[The Sanctuary] Origins (Serrif)

by **Kavala** on October 7th, 2011, 8:26 pm

Timestamp: Fall 30th, 511 AV
Location: Sanctuary and The Chavena
Purpose: Confronting Past Lives & Introducing the Cytali
Status: Closed. Serrif Please.

Kavala floated in the warm waters of Sanctuary's bathhouse deep within the marble tub. Having let the water run to cooler temperatures, it still gave off steam in the near darkness of the night. Far warmer than the outside temperatures, the water was comfortable for the Konti who floated in its depths rather than scalding on her gills as she quietly breathed through the crystal clear liquid. Suspended beneath the water, naked, her hair splayed out all around her, Kavala was deep in a meditative state letting the water hold her, flow in and around her, and buoy her up giving her safe reprieve from the labors of the days' work.

Her body was so relaxed, so lifeless, gently floating where the waters determined it would within the deep column of the stone bath. And yet within that peaceful meditative state, Kavala's mind was a million miles away and years and years into the past. The Dreamwalking Gnosis mark on her hip gleamed in the near darkness, giving off an eerie glow that indicated power was pouring into her from Nysel himself. Had you asked Kavala where she was, she would have turned circles and gestured to the vast starfield of gleaming Chavi that surrounded her. With her body locked in water her spirit was turned loose on the Chavena exploring her own Chavi, seeking answers in her past.

Kavala had always felt alone, isolated, like she didn't belong. She'd always had a real and true need for a family and yet had always felt isolated from one. Loner. Afraid of weakness. Fiercely determined. There had to be answers in her past she hadn't been aware of. And so this night she'd decided to travel downward, backwards, and through the gleaming starpoint on her Chavi that indicated the current life and well into the one previous. She'd roamed restlessly in the world of glittering lifelines, stroking one then another where they tangled with her own however briefly but always sticking to what she knew,, following her own. Picking a place to begin was always difficult, near impossible to do if one was looking for a specific location. But she had no location in mind. She just wanted to know...

And so she sojourned backwards until she came to a point where a gleaming deep sapphire chavi tangled with her own. It as a strong chavi, fit and whole, and it tangled with hers in an impossibly complex way. Reaching out, making the connection, Kavala slipped naturally into the chavi and naturally into her own life at that point in time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Crescent's Life ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The dark haired girl stared at the older man defiantly. His chambers. His quarters. Alone with him. At first she'd expected death. Then she'd expected worse: rape, torture, the accursed use of gnosis. The use of Gnosis she feared above all. It went against everything The Ruv'na stood for and she was Ruv'na to the core. From her name... Crescent onto the black leather she dressed him to conceal her from the light. She was an assassin. And she'd come here for this man's death.

But he'd not been what she'd expected and certainly no fool. Caught in the act before she could give him a second smile in his sleep, the Ruv'na operative was now his 'guest' as he called it, and summoned here daily for their talks. There was nothing but... this at first. Granted Crescent hadn't said much to him at first, but he'd continued the actions having her sent for and keeping her with him for a bell in the morning and a bell at night. She was growing curious, suddenly having questions, and their sessions were becoming her world since there was no other stimulus in the Cytali Stronghold except the dark walls of her cell.

She moved, as always surprised at the freedom he gave her. Still dressed in her skin-tight body suit and ankle boots better made for climbing than pacing, Crescent held her wrists out before her. They were bound in tight leather restricting her movements. She'd earned the bindings by taking his letter opener to him on their first day of 'talks' almost succeeding in slitting his throat again. There had been other incidents later. More dangerous than the first, and now he chose to keep the young girl bound.

But this time he'd left her file open on the desk. She'd read it, of course, before he'd put in an appearance. Likely he'd meant her to see it. The termination recommendation on the bottom of her file had given her pause. Not much of one, of course, but enough that she'd stared at it for a while. Death... death would be welcome here, she'd thought. There was something about the man across the room that disturbed her on deep levels. It wasn't his consortion with the Gods. Nor as it his reputed gnosis marks of significant levels. It was his eyes instead. It was his mannerisms. Crescent knew she was going to talk to him sooner or later. She needed too. Godmagic, probably, either that or they were giving her something in her food that made her more willing, less cautious.

But the truth was she wanted to trust him. She wanted to talk to him. But he was the enemy. He stood for all she was against. From her birth her father had raised her to understand the Gods did humanity no good. They meddled. They interfered. They uplifted. It was for man and women to uplift themselves not beg the gods to do so. Wasn't it?

Crescent sighed, stopped her wandering, and took a seat. She shifted her bond wrists uncomfortably and wondered if it wasn't past time to take her own life. That's what they were taught to do when captured. But she'd thought she could escape. The Cytali had never struck her as too intelligent. But now she wasn't so certain.

For the first time in a dozen visits Crescent spoke to the man sitting in the shadows on the far corner of the room. Tall, broody, he'd pulled the drapes to obscure the view - otherwise his spot would be be a prime reading location and they were in a library of sorts. "You aren't saying anything. That's my role, not yours. Are we just going to sit and stare? If so, send me back to my cell. I want no part of your game today." She said fiercely.

Cytali Informational File: Crescent :

by **Serrif Von Chatlyn** on October 8th, 2011, 4:08 am

Serrif had finished his day. It was an easier day spent running around the markets, then hunting trying out his bow with it’s new arrows he had purchased from the market. It was the pumpkin festival. All was happy, and many were cheering the bountiful harvest. He was in Mura hundreds of miles away from Riverfall and the Konti basking in the glory of the bath. No he had finished hunting and had laid down his arms in his tent. Even after all this time he still felt like he had no permanent residence here in Mural and that at a moment’s notice he could have to uproot and leave here. He felt desperate for something…knowing not what made it even worse for him. He was on an isle full of beautiful, blonde ageless women…and he couldn’t feel more isolated from all of them. Nothing like them he found himself struggling to get up sometimes; had it not been for Lym and Ildin he would have nothing to do but fish. But peace sometimes came at a cost, and his seemed to be steep. Everyone knew him but none knew him. And those that did were no longer a part of his life.

On an island full of seers, diviners and healers it was hard for none to know you. They knew your past, present and sometimes future as well. But some stopped there assuming that was all they needed to know. And among Konti that was fine. But for him…he needed a deeper understanding. It was like he was an accepted outcast among them sometimes. A pestering blister on their foot that they had to put up with. He sighed and found himself sitting at the entrance to his tent watching the sun gently set on the horizon. This was the beauty he had been searching for, without even knowing it…and he was growing sick of it. Sick of the perfection because he felt unneeded, like he really didn’t matter at all. And that feeling was seeping deeper and deeper into him day by day. His was falling and there was seemingly nothing left to catch him. Nothing but his dreams. But lately they had been black voids of nothingness. Just rest nothing more…when they weren’t night terrors of his past…He hoped they were just black voids.

He laid down on his bedroll and set his bow beside him. Closing his eyes he wished for nothingness…please no more dreams. No more night terrors trying to rip away the very sanctity of his mind. He prayed for sanity, but was going to get something very different tonight. Different indeed…all because someone had called fourth his memories from long ago. He was going to be part of something and not even know it.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=Tizack’s Introduction=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

He understood why she acted the way she did. She couldn’t help it. This was who she was brought up to be. This was who the Ruv’na told her she was. She had been brought up in a culture that hated him...And everything he stood for. There across from her sat this girl. He didn’t talk. No he merely looked deep into her eyes. The very reason for her hating him was tattooed across his face, his chest and his left arm. He was a Gnosis user. And proud of it as well. He had changed lives with his work; and would change many more with the work of his followers.

They looked to him for guidance. And he didn’t want to inspire them to violence, even if the Ruv’na had resorted to it many times. And now they sent this assassin after him. This girl…they sent her to do their bidding. She was young, and he pitied her ignorance of his purpose. He wanted all to know what he was really here for. What this was all about. But few would listen. So he went underground with only his closest followers kept near him, four in all. He called her his ‘guest’ because prisoner was too harsh a term for his liking. He wasn’t going to treat her horridly…he wasn’t going to violate her.

He had his followers feed her, even though they at times questioned his judgment. She heard them at times just arguing with him about wanting to just kill her already. But he wouldn’t have that. NO. That wasn’t what they were here for even though there was rumored dissention in the ranks because of how well they treated her. Which usually meant he had to bring her food and water himself depending on who was assigned to her duty. They had to keep a close eye on her at all times. She had already once struck him with an eating knife throwing it a good distance before burying it in his back missing his spine by only a few inches…which was amiable for an ordinary relatively blunt eating utensil.

But her finer incident was the letter opener. Which she again grossly underestimated him again and he was able to single handedly subdue her. The two were predators it would seem. But in her eyes he knew he was the prey. But he was a hard prey to kill. He darkened the room like he usually did, habit really than to serve a function. It was actually senseless, she was at home in the dark really…and even though he knew this he still darkened his corner to watch her. Not to see her sqirm, no but because he knew who she was. She was a child practically. They had sent her to do their job. Despicable…but he was going to see just how smart she really was here.

He knew her as Crescent. All knew her as Crescent, some knew her as “That filthy petching wench” But he silenced them and demanded they treat her with dignity. Why did he do such things to the enemy? He believed all disserved a second chance. Even the enemy did. She certainly did. And he had made up his mind to keep her alive until she changed spirits or he was forced to kill her. He didn’t want to resort to violence here. That was the last thing he wanted. His studies, his heart wasn’t in it. He was stronger than just killing the enemy. That was barbaric.

He sat in his chair across the room from her. Just gathering his thoughts as he watched her. She eventually spoke, rash and harsh like always. He had kept her isolated for a reason. HE wanted to be the only person she talked to. That was on purpose because she was talking right to the head man in charge…and he knew she knew that. He was the kingpin. The man who brought all this together…and her ultimate enemy. The ONE person she had been taught to despise and do anything to kill…she had demonstrated her aptitude to do so many times now. But he treated her with dignity nevertheless. Gathering his words.

“Crescent. “ He called her by name to humanize her…help calm her. “I play no games with you. You are in a very dire situation.” He need not remind her what that was. She knew.

“I don’t wish death on you or yours.” He said referring to the Ruv’na. And it was true the Cytali had never staged an attack on her, nor her people. Maybe she thought them weak…but after her run ins with Tizak…well…

Cytali Informational File: Tizack :

by **Kavala** on October 9th, 2011, 4:17 am

As Kavala floated in the bathwater deep in meditation watching the events unfold around her, she recognized the man and what he was doing. It was what any good horse trainer did when gentling a skittish colt. Be the only hand that feeds it. Be the only hand that waters it. Let it only know your touch, your voice, your presence. Let the horse begin to crave the contact. Let the horse begin to need the socialization. Patience. Calmness. Firmness. Be the Leader and Master without abusing the privilege.

The girl was starved for contact and stimulus. Even bringing the girl to spend time with him twice a day - even if there was no talking and no seeming progress - was progress in itself. The mistress of Sanctuary watched fascinated. She'd never stepped aside and really broke down how she did her horse training. Watching the man, Tizak, allowed her to do that. He was familiar to her though she couldn't quite figure out why. She knew the sound of his voice, the smells in the room, and the way he moved. It puzzled her until she moved around in the chavi-driven scene and got a clear look at Cresent's face.

It was like looking in the mirror.

Had Kavala been human and not Konti and had her hair been black instead of translucent white, the girls would have been twins. Oh, Kavala knew she was Crescent. There was no one else she could have been traveling her own Chavi and coming into this scene. But the remarkable resemblance was uncanny. Kavala wanted to walk over to the girl and stroke back her mussed hair and ask her what in the world was wrong with her. There was a brand on the back of her neck, a sort of twin pointed spiral outward that housed a crescent moon within. It wasn't a gnosis mark at all but a scar from a brand mark. Someone had branded the girl and the only reason she could see it is that the girl had her hair caught up in a ponytail that lifted the black locks up off the bare skin of her neck exposing the mark.

It was a warning. Kavala remembered suddenly, immersed so thoroughly in her own history. Ruv'na. The girl was born and bred. She could feel the cusp of change on the chavi she touched but she couldn't quite pinpoint it. Here, this time in this girls life - her life - had changed her. Something about this man and his actions, this tamer of sorts, was going to remake her into what she was now. Kavala turned studying his face, noting the gnosis marks, and noting the way he carried himself. Tizack. Yes. Familiar.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Crescent's Life ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She instantly disliked that he knew her name. She hadn't had the pleasure of his yet. Had she known what he called himself, she'd have made plans to carve it on his chest after she killed him because that's how angry she was that he held her. Dire situation indeed. If he was going to kill her, he'd have done so by now. That gave her time and a chance. It might just be one chance, but she'd take it when the opportunity presented itself. "If you were going to hurt me, you'd have done it by now. Not that I fear pain. I do not. We are trained not to let pain stand in our way and when we pass that training we are branded. I wear mine proudly. You cannot hurt me, not really, nor can you stop me. I won't stop trying to complete my task until I'm dead. It's only fair to warn you." She said firmly with the confidence of youth. It was the most she'd ever said to him in one sitting. It was the clearest he'd ever heard her voice.

Even as Crescent spoke she realized how much she'd craved conversation. He never spoke to her, ever, unless she spoke first. It irritated her at first upon their first few meetings and then slowly she'd started to greet him the more he sent for her. She'd even thanked him when he brought meals, though if he'd have asked her outright she'd have told him where he could put his food and that she didn't want it. But because he brought it she ate what he provided.

She didn't want too. He made the things he wanted her to do easy for her to do and the things he didn't want her to do hard for her to do. She hated that even as she recognized it.

But she did want this... this conversation. This human contact. He should have been nothing to her. He WAS nothing to her but a target, an assignment, one step closer to eliminating one more toehold the Gods had on Mizahar. But she wanted this moment, this dialog and after hours and hours of silence, the resonance of his voice warmed her.

Even in the dim light and the shadows he sat in, she could see the dim faint glittering of the marks on his forehead, arm, and sometimes upon his chest. He only went shirtless late at night when it was obvious he'd been busy most of the day and had pushed their sessions off to late into the evening. Today wasn't one of those days, but the memory of the mark being there clung to her. "You're marks are vulgar. It's vulgar that you allow the gods to permeate you with their powers. They take too much. They ask too much. How can you not gainsay them?" She all but hissed, standing up suddenly and pacing.

Crescent paced then, glad he allowed her too. She had excess energy and had been trained not to exist in stillness like his kind, the Cytali did, but rather to exist in perpetual motion. Never give up. Never stop moving. Never be caught in one place. Fearlessness. Boldness. The Ruv'na trained their children to be but wind in the mountains... constantly blowing through the lives of others. Crescent wanted to blow through the man's life, take it, and move on. There were other marks, other taints... and she was raised to rid the world of them.

by **Serrif Von Chatlyn** on October 9th, 2011, 5:24 am

This dream felt different than the others. It felt more real than the others. And what really struck him as odd was it was unlike any of the others he had ever had. Usually he had some control over them. But this one…it was different. It was like he couldn’t stop anything that was going on. This body he was in was not his own. No it was not Serrif’s body. He knew enough to know that. But who was this man? Where was he? When was he? All these questions filled his head while he simply seemed to watch the scene unfold before him. He seemed to be this man. Even though he had never been this man…not to his knowledge anyway. This was all confusing but it left him wanting more. Who was the woman? This Crescent figure. Why did she want his life? All of these were questions he had no answer to right now. He had no idea of the knowledge the man spoke of. These others he mentioned wanting no harm on. In all it was all like a giant maze to him. One he would indeed try to traverse safely.

But what bothered him was the fact that he never had a dream like this. He didn’t know the woman across the room from him. He knew she wasn’t someone at the slave camp. He just knew that. But where had his mind constructed this woman from? WHO was she? He knew a name Crescent. And judging by her words she was an assassin of sorts. Meaning that if he looked up any written records he would likely NEVER find any information on her. Maybe just maybe if he continued to pay attention he would get information he could use on this dream. Maybe it would lead to something he could track down in the library. Something that could lead him somewhere…

But still this dream was far from the void he wished for and still farther from the night terrors he was becoming accustomed to. Why had his mind constructed this? What was its purpose? Was this some sort of fantasy of his? Was his mind playing tricks on him again? That was possible…but dreams had meaning. Some of them more than others but he knew there was a meaning for this one especially. There had to be a reason he was here in this dream. Especially since it was so different from the others. If it were a night terror he wouldn’t think twice about it. However this was different for him. Who was he in this dream? He wasn’t himself…and well he wasn’t in Mura. Perhaps things would become clearer to him.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=Tizack’s Life=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Her words were exactly what he thought they would be. He could’ve nearly called them out of her mouth before she even spoke them to him. She spoke with that youthful vigor that only the true Zealots possessed. But it was also the Zealots that had it the hardest. Brainwashed, and sometimes even bred for the lives they would take on they were the hardest hit by the faction chaos. The chaos he never meant to create. The wars and assassinations like this one that would not end. He was sure the world would end and start anew before this chaos would end. And even then he had a doubt, because history tended to repeat itself. That was something he never quite understood.Why did history repeat itself?

Did people truly never learn anything even when it was blatantly laid out right for them? When history was documented so vividly for all of eternity they still ignored it and set it aside. Claiming false shields and methodology for why these events couldn’t and wouldn’t ever happen to them. And yet, they did. Again and again. This was one reason he started the Cytali. To get history straight, so maybe they could prevent people from repeating the horrible mistakes they had created in the past. And maybe recover some of the knowledge that was lost because of humanities ignorance in the past. He didn’t consider himself a tool of fate. But a tool of raw true knowledge. True knowledge taken from the eyes of those living it. Indoctrinated knowledge free from interpretation of the masses.

She was talking to him, really talking. Before she would say only utterings under her breath. Not letting out any emotion except pent up rage. And she was now letting it go on him. He needed to know her in order to show her what she needed to see. He had to know this assassin in order to change her mind. He was here to win her heart and mind. Not to kill her merely to get her out of his way the easy method. No, that approach would win him nothing. Nothing except hate. And further fuel his opposition. He had to show her what this was about. He needed her to understand. He didn’t want her blood on his hands. She was beginning to show just how much she was human. Some of his followers hadn’t recognized this yet. And how could they? Their interaction with her was minimal. And he strove on keeping it that way, especially since he didn’t want any of his people getting careless and hurt by this trained assassin.

He pitied her, and with each of her words his cause in his mind grew stronger. She called his marks vile, disgusting, an outrage to humanity and now vulgar. Her words were pointed; but they wouldn’t even pierce his skin. She couldn’t get under his skin. No matter what she said or did, even attempting to assassinate him an extra two times after capture she still couldn’t rile him up. He was as sturdy as the stone walls around her cell; ad unyielding as the iron bars that kept her a captive her…and his guest. Her daily visits to him were her only human contact. Again purposely designed by him for the reason of keeping her hungry for contact. People needed contact, it was a fact of existence. He wasn’t going to break her, not like a slave or animal. No his method was meant to keep her guessing, questioning what she really believed. All he needed was an opportunity and he could whittle away at her.

Even gentle waters carved away at mountains. Persistence was key here as was consistency. She always knew when her time with him was. He kept it the same time every day. So she had something to look forward to. Something to prepare herself for, so she could arm herself with her arguments and he could pick them apart. He was rather enjoying her company. It kept his mind fresh, he did love a good debate. But this was far more than that in many respects. Her life hung in the balance and they were running out of time. He had to persuade her, he didn’t want wasted innocent lives. She couldn’t help her upbringing, how she was indoctrinated. But he could help her see the light. He knew he could. And he would…He would.

“I understand that you are ignorant to my markings.” He stood and she would now get a much better glance at the man she stood in front of. He was taller than she was. Built like a rock, but even now as he looked into her eyes…into the eyes of his adversary she would see compassion. She would see understanding. Even through the glimmering tattoos of his marks she could see he was a man.

“I can’t expect you to just change what you believe without knowing what I stand for. And what humanity and all living races will gain. But…” And just like that one of his followers interrupted him. He came over and whispered into his ear. Tizack nodded and motioned.

Then without any real warning one of his followers brought in a girl. One who looked much like Crescent had in her younger years. The girl couldn’t be over five. But she was crying horribly and trembling…Something was very wrong. Crescent was an assassin so she would know immediately the severity of the situation. The young girl was in really really bad shape. Blood all over her, and what looked like several broken bones some piercing the surface of her skin. The follower gently laid the girl on a small couch and waited.

“Oh you want me to be unmarked?” He said walking right over carefully to Crescent. He gently placed a hand around her back and led her over to the girl. Then forced her to her knees beside her. It would be like she was looking into a mirror. The girl looked like her.

“This girl was trampled by a horse just now in the street. My follower brought her here so I could heal her. But, you want to see a world without me without the protection and divinity of the Gods? Without the mercy of Rak’keli?” He then looked Crescent right in the eye. The sternest most challenging look she had ever received. It was almost cold, and sent shivers down his own spine when he uttered the words; he could only imagine what it did to her.

“Tell this girl she is going to die. Because I won’t heal her…” The gravity of his words would hit her like a punch in the face. But…she knew he was marked by Rak’keli. He could heal her she KNEW THIS. The girl wouldn’t be a problem for him. Not by a longshot. Her hands were bound so all she could do was look at the girl as Tizack kept a stern hand on her shoulder. “Go ahead.” He urged her.

by **Kavala** on October 9th, 2011, 9:14 pm

Kavala winced seeing what the other man, the Cytali, did with her younger self - her past self. The Dreamwalker watched, thoroughly entangled in both chavi finding it odd she was watching these events unfold and knowing that where she'd entered the two chavi had continued onward, in the future thoroughly entwined for such a long time. Kavala was sure Crescent wasn't going to successfully kill the man. Crescent couldn't have\ because she'd witnessed the flow of the chavi and how entangled it was for quite a considerable duration. Had Crescent killed the man, the two chavi's would have parted ways immediately. The same would hold true the man had killed Crescent.

So what happened? Curious, Kavala watched on.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Crescent's Life ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The girl didn't like to be touched. She really didn't like the fact that the man brought a walking corpse in either. It was cruel, letting the girl suffer, witnessing how much pain she was in. When the Cytali marched her over and forced her to kneel, to tell the girl what his words instructed her to tell the girl, Crescent was infused with sadness that then reinforced her belief that what the Cytali believed in was wrong.

She leaned over the girl the glanced up at the man. On her knees she felt like she was being forced to pray to a Goddess she had no liking for. His hand burned against her shoulder, holding her in place. He meant to teach her a lesson, but he truthfully didn't understand. This girl's life was forfeit. It was the way of things. Keeping her alive just to serve as Crescent's lesson wasn't the way to break an Ruv'na. Crescent opened her lips and spoke.

"I am sorry you are in so much pain. Death should be easy, never hard like this. He wants me to tell you that you will die. But you know that already. Death is a cycle of life. Death is what awaits us all. You will see it sooner than I perhaps next time I will meet it first. Go easy on your journey." And with that, she surged up against the man's grip and reached out with her bound wrists. If the man didn't stop her, she'd snap the girls neck, showing her mercy and easing her passing.

If he stopped her, he would prove everything the Ruv'na taught about the Cytali true.

by **Serrif Von Chatlyn** on October 9th, 2011, 10:46 pm

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=Tizack’s Life=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

He listened to her intently, and read her body language carefully. From how she seemed to abhor his touch to how she looked at the girl. You could always tell when someone was going to make a rash movement. There were tells, even for a trained assassin. He knew she would learn little from this. She would likely only take away the reasons she hated him. He was likely only going to fortify the reasons why she believed the Ruv’na were correct in their assumptions. But he couldn’t realy solely on their talks to convince her. It was now he got a good view of the mark on the back of her neck.

He shook his head slightly. It was a brand, burned into her skin. A short set of twin pointed spirals outward that housed a crescent moon within it. He looked at the mark briefly, her mark as an assassin. Designating her position within the Ruv.na. He then watched her eyes and he saw her tell. Her pupils grew in size if only for a moment. She was about to make a rash move. The reason for the pupils doing this was still unknown to him. But he remembered the many pupils he saw flash in size before they reached for a weapon to kill him. She was going to arm herself and make a decision she was likely not going to regret. But he wouldn’t let her. She would feel his arm pull her back out of reach of the girl. If she reached up she would be unable to touch the girl. The follower who had brought the girl in watched Crescent, he was Akalak. And she remembered him well.

This man was the one calling for her death. The one member of the group that was pushing for her execution the hardest. It was dishonorable to keep her here among them. She had fallen in combat, a cowardly combat at that. Tizack had defeated her with his bare hands while she wielded weapons fashioned of fine steel. Surely she didn’t deserve to live! The cold predatory eyes of the man settled on Crescent. Keeping her in line because she knew the man was just looking for an excuse to kill her himself. He had asked for the honor several times. The right to drain her life blood from her body. He knew Tisack wouldn’t take that honor, but he could. He wouldn’t mind taking that honor for him. She disserved no better. In his eyes, but he was differing to Tizack’s will…for now. But the girl knew if she tried anything the tall blue warrior would be on her before she could think. She had heard of these magnificent warriors.

Tizack then knelt beside the girl and sighed. “You don’t understand mercy, nor do you understand forgiveness Crescent.” He said as he then started talking to himself lowly in a language Crescent couldn’t understand. It sounded like an incantation of some kind.

He pulled a vial from his pocket and then gently poured it little by little into the girls mouth. She drank it and then grew calm. A simple sedative was what he administered to her as he then laid hands on the girl. His hands found the bone sticking out of her leg, he channeled the extreme gift Rak’keli had given him. What appeared to be pure light emanated from his tattooing and the girl began to heal right before Crescents eyes. Her bone returned to where it belonged and her wound sealed itself shut. He then gently moved up her body and fixed some of the other cosmetic type wounds on her arms. He then finished and nodded. The little girl would smile and thank him but not with words, she would gently lean up and kiss his arm before getting up carefully and scurrying up.

He looked to her, and then spoke the following. “You speak of the disgusting nature of gnosis. How the Gods muddle in human affairs. But you wear your own mark Crescent.” He said as he then touched the back of her neck and continued to walk over to his corner again. She would see that there was blood behind him…every step. Where had the blood come from?

“YOUR own personal gnosis of sorts.” This would doubtlessly offend her. And gain him a very rushed and volatile response. She was young, still making rash decisions and this time he was counting on it.

by **Kavala** on October 14th, 2011, 6:32 pm

Kavala could see what the man was trying to do with her other self, her older self, but it wasn't going to work. He had no idea how stubborn the woman could be. Kavala always attributed that particular trait in herself with her Denusk Bloodline, but maybe such things were attached to the spirit and not just the blood. Maybe with double doses from each the combination became more lethal. But he was trying to show a zealot that her lifetime thinking was incorrect. Clearly if the girl thought death should be natural and the carraige accident natural, then she was going to find healing the wounds of the girl from the accident unnatural.

But the man was a healer and it was his job to make broken things whole. Non-healers wouldn't understand that. Crescent was obviously a killer, so recovery from wounds wasn't in her game play. Anyone staring at the girl could see she was all or nothing.

What next? Kavala wondered to herself trying to imagine what the man's next move would be and how he would handle things. In the Chavi she saw his blood but didn't understand it. The girl, she thought, most likely would ignore it because while Kavala was a healer, Crescent was a killer and nobody cared much.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Crescent's Life ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There were two of them. And even though her attempt to do the right thing was thwarted, Crescent knew there would be other opportunities. Tizack forced her to watch them violate the girls body and alter the natural course of events in life. It was sickening. The girl should have been allowed death. It was only natural. Accidents happened. People died. The strong survived. The Ruv'na were all about strength. Crescent understood mercy just fine. It was what she'd offered the girl, what she'd wanted to give her. But forgiveness was another matter altogether. The Gods could never be forgiven for what they'd done and continued to do to humanity. One day the gods would destroy the world in their meddling. It was a day all Ruv'na feared. It was what they worked so hard to prevent.

The Gods needed to stay away from humanity and leave them to their own devices.

"I wear my brand proudly. I earned it. It is no gnosis mark, Sir. Never make that mistake." But he made a mistake himself. He turned his back to her to walk away, bleeding even as he did so. She didn't stop to question where the blood was from. Instead, she turned and caught the girl - the one he'd just healed - and pulled her towards her. To Crescent, the girl forever tainted, forever unclean having felt the touch of a Goddess' power. But the man had turned his back on her and the Akalak wasn't close enough ... not by far. Sure the girl was on her feet, but she hadn't moved far enough away. Crescent rose and caught her easily enough, dragging her backwards, away from both men, putting distance between them. "I'll kill her if you move. She's dead anyways. Her fate was to leave this world beneath the wheels of a carriage not continue within it tainted by a God's power." Crescent said, her arms clamped around the girls' body, holding her limbs restrained. Crescent wasn't very big herself, but her body was deadly. She could kill the girl, easily enough, before any of them could reach her. In fact, doing so would ensure one less God-taint walked the world.

"Now, go unlock the door and step back... let us pass." If they made any move towards her, the girls neck would be snapped. She'd be dead before any healer could help her.

by **Serrif Von Chatlyn** on October 14th, 2011, 7:56 pm

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=Tizack’s Life=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

He should never have turned his back on her. She was beginning to prove that what he wanted to prove could never be so. She left him with few options. He was injured from previous engagements and it was just now surfacing. But he didn’t let that bother him. A wound was a wound and well they bled. It was showing weakness to this woman but he didn’t care. She was attuned to killing. She would maybe see this as an opportunity. But maybe she wanted to escape more. Maybe her freedom meant more than his life. Maybe she wanted to live to fight another day. This toiled over in his mind as he then nodded and came to only one conclusion. He had to let her go.

He sighed to himself silently. He told himself he wouldn’t do this to the poor assassin sent to kill him. It wasn’t moral. But neither was letting this Zealot take the little girl’s life out of spite. What he planned to do he had to do quickly. He sat at his desk as the woman pondered just what she was to do. “Let her pass.” He said simply as his Akalak guard gave him a look. After all these years together the two knew each other well. And this was a puzzling move even for him.

“Go ahead.” He said as he took his seat firmly and watched the girl. But he was up to far more here. He had something up his sleeve and well…he was so very sorry.

“Go, leave me and the girl.” He said confidently as his Akalak just looked at him curiously. He couldn’t mean that. But he remained in his seat and spoke again more stern. “I didn’t stutter did I?” The Akalak shook his head and then opened the door as he left ushering himself out of the room. There was a long hallway with several other rooms branching off of it. But there at the end of the hallway she could see stairs and her door out of this place.

“I really hoped it wouldn’t come to me having to release you from this. But go…leave the girl here I will not stop you from leaving Crescent; I underestimated you. Go ahead. Leave us.” She would have to turn her back to go. To check and make sure everyone really wouldn’t stand in her way. The girl she was holding now was going to be a burden if she was to run away from this place. He had no other opportunities now. She was going to leave if she killed the girl or not…well that was up to her now. And Tizack was betting the girl didn’t walk away from this. He knew the girl wasn’t going to walk away from this.

And that was never the point. He had the assassin and the girl both brought here so he could help them. But they were both unable to be helped now. For all his skill he was completely useless. It was up to Crescent now and he had prepared himself for the truth that the assassin would kill the girl. She cared not for life, and was only here to do as she wanted. She was here to kill him, and end everything he was about. But she would soon be joining is ranks. If she wanted to or not. He simply just shook his head again. What she did next was up to her. But come only hours from now she would be back here. Chained up in the same jail cell. He would see to that.

by **Kavala** on October 17th, 2011, 7:35 pm

In her own way, Kavala was proud of Crescent and what the girl was doing. Fighting her reality, chafing at what she thought was wrong, even if it was so incredibly misleading. Kavala mourned in a way for her old self, for the zealot, because she knew that Crescent had it wrong. Brainwashed, trained from an early age, knowing only killing and hate and fear. Kavala looked at the healer in a whole different light and knew that he could change things for the girl and help her. But only if he did things in ways the girl could understand. Showing her truth wasn't going to be enough, in Kavala's mind, but making her experience truth first hand would be far better. She didn't mean the girls life needed to be risked then saved, but instead if there was some way the man could teach her love of the Gods and how helpful they could be in one's life. Kavala knew that first hand serving Rak'keli, Eyris and Nysel. There was a purpose in all things. Ther was meaning in what the Gods did and gifts to be had in exchange for mutual acceptance.

The girl Kavala had been, Crescent, knew none of that. She knew anger and pain and desperation. Fear driven training was always strong. Kavala knew that from the get go, from her own past experiences in her current life. But she knew also why her daggers felt so familiar, so comforting and why she treated them like old friends even as just started out on her training.

Of Tizack she wanted to see more. There was something about him she knew, completely, and longed to understand the relationship more. Was he going to just let the girl go? Kavala was proud of Crescents way out, but knew that letting the girl flee... was just going to prolong the girls life of hatred. She needed to learn a new way and embrace a new life. Why was the healer taking an interest? Why did the healer care? Was it to save his own life? No, ending Crescents would have accomplished that. Kavala watched on, needing to know, demanding to understand. The past spoke to her, like it did all Dreamwalkers... in a way that was intimate and personal. She had gotten a taste of it like a starving woman and wouldn't rest until the entire meal was consumed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Crescent's Life ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Crescent watched the man, still not knowing his name, still unconcerned about the fact. She held the girl tight, even though the taint was something she didn't want to come into contact with. Tizack was right. The girl's life was forfeit. But Crescent didn't know he knew that, nor did she understand that running.... there was no true running from what he was.

She turned, dragging the little girl with her, and fled down the hall. And the end of it where the door opened to the outside, Crescent checked to make sure there was no one or nothing that was going to block her escape. The building opened out onto ally that lead to a street beyond, one that wasn't busy but wasn't devoid of any and all movement. The city was familiar to her... she'd spent time studying it before she'd come here after her mark. At the threshold she paused, kissed the girls forehead, and broke her neck in a swift sudden movement and then hit the ground running. She didn't mourn the death or regret killing the girl. She just killed her. That was what they did. The girl was no better than one marked by a Godmark... no better than one who gave themselves over to a god's service. She'd been tainted by a goddess, even for something as small as healing, and there was no salvation from that.

She ran.

Days of confinement, maybe weeks, and left her feeling out of shape, but she still managed to make it to the end of the alley and onto the street where she stopped her full forced run and blended into the crowd in a sedate walk.

There was a safehouse, a bolt hole for her less than a mile from where she was in the city. Eyes on the street around her, she blended into the moving throng and bypassed people hawking wares and moving out their jobs in the city. She would get too it, via a circular path, convoluted, that cut back on itself never leading the enemy to it in a straight line. Then, once she'd let them alone long enough, let them get comfortable, she'd be back to try for Tizack's life once more.

by **Serrif Von Chatlyn** on October 17th, 2011, 8:23 pm

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=Tizack’s Life=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

He knew the girls life was forfeit. And for that he was terribly sorry; she would be dead no matter what. Never turn your back on an assassin. A lesson that he had to learn in a very difficult manner. His heart dropped as the snapping of the little girls neck echoed in his mind as Crescent fled. But he learned early on you couldn’t save everyone…just like he couldn’t save his wife or child. But he knew now his course of action. And he knew that Crescent would be back, that she wouldn’t let him go that easy. And the second time she wouldn’t fail. She had seen the insides and she knew his organization. His people weren’t safe any longer. And they were his priority.HIS people came first at all times. He couldn’t let his people be but in danger by this rogue assassin. He let her go, but only so he could bring her back.

He knew that she would likely start targeting his people, killing them off one by one to help and assert her power and usurp his. Maybe cause dissension within his own ranks. All of this he could not have any longer. He had spared her life while she was here only to let her go? No, that was not what he had planned but sometimes unpredictable things happened. And this was one such event. He looked at her hair in his hand and walked out into the main hallway. The Akalak approached him. Likely going to scold him for letting the woman go without a fight. But Tizak cut him short.

“I know good friend, should’ve done this a long time ago. But fear not, she will come back to us. She will be a threat no longer.” He said as he showed the Akalak the lock of hair he had.

“Now I need to meditate I have much work to do.” He said as he then walked into a dimly lit room that smelt like vanilla. He sat on a large comfortable pillow on the ground and began to center himself. The scent helped as well as the dim lighting.

He then called on his gnosis and the key of her hair he held…he was going to do what would be considered disgusting by almost any standards. He found her chavi…her wonderful memories of past. He looked it over and saw its wonderful colors. He then picked out key turning points in her life and well viewed them all. He learned where she came from, who she was, why she believed what she did and finally he saw why he was wrong. Why no matter what he had done only death of Crescent would ease him of her viewpoint. She was a born and bred assassin. Her only mission was to kill him and his kind. And he couldn’t have that; he couldn’t let her kill his close knit family.

So he with one wondrous sweep of the impossible he killed Crescent. With the skill of an expert marksman he swept through her memories and detached and killed every last one of them. Then replaced them with alternative memories. He replaced the beginning of her life with one much like his. she grew up on a farm and then she roamed the world for more knowledge. He had him saving her from a horrible disease much like the one his wife and child died from. Only this time in his selfish wants he had himself saving her from it. Bringing her out of death by the grace of Rak’keli. This was a key moment.

She had sought him out when she was in her travels. She had fallen deathly ill and he fond her; and took her into his lab and laid her on a cot. There he pulled out all his weaponry of healing. All his glassware scattered about and all of his herbs and medicine brewed to aid her. She would remember how weak she felt. How he would gently stroke his hands through her hair and coo her to sleep whispering gently to her ear that she would be alright. That HE would heal her no matter how hard she had to work. She would remember waking up in the night and still he would be working to heal her. Relentlessly, and eventually he did. And for that she had a deep unending admiration for him; as well as knowingly she owed him her own life. It was after this she swore to join him; to aid him like he had helped her. And he made her his bodyguard; sworn to protect him against those that would do him harm. He had to work hard to envision these memories for her. It took him countless hours to do this to her. But when he left he knew it was all done. And she would find her way back to him again.

Instead of having to look for her, she would come back here. Walking in the front door like she belonged here among them. All he had to do was wait for her. And he would do that anxiously. He wondered if he had done good. Or if he had done harm. But he wouldn’t kill her, he would only remake her. Hopefully she would find herself in peace here. Maybe find a sense of being, but that was hers to find now. Here with him and his people. Maybe it would work out fine.