[M] Sanctuary: As Daylight Dies (IC)

[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 - 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 as it slammed rain onto the stained glass windows; the sound of the rain hitting the glass filled the empty Church. The inside 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.