[i][color=orange][center]No one wanted you. No one ever really wanted you. Discarded like dried leaves on the forest floor. No one reached for you. No one called out your name. Because those things didn’t matter. What mattered to them was the color of your hair and the color of your skin. What mattered to them were your horns and your claws. Or your canines. Do you fear me? Do I make you afraid? Do I make you uncomfortable? How about you get closer and I show you what I really am made of?[/center][/color][/i]

[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLmY1MzQwMC5WbUZzWlc4LC4w/plastic-explosive.regular.png[/img][/center]

[color=yellow]Age: Between 15 and 16 - You think I counted?[/color]

[color=orange]Species: Half Deamon - Abyssal energy flows through his blood. Though Deamons have no relations with their Brood. They are often a byproduct of rape, a curse, sometimes it’s even a choice. A Deamon does not love the one who summoned it, nor do they care about the Brood that which they spawn. Though no two Half Deamons are alike, just as there is no Deamon that is alike either. A Half Deamon’s features and appearance are often based on the Deamonic lineage that spawned them. Igni, Aquarius, Grimace, Miseri, and so and so forth. Valeo’s “father” if it can even be called that was the burning Abyssal. Igni, Demi Spawn of the Oblivion.

Igni was forged from magma, or so the stories go. That churning in a volcano, was the core of Abyssal energy that birthed the lord of flames himself. They say it is Igni’s presence that called for volcanic eruptions, and that it is Igni’s presence that created wrath in mortal men. The 10ft abomination that is called a Deamon who carries a warhammer and punished sinful men by boiling them alive, that is Igni. 

Igni was known for his hatred of the Celestials who banished him back from the Mortal Plane into the Oblivion. Where Igni stays, sealed away from his wrathful, destructive forces on the mortal plane. For this Igni vowed to get his vengeance on a Celestial being and break free from his Celestial bonds. 

It is this heritage that flows in Valeo. Which is probably why personally he is so fiery and difficult to deal with at times. It is Igni’s heritage that gives his Brood either ashen pale skin [uncommon], reddish clay skin, or a yellow orange skin. Those who are the children of Igni often have rust colored eyes, golden, or often they are completely blacken. It also means his children have a high tolerance to heat and fire in general.

Normal fire pulls away from Valeo, he could stick his hand through a campfire, or on candlelight and like a magnet with two negative forces being put together they repel instead. The fire pulls or wraps around him and doesn’t even harm him. With elemental magical fire, Valeo takes half damage and is not as easily burned by fire that some others might. Valeo wouldn’t be able to walk in a volcano or a smoldering inferno, but he has some defenses against the heat. What Valeo doesn’t have is defenses against is the cold. Due to his hotter temperature, he has trouble staying warm in sub zero temperatures. 

However, all Deamon children often share similar traits, vestigial or not. Usually horns, wings, tails, cloven feet, claws, etc. Every Half Deamon child is different and they may have one or two of these features, but they often share these commonalities.

Valeo had horns, if you pull back his bangs you will two see black, worned down spots, where his horns use to be. They have been cut, cauterized as to not grow back. Leaving black, boney spots on his forehead where his horns use to be. Valeo tends to hide these spots with long bangs. He has claws and with that a natural swipe move with his claws. He also has sharp teeth, nothing like a Vampry, but enough to break skin and leave a bruise. Which gives him a natural bite attack as well. Has dark vision as well and can see up to 60ft in night.
Some of Valeo’s personality traits are not by choice, but by nature. Common instincts for a Half Deamon child and are often traits of their father. Dominant traits are not chosen by their fathers. It is like a tiger cub knowing how to hunt at birth, but a parent still teaching them to perfect it. The dominant traits passed on by his father are wrath, a fiery tempting spirit [portrayed in his free spirited nature that doesn’t obey rules], and the will to survive.[/color]

[hider= It's The Effort that Counts][center][img]https://image.ibb.co/eVCouy/Valeo2.jpg[/img][/center][/hider]

[color=orange]Red. Red hair. Tufts, no a mane of red hair. It blew in the wind, flickering across his face like dancing flames. He stared at you with ferocity, even if he were not angry with you, the look of annoyance on his face was enough to know you were not welcomed in entering his personal space. His eyes were bright, golden yellow only made more stark in comparison to the fact his eyes were blackened, with rusty reds. His gaze, no his scowl at you were like having a staring contest with a volcano.

Neither of you blink, well you eventually blink, but his eyes remain fixated on you with hyperfocus. He may have looked like a teenage boy, but there was a path of destruction in his eyes that seemed more like a feral beast than that of a loving, innocent child. His eyes burned through the back of your head, curiously studying you with an ocular observation that you trapped in his gaze. As sweat rolled down your forehead, he continued to study you. It was like he knew your every thought before you could say anything or that was what he was trying to figure out.

There was a pressure about him. A force. A strong force, that would not bend. He would not be made to do anything you said and the truth was you wanted to leave. Something about him made you trapped in a place, and you could easily have taken this boy down, you were sure of it when he stood at 5’5”, 165cms, and probably weighed on the extremely light side, consider how his robes hung loosely on his body. You couldn’t guess, but he seemed easy to take down physically. Yet, you felt weighed down by his presence, his stare alone. How were you afraid of such a small, fragile looking child?

His robes were black, though fading, almost gray, with patches woven into the sleeves. A pair of breeches were ballooned, gathered at the shins, underneath black riding boots, also worn down to the heel, with fur lined trimming. A sooty colored brown capellette hung on his shoulders, with tattered, worn fingerless gloves, gray, with blacken parts from being burned perhaps. Most notable were his stark features, nonhuman features. Despite his human silhouette, his skin was a light, ashen gray, hints of white the way you may see peach in someone’s skin.Bruising under his eye, gave him an unusual age to his otherwise youthful appearance. He was human, but not. He just scoffs and lifts up his hood attached to his capelette. 

“Not worth my time,” he says turning his back. Yet everything about earlier exchange remained in your head, like he was still gazing at you or really through you.

His voice was smoldering, husky and smoky, with a boyish charm. It was young, not too deep, full of youthful cockiness.[/color]

[b][color=orange]Personality Strength[/color][/b]

[i][center][color=yellow]“Do not think you can pull a fast one on me. I am not easy to lie to. And I am not a simple child. I know more than you think. So be careful with what you say”[/color][/center][/i]

[color=orange]Intelligent and cunning Valeo is not some child to underestimate. While his appearance would give off the impression of some weak boy. His gaze and his sharp tongue would not. While he may not have read books and been educated in the schools, what he lacks in proper education, he makes up for street smarts and his quick learning capabilities. Valeo is observant and very aware of his environment around him. He picks up on things and uses those things he has picked up against those he knows it will work on. He’s not easily gullible nor is he easy to trick. You can’t slick a slick and Valeo tends to know when someone is trying to lie to him.

Despite what it may seem Valeo has a strong sense of self. Some people might see him hiding his injured horns as some kind of insecurity, though Valeo makes up for it in pompous arrogance and high self esteem. So much so you could say that self esteem is a flaw in Valeo, we will get there in time. Valeo won’t and doesn’t accept others disrespect, though how he handles it could be considered over the top to others. Valeo doesn’t necessarily care.

A free spirit, who does want he wants and doesn’t obey the rules of others could also be considered a flaw in Valeo’s personality. Though it is this free living that inspires others to take risk. Valeo is bold, candid, and very clear in what he thinks of a person. While he may not be very emotional, and is more analytical, observant about the things around him Valeo may let others in at a comfortable distance. It will never be an emotional relationship. The lack of a nurturing figure in his life or a loving embrace leaves Valeo’s affectionate side very dull. 

That doesn’t mean Valeo won’t show gratitude or be grateful. Even if it doesn’t read that way. He’ll always come off sharp tongued, mean spirited, and a bit of an asshole. Though somewhere that asshole probably has a heart of gold. Valeo is patience with others, despite what it seems. He has a long fuse, for someone who abominable blood gives him wrath as a natural trait. Usually when Valeo explodes in the way he does it is because he has given someone so much rope that it eventually all burns away and he can’t take their stupidity.

Valeo personality is a Do or Don’t kind of personality. In truth he’d probably never expose him going to get the Golden Set with the other kids because he wants to say Thank You to Gertrude, not out of love, but respect. Which Valeo has an abundance of for those who take action and don’t idly sit on their hands. His wrath and anger usually pushes Valeo to action, and he’ll take things in his own hands if he has to do just to get something done.

Loyal to those who earn it. Trusting to those he deems deserve the truth. These strengths are all layered under the disguise that most of his strengths could be painted nearly all off as flaws to others who do not understand his complicated nature.[/color]

[b][color=orange]Personality Flaws[/color][/b]

[i][center][color=yellow]“You don’t really think you can compare yourself to me. I won’t let you undermine me in such a way.”[/color][/center][/i]

[color=orange]Valeo is not the type of child who accepts consoling words from those who hear his story. In fact the truth of the matter might be he looking more for validation than he is looking for consoling words. This is what makes Valeo personality hard for others to understand. Not easy to bend and not easy to tell what to do, most give up on Valeo at this point due to his nature. They see a person who disregards others, who thinks highly of himself, and is selfish.

Without understanding that everything about Valeo is earning things. You earn the right to get close to him. You earn the truth from him. You earn your respect. Otherwise you’re a waste of time and not worth the effort. Life is about survival and those you let into your inner circle cannot be ones who betray you. 

His true flaw is more likely the walls Valeo puts up. All the walls that make Valeo a maze to deal with. He’s self centered and cocky, but then he tells you a truth, or does something for you that would be considered kind though refuses to show any affection afterward. He’s violent and aggressive, but then he’ll give you a smile your way and tell you he is just joking.

Which is it Valeo? Harder to put up with his do what he wants attitude. He has no respect for laws. He has no respect to follow rules. Most of his life has been in the forest, where choices were his own choices and living in a city rules be damned. He has certainly gotten Gertrude and some of the orphans in trouble because he doesn’t follows rules. 

And while most of his flaws seem like innocent folly. There are two types of anger Valeo can show. A “I’m annoyed with you” anger which is probably the side of his angry you want to be on. At least he can get over that. Or you can smooth things over by trying to get on his good side without further annoying him. And then there is Valeo’s wrath. Though hard to spike, he can be vengeance seeking and quite cruel, malicious to those who have pushed him too far. 

This side is malicious and demonic. It is the side that has pushed Valeo to do terrible things in his past. None of which he feels ashamed for or regret. Rather pride. He’ll even boast about it without recognizing why others might find it wrong. 

Valeo is also sharp tongued, and can be quite rude to others because of his candid bold personality. Sometimes he doesn’t care what he says to others. Other times he will beat himself up for allowing himself to say such a stupid thing. And for those who do not earn the truth from him. He is a sharp liar and manipulator. With little to no remorse for doing so. To survive is his will.[/color]

[color=orange]Neutral

Poetry, despite lacking education and probably the neatest handwriting, however, he likes to sit down and write his thoughts. They aren’t necessarily good pieces either;[/color]

[i][center][color=yellow]Babbling brook
Honestly why are you called
A babbling brook
More like peeing brook
Because you make travelers 
Feel the need to pee
Isn’t that how that works?[/color][/center][/i]

[color=orange]Coffee not because it taste any good, honestly it was his favorite part of Cosmo City was the coffee because it made him feel more adult. And there is nothing more important than looking more adult in front of the other orphans. Had to understand the difference between him and them.

People watching there is nothing more fun in the world than watching other people make a mistake. Watching other people a mistake is probably one of the greatest joys in the world. Because they tried so hard to cover them up, not self aware enough to realize when someone else has witnessed them making a slight.

Dislikes babies. First off they look weird, anyone who thinks a baby looks normal is just been tricked by their baby magic. Second off they drool. Seriously I have seen Alpine Lions cubs more sophisticated than how much actual mucus comes out of a human baby. Also they are loud.

Dislikes compliments. I seen enough people to know why they compliment each other. To feel less insecure about themselves. It is rare to see a genuine compliment, so just don’t compliment me. Show me gratitude with something. Don’t try to kiss my arse.[/color]

[color=orange]Skills:[/color]

[color=yellow]Forest Navigation -[/color]

[color=orange]Growing up in the woods of Aeflstan has made Valeo adapt to their changing paths and corridors. He understands the nature of the forest is fickle and thus he understands the nature of how to travel through it without becoming dead, dinner or lost for all eternity till you die. His knowledge of the forest seems uncanny to the elves, but that’s merely because he’s passed through the forest with knowledge bestowed to him by the creatures of the forest.[/color]

[color=yellow]Identifying Flora and Fauna -[/color]

[color=orange]What Valeo may lack from actual textbooks, he learned living in the forest. For the most part Valleo can tell you what you can eat, what you shouldn’t eat, and what you could try to eat. He can identify what a beast is and the nature they present.[/color] 

[color=yellow]Intimidation -[/color]

[color=orange]So some fuckhole won’t let you into the gate or someone is giving you a hard time. Don’t worry I know how to deal with these types. Despite being a teenager Valeo has the skill to intimidate others quite well. Probably something he picked up in the look of animals of the forest. Imitating the most fearsome. He also picked up words bandits say and rogues say to intimidate others. Coupled with his look of a beast he can surely make another person wee themselves a little.[/color]

[color=yellow]Forest Friends -[/color]

[color=orange]Not every beast of the forest is tameable, but not every beast is ferocious. Being raised by the forest Valeo has few friends in the woods and has an uncanny knack of knowing what animals mean. He can “talk” to them or engage with them. As well as smooth over any mistakes the idiots create. Though not every situation can be fixed and even if he is friends with an Owl Bear doesn’t mean that if you done something to royally piss it off he’s not going to sit there talking to it in a soothing voice. He’s running and you better run too. His alliance with them is fickle as fickle as the nature of the forest.[/color]

[color=yellow]Manipulation -[/color]

[color=orange]Valeo is a pretty good liar. Since he’s observant and aware of the world around him, he picks up on things others do not. He knows how to subtle pick up on how to make others bend to do what he wants them to do. Shit he’ll go as far as blackmailing someone important if he has in order to get his way. It is a good technique to have when you’re trying to survive the city.[/color]

[color=yellow]Perceptive -[/color]

[color=orange]Valeo can read the air very well. Since he has a natural observant personality and he is smart, able to pick up on subtle things. He also notices when someone is trying to pull a fast one over him or someone trying to lie to him. I mean he’s not foolproof there is always someone out there smarter, faster or stronger than you or all three. He also quick to notice things around him. Snapping twigs, surprise attacks. He’s often the one who feels the mood before everyone else picks up on it.[/color]

[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjg4LjJkNTM4MC5RbUYwZEd4bElGQnliMlpwYkdVLC4w/debalmeinitials.regular.png[/img][/center]

Focal Crystal: A what? All I have is this piece of stone. Found it near a spell stone that was crumbling and thought it looked cool so I picked it up. I don’t need some fancy glitter rock to cast magic. Rest of the magical people are just showing off. I wonder if there is a competition on who has the shiniest focal crystal.

[center][img]https://image.ibb.co/nNBFMd/crystal4.jpg[/img][/center]

Special Equipment:

Pointy Compass 

I don't know what it is really called. Some guy dropped it out of his bag into the mud, finder’s keepers. Seems it changes different colors depending on the direction someone goes, blue for north, green for west, yellow for south, orange for east, then a blend of those colors for northwest, southeast, etc. Also a really neat feature is if I think of where I’d like to go, I can put the pen part on a map and it draws the safest path to get there on said map. 

[hider= Pointy Compass][center][img]https://image.ibb.co/kv8egd/Compass.jpg[/img][/center][/hider]

Mimic Bag - Muris

So it isn’t cuddly and some of my stuff is dripping in saliva afterward. But it is great robber deterrent. And it has a great personality. Sometimes if you pet my bag just in the right way it starts to pur like a cat and it’s kind of great. It’s the companion that you’ll never tire of and it doesn’t annoy you. Unless it decides that it’s going to put your poetry in its actual stomach. You think it’s trying to tell me something.

[hider= Muris][center][img]https://image.ibb.co/d33egd/mimicbag.jpg[/img][/center][/hider]

Equipment: 

Magnar [Mugn-ar] 

Perks of being raised by a tiger mom is that one day the tiger cub you played with decides to follow you. The second perk of said tiger cub is that you can ride him and he doesn’t put up much fuss. Simon fixed the armor. Don’t ask me where it came from. Don’t ask me how I afforded it. It was a gift, okay, from a friend. 

[center][img]https://image.ibb.co/mEqs1d/Magnar.jpg[/img][/center]

Ring of my Animal Friends

Don’t ask an old woman gave it to me for some reason. It’s not important. 

[hider= Not important][center][img]https://image.ibb.co/b3UVnJ/animalfriends.jpg[/img][/center][/hider]

Poetry 

Haha. You actually thought this was a spellbook. No it is my poetry holder. All my poetry goes in this little binder. 

[hider= Maybe I am truly meant to be a bard][center][img]https://image.ibb.co/h2Qguy/notes.jpg[/img][/center][/hider]

Weapon: One handed axe - cause sometimes an asshole is brandishing a sword at you, or a knife, and you have to get in close.

[hider= Something Simple - Not a show off][center][img]https://image.ibb.co/f3C5Md/perhaps3.jpg[/img][/center][/hider]

Special Attack: Blessing of Falsehood - so it may not be an explosive spell or even one that is fiery and eternal doom for all. But it can be fairly useful in a lot of scenarios. While Valeo is a gifted liar, naturally, it is enhanced due to his Deamonic heritage. Igni being the Father of Falsehoods, grants Valeo the ability to make most people believe his lies. Exceptions being those with high willpower, those who are highly perceptive, and even then some might simply feel something isn’t entirely right, but can’t spot the lie.

[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/b3RmLjg4LjVjYmNhOC5UV0ZuYVdNZ1VISnZabWxzWlEsLC4w/praetoria.regular.png[/img][/center]


Magic Lv: 5

Spellbook: My brain, don't need a dumb book to keep them in my head, read the stones.

School of Focus: Primordial Magic - before there were schools of focus, there was simply the magic that existed in the forest. It is the magic that makes the forest alive, the animals and creatures somehow connected to it’s life, and it is the secret behind the Spell Stones. Valeo had no teacher, he had the stones and met many creatures in the forest. Many whom magic was not bound and chain by a mere study of focus. The concept is alien and is what makes wizards in the city weak.

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[img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjU0LjMzZThmZi5VMlZrWVhScGIyNCwuMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA/odins-spear.regular.png[/img]
Sedation

The next action the target will take is slow down by a few seconds. A spell that might take a caster 5 seconds to cast, make take up to 15 seconds. A nice way to get in and take an advantage. And any physical action may take longer as well, unsheathing a sword may take up to 1 second, but with this spell it take upwards to 5 seconds. The spell is not permanent, it is temporary and is considered a counterspell. So the target must be making some kind of action before he can actually cast this spell on his target and he can only target one individual at time or really counter one individual at a time. It works one one action, one target, they must be making an action before he can cast the action and can miss the timing of countering their action.

[img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjU0LjMzZThmZi5VblZ3ZEhWeVpRLCwuMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA/odins-spear.regular.png[/img]
Rupture 

Causes whatever is targeted to break. That is non magical items like glass windows, even non enchanted weapons, non enchanted equipment to shatter or break by merely pointing at it. Any living creatures targeted by the spell will not be affected at the surface, instead this spell affects living creatures at different levels of defense. Ordinary people will have their bones give way without much resistance. Has to be a specifically targeted bone, it’s not all the bones. Spell affects what the user is pointing at specifically. Can’t target the same object or person after breaking something or the object in question.

[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjQwLmZmNWIzMy5RV0o1YzNOaGJDQlViM0p5Wlc1MC4w/annstone.regular.png[/img][/center]
[center]{Demonic Inherited}[/center]

[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjYwLmZmYTUzMy5RV0o1YzNOaGJDQlViM0p5Wlc1MC4wAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA/odins-spear.regular.png[/img][/center]

[color=orange]Inside Valeo is a storm of Abyssal energy, being half Deamon makes him close to his nature, or perhaps that is because he was never shackled down to a single school of focus. This Abyssal energy comes out as crackling, red lighting, surrounded by a pitch black flame that has no shape or silhouette beside look like a black shadow that flickers like flames. It crackles, it sizzles. While one who is touched by this energy feels heat like burning fire, it also eats away at their flesh like some super form of gangrene dealing necrotic burning damage. Valeo can use this energy in various forms, and it is the main use in combat or an effective killing blow. 

This spell can be used in various ways;[/color]

[img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjYwLmZmZjUzMy5SbWx5WldKaGJHdywuMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA/odins-spear.regular.png[/img] - small baseball shaped fireballs that can be lobbed upwards to 30ft, the cinges the ground or its target, blackening the earth or eating away at their flesh.

[img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjYwLmZmZjUzMy5RbXhoWkdVLC4wAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA,/odins-spear.regular.png[/img] - with swiping motions it can come as crescent shaped strikes, slicing it’s target with burning, and melting effects. Can be thrown upwards of 15ft. 

[img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjYwLmZmZjUzMy5RMmhoYm01bGJHbHVadywsLjAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA,/odins-spear.regular.png[/img] - he can channel the energy into a small focus, i.e. being his claws and can come up close and personal with a nasty scratch. Or he can channel the energy into his hands to hold onto his targets and give them a nice surprising grip.

[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjYwLjYwYmRjNy5UV1ZrYVhWdElGTndaV3hzY3csLC4wAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA/odins-spear.ragged-hollow.png[/img][/center]

[img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjYwLjYwYmRjNy5UV2x0YVdNLC4wAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA/odins-spear.regular.png[/img]
Imitator

Valeo can target one individual at a time and mark them with a symbol. Unbeknownst to the target marked with this spell, when they cast their next spell Valeo can cast exactly the same spell they are casting as a clone version of the spell. This spell affects one person at a time, requires the original owner of the spell to cast a spell first, and dissipates after use. He cannot target the same target again for 60 seconds.

Misc Battle Info: Valeo is not your traditional caster, not only does he not have a spellbook, but he also gets up close and personal. His main use is in the utility of his abyssal energy, which means he is more free to move than most casters. Butterfly kicks, and acrobatic gymnastics, mixed with casting abyssal energy to wreak havoc on his foes. And if the fancy footwork doesn’t catch you off guard, he always has the brutality of his axe. In truth he moves freely like an animal, with a “combat training” he otherwise should not have be able to perform. Valeo's magic is more primal and more tied his mental and emotional being and state of mind. Spell strength is determined by emotion, connection, and the mental focus of an individual. Versus the tailor that a school of focus gives. It should be noted that Rupture is affected by various things as well. Large massive creatures may not feel near the same affect as an ordinary human being with low defenses. Rupture cannot break through enchanted armor or break natural magical defenses magical creatures have. Size can also affect the Rupture spell, a broken leg for a human, might just be a hairline fracture for a giant. 

[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjYwLmVlYWMxMS5RMmhwYkdRZ1puSnZiU0JQWW14cGRtbHZiZywsLjAA/phantom-fingers.regular.png[/img][/center]

[center][color=yellow]"A child never wanted, a child never loved. Passed on by the next and the next. Feared by many, scorned by everyone. The only acceptance was with the ones already scorned and not loved."[/color][/center]

[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/b3RmLjcyLjNkNTRlNi5RbVZuYVc1dWFXNW4uMQ,,/pfeffer-mediaeval.regular.png[/img][/center]

[hider= Abyssal Union]“She’s beautiful, but I heard her womb is cursed,” there they went whispering again, the woman would smile to her face, but they would talk behind her back. Everyone knew in Redfort it seemed like. Not only did it seem like everyone knew it also seemed that Sigfrid was tired of waiting. Grabbing her laundry, Ereda grabbed her laundry quickly trying to get away from the rumors that surrounded her. It hurt to lose another child. Was it her? Well everyone blamed her. Entering the cottage her and Sigfrid shared she hoped it would be a refuge to get away from the scrutiny. 

Instead Sigfrid was sitting on a chair, that he himself had carved. He looks at her, he’s handsome to look at, lean features, and a square jaw. Except that as of late it felt like their love was dying. There were so in love a long time ago. Now it seemed like every child lost was some kind of spite against hers. His emerald colored irises just watched her, his brown hair the color of the mud, though that never bothered her.

“I cleaned some linens,” she announces, hoping he was in a good mood today.

“I can see that,” he says bitterly looking at her basket.

“How was field work?” she asked.

“Fine,” he replies.

“Are you mad at me?” she ask him.

He slams his hands down on the table and looks at her angrily. She takes a step back. Her heart racing. His rage boiling over. She had never felt more like a fool then losing her third child. What was wrong with her? Did she have a cursed womb? What had she done to the goddess of fertility to upset her? 

“No I am fooking furious, you’ll never bear a child,” Sigfrid tells her, “Should have never chosen to marry you over your sister. She at least has kids.”

Her vision becoming a watery mess, as a tear rolled down her cheek. She didn’t know how to mend his heart. She knew he was angry and lashing out, she knew he had to hear the rumors and gossip too. 

“I’m sorry,” she says trying to fight the tears and the shaking of her body, “I’m sorry. I can….pray to the fertility goddess.”

“She probably has gotten fed up with you as well,” Sigfrid scoffs, “You and your sister look alike, that’s an option.”

She promised herself she would not grieve any longer, but she couldn’t fight the current of emotions. As she broke down into tears. Sigfrid watched her with a callous cold that was not usually like him. He got up and said nothing walking towards the door, she grabbed him by the sleeve of his tunic.

“Where are you going?” she asked him.

“For a walk and see if I want to deal with tradition or not,” he curls his lip when he says so. He’s disgusted by her. Repulsed by her. How does she fix it? How does she bring happiness back to his face? Is he going to take further shame and break their bond.

“Ple-ease...Sig,” she utters breathily.

He pushes her arm off of his. She swears she sees him fighting tears, but he has to be angry at somebody. It is her. She stares at the door for a long time. Will he come back? She wonders if he’ll come back. She lies on the floor curling up in fetal position. Her tears plopping gently onto the wood of the cottage home.

It goes from day to night when she wakes up. Is he home? Has he decided to stay? Every night and every day since they got married she would always run back to the cottage, as if they had fallen in love just yesterday and now there is this void. He’s drifting from her. Was it the lack of children or did he simply hate her?

“Sigfrid,” she calls out.

There is no answer. She waits.

“Sigfrid,” she stands up now. Please tell her heart he has come back. She could not have lost this third child to lose him as well. She wanders the house in the dark. It’s empty, like a ghost home. She can’t, she can’t lose him either. She runs towards her talisman. Getting on her hands and knees, she can’t produce tears anymore.

“Please, I am begging,” she weeps, “Please. I cannot lose him. What have I done? Have I not been charitable enough? Have I upset you somehow? Please. Please!” her voice is loud and cracking, “Please tell me. Please help me. I need him to come home. Someone hear my prayer.”

She sits in silence. Is she worth existing? Is she worth living if she cannot pass her life on? Is she worth loving if she can’t make them happy?   There is a pain in her chest. There is a tightening feeling and the sense of nausea. She’s better off dead. Is she not? Suddenly the door swings open. A forceful, unnatural wind. 

“Who--who is there?” she whimpers in a small voice that is not her. Her feeling of guilt being replaced immediately with fear.

A candle on the table begins to burn. She’s paralyzed in one spot.

“You asked for someone to hear your prayer,” a deep, bellowing voice echoed around her. Disembodied, she could not see anyone.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I am the one who will perform a miracle,” the voice says.

“Are you a Celestial?” she ask.

“More or less,” the voice replies. 

She feels a sense of relief. Where was this individual? 

“May I see you?” she ask.

She only gets a brief vision of a handsome man standing before her. He was very Celestial looking with golden hair that reminded her of chainmail. His eyes were the purest color of glowing light. He was beautiful to grace her eyes upon him. 

“Do you know why the Gods have cursed me?” she ask him.

“I don’t work for any God, thus I have no answer to the question,” he tells her, and brushes her hair back, “But feel your pain. I have no children of my own. How will my legacy live on?”

He understood her pain. Is that why he came to her in person? She felt afraid, but at the same time comforted by his presence. She let her guard down.

“Can you help me?” she ask.

“Yes,”[/hider]

[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLjNkNTRlNi5VbVZuY21WMC4w/chelsea.regular.png[/img][/center]

[hider= Doing The Right Thing]That evening was behind her these days, she seemed to have forgotten it with all the preparations. Ingrid her midwife watched her as she grimaced from another contraction. Perhaps it was nerves, but she was slowly growing worried and nervous. A part of her said something wasn’t right, though another of her felt blessed. Why was she so scared of her own miracle? That’s what the whole village called it a miracle.

“Did you ever tell your husband?” Ingrid asked her.

“About the angel, yes,” she replies, she thinks Ingrid is trying to take her mind off the pain. 

“Was he,” Ingrid blushed, “Sexy?”

Why would she ask her that? Except that she felt a little childish swelling in her heart. She slightly giggled.

“Insanely,” she told her.

“Your baby is going to be half angel,” Ingrid tells her.

She wondered if he have golden hair that shimmered in the way his did. She wondered what kind of features a Celestial baby might have. That’s right Ingrid is right this isn’t the time to worry. Soon she would be blessed with a miracle child. Then she would no longer be the woman of this village with some fertility curse.

“Sigfrid will be so jealous,” she says wincing a little.

“He’s going to have wings, and start making the charities affluent,” Ingrid giggle, “What is it like carry an angel’s child?”
“Tiring, but I never been pregnant, don’t know if nine months of exhaustion is normal,” she tells the older woman.

“It is tiring,” Ingrid tells her.

Well she knew that. In the technical sense. He was almost here. In this world. She would meet face to face with him. Her life would change from misfortune to miracles. Now she was weeping from joy, not sadness. She couldn’t wait for Sigfrid to hold onto their baby with pride and see him smile. 

[center][h2]**[/h2][/center]

She woke up to a blood curdling scream. Ingrid! She was exhausted. Soaking in her own sweat. That seemed to take hours. Staring at the setting sun Sigfrid should be home soon.

“Ingrid!” she calls out tiredly.

“Wh-what have you done Ereda?” Ingrid ask her. She sounds scared. She tries to lift herself up. Her body is sore and she’s so tired. Ingrid is holding her son in a blanket, she’s trembling, she’s averting her gaze. What’s wrong with him? Ereda begins to feel a sinking panicking.

“What is it?” Ereda ask.

“See for yourself, I can’t be with you,” Ingrid says leaving the baby swaddled in blankets next to her and quickly running out of the home. What could she be so afraid? Sigfrid should be home soon. No. What’s wrong. No. Is it a stillborn? Is he deformed? Disabled? She grabs the baby and gasp in her own shock. Ashen skin and blacken eyes staring at her. They were gold and red, and black like the pictures of Deamons. He had small horns beginning to grow. He was warm to the touch, much warmer than any normal baby. And tufts of red hair were beginning to grow from a gray scalp. She couldn’t. If Sigfrid saw him. 

Tiredly Ereda picked herself up and the baby. She had to kill him and flee Redfort. It was the only way to save Sigfrid from ridicule. It was the only way to save her from humiliation, utter humiliation. She was so exhausted, but she had to rid the world of this abomination. An abomination her own womb fashioned. A miracle. No it truly was a curse. She tried to run out of the cottage. More like a light jog. She hadn’t the energy to run, and yet she did. 

Sigfrid was coming back from the fields, she could see him talking to other men and women who worked him. She made sure he did not see her. She carried on. Running towards the woods. Towards the woods. Holding the baby at a distant. The abomination that it was she ran into the forest. There was a different atmosphere here. She was scared. She must smell of food. She tripped over a root, cutting open the top of her foot. 

The abomination began to cry. How does she kill him?

Lying him down in a bed of leaves. He began to look at her with teary eyes. She looked around, grabbing a rock she could smash him. He was so tiny, it should be easy, simple in fact. But she was no killer. That sounded barbaric. Even if he were some infernal baby she couldn’t stone him. Maybe she could drown him. There was a brook close by. She hesitated picking him up. He’s just a baby. One night in the cold, without food likely kill him as easily as any of these barbaric methods. She gets up from the bed of leaves and brushes them off of her.

She was in too much shock to cry right now. How had this happened to her? Why her? Why was she so unfortunate? She looked at him one more time. He stared back. They were like strangers without a bond right now. She turned her back, she had to do what she had to do right?[/hider]

[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLjJlYmIyNS5UbUYwZFhKbEozTWdWbTlwWTJVLC4w/alfabetix.regular.png[/img][/center]

[hider= Sweet Dreams]Abyssal eyes stared at the canopy above. The woman’s voice that he had heard in embryonic fluid has not been heard for quite some time. He tries to move to his side. An animal runs across the tree branch to another tree branch. The very first lullaby sung to him is the sound of the birds, the cracking of twigs. And another voice. A voice that sings to him. It is the first song he has heard, is it instinct, or the voice of nature herself. Hush little baby. It says. Hush little one. Hush little babe. Survive this. And continue to live. You must live. But the baby wasn’t apt to listening to a voice from nowhere. He closed his eyes. To rest for an eternity in Oblivion.[/hider]

[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLmJiODYyNS5UMnhrSUZkdmJXRnUuMAAA/floki.regular.png[/img][/center]

[hider= Tiger Boy and a Crone]
[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZJa_2Eg7OB4[/youtube][/center]

Seven years a miracle was bestowed to Metrodora and her cubs. She was strolling along the forest floor when her and her cubs came across a strange sight indeed. A dying and cold baby. Normally Metrodora would have let the baby die. Yet, something compelled her that day to take the baby in. He drank her milk and learned her skills. Leaving her care, but sticking close to his brother Magnar. Who saw him nothing, but another tiger.

“I never seen a boy with a tiger before,” a voice says from the brush. He has heard man’s voice before. But he has no man’s voice. Magnar begins to growl and so does he. He stands on all fours and imitates Magnar.

“Nor have I seen a boy behave like a cat, get off that log that won’t intimidate anyone,” she barks. An old woman comes out from the brush. Magnar stays on guard.

He had heard man’s voice before that did not mean he understood it. What he understood was an old woman hitting them both with a wooden spoon. What stopped Magnar from ripping out her throat? Magnar seemed to understand who she is. His tail curled in, he seemed afraid of her. Though Valeo was not so sure he was afraid of her.

“You obviously have no manners,” she tells him. For an old woman she was quite strong. She picked him up from the collar of a shirt he had found in the mud when man left it at their campsite. She begins to drag him off, Magnar following close by.

[i]Brother, who is she.

A scary woman.

I am not scared.

You should be.[/i]

He didn’t like the being dragged off part. He could feel the earth between the tips of his claws, digging into the soil as he tried to anchor or slow down the old woman. She was old, but strong. How? He did not understand. Magnar watched close, yet slunk off in the forest. Yeah go away then, huh. Won’t help him slay this old lady. How tough could she be? He struggled to take his shirt off. She looked back when he slipped out. 

“Did Metrodora not teach you better,” she says, “I am going to have a talk with her.”

Metrodora? His mother tiger? It is the only word he understood because it is the word he felt when he would put his claws through her fur. He cocks his head to the side.

“Now you are listening,” she continues.

It all sounds all scrambled when she talks. 

“Rrr,” Valeo growls at her.

She doesn’t care much grabbing for his wrist and continues to drag him off that way. Either he used his legs now or fall to the ground and be dragged that way. Who was she? How did she know Mother Tiger? Her grip hurt. It was very strong. There they finally came to a small, swampy looking cottage in the middle of the forest. With a walkway used to divert visitors from walking in the mud. 

Entering the cottage, herbs hung from every part of the ceiling, it smelled earthy, and minty. There was something cooking in a cauldron. Empty flask and bottles sat on a shelf, and some of them glew with magical liquids. The woman let go of his wrist and walked off to a little lever. Where she began to pump out some clear looking water. Taking a small piece of cloth she walked over to him again and handed him the cloth.

He stared at it for a while, before she finally grabbed his ankle, which startled him and made him fall on his rear. Ow. The hardwood floor surely broke something in his bum. She put the cold towel to his feet and began to scrub them. Turning the cloth black.

“I do not like visitors tracking mud, shoes or not,” she tells him. When finished she throws in the cloth in a basket. 

What was this place?

“You look confused doubt you would understand if I told you the story now,” she tells him, “I am Orphelia a druid of these woods. I know the animals, I speak to them in a similar fashion than you do. And I eat little boys and girls who get lost in the forest.”

She takes a eating utensil towards his face. He does not know why she is shoving an eating utensil at him, till she forces it in his hands. She laughs. He does not know why she is laughing. Taking out two wooden bowls with a crack, she begins to put something from the cauldron into the bowls and drops them on the table. Food then? He had only ever hunted and ate what Magnar ate. He gets up from the floor. Bum is still sore.

Sitting on a wobbly chair he watches her and puts the utensil in the food. The food runs away and is always slipping off the utensil. Few minutes being fed up with the utensil being ineffective, he goes and dives in using his hands. She looks at him with disapproval, but does not scold him.[/hider]

[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLmJiNmIyNS5UR0ZrZVNCcGJpQjBhR1VnVEdGclpRLCwuMA,,/floki.regular.png[/img][/center]

[hider= Purpose and Reason]
[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pYgWb2T1YsM[/youtube][/center]

A year of trouble, is what Orphelia calls him. He throws some mint into one of her alchemical potions. She gets visitors who ask her for miracle brews. Orphelia is standing over the boiling cauldron. He watches her. He’s not like Magnar, nor is he like her. His skin is ashen, like undead. Stand him next to a zombie and the resemblance would be uncanny. Actually he did that and got smacked by Orphelia’s spoon. Except he had horns too, they were getting thicker and slowly beginning to curl. Only thing he had in common with Magnar were claws, except they weren’t retractable no matter how much he tried, and his teeth. Except they were not as sharp.

“I did it,” he tells her. He understands better what she says. His words are still simple sometimes.

“So you did,” Orphelia tells him, “This recipe aids the ill to get better. It does not cure diseases. Many people come in here thinking I can fix anything.”

“You said I am not a tiger,” he tells her, “And I am not a one of you.”

He gives her a very funny look. Even to this day he did not know who she was. Or what she was. A witch, a druid. Yet, her spoon was enchanted somehow to make the feral and untamed at peace or at least less likely to fight her. And she was strong enough to lift him with one arm.

“Both very true statements, my species is only female and you’re not,” she tells him, “But Metrodora was only a supplemental mother.”

“Then, how do I figure what I am?” he ask her.

“Visit the Lady in the Lake, she lives in waters crystal clear, she will reveal what you want to know,” Orphelia tells him.

Lady in the Lake, crystal clear waters? She is already grabbing a patched knapsack and putting bread, dried meats, nuts, and dried fruit into the bag. She grabs a waterskin and begins to fill it with water. She looks at her shelf, at the glowing liquids. She grabs a yellow green one and pours it into a smaller vial.

“This is for venom,” she tells him putting it in the bag.

She grabs a blue one you could have mistaken for actual water, however, it was a little thicker, shimmered with very small fragments of silver. She also begins to put it in a smaller vial.

“This is fairy ointment, it is meant for your wounds or burns, spread it on do not drink it,” she tells him.

She grabs a ladle of the brew they currently were cooking now. A deep violet shade, with a blue glittering hue to it.

“This is for diseases, if you are to get sick, add this to tea,” she said and she grabs a few leaves, she begins to break them down into a mortar and pestle, she then places it in a small cloth bag, “This is the tea.”

“Got it,” he tells her. 

“And one more thing trouble,” Orphelia tells him 

He looks to her. She hands him a carved wooden ring. Someone has carved faces of the forest. There is a rabbit, a deer, a mouse, pig, and a bird. He looks to her.

“This is a ring of your animal friends, you have a rare and natural talent, this is your guide to use when you need help from the forest,” Orphelia tells him.

“Why can you not just tell?” he asked her.

Not that he was reluctant to leave. He always felt more comfortable in the forest, but he knew she knew a lot. Orphelia looks at him.

“Because if I tell you then you will never find your purpose,” she tells him, “You cannot become complacent here. This is not your home. And I am not your reason.”

He nods. He understood. 

“When do I go?” he ask her and she hands him his bag. Now, then. She had always been more like a teacher or a mentor. A guide. Though the only reason he spoke now was because of her knowledge and wisdom.She taught him of the animals and the plant life when they gathered them for her brews. He looks at her.

“Good luck,” Orphelia tells him.

“Thank you for your guidance,” he bows and walks out the door. 

Magnar is lounging on a rock. He whistles to get his attention. Magnar’s ears twitch and he picks up his head. He can already smell the food, he recognizes the bag as well. He cocks his head to the side. 

[i]Where we going?

To find a Lady in the Lake.

Why are we going there?

Orphelia says I need a purpose and a reason

Could lying on a rock be a purpose and a reason?

No.

Come on let’s lie on a rock for a little while.

It will be dark if we just lounge on a rock.

We both can see in the dark. 

True. Not the point though.
[/i]
Magnar stretches and yawns, [i]Fine. I am up.[/i][/hider]

[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLmJiNmIyNS5VMlZqYjI1a0lGQmhjblEsLjAAAAA,/floki.regular.png[/img][/center]

[hider= Part 2]
[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WYMLvmilS24[/youtube][/center]

They left Orphelia’s cottage two weeks ago. Magnar’s fur was soft, some would probably find the texture coarse, except he found comfort in the feeling. Both of them pick up their heads. A strange sound in the forest. Both of them stayed still, listening. Man’s laughter. There were people close by. He slinked off of Magnar’s back. Crouching on all fours, he slinked to the left into some bushes, and Magnar slinked off to the left. They watched from the cover of the brush.

A group of men, about five of them, were sitting around a campfire. They were eating bread, some kind of porridge. One man was playing a tune on an instrument. Their bags looked too fancy to be bandits. Merchants, he could see their wagon, horses were grazing on exposed grass. One man was tall, had a bushy beard that needed to be trim, and tufts of curly, wiry black hair. He wore a leather jerkin, over a line shirt. A fancy sword sat at his hip. Must have been there guard. 

Well there were going to provide them no harm. They should be on their way to the Crystal Clear Waters. He began to slowly, cautiously, crawl out of the brush. As well as Magnar. He was certain he had not made much noise, but he heard one of the men, “What is wrong Arlow?”

“Something is watching us,” Arlow replied. 

Arlow begins to walk towards the brush, he’s a tall man, a big man, like a giant of a man. Bummer. Arlow, the man with the big bushy beard is looking at him. His eyes widen looking at him. He stands up looking at Arlow and growling slightly.

“Rrrr,” Valeo tries to intimidate him. 

“What is going on Arlow?” asked one of the men, he’s portly, and slight chubbier than the other men. He walks over to Arlow to notice him. 
The man screams. Time to go. He whistles as he begins to run, turning his back on the men. Magnar runs out of the brush as well, which really startles the man, Magnar runs after him. Once he has heeled to his side he manages to slip onto his back. They wouldn’t be able to keep up with them, even on horses. 

It is clear now. He softly pats Magnar’s head. 

“I wonder how that man sensed us,” he says to Magnar.

Normally men don’t. He sighs. Well that was fun. No need to worry though. They were not going to do much they were scared out of their wits. The pace they took slowed and they began to walk calmly down the path. Up ahead was the sound of a battle. Magnar and him approached quietly. Rabbit warriors? Two colored rabbits a white one and a black one swords clashing. A brown one was already dead on the forest floor, its blood spilled out onto the leaves. Rabbits. He looks at his ring. A rabbit can help him! 

“Why are you fighting?!” he ask loudly.

Both of the rabbits are startled by his question. The black one stares at him. Beady red eyes. Chainmail. A decorated sword. The white one looks annoyed, black beady eyes. He just smiles. The black one runs off.

“Hey,” the white rabbit says. She looks at him.

“Why did you interrupt?” she ask him.

“Because I was not going to get in a battle that I know nothing about,” he tells her.

“Should have just let me finish it then,” she tells him.

“Well I need to find a Lady in the Lake,” he replies, “and I did not want to wait for you to finish.”

“So you too then,” she says.

“Me too what?” he ask her.

“Looking for the Lady in the Lake, I am as well,” she says, “I am Princess Rosa of the Rabbit Kingdom. Or I was. Until the Black Rabbits killed my father and took my throne. I am going to the Lady of the Lake to obtain a sword that will slay their King.”

“You tell every stranger that?” he asked her.

“Hey! You said you needed to find her and needed my help, so I need yours,” she says, “Do you have a name?”

“No,” he replies.

“Guess I am addressing you as Boy,” Rosa tells him.

“Orphelia called me Trouble, Mother Tiger called me Cub,” he tells her, “Boy works.”

“You are a very weird,” Rosa replies.

He shrugs.

Magnar looks at Rosa. He looks at Magnar. 

“He’ll let you on since you are not too heavy,” he tells her.

“Glad you don’t make ladies walk on their own,” Rosa hops on over and sits on Magnar’s back. She looks at him and he looks back at her.

He looks back to the forest. Magnar begins to walk down the forest path.

“Do you know where the Lady in the Lake is?” he ask her.

“I sure do,” Rosa begins to make crinkling noises and she takes out a map, she has drawn a path toward the the crystal waters. She circles where they just were, “Shouldn’t be too far, another week.” She tells him.[/hider]

[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLmJiNmIyNS5WR2hwY21RZ1VHRnlkQSwsLjAAAAAA/floki.regular.png[/img][/center]

[hider= Answers]
[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sJsDFGBy8aI&t=160s[/youtube][/center]

[url=https://image.ibb.co/jGoApy/Clear_Lake.jpg]The lake glittered[/url] with a blue light, that seemed ethereal. They had been sitting at the bank’s edge for a few days now, making a camp near it. Yet, no Lady in the Lake showed. Rosa made another vegetable stew for them to eat. Magnar of course would not touch it, yet he had gotten use to the taste of dandelion stew.

“Is something supposed to be happening?” he ask Rosa.

“I am not sure,” Rosa tells him, “What if the tales are untrue? What if she does not exist?”

“That is not true,” he tells her quickly. He sounds assured, not worried, or concerned, nor upset. She looks at him.

“I admire the confidence,”

“Still not sure what we are suppose to exactly do,” he frowns and skips a rock across the surface, “Is there something that triggers her?”

“Praying?” Rosa suggest.

“We tried that,” he replies.

Magnar yawns, you both are being very loud.

“Hey Lady wake up!” he shouts across the lake.

Nothing. Magnar freezes his ears pick up and rotate. No he can hear it to. Horse’s steps. Rosa is now looking around. In the distance there is fire. People are coming. He quickly grabs Rosa and puts out the fire. Magnar gets up and begins to growl. His fur standing up. Hiding in the bushes, he watches as Magnar guards the camp. Men. Men are coming. With wagons. He notices one of them, the man wit the bushy beard. 

“This is it,” Arlow says, “The Clear Lake.”

“What’s that up ahead?” asked another man.

Arlow steps forward and throws his torch, illuminating Magnar. He smiles. He recognizes him then? 

“Just that tiger from about a week ago,” Arlow says, “Is that boy with you then kitty?”

“They do not seem friendly, maybe we should run,” Rosa suggest.

“Then you will not get that weapon,” he says.

He steps out of the bush. Arlow looks at him.

“Ah, so you are there, hiding in the bushes again,” Arlow tells him.

“Did you follow us?” he ask him.

“Follow a kid, no, we just happen to be looking for the Lady too,” Arlow tells him.

“So, then we have the same goal?” he ask, “We could work together. Because I cannot get the lady to wake up.”

Arlow begins to laugh. Why is he laughing at him? 

“Work together, with a kid, a feral deamon,” Arlow smirks, “Why would I work with a child?”

Deamon. It is the first time he heard that word. That is not entirely true. One time a long long time ago, so long ago he cannot even remember if it happened that word was used. 

“Deamon-

“-I will fill you in,” Arlow cuts him off unsheathing his sword, “we might not even need the lady of the lake, you would make us a pretty good fortune too. Ain’t that right boys.”

Now the men following behind him were unsheathing their weapons. The large man ran off to hide behind the wagons.

[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vK67sHPC4mM[/youtube][/center]

Arlow charges in. Magnar steps in front and grabs his leg, biting down hard on it. The leg bends, and twist like a tree branch. While Arlow and Magnar are busy two men are trying to pinch him and Rosa in. Rosa takes out her blade and blocks an attack with her sword. The other man charges in. He quickly steps aside from the man. The man loses his balance, which he takes as an advantage to trip him. The man falls flat on his face and he quickly pounces on top of the man. The man stares at him, his eyes are wide and he looks afraid. His horns and his ashen skin are reflected in this man’s brown eyes. He just smiles.

“P...lea….ease mercy. Deamon…..pl...ease I beg for your mer….mercy I was doin….doing what I was told,” the man sputters.

“Oh yeah, well I am doing what I was told then,” he tells the man and raises his hand, he feels the heat from his hands. An energy comes forward. It crackles.

He soothingly strokes the man’s cheek in a comforting manner Orphelia had done before, except as he did so, the man’s skin began to sizzle and crackled. The man began to scream out in pain. His flesh is beginning to blacken like burn wounds, though it is slowly beginning to boil, bubble and crack. As muscle is beginning expose. It too is beginning to boil and blacken, being eaten away that the energy was beginning to merely boil a hole through the man’s right cheek. 

Getting off the man he pushes back his mane of long red hair and looks at the group of men who just witnessed the scene. He smiles at them.

“Who else wants some?” he ask.

Some of them drop their weapons and begin to run off. Arlow is still struggling with Magnar, he is getting exhausted. Rosa is still clashing blades with the other man, though both of them had stopped. Rosa seemed in shock and horror. 

“You….evil…” the man sputters at him, he ignores Rosa and goes after him with his blade. Why did he not just run off like the other guy?

He moves out of the way. The man wasn’t even fighting with true spirit. Just grief. His footwork was all sloppy. 

“Do not kill him!” Rosa calls out.

Except that he had sent a swiping motion of his energy at the man. It crackled and began to eat away at the skin, boiling, the smell of burnt skin, as the man two halves, his lower and upper body split into half. Entrails spilled out onto the grass, blood soaked into the mud. Each end had singing, blacken skinned were the invisible blade struck.

There is a quiet that settles. No one says anything. The men have vanished. The ones who valued their life. Arlow has given to his exhaustion, Magnar is chewing on his remains. Rosa is staring between him and Magnar.

“What are you? I thought you were a strange boy,” Rosa told him, “But this was not….the way to do it.” 

He shrugs.

“That is why I came here,” he tells her, “To know what I am.”

“A monster,” Rosa tells him.

“What did you want me to do? Let them stab us?” he ask her.

“No, but,” Rosa turns away tears in her eyes.

She had too soft of a heart. It was survive or don’t. 

“Do not be someone who goes against their word, you are the one who came here for a magical weapon to kill some King who killed your father,” he tells her, “Or what were you going to do, slightly maim him?”

“I would not have done it like this,” she tells him.

“Okay I do not know how you nicely murder someone, but good luck on that,” he tells her.

He looks to Magnar.

[i]This human not very tasty.[/i]

[i]Then stop eating him.[/i]

Magnar spits Arlow out. He looks at Rosa.

[i]No. We are not taking her. [/i]

Magnar looks at the lake and his tail swishes.

[i]I got my answer. [/i][/hider]

[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLjI1N2ZiYi5WR2hsSUZaaGJHVWdRMmhwYkdRLC4w/lingming-manuscript.regular.png[/img][/center]

[hider= A Name is Born]

[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b7rWs92CK7k[/youtube][/center]

The concept of years never really applied to Valeo. He knew when his hair was getting longer or his horns were growing firmer. Age and years were more a foreign concept to a boy with wild red hair, that shined in the sun like flames, and cascaded down to his tailbone. A pointed tip and the way it flowed like a mane rather than hair. His feet were calloused so were his hands and they picked up things that his ethereal eyes spotted as interesting to him. Out of a man's backpack he found a pointed compass, it changed colors depending on where he was going. He did not feel like giving it back. Magnar walked at his side, as he always did. Older than him, but that did not change the relationship. Sometimes men came into the woods to hunt Magnar, sometimes they came to hunt him. Sometimes they hunted them both. The forest changed, and the paths were not always the same. But that was the fun of crossing it, was that one day the corridor might be this way and another day it would be different.

Magnar ears twitched. They were in the clearer part of the forest, to see what men might have dropped along the path. Somebody is burning something. Campfire and burning smell entirely different from each other. Magnar grumbled, but he placed a hand in front of Magnar and walked through the less dense brush entering a clearing.
Someone set up a pit and is burning a large pile of leaves. He looks around, to see two men bundling leaves together. One was a young man, more or less his age, wearing a tunic with pantyhose. His father wearing riding pants, with riding boots, and a tunic. They pause looking at him. He looks back.

“We mean no harm,” the man speaks like an idiot, or maybe he assumes he is an idiot.

“Why are you burning leaves?” he ask.

“So that way our village will not burn,” the man replies.

So they were just idiots.

“The forest burns at the ground, by removing the leaves the trees burn and your village burns,” he told them.

The man looks like he has made a stunning realization.

“Is that so? Is that the tree people knowledge?” the man ask him.

He is no tree person. He scowls and crosses his arms across his chest.

“I guess, just seemed like common knowledge,” he replies.

“How old are you?” the man ask.

He shrugs.

“I don’t know, I don’t bother myself with frivolous knowledge,”

“Guess time is different for different folk like you, mind if you tell our Lord that, about the leaves, bestow him with your common knowledge, is what you call it,”

Does this man not know who he is? It might be an opportunity to learn about where men come from and how they live.

“I mean I love bestowing common knowledge to Lords who should know not to remove leaves from the forest, but apparently do not,” he replies.

“What’s all that mean?” the man ask him.

“More common knowledge stuff,” he replies.

“You have a name?” the man ask.

Right he’d need a man name to fit in with the man city. Leaver? Brook? That seems like a common enough man name. If common man calls themselves Brook then.

“Vale,” he replies.

“That’s an odd name, why you named after a valley?” the man asked.

“Valeo,” he tweaked.

“That’s even odder,” man tells him, but has him follow him.

It took some time traveling through a forest that has been removed of leaves. These people really wanted to go out like a candle. He might have come from the forest, but he new certain things about fire. Watching people fail with fire  utterly. Even better the village is made of wood. These people really wanted to go out dying aflame.

“This here is our village,” the man says, “We were really worried about the forest burning our homes. So a lot of the folks volunteered to clear up the forest.”

“Oh yeah, what could go horribly wrong building a wooden structure, around a forest with nothing to burn, but the trees and the village itself,” Valeo tells the man.

The man laughs. He has no idea what he’s talking about. The man points to a raised part of earth. Ah so at least the lord would have a way to flee before the fire completely engulfed his keep.

“Lord lives up, there come on,” the man tells him, “Names Edvard, Valeo. Who name you, your mom?”

“I named myself,” Valeo replied.

“Oh that’s gotta be nifty, my mom named me Edvard, but I always thought that I looked like a Henry, what you think?” Edvard ask him.

“I think you look like an idiot,” Valeo retorts.

“Idiot an odd name, but I like you, even if we just met, going to call myself Henry from now on, get the whole village to do so as well,” Edvard continues, “Oi Junior.”

“Yes pa,” the young man finally speaks, so his name is Edvard too.

“Going to call myself Henry from now on,”

Why is he even bothering talking to their Lord? It isn’t like he owes these people anything. If they want to go out in embers why shouldn’t he let them? Valeo still climbs up the hill with Edvard/Henry the keep is guarded by two men standing at the thick wooden doors.

“This fellow tree person would like to bestow the lord with his common tree knowledge,” Edvard announces. Judging by the body language of the guards, rigid and stiff they recognized what he is, near immediately.

“Edvard that’s not a tree person,” one of the guards said.

“Got the horns and the funny lookin’ skin,” Edvard says.

“No ears like leaves, and his horns are not antlers. Deamon, what do you want?” the second guard asked him.

“To be parted from this moron’s presence,” Valeo replies.

“Ey now that ain’t nice Valeo,” Edvard tells him.

Neither is further listening to you. He’s not even certain why he is involved in this circumstance. Mainly out of curiosity, but this city would not stand long. It is nice to know the town idiot brought him to a less than impressive mud and wood city. They would die, it is a fact of life in the woods. How many times e had seen small startups like this.

“Sorry idiot,” Valeo replies.

“Ah no problem I will take idiot anyday,” Edvard says with a smile, “Why didn’t you tell me you were  a deamon?”

Both guards are snickering at this point.

“What’s so funny?” Edvard asked.

“Oh nothing,” the guards replied.

“Most the time people get it the first try,” Valeo tells Edvard.

“Get what?” Edvard asked.

“Deamon,” Valeo replies.

“You look nothing like a deamon, they usually bigger, and more destructive, that’s what mother taught me,” Edvard replies.

The Guards knew what is going on, it’s why they were laughing. 

“I don’t want to actually see your Lord, have fun burning,” Valeo tells them waving his hand.

[u][b]Later that Evening;[/b][/u]

[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UqHUTBl2Jvg[/youtube][/center]

Valeo, huh? What a lame sounding name, but he guessed he’d take it to avoid an identity crisis like Edvard/Henry back at that village. Staring into the campfire, Magnar was enjoying his dinner of femur, while he had prepared a quick stew in a little pot. Both him and Magnar froze when they heard a twig snap. He would have put out the fire, but food. So he stood up, ready to defend himself or Magnar from attack. A middle age man came from around a tree, dirty brown hair, a leather jerkin, riding boots, a sword around his hip, quivers holding arrows, and a bow strapped to his back. A square jawline and a chiseled manly look. He smiles.

“Saw the fire, smelled the stew,” he said, “Mind if a tired hunter sits down.”

“I do,” Valeo replies, and he’s already sitting. 

“How old are you kid?” he ask curiously picking up the iron lid of his cooking pot, stirring the stew.

“Don’t know,” he replies.

“Dangerous times to be out here alone, my name is Bernard, and yours?” he ask.

“It is Valeo,” he replies with a hand on his hip. 

“Valeo, huh, odd name,” Bernard says, “But hey I am not one to judge. Except that you’re a Deamon, how is that going for you?”

“Fine thank you very much,” he makes objecting noises as Bernard puts his gross mouth to his stirring spoon to taste the stew.

“Taste good. Hot from the stove. But good. Do you mind?” Bernard takes it off the fire. 

“I do mind, that is my food,” Valeo replies.

Bernard shrugs.

“Thanks for helping out an old man,” Bernard says.

Valeo scowls. Magnar looks at Valeo.

[i]Should I kill him?

Can’t kill people for being a nuisance.[/i]

Bernard begins to use the spoon to slowly slurp up stew as to not burn himself. Valeo crosses his arms and continues to glare at Bernard. Who is chewing a piece of meat when he finally looks up at him.

“Something upsetting you?” Bernard asked, “Sit down, relax.”

“That’s my food, and this is my camp,” Valeo huffs.

“Oh?” Bernard looks around surprised, “I thought you set all of this up for me. Made me dinner, a place to stay.”

Valeo steps forward, he looks at Magnar, okay we can kill him. Bernard raises his hands up and makes an objecting noises him.

“Ah ah ah, I wouldn’t make a move,” Bernard tells him, “See you are currently surrounded by five other men in the trees.”

He can see in the dark he doesn’t see anyone. Mans trying to pull the wool over his eyes.
“If you do not believe me,” Bernard lowers his hand, an arrow comes soaring from the trees and strikes Magnar in the shoulder. Who roars in pain. Valeo looks at Magnar, “So you see.” Bernard continues, “You’re going to lay out your bed for me and I am going to eat this stew. Without your objection. Go tend to your house cat.”

Valeo moves quickly to tend to Magnar. He visits Orphelia from time to time to acquire healing material, so he quickly grabs Muris. Tickling him, so he will relax and open up his mouth. Sticking his hand down Muris’ storage pipe, you do not want to go into the feeding pipe, he grabs out the fairy ointment.

“Hey that looks nice too, I want you dump out the contents of your bag too, what’s yours is mine, isn’t it?” Bernard says.

“Muris will not like be dumped onto the floor,” Valeo tells him, taking the arrow out of Magnar’s fur. The arrow did not go into deep. It is just a surface wound with how thick Magnar’s skin is. They should leave after slapping fairy ointment on the wound. Valeo looks at Magnar who seems to understand. It meant leaving his whole camp. He could not see the supposed people in the trees. Yet an arrow came from behind them. 

“No, no you’re not going anywhere,” Bernard told him as he tried to walk off, “You will sleep right here with me. We’re like friends now.”

[u][b]Next Morning[/b][/u]

“Yeah the kid is sleeping right there,” Bernard’s voice could be heard. He was not sleeping. He had not slept all night. He kept awake and told Magnar to sleep. Things had bothered him about last night, the arrow had a string tied to it. This man had setup a trap. The string was invisible to see at night, but during the day it glint at the end of the arrow. Valeo slowly opened his eyes to see who Bernard is speaking to. Some men in fancy armor. It glitters, they almost look like. Half Celestials. Shite. This is bad. Half Celestials. A Deamon Hunter. How did he find him? Now isn’t the time to panic. Survive. He must survive. That is what the old song told him. 

“Magnar,” he whispers into the tigers ear, “We have to go.”

Bernard is exchanging coin with them as Magnar is beginning to slowly wake up. As he is about to give them a slip, shining, glittering armor blurs his vision. A sword made of glittering light is being pointed at him.

“Not so fast,” the man tells him.

Magnar growls, showing off his canines. Valeo glares at the man intensely.

“Do you know who we are?” the man in glittering armor ask.

“Yeah someone who stands out way too much in a fight,” Valeo tells him.

The man cracks his neck.

“I wanted to avoid killing a child today,” the man says, “But we seek revolution. This land must be purged of your kind.”

Shite. Here went nothing. He pointed at the man’s sword as it was raised above his head. Think of shattering. Think of the symbols on the stone. The man’s sword ruptured into fine shiny particles of silver. Woah his sword wasn’t even anything special. He had been certain it had been enchanted. Time to go, getting on Magnar’s back Magnar at full speed tackled through the man and kept running.[/hider]

[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLmVhN2YzNC5UMkpzYVhacGIyNGdRMmhwYkdRZ1VtVjBkWEp1Y3csLC4w/colchester.black.png[/img][/center]

[hider= A Long Game of Hide n Seek]

[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c7Axe5wU33k[/youtube][/center]

When he believed they had fully given them the slip, Valeo is looking down a path that in the distance leads to a city with a stone wall. A sign in the road reads in carved lettering Redfort city. Magnar growls at the city and Valeo would have abstained from the city as well. Though Bernard found him, looked for him. Why? Who were those strange men in glittering armor? There was a large saw mill that sat the river's edge, the wind picked up, and a piece of paper flew into his face. Valeo scowled at it, and read what it said. 

“Look-ing,” Valeo rolled his hands on the word, “For. Woo-d. Cut-ters.” Looking for wood cutters. Here? Valeo looked at Magnar, Magnar looked at him.

“You’re not going to like this,” he tells Magnar.

Magnar looks at the city. Valeo can almost read fear. 

[i]You can’t. 

Those weird men are still around.[/i]

What are you planning?

“Just for a little while, hiding where they would not think I would be hiding, I already got a gig, woodcutter,” Valeo replies with a smile showing off the paper Magnar cannot read.

Magnar looks at him. 

[i]What about me?[/i]

“Lie low, we will meet in the cover the night,” Valeo replies.

Magnar gives him a reluctant look, but gives him the slip. Walking off into the brush. Hopefully this plan would work. All right time to talk to the head lumber mill. If need be he had a lot of tricks up his sleeve so to speak. Walking through the clearing and towards the lumber mill, he had never been in a village long with other men before.  He did not look like them and so far all of them wanted to hunt him for some reason. Still he strolled up to the lumber mill, there a cottage a bit of a distance way could be seen. Must be where the man who runs the operation lived. There was already a sand brown haired young man, holding the paper in his hands knocking on the door. He turned around to look at him.

“Never seen you before,” he says to him. Actually he looks repulsed by him. Despite them being in the same age group.

“Glad your eyes work because I have never seen you before,” Valeo retorts, “Shocking.”

“Never seen you around and you’re a smartarse,” the kid tells him.

“You have astute observational skills,” Valeo slow claps.

“You looking to make me mad,” the kid sneers.

“Seemed like you were already mad, I think in this case you’re looking for an excuse to be mad,” Valeo quips.

“What is going on here?” asked the deep, bellowing voice of a very tall, ginger haired man. He’s tall, his hair is clean shaven and his beard is neatly groomed. His vest and linen pants say he’s dressed to work the mill. He’s older, middle aged. His eyes fall on him. Valeo knows that look.

“Nothing sir,” the young man’s tune changes quickly, “I was just hoping I could talk to you about that woodcutting job.”

“And you?” he ask him.

“Same,” Valeo replies.

“I know Hendrick, so who are you?” the man ask him.

“Valeo,” the more he says it the more it sticks, the more that annoys him, like he is being tethered to it. 

“Valeo, you a half deamon then?” the man ask.

“You’re not really going to entertain him Sir Gregoff?” Hendrick ask.

Gregoff is studying him. He doesn’t make him nervous. An owlbear will give you the same curious look, deciding whether you’re one of it’s own or not. Man and other species were not really different in the way they assessed you. So Valeo just continued to stare Gregoff down. Everybody needed to know where they stood with each other. He understood it. It didn’t bother him in any sense. 

“Yes, I am a Half Deamon,” he replies.

“I figured because you look too human to be anything that truly is spit out by the Oblivion,” Gregoff says, “So, why do you want this woodcutting job?”

“My family, left me,” he says, imitating the way a boy spoke once, overhearing the conversation and the nuisances in his voice. The natural breaks to make it real. Any real good liar knows not to make elaborate lies. Keep it simple, the more you add to the story the less believable it becomes. He imitated the breathiness and looked away like he did not want to say any more. Gregoff looked sympathetic. It worked? Wait! It worked.
“That must have been hard,” Gregoff says putting a hand on his shoulder. Even Hendrick is looking him over in a different light.

“I did not know,” Hendrick said.

“Are you okay?” Gregoff asked.

“I’m...just...scared…” Valeo tells him.

“How about we get you a meal and we talk about the job,” Gregoff says, “The people of Redfort won’t really understand. Especially now that those members of the Order of Purity have moved into town. But once they see you working and helping out, they will come around.”

He did not know this Order of Purity Gregoff talked about, but walked into his cottage anyway. As long as he had protection from Bernard. Magnar prints would lead them off somewhere else and probably lose scent of his tracks. Once that happened he could give this town the slip and move on as he always did. Gregoff began preparing bread and some cured meat. 

“I know it isn’t exactly what you’d call a home cooked meal, but it will get something in your stomach,” Gregoff said.

“Thank you,” he knew manners counted in these moments. He had learned to subsist on food before, so eating everyday wasn’t important to him. The saltiness of the meat with the bread tasted good, man knew how to cure meat at least.

“The job isn’t hard,” Gregoff tells him, “I have three different crews. I have the woodcutters, they use the axes to cut down the logs for the town usage. Those who work in the lumber mill and those who cut down the trees. Your job would be to cut down logs for the town use. Have you ever used an axe before?”

How hard could that be?

“Yes, all the time,” Valeo tells him.

Gregoff nods.

“Lad knows his work, then if you are willing to work for the food and the board, you can stay here until I introduce you into the town, how does that sound?” Gregoff asked.

“Works for me,” Valeo replies.

“And if you need anyone to talk to,” Gregoff places a hand on his, “You can come to me.”

No one has ever touched him in that way before. It felt strange and foreign. Quite honestly Valeo did not like it, it felt too personal and uncomfortable. But he tried to play it off like the boy who lost his parents, woest me.

“Thank...you….you do not know what….that means to me” Valeo said looking down and pretending to hide tears.[/hider]

[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLmQxNzEyZS5UMk4wWVhacGRYTWdRbkpsZDNNLC4w/colchester.black.png[/img][/center]


[hider= Fate Has a  Hand]

[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V2vTV63HSTg[/youtube][/center]

“You have been here for three months,” Gregoff mentions one morning. Why did that matter, Valeo never kept track of these things.

“I probably should go,” Valeo replied.

Gregoff concerns.

“No, no that isn’t at all what I was going to say,” Gregoff tells him, “Octavius thrown out his back again and need someone to help him in his brewery.”

“Like a Crone brewery?” Valeo ask him curiously.

“No, like a tavern,” Gregoff scrunches up his face.

“You want me to help him then?” Valeo ask.

“I figured it is about time to introduce you to the town, everyone is getting use to your logs, despite not knowing how to use an axe,” he was going to bring that up again?

“Now I do,” Valeo tells him, “And I was going to know whether you had to teach me or not. So I knew. In a technical sense.”

Gregoff raises his brow. Yet playfully passes off his response. Gregoff hands him a bowl of spiced porridge.

“You up for the task?” Gregoff ask.

“I guess,” Valeo replies.

“That’s not exactly confidence your building me here,” Gregoff replied.

“What is more fun than giving drunk people a smelly drink that taste neither good nor smells good, I guess is I will help, I won’t enjoy any moment of it,” Valeo replies.

Gregoff just laughs. He sees him as a cute boy that came out of his shell. He wished Gregoff was scared off by him more. Instead he treated him like he were a small child. That anything and mostly everything he said was folly. He disliked that about Gregoff. The longer he stayed here the more he got annoyed with his habits. He was certain someone else was supposed to find them endearing and that’s what created bonds. It frustrated Valeo to no end and made him want to beat his head against a wall. They ate and said nothing for a little while. They washed up and Gregoff smiled at him.

“You know it has been good having you here Valeo,” Gregoff says, Valeo notices he is being genuine. Does he view himself, as? Oh gods. Please no. He doesn’t want him to get attached. How the heck is he going to leave this place if he gets attached? Like he’s some stray cat he’s let in.

“I like being here,” playing the part, it’s working too well now.

“Good, I am glad, I don’t want you to ever feel like you are not wanted,” Gregoff tells him. Now it’s just the generic crap. The only reason he’s been hidden in Gregoff’s cottage is because he knew everybody would have mixed reactions. Than there is this Order of Purity people he hasn’t met yet, but judging on Gregoff’s outlook on them they aren’t so keen on half deamons either. Do not give him that load of garbage, when he knows he has been, hunted, chased out, stared out, and most people have been scared of him because of the way he looks.

God he hates that sentimental nothing people spew. Walking out of the door, Valeo did not feel a sense of nervousness walking the path towards the town. He was use to stares, questions, the way people’s eyes dilated when they looked at him. The different way people showed fear then they gazed upon his physical being. That stuff did not really bother him. He looked funny compared to them, man reacted that way to anything that didn’t agree with their sensibility of normal. Why should that bother him? It was their flaw. Not his. 

Passing the threshold of wall to town, Redfort city was a mixture of a town that hadn’t expected to survive the daunting trials of the forest. Some of the older buildings were made of a mixture of clay, thachtc roofing, and wood. While the newer buildings of the expanded city were made of stone and had roofs built at levels for irrigation when it rained. The town center had been moved from a small place, now used as a training area for squires, and half a pig pen, to a newer looking one with a water fountain and a woman with six wings, pouring water from her hands. She was beautiful, in an ethereal, and celestial way. Her water was sparkling, clear, glittering. So clear and glittering he assumed the water was not coming from a well. 

Men in glittering silver armor patrolled the streets. And in the center of the town for all to see was a cathedral. With stained glass windows, that depicted six winged individuals performing miracles. Healing the sick. Aiding the injured. Helping guide the dead through death. There is collective gasp looking at him though Gregoff holds on tight to his shoulder. People were staring at him, whispering. Uttering phrases. He was guided to a tavern, in the back was a small brewery, and in the front was the area for entertaining guest.

[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WyxBWaO-ItM[/youtube][/center]

An elven woman played the lute, as few of the town watched her, drinking their morning beer, and eating their morning breakfast before tending the fields. The elven woman in terms of everyone else around here, is very pretty, long woody brown hair, with strands of blond, tan skin, though lighter than the Moss Woods. She must have been a Deep Forest Elf. The voice of a celestial, said the flier. She apparently is to be in town for a week.

Maid girls watched her with a mix of envy and awe. Some too ugly to admire her music, were whispering things to put down her appearance. Gregoff guided him into the back. There a small kitchen prepared food with a single chef, and a couple of woman rolling out bread, cutting up vegetables. They must be preparing for tonight’s meal. In a smaller doorway the scent of yeast fermenting is pungent, strong, there are a few mini sylos. Bags of barley. Barrels where the ale sat till the fermentation process is complete. 

[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d4sgq18JyF0[/youtube][/center]

A man with large glasses, large that they didn’t fit his pensive, bony face, with wispy brown or was it blonde hair, with slight hints of gray, sat in the corner writing something down on it seemed a log. Man was thinner than a twig, with a bony, pointy nose. His glasses seemed to manage to slip off from time to time, which he would just push back up.
“Octavius,” Gregoff calls out.

Octavius startles and drops his quill.

“You have to announce yourself Gregoff,” Octavius tells him.

“I just did,” Gregoff tells him picking up the quill. Their exchanged seemed friendly. They must be really good friends. The way they exchanged smiles towards each other, Gregoff practically laughing at Octavius. Gregoff guides Valeo in front of Octavius.

“Ah so this is him then,” Octavius says inspecting him, his glasses slowly sliding off as he did so, “You know anything about fermentation?”

“I use to brew potions with a Crone,” Valeo replies.

Octavius looks at him, well more like raises his head up to look down his glasses that have slid down to the tip of his hooked nose.

“Interesting,” Octavius whispers, he stands up and grabs a walking cane, “very interesting. Come walk with me.”

Gregoff smiles, “I will come get you when the sun turns to early evening. Do not go out in the city alone.”

Valeo stares at Octavius. This man has either lost his marbles a long time ago, or he is just this annoying. The man limped through the small room.

“Making beer is not all that different from, what did you say, ah yes potions,” Octavius said, “They are the same principle. You have your barley, and the fermentation blends all the flavors together. The boiling process cleans out any of the impurities. Surely you understand.”

“Yes, except one affects people negatively and another affects people in more various ways the user intended,” Valeo replies.

Octavius begins to laugh loudly. 

“You are a funny one I can see why Gregoff likes you,” Octavius tells him.

“You are the second person not put off by me,” Valeo remarks.

“Am I? You mean Gregoff,” Octavius looks reminiscent, “Ah, I suppose. Before we got old we were quite adventurous.” Octavius smiles.

“What do I need to do to help?” Valeo asked.

“Well originally I was going to have you help me brew,” Octavius told him, “I can get one of the other lads to do that. You said you worked with a Crone. I have a plan to make the town a new ale. I’d go out, but can’t use much of a sword due to my injury. So, I’d like you to come back with ingredients you think would go good in ale.”

“I never had ale before, how am I supposed to know that,” Valeo replies.

Octavius ponders. 

“Right you are,” Octavius tells him. He uses his hands to usher Valeo to follow him. He does so. Can he leave now? Maybe he can use this opportunity to leave. Octavius grabs a spoon and continues to have him follow him without a word. They walk back into the tavern. A tall man, with graying hair, a bit of a belly, is behind the bar counter, filling the tap. As he is doing so, Octavius runs a spoon under the tap. The man glares at Octavius, who gives the man a toothy grin, “Open and taste.”

Ew. Valeo does so. There is several looks from the servers and even the man behind the counter. It taste like nothing, but fizzy, water. It is so bland and yeasty.

“It is for experiment reasons,” Octavius tells the people watching, giving them a dismissive wave.

“It is gross,” Valeo coughs.

“Right you are,” Octavius tells him, “So. Figure out, how to make it taste better.”

“You are not seriously putting him on a mission, that he will certainly fail,” the bartender says.

“Dear brother, he brewed potions, that must account for something,” Octavius replies, “Besides I need someone to fix your ale recipe.”

The man grumbles and looks at him, “Desmond. You?”

“Valeo,” he replies.

[b][u]Little while later;[/u][/b]

[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_DAf6BD-2Iw[/youtube][/center]

Well that was easy enough. Octavius is under the impression he went out looking for ingredients to try. All he needed to do was grab Muris and call Magnar, to leave. That should be easy enough. Gregoff would be working the lumber mill and while he may not be shocked by his appearance, he isn’t as observant as he likes to think he is. Walking towards the threshold between the dirt path and Gregoff’s cottage, Valeo notices something. That dark brown leather armor, almost like the fur of a dark mare, standing at the lumber mill talking to Gregoff with a piece of paper. Bernard. Shit he stayed too long.

He needed to leave now. Hiding behind a tree he watched the exchange. Gregoff shook his head. He needed to get closer without alerting either of them. So he took a path behind trees to hide behind Gregoff’s cottage. There isn’t much cover from here to the river’s edge. He hid behind a log pile.

“No sorry,” Gregoff replies.

“And you are certain?” Bernard ask.

“Certain as I’d ever be Deamon Hunter,” Gregoff replies. 

Valeo looks at the cottage window, he has enough cover from the logs. He slightly opens the window and slips into the cottage. Muris is sleeping under the bed. Gregoff still hasn’t figured out where the snoring is coming from. Valeo grabs him by his handle, Muris startles awake. 

“Just me,” Valeo tells Muris, “We have to go.”

As much as Gregoff is nice, nice doesn’t mean much. It was time for him to find somewhere else. With the Order of Purity in town and Bernard searching town, obviously someone would rat him out. Grabbing some bread he points it to Muris.

“If I feed you, will you not eat my food for the road?” Valeo ask Muris.

Muris merely licks the top of it’s teeth. He’s going to guess that’s a yes and he hands Muris some bread. Okay. What to take. An axe that will be helpful. What else? The door to the cottage opens and Valeo slips under the bed where he had stored Muris. Gregoff walks in, heavy boots. He forgot to close the window, such a rookie mistake. Gregoff walks towards the window and looks out of it. Trying to cover the mouth of a mimic bag is a lot harder than you think when there is a lot of surface area.

Gregoff looks around. Leave. Leave. Leave. Gregoff walks off. He waits for a few minutes. Then slips out from the bed. Have to be quicker. The door opens again and Gregoff is staring at him. Shit sauce. 

“Have to admit you are extremely cunning,” Gregoff tells him, smiling.

“Thank you for not telling Bernard where I am,” Valeo replies, “While I honor that, I have no commitments to you.”

“I already assumed that,” Gregoff tells him, “But what is your plan, to continue running.”

Valeo shrugs. It is most of his life.

“I want a full explanation Valeo, you’re not a bad kid nor an evil one, else the town and I would have been slaughtered long ago,” Gregoff tells him, “I want the truth.”

Valeo sighs. He guesses he owes Gregoff the truth after sticking up for him and letting him stay here. 

“Fine,” Valeo says.

So he does. Explaining every event up to this point. About his life. Who he really is. What has experienced in life. Gregoff just watches him and says nothing the entire time. He listens with consideration. He’s never seen someone with that much genuineness in their expression.

“You could have told me all of this from the start,” Gregoff tells him brushing his hand across his arm. Whenever Gregoff does so it makes Valeo uncomfortable. He does not like when he touches him in that manner. Valeo pulls his arm away, Gregoff doesn’t look disappointed.

“I do not think everyone has the patience you have,” Valeo tells him, “So I didn’t say.”

“Well that is true,” Gregoff laughs, “But trust me. All you’re going to do is continue running your whole life if you do not find a support system that will protect you. Stay Valeo.”

Valeo stares at Gregoff.

“Truthfully and honestly, I do not think this town can protect me,” Valeo tells him.

“It has for the last three months, trust me,” Gregoff tells him.

“And to be honest I don’t trust you,” Valeo continues.

“That hurts,” Gregoff frowns, “Look I didn’t give you out. We don’t like the Deamon Hunters any more than you do.”

What should he do? It is obvious Gregoff wants him to stay due to some emotional bond. He didn’t have that bond with Gregoff. His pleading was merely annoyance. Grabbing Muris, he walked past Gregoff to leave this town. He rather run than stay in one place. As he walked out of the cottage, the wind began to pick up furiously. Valeo continued walking towards the forest, till another scrap of paper flew into his face. It was torn. Barely legible, it read; Best Ale in Town.

Valeo stares at the paper and looks around the trees.

“Really!” Valeo shouts at the trees, “How do you know, whoever you are that this is the best course of action!”

The wind picks up once again. Valeo grumbles. 

“Why should I stay? I owe these people nothing!” for a long time there is no response, as he continues to walk towards the forest. The wind picks up furiously again. Valeo ignores it. As he walks into the bush, city behind, the corridor of the forest must have changed as he walks into a cemertery. Valeo frustratingly screams.

“Okay I get it,” Valeo shouts at no one. Walking out of the bush and storming back to Gregoff’s cottage. Who is just sitting, looking defeated. Valeo hands him the scrap of paper, “I guess I am helping your friend.”[/hider]

[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLmRlNWIyYi5WSEpwWVd4eklHOW1JRUpsZEhKaGVXRnMuMAAA/colchester.black.png[/img][/center]

[hider= Familiar Prejudice]


“Two glorious years our town has been placed not by a Celestial, but someone with Abyssal blood,” Gregoff raises a glass, “He has given us wood for our hearths. An Ale that taste better, sorry Desmond. He has helped the woman clean their laundry. He has helped men and woman in the fields. This is a celebration for him.”

Sitting at the chipped wooden table of the tavern, a group of villagers have gathered around a cake one of the woman, Ingrid made. Holding glasses of the ale he had helped brew. He hadn’t considered that people would ever change their minds about him. Then Gregoff is having him blindfolded, walking down a forest path, into the tavern. Where a meal and celebration has been placed in his honor. He is not sure the words to describe this moment. Nor sure how he should feel about the whole scenario. He knew he had to leave soon. This was not a home. He did not feel at home here. He just tried to pretend and smiled at the people. 

“Wow thank you everyone,” Valeo says, mimicking the giddiness people express when they are happy.

“Valeo, we would like to honor you a permanent place to stay in the village,” Desmond offers.

He could not stay. He should not stay. He was not man. And the Order of Purity certainly would not let them honor a Deamon. Not when six winged Celestial statues guarded and patrolled the town, like stone whisperers. 

“Only if I get to build the house,” Valeo replies.

The village laughs. All of this feels wrong. Still the music begins to play and everyone begins to dance. They seem to be having a good time. All because of him? The concept made no sense to him. He just did what everyone else did. It is not special. It is not even worth praise. Managing to slip out of the tavern when no one was watching. It was time to leave. That was his current gut instinct. Heading down the alleyway, he was staying with Alma, daughter of Ingrid, and Ingrid’s husband Anders. Heading into their home, grab Muris, grab what he could, and leave. Magnar is prepared for all of this and so was he. He had been planning for a while.

[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FseZxBQXmNE[/youtube][/center]

Entering their simple stone home, he squinted there was silver armor sitting in chairs, sipping on drinks. Bernard standing in the corner of the room. Valeo looked at them. Fine. He’d fight them if he had to. Or should he flee? He was getting tired of them following him. Still, how did they know he’d come back here? No some of them had celestial magic. Forget the stuff. Leave. Running towards the door, a woman stood in front of the door. Ingrid her hair tied up in a loose bun, an apron with flour on it. Valeo looked at her.

“Do not look so confused,” Ingrid told him, “The moment you came to town. I knew there was something about you. Took me a while to put two and two together, but you’re that Deamon child Erada spawned. I had assumed, she killed herself after killing you, but it seems she had a soft heart. I do not know how you survived, nor do I care how you survived. I do know you are an abomination.”

He did not care about any of what she has said. He always assumed there was some kind of arsehole in the town. 

“Well, hey at least you confessed that you’re the town arsehole. Wonder if anyone is going to look at you the same way, when they know you will stab them in the back,” Valeo tells her, feeling energy from his hand, “Difference is I am not going to let you stand in my way.” The knights are getting up from the chair.

Ingrid raises a brow.

“I am not worried, I have the protection of the Celestial,” Ingrid tells him.

Well glad, she could not worry when she is writhing in pain. Survive. Flee. He did not necessarily have to kill her. Just get her out of the way. Stepping forward, he grab the sleeve of her dress. Something isn’t right. His unoccupied hand, his left, burns as one of the Knights grabs his wrist. He’s starting to feel faint. The world is beginning to spin a little. As he begins to collapse from weakness. Was the whole entire town in on this? Payback. He will get payback.

Ingrid bends down and waves a little vial, “I will explain just before you take this nap. I am surprised it did not take ahold sooner. All well. The Order will deal with you.” she spits at him. The world begins to fade to black.[/hider]

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[b][center][color=red]Trigger Warning - I did not hold back on this chapter. If torture is something you don't like to read then you have been warned[/color][/center][/b]

[hider= This Is Cleansing]

[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tuHzagjqOLU[/youtube][/center]

The chains burned his skin, clamped tightly on his wrist, the metal threatening to break his wrist. His shoulders were sore from being dangled by them. The chains were glittering, golding and had celestial energy throbbing through them. Despite seeing well in the dark, there was a faint blue light to everything and the bars of the dungeon were made of silver. He heard voices coming down, smooth stone, the stone his knees were bent on was cold. Very cold. It was cold down here in fact, he could see his breath. A man in dark, midnight robes, accompanied by another man in similar fashion looked through his cell like they were be entertained by some kind of beast.

“Curious isn’t it, this one threw us off for two year because it lived among people,” one of the man said.

Fighting against the chains he tried to lunge forward. Once he found a way. Once he found a way he would free himself and survive.

“Note it’s true nature is beast like,” the man continues.

“Better than someone running their mouth, kill me or don’t coward,” Valeo hisses.

The man looks at him with his squared headdress.

“Kill you, that will be in do time, first we must cleanse you,” the man says, “Evil is resurrected as evil if it dies impure. You will get your turn.”

The two men walk off. He’s left to silence at first, till it is interrupted, shattered by screams of agony. A few guards in glittering armor come down the steps, dragging a naked man the steps. As they pass his cell, the man is livid with bruises like that of dead meat. He is black and purple, despite the original color of his skin being red. His wings have been torn off and then burned at the ends. His nails have been ripped off, bleeding. Blood has left a trail. The man looks into the cell. He is crying. There is fear in his eyes. 

Valeo watches. They call themselves the Order of Purity. The sight makes him angry. He will get them back for this. He fiddles with his chains. Just have to break free. He tries to channel his abyssal energy only to feel an electric shock down his arm. He growls, “Rrrr.”

One of the guards hearing the racket walks over to the cell.

“Those are chains of the celestial, not breaking out of those unless you pray for a miracle, oh wait you can’t,” the man throws back his head in a bright, silver helmet and laughs, “hahaha.” he turns to the other guard locking the cell door, “Did you hear me?”

“What?” the guard ask.

“I told him the only way he was going to break out of those chains, was if he prayed for a miracle,” the guard laughs again and now his partner joins in.

“A Deamon praying for a miracle,” both of them laugh in synchronicity with each other as they head back up the steps.

There is more silence. There is nothing down here. There is not a single noise. Beside the other half Deamons whimpering in pain. It stops for a while. Valeo wonders if he’s dead. Then there is nothing. He doesn’t not know how long it has been. Just quiet. Time passes. Though he’s not sure how much. He hears footsteps coming down the steps. Four guards. One man in a squared headdress, dark blue robes, his hands are held in a prayer, he is holding beads that are glowing with magic, he is chanting in a strange language. He stops, pauses and looks into his cell. He stares at him coldly.

“Shame, this is the boy,” the man says, he expects no one to answer, “Normally we do not deal in the death of children. Though this is a very rare occasion, we rarely find deamons so young. Better at hiding than others.”

He turns to the cell where the other Deamon had been placed.

“Pity, he did not survive the purification, well my child, it is your turn,” the priest tells him.

Valeo growls under his breath.

“Yes I heard you were feisty, we will have to fix that,” the priest waits for the guards to open the cell. They do so. They put a collar around his neck tightly. He can barely breathe with this on him. They unbound his wrist chains and hook a chain to the collar around his neck.

“You have two ways to do this, walk, at our side like a civil creature, or be dragged,” the priest tells him and commands the men to walk.

“Ci-vil...says a ...dog collar,” Valeo chokes out.

The Priest pays him no mind and they begin to walk up the steps. The stone floor is so very very cold. The whole building is illuminated by blue light. Bright, dark blue crystals are laid out like lights, giving this place its aura. No one looks at him. Everyone seems busy praying to Celestial angels crafted of marble, staring at judging them as they walked by. Send down a hallway, the door is opened to illuminate a bathhouse. The water is unusually clear. Very unusually clear. The energy off the water is very clear. Purified water. 

“Ha…” Valeo coughs as he tries to speak, “It is nice of you….to...bathe me...before you torture me.” 

“That tongue of yours will be silenced,” the priest tells him. As the four guards had been escorting him. One takes a dagger and begins to use to tear off his tunic and hose. When his clothes are off, it is extremely noticeable how frigid this place is. The guards throw him into the water. It shocks his system how cold it is. The water is freezing and it is already burning his skin. One of the Guard steps in as he tries to swim out. The guard grabs him by the forehead and forces him down into the water. Because of the collar he can barely breath as he dipped into the cold water. Water goes up his nose and he is instanously drowning and freezing.

[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PrUbD1mAzDk[/youtube][/center]

“Pure Mother,” the priest voice says, as light from the crystal appears like moonlight on the water, “We bring you another impure sin of the world.”

The Guard pulls him up for air, except that isn’t quite the right word as he is gasping for air and choking before he submerged back into the water, without time to recover. 

“Someone’s cursed thoughts brought this child here today,” the priest says. He’s so cold. He can’t stop his body from this trembling, shiver, there is water in his nose, his eyes burn so he has to close them every time he is brought back, up. The water burns his throat, it is scalding like heat, but so cold in his mouth. When it goes down it is like the feeling like he is going to vomit, “And while we have no sympathies for the Deamon. We have sympathies for a child brought into this world from someone unclean. We beg for your strength. To judge his character and guide us into the right light.”

There is chanting and the water rumbles. This time he is not allowed to come back up. The guard keeps him down as the water surrounds him. He can’t breath. He can’t breath. He’s going to drown. His arms flail in the air, the guard continues to force him down. His vision is going blurry. No. No. The first voice. The very voice he ever heard has a child comes back. It comforts him with the thoughts of survival. He mustn’t let them scare him. He must survive. He will kill them. He will kill them all. The water turns scarlet colored and he is finally brought back up. Two guards raise him up out of the water. Yet he is too weak to stand. He can’t breath. He is coughing. Choking. His body is trembling not doing the things he says. He is going to vomit. He does so on the white marble floor. It taste of iron. As crimson smears across the white flooring.  He feels clammy, sick and weak. 

“You see the color of the water, the Purest Mother does not see you worth salvation,” the Priest tells him.

“...so...so..some….ba...bath….it managed...to clear...up...my...my my sinus problems…” he spits some of his bloody spit at the Priest feet. And laughs. Despite the trembling.

The Priest says nothing as two guards pick him up and drag him down the hall he originally was brought down to. It is so hard to focus right now. His hair is dripping. He’s so cold and his heart is racing. There is infernal wrath bubbling inside of him, yet he cannot act out on his rage. Every fiber of his body demands the action of moving and fighting. Yet, the truth was his body was trembling and not part of his control right now. He can’t keep his eyes open, for a brief second he feels the world fading. Then she tells him. Survive. How? The time will come. When? You will know. Who are you? And then nothing. When he opens his eyes again it is in a room with a wooden table, stained from blood, there are chain cuffs for the ankles and feet. He is held down by the four guards, who strap him in and take the collar off. He can finally breathe. He wheezes. He coughs out more blood. 

[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cKk6XqcmB4Q[/youtube][/center]

“Any request?” the priest ask him sitting in a chair.

His body is shaking and it is so hard to breathe right now he can’t respond. The priest smirks. Another man in black robes, they are stained in blood comes in. He has a singular tuft of gray hair in the center of his head. He’s very old his skin reminds him of wet leather.

“How would you like me to do it?” the man ask the priest.
“I am a generous man, despite the Purest Mother saying he is not worth redemption,” the Priest takes a second, “take his horns. Then do whatever else you would like. He has been living among humans for a while. If he survives. He can live with them again.”

“Very well, Father is being generous with you,” he tells him looking around for a saw, “This will be a long process. Your horns are fairly robust.”

“I’ll….” Valeo finds the words, “Kill you.”

He glares at the priest man. He will break free from this bindings and when he does. He will kill them all. The priest stares at him.

“Take his horns and I give permission for you to do whatever pleases you for the most pain,” the priest sneers.

Valeo continues to glare at the priest. The man has the guards take one end of a small saw and they fit it between the curve of his horns. They begin to go back and forth the way they might cutting a log. The sound is like cutting rope. Just back and forth. Crrrk. The serrated edge over the ridges of his black horns. Zrzrzrzr. The sound of the sawing. Crrrk. Again over the horns. Zrzrzrzr. The sound of sawing. Just think of rope. Just remember the men in Gregoff’s field cutting a tree. Valeo replaced the image of his horns with watching the way the men cut down the trees. He never really engaged with them, yet it was a better imagery than watching them go back and forth on his horn the way they were doing. He closed his eyes. Which perhaps to the priest, was some kind of resolution. Some kind of moment where he gave up. 

He came back around to, “Those were thick.”

“At least they are off,” says a guard.

He opens his eyes to the man from before wiping sweat from his brow. Valeo makes sure they knew he hadn’t given up as he gives them a very dark glare. He had already vowed for payback. The man was taken aback.

“Were those not precious to you?” he ask him.

“Even if they were, you dying will make up for them,” Valeo harshly replies.

“How do you have so much spirit,” the man says, “Honestly, you still have a lot of fight in you. That is going to have to change. No one is purified if they keep up that kind of talk.”

Boiling. Something in Valeo was boiling. Pure rage. He was not afraid because the image that replaced the fear was anger. Watching everyone of them melt. To kill them all. To watch this hall of evil burn, was enough to make him carry on. The man walks off, only to come back with a hot, piping red hot metal bar. 

“This is to insure growth back is minimal,” the man says, as a searing hot bar is placed where they have finely cut his horns down to his forehead. The bar melts the keratin and bone of his horns, he can feel the heat on his forehead and skin. Valeo spit in his face.

The man sighs.
“Grown men are not nearly as feisty as you,” the man tells him.

Once his horns were “fixed” to his liking, the harder part of skin where his horn had been are throbbing. The priest walks in. He looks at the man. 

“Everything's in order, for a Deamon, he had minimal traits,” the man says.

The Priest looks at him. He seems unsatisfied. Valeo continues to glare at him. The Priest this time glares back.

“He is not purified, bring him to the waters,” the Priest says.[/hider]

[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLmZmNWUwZi5SbkpsWlNCdlppQlFkWEpwZEhrLC4y/russian-land.regular.png[/img][/center]

[hider= To be Understood]

[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tlmH-unczPY[/youtube][/center]

Day in and day out. The waters were frigid. He couldn’t breath. His stomach felt like a belly of knives. He was beginning to see double. He refused to give them what they wanted. As a whip lashed across his back for what felt like the hundredth time. Who knew how much something that looked like a simple rope could hurt so much. It was golden, braided together. He could feel blood running down his back. He could feel the wounds from yesterday beginning to rupture again. Valeo doubled back a little. He did not know how long he could endure of this any more. 

“That should be enough for today,” the guard said.

Valeo laughed. 

“Are you getting complacent? Maybe I am not purified enough,” Valeo tells him through his laughter.

The man strikes his back harder. The only thing that is keeping him going is their corpses in his dream. The priest burning in internal energy. It is the only thing keeping him going. This boiling rage. Payback. Payback. Payback. How had he continued to survive all this? Payback. Payback.

“The Priest orders us to clean him up in the waters,” another guard walks into the room. His shoulders are beginning to burn from being suspended in this position for so long. The guard with the whip grumbles.

“When will this be over,” the guard ask.

Is that sympathy he hears? He wants none of their pity. He feels his hand shaking with rage. Both the guards begin to walk in front of him. One of them grabs his key, the other has the collar. He has never tried it before. To use his energy with the collar on. He knew his arms when those cuffs were on would just get shocked. Just as the collar was about to be placed on his neck, he pointed at the man’s arm. Break. Break. Break. There was a snapping sound as his arm bent into a shape that seemed inhuman. The other guard was taken aback.

[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aBGAYLLkgHk[/youtube][/center]

He took the opportunity to point to his leg. He wanted it to break. Break. Break. The man’s leg gave way as he fell onto his knees. He stood up. His back hurt. His shoulders were sore. He did not have a lot of energy. Grabbing the collar, ow that stung. He hated this thing and latched it onto the man’s neck with the broken arm. He began to gasp for air.

“Good boy,” he says patting the man on the head. Ow. Honestly everything hurts. Yet he doesn’t necessarily care right now. He walks up to the man who has whipped him. His eyes were glinting now, “Now you bastard let me show you what torture is.”

“HE-” Valeo places his hand on the man’s mouth.

“There will be none of that, do not let the kid show you up on how take pain,” Valeo sneers.

His hand is beginning to heat up. Payback. Kill them. Kill them. The mans mouth begins boil, skin is beginning to form bubbles to the surface that rupture into blisters of blood, till they blacken, beginning to eat away at his flesh. Burning like it were on fire, the burns spreading the way fire spreads onto paper, then slowly turning black. Big blisters, that would go from clear, clear, till they ruptured, and popped into burst of blood. 

He let go of the man’s face. All that was left, was blacken, crumbling skin, and his teeth formed in a screaming position that Valeo had muffled. The other man gasping for air watched, his eyes wide in shock. He tries to scramble off the floor to run. After all that is broken is his arm. He can barely breathe with that collar on his neck. He’s screaming, yet is muffled through gasping breaths. 

“Hahaha,” Valeo looks at him, “Is this what you fear of me? I did nothing to you! I wanted nothing to do with you! Or your Order!  You brought this upon yourself. You fear the monster inside of me. Well then I will give you what you should fear.”

All that anger. All that rage was cascading and clash together. Tides of flames in his body clashing together like the sea would hit the rocky crags. Like churning magma, it boiled at the surface all at once. His horns taken. His back aching. His shoulders sore. He did not care how he exhausted he really was. What was filling him through and through was rage. That was the only thing keeping him alive. 

“I...am..” the man coughs as he tries to breathe, “s...orry…”

“Ohhhh you are sorry,” Valeo looks at him, “If you we were sorry…..you would have left me alone! How ...do I get out of here. HOW!?”

“The….sew...sewers...down below the cells,” the man says, “You...will need the keys. Please….have...mercy. Show me mercy.”

Mercy! Mercy! In and out. Drowning. Body cold. Exhausted. Angry. The man looks at him tears in his eyes. Valeo never cried. Not once. No matter what happened to him. He held it in. Held it in. Held it in. He couldn’t hold it in any more.

He growled, “RRRRRRRRRR!” He walks up to the man and grabs his face as well. 

“P...lea….se I to….ld….ld….AAAAAA” the man’s face begin to churn, boil, and blister. Blacken, it smelled of scinged flesh. His tears evaporated as Valeo held onto his face. He swore he’d kill them all. Right now though he had to survived.

Grabbing the man’s keys Valeo took them and walked out of the room. Now he had to escape. To survive. To survive. He would get them back for all this. His shoulders burned. It was hard to walk his legs felt like jello. He had to grab onto the wall to keep his balance. He had watched the layout of this building. He knew there was a circle that connected all the rooms together. If he went the opposite direction the Priest and his guards would be coming he wouldn’t be found out. Just survive. Get out of here. He found the stairs down to the cells. He ran down them.

Sewers. Sewers. He saw the manhole cover. Did he have the strength to lift that right now? He clasped his hands around the rim. Lifting it up. Or struggling to do so. Over and over again. Come on. Come on. Come on. Come on. He managed to get it up. He jumped down and ran down the sewers. He didn’t care what was down here. He didn’t care that it smelled. He just ran, splashing dirty water around as he did. Barefoot and naked he just ran down the long corridor. Keep going. Keep going. He ran. Ran. Splash. Splash. Drip. Drip. Keep going. Keep going. He slammed into iron bars. There is a gate. It is a gate. He takes out the keyring. 

Open. Open. He tries a key. It doesn’t work. It nearly slips his grasp. He grabs another key. Come on. Come on. Open. Open. He grabs onto the bars and shakes them. 

“Raaaawwwr! Open! You piece of shit!” Valeo screams at the bar.

He finally hears the click. He runs out. Down another long black corridor. Till he sees light. Either this is death or he has made it. His feet plunged into ice cold water. He’s staring at the trees. He’s at the edge of the river. The lumber mill is to his left. He puts his burning hands into the cool water letting it run past his hot hands. He angrily shoves the water away. Dammit. He runs through the river picking up water whenever he does so. 

It be foolish to think Gregoff kept his stuff. He runs up the bank. He is naked. Cold. His legs begin to shake. He feels so sick. He falls to his knees bending over to throw up nothing onto the grass. He pushes himself up by sheer will. He grabs an axe sitting next to the logs. He doesn’t care. He’ll kill Gregoff if he gets in his way. Opening the cabinet door. Does he still have Muris? He first checks under the bed. Then he turns around, on a shelf Muris is snoring, sound asleep. 

The door creaks. Valeo is prepared for whomever walks in. He raises the axe. Ow. His shoulders. Gregoff walks in. His expression is a mixture of surprise and shock.

“Valeo!” he sounds relieved.

“Don’t get near me!” he shouts at Gregoff, “I will kill you!”

“Valeo, I had nothing to do with what Ingrid did,” Gregoff tells him. He sounds genuine. He holds onto his axe. 

“I DON’T WANT YOU NEAR ME!” he shouts at Gregoff.

“Valeo, you are naked and very angry, but I would never do that to you,” Gregoff tells him.

Valeo steps forward. What is this feeling? Exhaustion. He succumbs to his exhaustion. How pathetic you will wake up in a cell, again. 

[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EDhPsYeK-jU[/youtube][/center]

Valeo’s dreams are of the forest that always embraced him and welcomed him home. That strange lullaby that made his heart beat. To survive. To live. Who was she that spoke to him. Was it the forest? She never gave the answer. Was she a god? She never said. He had to continue. He had to continue. When he opened his eyes, he smelled food. Gregoff was cooking. He had closed the door and had placed Valeo on the bed in some sheets.

Valeo looks around. 

“You were very exhausted kiddo,” Gregoff tells him, “You have not eaten in a while, I can tell. How you have managed to survive. Beyond me. You have great strength in that soul. I bandaged you up. Getting you some clothes to take when you leave town. But before you do we’re getting food in that stomach of yours. Do you understand?”

Why? He had been gone and the Order of Purity thought he was impure. 

“Why do you care?” Valeo asked him.

Gregoff looks at him with a sad expression.  Slowly ladling food into a bowl.

“Valeo, even if you did not feel it for the two years you have been here, I am very proud of you, you,” he paused, “Made me feel like a father. I cared for you like a father. I love you like a father. To see you hurt like this. Pains me.”

He’s being serious right now. Why does Valeo feel angry at that answer? Gregoff hands him the bowl of food. 

“I hate you!” Valeo shouts. 

“That is fine,” Gregoff tells him, “That won’t stop me from loving you. You may hate me, but I will always love you.”

Valeo does not understand. Orphelia never said these things. Mertrodora loved him, but he had to leave. This was not his home. He didn’t understand. Why does he care so much? He was using him in the beginning before he was forced to tell the truth.

“You’ve always been on the run Valeo, even from feeling,” Gregoff tells him, “You have been at a distance with me since you came here. Are you scared to be accepted?”

Valeo looks at Gregoff. He cannot pretend to know who he is. He was grateful they accepted him. He was grateful that they let him stay in their home. It’s not that part that makes him angry.

“I accept your acceptance, I was grateful for that, but that’s all it was gratefulness,” Valeo tells him, “I am not your son. I am not your child. That’s the part I don’t accept. I don’t want to be loved like that. I wanted to be understood.”

Gregoff nods and looks sad.

“I had hoped, I could have went with you, to keep you safe,” Gregoff tells him, putting his hands through his hair. He looks sad and touches the tough part of his skin, only a partial of the horns are there, as amputated nubs. Gregoff is weeping. Why is he crying for his sake? 

“I have to do it myself. My respect comes in the form that I don’t want to see you dead,” Valeo pauses playing with the stew in his bowl, “I will visit you again someday. If that is any consolation. I am sorry I cannot love you like that.”

“Where will you go?” Gregoff ask him.

“Someone has not told me yet,” Valeo tells him spooning food into his mouth, no longer able to keep his hunger at bay.

“Well I hope they take care of you and understand you in the way you want to be understood,” Gregoff tells him and kisses his forehead.[/hider]

[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLmZmYTEwZi5RWEp5YVhaaGJDQkRiM050YjNNZ1EybDBlUSwsLjA,/olde-english.regular.png[/img][/center]

[hider= New Arrival]

[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X5lv7T1nMUs[/youtube][/center]


It took them awhile to travel from the alpines. Though Valeo never count of these things. He simply sat on Magnar’s back. Their reunion, what, a few weeks ago was a good time. Magnar was scared and he was glad to ease his insecurities. Now he stood at the barrier of Cosmo City, with two pompous looking guards in raincoats “guarding” the gates.

“Can one of you give me the location of Gertrude?” Valeo asked, “Unless you actually are the fashion police.” Valeo laughs at his own musing to himself, as his clothes were a little tattered from travel. Both the guards looked at him. 

“She lives up the hill,” they told him.

No sense of humor. He did not know why the invisible person had sent him to Gertrude. A clip of a newspaper of Gertrude’s youngest child went missing. Valeo just new the clues and signs. He would follow them. His wounds were still recovering, but it felt a lot better than before. His skin tingled crossing the barrier. Ow. Ow. Ow. That stung. 

This place thinks highly of itself. Pastel colored buildings. All in this quirky style, that said I have money and think I am important because I live on a mountain. At least he didn’t rupture into ash going through that barrier. So that is a good sign. 

Everyone is staring at him. Must have been the tiger. No he knew why they were staring at him. He just pretended that it was Magnar.

“Jeez, why do you have to be such a big tiger?” Valeo nudges the tiger’s shoulder. 

Magnar says nothing. Valeo hails a lady down.

“Yes,” she says nervously.

“Yeah it seems like I am looking at four large hills, what is the hill Gertrude lives up?” Valeo asked her.

The woman points silently. He nods and heads in that direction. The scenery soon changes from lots of ugly colored buildings, to green. More green and more green. As he passes someone’s garden of flowers swaying in the wind. To finally meet eyes with a large brown manor. He sees another kid in the distance, though they vanish in the inside of the manor. Do not tell him he is going to be with other kids. Annoying. Valeo heads up the pathway towards the large door. He knocks on it with the knocker. 

He looks at his claws. This is taking long. He knocks on the door again.

Maybell scurries up to the door and struggles to push it open. Once she finally manages it, she stares with wide eyes at the boy on the doorstep. "Hi hello what do you need?"

Valeo raises a brow. He has met talking animals before. Oh. That's great. He looks at his ring of animal friends. So that's what this meant, "Looking for an old lady named Gertrude."

"Okay!" she chirps, "I'll go get her!" The door slams shut and her voice faintly carries through, "Gertrude! There's someone at the door who wants to see you!" A few moments later, Maybell comes back, trying very hard to muscle the door back open again. "Come in!"

Valeo continues watching her.

"You know perhaps you shouldn't be the one on door duties," Valeo walks in and whistles, this place is fancy as fuck, "Did not know orphanages had such big budgets these days. If I had known I would have come much sooner knowing we would be eating like fucking royalty. Am I right? You seem like a smart possum to know to take advantage of an opportunity when you see one. Ever decided to pawn shit?"

"Well, I was the closest, so..." she trails off as she leads him into the parlor, "Pawn? Uh, I haven't really thought about that. I don't really need to anyway."

"What does do, she pay you for not having family?" Valeo ask.

"What? No way! It's just nice to have somewhere to stay. And I have a family, buster! I just... have to find them."

Valeo raises his hands in the air, an act of truce.

"Sorry did not mean to ruin your delusional fantasy"

Maybell snorts dismissively as she crosses the threshold into the parlor where Gertrude is sitting. "Here she is! I've gotta get back to my book." In a heartbeat, she scampers away. 

Getrude sips on some tea and looks at him. Jeez she is old. Lying to her would probably be easy, but he’s tired from travel and he is hungry. The quicker they can get through this exchange, the quicker he can be living it good for a while. At least till the Order forgets all about him and the two dead paladins that is.

“I heard you were looking for me, what is your name?” Gertrude ask him. Oh god she’s that kind of old lady. Sweetness that makes your brain melt.

“Valeo,” he replies.

“And, why do you need to speak with me?” she ask.

“I’m an orphan, and need help,” Valeo replies straightforwardly.

“Well nobody has been so straightforward about it before,” Gertrude replies.

“Yeah I am not like those sad Orphans running to you and holding onto your knees crying, it gets exhausting having to cry a lot and feel sorry for myself,” Valeo responds.

Gertrude raises a brow.

“And, how do I know you have not run from home?” Gertrude ask him.

“That’s the beauty of this exchange, you’re supposed to be the nice old lady who helps me and you will never know if I ran away or not,” Valeo tells her, “Then one day if I am feeling like having a pity party. I’ll just reveal the truth to you then.”

“Perhaps in time your jaded view will change,” Gertrude replies.

The hell is that supposed to mean. Jaded view.

“You going to help or not,” Valeo retorts.

“I will set you up a room and you can help the others prepare dinner,” Gertrude says.

“I will sleep outside, but thanks for the room and board,” Valeo tells her dismissively. Did not know he have to go through an entire interrogation just to get here. Still, how long does it take to make an angry religious sect not angry at you any more?[/hider]

Theme Song:

[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K6KqB3DPhG0[/youtube][/center]

[hider= More Music Stuff]
[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d-ijPN7l2MY[/youtube]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uQ-7oPeIg6E[/youtube]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ady--PNMsfI[/youtube]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rQuHwqMcN8w[/youtube][/hider]