Psychographics
Chapter 1: Welcome to the Sinkhole
During the outbreak of the Great War between Morroc and the Kingdom of Prontera, an elite division of Stalkers from Morroc was sent to the kingdom as spies. Their task was simple and linear. In the guise of normal citizens, they must be able to infiltrate and sabotage the enemy's defense by using anything and anyone as simply collateral, even the lives of their comrades. Everything was to be done for the sake of the mission's success.
Failure was an option only available to the enemy.
To avoid the risk of being discovered early on, the leaders of Morroc took it into consideration that only a single division of Stalkers were to be sent. The division itself will be composed of seven members, each carefully handpicked by the council of the Rogue Guild. Everyone was supposedly legible to be part of the said division, but the council had their own criteria in choosing any of the possible members. These criteria, however, were never explained even to the division members themselves. No one among the council dared to break their vow of silence to the leaders of Morroc.
The council was to recruit the best they could find amongst their ranks, naturally. However, it is but a guise for a far larger plan.
The recruits are just told two simple rules once they were selected for the mission. First, was the same vow of silence that they must hold no matter what the cost, and second, was the Other Vow.
The Other Vow was far more complex than the simple rule of silence. It required much pain for a Stalker to exact the Other Vow, that only a select few will be able to learn it in every generation. The existence of the Other Vow was to be passed only to the best of the current generation of Stalkers, and its existence was never discussed and remained unwritten throughout the history of the council.
If none of the current Stalkers possessed the criteria for the current generation, this matter was immediately consulted to the Lords of Morroc. The Lords will have to intervene with one of the current generation's Stalkers, in order to "mark" him/her with the criteria, so the unwritten Other Vow will never be lost.
The Great War was taking its toll rapidly amongst the citizens of both Kingdoms. Prontera, a powerful city-state, has now formed an alliance with the Kingdom of Payon since it was the first city to be put under siege by the Lords of Morroc. Destruction was a common sight in both territories, and bloodshed was an everyday occurrence.
It was but a petty quarrel among resources. The soldiers of both states, however, will never know the true agenda behind the Great War. They were but pawns to the leaders of both sides.
-Excerpt from the Annals of Odin, located at the Divine Library of Asgard.
Sograt Desert, 10 kilometers from Prontera, the Capital of Schwartzwelt.
Rumors of the assassination of the Elite Guards of Payon spread like wildfire among the ranks of soldiers on both territories. The Lords of Morroc seemed pleased with the current progress of the war, and the odds of the current situation was tilting towards their advantage. Something must be done to follow it up, in order to raise the morale of the soldiers in the battlefield.
The rumors did reach a certain group of Stalkers in the middle of the Sograt Desert, in a makeshift camp on midday. While their purpose was simply described as a "distraction" according to their leader, it was a "glorious effort" in the grander scale of things according to the members of the Rogue Council.
- "Hey! Have you heard the news? The Elite Guards of Payon were murdered two nights ago!" panted one Stalker, who was running from the other side of the camp. He was obviously tired from running, but looked really tired from doing something else.
- "R-really? Where did you get that from?" said another Stalker in blatant disbelief, as his face immediately lost its color.
- "It must be from one of those "Midnight Delivery" services you've been getting from the Priestesses isn't it?" told another Stalker, who was lying near the campfire and creating the midday meal.
- "Did you get any details except from the killing itself?" inquired another Stalker, who was reading a looted textbook… in reverse.
- "Well, according to the Midnight Messenger, the guards were attacked one by one, while in their quarters before daybreak. The conclusion drawn by the investigators of the crime scene was that it was done by a single individual, since there was no sign of a struggle in their rooms as well as no other injuries present in the victims' bodies except for a single slit in their throat. There was no sign of forced entry as well." relayed the panting Stalker, who was now terribly thirsty aside from the other fact that he looked tired from doing "chores".
"That could be one of our friends from the Assassin's Guild." another Stalker butted in. He had long, red, and slightly wavy locks that reached his shoulders and his eyes were of a shade of blue. His attire was entirely different of the crew, instinctively indicating that he was the "leader" of this unusual pack. Even though he decided to butt in, no one seemed to take offense at all. The other Stalkers who were busy chatting about the Payon Murders were now visibly more alert than usual.
- "Do you think so, Sir?" asked the Stalker who was still busy cooking the meal. "It could be someone else for all we know."
- "H-hey! Are you doubting what our leader just said?" asserted the distressed Stalker whose face was still colorless.
- "No, I'm not. Calm down, will you?"
- "Then what are you…"
- "Just calm down! Sheesh!..."
"Everyone… will you please settle down for a moment?" the leader of the pack calmly asked his subordinates. "Now, if we want to talk about this subject, then we must be open for the interpretations of others. Am I understood?"
- "Yes. Sir." Answered the pack in unison.
"Sound off! I want to check if everyone's around! Being asleep is not an excuse!"
"Aicker!" replied the previously panting Stalker, his sweat now visible on his pants loins.
"Endzeit!" replied the one who was still cooking, but looks almost done with the job.
"Mhart!" replied the "colorless" Stalker, his face now flustered.
"Athet!" replied the bookworm, tossing his reverse textbook before standing and picking up…
"…Gin!" replied the other Stalker who doesn't like speaking at all… unless the leader told her to. The fact that she didn't join the conversation previously was enough for her comrades to deduce what her personality was like.
"… that's odd." The leader mentioned. "Where the heck is Seventh? Speak up, men! Where in Midgard is Seventh?"
"Probably sleeping in Asgard." A voice came from behind him.
As the leader turned slowly, the source of the voice immediately feigned towards the leader's blind spot in order to avoid his gaze. This was his way of saying "Hi."
"You freaking bastard!" yelled the leader at the late party member. "Where have you been? Get in line, Seventh!"
"Yes, Sir!~" Seventh teasingly answered.
In the eyes of Seventh's comrades, he was just a stupid jerk whose name was never revealed by their superiors. The only one that knows his real name in the entire pack was Gin. But of course, Gin wouldn't tell anyone unless the leader asks her to. So it is safe to assume that the leader either knows Seventh's real name or not.
For the leader, however, Seventh was just this stupid guy's nickname. He didn't care much about real names and clichés that would typically arise in a company of people like these. He had to cope up with them… in the kindest way possible. After all, their lives were in his hands. Literally.
"Sound off, you freaking idiot!" ordered the leader to his teasing subordinate.
"S-Seventh!~" he answered back, still rubbing the teasing part in.
"That would suffice." The leader sighed in relief. At least his men (and a single woman) was lined up and ready to discuss their thoughts on the recent news. It seemed to him that Seventh was listening to the conversation all along, and just playing dumb to not get in line on time. Only one thing was left to do, and that was to call out his name, not as a sign of leadership among them, but a sign of equality.
"Red!" the leader called out his name. It was short and simple. But his name was music to the ears of his subordinates. It was the one name they would recognize anywhere. Though they would always wonder why he mentions his own name even if he is automatically exempted from the roll call.
"Why do you always do that, Sir?" asked Seventh.
"You mean… my name?" Red answered towards his inquiring subordinate.
"Hai. I mean.. Yes. Your name. You're our leader. You're not included in the personnel's roll call."
"To answer that…" Red heaved a sigh and continued "… I must tell you that even I, your "leader", am subject to my own orders."
"We are all equal. Listen to me. We are brothers and sisters in this pack. No one will ever take what we have shared in this war together. I repeat. No one at all. Ever." added Red with sincerity resonating from his statements. The faces of the men surrounding Red grew stern, yet focused. Even Seventh stopped from horsing around and paid attention to the words of his Division Leader.
"This was the man that they were ordered to follow." Seventh thought. A smile grew on his face, but he suppressed it until Red strode and turned around the platoon.
"Stop smiling, Seventh! You look like an idiot around you're comrades, do you know that?" mentioned the Division Leader, obviously embarrassing his subordinate due to his "insubordination".
"H-hey! That's not fair! Do you have eyes behind your back? How did you know I was smiling?" Seventh protested in embarrassment, his comrades holding their laughter while their leader was busy looking at the desert's horizon.
"I was just guessing, Seventh." the leader revealed. "You're so predictable."
Seconds later, the smell of burnt meat wafted across the air, sending the entire platoon in frenzy. Hungrier than Desert Wolves, the entire platoon jumped in on the burnt meat and feasted. Food was not that decent when one was in the middle of the desert after all.
Red watched his men talk with their mouths full. He obviously wouldn't scold them for that natural behavior.
"You're not going to eat, Sir?" Gin, the quiet one, inquired.
"I'm still full." Red replied immediately.
"But… you haven't ate at all since yesterday."
"Don't… worry about me. I'm… quite alrigh-"
"Sir?"
In a short flash, Red's vision grew dim, and his senses became numb. He could still balance himself from the initial shock, but his knees finally gave way. Landing on the arms of Gin, he immediately grasped her shoulders in order to stand. It was a good thing nobody saw what just happened to him. He didn't want to worry his men.
"Are… are you all right, Sir?" Gin asked in worry.
"Gin… never tell this to anyone, ok?" the leader requested.
"…Yes, Sir. As you wish."
"…Good. You may… return now. I'll be fine. I'll eat later."
With a sincere bow, Gin left Red alone. A few minutes later, a thick crimson liquid was covering Red's palms. His back arched forward in agony, and his shoulder blades convoluting as if they were going to break. He coughed and coughed as silent as possible, so that his men wouldn't notice. Blood was still trickling through his fingers and made inaudible sounds as the drops of blood made their way to the burning sand below.
Still grasping for air, the Division Leader of the Stalker's Desert Party walked towards his quarters and rested. He was looking for something.
That something was very important. He had always had it with him. Ever since that day…
After getting a wet towel, Red rinsed his mouth of the blood that he coughed out earlier. He was suffering, and he didn't want to trouble his subordinates at all. "It would ruin their morale" he thought.
"This is nothing. My life is worthless compared to the staggering implications of this mission's success. The mission is my primary priority. The moment I finish it, I can die in peace."
With another gasp for air, Red dropped into unconsciousness, making a loud thud as his body smashed into the jars inside his quarters.
Payon Forest, 23km from Sograt Desert, 5km from the Kingdom of Payon
The sound of fig tree leaves crushed under the wheels of a cart was echoing within the depths of Payon Forest.
The female who was dragging the cart was breathing heavily, her voice filled with scorn. Her once beautiful arms were now covered with scars, and her ankles bleeding from stepping on Hunter Traps.
The female was now in agony after her cart's left wheel broke as it hit a giant tree root, and she falling over as a result.
"Damn… so much for the cart fee." She said spitefully. "If I weren't so careless… this wouldn't have happened." and with another sigh, she opened her bag and took out some spare tools.
Creaking sounds were now echoing in this part of the forest, and the birds fluttered around the treetops, obviously disturbed by this alien noise.
"…Buzzards. All they do is make noises to annoy you." She continued to mumble while repairing the cart's wheel.
"…Hmpf… annoying." the word seemed to have struck a cord. If anything was annoying in this world, it had to be him. "That guy… he didn't even say anything! What's up with him? Argh!" she continued on grumbling while making the final repairs on the cart.
Clank!
With another sigh, this time of relief, the female packed her tools and then retrieved some bandages to dress her wounds. "So much for being flawless… that annoying guy would laugh so hard if he sees me like this."
"Damn it, he's such a jerk!" she screamed, but the grunt of a nearby Bigfoot drowned her scream. "Get off, squirt!" she yelled at the grunting bear with dark brown fur. As if the creature understood her, it turned and left.
"I should rest, right? Hyatt? You and Malchuz always say that…" she whispered to herself.
Those two were his closest male friends. There was another one though… but recently, things got fucked up. Hard.
The "jerk" that she kept on grumbling about was now traveling through the Sograt Desert, together with a bunch of weirdoes.
"Damn! He has to pay! Pay! Pay! Pay! Arrrrrgghhhhh!" she screamed another mouthful.
She was about to scream again when she heard the sound of crumpling leaves behind her. She didn't move. She continued to listen. "… those… are not Bigfoots…" she thought. "…more like… human." The sound they made was distinctive. The sound of fluttering cloth can now be heard within the proximity of the area.
Then it came towards her direction. She was about to leave when the source of the disruption made a sound.
"Cornelia! Cornelia! Hey! Cornelia! Are you here? Answer me!" cried the voice coming towards her.
"Oh… that sounds… pretty much familiar." She told herself. She would recognize that voice even from a mile away. Cornelia immediately turned towards the source of the voice to greet his friend.
"Malchuz!"
"Co-Cornelia? So you were alive! I heard the news! Damn… I really thought you were dead!" Malchuz said in concern, his face terribly sweating.
"Come on, Malchuz… I wouldn't die that easily."
"…But, they said that all the Elite Guards of Payon were murdered! I was worried, damn it!"
"You worried? That's too far Malchuz, I can live on my own without your help." She told to her friend. "… unless I really need your help, that is." She continued.
"…Ha ha… you're still the same. Thank the gods that I was just near the settlement in Alberta. The news came in fast. I had to hurry to find you."
"… You're not hitting on me are you?" Cornelia glared.
"… Nope. Why would I? I'm engaged… duh?"
"Since when? You? The slowest member of our party when it comes to women, is engaged?"
"Well… things happened." Malchuz excused.
"Hmm… no matter. But, still… thanks for the "worrying" part. I really need help right now… even though I can do it alone. It just sucks to walk with these wounds. They wouldn't heal properly if the leaves keep gashing them."
"…Same old flawless—"
Malchuz was cut short from finishing his "compliment" as a punch came towards his nose. Fast.
"… Damn it… Corn… You broke my meh bloody nose…"
"Don't worry. You look great that way. On the bright side, you can use that nose of yours to get "services" from the girl you're engaged with."
"Hey… that's foul. Only jealous girls would do that—"
Another punch reached Malchuz... this time on the lower ribcage.
"Oof… so much for body-building." he replied in agony.
"Come on, I know you're not that weak… and besides, why would I be jealous? I already have H—"
"…Yeah, yeah… whatever. You know, being a High Wizard like me can be very difficult. It takes a lifetime to gain knowledge of the elements… but…"
"But life is so short."
"Yeah… so short that it is but a blink in the eyes of the gods."
"… That's why there's a library, you idiot."
"… Hai. Err… yes. That explains it. Come on, we need to go. If you can't walk, then I'll carry you."
"I can manage. But my… my cart won't."
"W-wait… what? You don't mean…"
"Yes. Do it you idiot."
"Sigh… same old Cornelia." Malchuz tried to complain. But that wouldn't do anything at all. With his minimal strength focused in his hands… his beautiful hands… "Damn… I hate manual labor…"
"Do it. Fast. On the double!"
"Sure… sure… I'm doing it." Malchuz continued to mumble. Even though it was weird for a High Wizard to carry a cart, it didn't stop him from doing so.
"How's the weight?" Cornelia inquired his friend.
"It's quite heavy… I might say. No wonder your body is still se—"
"Tell that to your girl, you pervert!"
"Sigh… what's inside this thing? And why is it hot?" Malchuz asked about the sheer weight and temperature of the cart he was now carrying on his shoulders. Its wheels were ok… but somehow, Cornelia managed to order him to carry it instead of dragging it.
"Ancient Material. I just found it in a basement in Payon." Cornelia snapped back.
"Was it round?" Malchuz continued to ask.
"Yes…"
"Was it plump?"
"….Yes."
"Was it… soft?"
"….Hmm…. Yes. H-hey! Just watch where you're looking at!"
"…I can't help it. At least wear some clothes, will ya."
"I AM wearing clothes. You freaking pervert!"
"…R-right…Sorry." Malchuz sighed. "Where are we heading then?" he asked his friend.
"We're taking this Ancient Material to Prontera." Cornelia replied.
"P-Prontera? But that's the other way!"
"Shut up. I know a lot of shortcuts."
"…And if we get lost?"
"…that will never happen."
The duo continued to walk towards Prontera… aware of the danger ahead.
Prontera Garrison, 15km from Sograt Desert
"Commander Hyatt!" said a soldier in an alarmed voice.
"Yes, soldier?" the thinly built man asked. He had short, light brown hair, common to the natives of Payon, but something in his personality made him stand out. Otherwise, he wouldn't be a commander of an elite squad of Rune Knights and Royal Guards.
"Our scouts found a reconnaissance team in the border of Sograt Desert!" the soldier continued to explain. His voice shaking.
"I see… but it could be a decoy… or a trap for us." He answered. "Calm down, soldier… what is it that makes you tremble like that?" he inquired further.
"S-Sir… The scouts have confirmed that HE is with the Desert Team!"
"…You don't mean… HIM. Don't you?"
"It's HIM Sir. There's no mistaking it. Our scouts confirmed the presence of the Criteria within the surrounding area."
"Send the backup force on the west side of Prontera Castle. The other squads should flank the walls. Ask the citizens to leave their homes and evacuate at the settlement near Mt. Mjolnir. Also… free my Warg from its cage. Be careful, though."
"Understood, Sir. I'll relay the orders now"
"Thank you, soldier."
As the soldier turned and left, the thinly built man continued to wonder. Moments later, as if his thoughts were confirmed, he began to wear his best battle armor. It was light as a feather, compared to the heavy armor of the Knights of the Kingdom. He preferred lighter equipment though… and then there was another thing that he wouldn't forget.
"Hmm… I hope you're doing fine, Rudra. He's coming this way. The man marked with the Criteria. He may… steal you from me." Hyatt told his trusty bow.
"… if it's really him… then I know what to expect." He told himself.
"… Red, wasn't it? It's been a while."
"Red Viele'au Sylenfeit… or should I say…"
Hyatt stopped midway to give in to a maniacal laugh. He was extremely excited.