Skies of Blood [Ciroton]

Marshlands stretched for miles in every direction. The City of Fire was cornered between the lake, mountains, forests, and marshes. Past the marshes was the nearest city, so through them was the fastest course.

His feet sloshed through the murky water as he slowly crossed the yawning bog. His noseless senses cringed at the awful stink. What made such an awful smell in this sort of place, he couldn’t imagine, nor did he really care. What mattered were the nine hundred and ninety-nine, and he intended on finding them. They were hard to locate because he wasn’t even sure who they all were. However, she would tell him when he came near. He knew the thousand had to be alive and powerful, but what other categories they fell into were even beyond his own understanding. As long as he got them all, it didn’t matter… just like the stink of the swamp.

The sky was red. Perhaps it was the sunset; perhaps something in the sky was reflecting the reddish swamp, or maybe someone threw Hell into the heavens. He stopped for a moment, wondering if the sky mattered. It didn’t. He continued, but now with his head bent back skyward, staring without eyes into the heavens… or was it Hell now. Would it rain blood? Would it bleed rain? The reddish clouds in the sky laughed at him. Or were they white? Maybe he always saw red, maybe it was a lens that was lodged in his mind. It would bleed blood tonight, this morning, in the sky. It was now morning, and blood was in the sky.

An hour of dreadful walking inched by before the blood fell. It started raining. Whether it rained rain or bled rain, or rained blood, He couldn’t tell. There was a lot he couldn’t tell, and there was a lot that didn’t matter. This didn’t matter. What mattered were his mission and the goal that was beyond it. What was in this for him? Did it matter? Did he matter? Yes to the first, to the second he wasn’t sure.

He froze in his tracks, his thoughts stopping for the time being. Was he being watched? No, it wasn’t a question, he was being watched. Five years will disorient you when you haven’t walked on solid ground for so long, but he knew now that he was being watched, he could hear their thoughts. Did that matter? Yes.

Ooc: Meh, I'm not good at starting things. ;P

Gentle droplets of rain plummeted to the city below, emissaries of the sky to the creatures below. Yet, the citizens continued about their daily activities, unfazed by the soothing water that fell from the clouds above. Merchants continued to peddle their wares, blacksmiths continued to forge, and mothers continued to shop for food. The only things missing on this day were the children, normally laughing and frolicking in between everything else.

However, one person did not fit into any of those categories. Instead, they seemed to capture the gaze of any passer by, as though no one had seen anything like them. Perhaps it was the colour of their hair or eyes? Maybe even the sword coupled to their belt? No. It was all of that, with their cheery disposition on top of it all.

Whistling a tune as they strolled down the busy street, they seemed the prime target for a thief or two. In fact, as she passed a dark ally, a grizzled and scarred hand grabbed her by the collar and pulled her into the darkness. Slammed against the damp stone wall, the traveler showed no sign of resistance, their smile still upon their face.

“G-give me all your money, woman!” Stuttered the cold, aging man as she gripped her collar with one hand, and her neck with the other. It was obvious that he would soon leave this world, his slightly glazed eyes and his terrible cough a dead give away. “Give it to me or else-or else I’ll kill you!” The desperate and sickly man whispered so he would not alert anyone on the street.

“Of course,” replied the woman. With those words, her entire body sank through the stone, only to reappear behind him. She grasped the grip of the blade sheathed at her side, the smile still on her face. With all the speed she could muster, the woman quickly drew her sword. The last sight the elderly man would see would be that of a blade sticking out of his chest.

*/\/\/\*/\/\/\*/\/\/\*

News, bad news in particular, has a habit of spreading like wildfire in small cities. This case was no exception, murmurs of the murder reaching the strange woman’s ears a few short hours later. It gave her an odd sense of accomplishment to hear such details of her work so shortly after doing it. Usually, it would take more effort for them to notice so fast.

Finally feeling the chill of her soaked clothing against her fair skin, the murderous woman decided to find the nearest bar and settle down for a few hours. Perhaps I’ll have a little more fun with my next victim before I kill them, she mused as she walked toward the door. Stepping onto the covered porch outside, she watched as the people went about their business. Quickly growing bored of this; she walked into the bar.

All the men turned as they saw her enter, her soaked clothes reveling her cleavage for public display. She felt no shame or embarrassment as she walked up to the barkeeper. Heck, it might even help her find victim number one hundred of this bout. Sitting at a vacant stool, she kept the smile plastered on her face as she ordered her drink, all the men still staring at her. Yet, as time passed, and her clothes dried, their eyes left her figure and on to more important things.

Mioska, whispered a voice coming from her sword. I sense a powerful presence coming this way.

The woman named Mioska simply nodded her head, having sensed the presence, on her own accord, a little while before.

OoC: Just so you know, she was watching your character, just not literally. *Slaps head* I guess I forgot about that bit. *Laughs* [Edit]... As well as explaining that she is in that other city, not the City of Fire.

The faceless continued his trudging through the marshes. He kept his mind open, listening to his watcher’s thoughts. It excited him; he could hear what she was thinking even without seeing her. Her thoughts didn’t surprise him; she was apparently taking note of his potential power. Would she attack? It seemed like she was still trying to figure that out herself, like she was consulting someone else first. Either way, what her thoughts were exactly didn’t matter, it was their intentions. It was a shame, though; this one didn’t feel like one of the one thousand. She wasn’t nearby anyway; she was watching him from a distance, though with her feelings and not her eyes. If she wanted to attack, she would have already, unless she wasn’t close enough. Though he didn’t feel threatened by this presence, he kept his senses keen. He never let his guard down his entire walk, even as he walked through the entrance to Bredik, the first city on his list.

Before he reached the gate, he was sure to seal his mask over his “face”. He’d keep his head low and stay within the shadows, avoiding any contact until one of the thousand were identified… or until that presence he sensed from earlier finally showed herself. Stealth would always be his key to surviving in populated areas, especially the larger ones. Bredik wasn’t a large village, but that didn’t change his usual method of going unseen.

It wasn’t long after crossing through the city gates that he noticed a complete stranger slip by, reach his hand into his jacket, and snatch away something of his… the key. If he were any ordinary human being, he might not have noticed the pick pocket that just stole his most precious item. This simply wouldn’t do, he couldn’t let this one slide unpunished.

The thief was already making his swift getaway. His mind was pleased, he thought he was scot-free. There was no way he’d be caught now. He clutched his prize in his hand, something that would sell for a good something in the market.

His plans vanished in one split second. He’d run into something. His eyes made the long trip down to his chest, black blade piercing clean through out his back. He dragged his sight to the sword’s wielder. Everything was fading, it was hard to tell but he knew this was the one he stole from. The image of the demonic face of his murderer etched itself into his mind as he slowly slipped into Hell.

The killer snatched his key from the scum’s still-clutched hands before he fell. He must have had good eyes, this one, to actually see what his “victim” had hidden around his neck. It was a shame he wasn’t one of the thousand, else this kill would have actually meant something. The only difference now was that everyone was in a panic, people running and screaming as if all Hell broke loose. It didn’t take a genius to understand they all were in fear of him, practically everyone on the street having seen his mask.

The rain ran through the eyeholes of the skull latched to his head. The sky was still red; Hell hadn’t been unleashed yet, it had only leaked through.

Screams resounded down the crowded street and into the bar where the Hellfire sword and its servant sat. Just like everybody else in the establishment they turned around, but not because they were scared, because they were upset they did not cause the blood-curdling screams of people fleeing and the general chaos that radiated from the south.

Several of the demons only the woman could see were enjoying the spectacle outside. Long ago, she learned that it was best to ignore them, however, they seemed quite insistent today. Curiosities ruling over her, Mioska walked out of the bar and into the street, walking through the crowd like a fish swimming up river.

Even Vaskalen grew a little curious, even a little excited at this development. If it were a demon, or some very powerful human, then it would have revenge over the man in the green cloak that humiliated it so. Mioska, whispered the sword to the woman who carried it. Check out the source of that chaos, whoever it is, they may prove useful to our goals.

What if they aren’t interested? The strange woman thought back.

Then kill them. I thought we went over this a dozen times already!

Of course, master, I’m sorry.

A broad smile graced her face as she came closer to the source of the commotion; maybe they would be a friend? The young and elderly lay fallen on the drenched street, doing their best to avoid being trampled to death. Many were unsuccessful.

Soon the crowd thinned out and disappeared altogether, giving the woman and her sword a clear view all the way to the city wall. Standing right in front of them was a man with long, blood red hair, black clothing, and an interesting hat that gave off a metallic gleam despite the weather. On the other side of this stranger lay a huddled mass that was once the thief, its blood mixing with the rain water, turning puddles red.

“So, you caused this,” spoke Mioska to this, the very being she sensed coming. “Your form was good, however, you lacked style. Killing is good and all, but wouldn’t making them suffer a bit suffice as well?”

I can’t believe she’s giving him tips, thought the sword of Hellfire to itself.

Ooc: Eh, haven't written a post this short in a while.

Bic:

The faceless stared the newcomer in the eye. Who was she to give him a suggestion such as that? No style? Who was this person, a dance teacher? Obviously this woman didn’t realize that this boy just entered the gates of hell, a place of eternal torment and never ending agony, couldn’t get much more style than that. Sure it was a little harsh, but he made the mistake of steeling his key, thus he deserved an afterlife of eternal death.

“Hell isn’t enough suffering for you? If that’s the case, I’m most certainly lacking style.” Meaningless words, true, something he hated, but from time to time they needed to be said.

Something was amiss about this person, out of place; it was almost as if multiple personalities resided within her brain. Quite odd, things sounded weird inside her head. He could tell this woman wasn’t alive, but even so in the mind of the undead, it was out of place. This didn’t seem important, so he set it aside for now. What was important was the dark presence he felt emanating from the woman’s sword.

He studied the blade with his eyeless sight. Quite interesting; the power he could sense coming from it was immense, perhaps almost matching the power of his own blade. If that were the case, this might be a rather interesting encounter, if the situation morphed into a battle.

Talking, how troublesome. “I sense you have a reason for approaching me like this. Let’s not stand here all day; out with what you wanted to tell me.”

OoC: Also a short post. Oh well, something tells me when we get to the fight their length will increase.

BiC:
Rain continued to fall on the scene, now accompanied by it’s relatives thunder, and lightning. In other parts of the town, the villagers fled into the safety of their homes. However, the two strangers in the town’s eastern thoroughfare refused to let a little rain dampen their plans. They continued to look each other down through the ever-increasing wall of water.

Mioska put a finger to the corner of her lip, tapping it as though that might spur her memory. “You know,” she said after a minute’s silence. “I’ve completely forgot why I came here.”

If Vaskalen had a hand, or even a head for that matter, it would’ve slapped its forehead right then. We’re here to ask him if he is willing to join our cause. If not we’re going to try and force him, whispered the sword to the disturbed woman.

She groaned like a child being ordered to take a bath. “Do I have to?” She spoke aloud to both the man and the empty street. “Every time it’s the same old thing, usually with the same old answer. Why can’t we just invite him for something like tea?”

Tea? Vaskalen whispered. You want to invite him to tea!?

“Well yeah,” continued Mioska. “That is if he likes tea, perhaps he’s more of a coffee or beer person,” she said, scratching behind her ear curiously.

Now soaked from the downpour, a shiver ran up the woman’s spine. In her twisted mind she knew she would not get sick, yet she didn’t particularly like begin cold and wet for long periods of time, unless she could help it. Letting out a small sigh, Mioska decided to follow her master’s direction, and ask this man to join her cause.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” she muttered to the sword. “The reason I confronted you here today is that my master wishes to know if you will be willing to join his cause to make a new hell on earth. Something tells me I know the answer, but whatever.” After voicing Vaskalen’s wishes, she remained rooted on the spot, awaiting his decision.

Ooc: When the battle starts, our posts will be bigger, yes. Of course size isn't always everything.

Bic:

What a bizarre woman. A little pathetic, a bit sad actually, but no doubt this lady had a tortured mind. Something within her was confusing to read, it made her very unpredictable. He’d have to restrain from trying to listen to her mind, it wouldn’t be worth trying to figure out in case something were to suddenly erupt. Even through the confusing state within her head, he knew without a doubt this girl was nothing but a pawn. He took a single step forward, his gaze fixated on the girl’s blade. There was something about that sword….

His attention finally broke from the weapon. “Hell on earth, you say.” What an odd proposition. “Why would I want a hell on earth?” He asked with a fake interest. “We’ve already got a lake burning with fire and brimstone beneath our feet, why do we need one right here?” He had no interest in whatever she had to offer, degrading the planet to a realm of torture wasn’t in his agenda. However, that sword of hers still intrigued him. Obviously it wasn’t nearly as important as his own blade, but it still tugged at his curiosity.

“I have my own schedule… However, I will help you if you give me your sword.” He had no intention of helping her, nor did he expect her to give him her sword. Still, at least now he’d get some sort of response as to the importance of the blade.

He couldn’t waste time like this for long, he had people to kill. It could be years before he would kill all of the thousand at this rate. He’d have to make up for lost time as soon as this girl was out of the picture, one way or another.

OoC: This should get things moving.

BiC:
Sighing once more, the young woman looked at the man who now requested her master. Although the answer popped up immediately in her twisted head, she delayed responding as though giving the matter serious thought. Meanwhile, the Hellfire sword grew more intrigued with the man’s sword. There was no doubt it had great power, perhaps greater then it’s own. However, Vaskalen had one thing the other sword didn’t have: Experience.

Ever since fighting the man cloaked in green, Vaskalen grew more cautious about running into strange people wielding any sort of weapon. Thankfully, none of the warriors it encountered since could compare to the green cloaked man. However, it could not afford another humiliating defeat such as that again or there would be hell to pay.

“Sorry, I can’t,” spoke Mioska to the man. “Master just wouldn’t be happy. He’s scary when he’s angry, but not as scary as a Qulax, those things are downright freaky.”

Her and her imaginary creatures, though Vaskalen, growing more annoyed as time passed.

“One more thing,” continued the disturbed woman. “I’m afraid I’ll have to kill you now, Master doesn’t like people who plan against it.” Grasping Vaskalen’s grip, she slowly drew the longsword from it’s scabbard. The blade gave an eerie wink of light despite there being no sun as the rain continued to fall. Giving a small display of her abilities with the sword, she stood there and waited for the strange man to attack.

I’ll just let him think I can only fight with a sword. Then, I might be able to catch him off-guard when I start using some of my real power. I love these games, hopefully he’ll last a while, mused Mioska as she awaited the man’s advance.

He stood there unfazed. This battle had a foggy outcome; he could kill, or he could fail. Usually, he’d have the advantage from the very start. However, in this instance, his enemy had something very powerful in her possession. He felt it wasn’t as powerful as Sin, but still quite strong. He’d have to be careful about this one; if he let his guard down he might actually be hit a few times.

“One more thing,” continued the disturbed woman. “I’m afraid I’ll have to kill you now, Master doesn’t like people who plan against it.” Again with the master, was she talking about her sword?

“Ah yes, no letting me survive now.” His mask’s line of vision locked onto the girl’s eyes. “Might as well run me through right now, eh?” His hand slowly wrapped around his blade’s hilt. “Come; thrust your blade into my heart.”

The black blade was free from its scabbard in a flash. An evil shiver escaped into the sky, spreading across the city and down everyone’s spine. Instantly, the air got much colder. A thin dark fog swirled around the sword in perfect harmony with the weapon’s deafening silence. The blade was free and ready to kill.

He glanced once more at the little woman’s now exposed sword. He wondered what it really looked like, with human eyes. Would it sting to stare at such a blade? He shifted his posture and poised his blade for an attack. In an instant, he lurched forward.

Blade met blade in an eerie clash. He pushed his blade off his enemy’s sword and over the girl’s head, flying, or floating, several meters away before shoving off the side of a building. He came in fast, sword shrieking against metal in another tang of swords. His right foot hugged the dirt as his left landed a kick. When he felt the connection, he vanished.

Mioska stumbled a little from the force of the impact, but recovered in a flash, ready for the next assault. The man’s speed was nothing like she had ever seen before, but Vaskalen could see it was slower then the man in the green cloak, if only by a little. Humiliation from that battle still haunted the Devil’s sword, only being defeated once before by the Almighty God. Maybe it was weaker then it though?

“Nice move,” said it’s female servant. “Looks like this’ll be fun! Not like those other people who die by now.”

Putting some of her own strength into the blade she swung wildly, bringing down buildings all around her in blast of combined red and black. Despite the heavy rain, dust obscured vision turning sharp images into blurry, undefined blobs of mass. Satisfied with the destruction, her focus turned back to the man who was trying to kill her, not like it would help him.

It appeared the man had yet to realise the shadows spoke to her, and that they gave away his location even through the fog of war. Sensing an on-coming charge, she faced the direction he would come from, and readied her master. However, a sudden kick in her upper back caused her to fall forward, cutting herself on the blade. Let’s not heal yet, I want to surprise him, thought the disturbed woman.

Vaskalen could tell the man was only toying with them, his last few attacks lacking any strong desire to inflict as much pain as possible. Or did he just want them to think he was toying with them? The recent defeat had taught the sword of Hellfire to not underestimate those in the mortal plain.

Jumping to her feet, the woman primed herself to go on the offensive at last. The man could move faster then the darkness could tell her his location, she would have to be a tad more careful from here on out if she wished to succeed. A curt smile spread across her face and she began to hum a tune that sounded like a battle theme.

“You’re just a big puppy-dog,” spoke Mioska. “Your bark is worse then your bite.” The audience of creatures sitting on the nearby roof began to cheer and howl with laughter at her remark. Like a good entertainer, she bowed toward the gracious audience.

“You’re just a big puppy-dog,” spoke Mioska. “Your bark is worse then your bite.”

He didn’t bother to respond. Faceless taunts meant nothing to him. Instead he just gazed with his eyeless stare into the woman’s fleshly eyes. Neither she nor her sword had revealed much of their strength, yet he knew there was great power lurking within them. He’d keep his guard up as usual, never underestimating. It was always smarter to overestimate than anything else.

He shifted his stance slightly. He wouldn’t release any more of his strength until he knew more about this enemy. He needed to know what they were capable of before he initiated stronger tactics. With his sword in his right hand, he lurched forward with a weak swing, clashing in a series of effortless slashes.

His vision remained focused on the girl and her sword, the rest of the square as well. As they moved through the streets, the obstacles around them would become an eventual advantage. As long as he’d keep his training in mind, there’s no way he could lose, but he didn’t let that mindset settle because ultimately it would harbor overconfidence.

He gripped his hilt with both hands; trying to elude the girl and her master into thinking he needed the extra strength. It was a subtle gesture, but again he was merely following his training. This was mere instinct; he didn’t need to think of it as he moved forward for another very humanly strike.

Deception, a magnificent tool.

The girl swung for his head somewhere in the middle of their skirmish. Should he…? No, not yet. He dropped to the ground, rolling to the side as she heaved her mysterious weapon to the floor.

“So what’s its name?” He asked, standing back to his battle-ready stance.

OoC: I havn't had a battle move this fast since, The Nightmare Begins

BiC:
“How would knowing it’s name make any difference?” Mioska asked the strange man. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she continued. “I answered your question with another, how silly of me.” Smiling again, the woman continued to look at the man. Would he attack again? Or would he wait until he received his answer?

Growing bored of sitting and waiting, the woman decided to take the initiative of attacking for him. Swinging haphazardly, she never got close to landing a blow. It was probably a part of her strategy, or so Vaskalen hoped as it was being swung with all the expertise of a toddler.

Next chance you get, whispered the Hellfire sword. Ask him the name of his blade. That is, if it even has one.

“Of course,” spoke the woman aloud. “But why do you want to know? Like I said, It really makes no difference. Then again, if he does say I could give him y- I mean, my sword’s name.”

Again both blades became locked as the woman went in for another strike, the man raising his own to block, and not a moment too soon. The fog temporarily dissipated around the area where the Hellfire Sword struck, but quickly returned even as the two swords remained connected. Sparks of electricity and embers of Hellfire circled their respective blades as each wielder tried to force the other away.

Before the woman backed off, she could not help but notice the man looking at the hole in Vaskalen from behind the eyes of the mask he was wearing. Would he think the sword weak and try to shatter it? The monsters on the roof began chanting, their words encouraging the woman to go all out, before it was too late.

“Tell you what,” Mioska spoke as she back-flipped away from the stalemate. “I’ll tell you my sword’s name, if you tell me yours.”