As the gleaming ball aflame rose above the soon-to-be bustling Capital, tweeting birds soared through the skies above, peering down upon the trickling populace sweeping into the courtyard. And, deep within the cozy, yet now calamitous Inn did the group begin to stir; a list of fiendish contracts awaiting their start to the day. However, while they began to step forth from their fairly comfortable rooms, one still sat shut at the end of the lowly lit hallway. And, as the dormancy of the one who resided within continued, a certain malakhim in white was fed up of this uncharacteristic lazing.
Knock, knock
Sarid's fingers rapped the doorframe, firm and echoing against the smooth oak finish. He waited. Silence. And yet, his acute senses could catch a soft and strange sound swiping back and forth, and settling a lone finger at the side already told him she had awakened inside.
Knock, knock!
"Velvet!? Can you hurry up? We're heading out soon!" he stated loudly, raising his voice to slip past the thick doorway and to interrupt whatever was going on within.
Finally, he got a response, "I'm busy. Leave me be, or I'll eat you," she growled from inside. It didn't take any intricate thinking to figure out the daemon was serious, so the half-breed didn't push it, and pushed off from the shut entrance.
"Urgh... why do I try with you..." With that final remark, the woman within clearly caught the creaking of his steps plod down the Inn steps. She grumbled, shaking her head at the man's newly attained confidence to test her like this. With another dip and brush, the mop she was using spread across the boarded floor, slicking along with repetitive motion. At this rate, that half-malak would end up as another nightly meal if she became too famished.
Velvet's grip tightened a bit too forcefully for the equipment to take, and with a snap! The mop handle cracked in two, at which she let another disgruntled sigh fill the room. "Good enough..." she grunted, carelessly flicking the useless piece into the corner; clattering it amongst other ominous metal at the side of her resting place. Armour pieces.
Boots clacking across the groaning, waterlogged floorboards, she plunged the head of the used mop into a borrowed bucket of once cleanly water. And, as she swung the room door open and sauntered out into the Inn to meet with the rest of the crew, Velvet paid no mind to the pooling smog of crimson that had corrupted the purity of the water bucket, as she clicked the way closed; irritable dry, ivory stains having crept between healed nails and relaxed fingers.
With resounding greetings to begin their morning, the group soon began their trek - foot on cobble to dirt - across the great Loegres centre and travelled back across Danann Highway. With talks of the guild they're assisting filling the empty gaps of boredom and simple daemon clearing, they concluded that the Bloodwing Butterflies were no pushovers. Fake documents that actually were proven real - seen of which as the daemoness leader merely stomped past the inspection with a dispassionate show of her papers - and losing their leader only to remain strong and steadfast. Perfect allies for the uninitiated and unreasonable.
Therefore, it was vital these jobs are completed to a high order. Contracted means methods are important, so to keep costs down, their pirate malak sent out a sylphjay - messenger bird - to the Van Eltia and had her draw the dock guards away. Simple target, free to be destroyed and hopefully without much trouble. And of course, who would refuse more mabo curry for their success?
Plucking his faithful calcite blades from the withering corpse of another daemonic gibbon, the Samurai hopped from its lifeless chest and stepped back in tow with the group that had once again successfully cleared out the surrounding area; leaving only the familiar gateway to Port Zekson, and the vulnerable warehouse to be set ablaze. Sun trailing their backs with its simmering support, Velvet booted a faltering Axe Beak to the side, the Dodo-like daemon bird's choked gasps of dissipating life, spluttering to nothing in the thorned bushes as she thrust the gates open.
Guards a few overseeing the market street spared only a couple moments to evaluate their abnormal appearances, speckled with drops of fading daemonic ivory, before letting them pass uninterrupted with nods of condolence. Stepping through the Crossroads of Commerce, the band of misfits stepped down to pass under an archway and settled their view of the grand ocean blue, cargo and merchant ships a plenty docking and sailing away from the bustling port. Catching sight of the warehouse at the other end of the dock, the group stepped right to curve around the ship masses bobbing upon serene waves.
Eizen cast a sparing glance upon the resting and resilient vessel of Aifread, the complete vacancy of the crew leaving a nod of confidence, only heightened by the lessened guardsman forces. The pirates were doing their jobs well. Soon enough, they came upon the target fairly similar to the storehouse sent crumbling back in Hellewas, and stepped inside swiftly to avoid prying eyes.
Inside, the expected mass of jumbled resources strewn across boards of dank brown were aplenty, however the neatly stacked cargo of maroon red crates sat prepared in the corner was their focus. "Red crates. These must be our targets," the daemoness confirmed. Velvet stepped close, sweeping the marred dust and dirt from the insignia adorned upon them. "The seal of Midgand Cathedral?"
"Should we look inside?" the skipper wondered, mildly interested or concerned about the contents within.
Shaking her head, the woman refused and stepped away, "There's no need. Burn them, Laphicet."
"OK..." the young boy replied timidly, placing his hands together with the simmering winds of flame tickling his attire. As the warmth trailed to fingertips, the boy thrust them out with a crackle and pop of power bursting forth from blazing palms, and the crates were sent into a roaring cacophony of rendering flame.
"We're done here. Let's go," she coldly ordered, impassive words a brutal contrast to the torched crates succumbing to the smouldering arte. With the winds of escape fuelling each step, the fleeing crew flooded out from the soon-to-be ashen warehouse, darting around the crates, however, before they could intermingle with the few sailors parading the port; a shout of surprise and wrathful warning shot to their ears.
"It's you!" a feminine voice cried out, and the daemon at the forefront of the escape had her boots screech to a halt.
"Oh hey. The crybaby," Velvet bluntly mocked with a bored frown. As she stated, barring the groups way from proceeding to their next illegal work, was the ever faithful and naive Praetor they had come to recognise, her ginger twirls swaying in the chilling winds. A little too late to warn the great and noble Shepherd of their infiltration.
"Eleanor Hume. Exorcist Praetor!" she valiantly cried out, spinning out a prideful staff to slam into stone, with the shimmering gleam of two malakhim shooting out at her command of battle. Just the standard of the ignorant Abbey, typical small-fry to accent the skill of an insignificant Praetor.
Rolling a gilded glare, the ravenette crossed her arms, refusing to step into battle with this cockroach of an exorcist again. "Sarid, deal with her. She's not worth my time." Eleanor's brows narrowed, verdant irises widening in shock and offense.
From the side, the half-breed in white calmly stepped past with a sigh of discontent, unfastening his clipped scabbard and gripping it tightly at the side, "...Yes ma'am," he sarcastically remarked with a clear of the throat, earning a tch behind him. "Eizen, Rokurou, guess it's time to try that out." At this mysterious statement, the two other men emerged from the group to match the pair stoic malakhim pronounced at her side. Eleanor shuffled nervously under the set of harsh looks. The Samurai stretched his broad forearms with a hungry smile, while the Reaper stared on bluntly, monotonously flicking his auric coin up into the chidden rays of light. "Sorry to meet again like this," the half-breed dryly said with a lazed grin and wink, only serving to irritate their opponent.
"A Barloc..." she seethed ominously, scoring a stern raise of brow from the one opposing.
As Sarid had spoke, a pair of those distinct kunai hung from his pointed fingers, until they were suddenly thrust at the feet of the mindless tools at her disposal, who stumbled back at the blinding speed yet bewildered at the misdirection. Sarid's violet eyes grew sharp, and he tapped the men at both sides of himself, at which they vanished into thin air, the Pirate's flung coin spinning towards and above the rightmost malak. The poor confused Praetor had no time to react, as a gleaming eyed Rokurou and sternly readied Eizen appeared inches from her summoned malakhim.
"Killing flash!" They moved as one, with the Samurai's bloodthirsty crimson shining as his blades leapt forth to gash and garner the leftmost tool into injured flesh, "When I'm this close, I won't miss!" Twin daggers shimmering with pure, unadulterated power, the Yaksha split his carving knife to a bloody angle upwards and across the malak's stomach, rupturing untainted flesh to send it stumbling back, heaving viscously. Legs poised in perfect, springing balance, Rokurou fastened his grip with a wolfish grin and blitzed forth. "Form 0: Sunder!" The lunging gouge split right past the target, the radiant lacerations bursting open with the cries of wind on its once mythical figure, leaving it to crumble in almost two halves, pooling the webbed dock.
"Ready to die?!" The Reaper was no different, he stomped once forward, bending low and slamming a destabilising earthward right hook brutally into the malak's jaw, stunning it into an empty daze. "Think you can dodge? Just try!"
Slam, slam, slam, slam, slam, slam!
Eizen's unstoppable and devastating hooks hammered into the tool without slow, drilling painfulwaves of force deep into its convulsing figure; the howling gales beaten back with every shuddering blow. "Perfect Mayhem!" With one final strike, the Reaper roared as he wrenched his calloused fist upwards and smashed it into the target with land-splitting impact, sending the shattered body to sail up and back into a cloud of concealing dust, wrought by the deathly landing. Eizen huffed with a firm glare as he turned his back, perfectly snatching the falling coin as it fell from the air.
Eleanor stood frozen. Unblinking, her mind attempted to catch up as she saw her two faithful malakhim having been dispatched so easily and swiftly, the spear trembling in the exorcist's hands as she turned back to face the group with shaky eyes. "No hard feelings," the half-breed stated, blank and composed as he nodded to the encroaching duo at the sides. "Just business."
As the clean screech of his ornate blade sung to the coastal breeze, Eleanor flinched as he vanished from before her eyes. Only in the final moment it counted, did she clock the knife embedded within stone just a few feet before her.
Whoosh!
Sarid's long haori kissed the envelopinggales, as he materialised in just a golden flash, weapon at the behest of its call while cleaving towards her neck. Desperately, the staff she wielded twirled, catching the man's unsuspecting blade from ending her life, and soon the one-sided dance began.
Velvet peered close, taking in every swipe and flourishing slice performed by the half-malak as he beat back the defending Praetor. Sarid's blows swept along and past the splayed body of her spear, twisting and spinning with every motion to maximise the offensive pressure beating into the exorcist's swift defence. Sparks cried and sputtered, as Eleanor's stabbing strikes were directed off-course by every counter; everyone could see her struggling as she stumbled backwards. Suddenly, a twirling hail of side strikes came from the woman's retreat, yet he stood resolute. Left, right, left, right; each diagonal guard to his head sat unflinching, and Sarid carried a careless blow of hers through to spin, and catch the exorcist's exposed thigh as Eleanor sprang back and upwards.
The supposed immovable soldiers of the Abbey bled the same as any, crimson trickling down onto the pavement from the clean gash.
Eleanor's final attack thundered down from above, opposed rapidly by the half-breed's horizontal guard poised upwards, and the force pushed him down minutely. Narrowed in concentration, he held back the crying blow with one hand; thrusting his left forward, open and steady. At this motion, a burst of ferocious winds - skirted with a verdant yet inky visage - collided with the Praetor's chest, wrenching her gasping back and reeling into the dockyard wall; violently cracking it as the spear clattered downward in defeat.
"H-His technique isn't... what was reported-" Eleanor spluttered out, groaning in pain as she stumbled to her feet; hunched and out of breath. "Oscar was... right, another...!"
Spinning the nearly unblemished blade with a flourish that whisked the blood from its edge, Sarid plunged it back into its waiting scabbard with a nod of respect and finality to the exhausted Praetor. Soon turning on his heel to step back with the watching group; patting the Samurai who grinned at the collective attack and displayed prowess. Velvet hummed in unknown thought, sufficed with the half-malak's proven allegiance to raising steel against the Abbey. Stalking forward, the daemoness sunk her weight onto one foot and splayed a hand on her hip, looking down boredly on the spent exorcist who wearily scrambled for her weapon. "Willing to fight without your malakhim?"
As Eleanor's vision panned up, the slight sputter and crackle tickled her right ear, and she twisted in panic as the scent of ash wafted through the air. "No... You set the storehouse ablaze?!" She straightened her back, gritting teeth as she glared back at the uncaring daemon. "The people have worked so hard this time of crisis... How can you destroy what they have so painstakingly built?!"
"Because I'm not human." Velvet's stare was devoid of any sense of emotion towards this fragile city, these fragile people.
"You will pay for this!" cried the failed exorcist, slamming her spear to the stone with repetitious stomps. "You daemon!" With a flick of her hand, another familiar vibrant shimmer seeped out from the woman's form.
"More malakhim up her sleeves?!" The daemon's face tightened, clenching fist in a lowered stance in warning.
Rokurou's blades sang through the air as he flourished with a pleased grin, "More practice for me then!"
Flash!
"I will protect you, Madame Eleanor! Come and face me now, daemon!"
Silence hovered above the group as they blankly stared, all tension lost from the revolving battle.
"...Wrong one?" Sarid assumed with a flummoxed narrow of brow, while the Samurai scratched his head in awkward hush.
"He's adorable..." Laphicet instinctually mumbled, eyes lighting up with a twinkle. Velvet sighed lowly with a cross of her arms, completely done with all this Praetor brings along.
"A-Am I?" the figure bashfully asked, placing tiny... paws? upon his mouth, taken aback. Stood before them, was a mini malakhim that only reached the exorcist's knee, having the appearance of a strangely cartoonish cat of some sort; albeit with a similar reference to that of an imp. All over his body, was a mix of purple and white fur-type layers, with the snowy parts being that of his midriff and lower half of the face. Peaking through a large, scarlet-laced rim lavender top hat with cut eye holes and a great ribbon at the top, were a pair of big, round, black eyes squinting in embarrassment. Tied about the small cat-ish malak's neck, was red cape with front folds, under which was his curled tail bending at the halfway point in the shape of a spade. Lastly, to finish his devilish demeanour, a pair of crimson devil-like wings sat on his back.
Caught up in his fluttering heart at the small compliment, the poor malakhim never noticed the devil itself staring from atop the bow of a nearby settled ship; and this devil was sporting the garments of a vibrant, cackling Witch.
"Oooooh! I've found you at last!"
Button eyes widening, the tiny malak slowly leaned back, snapping his head up to the malicious speaker. "That bad-bad voice!" he cried, voice trembling while the onyx orbs shrunk to dots.
"Bienfu, you traitor! You'll never leave my clutches again!" Magilou yelled with a crude grin, leaping from the bow and onto the dockside.
"N-Not her! Nooohohoho!" Overcome with immense dread at seeing this mess of colour dart towards him, the shook malakhim fled in dazzling shine; dissipating back into the body of the exhausted Eleanor.
"W-What are you doing!? Get out there and fight!"
Unfortunately, this wasteful stage performance was brought to a plummeting finale, as the group soon caught the quiet murmurs and shouts from nearby the warehouse. "The fire has spread enough. Let's get going," the daemoness demanded, as the thick smog began to trail through the battered windows of their target; the subtle medicinal scent seeping out among the blazing chaos.
"You're coming with us," Rokurou stated without room for discussion, hoisting the petite woman up to his shoulders as the group dashed off across the docks.
"Hey! Let me go! Oooh! Witchnappers!" Magilou's painful cries of torment and undivided suffering trailed the ghostly port as she painlessly pounded the Yaksha's shoulder; where sailors and merchants began to gather towards the sizzling commotion. Eleanor could only spare another step to chase the fiends, until the click of a blade slightly released from its scabbard pierced the mayhem. Velvet rolled her eyes as she sprinted, sparing a glance behind to catch someone barring the tireless Praetor's way. A minor chuckle slipped from her lips, unbelieving of this resilient figure he'd now become, and also at a loss for his foolishness. Nonetheless, maybe this confusing anomaly of a man, wasn't so bad.
"Give up, for once." Orbs flicking to the side, the exorcist grimaced at the sight, of Sarid stepping past and thumb having knocked up the hilt. The shrill winds bristled the torn shirt - black as night - snaking within as the coat flapped in the breeze. Snow white hair, pure as a dove's wing, flowed as he stared on; the bladed violet boring into her downed self.
Eleanor frowned, a burn welling up inside at the unfaltering sight of exactly who opposed her. "The mongrel traitor..." she grunted harshly, stumbling to the side while the half-malak remained sharp under this insulting guise.
"...Really?"
Her grip tightened upon the spear, durable material now scarred from the wailing strikes groaned at the wrathful force. "Humanity won't forget your transgressions, half-breed, you have truly let go of reason to side with such a daemon!"
Sarid blinked, blank and lidded. Eleanor's bitter stare relented slightly at his unflinching gaze, staring down this ridiculous resolve. "Final warning," he affirmed, material binding the sword hilt squeaking at the applied strength. Eventually, the poised spear drooped, and the exorcist relaxed her cautious defensive knowing herself beaten and outmatched. Stern expression lightening, the half-malak's tense posture sank, and much to the girl's abrupt surprise; he chuckled. Sarid casually waved off with two fingers, renouncing the threatening intensity. "Not bad, preacher."
Whoosh...
Crackling through the boiling sunlight, the half-malak disappeared from sight with a gleaming zap of gilded thunder. Silence. Despite the shouts of alarm steadily echoing from the ablaze warehouse, the exorcist could not remove her emerald irises from the empty spot, unnerved. Flickers of anger and confusion zipped along her expression, staring after where the stampede of villains had taken off to.
Pearlescent green flashed back, remembering the shimmering gold crest emblazoned on the left peck of that distinct coat - proud too at his back. A crown of outlined stars - sharp and straight like rotated crosses - flanked by a pair of grand horns above. That familial crest of a tainted line was unmistakable.
The whistling howls of wind, beating at the shipyard sails, flowed along the devastated port, blossoms of amethyst decorating the many paths and pines.
"Barloc..."
~~~
"Phew... Looks like we're in the clear!" Rokurou stated with a contemplative leer at the far-off gates of Port Zekson.
Magilou's wails of utter defeat pierced their ears, as the Samurai dumped her onto the dry and dirtied pathway with a deadpan frown. "Aaaaaaaiiiiggghhhhh...! Misfortune and anguish! I had that little turncoat right in front of me!" she childishly cried out, running tears of rivers pooling from her eyes as she flailed in sorrow. Laphicet plodded to her side apprehensively, patting the head of the blonde Witch while her back sat crooked. As if it were never there, the frown vanished in an instant, "Well, at least I know where to find him!"
Velvet rose an incredulous brow, "That weird little malak was the one you were looking for?"
"The very same. The malak Bienfu! A creature of unfathomable wickedness and beguiling cuteness who broke the heart of this wretched maiden! Heh-heh-heh... Once I finally catch him, who knows what I'll be capable of..."
As the strange magician slinked away with a fiendish grin of 'unfathomable wickedness', the Samurai and young malakhim looked on in complete befuddlement, acutely undone by Magilou's antics.
"I don't get it."
"Me neither..."
"Good," Velvet snapped with searing frown, "Pray that you never do."
Rokurou and Laphicet stood silent at her words, until the Yaksha's roving eyes clicked on each individual, and suddenly that copper gaze swept their surroundings in steadily growing alarm. "Wait..." he muttered, caution now weighing on every step.
"Sarid's not here," the pirate finished with a grunt, sharing his own scour of the surroundings. Even Laphicet whirled around in surprised warning, lamenting at his stumble in being a scout.
"Of course he isn't," the daemoness at the forefront asserted, to the rising confusion of the others. "He stayed back to make sure we weren't followed, because he can't follow orders..." she snidely remarked, suddenly glancing to the violet shoulder of the Samurai's kimono. What sat there, was a familiar spread of symbols lined upon the material, having gone unnoticed by him.
Without warning, the seal sparked and gleamed.
Whoosh!
And there he was, casually flicking a lone kunai about his knuckle with a smile. Sarid winked, "Nothing really."
Velvet growled in stupefied irritation, turning on her heel with a flick of her bandaged limb.
"Let's just get these other jobs over with, we're burning daylight."