[b][i]Alexander Sky[/i][/b]

Alexander watched as the situation deteriorated around him. He could think of nothing to do except wait for Vesta to interfere. Wait, he had something, but it would be risky. Scooting over to Vesta, he would whisper to her and exposit:

"This Zin person is no ordinary Demi-Human; Demi-humans, though evidently magical, do not shine as brightly as she does. A green glowing color permeates her entire body, but unlike Mana, it is...translucent, like fog. I've seen this color and gradient - if that is the right word - in recently magically altered items. So I am presuming that she has been magically changed, and judging from how you two act; forgive me for any disrespect, you remember her being originally...not Demi."

A moment of musing. "Either way, perhaps letting them fight would be best, though not for the grounds."

[@Lunarlors34][@Spriggs27][@ADamnFiddle]

[b][i]Myst Neumann[/i][/b]

On the one hand, he had been tortured and his mind harrowed and no longer entirely his own. Myst Neumann had spent an entire hour in the most excruciating agony, an agony that gave him further insight into what he wanted to [i]inflict[/i] on the frauds and liars who ruled Lugnica right now. On the other hand...he lived. The Demonic Swordsman had seen potential in him and his words, and Myst lived! 

His fingers had been broken temporarily, he had been pummeled to within an inch of his life, his ribs broken. He had felt what it was like to feel being crushed by the power of someone else, the hate and resentment coming from such treatment, and it made him strong. His mind had been broken into and violated, forced to see the chaos and madness underneath life's veneer, but the hopelessness of that had made him better, though he didn't know how.

Myst traced the still-burning handprint, a short laugh escaping him at the pain. This was a mark that showed how he had passed through suffering that, though brief, already rivaled that which the oppressed masses of Lugnica suffered. 

"I identify with them now! I now know what they know, what they feel!" the old man shouted. "I have been welded by the crucible of fire and thorns, of chaos and madness, and I have [i]not[/i] been found wanting! I know I am right more than ever, I now know that all [i]will[/i] be equal under suffering!"

His loud tirade triggered a short moan of pain from where his companion and second-in-command lay, knocked unconscious by Mithril. The one he loved, the one who shared his desire to destroy the world of lies. And also the one who embodied true beauty to him, beauty of heart that had been ruined by the hypocritical wickedness of Humanity.

He walked towards Asmira, a touch of concern filling him, more welcome than ever as he conjured up two globes of water and murmured half-remembered incantations of healing.

The brown-skinned elf would wake up, blinking as her pain was soothed by Myst's globes of magical water. "What happened?" she would ask. 

Myst gave a sigh of relief. "Pain. Madness. A feeling that all our efforts are worthless in the very long run. But this gives me the strength to continue, to continue with my quest to make sure that all, regardless of race, are crushed equally in an iron fist. Wicked hypocrites and frauds will suffer...as I have suffered."

Asmira took his hand, and pressed her other palm onto the burn on his chest, feeling the pain of the seared flesh, inhaling the scent of the cooked skin. "Myst...that is all I ever wanted. Ever since we met in the ruins of my village, that is all I ever wanted."

Myst smiled. "Asmira, we will have our revenge on a world that has hated you, hated me. We will rule together, as equals, with everyone else under our heels."

[@Zelosse][@Noodles][@Sir Lurksalot] (as second active GM)