Stage Fright

by God Bleed the Little Children

The origin of the current band of adventurers known notoriously as The Eight. These mismatched characters come from a multitude of different places and backgrounds and their character concepts do so as well.

Each of these chapters is a short story unto itself. Sometimes these stories will be elaborated in later stories, sometimes they won't.

Stage Fright

By

God Bleeds The Children

Toria waited for her cue as Daniel extolled his characters virtues with incredible drama.

"And that, good Eve, is why you should judge me fit to see the Elders!" Toria hid her smile as Daniel finished his favorite soliloquy with enthusiasm. She composed herself and stepped out onto the makeshift stage. Rehearsals this close to opening night were always uneventful. Of course, they rehearsed in a barn because the theater itself was a whirlwind of activity. The acting troupe Toria had pretty much been born into was a successful and highly talented group, and around this time of the "season" everyone fell into familiar habits. Even Toria, a cynical and flashy youth, took her mothers old ring and wore it if costume allowed for it. At least she wasn't as superstitious as Old Jacob, who always looked ridiculous in his egg-shell necklace. After each rehearsal, Joffry, the director, would say a few words, hand out compliments disguised as criticism, and everyone would begin cleaning up for the night.

"Oh, Daniel," Joffry mock-scolded, "do remember to tone down the enthusiasm on Opening Night, alright?" Daniel blushed bright red, and the others had a good laugh about it, remembering the night that Daniel had drawn his long sword with such gusto that he had beheaded the wooden goat prop by accident. After that, Joffry had ordered all of the troupe's weapons blunted.

Don't worry about it, Daniel," Toria said as she walked over to the cleaned horse's stalls they used as the dressing rooms, "You'll show Joffry, Opening Night."

"Easy for you to say," Daniel retorted, "You were born with this crew. Me? I get hired on at the beginning of this tour."

"Don't think for a moment that I'm going to be tricked by your mister innocent town-boy tricks. I've hear-," she stopped, her smile failing quickly as she rounded the corner outside the stalls. "What the hell do you think you're doing here," she spat angrily. The figure stepped forward out of the shadowed recesses of one of the stalls. Wearing a grey long coat and worn leather armor, the man she saw there shared many familiar traits, from the lean frame to the clear-water blue of his eyes. His were old and traveled, though. His thick, white hair curled from underneath a burnt, wide-brim hat like foam from a rapid stream. He grinned ruefully at her.

"What is it, Tori," Joffry poked his head around the corner, and his quizzical look immediately soured. "What do you want, Felix?"

"A father can't come to watch his daughter rehearse before the big night?" He smirked playfully. Other actors started to round the corner and watch what was going on.

"Joffry, can I have some time with my dad," Toria just wanted to get them out of the barn, it was too public.

"Five," said Joffry, holding up all the fingers on one of his hands.

"Ten?" This was going to take a while.

"Ten," he hollered over his shoulder as he started herding everyone back towards the main room. Toria stalked out of the barn into the crisp fall night air. In her costume. Wardrobe was going to be furious.

"So what is it," Toria stated emphatically.

"What's what?" Felix had that know-it-all look to him. It made Toria pause to think over what she would say next. Felix could be unpredictable when he got in these sorts of moods. On the other hand, she thought, he could just be playing cat and mouse. Fine, I get to be the cat this time.

"You never go anywhere without the others. I'm assuming you need my help getting into some place where my troupe and I have access to and you want me to help you without asking question."

Felix looked a bit surprised, "Why, Toria, I'm touched that you know me so well. Especially considering you never answer my letters." He glared at her, sarcasm dripping from his words. "If you're sore about not getting a cut last time, I'm sure the others would be willing to let you in on the bounty this time."

"Am I sore over not getting paid! Felix! You left me behind!" It was typical of Felix to consider money first and feelings never.

"There's no need to shout, now." The only people around were the other actors, dutifully ignoring their heated argument. Felix's eyes drifted this way and that. Hardly a panicked tell on his part, but a tell nonetheless. Lowering her voice, Toria gave her father a knowing look.

"What's going on, Felix?" This wasn't like him at all.

"The Brassy Hilt."

"What?"

"You know it?" He finally looked back to her eyes.

"Of course I do, it's one of the cheapest inn's in the city."

"Meet us there later tonight," he said later like it wasn't an hour and a half past midnight or so.

"Us," she raised an eyebrow and looked smug as he grabbed her hand and pulled her back toward the large barn doors. He didn't respond. "Us?" She raised her eyebrow and tried to get his attention. "You brought the others?" She hadn't seen the adventuring/mercenary group her father had headed up, called The Eight, in years, since the last heist she had helped them in. Felix didn't respond. ""Yes!"

"Just show up, alright?" She nodded. She didn't hold any ill will towards the others; she knew that Felix had simply not come back for her. Felix left her at the door, mumbling distractedly about a good night. It worried Toria a little, but she was quickly swept into the activities of cleaning and rehearsing and putting away the props and costumes for the night. By the time that she left the barn for the tacky bar-and-inn that Felix had mentioned, the moon was a blazing white round diamond in the sky. In a town this large, the light from the buildings kept the sky from getting dark enough to reveal all of its' wondrous secretive constellations. She could recognize from here the brighter stars from The Great Mother. The sweeping arch of the embracing old woman's arms gleamed like a silvery arch. She walked slowly in to town, watching her breath frosting in the air. It was relatively cold and dark out tonight, for an Empire town. There were small pools of warmth and radiance as she passed the taverns, which didn't really settle down until sometime in the early morning light. This far north, it never got snow, but it sure got damn cold. Sometimes she missed the snowy storms of the Calderan Plains, but it was nice not having to deal with waist deep snow.

She finally made it to the Brassy Hilt, the light from within not as bright or cheery. When she entered, the warmth was somewhat stagnant, smelling of spilt booze and poor chimney maintenance. A jolly-looking older woman almost half her height appeared out of the gloom waving merrily. She wore brightly colored clothing in multiple layers, and the garish colors clashed so vividly that Toria could barely keep hold of her self-control enough to not laugh. She waved back.

"Yer father's been waitin' for ya," the elderly lady said in a slightly raspy voice.

"Practice and clean up ran a little late. How've you been Fey?" The old lady never seemed to age. She reached up and grasped Toria by the shoulders affectionately, than led her over to a table full of people she knew the others in the Troupe would likely avoid on such an occasion as a celebratory trip to a tavern. In one corner of the room, looking composed, though sulky, was Mia, a beautiful, fit young woman whose very presence gave off the feel of military training. Being as casual as Toria was, she had never really endeared herself to Mia, who valued discipline, something Toria had never been able to stomach in herself or others. The man next to her in faded blue, smiling jovially and enjoying his ale, was Aero. He and Terri were laughing about something, while Darris folded his arms and huffed. Aero was built for his work, which was fighting. He had a lithe, muscular frame, and Toria had always admired him. He wore his hair somewhat shorter than most men of the Empire did, and he was always in need of a good shave. Terri had at one time been a Gaoler, and it showed his his tightly muscled arms, perfectly adapted for wrenching limbs into place to cuff or manacle them. He had a scar down one arm, and deep-set eyes that always looked brooding, even when he laughed. Despite his intense appearance, he had always been a light-hearted fellow, as far as Toria was concerned. Darris was wiry, aerodynamic, and light on his feet. Her father, with his signature wide-brim sitting across his lap as he reclined in his chair, feet on the table, noticed her and pointed out a free chair at another table, telling her to drag it over and relax.

"Where are the others?" They were called The Eight for a reason. She counted only six as Fey sat again; her ridiculous outfit made the dark-wood table seem even darker.

"Raze disappeared a month or so back, but we're used to it. He'll be around sooner or later. Though, he never did like taverns. We replaced Kade a while back. Got a new guy, a healer, this'n. Goes by the name Streamer," Terri drawled.

From behind her, a smooth, quiet voice spoke, "You must be Toria. My comrades call me Streamer. I must say, I have heard a good deal about you from them." She turned to see who the speaker was. Wearing earth-toned leather slacks and vest, a robe-like coat the color of freshly-green trees, the man who stood before her had pale skin, the kind that the Forest Folk had. His eyes gleamed the color of emeralds and hair that was a rich, tree-brown, rusted with natural red highlights. She had to catch herself from staring, and when she looked down, she saw him offer his hand in greeting. Regularly, she would have rolled her eyes and sat down, ignoring the traditional way of meeting new people of importance, but she was so caught off guard that she simply stretched out her hand and clasped his. His grip was warm and strong, and she blushed involuntarily. His face held a calm demeanor that didn't match the unweathered skin of him. She quickly sat down in the chair she had dragged over while talking with the others, ordering some ale to warm her cold toes. The others seemed to be well filled with alcohol already, for they all ordered mulled cider. Streamer sat down across the crowded table from her. The others started telling recent stories. They were an adventuring band, and they had taken a lot of missions. Most of the stories had something to do with breaking laws.

"Those're th'best ones, though," Terri said when Toria pointed it out, "Yer gonna pay lots of money ta try and persuade adventurers ta do illegal stuff," Terri had had a little more ale then the rest of them. It did make Toria laugh though. Terri had been the prime supporter of Toria's wild side through most of her interaction with the group.

"So, what are you all doing here in Imperial territory anyways, I thought you were all wa-," Someone kicked her sharply in the shins, and she glared across the table at Streamer. His nonchalant, but quizzical return glance told her it hadn't been him.

Fey's quick response to her question distracted her, "We're here because one of Streamer's old friends asked for some help." The others at the table became very serious, and Streamer's face fell at the mention. He had such expressive eyes. Toria suddenly hated that she'd asked the question.

"Aurora has been having some trouble with…," Streamer looked into the shadowy corners of the bar room they currently inhabited before going on, "a creature of undeath." Toria stared at him. He had to be kidding. There couldn't be death-men in Koldis. "Toria, are you alright? You've paled." She slowly unclenched her hands from the table and leaned back, took a breath.

"Her mother was killed by a death-man," said Felix. The others looked at him curiously. Obviously he hadn't told them about the reason why he and Toria's mother were permanently separated. "During one of my shorter adventures, while I was away from Alice." Toria slowly twisted the ring on her right hand. Her mothers ring. She had been six or seven. She had watched the monster drain the last of her mothers life out of her. As she recalled all of those horrible details, a single tear threatened to break through her resolve. It didn't. But it threatened to do so. As she sat there fighting with her horror, guilt, and sadness, the others kept talking. Streamer didn't take his eyes from her face. In it, there were so many things unsaid, so many tales untold. He sympathized with her, and new the story. How did she know this? How did he know these things about her? She finally tore her gaze from his glowing-in-darkness green eyes, looked over at Felix. "We don't know," he said, seeing the question on her face before she could externalize it. "It may be a death-demon, for all we can tell of it by the carnage it leaves behind."

"So you're telling me that you are helping, not hiring on, to find something powerful and undead, and you don't know what it is, and you haven't told the town militia, and you've now dragged me into this?" Toria was not happy.

"Now wait a second here!" Mia finally spoke. She had stood up and was leaning over her edge of table space, arms holding the edge and elbows locked. Her wide pale face was marred by a scowl and her dark blue-black hair trailed down her shoulders. "We have knowledge of the enemies capabilities, we know it's somewhere in town, we know that if we show ourselves to the local government we'll," she looked around and lowered her voice, "we'll be arrested and detained. We know that we're the only people who currently know about this, and we know that we're not going to get anyone in the militia to look for this thing. What do you want us to do about all of this? Do you have a plan? We do." Mia always did this when Toria questioned being brought in on a gig.

"Oh, I have a plan alright. To get the away from all of you. My troupe is performing tomorrow night, and then we leave."

"Except we'll be at the next town too," Felix said quietly. "And the next, and the next." Toria trembled with fury.

"Why are you doing this, Felix!"

"Because, Toria. The death-man is hiding out as a human in your troupe. We've deduced that much already. We've been tracking this thing for three months now. Your troupe past through our town the last of them, and while you were there, it somehow hid in among your regulars." The news turned her blood cold. Daniel is the death-man, she thought to herself.

"I think I know who it is," she said to them. They all seemed to lean in imperceptibly, even Streamer, whose hands were gripping the edge of the table. "Last town we performed in, one of the young men in the audience approached us after the play was over. He hired on as an understudy for one of the lead males."

"It's a good start, no?" Darris looked around the table. "We should get this monster out of reach of the townsfolk as soon as possible."

"What if it's not him?" Mia looked furtive. "What if we kidnap some poor village boy and the real monster gets away again?" The others looked around. Apparently, they had seen enough carnage and deviousness from one Thing for their tastes.

"Aurora will be in town by tomorrow. She will know the death-man when she sees it," Streamer stated calmly.

"And in the meantime, I'll try and keep my eyes on Daniel," Toria offered. Nobody seemed to want such a dangerous assignment to fall to an unseasoned non-adventurer, but anyone else at the communal house that had been rented out for the troupe would have seemed out of place, and they didn't want to set off the monster. The others debated for a little while longer, until patrol routes were decided and handed out. The surety with which the entire group moved, even Streamer, helped calm Toria down. These were professionals, they knew what they were doing, and they were on her side. As she walked out the door, Felix put his roughly-gloved hand on her shoulder. The shirt she had put on after clean-up was off the shoulders, and the feel of his old gloves brought back memories. Good ones and bad ones. When she turned to look at him, he held out his other hand, and opened it. In his palm was a small silver symbol on a chain.

"It's supposed to keep you safe," he said tenderly. Toria was puzzled at this move. She knew he cared about her, but this was the first openly fatherly gesture he'd ever made. She gave him a quick hug that he returned in favor. She walked off, knowing his route was in the other direction. She needed to think. About a lot of things. Streamer, her father's actions lately, her mothers death. As she gazed out at the stars on her way to the troupes living quarters, she heard a deliberate clearing of a gravelly, deep voice. Jumping slightly, she spun in place, eyes wide. What was it that had snuck up on her now? Out of the shadows strode a huge man. He must have been at least six feet tall, broad, hard-muscled shoulders, arms, and torso completely open to the chill night air. His head was completely shorn of hair, as well as his face. He wore well cared for pants, and no shoes. He had a belt that showed no weapons, but Toria knew they must be there.

She smiled as she saw him, "Well, now. I was told that you'd be showing up, eventually, but I didn't expect you were already in town."

She heard the huge shadowy man chuckle, and when he grinned, his teeth gleamed in the diamond light of the moon, "It's always good to see you too, Toria," he rumbled. "Want an escort? You are going the wrong way to get to the apartments." He always knew so much about the surrounding area.

"No, thank you, Raze, I wanted to take a walk alone so that I could get away from Felix and think about things."

"I was once told by a very smart man never to leave myself alone with my thoughts," he started walking next to her, a little hunched over, glaring out into the darkness to either side of them.

Toria sighed, "You win, Raze, I'll let you walk me home. What do you think of the new man?"

"He knows his stuff. He's one of those shamans, out of The Forest."

"I thought he looked Forest Fey," she used the term often associated with Forest Folk who knew the ways of the Spirit World. Raze chuckled again. It was often comfortable walking with the massive man. They walked on in silence, mutually enjoying the night, and each other's company. When she got to the Hostel, she said good eve and went inside. Once inside, she found Daniel without much trouble. The troupe members were just starting to settle down for the night. People often shared rooms or even beds together platonically, it was a matter of trust, regardless of gender, and Toria slipped onto one of the cots next to Daniels was bunking down in. Daniel wasn't an unhandsome fellow. He had a strong chin, and dusty blonde hair that sat well on his head, and funny, dark eyebrows. He had hazel eyes, just a pinch more brown then green. He was thin and spindly, and he had a smooth voice with a natural singing pitch. As the stage directors started going from room to room to put the lamps out, Toria reclined on her bed and bunched up the pillow so she was looking across at him. It was almost surreal how nonchalantly people were acting with a murdering monster lurking in human disguise around the troupe. She wondered why none of the people in the troupe had been targets of the monster, and she thought she had almost come up with the answer to that question when she drifted off to sleep.

The next afternoon was full of bubbling activity. The stage hands were trying to finalize props and scenery, the cast was trying to make themselves up perfectly, and the directors, conductors, and managers were all having neurotic episodes over tiny details. In the flurry of things, Toria could never have kept up with Daniel. Since Toria was only a minor part, she was to help the stage hands during her off scenes. It didn't seem long at all when the managers came around informing everyone that the Theater House had finally started letting people into the auditorium. That meant it was after nightfall. As she watched the patron's filing down into the rows upon rows of seats, she saw most of Felix's band in the audience. When the curtain rose up and the show began, it was constant backstage commotion. Daniel was onstage most of the time, so Toria didn't see a point in keeping close tabs on him. She most of her work was scenery changing, which required her to pull and push ropes and pulleys around in the rafters over the stage. About half an hour before the play was to end, Toria looked over to see a tall, man-shaped silhouette among the rafters with the crew. Looking about, she saw everyone there who was supposed to be, and surmised it was a hapless fan who had tried to get back stage and took a wrong turn.

"excuse me, you'll have to go back the way you came," she started walking toward the shadowy figure as she mentioned this. Maria, one of the other stage hands, followed along to help her. The shadowy figure disappeared. Not walked back down the stairs, not fallen, simply gone. Suddenly, from behind, she heard a gasp, and then faint groaning noises. She turned to see if Maria was alright, and saw the shadow, in the full light from the lantern, was indeed, a shadowy human-like being. It had clamped its hands around Maria's throat from behind and was throttling her softly. "Giordi! Help!" Toria called out, and one of the burly male stage hands came running with a wooden peg from one of the scenery spindles. He brandished it like a club, swinging down between the head and arm of the shadowy thing. The club connected, but the thing didn't give. It's eyes flared blue in the darkening light of the lantern just before it went out. Suddenly, Toria realized that the stage lanterns had also gone out, and there was a sudden roaring of panic from the crowd in the auditorium. Toria heard a voice in the sudden darkness.

"You and your pitiful friends cannot stop me, girl. I shall drain every last one of these disgusting mortals dry of their souls." With that, the blue flaring eyes tumbled sideways into the darkness. Not knowing which way to run, or being able to get her bearings in the tumultuous din, she scrabbled in the direction she was facing, and collided immediately with the railing, tumbling over it and into the huge knot of ropes and wires keeping the scenery hanging above audience view. She thrashed violently, not wanting to fall, but not wanting to have a limb caught and broken, against the ropes. She heard bellowing laughter and slamming doors, and the blazing blue of the Things eyes gleamed brightly. They were huge now, the size of bay windows, perhaps, and they illuminated enough to see the stage from where she was, as well as the Things silhouetted form again. It crouched in the massive auditorium, taking up most of the space therein. It swiped out its claw-like hand, and where it met human flesh, there was a tearing noise and the scream of what could only be the dying. A piercing, hollow thing, like a knife filled with poison, a poison that paralyzed to the bones. So terrifying was it that Toria slipped and fell, getting caught by a loop of rope under the neck. At the same time, the momentum of her body had carried the rope she was already entangled in, wrapping it around her and dragging her further past the loop of rope. She gagged and clawed and tried to free herself, but the confusion, the noise, the screams. It was all too much, and as the Thing looked on, the ropes began to tighten. She scrabbled futiley against the ropes, but everything was starting to get soft and hazy around the edges. Suddenly, there was a chopping, hacking sound, she was falling, and then she was cradled in two large, muscular arms.

She heard Raze bellowing, "I've got her, let's go!" And then there was darkness.

She awoke soon after that, still in Razes arms. The screams were still very near, and it was still very hard to see. "Raze," she yelled to be heard, "Let me down, I want to help!" He set her down.

"Get those doors open, Aurora said she'd be here by now, she might be locked out!" Raze pulled two long, wicked blades that gleamed silvery in the light of the Things eyes, and then ran off toward the others. By now, there were dozens of people pounding and banging at the doors, trying to get out. Toria was trying to get to them, but everyone pushed her back, thinking she was trying to keep them from reaching the doors. Dammit, she thought, not a good time for disorderly conduct charges. She lashed out with a punch, knocking the person on the side of the head, and they fell. She kicked another in the shins, and then began to wade in. She had been in many a tavern brawl, and used every trick she knew. She finally got to the doors, and she was exhausted. She couldn't relax, couldn't rest now. If she let her guard down, the people she had just fought tooth and nail to get past would drag her under and she'd never survive the panicked stampede. She looked at the doors for a moment, trying to clear her head in the heat of the moment. Ok, I know this. Um, pull down, slide sideways, heave up, there it is! When she had finished playing with the strange little bar on the front of the door, she found the tiny sliding panel to it's side, and pulled the key out. Stabbing at the lock, it took only three tries to get the key into it. She twisted, pushed, and threw her weight into the door. It burst open in a rush of cool air and extra space. Aurora was nowhere to be found. Toria held on for dear life as the people rushed past her in mob-like swiftness. There was tremendous bellowing coming from within the Auditorium proper now, and sounds like sizzling and hissing followed. Toria finally made her way back into the auditorium to find her friends engaged in mortal combat with a twenty-foot tall version of the Thing. Streamer was lying bleeding on the floor near the doors, and Raze was jumping from row to row like a human-sized frog, dodging the swift razor-looking claws of the Shadow-Thing. When it looked over at her, she stopped, felt a rush of cold air in her lungs, like she had just breathed in ice. Something wrapped icily around her, and she was lifted into the air. She couldn't breathe again. It held its hand out to her, and she could see a pulsing green coming from her chest. She looked down and saw the charm her father had given her glowing a sickly rotten color. She fought with the force holding her in the air, got one arm free, and tore at the tiny chain around her neck. It grazed her skin when it came off, but it came off freely, and when she hurled it away, she fell, coughing and hacking, gasping for life. The thing seemed to growl or purr, and then turned it's attention to Darris, Terri, and Aero, who were moving up around it on the other side. Terri had somehow made a lasso out of some of the fallen scenery-pulley system. Darris hurtled forward with startling speed, striking it in the shin with his own rock-like lower legs. There was a snapping noise, and Darris fell backward. He held his hand at his knee and crawled backward as the thing reared backward and kicked him, sending him flying into the heavy painted burlap of the scenery drapes. He made a hollow noise and lie there. Aero was it's next target, swiping out at him with its shadowy claws. He twirled to one side, holding both arms over his head, one hand clasping the pommel of his unsheathed rapier, the other held out at an angle. When the arm swept past him, he brought the blade down in an elegant swipe, the tip passing over what would have been the inside of the wrist of the monster. The wound sparked and hissed, and the giant shadowy death-man recoiled in pain, making a bellowing noise. Terri was hurtling the lasso around his head, before swinging it out around one of the things legs. As it looped back toward him, he stuffed the other end of the line through it, making a giant slip not, and pulling it tight. He then began barreling backwards, away from the monster. He yanked one foot out from underneath it, causing it to fall on its back, landing on its elbow. Toria watched all of this, and it gave her resolve. Not all hope was lost. In fact, she now saw that Mia was just a few aisles down from her, popping shots off at the shadowy giant with her specialized crossbow when she could. Fey was nowhere to be seen, but that was to be expected in a big fight. No doubt she had a plan. Toria crawled over to Streamer, and checked to see if he was alive. He was breathing, and he didn't seem to be bleeding much. Most of it was from the ground, which seemed to be coated in it at this point. She gently shook his shoulder. "Streamer, you better wake up." There was no response, but his breathe hitched in pain. "Streamer, pal. You gotta help out," she yelled, louder now. There was an unintelligible groan, and his eyes flickered open for a moment. "Oh, c'mon, handsome, you can't fail me now!" She slapped him across the face, and his eyes snapped open.

"Ow," he said, calmly trying to sit up, gasping again, and lying still. "I seem to have a dislocated shoulder. Can you help me reset it?" She looked at him incredulously. She wasn't a healer. She was an actress. "Hmm, help me up, by my left arm, please." She gingerly hefted him, looping his left arm over her neck. He smelled of sweat and blood, and his hair was silky against her bare skin. Even this close to death, she couldn't help but notice. He braced himself and held out a strange staff in his other hand. "Gently now, that's the dislocated arm." He'd told her to lift him up on his busted shoulder? This guy could stand some pain. He began chanting and waving the staff, which had multiple small figures and carved stones and twigs hanging from the top part at varying lengths. When he started doing this, the Shadow thing turned and glared at the two of them. "I name ye Nightwalker, and I name ye thief. Leave that body, it is not your tie." He repeated this over. The Nightwalker started moving toward them, reaching out its claw-tipped arm.

"No! This body is MINE!" There was a gust of foul wind and they were knocked off their feet and backwards.

"What is that thing, Streamer!" Toria needed to know if she was going to keep fighting.

"It's a Nightwalker, a death-man that uses night time to empower its possessed body with soul energies. This one must have taken ahold of someone a while back. Judging by the absence of Felix, I'd say that was your father." She was taken aback.

"How can you know that?" She was bewildered beyond belief that he would make such an accusation.

"The chant I used was a common one back home. It allows you to drive off weaker spirits and see the true form of the possessed person." He looked at her meaningfully, shaking her with his good arm, stick still in hand, "it was Felix, Toria!"

"How can we save him? I can't lose two parents to death-men."

"There's no sure way to tell. Either way, we have to stop him. He's become a monster Toria, he's killed dozens of people tonight alone." A tear fell down her cheek. From out of nowhere, the call came to rally. Both Toria and Streamer looked over to see Mia, waving a torch in the air. They made their way over to her and the others appeared out of the gloom soon after.

"Number Two, I need to tell you something important about our foe," Streamer had used Mia's code name, they always did this in high-tension environments.

"What is it, Five?"

"It's Number Eight. The thing, it's Felix, Mia." He cast his gaze down when he said this, knowing what it meant the group would have to do. When the others looked confused, he explained to them what he'd already told Toria. "It's got to happen, Mia. We've got to take him down before he becomes too powerful to stop."

Mia actually looked over to Toria.

"He's your Father. We have two options. We can try and subdue him using hit and run tactics till he runs out of power, or we can go at him hard, take him down, and be damned with the consequences. Your old man, your choice." Toria had always bristled at Mia's tone, the way she ran things, and now she was asking her which way to go. Toria had to decide whether or not they were all going to try and kill perhaps the most powerful common link between all of them.

With tears streaming down her face, she made her decision, "We can't take the chance that he'll escape and slaughter another town." The others nodded, understanding the weight that had just landed on her young fragile shoulders, and how much power her will must have that she chose the hard road.

Raze looked downright furious, "This thing has killed nearly a hundred people. It's killed mothers, and children, and tonight, it's killed a father. A father to all of us. I say we take payment out of its hide." He turned and with a bellowing roar, he dove out from behind their cover and charged down to the shadow thing which had bided it's time, reveling in the destruction it had already caused. Streamer slammed his arm twice into the wall, there was a hollow noise in his shoulder, and he cried out, but turned from the group and began muttering to himself in weird words. Mia ran sideways, making a strafing run at it with her crossbow. Aero and Terri again moved into attack angles around it, as Raze jumped up at its stomach, swiping at it with his twin knives. Streamer turned back to Toria, and looked intensely into her eyes.

"There is only one thing we can do, and that is to cause its power to wane. You must channel your belief that this thing can be destroyed, along with your will, through my staff with me. We can do this, if you are willing to trust me." He held up the hand with the staff in it, and Toria looked at it, wondering if she was really capable of killing her father in this manner. "Don't think, just do it!" She shook her head, then shook it again, as if changing her mind, and grabbed a hold of his staff, just above his wrist. The grain of the wood was smoothed down to almost nothing, the soft, sandy feel of it was like drift wood on a rivers shore. Its curvature was perfectly matched to her palms grip, and the wood felt nicely sure and warm under her touch. Streamer raised up his staff before them.

"I name you Nightwalker, and I name you thief. That is not your body, that is not your tie." They said it together, and as she yelled it at the shadow, she did truly believe what it meant. That thing had stolen from her, it had stolen her father, and it didn't have any right to his body now that he was gone. When this realization stole over her, the form shrank slightly, and wavered in her sight. "Again," Streamer said.

"I name you Nightwalker, and I name you thief. That is not your body, that is not your tie." It stumbled backward slightly, pinning itself between a wall, Razes' savage lunging attacks, and Aero and Terri's more tactically aimed strikes.

"Again! I name you Nightwalker, and I name you thief. That is not your body, this is not your world, that is not your tie! BEGONE!" Streamer shouted, his voice sounding different, bigger almost. When he bellowed this, the Nightwalkers shadowy body began to eat away, almost as though Toria were watching a river erode the sand in its bed. After a few moments, there was nothing more than Felix's corpse, lying there pathetically on the floor.

It had been almost a week since the incident, and all the victims of the Nightwalker had been identified. Somehow, it had gotten most of the cast and crew of the play. Toria's entire family and home, destroyed by a single thing of evil. As the few survivors either cursed her father or paid their respects for her noble deed in helping to defeat him, the only people to stand truly by her had been Streamer, Aero, Terri, a wounded Darris, Raze, Fey (who had gone all the way across town to fetch the cities healers and guards when the whole ruckus started), and, surprisingly, Mia. Mia had in fact been her most staunch supporter. She had actually struck one of the survivors who Toria didn't know who had had the gall to not only insult Felix at his funeral, but spit on his grave. If Aero and Darris hadn't caught her, she might have killed him. After Streamer had performed his peoples ritual of spirit sending to make sure that he went on to the Better Place, nobody wanted to stick around but Raze, who was squatted on his haunches, arms balanced on his knee's, his left fist supporting his chin.

"What are you going to do, Toria?" He'd said, after almost fifteen minutes of sitting there in silence with her. She didn't know, honestly, what she was going to do.

"If you guys don't mind, I think I'll tag along with the group for a while. Maybe I'll find the direction I'm supposed to be going in." Raze had nodded at that, and then loped off into the afternoon wind. Toria really didn't know what she was going to do. She was one of The Eight, now, Number Eight, to be exact. She reprised her fathers old number, but not his rank. Mia had been second in command, and so now, she was leader. Nobody had cared much, but the discussion had to be had. Now all she had to do was spread her arms and hope the wind carried good fortune with her on her trials.