Vow of Silence
Author's Note: Since being reacquainted with Demon's Souls, I had a little idea brewing. I found this story lurking in the back of my files (so to speak) and thought I'd post it for the hell of posting. So here you go. Also, this is a one-shot.
"There are times when silence has the loudest voice."
-Leroy Brownlow
"That's the problem with religion: you beat your way past the clerics, fight your way through the demons, stand before the holy of holies, and when you rip away the veil, there's nothing there but a mirror."
-Owen Rowley
By: VampireQueenAkasha
~O~
One
SPLASH!
Yurt managed to seize the fish tightly in his gloved hand. He gathered several that he'd caught earlier into a sack and walked it toward the campfire where another figure was sitting.
Morana had accompanied the Silent Chief on their journey through the kingdom of Boletaria. As one who dabbled in sorcery, she was useful in any case that required magic, but certainly not an assassin as he was.
The colorless Deep Fog that led them deep though Boletaria's borders had crept even beyond that; as they had witnessed in their journey, it had been far worse than they anticipated. Morana and Yurt were sent to end the demon's reign, but things had changed for him. Yurt had rarely been one for amusement and laughter to begin with, but his mood had gradually darkened into something else.
Morana held herself closer, the animal furs she was wrapped in granting her some form of warmth.
Yurt looked at her and took a seat. "The fish are biting more than I had expected." he mused. "Regardless, this should serve us well." He glanced at her silently, noticing no reaction. "You haven't eaten since yesterday morning."
Morana cast a spell on the fire, to strengthen it. She said nothing on his observation.
"We can make our way to Latria, land of the Queen's ivory tower." Yurt continued, despite her lack of answer; he began removing a map from a pouch at his side, perhaps to ease the silence a little. "There, we will find the source of its light."
"Indeed." Morana finally said, studying the fire emptily.
Yurt sensed her lack of excitement and frowned, his wrinkled features twisting.
"You do not seem entirely thrilled by our journey as when we had begun." he pointed out. "I recall you eager to take the trip. Demons ravage this land and it is our chance to claim a bounty of souls."
Morana nodded her head.
"I know."
The allure of finding powerful souls seemed to lose its charm for her after what they had witnessed, but she ventured on, knowing that Yurt's wishes meant more than her own.
It had been strange when they had first met; Yurt and Morana had come from a village of assassins, trained in their order to collect souls and bring down their assigned contracts. She had remembered feeling quite timid around him when they had first encountered one another. She was by no means skilled in the art of the assassin, but she served a use regardless and was assigned to him for his task.
Of course, she had no idea that he had desired her from afar.
It had been a curious thing, at first. Morana had hardly considered herself an intriguing case, short of being a sorceress. The lingering glances he gave her, the curious smiles on the corner of his lips. Not that she had refused him. Despite his age, he was desirable to her. Though she never spoke of it until they eventually met one another alone in his study.
Yurt smiled when Morana entered his study.
She was wearing her typical fur robes and returned the smile, though with much timidness. She seemed to contemplate what to do next; he could see that change in her eyes and the uncertainty in her shifting heels. But Yurt's gaze was filled with a thinly-veiled hunger, curiously watching her like a tethered wolf observing a meal. When he'd invited her there, it was with the idea that it would lead to them coupling.
"Go on then," he said, "Let's see."
Morana did as he said and slowly removed her robes, sliding them almost effortlessly off of her shoulders. They fell in a heap around her feet and she lightly pushed them aside with her foot.
Yurt murmured, impressed by the sight of her naked body. He ran a long, thin finger across his lower lip, smiling down at her. Her long hair was draped across her shoulders, those black bangs hiding her eyes a little. Such a gaze had her laughing quietly with embarrassment and lowering her head from the intensity of his gaze. She hadn't often been looked that way before and it left a stirring ache in her belly.
"Have you done this sort of thing before?" Yurt questioned, tilting his head. He wanted to be certain how to approach her.
She nodded. "Once. Shortly after I became a woman."
"Was he a man?"
Morana blushed a little now. She smiled broadly, unable to resist herself. "Not like you..."
Yurt chuckled at the honesty in her words. "You flatter me."
He walked up to her and raised a hand, resting it gently against her cheek. She swallowed thickly at the contact, those blue eyes darkening as she looked up at him. Her blue eyes darkened with intrigue. Yurt, however, could see she was nervous. He read the gazes of others far too well.
"Are you scared?" he asked.
She nodded. There was not much point in lying. Yurt knew a lie when he saw it.
"There is plenty of reason to fear me," Yurt said, "But not tonight."
He inclined his head and placed a kiss against her lips before guiding her to the pile of furs on the floor.
O
Latria's towers and jail cells were filled with legions of undead, Mind Flayers and demonic gargoyle beings who hunted them at every turn.
Yurt and Morana took shelter inside a cell and were met with a woman. Her scarred, disfigured features startled Morana, but the woman didn't seem offended.
"That's all right, dear," she said, quietly. "I've had better days. I was once the wife of royalty, and I have some nice things to show for it."
Morana glanced at Yurt before staring down at the piles of supplies and jewelry nearby.
"Before, there were many others trapped here. But they went mad, and ventured above, of their own volition," the woman told them. She chuckled softly, though a bitterness touched her tone. "Redemption? Hah. There exists no such thing."
"Were they looking for the Light?" Morana asked.
The woman's eyes widened somewhat before she smiled. "No." she said, "No such thing exists. You see...the Queen banished her depraved old husband from the land. He returned in strange golden garb with foul Demons in tow. They pillaged great Latria, land of the learned, and locked us in this dungeon. Since then, they've been feeding off our souls… Telling us over and over that if we go above, we will be granted redemption. But I know the truth."
"What is that truth?" Yurt asked.
"The church goddess may die, but never for long. And we are trapped below forever."
She let out a soft laugh, almost airy and dreamlike.
Morana sighed. "We should go."
Yurt followed her out of the cell and they made their way down the long, metal path toward a flight of stairs. Something stopped her and she frowned, staring into a cell.
"Morana, what is it?" Yurt questioned.
She made her way into a cell. Yurt watched her and before he knew it, noticed a Mind Flayer approaching. He uttered a curse and quickly ducked into the cell with her, shutting the door behind him.
The Mind Flayer made its way to the cell, just as Yurt drove his stiletto weapon through its face. It let out a dying screech, twitching on the blade before falling dead to the floor.
"I'm sorry!" Morana exclaimed, "I thought I saw something."
Yurt sighed, turned. "What could you have seen?"
"My mother."
Yurt stood there, his features hidden behind his helmet. "I was sure she was killed."
"Yes. I know."
Yurt looked back at the door. "This place is attempting to have us lost. We won't allow it."
He started to push the door open, but it wouldn't budge.
"What's wrong?" Morana asked.
Yurt didn't look back at her. "Merely a minor setback. Give me a moment."
He struggled to pull the door open for a few moments more. Morana made a face and watched him for a few moments in silence before raising an eyebrow. She spoke when he eventually stopped trying to get the door to open.
"Are we stuck?" Morana asked him.
Yurt let out a heavy sigh. "It would appear so."
"It was my doing..." Morana said, her voice slightly cracking, "I thought I saw my mother. I should have known the truth. I still followed anyway."
"Do not fear." Yurt replied, "If I could reach the jailer's keys, I can get us free. There is no point in blaming yourself. It will avail us nothing."
He struggled to reach for the keys lying on the walkway nearby, in a pile of mush that had once been the Mind Flayer. When it didn't work, he used his shotel for a better reach.
Once he retrieved the keys, he went to work attempting to open the lock.
"Let's hurry." Morana said. She looked around warily. "I do not trust this place."
O
Morana and Yurt raced across the stone bridges, pursued by the demons wielding spears.
"Go!" Yurt commanded.
Morana was behind him and looked over her shoulder briefly.
They were led toward a dead end where rows of empty cages surrounded them. Yurt drew his weapons and was ready to attack, but Morana shoved him into one of the cages.
He stumbled backwards and before he could think to rush out, she shut the door and locked it tight.
"Morana, what are you doing?" he demanded.
She smiled sadly. "Saving you."
Yurt could hear the demons approaching and looked beyond her briefly.
"Open the cage, Morana." he ordered. His voice was calm, but bordered on desperate.
"No. I can let them take me. You'll be safe."
"Open the cage, right now." His voice rose slightly.
Morana did nothing of the sort. She drew her wand and stood before the army of demons closing in. She advanced and Yurt lost all semblance of the calm facade he was known for. He began tugging violently on the cage door with a roar.
"GODS DAMN YOU, YOU STUPID WOMAN!" he shouted.
Morana closed her eyes at the sounds, continuing forward.
"Forgive me for what I may do..." she whispered.
"Morana, stop!"
The demons swarmed her, swinging their spears and though she fired spells at them, they overwhelmed and tore into her body. Yurt screamed at them, though it was futile. Morana's scream overlapped his and eventually, there was another sound.
A soft roar, like the call of a beast in the distance.
The demons looked toward it briefly before dragging Morana's bloodied, tattered form with them.
"NO!" Yurt shouted.
His shout echoed through the darkness of Latria.
O
Yurt didn't know how much time had passed.
"I can see, that you have killed in the past…"
Yurt lifted his head and saw a woman standing there, wearing black and gold clothing. She wore a mask over her face and had long, blonde hair.
"Who are you?" Yurt asked, his voice weak from hunger.
The woman smiled. "I am Mephistopheles." she said, "I have seen you are a warrior of exceptional skill. No one can blame you for your killings. Demon souls are simply too precious to relinquish. Perhaps a knight like you, would have an interest in my offer?"
Yurt sounded suspicious. "What can you offer me?"
"For starters, the soul of Morana, the woman who gave her life for you," Mephistopheles suggested. "And a bounty of souls as well."
Yurt was tempted by such an offering. He could not deny that.
"You will see her again..." Mephistopheles told him, "When a warrior arrives to set you free. Have patience, Yurt the Silent Chief. It will all be over really soon..."
And with that, she was gone.
O
The Gargoyle had fallen easily.
Gwendolyn ventured forward and noticed several colorful, glowing Augites of Guidance on a platform below a broken bridge. She backed up a few paces, clutching her bow tightly in hand before leaping off and landing onto it. Slowly, she approached the stones, wondering where they had come from before turning toward several hanging cages. Most of them appeared to be empty except there was a man standing in one.
He was tall and adorned in black, somewhat menacing armor, wielding a sickle and long stiletto knife in his hands.
"Hello?" Gwendolyn said, cautiously.
The man lifted his head. He was wearing a helmet, so his features were unreadable. He spoke in a deep, gravely voice. "Are you here to fight the Demons?" he asked.
Gwendolyn nodded slightly.
"Hm. If so, help me escape this place," the man said, "I am on your side. I have come to face the Demons."
Gwendolyn contemplated this for a long time; she had faced distrusting souls before and he certainly didn't appear to be very trustworthy. But then again, he was being held prisoner in the tower and most of those that she had rescued were in fact the victims. Maybe she couldn't judge this one simply because he appeared to be intimidating. She slowly reached for the lock, but her hand froze and she frowned up at the man.
"How can I be sure to trust you?" she asked.
The man chuckled softly. "If you do not, you would easily regret it," he said.
It was strange, but why did that sound like a covered up threat? Gwendolyn was still uncertain, but nodded her head and raised her sword, driving it down on the lock. It fell to the ground with a loud clanging sound and she stepped back as the man stepped out of the cage.
"Thank you," he said, "I will remember this."
Gwendolyn nodded with a glimmer of uncertainty. "I'll take you to safety," she told him, "Take my hand."
He nodded and took her hand. It felt cold, even beneath the leather of her Brushwood Manifer.
O
Yurt had known this warrior would come. Mephistopheles had been correct after all. Now all she would do was lead him to the Nexus where he could complete his work.
"What were you doing so far out here?" Gwendolyn asked.
Yurt exhaled. "Searching for the light of Latria."
"The light of Latria?"
"It was a rumor that had crossed to my village. I had been traveling with another to seek it." Yurt explained, knowing that telling a little of the truth would ease her tension.
"What became of the other?"
"She was killed by demons." Yurt sighed. "To save my life in that tiny cage."
Gwendolyn looked at him piteously. "I'm sorry. You were close, I assume?"
Yurt was silent.
"Forgive me. I did not mean to intrude on anything personal," Gwendolyn said, apologetically. "We don't have to talk about it."
Yurt said nothing once more.
They made their way up a long row of stairs and Yurt could see a Mind Flayer just ahead. He drew his weapons and rubbed them together, as if savoring the kill.
"I'll handle this one." he told her.
Gwendolyn watched as Yurt charged for the creature. Its arms opened and it let out a shriek, the magic of its lantern releasing a wave of energy. Yurt persevered, taking the blast before driving his weapons into the creature's chest.
It let out a screech of agony and writhed, stumbling backwards with Yurt stabbing it over and over, spraying its blood all over his armor. Gwendolyn watched the sight with unease and disgust, but did nothing to put a stop to it either.
Once Yurt had finished stabbing it, he rose, breathless from his assault.
"Let's go. We shouldn't be too far now." he told her, evenly.
Gwendolyn watched as the creature's corpse disintegrated into a pile of ash and bone, stepping over it briefly to continue on. They made their way to the top of the stairs and found themselves face-to-face with a wall of fog.
"The Fog is here?" Gwendolyn murmured.
"There is a demon waiting for us," Yurt hissed, his voice filled with the urge for violence. "Let us introduce ourselves to it."
Yurt was the first into the Fog. Gwendolyn followed him and they found themselves on a stone bridge and standing with its back to them was a humanoid manticore-like creature with the body of a lion, a viper for a tail and a pair of bat wings.
The creature let out a hiss and turned, revealing its demonic face. It looked like an old man with white hair and a bearded chin.
Its green eyes flared.
Maneater.
That was the demon of the stories. Dangerous and tricky, but the two warriors knew that they would be able to fight it if they combined their strength.
Yurt stood, poised and Gwendolyn drew her sword.
"Come and claim us, demon!" Yurt whispered. "If you think you can."
The demon let out a roar of fury and charged toward Gwendolyn. Yurt watched it and started to charge, but heard another roar and looked up.
Another demon was flying toward them.
Yurt faced it, just as it swooped in and grabbed him. It looked like the other demon, but its features were more animal than human.
Gwendolyn rolled and narrowly missed the Maneater's tail as it swung it toward her. It moved quickly and lashed out with its claws, forcing her to stagger back and tumble over the edge of the bridge. Gwendolyn frantically grasped the edge, just as the Maneater took to the skies with a loud roar. Gwendolyn took that chance to scramble back onto the bridge and ready her bow. The Maneater screeched and dove down, opening its mouth.
A piercing sonic wave erupted from its mouth and Gwendolyn attempted to avoid it, but the blast spread out and knocked her off of her feet. The Maneater gave a triumphant scream and dove down, pinning Gwendolyn to the ground with one foot. She gave a howl of pain and reached toward her belt, grabbing her dagger and plunging it into the Maneater's damp, bumpy flesh. It shrieked in fury and stepped off of her.
Yurt was pinned in a similar fashion before he sliced at the creature's face. It screamed and staggered back before raising its tail. The viper hissed and green smoke escaped its jaws. Yurt watched the sight in shock as it bit down on its own tail. Slowly, the wound that he had opened on its face began to close.
He rushed aside, avoiding its claws as they came down on the pillar behind him, obliterating it into rubble. Yurt glanced down at the sight before looking back up at the demon.
It snarled and raised two hands, performing a familiar series of gestures that produced a red, hellish fire in its claws. Yurt's eyes widened behind his helmet.
"Master Yurt, look at what I can do!"
Morana smiled and performed the familiar gesture in front of him, producing the red fire. She seemed proud of herself and Yurt chuckled.
"Red fire." he mused. "How did you come up with such a feat?"
"I performed an ancient spell the monks once used."
"I see. Perhaps it will be just as good offensively as defensively."
Yurt understood then.
The demons made here were once humans. That was why the Old Man of legend collected them. He was breeding his own army of beasts that would serve him.
Morana was inside this thing.
The Maneater's gaze narrowed, jaws dripping.
Yurt's arms shook and his grin on the weapons tightened. The demon snarled at him and the fire shot out at him in a powerful blast. Yurt rolled, the flames searing his armor. He ducked when the Maneater's viper tail snapped at him and sank his weapon deep into its chest.
The Maneater let out a choke and stood there, frozen. It stared down at the weapon in its chest, then to Yurt, those green eyes wide. Its jaws shook, as if struck by an uncontrollable seizure. Blood gushed from its jaws and it stumbled back, those green eyes momentarily shifting into a familiar blue shade before it crumbled into nothing but dust.
Gwendolyn staggered to her feet and sprinted away with the demon in hot pursuit. It seemed to hesitate briefly at the sight of its fallen comrade before roaring and resuming its chase of the woman, with renewed effort.
She quickly rushed up toward a pillar and flipped backwards off of it, dropping onto the Maneater's back and plunging her sword deep into its body. The Maneater screamed and thrashed, attempting to reach her with its massive claws. Gwendolyn clutched the strands of the hair around its neck and stabbed the sword again into its neck, cutting completely through.
The demon's scream died into a horrible gurgle and it fell forward, collapsing into the stone. Gwendolyn climbed off of its body and it disappeared into a glittering, green mist, leaving behind a glowing, pulsing orb. Gwendolyn approached it and felt the very soul of the Maneater pulse beneath. Near was an archstone that appeared; a skull with a sword driven deep into it. Returning to the Nexus with her offering would be wise. Perhaps Yuria would be willing to offer her something for it.
Gwendolyn looked toward Yurt, who seemed frozen where he stood, before the pile of dust that was once the Menaeater he fought.
"You said I would have her back." he hissed.
Mephistopheles' voice filled his mind. "I said you would see her again." she corrected, her voice a thin veil of pity, "I never said you would like how you saw her. This is the price you pay."
Yurt's fists clenched the weapons he held so tight, he was sure they would break.
"You know what you must do," Mephistopheles told him. "Bring me the souls of the Nexus and she will be brought back to you."
O
The stone transported them back to the Nexus where she was welcomed by the Maiden in Black. "Welcome back," she told her. She looked toward the man standing there. "Thou has saved another soul from the Fog."
The Maiden in Black approached the man and leaned forward. Despite her blindness, she could easily sense the identity of the man before her. Gwendolyn wasn't sure how she did it, but being bound to the Nexus surely had its share of offerings for her. God knew that it did for her.
"Thou name is Yurt." she said, "Welcome to the Nexus."
Gwendolyn watched as Yurt disappeared up a long flight of stairs without so much as a second word to her. It didn't appear to be very respectful to the Maiden, but the woman also didn't seem to mind or acknowledge his rudeness either. He passed Patches and the other man watched him go with a tense, uncertain grimace on his face. Gwendolyn eventually approached him and knelt down on one knee, reaching into her pouch.
"I need to buy some more things from you before I continue," she told him.
Patches nodded his head. He started opening containers around him before looking over his shoulder where Yurt had disappeared. He leaned forward and whispered to Gwendolyn. "Hey, listen; I think it's best you know something about that guy," he whispered, "He's a mercenary. Yeah, he'd kill his own kin for the right price." He held up two hands. "Now, I'm not a saint, but compared to Yurt I'm as saintly as they come."
Gwendolyn frowned. "He was trapped."
Patches chuckled dryly. "Yeah. Maybe someone got a lucky shot on him, but he's dangerous."
Gwendolyn was silent, considering this. "Maybe I should speak with him."
Patches started to protest when Gwendolyn stepped over him. He sighed and threw his arms in the air. "Ahh, I can't win..." he muttered.
Gwendolyn moved up the stairs and noticed that Yurt was getting comfortable in a corner. He looked up at the sight of her approaching. "Hello," he said, "I'm indebted to you, for your help in Latria. Without it, I would not have made it back to the Nexus. Now I can go on with my work, and for that I must thank you." She stared at him hesitantly and he stopped what he was doing to look back at her. "What is it? I have no business with you. Not yet."
"Not yet?" Gwendolyn questioned.
Yurt chuckled softly. "Do not be concerned, life is hardly as precious as one might think..."
O
When she returned, she approached Boldwin first.
He examined her sword and tsked, shaking his head. "You should really take care of your weapons," he said, curtly. He shrugged with a sigh. "But as long as you bring me souls, I suppose it doesn't matter what condition they are in."
Gwendolyn chuckled dryly at his sarcasm. "Can you fix it?"
"Yes, yes," Boldwin snapped, "You know I can."
"Thank you," Gwendolyn said, with a smile.
"Bah, hush while I work on these cracks..."
Gwendolyn ventured a bit away to find Yuria. "Yuria, I've brought you a soul," she called, "What do you have to offer me?"
At Yuria's usual place of rest, Gwendolyn froze in horror at the sight of the witch lying in a pool of her own blood. She quickly rushed up and bent down before Yuria's lifeless body; her eyes were barely open and her mouth slightly parted with a trickle of blood gushing from them. Gwendolyn surveyed the damage done and noticed that her abdomen was soaked where it appeared that she had been stabbed multiple times.
"Yuria, no..." she whispered.
She touched the blood pool and then saw before her eyes what had been the cause of Yuria's death; bright red images danced in front of her, revealing Yurt grabbing Yuria by the throat, cutting it with a clean slice so she couldn't scream and stabbing her in the stomach multiple times.
Gwendolyn looked over her shoulder. "Freke, come here!" she cried.
Freke's apprentice scowled. "Show some respect, thief!" he snapped, "Sake Freke does not want-"
"For the love of God, shut up and come here!"
Freke heard the frantic voice and stepped over. His eyes widened in shock at what he saw. "God, what happened?" he asked.
"It was Yurt," Gwendolyn told him, "He did this. Please, I'm begging you to bury her body."
Freke curled his nose at the concept. He was always never too keen on Yuria or her practices and the idea of soiling his hands for a witch seemed a little-less pleasing to him. Gwendolyn could see this and scowled.
"Set aside your petty differences and do this!" she cried, "Yuria at least deserves a proper burial place!"
Freke sighed and nodded. "Yes, very well..."
He picked Yuria up in his arms and Gwendolyn watched as he disappeared into an archstone with her. She turned and scowled up the length of stairs before slowly making her way toward Yurt's last-seen position.
O
Patches gave a shriek as a heavy hand clamped down over his throat. He stared up into the lifeless helmet with desperation and held up two hands.
"W-Wait! We can t-talk this over, can't we?" he pleaded.
Yurt raised his sickle toward Patches' throat. "The time for talk is over," he told the terrified man, "Now...time to die."
Gwendolyn rushed up the stairs and her eyes widened. She quickly placed an arrow into her bow and aimed it at Yurt's vulnerable area where his neck was slightly exposed from the separation of the helmet and his body armor.
"Release him!" she commanded.
Yurt turned and looked over at her. "Hm, hello brave one," he said, "I was looking for you just now."
"I said, release him!" Gwendolyn shouted.
Yurt's hand opened and Patches dropped to the floor with a grunt of pain. He walked toward Gwendolyn and stepped on Patches' fingers. The man gave a yelp and recoiled, gripping his bruised digits with agony.
"Who are you really?" Gwendolyn demanded, keeping her bow trained on him.
"I am Yurt the Silent Chief, I am an assassin," Yurt told her, stopping in his spot, "My work, in Boletaria, is almost complete. I have murdered surviving humans all across the land..." He chuckled coldly and his voice dropped lower, menacing. "Well...except for one."
Before Gwendolyn could react, Yurt dove at her with a shout. He slammed his weight into her and the force knocked her onto her back, sending her bow and its arrows scattering. Yurt raised his sickle toward her head, but she quickly swung up her catalyst and shot a searing blast of fire at his head. The blast singed the metal and it was enough to make him stagger off of her. Gwendolyn rolled away as Yurt recovered with a low hiss.
Easily, if it came down to brute strength, Yurt could match her without question. But if she kept her distance and used her speed to her advantage, he would fall.
"Don't think because you've killed a few demons that I will be so simple to break!" Yurt hissed. Gwendolyn unleashed another fiery shot from her wand, but Yurt raised his knife and swung, sending the blast northbound. "Your petty magic tricks won't help you here."
Gwendolyn made a dash for her bow, but Yurt wouldn't allow it; he lunged with his sickle, but Gwendolyn moved just as fast and seized the handle of her Crescent Falchion, blocking the attack just as it came down. Inch by inch, the tip of the sickle came closer and closer to her left eyeball as she struggled to keep it at bay.
"Do you know what it's like to take the life of another human being?" Yurt hissed, with effort, "To relish the music of their screams, to taste the warmth of their blood on your tongue..." He grunted sharply. "To feel their heart as it beats its last? One may call it a euphoric experience!"
Gwendolyn snarled with fury. "Shut up!" she spat.
She twisted her weapon to the left, jerking the sickle out of his hands. The force sent the weapon flying through the air. Yurt hesitated for a split second to be astounded by the move and Gwendolyn took the chance; she raised her sword to slice him across his helmet and he turned to avoid the attack. It wasn't enough to elude it completely, but it did send the helmet flying off of his head with a loud clatter across the Nexus.
Yurt stepped off of the woman and chuckled curtly.
His features were aged; he was possibly in his early forties and he had short black hair pushed back and long black sideburns in a very odd hairstyle. He had a long, crooked nose and thin lips pulled back in a sneer. His eyes were black, almost dead in appearance. Gwendolyn could see that there could not have been a human being behind those eyes. No one could look that way and have a sane mentality...or a good spirit.
"Yurt, look..." Gwendolyn attempted, "We don't have to do this. We're the few surviving humans left. We can fight the demons together."
Yurt smiled. "I'm afraid that isn't my mission," he told her, "I have another. I will see it through to the end."
He bent down to retrieve his sickle and lunged at her again. The swipe caught her armor at the seam and slashed the flesh there, sending a spray of blood. Yurt grinned madly at the sight; bits of it caught his face and armor. Gwendolyn staggered back with a should of pain and clutched at her bleeding side. He dove again and brought his elbow into her face, sending her backwards into the wall with a low grunt. He moved immediately and seized her throat, holding her to the wall.
Gwendolyn winced and glared defiantly up at him. He smirked and brought the sickle's blade end to his mouth, licking her blood from it.
"I just want you to know..." he told her, leaning forward with the blade close to her eye, "I consider this an honor."
Something streaked through the air and slashed Yurt across the throat. Gwendolyn looked up in surprise at an arrow embedded into the wall near her face. Yurt staggered back with a howl of pain and gripped his gushing throat. He whirled and glared venomously at the one responsible; Patches.
"You!" he snarled, nearly spitting in pain.
Gwendolyn took the chance and plunged her sword through his back. Yurt's body lurched and he gave a gasp of pain and shock. He stared down at the sword sticking out of his abdomen and blood slowly gushed from his mouth. Gwendolyn ripped the blade from him and he crumbled to his knees, looking back at her with wide, furious eyes.
"You..." he gurgled, "Mephistopheles was...right about you..."
Gwendolyn caught him in her arms as he fell backwards.
"Enough..." she said, gently, "Have the grace to die with dignity."
Yurt weakly chuckled.
"Go now, be at peace and find those you have wronged," Gwendolyn told him, "Perhaps God will grant you mercy if He feels you deserve it."
"Mercy?" Yurt groaned, looking up at her with a glimmer of surprise on his face. He laughed as much as his body would allow and looked away. "No mercy...for the likes of me. I would not...ask for mercy. Never..."
Gwendolyn nodded her head once. "Very well..."
"It's...all right..." Yurt whispered, his eyes slowly closing, "I have no regrets...but one..."
"What's that?"
The corners of his mouth pulled upward. Then, his eyes closed and a final, dying sigh escaped his lips. Gwendolyn closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against his eyelids. Patches watched this with a frown.
"Umbasa..." she said, softly.
Patches laughed sardonically. "Serves the bloody bastard right." he snapped.
Gwendolyn scowled and glared at him, gently placing Yurt's body down. "Do not mock the dead, Patches!" she scolded. "This is sad. Only sad. It was the fault of this darkness. He did not have to die today. None of them did."
Patches frowned. "I saved your life from that maniac!"
"I thank you for this, but I only wish I could have helped him instead of take his life..."
Patches nodded his head, seemingly attempting to understand, but not.
Gwendolyn turned and cast her gaze around the Nexus walls.
No laughter here, no joy. No peace.
Just silence.