Under Pursuit (Whilaroo, Cobra)

The man slowed suddenly to a stop, they were still about a mile from the trees, but they had come far quite fast. He motioned for the lad to stop and sit. "Rest, but stay low," he made no move to come towards the ground himself, but instead stood, staring back in the direction from which they had come almost expectantly. Still, even standing full up in the wash of the moon, though slightly obstructed by clouds, he was not something that a person would pick out form the landscape any more than a clump of grass in a meadow, or a thistle bush in a brier patch. Even being so close to him, it was easy to lose track of him. It wasn't as though he were moving and he was hardly transparent, but something about him just didn't hold the eye. one got the impression that playing an innocent game of hide and go seek with this fellow would be a nightmare. He didn't speak beyond his first words. His breathing was completely even and normal, even after the elongated dash that they had just undergone. There was about him, no air of fatigue or strain. Really, when he was able to be gazed upon, he had the look of a rabbit, looking up, curious about some noise that had startled him, an odd effect on a man who appeared to possess a sort of natural gravitas...

The boy came to a halt, looking back, his breathing was still steady, he had trained his lungs for long distance sprints. He sat down on the ground, looking up at the sky. He had a sinister look to him, this boy, even now that he was no longer in his dark clothes, he still had this feeling, this aura around him, that told a story, a horrible story of suffering, one that this boy had lived, and watched others live. For that is the nature of the Sanctuary of the Redeemers.

When he had sat down was quite indistinct, but the truth was that he was now on the ground beside the young man. "We only have a minute or two, so when you think you're most ready..." he trailed off with the last words. The dark eyes had narrowed with a ferocious quickness and he cocked his head as though he had heard something. The action did not look unlike an eagle identifying prey. His nostrils flared and dilated into slits in turn. Somehow, he managed to accomplish the feat without moving his facial muscles. Another light breeze blew in from the direction it had been blowing before, carrying whatever sent he might have picked up away. The shadowy locks whirled about his head as the darkly clad man turned towards his young companion. "I'm sorry, but we should move now," and without waiting, he was up and moving again, just as fast as before.

The boy looked up, and got to his feet in an instant. "They are still on our trail?" he asked hurridly, as he broke into a sprint after the pale man. The boy clenched his fists, as he pounded over the dirt, his breathing was still steady, that small rest was enough for him to recover, he would wouldn't stop now until he had lost the Redeemers.

Lightness of foot was how the man's movement could be described. Some more informed might have called it running on air... Either way, no footprints followed his feet through the night. No dirt or dust was kicked up when he passed. Even the grass hardly depressed at all when his heavy boots descended upon the delicate blades. And yet, his pace was dizzying. Something seemed to have spooked him, an inordinately humorous thought considering that if one looked at him, the general first instinct was terror, despite how pleasant his demeanor might be. Now he ran, with his hair and his coat streaming out behind him like a sort of devilish banner. The houses were nearer in a short time, although not short enough to have left the wind in a less sturdy creature, yet he seemed to have a fair impression of the young man's ability. As they began to come close enough to be seen, he turned and began to skirt around the town, and went off from it at an angle. Seeming to feel that the move needed explanation he called gently back over his shoulder, "We will be able to get that meal soon enough now." Yet, despite that, the houses remained and the two came no closer to them.

The boy smiled, the thought of food filled him with hope. He didn't know what to expect the food to taste like, after all, he had been living on a horrible thing called 'Dead Mens feet'. He had no taste for food, but that didn't falter his happiness. "I've gone longer without, I'm fine, I would prefer to get to safety first." The boy lied, trailing behind the man at quite a pace.

"Good man," the pale figure called back. He led on at his fast clip. The houses began to petter out after a bit to be replaced by trees and bushes, and in the relative moonlight, the large dark looming presence of trees ahead was evident. A little longer and they were in the fringes of the forest, but the man clad in his shadowy aura did not stop. Through trees and around patches of underbrush, he dashed, lowering his speed ever so slightly. Not unlike some large animal on the hunting path, his dark form lunged onward. "fear not," his voice seemed to echo through the trees like a small breeze, "we draw near." Yet they kept drawing more for at least another half-hour before he finally decided a halt would be necessary. It was nearing light by the point he finally called a halt. Not even a clearing marked their stopping place, it was just a huddle of trees, none bigger or more distinct than any of the other trees around them. "Wait here," was all he said before dashing off into what shadows remained. It was some while that he remained vanished, as it were, but as the sky was just beginning to fold into the stretches of grey, he returned carrying a decent sized bag made from what looked like deer's skin. He stopped by one of the trees, propped the bag up and opened it to reveal a loaf of bread, some dried meat and fruits, a canteen of water, and a delicately bound roll of pastry. "Eat slowly," he advised before backing away.

The boy looked at the food, taking in all the information he could see before him. He had never seen this pastry, or most of the fruits. At the Sanctuary they were only given a highly nutritious slop called 'Dead Men's Feet.' It tasted exactly like it sounded, horrible, but the boy's body was accustomed to it. He picked up a chunk of meat, examining it in his hand, before taking a bite out of it. He placed it down, studying the taste in his mouth. He found it to be rich and something he couldn't describe. He tried the pastry next, studying it in a similar fashion to the meat. He took at larger chunk out of the pastry, savouring how it felt and tasted. Moments later he vomited on the grass, clutching his gut as his stomach lurched. He groaned, propping himself against a nearby tree.

OOC: Sorry for taking so long to post, couldn't get on a computer for very long.

"Too sweet. I thought it might be," The low tones were apologetic, and the look on his face carried the same emphasis, "You should probably stick to the meat and the bread, and only eat a very little bit of those. We're safe for now, so take your time." Light was starting to dawn, and it looked as if the darkly clad fellow may have actually been caught up by all the running. he looked tired. His eyes drooped a bit, and the shadowy locks fell lower as his sharp chin was drawn by gravity in towards his chest. It was strange, he seemed almost to look more human of a sudden, if such a thing were possible. Yet, at the same time, the darkness about him still drew inward, like a cloak of night to hide him from the light. That, or he was sitting just so that the tree's shadow caught him in the darkest spot. None of the strangeness or fiercely malign presence had left him. Somehow, he was repugnant, and yet... And yet, as all humans are attractive somehow, there was something about him. "We should get some rest while we can," the words seemed to lethargically force their way out of his mouth as if with a mighty effort. The very effort seemed to sap whatever strength may have remained to him and it was with deep breaths that he apparently fell asleep.

The boy ate slowly, watching the pale man. The boy still questioned the mans intentions, as to why he was helping. A few possibilities crossed the boy's mind. This man was an enemy of the redeemers, and was helping the boy escape them, or he could be working with the redeemers to bring the boy back to them. There was also a third possibility, that this man was just a kind soul who didn't wish to see a child in danger. The boy watched the man fall asleep, but he himself did not. He sat, using the tree for support, and watched the pale man. The boy had his ears and eyes alert, always listening for redeemers.

The sun slowly crept higher, but only the natural noises of a forest awakening could be heard now. The pale man's chest rose and fell, but his breath did not disturb the serenity of the scene. With both of the two remaining so still, the animal life did not find the effect of their presence so harshly as they might have, and those that would have been scared away merely passed by. A group of squirrels chasing each other about. A deer off in the background. A badger lumbering by just over to the left. Then, with a sharp clarity, the snap of underbrush announced the approach of something slightly larger, heavier, and a whole lot less graceful than a squirrel. It was coming from behind the tree which harbored the younger lad. The tread was heavy, probably belonged to a full grown man. it sounded like he was wearing boots, and he had no intention of hiding his approach at all. A quick glance would have revealed that the darkly dressed pale fellow seemed to have quite vanished from his spot in the shadows. His departure had neither been marked by noise or maybe even sight. He was gone and that was all there was to it.

The boy shot up to a standing position, his back against the tree as he heard the footsteps. He slid his foot up the tree slightly, finding a foothold. He turned, and jumped up the tree, using the odd foot and handholds to get him up high, away from the noise. He lurked, watching the ground, waiting for the figure to make its appearance. The boy was unarmed, so he would have to make due with his unarmed training.

The noise generated by a human body moving up into a tree had evidently not gone unnoticed by the figure below. He, or what was probably a he considering the bulk, stalked his armored form into sight with complete audacity. Armor, an impracticality in this day and age, covered his body. The sword at his side was also quite ridiculous in nature. As though the world were that medieval even now. The emblem that he wore indicated just why he would be willing to utilize such utter inconveniences. Redeemer colors... He looked right up into the tree, right to where the young man was situated. The sword at his side came out of its sheath, raised into the air to point, and hovered without wavering. That is, for the first moment or so. There was a sound not unlike a whisper. The whisper of steal cutting flesh was a brilliant sort of sound, a hideous noise. The redeemer's man sort of wheezed with a groan before the sword just dropped. Slowly, the body followed it. It was gently lowered, and as it sank, the dark form of the pale man came into view. On the ground, the heavily armored body rested, the knife remained lodged in the back of his spinal chord. "I never really could fight," the shadowy man said, "So somewhere along the line I learned to cheat." He didn't look up into the tree, just returned to the place where he had been 'asleep' before and just rested back against the tree, easing himself back to the ground and closing his eyes.

The boy dropped down from the tree, and started to search the Redeemers body. This boy clearly had no respect for the dead. He took the Redeemers sword, its hilt shaped like a cross, with the blade jutting out the top. The boy looked at it, disgusted, but it would have to do. He took the sheath and belt also. He sat down against the tree, waiting once again.

"You hate them," it was the voice of the pale man, strained and tired, very breathy, but possessing that same haunting melodic tone to it, "You run from them. You are one of them. Why?" His head lolled until the glint of the sun's light caught just enough on one of his dark, fiery eyes to reveal that he was looking at the boy who sat with his new acquisitions about him. Black waves of shadowy hair clutched his face, a pale sheen of sweat holding them there. His red, vivacious lips looked a tad paler than normal, as if the color in his form was draining into a general absence thereof. He looked not unlike an inked image painted loosely on the world, a picture in a book. The world around him was almost congruent with the effect, except that it still retained too much color to be complete.

The boy looked at the pale man, thinking of where to start. "I forgot my real name a long time ago, but the Redeemers call me Cale, some call me Thomas Cale. I was an Acolyte at the Sanctuary. There are at least 500 more. They were training us, for a war, if we stepped out of line, did anything wrong, we were punished. Beatings for the most mundane things, and killed for more serious crimes, like disobeying a Redeemer. They fed us on something called 'Dead Men's Feet' and it tasted horrible. I was the Lord Redeemer Bosco's Zealot...his personal acolyte. I received greater training then the others, he believed i have...special talents. When training once, i was hit in the head by another Acolyte, with a stone. Since that time, the Redeemers failed to find an opponent i could not kill...I killed 5, fully grown men, criminals, murderers, promised freedom if they killed me. It was my life or theirs. They tried to replicate the exact angle and force of the blow to my skull, on other Acolyte. Some were killed instantly, others...fell silent, later, they would start screaming, and then they would dissapear." Cale paused for a moment, clenching his fist. "Me and two others, found a secret passage, we used it to sneak into the Redeemers kitchen, but never could eat anything without vomiting. When leaving, we were forced to hide, and in doing so stumbled across a room. We were on a balcony, overlooking several creatures bathing. They looked like us, but had longer hair, and they had odd humps on their chests. We ran when it was clear, and returned to the dorms unnoticed. The next day, whilst fetching The Lord Redeemer's cloak, i stumbled across the Lord of Discipline's room. In there, i saw him, the Lord of Discpline, with two of those strange creatures. He had cleaved one of them open and was examining it, but it was alive, it was still twitching. The other was tied up, and trying to scream, but she was gagged. I don't know why i did it, but i attacked him...I killed the Lord of Discipline...with a scalpel. I untied her, and ungagged her. I got her to follow me, and we escaped from the Sanctuary...over the walls, using a rope. That was 4 days ago, I lost her about 4 hours before i met you. I don't know why i told you all that, but you did help me thus far..." Cale then went silent, awaiting the reply from this Pale man.

He had stiffened a little when the mention of a girl had come about, and he quite plainly winced when Cale said that he had lost her. Breathing heavily, as though he had been hit, he waited until the younger man stopped speaking, but with more than obvious impatience. "Four hours," he shook his head, and blinked, "Only four hours, and it must be five or more hours since then, at the least." He ran one hand through his dark hair. He was almost babbling to himself. Fiery eyes turned their scorching force upon the boy. "You left her?" The tone was calm, terribly calm. In its peace, it translated the utter depth of his livid anger. "Lost her? In the full moonlight? A frightened girl!?" The muscles in his jaw worked over that one for a moment, "It would have been as plain as tracking in daylight." He flowed up off of the ground into a standing position, like water cascading towards the sky. Over to the body of the redeemer, he stepped with complete gentility. "Pity that I killed him," he bent down finally and extricated his knife from the corpse's spinal chord and hid it in the folds of his single coat. With one more glance cast at the boy, he turned and left the clearing, walking back the way they had come. His dark figure shimmered like a mirage as he stepped through the dappled light, as though at any moment he might fade into nothing more than a shadow, like the one that he did not possess. He didn't even ask for his overcoat back, but just kept on going. Ever footfall taking his silent, wispy, dark clad body farther and farther away.

Cale sat back, so that was what the creature was called, a girl. He could track her easily enough, he knew what she smelt like, where she had most likely gone. He would return, to where they had been seperated. It would be easy from there. This boy, Cale, he had now rested, he had eaten, he was replenished. He stood up now, darting off in a different direction to the pale man. Cale had trained his mind to draw a map of everywhere he went, a map which he was following in his head, taking him back, the fastest way possible, to Rena.

The footfall of a well worn boot bent down the blades of grass before its advance. The pale man was traversing once again the green field which spanned the distance between the city and the forest, the path that he had traveled only last night. His pace was that of a weary man, staggered slightly. One thin hand fished about in his vest pocket after his dark eyes had ascertained that he was indeed thoroughly alone. Hooking its prize, the hand revealed itself and its contents up to the light of day. A black stone, fit into the palm of his hand, etched in the shape of an obelisk, sharpened at both ends. Upon the four faces of its sides were individually inscribed symbols, intricate in their own simplicity. he lightly depressed his thumb against one of the archaic letters. He waited, stumbling on. A vibration rocked the little stone, running up his finger. The voice was quite clear when it finally reached him. "Well?" It was an anxious sort of expression. "You forgot to tell me about the girl," he wasn't pleased, and that sort of seeped into his tone, just a little. "What?" confusion, of course, affected or real was impossible to tell. "There was a girl with the boy, but evidently he lost her somewhere before I was able to intercept. You had your men crawling all over him since before he left. And I was wondering how you could have missed a small something like that," his voice was not a growl, but the slight purr in it made the words take on an edge. "No one saw a girl," the voice was apologetic, shocked, a little stressed, "Diaes! Diaes, where are you now? Where's the boy?" The red lips drew back to reveal the teeth in a smile, "I may or may not have implied that he should go and find this anomalous female." The voice coming through nearly jumped an octave, "You sent him back towards the Redeemers!? Diaes, there's nobody left to help him. Everyone has either gone silent, bugged out, or has a crucial job in progress. You were supposed to get him out of there!" The pale man sniffed his regal nose, "his egress may not have been so much luck or even personal skill, but the kid can take care of himself, and what he can't do, I'll make up for. See if you can't find the girl." He was putting the stone back when the voice jumped in quickly, probably guessing the man's actions. "Diaes, wait!" The man made an acknowledging sound. "They're sending out someone after the boy. One of the Lord Redeemers. I don't know which one, but the whole countryside is about to be swarming with very lethal men looking for that boy!" The stone slid back into its pocket. "And the girl too..." he kept limping...

Cale was traversing a rather hill filled area of the countryside. As he bolted up a hill, leaping over the side, he dropped flat to the ground, voices filling his ears. "How does anyone escape the Sanctuary? The walls are impenetrable. It just doesn't seem possible..." Cale's eyes narrowed. He knew the voice, it was a redeemer, specifically the chef, he had given Cale much grief, but he waited, to see if any information was given about Rena. "Wait, i think i heard something..." Another voice said aloud, Cale cursed under his breath, his hand gripping the hilt of the Redeemer sword. He was poised beneath the mouth of the hill, waiting to pounce. As the fat one, the chef, came over the top, his throat was punctured by a well place sword thrust, he fell to the ground, gurgling and clutching at his throat, the other one jumped back in surprise, but he was not fast enough, he dropped to the ground, his throat slit. Cale searched the bodies, finding a dagger, and 5 throwing knives. He then continued, tracking Rena.

Diaes's shadowy form moved through the dark alleyways of the city once more, shifting from shadow to shadow with a stealthy speed, like the dark impression left on the ground by a bird as the sun gazes down upon it. He had no time to be tired or lethargic in his movements. Redeemers had reached the city, they were everywhere. Running into any single one of them could mean a confrontation with thirty or more others if so much as a sound was made, and he could not take the liberty of leaving a body behind. If a corpse was found, the place would soon be swarming with so many men that it would be impossible to move at all, let alone sneak about. An armored figure loomed up before him as he made to dash across a street for the covering aura of some shopkeeper's stall. He skittered to a halt and slipped his lithe form around the man so quickly that as the Redeemer turned to look at the noise, he found nothing but his own shadow to stare at. Diaes had no way of knowing whether anyone had seen him with the boy and informed the enemy, the enemy which was now impossible to avoid. At the same time that he wanted more than anything to be able to just find the boy and the girl and to get all of their bodies safely away from this place, he was forced to admit to himself that such a plan was probably going to peter out into absolutely nothing but failure. However, if the attention of the Redeemer forces was drawn to a specific epicenter, a point to which neither the boy or the girl was remotely close... It might give them a chance. After all, the boy was talented enough, perhaps a bit devoid in the ethical sense, but he wouldn't do so badly, and assuredly he would keep a closer watch on the girl. They wouldn't need him, and at the very least, he might be able to take out a couple Redeemers in the thick of a battle. Maybe he might even kill someone important... Still, Cale would have to act quickly if indeed a Lord Redeemer was to exit Sanctuary. And Diaes would have to be careful. He knew not where either of the young people were located and might accidentally draw the enemy towards them, but he would just have to take the chance. Perhaps some twist of fate might even get him captured and brought to Sanctuary. What a treat that would be. So it was that he redirected himself from the main gate which would lead to the road that would take him to Sanctuary and began his slow and hidden voyage to the city's center.

As Cale continued his sprint, tracking Rena ever more. He started to think. How had he escaped from the Sanctuary? He had spent 7 years making a rope, so he could use it to descend the wall. He knew that if he was captured by a Redeemer, he would be killed, they didn't take prisoners unless it suited their cause. The Lord of Discipline was dead, they would be appointing a new one, a Lord Redeemer, and he would be out for blood. Cale came to a halt, getting down into the grass, as he spotted a few tents, a campfire, and a girl...she looked familiar but Cale was too far away. He started a slow approach, he got close enough to see the girl, it was Rena. She was bound, her face lit up when she saw him, and a Redeemer immediately walked over and struck her. Cale knew they were like this, but it still shocked him. He charged forward, removing a throwing knife from his boot and implanting it in the Redeemers throat. He ripped the sword from its sheath, cutting the bounds around Rena's arms and legs. He had done all of that, silently. The other Redeemers were still asleep. Cale quietly slipped into each tent, puncturing the hearts of the sleeping horrors.
Leaving the tents, he rejoined with Rena, and set out back towards the city.

Blind... He hated not knowing what was happening, but it had been some long time since Diaes had ever been 'in the dark'. The boy would have found the girl by now, but exactly what he would do once he found her, Diaes was not sure. An unpredictable and possibly unreliable fellow, the boy was. After all, he had 'lost' her in the first place. No, leaving anything to chance was ridiculous at best, he could only hope that the lad had enough sense to steer clear of the large conflagration of men that was about to occur. A direct assault would not be wise. The pale man had managed to find a makeshift headquarters for the sweeping of the city where several slightly more-important-than-normal-looking Redeemers waited for information from their men. A tent had been set up to protect them from the sun's rays. It wasn't terribly hot, but in all that armor it would probably be a blessing. In terms of weaponry, he had only a knife, and rushing a single guard with such a weapon would be perilous, much less a whole squadron, or whatever it was that they had brought out to search. He could count roughly ten, twelve, no fifteen men standing around the large open courtyard. A cool calculation told him that it would take less than a minute for them to subdue him for far too large a percentage of the different strikes he might make. Unless... Unless he broke some little rules... But he had to act fast... There were enough Redeemers in the whole of the city, and outside it and more on the way that the area would be come impassible within the hour. Cale would have no hope whatsoever to escape, and this whole thing would be botched. But... A little cheating and the problem could be easily enough solved. Diaes was completely positive that he could keep any number of men occupied, as long as he was allowed to stretch his bounds a little. Crouching in the shadows of a sunken door in an alley, he weighed the final options, sizing up his targets, judging distances, making educated guesses. This would work, or he would be a very dead man.

Cale was staying low, why were so many redeemers in the area? They had followed him, they were still searching. Was it really worth it for one acolyte? Cale gripped a rock in his right hand. Whispering to Rena to stay where she was, and to stay hidden, he moved into another Redeemer camp. Clinging to the shadows as if the sunlight burned him, Cale got within throwing distance of a redeemer, but this one was...different, he wore the symbol of the Lord of Discipline. This was the new one? A Lord Redeemer this far from the sanctuary was never a good thing. Cale gripped the rock harder, remembering the bloody death the last of the Lord's of Discipline suffered. This one would be no different, that position would be cursed. Rage swelled up like a wound inside Cale, and he threw the rock, harder then he thought possible. It hit true, knocking the Lord to the ground, blood forming around the point of impact. The others swarmed around the lord, forming a protective circle. Cale stepped forward, letting them see him. "Isaac, you tub of lard." Cale spewed at one of the redeemers, a fat one. "Bosco must be getting worried, to send a Lord Redeemer after little ol' me." Cale was still walking forward, the Redeemers un-moving. "Stay there boy! Come any closer and we'll attack you." Isaac shouted nervously. A grin formed on Cale's face, as he continued walking. One of the lesser Redeemers, an Acolyte recently earned his place, charged forward, sword in hand. Cale sidestepped, clutching the mans arm, and elbowing his forearm. There was an audible crack followed by agonised screams from the Redeemer, as his arm flopped helplessly. Cale pushed the man aside, stomping on his knee cap, shattering it. Rena let out a small cry at the display of such violence, causing Cale to turn his head, an opening.

The pale claw reached out, darkened now by the blood, all the blood. It was everywhere, everything, all red. It was all he could see, interspersed in the wash of rage were indistinct forms, phantoms, plagues. They all stood out in stark relief, like points of fire all around. Something vague, lying in the back of his mind told him to stop. This was wrong. Nobody needed to die. Another part argued that they were Redeemer scum, that their lives were worth nothing. That they would only live to kill and cause pain. Still another portion coldly calculated that every death was necessary for success to be adequately achieved. But the only part that mattered at the moment was the segment of his consciousness that screamed for blood. The demon had been unleashed, and until he was sated, there was no putting the beast to sleep. It had been so long since he had fed. He was starved. No more would he want for food. Another man came to close. Assuredly, he had been trying to harm the beast. Fools died, it was their fate. The rest would not have to come to him though. With blinding speed, the beast moved, it took them, it destroyed them.

The man shot his crossbow, an incredibly powerful weapon, even for its old nature. It was unsuccessful, inadequate, and far too late. He watched in horror as the shorter, black-clad, blood coated man bodily picked up his companion by the neck. He did not wait to see the other Redeemer's fate. He ran! Unwieldy armor conspired against him. His legs would not move fast enough. Mind screaming in panic, body screaming with effort, mouth screaming in terror. None were able to save him in the end, but they were enough to call more to the scene, more who would follow him, more who would not live to see the moon rise. Just like many of the other men who had been sent out from Sanctuary, the last thing he saw was a sight that might have been heartening had not the teeth been sharpened to dreadful points, the pale face covered in blood, or the deep, dark pools that made up the eyes of the vampiric nightmare been lit by the fires of Hell. A final howl, a final scream, a gurgling noise, and another soul was freed from earthly bonds.

The monster killed.