Shadow Slayers

Zerah's face turned sour once more. Was he never to escape this man's influence? Was this the imp's fate? To be reminded of everything that had been done to him that day? Zerah shook his head, watching as Manasa tried reaching for a book. He looked over to the journal that had been dropped on the floor. He picked it up off the ground and closed the book. Yet, instead of giving it to her right away, he read through the entries. This man was worse than he had imagined. Good thing Rylan hadn't gone with Valdus. Valdus would've probably gotten experimented on if that were the case. He lifted his eyes from the book and looked back down at Manasa, now huddled in the fetal position. This wasn't shocking at all, as Zerah had wanted to do the same when he first experienced it.

"Manasa, don't move around too much, you'll make the black blood infect you quicker, and thus, it will make it more painful." He retorted. "The best thing you can do for yourself is lay there for a while until the pain goes away. And from then on, don't do anything stupid again." Zerah tossed the book down in front of her. "Did you drink that voluntarily? Do you know what you've done to yourself? Now you're like me. Now you're like Ryker and Ruth and Ninazu! Now you're like....Rylan.." Zerah finally uttered in a fit of rage. "That blood is a curse. A fate worse than death. The suffering you'll have to endure. All because you let your curiosity get the better of you." Zerah sighed and turned away. "If you have any questions, I'll be in the military quadrant of the castle."

The imp walked off, needing to blow off some steam. He made it into what appeared to be a room meant for training. Dummies lined the wall, tattered and worn from multiple use. Zerah found the best armor he could to fit the least-tattered figure and suited it up. With that, Zerah pounded away. Punch after punch, kick after kick, bite after bite, Zerah unleashed all his pent-up aggression on this dummy. The armor was dented, the fabric was torn, but Zerah didn't stop. He pushed the training dummy up against the wall and continued his attack. He continued to strike at this dummy, not holding anything back. By the end of this onslaught, the armor had completely crumpled into the stomach of the now-destroyed dummy, which laid indented into a crater on the wall. Zerah let out huffs of air as he stared at the result of his handiwork.

But alas, this didn't help. He was angrier than ever, and with nearly 30 dummies in the room, Zerah quickly went to town on all of them.

Life around him was little more than a mess, he could feel none of it. The fresh wounds he had given himself, Manasa's "recovery", Ooro's needle piercing his skin once more. Rezza was unable to grasp any of it. This was nothing like when these feelings would arise around the other healers; all of whom had joined because they had the ability to use magic on their own while he only stayed to avoid going home. Back then they would find something small that he would be able to easily fix once he had become proficient enough in low level healing to be able to use it without what ever effects his staff granted him. Swallowing the heavy lump in his throat he decided he was useless here, to anyone, and bumbled clumsily to his feet. He left his staff behind, surely he had no use for it if he couldn't even do the one thing he had put so much of his life into learning. Slowly the healer hobbled away wandering through the halls with no goal in mind, though he didn't stray too far into the depths of the castle before crumpling to the ground. An uncomfortable heat was building its way up his spine. Laying himself back he stared at the ceiling, he wanted to reach out for someone. Anyone. He just wanted it all to stop. All the pain and all the torment
'I could...' He thought back to his past many years ago. 'I could try it again...' Recalling the first time the fathers encouraged him to try using magic without the help of his staff, when even the smallest amount of energy would produce the same effect. One moment he held his hands out. The next he could only remember writhing in pain under an intense heat. 'What if it works this time? What if it...' With no one around to help he thought he could at least try to help himself. He would try to focus his efforts on himself.

This time much like others before yielded no good results. Without the proper instrument his spell was unfocused, his energy flowing out of his control. Rezza felt as though he was on fire. Lurching forward he let out a shriek of pain, while he was able to cut off the magic's flow he had lost so much of it in his wasteful stunt. Hunching forward he held his head between his knees, the heat the had began running up his spine slowly had made its way to his throat. His stomach twisted as he began to cough and sputter out blood, before falling back to the floor. Everything he had been doing had only led to him hurting himself so he figured that he might as well just give up and resign to doing nothing.
(((I redrew the image in this post simply on a whim because i liked where it started. original is under spoiler for comparison)))

Galystris let out a heavy sigh as she watched Oxy run off.
It was about time to go back to the way things were before.
Fade into the background and let the guild take it’s course, while she was silent and spoke to nearly nobody.
How…boring.
She wanted to slap herself for this thought. She had to stay out of the affairs of others….well, that’s what she told Galystris.
Despite her feelings for her lingering, Galystris realized that she was relinquished from her control, she was free to feel, to think, to laugh, to cherish others.
But after all, she had to preserve her legacy.
She let out a dry chuckle.
“Love dies hard.” she said bitterly and slightly angrily.
She prepared herself internally to let the days blend together to a bunch of white noise until the next fight or important event. 
Until she woud prove to be of some use to the guild.
Just like before.

"D-Do not rush m-me.....," he muttered, the cold having now starting to show its influence on his speech. He took the long-sleeved shirt from Enoch's possession and quickly donned it on, a sleeve at a time. He pulled up most of his dampened hair with one hand and held it as he went for another towel, draping that over his shoulders before letting the hair fall again. Now that he was assured that his new shirt wouldn't be ruined so quickly, the shaman moved onto the next step: figuring out how the strange fasteners (buttons) that ran down its middle work. Altheron stared at the round, golden clasps in utter bewilderment, an act he had become a little too accustomed to making ever since he left home. Had it not been for these things, this whole nudity fiasco would've ended, but nope. Instead, the man stood there silent, staring down at the garment, a slit of his torso still exposed, his friend now probably exhausted with his behavior. And now there was more commotion at the door, something that made the shaman jump out of his slump and rush to the closed door, a small smile forming as he sped forward and tore it open.


"Ooro!" he shouted, still not caring much about controlling his volume. "Could you help me with..." he gestured toward the button-down shirt, "this?"

Clarissa wandered the halls, a frown on her face as Celty's voice nagged at her to relinquish control again. She'd woken up a bit ago and seemed to be nervously rattling on about something involving the snake woman who had a soft spot for her son. Eventually, the witch gave in with a sigh, focusing her energy on locating the woman. She found her after only a few twists and turns, coming across her laying in a chair in the main hall. She appeared to be in severe pain and unable to hold a proper conversation from her perspective. The witch pulled up a chair, not even bothering to ask if her company would be allowed, and folded her arms as she sat across from the woman. She noticed Osseus and adverted her gaze from him.

"Sorry to interrupt whatever this is. Celty wants to talk with you. Something to do with the child. It shouldn't take more than a few moments. You two can finish if you're discussing something already." Clarissa said dismissively, waving a hand as though it were a trivial matter. "I'd like to get it over with since she'll be cutting into my time for the day. You seem to be in quite a bit of pain. I'm not a healer, but I can block the signals to your brain for a short period. You'll be numb, but at least we can get this over with." She winced a bit as Celty screamed something in her mind. "Apparently I'm being rude." She sighed deeply. "M-May I?" She stammered out, the politeness seeming to literally be painful for her. 

Manasa wrinkled her nose at the witch as she interupted her interaction with Osseus before it even started. She shook her head at Clarissa's offer and then spoke; "Witches are foreign to my people, but from the way you've treated Oxy and caused Celty to lie to use I do not trust you. I refuse your healing. As for Celty... I'll listen to her but I don't know if I can believe what she has to say any longer." Manasa bit her lip, curious about what the mother had to say but at the same time wanting to keep it brief. She deserved to be treated with respect, just as everybody else in the guild did, but to believe everything that she had to say like her betray had never happen... That would simply be unwise.

'Is that so.' Luair's worries only grew, though she knew best to not panic.


Luair averted her eyes out of courtesy, her face a little flushed. Once Ooro had got the job done she looked up and greeted him.

'Hello Altheron. May I talk with you?' She noticed Enoch through the door. 'And hello to you too, Enoch!'