::The Cassie Intervention::

Cassie: An elemental blade dancer from the same school of arts as GhostStalker and SpitFire. She separates from SpitFire to go on a preemptive strike on a group of druids who were working under orders of Scylla- Druid head of the North end. She approaches the ancient temple, where a sacrificial summoning ritual is taking place.

“I stood back still watching the purple skies settle down my confused blood rage. I wished I were as hard hearted as these brutes. The tears than ran down my cheek was as silent as my whisper... sad and regretting. Why had I to become to this? Why did I have to rise up to all the evil I witness? Why did I have to loose all those I loved to the ever-winning eternal peace? Why?

I knew the answer, though I wasn't in any state to get firm by reminding myself with it. I knew it was the only thing I was bred with - Honour. But after every bloodshed, I realize it is of no use when a life has already passed its time. Why am I trapped in this total inconsistence under the pretext of Honour. Don’t' these ugly souls who devour me to do them their death have any of it?

Why? Why? Why? Aaaaaargh!

I was screaming inside my head, looking at what could have possibly been a lovely face. Now battered with blood and cold icicles. My elemental blade strike had not only put those brutes to the temple floor but also the dying victim. Foul druids, I wish I had all of them right now, in this very room. The amount of rage I could have surmounted on them would send shivers down all those who ever dare. Filthy necromancers... Filthy. Filthy. Filthy. Their bloody sacrifices, cost more life than any natural death.

The darkness set through the skylight above just as the one in my heart. I smelt a whiff of strong sulphur. It was wreaking all over the place. Something from their sacrificial summon had taken heed. This means the summoner was somewhere else. With rage filling my mind, gripping blade and a swift fierce move I plunged into the centre of the altar.

From the darkest corner of the hall, I saw the damn thing move. A shadow was enough for me to expect what was going to be out any minute now. And there, in a glimpse the foul thing bounded into visibility.

For a huge beast, it had the most surprising speed. Smelling the air of its own foulness, it flailed its extremely long tongue. I knew what it was called, "Sherava" - Sulphur Toad. Unfortunately, very far from being a toad. I could feel his footsteps on the pillar I next to me. He moved towards as though I had offered myself as a tasty treat. I wished every ounce of my pride off me or I'd have SpitFire with me right now. He'll know how to handle these things, for he had been with them. There was no time for regret. So I was planning my next move.

Poison was the very element of this sickening beast with fumes of sulphur vapour spewing out of every bursting boil on it slimy slick skin. It was fully standing on all its fours and it’s under raised high above the ground. Not to mention its poisonous tail and webbed feet. If there was anything these druids were doing atrocious, this was the worst of them all. I twisted my blade's handle making full contact with the Ruby Rails that adorned it. The blade scintillated red as it shifted from the Sapphire rails. The fire was spreading through it. Hope this works.

I had no inclination in going close to this thing or its blurting skin. I summoned all my energy concentrating on my blade's edge. A shadow of flame spread like an aura around me. Then I released the very source of energy from my blade into a dancing trajectory towards the sulking beast. With one swift blow I released all the pent up energy onto the target. Heavy balls of fire seared through the air between my approaching and me. The fire and the sulphur had created quite an explosion and all I could see was white misty foul fumes all over the place. I could hardly see the shadow of the huge beast. I relaxed my sword, partially hoping it was dead and partially because I was tired. Maybe it worked.

The mist cleared the beast was still there, unscathed except for its skin which was spurting more sulphur fumes. The blast had eroded the primal layer of thick sludge and that didn’t help any bit. I noticed the expression of the beast - irritated and terribly angry. All of a sudden a blurred grey and green vision appeared somewhere above me. The next thing I could see was the tile patterns of the temple floor. The sickening smell of sulphur right above me… Very strong fumes forcibly entering my nostrils and down my throat. I was going to loose my consciousness very soon. I just wished I did sooner.”

~Cassie DeLuc

::Hunting a Stalker::

The night is so still, ever so still, reflecting the tense among us. Even the ground seemed to silence the clatter of our greaves. The silence was screaming in my ear draining every single piece of sanity away from me. Our eyes were rendered useless by the darkness and mist, I could hardly see the dull glint of my Gladius.

I hated to be behind the men. The mist when the men walked past seemed to take the most unholy shapes when disturbed from it stalking serenity. We were armed to the teeth, like that was going to make any difference. After all we were just mercenaries who sourly regretted falling for the greed of gold. I picked up pace for I knew we weren't covering much of the land - we were going in circles.

Our adversary wasn't to be taken lightly, not one bit. GhostStalker was one of the most fear and adept Assassins this age has ever known. 6 armed men with even Thor's Hammer couldn't scratch his back, let alone in this eerie place or anywhere else. I swear all of us have controlled our bodies from shivering out of fear more than the cold.

I still remember the tales of this uncanny soul and worse his ruthless blade. Crafted with utmost hate was the Chaos Blade. On the other hand as light as a unicorns hair and ever so fair was the Echaleon. Even in the most drunken stupor one would differentiate the horror of being struck by the Chaos blade - a punishers' strike and the grace of the Echaleon. For those who are unfamiliar, they are the two blades carried by this assassin. All I knew was the Chaos Blade was a soul captor and those who have felt its fatal slash would have their souls imprisoned to the sword itself, from hence it derives it unholy powers.

Unfortunately all I could do was wish I was out of harms way or in other terms far away from GhostStalker. In no sanity would a person who has seen his skill would have agreed on this mission. I didn’t have a choice to lead a bunch of greed-eyed pack rats, who would sell their honour in gold - if they had any that is.

The chill fog creeped down the back of my spine and all my senses were tingling just then I heard a muffled moan. I turned around hoping to see if there was any terror in the men's faces. Unfortunately, there wasn't any... any faces around. They had all been dispersed or already put to their last breath. Like a confirmation, I heard one more somewhere nearby, and then another and another... until I knew there won't be any more. Now I was alone, totally left to the one blade.

I regretted being here. But I had a mission and as a Pledged Legion my word is of honour and I shall fight till my very breath - if there was going to be any fight at all. I regretted every sin in my life, because I might never have a chance again. Whoever sent us here was sure of this. We stood no chance. I closed my eyes and concentrated. My days of being a mercenary were over and this was going to be the last time I held my sword.

Deep breath, firmly gripped sword, focused senses. I was following everything I was ever taught against an adversary.

And then I saw the vision, the glorious features formed before my very eyes. Time had stopped as I saw him hung in mid air like a crucifix. Arms spread out. And in one swift movement he had landed his blade was out. Before I could raise a thought to strike he was out of sight. I turned around parrying aimlessly.

The blade had already passed through me. Painlessly I fell to the ground. I din't even moan, I was being carried into a trance a dream. White clouds and the fragrance of a thousand Orchids... someone looked over me. An Angel? An Angel with a Scintillating Blade? It din't matter now. I have to go. And so I passed my last easing breath thinking I might have heard, "Peace my friend, Peace".

GhostStalker: He was one mercenary who surely din't deserve to die in pain and chaos. I've seen this man before, his Valour and Honour have always been exemplary. And just as I had expected, unlike the rest of the fetish he arrived with, he stood ground. For a man of such character, the Echaleon will give him Eternal Peace. And as for the rest, whose fleeing backs I had to smear their soul will unrest in my Chaos Blade.

~"I wonder who sent this wolf pack to hunt me down". With that withering thought he disappeared into the dark mist.