Under Pursuit (Whilaroo, Cobra)

Cale was rushed by the Redeemers in that moment of vulnerability when his eyes were not focused on them. Two of them grabbed his arms, dragging him back, his legs kicking. Rena cursed herself for not keeping quiet. Cale spoke to the men who had grabbed him. "I will let you live if you let me go." Cale spoke, but they didn't let go of him. "Ha, and what do you think you're gonna-" The man was cut off as Cale's fingers moved into his throat with shattering force, causing the man to fall to the ground, his windpipe collapsed. With one arm free, Cale punched the other in the face, breaking his nose, before kneeing him in the stomach, and slamming his elbow into the mans back. Cale kicked him as he hit the floor, a gurgling sound escaping his mouth. Cale then turned to the others, brandishing his sword, he taunted the Redeemers. "Any more?" he asked, as he gestured, mocking them, by cutting his throat with his finger.

It stood in their midst, completely surrounded, a giant dog. It might have been a wolf, with all black fur and those blazing eyes, as if on fire. It stood nearly as tall a horse, and despite the great height of several of the Redeemers, it could look them all eye to eye. Underneath its massive fore paw laid the mutilated remains of a comrade and fellow of those now circling the beast. Thirty men, all around, keeping a tight ring of weapons. Crossbows, and spears, and a few swords, were what held the creature that was at once prey and predator captive. Perhaps six of the bolts from the crossbows had already been buried deep into the skin of beautiful beast which had killed so many and large cuts and gashes showed where they had been able to mark it. The almost taunting snarl was not so frightening now that the dark stains and scabs on its coat were not only composed of Redeemer blood, and the great pool that began to form beneath the wolf-like monster was like a fountain of youth, the sight of which restored the men Sanctuary to no end. But they would not simply kill this beast, no, that would be merciful. In truest fashion of their kind, they would make it suffer before it found release. They would make it pay for the brutal deaths of their friends and comrades. The captain of the men arrayed round and about stared right into the burning pits that were the creature's eyes. He heard the rasping, labored breath that had started when they had shattered one of the beast's lungs. He saw the elegant black fur, part still free to wave in a non-existent wind as though it had a mind of its own, and part matted down by the thin trickle of life left to this most fearsome apparition. The captain's hand raised, and one of the men raised their crossbow and fired another bolt. It thudded hard into the torso of that pale man. The captain stared still into the raging fire. All about, there was that relief of finally, finally winning, that exhilaration which follows, and rush of lording it over this putrid creature. Coat all soaked in the dark, sanguine rush of his heart, skin discolored by stains of deepening colors. He stood in the center of the circle, over the corpse of a Redeemer brother, torn to pieces. Perhaps stood is the wrong word, he hunched, from the repeated blows of the crossbow, and the myriad lacerations afforded him by spear thrusts and sword points. He would be dead soon enough, with the large puddle appearing under him and growing as fast as it was. Yet, something was wrong, the captain couldn't put his finger on it, and he really didn't have the time to sort through his gut feelings at the moment, but... He began to make the signal for the final assault. It was time to end this. But before he finished, he let his hands drop. After all, it was senseless attacking an empty courtyard. His men were ringed around him perfectly, as if fencing something in, but there was nothing to hold back within the circle, nothing at all but for blank cobblestones. He blinked, and all around him, the courtyard was afire, his men all lay dead, horribly mutilated in the most macabre fashions, and before him stood a man, all dressed in black, with skin paler than the full moon, and eyes unlike the fire all around them, eyes like the depth of the captain's dark soul, eyes that summoned him. There was nowhere to go.

Diaes stood looking at the last man in the courtyard. They had fallen in a perfect circle. "How uncanny," he thought to himself. Turning away from the scene, he took a final glance at his handiwork. Not a single mark had he left on any of the bodies. Never once had he even had to touch them. A glance told him that the sun was still shy of reaching its zenith, and behind the buildings was hidden from him the sight that he new very well, a moon, risen in broad daylight, half covered in shadow.

The Redeemers all charged at Cale, an explosion of battle cries erupting from the mountain of soldiers. Cale stood his ground, until they started to get into range. He started by kicking the one closest to him in the knee cap, shattering it under the force of his foot. Before landing his foot, Cale swerved, severing the head of a nearby Redeemer, before planting both feet on the ground, initating a golf swing, cutting the armour from a Redeemers torso. A devilish grin plastered the boy's features as he cut down the Redeemer Soldiers that attacked him. Time seemed lost, as before long, the boy stood in a pool of blood, surrounded by Corpses. Rena ran up, shaking the boy as he collapsed to his knee's. He hadn't realised that he was tired, how strange. He rose again, ripping the coat off of a high ranking Redeemer, a few years away from Lord, Cale reckoned, as he put on the torn garment. Rena supported him, as they moved somewhat into the city. Before long Rena noticed a man, standing very similarly to how Cale had not long ago, surrounded by the corpses of the Redeemers. Cale looked up, noticing the pale man. "Diaes..." the spoke, as if to catch the attention of the pale man, who seemed so lost in his deeds.

He slowly chewed. It made him sick, but he knew that in the long run, it would be the only way to stand the smell. Averting his eyes from the bodies, he glanced up at the boy and the girl. Once, the sight of dead men would have done nothing, but now every time only one image would come to mind. It hurt, physically, emotionally, and if it was possible, spiritually. His eyes slid quickly from Cale as well, all that blood. It was one thing to cast demented delusions into the minds of all those Redeemers. The shock had been enough to kill many of them, but this... This was the sort of thing that turned his gut. His face had paled, if that were possible, and a sickly green color had seeped into his cheeks. Those red lips, dark like blood, had become frighteningly discolored, but it was something you could expect from a man who had witnessed so much death. He stumbled past the other two. "This had better have been worth it," his voice was choked as if on bile. He suffered a violent twitch as he walked by Cale, but the dark eyes retained their same shadowy hue. "We need to see if we can steal a ride. You and I are ready to fall, and this was only the first wave. If I know the Redeemers at all, then this was a token force of weak men to ware us down before the real fight begins," he kept walking towards the western quarter of the city as he spoke, taking an alley to the next road over.

Cale and Rena followed the pale man, keeping pace. "The Lord of Discipline is dead, again." Cale spoke to the man, still using Rena for support. The Redeemers would send more, to kill them, take revenge for their fallen brothers, but Cale didn't care. He knew the Redeemers, he had spent most of his life in the Sanctuary, nothing they did could surprise him. "Where are we going?" The boy asked, still following the pale man.

"There are stables at a post house used by the Redeemers. The horses within are therefore the swiftest we shall find, though not, I think, unguarded. You will not fight, but allow me to attend to the matter," he glanced back at the boy, taking in the image soaked thoroughly in blood as it was, "You will wait somewhere unseen. The girl and I shall acquire our means of escape." He put the comment about the Lord of Discipline aside for the moment. Such things were useful, but he would have to deal with that after he had managed to remove the lot of them from harms way. And considering the fact that the entire first wave of enemies they had encountered had almost assuredly been nothing but decoys, the likelihood that someone of actual importance had been sent out to be killed was terribly small. The fatigue was very much starting to ware away at Diaes now. The brief struggle with the soldiers, though it had invigorated his mental powers, had done little to improve the lethargic progress of ache and sleep throughout his limbs, which were beginning to move in a very aggravatingly slow fashion. his breath kept coming up harder, but he had to make it to the stables at least. The boy was tired, sure, he could probably still fight, but that could raise an alarm which would only serve to get them all killed. Not to mention that the sight of him alone was quite frightful at the current moment. Despite the girl's beauty, which was present even though she was disheveled by the course of events, the pale man could hardly credit her with the ability to woo a bunch of Redeemers into allowing this suspicious group into having what were probably the fastest horses for miles around. No, he would have to do this. The girl would make it easier, but it would have to be his talent that got them through. The problem was staying awake long enough for that talent to be of any use...

Cale nodded at Diaes orders, asking Rena to let him go. He stumbled, but found his footing. He followed Diaes for a little while, before sinking into the shadows, as if he never existed. He watched as the pale man walked towards the stables. Cale counted the Redeemers, attempting to work out what the man was going to do. Cale did not know of negotiation or reasoning, he had been trained since a very young age to be an instrument of death, a killing machine. One might say the Redeemers Uncle Sam had invested a lot in him, and he had escaped. This would not fare well, one of the strongest Acolytes to ever grace the Sanctuary, had also managed to be the first to escape. Ever. This would at least stop the Redeemers from trying to recreate Cale, as the new boy would surely also escape. That, or the Redeemers would treat him far worse then they had ever treated Cale.

The boy was too close for Diaes to have a hope of not being able to smell the stench, but thankfully none of the soldiers had olfactory organs quite as sensitive as his own. Still, when they had gotten several meters from the blood soaked figure who traveled with them, he hocked and spat out a large, well-chewed lump of what might have once been garlic. Again, he cleared his mouth, spitting after it most violently. A tiny flask came out of one of his pockets and he took whatever was inside it and swilled that for a moment before regurgitating that too upon the cobbles. Then, he continued on towards the entrance to the stables, waving the girl to follow him. Before they arrived he glanced back at her with a slight bit of apprehension. "I'm about to ask you to do something that may be a bit untoward, but I assure you that no harm shall come to your person. Being that you are a woman, I assume that you know how to make yourself alluring. I ask you to then use mannerisms and body language to draw the attention of whatever men we encounter. None of them shall touch you," he finished in a whispered tone because they had drawn close enough to the house that a man had come forth. Several men followed until there were a full contingent of five. Two of them looked younger, and quite frankly, better looking, if not just as nasty. The other three showed obvious battle scars, and one of them was obviously getting on in years, which meant that he had lived so long as to get there. These were veterans, and if Diaes wasn't mistaken, two men trained by the Lord of Discipline because of their good looks and backwards natures. The spokesman for the stable-keepers was one of the more rugged looking fellows with a long scar across his left eye and cheek, a severely balding head, and a shadow that had gone well beyond five o'clock. Diaes did not allow him to start the conversation, "Good morrow to you." All the tiredness had left his voice, none of the choked quality it had since killing the Redeemers existed, but only a smooth, soothing kind of watery sensation was left. It was a chilling sound to behold. "I and my young companion," he laid specific emphasis on the girl's title, "Desperately require transportation. We were informed that you have the best horses in this entire city and are more than willing to sell for the right price." The man looked as though he were about to argue with that, but it was as if when Diaes finished speaking a realization sparked behind his eyes. Yet, he would be harder than that. The lads behind him however had fallen at least for Diaes's first contrivance, the girl, and it had left at least one of them susceptible. "Of course, sir! The best horses in all the land, wouldn't you say?" he nudged his fellow and they both smirked, "Why don't we show them right in?" His tone was nice, his face kind, and all his intentions read wrong.

Cale just sat and watched from the shadows. These were Redeemers, why bargain or reason with them? They would not do the same for him, or anyone else. They kidnapped children, and forced them to fight for the Redeemers, training them from young ages. Most were 10 or 11 when they were brought in, rarely under the age of 6. Cale was half that age when he was brought into the Sanctuary. He had 12 years of combat experience, training against dummies for his first few years, suffering the head injury at the age of 8, that changed the way he was treated and how he fought for the rest of his life so far. This boy had been deprived of a life, and he wanted nothing more then to deprive every single Redeemer of theirs. But, he also realised he was tired, possibly too much so to kill these men, and so he would wait.

Jervais didn't like the look of this man. There was something wrong about him, and he lived with perverted, wicked men among the Redeemers. Still, there was something about this person in particular that made his spine wish to crawl, an unpleasant feeling considering that nothing, even his superiors, had been able to put the fear in him for some many years now. And on top of that, the two young Nimrods sent from the previous Lord of Discipline were inviting this creature into the rooms. Something about that caused a feeling of incredible unease deep in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that he had learned to trust over the years. It had kept him alive so far, and he meant to trust it, even if the girl could provide a pleasant diversion from the general monotony of life as it was. No, the man was just too wrong to have around, and yet, somehow the idea of killing him didn't cross Jervais's mind, not even a little bit. Any other time, any other person, and he would have just offed the man and continued on his merry, but inexplicably the faintest impression of that course of action seemed so utterly alien at the moment that he didn't move to touch the weapon at his side. Both his older comrades too seemed to be suffering, even worse than he was, from a sort of paralyzing debilitation. However, the young men seemed unphased, unless the female was taken into consideration. It was as if, to them, the man did not exist at all...

Diaes allowed himself to smile, ever so slightly. His dark eyes narrowed. And all he had to let them do was fall into the depth of each of their very own mind's depravities. Slowly, one by one, their eyes glazed over as each retreated into either horror or a sort of ecstasy... They were no better than dreamers, caught in a world of darkness and fantasy within their own subconsciouses. The pale man waved the girl to follow him as he passed in between the stunned figures, no better than upright corpses in their current state. It would fade, he knew, but not as long as he remained conscious. Which meant that they would have to get the horses and get out fast. Even in the current situation, as stressful as it all may have been, he was finding it hard to fight the need for sleep. The lethargy was beginning to spread into his mind, and once it managed to take over, there would be nothing to do but die. Both the warriors were spent for the present moment, and this was their last bid at anything resembling escape. He just hoped he could hold out that long...

Cale hid within the shadows, and crept into the stables, he had been told to stay out of there, but he could not wait, he needed to get out of the city. He crept into the room, and saw the men in their state. He walked over to one, waved infront of his face. Nothing. Cale continued into the stables, entering where the horses themselves were kept. He saw Diaes, and Rena, who's face lit up at the sight of him. "Diaes, you don't look well." Cale spoke, without meaning too, the words just escaped from his throat. Cale walked over to a horse, stroking its mane. It neighed at him, and he whispered something in it's ear. "This is a horse from the Sanctuary, one i took a liking too. You could say she is mine. She is saddled, this shouldn't be too hard." Cale said, as he took Diaes by the arm, supporting him, and took him to a nearby horse. He helped Rena up on to the horse he knew, but had yet to name. He climbed on behind her, grabbing the Reigns. "Diaes?" Cale asked, looking at his pale friend.

If he didn't look well before, he looked even worse after Cale entered... The look on his face was twisted and contorted into one of pain and agony. But before they could have had a chance to see any more. He whipped his body around so that his back faced them. A groan and he doubled over. He was gauging one of his pale claws into a coat pocket. It came out with something that he shoved quickly into his mouth. There was a choking sound and he sounded as if he was about to vomit, and when he finally did turn back, his face was the most sickly shade of green. But he was able to trip over to one of the horses, a great dappled grey of beautiful quality. At first, as he approached the horses in general, they all seemed to experience a sudden fit of fear as they whinnied and stomped about. Diaes slowly extended one hand out to them and with a single word, archaic and strange, he somehow managed to quiet the entire stable, but the one that he had come up to especially seemed to take to his presence. The beast had no saddle, but he hauled himself slowly up over its back, and it just stood and allowed him to do it... Leaning over the creature's head, he whispered into its ear several unintelligible words before he flopped across its large neck. "Lead the way," he coughed out to Cale.

Cale looked at Diaes for several seconds, wondering what he had just seen, before he dug his heels into the side of the horse, telling it to go forward. He raced as fast as possible to the city outskirts, where he turned sharply, taking them around the city. He knew where he was going, the forest that they had gone to before. He followed his mental map, letting his subconscious take him where he needed to go. Approximately 20 minutes later they stumbled across the area of forest that they had previously rested in, but Cale droves the horses further in, for another 10 minutes. He unsaddled, helping Rena down, and then went over to check on Diaes and his Horse.

Diaes had spent the whole ride draped across the neck of his great grey horse which had faithfully followed behind Rena's form, settled on her mount as she was. His body had been quite limp during the major course of the ride, although once or twice he made a sick heave. Ere the animal stopped, it would have been much easier to see his condition. He coughed and spat out the remains of a couple chunks of whatever had been in his stomach. The traces of vomit were about his mouth yet and some of it clung to the hide of the riding beast. As the spasms ceased, he slowly slid, gradually falling around to drop off of the beautiful creature's majestic back, and then gravity took over and all at once nature deposited him on the cold hard ground in a black crumpled heap of coat and hair. Truth be told, he looked nothing more than a disheveled shadow that had quite lost the object to which it belonged. Reduced in such a manner, the pale man didn't move at all, neither a sound did he make. The large grey being which had carried him lowered its head to sniff a bit at the mussed form of the rider which had been. A snort and a worried stomp of the hoof were its personal diagnosis, along with the shake of its head.

Cale crouched down next to the heap of a man on the floor, clutching the man's coat, he turned the man over on to his side, and raised his chin, to allow him to breath, and so he would not choke, should he vomit again. Cale sat down on the floor, next to the pale man. "Can you hear me, Diaes?" the boy asked, looking at Rena, who just smiled reassuringly. Not that the gesture would mean anything to Cale, after hiding his emotions for so long, he could nto recognize them when others showed them to him. He just looked at his crumpled up friend.

"I can..." his voice was really more of a croak than it was a voice, "Hear." It was really painful to listen to, or it might have been for someone unused to it. Heck, even when you were used to it, that sort of thing isn't easy to take. "Just... Not feeling... So well," he really shouldn't have tried to say anything at all, but he kept going despite it, "Need... Some rest..." His whole body clenched in another heave as a spasm attempted to remove whatever was left in his available digestive track, nothing came up but a bit of saliva and the remains of debris which had been caught in his mouth. His breathing came rapid and shallow after that, and his thin, pale body was shaking from the strain which he had put on it. His dark eyes remained clenched tightly shut against the sunlight of the day. Again, a rapid set of convulsions wracked his frame after which he quickly tried to speak. "I'll... lose control soon," his mouth opened as if he were trying to vomit again, "They'll..." He breathed heavy once or twice. "They'll be after you again soon." The last bit came out in a quiet rush before he rolled, facial features contorted in agony as ever muscle in him tried to fold in on themselves.

Cale watched in a sort of ignorant bliss. He should have been horrified, but after the years he spent in the Sanctuary, a place who's very name was a contradiction, nothing could horrify him. Nothing. Still, he did not like to see his friend suffering so, but he did not know what to do to help him. He did not know enough about this pale man to know what was wrong. He just sat and watched, listened, and stayed silent. He stood up, leading Diaes' horse over to him. He got the horse to lie down next to Diaes, to warm him. Cale sat down on the grass again, Rena had joined him. The look on her face told the story of what had happened. She was shocked, horrified, terrified, a mixture of emotions that contorted her features. Cale looked at her, and a weak smile spread across her face. He could not replicate the gesture, he just looked to the ground.

It sounded like he tried to talk again, but all that came out was wheezes as he coughed again and spat Flem. After that, he was reduced to shivers and the hideous revulsion of dry heaves wracking him. After some time at that, he stopped even that, left only with the gentle shaking. His breath could be heard, loud and laboriously. Sometimes it was fast and sometimes slow, but always it was inconsistent and never healthy sounding. If one had looked at his face, they would have seen that he had finally fallen, from sheer exhaustion, if nothing else, into a fitful sleep. No matter how restful or not it may have been, it was at least a merciful turn to his obviously sick condition. His skin had a sheen of sweat coating the pale membrane which stretched across his bones. His lips were faded, almost white, with a bit of black about them. Under his eyelids, the dark orbs, hidden away as they were, roved hither and thither in a feverish manner. Occasionally he would turn or spasm with these violent twitches, and for a frightening moment every now and then, he would gasp and gag.

Cale just watched the suffering, there was nothing he could do to prevent it, so he would content himself with that knowledge. Propped against a tree, he settled into an uneasy sleep, resting his body and mind, but remaining aware of his surroundings, and of any sounds. In a way, he was only half asleep, but he wouldn't truly be able to sleep for some time, until after the danger had passed.

The day slowly passed into night. A mist began to form about the small pseudo-camp and its inhabitants. Before the light had a chance to drain from the world, the dense wall of water began to block it out. It would hide them, but also their enemies and that was dangerous. Sound was dampened, sight completely impaired, and the skin was wet through the clothes by the fog. Unseen, the disk of the sun dipped beneath the horizon. As the fiery ball disappeared, so did twin burning orbs replace its pitiful light. Like lanterns they shone through the earth-bound cloud. The horses seemed agitated for a moment, but for a strange whispering that suddenly surrounded the clearing. The burning lights approached the place where Cale and Rena rested. Their slow, hovering movement caused a bit of a trail to be left behind them in the haze, causing a path of smoldering air. They descended then, as if to touch the young people, to scorch out of them their very souls, lanterns held by that most grim ferryman come to collect his passengers.

Cale looked up at the two orbs or light, and looked down again. Nothing could scare him, he remained calm. Rena however, screamed, and leapt to her feet faster then Cale had thought possible, and she moved away from the Lantern. Cale stood then, and looked into the orbs. "Diaes?"

"I certainly hope that you're well rested," the melodious voice slipped through the fog from all around. Beneath the burning orbs, a shadow slowly congealed and pooled until a distinctly human form stood there. A glance was cast at the girl as she reacted in fear, and then back at the horses who rustled a bit at the sound of her scream of terror. The trails left by his movement toward them burned, as though his eyes really were on fire. "For future reference," his voice was by no means harsh, but it had a bit of a cold edge to it, "I have a certain dislike for blood. If you could refrain from covering yourself in it, I would appreciate it greatly." He spoke as he attended to his horse in particular. In the thick mist he was barely visible. "If you can ride, then we must," he said, "So long as you can sit on the horse, I am able to lead."

Cale nodded, standing up, pulling Rena with him, and helping her onto his horse. He climbed on after her, and watched Diaes. "I can kill efficiently enough without weapons or bloodshed, but we will not need to fight, not if we are quiet enough and avoid them. Tell me Diaes, you are not normal, so what are you?" Cale said, looking at the man in the mist. He was sick and convulsing moments ago, but was now healthy, he was not human, Cale knew this, and his instincts were telling him to run, but he ignored them, this man had helped him.

Diaes didn't reply for a moment, just slowly removed all the equipment from his horse. After he was done with each item, he carelessly cast them onto the ground around the minuscule clearing in which they had rested. After several spare moments he began to speak in a slow, calculated way, "Cursed... The blood all over you calls to me. My sickness was brought about by my struggling with the all consuming urge to kill you for your own blood. I was weak, but with the fall of the sun, my strength is returned. I may once again repel my most repugnant of desires with greater force, and less theatrics. I hope that will suffice?" Without waiting for an answer, he mounted the horse, mist writhing about his ascending form like great grey wings. The fire in his eyes was still alight, and like some demon rider, he stood in shadow with only those two burning points to illuminate his diabolic silhouette. Obeying some invisible command, the horse began to move forward at a slow pace. As he passed the other riding beast, he remained as indistinct and incorporeal as he had from across the clearing. The passage completed, he just kept on going, and with the same unspoken command, Cale's horse fell into line behind Diaes'. "You are alright, I hope," his voice now was quieter, and much more... tender, "I did not mean to frighten you."

Cale just looked at the man, but Rena's eyes were wide. "Nothing frightens me anymore, I was frightened as a lad, taken from my home, the age of three. I was frightened of the things they made us chant, what if i were to die today, and i was scared of the beatings. But i am desensitised, nothing scares me anymore." Cale stopped speaking then, the horse was moving on its own, he could simply sit. Rena looked at him, as if for the first time understanding the pain he'd been through, but looked away quickly. She looked at Diaes, and whispered "Thank you for saving us..." The voice was low, low enough that Cale did not hear, but Rena had a feeling this being would.