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The Death of Eron: Farside's Justice

Tags: Azradi,  Eron,  Kobishi,  Mara,  S'aria,  Yussef,  Vinakh

Short Summary: Having defeated Yussef, Eron walks towards the Citadel only to be intercepted by Azradi and Mara. His pleas for asylum are denied and he attacks Azradi. The two engage in a mortal duel while others watch on.

Players: Azradi, Eron, Kobishi, Mara, S'aria, Yussef, Vinakh.

Date (real-life): 2011-03-13
Scene Location: Umbar: Outside the Dark Citadel
Date (in-game): 2 June, 3052
Time of Day: Just before Dawn
Weather: Clear and warm

A bewailing cry rends the air.

Rath Bad-nez is largely deserted in the early morning. Brief clamour of war has eachoed down its length only heartbeats earlier: but now, following that pitched cry, it is eerily silent.

Thither, in the dawn's waxing light, there are signs of battle: blood wets the red cobbles in a much deeper hue. There: two men. The one, his attire of Seaward, is Yussef. His shield is battered and splintered, his spear shattered and cast aside; his uniform much stained with redness. His right hand, fighting to hold in gouts of blood that slips through his fingers, clutches at his throat. Wide staring eyes level on the other man.

He staggers a step.

He falls.

Eron stands unscathed, Ichor of Seaward dropping from the Morbeth blade within his grasp. "Burn in torment evermore.." He scrowls, as he turns away from the dying man, and his walk for The Citadel continues.

In that time, when the skies turned to gray but not gold; when the shady denizens of day and night were equally absent - other shadows crept through the streets. Fifty pairs of eyes watched the dark building; they watched the small Seaward patrol and they watched the beggar - they even watched the fight with some amount of confusion.

But as the weak light grew and the fighting figures became more visible, sea-gray eyes narrowed.

A tall shadow emerges from the shadows between two houses, flanked by four Raven Knights: Azradi anAzulada, Lady Farside. A silken robe covers armor and dully gleaming helm covers her head. Her steel is drawn and she moves to intercept the man's passage to the Citadel. She says nothing, her presence is enough.

From the direction of the Dark Citadel, a small party emerges. Running at the forefront of the party of five is the diminutive High Priestess of Nurn and the Dark Citadel--Mara, herself. Rosy cheeked and a bit out of breath, she has outpaced most of her retinue as she makes her way towards the scene of the former fight.

The air is still, and despite some slightly increased breathing and Seawards blood on his tunic, Eron is calm and emotionless. His eyes dart from person to person, taking in both Azradi, and Mara in turn. Lady Farside's numbers seem not to concern him at his moment, as he strikes a knee as High Priestess Mara joins. "Milady. My task, for my part is as full as can be. I ask, through my service to our Lord. that you crant me asylum from the false law that is present upon this soil." He says to Mara, as he regains his feet, the silence so deep the dripping blood of the former Tower lieutenant dripping from cold steel can be heard.

Eron is ever watchful of Azradi and her knights, but there is no emotion, no compassion, nothing that would make him -human- left within his eyes.

A few more strides brings the tall Towerlord within feet of her kneeling prey. Her scimitar is held loosely in her grip but at the ready. Azradi looks down her nose at the fallen nobleman. A cruel smile curves her lips. "My soil, wretch," she answers. "My law. I bring order and prosperity. Your Priestess brings comfort to the Faithful. You bring nothing but terror as you seek out your own gain; no mercy for one who strikes his wife, heavy with child; no mercy for one who challenges the authority of the Council; no mercy for one who seeks to break the peace among your Dark Lord's allies."

To Mara, the Lady inclines her brow respectfully but says nothing, letting her make her own reply first.

"Eron," the slight high priestess's back is straight and while her cheeks are still rosy, she seems calmer now. "You have brought much trouble to the city in the guise of serving the Dark Lord and, in doing so, have brought shame rather than honor to his name. Your wife, who became your wife in a ceremony I was not permitted to join in, with your consent, bears a child who is not yours." She pauses in her speech and looks at Eron again for a moment. "Yet, you hold a space in my heart." Her voice is sad now. "Tell me that you have not betrayed me or the Dark Lord and perhaps there is something I can do."

There is a another pause in the slight high priestess's speech and she turns towards Lady Azradi. "Lady Farside," and inclines her head. "I must determine if he metes a fate from the Dark Lord before I can determine if he deserves another."

"S'aria, deal with the other, the one he was fighting for the moment. I must know if he may be saved."

Amongst the High Priestess' entourage is a young Easterling acolyte, garbed in flowing robes of vermillion silk. Her cowl is back, revealing a pair of dual braids that flow bound by crimson ribbon down to her waist. Her expression is austere, and a silver daggar decorated with a inlaid ruby-eyed hilt at her side. She falls quickly besides her superior and fellow woman of the east, her eyes going quickly to the man bound before the Tower Lord a frown on her features. As Mara speaks she bows her head gently, her dark bangs hiding her lips as she lingers at the woman's side. But once Mara finishes she straightens, "If it is your will, your eminence. I shall provide the man with rudimentary first-aid as those gathered decide his fate."

Erons cold eyes flash with a light that to some might seem supernatural as his respectful gaze towards Mara twists into a gortesque disguist when Azradi speaks. "You fithy 'sub-servants' of He who will rule hold no law over one who is appointed with duties by him directly." He throws those words to Azradi before turning back to Mara. "Eruphel's disloyalty is of no concern. The fact that my blood is not thinned through hers is a Blessing from the Eye, to this you know. for I, as you, knew my 'marriage bed cursed by the fact Eruphel wouldn't allow a proper wedding. In truth my vows were hollow. I needed the seat at her side to continue The Eye's work. Through your trainings in Nurn. he speaks to me now...without medium."

Eron looks from Mara to Azradi, and his eyes glass over for not more than a moment before he takes a half step back from their combined forces. "Tell me this place has not tainted you Priestess. What I have done here differs very little from scouring Nurn of those that are less than faithfull."

Eron ignores S'aria for the moment, it is apparent that Eron was not touched, while Yussef lies dying on the stone.

With a bow of assent to the dainty High Priestess, S'aria folds her hands in front of her crimson robes. Yet her almond-shape eyes seem to fill with amusement briefly as she looks upon Eron, a half-smile forming on her lips. Though what amuses her remains hidden by her outward show of politeness. "I seem to have mistaken the blood of his enemy for his own, forgive my rashness," she says softly the fingers of one hand trailing against a blood stain upon his shoulder as her eyes seek his out. Whether or not she does draw his attention, she moves quietly away, walking without any sign of haste to the man lying bleeding on the stone slab. Yet when she arrives at his side, her expression hardens with focus, and she begins to move rapidly, producing a roll of bandages and a pungent herbal paste which she places besides him. First she leans her cheek over his lips, her spare hand seeking out the vein of his neck, the girl seeming uncaring about the blood and dirty her robe is rapidly accumulating.

Azradi's face darkens, her eyes leveled on the High Priestess. "His fate has already been decided by Lady Eruphel and myself. If you wish to discuss this with us in private, we will have to wait until she returns. I am willing to extend you that courtesy, High Priestess, but I would prefer to kill him now and be done with it - to spare out mutual friend, Lady Eruphel from further pain if naught else."

She ignores Eron but does offer S'aria a frown of displeasure when she touches her 'prey'.

"Cursed," the slight high priestess shakes her head. "You have been sentenced to death, Eron." She crouches over, reaching to put her own hand under Eron's chin. "The Dark Lord is tolerated here and your antics..."

She pauses, looks briefly at S'aria, and then turns back to Azradi. "Lady Farside, forgive me. I do not wish to interfere with your edicts, but this one. We have a history that goes back well beyond how long Lady Eruphel has known him. He has chosen to have the Dark Lord determine his fate; he claims to serve him. Perhaps you would allow a test?"

"If by a test you mean to strike down the Hero worshiper at your feet Mara. Then so beit, I'll not foster any denial of my faith." Eron says, the grip of the Vitae stained Scimitar that Mara herself gave him so very long ago, a life ago. "She may fancy herself the proveyor of safety and propserity to these people, which is an easy thing to do whilst one fattens themselves whilst others remain lean and hungry for action, I see through it, just as I do Eruphel's lazy visions of happiness. There is NO happiness whilst The Eye's enemies live."

S'aria's expression becomes more paniced as she realizes how bad her patient is injured She applies the bandage and creme to the wound quickly, moving so fast beads of sweat form at her brow. At last she pushes to her feet, fingertips smearing blood across her forehead before she turns to gesture with blood-stained fingertips for her fellow Priest and Acolytes to approach speaking authoritatively. "I cannot take care of this with what I have here... Take him to the Inquisitor Azuul, he is more skilled in the art of healing than I... and he has an entire room stocked with supplies for injuries as severe as this. Go, it is not far."

She turns to face Azradi, dipping her diminutive form low. "If I may, Lady Farside. It is within the High-Priestess' power to call for a public sacrifice. This would appease the interests of all present if she deems it necessary. I would offer to be the hand that drives the blade if you so desire, you know my devotion to your brother... this man has harmed Lord Alphros ambitions as well with his antic," she says coldly before turning to watch as the other move to lift the injured man carefully off the floor and move towards the Citadel.

A nearly inaudible and most peculiar sound echoes up the street from the southwest. It seems that someone is -singing- of all things at this hour. Though horribly out-of-tune and frequently interrupted by loud hiccups and sudden trills, the voice grows louder as an extravagantly dressed man, dark as the night, walks into view of the citadel along Rath Bad-nez.

Kobisihi, for that is the name of the tune-carrier, sways in his stance as he reaches the small gathering of on-lookers. Stumbling forward, he knocks aside an elderly beggar on his oblivious path towards the north; a brown flask clenched firmly in his right hand.

"The Dark Lord is more than merely tolerated here, you fool," says Azradi, deigning to speak to Eron. Irritation rests on her features. "This Hero Worshipper rules a Tower comprised mostly of Eye Worshippers. I am as sworn to protect them as I am any other sworn to me. They want to the freedom to practice their faith and I protect that freedom. I once promised a Citadel Priest I would protect the Haradrim Church and its Faithful against the excesses of men such as you. I take that duty as seriously as I do my personal devotions."

"Keep to your healing duties," she snaps at S'aria.

Lady Farside shifts her flashing eyes to Mara, though the Priestess does not appear to be the target of her ire. Her tone, at least, is controlled. "I deem his crimes are against the Tower, and thus he falls under our jurisdiction. I am loathe to give him to the Citadel. He does not deserve it for one thing, regardless of your past friendship."

She pauses a moment, then says slowly, "But I am curious about your test. If it can be performed out here, then please proceed."

The slight high priestess reaches into her robe and removes a vial of clear liquid. She stares at it for a moment and then adds in a few grains from another vial, stoppering it and shaking it for a few moments. "This potion is a test of true loyalty to the Dark Lord. If he drinks of it and there are no ill effects, then his loyalty is not suspect. If there are ill effects....then his campaign of terror has contaminated him more than he suspects."

Eron begins to ignore Azradi for the most part, though his warriors reflexes keep him sharp against her. "For the eye then." he says, reaching out suddenly and seemingly hastily for the vial in Mara's hands, and drinks it down without pause. his dark eyes on Azradi the whole time, his hands gripping and flexing on both sword and shield. "The only terror that has been spread is to the non believers within this forsaken hole in the mud." Eron says.

The younger Easterling Priestess' eyes widen at Azradi's snapped words, the girl bowing again quickly, her blood speckled raven hair whipping about her pale cheeks. "Yes, my lady!", she squeaks. Turning on rapid feet she hurries after the group of robed clergy carrying Yussef off, going so far as to the steps of the Citadel to make sure they carry out their task correctly. Once they are there, however, she quickly falls besides the dark-robed form of Mara, bowing her head once more in silence. Large dark eyes however gaze wordlessly through her raven bangs upon Eron as he takes the vial, the girl's lips pressing into a thin line - the only sign of her anxiety a sligh crease at her brow.

As the tableau plays out, the gray dawn lightens. Dim shapes can be seen on the city walls, a line of them all along the section of wall extending on either side of the Citadel. Azradi turns and signals towards the direction from which she had come ere she returns her attention to Mara and her mysterious actions. "I hope it was made of vinegar," she observes dryly. Her head tilted, she watches Eron curiously, meeting his gaze with ease. "Though I care little if he is deemed a true believer or not when I kill him."

Reaching the front of the onlookers just as Eron tips back the vial, Kobishi staggers forward and sets himself apart from the crowd in one inebriate lunge. His song ceases then as a confused roar escapes his lips. "Heyyyy, learn to share!," he demands, pressing forward upon the drinker with a wobbling arm outstretched. The black man seems oblivious to all others present.

The slight priestess watches impassively, toying with a bit of herb between her fingers as she watches Eron. Her other hand grips her robe carefully. "S'aria, you may wait here to report on the result if you wish." She pauses and shakes her head, bending so that her face is at the same level as Eron's, a mere handsbreadth away. "I loved you once and believed that you saw advancing the Dark Lord's fate as as important to you as breathing. And while I believed that true, I would have given my very breath," Here, the small woman breathes, intending that her breath should land on the man's face, "to hold yours to this earth. But you have betrayed me and all I hold dear and so your death will be as meaningless to the Dark Lord as the last bit of your life."

The slight woman straightens and nods to Azradi, inclining her head. "He is yours and I will leave my acolytes with you to help contain him. The Dark Citadel stands with you as you dispose of this threat to the fate of Umbar, but, forgive me. I personally cannot watch."

Eron listens quietly to everything that is said. but as he hears Mara to the end, and the offer of Acolytes to bolster her numbers, Eron has had enough.

A flurry of motion comes next, and the roar Eron is anything but human as he both shield bashes, and cuts at those that serve 'false masters'. "You want me Azradi? Come and get me then, if you have any honor to do it yourself..." Eron roars as he works himself free and rushes at Azradi, swinging Mara's own Scimitar at Azradi' midsection.

It is at Mara's words that S'aria's expression finally gives way to sadness, a glassy sheen forming across her dark eyes. As she watches the other Easterling her bottom lip trembles, a hot tear managing to escape her long eyelashes, and slide down her cheek before it becomes trapped in a smear of blood. Sniffing ever so slightly, S'aria turns to bow to Mara as she moves away from the man who has betrayed, her a sob in the young Acolytes voice, "I am... so sorry, your Eminence...", she whispers but seems to take on the charge offered. "I shall do as you wish...", she says as she slowly straightens, lifting a hand to smear a few more tears from her face before turning to face the kneeling man and the Tower Lord who stands dominating over him.

A gasp comes from the girl as blows are exchanged and she steps back, eyes going wide, one hand fumbling for her dagger which seems more for show than actual use.

Swift as lightening, Azradi's form is infused with a taut alertness. In a fluid, graceful movement, she finds her balance and brings up her guard - though she chooses evasion over deflection. With almost arrogant casualness, she simply moves herself from Eron's charge. "Protect the Priestess!" she orders, never taking her eyes off of her opponent. She twists and swings her blade in towards his neck as he comes abreast of her.

The burden of containment will not fall on the Acolytes alone. The soldiers of Farside emerge from the dwindling shadows - fifty in all. They come up from both ends of the road and form a loose perimeter. One of Azradi's Knights summons a few and they move to escort Mara safely into the Citadel. The remaining Raven Knights stand back to give the combatants room.

The slight high priestess squares her shoulders and sweeps majestically from the scene staying with the Knights who are there to escort her.

In a Parody of the Tower Ladies movements, Eron twists his own body in ways that should seem unfathomable to most, but he chooses deflection over evasion, bringing his banded shield into position to contact Azradi's blade and steer it away from him. Twisting back again, keeping the shield and steel together as long as possible, Eron unceremoniously thrusts up at Azradi, in an effort to excercise her armor's weakness under the armpit.

Despite how she may have arrived, S'aria does not depart with Mara and her kind, bitting her bottom lip as her still tearful eyes dart between the clashing forms of Azradi and Eron. As the soldiers move in quickly, the red-robed priestess as dainty as her mistress moves in too though she does not try to press into the inner circle to fight the rebellious man herself. Her dark eyes flash with thought as she watches, some of the soldiers jostling past her and pushing her away as they try to get close as well as other civilians eager to watch the fight.

            One civilian that emerges from the shadows now is Vinakh, the Merchant of Desert. Perhaps due to prior knowledge or even blind luck, he is armed, the outline of a scimitar visible beneath his flowing cloak. But he lingers back behind most of the Farside soldiers, content to watch over their heads and shoulders, as he is one of the last to crowd in toward the combatants. He folds his arms over his chest and rises to his tip-toes, to get the best possible view from his location, biting his lower lip as he watches.

As the cornered man slips away from his feeble grasp to engage in combat with the lady of farside, Kobishi stands still for a moment in the center of the street. It seems that in his drunken state it is not only he that is oblivious to the presence of others, but vice-versa as well. "I'm a ghost!" he exclaims in surprise, swaying on the spot. A broad grin takes shape upon his visage as he stoops for a rock, hurling towards the two combatants. The effort sends him off-balance, and he trips upon his own feet.

Once steel connects with shield; Azradi does not resist the deflection. Instead she uses its momentum to defend herself with a parry. Eron's sword is batted away with a downward stroke and she continues it, seeking to slash open his leg.

Lady Farside's expression is one of fierce concentration; her eyes are lit with a fire but her movements controlled. "A pity for you that I am not as fat and lazy as you so claimed," she says, a cruel smile curving her lips.

Eron moves with Azradi's momentum instead of foolishly fighting against it, lifting a leg as he spins away from the strike to his leg, and relaxing his arm so it straightens while he spins, to slash at the woman's side as he passes by it. "As much shame as it is that I am actually competent with a blade, unlike the Gondorians who built your fame."

Turning to elbow a man out of her way with a vicious grunt, her eyes suddenly furious she moves to the edge of the crowd forming around Eron, her eyes quickly seeking him out. She raises her voice, shouting at him in a strange, multi-tonal tongue, her words rising and falling with her desperation. A sob causes her words to waver at points, but her words remain loud enough to ring over the sounds of battle.

            With a duck of his head, Vinakh snaps his eyes to a rock that flies overhead. It takes him a moment to locate the perpetrator, but when he does the Merchant shoots Kobishi a dirty look. After a moment of studying him, though, a bit of a half-grin comes to Vinakh's lips, though the strange language that erupts up ahead demands his attention. He unfolds his arms and steps forward, turning his shoulder to shove between a couple of citizens who have gathered to watch, to steal a better view of Azradi and Eron.

Staggering back to his feet, Kobishi begins to stumble forward upon his own weight. Whirling around, he spots the Merchant Vinakh eyes upon him and shouts, "Get your own flask, ugly!" before backpedalling straight towards S'aria where she stands watching the combatants. He is greatly off balance and it seems that his momentum will carry him directly into the acolyte.

"Quite competent," Azradi says drily as his blade passes harmlessly past her. She shifts and puts her shoulder into her next attack, sending her beaded braids to clatter against her chain. Her blade flashes through the air towards Eron's sword arm.

"My sword has drunk deeply of many men's blood, not just the Northerners. You will be but the latest nuisance."

Eron continues his feet's desired path, His foe forced to adjust and therefore offer notice to their target. Eron shifts his own blade around to grasp hers as it comes towards his flesh and steer it away. "Or I will hold a blade that I can give to a woodmen. They could use something to chop wood with..." Eron says with a grin as his blade releases hers, and snakes back in, towards Azradi's lead leg.

S'aria continues to watch the ex-tower Lord fight Azradi, desperation in her eyes. She gives a shake of her head, raven bangs whipping about her features, a few strands sticking to her cheeks. But before she can finish what she is saying, Kobashi lumbers into her the girl completely caught off guard. With a wince, she is knocked forward, the dagger skitering from her hand as she goes flailing right towards Eron's side. She gasps with suprise as her hands lash out to grab anything to avoid falling face first onto the road.

            The insult from the drunkard Kobishi goes unanswered, but for another annoyed flick of Vinakh's light brown eyes. They linger on the man, long enough to watch as he stumbles directly into the Acolyte, perhaps pushing her right into danger. Though his expression is indifferent, Vinakh clenches his jaw, lips pursed, as he shoulders his way toward the front of the small mob, too far to make any attempt to assist S'aria.

"Perhaps not," replies Azradi. If she is forced to adjust her course, it is only to give her a better advantage. She places herself directly in front of Eron and thrusts forward with her scimitar, seeking his fleshy entrails where blades seldom catch on bone.

Eron catches the blade of Azradi and steers it down, the blade connecting with the very tip of his chain, bounding off, but bringing a small grunt to Eron's lips. His blood does not yet leave his flesh. "Atleast you're not completely useless." Eron says, visciously slapping at her blade with his own before lunging, trying to push her blade out far enough for him to get inside of her formidable defenses.

Rolling to the side after his collision with the Acolyte, Kobishi lays motionless upon his back now. A hoarse cackle begins to sound from his throat. He clumsily begins to grasp in the direction he thinks S'aria might be.

S'aria flickers and goes out, plunging Rath Bad-nez into darkness.

Eron ignores everything now, his vision for Azradi alone.

A flicker of something from the corner of her eye; S'aria and the drunken Corsair too near the combatants. It distracts but a mere heartbeat, but it is enough.

Azradi steps to the side, but not quick enough. She is caught on the side by Eron's blade point. It rends through her fine silk robe and presses her chain mail painfully into her flesh, bruising and cutting. She grimaces, but makes no sound. Her attack loses none of its controlled discipline as she brings her blade in from the side, aiming once more for his sword arm.

Eron changes tactic this time, as he raises his sword arm, and lowers his shield arm, the dull thud of blade upon block is haunting, as he pushes and uses the contact as a pivot point, to slash out again at Azradi's side

S'aria lands right behind Eron on the ground with a thud, her chin impacting the road painfull as Eron leaps out of the way. Kobishi manages to get a hold of her ankle though she tries to kick it away. Abruptly her eyes go wide with pain and rage ane she quickly pushes to her feet. "Stop behaving like a spoiled child!", she shouts furiously at Eron and then tries to pounce on him from behind, her arms going to wrap around his neck and her robed feet to hook against his own. Now there are three combatants it seems, and one does not even have a weapon!

            His scimitar sheathed and at his hip beneath his cloak, Vinakh comes forward, unarmed, as well. A bit of a scowl is sent in Kobishi's direction, eyes flashing over the mess of a man more-or-less sprawled on the ground. But it's not for him that the Merchant moves, instead deftly slipping out onto the battlefield, and after the Priestess. Without a word, Vinakh risks reaching out both arms to grab the back of S'aria's robes, attempting to pry her from Eron in hopes of dragging her to relative safety.

Her concentration restored, Azradi moves easily from the path of Eron's sword. She twists slightly, bringing her blade in edge-first towards his mid-section. She does not notice the Acolyte in time to stop her attack. "Get rid of her," she growls to Vinakh, irritated.

One of S'aria's feet catching him in the wrist, Kobishi curses loudly and draws his hand in close to his chest. Rising slowly to his feet he seems to lose interest in the acolyte and begins to stagger northward.

Enraged, the moment S'aria touches him, he lashes out with his shield, and at the same time parrying Azradi's blow. "You cannot kill me Hero worshipper." he snarls, as without seeing if his shield connected with S'aria, he lashes out as The Farside Lady's forward leg.

The shield hits S'aria in the side chest with painful sounding crunch, sending the small girl staggering away before she can even get close enough to loop an arm around his neck. Buckled forward as the wind has been knocked out of her, Vinakh finds little strength in the small Priestess to fight her eyes hot coals as glares at Eron. But once she is dragged to the permiter of the circle of watchers she tries to shrug Vinakh off, barking irritably, "I am fine! Let me go...", she says with a growl, a wince crossing her features as she struggles.

"You will die," counters Azradi calmly, smoothly parrying his attack. "Whether by my hand or my order."

She brings her sword upward, slashing towards his vulnerable armpit. "I am not attached to the particulars."

            The Merchant barely has time to acknowledge Azradi with a nod, before S'aria is shield-bashed from Eron. He laces an arm around the Priestess's waist and keeps his other hand firmly gripping the shoulder of her robes, dragging the much smaller girl back, clear of the battle. In a hushed tone, Vinakh lowers his head and growls next to the Acolyte's ear. "You are not fine, S'aria. Mind yourself, before you join him in the afterlife," he tells the girl, loosening his grip but refusing to release her whether she demands it or not.

  Azradi's patience is paying dividends now, as the blade finds that armpit and splits the chain underlay, briging a viscious hiss from Eron, even as crimson swells to the surface. "So it may be. But Another will take my place." he says, as his arms shakes off the blow, and Eron lunges again to try to impale The lady upon his blade.

Azradi is swift, but her blade is simply not in the right place to properly parry Eron's lunge. She tries though, and fails to stop it. Once more her robe is rent and her flesh bruised by cruel metal rings. She inhales sharply, pain momentarily flitting across her light features. She rocks forward, bringing her blade slashing in towards his chest.

Labored breaths come from the crimson-robed Acolyte, her head sinking forward so that her chin touches her chest. The girl's legs seem to tremble as she lifts a pale hand from within her large sleeves to cover where she was hit. Dark locks hide her face as she whispers back to Vinakh, "Why would I care about such a reckless fool? Clearly he thinks a pointless death now, and eternal suffering later at the hands of the Dark Master a glorious fate... why else would he turns from all hands offered to help him?", she grunts, leaning against the Desert Merchant now as a few tears drip from her chin.

The chain across Eron's chest erupts, as does his skin beneath from Azradi's blow, but The Monster's howl is one of rage not pain, as Rational thought begins to leave him, as once his body reacts to the pain, he comes forward again, a series of Feints and flashy movement before hacking cruelly for Azradi's wrist

            "Your words and your actions do not match," Vinakh responds in a hushed tone, and dryly, his eyes rolling at mention of the Dark Master and eternal suffering. He keeps one arm around the Acolyte's waist, but now releases her shoulder and merely rests his hand on the side of her upper arm. The Merchant's expression remains indifferent, now, whether he can see S'aria's tears or not, and he turns his eyes from the side of her face to follow the fight once more.

            "The man has chosen his path. Allow him to see it through," Vinakh adds softly.

The feints works, though Eron's blow lands further up her left arm. His steel cuts through Azradi's leather vambrace, leaving a red score in its wake. She grunts but does not lose her discipline, even in the face of the disgraced Seawarder's rage.

She brings her blade down precisely, aiming for his shoulder.

"Path? No this is blindly staggering without purpose or destination," speaks the Easterling girl as she abruptly lifts her head, her eyes cold and devioud of emotions. The trails of those unseen tears are wiped away with a quick brush of her hands, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Nonsense. I am merely here to shall perform the final rites for the body... And make a report for Lady Mara once it is over, so release me," she says, her fingers moving to try and pry Vinakh's arm from her.

 The pauldron of Eron's armor saves the limb from becoming useless. There is more creature left then man now, after this blow, the spittle from Eron's lips flying as he snarls as swings his blade again, all niceties left behind, as a Fanatic Makes his peace with a violent god.

            The Merchant chooses to purse his own lips, and not to argue with S'aria. Even before her hand finds his arm, he removes it from around her and his hand from her upper-arm, letting them fall to his sides. "Then do not interrupt again, S'aria," he replies softly, glancing at the Acolyte in front of him as he folds his arms over his chest. He winces a little when he looks past her, noting the deteriorating condition of Eron.

Quietly, S'aria reaches for the Amulet of the Eye that dangles from her neck, her almond-shaped eyes settling upon Eron's form before him steely and empty. The words of Morbeth flowing from her lips gradually grow in volume, until they are spoken fully aloud, they fervor only increasing pitch when Azradi moves to attack as if trying to anticipate the deathblow. Her hands move together elegantly despite her injuries, giving a sign of blessing as she prays, her prayer's breaking the deafing silence of those around her as the battle nears its end.

The sun rises above the city's outer walls, poised perfectly near the amethyst-hued Tower of Farside. Golden rays spill into the street, chasing away the gloomy gray. It limns Azradi's tall form, making the lightness of her skin more apparent. "Your zeal has lent you more skill than you possess, Eron."

"But in the end, you are simply not good enough," she says, fire reigniting in her gray eyes. The Black Numenorean's blade flashes in the sunlight and she thrusts it towards the man's chest with the force her kind possesses - the Sea Kings of old. Her lips curl into a smile.

The sky parts, and birds sing, and Eron's eyes go dark. "You will burn forever under the enjoyment of the dark lord. You will not be far behind me..." He says with an uneasy calm, even with half of Azradi's blide hidden within his flesh. Eron is dead, dead on his feet but still he blinks. "You're mind will break under the tortures that await." Eron says, and with a roaring cry that comes from only absolute faith, Eron musters a farewell. His shield falling from his hands Eron takes Devotion with both hands, and attempts to bring it down upon Azradi, his dying breath leaving him before he even knows the blow completed.

After Eron has fallen, S'aria takes a single step towards the falling man, her eyes like spent coals. She inclines her head towards Azradi, her hands coming together in a salute, "Lady Farside... may I request that I take the traitor's scimitar and return it to the High-Priestess? It was once hers...", she says with a soft voice, her words weak and distant. She remains bowed, her dark hair dangling down and almost sweeping across the dusty floor.

            It is not until the battle has ended and S'aria goes forth, that Vinakh stirs. He flits his eyes over the body of Eron, and the Tower Lord that looms overtop it. The Merchant then chooses to turn away from the scene, drawing the front of his cloak more closely as he tips his head back to regard the sun, overtop the inner wall. He takes a few steps forward, beginning to make his way through the small crowd, and away from the scene.

Her blade still deep in Eron's chest, Azradi dances to the left a little bit too late. The dying man's sword nicks her cheek. She does not notice. Once he's fallen, she places her booted foot on his body for leverage and pulls her scimitar out.

She cleans it on his clothes and glances up to one of her men. "Take his body back to Farside and hang it from the walls." She glances towards S'aria, nodding her head. "And let the girl have his sword."

"I thank you for your graciousness...", speaks S'aria softly as she slowly raises back to her full height, raven bangs framing her rounded face. She approaches Eron quietly, lowering down to her knees to pull the scabbard from his hip, and then the blade from his dead fingertips. With ritual elegance she takes the scabbard and dips the open end it into the pool of blood rapidly forming beneath the man, letting some of his flowing vitae fill the scabbard as if it were a container. Once this is done, she silently pushes to her feet, taking the weapon into her arms. There she stands, quietly wrapping the weapon in a length of black silk produced from within her robes, her expression as unreadable as her dark eyes.

Lady Farside turns away from the body, sheathing her blade. She raises her eyes to the streets, noticing for the first time the crowd. For a moment, her eyes linger on the retreating figure of the Desert Merchant.

Then she motions for her Raven Knights to attend her. Leaving her soldiers to deal with the body, she wordlessly heads up the street, her guard and most of her men following in behind her.


Date added: 2011-03-14 22:00:58    Hits: 51
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