Tatsuki smiles warmly as his shinigami sight allows him to see the other man perfectly through the darkness. 'I did not mean to make him uncomfortable. I simply forgot about the covering myself for a moment. However I'm glad Shigetoshi-san seems to have enjoyed the peek' He lets out a very audible groan at the thought of those clinging sisters getting a look at him in just a towel. “Don't even joke about that Shigetoshi-san, it's just too terrifying.” His tone is low and half joking, but he manages to pull a very haunted look at the thought. When the innkeeper mentions the lanterns Tatsuki looks around the area, seeing everything just fine with his enhanced sight. His eyes move back to the young man before him and he gives him a reassuring look.
“Don't worry Shigetoshi-san, I was in no danger. My night vision is very good.” With that the towel clad man walks towards the door leading out of the hot spring area. As he draws even with Shigetoshi he stops, leaning close so he can whisper in conspiratorial tones. “Besides, it's easier to hide from prying eyes and view the beauty of the heavens when they are the only lights to touch your eyes and flesh.” Giving the young man a wink he continues towards the door. As he slides it open, flooding the area just inside the spring with artificial light he calls over his shoulder, “I'll get changed and head to the kitchen. The meal shouldn't take too long to make so if you like I can help you set out the dishes for the other guests while the sauces set!”
Slipping out of the spring are Tatsuki makes his way as quickly as possible to his room. Visions of the scary sisters practically put wings on his feet and he mutters a brief apology as he darts past an elderly woman who simply blushes in response. As soon as he's in his room he mostly drys his hair and pulls his bang back, clipping them in place so they will be out of the way while he cooks. As soon as he's ready he makes his way to the kitchen, taking the long way to avoid the sisters who are heading to the hot spring. As soon as he reaches the kitchen he pulls out the meat, veggies, and all the tools he'll need and sets to work. His movements are precise and quick, his hands seeming to move faster than humanly possible at times.
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'I guess he's a good enough man' Chall muses as the man offers him aid readily. It's an unusual feeling for the young mage so instead of replying right away he watches as the man orders the dog out of the room then sets about removing his outdoor wear. His ears snap to and fro. 'I swear I just heard a dog open and close a door. These mutts seem kinda smarter than I'm use to' Moving slowly Chall shifts inch by inch towards the fireplace. Staring at the cat in the only chair near the fire for a full minute he ends up sighing deeply and instead puts a hand on the edge of the well of the fireplace. Pushing hard with his good arm he manages to take a seat on the lip of the well, his back far enough away to be warmed without burning.
His tail slips carefully over his left leg to dangle between his thighs. It twitches slightly with each noise the man sitting across from him makes. The fur along his back flexes slightly when the remaining dog comes to lay down near the heat source only a foot away from his furry toes. He flexes his claws a bit, both on his hands and feet, willing himself to relax. 'It's peaceful enough here, I should be able to recover and be one my way very soon' He glances back up at the man and resists the urge to move back away from him as he leans in. A low growl starts up in the back of his throat as he talks about the other villagers and how they will view him. The sound once again draws the dog's attention, causing her to raise her head and answer in kind, but Chall is too deep into his thoughts to notice.
'Oh great, even if this man seems to not care, I'm apparently in the same old backwater type village that made my mother an only parent and left me without a father. What would I like him to say? What a joke! There's no reasoning with fools that think I'm an oddity and not just another free thinking being that deserves to live his life like any of them!' His anger is apparent on his face, his growl moving deeper into his chest the more he rages inside about ignorant fools. 'What should they be told? They should be told to go jump into the riverrr and delve it's depths until they find the lost city of Jein Rii, the moronic fools froracistit mothers and fathers!' It at last registers that the dog, now on it's feet, is growling at him and Chall startles slightly. The growl dies instantly and he gives the beast a wary look.
His whole body jumps again as a whistle sounds out behind him, but it only takes a moment to figure out that it's the kettle signaling that the water is ready. Without hesitation he calls out to the fire and wraps it around his hand to keep it safe as he reaches over to the swinging hook through the flames to move the kettle from above the heat. Settling the fire back into the hearth carefully he turns back to the man and lets out a sigh. The dog returns to laying by the hearth, but keeps an eye on the invader. Looking up into the man's eyes he says in controlled tones, “My mission is my own, but if you must tell them something to keep the peace, just tell them I am the apprentice of the king's mage on a mission from the king himself. I can not say more than that.” His ears twitch slightly up and down and he can not help but add, “And I seem human because my father was human. A lot of good it did him. . .”
He drops his gaze and chews his bottom lip for a few seconds. 'He doesn't need to hear my life story. No one does. Not like anyone would really care. No one really cares in this world like they think they do. This man is most likely only helping because it's easier than dumping me off on someone else.' Chiding his own dark thoughts on the man who has been nothing but understanding and kind Chall looks back up at him. “As for the body of water, I need the body of water itself. The magic requires me calling on the nature or the water and surrounding life. Water in a cup is disconnected from nature.” He waves his good hand dismissively. “I should be able to make it on my own if you are to busy, but I should try to go there as soon as possible.”
His tail slips carefully over his left leg to dangle between his thighs. It twitches slightly with each noise the man sitting across from him makes. The fur along his back flexes slightly when the remaining dog comes to lay down near the heat source only a foot away from his furry toes. He flexes his claws a bit, both on his hands and feet, willing himself to relax. 'It's peaceful enough here, I should be able to recover and be one my way very soon' He glances back up at the man and resists the urge to move back away from him as he leans in. A low growl starts up in the back of his throat as he talks about the other villagers and how they will view him. The sound once again draws the dog's attention, causing her to raise her head and answer in kind, but Chall is too deep into his thoughts to notice.
'Oh great, even if this man seems to not care, I'm apparently in the same old backwater type village that made my mother an only parent and left me without a father. What would I like him to say? What a joke! There's no reasoning with fools that think I'm an oddity and not just another free thinking being that deserves to live his life like any of them!' His anger is apparent on his face, his growl moving deeper into his chest the more he rages inside about ignorant fools. 'What should they be told? They should be told to go jump into the riverrr and delve it's depths until they find the lost city of Jein Rii, the moronic fools froracistit mothers and fathers!' It at last registers that the dog, now on it's feet, is growling at him and Chall startles slightly. The growl dies instantly and he gives the beast a wary look.
His whole body jumps again as a whistle sounds out behind him, but it only takes a moment to figure out that it's the kettle signaling that the water is ready. Without hesitation he calls out to the fire and wraps it around his hand to keep it safe as he reaches over to the swinging hook through the flames to move the kettle from above the heat. Settling the fire back into the hearth carefully he turns back to the man and lets out a sigh. The dog returns to laying by the hearth, but keeps an eye on the invader. Looking up into the man's eyes he says in controlled tones, “My mission is my own, but if you must tell them something to keep the peace, just tell them I am the apprentice of the king's mage on a mission from the king himself. I can not say more than that.” His ears twitch slightly up and down and he can not help but add, “And I seem human because my father was human. A lot of good it did him. . .”
He drops his gaze and chews his bottom lip for a few seconds. 'He doesn't need to hear my life story. No one does. Not like anyone would really care. No one really cares in this world like they think they do. This man is most likely only helping because it's easier than dumping me off on someone else.' Chiding his own dark thoughts on the man who has been nothing but understanding and kind Chall looks back up at him. “As for the body of water, I need the body of water itself. The magic requires me calling on the nature or the water and surrounding life. Water in a cup is disconnected from nature.” He waves his good hand dismissively. “I should be able to make it on my own if you are to busy, but I should try to go there as soon as possible.”
His muscles twitch, clenching and relaxing under his skin. His ears almost tremble as the sounds of something approaching his hiding spot reach them. His breath is slow, and controlled. Aslon's scout training was harsh at times, but they were well worth it. The wood feels almost warm beneath his fingers as he crouches in the little alcove above the source of the noises. 'I can hear is sniffing, but it can't smell me with the spell in place, but I must not let my breath hiss or I risk being heard. These devils can hear almost as well as we elves can, and we've learned that they are especially tuned to signs of life' His eyes shift about the area, taking note of a few routs of swift escape should he need one.
He'd gotten a few hours sleep in the broken down tower, but his awakening had been less then stellar to feeling rested. His dreams had been fitful, full of undead creatures tearing at his flesh. Given his situation, not very surprising, but he'd almost given himself away to a nearby hunting party upon waking. At the end of his dream he saw his parents, or at least what he recalls of them, twisted and mutated into foul undead creatures. They reached for him, their voices hollow and cracked, unrecognizable as voices that once sang their little one to sleep in the treetops with such soothing tones. Above them the looming black shadow that has haunted his dreams for so many years stood arms wide, drawing his horrible creations into himself. The images and their voices harsh in his ear had jolted him awake with a startled gasp, and if he wasn't such a well trained scout, he may have never noticed the sounds of approaching hunters responding to the noise.
Quieter than a mouse he'd immediately taken to the branches above and for the past several hours he played a game of hide and seek with the below troops. The hunting party comes into view again and using the slight curve of the half destroyed chimney he's hiding inside Aslon sinks his body further out of sight. His high vantage point, the second story of a desiccated building, lets the elf get a good look at his pursuers. 'I can identify most of them, but that creature at the front. . . It looks almost alive. I can't understand how any living being would serve the dark lord of these lands willingly. It's . . . . . From the reports, I know others seek to learn from the creature, but' He mentally shakes himself out of his thoughts, needing all of his wits to stay several steps ahead of the unholy creatures stalking him. His eyes narrow as the entire group passes behind a large nearly intact building, a gathering place of some sort with a pointed roof. 'Now's my chance'
Turing towards the far end of the house he doesn’t hesitate. Dodging debris and leaping over the last remnants of wall he launches himself away from the building at full speed. His body arches slightly and with a single hand he reaches out to grasp the base of a thick branch of the nearest tree. His other limbs soften the blow of his body landing against the trunk. Pausing for only a moment to cast out his senses Aslon begins moving towards where the castle should be. 'If I travel all night, I should be able to get a little rest before sunrise and be at the demon's gates by the time the sun clears the horizon' His movements are masked by a faint wind as he travels top speed through the trees, pausing every so often to check for hunters.
____*____
It had taken all his skill to clear the wall without being seen. Despite the sparsity of guards, the clear grounds around the last five yards outside the first wall offered no cover, and no chance of an easy egress. He'd ended up picking a corner of wall more craggy than the others and climbing at top speed up the broken stones. Had his hands not grown a thick callous over the years of training the sharp edges would have shredded his fingers in a minute. As it was he made it inside the castle town without incident. The air around him is thick, heavy, and the smell of decay almost makes the elf gag. However his eyes remain sharp and his breathing steady as he moves from house to house in a slow progression towards the castle. The high stone turrets and dull walls of the castle loom like a beast waiting to pounce. Aslon surmises that when this had been a human habitation the castle looked more like a protector of the land, and less like some horrid thing from a realm of death waiting to consume the lands below.
'It almost feels like it's looking down at me, licking it's chops' The thought of a giant tongue sticking out of the main gate to lick the outer wall helps Aslon relax, his target a little less intimidating now. As he reaches the edge of the castle's defensive wall the elf's brows furrow. 'There has to be guards around here somewhere. He can't be so foolish as to have no one guarding the castle proper, can he?' His body remains wired as he walks slowly up to the front gate unchallenged. His head whips around, eyes locking on anything that moves even slightly. He can feel his stomach drop as he passes under the arch. Pressing his body against one side of the arch, he examines the grounds carefully. The amount of dark magic in the air makes it impossible to send out his senses, but even without the dark magic, nothing lives in this land, even deep down. There would be nothing to conduct his senses along.
On instinct however he flexes his magic and a hard shock goes through his body. His breath catches in his throat and a tear springs to his eye. 'Oh spirits, I can feel him. The scout who came before me. He's here, but, oh beloved spirits, he's dead. . .' The loss of life resonates deeply inside the young elf. As if he was the one laying dead somewhere on the grounds, Aslon feels cold and limp. A wash of pain, hatred, and fear following the hard blow of loss keeps him on his feet. It takes several seconds to get his breathing back under control, but as soon as his heart rate returns to normal his face transforms into a mask of calm control and determination.
He locks on to the source of his comrade's faint magical trace still lingering around his body and begins crossing towards the building. As soon as he passes through a small window not too far above the ground he begins moving through the wide halls like a shadow. He spots someone down at the end of a long stone hall and freezes until it passes once again out of sight. His mind is set, and his skills now are active on instinct only. He manages to go down a few levels, away from the sounds of moving bodies, without being spotted. However as he travels lower and lower the smells emanating from the darkness below fills the young elf with an ever growing sense of dread. 'I can smell so much death down there. Not like the living death of the undead roaming the castle and forest, but real and true cessation of life. So much. . . . .' His mouth goes dry as his stomach turns over and over his dry rations from earlier in the day. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, but it's like rubbing two bits of sandpaper together.
When at last lights come into view he stops cold, eyes darting about to see if he's been spotted, or if something lurks at the bottom of the stairs just out of sight. Hearing movement a ways from his location Aslon continues down the stairs and pauses at the very bottom to look around before charging strait in. What he sees makes the bile rise in his throat. A dozen paces away near the end of a dimly lit hall is a man standing beside a table on wheels. The figure on the table draws all of the elf's attention and the rational part of his mind is swiftly pushed aside as he realizes what has been done to his comrade. A voice barely filters through the haze in his mind, and it takes several seconds for it to register. “Thank you my lord, this is truly a unique opportunity. I know many a necromancer who would give up their left leg to have the chance to experiment on one of these filthy elven folk.” The low rating voice is thick with sick delight and for Aslon it's the last straw. Pulling down his bow he takes aim and lets loose an arrow. The shaft flies true and the necromancer who'd spoken lets out an unearthly howl as it sinks strait through his eye and into his skull. Whipping out another arrow, Aslon draws a bead on the second figure, his heart pounding in his ears.
He'd gotten a few hours sleep in the broken down tower, but his awakening had been less then stellar to feeling rested. His dreams had been fitful, full of undead creatures tearing at his flesh. Given his situation, not very surprising, but he'd almost given himself away to a nearby hunting party upon waking. At the end of his dream he saw his parents, or at least what he recalls of them, twisted and mutated into foul undead creatures. They reached for him, their voices hollow and cracked, unrecognizable as voices that once sang their little one to sleep in the treetops with such soothing tones. Above them the looming black shadow that has haunted his dreams for so many years stood arms wide, drawing his horrible creations into himself. The images and their voices harsh in his ear had jolted him awake with a startled gasp, and if he wasn't such a well trained scout, he may have never noticed the sounds of approaching hunters responding to the noise.
Quieter than a mouse he'd immediately taken to the branches above and for the past several hours he played a game of hide and seek with the below troops. The hunting party comes into view again and using the slight curve of the half destroyed chimney he's hiding inside Aslon sinks his body further out of sight. His high vantage point, the second story of a desiccated building, lets the elf get a good look at his pursuers. 'I can identify most of them, but that creature at the front. . . It looks almost alive. I can't understand how any living being would serve the dark lord of these lands willingly. It's . . . . . From the reports, I know others seek to learn from the creature, but' He mentally shakes himself out of his thoughts, needing all of his wits to stay several steps ahead of the unholy creatures stalking him. His eyes narrow as the entire group passes behind a large nearly intact building, a gathering place of some sort with a pointed roof. 'Now's my chance'
Turing towards the far end of the house he doesn’t hesitate. Dodging debris and leaping over the last remnants of wall he launches himself away from the building at full speed. His body arches slightly and with a single hand he reaches out to grasp the base of a thick branch of the nearest tree. His other limbs soften the blow of his body landing against the trunk. Pausing for only a moment to cast out his senses Aslon begins moving towards where the castle should be. 'If I travel all night, I should be able to get a little rest before sunrise and be at the demon's gates by the time the sun clears the horizon' His movements are masked by a faint wind as he travels top speed through the trees, pausing every so often to check for hunters.
____*____
It had taken all his skill to clear the wall without being seen. Despite the sparsity of guards, the clear grounds around the last five yards outside the first wall offered no cover, and no chance of an easy egress. He'd ended up picking a corner of wall more craggy than the others and climbing at top speed up the broken stones. Had his hands not grown a thick callous over the years of training the sharp edges would have shredded his fingers in a minute. As it was he made it inside the castle town without incident. The air around him is thick, heavy, and the smell of decay almost makes the elf gag. However his eyes remain sharp and his breathing steady as he moves from house to house in a slow progression towards the castle. The high stone turrets and dull walls of the castle loom like a beast waiting to pounce. Aslon surmises that when this had been a human habitation the castle looked more like a protector of the land, and less like some horrid thing from a realm of death waiting to consume the lands below.
'It almost feels like it's looking down at me, licking it's chops' The thought of a giant tongue sticking out of the main gate to lick the outer wall helps Aslon relax, his target a little less intimidating now. As he reaches the edge of the castle's defensive wall the elf's brows furrow. 'There has to be guards around here somewhere. He can't be so foolish as to have no one guarding the castle proper, can he?' His body remains wired as he walks slowly up to the front gate unchallenged. His head whips around, eyes locking on anything that moves even slightly. He can feel his stomach drop as he passes under the arch. Pressing his body against one side of the arch, he examines the grounds carefully. The amount of dark magic in the air makes it impossible to send out his senses, but even without the dark magic, nothing lives in this land, even deep down. There would be nothing to conduct his senses along.
On instinct however he flexes his magic and a hard shock goes through his body. His breath catches in his throat and a tear springs to his eye. 'Oh spirits, I can feel him. The scout who came before me. He's here, but, oh beloved spirits, he's dead. . .' The loss of life resonates deeply inside the young elf. As if he was the one laying dead somewhere on the grounds, Aslon feels cold and limp. A wash of pain, hatred, and fear following the hard blow of loss keeps him on his feet. It takes several seconds to get his breathing back under control, but as soon as his heart rate returns to normal his face transforms into a mask of calm control and determination.
He locks on to the source of his comrade's faint magical trace still lingering around his body and begins crossing towards the building. As soon as he passes through a small window not too far above the ground he begins moving through the wide halls like a shadow. He spots someone down at the end of a long stone hall and freezes until it passes once again out of sight. His mind is set, and his skills now are active on instinct only. He manages to go down a few levels, away from the sounds of moving bodies, without being spotted. However as he travels lower and lower the smells emanating from the darkness below fills the young elf with an ever growing sense of dread. 'I can smell so much death down there. Not like the living death of the undead roaming the castle and forest, but real and true cessation of life. So much. . . . .' His mouth goes dry as his stomach turns over and over his dry rations from earlier in the day. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, but it's like rubbing two bits of sandpaper together.
When at last lights come into view he stops cold, eyes darting about to see if he's been spotted, or if something lurks at the bottom of the stairs just out of sight. Hearing movement a ways from his location Aslon continues down the stairs and pauses at the very bottom to look around before charging strait in. What he sees makes the bile rise in his throat. A dozen paces away near the end of a dimly lit hall is a man standing beside a table on wheels. The figure on the table draws all of the elf's attention and the rational part of his mind is swiftly pushed aside as he realizes what has been done to his comrade. A voice barely filters through the haze in his mind, and it takes several seconds for it to register. “Thank you my lord, this is truly a unique opportunity. I know many a necromancer who would give up their left leg to have the chance to experiment on one of these filthy elven folk.” The low rating voice is thick with sick delight and for Aslon it's the last straw. Pulling down his bow he takes aim and lets loose an arrow. The shaft flies true and the necromancer who'd spoken lets out an unearthly howl as it sinks strait through his eye and into his skull. Whipping out another arrow, Aslon draws a bead on the second figure, his heart pounding in his ears.
RP's not dead, I'm working on a response right now. Since we decided upon Aslon catching Gilbert bringing the body to the necromancers, I'm having myself getting caught with Gilbert bringing the body to the necro's in an underground lab :P Hope you don't mind :P
*Pats on head* That's a good'un. There. I hope you like Kaila! He's entertaining, and kinda dressed like Seishu in battle, but a lot less stiff material. :P
Seishu chuckles as the Dream Guardian rolls his eyes at him. 'He can't exactly deny it though' His eyes narrow as the light from outside the door fall across his bed. 'Why do they insist on everything being so bright. We never get more and moonlight, and we see just fine. They move around on earth at night just like we do, and I've never seen them having trouble with the darkness. . . .' The Nightmare Guardian bellyaches to himself for a few seconds, ignoring the interplay of master and servant just outside his door. However the creek of the door opening further draws his gaze to the one talking to his counterpart. Sensing no negative emotions from the beast other than a faint distaste Seishu smirks internally. 'Looks like Hops has some guts. From what I've seen in battle, gutsy individuals exists here, but they are so rare. Most are scared out of their wits while they are fighting. It's quite a feast' He listens carefully to Enasi to make sure he relays what needs to be said.
When the anthropomorphic rabbit looks towards him and questions his masters orders Seishu can not help but chuckle again. His counterpart seemingly ignores his mirth and once again orders the white rabbit off to the battlefield. The injured Guardian's brows furrow as his counterpart seems at a loss for words. 'Well that's new. He's always had a quip or jab whenever we've met during battle. Somethings changing in him' Moments later when the little fairy boy comes charging back in with a grin from ear to ear Seishu lets out a small “Hah.” and thinks 'He's not the only one. But at least with me I can blame the drugs. And who knows, it could just be the drugs' Rue looks at him quizzically and pushes the rolling chair close to the bed before hopping into it. The chair spins a few times until at last he manages to settle it facing the Nightmare Guardian.
Tucking his legs in Rue asks, “What's so funny Mister?”
Seishu shakes his head. “Nothing Little Bite, I'm just become more and more sure that these drugs are going to be very detrimental to my image around here.”
His head tilts to the side. “Drugs? You mean the medicines they gave you for your injuries?” Seishu nods and Rue's brows furrow in confusions. “What do they have to do with your reputation?”
Seishu raises an eyebrow. “Are you even remotely afraid of me right now?” Rue seems to think about it hard for several seconds before shrugging. The Guardian sighs. “Exactly. I'm feeling so good off these meds that I’ve lost my scary factor.” Rue shrugs again and smiles.
“I think you'll be scary again when you get your strength back Mister.” Rolling his eyes at the vote of confidence Seishu looks away and lets out another sigh.
____*____
His gaze shifts around as yet another Nightmare stumbles into their make shift camp. Deep in the moonlit woods, where the two worlds come together, the last supporters of the fallen monarch gather. The camp is quite, the feelings very subdued. At first there had been confusion, no one could find Master Seishu. Then Gin had announced his triumph and flows off towards the palace before anyone could question him. The minion looks down at his hands as he recalls the first sweep. There have been a few since their return to their own realm, but the first had defiantly been the worst. Those most powerful who were loyal to the “New Master” had gone out in teams, sweeping the landscape for those who refuse to acknowledge Gin as their leader.
He hands shake as his mind calls up the smell of blood from the still injured minions and nightmares fighting valiantly to protect their faith. 'How can this be? There is no doubt now, Master Seishu is still alive. But what are we going to do? We can't bring him here to camp. Even though Gin has tried to take the throne, and will eventually gain it fully if we don't do anything, everyone who dwells in this realm would be able to tell where Master Seishu is. . . .' The violet haired minion hangs his head, cursing aloud. His small figure is deceptive. Kaila is one of the oldest servants of Master Seishu. He admires the Nightmare Guardian greatly, even keeping his hair in the same style as his master in his honor. Seishu had tried on several occasions to get Kaila to change it, but to no avail.
'And that's something I will always love about Master Seishu. He gives us choice. Gin has always been so hard, an inflexible. Sure, this made him a great soldier, but. . .' Kaila's eyes are brought up by the sound of a great energy cracking. Is eyes narrow as the rift begins to splinter ever so slightly. Before the great wall a large number of nightmares and minions stand shoulder to shoulder. Each one with it's fore limbs or horns or whatever appendage they channel their energy through pointed towards the glowing wall. Coming to his feet Kaila walks towards the group. It had taken several hours to get the barrier to splinter, but that is far faster than they had all expected. A faint smile passes briefly across the minion's face. 'I'll take this as a testament to how much we long to see our true leader again.'
His eyes narrow to the spot where all the energies are being concentrated. 'It's time' Raising a hand, Kaila begins drawing energy into his palm. He pours in more and more, his own energy making his arm ache slightly. When he's sure it's enough he calls out, “Aside!” and as one the nightmares and minions split down the middle. The path between him and the barrier now open Kaila closes his fist around the energy. The blazing deep purple light fires out of either side of his clenches fist into the shape of a sword. His hand holding tight to the hilt of the energy blade he charges forward. Those gathered around act on their orders given before the project began and Kaila holds back a scream as they fire their energy at him. The pain is great, but necessary, and with an almighty slash the splintered wall cracks open. Kaila stands before the breach, barely large enough for three to walk side by side, and not even eight feet high. His stomach drops a bit at the sight of the cheery looking sunshine beyond the gap at the end of a relatively short tunnel. Those who had been selected for the trip to the other side gather around Kaila, and as soon as he catches his breath he vanishes his sword and they all pass into the tunnel to world that holds their beloved master.
When the anthropomorphic rabbit looks towards him and questions his masters orders Seishu can not help but chuckle again. His counterpart seemingly ignores his mirth and once again orders the white rabbit off to the battlefield. The injured Guardian's brows furrow as his counterpart seems at a loss for words. 'Well that's new. He's always had a quip or jab whenever we've met during battle. Somethings changing in him' Moments later when the little fairy boy comes charging back in with a grin from ear to ear Seishu lets out a small “Hah.” and thinks 'He's not the only one. But at least with me I can blame the drugs. And who knows, it could just be the drugs' Rue looks at him quizzically and pushes the rolling chair close to the bed before hopping into it. The chair spins a few times until at last he manages to settle it facing the Nightmare Guardian.
Tucking his legs in Rue asks, “What's so funny Mister?”
Seishu shakes his head. “Nothing Little Bite, I'm just become more and more sure that these drugs are going to be very detrimental to my image around here.”
His head tilts to the side. “Drugs? You mean the medicines they gave you for your injuries?” Seishu nods and Rue's brows furrow in confusions. “What do they have to do with your reputation?”
Seishu raises an eyebrow. “Are you even remotely afraid of me right now?” Rue seems to think about it hard for several seconds before shrugging. The Guardian sighs. “Exactly. I'm feeling so good off these meds that I’ve lost my scary factor.” Rue shrugs again and smiles.
“I think you'll be scary again when you get your strength back Mister.” Rolling his eyes at the vote of confidence Seishu looks away and lets out another sigh.
____*____
His gaze shifts around as yet another Nightmare stumbles into their make shift camp. Deep in the moonlit woods, where the two worlds come together, the last supporters of the fallen monarch gather. The camp is quite, the feelings very subdued. At first there had been confusion, no one could find Master Seishu. Then Gin had announced his triumph and flows off towards the palace before anyone could question him. The minion looks down at his hands as he recalls the first sweep. There have been a few since their return to their own realm, but the first had defiantly been the worst. Those most powerful who were loyal to the “New Master” had gone out in teams, sweeping the landscape for those who refuse to acknowledge Gin as their leader.
He hands shake as his mind calls up the smell of blood from the still injured minions and nightmares fighting valiantly to protect their faith. 'How can this be? There is no doubt now, Master Seishu is still alive. But what are we going to do? We can't bring him here to camp. Even though Gin has tried to take the throne, and will eventually gain it fully if we don't do anything, everyone who dwells in this realm would be able to tell where Master Seishu is. . . .' The violet haired minion hangs his head, cursing aloud. His small figure is deceptive. Kaila is one of the oldest servants of Master Seishu. He admires the Nightmare Guardian greatly, even keeping his hair in the same style as his master in his honor. Seishu had tried on several occasions to get Kaila to change it, but to no avail.
'And that's something I will always love about Master Seishu. He gives us choice. Gin has always been so hard, an inflexible. Sure, this made him a great soldier, but. . .' Kaila's eyes are brought up by the sound of a great energy cracking. Is eyes narrow as the rift begins to splinter ever so slightly. Before the great wall a large number of nightmares and minions stand shoulder to shoulder. Each one with it's fore limbs or horns or whatever appendage they channel their energy through pointed towards the glowing wall. Coming to his feet Kaila walks towards the group. It had taken several hours to get the barrier to splinter, but that is far faster than they had all expected. A faint smile passes briefly across the minion's face. 'I'll take this as a testament to how much we long to see our true leader again.'
His eyes narrow to the spot where all the energies are being concentrated. 'It's time' Raising a hand, Kaila begins drawing energy into his palm. He pours in more and more, his own energy making his arm ache slightly. When he's sure it's enough he calls out, “Aside!” and as one the nightmares and minions split down the middle. The path between him and the barrier now open Kaila closes his fist around the energy. The blazing deep purple light fires out of either side of his clenches fist into the shape of a sword. His hand holding tight to the hilt of the energy blade he charges forward. Those gathered around act on their orders given before the project began and Kaila holds back a scream as they fire their energy at him. The pain is great, but necessary, and with an almighty slash the splintered wall cracks open. Kaila stands before the breach, barely large enough for three to walk side by side, and not even eight feet high. His stomach drops a bit at the sight of the cheery looking sunshine beyond the gap at the end of a relatively short tunnel. Those who had been selected for the trip to the other side gather around Kaila, and as soon as he catches his breath he vanishes his sword and they all pass into the tunnel to world that holds their beloved master.
Yays, poshted! I hope I didn't do any moding :P
Viltez reaches up and wipes a bead of sweat from his brow. Despite the slightly falling temperature, the work and his inability to remove his shirt causes his temperature to rise unmercifully under the unforgiving sun. He turns towards the village and once again seeks out the figure of the stranger. After returning to the roof over two hours ago, Viltez has kept track of his movements best he can. 'It's not like I'm worried about him' He'd told himself when he first noticed he'd been looking up every few minutes to find the man. 'I'm just curious. Not many people stay in town who aren’t in a caravan. And he said he'd visit later. . . .' Shaking his head the young man chuckles as his own reasoning. Truth be told, he really is worried about the taller man. 'He's no fool, so I'm confident that he'll be fine around the villagers now. But, I know a few villagers who may cause trouble. Hector for one'
His eyes narrow as he spots the stranger again but after a few seconds he looks away. 'I should stop this. Somehow it feels like I'm keeping tabs on a child. He's no child' Viltez lets out a long sigh and instead turns his attention to the approaching storm. No one in town will have noticed, save for maybe a few of the old men. The young half-breed on the roof though can not only tell one is coming, but has a very good idea how strong it will be, and how long it will last. In his younger years he was prone to telling the villagers about approaching weather, but after a few times, it became clear that his predictions made them suspicious, so he stopped. In later years, some of the young village girls would ask him how he always knew to take his clothes in off the line before the rain. He'd always simply smile and remain silent.
'It takes a lot of practice to hide one's oddities in a town so small as this. Everyone knows one another's secrets. Everyone is watching everyone else.' Fixing the last few pieces in place Viltez nails them into place, giving them a little tug on either side to make sure the shingles are holding firm. “Hyush.” he huffs with a smile and gathers his tools. As soon as they are back in the shed, along with the ladder, Viltez seeks out the old woman and lets her know her roof is done and that he'll get right on the rest of the chores on her list right away. She smiles and pats him on the head before going back to gossiping with the other old woman sitting with her on her front porch. Pulling out the list he heads to the blacksmiths to puck up a kettle she's dropped of for repairs, then to the baker for some fresh bread.
All the while he keeps an eye on the skies. 'I should have enough time to get done with this list and get home before the rain starts to fall' he muses as the baker wraps the old woman's order in a thick cloth. As he steps out of the bakery Viltez spots the stranger through a throng of people heading for the caravan and smiles. He's not sure if the man notices him but after a second he rushes off on his next mission. The rest of the list takes just over an hour, and by then even the villagers are casting wary glances skyward from time to time. After he delivers everything to the old woman she pays him and shoos him off to seek out his own shelter before the dark gray clouds overhead begin weeping.
He gives a nod of thanks, his charming smile firmly in place as he walks off to the main road and begins walking swiftly towards his home. 'I wonder if the stranger got a place at the inn? It's really small, and with the caravan, most if not all of the rooms will already be booked . . .' He glances about as he walks, the hairs on the back of his neck and along his tail becoming stiff in anticipation of the rain. His gaze drifts from face to face, seeking the man out. 'If it is full, I can offer him my home. It's small too but there's enough room for two to keep dry and comfortable' Unable to spot the man right away Viltez curses under his breath. 'I can't even call for him because I foolishly didn't even ask his name' A sudden thought strikes him and Viltez slows then stops all together.
'He. . . He said something about having several hours. He. . . .couldn't have guessed what I was about to say? No, his words were as if he himself senses the rains too!' A chill runs up his spine that has nothing to do with the now defiantly cool breeze blowing genitally down the main road past the still figure. 'I'd been so flustered that I'd almost slipped up. Did I really not notice?' He stands there for a few minutes, awestruck at his own oversight until at last his mind decides to flat out discard all but the important part. 'He knew it was going to rain, so he'll have figured out how to stay dry. He's had plenty of time to plan for it' With that comforting thought in mind he continues his trek towards his home. The chilled breeze picks up a bit and Viltez shivers as he walks strait into it.
His eyes narrow as he spots the stranger again but after a few seconds he looks away. 'I should stop this. Somehow it feels like I'm keeping tabs on a child. He's no child' Viltez lets out a long sigh and instead turns his attention to the approaching storm. No one in town will have noticed, save for maybe a few of the old men. The young half-breed on the roof though can not only tell one is coming, but has a very good idea how strong it will be, and how long it will last. In his younger years he was prone to telling the villagers about approaching weather, but after a few times, it became clear that his predictions made them suspicious, so he stopped. In later years, some of the young village girls would ask him how he always knew to take his clothes in off the line before the rain. He'd always simply smile and remain silent.
'It takes a lot of practice to hide one's oddities in a town so small as this. Everyone knows one another's secrets. Everyone is watching everyone else.' Fixing the last few pieces in place Viltez nails them into place, giving them a little tug on either side to make sure the shingles are holding firm. “Hyush.” he huffs with a smile and gathers his tools. As soon as they are back in the shed, along with the ladder, Viltez seeks out the old woman and lets her know her roof is done and that he'll get right on the rest of the chores on her list right away. She smiles and pats him on the head before going back to gossiping with the other old woman sitting with her on her front porch. Pulling out the list he heads to the blacksmiths to puck up a kettle she's dropped of for repairs, then to the baker for some fresh bread.
All the while he keeps an eye on the skies. 'I should have enough time to get done with this list and get home before the rain starts to fall' he muses as the baker wraps the old woman's order in a thick cloth. As he steps out of the bakery Viltez spots the stranger through a throng of people heading for the caravan and smiles. He's not sure if the man notices him but after a second he rushes off on his next mission. The rest of the list takes just over an hour, and by then even the villagers are casting wary glances skyward from time to time. After he delivers everything to the old woman she pays him and shoos him off to seek out his own shelter before the dark gray clouds overhead begin weeping.
He gives a nod of thanks, his charming smile firmly in place as he walks off to the main road and begins walking swiftly towards his home. 'I wonder if the stranger got a place at the inn? It's really small, and with the caravan, most if not all of the rooms will already be booked . . .' He glances about as he walks, the hairs on the back of his neck and along his tail becoming stiff in anticipation of the rain. His gaze drifts from face to face, seeking the man out. 'If it is full, I can offer him my home. It's small too but there's enough room for two to keep dry and comfortable' Unable to spot the man right away Viltez curses under his breath. 'I can't even call for him because I foolishly didn't even ask his name' A sudden thought strikes him and Viltez slows then stops all together.
'He. . . He said something about having several hours. He. . . .couldn't have guessed what I was about to say? No, his words were as if he himself senses the rains too!' A chill runs up his spine that has nothing to do with the now defiantly cool breeze blowing genitally down the main road past the still figure. 'I'd been so flustered that I'd almost slipped up. Did I really not notice?' He stands there for a few minutes, awestruck at his own oversight until at last his mind decides to flat out discard all but the important part. 'He knew it was going to rain, so he'll have figured out how to stay dry. He's had plenty of time to plan for it' With that comforting thought in mind he continues his trek towards his home. The chilled breeze picks up a bit and Viltez shivers as he walks strait into it.
Heheh, more dreams for you :P
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