[center][img]http://i.cubeupload.com/RwiYWN.png[/img]
[h2]Mesera and Furem[/h2]
Mercy and Wrath
[color=blue]0 Khookies
Level 1[/color][/center]

[color=blue]Mesera awoke groggily.[/color][color=red] And so did Furem.[/color] For they were one, a single shared body. Who were they? They were [color=blue]Mesera[/color] and [color=red]Furem[/color]. Who were they before? They couldn’t remember. An amulet? Someone, no two people maybe? It was hazy. Incredibly hazy. It was no matter, however, as they had a new goal in mind.

A singular, unified goal of which to strive towards. Whatever memories they had left behind in the haze, surely they must have contributed to the overwhelming desire. The desire to assist the weak, to usurp the raiders, the corrupted, the evil of the land.Though they both went around it different ways, [color=blue]Mesera helped the weak[/color],[color=red] and Furem wreaked vengeance upon the unscrupulous[/color].

Alaric was a warrior-chieftain, his tribe dying of plague. It had all happened so suddenly. The many enemies he had made in securing his tribe’s future had come to bite him, the jackals circling the wolf. He has perhaps about 20 good warriors before a force of 100, with 70 of his men waylaid with sickness. He could barely provide for the wounded, let alone fight a conglomeration of other tribes!

Word had reached him that some kind of masked creature was approaching his camp, but he refused to believe it until he saw it himself. It had managed to reach the camp, a feminine-formed, yet ambiguously gendered being, dressed in a cloak, trousers, a shirt, and a scarf. The rest of the warriors were out of the camp! What kind of evil monstrosities lay in store for his camp? He was such a fool for ignoring the reports the hunters gave.

Hefting a hunting spear, he searched for the creature, intent on his duties to his tribe, when it suddenly halted him with a few quick, strangely friendly hand gestures. He stopped, staring at it. What did it mean? Why was it acting so friendly? And then it spoke, [color=blue]”Take me to your ten weakest, your most suffering. Those who would otherwise not survive. And I shall grant them mercy, and they will live on.”[/color]

[color=gray]”And why should I believe you?”[/color] the chieftain asked incessantly. He looked upon the strange creature with an air of mistrust, before yielding. If it brought a curse down upon his tribe, then it may very well spread to his enemies when the tribe’s inexorable end came. If it was speaking the truth, than he would be able to have his last stand, with 30 warriors against 100. An extra 10 they desperately needed. And so he motioned one of the many tents, the one where the weakest and sickest were stored.

Mesera did not even have to respond to the question. Instead she simply moved towards the tent. She very well wished she could help them all. But it was not within her power, and she knew full well. And so did Furem, He, however, was suppressed, for now. There was no need for his duties here. The groaning of pained men met her ears as she entered, a few of the tribe's healers doing their best to keep them going. A total of thirty people were in the tent, twenty men, ten women. Twenty five sick. Once she was done, it would only be fifteen sick.

And so Mesera went to work. From behind her masked visage, the mercies of magical healing swept across man after man. She went between them all, ensuring to spread the magic equally. They each would need it. Yet, it still gnawed in the back of her head that she should've been able to do more for them. But that would have to wait, small acts first, to build up to the grand finale. Once the deed was done, she was off as fast as she came.

The Chieftain couldn't even manage a goodbye before the lone figure had melted back into the woods. But the deeds, the deeds were left behind. The men Mesera had worked on had already begun a recovery, and the Chieftain's hopes were high that he would have ten more men for his final stand. This deed would not be so easily lost in the fog, and it was sure to spread quickly.

And thus, the story of Barmherzigkeit, the masked mercy, began to spread throughout the barbaric and warlike tribes of the lands north of the steppes.