Fantasy Hunter's Moon: Ascendancy [IC] [CLOSED]

[joshuadim]

With the divine assault ended, Azathor pushed away the burnt vampire he had used as a shield as dusted himself off from flecks of char that had dropped onto him. The body crashed onto the floor, with its more burnt half collapsing into itself into a mess of black flakes underneath seared flesh. Looking around towards the devastation brought, Azathor couldn't help but scoff; he was impressed, but also a bit annoyed that such little warning was given. Had he been blasted - while likely to survive - it would have scarred him on a spiritual level. He wanted to be at full strength for the trials to come, and that meant not having such wonton use of holy energies being flung in his direction. He decided he would have a chat about this with the good Saint later, but instead walked over to Constantine.

"Thanks for the boost." the demon prince said, looking towards his own hands and clenching them. "I gotta say that was quite an experience. Were you... in the hat?" he asked, before turning his attention briefly towards Sebastian. He seemed to have come close with a ghoul bite, the implications of which weighed heavily on the soldier even with being cured almost immediately afterwards by the Saint's doing. Another thing on his list to do was added before looking over to a growing confrontation between Camille and the newcomer that had joined them in the fight. They had history, bad blood it seemed, which made Azathor less keen on intervening in any way.

Instead he turned his attention back to Constantine: "I swear the hat purred like a cat."

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Rajko started awake, body jolting forward from the pain, and the venom-tinged voices. As it were his eyelids grew heavy, tugged down by exhaustion, met with darkness the natural inclination was to drift atop the waves of unconsciousness, but then came Camille's voice spitting burning poison with each bitterly drawn word. The pain soon followed poising Rajko to remember again. He coughed slightly into the black folds of the cloth, leaning his wounded body to see a well-fashioned vampire sauntering towards a table, the heel of his shoes clicked in the grime and gore alike, Rajko's eyes narrowed. He'd manage to hear part of his explanation, even as the inquisitor descended into the depths of his mind.

He breathed a subtle, unwilling hiss. These Gods do so love their redeemed, don't they? At the very least, Rajko could tolerate, even appreciate Cassandra, but the Gods seem bent to throw every single person that has a history with this group in their path. "I'm surprised one has not damned themselves in the face of them," The inquisitor murmured morosely, arm clenching about his stomach so tight. Curiously, it had been a nostalgic scene from his point of view. He clamored to his feet, knees shaking dangerously loose from the exertion.

He shuffled himself to a chair, shoes describing a line through dust and bloodied-debris. "Oh... I don't think my sides could withstand laughing now..." Rajko commented, voice weak racked by ache. The cloth was peeled away, raw skin exposed, twisted by the flames, the rank air of this Godsforsaken place stung him greatly. Rajko's eye flickered, loosening a tear from its pore. He rolled his head back. "Can someone get me water and a clean cloth?"

 

[Damian0358]

Xiaòzhou responded with simple agreement at Aleister's remark on the state of the others, before the vampire walked past him towards the tables behind, while he continued towards Cassandra, and offered to help her up if she needed it. Afterward, he frown as he noted the atmosphere that had developed. Whoever this was, it was about to cause some drama here, with him looking over to Jakob and his crew after Camille's comments. Then, he'd hear Rajko's request.

"I'll try to do you better then that," the hermit remarked as he made his way over to him.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Rajko sighed, shifting his head to look at the approaching Oni. "My standards of care aren't so high now, I'll take anything." The inquisitor smirked weakly, eyes seizing with pain. At least his chest did not ache when he breathed. The man was acutely familiar with injuries, having sustained multiple over his years, but the sting never improved, never inured.

 

[Damian0358]

Xiaòzhou arrived over to Rajko, and places his hands on the lower half of his face. Immediately thereafter, Rajko could sense a change in intensity when it came to Takato's healing aura, as it streamed directly into him. Xiaòzhou wouldn't be able to help with things such as allergic reactions, but at least the healing he was doing at that moment would help make him feel more comfortable and healthy.

"...you'll be just fine," the hermit smiled at him.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

The Oni's hand inched closer to Rajko's face, his cheek twitched under the shadow, fists clench. It wasn't the Oni's presence or the anticipation of pain that forced Rajko to brace himself, it was that utter unfamiliarity of physical contact, devoid of violence or under the pretense of training. Then he felt a soothing surge, washing the pain of his wounds from his mind. His eyes softened, relaxing from their taut expression. From his digits to his shoulders his muscles grew lax.

He looked up and nodded once slowly. "That's another I owe you, Xiaòzhou. My gratitude for your service. "

 

[K0mori]

As the rage within her boiled to the point of overflowing, she shot up from her seat and stood tall as her furious gaze pierced him. "I vowed to kill you," Camille spat. "And now at the request of your bleeding-heart goddess you come here? Why? Redemption... atonement? We were fine as we were without you!"

"Perhaps you were ill-informed, but we are to be fighting Sazak and his armies. The amount of innocents to bomb and families to slaughter is few, so your talents shall not be needed here."

Sebastian quietly gripped his axe once more without standing as the figure approached. Whom had Cassandra saved? Are they friend or foe?

Camille's reaction seemed to give an answer, albeit one which raised further questions. The newcomer was a villain, apparently, but one which the gods had taken special interest in, just like Cassandra. His face seemed familiar in some way, but Sebastian couldn't yet place it, but it was strange that Camille would mention 'bombing innocents.' Many vampires were killers, but few would...

And then it clicked.

"Is that who I think it is?" he finally asked, taken aback. He looked Aleister in the eye with a look of morbid fascination. "...Are you Aleister Germain?"

 

[EdwardDewey98]

A blinding light had engulfed the banquet hall. So bright that both Sheila and the Gravedigger hid behind pillars, watching as the wicked creatures of the night turned to ash and the thralls fell to the ground, stunned by the holy light.

It was not the first time Jakob had witnessed such light, for he had witnessed an angelic apparition back in Grimtham. Still, this was nothing like that, and he covered his eyes as to not be blinded by Rebecca's incandescent light.

When it was over and the saint eventually fainted, Jakob reverted back to his human form. He quickly ran to where Marcus was. Sheila stood next to her partners corpse, looking down at it with deep sorrow. Jakob attempted to check Marcus' vitals, but it was too late. He cursed and let out an angry snarl before getting back up. Sheila was now holding both Marcus' and Billy's badges.

"I should have forced you to walk away... I should... have told you it was too much." he muttered as he kept staring at Marcus. "Enough, boss... we knew the risk." responded Sheila, before checking how much ammo she still had on her rifle.

Her attention trailed towards the stranger. "Who is that, boss?" she asked, motioning to the stranger approaching as Jakob got his shirt back on.

"I don't... wait..." he said, before his eyes opened wide.

"Perhaps you were ill-informed, but we are to be fighting Sazak and his armies. The amount of innocents to bomb and families to slaughter is few, so your talents shall not be needed here."

"Is that who I think it is? ...Are you Aleister Germain?"

​

"Sheila, hunter protocol!" said Jakob as he grabbed one of his revolvers from the ground and stomped towards Aleister with Sheila in toe. Jakob raised his gun and aimed it at the disgraced priest, his eyes locking onto the one man that had helped him through a lot back in Grimtham. Sheila stood in close to Camille and Sebastien, her hands holding Billy's rifle tightly. Preparing herself to aim it at the hunters should they try to obstruct justice.

"Aleister Germain, by the orders bestowed upon the Phillomon Detective Agency by Governor Henry Jefferson and signed by Duke William Brackenwood II and your excellency, we are placing you under arrest for the following crimes you have committed against Atraca and her people; terrorism, three hundred and seven accounts of first-degree murder and one thousand, two hundred and thirty seven accounts of second-degree murder!"

Jakob then cocked the hammer. "I have also been authorized to use lethal force, should you not comply."

Jakob looked Aleister directly in the eyes, not caring what the other hunters might think of him for aiming his gun at the man who joined the battle on their side. To him, Aleister was a terrorist, a criminal, a man who gave up what he believed in and became a monster... and yet, he wanted to ask those questions that had bothered him since the event.

Why did he commit such heinous acts towards mankind?

He continued to look at Aleister's unflinching gaze, his eyes having lost that color, that brightness that priest once had back in Grimtham. He had changed, but Jakob had to know; why?

"Why... Al? Why did you do it? Why kill thousands of innocents?" Jakob's grip on the gun tightened, his face contorting into an angry expression. "To get back at the church and Atraca for their inaction against a tyrannical deity?"

"If that's the case... what the FUCK were you thinking?" Jakob's hand began to twitch slightly. He was furious. "Nobody could raise a hand against Velin! Every corner of this continent bent the knee. Not because they wanted to, but because they had to! Instead of fighting her and the Inquisition through rebellion and the railroad, like me and my people back at Redgorge did, you decided to attack innocents. WHY?!"

Jakobs grip on the gun softened as he experienced catharsis. He had finally asked those questions, and now all that was left was to wait and see.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

As the rage within her boiled to the point of overflowing, she shot up from her seat and stood tall as her furious gaze pierced him. "I vowed to kill you," Camille spat. "And now at the request of your bleeding-heart goddess you come here? Why? Redemption... atonement? We were fine as we were without you!"

"Perhaps you were ill-informed, but we are to be fighting Sazak and his armies. The amount of innocents to bomb and families to slaughter is few, so your talents shall not be needed here."

"Oh, don't be crass, my dear Marquess. If such skills weren't needed, you wouldn't be here, either. A killer like none other," Aleister said with a growing sneer. His icy gaze seemed to flicker with contempt. "I need not redemption nor atonement, for my sins are but a mere drop in an ocean of hatred from Velin's former lapdogs. I am here because Undite asked. I declined at first - I thought it pointless. One more man could do little, but she thought otherwise, even with all the pain it would bring. Eventually her words proved illuminating enough. Slaying Sazak is worth the pain in the end. All of it. The only future where anything - anyone - continues to exist is with that fiend dead. Unless you would prefer to bow to him now?"

He took in a slight breath, a reflex without purpose, and shook his head. "The world revolves around neither of us. In my heart I have better things to do. People to save, farms to raise, children to guide. All people who are outcasts from this sick, demented continent. Refugees these days have little in common except for one thing - the blood of this land has washed them to my shores, and few arrive in one piece. But as I said before... Undite spoke of reason, and only a fool disregards wisdom."

"Is that who I think it is?" he finally asked, taken aback. He looked Aleister in the eye with a look of morbid fascination. "...Are you Aleister Germain?"

Aleister glanced aside at the batted soldier who looked as if he had crawled his way out from beneath a pile of corpses. Given the state of the chamber, perhaps that had truly been the case. It didn't take a physician to notice the man's immense pain even as he seemed focused on his weapons, but Aleister could see something deeper was gnawing at the man. Whether it was the immensity of the violence here or something else, he knew not.

"Yes... I am. Some prefer to attach an armada of titles to that name these days, though I rather prefer that only for the theater," he said with a hint of exasperation. "But if you are such a person who so prefers golden words, then Archbishop will suffice, if you desire. Otherwise... monsieur is in fashion."

"Sheila, hunter protocol!" said Jakob as he grabbed one of his revolvers from the ground and stomped towards Aleister with Sheila in toe. Jakob raised his gun and aimed it at the disgraced priest, his eyes locking onto the one man that had helped him through a lot back in Grimtham. Sheila stood in close to Camille and Sebastien, her hands holding Billy's rifle tightly. Preparing herself to aim it at the hunters should they try to obstruct justice.

Aleister's cheek twitched, his figure growing still as the grave as he stared back at Jakob. One could be forgiven for thinking it was the direction of a gun leveled at him that caused such a change, but his following words spoke of a far deeper weight being levied.

"You... you dare speak of deaths by number?" Aleister asked, voice so low and distant that it seemed to emerge from some place else entirely; when he spoke again, each syllable was leaden with the frost of ancient ice buried beneath the insurmountable weight of the great northern glaciers. "There are entire shelves within my home filled with the names of the dead, book by book, page by page. Some speak of atrocities so great that the names of the departed are stuck-," he said with a tremendous snap, as if the glacier he embodied was sheering apart under the centuries of pressure, " -stuck so deep within my mind I see the letters of each and every name burned upon my eyelids every time I close them. I hear their voices with every gust of wind. Thousands of them. Thousands! And that is for Atraca alone! You wish to speak of numbers?"

Aleister slammed his hand down upon the table with the force of a gunshot, rattling the silverware still there. "You would vomit if you realized how many there were. And that is Atraca alone! Daristein, Escaria - gods, so many more!"

It was clear a fire still burned within him, and fast was it rising to an inferno, the heat glowing in his eyes at risk of burning even Jakob who held his gaze with such conviction. "What was I thinking? What were you thinking? That only those who were at the tip of Velin's sword had a chance to fight her? Because let me tell you, old friend, her hounds laughed, and brayed, and salivated at the slaughter. You think it was a sin to strike back? It was a sin to stand by and watch as we burned," Aleister said, a snarl finally ripped away from his once calm visage. He closed his eyes and snapped his head away, raising one hand to cover his face as he clutched it, peering out between his fingers with the eyes of a caged animal. It took only a second for that look to fade - to be tamed once more - as he glanced back at Jakob.

"I blame no one for being afraid. We were afraid, too. No... I blame everyone who stood by for cowardice as thousands, tens of thousands, were massacred by a demonic hellion and her dogs. Nothing I or my people did was from desire. It was for survival. To slow that great tide of blood that grew deeper and darker by the day. Why must people like you cry for the drops we spilled and not for the torrents that flowed by? For almost two years we stood neck deep in it, drowning, gasping, hoping that in our blindness we could reach out and catch those passing by. You have no idea how many we grasped - and lost, torn from our grips despite how hard we raged and fought against it all."

He at last closed his eyes again, growing quiet, his tone softer now. "It was war - and there is nothing I have ever despised more than war. Of course I regret those who... who ended up in the line of fire. The port of Devontown was a naval harbor. We sank eight military vessels, screwships all. Two cruisers, three frigates, and three monitors with their crews. If I had the power to control that vast explosion only towards those ships, I would have done so. The people of Devontown were never the target. It was their king who nestled ships of war in their harbor. If we hadn't killed those vessels, they would have sailed off and sunk how many more ships? Tens? Dozens? In those days, we were getting anything that could float to our islands, filled with hundreds of lost and pleading souls. And not a single one would be given the chance to be saved if their vessels were sank by military means. How is that for murder?"

"Arrest or kill me if you want. I am tired. But know that doing so would start another war... or a religious crusade. Every thing I ever did was for the purpose of saving lives," he said, staring Jakob back down with a fraction of the heat from earlier. "The misery of it all is that we - I - was forced to use the very tools of my enemy to defeat them. Do you truly think I wanted to trade blood for blood? We would have stopped at any point. Velin and her soldiers were the only ones who started it and could stop it. If we hadn't struggled, there would be mountains more of the dead. And without any soul left to speak for them."

 

[Breadman]

Thanks for the boost. I gotta say that was quite an experience. Were you... in the hat?

"Well sort of?" The wraith felt unsure how to describe his experience "I was right behind you in a sense. Floating over your shoulder, but about half of me wasn't there. Not cut, just faded out. Kinda spiritual." He stopped to take another drag from his cigarette "Like I was made of pure energy and as you did what you did, I did the same moves. The trick shots, the coins and the ricochet. That was just instinct. No idea about the hat toss, that was all you."

I swear the hat purred like a cat.

"Purred?" He was silent for a few seconds. "First wraith never said anything about that. Figured it would be barking if anything. I'm more of a dog person." He shrugged. "My sister was into cats..." He was silent for another moment. "Funny. I forgot about her up until now. Hm." The sudden memory jumping into his head, made Constantine quiet a bit. A phantom of his life long forgotten in the depths of the Abyss now emerging in his mind. He remembers bits and pieces of what things were before, but he clearly remembers the emotions. Regret, sadness, pain. Like a curtain in his mind was starting to lift up.

He was brought back into the present by the escalating situation between the group and the newcomer. Constantine had a brief glance at him before when he flicked the cards to Cassandra, but the man didn't recognize him. Why would he? But the others knew him and his deeds. He was a vampire and a leader of sorts and whatever or whoever he's in charge of had comited acts of terrorism. Maybe in relation to the war? He'd have to ask him. Aleister in turn would give his own justification for his acts. Not surprising to the wraith was that Velin was at the center of their trouble. That woman and her order has been nothing but trouble.

"If I may as an outsider." Constantine raised a hand "Now I know y'all have history with each other, but speaking as someone who's worked with terrorists, mass murderers and all sorts of scum not too long ago for a 'higher cause', I urge we try and get along with each other long enough to get the job done and then pull the guns and swords out."

 

[Dmaster]

Camille continued her hateful stare at Aleister as he fired back, confident that she could trade barbs with him all day if necessary. And yet she knew it only right to drop pretenses, wrists twisting somewhat to maintain the force of clenching her hands so tightly. "My words have to be pointed where my blades can not be. Cassandra lives and walks among our number despite my presence, and you'll no doubt be offered a similar privilege by the Saint," she replied, words flowing out of her with restraining tension. "Sazak will die. I will never bow to him."

The huntress remained stone-faced as Jakob and his associate moved to try and make an arrest on Aleister, knowing the futility of the gesture. The priest had been living in a prison of his own making for years now, decadent and luxurious its amenities may have been. A cell would do nothing for him or justice, as a vampire may be happy to wait an eternity in solitude with their lifetime.

Angry as she was, Aleister being truthful with his justifications struck the huntress to the point she felt weak again. Her sneer slowly softened as she found the aching pain in her limbs returning, forcing her to loosen the bundle of clenched muscle she had become. Of course Camille sympathized, the priest chose action when the world was too frightened to move for the sake of him and his people. In a sense, this demonic war was doing something similar to the huntress with her own countrymen, the death toll rising as fields and homesteads are bombed and burned. The main difference lied in Escaria defending itself in equal scale - they at least had the capacity to fight back, wasteful and terrible as this war was.

Camille gazed at Constantine and his interjection, the fire in her eyes now a smoulder before she turns back to Aleister.

"On Grimtham, in the face of our failure I still saw the need to make a promise to myself. Velin tried to sway me, she wanted me to kill you and Mariette. She... saw herself in me. Can you think of anything more revolting?" she asked. "Were things any different, I could have been among her number in those horrific purges. Yet I remembered why I became a hunter in the first place; to protect those who could not protect themselves. Uncompromising slaughter is not protection, it is vile tyranny."

"My promise was to never be like her. Not ever. To walk the fine line of being a justified killer, if such a thing exists," Camille went on, her eyes now contemplative and sinking before she looked to Aleister and his weary countenance. "I asked you to promise me that you would never end up like the Duke. A man bitter and scornful over the state of the world, ready to turn it on its head and pave the path to his goal with as many bodies as possible. A warmonger who sees people as fodder or acceptable losses... Or not even people at all."

A deep breath and she found the strength to straighten herself again. "I know you never promised me anything, but I hoped that in the days after that failed mission you would try to stay as I knew you. You were kind, compassionate, hopeful in a world so tumultuous and dark -"

"... When I read the headlines of what you had done, I was in the bleakest time of my life. To me, it felt like a betrayal. A stab through an already wounded heart. I knew us all cursed, but did not know yours. I finally see its extent in you, what it has wrought. It transformed you into someone you aren't, Sazak manipulated you into a man devoid of light and hope. That is the only way I can imagine the Aleister I knew doing the things he did, resorting to war and slaughter just as his oppressors had been."

Now she closed her eyes, trying to hide their misty glimmer as she tried to think on an overarching point to any of this. "In the end, I am sorry I was not there for you. I hated Velin and everything she did, and I would have done something... A goddess does not scare me, and I do not fear being a martyr. I just could not bring myself to act, I had... become a hollow shell. If you could have come to me with your plight, perhaps I could have remembered myself, who I am. We could have helped each other."

 

[EdwardDewey98]

"Arrest or kill me if you want. I am tired. But know that doing so would start another war... or a religious crusade. Every thing I ever did was for the purpose of saving lives," he said, staring Jakob back down with a fraction of the heat from earlier. "The misery of it all is that we - I - was forced to use the very tools of my enemy to defeat them. Do you truly think I wanted to trade blood for blood? We would have stopped at any point. Velin and her soldiers were the only ones who started it and could stop it. If we hadn't struggled, there would be mountains more of the dead. And without any soul left to speak for them."

Upon hearing Aleister's reasoning, Jakob's grip of the revolver tightened again. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "FUCK YOU!" he shouted, taking another step closer to Aleister. "Fuck you, man! What the fuck are you thinking? What war are you talking about?! Have you lost your DAMN MIND?!" Jakob's eyes began to glow yellow. The beast inside of him was enraged, but the longer he kept staring into Aleister's eyes, that had lost that color and charm they once held, he began to calm down.

"Why on this gods forsaken earth would you think that starting a war against the world of Man would have been the best solution for this, Aleister?" He shook his head, trying to rationalize what the priest was saying. "I am a gods damn detective, Aleister. You talk dismissively of the number when I'm well aware of how many innocents were lost due to the Inquisition; It's the reason why there was inaction, Aleister. Entire towns of humans rounded up and butchered by zealous inquisitors and hunters by order of that devil pretending to be a god! What Atraca did, what Escaria, Daristein and even Eshax did was to escape an even greater genocide!"

Jakob took a deep breath, trying to calm himself again. "I know the horrors you saw, because I saw them as well! I rode to the ends of the Kingdom and beyond to see the charred carcasses of vampiric families, staked in the heart and executed by sun. I saw the heads of werewolves on pikes outside of chapels. Common graves with hundreds of butchered vampires and sympathizers. I saw the same horrors I saw in the war, but now directed at people like US."

"But instead of acting against mankind, I joined a movement to save our people! Our kind! The Railroad extended to almost every corner of the continent. We were saving hundreds of lives everyday, and leading them to safer settlements within the borders."

"But then you had the brilliant idea of bombing a city!"

"Your attack led to even more retribution. Those who couldn't get to Nocturne had to come with us, and because of YOU, three chapter houses of the Railroad were burned down to the ground. One by Velin herself... and for what? Are those lives in your boats all you have to show off, Aleister Germain? It wasn't YOU who stopped the violence, it was US!"

"It was Redgorge who was willing to sacrifice itself to save thousands! That put an end to the violence, to this imaginary war in your head, and we did not butcher an entire town worth of people to accomplish that!" Jakob was now a few steps away from Aleister, but the closer he got to the priest, the more he realized just how broken he truly was. Then, Camille spoke.

"... When I read the headlines of what you had done, I was in the bleakest time of my life. To me, it felt like a betrayal. A stab through an already wounded heart. I knew us all cursed, but did not know yours. I finally see its extent in you, what it has wrought. It transformed you into someone you aren't, Sazak manipulated you into a man devoid of light and hope. That is the only way I can imagine the Aleister I knew doing the things he did, resorting to war and slaughter just as his oppressors had been."

"In the end, I am sorry I was not there for you. I hated Velin and everything she did, and I would have done something... A goddess does not scare me, and I do not fear being a martyr. I just could not bring myself to act, I had... become a hollow shell. If you could have come to me with your plight, perhaps I could have remembered myself, who I am. We could have helped each other."

Jakob lowered the revolver, the words of the huntress having become stuck in his mind. Could things have changed if he and Camille had taken a more active role in Aleister's life? Could they have prevented what happened? Jakob looked away, closing his eyes and cringing in frustration.

"Why didn't you ask for help, Al?" he said, his tone softer. Similar to that of the Constable that tried to joke around the priest years prior. "You tried to save me. My soul. You tried to make me human again after Wallace and his dogs converted me into a beast I owe you much, and you know I would have done everything in my power to help you - I even sent you letters, Al! I... I told you what Sazak did to us. You could have asked for my help."

In frustration, Jakob grabbed his hat and threw it aside. "We could have connected Nocturne and the Railroad. We could have saved even more lives. Why..." Once again, Jakob looked away in frustration. "Why, Al... why did any of this have to happen? Do not repeat what you just said because it can't be the entire truth! Please, I... I can't believe that the one man who tried so desperately to save everyone back on Grimtham is the same one standing in front of me!"

Jakob's exasperated plead for any other answer was out of desperation. He knew that. He refused to think Aleister was the one who committed such heinous acts back in the day, and only began believing those reports days before his journey to the Abyss. He couldn't understand why, but perhaps he'd never understand. The two men saw the world differently. Perhaps Jakob had been lucky that Sazak didn't destroy his world the same way he had destroyed Aleister's.

 

[K0mori]

Sebastian watched with growing concern as the trio of Camille, Aleister, and Jakob traded their points of view. The detective still had his hand on his gun, and was barely keeping his temper, and his wolf form, in check. Constantine was trying to deescalate the situation, and thankfully, at least Camille seemed to be listening.

He couldn't take it anymore. The pressure of the situation he had just survived and the ongoing challenge of the path ahead was already too much, but this impromptu litigation of the prior years' events was intolerable, and, unbelievably, Sebastian found himself increasingly sympathetic toward the Archbishop. He slowly rose from his chair and dragged his feet, feeling so much stiffer and broken up inside than he did when he sat down.

But soon, he was standing between Jakob and Aleister. He stood there for a moment, looking at the detective. "Don't pretend there are rules, Atrakanner. You did what you could... You all did what you were willing to do. Nobody stopped the killings alone. Keep your standards to yourself."

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Aleister listened to the words of those who had spoken to him with an increasingly distant stare, vacant of anything except pain. Everything was pain, one way or another. The things he had done and the things he hadn't. The people who couldn't be saved and those who had to be sacrificed for a greater cause. The sickness and revulsion of knowing he had to make decisions that ended lives was an anathema to his whole being, but it was second only to the fact that he couldn't see any other way around the necessity of what he had done. Every move had been performed in the interest of buying as much time, distance, and lives as possible. Inaction by hours in the early days had cost countless lives until it became clear that fleeing was not effective. If the hunters were coming for them, then they would be met not with pleas of mercy, but gun and steel. It was the same throughout all of history, he knew. He had been corned by fate and the machinations of demons and yet... what else could have been done? Inaction was death. He knew without a single doubt that if they had not raised their hands in defense, more would have been killed.

He had expected the worst venom from Camille, but Jakob seemed the least understanding, and in a way the shock of how things were unfolding against how he expected tempered his own emotions with the weight of confusion and dismay. To make matters worse, both were right, in their own ways, but never fully reaching the truth - no, never truly able to see what he had seen nor recognize that the path ahead had already been decided by the circumstances of everything. Thousands if not millions of souls on every side taking actions that created a whirlwind by their own merit of simple existence. The dreams of the frightened bringing death to others the day after, or a hushed conversation spawning an imaginary conspiracy. The hooded cloaks of weary travelers sparking fear of imminent invasion. But what was the answer? Where in the hell that had been unleashed was the right path forward? He had fought, raged, and thrashed against the very world to drag the lives of the innocent away from the well of damnation. If he could have reached out to save them all regardless of side or allegiance or any other reason, he would have.

Slowly, his mind was working the contours of a retort to Jakob's ire, his inability to see the world Aleister had spoken of that had captured him, but the man named Sebastian approached and spoke with the weariness often only seen by those who were already dead.

He looked at the stranger as if seeing him for the first time, before his gaze shifted between Camille and Jakob. At last he finally looked away, his expression as haunted and tired as it had ever been. "We all did what we could... I suppose you are right in that," Aleister said, glancing at Sebastian from the corner of his eyes before looking away again. It seemed as if the vampire was stuck living between multiple worlds and times that never added up, and were in fact tearing him apart with the passing of every second.

"If I had believed going to either of you for help would have changed anything... I would have. But... would it have? Velin wouldn't have changed her mind. She didn't even listen to the other gods - she would never listen to a mortal, a vampire, and a werewolf. The nobility was more concerned with themselves, as was the clergy. The rest of us... all of us... were merely wheat upon the reaping whirlwind."

He turned fully to look upon Camille and Jakob at last, the faintest shimmer of moisture in his eyes, staining his kohl-outlined visage. "I am sorry. For everything. I was never the right man for any of it. I was merely the only one present. I had spread the word to run, charted some ships to flee... and then my name was on the lips of every soul seeking salvation. We all know what it is like for another to beg for help - to beg for mercy before us. But do you know what it is like for thousands of people to... to call out to you, telling you that without you they would be dead? It started as letters of thanks. Merely passing words of generosity. Then it became cries for help. From all over. The more I reached out to help, the more they ate what little was left of me. If I hadn't burnt my self for the purpose of warming them... they would have frozen in the frigid embrace of the purge. Only... only I... only I had the chance.... the position to... to burn everything that made me live to save a few more lives. Just a few more. And it still wasn't enough... I... I burned out too soon, I hadn't the strength... the mind... the wit to stop it all...."

Aleister removed a handkerchief from his vest pocket and brought it to his eyes, a blind man looking into darkness. "We all know the work we do here, this fighting against the evils of the dark saves lives. We know the fruit of victory is in the laughter of children and a village safe for another night. We know the sting of failure are blood-stained barns in the countryside where the ash is made up of those gone missing, their faces only preserved on the posters heralding their disappearance. But pray... pray none of you will ever hear such people. Once you turn your ear to them you cannot turn it away, for doing so is to damn those whose pleas you ignore. And the pleading. never. stops. Save a few lives and they look upon you like a god in a time where one has commanded their deaths. But the cruelty of it all... when they see a god... I only have to look into a mirror to see nothing."

 

[EdwardDewey98]

"We all know the work we do here, this fighting against the evils of the dark saves lives. We know the fruit of victory is in the laughter of children and a village safe for another night. We know the sting of failure are blood-stained barns in the countryside where the ash is made up of those gone missing, their faces only preserved on the posters heralding their disappearance. But pray... pray none of you will ever hear such people. Once you turn your ear to them you cannot turn it away, for doing so is to damn those whose pleas you ignore. And the pleading. never. stops. Save a few lives and they look upon you like a god in a time where one has commanded their deaths. But the cruelty of it all... when they see a god... I only have to look into a mirror to see nothing."

The pleading. never. stops.

At that moment, Jakob realized why Aleister did what he did. He tried everything in his power to save lives, but was soon surrounded by so much death and suffering that he acted out of desperation. An attempt to give his boats carrying thousands of refugees to safety a chance to sail the seas unharmed. Jakob looked down at the priest as he cried, and he was lost for words.

He looked at Sebastien, giving the soldier a frustrated look. "I am a man of laws. A man must have a code, soldier." he muttered towards the man before looking back at Camille who stood close by. She was right once again. If only Mariette was here.

He looked back at Aleister, and after taking a deep breath, he grabbed the priest's shoulder. Jakob remained quiet for a moment, before his tired eyes met Aleister's. "I am afraid... that I will still arrest you. Some day. The innocent deserve justice... but... today is not that day."

"Help us, Al... Help us end all of this."

 

[Infab]

"I will thank you for the help," he said, voice harder than the steel of the frozen shipwrecks beneath the northern sea, "but never speak my name like that again."

Cassandra's smile quickly faded. Yeah, he still hates me. "...Understood." she responded. Eventually, while Aleister walked away, Cassandra forced herself to her feet. The burns were healing quickly, but she'd need new clothes. One or two of the Thralls had been wearing some clothing that seemed appropriately sized for her. However, that would have to wait. She turned about, as she overheard what she fully expected to. Camille, angry at Aleister, and Jakob almost the same. However, Jakob would also try to arrest Aleister, with one of his lackeys holding the others at gunpoint.

Cassandra was about to intervene, but as she walked towards them, things seemed to tone down as Aleister conversed with them. Emotions were high, and reasons were being produced. Surprisingly, Sebastian seemed to be siding with Aleister. That caught her off guard. Cassandra continued over, stopping near Sheila. Of course, she was waiting for the highlander to point that rifle at her. And she did, swinging the rifle around and leveling it at Cassandra's head. However, Jakob took notice and forced her to lower it.

Cassandra offered no input on the conversation. Her words would be disregarded anyway, as she was practically part of the reason Aleister was as he was now. She was the reason why all of them ended up cursed by Sazak, as she had prevented them from killing him atop the castle on Grimtham. Eventually, she walked away as the conversation seemed to be coming to an end. Now to find those clothes.

Meanwhile, Riberta took the aid from Constantine without a second thought. Anything to stop the pain from the burns. Sure enough, the wounds began to scab and heal, skin mending itself across her body. The cards tingled a bit, strangely. What was it, Abyssal energy?

 

[Dmaster]

Where once she was standing stiff and completely tense, the huntress was now loose as tiredness was setting in. Hearing Sebastian speak she nodded in agreement, not willing to attribute the ending of the purges to one particular event or act. Such an interjection seemed to be enough for Aleister to open up more, about the pleas for help he could never provide. Of course it would be too much for him, few could endure what he had and remained themselves afterward. Yet Camille still could not agree with the ends he chose to justify his means. However, her opinion probably did not count for much of anything.

"As I have said before on this journey, it feels as though I have lived a thousand lifetimes in the past. There is no changing the decisions we have made, the mistakes that haunt us... It is our duty to rise above all of it to build a better future," she tells him, or perhaps she is telling herself once more. Being out here, risking everything, that was all that mattered in this moment.

Jakob still seemed quite intent with arresting Aleister, but Camille still thought that to be a worthless gesture. For as wrathful as she felt a moment ago, she could not imagine herself putting a stake through the priest's heart now that she knew the turmoil he had suffered. Would solitude behind bars really provide any sort of justice? While his regret was genuine as it could be, it was not her place to determine if it could be enough to forgive him. Perhaps she did not have to.

"I like to think that we could have thought of something together," Camille finally says after a moment of silence. "I am happy to bring the failures of any god to light in the eyes of the public. Perhaps if I was the rank I hold now as master of Escarian hunters, I could have refused their participation in the purges. Velin is a tyrannical child, but she would not slaughter someone such as me for defiance, she would not have slaughtered the world over for defiance. They just needed to be shown that someone with a voice loud enough and a heart brave enough could make a difference..."

Catching herself, she shook her head from side to side with a huff of annoyance. "Yet that is me dwelling on the past once again. I cannot imagine the depths of hardship you felt from hearing those cries of your kind, even if I wanted to. Those I defend are more nebulous and often far more privileged," she speaks to Aleister. "I could never think to do as you did, to take such a wide swing with the reaper's blade, my solutions often aim to be more... surgical."

"Your people needed not one savior, but many, and the harsh reality we must face is that we can not save everyone, even if we so deeply want to. You could never be a god, Aleister, yet you are far more than nothing."

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Aleister grew quiet, his face both calm and turbulent. Once again he found himself surprised - he had expected no understanding from the likes of Camille, but it seems the both of them had witnessed too much to not go unchanged. He wished he could blame it all merely on fate and happenstance, to stop at calling the world cruel; he knew better than that. Every cruelty within the world had been wrought by the hands of men and demons and worthless gods. Even the mere thought of Velin again burned his veins in a way speaking her name moment's ago hadn't. Inside his mind, her name could take on a more sinister appearance, standing as a monument of all the misery he - and so many others - had suffered. But it hadn't been her doing alone, he knew. Sazak, that wretched creature of damnation, was the reason they all stood where they did now.

"Yes, well...." Aleister tried to speak, his voice hoarse as he trailed off. "Everything I had done... it was to buy more time. More time to save those who cried for help. What a mockery these years have made of me. There was a time where I could scarce stand violence even on stage, let alone war. And then... then I found myself forced to use lives as currency to uphold my oaths, the ways of my heart, to save others," he explained, trailing off with a pensive hum. "As I say it, even now I cannot truly fathom the diabolical curse leveled upon myself. No matter what I did, no matter what I thought, my own ethics that burned as the light of my world would turn to shadow step by step, extinguishing itself. I could stand by and let others die by the droves, or make decisions to... to wage a war that could never be won just to buy more time to save those who couldn't save themselves." He reached out for a goblet on the table, idly inspecting it and the odd reflection of the light playing across the rim. A trickle of blood ran down the side and he tossed the cup aside in disgust.

"I do not regret saving lives, but I regret taking them. That is the paradox thrust upon me, and one that fiend Velin must atone for... and Sazak. They are but two sides of the same coin. I hear speak of demons of wrath and lust and so on, but I care not. There are merely avatars of hatred and destruction, and their names are Sazak and Velin. One still stands to be killed, and killed they shall be," Aleister said, grabbing his rifle again and holding it aloft.

He glanced aside away from Camille and the others, eying Jakob. "The only innocents in this world are the dead, Jakob. Even the refugees I saved, I do not cast myself into delusions by thinking all of them were without sin. How many resulted to theft to get by? Is this not against the law? How many knew that there was a single spot left on a train, and stole it from the owner of the rightful ticket, when both faced certain death by the Church or some wretched militia? Whatever I think matters not. I did not speak in jest or anger when I said if you were to arrest or slay me, you would start another war. I want the bloodshed to end. For good."

 

[K0mori]

He looked at Sebastien, giving the soldier a frustrated look. "I am a man of laws. A man must have a code, soldier." he muttered towards the man before looking back at Camille who stood close by.

Sebastian's lip curled at the reply. "Tch."

With that solitary sound of dismissal, he allowed the detective to move on without interrupting him. Inside, he could only bask in the hypocrisy of accepting Cassandra's presence while rejecting Aleister's involvement with his whole chest. Jakob could blather about codes if he wanted, but as far as Sebastian was concerned, between the two of them, Jakob was the one who lacked consistency.

He turned and watched the softening of positions, knowing that soon, Aleister would be just another companion that fate had somehow drawn into a single course that brought him to this room, and would hopefully lead on to more godly artifacts and an end to everything going on in the world.

He shuffled back to a table and leaned on it, digging through his pockets for a cigarette before giving up on it a moment later. He felt a sudden pang of sadness take hold. The things that he had said just now- the lack of rules in the world at a time like this... Provided that they were successful, it would come to an end.

Sebastian would need to return to a world of laws, a world run by men like Jakob, where he would again pretend to see the distinctions between one and another which made a mortal deserving of praise or condemnation. And he knew that many of those mortals would be like him- soldiers who unknowingly assisted this demonic plot. Others would be like Aleister, who crossed lines in order to defeat it. All the nuances which at the moment hold little value in the face of Sazak's threat would surface again, and then, what?

Litigation? Prosecution?

He felt as if the wider world would never really heal from what it has undergone, nor would he. But maybe future generations would have the chance to be born into blissful ignorance again, and grow up to better appreciate what they have versus what their forerunners were forced to contend with.

 

[Dmaster]

Perhaps all the huntress needed to hear from Aleister was the genuine regret he felt for his actions. The last time she had seen him was at the summit: a world stage where he likely had to wear a mask that hid his inner turmoil. He was there to justify his actions as a way to save his people, and one could not afford to show vulnerability under such circumstances. By now, Camille understood the need to put on a second face to obscure inner anguish, and she could see now that Aleister had been in pain for quite a long time.

"Wrath has blinded me to your turmoil, and for that you have my apology," she said to him with a low tone. "Yet I cannot forgive the killing of those innocents in your war. Though it is clear to me that you have not even forgiven yourself, either."

Glancing between Aleister and Jakob, her eyes soon fell to the space between them. "I am also guilty of ending innocent lives, for even though my record as a hunter is renown, prejudice guided my blade in my earliest days. It is yet another regret that has shaped me into who I am now," Camille adds. At the time, most any frightful Escarian could convince her that a mark was a terror of their town, and the young huntress was hungry enough for opponents to force battles out of her prey. All in pursuit of an opponent worthy enough to hone her skills further.

A quiet breath pulls her back to the pesent. Jakob being so adamant about Aleister's arrest also gets her to make a sound of annoyance. "Do you intend to lock up the generals waging war at this very moment alongside him? They have more blood on their hands than Aleister by several magnitudes, all achieved in a manner of days. You may abide by a code, but the world over certainly does not."

With her chiding down with, she turns back to Aleister. "What truly matters is that we are here now to burn the root of all of our suffering, the world's suffering, away. I will not deny you your chance to set things right... After all, you saved my life. I owe you that much at the very least."

 

[Infab]

As Camille finished, another voice joined into the conversation. It seemed the Saint had reawakened, shaking her head as she recovered from her unconscious state. "Aleister? I remember you from the summit." she said, standing carefully from her chair. "If you're here... then the gods have deemed that you need to be. I welcome you."

She stood in place for a few moments, regaining her composure, before sighing. "...I... miscalculated how large I needed to make that miniature sun. Whoever moved me to the chair, I thank you. Last I remember, I was falling over onto Sebastian, so I'm glad to see he's okay as well."

She then looked to the others. "Take a few moments to rest and recuperate. Its likely we will encounter more like what we just fought further in, so we should be prepared." she stated, before looking to Jakob. "Jakob, Shelia, Gravedigger... Aleister. Help me with the fallen, if you would. Including the Konstantinovs. I would like to offer prayer for their souls, if possible.... Please." Her tone sounded almost pleading with the final word. As if she needed to do it.

Those she named assisted, locating the fallen members of their group and gathering them up to one side of the room. Meanwhile, the rest of the group gathered themselves and took a moment to rest and reload. The other Konstantinovs assisted Rebecca, moving their fallen Konstantinov brethren to where the others were. Eventually, Rebecca would stand over the bodies, offering prayers of varying faiths for the souls of the departed. As she moved about, she seemed to be recuperating slowly. Her movements less sluggish, her words less slurred. Sweat began to vanish from her body. She began to look... renewed.

It seemed acts of 'goodness' rejuvenated her, regardless of how small and insignificant.

Cassandra soon returned to where the others were sitting, wearing clothes that hadn't been damaged in the chaos of the battle. There were some flecks of blood here and there, staining the collar of the white blouse shirt she wore, but not much else. The leather pants she wore reminded one of those of classical duelists, and she now wore black gloves and laced up knee high boots. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, out of her face. Blood stained her mouth, which she wiped off as she approached. She had fed, likely on blood from one of the cups or bowls.

"Ready when the rest of you are." she said softly, before glancing over to where Rebecca was. "The Saint's back up and moving? Good."

 

[K0mori]

With enough time having passed, Sebastian's nerves had steadied a bit, and the tightness of his muscles relaxed as he sat. When Rebecca announced her readiness to move on, the soldier lifted his head from his palm and nodded. "Ja," he replied. "Let's go."

On his feet again, he opted for his shotgun once more and took his place near the back of the pack. As before, he would focus on cleanup behind the members of the party who were stronger, especially since most were already cursed in some way.

 

[Breadman]

What emotions were running high were now cooling off and both sides were less likely to shoot and stab each other. Maybe not Jacob. He's a man of codes and honor and while he may lack the same fanaticism, Constantine couldn't help and be reminded of Royland. Would Jacob follow that damn fool into the same path? Depends on how hard he holds to those codes. Plenty of lawmen down there. He might have met some if he was there.

The saint was back on her feet and while the acts of kindness were rejuvenating her, it didn't seem to have an effect on his abyssall nature. Not like before. The use of holy magic was probably what hurt like hell. The wraith moved up with the rest, choosing the spot right next to Sebastian. His current cigarette was running out, so he reached for the carton of cigarettes in his pocket, but noticed something about them. Just like his deck of cards, all restocked and in good condition. With a surprise, he grabbed one while offering another to his traveling companion. He placed it in his mouth and snapped a finger for a light.

"Something's funny." He finally said something after exhaling some smoke from the new batch. "These barely had a taste a few minutes ago. Now its bittersweet." He examined the bud between his fingers. There was no actual difference between it and any of the ones he's smocked ever since he came back to the Mortal realms. On a hunch he materialized one of the revolvers in the other hand and examined it. He was right to do so. The wood on the grip had gone from worn to fresh and bran new. The metal had lost any semblance of rust from the corruption, instead having a polished shine. The markings on the weapon were less chaotic in their scratches, now forming actual runes even glowing brighter in intensity. "Huh." He flicked his wrist, putting the gun back where it belonged.

 

[Damian0358]

Xiaòzhou watched as tensions rose due to the seemingly sudden appearance of Aleister Germain. His familiarity with the events on Grimtham Isle, moreso than the news of what had happened after with Nocturne, meant that he not only knew how major this was, but also to what extent tensions could escalate to, given who has been gathered so far. He concentrated on going around healing up whoever else needed it, but kept himself on the ready in case things escalated so far that physical intervention was necessary. Though it seemed likely at times, eventually things did die down, and just in the nick of time too, with the Saint reawakening.

With a bow returning Rebecca's thanks, the hermit aided in efforts even without being asked. He was not about to have the fallen not receive their final prayers and thanks for their efforts. With a nod affirming a job done, he went back to the others to check up on them one last time, and soon, the idea of moving forward was brought up.

"Ready as ever," the oni remarked. There was no more time to spare.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Rajko kept a watchful eye, now less burdened by the ache of his wounds, the inquisitor's thoughts settled on his mind. Whatever crimes Aleister had been guilty of, whether in the court of morality or judicially, now is simply not the time to pursue him. That fact did not trouble Rajko, nor did the dire consequences of another internecine war. He rubbed the tension from his wrist, slowly rising up from the chair. The air thick with the weight of their intentions, though the jagged tempers ebbed just in time as the Saint has risen from her unconsciousness. He lent a hand to their efforts. The deceased deserved proper decorum.

Beside a cup, with its crimson contents spilled to the roughened flagstone floor, was Rajko's rifle, wooden body chipped and clawed. He picked it up, shouldering it as he turned.

"Always." He said, voice slightly raw, but possessed of the firmness he always displayed.