing with the effort of doing so. His entire chest seemed to be bruised, purple and yellow while an angry red set of scratches crisscrossed his chest where Lycanthropes had been skilled enough to score hits.

“That’s not a pretty sight,” Ezra said to himself quietly before poking and prodding various places to check for more substantial damage. All said and done, considering the amount of fighting Ezra did, he had escaped fairly unscathed. Ezra hailed down a Medic and secured some bandages and salves before shooing him away to deal with more serious cases. “Three ribs are fractured but not to an extensive degree, and the Lycan wound needs to be thoroughly cleaned of sweat, blood, and any diseases that Lycanthrope had on its claws,” Ezra said to no one in particular and then began to mercilessly scrub at his various wounds, spending careful thorough detail on each one before moving on. Overall he washed essentially his entire upper body before he was done, and then started to wrap himself in a tough gauze, pulling it tight over his wounds and wrapping it horizontally around his chest. With a final tug that made sure his body was held thoroughly together Ezra tied it off over his belly button.

Then Ezra pulled his spear out of its harness on his back and set it across his lap. With some water he poured it over the entirety of the blade, allowing the cool liquid to splash over the weapon and onto his lap, rinsing the bottom half of his body as well as his weapon. Then with a wire brush and clean cloth he began to vigorously care for his weapon, drawing out the blood and gore that had dried on it. It took him a good hour to clean the weapon to satisfaction and then from there he pulled out a whetstone and strop and began to care for the blade at the edge of his spear, getting it fit for battle again in short order due to the superior quality of the weapon.

He repeated the same thorough cleaning and honing with his sword and then began to strip his rifle down, using a toolkit he had strapped to the rifle case to help disassemble the weapon in rapid order, cleaning and oiling specific parts and running a rod through the barrel of his weapon several times with a cleaning agent until it came out clean on the fifth run-through. Then he applied a new cloth with a small amount of oil to said cloth and then ran it down the bore, pulling it out the other side and folding all of the cloth material in case he needed it. Satisfied his weapon was clean Ezra put the entire thing back together. This time, though he attached the bayonet to the end of his rifle before slinging it over his shoulder. Ezra knew he would need to acquire more ammunition before he could use it again, but it never hurt to be prepared to use it as an emergency weapon.

Ezra finally stood up and turned to Jerris, approaching the Templar and giving a crisp salute. “Templar Ezra Declan Atticus ready for duty. Permission to secure an advanced watch for the safety of the camp, Sir,” Ezra hadn’t slept for more than a day but it only showed in dark circles under his eyes. Everything else showed a battle-ready and calm Templar.

Jerris's grey eyes locked immediately on Ezra, and they narrowed slightly at the salute. The man was clearly exhausted, as was Jerris and almost every other Templar in the broken fortress. However, Ezra showed a distinguishable initiative and discipline that he felt other Templars should strive to attain. Regardless, he didn't return the salute, instead turning his attention back to the edge of the distant forest.

"I'm not your superior, Templar Atticus." Jerris's monotonous voice seemed to speak not to Ezra, but himself. "Do as you wish. Stay within earshot if you don't want to be left behind."

"Irrelevant, sir. You're the most senior Templar here until Senior Templar Hill's return. A chain of command should be established in preparation for the worst," Ezra dropped the salute, "However I will do as you advise and stay within shouting distance,"

Jerris bit his tongue at Ezra's retort, stepping back from a discussion of tactics. He didn't have the mental effort to reply to it, let alone distinguish whether he was right. He could call him what he wanted; whatever got their job done. Plus, it was certainly preferable to mutiny.

"Very well." He turned and walked directly past Ezra towards the broken archway of the fortress, his gaze diverted from the other Templar. "Be prepared to continue our retreat at a moment's notice."

[Scottie]

She had to count on herself. No one else was here. Only her shoes shuffling through the dirt around her. Only her ragged breaths as she forced herself to keep moving. She had turned back only once, the fire making her stumble. She had to hope that her fellow Templars escaped. But she saw no one. She was truly alone. In a brief moment of silence when she thought she could try to recover, Sophia bound her thigh with a strap of cloth, doing the same with her arm but both were shoddily done. One hand was tight on her bow, her knuckles white. Her fingers felt like they were made of stone. She kept moving, even as sleep nagged at her. With pain demanding her attention and the vague worry that she could be alone until she reached Zion. If she reached Zion. A faint image of where they were crossed her mind, there was no way she could reach Zion in one day. Not by herself. Not like this.

Hope burst upwards towards the rising sun. Red against the light pink sky. Her heart jumped to her throat, her eyes snapping towards the source. She settled them on a large lump in the distance. Staggering forward, her eyes flicking up every few seconds. Sophia gave little thought to anyone using the flare for false purposes, she went blindly towards it. Following it with pure hope that it would lead her to safety. To others. The hill slowed her down, her legs twinging with every step. The smoke was long gone from the sky, the flare tossed aside. The sun was up, a thin layer of sweat appeared over the dirt on her forehead. Each step taking more and more from her. Each step making her more and more angry with herself. She had stopped. She didn’t pay attention. She nearly had her arm ripped off and worse.

As she recognised the tumbled remains of an outpost, a weight dropped off her shoulders. She recognised faces, she heard shouts, she saw life. When Sophia reached the perimeter and finally felt safe, she dropped to her knees. Exhaustion plagued everyone here, pain a constant numbing reminder of what they had just left. She removed the bloody badly made bandage on her arm. Truly surveying the damage for the first time. How the flesh was torn, even those scales could not truly protect her. It looked worse than it felt, but she put that down to shock and spit. She muttered gently under her breath at her stupidity. A nearby medic threw a clean bandage to her, she replied with a faint thank you.

Pushing herself to her knees, the bandage tight in her fist. She scanned over the group of people, knowing a few. She gave them a brief nod before settling on the man who stood higher than all others. With him there waiting, she knew that Hills hadn’t arrived. She mind didn’t even conjure up the possibility that he wouldn’t arrive. For her, like many others, it was merely a matter of time. Sophia turned, fixating on a spot against a half demolished wall. She slumped before it, tending to the wound on her arm first. Or attempting to. Each attempt at winding the bandage failed. But she would persist. Certain that others were in more need of assistance. She would just bide her time, patch herself up as best as she could and await further orders.

[Yamimoon]

The morning sun was now rising in the east and the sky was staring to change from the darkest of black to pinks and oranges. A lone figure sat on a pile of rocks in the middle of nowhere looking to the horizon for only the briefest of moments. Letum always love to watch the sunrise as well as set, but he didn’t have the time to enjoy it as much as he would like. He knew that he was still in danger of being attacked by some stray Lycans, but he also knew that he needed to tend to his wound. However, right before he took his eyes away from the sky he saw the flare, and fallowed the smoke to where he would need to go.

Even though he was tired, and his body was not working as he would like it not only from the blood loss from his multiple wounds but the fact that he had been fighting most of the night against beasts that were far superior to him in strength. However, luckily for him he had been able to shake them off once the fire had started. He was also able to find what was left of the hover bikes. However they were trashed and he couldn’t use them. However when he inspected them he found a medical kit, and some Holy Fire oil that he knew would come in handy.

However, the only thing that still bothers him was what he heard while rummaging through the hover bikes. The sound of the life being choked out of someone. Then not long after that the sickening sound of bones being snapped. He shook his head as he began to work cleaning his wounds. If he didn’t get this taken care of now he would more than likely not make it to see the others. Therefore, he began to work on the hole in his side first. Unable to remove his he just used one of his bloody daggers to cut away the cloth around the injury, and then ripped it around to the back to reveal the back of the wound.

For once in a long time, he was actually feeling his body ach from the injuries he had received, and it was almost on the verge of actual pain. He continued to work through his libs fighting every motion, but nonetheless he cleaned out the wound as best he could. He knew that there was a chance of the wound getting infected, but there was nothing he could do about it. All he could do was hope for the best. He took some antiseptic and poured it into the wound. He didn’t feel the burning as it liquid did its job.

From there he cleaned and disinfected his dagger, then poured the Holy Fire oil on it. Then used a flint stone to igniting the fire. From there he placed in on his open wound searing it shut both front and back. Gritting his teeth from the pain. He actually felt this pain, but he refused to scream. As soon as he was done with this, he packed everything up, and once again started to make his way to Zion, though now he was making a pit stop first. Therefore, he slowly made his way to where the others were. He may be a Paladin class Templar, and able to run fast, but he was still quite tired form not getting any sleep, and his body was refusing the notion of even walking.

He knew that Templar Caesar would have survived the Lycan attack. He still needed to give him back his sword. Moreover, if he knew anything about the man he would make sure to give it back to him. Amittay was able to keep his promises whether they be unspoken or spoken. However right now he needed rendezvous with the others. For more than one reason. His supply of Dolor went up in smoke, and there was none in the medical kit he had found. If he didn’t take some soon, or get to a safe place he was going to be in danger.

It had taken him what felt like hours to reach the mountain that the flare came from, his limbs were still screaming at him, and he was even more tired that he was before. This made the climb to the top even harder, but he made it nonetheless, and once he reached the top he saw the others there waiting. He was starting to feel the pain of his injuries even more now that the drug in his system was starting to where off. However, he would deal with the pain until he could find some Dolor. He made his way through the temporary camp looking for any medical kits that might have what he was looking for.

[Iwazuma]

To be completely honest, if Trest hadn't had Ezra by his side, he likely would have been dead before even reaching the safe point. His cauterized leg was already starting to scar over, and even limping on it was starting to take its toll. Had a single Lycan not been fooled by his blood-mask facade, he would have been done for. As it was, he was using his staff for support, leaning on it for every other step, pain evident on his face as he continued to push himself forward. "Just a few steps more," he told himself. He had repeated that mantra since the pair had started moving. It was the only thing keeping him going.

Soon, a salvation arrived; the camp had finally come into view. Trest tried to pick up his pace, but only ended up falling flat on his face as his injured leg refused to go any harder. He required Ezra to help him to his feet, and even then needed him to stay by his side, helping him along. Things were looking grim for the young Templar; even if he did recover, he would never mentally be the same. After such a dark massacre, his innocence had been all but sapped from him; even now, Trest's mind was a blur of emotion, preconceived notions of the Templar way getting flushed down the mental drain for a new, horrid viewpoint. The Templars were no heroes. They were cannon fodder, sent out to die in an attempt to protect what chance humanity had left against the Scourge.

He gasped with exertion as he finally made it into the camp. A few Templars there gave him odd glances, but most paid him no heed; after all, injured soldiers were nothing new to many of them. Trest gave them no mind either, instead searching for the medical Templars that might be able to help him. It took a few minutes of limping around, but in time he found an unoccupied Templar to assist him with treatment. He laid down on a gurney, letting the Templar tear off what remained of his pant leg. Though he was not bleeding, the cauterized wound was still oozing a bit, and was already scabbing and scarring. It was extremely unlikely that Trest would recover without some sort of permanent mark. As the Templar got to work, Trest sighed and closed his eyes. He could rest. For now.

[Maya]

It was hard. Each step was exceedingly more difficult as Kiera and Anna tried to figure out what direction to even go in order to find some sort of safe harbor. The flair lit up the sky at just the right time. It was just the sign they needed to alter course and a symbol that someone out there still lived. Were they Templars? Was it a trick? There was almost a 'trust no one' mentality lingering in her mind after all they'd been through.

When they finally reached the location where the others had assembled, she was covered in blood, wreaked of lycans and the acrid smell from the flames and looked like hell had swallowed her up and spit her out at least twice. Her face was marred, her leather armor shredded to the bare skin below from the onslaught of the lycan attacks. Kiera might only be recognizable to the few who knew her best. But, it wasn't the aches and pains of a body used to wearing scars that caused the suffering she was trying so very hard to mask on her face. No, these pains would go much deeper than any wounds an enemy could wield. She walked into the encampment with a dark cloud over her head and a gut wrenching sadness in her heart she had hoped to never feel again. The depth of her sorrow made Kiera want to crawl into a deep hole and bury herself alive. But, she couldn't. She knew the heartbreaking task of informing someone of Isaac's death now rests on her shoulders.

Anna herself seemed to have taken the loss harder. She hasn't uttered a word ever since they retreated from the burning encampment. Every single muscle was sore, each step more painful than the last one, and the fresh slash marks across her back was absolutely excruciating. Her eyes seemed hollow, and her mind seemed to be elsewhere - obviously, she didn't have the strength or willpower to share the news of Isaac's death to the rest of the squadron.

Templar Catriona was soon dropped off to her fellow Templars, ones that already began to patch up her wounds. There were only a few of them left, and needed to look after one another more than ever. Especially since they didn't have a clear leader within the squadron, Jerris may be one of the more experienced soldiers and may display natural charisma, but there are others in this squadron who are also charismatic and even more ambitious: such as Yelena and Tannhauser. They could only hope that this entire squadron doesn't go into complete anarchy, when their first clear objective is to reach Zion first.

Kiera's burdens wouldn't end with dropping the bombshell. With a death of this magnitude, there was always a blame game and it was highly likely the blame for his death would land right on her shoulders. She and Anna were the only witnesses so they would be the ones most likely to draw the flames of anger. There were be questions about how, where, when. There was no way she'd be able to handle the scrutiny of those who were not there and did not witness the mayhem for themselves. Only those few who had stood face to face with the beast that killed him would ever truly understand the gravity of the situation or the magnitude of this blood thirsty fiend somehow set forth into their world. Kiera had questions..she had suspicions. But, now was not time to air them. Someone very special to the Templar order had been lost. His fellow Templar's deserved to know.

Her first thought was to locate Jerris. He was just as close to the Hill family as she had been. He deserved to know first before the whispers on the wind spread the story throughout the camp. She felt he'd be the best to inform the others as Jerris would be able to hold his composure and handle the situation calmly. A trait that would be greatly appreciated right now. Kiera...the woman who rarely showed emotion, aside from joking in the bar, had bloody hands that were literally shaking uncontrollably. She was trying her damnedest to keep it all together and not fall completely apart. Before she could even get the words out, he would likely know that Isaac would not be going home. Their conversation would be brief. "Isaac .." shaking her head. "He didn't make it."

They didn't even have the chance to bring back his wedding ring or his sword. Mementos that should belong to Kaitlyn. "If you would, inform the others. ..maybe take charge? I don't even know who's left to lead." How she was still standing was anyone's guess.

Kiera was broken, angry, sad and now responsible for a little girl who would have to be told her daddy was never coming back. She'd had a lot to try and process process in an extremely short amount of time. The weight of it all left her struggling to control the sheer rage she felt inside. Especially after looking around at the condition of the survivors. Bloodied, broken, beaten and bruised. This bedraggled group had no chance at all of surviving if the lycans attacked Zion.

Sanctuary would be next. The renowned Templar order, the best of the best had been forced to tuck tail and run. "How did this all get so fucked up! What the hell happened?!" Kicking angrily at the ground as if it was somehow to blame.

Kiera had already borne the guilt and regret of not being able to save Isaac. What followed next was anger. A surge of balled up rage which wanted to lash out at someone. Anyone. One would think she would focus on the lycan's leader. The man/beast that was somehow stronger than any foe they had ever seen before. But, no..it wasn't the hybrid that concerned her most. Oh, he was smart, agile, strong and a true menace; but, such a creature did not come to be born out of thin air. During that long walk from the battlefield, her brain had been going over a few things. More than one question stuck out in her mind. How had the lycan's known where the Templar's would camp for the night? Had they been told the Templar's had went to the mines? The biggest issue she was chewing on hard was the irony that a hybrid lycan with amazing strength and cunning could suddenly appear not long after their own leader's had been denied the chance to capture a few of them for 'testing' to find their 'weaknesses'. Coincidence? She didn't think so.

[TheDoctor]

He...didn't make it.

It was a concern that had crept in the back of his mind, growing stronger and more tangible with every Templar that showed up. Of course he had considered it, of course it was a real possibility in the midst of the chaos from the previous night. There were no correct answers, no solutions that could satisfy the problem at hand. Insubordination would run rampant, for there was no official chain of command beneath Senior Templar. If the situation were not handled with utmost caution, the result could be more disastrous than their current predicament already was.

Damn it all. The man was dead, and all Jerris considered was how to clean up the mess.

As Kiera kicked at the ground, Jerris seized her by the arm forcefully enough to demand attention. He stared into her eyes momentarily, his gaze icy and cold, before speaking in a hushed yet strong whisper. "Regain your composure, Templar Sanford." His whisper grew slightly louder and less insistent. "Senior Templar Hills said he would rendezvous at Zion. The circumstances of your separation do not warrant your agitation. Now that we have orders, we will carry them out until he returns as head of command." He released her arm gently and turned away, refusing to make eye contact as he entered the fortress where the other Templars resided. Confusion was expected, but he didn't want to give her time to question it. Even if she were to do so, he didn't have time to explain it to her.

They still had to make it to Zion in one piece.

When he entered the central room of the desolate structure, Jerris located the pack on the broken hoverbike and withdrew a metal pan from inside. Talk between the Templars was suddenly replaced by the loud clanging of metal against stone as he rapidly hit the pan against the crumbling wall, and he spoke up from his usual deadpan tone when their attention was on him. "Senior Templar Hills is shaking a pack of Lycans off of his scent, and therefore cannot rally here. We have orders to rendezvous with him in Zion."

Another clang echoed through the chamber as he dropped the pan back into the pack, and his eyes landed upon Anna. She arrived with Kiera, and while that did not guarantee awareness of the Senior Templar's death, it made it much more likely. He glared into her eyes, retaining contact just long enough to parley what need to be said: Don't say a word.

"Bring only bare essentials." Jerris broke his stare with Anna and knelt down next to the pack on the broken bike. "We leave for Zion in twenty minutes."

He didn't make it.

[SikstaSlathalin]

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul:
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: for thou art with me;
Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:
Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever." Orfiel mumbled quietly to himself as he stomped through the thick underbrush northeast of the still burning camp. He had lost track of his remaining comrades in the black acrid smoke of his own fire trap. All he needed to know was the Lycan Horde was behind him and he needed to head in the opposite direction of them.

The rattling remnants of his armor and shield shuddered with each heavy step. The big man felt like his muscles were made of heavy iron and his bones were only wood. The steps were slow, but forever moving. He had fallen into a blank-minded sync just lifting his right leg and stepping forward than lifting his left leg bringing it forward and planting it forward. Focusing his mind on the endless solidity of walking and breathing, his hands weakly grasping his warped, but loaded blunderbuss. This would be his only defense, his arms were too heavy to throw anything resembling a decent punch. Locking his arms at 90 degrees hoping the stiffness would help keep it up. Despite actively focusing on just moving his feet Big O couldn't stop himself from thinking on what he and hopefully many of his fellow Templars have just lived through. A monster not only able to easily kill an experienced Monster Hunter, but able to command a literal army of Lycans and sic them on a group of trained monster hunters with perfect confidence in it's orders. How many Templars even those from the past can even grasp such a horrific concept let alone claim to have seen it? He was doubting it and he actually did see it.

Shaking the dark thoughts out of his head Big O came to the top of a small rise and blinked through exhausted eyes beginning to go blurry from the continued exertion. Taking a seat on a rock he placed his head in his hands and rubbed the heels against his aching eyes. He must've gone too far away from where everyone else had gone. He was the only man for miles with only the whispering wind and swaying scrub grass to keep him company. He's lived in the Borderlands most of his life, slept under the stars, hid in caves when he heard or saw Scourge Beasts on the horizon, and lived on a constant cocktail of fear and luck. Those years were rough, and he used to think that now he has the abilities of a Crusader he could thrive out here, but if that man wasn't a unique freak of nature his training and confidence would mean nothing, he'd be right back in the shoes of that scared young man running and hiding at the first sign of trouble. No, living out here alone wasn't an option anymore, if the Scourge Beasts were discovering leaders and allying with each other, not even Sanctuary and the entire Order would be able to stand alone against them.

His vision cleared up and he lifted his head to the sky, just in time to see a red flare go up into the sky. Following the tail Orfiel saw a structure that he's sure wasn't there before. No one would just pop flare like that, not out here. That must be where his comrades were...or at least where some people where, maybe he'd be able to barter passage to Zion if that was the case. Stirring his extra heavy body Orfiel the Repenter moved as fast as he could manage moving towards the dying flare and the shadowy building it shot up from. Hope added fire and energy to his limbs and he watched with a touch of excitement as the old fort grew in his vision and he saw people walking along the battered ramparts. He was too tired to hail any of them so with a simple nod at anyone who saw him he walked through the gates. Following the flow of traffic O found himself near the central room of the fort and heard Jerris's announcement that Senior Templar Hill was chasing some Lycans and they were supposed to leave for Zion in twenty minutes. O sighed heavily shaking his head, the plan wasn't a good one, they should wait and recover a little. But the Crusader would follow the plan as far as he could.

[☆Catwoman☆]

The weariness was worse than the pain. Yelena could hardly complain about the latter, considering it stemmed mostly from aching muscles rather than the grisly injuries many of her fellows sported. It was a dismal sight, this beaten and bloodied group of Templars now taking refuge and respite in a crumbling ruin. So few...so few had returned thus far, and so many were left behind as a meal for Lycan bellies and carrion feeders. It was a day for heavy hearts.

There had been no rest for the Knight since she and Octavius had stumbled in. Isaac had not yet arrived, and Jerris seemed to be the one many were looking to for guidance in his absence. Yelena understood why; he was a hard man, stern and merciless, and right now his immoveable nature was like a beacon of hope to those who had just had their lives shattered. The young woman had caught his eye once, and briefly nodded her respect.

But there were things to do for those still capable of doing them. She was fortunate not to have been badly injured, so she helped tend to the needs of the present. She bandaged wounds, brought what little food and water was available to those in most dire need of it, offered fiery words to those whose spirits had broken and whose flames needed rekindling. Yelena was exhausted, but she could sleep, as they say, when she was dead.

The Knight perked up when she saw two more welcome faces appear: Kiera and Anna. The latter was almost immediately apprehended by those acting as medics while the former made a bee-line for Jerris. It did Yelena's heart good to see the youngest member of their Order alive, and she walked to Anna and rested a hand on her shoulder in welcome, a small smile curling her lips. But there was something in the girl's face that gave her pause, and the Chevalier was clothed in dark silence. Yelena wondered what horrors the young woman had seen, and how quickly she would recover from them. She gave Anna's shoulder a sympathetic squeeze, then let her be.

Her attention turned to Jerris and Kiera, out of earshot. Kiera was clearly upset, enraged even, and Jerris grabbed her arm roughly and said something to her. His expression was mired in its usual coldness, unreadable. He walked away from Kiera, and Yelena's eyes followed him to the hover bike and then to the wall where he began banging the pot he had procured against the stone. The quiet conversations around them stopped as attentions turned to the veteran.

After he declared that they would leave in a mere twenty minutes to rendezvous with Hills in Zion, conversation grew a little louder. Mostly groaning, she noted, and indeed Yelena wondered how many of the more grievously wounded could make it to Zion at such a harsh pace. She sighed and made her way back to Octavius.

"How did this happen?" she murmured to the Blackguard as she began gathering her belongings, keeping her voice low. "How did Isaac get so separated from the rest of us? And now he's running off to Zion all on his own with a pack of Lycans on his tail, like a damn hero from some damn wives' tale."

Her vision swam, darkened around the corners and then deepened until her sight was little more than pinpricks, pupils dilating in a desperate attempt to let in more light. Her hearing muffled, ears ringing, and her skin felt clammy and hot. A wave of weakness and nausea washed over her and she eased herself to the ground to rest until the episode passed.

Damn, but she was tired.

[Sonic]

Octavius did not pay much attention to the few Templars meandering into this temporary base of operations. When he had arrived with Yelena, what he first saw was a well near the western walls. He had lumbered wantonly towards it only to find that the well was empty, which meant that these ruins had been abandoned for some time. But, of course they had. Ruins normally were.

Thankfully, a fellow Templar offered him a drink from his canteen. Octavius had refused the offer at first—the Templar seemed just as thirsty as he—however, after only one more insistence, Octavius relented. He took several sips from the container to get his throat wet. From above the lip of the bottle he noticed Yelena meandering about the area, bandaging one Templar and then another.

“Pass it around if you’d like,” the Templar who had given Octavius the canteen offered. Octavius hesitated but did not turn down this offer. He screwed on the cap of the bottle and navigated towards Yelena. He had only taken several steps when Jerris gave out the command. Octavius grimaced but did not offer a retort.

“Strange, isn’t it?” Octavius said when he and Yelena had regrouped. However, he wasn’t sure if she had heard him, which was fine, really. Even before she had begun speaking, Octavius could tell that she was tired. Of course, he was, too.

When Yelena eased herself to the ground, Octavius followed her. He brought one knee close to his chest and wrapped his arms around it whilst placing his chin atop it. He then allowed his other leg to sprawl away from him. Just as soon as he did this, however, he remembered the water bottle in his hand.

“Take a few sips and then pass it around,” he offered her the canteen. “If we’re going to Zion then we’d better make sure that were in…better shape than we are now.” He squinted and looked at Yelena, as if for the first time. “Will you be alright to make the trip?” He knew that it didn’t matter whether or not she was alright. If they stayed here then the Lycan hoard would catch up to them, and kill them. Still, it was nice to ask, wasn’t it?

Octavius shrugged and glanced at Jerris. He respected the man. Octavius supposed that many of the Templars did. Nevertheless, he didn’t seem quite cut out to be a leader. Octavius wasn’t being mean. He was just thinking. And, if Jerris really thought that this crew could make it to Zion, and evade the Lycan hoard…

Well, what was that saying about biting off more than you could chew?

[Aureyon]

So it was done, he had completed the field test and held no recollection of what had occurred. It was the proverbial 'second chance' for both him and his family. He could build up his family name all the while starting a new life for himself, and that in itself was enough for him. He didn't know where he was going to go from here, but he was certain that he would be receiving orders soon.

Templars weren't known for their dawdling after all, and truth be told he didn't want to stand around in a stasis. He wanted to get out there and make a name for himself, though he would certainly have to be careful about the way he went about it. His family name, should it be discovered, would likely cast a shadow over his path to redemption and reclamation, and he didn't want that. He didn't want to turn out like his own parents did, drowning himself in liquor because of his own failures, nor did he want to see his own children turn out the same way.

He would make a better life, he had to.

"Swift, you passed! That's awesome!", the familiar voice of one of the few people that he trusted in Zion shattered his inner thoughts. He turned to the voice with a soft smile and answered equally as kind. "Thank you, Zachary. Your faith in me has been appreciated and noted, I will not forget you my friend. You can always count me as an ally in whatever obstacles you shall face, you have my word."

He flinched inwardly at his own words. It sounded as if he were making a declaration of love to Zachary. He had always been awkward at talking to others, even those that he trusted, but there was no mistake that his loyalty - when it had been earned - was iron-clad. He offered a soft smile as the younger initiate across from him smiled eagerly. The two of them had hit it off from the start, though it took a while for Swift to allow him to weed his way into his life.

Now, there was little that Swift wouldn't do for Zachary, especially as it was Zachary who had helped him through some of the tougher points of training and preparation.

"Aw, you're about to make me burst into tears, Swift," another newly inducted Templar perked up from his bunker bed, glancing at the two at the center of the barracks room. A few more templars were around but were taking a well-deserved rest after their 'field test.' Who knows what happened? No one can actually remember, and it was ill-advised to discuss it amongst peers. Regardless, rumors always scatter about, especially since quite a few people didn't... make it... through the field test.

The Templar, whose full name goes by Aaron Harper (http://pre06.deviantart.net/2b41/th/pre/i/2013/130/8/8/comm__hael_by_chuumink-d64rxiw.jpg), grinned widely. He was mainly poking fun at Swift, whom he knew wasn't really the best when it comes to social situations. Regardless, he liked the guy - he was a hard worker. "I swear, both you and Zachary should... ROOM TEN-HUT!"

Suddenly, all of the Templars stood at the position of the attention. It was quite the interesting scene to watch a few Templars jump out of their beds and to immediately stand tall with their backs straight and hands pinned to the seam of the pants. Aaron called the room to attend, because he saw a commanding officer walked right into the barrack room - which military procedure requires to display respect and discipline.

"Stand at ease, everyone!" Inquisitor David Alexius halted with his steps and stood near the front of the room. The Inquisitor's eyes were quite stern, which was an unusual sight because he was a rather easy-going and light-hearted fellow. His second-in-commander, Senior Templar Rebekah Stryker (http://img09.deviantart.net/a33c/i/2013/357/0/b/half_plate_warrior_by_len_yan-d6z5qo7.jpg), stood right behind him. Like Alexius, Rebekah is normally a light-hearted individual as well, but her facial expression appeared completely grave.

"Everybody, we have a situation that we need to handle within the next 24 hours," Inquisitor Alexius stated aloud. "I need each and every single one of you to get your equipment ready... this is not a drill... this a real life scenario and I need all of you to prepare for a possible upcoming battle. Now, get yourselves read, immediately," he quickly turned around, apparently leaving behind only vague words to his squadron.

Aaron was the first one to react, "Inquisitor Alexius, may I ask a question?" he shot his fist up, raising his arm.

The Inquisitor halted, briefly sighing. "Senior Templar Stryker will brief you all on the rest of the details, get yourselves ready." And with that, the Inquisitor immediately left the barracks room, and the atmosphere in the area already became tense.

The order had been given, and no sooner had the Inquisitor left the barracks had Swift sprang into motion quickly abandoning any previous thoughts to the conversation that had sprouted between himself and Zachary. He even allowed the good hearted jab towards him by another of the Templars in his regiment, Aaron, he believed his name was. When he was issued an order he followed it to a tee, save for when it directly contradicted his own beliefs.

It was mere moments, aided by his newly minted reflexes working in graceful synchronization and he was prepared to leave the barracks with his armor situated neatly on his form. He stooped and picked his bow up from the bed and placed it in his quiver before making his way towards Zachary once again. All traces of humor or energy that may have rested in his eyes before the Inquisitor's visit was erased as the tension and excitement permeated the air in the barracks.

"Stay near me Zachary, no matter what happens you will remain by my side." There was no room for question or argument, his words were as iron as was the conviction that laced them. Whatever was coming, it was serious because even the Inquisitor and the Senior Templar were unusually grave. It led him to believe that it had something to do with the Scourge Beasts, rumors had it that they were growing more bold by the day.

After his friend was finished preparing he remained by the younger mans side, his eyes falling upon the Senior Templar in expectation.

Templar Harper stood near both Zachary and Swift, completely adorned with his battle armor and ready for their first challenge as Templars of the holy order. Even though his facial expression was stern, because the seriousness of the situation demanded it - Harper was extremely eager to prove himself in their first real assignment. He idealized the Templars, and was more than prepared to face against the Scourge Beasts.

The Senior Templar stood before all of the Templars who the barrack room, who naturally formed themselves into elements. Senior Templar Stryker sighed, preparing herself to deliver a brief that may shock the entire squadron.

"Alright, everyone... listen very closely. We have received word from Archon Denaris... there has been numerous reports of something terrible going on... and we fear that it may be too late to stop it... I only pray that the reports that we have received are completely untrue."

"There is never a 'too late'." His words were simple and short. His tone determined and steadfast, it was clear that Swift had already decided on his course of action. No matter what he faced, he would do his utmost to prevail against it. His eyes flashed briefly to his young friend before he returned his eyes to the Senior Templar.

If he was shocked by the news of the report, he did not show it, rather his conviction only increased and his stance took on a rigid air. He was going to protect what he had come to care for, his friends and his fellow Templars.

[IronQuill]

With a snake’s patience, Iago bid his time waiting for the right time to head the signal flare of his surviving fellows. He mourned for none of them, not even for his comrade Creed, they all knew the risk of coming to the tainted lands even if the danger came to them in an unexplainable way. Through the gaze of a telescope, Iago made a head count of how many Templars sought shelter in the ruins. He was impressed to many see more than he expected to survive, even the fool Tannhauser made it out with his hide still intact.

Iago chuckled at Tannhauser from his perch in a tree, that stood a long way from the ruined fort a half mile away from where he figured himself to be. The Crusader collapsed like sack of rocks and dragged in by aide workers by his arms. The man looked unharmed but the weight of his exquisite armor made his flight undoubtedly backbreaking.

“Pitiful Templars, how badly you suffer.”

Once Tannhauser vanished into the fort, Iago decided that the Templars that made it were sufficient for his purposes. The Archon demanded many pawns for his game, even ones who knew not their purposes. He dropped from the tree with barely a hint of noise, the crunching of earth under his soft boots the only sign of his presence. He remounted his hover bike and sped for the ruins.

Upon arrival, he greeted his fellows as Iago the Fool, now somber and grim like the others. “Well met my friends, Iago feels blessed you are alive…” He said to those he passed by as he headed deeper into the ruins. He made a more precise headcount as who came back alive, those who mattered were alive much to Iago’s pleasure and those who didn’t, like Tannhauser who sat huddled in a corner in a mire of his sweat and misery, proved to be worthwhile entertainment for the Spy’s black heart.

He ventured deeper into the ruin and had found Templar Kiera and Jerris just around a corner, two who were very close to the Senior Templars Hills. And yet… No Hills. Where could he be? This seemed most suspicious to Iago and wanted to know why. He stopped at the corner his foot falls making no noise and his form slowly fading into the background as he watched the two templars’ quiet exchange. Kiera was angry, as he expected her to be, but Jerris stood out better to Iago. The ever stoic young man moved with a stiffness that Iago knew as one only born from a man who rarely acted with emotion but suddenly had it boiling in his veins. He caught the Templar's harsh whisper and understood instantly.

Hills has fallen…

Iago grimaced but then smiled, lips curved like a scimitar. If Hills is dead, then that means his plans must be altered greatly, but Iago could adapt. In fact he could see opportunity already. With Hills dead, this meant that the roles he and the Inquisitor left must be filled by those who already hold sway among the Templars. Templars who Iago could nudge here and there to fit his needs...

[Yamimoon]

Letum had finally found what he needed in the medical kits that other Templars were using to treat some of the more severely injured Templars that had arrived at the keep. Taking a couple of the lower dose of Dolor to keep himself stable. He would be no good to anyone if he started to have withdrawals from his addiction. He knew that he needed his wounds attended to so he reluctantly allowed one of his fellow Templars to tend to his wounds, but he refused to remove his shirt. He would not allow anyone to see the bran on his back.

Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Caesar had made it to the outpost, and still had his sword. Well an unwritten promise was still as good as one sealed in blood, and he kept his. Though for now he would gust let the man hold onto his sword for the moment. He was too tired to really move from the spot he was being attended at. Too much had happened in such a short amount of time it was almost too much to comprehend. He allowed his senses to dull, and that allowed him to rest a little.

Then the arrival of Templar Sanford was what brought Letum back to his senses. He watched, as she looked distressed, and she moved swiftly as she could to see Templar Greymir. The look in her eyes as she passed him were that of not only retreat, pain, but a sense of blame. Letum had never seen her like this, but in the end they were all human. Even he did some things this night that he thought he would never in a million years do.

Now his curiosity was peeked, and he enhanced his hearing to see what the two Templars were going to talk about. He knew that curiosity killed the cat, but this was fare more worse than he ever would have thought. He kept a poker face as he heard the news of what happened to Senior Templar hills, and a little of the color ran out of his face as he realized the sound of strangulation he had heard were that of Hill’s himself.

Taking a couple of deep breaths to keep himself calm, he just pretended to know nothing as Templar Greymir made his announcement. However, out of the corner of his eye he saw that Iago the fool had been listening to the conversation between the two Templars before they had come out. His eyes narrowed. What was that little snake doing? He seemed to have a relaxed mannerism, and was too calm for what was all happening. He didn’t know what was going on, but he would need to keep an eye on this man. He had known for a time that he was more than he seemed, and this situation proved it.

Now they had only twenty minutes to get ready, so Letum forced himself to stand. There was nothing he could do now, and the only one in the group of Templars able to lead was the one man he just couldn’t stand. “Well this is just peachy.” Letum said as he started to gather what he thought he would need for the trek.

[Black]

It was an uneventful watch. Templars stumbling in one by one or in groups, supporting each other and painting a grim picture of hopelessness and despair. It would've been enough to drive anyone off the deep end. "I'll have to keep an eye out for troublemakers and those who would give up too easily," Ezra said to himself quietly.

Ezra heard the command and came in from his watch. A smart man would put 2 and 2 together and divine the true nature of Hills' situation. Nothing could be done, though, and Jerris was making the proper call here. The situation was dire no matter which way you sliced it. Ezra moved into the camp and readjusted his gear for a marching load, getting his stuff oriented to sit evenly on his hips and shoulders before moving over to stand near Jerris. The group was fragile already and until Hills made it back it would continue to deteriorate, especially with Jerri's refusing to take command of the situation. Ezra understood well enough his reasons, but right now they didn't need a friend and mentor like Hills was to a majority of them. They needed a cold and calculating hand making the hard calls to get them back to safety and respite.

What they really needed was a leader who didn't sacrifice his damn self every single chance he got. Everyone wanted to be a hero, everyone wanted to be a legend. Ezra knew that vanity would be the death of many more templar leaders as it already had been. Nothing could be done about it, heroics and hedonism were idolized. Not that Ezra could say much, having gone back for Trest despite the Templar obviously not yet being worthy of the name.

Must be a heat of the moment thing, Ezra thought to himself. Maybe there's a personality type that attracts specific types of Templar to the group. Gazing around, Ezra's eyes roamed from Jerris to Trest, from Anna to Yelena. Hopefully they all survived the next coming days.

[Maya]

"Regain your composure, Templar Sanford."

She was teetering on the brink of a complete breakdown. Jerris was rightly justified in forcibly yanking Kiera back to the reality they were facing. Her brain needed to be firmly planted in the here and now. Everything else, the mourning, the frustration, the anger, would have to wait. Her gaze slowly lifted to listen to Jerris as he relayed Isaac's orders. There were a lot of things people might complain about when it came to Kiera; but, being stupid wasn't one of them. She would fully understood the gravity of why he did what he was about to do. Those orders were met with a slow nod of understanding. "Yes sir." Now was not the time nor the place to fall apart. This team was no where near out of danger. They still had to get everyone who remained back to Zion. After taking a few deep breaths, Kiera somehow managed to put a lid on what had taken place and pull herself back together. She'd follow the path Jerris had taken inside the fortress to take stock of how many Templar's were gathered inside. In the back of her mind, there was no doubt she was thinking of the one who would not be joining them.

Many of the Templars were busy patching each other up after the melee. Medical care became no more than an afterthought in her mind. She'd wave off anyone who tried to even offer such as there was no time. Kiera was sporting the same wounds received in the mines along with a relatively new array of nasty, jagged gashes on her face, stomach and legs after the lycan attacks; but, if there was any pain, she hid it well. Her plan was to just keep moving through thick or thin. There was no time for anything else. All she inquired about was water. Some to drink and some to wash as much of the now dried blood, dirt and grime off which had coated her face until it had dried and now looked like a death mask. The body can go without food for a very long time. Hydration was a different story when dealing with oppressive heat. Drinking was the one and only priority before the next part of their journey began . She made use of the little time they had left by finding a corner to herself and taking inventory of what few weapons still remained in her arsenal. Which wasn't many at all. A few daggers, the wrist blade and the short blade strapped to her thigh. No sword, no arrows and even what little protective gear she had worn was shredded to the point it afforded little in true protection.

Kiera scanned the faces, taking a mental note of who remained. Octavius, Yelena, Marcella, Anna, Selenada, Amittay. There were others who managed to survive the onslaught as well. While it was a wee bit of a relief, the number of souls lost was far greater than normal. She almost went to check on Anna; but, thought better of it for now. The young Templar had others whom she could seek comfort from in more ways than she would be able to offer. Unlike her, Anna seemed to have a good support system to lean on. Kiera had her moments where she could be engaging and fun; but, for the most part, seemed to sequester herself from the others. More so now that she was unable to talk about what had taken place until Isaac's loss was given out in an official manner. When you can't be strong be stubborn. Words her step-mother had told her once when she was nine and being teased by a rambunctious boy who kept blocking her from crossing the street. Sure, she could have taken another path and avoided the boy altogether. In Kiera's stubbornness, he found himself the new owner of a busted nose and two missing teeth. She's been stubborn ever since. It would be that same stubborn determination that would get her through now.

[SikstaSlathalin]

Big O hadn't rested much. He was helping the Medics heal his worse off comrades, and when he wasn't doing that he was helping others build a cart of sorts to carry the injured Templars who couldn't walk. Being busy helped keep his mind off his own problems and the grim future ahead of them. And stopped him furthering the doubt growing in his mind that the Senior Templar was not chasing Lycans, but was in fact dead which would make more sense in the Crusader's mind. Just one man running away and making a scene wouldn't be enough to deter the Alpha Lycan who was set on wiping out the Templars in one swoop.

As noble as such an action would be, it wouldn't work for this long. He didn't even think his inferno would work for long. By rights the monster should've been on them by now, unless they had more in mind than just killing as many Templars as possible. Maybe they had set targets on top of the massacre, Isaac would be at the top of any perceived hitlist. And even he couldn't outrun them for long, if had was playing decoy he'd be dead by now anyway. So all facts and theories pointed to Senior Templar Hills being dead no matter how you try to delude yourself. Shaking his head Orfiel went back to his duty of tightening the wheel on the cart. They had only the one cart from supplies scavenged from the ruins and the hoverbike.

It rolled and it could hold a few people, now they just needed someone to haul it. Looking around only a Crusader could really do this job, and the few Crusaders left weren't in the best condition, nor could he bring himself to ask this of any of them. Standing up he stretched out his stiff back and nodded gently lifting the cart and grips the crossbeam pushing it ahead of him forcing it the front of the ruins. He parked it and walked to Jerris nodding slowly
"Myself and some others have built a cart for the injured or tired. We shouldn't leave anyone behind, can you assist in spreading the word please?"

[Scottie]

She cursed under her breath again. Fucking bandage didn’t stay still. She was starting to lose her temper. But she continued on. Not noticing the others when they arrived. She need to fix her arm. Then the marks on her stomach. She removed the blackened skin and scales with her sole surviving knife, pushing it deep into the sand when she was finished. When it finally was tied tight enough, she thumped her head back against the soft stone. Finally allowing herself time to flick her eyes over those who survived. She noted a few missing. Infact a few important figures had failed to turn up. Senior Templar Hills being one. She would never expect him to be late. But then again. She would expect him to stay behind to save others, to help wounded make the journey or even fight off until his last burst of energy.

She didn’t move from her spot when Jerris entered the limelight. Sophia merely watched and listened. She didn’t have anything to add. See. He was forcing the beasts away. He was doing his job. She didn’t have any concerns for him. Her concerns surprisingly were on the wounded who were dotted around. She was mainly worried that she would be included as one. That she would be left behind if she couldn’t keep up. Essentials…Yes because I was going to bring my grand piano and butler with me, she thought snidely. She pulled herself up to standing, looping her bow over onto her back. Wincing gently as it brushed the burst skin.

Tugging the knife from the sand, she tried to slot back into place. This time on her thigh holster, the wound there still stung but it was better than it was before. She cracked her neck and glanced over at the small group. The ones who always seemed to know what was going on. She watched them for a few moments, trying to read their expressions. Something was wrong. But as long as they survived today it could wait for another day. She rested herself against the rock, waiting for a signal of sorts. She flipped the knife gently in her hand, she hated not knowing what their next step was. But for now, all she could do was wait and hope that Hills would return soon to settle their minds and lead them.

[☆Catwoman☆]

Yelena took the canteen from Octavius with a trembling hand, weakly nodding her thanks. She meant only to sip, but had taken two gulps before she could stop herself. Meager as it was, the Knight felt a little bit better. She even managed to flash Octavius a grin when he asked if she would make the trip.

"Only if you carry me," she jested. Yelena let her eyes roam over the slowly growing numbers of Templars gathering within the ruins, several rushing here and there to prepare for the impending departure. Orfiel and a few others had constructed crude carts, she saw. Good; it would be needed for the most direly wounded.

Yelena climbed back to her feet, wincing as her head throbbed, but otherwise hiding how much effort the small movement had taken. As a Templar hurried past, she handed off the canteen to him, requesting that it continue to be passed around. He gave a nod, placing a hand appreciatively on her shoulder, then darted off once more. Yelena returned to her previous task of checking and securing her belongings, which she might have done a few times more than necessary.

Her eyes took in Octavius from time to time, resting on the rough ground nearby. It was, perhaps, hardly the time to admire the young man, but what the hell; they could be dead in a few hours, so she decided to enjoy the view while she still could.

The thought made her frown. Her pessimism bothered her, though some might call it realism, and after what they had all just been through, no one would blame her for the dour thought. Yelena was not religious, nor prone to fatalistic views; she did not believe her survival to be an act of God or Fate. It was mostly luck with a dash of skill, and it could run out on the trek to Zion. The going would be slow with so many injured, and anything could happen in the Borderfields, especially with a pack of Lycans led by some psychotic hybrid prowling around somewhere.

Hybrid. She wasn't sure how she had reached that conclusion, but she pushed it from her mind. She had managed to avoid thinking about him thus far, and she did not intend to start doing so now. It was an enigma for another time.

She looked again at Octavius, and felt an odd determination settle itself within her.

Whatever happens, she thought with a fierceness that startled her, I won't let him die.

[Iwazuma]

"...ke....up....est..."

"Uh?" Trest blinked, still too tired to focus.

"Wake up Trest..." Trest blinked again, this time sitting up as he blearily focused on his surroundings. Right, he was in the medical ward of the makeshift camp. He sat up, glancing at the medic who smiled at him warmly.

"You dozed off there, Trest! I got your leg cleaned and bandaged. You should be able to walk on it, but it might sting some, so be careful." The medic gave another friendly smile, which Trest merely nodded back at, a deadpan look in his eyes.

"Yeah..thank you." Yes, thank you. I'll be able to prolong my death at Lycanthrope's fangs for another few hours. Trest was shocked such a despairing, pessimistic thought could come from him. Was he really so jaded from what had just happened? N-no. Focus...on...positives... Many of the Templars had survived the attack, even though he recalled that weird...hybrid...guy...saying he would exterminate them all, or something like. That alone proved he was not quite in control as he claimed. Trest sighed. Senior Templar Hills would help them out of this situation, surely.

But where was he? Trest saw many familiar faces; Yelena and Octavius, Jerris over looking like he was directing things, but no Senior Templar. Trest furrowed his brow. He had believed he and Ezra were among the last few to make it back...was it possible he...?

NO! Stay. Positive. As much as he could tell himself that, the prospect was getting harder and harder by the minute. What if he didn't make it back? With the Inquisitor dead, he was the last pillar of strength and hope Trest had for the group. If he was gone...he...How many times do I have to say it? Positive...positive... Trest sighed, the young man gingerly walking about the encampment, getting used to the gentle throbbing of his leg as he took his steps. This was gonna hurt for a few weeks.

He had to ask someone. With little idea of who to ask, he picked the first person he saw at the time: Jerris. He made his way to the soldier, eyeing him concernedly. "Templar Jerris," he said with the training of a soldier, but the voice of a timid teenager. "What are our orders? Have we seen Senior Templar Hills? I'm sorry, I was unconscious and being tended to the last several minutes or so, I am a little behind..."

A gruff response of "He will be back shortly" was all he got. Not very reassuring, nor was it particularly heartening. Trest gulped and looked away. Would he really? Or did something just plain awful happen?

[RedKayne]

Anna Catriona sat there in silence, letting the medics bandage her up. The pain from the severe wound on her back already began to dissipate, with the painkilling herbs covering the claw marks. Once the medics job were done, they moved on to others that needed the dire help. She sat alone, ignoring most of the others - even Yelena as she patted the young girl on the shoulder.

Her face was completely dark and morbid, as she constantly replayed that scene at the burning encampment. The scene where the Lycan hybrid, or alphas, or whatever the fuck he was... slashed off Isaac's arm... and then when he shattered Isaac's sword and slashed across his chest. The blood and fire stained the memories of the young Templar's mind.

She sat up, clinging to her knees tightly. The words of that... monstrosity... were still very vivid in her mind. The one memory where he approached her, intending to take away her life in an attempt to goad Sanford into a futile battle. There was one thing that she caught... however... one small yet important thing, and she doesn't believe that Sanford caught the vital information.

"So who shall I behead next?" the Lycan leader questioned aloud. "The Senior Templar?" he questioned, briefly glancing at the kneeling Isaac. Then, his eyes shifted towards the younger Templar, "Or perhaps this youngling over here?" He took a few steps towards Catriona, slowly raising up his blade.

"The Senior Templar?"

The man... he was well-aware that Isaac was a Senior Templar. He wasn't just some random abomination that lead the Lycans, he was aware of the ranking system of the Templar Order. That was the main reason why he goaded the Inquisitor into a battle as well, before he set off his 'children' on to the rest of the squadron. The Lycan killed off their strongest warrior first, to decrease the amount of Lycans slain in battle. He was even aware of the Inquisitor's tactics, and easily countered Caleb's signature chakram combos.

Was this man a former Templar? He certainly had the strength of a Crusader... even more so in fact. Yet, he was obviously in an entirely different tier compared to the rest of the Templar Order. Certainly there would be stories about such a man's existence... but there were none....

Catriona squeezed her knees tightly, anger flashing in her eyes. That man... he needed to pay... she will personally slit his throat after what he did. Isaac deserved better... Kaitlyn deserve better...

Anna Catriona's attention was brought to Jerris, whom loudly gained the attention of the survivors at the fortress. She first though that he was about to deliver the despairing news to the rest of the squadron... and that their beloved leader was not returning. Then her eyes widened with shock, Jerris blatantly told a lie that Isaac was fending off the rest of the Lycan horde and will rendezvous with them at Zion. Jerris's gaze then turned to Catriona, his cold eyes turning into a glare... a warning for the young woman to shut her mouth about the matter.

She gritted her teeth, and her own eyes flared with anger and hatred. Jerris, obviously, didn't want the squadron to fall apart right before they could reach safety. However, this lie would damage the group's integrity... as it already severely damaged Templar Greymir's. He was no leader... he would never be able to fulfill Senior Templar Hills's shoes. She couldn't believe the audacity that he would deliberately state such a lie, and she couldn't believe that Kiera wasn't doing anything about the matter either.

The young woman promptly stood up, prepared to speak up aloud against the man and challenge him. How dare he... the group deserves the know the truth.

Her eyes raged with defiance, and she was about to open her mouth... but then a soft yet familiar hand laid upon her shoulder.

She briefly flinched at the man's touch, but turned around to notice that it was Templar Vitraid... he was still alive.

His soft eyes nodded understanding at the young woman... she wasn't sure if he was aware of Isaac's death or figured it out on his own... but then the young woman's emotions began to surge. Both relief and sadness flooded her, before she turned and tightly wrapped her arms around him - letting her tears fall upon his chest.

This world was a cold and bitter place... and it was only a matter of time before it took Vitraid and the rest of her companions as well. Now was not the time to fight... everybody was way too exhausted over the matter.

However... the group still needs to know the truth... especially before they reach Zion and deliver the news to Inquisitor Alexius.

[Megilwen]

Marcella hadn't moved far from her spot since Jerris had helped to bandage her wounds. She certainly was light-headed and there was still much more distance to travel in order to actually get to a safe location. She'd need to rest and gather her strength, especially since they'd have to walk there. It was here, that the rest of Templars slowly gathered. Looking around she saw most of her friends and compatriots had made it. There Iago, coming in slowly. There O and Octavius, it was a relief to see both her roommates alive. Others weren't there yet, or she assumed they were still outside.

After a time, Jerris came in and moved back over near her and the bike she had been leaning against making an announcement to the whole group. Anna and Kiera had come in last as well. If Marcella had been more aware, not so tired from her injuries, then she might have observed the tenseness in Jerris' shoulders or the look of defeat in Kiera's eyes. However, the normally observant woman was no where near herself. Twenty minutes. She had twenty more minutes to rest...maybe get in a quick nap. No. Now is no time to sleep. Up girl.

Digging her fingers into the pouch at her side, Marcella was able to find one vial of potion of vigor left. She slipped it back into the pouch. She'd take it when they started moving. No need to waste the effects now. Holding one hand tightly to her side, she pushed herself up with her other hand. She stood unsteadily on her feet as she looked at Jerris beside her. "Besides Senior Templar Hills, the rest made it?" It was easier to just get verbal conformation then to attempt to wander around counting heads at the moment.

Just then Orfiel came up beside them talking about a cart for the injured. Like hell she'd ride on any kind of cart. Foolish she maybe at times, but the based off the last squad ranking her squad members did look to her for leadership of some kind. Maybe not as much as Jerris, but looking around at the group they needed to see strength right now. A few looked ready to just fall apart, whether from emotion or physical exhaustion she couldn't tell.

[Maya]

Kiera certainly wasn't the most vocal of the Templar's. She was good at masking what she was thinking and feeling in any given moment. She was good at maintaining her composure through times of fear, pain and anger. All of those attributes did not mean she was truly unfeeling or unbreakable. As Sanford walked past the faces of those who'd survived, it was hard not to wonder if they knew just how lucky they were to be sitting there sharing whispered conversations while nursing their wounds. So many had died today. Some she knew and others were only faces seen in passing; but, the vision of their bodies ripped to shreds surrounded in pools of blood would forever be etched in her mind. None so much as those last seconds with Isaac.

There was no reason for Kiera to consider anyone but Jerris to take control, at least for the interim. Not with a very real threat of danger hanging over their heads if they lingered too long. If some Templar's felt it was wrong to allow him to step in, that another should have been chosen for the task, they could hash out their difference of opinion at a more appropriate time. Which is why, as far as most of the Templar's would know, Isaac was 'still alive'. Any whispers on the wind of suspicions otherwise would not and could not be validated. The sight of Sanford and Greymir having a stern, private discussion between them was not all that out of the ordinary. He could push her buttons and she could push his. Templar Hill would not want chaos, infighting or dissent to gain a foothold among his ranks. He would want them to be a team. Jerris was a band aid to hold things together. The goal was to get everyone to a safe place. One with ample supplies of food, water, shelter and medical care for the wounded. Right now, the team were no more than sitting ducks waiting for the next strike.

She'd not meet anyone's gaze when walking through the group. She did not partake in conversation. Her full focus became breathe, walk, stay on your feet. Most importantly..keep it together. The later being the hardest thing to do. It seemed like so many of the Templar's were watching her, trying to figure out what was going on and making their own assumptions. It was such a heavy cross to bear..the knowing, the seeing, the reliving each moment of what happened with crystal clear flashbacks..on replay...over and over again.

In those last moments before the team pulled out for Zion, the heavy weight of loneliness cloaked around her like a death shroud making it hard to breath, hard to think. It was as if a boulder was sitting right on her shoulders and pushing down across her chest. Even surrounded by familiar faces, there was no one to turn for comfort. No one to lean on. The heart and mind were struggling to come to terms with all that had transpired; but, acceptance would be a long time coming.

In that small bit of downtime, Kiera's mind roamed to thoughts of Kaitlyn. How was she going to tell this beautiful, little girl her father was gone when she couldn't accept the fact herself? How was she going to raise a child? In those few moments before leaving, she'd silently ask the only two people Sanford felt could give a bit of help to someone feeling completely overwhelmed.

"Isaac..Elena...I know you're probably busy being back together and all, and I'm glad for that. I love you two and I know you really love each other. But, I'm kind of pissed at you right now. Sorry; but, I am. You left me with a lot on my plate. I don't know how to be a mom. I've never even had a cat. I know I can keep Kaitlyn fed, warm and give her lots of love. Spoil her rotten. I'll make sure she knows all about her parents and how great they were, and are, together.

I don't know if I can protect her from all this madness. If there is an afterlife of some kind and you have the time..aren't busy smooching up a storm, watch over me while I watch over her. I'll do my best to make you proud."

[Yamimoon]

Letum had begun getting ready to leave this place, and begin the long trek to Zion, and with that in mind he decided to travel light. Granted the chances of them reaching the town were slim to none since there were so many injured and very few of them even able to fight. However, luckily for him the Dolor was finally kicking in and keeping him from going into withdrawals. Unfortunately the dose was too weak, and there was only enough to hold him over. So there would be no way to take more than two caplets.

This would be a problem since he was going to be in constant pain, but he would just have to deal. He couldn’t let any of the survivors know he was addicted to Dolor. Although there was people that he knew were smart enough to put two and two together. ‘Well this is a good time to try and kick the habit.’ Letum thought to himself as he placed the small bottle of pills in his pocket.

His next order of business would be to go and retrieve his sword from Almittay. Although he hadn’t seen the man as of yet. He began looking for him. They only had a short amount of time before they moved on, and he would need his sword. Granted he was not as proficient in swords, but he couldn’t afford for to show his real skill. Not yet anyway.

[TheDoctor]

The sun set upon the horizon with a soothing amber hue, stretching the marching Templars' shadows Eastward as they trudged towards Zion. Outside of a few outliers and towers, most of the buildings that drew closer and closer didn't surpass two stories. The clinking of the Templars' equipment complemented the ambient soundscape of the winds passing across the plains behind them, for Zion hardly emitted any noise at all.

That, however, was not Jerris's concern. As they drew closer and closer, he continued to calculate the proper course of action for when the other Templars found no Senior Templar awaiting them. They would not be entirely safe until they returned to Sanctuary, but he doubted he could provide a lie convincing enough to lead them back. He could always play dumb and tell them that he had no idea where Isaac was, that their best course of action was to return to Sanctuary and await further orders. That was problematic, though; plenty of Templars would most certainly play hero and try to go back for him.

Telling them Isaac's fate was the only solution. It wasn't as if they needed to know the truth, or even that they deserved it. The Senior Templar's death would provide closure and limit their choices of options. Yes, many of the other Templars would be outraged at his deception, but he needed to get them as far out of the Scourge's reach as he could before they fell apart. We'll make camp, properly treat our wounded, and rest up.

I'll tell them in the morning.

Templar Vitraid traveled beside Anna, glancing at the young woman every once in a while. Saul is very rarely a solemn person, he always has a smile upon his face to bring up the spirit of the squadron. However, now was not the place or time to attempt to uplift the squadron - they all had tragic losses throughout the previous night. Attempting to smile or anything of that sort would cause him appear to be apathetic, and tarnish the memories of the lives lost the previous night.

He was very fortunate when he managed to escape - the Senior Templar saved his life, in fact. Templar Vitraid was flanked by two Lycans, and had trouble standing his own against them. Then, Senior Templar Hills arrived and the two of them quickly managed to kill off the opposing Lycans. The Senior Templar had to immediately leave, in order to find others and help them out, but not before ordering Vitraid to escape and rendezvous at Zion. Saul was grateful for Isaac's help, and hopefully they can all reunite with him soon at Zion.

When he did found himself at the rendezvous point, Jerris already ordered the squadron to depart immediately in order to avoid the pursuing Scourge Beasts. Saul found Anna, who appeared extremely troubled by Jerris's orders. He wasn't exactly sure what troubled the young woman, but he knew that look on her face - one of defiance. Whatever trouble brewed between Anna and Jerris could be settled later, now was not the time to tear the group apart while they were already battered and beaten.

Saul fortunately intervened before Anna spoke up, and apparently she needed that very much. Who knows what the young woman saw back in the burning encampment, but she needed the support system of others in order for her to get through the day.

Now, a day almost passed - and Saul could recognize that trouble still brewed from Anna's mind. He took another step, following closely behind Templar Greymir, and glanced again at Templar Catriona. He noticed a dark look of concern upon Anna's face, and she wanted to speak up. Whatever the matter was, it must be incredibly important if she did not drop it after an entire day.

"Templar Greymir," Catriona began, finally speaking up and getting Jerris's attention. "We need to stop..." she stated firmly, knowing that the squadron should be informed of Isaac's demise before they reach Zion. It may look incredibly bad if they hid the truth from everyone else, but then announce the news to Inquisitor Alexius about the matter without notifying those closest to the Senior Templar first.

In response to Anna, or perhaps lack thereof, Jerris frowned deeper and continued trudging towards Zion. His back remained somewhat hunched but steadfast, showing no sign of having heard her in the first place. Halt your tongue, girl. Shelter is fast approaching, and we are on the verge of collapse. Be patient for the sake of your damn squadron.

"No, we don't." He spoke quietly, yet firmly over his shoulder as he walked. "We stop at Zion."

This time, Anna completed halted in her steps. Giving a slight and sudden pause to those that were following right behind her. Anna's eyes flared with defiance, as Templar Greymir completed ignored her words.

"We stop at Zion, and then what? Will you announce to Inquisitor Alexius about Senior Templar Hills's true fate? Before you tell the truth to everyone else and those closest to him? Before you reveal that you LIED to all of their faces?!" Templar Catriona growled, venom coming out of her words. "Or did you intend to deceive Inquisitor Alexius as well?" she questioned in a very sarcastic manner.

Jerris halted and clenched his jaw tightly as Anna spoke, his eyes closing softly to settle his patience. You just had to screw this up. And we were so close, too. They opened again and he glared at her out of the corner of his eye, which narrowed as she emphasized his deceit of the Isaac's fate. After she finished, he turned his shoulders to face her fully, a stance that addressed both her and the other Templars.

"Senior Templar Hills is dead." The Templar said to the Templars, his voice unwavering and firm with little regard for the subject matter. His gaze returned to her, heavy shadows cast over his eyes. "Now, let's go."

[☆Catwoman☆]

The capabilities of the human body could be astounding, if one had the willpower to push it to its limits and beyond. Templars were the pinnacle of humanity, their mortal vessels brought to the physical and mental brink in training before ascending to something superior to the average human, something capable of turning skin to scale or moving with uncanny speed and grace, of spitting webs or poisoning with their own blood. This transformation was not achievable by all--many who submitted to it either died or were forever crippled--and thus those who survived the process and were named Templars were none but the elite, surpassing all expectation to become a creature of incredible power, discipline, and will.

Yet despite all of this, Yelena had never felt so weak or powerless in all of her life.

She was not entirely sure what kept her feet shuffling through the dust of the wasteland--perhaps Octavius's stoic presence beside her, perhaps her own stubborn refusal to give up and be seen as unfit, but most likely a healthy combination of both--but trudge on she did alongside her brothers and sisters, a veil of silence hanging over them as breath was reserved for moving rather than speaking needlessly. As some of the least injured of the party, Yelena and Warren were close to the front of the pack, near to the downtrodden Anna and passionless Jerris. Even Saul had lost his charming smile.

"Zion is close," Yelena murmured, unsure if she was actually speaking to Octavius or just reassuring herself. The pace had been brutal--nearly nonstop walking for most of a day with only brief pauses for respite. Several times Yelena had wondered why they were following Jerris's lead at all, considering he was no leader. He would run them all into the ground if they did not reach Zion soon. His callousness was beginning to anger her, which worked to fuel her steps. The young woman was all about getting the job done, but aside from trying to reach Isaac at a safe haven, there was no job. This was a matter of survival, and the merciless trek endangered that no less than the beasts that stalked the Borderfields.

Grim and irate, Yelena's light eyes stared daggers into Jerris's back.

Zion is close.

Octavius would never be sure whether or not Yelena had said those words, but he gave her a subtle nod that simultaneously intimated that he had heard her breath of reassurance and that he believed that everything—the Templars, Sanctuary, them both in particular—would be okay.

He wasn’t one to personify the inanimate, however, he couldn’t help but regard the sun as a boxer who was currently taking sucker punches on every Templar who followed Jerris’s lead. That wasn’t to say that Octavius blamed Jerris, of course. Someone had to lead and no one offered a reproach when Jerris assumed that position, although not officially, which was fine with Octavius.

For the first time he realized that he hadn’t had a chance to talk with Orfiel and Marcella, although he had seen them briefly at the ruins and was glad to know that they were safe. He grimaced, and re-evaluated their situation as if for the first time.

Safe, Octavius began to understand, is a relative term.

He hadn’t noticed when Anna stopped, but he almost bumped into the much younger girl when she did. “Oh. Sorry,” he said but it didn’t seem like Anna noticed his apology.

And then Octavius noticed her visage. Defiance normally looked best on an adult, but Anna pulled it off better than most adults Octavius knew, which made him shudder, however subtly. Then, when she began yelling Octavius wasn’t sure how to react. He suddenly felt like a child who had accidentally walked in to see his parents bickering at each other.

And then both shoes fell at once:

Senior Templar Hills.

Dead.

It was like all sound ceased in that moment, as though every being present suddenly held their breath. It took Yelena a second to realize that this was because the blood had suddenly rushed to her head, filling her ears with naught but the sound of her own heartbeat, while her stomach simultaneously hit the ground.

When the blood eased and she could hear clearly once more, two very distinct emotions struck her at once: dismay at Isaac's fate, and white hot fury at Jerris. It was the fury that she clung to like a lifeline, letting it fill her and burn away the grief. It was not because Jerris had kept this from them--that, she almost understood, and she could even admire the difficulty of the decision if it were anyone else desperately seeking to hold what few Templars remained together long enough to make it to Zion.

But it wasn't anyone else. It was Jerris. It was the cold-hearted, uncompassionate son of a whore Jerris who did not make any decision for their sake, who did not spare them the news out of mercy or kindness. He had made the decision because he had a job to do, and making sure that as many of the remaining swords and guns there were stayed with him to help him do that job was the best way of accomplishing it. They were not human beings to Jerris Greymir, people with feelings. They were weapons, cannon fodder, and he had been trying to keep his stocks full.

His words, carelessly spoken without an ounce of grief or regret, were the reason for her wrath. His indifference filled her with hatred.

Yelena's sword was in her hand, and she wasn't entirely sure how it got there. She didn't care.

"You son of a bitch," she hissed, taking a dangerous step toward him. "You arrogant, soulless bastard."

It seemed to Octavius that all the silence that had been shared between the Templars until Anna’s sudden outbreak now returned with, if a cliché may be used, ‘a vengeance.’ Octavius felt it fill his mind and create a cesspool beneath the shoes of every Templar here. For a moment shorter than the time taken for a foot to be raised and then descended upon the earth, Octavius recalled how Templar Hills had loved all of those in his squad as if they were his children, as if they were the brothers and sisters of his only daughter.

And then the thought faded.

And then the silence dispersed.

And then, before Octavius knew what he was doing, he threw a punch at Jerris’s face.

[Iwazuma]

The walk to Zion, which normally would have been depressing, soul-crushing, and just downright despondent was not so for Trest. Instead, his every thought was directed to NOT thinking about his pained, burned, throbbing leg. Every step was another bolt of pain through his frame; not being used to such injury, Trest was not taking it as well as others might, wincing every few feet and doing what he could not to walk on it too much.

The other Templars were not sympathetic to Trest's condition; the wagons were needed for the truly incapacitated, and many others were walking with greater injuries than his own. He felt really thrust into perspective; this was the worst injury he had ever endured, and the others were taking far worse with less complaints.

Regardless, the young Templar plodded on, closer to the front of the line so that if he grew exhausted or the pain built up, he had more distance to fall back. He was close to Jerris, who looked stressed the whole time they moved. Was he hiding something? And WHERE was Senior Templar Hills? The man's continued absence only persisted the gnawing thought in the back of his head: He was dead, that's where he was. Trest shook his head, still clinging to hope, but just knowing deep down that was the case. Why Jerris was prolonging the pain was just absurd at this point.

Even as he thought this, an argument rose up between the stoic Templar and Templar Catriona, one Trest could have, but neglected to, bring up this whole time. Why weren't they stopping? He certainly could use the rest, after a Lycan attack, his leg nearly getting gouged off and burned shut again, and now a night's plodding through the wilderness to get back to Zion. Why weren't they stopping?

And then Jerris went out and said it: Hills was dead, gone, never coming back. Trest froze a moment as the information sunk in, but then his dark expression returned, the hope sucked from him like a vacuum. Templars Yelena and Octavius seemed incensed by the words, Octavius even going so far as to throw a punch at Jerris. But to Trest...it almost seemed juvenile. Ironic, of course, given he was one of the youngest Templars there. But at the same time, he could not bring himself to cry for their leaders, cut down. Not now, when they were still not safe from the potential threats of the wilderness.

He stared down the angry Templars and glared at them. "Stop it! There is no reason to lash out at Jerris now! It should have been fact Senior Templar Hills was dead when he did not return to us. Fighting now will only prolong the chance we are ambushed again. If you want to grieve, wait until we are within the borders of Zion now. We do not need this....not now." His words ended weakly and quietly as his anger broke, little more than grim sadness remaining in the once bright-eyed youth. In just one mission, he had fallen so far. Would he ever recover? He did not know. He gave one final, forlorn look to the group. "Let's just...keep moving. We can deal with this when...when we arrive." Pain from loss and grief was evident in his eyes; he did not want to accept the fact as much as any other, but he knew that no good would come from wallowing about it here. He could cry for his lost teammates in safety. He moved forward again, taking the lead on the trek back to Zion. What else could he do?

[Scottie]

He would be there. With every step it burned into her mind. Everything would be sorted when he returned. When they reached Zion and he stood there. Giving them that frown and telling them he had expected them earlier. Her right hand was in a tight fist around her bow. Every slow step made her feel like cattle. Slowly trudging along just waiting for slaughter around the next corner. Sophia had kept her eyes on her feet, watching the grey material brush over the sand. Keeping her eyes out of the searing sun. But noise up ahead made her snap her gaze up. Anna, the young one was speaking to Templar Greymir. She couldn’t understand them but their faces told her it was the most pleasant of conversations. The shuffling stopped behind Greymir and he turned.

No. That wasn’t right. Surely he was jesting with them. Then it all clicked together, like one massive horrible puzzle. He would have found them by now. The flare would have got them on their path. Or something…no..no. She wasn’t accepting it. Then the others spoke. It pulled her out of her daze and reminded her of what that man said. Lets go. Like this news could be taken like a gulp of water. Like it didn’t burn down their throats. Realisation took longer than that for many of them. Then Trest spoke. The one she had passed as he hobbled along. She narrowed her eyes at him as he spoke out. “There is every reason to lash out now.” She said her voice croaking at first before she got louder. “The fucker didn’t think it relevant to tell us. He expects us to trudge on after finding this out, like we are mindless sheep.” Each word spitting at him harshly. She spared no kindness for this man. He was like a mindless robot and it scared her at times. She snapped her eyes back to the small group near the front. “It shouldn’t have to be fact that he was dead when he didn’t return. The man was a legend. The mere thought that he could still be there was hope enough to keep moving.”

Her dark eyes burning through the blank expressionless face of Greymir. Smug bastard. Probably thought himself better than all of us, thought us not worthy of knowing. “But you are right.” She said snapping her eyes back to Trest. “We do not need this now. Grieving and grievances can be done at Zion.” She brushed past those before her and gave the small group a wide berth, continuing her slow and steady walk. In her mind she spat swear word after swear word at him but she didn’t. She merely shook her head gently before glancing back at a few of them. “Well come on. Let’s go.”

[TheDoctor]

Hm. Predictable.

Jerris's fingers twitched as Yelena drew her sword and began to approach him, but he did not draw his own blades. His specialty was the quickdraw, the movement from sheath to skin that ended the opponent's life before they even knew it, but it wouldn't resort to that. At least, he hoped it wouldn't for the sake of their lives and the sake of his Templar career. Shedding fellow Templar blood was not view favorably in the public eye.

And Octavius's approach? Not essentially predictable, but even in his state of exhaustion, Jerris's enhanced reactions knew instinctively how to stop it. Raise the left arm with the elbow bent with force from his core, make contact on the forearm with his own wrist, push out and up. Raise the right arm and step forward with an upward strike with the side of his hand, making contact directly under Octavius's jaw. The confrontation could end right then and there with either a broken jaw or broken teeth, perhaps both.

Yet he knew that striking back would only incite further anger against the other Templars and cause further commotion. After all, they had yet to make it to Zion, and he had a mission to finish.

So he turned his face slightly to the left, and Octavius's fist collided directly with Jerris's cheek.

The force was substantial, fueled by anger and frustration that Jerris felt ripple through his face. He stumbled back and quickly recovered, his eyes rising to meet the other Templar's. His cold gaze betrayed initial frustration, but he quickly regained control and returned to his standard unfeeling demeanor. The remarks of Trest and Sophia pierced the momentary silence, permitting Jerris to straighten and prod at the newly-opened sore on the inside of his mouth with his tongue. He spat a dollop of blood to the side and returned his attention to Yelena, paying Octavius no further mind.

"You should listen to your fellow Templars and put your sword away." The white-haired Templar said, his eyes unblinking. "We still have a mission to complete."

Do we, though?

[Megilwen]

Marcella had started out at the front of the group when they'd left the tower, but her injuries made her slow and soon she found herself at the back of the pack. However, she refused to let herself be wheeled around in the wagon that O pulled. Everyone was quiet, most probably too exhausted to actually speak and yet they trudged on. For whatever reason, they kept going. Zion represented rest, at least for the time being and after hours she could see it ahead.

Then right when things looked to be looking up, they crashed as Anna started screaming at Jerris. Something about Templar Hills being dead. At first it took a little to click in Marcella's head and she chided herself for not noticing earlier. For not picking up the clues. She was normally better than this, more observant, more on top of things. As the unit bunched up closer for what was to be a yelling match or a struggle for power. Then she saw Octavius strike Jerris across the face.

"Enough. Trest is right." She spoke firmly. This whole thing was ridiculous. "Pointing fingers at people helps no one. Jerris through that what he did was right for the group. Anyone who knew the truth could have spoke up back at the tower. I've been with Jerris since we left the battle, at that point neither of us knew of Issac's passing. So someone else was responsible for sharing that knowledge. In case you forget, Jerris is no one's superior officer. If you felt his decision was wrong, it was in your right to speak up. But you didn't. Instead the silence was kept.

"The fact that you're standing here assaulting one another is pointless. Knowing the Senior Templar as we all did, do you think that this is what he wanted his death to bring? That he died so that we could bicker among each other? So that we could point fingers, blame each other, and tear this team apart? No. I'm sure that the Senior Templar died so that he could give us a fighting chance to escape the Lycans. Hills cared about his team, fought for his team no doubt to his dying breath and you stand here slandering the sacrifice he no doubt made for us." Marcella pushed her way to the front. "I, for one, will not quit, will not stop, will not rest until his death has been revenged. Until this threat that is posed by the Lycans is taken care of. Until Sanctuary and the rest of our nation is safe. Because that's what Hills fought for above all else. Not for his own life, but for the lives of his team, the lives of the people he'd sworn to protect as a Hand of God, but more importantly for his daughter, his family. For some of us, we are the only family that there is. Stand strong together or fail together, for that is what a team is. Place your blame, your hatred on the persons truly responsible. Not on the one who's had your back countless times before."

With a disappointed shake of her head, Marcella pushed past the rest of the still members and continued her limp toward Zion. She was sure people would follow eventually, but this pointless bickering was doing nothing more than tearing apart the trust of the team. Emotions were running high, which was fine. This was an emotional situation for everyone. If Marcella wasn't dragged down by her injuries, then maybe she'd have the energy to spare to really mourn. Now was not the time to let hopelessness set in. Marcella moved a hand up to swipe at her eyes. Strength, that's what Hills had been for this team. A strength and at times a moral compass. Now it was time that they found their own strength, but only time would tell if they'd manage to pull it together.

[The Texan Queen]

As more and more Templars poured into their make shift camp it gave Selenada a new wind of hope, maybe that battle didn't end in too much blood shed. She kept herself occupied by tending to those with wounds, finding food and water for everyone, praying with those that requested it and checked in with everyone to see how they were feeling. She didn't stop to really think about how she was feeling and she really didn't want to until every last Templar was accounted for and they were safely back home. There was a lot to think about and she didn't want to dive to deep into her mind in fear of just turning into a useless shell.

Selenada was busy wrapping up someone's torn up leg when Jerris demanded attention from everyone and delivered the orders for them to follow. She paused for a moment, confused as to why Jerris was telling them what to do and not Isaac, but when he stated he would join them at Zion she didn't really question it. It didn't really surprise her that the Senior Templar was tying up loose ends and taking care of everything he could, that's just the kind of person he was. Although she did have a bad feeling about it she just chalked it up to not eating and exhaustion. She didn't want to have any negative thoughts as to why their leader had disappeared on them so she focused on helping those around her until it was time to go.

---

When it came time to pack things up and head out to Zion she was relieved. She felt uneasy where they were at. Their little camp didn't provide much shelter, they were basically sitting ducks out there and the thought of the Lycan's finding them in this state frightened her. Selenada felt much better as every limped and hobbled closer and closer to Zion. No one really said much and she didn't mind it, she really had nothing to say. She was too tired, too brain dead to hold a conversation. The clinking of their armor and weapons, the whispers of chatter, the breathing and groaning was all that she needed to hear, those were sounds of the living. Wounded living, but living none the less.

Selenada had zoned out and missed the first half of what Anna had said, but she knew whatever was said did not make Jerris happy. She sensed that this would not end well and she was right.

"Lied?" Selenada said to herself and looked to Jerris. He didn't seem like someone that would speak lies against any of the Templars. She didn't understand where this conversation was going and she didn't really want to.

Senior Templar Hills is dead.

His words were cold, emotionless, and they cut like knives. She couldn't breathe, her stomach dropped and her heart leapt into her throat. This couldn't be true, she refused to believe it was true. The next few moments seemed to collide together, with each Templar reacting out in their own way. Selenada didn't know what to do or what to say or even what to think.

"Sophia wait," Selenada called out as she watched the girl walk on. She was frozen for a second before her feet began to move and before she knew it she had caught up with Sophia. She didn't say anything to the Templar walking beside her, she probably couldn't say anything without crying and she hoped that Sophia had nothing to say to her. She just wanted to get to Zion.

[IronQuill]

How unexpected, Templar Greymour became a source of pure amusement. Indeed, from his spot at the rear of the group, Iago heard the ever hollow voice of Greymour utter those fateful words.

"Senior Templar Hills is dead. Now let's get moving."

Iago could hold a strong a poker face, far better than any actor he knew. But at that very moment when those cold words passed the cold lips of that pathetic doll of a man, Iago barely held back his glee. The looks on the other's faces, how mortified they were. How vexed. How aghast. The despair in their eyes were the sweetest delights for the snake souled spy.

Pitiful Templars, how badly you suffer...

Iago could not hold it any longer, a wordless breath of a chuckle escaped his lips. He passed it off as a sob, to mourn the lost Senior Templar. A few tears of humour trickled from his eyes, he too passed those off as tears of sorrow. For the fallen warriors of their sacred Order of course. He thank what fates dictated this world that his mother died so many years ago. The shame she would bear to see her beloved Iago laugh at the turmoil of others. Speaking of turmoil, one particular Templar of interest to Iago fumed.

Matthew said nothing, all the words he could have said Yelena said already. All the actions he could have enacted on Greymour, Octavius beat him to it. A Tannhauser would have no love for his peers, he even quarreled with Hills at times. All those meetings with him being chided like a rotten school child by the school master, but he respected Hills as a man of ability and action, as well as the prestige of being a descendant of the venerable Hills family.

"We still have a mission to complete."

So when that farce, that sham of a soul, Greymour, said that Hills was dead with all the sincerity of a man discussing supper, Matthew could not bare it any longer.

"Mission? What mission? Any mission we were to fulfill died back at the campsite with Hills and the others!" He shouted angrily, possibly more angrily than he had ever had in his whole life.

"We're not a Squadron! We're not even Templars at this point! Just a band of ragged refugees who just escaped something God only knows! I'd rather chance the wilderness than follow your lead, you fucking automaton!"

Matthew walked away from the group, still in the direction of Zion but still getting as far from his peers as possible. He could no longer stomach their presence.

[SikstaSlathalin]

Amittay wasn’t paying much attention to the present predicament. Instead, his mind roamed what lay after, after they reached Zion, after they reunited with Templar Hills, after the Lycan hoard found them.

What next?

He wondered if anyone really had an answer to that question; so focused were his comrades on the present situation that Amittay didn’t believe that they were thinking about the future, which was, in his opinion, perilous.

Amittay then noticed Orfiel not too far ahead of him and he suddenly realized that he had not spoken with the Templar ever since the debacle in the mines. By this it was not to be understood that Amittay hated Orfiel; rather, Amittay did not know what to say to him.

What happens after he and I speak?

The future was not known for its transparency.

“Orfiel,” Amittay called, increasing his pace in order to walk abreast his comrade. “Is there anything I can help you with?”


Straining under his burden of hauling the cart filled with six of the most severely wounded Templars left in their doomed army Big O was in a slow grunting mindset of doing the most good he can in this situation. Better these six be his burdens rather than they be burdens for six other injured Templars, the Lord would reward him for his sacrifice.

The big man was rolling his arms out individually when Amittay approached him offering aid. With a low grunt and a smile Big O nods.
"Yes, my friend. Do you have any water left?"


Amittay shook his head, apologetically. “I’m not sure if anyone does.” He then nodded to the cart which Orfiel had been pulling and asked the man if he needed any assistance. Amittay wasn’t among the strongest Templars, however, he was a Templar all the same and was certain that he and Orfiel, together, could be of more use to the injured in the cart than Orfiel alone.

He smiled, then, and said: “Listen. I have to apologize about what happened in the cave. Tensions were high; mistakes were made.”

The big Crusader nodded scooting down the handle a bit so Amittay could help. Orfiel could carry it the rest of the way himself, as he was considering the pain and labor part of his repentance, but sometimes the Lord wishes his children share their burdens with each other.

Lifting a hand he patted the other Templar no his shoulder.
"All was forgiven when we got chastised like children." The stoic man tried to smile, but he was sure it came out more like a snarl than anything, his face was still stiff from the fight. I am only sorry for how it all turned out on the other side though. The Lord does indeed work in mysterious ways." He was about to ask young Amittay how he was doing when the hammer of truth fell squarely upon the shoulders of what was left of their group.

"Senior Templar Hills is dead."

"Now, let's go."

"We still have a mission to complete."

Big O, Amittay and the Wounded Cart were too far away to be anything but shocked witnesses at the flood of emotion and harsh reactions that washed over the Templars. Even Orfiel the stoic faced repenter felt his tight face slacken slightly, he had his suspicions, but deep down in the bottom of his heart he didn't believe his tired mind. But here it was the cold inescapable truth the Senior Templar was dead and they were a leaderless crew of motley warriors fighting in a war they are rapidly losing.

Looking sideways at Amittay wondering at his reaction.


If any other man had pronounced the death of a loved one with such spontaneity and callousness, Amittay would have nervously waited for the punchline. The problem, however, was that Jerris wasn’t much of a man; through Amittay’s cooperation with the Templar he had come to see the latter figure as an automaton, something that may have behaved human but was not.

“Lord have mercy on his soul,” Amittay whispered, not knowing how numb the revelation had left him. Then, when Octavius punched Jerris in the mouth, when Yelena gripped her blade, and when the others distanced themselves from the former two, prepared to move on despite Isaac’s death and despite Jerris’s deceit, Amittay added another plea: “Lord have mercy on us all.”

He and Isaac had never been very close so, although the Senior Templar’s death hurt, it didn’t leave a scar; just a throb, really. Amittay breathed out, slowly, and turned to Orfiel, whom he had been beginning to see as a mentor, of sorts, although no education had been shared between them. “Another day,” was all Amittay said. “He’s with the Lord now, I suppose.”

Perhaps, the last part—I suppose—shouldn’t have been said. Still, Amittay didn’t take it back. He was, in truth, uncertain whether or not Senior Templar Hills would ascend to Heaven, or if he would go to that other place.

Really, he had never been very intimate with Senior Templar Hills.

Big O nodded to the young Templar's words.
"The Senior Templar was a good man, and good templar, and a good father. I have no doubt where he will end up. We must practice forgiveness, Jerris lied to us as did anyone else that knew the truth and didn't say anything, but it is not for us to judge them. That is the Lord's prerogative not ours, but come we have more immediate concerns." He nodded back to the cart of wounded Templars, he picked up his pace and moved past the rest of the group moving directly for the gates of Zion.

[Black]

Ezra's face was entirely impassive as the news dropped. It came as no shock to him and his eyes betrayed only a slight flicker of emotion. Obviously he had been wrong, this was not the man who should lead them. He would shatter moral in their first battle, holding their face to the grind with a will of iron that would break them against the enemy like waves against a rock. Ezra wasn't exactly the worlds nicest person, but neither was he entirely emotionless. Like a stump. Still he looked on as everyone voiced their opinions or vented their frustrations.

Ezra gauged whether or not to intercede on behalf of the idiot who had been so tactless in delivering such heavy news. He decided that it wasn't worth the bruises and ill-will he might sustain and instead stepped past the group. "Lets go," he said to the Templar's nearest to him. "Hills would order us to keep moving. Hills was a better man by far than any one of us and we need to honor his memory by pushing on, even if we don't have any true direction. Besides Marcella is right. You chose to follow Jerris. His decision, however you feel about it, was his to make and he did what he thought best for the group. I would have done the same - though I would have probably dropped the grim news in a different, more intelligent and caring manner. Senior Templar Hills deserved much more than he got. It makes no difference now, we have to press on." and with that Ezra looked reproachfully at Jerris for his lack of tact, and then jogged and caught up to Sophia and Selenda, becoming their new grim and silent companion. He directed only one look at each of them before stepping to the fore and leading the way, spear held in the crook of his arm and ready.

As he stalked on he wondered what would become of the group. They needed a leader and Ezra believed wholeheartedly it should come from their own regiment. If they were assigned a Senior Templar from another regiment then the unit cohesion would suffer further, and that would spell disaster. Still, who would they choose to lead this shattered and disjointed group? Ezra stole a surreptitious glance around the Templars and his eyes fell on each one in turn, trying to gaze into them and gauge the gravitas of their souls, the intelligence behind their eyes. Any one of them could make or break them at this point. Without a leader, everything was so fragile. And if it came down to Templar on Templar fighting, they would all be doomed.

The politics of the group was already becoming tiring. Ezra turned to check on Matthew, raking over his obviously pissed off and distressed form with his eyes before turning and checking to see that the group was moving. Some still stood staring wordlessly at Jerris and Ezra barked out at them in his best parade ground voice, booming across the silent woods, "Step lively Templar's, we've got a duty to get back to Zion."

[Maya]

Kiera was a shell of her former self. Her fire, her spirit, her sense of humor, all of it had been sucked out by the same evil entity now wreaking havoc on the rest of the team without the hybrid even being present. She couldn't blame Anna for her need and insistence on telling her fellow Templar's the truth. Births and deaths have a tendency of being screamed from the rooftops so no one gets left out of the announcement. However, the timing could have been better in Templar Hill's case. The team already had a lot to process, wounds to heal and questions over what the hell happened to send them tucking tail and running for cover. Now, many of them would be in mourning for a leader, friend, and in Kiera's case..family. In retrospect, maybe the announcement should have happened sooner. In all likelihood, it would just mean the infighting would have started earlier and they'd be even further away making it to Zion in the process.

She was not so jaded as the others when it came to Jerris' announcement. He had been doing his best to try to get them to a safe place before shit hit the fan. Instead of aiming their anger at the hybrid who'd left so many dead in his wake, the Templar's turned on their fellow Templar simply because he was one who took on the messenger role. Maybe his way of informing them of Isaac's demise lacked copious amounts of tears or enough feelings to relay the somberness of the occasion; but, that's Jerris..that's his personality and everyone who knows the man should be well aware of his quirks. It was hard to swallow seeing him become the one who was punched and threatened as if it was his fault Isaac was dead. How quickly they turn on each other when the road becomes rough. After all she'd been through in the last twenty four hours, this adolescent behavior was the last thing Kiera wanted to see.

Is this what we've truly become?

She took a shallow breath and stepped forward to try and get everyone's attention, wary of how the group would respond to her. Her face, her chest, her legs..all still covered in open wounds and dried blood from a fight Kiera had barely managed to survive. Was Sanford in pain? Hell yes! But, she'd been hoping to get to Zion and try to patch herself up.

"Jerris.." Stepping towards him while speaking loudly for all to hear, and, if allowed, gently touching his cheek where the fist had landed. "Did not deserve this. ..and I'm sorry.." Whispering to him as if an apology would somehow make the pain better. "He did what he thought was best for the safety of those who lived, by keeping Templar Hill's death quiet for awhile. For this very reason. Do you honestly think Templar Hills would approve of his fellow Templar's hitting and threatening each other? In case you have failed to notice, there are much bigger challenges afoot. We are at war with an entity that wants to wipe us off the map."

After another soft breath, she continued though the story was a torture to repeat. "If you truly seek cannon fodder to quench your blood lust, aim your swords at me. Isaac gave his life to save Anna and myself. When the retreat sounded, we were still covered up in lycans. There was no way out for us. The hybrid leader was upon us and it's doubtful we would have survived much longer. Isaac came out of nowhere. He saved us. Even after losing his arm, knowing he was mortally wounded, he kept fighting the hybrid and gave direct orders for us to leave. Isaac knew his death was imminent, yet he fought the enemy to his last breath." Kiera was trying not to get emotional or teary eyed until she could be alone. It was impossible to do so. "Templar Hill's was a brother to me, he was part of my family and a damn good friend. I, for one, would like to see the bastard who killed him and Inquisitor Caleb be made to suffer a long, painful death."

With that said, at least some of the weight had lifted from her chest. Breathing was not much easier and the story would still have to be told two more times once the team arrived in Sanctuary. IF they arrived in Sanctuary. How could she tell the family of his death when her own heart still wrestled with the truth? There was no time to be mired in such thoughts. This mission would have to be tackled one day at time.

As the team settled back in and began to travel again, Kiera would try to linger in the back. Worried her own team mates would blame her or shun her for leaving Isaac behind. She'd put some serious thought into going back to the scene to find his body. At least bury him properly. Seemed wrong to leave him there..or the other bodies as well. But, the danger was just too high and they'd lost too many as it was.

With plenty of time to dwell on her sorrows, Kiera found herself reliving the attacks all over again. About the third or fourth time of seeing the hybrid standing over her, threatening to kill her, taunting her, she realized he was only toying with her and Anna. He could have killed them all easily, yet, only Isaac was the true target. With the hybrid's speed, even after the two women ran, the beast could have easily caught up and struck them down. He had purposely allowed the women to escape. Why? Something was amiss.

Little did she know that Anna was beginning to figure out the why.

[Yamimoon]

As the long trek form the dilapidated outpost to Zion was one that was a long walk. Letum had taken a spot at the back of the group as they all slowly moved along the long and grueling path that they were on. Granted he was under the influence of Dolor, but that didn’t stop him from getting the trimmers from not having his normal dose. The pain he was now feeling from his injuries was nothing compared to the fact that his whole body hurt.

Most people wouldn’t understand the type of pain he was feeling. It was like having all of his pain respecters going off at once. Though luckily it was not as bad as it could be. The one and only time he tried to quit cold turkey was the first time he had ever felt true pain, and there was no way he would have survived that pain. His heart would have given out before he would have been freed from the drug.

That is why he had been slowly dropping the doses. So that his fellow Templars would not find out, and he would not be incapacitated. Then for some reason his mind moved to the fact that Senior Templar Hills death at the hands of the hybrid. Granted he didn’t get along with him or Jerris. Both men didn’t like him, and he didn’t like them. It was an unspoken mutual agreement that the men all shared.

However, before he could get too deep in thought he pulled himself back to reality. There was no reason to dwell on the past. There was nothing he could do, nor would he do to change this whole situation. He just treaded along like the other just to find a safe haven in Zion. But he guessed that was too much to ask for. The group stopped in their tracks, and even without his advanced hearing he could hear there was an argument.

Unluckily for him he has his senses on high in order to make sure that the Lycans didn’t sneak up on them. So heard everything word for word, and everyone’s reactions to the news. Sighing to himself as he knew this was not the best of times to be brining things like this up. They were so close to Zion to a place where they could get supply’s, and some much needed sleep. But Anna just had to go and run her mouth.

He just shook his head as he knew that Templar Greymir had the right idea about lying. He took it upon himself to get the group of wounded Templars to safety. But something grabbed his attention before he could finish his thought. Iago had actually seemed a little too emotional about the turn of events. He had overheard the report at the same time he did, and he couldn't tell if the man was acting or not. Although he was probably the only one that saw him eavesdropping on the conversation.

Walking up behind Iago he whispered behind his back only loud enough for him to hear. “Watch yourself.” Was all he said as he then walked up to the commotion that was happening up at the front of the group. “Everyone that is letting emotion guide their words you all need cool your heads and think a little. This world is not faire in any respect, but you have to make the most of it.” Letum said in an unemotional tone. He then began making his way to Zion.

He knew better than anyone the shortcomings of man, and what was required to survive in his world.

[RedKayne]

Anna would not deny that she felt satisfaction after witnessing the initial frustrated reactions of a few fellow Templars towards Jerris - especially after Templar Warren threw a solid punch that caused the despicable man to stumble back. Then, everybody else stated the piece on the matter of Senior Templar Hills's death, and the manner that Jerris took upon his shoulders to hide his death.

Templars like Trest and Hoefler chided those that also hid the truth, but Anna felt no responsbility over the matter. She wanted to tell the truth from the very beginning - she wanted to be very straightforwad to everyone. Fortunately, Templar Sanford took it upon herself to share the details of Isaac's death, and how he sacrificed his own life to save the people that he cared for. He was a good man, that touched the lives of practically every Templar in the group.

He was the type of person one looked up to - and Jerris, attempting to take the lead, was not that type of person. In fact, despite informally being Isaac's right-hand man, Jerris did not have a single clue about leadership.

"You didn't even care for him... did you?" Templar Catriona questioned sourly towards Jerris. She turned away from him, beginning to follow the others leading the way towards Zion - but she immediately paused in her steps and raised her eyebrows in surprise.

There was a group of Templar soldiers, riding on top of several horses, directly approaching the group from the town of Zion. Apparently, while they were all arguing, the soldiers from Zion noticed them from the distance and came to investigate. In fact, she saw a couple of familiar faces back from her training days - and these people were leading the Zion soldiers.

Inquisitor David Alexius - along with Senior Templar Stryker and the rest of the squadron and newly recruited Templars - swiftly approached the former group of Inquisitor Caleb. They reigned in their horses right before the likes of Trest, Sophia, and Selenada - causing them to halt in their progress.

The Inqusitor's facial expression was completely stern, as his eyes quickly scanned the battered group right before him. "Hold there!" he quickly barked out in a commanding manner, gaining the attention of everyone. "I recognize your group - your commanding officer is suppose to be Inquisitor Caleb Bartholomew. However, I do not see him or your Senior Templar..." The Inquisitor did another quick scan of the group, just to double-check - however, he betrayed a small scowl on his face when he could not locate them.

"Notify me on the whereabouts of your commanding officers."

Yelena's teeth were clenched hard enough to break them, her hand going numb from the force with which she gripped her sword. Her eyes stared contempt at Jerris even as Kiera relayed the tale of Isaac's heroic death, clinging to the emotion like a drowning woman clings to driftwood, knowing that if she allowed her gaze to roam to Kiera's heartbroken face or to Anna's, full of misery, that she might fall into the pit of her own despair. The noblewoman turned Templar fought the swell, ignored the claims of others that Jerris had done what he thought best, that their bickering was pointless, that Jerris did not deserve the ire he was receiving. She needed her fury--it was all that was keeping her on her feet.

But soon enough, she was given something else to focus on. Yelena blinked several times as her mind registered the movement beyond Jerris, an approaching horde from Zion. Her first thought was of Lycans, but she dismissed the notion quickly, doubtful that the pack would have gotten ahead of them. Besides, she could make out horses.

The familiar face of Alexius came into view, his entourage in tow. He was a handsome man despite the deep scar that crossed his forehead. Yelena brushed passed Jerris, sheathing her blade as she approached the Inquisitor. The dour expression marring his features bespoke trouble.

"Sir," Yelena saluted crisply, "Templar Yelena Renakovic reporting." She dropped the salute, clasping her hands behind her back, then hesitated, as though speaking the words for herself would suddenly make the news a reality. "I am sorry to have to inform you that both Inquisitor Bartholomew and Senior Templar Hills are..."

Yelena choked on the word, but only briefly. Fighting the stinging threatening her eyes, she pushed out the final words. "Dead, sir. Along with many of our brothers and sisters."

At least some of these Templars are strong enough to understand our dire circumstance.

Templar Greymir's gaze lingered on Anna as she spat her comments and turned from him, but he did not speak. Nothing he said, neither denial nor confirmation of their accusations towards him, would help their predicament as it was. Let them think as they will. Let them hate me if it means returning us to Sanctuary. It doesn't matter.

None of this matters.

Suddenly, the sound of marching soldiers and trotting horses seized his attention, and his attention turned to the squadron coming from Zion led by Inquisitor Alexius. His hand rose to mirror Yelena's salute as she reported the fate of their senior officers, but it did not fall as hers did. He needed to give them the proper impression, despite their forced retreat and his exhaustion.

"Templar Jerris Greymir, sir," Jerris followed up. "They were killed by a horde of Lycans, between eighty and one hundred-twenty in number. Inquisitor Bartholomew fell in combat, Senior Templar Hills in our retreat." He neglected to mention the paranormal blonde man, at least for the moment. That will wait for the formal report. We need shelter first, and the Lycan army is far more pressing.

"The Inquisitor... dead?: Inquisitor Alexius's frown deepened, his eyebrows furrowing. "Caleb... is dead?" Some of the Inquisitors were close friends with each other and got along really well, Alexius had high respect for Caleb Bartholomew.

He barely paid any heed to their salutes, but returned them regardless. His gaze cast down, briefly mourning for his deceased friend, before returning eye contact with Jerris and Yelena. "And the Senior Templar is dead as well... and you're telling me... that there were about a hundred Lycans?"

This time, Alexius's eyes betrayed a flare of anger. "Forgive me for being forward... but I find it extremely... extremely unlikely that would happen," he nearly spat out these last few words. "The largest report we have about Lycans was that pack of forty that destroyed the town of Abel, along with the Templar squadron that resided there. Now, you're telling me, that your squadron managed to escape from nearly one-hundred lycans? Explain to me how that doesn't sound far-fetched..."

His Senior Templar, Rebekah Stryker, took a few steps forward with her horse and stood next to her commander. Her long red-hair was tied up in a single long ponytail, and she wore a large lance was strapped across her back. Her facial expression was also quite stern, instead of relieved that Caleb's former squadron managed to survive such an attack.

"Tell me," Senior Templar Stryker began. "Was there also this... Lycan Hybrid... that also attacked your group?"

Yelena's eyes narrowed at Alexius's disbelief, at the implication that she and Templar Greymir were lying. Her exhaustion, her anger, her pain only lent her greater impatience for being dealt with as though she were a child being scolded for something she did not do. She opened her mouth to issue a scathing remark back at the Inquisitor, but snapped it shut again when Senior Templar Stryker sauntered forward with a surprising question.

Yelena was silent for a long moment, staring at the red-tressed woman, several expressions flitting across her face. First came surprise, then confusion, then suspicion. Something here was not right, but the Knight's tired mind could not quite discern what.

"You seem to know as much as we do," Yelena remarked slowly, prodding with her words. Her gaze flitted between the Inquisitor and his second. "You act surprised about the horde, then tell me you know of the hybrid, or whatever he was."

Her blue eyes came to rest on Alexius, wary. "I know it sounds 'far-fetched', sir. Trust me when I say it looked even worse. This hybrid is unlike anything we have ever seen, ever faced. He made Bartholomew look like a child waving his father's sword and pretending to be a soldier. He killed him as though it were nothing. Then he told the Lycan to attack the rest of us, and they obeyed, sir, like they were his pets. It was a slaughter. That any of us at all remain is folly. If you don't believe us, take a squad and go look at the carnage yourself. In fact, take a damn army, because nothing less will stop them."

Her tone had a hint of challenge in it by the end, her body shuddering as she remembered that terrible night. Her eyes were defiant of Alexius and his second's skepticism, and a pit rested in her stomach with an ominous feeling that she did not quite understand.

"Templar Renakovic, I recommend you reconsider your tone."

Jerris's brow deepened at their senior officers' comments. They know about the hybrid, but none of us mentioned one. It would be impossible for anyone to report on it because all of the Templars at the incident are either here or were killed. His eyes narrowed at Stryker, trying to identify what the woman truly meant by her question. But if, per chance, this hybrid is notorious amongst the upper ranks, then why weren't we notified about it?

"However, Templar Renakovic speaks the truth about the Lycan forces." His stare returned to Alexius as he spoke. "There is a horde of them behind us, and for reasons we do not know, they appear to have halted their advance before sunrise. I do not understand why we were left alive, but they present a very real threat that Sanctuary must know about."

He neglected to touch on the hybrid. This isn't rescue. This is an accusation, and something is very, very wrong.

"She speaks the truth, you say?" Senior Templar Styker began, in a very accusing tone. Her eyes also narrowed at Templar Renakovic, noticing her very defiant nature towards her superior officers. "Somehow, I highly doubt that," she growled.

Inquisitor Alexius shifted in his position slightly, his own suspicious eyes glancing back and forth between Yelena and Jerris. Then his eyes glanced back at Templar Renakovic, nodding his head towards her words in regards to sending some soldiers to investigate the carnage.

"Yes, I do agree that there will be a carnage that we will discover... the carnage where you slew the rest of your fellow Templars," he stated sharply. "Archon Denaris received a report a couple days ago... from none other than your Senior Templar himself. In that handwritten report, Senior Templar Hills expressed concern over your squadron and possible rumors of a conspiracy... a conspiracy to kill the Inquisitor and the Senior Templar... to take their respective positions."

Senior Templar Styker nodded in that accordance, "Archon Denaris couldn't believe it herself, but she triple-checked the hand-writing, and it is exactly like Senior Templar Hill's own. In that report, he heard rumors that the squadron intend to kill the Inquisitor in his sleep - after the mission of taking out the Arachne in the Hirod mines. After successfully killing the Inquisitor, the conspirators will immediately attack the Senior Templar and the rest of the squadron that were loyal to both him and Inquisitor Bartholomew. If the conspirators were to survive and return... they will try to share bogus stories about a hundred Lycans and even a Lycan hybrid being responsible for the deaths of the squadron." The Senior Templar paused, obviously grimacing over her own words. "We were assigned to stop this from happening, if possible... but it seems we were too late..."

"Isaac's final words within those reports..." Inquisitor Alexius then began once more, drawing out the finishing line. "If anything happened to him or Caleb... the Templar Order is to ensure justice."

"Now tell me, Templar Renakovic and Templar Greymir... which sounds more plausible?" Inquisitor Alexius began sternly. "A pack of one-hundred Lycans and a Lycan-hybrid killing Inquisitor Caleb, Senior Templar Hills, and the rest of your squadron... or a valid report and confirmation from the higher chain of command - that you and the rest of your treacherous leeches slew the Inquisitor and began a coup d'etat within your own squadron, while coming up with the exact story that was delivered to Archon Denaris the day your squadron left Sanctuary?"

Senior Templar Stryker looked back at the troops behind her. "Templars! Draw your weapons!!"

In response, each and every Templar behind drew their various weapons - swords, shields, bows, crossbows, lances... the entire squadron was already prepared for battle.

"Templars of the former squadron lead by Inquisitor Bartholomew..." Inquisitor Alexius began in a loud and authorative voice, drawing his own blade from his waist. "I charge you all with conspiracy and murder of your commanding officers and fellow Templars. If you surrender peacefully, we will escort you all to the city of Sanctuary where we shall bring you all into trial. If you choose to resist, we will have no choice but to resort to use force... which may result in your respective deaths."

The biting remarks that Yelena had been gathering in her mind in response to the continued derision she and Jerris were being shown flew from her head as the call for arrest sounded. She stared blankly for a moment, eyeing the drawn weapons, the steadfast demeanors, eyes hard and hands ready to draw blood should their quarry resist "justice." Yelena's mouth worked silently as she wrestled with disbelief, wondering if this was some cruel joke even while knowing with dreadful certainty that it was not.

"That's bullshit," the Knight said, and it took her a moment to realize she had spoken aloud. As the consternation ebbed, her seething anger began to return. After everything we have just been through, barely surviving with our lives, our own Order turns on us? What is going on?

The quiet fury on the faces of those opposing them left little room to hope that they could still be reasoned with. Yelena's mind worked rapidly, and as it did, she turned sideways to look at the beaten, bloodied, ragged Templars in her group on her right. Her eyes lingered on Octavius Warren, filled with righteous indignation...and pleading. This is too much.

"You know what happened; you know what we saw, what we faced," she declared loudly enough for them all to hear. "You know that without us, without our knowledge of this threat, Sanctuary will fall. Someone in the heirarchy has betrayed us. Someone with power and pull is in league with the hybrid and his lycan army. Maybe even more than one person. If we surrender and subject ourselves to a trial, you can guarantee that these persons will do everything they can to see us scapegoated for these crimes."

She turned her icy gaze on the Inquisitor. Her hand rested on the hilt of her sword. "I will not risk everything for your trial, not when the false evidence has been stacked against us and we have no proof of our own with which to counter it. If I have to find proof of this threat by myself, so be it, but I will not be led like a sheep to the slaughter, and leave Sanctuary defenseless."

Yelena stood resolute, feet planted, staring scathingly at Alexius, gaze heavy with accusation over how quickly he would doubt those who had served so loyally, so faithfully, for years. It hurt, ached somewhere deep inside, but it was the burn of betrayal that Yelena held tight, needing fuel for the inevitable fight ahead.

She had meant what she said. If she had to seek out evidence on her own, she would. Her chances out in the wilderness were better than those in chains, awaiting execution.


She's absolutely right. Somebody wants us out of the picture and all of this covered up, somebody on the inside.

Jerris also set his hand upon the hilt of his right blade in a casual mirror of Yelena, but his stare remained downcast. The hybrid could've killed us back there, and that would be the end of it. But no, he let us free to spread rumors. He must've known about this insurance.

His other hand drifted towards the center of his belt, and he could see the immediate squadron of Templars in his peripherals tense up. Even with their numbers, they appeared to know rumors of what the ice-hearted Templar could do. It all makes sense. That's why they stopped pursuing us. If we all died, there would be an investigation. The only better way to keep a secret is by having traitors shouting it. How did I not see this sooner? He softly exhaled through pursed lips, his fingers tracing the warm steel of his belt buckle. There isn't enough information. I need more.

Clunk.

The earthy sound of heavy metal striking dirt jolted a few of Alexius's Templars as Jerris's sword belt fell unbuckled from his waist. Both scabbarded blades rose shortly afterwards as he lifted the belt by one strap and extended it upwards to the mounted Inquisitor. Finally, his steel grey eyes rose, wide and honed upon Alexius. They still held no life, but never had they expressed any sort of emotion before. They almost seemed to glimmer with...anger? Frustration? Indignation? Or...was it passion?

I need to return to Sanctuary, and there's only one way I'm getting there.

"I surrender."

[Scottie]

The others that joined her went unnoticed. Her eyes were fixed on the dirt that she had to trudge through next. She heard the hooves before she noticed them. Slowing down, she felt her stomach twist. This could only end well, of course. When they stopped before her, she dragged her eyes up to them. Noticing a few vaguely familiar faces. This wasn’t her fight. She didn’t need to say anything, the others would. She would just continue on. Sophia even turned to move again but felt compelled to stay. But she kept her back to them. Let them speak, let them tell the story. She just needed to rest and it was over that hill. The one she settled her eyes on, hearing only faint words as they faded into the background.

Harsher words than expected pierced the air. Then it started to build. Like bile in her throat, like a burning under her skin. Not fear or relief from being safe. But anger, pure rage. They were being questioned. Like they were criminals. Her hand curled tighter around her bow, her knuckles turning white. Biting down on her tongue and just concentrating on that hill. This would all be sorted soon. When she heard that order and the clink of weapons raised, she did what came naturally. The closet Templar that raised their weapon at her was met with the tip of her arrow aiming at their face. She would not back down. Not now. The man didn’t back down even when she growled at him.

It pulsed under her skin, tingled and burned. She wanted to tear at her skin, scream at them. Curse them and lash out. But she kept that raised bow aimed and steady. She would not go quietly. She would take blood, she would tear flesh before they dragged her away. Nice speech, Sophia thought giving Yelena props for once in her life. Even with Jerris admitting defeat, she had made up her mind. She lowered her weapon but didn’t drop it. She moved a step forward and the man closet to her followed her with his sword. She snapped her eyes to him and glared as he tried to stop her from moving. “Try it and I’ll tear out your tongue.” She moved to the side and easily brushed past the tip of the sword before heading back through the crowd.

Moving through the group like water, brushing past her fellow Templars until she stood closer to Yelena. She gently tapped Yelenas arm gently to tell her she was there. Letting her eyes drag up to see the man that stood before her. “Forgive me for being forward Sir…but your accusations fall flat.” Much like your head. “If you return to that camp, you will find our fallen brothers and sisters. But you will also find the Lycan we slayed. Senior Templar Hills was not killed in cold blood at our hands. We all experienced the horde of blood dogs that attacked us.” She said raising her chin, “I did not fight through that night for you to accuse us of killing our fallen brethren and our leader. I will not return to that city for you to parade us as traitors. I will not return to go through your fucking attempt at a trial. I know exactly how those end.”

She stopped herself from grinding her teeth as she clung to her bow. This man was immense before her, but she felt little fear. She just really wanted to knock his teeth out. The mere fact that he could accuse them of doing that made her blood boil. Hills was their leader, he was the force to be reckoned with. This man presumed they could bring him down. He was a legend, not someone who could be torn down by a group of “unruly” Templars. She kept her chin high, her eyes burning through the mans skin. “I choose to resist Sir. Not because I am guilty. But because I would rather die a death by sword than face such fucking false charges. I did not kill Senior Templar Hills. Not a person here did today. But if blood is what it takes for the truth to be uncovered. So be it.”

[Maya]

Kiera was tired. Dead, dog tired. She'd had enough walking, enough talking, enough blah, blah, blah which escaped comprehension anymore about what happened. Let them argue and gnash their teeth at each other as if their brothers and sisters were the cause of all that had gone wrong. Everybody knows bitching at your family after a tragedy brings you closer.

Please, stop talking.

She wanted a hot bath, a warm meal, some clean clothes and hard, stiff drink. Hell, maybe she wanted a hard, stiff man to distract the madness in her mind for a minute or so. Kiera didn't need this bickering. She didn't need the blame game. She didn't need any of this. The henpecking at each other, the questions, the blame..it would never change what happened. Which is why, again, she distanced herself from the others to try and find some, small vestige of sanity in a place that now seemed completely insane.

As they crept ever closer to Zion, she made the huge mistake of believing at least one of those creature comforts her body so cried out for would be within in her reach. The earthen ground rumbled beneath the horses hooves as riders approached from Zion. Help seemed to be arriving. Though, for some reason, she found herself doubtful. Which made sense as soon as the interrogation of the Templar's began. Apparently, the team hadn't been through enough torment yet. She stood stoically, listening in stone, cold silence. Stryker, Denaris, Alexius..they didn't believe a word the team said. It was was pretty clear they arrived with the full intention of casting blame wherever it would stick so long as it wasn't on themselves.

Something isn't right here. That little sixth sense was clawing around in what was left of an extremely fatigued brain. Even tired, she knew trouble was brewing. Nothing prepared her for what happened next.

"Senior Templar Hills expressed concern over your squadron and possible rumors of a conspiracy... a conspiracy to kill the Inquisitor and the Senior Templar... to take their respective positions."

Being one of the two with him the moment Isaac died, she knew that was complete and utter bullshit. The mission had not been a small one. With so many Templar's participating in the fighting and knowing what had happened on the field of battle, how could their leaders even think they could get away with such lies and untruths? She was literally stunned by what was taking place. The weight of their betrayal matched by the complete disregard for those who'd given the better part of their lives to the Templar order only to be betrayed by their own was unfathomable. They were the scapegoats for something bigger. But what? She felt like they were being thrown to the wolves for dinner. Maybe they were. Why not? Would be the fastest way to get rid of them and erase most of the evidence they'd ever even existed. What a morbid thought.

Yet, she..said..nothing.

More riders soon arrived. Foot and mounted soldiers with weapons at the ready. The pit of her stomach was twisting and turning in knots. When had the saviors became the enemy? What justified the change in status? Most importantly..why? They'd almost died and for what?Something deeper was at play here. She wanted to find out who was calling the shots now.

Yelena, who had enough vigor and fire for everyone, seemed to be choosing to get the hell out of this mess. On another day and another time, Sanford might have joined her in flipping the bird and riding for the hills. Others followed her lead. Silently, she wished them well. Hopefully, they would see each other again. But, she didn't think the truth would be found somewhere in that stretch of barren land. It seemed to lay somewhere in the midst of those scowling down at them from their lofty position of lies and deceit. If it meant being thrown in a cell and casting aside her freedom to find out what was really going on and why Isaac had to die, she'd give her own life in exchange for the truth.

People may question Jerris' methods or where his allegiance truly lies. They may think him uncaring and aloof; but, he'd taken the time to help her in the past. He'd saved many a life in battle. He'd helped ease the weight on her shoulders after Isaac's death. It may not mean much; but, he had earned her respect. Now, he would also have a companion willing to endure whatever lay ahead in Zion or wherever they may end up. Her sword, bow and arrows were left miles away in the sand so there were only a few daggers and the knife to toss aside with a soft thump. "I surrender as well."

[The Texan Queen]

She was just trying to push forward and ignore all the shouting happening behind her, she just wanted to get to Zion without letting her emotions get the best of her. Anytime her mind wandered to what happened to Isaac she forced herself to think of something else, when thoughts of his now orphan daughter she made herself think of food, when she hoped it was all some kind of a sick joke she sang song in her head. Selenada didn't want to think of Isaac's corpse laying on the scorched battle field, how their team was being ripped apart, or how his daughter would handle the news, she didn't want to think of any of it.

"Oh, I wish they would stop fighting and-" Her words were cut short by the sound of horses charging their way. She gripped her weapon and forced her tired hand to find a strong grip, using her free hand she shielded her eyes from the sun so she could see who was approaching. Selenada couldn't have been happier to see the friendly faces from the Templar order, maybe Isaac isn't dead...maybe he sent them to us...maybe he's with them! She tried not to get too excited at the possibilities popping up in her mind but she couldn't help it, the thought of Isaac surviving was a thought she would cling to. She watched each horse ride past her and eagerly looked up at the rider only to be disappointed when she didn't see her leader. It wouldn't be likely he was with them anyway if he was wounded....please God let him be alive.

She rejoined the group and was greeted by harsh words and horrendous accusations. She was speechless. They were accusing them of killing Senior Hills...it didn't make any sense. None of this did. That massive hoard, the strange Hybrid and now this? Something wasn't right. Then the line was drawn, surrender or run. Yelena started off the resistance and Jerris was the first to surrender, two people she looked up to were standing of different sides of the fence. What was she supposed to do? She knew that everyone here was innocent and did nothing but fight for their life and their fellow Templar's lives. But to run off made them look guilty and to surrender under these circumstances made them look guilty. She looked between Jerris and Yelena with confused and worried eyes, how did they manage to get in this situation?

"I surrender as well." She felt her feet moving her in the direction of Jerris but her eyes never left Yelena.

[Sonic]

Octavius Warren clenched and unclenched the hand which he had used to strike Jerris (no longer Templar Greymir in his eyes). He gave a cursory look at the white-haired fiend, but when the latter disregarded him entirely Octavius didn’t let it bother him. He returned to where Yelena was standing, arm on the hilt of her sword.

More and more people were showing their distaste, it seemed, for what Octavius had done, as if Jerris were some orphan child who had just been hit by a sanctimonious aristocrat. He felt shamed, but he didn’t apologize to Jerris nor did he move when the others, though clearly hurt by Isaac’s death, were quick to move on from it, as though it were a hill—like any other—they simply needed to surmount.

There’s nothing wrong with mourning the death of your superior, Octavius thought. There’s nothing wrong with being mad at having been betrayed by a man whom you regarded as, if not a friend, then at least a comrade. Octavius thought: Stop being so callous, sanctimonious assholes. He gritted his teeth so hard that it looked as though they could turn to powder at a moment’s notice.

Nevertheless, he cooled his heart, allowing everyone to say their peace. When Templar Letum spoke, Octavius opened his mouth to make a rejoinder (at last!), but Templar Catriona beat him to it, which was fine, because it seemed that she shared the same dislike for Jerris that Octavius did.

“Prick,” Octavius nodded when Templar Catriona doubted Jerris’s intimacy with their deceased Senior Templar.

The sun beat mercilessly on them despite their present disposition, and Octavius frowned so deeply that lines folded around his mouth. He took a step forward, intending to join the others in pursuing Zion, when the tittup of horses made the earth under which they stood tremble.

Another Templar squadron showed up in front of them, all decked out in military uniform as if they were already gearing for a fight. Although, there was no threat out here, was there? Octavius even cast a look over his shoulder to see if the Lycan hoard could be seen on the horizon, but there was only the azure sky sitting unperturbed on the earth.

Then, accusations were thrown, threats were said, and lines were drawn before Octavius realized that lines had already been drawn when he had struck Jerris. Octavius was stunned, to say the least. That he and his Templars were being accused of murdering Templar Hills could be nothing short of an ill-intended joke, or the climax of a really crappy book.

But, it was real. This was really happening.

“That doesn’t even make any sense.” Octavius opined. “If we did murder Templar Hills, then why would we hide behind a story that sounds so clearly fictitious. We would have chosen something that you would have more readily believed!” His muscles hurt and he was craving for a drink, a warm bed, and food. These base desires told him to join Jerris; they told him to surrender.

He would be lying to himself if he were to say that Yelena's decision didn't at all affect his own. It did. But, it wasn't the ultimate factor. He knew that even if she had decided to surrender that he would have still chosen to prove his innocence. Perhaps they would be able to learn more about what was happening if they returned to Sanctuary—that was probably what Jerris and Templars Sanford and Seleneda were thinking, anyways—but Octavius would rather be damned than to return to Sanctuary as a guilty man. His parents had met their deaths as a result of incompetent Templars, and he would never join that particular breed of incompetence, either in law or in death.

From his peripheral Octavius noticed Templar Adams bravado and smirked. Sometimes he forgot how strong the members of his squadron could be when the time called for strength, and this clearly was that time. When Adams came beside Yelena, Octavius moved and stood on the other side. He absently wondered if he and Adams looked like guards protecting a high-ranking official.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Octavius half-joked to Yelena. Drawing his strength, he placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and directed his next words to the Inquisitor, his Senior Templar, and the Templars behind them. “Sorry. I won’t go to Sanctuary accused of treason. That would be an insult to the men and women of this squadron who lost their lives.”

[Iwazuma]

Trest had barely had time to register the arguments from both sides about Jerris's deceptions when he heard noises from the opposite direction. Turning to face the commotion, he saw a squadron of Templars approaching them from across the way. Apparently they had spotted them? Granted, they were a shambling mess at this point, so it was certainly possible they spotted them from Zion and ordered a rescue. Made sense to HIM, at least. He took a few steps back as they approached rather forcefully, dismounting right in front of him. They seemed awfully...grim. Were they aware of what they had just gone through?

As Jerris and Yelena conversed with Inquisitor Alexius and his men, Trest watched in slightly confused interest. They seemed more knowledgeable than they ought to on their situation. When the woman mentioned outright the hybrid, pieces began to fall into place as Trest's eyes narrowed. Something was not right here. Trest's throbbing leg put in an extra little painful THROB and he clutched at it. It wasn't clairvoyance, but didn't help the scene at all. There was something just outright WRONG about the whole situation. He was sure of it.

And moments later, his suspicions were confirmed. What did they MEAN they intended to kill the Inquisitor and Senior Templar? Trest's jaw dropped as he stared at his superiors with dumbfounded stupor. A report that they intended to commit mutiny? It stank of just-made-up, and Trest found it impossible to believe. Especially when we DID fight a Lycan hybrid and a horde large enough to massacre all of Zion! Trest clutched now at his staff, unsure what was going to happen.

All at once, the Templar squadron in front of them drew their weapons. Trest took a step back, shivers wracking his body. He was going to be slain for a crime he didn't commit! This was insane! He was all set to flee the scene and pray his comrades would cover for him when he saw multiple things going on. First Yelena took a defensive stance, all intent clear in her eyes she was going to fight the Templars until her last breath. Even more shockingly, Jerris surrendered out of nowhere! MAYBE all together they stood a chance, but if he was going to surrender...other Templars began to take sides as well, some choosing to surrender while others decided to fight to the finish. He would have to choose as well...

Surrendering seemed like the smart option. Half of what remained of a ragged, exhausted squadron stood no chance against a fully rested team of elites, and Trest hated to fight when he didn't need to. But a few things niggled in the back of his mind...Why would he surrender to these Templars when they had gone against their promise to protect Zion from the forces of darkness? They were clearly covering for the Lycans, or someone had falsified information. Either way, surrendering was just going to get him killed one way or another. And moreover, he recalled a voice in his head...his father. "Son, you're going to be a Templar. You're going to stand up for the virtuous and fight against anyone who would dare threaten the peace of our world. Even if they end up being your friends. Remember...faith is your greatest weapon."

Trest stood his ground, drawing his staff and facing down his adversaries. "When I joined the Templar order, I made...I m-made a promise. I promised I would protect Zion and everyone from anyone who would dare threaten the peace and harmony of our world. And you are doing that very thing by trying to accuse us! I will not stop until I have fallen or have taken down e-e-e-every last one of you! For Zion...." Trest's words were weakly spoken, but full of intent and determination. The coward was taking a stand, for better or worse.

[Yamimoon]

Letum had only gone about ten feet when his ears picked up on the sounds of approaching horses, and the sound of clanking armor. Looking ahead he was puzzled by the sound that was quickly approaching the small group of survivors. By the sound of it there was a small battalion of Templars coming their way. However, he didn’t hear the sounds of any approaching Lycans, so the amount of solders was abnormal. Because of this he quickly turned around and walked back to the group.

Something wasn’t right, and he didn’t want to be caught off guard. When the group of Templars arrived with Inquisitor Alexius leading the group. He moved to stand about ten feet behind where Templar Greymir was standing. Now it was time for the accusation to fall. Letum remained emotionless as the Inquisitor accused them of killing their superiors as well as their fellow Templars.

What in the hell was going on? Granted he was sent to kill as many high ranking Templars as he could, but he also knew that he couldn’t get caught in the process. Over his years as a Templar he had not once been able to get close enough to any of the Inquisitors or Senior Templars to kill a one of them. They were all cautions people that don’t let their guard down. So with this logic if Templar Hill’s thought he was going to be killed he would not have let his guard down, and he would not let anyone get the drop on him. Even though he knew the truth of the matter this was only logical.

This whole thing just stunk of conspiracy.

Then two different paths opened before them. One to run and discover what in the world was going on. The other Surrender and find the truth form within the Templar order. Both decisions are logical, and if some of the Templars worked from the outside, and the others worked from the inside they should be able to find the truth. But just as he finished his thought he guessed either driven by emotion or logic.

Templar Greymir choose the path to finding out what happened from the inside, and Templar Renakovic chose the path to external search. He knew that either path he chose at the moment was going to be hell. Because there was no way of getting away from his withdrawal. Although that was not one of the deciding factors.

He may not have liked Templar Greymir, but he could truthfully understand the man. There was no room for emotion on the battle field, and he showed more of what was needed to win a fight. Besides there was no way he would be able to get the information he needed without some help. He walked up next to Templar Greymir undoing the belt buckle that held up his weapons, and allowed them to fall to the ground.

“Never allow your eyes to be clouded by deceit.” He stated looking Inquisitor Alexius in the eyes. “But as you have already fallen to that…” Letum stopped talking to the man then looked at Jerris. “Remember what I told you the day of my progress report!” Letum said with a smile. “I will be joining you in this little endeavor.” He said as he looked to Alexius. “I surrender.”

[IronQuill]

So it would seem that Iago had a little fly on his shoulder, a fly that Iago has been watching for some time. That skulker Letum whispered into his ear.

"Watch yourself..."

Ominous words said by an ominous man. Iago fought the temptation to warn the man back, knowing better than to challenge the likes of the one man Iago could not dig a secret on. Either Letum was the most boring man Iago had ever met, or held to his secrets tighter than a priest and his donatives.

Iago pondered what he should do about that man when they got to Zion. But he would have to worry about that on a far later date, for the cavalry. Armed men and woman by the dozens had arrived and they bring to the remnants of Inquisitor Bartholomew accusations, and Iago was not impressed.

Conspiracies and secrets lace the Templar Order like the weave of a lady's brassier, that much Iago knew. The accusations heaped on his comrades were like nails fired from blunderbuss, aimed but crude. Inquisitor Alexius used his authority to sweep them under a rug, the spy understood the logic behind such a move, but he believed that could have been handled with greater subtlety.

"Iago surrenders as well..."

Iago let his arbalest fall from his arms, unclasped its windlass from his belt and dropped it. Then came his pistol and dagger from the folds of his sash, dropping harmlessly to his feet. He would need to return to Sanctuary, and his arrest shall be the vehicle home. There will be much to discuss with the Archon, new puppets have come onto stage and he will need to find their masters.



Many within the squadron expressed their choices, surrender or resist. Many voiced their reasons for compliance or defiance. Stirring speeches, curses, and grim warnings of what is to come in the wake of the fool hardy arrest. Tannhauser had heard all of them, and any other situation he would have felt to try and match the impact of their words. He would choose his words carefully, be tactful and intelligent with his speechcraft. But now was not one of those times, but he did have a few choice words. Two, actually.

"FUCK YOU!"

Sword in one hand, pistol in the other, both brandished threateningly at the those who would arrest the Heir of the Tannhausers. Matthew would be a simple man this hour.

[Sonic]

Amittay had never been a brave man, though he had always done things ‘by the book’; the book, of course, was a compilation of rules and orders to which everyone needed to adhere. Even now, weighed down by the cart Orfiel had crafted, and the sun which refused to abate its strength, Amittay felt the Inquisitor who had just appeared had set out rules which were expected to be followed.

Fine. Amittay did not mind complying. He was exhausted, hungry, thirsty, all manner of desire flowed through him. “I wonder what you will do Orfiel,” he said beneath his breath, uncertain if the Templar could hear him.

“I surrender as well,” he spoke. He released his burden and passed the Templars who had yet to make a decision. He cast an apologetic look towards Yelena, and then stood abreast Templar Jerris. He then unhooked his bow, but then realized that he still had Letum’s silver sword. I’ll just leave it here, I suppose, he thought, dropping the weapon on the dirt.

The gun too, I guess.

Amittay had a harder time removing his gun. It was the only thing he had left from his father. Nevertheless, he dropped the gun on the dirt and stood with his hands above his head.

[SikstaSlathalin]

Zion loomed up before the bedraggled group of Templars and Orfiel felt his darkened heart lifting up in hope. Soon they would be safe and the many wounded warriors could be treated and they could begin rebuilding and striking back at the Lycan Horde and any other group of monsters they crossed paths with. The Templar Order would endure!

The hope continued to lift as a large group of well-armed Templars rode out to meet them. Was this there escort back to Zion and Sanctuary. Big O stopped his wary steps and almost raised his arm in greeting, but as he saw the grim faces and accusing glares he stopped himself. This wasn't good, the hope began to falter. Inquisitor Alexius and Senior Templar Stryker square up with the group and as their words fell the hope all but fell out of the bottom of Big O's heart. They were accused of killing two of the best and most experienced Templars along with more than half of the combined forces they left with only to walk back to Zion to face the music. That was stupid, and as the level of stupidity grew with each word and surrender the few scraps of hope turned into rage.

So many Templars he knew and trusted were dead and more were surrendering to face an almost certain death, when were the Templars such a fatalist group? He could see why they might, they needed to get to the bottom of these lies. Despite that though O couldn't join them even with this cart full of wounded soldiers to see to safety, but he also could just leave them alone. They would no doubt be put to a quick death. The big man was conflicted, his grip on the cart's handle increased and he could hear it cracking in his hands. His mind continued to war with itself, but a bloodied and dirty hand on his shoulder nudged him forward. Looking back he saw one of the men in his cart leaning forward with the aid of his fellows.

It was a Paladin by the name of Rickers, he had a nasty head wound and O could see infection spreading through his body. They went through training together before Rickers got transferred.
"You must go with the others O. You survived in the wilds, they'll need you more than we will." Big O agreed and found deeper reasons to resist. What the Inquisitor and his group were doing was wrong, and not just wrong. But against the very law of the Order and the Lord God himself, it was blasphemy. Placing down his load O stepped out of the harness and armed himself with his only remaining weapons, his tried and tested knuckle dusters. Making his way to the other resisters the big man tightens the lashes on the gauntlets standing behind Trest, Octavius, Yelena, Sophia and Tannhauser. Standing well above them like an imposing golem ready to fight, he hasn't come this far, fighting away from his Daemon worshiping family, leaving in the Bordefields, and burning himself out becoming a top Templar and then a Crusader to go quietly to some biased court appeal that would no doubt become a long series of executions.
No he was a fighter and the good books are filled with fighters who refuse to give in when their beliefs are being challenged.

"I will not suffer the company of blasphemers spouting vile sacrilege. You dare to cast judgement upon your fellow men and fellow Templars. Only the Lord God himself can claim such a right, and by making such wild and baseless accusation with only the word of some aloof figurehead to go on, you have committed one of the greatest acts of hubris! Look at us, look at that cart of wounded men, look only there and tell me how you think we could commit such a heinous act as killing Inquisitor Bartholomew and Senior Templar Hills." Orfiel finished his little speech with a clack of his dusters signalling his intent to fight or die.

[Black]

"I surrender as well" Ezra said without preamble, one of the last of the group to make his decision. In this he had adopted no more than a thoughtful air about him. Already Ezra knew there was a sinister force playing here. Something more evil than just a scourge beast. Something that didn't just unflinchingly attack and attack, maiming and killing all in their path. That type of evil Ezra knew how to fight. Arguably he was one of the best at doing so because of his blunt, to the point nature. The ying to their yang he knew only how to slaughter them by the droves, how to cut them down and survive to see the next summer. He, indeed many Templar's, were more like the scourge than they would ever care to admit. The scourge existed only to kill, to slaughter humans. The Templar's were their antithesis, born only to slaughter, to kill Scourge-lings.

This was a new kind of evil, a new perspective to fight from. One of trickery, one of deceit and politics. Ezra didn't know how to fight this kind of evil. But he needed to learn. Any weakness, any whatsoever, was unacceptable in his mind. He'd have to go with them, as detestable as it was, to figure out how to fight this new type of battle. To fight with words and with ideas, fluttering between the minds of men one at a time. Ezra un-belted his sword and laid it on the ground, he laid his spear on top of that and his rifle upon that. His eyes alighted on the man who stepped forward to claim them with a glint in his eyes. "I'll be taking these back one day Ser," Ezra declared quietly to him. His eyes were as hard and as cold as flint and the Templar sneered at him, yanking his weapons away and grabbing Ezra roughly.

This was a new type of war. Ezra would need to learn how to fight it. As the Templar who had arrested him shoved him forward. It appeared Ezra would need to learn patience in the face of lesser men. Even the Templar's had displeasure-able men to work with and Ezra would need to learn how to manipulate them. How to use dis-pleasurable men like this to further the aims and goals of Sanctuary. Ezra's eyes slid over to his captor. He imagined grabbing the back of the arms-mans neck and using him to catch a sword meant for a citizen. Smiling grimly Ezra marched onward to Zion and eventually Sanctuary.

Sometimes, Ezra thought to himself, Templar's must learn to do the most unsavory things in the name of protecting the innocent. In the face of extinction Ezra knew he'd lower himself to any depth of shame to ensure the survival of his people.

[RedKayne]

All of those words tossed towards the Inquisitor - insults, curses, pleadings - went right through his head and fell upon deaf ears. Inquisitor Alexius will not deal with their nonsense - some of them expressed that this was all a conspiracy, and that they would have no reason to kill their superiors. However, the evidence was currently stacked against them - and the Inquisitor would not understand the mindsets of treacherous leeches. All of these injuries, were more than likely received after they assaulted Senior Templar Hills and the rest of the loyal squadron members. Obviously, there were more than lucky to have survive such a battle. But here and now, their luck has run out.

He glanced at those that surrendered - lead by Jerris Greymir. He gave them a brief nod, approving of their action as several of his own Templars took the initiative and stepped forward. They detained all of the Templars surrendering, restraining their arms to their backs with the use of silver handcuffs. They were slowly being escorted away and towards the town of Zion, while the Inquisitor and his remaining soldiers will take care of these scoundrels.

He slid off of his horse, before taking a few steps forward before drawing the large two-handed claymore (http://swordmaster.org/uploads/2011/euro-swords/claymore_c_16th_cen_2.jpg)strapped to his back. He took a few steps forward, glancing towards his Senior Templar - but immediately paused in his steps. Senior Templar Stryker stood there - appearing rather... faltered... in her eyes. This was strange for a woman with such strong demeanor, and Alexius questioned what was going through her head. Could it possibly be that she was doubting the orders of the higher-ups... could it be that she actually believes that there was some boogeyman out there in the Borderfields with a hundred Lycans at his command?

"Sir..." Rebekah slowly began.

"I said get ready!" The Inquisitor barked, causing the woman to flinch slightly.

"Inquisitor Alexius!" a young voice interrupted the Inquisitor. That voice belonged to a young man - who goes by the nickname of Swift. He, along with several of his companions, were new members of the Templar Order after undergoing the Field Training test. They were set up to become the brand new seventh squadron - but due to the dire circumstances, it seemed like they will simply replace the sixth squadron.

Suddenly, a brown horse was beside the Inquisitor, with the young Templar jumping right off in front of his commander. "Sir, if I may speak..." Swift began, straightening his posture as he looked at David Alexius right in the eyes.

"What is the meaning of this, templar," the Inquisitor growled, lowering his own weapon as Swift stood between the higher-ranking officer and the group of battered traitors.

"Sir, when I joined the Templar Order - I understand that we were meant to be protectors of mankind, and Vanguards against the Scourge. We stand up for what we believe in - and in this case, I believe that these Templars are innocent. We should not waste time with infighting, sir, and we need to focus on the new threats presented by the Scourge."

The Inquisitor nearly dropped his jaw... he couldn't believe that this kid actually believed in this nonsense! "You're young and naive, templar. Three packs of Lycan working together? A Lycan-human Hybrid prowling around the plains of the Borderfields? That's impossible. Simple as that." In all of his years of experience, the Inquisitor understood how the Scourge worked. He could understand the small possibility of the Lycans working together, such as how they did back in previous Plagues. However, nowhere in history has there even been reports of Scourge Beast Hybrids. Never.

However, it is not unheard of Templars... corrupted Templars... becoming greedy and thirsting for more power. The ambitions of such Templars... they will do whatever it takes to achieve their goals. Even if it means to conspire against their leaders. Even if it means to kill off their own comrades. Such is the way of life in Sanctuary... and these young, idealistic Templars cannot comprehend that yet.

"Now, get out of my way," the Inquisitor promptly ordered.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, sir," the young Swift quickly responded back. "I will stand up for what I believe in... and my friends shall also."

With that stated, the Inquisitor heard a blade draw from behind him. He glanced back, noticing it was Swift's best friend, Zachary, who drew his blade and pointed it towards the Inquisitor's back. A few more of the newer templars, around five or six, strode by with their horses before getting off beside Swift. A couple more of the newer Templars stepped beside Zachary, their weapons drawn and ready to attack the Inquisitor on the slightest of movement.

"You dare..." Alexius's eyes flared with anger. The rest of his loyal squadron members had their weapons drawn already, prepared to jump at the upstarts. However, at the slightest of movement - it might risk the Inquisitor's life. "YOU DARE RAISE YOUR WEAPONS TO YOUR SUPERIOR!!" Alexius spat venomously.

Now, with the Inquisitor distracted, Swift and a couple of the other younger templars turned towards the former members of Caleb's squadron. "Here, take these horses!" Swift stated. There were exactly six horses, the perfect amount for Yelena and others to take and get away.

"Senior Templar Stryker! Don't let them get away!" Alexius shouted, turning towards Rebekah. However, the young woman stood there - her own face frowning from indecisiveness. She was already unsure of the circumstances, and any actions that she takes could possibly bring harm to the Inquisitor. "Senior Templar! Do something!!"

He ordered.

However, it was too late.

The horses were already racing away, with Yelena and the others riding on top of them. As they stated, they would rather risks going out into the wilderness, than deal with a biased trial that would surely lead to their inevitable executions.

"Comrades, drop your weapons," Swift stood before the Inquisitor once again. Quickly, all of the new Templars that participated in allowing Yelena and the others to escape, dropped their weapons before falling to their knees. Swift did the same, "It is not our intention to fight, Inquisitor," he bowed his head respectfully. "We only did... what was right."

The Inquisitor stood there silently, fuming. "Arrest them," he simply ordered to his own squadron. Apparently, he should have never brought in these new Templars into a serious situation like this. They only messed things up due to their idealistic perception on the world. The world of Sanctuary... it was a cold-and-cruel place. Now, members of their own Order have become fugitives of Sanctuary. And it is their duty to hunt them down.

"Senior Templar, come here!" Alexius ordered, which Rebekah quickly complied. She stood before him, standing upright with a monotone facial expression. "Gather up some of my soldiers, and chase after them. Bring them back - dead or alive." The Inquisitor paused in his words. "And do not come back... until you complete this mission. Otherwise, after this debacle, your Senior Templar status will be revoked. Do you understand me," he stated these words quietly, practically hissing them.

"Yes, sir, I understand," Rebekah nodded. And as quickly as her attitude faltered earlier, her eyes hardened. From Alexius's perspective, it hardened with determination and resolve. With that order, he simply turned away. He needed to supervise the escort to Sanctuary - and turn over the rest of the traitors to Inquisitor Darkwood. From there, their law enforcement will ensure justice for the deaths of Inquisitor Caleb Bartholomew, Senior Templar Hills, and the other lost poor souls out in the fields.

[☆Catwoman☆]

Yelena rode hard, leading those few who had backed her up before the misguided - or traitorous - Inquisitor and his unit. When they had first set out, Yelena had driven them southwest, as if falling back to Hirod. It made sense, and she had almost continued along that route, as the townspeople's goodwill for the mine rescue might work in their favor. However, once they had outdistanced their pursuers, she had wheeled her group around and headed north for Judah instead, hoping to throw Alexius's Templars off their scent and buy them time.

As they journeyed across the wasteland in silence, the Knight reflected on the events that had transpired, mulling them over in her mind. Exhaustion still plagued her and her peers, but the horses gave them much needed respite. She did not know the young Templar, Swift, or his comrades, but she would forever be indebted to them for their bravery. She only hoped their punishment for their courage would not be too severe.

But Yelena could not think about that now. It was past. It was the future that needed saving.

It was a long trek, indeed. They stopped only briefly at a stream to water and rest their horses lest they ride them to death, then continued on. No one questioned the pace, knowing that pursuit was inevitable and drawing nearer with each passing moment. By the time the farmland of Judah came into view, the sun was rising with a new morning.

It was a bedraggled group that entered the town borders. Farmers working the fields watched them pass, and Yelena was surprised at how prosperous Judah appeared, with well-built homes and a short wall topped with tall, sharpened logs protecting it. Sanctuary had little to do with the remote colony, as it had little to offer the great city that made it worth the risk of sending caravans to and fro. Yet, reportedly, its people held no ill will towards Sanctuary for its near abandonment of them, perhaps because they seemed to be doing quite well on their own.

The first thing that struck the Knight about the place was the number of guards and regular citizens armed with daggers and swords. A few even carried pistols for protection. They did not seem downtrodden or helpless, such as those in some of their sister towns, but rather determined and proud. They were workers, fighters, independent and strong, and they could care for their own.

As the Templars came to the town square - dismounting and walking their tired horses alongside them - a small crowd stopped to welcome them, children playing around their feet and gawking at the equine guests. Foremost among those gathered was a graying man, flanked by his son, who could be no more than twenty-five years of age. He stepped up to the Templars, hands spread in welcome, and the crowd quieted in deference to him.

"Greetings, Templars, and be welcome in Judah," he intoned, bowing his head slightly. Yelena returned the gesture. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit? Does Sanctuary wish a report of our progress here?"

"No, elder," Yelena replied, knowing him for what he was. His eyes were almost youthful despite his advanced years, and of a startling emerald green. His son, she noted, shared them. "For now, we ask only for shelter, food, and drink, for ourselves and our horses. We have had a long, hard ride and are nearly dead on our feet."

"Of course. You are our guests and will be treated as such. Come to my house and dine with me and my family. My wife is preparing breakfast as we speak, and we would be proud to serve you."

He gestured to a couple of youths, who hurried forward to take the reins of their steeds and lead them away to the stables. The Templars, meanwhile, followed the elder and his son to his home.

Judah's livelihood relied on their farms, and the smells of fresh vegetables and eggs cooking greeted them as they entered the fairly large abode, causing Yelena's mouth to water. Her stomach, stirred by the smells, growled audibly, but she was too exhausted to be embarrassed. They were led to a formal dining room with a large table, and asked to sit. Yelena settled gratefully into one of the wooden chairs, eyeing Warren as she did so, especially glad that he had chosen to dive once more into danger with her. Her gaze took in the rest of her group, as well, grateful for them all.

The elder and his son took their seats, the man at the head of the table and the boy at his right hand. He introduced himself as Caius Ainstom, his son as Araius, and engaged the Templars only in idle chat until breakfast was served. He allowed them to sate their hunger before delving into more serious matters, for which Yelena was glad; she would not have been able to think very clearly otherwise.

"So, my friends, what brings you to Judah, then?" Caius began. " I mean no disrespect, but I must say that you look to be a weary and war-torn group. Were you beset upon by Plaguebeasts?"

[RedKayne]

Warning: This post is not for the weak-stomached. It can induce nausea, and make one feel squeamish. Read at own caution.



“Well, you certainly are more resilient than I expected,” Inquisitor Darkwood pulls back slightly, straightening his posture and taking a small step back. Both of his hands were covered with fingerless leather gloves, and the knuckles were covered with scraped skin and blood. He cracked a devious grin, “Makes this more fun then, right?”

He stood at the center at a small basement-like room - the floor, walls, and ceiling were completely composed of stone. A very small window was perched at a corner of the ceiling, the only light source seeping in from the outside world.

Directly across from the Inquisitor, a young man was strapped to a wooden chair. His arms and legs were bounded with thick, sturdy ropes and strapped to the respective arms and legs of the chair. His face were covered with black-and-blue bruises, originating from the Inquisitor’s fists. His lips were split, blood slowly dripping from his mouth. A black eye already covered his left orb.

Templar Jerris Greymir sat in that seat, staring straight up at Inquisitor Darkwood.

After the former members of Caleb’s squadron were escorted to Sanctuary, Inquisitor David Alexius transferred the Templars to Inquisitor Luther Darkwood’s custody. Darkwood is the head of the law enforcement in the city of Sanctuary, and he is known to be one of the most brutal members of the Templar Order. He takes great pleasure with his… interrogations - such as his current one with Templar Greymir.

“Perhaps we should try something else out, to get that confession out of you?” Luther questioned, turning away to face a small wooden table beside him. The table was covered with multiple torture devices, but Darkwood simply picked up a scalpel. “So, Templar Greymir,” Luther turned back to face Jerris, “Mind sharing any details about how you killed the Inquisitor? Or perhaps the Senior Templar? The public would certainly… appreciate… if you are a bit more cooperative,” he stated, still holding up a sinister smirk.

The answer was far from immediate as Jerris’s breathing reflected in the confined stone chamber. It wasn’t heavy or labored, but the air the puffed from his nostrils certainly wasn’t easycoming. His lips finally parted with a moist, saturated sound as he slowly licked his lips, curiously dry despite the blood that seeped from them. His eyes remained downcast, the left one swollen almost shut.

Pain is nothing. Pain is temporary. There is nothing they can do that they haven’t already done when I became a Templar.

Anything he said would be used against him. Any word of truth would be twisted into falsehood. Any lie was a declaration of guilt. He needed more time to think, more time to investigate whatever had possessed the Templar order to condemn their own to death. This will not end here. Hills was the first, and we will not be the last. I need to know more, and for that, I must wait.

Another huff of air came through his nostrils, along with a dribble of blood. “I have nothing to report, Inquisitor Darkwood.”

The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow, examining Jerris’s reaction. However, that small and devious grin never faltered from his face. “I see,” Luther nodded, then took a small step back.

“I do have to admit, it does sound very surprising that you and the rest of your fellow traitorous squadron members, managed to kill Inquisitor Caleb,” Darkwood began. “I knew the man - I saw how he fought. Now, he truly lived up to his name as the Legendary Monster-Slayer.” His pupils turned to the upper-right corner of his eyes, recalling about his encounters with a former comrade.

“And yet, we are suppose to believe that this random… boogeyman-like hybrid thing, managed to kill Caleb? Now, I’m not too familiar with Senior Templar Hills, other than that many people viewed him as a shining beacon for the Templar Order. Well, no longer a shining beacon since he’s dead and all… Anyways, back to my point. Caleb, he would never fall to a Scourge Beast. Traitorous Templars, though?” Luther’s voice darkened slightly, before he suddenly thrust the scalpel into Jerris’s ride side - near the abdominal, but away from any major organs.

“You feel that, Jerris?” Darkwood leaned forward, creeping closer to Jerris’s face. He slightly twisted the scalpel, allowing blood to ooze freely from the fresh wound. “We are only just beginning here.”

Jerris grunted involuntarily as the scalpel entered his core, his teeth gritting behind tight lips and eyes squeezing shut as if to shut out the pain. His eyes opened again as Darkwood leaned in, and they widened a sizeable amount as he twisted. His mouth, however, remained defiantly shut, as if in spite of the Inquisitor’s questionable methods of interrogation. The torture was far from surprising; Jerris always had an inkling suspicion that the Church drew their “confessions” from lips forced to sing any song they wanted. But the pain...nothing could prepare him for a knife in the gut.

Pain is nothing. Pain is temporary.

His eyes, still lifeless despite the pain that afflicted his body, lessened as the scalpel settled into place in his flesh. His breathing had become somewhat shaky and jagged, as foreign objects in the body tended to do to folks. Regardless of his respiratory difficulties, his head stayed downcast, refusing to confess any more than his tongue did.

“Pardon my...interruption, sir, but I said nothing of a…’boogeyman-like hybrid thing.’” Jerris growled through gritted teeth to the floor. “I said I have nothing to report, sir.”

Luther pulls away the knife, letting blood freely seep from Jerris’s flesh wound. The Inquisitor nodded, before standing upright. He had a proud smile on his face, basically either admiring or enjoying that Jerris is resilient to the pain. “Ah, my mistake, Templar Greymir,” Darkwood chuckled. Even though he only dwells within the walls of Sanctuary, and doesn’t often join the expeditions out to the Borderfields - the Inquisitor has heard about the rumors revolving around the Templar before him.

A merciless, stone-cold, fighting machine. Hell, some Templars even spread a crazy conspiracy theory that Jerris is a spawn of one of those hellish Scourge Beasts. Was is complete bullshit? Of course it was, but to drive rumors like that - it is utterly fascinating.

He turned away briefly, grabbing a plain-white handkerchief from the table to wipe the blood away from the scalpel. It seemed like he was done with the instrument now, and he completely cleaned it with a few swipes. He dropped the handkerchief on to the ground and placed the scalpel on the table, before giving a casual side-glance towards Jerris.

“You know what? I can see a little bit of Caleb Bartholomew in you,” Darkwood began, nodding to himself. “The perfect fighting machine to face the Scourge… a rather silent charismatic man that gains the respect from his fellow Templars.” Luther paused, his sinister smirk widening even more.

“Did I ever mentioned to you how much I hated that bastard, Caleb?”

And with that, Inquisitor Darkwood sharply turned, driving the scalpel directly towards Jerris’s face. The blade pierced into his left eye, gouging the orb. Blood splattered everywhere, splattered onto Luther’s grinning face. He dug the scalpel deeply, twisting and turning to ensure the worst pain that Jerris will ever experience in his entire life.

He pulled the scalpel away quickly, but he wasn’t done. His free hand raised itself, the index and the middle finger now pressing the top of the gouged eye, while the thumb placed against the bottom. The Inquisitor applied pressure sharply, letting blood run freely down the side of Jerris’s face - as his fingers dug deeper and deeper.

He took much pleasure in finally hearing the templar screaming out in pain - sweet… bitter… pain. Then, Luther felt the snap. His jagged fingernails clenched through the optic nerve, loosening the orb - which he then quickly pulls the eyeball out.

“So, Templar Greymir, what is your report?”

Nothing could've prepared him for the Inquisitors's scalpel. There was nothing like the sensation of something foreign entering where it didn't belong in the body, let alone tearing pieces out of it. It was a feeling reserved for those on the brink of death, being torn to shreds by beast or man and moments away from bleeding out into the dirt.

But Jerris knew that the Inquisitor would not let him die. No, he would push him to the brink, and bring him right back, and what a horrible experience it was.

He had no choice but to scream.

As the Inquisitors fingers pressed against the bone of Jerris's eye socket, pushing against the bulbous eye and back behind it, Jerris strained against the shackles that locked him in place, his back arching involuntarily to avoid the imminent threat.

The pain was immense but nearly overwhelmed by the revolting sensation of having one's fingers pressed so far back. But he didn't stop and pressed onward, forcing Jerris's eye to bulge farther out than it belonged. Optical fluid spilled as the eyeball split and blood spluttered to fill his fading vision, but his senses were completely consumed by the fiery pain that consumed his entire cranium. He didn't know how far back into his socket the Inquisitor reached, but the feeling of his fingers inside his skull was unbearable.

Then he touched the nerve, snapping it, and Jerris briefly lost consciousness. The lightening pain that shattered through him when he returned was even worse than the rest, and blood filled his now-empty socket quickly. There was no more room to scream, only pulses of incredible pain that forced him to clench every muscle in his body. His teeth ground against each other as he mentally begged for his body to stop, to relax and let the fire that spread back into the left side of his head. But there were no answers, and every beat of his heart felt like a spike through his skull, forcing tears from the only eye that remained for him.

Pain...so is this true pain?

His chin returned to his chest, his breathing now primitive and arrhythmic. Involuntary shaking had taken control of his limbs and torso, quivers of pain that rocketed through his entire body. His skin had become clammy and cool, yet fat beads of sweat dripped from his fingertips dug deep into his chair. The room was silent except for his breathing, along with a fragile crimson dripping from the side of his face. Yet despite the silence, a storm churned between the two Templars, one that threatened to rip the room apart.

No, this is hatred.

There was eventually a sign of voluntary movement from the bound Templar as he lifted his chin an inch. "My...report..." His voice was raspy and quiet, not even a whisper in the small room. Slowly, Jerris raised his chin, his downcast face elevating slowly out of both weakness and tension.

Finally, his gaze snapped upwards to lock with the Inquisitor's. His right eye glared, bloodshot and crazed, into Darkwood's own, his steel gaze now filled with an animalistic passion. His other eye--or lack of one--was but a pit of churned flesh, spilling a torrent of angry red tears down his cheek. The expression transcended that of man's, contorted into something more Scourge than human as his stare ripped savagely into Darkwood's smug gaze. And yet his voice was eerily calm, deadpan and lacking the beastly fire of his glare.

"I...have nothing to report...sir."

The Inquisitor stared down at the man before him… a man he just broke. Hatred, agony, depression - these were all common feelings that Luther witnesses after finishing his interrogations. However, this time - it was different. This was the first time that the emotionless Jerris Greymir actually felt a powerful emotion. Hell, it was frightening! Luther never felt actual fear like this before, from simply a broken man's glare!

Darkwood actually did take a step back, the sight of Jerris’s stare - could rip one’s soul apart. His smirk slightly faltering, but keeping itself smug. This was.. a frightening... no, an exciting experience. None of his interrogations has ever brought out such strong feelings. They were done with this interrogation, but this tension between the two of them? This was far from over.

Excellent...


The rest of Jerris’s comrades were separated in individual cells - trapped in a dark corridor among the dungeon side of Sanctuary. It was utterly quiet, as the traitorous templars had a whole section to themselves - away from the petty criminals or hardcore serial killers. They knew of nothing of what happened - other than that Jerris was taken Inquisitor Darkwood.

Suddenly, though, there were the sounds of footsteps in a hallway. Several of the Inquisitor’s soldiers appeared, unlocking the cells and grabbing the constrained Templars - silver handcuffs still detaining their hands. They dragged them down the corridor, and opening a doorway and tossing them all into the room.

It was a rather dark, circular room. A few lightbulbs hung from the stone ceiling, but it offered enough vision to observe their surroundings. The Inquisitor’s men stood by the walls, watching the traitorous Templars carefully.

Inquisitor Luther Darkwood stood at the center of the room, and right before his feet - Templar Greymir. Jerris was barely conscious, as he knelt on the ground, but the Inquisitor kept a firm grip on his shoulder - preventing him from falling forward. No, the Inquisitor wanted to show everyone what he has done to Jerris - to make an example of his interrogations.

He wanted to show it all - the black-and-blue bruises covering Jerris’s face, the wound on his right abdomen, and the wreck on the left side of his face. He was bleeding out. He wouldn’t last much longer at this rate - but the Inquisitor simply stood there - beaming proudly at his so-called… work of art. He would await patiently for the reactions of Jerris’s comrades, before revealing information on who shall be interrogated next.

[Black]

Dank, damp, depressing. This dungeon was everything Ezra ever imagined a dungeon to be. More prisoners probably died of sickness here than anything else. Conditions were never good in these kind of places. Why should they be? We're traitors, aren't we. Even more depressing what the quiet. He could only hear the nervous and terrified breathing of fellow Templar's. Ezra tried to calm himself and had almost managed to succeed when he heard the marching steps of an approaching party.

Someone opened the door and two men stepped in, one hoisting another ruined man to make sure he didn't fall.

"You're more scourge than man, aren't you, Inquisitor?" Ezra spat out upon seeing Jerris. Sure, he didn't overly like Jerris but that didn't mean he deserved to be maimed and brutalized, his eyeball ripped out of his head all so that Sanctuary could force a confession out of them. Ezra had been aware they would be tortured. He had no idea however just how bad it would be. Seeing Jerris like this informed him that it was going to be horrible - a pain and experience beyond anything and everything they could dread.

"Even Scourge beast's aren't this cruel," Ezra remarked with a steely fury brewing inside of his chest. He knew that he would most likely end up on the chopping block next for his remarks but he wanted to hurt the Inquisitor and all he had at the moments were paltry words, words that would most likely just amuse the scum standing proudly before him.

"I'll be damned before I show this man a single modicum of fear" Ezra promised to himself, standing as far as his shackles would allow him. Hatred and fury usually reserved for the scourge seethed inside of Ezra. There was nothing in his life that could prepare him to see a fellow Templar brutalized by a superior in such a manner. What scum would take so much pleasure in this. So long as putrid pulsating sacs of flesh like Darkwood existed the scourge could never be defeated. Not when they were killing innocent Templar's who had already survived one horror. Survived it just to be thrown into prison and tortured to death by a fucking tool.

Darkwood could have Ezra's life but he would never have the satisfaction of having resolve, or a single word to twist in his favor. Ezra would say nothing. He promised himself that right now and there was nothing that could change that. No amount of pain would bend him to his will. Even as Ezra strained against his manacles he knew that would be a tough promise to keep to himself. He was already wounded, in pain. The whores-son in front of him could only magnify that pain, and judging by the condition Jerris was in, he was damn good at it.

What could they do? Nothing. Even if they were all armed, the man standing before them was a fucking Inquisitor. He'd kill them bare-handed. He'd probably just rip off Jerris' arm and beat them all to death with it - smiling with glee the entire way. We serve no purpose for him other than entertainment. Even if we managed to keep our lips shut and keep from bending to his will he would still derive endless enjoyment from our endless torment. The only answer was defiance. He hoped everyone understood what was in store for them. Because all Ezra could see in their future was endless torture.

Fucking scum. I'll peel his skin off and feed it to him, that would serve him right for what he had just done to an innocent Templar. Ezra smiled grimly at the thought, realizing that he was sinking into darkness with the mad Inquisitor. Even more - realizing he didn't even care. So long as Inquisitor Darkwood died horribly.

[The Texan Queen]

Selenada couldn’t think of a more embarrassing fate than when they were dragged through the city like heartless criminals. She didn’t even have to look at the faces that she passed to know that they were looking upon them with disappointment and disgust. The whispers cut into her ears like knives and she winced at the thought of what they could be saying. The people of Sanctuary trusted each and everyone of them to protect and serve, to be honorable at all times and truly be good. But now? They were nothing but shameful Templars that disgraced the Order. Her head hung lower that it ever had as they marched towards the dungeon and she fought back tears of anger. She knew this was the right choice, to surrender and let the storm pass and the truth come to light, but it angered her beyond belief that they were even accused. Every single one of them had love and respect for both Senior Templar Hills and Inquisitor Bartholomew, no one dreamed of hurting a hair on their heads even on their worst days! It made her stomach churn at the thoughts running through her head, as to why they were being charged with such a false tale. Selenada had to believe their intentions were good and they were only concerned for their fallen brothers, but something in her heart told her other wise.

They were tossed into their cells roughly and their shackles were exchanged to ones bolted into the floor. The guards looked at them like they were the scum of the earth and treated them as such. “I just realized I have no one to watch my cat…” she mumbled to herself as she kicked at the grime built up on the dungeon floor. She frowned at the thought of her cat wandering around so confused when her mom didn’t return to care for her. Why am I so concerned with trivial things? Isaac and Caleb are…dead and I’m sitting in a cell being accused of murdering them and I’m worried about my cat? Selenada shook her head and chuckled to herself, worried about a damn cat in a time like this?

Time seemed to drag on the longer they sat wasting away in the cells. No one said much, if anything at all. The only noise was the occasional grunt from the guards and a faint dripping noise coming from one of the cells. Selenada was in the same spot as she was when they were first tossed in. Since she was alone and no one could see her she finally let herself truly feel how she wanted to about the recent events. She let herself delve into the thoughts she kept pushing away and really deal with it all. She cried silent tears in her cell until she could no longer do so. The sound of the main door opening caught her attention and she leaned forward slightly to see what was going on.

“Jerris!” Selenada gasped and jumped forward to the bars of her cell to just be yanked back by her shackles. She felt tears welling up in her eyes again as she looked at the beaten man before her. “How could you?!” She spat at Darkwood.

[SikstaSlathalin]

Like the others Big O rode on in driving silence. Each consumed with their own thoughts, his fists were clenched in rage and his lips were moving in frantic prayer. His horse seemed to share his agitation, snorting angrily with each step and threatening to buck the big man off at any second. But Orfiel kept his hands firmly on the reins and reflexively his bulging muscle forcing the beast to constantly rethink it's scheme. While prayers continued to rattle silently across his lips his mind was an endless torrent of zealous attempts at calming himself and the fiery rage against being betrayed by the men and women he once swore to die for.

His mind was like a weighted brick and his body a lump of unfinished sculpture. Jagged edges mashing up against refined contours creating some ghastly creature. He was tired, he was grumpy, and he needed some food and drink, the problem was the big man wasn't sure if he'd get any of those before the next dawn. So he would need to sustain himself on prayer and rage for now. He continues his prayers glancing around at his fellow Templars... could they even call themselves Templars at this point? Not in the official sense not anymore, they were Templars in their hearts and souls yes, but not in the eyes of Sanctuary or others of the Order. What would happen when word got around the Borderfields that a small rag-tag group of traitors claiming to be the holy warriors was on the loose? Would they be welcomed? Repulsed? Turned in? Or even killed? Anything was possible, he Orfiel was almost certain they wouldn't be able to do anything about it they couldn't fight innocent villagers not unless they wanted to prove every lie that would be spreading about them true.

As they approached Judah O found himself snorting a little an infamous name for a group of soon to be very infamous warriors. He would keep his sardonic thoughts to himself for now, nodding solemnly at the farmers and villagers O followed Yelena and the others to the town's center. He would allow the Knight to do the talking for now. Dismounting his horse he handed it off to the boy and unstrapped his knuckle dusters attaching them to his belt once more. They were being peaceful and considerate, no sense in scaring them now. They were led to the Elder's house and asked their business. O grunted in confirmation.
"Yes, sir, but we won." It was mostly the truth and hopefully it would suffice without needing further detail surviving such an attack as they did would count as winning no matter who you asked.

[Maya]

Here they were so close to being back in Sanctuary! How great was that? Home! They'd fought hard, done their job and lost so many in the process it was heartbreaking. All these days of blood, muck and mud with few rations and no hot baths to be found, the squad had made it so close to home only to be stabbed in the back and branded criminals? Sucks ass if anyone asked her opinion. Not that anybody would. Even if it was for the right reasons, seeing so many of their squad ride away sucked the wind right out of her lungs. They were so fucked now. So, very, very fucked now.

Even worse was knowing her family was right there. So close she could almost smell the homemade bread baking in the oven. Or it was an overactive imagination making her stomach rumble from being empty for so long. Eating had become the last of her concerns as the members who'd surrendered were trudged through the streets of the city branded as criminals. At least their captor's were kind enough to offer each prisoner their own, private suite of foul stench and complete darkness along with time to second guess which group they should have rode away with instead.

Those with enhanced hearing can eavesdrop on other people's stories, hear their darkest secrets whispered in the night and so much more. Honestly, Kiera hated being able to hear the sounds of others as if they were in the same room. More so at night when trying to sleep. Loud laughter, incessant snoring. Let's not even discuss those dirty moments in the dark where amorous lovers believe they're far enough away to not get caught. It wasn't that she tried to eavesdrop so much as the sounds of voices were amplified to such a point, there was no way to mute the sound. For Sanford, the agonizing screams coming from someone somewhere in the bowels of the dungeon may as well have been a person sitting right beside her. Kiera could not hear the full extent of the conversation only the howling cries from somewhere below. Whoever the person was had to be in immense pain. Then came an eerie silence. She found herself holding her breath in hopes of hearing something, anything that would give a sign whoever it was still lived. There was nothing...

After testing her chains for the upteenth time until both wrists were raw, Sanford resigned herself to fate. It wasn't long after that the sound of footsteps filled the hallway. A set of chains rattled, then another was added..and another..until her own cell door was opened and Kiera was rejoined with the rest of the group to be marched into yet another dark room and unceremoniously thrown inside. Dragging those chains, it was hard to keep her balance after being shoved across the floor only to end up landing hard on both knees. Already riddled with injuries, she'd grit her teeth, raise to a sitting stance and try to gain her bearings. In time, Kiera adjusted to the minimal light and could see who else was present.

It was the man standing tallest in the room she glanced to first. Darkwood..biggest scum of the earth piece of trash in the city. At his feet, a beaten and broken Jerris.

There were already words of anger being screamed out at the Inquisitor. There were already tears flowing for Greymir's dire condition. For whatever reason, Kiera did not join in either. She studied the inquisitor silently as the man put on this grand show of force for a group of poor, lowly Templars. Could it be that Darkwood is afraid of what lay outside those walls? He should be.

Kiera could not be labeled as overly religious; but, the priest had impressed upon her the importance of right and wrong along with how being on the wrong side has consequences. One quote in particular came to her mind as Inquisitor Darkwood gloated.



"Do not be deceived; God is not mocked; for whatever a man sows, that he will also reap."


"The hybrid is real, Inquisitor Darkwood. I've seen him up close and personal. You can kill Jerris or me, along with every Templar in your army to hide the truth; but, that will not change the fact that he is out there. He is real. And, he will kill you along with everyone else." Pausing a moment before adding. "What happens if the great protector of the Archon's and Divine Trinity dies because he is too proud to listen to facts? Face it, for this battle, you're going to need all the help you can get. "

[Scottie]

Every time her eyes drooped, her mind screamed at her to sleep. To rest. To stop. Not until they reached that small place in the distance. Finally, she slumped off the horse, giving it a weak pat on it’s neck. Fear had filled her every pore when they fled. She had expected to be chased, to be dragged back kicking and screaming in chains. But it gave her a small sliver of hope that some believed them, that some were willing to help. Every weapon was mentally noted, quite a few for such a place. It was probably due to that fighting instinct in these farmers, that the town had not been overthrown by plague creatures. Judah. It didn’t ring any bells, just another place on a map to her.

Her hunger made her animal like as she ate. Devouring what was on her plate in record time. After she finished she let her eyes close for a moment, feeling a little bit safer in their current surroundings. Sophia’s ears pricked with the old man’s words. Weary and war torn…sounded about right. They weren’t the shining example of Templars that were normally sent to the small place. Suspicion swirled in her stomach. Sophia didn’t know if the man was worthy of trusting. She would rather have a night of sleep without worrying about her throat being slit. Or being shackled to the bed. A small attempt at a smirk tugged onto her lips with O’s comment. She took another drink of water before answering.

Her voice still cracked as she spoke. “We apologise for our appearances Sir. But we shall be out of your hair soon enough. Merely a stop over to recover if that is alright.” She said as politely as she could. Her eyes snapping to the others, especially Yelena. She presumed that was what they were doing, stopping here then moving on.Staying in one place was dangerous, the closet town to where they ran would be the first place to check. Returning her eyes to the elder she pulled on that fake smile though it pained her to do so. She had removed her face coverings, her face marked by dust and dried blood. With every sharp movement came small twinges of pain, she forgot that many of them were still injured. And now they were on the run. So she returned to cradling her cup in her hand, staying as still as possible.

[Sonic]

Octavius didn't care much for horseriding right now. He felt like he should--what with potential imprisonment only a mile or two behind him--but any time he tried to spur his horse to move faster he immediately recalled his fatigue, his anxiety, his fear, his despondancy. And then he wold subtly slow down, sticking at the tail of the group, and chancing glances over his shoulder at the group which they had all just left.

The sun slowly died on the horizon, like candlelight. Octavius regarded his new comrades--Orfiel, who was more pious than anyone Octavius knew; Sophie, who was among the first to support Yelena; Trest, which was a surprise; Tannhasur, which was still a surprise but a comprehensible one, at the very least, and Anna, of whom Octavius was uncertain what to think. His eyes passed over each person only briefly, but no longer than that.

When they arrived at Judah, Octavius couldn't conceal his surprise. Of course, perhaps Hirod, being the destination of their previous mission, would be the obvious place to find them if Templars from Sanctuary decided to pursue them. However, Octavius was uncomfortable with Yelena's decision to arrive at Judah. Although Octavius had enver been in the town, he knew that Sanctuary gave it little protection, which made him worry that the townsfolk would resent them for it. Nevertheless, he didn't share this worry with Yelena or his comrades. He only smiled when some of the townsfolk took their horses, mumbled a "thank you very much", and made any concern he had as quiet as a shadow's whisper.

They were then directed to a dining room. Octavius felt out of place in the sophisticated landscape, like a piece of a puzzle that didn't belong to the whole picture. He must have smelled foul, his clothes wee in ruins, and he had developed what appeared to be a limp but was really his knees struggling to lift his body, so tired he was.

He settled into a seat across from Yelena and caught her gaze, and between the moment from when she searched his visage to when she moved on to the others, Octavius felt his lips give way to a shallow smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"So, my friends, what brings you to Judah, then?" Caius began. " I mean no disrespect, but I must say that you look to be a weary and war-torn group. Were you beset upon by Plaguebeasts?"


"Yes, sir, but we won." O had grunted, and Octavius wasn't sure whether O was speaking of the Lycans or Inquisitor David Alexius and his squadron. All the same, Octavius felt like a plan had emerged--Don't tell Caius too much. And, as if echoing this strategy, Sophia chimed in, but told nothing about the bounty above their heads.

"Well, we might be here a bit longer than 'soon enough'. It'll take longer than that just to remove this smell from the marrow of our bones." Octavius smirked, not surprised that there was still jest inside him. Laughter was how he coped with unfortunate events after all. His eyes moved over to Templar Tannhasur and said, "Those were some beautiful prose you said back there, by the way. I was awed."

He slowly sipped his ale when he had finished his meal. The booze warmed his stomach and he felt revived, however slightly.

"By the way," Octavius began when he had emptied his cup. "I have a question for you if you don't mind me asking." he wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin. "You're much closer to the Plaguelands than most of the other townships and yet you seem to be better off than most of them, too, or at the very least, some of them. How is that possible? You guys must get a lot of mosnter attacks." He wasn't sure if his quesiton was rude or not, but when he asked it he felt suddenly shy. "Sorry, I hope that wasn't a personal quesiton."

[RedKayne]

The warm meal was extremely welcomed, it didn't take long before Anna Catriona began devouring the fresh eggs and vegetables presented before her. At this current moment, she didn't pay too much particular attention to table-side manners, mainly because she tried to distract herself from troubling thoughts.

The troubling thoughts of the Lycan Army and Hybrid that slaughtered their comrades and beloved leaders. The troubling thoughts of being branded as traitors by the Templar Order - and none other by the Inquisitor that trained them all through their boot camp training regime as militants. It was barely a year ago since both Inquisitor Alexius and Senior Templar Stryker were yelling at the faces of herself and fellow militant-in-training peers like Trest.

After nearly finishing her meal, Anna set her plate down on the table, sighing with relief. A few egg crumbs were still upon her lower lip, which she didn't notice as she gazed around the rest of the room. It was hard to believe that the original size of their squadron has been cut down to this ragged small group of less than ten Templars.

She then glanced to the person sitting to her left, Templar Vitraid. She was extremely glad that he decided to resist against the Inquisitor, instead of joining Jerris Greymir's group. Anna could fathom their mindsets of surrendering themselves, it was simply a death wish - they would all surely be executed by the biased trial.

Vitraid himself was still busy with his own meal, but caught Anna's gaze. He smiled - his signature bright smile - before chuckling and pointing out the food crumbs on Anna's lips. For some reason, she slightly blushed with embarrassment before cleaning it up and turning her attention towards the town's elder.

She did wonder why Yelena decided to pick this town, Judah - instead of Hirod where the citizens would welcome them with open arms after successfully rescuing their people. However, one thought did come to mind. Hirod is completely defenseless, while the town of Judah has a strong presence of defense around their town.

Anna then suddenly frowned... knowing that they were surely being pursued by the Templar Order. With that thought, does that mean Templar Renakovic is actually considering about...

[Sonic]

There was no rule of law in Sanctuary, Amittay began to understand when Inquisitor Darkwood entered with Templar Jerris. Amittay had kept this revelation at bay for most of his captivity, ignoring the fact that they had been denied due process for his own sake rather than anyone else’s. If he lost hope in the laws of the Church, then he would lose hope in the Church itself.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t ignore Jerris; he couldn’t ignore how emaciated and deformed the man was or how he looked as if someone had used his face as target practise. In between breaths Amittay felt his faith in the Church shatter, and in between heartbeats Amittay began to doubt his faith in God.

“Monster,” was all Amittay could say, though he wasn’t sure if his voice left his lips or if they remained by his side, silent and without shape.

What Amittay didn’t doubt was how close death was in this present moment. Amittay could see it in the form of Inquisitor Darkwood and he was afraid. “Don’t hurt me…” again this was only a whisper and Amittay made no move to raise his voice. Tears oozed from his eyelids and his mouth began to quiver. He said no more, afraid that his voice might betray his heart by revealing its secrets.

[Yamimoon]

Drip…. Scream… Drip…. Scream… Drip… Scream

Letum slowly awoke to the sounds of water dripping from the celling of his cell, and the screaming of a man in the distance. Pushing himself up off of the floor his muscles protested to the motion, but he continued the action anyway. The pain he was feeling now was quite a bit less than when he was last awake. In fact, he didn’t know how long he had been passed out on this damp floor. The last thing he remembers was entering Sanctuary.

His whole body was hurting from his withdrawal, but he was able to deal with it. Well that was until one of their gracious escorts didn’t like the fact that he was walking slower than the others. Letum only chuckled at the memory. “Inquisitor Darkwood must have enjoyed that little display.” He whispered to himself as he looked down at his clothing. Some of it was tattered. So they must have drug him into the cell.

The screaming rang through his ears more as the pain the poor man was suffering through must have intensified. Granted he like the fact that he was a paladin, and he had the ability to listen to almost any conversation at any time, though it did come with some draw backs. There was no real way to turn it off, but you can with time tone down anything you don’t need to hear. It is the only way to keep yourself sane, and to be able to hear what needs to be heard. Yet this is the same for Knight class Templars as well with their sense of smell enhanced.

Closing his eyes, he listened to see what was going on in the area he was in, and tone out the poor mans screams. He could hear the others in their cells, and they were not in too bad of shape. At least those who were talking, he couldn’t tell about the others. Then the screaming stopped, but what really caught his attention was the opening of a door and several guards were talking amongst themselves about how they can’t wait to see the prisoner’s reactions. They went to each cell and pulled them out, and Letum just allowed them to do so without a fight.

In the end he was in no position to try and fight back. He needed to get his baring’s before he could find a way to get out of this situation. He was thrown to the floor of another room with the others, and when he hit the ground a sharp pain radiated through his whole body. Before he could lift his head he heard some of his fellow Templars voicing their disgust at the display in front of them.

Letum looked up and that is when he saw the once proud Templar Greymir laying on the ground beaten and bloody. The poor man must not have given into the Inquisitor, but that wouldn’t of mattered even if he sung like a bird. Even before he joined the Templars the Assassins he knew this man. He was considered one of the cruelest Templars, and a sadist to boot. As the others lashed out he kept his cool, and looked into the Inquisitors eyes.

“Well this is to be expected from a sadist like you. Taking pleasure from inflicting pain on someone that can’t even fight back. What a big man you are.” Not really caring if he would be next in the mad man’s chair he just wanted to have his opinion of the man known.

[IronQuill]

Iago had much to reflect upon as he sat in the dark cell where Inquisitor Darkwood's goon had stuffed him into. He came upon a very startling revelation about himself: He liked the Order. Well, "Like" was a very loose term to use for such a cabal of miscreants. His opinion of the Order reflected that of his master, it is something to be stamped out of Sanctuary's life. Still, there was something about the perseverance and attempts the true and genuine souls of the Order that endeared them to the black hearted Iago. The spy never painted himself a villain nor deluded himself to think he held some sort of moral high ground to them, though the more corrupt of them did invoke some entertainment of the notion. It was, overall, amusing to see the Templars flail about in the name of God and Kingdom. Like puppies jostling for the master's attention.

Speaking of Templar, one had marched in had tried to drag Iago from his meditative stance, legs crossed and shackled hands outstretched and formed into "O" symbols. The soldier leered at him, such a posture was not encouraged by the Church, as they claimed it is a stance from an older, more heathen faith from days long gone.

"No need, Iago can stand on his own..." Iago stood to his feet, using the only his legs to lift himself seamlessly. The guard glared down at the shorter man with amused contempt, no doubt looking at the Fool of the Order for the first time. But the glare faltered for a moment, realizing that Iago's eyes were not the eyes of a notorious vacillating wimp. They were empty, cold, staring. For linger second, they pierced through the guard's gaze and it looked like Iago was not even looking at him, but his soul. Searching for all the sins and lamentations of a broken man.

"If you intend to take Iago somewhere, then please do so."

The false Templar's words snapped the guard back to reality, and hatefully jerked Iago out of his cell and shoved him along with his fellow captives. Iago smiled all the way to the destination, happy like a spiteful child that his jest worked. He loved doing the staring trick to thugs, it never failed to rile them awfully. Speaking of thugs and riling, Iago found himself face to face with biggest thug of them all.

Inquisitor Darkwood had brought the captive traitors to his interrogation chamber, to show off his latest work.

Oh you sick pathetic creep. You're doing it all wrong.

Iago said nothing, content to look the part of frightened fool as he internally mused on how to facilitate his predicament.

[RedKayne]

Their reactions were priceless. All of them.

Inquisitor Darkwood's sadistic grin only widened at every single word thrown at him.

"You're more Scourge than man, aren't you, Inquisitor?"

"How could you?!"

"Monster...

...inflicting pain on someone that can’t even fight back. What a big man you are.”

He simply reveled in their reactions, it was sick pleasure of taking ownership of his proud work of art upon Jerris Greymir. However, the words that especially caught his attention... were those from Templar Sanford. She declared that the Hybrid was real, and that this boogeyman intends to kill everyone in Sanctuary.

Luther raised his eyebrows in mock amusements, before lowering himself slightly before pausing his face next to Jerris's head. "You hear that, Templar Greymir?" the Inquisitor began, speaking aloud next to the barely conscious man's ear. "After all of that effort - after all of that resistance, and your refusal to acknowledge the Hybrid's existence... your comrade over there sang the words I needed to hear, and I didn't even have to interrogate her about it," he chuckled, before raising himself and straightening his body posture. He kept a firm grip on Jerris's shoulder, ensuring that the broken Templar doesn't fall forward.

"Sounds like a bunch of crazy talk, from my humble perspective," Darkwood stated aloud. "Don't you all agree, men?" the Inquisitor glanced around the room, watching as each guard nodded promptly in agreement. For the upcoming trial, these guards could be used as witnesses in regards to Kiera's words and confirm the insanity of their story.

"However, let's say, hypothetically - that a Lycan-Hybrid did exist..." Luther glanced back at the group of detained Templar soldiers before him. "There is a particular reason why Sanctuary has stood against three Plagues by the Scourge Beasts. If a Hybrid does exist and attempts to assault Sanctuary, I am highly confident we will utterly destroy him," Luther grinned widely. "Hell, I could succeed where the little bitch, Caleb, failed - and will kill him with my bare hands," he gave a quick and hearty laugh.

"Now... let's get back to business, shall we?" he tightened his grip on Jerris's shoulder. "Poor Templar Greymir over here won't last much longer, don't you all agree? Not without prompt medical help," he stated, which was true. Jerris seemed to be getting paler and paler by the second by the blood loss from his face.

"And I only have time to interrogate one more person - before Archon Denaris comes by to pick you all up for the upcoming Trial of the Century," he emphasized the last few words in a mocking manner. "And unfortunately, there's just way too many choices before me - and I can't quite decide. Should I pick the the person that easily squeals?" he questioned aloud, casting his gaze upon Caesar - whom appeared to be barely holding it together. "Should I pick the outcast of the group?" His gaze shifted to Iago - an individual he is familiar with. The Inquisitor hardly forgets a face. "Should I pick one of the brave fighters, and see how long it takes before they break?" his eyes glanced towards Ezra - one of the first to venomously speak out Darkwood.

"I can't decide... so I will leave it to you all instead - to decide the person who shall receive my 'interrogation' instead." He let the words float in the air briefly, letting the folks before him to process the information. "And I do not want anyone to 'self-volunteer' for the next interrogation - I'm not here to see heroes," he chuckled. "And don't worry - I don't intend to 'kill' the next person or anything like that, but I can't promise that they will wish for death by the end of it."

"And so, I would recommend making that decision quickly - otherwise, if I don't hear everybody's respective decision within the next 2 minutes - I will let Jerris here... die."

Luther stated this with finality. Jerris would not receive the emergency medical aid that he would need - unless if Luther hears everybody pick a name from their own group.

"So, again - I shall emphasize this...


I don't want to hear anybody self-volunteering. Otherwise, Jerris dies.

I don't want to hear any form of communication - whether its verbal or non-verbal - otherwise, Jerris dies.

If anybody abstains from voting - anybody at all... Jerris dies.

All I want to hear, is a name from a fellow member of your traitorous group. From each of you. And that name needs to be the plurality vote."

So this is where it comes down to - members of Caleb's former squadron voting for the final person placed upon the Inquisitor's interrogation table. The life of one of their own hangs on the line - and unless they follow the Inquisitor's instructions... they would lose yet another invaluable member to their squadron.

Inquisitor Darkwood will enjoy seeing all of them squirm - making this horrendous decision.

[Iwazuma]

What had he done?

As the horses rode onwards, the jostling of their trek barely affected the youngest Templar in the group at all. In fact, nothing seemed to. The changing of the scenery, the vicious pace they fled in, not even the stopping so that their horses could rest. Nothing seemed to shake the look on his face.

But while that sounds like a tale of determination, one glance at the boy's expression would tell otherwise. His face read a look of realization and fear. He had committed treason to the Templars. Even if they were corrupt all the way up, which Trest was beginning to suspect more and more, he had just committed treason against one of the most revered groups in Zion and everywhere. When news spread...he would be a pariah. An outcast. Wanted for crimes he technically committed, even if they were for the right reasons.

And that wasn't the worst of it. Of all the enraged, disappointed, or horrified faces he imagined, his father's was the worst of all. What was he going to tell his dad? His pride and joy, the Templar the Valencias never had, a traitor? He wouldn't be allowed in his father's presence ever again. His father was the only family he had....well, now he had none save his fellow traitors, he supposed. Even if they did escape, where would they hide, what would they do? The chase would be until death, most likely....

At last, Trest left the thoughts alone and focused on the outside world. Just how far had they come? They were in some farming town...he believed he had heard the name Judah. He was the last off his horse, still trying to come to his senses; the youth who took his stallion had to prompt him thrice to get off before he snapped to. He was overtired, mentally and physically exhausted, and afraid. Not a good combination.

At the elder's house, Trest remained at the back of the group, leaning on his staff for support. He knew not to speak out of turn; he was the most junior member, and the others would handle the situation. He doubted he could talk much anyways. For now, all he needed was some peace, quiet, and rest to contemplate exactly what had been going on.

[☆Catwoman☆]

Yelena's mind worked as the others responded in their own fashion to the elder. Her gaze rested a moment on Octavius, seated across from her, his handsome visage - worn as it was - calming to her. While everyone else kept their replies vague and brief, he even opted for some jesting and conversation. She wondered if there was anything that could jar him.

Caius regarded Templar Warren with a small, even prideful smile at his query. Yelena tuned them out, deep in contemplation, hands clasped as she leaned her elbows on the table, fingers resting against her lips.

"No offense taken, young man," the elder assured him. "We are proud of our strength, and often eager to tell it to whomever will listen." He winked, affirming the joke. Then he settled back in his chair, expression musing. "We are what and who we are because that is the hand fate dealt us. This is our home, and to thrive in it, we had to learn how to defend ourselves from those who would see it destroyed. Nothing forges strength and an iron will faster than war. Our choices were to fight, or to die. So we fought. And we continue to fight, preserving what is ours. Would you do any less?"

Yelena had returned her attention to the man at his inspiring words, sitting up straighter, listening intently, expression unreadable.

"There will always be monsters in this world," Caius continued. "And so long as I live and breathe, so long as my son perseveres in my place when I pass, there will always be a Judah."

Yelena's expression settled with her body, reaching a silent decision.

"You will need that strength, Elder," she said suddenly, tone weighted with solemnity. He cast his eyes to her curiously. His son, too, turned his head to stare. She placed her hands flat against the table, taking in her companions for a moment before returning her attention to Caius. She breathed deep, then spoke.

"There is a threat out there greater than anything we've ever seen," the Knight continued levelly. "If it is not stopped, Sanctuary itself could fall." The elder's eyes widened at the claim, but he remained respectfully silent.

"What I am about to tell you will sound crazy, impossible, and I don't expect you to believe me. But every word is true. As we made our way back to the city upon the completion of a mission in Hirod, we were beset upon by a horde of lycans unlike anything we have ever seen. Hundreds of them. They swarmed our camp in the night, killed two-thirds of our force...we are among the few who managed to escape."

Caius and his son were frozen in awe at the tale. She did not mention the hybrid, and whoever may have been shocked by her honesty at the table nevertheless did not deign to interrupt her.

"As we fled to Zion, we were met by Inquisitor Alexius and his Templars. They labeled us as liars and traitors, and tried to arrest us for treason. Rather than face the possibility of execution for crimes we did not commit, we decided to flee and try to gather evidence of this lycan army. It is imperative to the safety of humanity that we find this evidence and convince the Trinity that the threat exists, before all is lost."

She fell silent, watching the Elder closely. He studied her, visage as solemn as her own. Finally, he spoke.

"And what is it you would ask of us, Templar Renakovic?"

"We are being pursued by Alexius's men. We cannot fight them on our own. If they take us before we can recover evidence of the horde, Sanctuary may fall."

"Then you are asking that we fight with you? Against Templars?"

Yelena nodded slowly, eyes relaying regret, but also determination. "If only long enough that we may escape again. Know that I would not ask if I did not think it necessary."

Caius deliberated silently for a long moment, the eyes of his son upon him. "I believe you," he rumbled quietly. "But you understand that if my people take up arms against Templars, there will be casualties. Possibly many. Judah is strong, but not so strong that we can withstand a great loss. The more bodies I throw to your cause, the fewer I will have to protect my town from the true threat. Not to mention the damage that it will cause our already unstable relationship with Sanctuary. If we do this, Judah may fall."

"If you don't, Sanctuary may fall," Yelena replied dourly. "And all of humanity with it."

Caius blinked, overcome by the weight of the choices before him. His eyes, wide and pleading, scanned the rest of the Templars seated at the table.

"And you? What do the rest of you have to say on this?"

[Sonic]

Octavius was beginning to like the old man, or respect him, at the very least. In Sanctuary, the Order had taught him that strength was lacking among the borderlands, but perhaps that wasn’t true. Judah was proof of that; Caius, too. Octavius found himself grinning despite the exhaustion which tore at his muscles. The booze had warmed his blood, and Caius had warmed his spirit.

“Would you do any less?"

“No, I’m not sure I would,” was Octavius’s reply. He thought of his own town; his smile faltered, leaving something inscrutable upon his face, but soon this ambiguity faded and he was smiling again.

And then Yelena sucked that smile from his face once more. Octavius watched her intently at first; he followed her ideas intently, like a student listening to his professor. But then his attention grew distant. That Yelena was asking Caius and Judah to risk their lives for them was incomprehensible to Octavius. He was about to interrupt her, but he stayed his tongue. He owed her that much.

Or was it the other way around?

Octavius wiped the disgust from his eyes, wondering when it had come there. They were Templars; their job was to protect the people of the Borderlands, not use them as shields. And then in place of disgust Octavius felt pity, not for Yelena, who had been suddenly thrust upon the shackles of a leader, but for Caius, who had been tied down by those shackles for what seemed to be decades.

“It’s a bad idea,” Octavius replied. He stood on his feet, pushing the chair away from him in the process. His gaze turned to Yelena, icy and no room for persuasion. He thought: Stop manipulating him and wondered if she received the message. “You’re not asking him to help us. You’re asking him to die for us.”

Octavius was beginning to understand why Yelena had chosen Judah. In part, he supposed it might have been because Judah would be an unlikely place for Inquisitor Alexius to search for them. However, if what Caius had said about his people’s fortitude was true, then it was also because she had hoped that she could assemble an army at Judah.

Which meant that she had been plotting this ever since they left Inquisitor Alexius.

Octavius gritted his teeth and found that he was no longer able to look at Yelena. He returned to Caius. “Our duty is to protect you, not the other way around. I’m sure we can find another way.” He thought of the Lycan hoard, of his former comrades who had been arrested, and of Senior Templar Hills who had been killed in an attempt to protect his squadron. He tried to smile, to reassure Caius, but the smile seemed alien to his face, as if he had never executed it before.

He said: “We’ve faced a lot worse than the potential downfall of humanity” and tried to believe that.

[Megilwen]

Marcella had been silent through it all. Discussion wasn't something that was even wanted. That's not what torturers worked for. They wanted to the pain, the anguish. More importantly they wanted people to talk. And this stunt with Jerris had given him everything he needed, everything he wanted. It had probably been more profitable then the torture of the poor man in front of her, if his looks were anything to go off of. He so much as confirmed with the joy at Templar Sandford's words.

The woman ground her teeth together, biting her tongue to keep from speaking more. She felt for Jerris, kneeling there. While being tortured, he'd been firm and resolute in whatever it was he'd said. Marcella tried to bite back a barking laugh at the Inquisitor's words about how he could have beaten the Lycan-man, but it echoed against the bricks. She was sure it sounded as crazed as it felt. If anything at least the man would think that she was probably already breaking. So she held back the taunting words about being safe, here in his dungeon. Safe and away from the fields. Safe and hiding.

Of course. Decisions, Decisions. Marcella would have volunteered in a heart beat. Not because of the desire to play a hero. Because it was her duty as a Templar to protect. Protect Jerris. Protect her squad. It was funny how just before all this, she was being considered for the position of Senior Templar. As a leader. Now she was stuck in a cell, unlikely to ever rise up in the ranks of the Templars after all this. She wouldn't step back, wouldn't give in to this mental torture.

Not only was it her duty, but she was also the logical choice. With her injuries from the fight, being untended upon their capture. It would limit the amount of torture that she could probably endure in comparison to the others. The Inquisitor said he wouldn't kill them, after all. Not that it was much in the way of a reassurance all things considered. She moved a hand to her side to check the wound. When they'd gotten into the dungeon, she's switched out the bandages with something a bit more natural. The sticky web of her own creation, it was sterile, even better it meant the woman would always have a weapon. It was just a matter of figuring out how best to use it. Stuck here in this cell, wasn't helping.

With the cruel game of rules, Marcella had to think fast. She wanted her comrades to pick her, but there was no way for her to make that known. Her actions could go one of two ways. The group could take the vote as a leadership one and they followed her choice. Or, and the reaction that she'd hope they'd have, they'd get angry at the quick and callous nature for which she'd respond and turn it around to choose her. After the way they responded to Jerris's announcement of the Senior Templars death, she was praying they'd go for the second option. That they'd think of her as just as cruel as the man they'd yelled at hours before that they now were willing to stand behind. If not. There was only one other option before her that she thought might make it out without being completely broken, should her plan fail.

"Erza." The vote was out of her mouth nearly seconds upon the Inquisitor finishing his stupid list of rules. She wouldn't play his mental game. She kept her eyes forward through the bars of her cell biting at her tongue to keep from saying more as she look directly toward the Inquisitor. No emotion. No pleading. No fighting. Just one simple word. One name. Just as was asked. The only word the woman had spoken since being placed in this dungeon.

[Maya]

Was it wrong for Kiera to think it might be more compassionate to end Jerris' suffering and let him die? If it was her left hurting to such an extent, that's what she would want. End the pain. End the suffering. Would be a kindness. Should she die, may the powers that be see fit to let her haunt Darkwood's every waking and sleeping moment, whether in heaven or hell, for the rest of his life. It would be worth dying if doing so guaranteed causing him untold misery day in and day out for eternity.

Due to the threat of impending doom for Jerris, she managed to shut her mouth, sit quietly and stew in the reality playing out before them. It seemed there was nothing they could do which wouldn't end in another Templar being made an example of. Darkwood was hell bent on making sure no Templar in the room could speak truth and survive or even lie for that matter. Any move would justify them being ripped to shreds by a sadist the Templar leaders themselves had allowed to be in power. And if they didn't move, he'd find another reason to justify digging into his tool box of torture. Kiera more readily could have accepted death at the hands of the hybrid over this low life piece of shit now gloating before them.

"Ezra"

Wow! Talk about not wasting time! The two minutes had barely started ticking when the woman's voice proclaimed her choice on the chopping block. Happened so fast, she almost looked Marcella's way which would have broken Darkwood's rules. Sanford wasn't in nearly as much of a hurry to put a bulls-eye on someone. Even if she didn't like them, stabbing a teammate in the back never could have came out of her mouth that fast. So, it came down to two options. Going along with Marcella and calling out Ezra or choosing another. They were all tired. Most of them injured as well. In a way, to her, it came to who had the best chance of survival.

Oh hell, who was she kidding? None of them did. But one of them had always intrigued her for he came across as not being fully in control of his faculties, yet, completely in control at the same time. Sometimes it takes one considered to be nothing but a complete 'fool' to put someone else in checkmate. Kiera begrudgingly said. "Iago."

As those minutes now seemed to tick by ever faster, she sat thinking on her life. The good and the bad. Kiera wasn't the best fighter of the Templar's or even a good leader, as past failures have shown. She wasn't Miss Popular, Miss Congeniality nor anything close to a social butterfly. Not many would even claim her as a friend. Maybe that was something she should have worked on more. Being 'friendly'. Kiera's way of dealing meant never talking about herself, her life, her fears or her feelings. She took care of others first. When the chips were down and the fur was flying, she'd be there shedding blood and doing what she could to keep her fellow Templar's alive. Sadly, there wasn't much she could do now. This was a whole different problem from slaying a few monsters. This particular monster was someone who'd had a hand in training them, pushed them to hone their skills and someone with which there'd been a modicum of trust to be had. Here he was now eager as hell to spill their blood all over the cold, stone floor.

If someone should be labeled a traitor, they were looking at him.

[The Texan Queen]

How heartless could one person be? Selenada sat in silent shock as she listened to the venomous words pouring from the Inquisitors mouth, her eyes never leaving the crumbled heap of Jerris. She couldn’t believe this was actually allowed, even if what was being said about them was true…how could someone do this to another human without batting an eyelash? She could never imagine willfully hurting someone else and it pained her to know that Luther was twisted enough to do so.

When he stated his request she felt her jaw slightly drop, what?! He wanted to do this to someone else, they had to pick or else Jerris would die? Volunteer and he dies. Lash out and he dies. This was a no win, win situation. Selenada didn’t want to send anyone away with that monster and she certainly didn’t want to be the one to pick who it was. His ‘rules’ were just as ridiculous as his request, how could he expect them to do such a thing? Was it because he truly thought they had already turned on Caleb and Isaac? She bit down on her lip hard and tried to think as the Inquisitor repeated himself.

“Ezra.”

The cold, emotionless voice belonged to Marcella. Selenada scowled in the direction on the voice, she didn’t even hesitate! She just so easily picked someone without a second thought. For a split second she wanted to vote up Marcella out of spite but she calmed herself and took in a deep breath. She had to be smart about her decision, she didn’t want to send someone up that couldn’t take the pain that would surely be inflicted on them. Every part of her hated this, she didn’t want to vote, she didn’t want to sentence one of her fellow Templar members to such a fate.

Another name called out broke the silence in the air once again. It still hurt to hear someone vote up another one of the Templars to go and face that kind of torture, but it needed to be done.

“Iago…” Selenada was surprised that she was even able to spit out a name. He was an oddball, but she knew he was strong and from what she could remember had taken the least amount of injuries. She tried to justify her choice, but there was nothing. She so badly wanted to apologize to Iago for voting for him, but she knew if she uttered a word besides a name that Jerris would pay the ultimate price.

[SikstaSlathalin]

With his food remembered and in the process of being eaten Big O half listened to his fellow fugitive as they said their bits to the kind Elder of Judah. The big man forgot the last time he had eaten, he doesn't think he ate before the Lycan attack, so maybe two days? Two days without food or drink after surviving a war wasn't very wise and now that the adrenaline of witnessing the impossible and being damned for surviving it was wearing off the Crusader felt it rest even heavier on his shoulders than before.

His plate was well on it's way to being empty when Yelena said something that made the man almost choke on his food.
Stay here? That's insanity! The words filled his mind almost instantly. They were already putting these innocent people at risk just being here, but to actually stand with them and whatever retribution was coming their way would result in far more death than this good town deserved. As hardy as these people were, either fully rested Templars or the Lycan Horde would be on the other side of the wall. Even if he and his fellows were fully healed and well-armed their chances were slim. The good people of Judah should be rewarded for upholding one of the Lord God's most treasured teachings of helping those in need, not lined up like sheep to the slaughter to die under some corrupt or deluded Templar's blade.

He swallowed his mouthful of food and wiped his mouth nodding at his friend Octavious's words. They were usually of the same mind and it seems this instance was no different.
"I agree with Octavius. Even if we were fully healed and coming off a week of rest our small numbers would be like throwing water at a wall even with the good people of Judah helping us. But the truth is we are not, most of us still have untreated wounds and have not slept for nearly two days. Even if the Blasphemers were not hot on our trails right now I do not think we will have all the time we need to rest up and prepare. No, I vote we leave this city as soon as we can at least then whatever trouble the Sinners in Templar clothes may bring could be lessened or even used against them for attacking an innocent village. I have lived on my own in the Borderfields, I still may have a couple of supply caves in the hills we could hunker down in. They were all defensible and high enough up that I could see trouble coming from miles away and a few of them had natural springs in their recesses we could drink from. " He kept the full truth to himself some of the supplies caves were built by his former family, but he founded a couple of his own the few years after he escaped them they would be useful to this rag-tag group of warriors.

[Scottie]

Her eyes slipped from the men to the wooden table before her, following the grain slowly. Taking in every word without watching them. She approved of their pride, to have remained in this land not fading away. Then it was almost like the air changed, like Yelena was their leader and she was informing others of their plight. S..She would tell them. They are mere villagers, they do not need to know of such terrors. Her gaze dragged up to their leader and she raised an eyebrow in confusion. Not a good idea, she thought plainly. That’s right tell a group of villagers that hundreds of Lycans are running wild. This village could survive a small pack…but hundreds…the mere thought was something of nightmares.

From the look on the villagers faces, this was news. They had not seen anything like this before. That gave her a little shred of hope that perhaps the Lycans would pass this town if the main city was their target. And yet there we go. Admitting that they were in exile, that they would be followed and probably bring battle to this sleepy town. The mere suggestion the older man gave filled her with dread. No. These soldiers no matter how good could not fend off Templars and if they did….and any survived. The consequences would be dire.

She frowned with Yelena’s final statement. Sanctuary may fall…but for these people they cared little for Sanctuary. Sanctuary was not their home. Judah was….and we were asking them to destroy it for our benefit. She rested back in her chair, listening to the others. Octavius first, he was on the same line as her. We cannot ask them to die for us. Then the big man, the one that still caused a small tremor of fear to float up her spine when he spoke. But he agreed. She waited until he finished, giving them ideas of where they could go next before she stretched her arms out. Hearing the soft click of her joints as they popped. Ignoring the pain that still tingled through her body. “I agree with the others.” She said softly before returning her arms to rest on the table before them. “We cannot ask you to defend us against our fellow Templars. It would be a blood bath that you do not deserve a part in.” She said her eyes settling on the older man. “We ourselves are not even fit for battle, so we would struggle to help you. Our best plan of action is to flee until we are well enough to turn and face them ourselves. No civilian casualties should come because of this.”

[Yamimoon]

Watching as the man before them reviled in the fact that they were all calling him a monster in their own right. It seemed nothing would rattle this rotten Templar. A small smile formed on his face as he thought on the fact that if was able to get out of these cuffs, how he would enjoy killing Templar Darkwood. Not because he was ordered to, but because Letum wanted to see this man suffer like every person that Darkwood has ever tortured. Although this was not the place to think on these matters, and he didn’t have anything that he could pick this lock with.

Then this situation went from bad to worse. The madman that was standing before them. Darkwood wanted them to choose who would be next in the chair. Another sadistic request from the man of the hour. This was fare crueler than he could have imagined. However, they only had very little time to decide who would become this man’s next play thing. But before he could even think on what was being asked of them names started flying out of the mouths of his fellow Templars.

First it was Erza was placed on the chopping block, then Iago was nominated twice. This surprised him more than anything. He truthfully thought that he would be the one put up for the chair. He really didn’t understand his fellow Templars. Granted Iago had little to no injuries, but Erza was not as lucky. None of them are. However, Iago had many secrets much like he did, and he would like to know what those secrets were. Then again he might be thinking the same way. Shaking his head, he closed his eyes, as he calmly thought on who’s name he should say. If there happens to be a tie how would the man, choose who to take.

Three people had voted, and there were four that still needed to vote including him. If Iago got one more vote, then the other three voted for one other person then Darkwood would have two people that would be up for his little game. Although he doubted the others would be thinking along these lines. Opening his ice blue eyes, he gave a long sigh as he looked at Templar Darkwood. “Iago.” He said with a calm yet cold tone to his voice. By acting this way, he might be able to trick the remaining Templars to voteing for him. If this works, they will be able to beat this maniac at his own game. At least he hoped.

[Black]

Ezra didn't take his eyes off of Darkwood nor did he flinch at the sound of his name, mere seconds out of the gate. However it wasn't long before three other names had piled against a different Templar and Ezra couldn't help but feel a little relieved, even if he didn't show it.

Now he had an important choice. Unwittingly he was a crux with which someone could lever the vote. The next two people could also influence the vote, if he chose other than Iago the other two could choose him or the person he chose, or even Iago himself. But if Ezra were to choose Iago, the power of choice would be taken from all, and the possibility of being chosen himself would be null and void. Iago was also more hale than any of them, making him more likely to survive the Inquisitor ministrations.

Ezra felt like a coward but he also felt there was no other choice. If one had to go to the chopping block, it should be Iago. He hadn't even thought of the man until someone else had brought him up. He was, on paper, the perfect choice for a sacrificial lamb. Hating himself, but betraying not this emotion he deadpanned.

"Very well, Darkwood," Ezra said, purposefully dropping the honorific Darkwood had obtained. It was unseemly and disrespectful to not call an Inquisitor by his title. "Iago."

[IronQuill]

Now Iago had to give the pathetic Inquisitor Darkwood some credit. Forcing Greymir's fellows to vote for his next victim. Certainly heart breaking for the more human of Iago's comrades, compelled to choose among their already battered own without even the chance for self-sacrifice. Though the most surprising thing that came out of this whole arrangement was the near majority vote to elect Iago.

Curious and more curious.... Hmhmhmhm...

Brief ponderance told Iago the logic behind such decisions. Iago did not suffer as terribly as the others in the aftermath of the lycan incursion, nor did he seem to suffer all that terribly on the journey back to safe regions. His strength remained and his spirit remained strong, though he had to wonder if they had faith in his mental fortitude. The Iago who he created for this great charade did seem cowardly and vacillating to his core, superficially anyway, but the more observant of the Creed could see the hints of staunch loyalty and strength of will. Such hints too served the great charade, and there they would put faith in Iago. Faith not too misplaced if things went where Iago suspected them to.

He put on his best "please don't me face" and stumbled with his words.

"M-Marcella..."

****

"It would seem our fellows will not heed your suggestions, Renakovic," Tannhauser said from the far side of the table. His fingers tapped the lacquered wood surface with amusement and anxiety in equal shares. The warm meal and chance for rest was welcome, but Tannhauser thought it better to tarry no longer.

"Disdainful as it is to say this, I agree with them. Best for us to leave Judah, and not drag these... Villagers... Into our struggle."

[Iwazuma]

Trest eyed Yelena and the man named Caius with quiet apprehension as he listened to the two discuss the plight the Templars were facing. It was true, they had few options in their escape; Trest knew that just by harboring them, they were now criminals for hiding fugitives and aiding the escape of 'hostiles'. But how was that fair? They were wrongly accused by some sort of corruption in the top ranks of the Order, and now the nice people just wanted to give them aid. Was it really fair to get them involved like this?

Wait a minute. What did Yelena just suggest? Trest's mouth hung open as he realized just what she was insinuating. She wanted them to fight with them against their oppressors! Trest took a step back. Was she...really...? Though when he thought about it, it made sense, in a way. The more people they had at their disposal, the better chance they had at defeating the rogues who were following the orders of an evil leader. Something was up there, and the better chance they had, the better off they were. But still...Trest looked at the ground, his staff digging in as he rested upon it. Was it really okay to use townsfolk as their own soldiers?

Trest heard the others speak on the matter. It seemed they disagreed with Yelena's words that they did not wish to use their people, their protectees, as protectors. Trest nodded in response to them. It just went against everything he knew, had been taught. The Templars were a noble, upstanding people, defending the innocent civilians against all dangers. How was this any different? Just because the danger was other Templars did not mean that the circumstances had changed. They could not hide behind their people, nor even fight with them, as that was a cowardly move that went against their code of honor.

"I must agree with the others...I cannot allow a civilian to be harmed on our account. To do so would be demoralizing. As well, were we to lead them to their deaths, we could be legally charged with an offense we truly did commit, endangering the lives of our people. I would rather fight a thousand men than let an innocent man fight one for me." Trest nodded solemnly, his word spoken. Though his words spoke of bravery, his eyes read exhaustion. He did not know if he could withstand another battle. First the Lycans, then the escape, and now this...he had not had a good night's sleep in ages, and it did not seem as though he would for quite a while. He was unsure if he would be able to defend these people adequately.

But damnit, he would try.

[RedKayne]

Anna Catriona's face grew sterner and sterner as she overhead the resounding words of her fellow Templars. They all swiftly disagreed with Templar Renakovic's idea - of asking the townspeople to aid them in their defense against the pursuing Templar squadron. It was an idea that Anna could reluctantly agree with - considering everybody's current weakened state. They would stand no chance against the likes of Inquisitor Alexius if he catches up to them. Hell, Senior Templar Stryker could slaughter the entire group as well. Slaughter or captured... joining the fates of Jerris's group. No doubt, they would be executed.

And all of their efforts would be wasted. And Senior Templar Hills... he would die in vain. Nobody else in this group witnessed the hybrid's strength as he easily cut down the Isaac - nobody understands the gravity of the threat better than Anna does. She could still vividly see the image of Isaac's arm getting chopped off, his valiant stand to defend Kiera - only to have his sword shattered.

Anna never looked back to witness the finishing deed. Sanford and Catriona ran for their lives that night, they retreated.

They could not retreat from a threat any further.

The table shook violently, as Catriona stood up promptly and slamming a hand on the wooden table.

"Do you all actually hear yourselves?" Anna growled, her eyes flaring with anger.

Her gaze first fell upon her fellow new recruit, Templar Valencia. "You cannot allow a civilian to be harmed under our account?" she repeated Trest's words. "Let me ask you a question, what do you think will happen once we leave this village? Barely recovered, with no aid..."

"Let me ask you all that question." Anna's attention returned to everyone, "What do you think will happen? Because I think I know. The rest of the Templar Order will find us quickly, and then slaughter us - considering we are branded traitors. Then the threat of the Lycan Hybrid and his army will never be known... until it is too late for Sanctuary. And once Sanctuary falls, what do you think will happen next? Hmm?"

Anna paused very briefly, but her fiery spirit was still on full display. "What do you think will happen next after Sanctuary falls?" she repeated her question for emphasis. "Well, I think that the rest of the Borderfield towns will be ravaged by the Scourge Beasts, without the defense of Sanctuary and its Templar Order."

"Civilians will be hurt... killed... and we have no one else to blame but ourselves... because you are all too afraid."

"Afraid to make the tough choice. Instead, you all would rather stay in the luxury of your so-called honorable ways, and let Sanctuary... humanity fall... because you all can't make a tough decision."

"We need their help... we need any help we can get... and we can't afford to let those that we have already loss... to have died in vain."

Anna finally finished her angry outburst, looking everybody in the eye once, before promptly sitting down once more. She may be one of the youngest templars, but she will speak her mind regardless of everybody else's so-called experience opinions.

[☆Catwoman☆]

Yelena heard the dissent around the table, every single one of her companions except - to her mild surprise - Anna disagreeing with her proposed course of action. But her gaze stayed solidly on Warren, anger and a disgust to match his own simmering in her eyes. Her hands, laying limply on either side of her empty plate, were curled into fists, and an uneasy silence fell after their youngest peer's righteous outburst.

The female Knight's glare left Octavius and drifted to the rest of those at the table who had voiced their disagreement. It was not pride that stirred her fury, not selfish discontent at having her own opinion countered; it was the deepest depth of belief that their weak stomachs for making the necessary choices in wartime would lead to humanity's destruction. Because they were unwilling to make the tough calls, to take the path with the greatest chance of success, Yelena believed that her world could be doomed.

Her jaw was clenched so hard that her teeth hurt. She loosened it to speak, and her voice dripped venom.

"You are all fools," she hissed with barely controlled wrath. "You would risk all of humanity to keep these capable warriors out of a fight? We may be all that stands between Sanctuary and utter destruction. That is why you did not surrender in the first place, yes? Because you thought you could do more out here, looking for evidence, than locked up and awaiting a botched trial and possible execution? And yet as soon as you are faced with a difficult decision, you buckle under the pressure."

She planted her hands on the table and stood up, leaning forward, her fiery gaze sweeping over them. "You say our duty is to protect these people; I say our duty is to protect all of humanity. You act as though the Templars on our trail are the danger here. Is the slaughter of our brothers and sisters already gone from your minds? Have you forgotten what we are fighting for? We are not at war with the Templars - we are at war with monsters. And while the Templars may leave these people alone, the monsters will not. If you are unwilling to permit the people of Judah to buy us time, we may never get far enough to find any evidence at all, and we will have done all of this for nothing. Dwell on that while we are all sitting in prison, while a horde of Lycan no one believes in razes Judah, Hirod, and all the rest of the towns that relied on us for protection to the ground, and take Sanctuary with it."

She stormed for the door, then stopped. "Some protectors of humanity you are," Yelena growled over her shoulder, then left, slamming the door behind her.

Another blanket of silence fell over the table. Caius and his son stared at their plates, somehow lacking in relief that they would be left out of the fight between the Templars and deserters. The young woman's words reverberated in their skulls, making them question their own desire to be left in peace. Would their unwillingness to help these renegades now result in the apocalyptic future Yelena seemed to believe in? Would all of the world pay because they did not fight?

Octavius tried to form a reassuring smile, but it appeared as little more than a grimace. "We will find a way," he said again, looking at the elder and his family. "Just...stay alert. Spread the word to your people of the threat we face, and stay alert."

He, too, rose from the table once more. He eyes went to Anna, full of indignation and a deep pain he was familiar with. For some reason, it made him feel a wave of shame, and he looked away. But he would not change his mind. What she and Yelena asked of them simply could not be right.

There has to be another way. The mantra played in his mind over and over. If only he could make himself believe in it.

"Thank you for the meal," he said quietly, bowing his head slightly to Caius and his wife. "Is there some place we may freshen up and rest?"

Caius opened his mouth to answer, but the sound was little more than a croak. He cleared his throat and tried again, voice lacking in the strength it had possessed previously. "Y-yes. There is an inn on the opposite side of the square. It is small, of course, but should be empty. You and your friends may bathe and rest there."

Warren nodded again. "Thank you, Elder. And...I am sorry for the burden we have brought upon you."

Caius waved his hand dismissively with a smile that did not reach his eyes. "You have brought nothing but a warning of what is to come. Because of that, we may better prepare ourselves to face it, and for that we thank you."

Octavius bowed his head lightly, unable to accept the gratitude, and took his leave. He did not see Yelena as he stepped out of the front door, and felt a pang of regret at the emotions he had felt towards her at her suggestion that Judah aid in their escape. He knew that he had misjudged her, that she was not attempting to manipulate these people but truly believed as firmly in her plan as the rest did in theirs. The fury - and, indeed, pain - in her eyes as she had glared at him stuck in his mind's eye.

With a sigh, he made his way to the inn and, hopefully, a large mug of ale, trying not to think that the day could not possibly get any worse.

[SikstaSlathalin]

Even in their mutual fates as fugitives and traitors the arrogance of his peers and the cold way they so quickly offered up innocents to fight and die to save their owns skins continued to enrage and despair Orfiel. Anna and Yelena's words were fiery, but at the moment they were in the minority. He could see their points, but he was too tired to entertain their side. Finishing his meal he stood up from the table and bowed low to his host.
"My apologies for bringing our troubles to your door good sir." He looked around at the others hoping they wouldn't be so easily swayed away from putting innocent people between themselves and whatever evil would soon be at their backs. "Protectors of Humanity would bend over backwards to keep innocents from harm before using them like meat shields against forces none of us could've beaten at full power. These people will find themselves in a fight soon enough, but that doesn't mean we need to hasten it's arrival."

With his final words said and his decision final the big man bowed once more to the host family before turning and exiting the Chief's house. He would find his own space for now, there were plenty enough places a man could clean himself up and treat wounds.

[Scottie]

Sophia had not expected Anna’s childish outburst. From her relaxed position, she watched the woman bite at them. She was blatantly telling these men that Templars were worth more than common villages. That their small broken groups death would alter the future for Sanctuary. She raised an eyebrow and leant back in her chair. Afraid….Afraid would be to give themselves up. Afraid of death would be to beg that their lives be spared. The word itself made Sophia’s fingers itch. Stupid young one. The entire idea that the two were fighting for was so very stupid. Sure, they stay here. They fight with the villagers. All villagers die, but the Templars escape. Then what. Onto the next village, will they keep going until they have slaughtered all of the border land communities. Sophia shook her head gently and let the woman stare her down. She merely smirked back at her. Temper temper, she wanted to tut at her but held her tongue.

A decision had been made in Sophia’s mind. She wasn’t going to allow these villages to be slaughtered so they had a few more hours to escape. They could not hold off the forces coming after them. Fools. It wasn’t a fight they wanted to keep them out of, it was an execution. They were capable, yes. Of fending off scourge beasts…but a group of highly skilled Templars. And if that rat bastard wanted them dead, he wouldn’t be sending newbies or a small bunch. It was death they were sending them to and Sophia wouldn’t have a part in it. What was with people and staring everyone down. Did they think Templars would buckle and cower from a glare. She continued to gently shake her head and keep Yelenas gaze as she spat words at them.

Oh how she wanted to laugh. A harsh violent mocking laugh as Yelena stormed out. Such petty words. She let Octavius and the big man say their thanks and leave. Sophia shook her head again before scraping her chair back. “I thank you for the meal and your kindness. Do not let our arguments sway you. Stand strong at your gates and you will triumph.” She said with a firm nod before pushing her chair in. She glanced at Anna before pausing. “I’m not afraid and humanity will not fall if Sanctuary does. We are in the gutters already.” She pulled her hair down from her bun as she left the room. Letting the door swing softly closed behind her. Sanctuary held no special place in her heart, neither would it for anyone in this community. They care about their own families, their own businesses, their lives. They would fend off any scourge beasts like before. She let her eyes drag over the scene before her. People milling around, a few children running after a dog, their squeals of laughter flooding the emptiness.

War shouldn’t come to this sleepy town. She knew something would, be it Templars or beasts, and she knew it was most definitely them who would cause Judah’s downfall.

[RedKayne]

Inquisitor Darkwood watched the entire course of events with a smug look upon his face, grinning brightly as he heard names dropped one-by-one. But of course, there was one specific name that won the plurality... in fact, majority's vote.

It all went as expected, and Luther very much looked forward to the next interrogation.

His dark eyes fell upon the deceivingly frail form of Iago, who's facial expression would only plead the others to change their votes.

However, the Inquisitor was not fooled... by the fool.

"You two, over here!" Darkwood suddenly pointed at two of his fellow guards, ordering to step up front and center. The guards were quick to obey, "Take Templar Greymir to the emergency medical service, and do it quickly! Ensure that he doesn't die on your hands," Luther's eyes then hardened, and his voice was coated with a warning tone. "If I hear that he passes away, the both of you will be next on the table."

Apparently, despite being a cold-blooded monster, Darkwood still honors his terms.

Both guards rapidly nodded their heads in acknowledgement, before grabbing the semi-conscious Jerris by both arms - wrapping their own around his shoulders and carrying him out of the room.

Darkwood turned to face two more guards. "You two, front and center!" He ordered, and the two other guards quickly arrived at Luther's feet. The Inquisitor's head slightly cocked towards Iago, "Take him to the chamber, and strap him to the chair by the time I arrive." One of the guards showed brief hesitation - it was the earlier one that tried to escort Iago earlier. Luther's eyes narrowed upon the sense of hesitation. "Do it," he growled.

It was never wise to even hesitate the Inquisitor's orders. They both quickly responded and roughly grabbed Iago's arms, dragging him out of the room and escorting him towards the torture chamber.

Finally, Darkwood turned to face the rest of the prisoners. His smug facial expression returned, before he softly chuckled. "Well, well, it seems you all had a bit of trouble choosing a person to sacrifice... not," he stated, his grin only widening. "You can try and convince yourselves of whatever benevolent reasons you came up with. Perhaps you voted for him because he is physically unscathed compared to the rest of you off. Perhaps you believe he can withstand the torture, and will not break. However, the reality is - he is an outcast to your group. You relation towards him are superficial at best... you all don't really give a shit if he does die at my hands," he shook his head, as if mockingly disgusted by their actions.

"I truly wonder... how he will react and repay you all... after what has been done," his smile turned into a sinister twist. He truly did enjoy placing people into situations like this.

"Guards! Take them back to their cells to rot!"


A few hours passed by for the templar prisoners. Many of them were unaware of the fates of both Jerris and Iago. Who knows if they were either alive or dead. The silence of the dungeon was the only thing that welcomed the prisoners, before the footsteps of guards began to echo in the hallways.

It didn't take long before the guards took the prisoners out of their cells, before escorting them through the cold and dark chambers. They climbed up several flights of stairs, going through the upper floors of the castle within Sanctuary. They traveled through several hallways - highly decorated with dazzling lights, crimson-red carpets, and dozens of portraits portraying past Inquisitors and Senior Templars of the Order's history.

Finally, the templars found themselves in a large office room. A large desk stood at the center of the room, which had stacks of paperwork piled upon it. Bright sunlight seeped into the windows of the office room, and then Archon Amelia Denaris stood up from her seat to face the new arrivals. The Archon of the Templar Order was adorned with a dark and revealing dress, suiting her gothic nature. This is the first time many of the Templars have ever faced the woman in person, and this certainly isn't a meeting for pleasantries.

"Greetings... Templars," Archon Denaris began quietly, before motioning for the guards to remove their restraints. This slightly surprised the guards, but they obeyed the Archon and removed the handcuffs of the Templars. "I wish we could have met under different circumstances, but here we are," she sighed quietly. "I will be your defendant for the upcoming trial. Archon Balthazar Hills intends to prosecute you all for crimes of treason, conspiracy, and murder."

She looked at each templar individually, her hazel eyes appearing to examine the depths of their souls. "Please start from the beginning... and tell me what happened."

[Yamimoon]

Letum cursed under his breath as the other two names were called out. His fellow Templars were stupid. They didn’t see the only way to beat this sadistic man at his own game. No one of their own would have to suffer at this man’s hands while they sat uncomfortable in their own cells. Even though this man and himself had secrets that they kept from the others. He knew that this was not going to be fun for him. He wished the ‘Coward’ no ill will. Iago was dragged out of the room by guards that were a little hesitant to grab the man. This only mad his suspicions of him deeper.

Well that is neither here or there. The guards took had already taken Jerris to the medical room so at least he would be safe. Now it was his turn to be drug to his cell, and thrown onto the floor once more. Although this time he was at least couscous for this event. Pain radiated through his body as he hit the floor. He was still experiencing side effects from his little addiction, and would probably feel it for quite a while. Instead of staying on the floor he painfully picked himself up off of the floor, and decided to see what he had in the cell to work with.

After a good chunk of time passed Letum found that there was nothing he could use in his cell to pick the lock with. So he decided to lay down on the uncomfortable bed, and focus on is ability to hear. He wanted to know what was going on as fare as he could hear. Granted there were some things that didn’t interest him. Like peoples love lives, and the suffering of the Templars that were with him. He even ignored Iago’s plight. There was nothing that that devil would be able to pry out of the mouth of a man that was as sneaky as Iago was.

Letum was unsure of how much time had passed, but before anyone else other than a fellow Palladian. Would hear the conversation that the guards were having while they were coming to retrieve the so called traitors. He just listened to their snide remarks, as well as them saying that there was no need for a trial, and they should just execute the whole lot of them. Shaking his head, he waited for them to arrive and open the cell to retrieve him. Not giving and fight he just allowed them to carry him off to where ever they were supposed to.

He could hear that he was not the only one being taken as they drug him down the hall and into a room. Where a woman that he had no idea who she was, but she did order the guards to remove their shackles. which Letum didn’t mine one bit. He hated being restrained. Rubbing his wrists as the others were freed from their restraints. Looking around the room he was impressed by the room, and its gothic design. Maybe him and her could have gotten along at one time, but not now.

"I wish we could have met under different circumstances, but here we are," she sighed quietly. "I will be your defendant for the upcoming trial. Archon Balthazar Hills intends to prosecute you all for crimes of treason, conspiracy, and murder."

She looked at each templar individually, her hazel eyes appearing to examine the depths of their souls. "Please start from the beginning... and tell me what happened."

Letum just stared right back into her eyes as she spoke. Wanting to know who she really was. Though that didn’t change the fact that she was more than likely convinced that they were traitors, and this was just a formality. “What does it matter. All of Sanctuary thinks we are traitors, and I doubt you are any different.”

[Maya]

There was nothing that could be done for Iago. The die had been cast. Once done, it could not be undone. As for Darkwood, a cold hearted prick she'd like to think still wets the bed and cries for his mother at night, what goes around comes around eventually. Kiera may not be around to see it happen. There will always be men like him and there will always be someone who can even the score. Not likely to be anyone trapped in that dungeon perhaps. One could always hope the man's head would blow up or pop right off his neck somehow..

Apparently, Kiera had way too much time to think after watching Iago dragged out of the room. If that wasn't enough, after being locked back into her own dark cell, it would afford even more time for contemplation and to get angry with the whole situation. After risking their lives day in and day out, year after year..dropping everything each time their leaders snapped their fingers to send them hurriedly packing for yet another mission, they were now being stabbed in the back and called traitors. The whole thing stunk of bullshit bureaucracy to cover someone's ass.

If it turned out the Inquisitors wouldn't believe the words of their own Templar's. Nor the Archon's wouldn't believe their own Templar's. Even worse, most of the Templar's were so easily swayed they didn't even believe their own teammates, there wasn't a whole lot of room to improve the situation.

She wasn't worried about herself. Death was the only way out of this job and each new recruit who signed their life away knew it. For everyone else, those left behind to a much darker future than anything they'd ever had to deal with before, what would become of them? Her family? Kaitlyn?..if the hybrid and his beasts attacked? The innocents would be overrun by the scourge beasts once the Templar's were cast asunder. Kiera found it hard to comprehend the lies and mistruths being weaved by those they should be able to trust. Either they were all fucking stupid or crooked as the day is long. At this point, she'd go with the latter. There was no way in hell this team should be locked up and painted as traitors unless someone was up to something nefarious. The question was who?

At some point as the hours passed, she'd fallen asleep. Not like there was anything else do to while chained up in a cell. Kiera was tired, dirty, bloody and sore all over. If anything, a short rest of the eyes gave her battered body some time to recharge and start to heal. It was the sound of keys rattling as the door opened that welcomed her back to alertness in a hurry. "Now what?" Mumbling softly under her breath as the guards removed her from the cell to join the others now being herded through the hallways.

-- --

The sheer opulence of those upper floors they were being escorted through was mind blowing. Red carpet..someone really, really enjoyed the color red. Or maybe it was blood they lusted for so having the crimson color lining the floors made them happy. Was kind of creepy really. After seeing so much blood spilled lately, that shade was not one Kiera particularly enjoyed. It didn't take long before they entered an office and only then would they find out just who they were going to be dealing with. Archon Denaris. To her knowledge, she'd never seen the woman before and knew little of her. Except that she existed. The men might enjoy the view of the Archon in that slinky, tight dress; but, Kiera wasn't all that impressed. In fact, the only positive thing about being in that room was having the chains removed for a little bit since they were starting to cut into her wrists. There was finally the chance to rub off some of the soreness.

If only to try and stay out of trouble, Sanford kept her eyes trained on the woman instead of giving in to the temptation to look at the floor or the ceiling and disrespect the Archon's position. It was oh so very tempting to ignore Denaris altogether. No matter how well the woman represented herself as their defendant, there wasn't one ounce of Kiera that truly believed this woman was here to help them. It had all been a set-up thus far. Why would anyone believe this so called 'trial' would be any different? Finding out that Balthazar was the prosecutor only made things worse. She was truly glad Isaac wasn't alive to see what was being done to his Templar's.



"Please start from the beginning... and tell me what happened."

Denaris could try to look all she wanted into Kiera's soul. There wasn't much to be deduced aside from fatigue..except maybe distrust in the woman standing before her. Why in the world would they trust any of their leaders now? Why tell the Archon anything? The last time they'd tried to explain what happened, they'd wound up locked in a cell. But, ignoring her wouldn't make the issue go away. If anything, their predicament was only about to get worse.

"Why? It's clear the truth of what took place doesn't matter. We would not have been imprisoned and our own teammates savagely mistreated to the point of near death if any of you truly cared to find out the truth." Maintaining eye contact with the Archon as she spoke. "I find it hard to believe you know nothing of the hybrid lurking outside these walls or that you have no idea where it came from. If so, you'll have a very rude awakening upon the beasts return...and he will return." Leaning back in the chair, both arms crossing over her chest. "I've told you what I've seen with my own eyes. So, lock me back in the cell .. I'm tired of this bullshit witch hunt."

[Iwazuma]

First Anna, then Yelena. Trest could only shake his head as she shouted her tirade at her 'cowardly' teammates, then storm out the door. Perhaps having them buy time for the fleeing Templars WAS the right thing to do. But at the same time...there just had to be another way. Why was having the innocent be struck down simply for being in the way the smartest way? It just failed to make sense. There was no way that that outcome was the most just solution. No, Trest could not accept it. The group began to disperse, and Trest remained, lost in his own thoughts. By the time he looked up, most of his comrades had left, likely to the inn to rest. Trest moved to exit, but then paused. He wasn't sure he wanted to be near the others now; it might just cause more turmoil. Trest noticed the discord between Sophia and Yelena before...he didn't want to be around for more trouble.

Instead, he exited the house and turned left, choosing to inspect a few other homes. In one, a young lad was out in an open-air yard, hefting a very large and heavy sack to the nearby trough; Trest figured he must be feeding the pigs. "Please, let me help." Trest took the sack up in his own arms, aiding the smaller boy in his chore. The boy looked up to the Templar, seemingly awestruck; all he could do was nod his thanks. Trest ruffled the lad's hair with a warm smile. "Please. I would be happy to help you with your chores." The boy eagerly showed Trest inside, where many other feed bags and farm equipment was stored. Trest happily aided the child in his chores. He had two reasons to do so: The first was simply because a Templar's duty was to help the civilians, no matter how small the task. The second was to give him time to think.

His mind mostly stayed with the situation at hand, but another thought crept into his mind: What side would his father have chosen? Would he have stood up for the ideals of the Templar way, or would he have submitted to the higher authority, even though he knew they were wrong? He wondered if his father would be proud of Trest's actions. He was, after all, the main reason he had set out to be a Templar in the first place. He could have been a deacon of his father's church by now, standing at his side, if he did not kowtow to his father's wishes...but deep down, he knew that life was not for him. He needed some adventure, some excitement...though what had happened in his first few missions was far above what he had wanted and expected. He knew he would be changed forever...he just did not yet know how.

By the time his train of thought came to a stop, the chores had already been completed. Accepting naught but thanks from the boy and his father for helping with the day's work, Trest left them to finally head to the inn, exhausted and ready for rest. Upon entering, he ignored any Templars in the inn at that time, merely taking a mug of ale from the bartender in exchange for a single coin he had on his person. It was a bit thinner than he would have preferred, but it did the job; it made him tired and ready to sleep. Rather than find a bed, Trest sought out the most comfortable chair in the lobby, taking a seat and letting his eyes close. He was at peace, a rare moment amongst the chaos the past few days had brought him.

[Scottie]

Anna fists tightened with tension - nobody else would listen to reason. They were in a suicidal mission right now - and yet everybody else let their distorted moral compass rule their decision-making. It sickened her. They had an obvious way to withstand the upcoming templar assault - and they would have the element of surprise. Surely, the group of pursuing templars would never expect the townspeople to aid the so-called 'fugitives', and they had plenty of times to set up improvised traps and ambushes. It would be more than enough to at least stop the first assault group.

Regardless, their minds were made - and Yelena stormed from the room. She was angry. She had the right to be. Anna was pissed off as well - and it did not help when the likes of Sophia spoke against Anna's reasoning.

“I’m not afraid and humanity will not fall if Sanctuary does. We are in the gutters already.”

Templar Catriona was almost in disbelief when she heard those words... how can someone be so stupid and be inside of this templar squadron? Yes, Anna may be young - younger than practically everybody else - but she had a level head and trusted her instincts.

Anna felt her entire core shaken - she couldn't let this withstand. No sooner after the door closed behind Sophia - Anna went through that same door to follow that young woman.

"Humanity would not fall if Sanctuary does, you say?" Templar Catriona repeated Sophia's exact words - although in a much more bitter tone. "Let me ask you a question... how long has the city of Sanctuary stood? How long has it been the bastion city for humanity?" She was genuinely curious about Sophia's answer, considering the stupidity of this young woman.

Sophia rolled her neck, her mind far away. Perhaps she could have one good night’s sleep before their inevitable demise. Her shoes were quickly caked in mud as she walked to the centre of the town. The door didn’t slam in time and she faltered in her step. Someone had followed her out, their identity quickly revealed as Anna. Sophia refused to turn around as the woman spat her words at her. Sophia shook her head gently, stupid child. “I apologise Templar Catriona. But I am not in the mood to give you a history lesson.” She turned her head, seeing the rage on her face and smirked. Oh how it began. The unwinding of this small group. They thought anger would change their minds, that if they were loud and blunt that perhaps their way would be chosen. They were wrong.

Turning in the mud, she placed her hands loosely behind her. “Bastion city for humanity.” Sophia shook her head again, feeling such pity for the young one. “Once upon a time, when all was thought lost. When hope was fading fast, and humanity was pushed into the brink of extinction.” Her words tumbled off her tongue, like she was giving a familiar sermon. “One city…One city stood against those massive armies…. this last bastion of humankind was called Sanctuary.” She said projecting her voice, her hands raising for emphasis.

Sophia laughed harshly, “Sanctuary…. A place of safety from pursuit…persecution…Not for many.” Her eyes settled on the angry young woman. “Yes it was once a place of hope, the last to stand against the mighty evil. Maybe it shall claim that title again.” She raised an eyebrow,” Yes, it may be the centre of…everything…But when you build something up that high…it will fall. Sooner or later. Sanctuary will fall." The soft tone was gone and she was tired of playing teacher. "Myself. I do not believe that all of humanity revolves around Sanctuary. Obviously they benefit from trade, they benefit from the warmth of Sanctuary’s harsh glow. But Humanity will not crumble because a city has stopped existing. Humanity will fall when no one is left to stand and fight for what they believe in and we are ground into the dust.”

Sophia turned on her heel, kicking up the mud around her. “Let me ask you some questions…What happens if this town was to be plucked off…Would Sanctuary welcome the wounded…the orphans? Would they mourn its loss? Would humanity fall if beautiful Judah was to crumble? Why then…Why should the people of Judah give their all to a city who cares little for those within their own walls never mind those out with?”

"Sanctuary will fall?" Templar Catriona questioned aloud, once again her bitter tone was fairly obvious. "Indeed, I agree. Sooner or later, the city of Sanctuary will because of people like you."

She took a step forward, apparently not backing down from Sophia. Anger flared in Anna's gray eyes, "And don't bother apologizing if you don't truly mean it," she stated bluntly, calling out her fellow comrade's sarcastic demeanor. She had hardly the patience for nonsense like that.

"Whether or not you believe that Sanctuary care little for the towns of the Borderfields... you cannot deny that Sanctuary has one thing that can actually fight off the Scourge Beasts... the Templar Order."

Templar Catriona took another step forward, "Us templars... we are the only thing that stands between the Scourge Beasts... and the utter annihilation of humanity. If you think the villagers would be lambs to the slaughter to a group of templars lead by either Inquisitor Alexius or Senior Templar Stryker... then just imagine what they would be like facing a hundred fucking Lycans and that son-of-a-bitch that killed both Inquisitor Caleb and Senior Templar Hills."

"They would have absolutely no chance of survival," Templar Catriona stated with finality.

"This is much more than simply the city of Sanctuary... this is about the fate of the Templar Order. We are the only ones that can fight against the wretched Scourge Beasts - yet you and the rest of your companions don't have the back-bone to make the tough decisions. Which is an incredible shame considering you were a part of one of the greatest templar squadrons - lead by the Legendary Monster Slayer himself."

The anger in Anna’s eyes only made Sophia fill with glee. She raised an eyebrow and continued the sarcastic tirade, “Me…I can bring down a city. Good to know.” A smirk danced over her lips as she stared the woman down. “I won’t be apologizing Templar Catriona.” This young woman was acting beyond her years. She was making assumptions that only a hard weathered Templar should. She had been getting too big for her boots for a while now and Sophia was sick of it.

As the youngster stepped forward, Adams didn’t move backwards. In fact, for amusement she started to walk with her hands held behind her back. Giving the woman a wide berth, but she was circling her slowly. Sophia laughed harshly at what the woman thought was the saviour of the city. “The Templar Order…” Sophia shook her head softly as she continued to circle the woman. “I do imagine that.” She said bluntly, anger felt in every word. “Templars would slaughter them, leave the wounded littered in the streets. Then what? The scourge beasts arrive to finish off the job. Do you suggest that we destroy this village’s defences for our own gain, leaving them vulnerable to another threat? We would not win against the Templars, we would flee when it got too much…wasn’t that what was suggested?”

Sophia stopped before Anna, her hands now loose at her sides. “You think we have no back bone because we do not want people dead. There are tough decisions and then there is this...execution of innocents. We need another plan. We do not need to pull this sleepy village into another war. They are just surviving in the one they are already in and YOU want them to stand against the greatest fighters in the land.” Sophia glared at the woman, the time for joking was over. “We are the only ones who can fight those Scourge Beasts. But not alone. We ourselves…we cannot succeed against that many. What you both are suggesting…Is to fight here…then escape when it gets too much…fight again…then escape. The same cycle over and over again. You call us cowards…. but willingly fleeing while this village will be crumbling behind us…makes you one fucking big coward.”

Her eyes dragged up and down over the young before her. Shaking her head gently again before continuing. “The Templar Order seems to be disintegrating. False accusations, threats not taken seriously. They will protect the city; they will protect Sanctuary so once again it will rise up triumphant. I don’t trust them now, how can you trust them to protect the borderlands from this threat that they do not acknowledge?” Sophia took a step forward; she didn’t take the woman’s previous insult lightly. “I do have a back bone Anna, I chose to walk away from their persecution, in stupid hope that perhaps we could find something to save us. Save the others, save this world from the threat to come. Rather than just saving some stupid fucking city.”

Anna did not back down when she received the full fury of Sophie's words. She kept her posture straight, tall - her own eyes narrowed as the two young women glared at each other. Finally, Sophia completely her venomous lecture - proclaiming that Templar Catriona is the coward here.

After allowing a few brief seconds to fly by, Catriona broke the silence once more and began speaking. "Perhaps you should take your head out of your asshole, Templar Adams," the teenager stated bitterly. "Because I personally made no such suggestion of leaving behind the townspeople to their fate. Perhaps this is where Templar Renakovic and I differ... but this is my mindset."

"We had a chance to stop the templars pursuing us - we would have the advantage of numbers - and we would be well-rested to fight another day. Instead, we are tucking tail and running... hoping to find... another sanctuary in this god-forsaken wasteland. But here's the thing that differs between the mindsets of myself and Renakovic, and the cowardly mindsets of you and your sorry excuse of templar companions."

"We are at least trying to find a solution in this problem... with all of these problems presented to us... but what about you? What about your friends? Simply just running."

"I would stand with the townspeople to the bitter end - because I truly believed we had the chance of fighting off those currently pursuing. If there were a few casualties - well, we are thinking of the greater good here. A few lost lives to save the whole of mankind..."

"And let's not forget - I bet that you were one of the feeble-hearted templars that chose to save a few lives at Hirod, instead of stopping the Lycan Horde terrorizing the very same people that you are valiantly trying to defend now. And guess what? That decision bit us in the ass. It was a horrible decision. More than half of our templar squadron were slaughtered. And half of the survivors are more than likely waiting for their execution."

"And instead of making the right decision for once.... you choose to run. You can delude yourself that you're trying to save the world - but let's hear your plan, hmm? Whats your damn plan on saving this world?" Anna sighed heavily, exasperated with this situation. Obviously, the two of them were stuck in their own mindsets - and would not change their perspective any time soon.

However, there were a few parting words Anna would wish to make. Anna lifted her head back up, her gray eyes glaring directly into Sophia's own. "Tomorrow - we will try to retreat. Those templars pursuing us will catch us. There will be a bloodbath. You best hope that at least one of us is dead by the end... Templar Adams... because I'm going to hold you accountable for each death in our squadron tomorrow," she made a promise, before promptly turning around and walking away.

Only time will tell whom is right, and whom is wrong.

Sophia shook her head as the woman got more and more bitter. This young one saw everything so black and white about this situation. Templar Adams was almost certain that Anna believed that if they stayed…they would win. “Perhaps you do defer from Templar Renackovic…But perhaps Templar Catriona that was a point you should have spoken out about, for not one of us “cowardly traitors” think you want any different.” Sophia crossed her arms over her chest before continuing. “For many of us that is why we do not want to stay. I’m not having these people killed because I brought a fight to their front door and when it got bad…I left.” Sophia met the womans glare’s with her, letting the woman tell her this plan that she had. “Maybe we had more in common with our ideas…but you didn’t let us speak… you both just threw tantrums like children and then she left.”

“What is your solution hmm? Stay here. Fight. Maybe survive…Then what. What happens when the next Templar group arrives and it’s bigger…better equipped… and we all fall. Your solution…is the execution of these people.” Sophia moved a step forward as she tried to brush off a few lost lives, “feeble hearted…to save people.” Sophia shook her head harshly again. Her words getting louder, “You call the greatest Templar I have ever met feeble hearted…Senior Templar Hills said himself…that we only hurt ourselves, if we do not save those people…..He was given a choice and he choose to save those people trapped. What would he do here. Stand and let the civilians be slaughtered because we cannot decide on another plan.” Sophia was growling at the woman now, spitting her words with such hatred. “You are playing this like a game Anna. You are seeing this as a few lives lost…do you not see these people as people!! You think they will stand a chance. We…WE are who they are looking for. What have we done for these townspeople…expect bring them grief. We need a different plan. But any plan different from staying here was shot down by you pompous full of shit hot heads.”

Sophia was getting tired of this stupid child, she was throwing accusations around like there would be no consequences for them. “I choose to run, so that these people do not have to.” Sophia’s rage peaked as she sighed. She fucking sighed. Like this argument was tiring her. “You delude yourself, you silly child. How can we attempt to save the world if we sit here. Watching more and more of these people get slaughtered…because of you. YOU didn’t give us a fucking chance to think up a plan. You both chose violence and death and then got angry when it didn’t go your way” She needed something to fidget with, taking one of her knives off her thigh. She flipped it between her fingers, with every dance through the air Sophia had to stop herself from lodging it between the pretty one’s eyes.

Holding Anna’s gaze, she let her speak her final words. “You are thinking about this all wrong. We should be getting evidence. Doing something to show that we did not kill him. But instead…instead you two fly into some petty rage because we wish to save these peoples’ lives.” Sophia let out a harsh laugh, it bounced off the market place causing a few villagers to glance over at the situation. The knife continued to spin through the air, the light catching the silver as it moved. “It’s the reason I ran with you from those Templars. I want to clear our names, I want to save our brethren. I cannot do that if my face is buried in the mud. Your plan would see us all die and the truth not come to light.” Sophia caught the knife and held it between her fingers, half of her wanted to aim at the girls back. For this young one obviously thought that leaving would win her an argument. “There will be a bloodbath regardless Anna. For once, I’d rather it be mine split than some innocent civilian. Maybe if you took time to listen to us, to act like a Templar, to ask for a solution rather than throw a fit…maybe we would come out this unscathed. A few lost lives to save the whole of mankind wasn’t it Anna….why shouldn’t they be ours?”

[☆Catwoman☆]

The unity of the renegade Templars hung by a thread, a fragile thing that would shatter at the lightest touch and be borne away on the gentlest breeze. Tension hung over them, some perched at the bar in melancholy silence, some aiding the townspeople with their everyday tasks, some stewing in stony silence. Yelena, bridling with anger born of helpless frustration, had returned to the Elder at noon and done the only thing she could think of to help these people before the outlaws left in the morning: aided and instructed them in further fortifying their town.

There was precious little that could be done in less than a day, but even precious little could save lives. Caius sent a few swift lads to the outlying farms to carry the message of the Lycan Horde to them, to implore that they retreat to Judah at the first sign of trouble, and to begin gathering as many of their crops as they could in case the worst should come to them. The wall of sharpened pikes that surrounded the town was improved upon and a crude gate installed in the gap between them where the main road ran. Guardsmen were set to keep watch in rotations, and the citizens instructed to remain wary and help wherever they could. The threat of the Hybrid and his army was kept from no one, and though some remained skeptical, they did as they were told.

Octavius Warren joined in the preparations, offering no words to Yelena but trying to relay his understanding through brief gazes. He had spent the morning considering her passionate argument, the reason for it, the fire in her eyes, and while he still could not bring himself to agree with putting these people in harm's way for their sake, he could at least understand why she would suggest it.

This was war, and war was costly. He knew that she feared what would happen to humanity if they did not succeed in their mission, and frankly, so did he. If innocents such as these were willing to fight and possibly die to help ensure the safety of Mankind, he could not imagine anything more noble. And it was certainly true that if Sanctuary fell, the Templar Order would fall with it, and humanity would follow the rest of them into oblivion.

Perhaps he should have been willing to allow these simple folks to take a stand for the sake of the whole. The world was unjust, unfair, imperfect. Innocents died all the time, be it from illness, accidents, murder, monsters - or even, he suspected, God help them all, The Pilgrimage.

Was it not better that they be able to choose their own deaths, fighting for a noble cause? Fighting for the survival of all of humanity?

Octavius worked in silence, his mind at war with his heart.

Night fell, and Yelena drank. She knew she needed to sleep, to recover. She had rested that morning after the unsavory event at breakfast, but her mind had been too overcome with emotion to grant her slumber. Her body ached from the preparations of the day, the bed behind her in her room at the inn called to her, and yet she stood, and drank, and stared at the fire in the hearth, a reflection of the hell that tormented her soul.

A soft knock sounded at her door, but Yelena made no move to answer it, did not even glance in its direction. She heard it open and someone stepped in. The glass of bourbon perched at her lips, but she did not drink.

"Are you alright?" Octavius's voice cut through the grim silence. Yelena smirked at the notion, then outright laughed as the morbid humor of it took her. Her voice was steeped in bitterness, in pain and...hopelessness. The latter was something Warren was not accustomed to seeing the woman submit to, and it sent a shiver through him. Her eyes burned with the reflection of the flames, and she did not turn to him.

"Certainly," she responded quietly, tone laced with mordancy. "Why shouldn't I be? It's hardly as if the fate of humanity rests on shoulders unwilling or unable to bear its weight. It is not as if our squadron was slaughtered by a bloodthirsty horde of monsters controlled by an enemy unlike any we've seen and more powerful than we could have imagined."

Octavius noticed that her knuckles where she gripped her glass had turned white. Her tone grew sharper and more heated with every word, and her body trembled slightly. He could not determine if the flush of her cheeks was from fury or alcohol, though he suspected both.

"And it is not as if Isaac Hills, the best man I ever knew, is dead and his daughter orphaned."

A jerk of her hand sent her tumbler of bourbon hurling into the fire with a crash of splintering glass and an angry sputter of flames as they lapped at the alcohol.

"So yes, Octavius," Yelena seethed, "I'm wonderful, thanks for asking."

Octavius stared at her for a long moment, but she did not meet the gaze, unwilling to see the pity that filled it. He turned for the door in silence, and her shoulders slumped, the fight fleeing from her and leaving a pit of regret in its place; Octavius had not deserved that.

"Wait, Octavius," the Knight called softly just as his hand touched the knob. He turned to find her watching him now, an apology in her eyes. But she was not one to voice such things.

"I still owe you a drink," she said instead.

"More than one, if I remember correctly," he returned with a smile that did not reach his eyes. She responded with a faint one of her own, but the direness of their situation did not permit for much mirth. He walked to her, to the warmth of the hearth, and to the half-empty bottle of bourbon just behind her.

"I'm afraid I broke the glass," Yelena said with an enticing twitch of her lips, "so you will have to drink from the bottle." She faced him fully, looking up into his face, hair cascading in multi-colored waves down her back and shoulders. She wore a simple, dark dress that one of the women in town had loaned to her; not her typical, elegant style but it still hugged her curves and accentuated her femininity in all the right places. Octavius found that his heart had quickened its pace.

He leaned forward, his face coming within inches of her own, and his hand reached behind her to grasp the neck of the bottle. She watched him intently as he brought it to his lips and drank, and then he offered it back to her and she did the same.

"I'm sorry for...well, for everything," Octavius murmured. "Losing Isaac was--"

Yelena wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and waved the comment away. "I don't want to talk about it anymore," she replied, setting the bottle down. Warren's head tilted slightly.

"What do you want?"

Yelena looked at him, fearless and confident once more. A smile played at her lips and she raised her hand to stroke his chest.

"Right now? Just you," the young woman said.

She tasted of spice and alcohol as he kissed her.

A red sun loomed on the horizon. Rather than refreshment and rejuvenation, the morning brought a dismal air, a dread rooted deeply within as the Templars rose and made their preparations to leave. No one could guess what the day would bring, if success in their endeavor would find them or if they were doomed to failure. Sleep had done what it could to repair the exhaustion of their bodies and minds, but negativity and bridled hostility hung over them like a storm cloud. Even the reprieve and passion of a shared bed could not keep the shadow of doubts away for long.

Their weapons and armor donned, their horses saddled and eager, the renegade Templars left Judah on the swell of fond farewells, calls of "Godspeed," and prayers for their safety and perseverance. Some of them accepted such graciously, others with hidden derision, and some barely heard them at all.

The wastes and dangers of the Borderfields awaited, and it was no longer only monsters that threatened them.

The rogue warriors rode swiftly, quietly, and on their guard. No sign of dogged pursuit greeted their wary eyes as they constantly scanned the terrain, but they did not allow themselves to be lulled into a deceptive sense of security. They knew that the best place to begin their search for evidence was back at the site of the massacre - and they knew that their pursuers knew this as well. The only glimmer of hope the rogue group had was that Stryker and her squad did not know precisely where the slaughter had occurred, and that they could perhaps lose them in the vastness of the wastes.

Midday required them to pause to rest themselves and their panting steeds. They followed a serpentine stream to one of the rare oases that dotted the Borderfields, approaching slowly and anxiously on foot, guiding their horses by their reins. The copse of trees was inviting, offering shade and drink, but such things also attracted monsters.

And other Templars.

Movement caught Yelena's keen eyes and she raised a cry just as an arrow sped from the canopy - and took Saul Vitraid in the throat. He sputtered, nothing but a gurgle of blood escaping his mouth, and collapsed. As all hell broke loose around him, his ruined neck gushed his life-fluid away, to be devoured by the earth like so many before him.

There was no time for shock. Yelena and Octavius raised their weapons and charged into battle, cries of fury on their lips, as Stryker and her Templars burst from the trees to clash against their own kin.

[RedKayne]

Archon Denaris did not flinch by the venomous words of the 'traitorous' templars standing before her. She didn't even blink, completely unfazed by their hostile reactions. One of them, Templar Kiera Sanford, simply ordered the Archon to lock them back up in the cells. Based upon the Archon's own opinion - she did not beleve this was a wise decision. Templar Selenada Volkov decided to speak up - sharing her side of the story and the events that occurred. Archon Denaris listened patiently to her words, nodding promptly.

The dark-dressed lady pulled out a folder from on top of the several piles of paperwork, before opening it. "Alright, I suppose I shall share my own side, and perhaps we can all come to a better cooperation," she stated casually, and her hazel eyes gazed down upon the paperwork. "A few days ago - on the same day of your squadron's departure from this city's walls - I found a note on my desk. The note written by the late Senior Templar Hills, which has been cross-examined several times and has his exact handwriting."

She hazel eyes glanced back up at the five templars that stood before her, a glint of accusatory tone behind them. "The note is incredibly incriminating. The Senior Templar expressed concerns that the squadron intended a coup d'etat - an attempt to murder the Inquisitor in his sleep, and anyone loyal to him, including the Senior Templar as well. There weren't exactly any clear reasons behind the coup, other than that several templars were overly ambitous and power-hungry, and wanted to take the leadership poisitions. All the while, they would make up some far-fetched stories about an army of Lycans... lead by a mythical Hybrid creature. "

"Amazingly enough - that was the exact same story that was shared to Inquisitor Alexius and his squadron. The entire public is aware of these 'traitorous' Templars that killed the Legendary Monster-Slayer and slew a Senior Templar - which orphaned his 6-year old daughter. The public is out for blood - they want to see all of you promplty executed for your heinous crimes. Archon Balthazar Hills is leading this crusade, and the odds seemed incredibly stacked against you."

Archon Denaris reached for another folder, before dropping it on her desk and then opening its contents. "Oddly enough... Archon Hills received the exact same note - that I received - from his nephew the day your squadron left. I would have spent more time cross-examing its contents and ensure that the handwriting belonged to Senior Templar Hills - but Archon Hills immediately brought this note to the attention of the Divine Trinity. My hands were tied in this political mess, and orders were sent down to get to the bottom of this conspiracy."

"Personally, I found it rather odd that Isaac Hills would write such a note to his own uncle. I personally understand that the two have not made contact with each other for years... and it seems very out-of-character for him to do so. Not only that - but I have read the recent memorandums from the Senior Templar - and he has nothing but glowing reviews for his squadron. So again, I find it incredibly odd and out-of-character for him to suddenly write a 'random note' to express concerns over a massive conspiracy."

Amelia Denaris paused in her words, allowing them to slowly sink into the templars before her. It seems that she does not intend to crucify their alleged actions, but instead seems to have a better understanding of what's going on. "I have also familiarized myself with the vast history of Sanctuary and the Templar Order. I promise you, there has never been any mentions of any sort of Hybrid throughout the ages. However, I have found a certain... reoccurrence... a pattern if you will... and began my own research."

The Archon pushed the papers before her, giving the templars a chance to pick them up and read it on their own. "Three years... a squadron was completely decimated out in the Borderfields. There were no survivors. I believe all of you can vividly remember this event, especially since one of the casualties included Elena Hills - the wife of Isaac." She pointed out the report, which displayed that the investigation into the slaughter displayed that of a large lycan assault.

"For another infamous example - we had another similar event 21 years ago. An entire squadron was posted at the town of Abel, and then shortly got decimated by another Scourge Beast attack. Isaac's parents - Sarah and Joseph Hills - were also included in the casualties. I'm sure many of you are aware of this event known as the Massacre of Abel. Once again, the investigation displayed that it was another Lycan attack, considering quite a few of their corpses were discovered at the bloodbath site."

"I kept on digging. Events like this are scattered throughout our recent history. 9 years ago, another squadron was slaughtered in a Lycan attack. Once again, there were no survivors. 16 years ago, a squadron was obliterated. No survivors. Lycan attack. 24 years ago - a small patrol of templars mysteriously disappeared into the wilderness, but a minor investigation reports that of a possible Lycan attack on them. 27 years ago, a templar squadron 'once again' is complete annhilated in a Scourge Beast attack... only a few Lycan carcasses were left behind with the Templar corpses."

Archon Denaris would allow the templars to look into the reports themselves - ones that Amelia personally dug out through the Sanctuary arcives. "History has been repeating itself... right before our noses. Your story... despite it sounding incredibly far-fetched... bares remarkable similarities to past events. A squadron decimated by a large Lycan horde. Except this time - several of you managed to escape and survive... only to be branded as Traitors to the Order."

She raised up a hand, bringing up one more point. "I have one more interesting thing to add. It is common knowledge that a templar never survives pass the age of 35. Many pass this off because of the dangerous lifestyle of a templar warrior. However, I found another very odd coincidence. Every squadron or patrol slaughtered within these reports - always contained or were composed of the eldest templars. Our most recent example - Inquisitor Caleb Bartholomew."

Then she was silent. Archon Amelia Denaris personally discovered a possible conspiracy... a systemaic slaughter of the templar squadrons.

"Perhaps... there is a reason why a Hybrid has never been sighted throughout our time... because no one else has lived to tell the tale about it," Archon Denaris morbidly stated.

[The Texan Queen]

Helpless eyes watched as Iago and Greymir were dragged away from them. Selenada wanted to do something, say something, just…anything! She hated that she couldn’t do anything and even if she did try to do something Darkwood would have his goons all over her before she could even process what was happening. The only thing she could do was pray that Darkwood wouldn’t let Greymir perish and that Iago would survive whatever hell awaited him in the interrogation. She could literally feel her skin crawling when Darkwood open his mouth to speak again, how a man could enjoy such things disgusted her. He’s just so vile! Selenada found herself sending the man death glares, the only thing she knew she could get away with, as he gave his little triumphant speech before sicking his loyal servants on them.

She didn’t even flinch when the guards roughly snatched her up and dragged her back to cell. Selenada was used to their rough behavior in her short stay, she was even able to catch herself when they tossed her back in. She staggered forward and turned around to face them as they slammed the door in her face. Did they even believe what Darkwood was accusing them of? Did they truly think they were doing what was right? Or were they too scared to voice their true opinions in fear of what Darkwood would do to them? Selenada had never felt more infuriated in her entire life. She turned and kicked the hard wall of her cell and instantly regretted her actions when her foot basically crumbled against the strength of the wall. Holding in shouts of pain she threw herself down onto the ground and let out an exasperated sigh.

“How much longer do you think they’ll keep us in here?” Selenada wasn’t really asking anyone in the room, more so speaking upwards to her God. Her eyes looked up at the ceiling hoping for some sign of an answer.



It seemed liked forever had passed when the guards returned to take them to who knows where. Selenada had plenty of time to sort out her feelings on everything and how she truly felt about the situation and then next time she saw Darkwood she was going to really give it to him. Usually she would be so nervous to have some sort of conflict presented to her but she was too busy being angry to feel anything else. It was like she could only see red and she liked how it felt. She was sure of what she was going to say and do and she was confident in how she was feeling, which usually never happened.

With each step up the stairs, the never ending stairs, she grew more and more confident. She didn’t care what would happen to her if she spoke out against Darkwood, she refused to go down without a fight and defend everyone’s honor, defend Isaac’s honor, the Inquisitors honor. Selenada didn’t care if what she said made a difference or not, it needed to be said and if she had to be the one to say it then so be it! She just kept repeating what would Isaac do? And she knew he would fight for what was right, and she was going to do just that.

Greetings Templars…

Selenada was so wrapped up in her own world she wasn’t even paying attention to where they were going that the soft voice startled her. Her eyes snapped forward and locked with the Archon’s and she felt fear take over her again. She was so prepared for Darkwood that the Archon threw her off and stole her thunder. No, don’t cower. Rise above. FIGHT. Selenada opened her mouth to speak, but Letum’s voice came out first and what he said reignited the fire inside her.

“What does it matter?!” Selenada’s voice didn’t have the usual tone of fear in it. Anger backed her words and her eyes had a fire inside of them and she was firing all cylinders towards Letum. “I’ll tell why it matters. Isaac is why it matters. The Inquisitor is why it matters. All of our brothers and sisters that were left lifeless on that battle field!” She then turned to face the Archon and took in a deep breath to anchor herself. “Archon Denaris, I am going to say all of this with the upmost respect and I apologize if I offend you in anyway.” Selenada looked around the room at her fellow Templars and thought of the two that were missing.

“I’ll tell you what happened. After our mission, we returned to our camp site with a giant victory under our belt. We were tired, beaten and hungry and excited to come home to our family and friends. We celebrated, we ate, we enjoyed the fact that all of us made it out alive! Then, then we took our heavy, exhausted bodies and forced them into bed to rest before we traveled all the way back home. And you can’t even imagine what happened next, I barely can and I was there! We all were! Everyone in this room was and even more so that aren’t alive or here to tell the tale.” Selenada didn’t know who this person was, never in her life had she ever stood up to anyone or for anyone! She was being assertive and she felt powerful for once. No one was interrupting her like they usually did, they were listening to her.

“We were attacked. An unforeseen attack. Thousands and thousands of Lycan’s swarmed us, ripping into our tents and taking us by surprise. We all fought, even though our bodies screamed for us to stop. We fought like Templars do, we didn’t run and hide or give up, we fought. We defended each other and tried our best to defeat the horde that was raining down upon us! We were losing. Then, out of the blue this man appears. But he is not a man. He is some sort of Lycan hybrid hell bent on killing every last human. He took on the Inquisitor and destroyed him in a matter of seconds, in front of all us. The man that could not be killed, was killed! We retreated. We went to lick our wounds…and regroup. I prayed that everyone would make it and mostly everyone did…except for Isaac. Later on our journey back Greymir informed us that Isaac had been defeated by the same foe as the Inquisitor.” Selenada could feel tears welling up in her eyes, but they weren’t sad tears they were tears full of rage.

“And a mere moments after finding out that someone so near and dear to us all had been murdered we are ganged up on and accused! ACCUSED! And do you know of what? Of turning on two people we all looked up to, admired, needed, respected and loved! The fact that someone, who wasn’t even there, could have had no actual time to find out what happened, accused us of something so heinous! And not only were we treated as the scum of the Earth Greymir was tortured almost nearly to death! And now Iago faces the same fate! The fact that we even have to defend this bull shit is….well it’s absolute bull shit!” Selenada was breathing heavily now, her heart was racing, she had tears streaming down her face, but she felt good. It didn’t matter what the Archon would have to say back to her, because she got the truth out.

[SikstaSlathalin]

Big O spent the night in the town's Church. Praying for guidance and speaking with the Father one Father Alky, it was the big warrior's first comfort in too long a time. As a boy living with cultist parents and then living alone in the Borderfields Orfiel felt safest in a Church and at the most ease around the simple Priests and Monks. Even with the Templar order betraying him O still had hope for the goodness of this world and it's people.

First was confession then he and Father Alky spoke in hushed reverence. Not wishing to disturb the other devotees looking to the Lord God for help, O spoke candidly about the betrayal of the Templar Order. The good Father listened intently taking mental notes should anyone come calling for the rogues, it was well into the night before Alky began to dose. He was an older gentleman and while his doors were always open to those seeking asylum he still needed his rest. Orfiel understood and bid his farewells to Father Alky leaving the Church with a heart lighter than he's felt in a long time. Sleep as sorely needed as it was was beyond the Crusader's grasp. He wandered through the moonlit streets of Judah enjoying the silence and serenity of the night, soon he came to a Smithy and a large man sweating over some broken farm tools. It had been many years since Orfiel had plied his Smithing skills they were some of the only good things his family had taught him. Seeing a chance to help Big O offered his assistance to the Blacksmith. At first the man was apprehensive, but as he looked over the large order had had before him he accepted the help and after donning a Smith's apron O began pounding and shaping the metal. It wasn't exactly like sleeping, but the simple mechanical movements and deeply rooted muscle memory allowed O's troubled mind some much needed rest.

Between the two of them the large order was hammered out and in thanks the Smith offered O some of his best equipment as payment. Being down to only his dented and bloodied knuckle dusters Big O gladly accepted and chose a beautifully made longsword with an amber in the pommel and a study kite shield with a simple white cross adorning the front. He didn't have the means to replace O's Blunderbuss, but these would suffice for his future needs. With the debt paid O and the Blacksmith parted ways just as the sky was lightening. Finding a quiet place in the inn O finally settled in for a few hours sleep. Waking up as rested as he could under the circumstances O arose with his comrades and departed in silent prayer. They would need all the help they could get this day, staying in the back of the small group O remained a silent presence working his mind in circles trying to remember the directions to some of his safer Border shelters. But first they would inspect the scene of the gateway into Hell that sent all their lives into the bog. Arriving around midday O was eager to scavenge what they could from the carnage it wouldn't be very clean and bordering on blasphemous, but they would need as many supplies as they could get if they planned to survive their first few days in the beasts infested wastes.

But sadly this cursed area...this festering graveyard with unburied bodies was still the Devil's playground and the dark friend's puppet show would go into it's next act. As the refugees dismounted and began moving towards the charred remains of the massacre the group of Falsifiers were there waiting. The Devil's playthings and like the avenging angels they were meant to be the True Templars engaged them. Holding his blade and shield high Orfiel the Repenter joined the charge, hell and all it's minions hath no fury like he who wields a blade in the name of the Lord God.

[Scottie]

The water had bounced over the soft round pebbles. Her mind was far away but her eyes were fixed on the calming water. It was a beautiful partner to the thudding steps of their horses. Her horses ear’s pricked up and she raised her head in time to hear the whirling scream of a flying arrow. The water mixed with red as Templar Vitraid fell from his horse. One swift movement and she sent her first arrow off into the Templars running towards them. She harshly spat swear words at every one of them. How had they known they would take this path? Why not the other? Was there a spy within Judah? A spy within them… She didn’t give it much thought as she kicked her horse forward. Balancing herself expertly as she aimed another arrow, this time piercing into the unprotected leg of their enemy Templar. Their cry of pain would not be the first she would hear this day.

Reaching behind her, she narrowly missed an enemy arrow. Feeling it drag across her thigh, ripping her thin cloth trousers and leaving a line of red in its wake. She growled at the pain but docked another arrow. This was war now. They attacked with cowardly tactics, so she would do the same. The next two arrows went flying into the knees of the horses charging towards them. The poison was fast acting and instantly brought them to their knees. Sophia swung her legs around and leapt from her horse as they reached the make shift battle field. She tucked her head in as best as she could and rolled to a stop before a collapsed and dying horse. Their Templar rider neatly trapped beneath them.

They struggled for their weapon but it was wedged behind their back. She fired off another arrow into an oncoming horse, bringing it swiftly to it’s knees. Throwing it’s rider off harshly. Sophia turned and fired an arrow directly into the forehead of the Templar closest to her. It seemed like she cared little for human life in this battle. She would bring down these Templars as easily as she would bring down a scourge beast. In her mind, they were one and the same. It would be the only way she would survive, if she thought them human…she would die. Using the dying horse as a make shift shield, she tore the arrow from the corpse before her. Closing their eyes in one meagre sign of respect before dragging their blade out from behind their back. She pushed against the horse until she could pry it free and stood with the curved sword in her bloody grip. Lightweight and not too large for her, it would do. She swung the bow around her shoulder and turned to clash swords with a much larger Templar.

The man was taller, heavier, stronger. Her only advantage would be her burning rage. It seemed she would not win. So early in the day, to be brought down swiftly. Like fuck that was happening. She tightened her grip, holding her sword firm against his. She would not fall, not today.

[Maya]

Trust can be a fickle bitch. Once it's broken, one can go to the bowels of hell and back yet still never find forgiveness. Kiera was so angry about what had happened thus far, she had to grind her teeth to keep herself from using the Lord's name in vain, or anyone else's name for that matter. She didn't want to listen to their diatribe. Didn't care to hear another word about the traitorous Templar's. If it was possible to make Denaris spontaneously combust into flames, her head would be on fire right now. The corners of her lip raised a smidge, just long enough to envision the woman's hair all alight as she ran around frantically trying to beat down the flames. Maybe that red carpet would catch on fire too. Wouldn't that be funny? Next would be Darkwood skewered then roasted on a fiery spit. Let him taste hell on earth before being cast into the burning flames of the real hell.

Putting her back into a cell would probably be a better choice than allowing her to sit there stewing. The other Templar's would be able to handle themselves much better than she will. Alas, Kiera could not just get up and leave. Instead, she sat like a bump on a log listening as each gave their turn retelling the story to the Archon with Seleneda being last to retell it. Everyone experienced the attack differently as they were all spread out; but, the meat and bones of what had taken place was all the same. The lycans and the hybrid had attacked them. Inquisitor Bartholomew was dead. Isaac was dead. Kiera, who'd seen Isaac die right in front of her eyes, would never be the same. Just hearing them speak his name left her misty eyed. There'd been no time to mourn. No time to digest what happened. There were only the flashbacks of him dying every time she tried to sleep.

When Denaris offered to share her side of the story, Sanford nearly bit her own tongue off to keep silent. What could she possibly know about what had happened? The woman wasn't even there! The more the Archon talked, the less Kiera cared to listen. An incriminating note..the Senior Templar worried about his own Templar's going against him? It just got worse from there. In all the year's she'd known Isaac, she'd never met Archon Hill. From what she knew, they hadn't had much much to do with each other for a long time. Would the Archon be so low as plotting to kill his own nephew?

After offering them even more information found in the paperwork she'd collected, Sanford found herself listening more than stewing. She sat up a little straighter. Now interested in what research the Archon might be able to divulge. The mere mention of Elena's death made her heart ache for the family that should have been. It wasn't fair to lose Elena then Isaac. It wasn't fair for Kaitlyn to lose both parents and wind up with Kiera in their place. At least she had a huge family who would gladly step in to care for Kaitlyn when she was not available to do so.

Sanford would shuffle through the paperwork trying to wrap her head around all that had been placed before them. "If these massacres have been going on for years, why was it hidden from the Templar's? Who hid the truth? They are the traitors. Had these other Templar's known of the dangers, less of them might have died." At least she was asking questions and not wishing Denaris dead anymore. "So, if you allow your Templar's to be labeled traitors and put back in our cells, Darkwood will have free reign to torture us he pleases. You have to know that's his way. He will let us get as close to death as possible. He will viciously torture us for for protecting our citizens and no one will question it." Yes, there was still a trial to be had. Kiera had a funny feeling there'd be no justice in this farce of a court. "I'd rather fight the scourge beasts and die for a purpose than have Darkwood be given free reign to kill me while chained in a cell for his own sick pleasure. At least I shall die on the battlefield with my brothers and sisters in arms." Bad vs worse. Not the best odds.

"Archon Denaris..do you not question where this beast came from? How it came to be? One single hybrid does not just appear from thin air. Plus, Lycans are blood thirsty creatures. They try to kill every living thing in their path, they don't target only certain individuals. Who pulls the reins? We need to figure how to stop this." Kiera had found a bone to chew on. The hybrid. She wanted to know more about this mysterious man. Who was he? Where had he come from? How can he be stopped? If nothing else, the obsession might help her move past her loss or it might get her killed.