The Fadeykin Assassin

OoC: Anyone may join this, any number, I expect people to drop out of it numerous times though. This will basically be my hands on version of a character fic for Oreit, and will be the basis of every battle I put him into. Please don't post here if you're just looking for a casual post here and there to improve your character, this is for fun but I want it to be a serious thing to develop my new character. This is basically his biography from now on.

BiC:

The sun beat down relentlessly on the barren desert. This locale was known for its searing heat, something that could only entice a Fadeykin. The yellow sand stretched for miles, no sign of hills, dunes, rocks, trees, or mountains. This desert, the Lal'eri was without doubt the biggest desert known... not even wastelanders were stupid enough to come here. The middle of the desert was surrounded by somewhere between ten thousand to twenty thousand miles of sand and barely visible rock beds, depending on the direction. The entire desert could account for an entire planet, but it was still small compared to this world. The sky above was dark because of the lack of moisture, stars were visible even in the daytime. The desert had ten significant basins, two monoliths. The monoliths were both within three miles of water, making them easy to reach, but the ocean of sand between them was known to drive people insane if they stared long enough. Some said that this particular desert was home to a god, others that demons and angels had once engaged in war on the parched sand. Oreit knew what had caused this desert.

The desert was below sea level. In fact it was very far below sea level, surrounded by a huge mountain range, making it seem like a sheltered haven were it not for reality. Oreit believed that this had been an ocean, a huge ocean dried up by some force that no one remembers. A large, powerful asteroid would probably be hot and powerful enough to cause this massive water relocation, as well as the mountain range, but Oreit didn't know. He'd been sitting in what he estimated to be the exact center of the desert for a day. It had taken him thirty to get there. How he actually survived the trip he couldn't really remember, but now that he was there, it was worth it. The center of the desert is nothing like anyone would expect given the surrounding land. It was a huge rock bed, high enough to be considered a plateau, roughly the shape of a hat. Oreit had climbed it, for no particular reason, to find something even more surprising. While the land around this comparatively small rock was devoid of any life or moisture, there was a tiny garden on this little plateau. An oasis had somehow managed to stay in the rock, along with some soil. Palm trees and dates surrounded the little dot of water, lending shade so it wouldn't evaporate. Oreit would have never guessed it.

The small oasis was also home to a hermit, another oddity to add to this place's credentials. The man was anything but crazy, and had been sitting with Oreit for three days, meditating together. They hadn't said more than eight words each, those being:

"Hello, may I clean myself in your oasis?" from Oreit, and:

"Yes. After that we should calm our minds," from the hermit. They'd been staring of into space and munching dates ever since.

I wonder how large this desert really is. The annual rainfall is supposedly less than a centimeter, so how does this oasis stay here? Magic. There must be an enchantment on this spot. Is this old hermit a wizard? He may be, but wizards are infamous for their bad tempers and ambition. Perhaps he is an illusionist, this could be a trick... no I would have died from heat exhaustion and lack of water even if this was an illusion. Perhaps an enchanter, those are rarities, but perhaps he has lived longer than even his old and haggard appearance lets on. He may be an enchanter, yes... Oreit's mind wondered, The oasis must be eighty feet deep in the center. It was nearly up to my chin at the edge, imagine the depth that could actually be possible. I see! This man is not an enchanter! The oasis must be a cheenal, and his mind called upon his learning, The cheenal, and ancient oasis of the desert. They haven't found but six, but they believe that these odd phenomena are somehow interconnected via an underwater channel. The water of the cheenal is said to be cleaner than the most sifted and treated waters, as well as eternally cool. This would explain why it did not evaporate from the sun many years past... yes. And the soil, where did that come from? Is that a by-product of the cheenal somehow? I've never heard of a cheenal that did not spawn plants, perhaps the dirt is created by these mystical waters... yes... smiling inwardly, Oreit opened his eyes and studied his host.

"Is this a cheenal?" he asked quietly, watching the hermit breathe deeply and ponder his answer.

The hermit's eyes abruptly opened, and he responded, "Yes. I am caretaker of this cheenal... I was permitted stewardship of this ancient well by the Archangel Galli nearly ten thousand years past. Never have I been visited, but I was told to teach my story to any man, woman, or child that reached this fabled spot," the man pause briefly to return Oreit's gaze, "I was commanded to share with them the story of this desert and the cheenal."

The story was undoubtedly going to be long, so Oreit settled himself as comfortably as he could and leaned forward intently. The old man's story will be revised to leave out certain details about the war, but here is the basic foundation.
____

Many years past, the Archangel Galli went to war with Ellis, the Demon of Anger. The angel's ten legions would have been more than a match for Ellis' petty hoard, but the Demons of Hatred and Malice were also with Ellis. The three had all been Archangels, but Galli's hosts still rushed in arrogantly with little tactic or poise. Galli managed to pull through with major losses, retreating to heaven after a cataclysmic last battle with Oris, the Demon of Malice. Ellis and Kie, the third demon, had been defeated approximately a thousand years previously, very close to the end of the war. Oris took command of the entire demonic hoard, and it was rumored in heaven that even the combined might of Galli and Mohium, another Archangel, would not be enough to conquer this foe. As a result, Oris was left to himself for many years, nearly ten millennia, before Galli took action. Galli's renewed army was more elite, more prepared, now that they had trained for this battle, and managed to beat back the demonic hoard. The victory came at enormous cost, however, as only Galli remained standing on the field.

This final battlefield had been scorched with the combined fury of Oris, Galli, and their respective armies, left as little but a giant pockmark and sand basin. In recognition of this great struggle, Galli created an oasis, a haven for anyone that would brave the desert. He posted a single angel as guard, the angel Mihrin, an avenging angel. Mihrin had minor confrontations with various demons, but the oasis and its special blessing remained powerful enough to become special. Galli created another six, all across the world, to make the mystical oasis perfect, the seven cheenal, the angelic springs. They all stemmed from the first, the largest cheenal, and were interconnected via underground passages, oceans, rivers, and lakes. The story ended there.
____

Oreit eyed his host with certainty now, knowing that this was an angel, but had a question, "If you are an angel, and I believe that you are, why do you not have wings?"

Mihrin laughed suddenly, a sound so mirthful that only an angel or a parent could possibly make it, and answered, "Oh, young man, angels do not have wings. As beings of light and purity, we are very powerful and we can fly, but we do not have wings."

The irony of it struck Oreit suddenly, and he permitted himself an inward chuckle, All this time we think that angels fly because they have wings, and now I learn that they just fly. The prospect was in fact very amusing, but surely the angel would understand why Oreit did not laugh. He'd been hiding emotion for his whole life, so it was only natural for him to continue.

"The time of my loneliness seems to have come to an end," the angel said mirthfully, "Please, stay with me. Galli has already told me that I would have many visitors, perhaps you may meet some of them before you must go your way. You may learn from me, I am many thousands of years old of course... You could learn much from me."

Oreit nodded silently, already slipping back into meditation, So the angels and demons created this desert. Galli seems to be an important angel, perhaps this Mihrin angel is his favorite servant. He offers to teach me combat if another comes, perhaps this would be beneficial. Who else would come to this place I wonder? Certainly no one I have ever heard of, the entire world seems full of fools and cowards. To meet someone new will be a good experience. What could this angel teach me I wonder? No doubt he has infinite sources of magic... he must be more than superhuman in ability, or he would not have kept this oasis safe for so long. He bears no weapons, but perhaps that is common of angels.

Oreit ceased meditating again. Talking to a mortal and conversing with a supernatural being are different matters, and he was not reluctant to speak at all, "Do you bear arms and armor, or do angels cast spells as magicians and wizards do?"

The angel stirred slightly, shifting his weight, then rose, "I shall show you, a true angel in form."

Light seemed to engulf Oreit, as well as the oasis, just then. The purest, whitest light he'd ever seen enveloped the angel suddenly, not hurting his eyes in the least. The light faded enough for him to see a beautiful and terrifying sight. The hermit had changed dramatically, the bland clothes replaced by dazzling silver armor that covered almost every inch of the angel. The angel's body had become nearly eight feet tall, and muscular as well. His cuirass appeared to be fine brushed silver, fitting to his body, but making him seem even larger than he already was. The greaves seemed one with the cuirass, such was the perfection of this garb, as did the boots, pouldrons, and gauntlets, all matching the brushed silver appearance of the cuirass. From the seems at the back of the shoulders, an enormous white cape cascaded down to Mihrin's ankles, followed by two human sized capes that emerged at his waist. Upon his head, a fully enclosed helmet with only a small slit for his eyes covered his head, multiple strips of white cloth draping from its crest. A massive silver claymore was now resting at his side, no sheath or belt holding it there, but still it stayed.

In a voice befitting his new form, the angel spoke, " This, is the true form an angel of avenging, second only to archangels!"

Oreit quaked at the sight of the angel, suddenly terrified, feeling as an ant. The angel gazed back at him, piercing white light emerging only from the slit in his visor now. The Fadeykin watched still more as the angel returned to his hermit disguise in the midst of chuckle, "Young one, there are sights far more terrifying than me in this world. Hope that you never see a true demon, or you will know true fear. Now we must sleep. While I do not need rest, you are only human and must renew your energy. Perhaps when you awake I will have another visitor."

OoC: Ok, it's your choice how you come into this, but anyone that wants to put a demon into this RP... this probably isn't the right time. This angel is basically everything that people in the BA AREN'T ALLOWED TO HAVE. It's basically invincible by our standards. Ok, well, to anyone that joins this, have fun.

Ilya watched the drunken man stumble down the street, a kunai held by it's tip between two fingers. The man felt as if he was being torn in two. It was an easy shot. The ninja could have turned the unsuspecting man into a pinchushin within seconds from his vantage point on the roof of the tavern, yet he hesitated. He was expected to deliver this man's head in a bag if he was to gain the information he desired, but he was unarmed and intoxicated. To take this man's life would be unhonorable.

Ilya sighed as his thoughts ran on a never-ending track that he have visited many times before, but had yet to reach the end of. Honor or expectancy? The ninja gritted his teeth and flicked the kunai down at the man with enough force to pierce the man's spinal cord. And so he did.

Ilya leapt down to the ground and quickly scooped up the body before he was discovered.

* * * * *

"Very good." The greasy man said mockingly, examining the bloody body on the carpeted floor in front of him. "You have done well. And so, as promised, here is the information you seek." He continued, holding out a folded piece of paper.

Ilya quickly snatched the note from the man and spun around on his heel, turning to the large oak door. He hated having to kill for men like Gato, it made him feel as greasy as the man behind him was. He was stopped by a fat hand on his shoulder a few feet from the door and turned his head slightly as Gato spoke once more.

"You know, I have more enemies, as well as more information. You deliver more bodies, and I'll deliver more information."

Disgust and hate filled Ilya at Gato's words. He grabbed Gato's hand with an iron grip and knocked it away with a word-less growl. He shoved the door open and strode out into the night. There was no doubt that Gato's information would be good, and plentifull, but Ilya vowed never to return to him unless it was to kill him.

He was so tired of having to do unhonorable things to gain the information of his target's whereabouts, but it was necissary. But Ilya was close, very close. That he knew. Soon, he would never have to associate himself with dogs like Gato again.

* * * * *

Ilya coughed and pulled a waterskin out of his jacket. Pulling down his face covering, he squirted a lengthy stream of water into his dust filled mouth. He had wandered this endless desert for a week now, and there was still no sign of an end to it.

The ninja closed his eyes and trudged forward, trusting his weary feet to continue to carry him forward. Soon, his wandering feet encountered a slope, causing his eyes to fly open. There was a plateau directly in front of him, and a steep path zig-zagging up it right at his feet. Moaning slightly, his feet once more shuffled on.

Ilya was unable to determine just how much time had passed. But by the time he became aware of himself once more, he was on his knees at the edge of a pool of crystaline water. The ninja pulled a kunai from his leg sheath and looked around. As far as he could tell, he was alone. Turning back to the pool, he inserted his kunai in it and swirled it around.

It seemed real, as well as safe. He still wasn't quite satisfied, but he pulled down his mask and dunked his head into the pool anyway. A shudder ran through the man's body as the cool liquid washed over his head and down his throat. Several minutes passed before Ilya had to remind himself not to gorge and make himself sick.

Sitting back, he looked around. He was surrounded by trees and other various plants, with the stars sparkled overhead, lighting up the clearing. A lush grass covered the ground, oddly shaped rocks dotting the green. Curious, Ilya crawled over to one and picked it up. The ninja was surprized to find that it was soft, and rubbery.

He popped it into his mouth and bit down, an explosion of flavorful juices making his eyes water. Dates! He quickly snatched up as many as he could find and ate them all, enjoying his first meal in several days.

Only content after licking every last drop of juice from his fingers, he fell back against a tree and drifted of into slumber.

OoC: Thanks for joining.

BiC:

Mohium had been monitoring this newcomer since he began his ascent of the plateau. The second visitor had come at last, but the angel still felt no emotion. He often wondered what it felt to be a human... emotion must be a grand thing. Angels of course, having no soul, have no emotion. Despite their nearly limitless power and intelligence they cannot even begin to recreate the simple emotion that even Oreit felt. The archangel, completely invisible to anything but a spirit, was standing just beside the ninja now, leaning over him in pure spirit form. No mortal could see him, but they could all sense a presence if he wished them to.

"Wake up Ilya," he said soothingly, and though the ninja couldn't hear the angel consciously, he stirred immediately, "good. Now, go through those trees over there. You have to meet someone. Yes. that's it." The angel faded away to where Oreit was still sleeping.

Ilya was alert now, completely attuned to his surroundings. His eyes darted into the trees the angel had told him to go through. In reality, the warrior could not hear the angel, and had no idea why he'd woken, but he suddenly needed to enter those trees. The scarlet-draped ninja walked silently towards them, wondering at the way the thick foliage seemed to thin out as he approached. The previously dense patch was now just as the rest of the area was, dotted with the large palms, but not obstructed. Ilya stopped abruptly when he saw who lay in the area he thought to be occupied by trees.

Oreit stood staring at the other, his eyes summing up the man even as he approached. Tall. Taller than I am... six foot. He's heavier than I am as well. He's well armed, carries himself easily... this is a warrior of some kind no doubt of that. The red ninja now stood a yard or so away from the Fadeykin, no doubt doing what Oreit had done while the man approached. Oreit chided himself. Of course he is not, he has not learned as you. You were trained differently.

Neither spoke. The silence of the cheenal's secluded realm undisturbed, the two eyed each other, neither noticing the angel rise and come beside them, "I told you that another would come, or did you disbelieve me?"

Oreit shifted his eyes from the ninja to the angel, responded, "Of course I believed you."

The sentence in itself spoke volumes, an entire conversation revealed itself if the trained ear would notice. The angel spoke again, "Ilya, say hello."

The ninja responded immediately with a ‘hello', then turned to the angel with wide eyes, "You know my name." The words were more of a question than a statement.

"Of course," the angel replied, "I know all about you, as well as young Oreit here," he shifted his eyes in the Fadeykin's direction, "As well as about all who have and will ever come to this place."

Mohium gestured for them to sit, lowering himself to the ground as well. They sat in this position for moments before Oreit asked, "Who is this?" The question was directed at the angel, as if Ilya was not there.

"This is Ilya. A ninja... this I know. He has something to find, but you won't help him Oreit," the angel's eyes sought Ilya's, "He must do that alone." To this the ninja did not respond, only focusing inward all the more. They sat.

Oreit slipped into meditation. How can this be... I am not allowed to, though I know I probably could, help this man. And yet the angel does not wish it? What is this... Surely it must be very severe.

Oreit stopped. He examine the man in front of him, both of them sitting on the flat, grassy plateau. The ninja was now looking back at him, though neither seemed inclined to speak. Oreit began, "You are a ninja? Is that what you take me to be?"

"Yes, I am," the ninja responded, "But you aren't I don't think." He was correct of course; Oreit was no ninja. Assassins were no different than ninjas most of the time, but a Fadeykin was much more.

"You're correct," was the only response Oreit offered, but Ilya seemed to take it easily. The two had nothing that Oreit wished to discuss, but he was not sure the angel would abide this. He would find out soon if the angel wished them to speak. No, the angel seemed content to simply sit. It was as if they were keeping him company for no other reason to do it. Oreit felt that the angel was like a balm, his very spirit seemed to want to lean towards this heavenly one. That would not happen in bodily sense, but it was enough.

Ilya calmly watched to two strangers, his hands resting on the hilts of his swords. The old man, who the ninja knew was no such thing, had an aura of power and holyness around him, as well as a calming presence. Ilya wasn't quite sure what this being was, but he had a good guess, and if he was right, he could probably mark him off as safe, for now.

The ninja turned to the younger man across from him, who was examining Ilya just as closely as Ilya was him. His body was covered with clearly defined, although not bulkly, muscles. Sword caluses covered his palms, and minute scratches marked his arms. To Ilya's mind, all of these things lead him to the conclusion that this man was a fighter, most likely of the more subtle arts.

But more so than anything else, this man's eyes told Ilya just what he was. The crimson-clad man smiled as he looked into those black eyes. They were just like his. The hardened and cold eyes of someone who moves in stealth and strikes from the darkness.

With a slight nod, the ninja stood up, his hands tighting on his katanas. The young man mirrored his movements, his own hand going under his shabby cloak. Without taking their eyes off each other, they each drew a slender blade. Without a word, the two leapt at each other.

The two slender blades flashed through the air, colliding and seperating almost constantly as the two limber men danced around each other. Ilya smiled slightly as the other man whipped around behind him in a grey blur. The dark red ninja brought up his katana without looking and blocked the blow he knew was coming. Ilya kicked up bakwards with his foot, sending the assassin flying back as it connected with his jaw.

Undaunted, Oreit flipped over in the air and landed smoothly on his feet, wakizashi raised in a defensive postion. Dashing forward, Ilya spun around, bringing his blade across the boy's side. The limber young man ducked under the attack and kicked out, his foot whipping under Ilya's as the ninja jumped over it. Once more, the two fighters' sword rang out as they collided.

Ily and Oreit stood there for a moment, eyes locked. Ilya smiled again as he thought about what a good painting thsi sight would make, with the boy crouched down, one leg stretched out and his slender sword suspended above his head with both hands. And Ilya looming over him with one foot planted on the boy's out stretched leg, katana pressed firmly against the wakzashi.

Without warning, Ilya leapt backwards, Oreit spinning to his feet as the ninja released his leg. The two leapt at each other once more. Oreit's blade flashed through the air as it flew for Ilya's side. The crimson ninja saw the attack, but waited untill the very last second, attempting to lure the boy into thinking he had won.

With lightning speed, the ninja half drew his other katana from it's sheath, blocking the attack, while he calmly put his other blade against the young man's neck. Once more, the two warriors stared at each other, untill finally, Oreit nodded his head, conceeding defeat. Ilya removed his blade from the young man's neck and slid it into his sheath, stepping away.

Oreit put his wakzashi away under his cloak as Ilya dropped to the ground in a crossed-legged postion.

"Alright boy," Ilya said gruffly, eyeing the "old man" that had watched the combat calmly. "Why am I here?"

Oreit's eyes narrowed to mere slits before he even began to think of an answer. Pompous... he's very lucky that I know defeat when I receive it. The ninja watched Oreit calmly, eyeing the young man keenly. Oreit could almost read his thoughts, but he didn't venture much stock on such readings. Only a true telepathic would be credible to make such judgements, and Oreit was not one. The young Fadeykin closed his eyes completely for a moment, then opened them again when Mohium began speaking.

"Why would you ask a visitor," the angel began quietly, then said a bit more pronounced, "Why you chose to visit?"

The ninja didn't seem to enjoy this response, though he responded calm, even coolly, "And should I ask you why I'm here?"

"Why ask a host, when you spontaneously arrived?"

"Do you know how to give an answer?"

"Can you ask the right question?"

The Fadeykin was amused by the interchange of words, but it seemed like Illya was almost trying to annoy the supernatural being. His eyes darted from Oreit to the angel before he simply settled in again, as if he were winning by remaining silent. Oreit chose this as a time to speak, "Perhaps we should ask why we came, not why we're here."

The angel seemed to like this statement, "Ahhh, Oreit knows the correct question. Why did you come? Surely you must know."

Oreit thought to himself, I do know. And Mohium knows as well, but does he wish me to share with the ninja? Does he think I should be telling another of my troubles? It is undoubtedly clear this is what he wishes... but is there a deeper answer than meets my mind's eye... there must be. I must think on this.

As he thought, however, Illya spoke, "You're playing games with us."

Mohium smiled, a heartless, soulless smile from someone with no emotion, "Yes my young one. Should you be my age, all you feel inclined to do is play games."

Perhaps the game does not require that you define your reason to come. This game must be an mind game, or we would not think on it, but surely it must involve our past as well? One past is enough, but does the angel wish for myself and the ninja to merge our pasts and find the benefit? There may be a good thing to come of this but I do not see it. But why am I here... I am here because I have emotion... I am here because I am... not... a... Fadeykin assassin.

Even as he thought it he almost shunned the thought, but the angel was already looking at him, "You have your answer Oreit. Say it..."

Oreit nearly swallowed when the angel spoke those words, and he knew that he could not refuse, "I am here because I am not a Fadeykin assassin."

Illya displayed no reaction facially, but he did say, "What does that mean? I'm not either but I'm still here."

The angel snapped back in reproof, "One does not answer for others in this game, he answers for himself. You must think of your own answer. But first, Oreit will explain his."

Oreit began speaking a few moments after Mohium had finished, "A Fadeykin assassin, the key to my race's superiority, is something I could have and should have been. While I am here because I am not of this line, I am in fact here because I bear a special burden," if a mask had not covered his face one would have seen it contort in shame and disgust, "I have emotion."

Surely now any respect this man had for me is destroyed. He must now know why I cannot defeat him, and he likely thinks me pathetic.

OoC: Ok then. On to the purpose of a RP! The angel is going to start a series of mind games until either of us decides our character(s) have had enough. You should probably answer the current one though.