The Harlequin

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Vincent strode through the forest, unconcerned. Chances are, Blaze could take care of himself. As could all the other people involved in this little escapade. The problem was though....would Vincent be required to...take care...of them. Sometimes he really felt a good shotgun shell to the kneecaps would do some of these people a lot of good. Perhaps the jaw...to stop them screaming as well... Vincent pulled out the gun, examing the shining black barrel. He absently sighted down its length, checking the calibration. Not that he needed the sights, but it never hurt. Some small forest denizen hopped along in front of him, chittering at Vincent and raising sharp looking claws. He moved his gun slightly, and took its head off. It dissapated in an explosion of blood. The blood in his eyes reacted. The world diluted, focused on the red haze. Time seemed to slow, and his only thought was the blood. It didn't matter who's. He been known to stare at a wound on his body for hours before treating it. The creature shook once, pitifully, and collapsed. Vincent snapped back, gasping. What was he becoming.... And when the hell would Blaze allow himself to be found. All this spare time was making him brood. Depression was one thing, he had no problem with that, but brooding pissed him off. Mainly because Chaos always had a view to offer. The demon was strangely silent now. The rivers within him had their undercurrent eddies, but the flood was not there. They didn't rush through him rapaciously. He was cautious of that inimical stillness. Vincent suddenly stopped. In front of him was Chaos. Without thinking, Vincent leveled his shotgun and fired. With his supernatural speed, the demon dodged, and the bullet took him in the shoulder. Vincent lowered his gun. This was real. Chaos was in front of him...[/I] Chaos: Ah, my former paramour. How nice of you to repay me for saving your life so many times. Vincent: How did this happen fiend? Chaos: You forced me out. Where else did I have to go? You so thankfully offered me a host a while ago. Oh, I had to twist it somewhat, but it has served to contain my form, as well as my soul. Something you could never do. Vincent: Then I'll kill you now. [I]Vincent fired again, and ducked away as the Chaos Saber swept towards him. He rolled forward and came up, stabbing Chaos with his claw, before unleashing a bullet point blank into Chaos's head. The body disintergrated in front of him. In its place, stood a shifting spirit. Still Chaos.[/I] Chaos: Oh, I think not. You can't kill me. Nothing can. I however, will eventually kill you. Now if you'll excuse me... [I]Chaos dissapated to find another host. Vincent searched within himself, making sure the demon was well and truly gone. He found no trace of Chaos. But another, more insidious being was now within him, and he greeted Vincent with mild amusement, and a promise of pain unknown to mortals. In even terms, it promised his death, and explained exactly how that would come about. It showed him visions of itself, transformed, in control, rampaging, performing wanton slaughter, until Vincent saw his altered body drowned in the blood of innocents. As it faded in quiesance, its name came to Vincent. The only name appropriate. Oblivion. And behind that presence, more silent, and infinitely more ominous, was another, greater, more powerful, more cunning, content to reveal its existance, but not anything about it. Except its name. A name that chilled Vincent more than the visions he had seen, more than Chaos's reality. Quietus. Vincent gathered his cloak tighter around himself, and started to return to the ship. No one could no about this. No one.[/I] OOC: When I saw he's not going to tell anyone, I also mean no one just "happens" to find out, in any way shape or form, until I say so. My storyline, leave it alone.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: That's right...my start of siege post. [I]As battle horns suddenly rang out around the Post, Lacroix leapt to his feet, threw his head back, and howled with delight. Around him, shouts broke out, and people rushed for weapons. He held his hands up for silence, and the common room quieted. He walked outside, the other pt the post trailing him. Kinrade blinked as he saw the sheer number of people here. Lacroix leapt up onto the battlements, and raised his hands. A herald rode forward, clad in black armour.His horse reared under him, and took several moments to quiet.[/I] Lacroix: Well. Do you want something? Herald: Ah, how quickly your tone shall change. There are no terms. You will surrender, now. Or you will die. Lacroix: Do you have any idea what you're doing? Herald: We are destroying you. Lacroix: Well, all I can say is; Say hello to my little friend. [I]Lacroix stretched lazily, and muttered something under his breath. The herald reared his horse and spun, blowing into a horn. Across the field surrounding the Post, siege towers started to trundle along, and troops carrying scaling ladders followed them. Lacroix stared incredulously, and burst out laughing.[/I] Lacroix: They're attacking [I]me[/I] with a conventional army? [I]He kept laughing as the ground started shaking. Kinrade climbed the battlements and stood beside him, looking around slightly nervously. A reddish tinge filled the air, and for a minute Kinrade thought Belaaz had somehow returned his control, and sent him into the bloodlust. But no, others too were looking around, alarmed. In front of the Post, a circle appeared on the ground. Immense, traced in lava and lightning, a crevasse down to the Abyss. Lines shot across it, as power focuses found each other and joined. The resulting sigil was impossibly complex. A shimmering filled the air, appearing a swirling fog of blood through the red haze. Lacroix looked somewhat satisfied. So did the creature that appeared out of that gauzy nimbus. Taller than the walls it was summoned to defend, a creature of utter blackness, all tentacles and claws. Virash, the lord of the Seventh Circle. Lacroix had connections. There was a crash of thunder, and out of nowhere, a storm vortexed above them. The centre spun into a whirlpool, which opened into Celestial light. A beam came crashing down, striking the ground where the sigil had stood. There was a huge tremor, and the light turned smoky, before fading. In it's palce stood a being as huge as the first, but clad in a white robe. The only thing that was visible was the huge sword, and the wings that spanned the sky. Syrianne, avatar of all that was holy. The two beings bowed courteously to each other, and advanced on the now less than happy army.[/I] Lacroix: Ah, the people I know. [I]Kinrade stared as the figures strode forward, decimating those infront of them. The angel shouted in a voice to loud for human comprehension, that deafened Kinrade even from the walls. Virash just snarled, and laughed. Viciously, hellishly. They stopped suddenly, and spun, bowing to Lacroix. In a second, they were gone. Lacroix looked a little confused.[/I] Lacroix: God damn it. I hate it when they do that. [I]The army on the field slowly regrouped. Very slowly. Inside the Post, people assembled for defense. Nearly as slowly.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]I too have taken a hell of a lot of history courses, and I know that while humanity would have developed slower without the plough, it also would have developed more efficiently. Besides, it's the fact that it allowed us to work land, and thus settle with far less effort, that I'm complaining about. Protein is not a hard neccessity to obtain. Humans just found walking a couple of hundred metres a day easier than actually going and looking for alternatives that might be a little further. War develops certain technology, stagnates others. What did you expect? When the Spanish destroyed the Aztecs, Incans whatnot, particularly the Mayans, we lost priceless knowledge that we don't have today about time and how the solar system worked. Or that lost civilisation, existed about 10 500 BC. They knew a hell of a lot more than we would, and dominated the globe, basing everything on stars, and precession. Precession the apparent movement of stars based on the tilting of the earth's axis. The earth's axis changes angle by 72 degrees in a year. Or some time period. But there are numerous sites, the only one I can remember being Easter island, that are exactly 72, or 144 degrees away from each other, and form solar patterns. And these are all sites we know very little about. Of course, they were all crazy and thought the stars would give them immortality, apparently. But hell, who am I to say it wouldn't?[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Yeah my brother...you slap dat ***** down! Sorry....but there were all those style comments you made in relation to Raven. If you want...I could talk to her. Otherwise, which it will be, my advice is this. Don't pay attention, don't let it show that it affects you, don't give her the satisfaction. If she's [I]anything[/I] like most of the females I know....guilt will get her long before it gets you. You being you and all, that margin is probably quite substantial.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: Guess what Jack? That last post is going to mysteriously disappear. a) The army hasn't attacked yet, and b) they're outside these big slabs of rock that most of us call walls. And lastly....no one dies in this siege. I do, after all, have a reputation to protect. And it's not mine....[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Vincent silently sighed, and when he spoke, only he heard it.[/I] Vincent: Now why the hell can't any of these people do anything without all this I wanna be a hero, and lets all be cloying noble, and whatnot crap? [I]As usual, he didn't get an answer. Perhaps if he'd bothered to say it loudly...But that tended to annoy people. Not that he cared. Vincent took his usual room on the airship, and locked it behind him. (OOC: Look, I don't care, there are rooms now) He sank down on the bed, his shotgun beside him, as always. An old axim he heard once "Keep your clothes and weapons where you can find them in the dark". It had saved his life more than once. Of course....he'd also heard that you should wreck the malls with cows on Harleys. He wasn't exactly sure what it meant, but he was pretty sure it was irrelevant. But then you got that. You also got the forces of the universe aligned against you. At least, he always seemed to end up along side the person the universe currently didn't like. I mean, once was one thing, several times? If Vincent ever got his hands on the cosmic jester that controlled his life... The cruel hand fate had slapped him with would be returned in kind.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]I relate to that nicely. I understand it, thus I like it. A lot. Great work. I absolutely love it. You da man Etarah.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]This coming from a person going on about how everyone has to have an army of 10 000 mages or whatnot.... Well, having read more fantasy novels than you have, I can assure you LoD takes a lot of liberties with the traditional Necromancer. What happened on the swimming carnival? And what exactly do I have to admit?[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Vincent didn't exactly have a lot of preparations to make. He strapped his shotgun to his back, under his cloak, but still within easy reach, and left. Before someone dragooned him into helping pack. He walked quickly, his long easy strides eating up ground at a rapid rate. The town quickly gave way to wilderness, and he felt far more at home. Beasts always did. But then, they were all beasts at heart. Every human being, and especially those not so human, was corrupted. Most were born corrupted. Some were drawn into it. A few embraced it. But it was very rare for one to be dragged kicking and screaming into it. But then, he now welcomed the darkness. His thoughts continued along this brooding path for nearly an hour. He started, noting the time, and returned to town, waiting for everyone else to get organised.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Any educated guesses as to why Xalis is male? We've already got our dodgy necro. We don't need another one.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]I just know Jesus Chicken's is something by Tool. I heard Raquel's the other day, but I can't remember the name. As the colours fade away my love, As the darkness turns to day above, Celebrate the one you love. And she says she has a friend inside. Shows her everything she tries to hide Please stop the pain inside She don't know. Please stop her pain. I think she's coming down again, I hear the rain. She's coming down again, I hear the rain. And she's dancing with the hands of fate, While she's sleeping with the one she hates, And tonight they celebrate. She don't know. Please stop her pain, stop her pain. I think she's coming down again, I hear the rain. She's coming down again, I hear the rain. And the rain still falls. It's falling down on me. She don't know, Please stop her pain, stop her pain. I think she's coming down again, I hear the rain. She's coming down again, I hear the rain. Jesus Chicken will be able to tell you the band name off the top of his head...[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]I get that problem all the time. (For those that know me, it's mainly the problem that Storey tends to ...disagree....with most of you on a regular basis. Especially Dave....hehehe. And he really hates Michael. Hell, there are times when he doesn't even get on with Jack.) I think the best way of doing things it simply to find it amusing. There is quite seriously nothing funnier than watching two people who hate each other, or at lest each other's opinions, try to stay in the same room without getting physical. But then...I have a strange sense of humour.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Personally, the worst invention I think human kind ever came up with was the plough. We could have gotten by without it, we were just too lazy. And it was the start of the long road that has led to our screwed up environment today.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]I'll tell you what Dave, you let him do whatever he likes, and I'll write some tricky stuff to get around it. LOD being the only other defined necromancer you've ever run into? And we're nowhere near as bad as you are.... For one, that was the only time we've ever done, for another, we're not as loud as you are, and for a third, we were discussing, not arguing along the lines of "I'm right. You're wrong. Deal with it".[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]I've got knife scars along my back when some drunk guy wanted money I wasn't prepared to give him. But hey, I was twelve at the time, how was I supposed to know better? This is Australia. When serious crimes happen here, they either get laughed off, have the blame passed around until the issue is forgotten, or are incompetantly handled. Mainly because no one ever sees a thing. I have two theories for that. Either criminals here are smarter than everywhere else, or that not many crimes get commited in pubs, thus are not seen. I have a feeling the second one would be more correct.[/font][/color]

[color=crimson][font=gothic]OOC: Quick explanation: Flare's father has decided to take a bash at us. Quicker explanation: Go with it. IC: Lacroix: Oh course. Certainly none of this would have been possible without me. Nepenthe: And wouldn't we all be better off for it. Lacroix: Oh come now. This isn't the time for animosity. Nepenthe: It's always time for animosity! Lacroix/Kinrade: Right... Siren: What brought that on? Nepenthe: ....animosity.... [I]Kinrade shook his head. Lacroix sighed. Siren covered her eyes and mock wept. Nepenthe looked around a bit, then did all three.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Raven and I will give you a little more competition next year Piro. I'm surprised how many votes I got for best brawler. And I was in what? 6 spars all year?[/font][/color]

[color=crimson][font=gothic]Maybe a True Neutral Paladin, but I don't see how a Lawful neutral would work. Lawful neutral characters just abide by law and order, without being swayed. Paladins have to be motivated by something. And motivated by the desire to sit around and do nothing isn't exactly a paladin thing to do... Dave: Champion of the cause of laziness. Just to give this post a point: I won't be starting anywhere near you, or any one else for that matter.[/font][/color]

[color=crimson][font=gothic][I]Vincent stayed awake, as everyone else faded away into their rooms. Tifa leant on the bar, Vincent seated on the other side, an amontillado negligently held in his hand. No one else was awake, and the two spoke softly for half an hour. Eventually, Tifa's yawns grew more pronounced, and she blinked a lot between speaking.[/I] Vincent: Get some sleep. I'll stay up, and watch the bar. [I]Tifa gave him a tired smile of thanks, and retired. Vincent dimmed the lights, until they were little more than a slight glow. His red, bloodfilled eyes saw perfectly anyway. Better even, in this light. The thought of another long night didn't faze him. He hadn't gotten more than two consecutive hours of sleep since there had been a knocking on his coffin in Nibelheim, and the last time he had gotten more than eight hours in a given week was right after he had been dropped off by Cid, after the battle in the Northern Crater. And hell, that was more assimilating information through sleep than actual tiredness. The thought brought the imperceptible upturning of one corner of his mouth that served as a smile. He stood up, and walked over to the door. His tall frame bent slightly, his arms stretched in front of him, he leant on the doorframe and gazed out into the night. The stars at least, were constant. The watched, and missed nothing, and judged not. His mutations, his occasional lapses into bestiality, worried them not. They didn't eschew him, despise him, revile his hideous nature. And for that he thanked them. He looked up and down the road, and saw only one house still lit up. Then, as he looked on, the light winked away, and he was left viewing the world by moonlight, albeiting enhanced by monstrosity. He sighed, and went back inside. It was well into the morning now, and a few soft sounds emanated from the guest rooms. None of which concerned him. He sat back down at his usual table, and watched both doors. He had a feeling that he wouldn't welcome someone coming out of either one.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]At another table, Kinrade watched with amusement. Nepenthe seemed somewhat...unassailable. And from the look of things, Flare hadn't noticed that. The resulting conflagration would certainly be interesting, but Kinrade had other concerned. He beckoned Lacroix, who came over. He seated himself, helping himself to a glass of wine.[/I] Lacroix: Alright then....assorted demons, sprite, elementals and various other outsiders placated, bribed, coerced or lured into an alliance. Or at least into slaughtering anyone who comes too close. Kinrade: If we're unassailable, why the preparations? Lacroix: I've been assulted five times in the past. On each of those occasions, the war was settled without a casualty on my side. Thus, I have somewhat of a reputation to maintain.... [I]The was a moment of silence, before Kinrade let out a roaring laugh that drew attention from the entire common room. Through the sudden silence, he spoke heartily.[/I] Kinrade: Whatever you reckon. You could have a thousand casualties, and hearsay would bring it down to a single scratch. Lacroix: So what do you think no casualties would do?[/font][/color]

[color=crimson][font=gothic]Meh, I estimated. [/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: My first post...and it alreadt deserves to be shot. Oh well. ?And like the brat child, your demeanour becomes sweet to your parents when the larger children find your quips offensive. A driven affectation, I?m sure.? [I]The voice was soft, in no way low or deep, but acidic enough to scald. The phrasing was a critic?s whiplash, undercut with eddying currents of sardonic amusement and contempt. The owner of the voice took a single step forward, soundless despite hard boots on a harder floor. The voice fit him like a glove. Lacroix tilted his head slightly, long black hair obscuring his face. It was a tactic he found useful. Proximity allowed him to penetrate his raven shroud, others found it an impassable wall. A conceit Lacroix chose to foster within himself. He surveyed those around him, having dismissed the mayor upon meeting him. The mayor looked discomforted never the less. He tugged at his collar, suddenly finding it too tight.[/I] ?I regret that your initial reception in Aiken may have been a little, discommoding, but-?, Burman managed to get out before being cut off with a stinging retort that seemed to funnel away into amicable levels. ? -I believe you were speaking to the group as a whole. It would be somewhat selfish of me to deny them your...afflatus.? [I]It was said just as softly, but a harder note entered his voice.[/I] [I]Obviously having no idea what he meant, the mayor took it as a compliment. He visibly drew himself up, as wan and tawdry as a shaggy preening peacock.[/I] Burman: Indeed as Goodman...[I]Lacroix flicked an eyebrow, but said nothing[/I]... Lacroix here was saying, I am here to extend Aiken?s collective plea for your aid. I?m afraid we are a small village, unversed in the ways of the wider world... ?Get to the point?, [I]The wild looking forest dweller interrupted with an ill-grace typical of his kind. Lacroix dismissed him immediately, though certain accents in his speech marked him as unusual. There were many unusual things in the world though, and the mayor was speaking again. For what that was worth.[/I] ?Yes. Well, um, perhaps my assistant could explain it better. A wonder she is, and most, most wise. I just don?t know what Aiken would do without her in these dark times. She should be on her way-ah, there she is?. [I]Burman?s voice had a peculiar note in it, an almost fawning quality that drove Lacroix to despise him all the more. In response to his almost adoring conjecture, in stepped a plain clad, beautiful female.Another male in thrall to a pretty face most likely. Burman didn?t seem to be one to appreciate faces though... From the way she lowered her gaze slightly, and her hand fidgeted on her tightly held cloak, Lacroix was inclined to dismiss her as one of those academics who believes setting up shop in a small, mostly uneducated town would gain them respect. Something about her face caught attention though. Her long, chestnut hair fell forward with her gaze. Having used the tactic minutes previously, Lacroix held back that harsh, metallic chuckle that served him as laughter. She apprised everyone in the room, even Burman. Lacroix took in those pale blue eyes as she gazed at him. He inclined his head ever so slightly, in an ironic salute. He received in return the raised hackles of a riled predator. This one might have actually had a spine in her. Before he could test that further, she flickered her glance onwards. After inspecting every member of this little menagerie with the intensity of a drill sergeant, she spoke in a quiet, nervous voice, completely at odds with what Lacroix had seen.[/I] ?Yes, well, as our good Burman here says, I am a woman of some erudition. My name is Jynesee Lamondale, a scholar from Whitehold. Despite my extensive historical knowledge of the village of Aiken and surrounding environs, I?m afraid to say, that...well, as a human, and as, I would guess, a scholar, I can come to ... well, no forthright conclusion as to the reason behind recent calamitous events.? [I]Lacroix grinned wolfishly, though his lips never moved. His eyes however, seemed to grow that small sparkle inherent in an amused visage. Before the woman could continue her disjointed speech, he unstoppered a belt flask, a took a small swig.[/I] ?Amontillado anyone? [I]For some reason, everyone declined the offer. Jynesee looked at him in mild annoyance. Lacroix could almost see her foot tapping. She continued her speech, lapsing into that monologue used by academics all over.[/I] ?As I?m sure you are all aware, we have had several disappearances of late, or a most concerning and worry nature. Analysis of the surroundings the lost souls were last seen in turns up a complete lack of evidence. As well, there have been brutal attacks on the bovine creatures that feed this village.? [I]She seemed inclined to say little more, but the mayor stepped forward again, thanking her profusely for her insight and wisdom. He turned to the group, inviting them to share in his adulation for her.[/I] ?Thank you Jynesee. I?m sure we are all refreshed and challenged by your unique point of view.? [I]The Endilan, from the voice. Nice to know that certain traits were too good to be confined to humanity. Lacroix was sure, deep in his heart, that one day the common threads of prejudice, hatred, corruption and disregard would bind the assorted races together into a huge, necessarily bureaucratic, alliance of blind idiocy. Until then, he?d ignore diplomacy as a dying art. He started to pay a little more attention, an act that strangely coincided with Jynesee starting to get to the point.[/I] ?I took the liberty of having a psychometrist examine the area around the disappearances. So far, nothing has been found. It as if the area had never existed before the psychometrist stepped into it. Which leads me to believe that a demonic influence is to blame? [I]The mayor stepped forward again, bowing to the flustered woman. Jynesee voiced a sotto voce reply, and let herself out. She cast a backwards glance, and caught Lacroix?s amused stare. She ignored it. Burman was speaking blithely about how a simple man such as he was unequiped to deal with such fell creatures from the abyss as had besieged his town and whatnot. A few low voices showed that there were a few other people in this room inclined to believe as well. Lacroix decided that since his getting out of here had a precursor of finding out what was going on, he would head that line of speculation off before it got started.[/I] ?One problem. It?s not demonic.? [I]He cut through the muttering with a hard whisper, attracting more than one disdainful stare. Lacroix ignored them, and continued.[/I] ?My father was the head of the Vishaki mage clan. I studied there quite a while. Now, just as a curiosity, psychometry works through the imprintations of aura patterns. Demons, being etheric, cannot possibly drain aura patterns. As to what it could be, I have no idea, so don?t ask. [I]Strangely enough, the mayor glared at him, a look in his eye that made Lacroix give serious thought to knifing him now rather than later. What exactly was this Jynesee, to ensnare one to this degree, even one as simple minded as Burman. Lacroix retreated, letting everyone else discuss the matter. At the end of it, he?d be fed the details, offer a few improvements if necessary, and not have to sit through the intervening diatribe as every person thought they knew the best way to ?catch the killer?. As voices were raised, Burman looked apprehensive, and suggested everyone retire, to give them all time to think about ?the issue?, as he tactfully phrased it. Lacroix was led to another empty house, per his request. He bolted all the windows, and shoved furniture against what openings he could. Lying down in the narrow, uncomfortable bed, his days in the Order Of The Eldritch Heart came back to him, as they always did. The monks of that order sought to better themselves physically through mental discipline. They had taught ways to decrease physical limitations, through mantras to dispel pain and exhaustion, through concentrating synapses of the brain into direct energy, through dissolving energy through one?s surroundings.... Lacroix sat bolt upright in bed. Could a rogue monk of the Order, or someone trained in a similar fashion, be the cause of this? Not likely, monk would ever be capable of such bestial attacks. They were too self-contained to be afflicted with any kind of ailment along the lines of lycanthropy. Still, if the creature out there was using such a technique, Lacroix was well aware of the measures used to combat it. This situation however, first required flushing the beast out. The people of Aiken were farmers and villagers. Most likely none of them had ever experienced something unique in the village?s history. Lacroix and the others were travellers of sorts, from what he gathered. The auric emanations they put out would be coloured by hard experience. And feeling that, the energy draining creature would search those people out. Experience brought mental strength. Mental strength brought a tasty snack.... Lacroix waited for dawn, wondering exactly why he didn?t just ?skip town? now and be done with it. He didn?t like this idea, it offered some nasty risks, versus a reward that meant nothing to him. Still, perhaps one of the others would have a better idea.[/I][/font][/color]

[color=crimson][font=gothic]I'd the baby, on the express condition it never came within earshot again... I'd do it. Hell, I'd play a good old game of Russian Roulette, regardless of money being involved. Don't know why.[/font][/color]

[color=crimson][font=gothic]Number of time the words "let go" appear in Jack's sig: >50. I rest my case.[/font][/color]

[color=crimson][font=gothic]Simple. I'm taking out JC for siding with you. I would have thought you would have realised that.[/font][/color]