SceneSys: Scene #1174

No title.

(2013-05-05 - Now)

No description.

Faruja Senra	The Church's arrival in Fluorgis is heralded by the sounds of construction. Having purchased a lot within the city, the Church of Saint Ajora Glabados has put out a call for laborers and volunteers alike; the promise of good pay, food, and for some more pious motivations has caused a small tent city to spring up on the outskirts of the construction area. Few are turned away, only those known to /not/ be within the good graces of the Church! Or at least, those whom don't disguise themselves or grease the right wheels. So too has a detachment of the Church's Temple Knights made their appearance. The holy warriors of the Church as a whole have made something of a watchful perimeter, in an almost paranoid fashion, while still trying to stay out of the way of construction. Curiously, however, a single tent is more heavily guarded within the small sea of tents. Onlookers are at first gently, then more firmly told off should they investigate too closely. The building-to-be itself is little more than a foundation, stone set aside for the building, and walls in the process of being constructed. Laborers, artisans, and architects alike scurry about in their work on the building, with all of the noise and clamor of such an undertaking. Stalking his way through the tent-sea in the patrol route the rat has taken up, Faruja Senra stops to gaze at those milling about, only to check in with his fellows over the linkshell. So far, nothing. Yet, some part of Faruja's fur sticks up, despite the oppressive heat of Fluorgis and his golden armor.
Tyrin Marius	One of the people keeping the peace of the construction is Tyrin Marius; a notable Knight Templar to those who know of Glabados, dressed in his crimson tunic and silver emblazoned platemail. He's riding a similarly silver armored red chocobo, although as a free agent -- padding to and fro amongst the workers and investigating those allowed within the perimeter to construct. A skin of water is passed to one laborer, small talk and some inspiring charisma doled out in careful amounts here and there. He's dispersed a few unruly people unhappy with the construction at the outskirts, but so far without any meaningful conflict. It seems whatever is up with the 'get the hell away' tent does not include Tyrin, as he personally checks inside it for a few moments after discussion with the guards before beelining over to Faruja as the elder paladin pauses in his patrol. Rearing up in his chocobo as it comes to a rest beside, he thumps an armored fist over the insigia of Glabados. "Ser Senra. All seems calm, from what I have seen. Is the morale well amongst the Temple Knights?"
Vespa	Vepsa came out to help with the church building she needed to relax a bit after all the events that had been happning lately, and work off some stress as well. Coming here to do help to do something constutive is what she needed. She currenly carrying loads of stone back and forth to the base of the foundation. Vepsa doesn't look all that strong and she dressed in a maid outfit too, not exactly someone doing hard labor should wear!
Sydney Losstarot	Sydney stands at a bit of a distance, eyes narrowed at the church as he watches the fools work like ants towards some unknowable cruel goal. Now that Sydney has made his presence to the church perfectly clear, he knows better than to come in the open. Shapeshift: Average Flourgian Citizen. Male. Brown hair. No metal arms. With a new identity assumed, Sydney does what he can to avoid attracting attention while he observes.
Margaux Fleury	Where people gather, there are fortunes to be made. The tent city that has been uplifted around the construction site has brought all sorts of folk around to attempt to sell their wares and services to those most noble volunteers and laborers. Such a place was also a keen locale to collect gossip and choice information for those might want to know more about the Church's progress here. Margaux counts herself among the populace who has gathered here for maybe profit and information both. The dancer is garbed head to toe in the vestments of her profession. Long royal blue skirts and matched with olive green braided trim that that runs down from the corset-like top of her outfit to her long, flowing skirts. Silver bangles and necklaces cover her arms and neck respectively while large disc earrings dangle from her ears. A braided, heavily decorated belt surrounds her waist and no visible weapon is sheathed there. It seems that Margaux is dressed to impress or at least dressed properly for her next performance. A peacock-inspired masquerade mask is worn over her face to provide some semblance of disguise besides her elaborate dancer's garb. Hiding in plain sight 'twas Margaux's preferred method of espionage. The dancer now idly twirls among the crowd of laborers and peddlers alike. Her destination would not be hard to suss out for their was a certain tent that seemed much more heavily guarded. If there would be any secrets to learn, then it would be around there.
Faruja Senra	Faruja turns to regard his fellow knight, returning the salute with his own thump and a flick of his tail. Briefly looking over the man's striking chocobo, he makes a mental note to ask about the creature later. "Ahh, Ser Marius. Quiet here as well, aside from the usual. Noise complaints mostly." At that, Faruja has to supress the urge to roll his eye. Siip. The short Templar's own flask, filled with water for once, is imbibed of before he continues. "As well as can be expected; a few grumblings about wanting more, ahh...visceral postings, shall we say? Nothing a few quiet words have not sorted out. Our more junior members are a touch jittery, though their enthusiasm is impressive." The rat motions to one of the younger Templar, barely out of Squirehood, standing just a /touch/ too tall and rigidly in what they imagine is a dignified pose as they guard a huddled-together group of laborer's tents. "Heat 'tis the greater enemy this day, than morale or interlopers thus far. Two knights, and more than a share of pious workers are being treated for it." At first, Vespa gets more than a few funny looks at her pure strength. Luckily, any catcalls are swiftly dealt with by the Church's guard; such things highly unwelcomed in what's to become a holy site. After a few hours work, the artisans have come to appreciate Vespa's efforts, thanking her and even making offers of dinner for her troubles! She'll have to fend off a few suitably impressed persons many a time, no doubt. A Random Fluorgis Laborer proves to be an excellent disguise, given the multitudes of them! Indeed, Sydney would blend right in without a second glance from a pair of holy warriors that pass by him upon approaching. Rather than hinder, they would direct him further through the sea of tents to the work sight, and healing areas. Strong words against heatstroke and any sort of un-Godly talk, and a skin of water would be given. As it turns out, Marguerite isn't the only one in the impromptu second 'town' that's sprung up. Dancers and musicians have flocked along with the peddlers, an additional nightmare for the Church to deal with, though so far they've managed to keep it to the outskirts of things thus far and incurred no delays in construction. Information comes rather easily at first; the Church desiring to spread it's teachings to Fluorgis, talk of education for those without it and other charitable actions promised by the holy organization. However, the crowd thins out somewhat as one gets closer to the tent itself. More guards, less workers, many of whom look far more stern than those doing patrols. As the dancer draws nearer, one of the knights; a large, bronze skinned hume, in particular stares. Not the stare of admiration, but a scowling one of general guard-like paranoia and distrust. Yet, so far, he hasn't moved to impede her.
Vespa	Vepsa giggles at the catcalls giving the people that gave them a quick smile. She certainly enjoying the attetnion she is getting today, consdering the offers of dinner that the artisans had made! She gives a light teasing to each of them, delcing there offers. She not looking for a boyfreind right now, she much too busy. She hums to herself as she continues her work, glad she able to help.
Tyrin Marius	"Noise? All of life's actions create ripples. That it be only noise here would ease my worries." Tyrin states with a mild grimace. That's likely what got through after his own suppression. The word 'visceral' earns yet another, giving Faruja the coveted 2-grimace combo. One more and he wins a prize. After a brief glance, he points towards the dancing Margaux, although with a trace of suspicion. "So it is debase amusement they want? Is she and her ilk in the shany town not sufficient to rally the common civilian? She had best be reminded that her 'dancing' is to be kept outside the worker's perimeter, I would imagine..." Where's she going, anyway? "She had best not intend to flirt with the guards at the tent... Ah, I will go deal with it. I might have a more gentle tongue for such matters." Yanking the reigns of his chocobo, he quickly darts over in Fleury's direction, intent on reaching the well-guarded tent and surly guards ahead of her.
Margaux Fleury	Margaux de Fleury may have reached as far as her disguise would get her. She should have expected that the most non-nonsense, joykillers would be stationed around the center tent. The scowl from knight causes the dancer to launch into one of her practiced routines. She hangs back to where the crowd seems to pander out and twirls amongst the crowd, flashing smiles to the idle passerby. This routine will continue as she skirts around to the other side of perimeter, looking for a chance to get closer if the opportunity presents itself. Her royal blue skirts twirl through the air as everything seems to be going to plan for the dancer. And then, Margaux notices that another knight, a mounted one, was glancing her way suspiciously. Mid-twirl, she lets an audible stage sigh escape when she realizes that nothing can ever be that easy. The redheaded dancer stops now and outstretches her hands when she sees that mounted knight was approaching. She turns her back to the chocobo knight and then does a back-over into a tumble that causes her to be in prime posiiton to twirl up into a curtsey towards the knight. There was no use trying to run from someone on a Chocobo in her outfit after all. "Messire Good Knight, 'ave you 'eard that a famous troupe of dancers was in town? Rumor is that they are all quite skilled." Margaux smiles demurely now as she takes a surveying glance up at Tyrin now.
Ulharisk	Ulharisk had come back to Fluogris, mostly cause really-- for now-- he has learned it is the only home he may have for the time. He has learned the streets and alleys while watching over Maira. Though he has no real income, he knows there are things to hunt out in the desert. So for now the Draconian walks through the streets of Fluogris. His bare feet with their wraps seem not bothered by the hot stone. This may be due to the fact he has slight scales over his tan skin. Those violet eyes glancing around as he walks before he hears the sound of workers. He knows such sounds, his people built their own homes out of lumber and stone. They also would weld metal as well for their weapons, armor, and sometimes accents for their homes. Including to hold doors in place and such. So the sound of hard working individuals slowly brings Ulharisk over to see what is going on. Could also be a chance to maybe 'earn' some of this gil he lacks. Whatever gil even looks like.
Faruja Senra	More than a few artisans shall go home with broken hearts today, albeit with a greatly increased respect for maids. Never underestimate a woman with strength and determination! Tales of Vespa the Construction Maid shall persist in camp for days. "Let us pray that it remains so." 'Too quiet' is a word that bounces around in Faruja's brain, and he can't quite get the thought out of his head. Turning as Tyrin points out the dancer making her way towards the tent. "...Civilians. By all means, Ser Marius, Lord bless." Pause. A slight frown creases his muzzle, before straightening. As the man trots away upon his great bird, the Burmecian mutters to himself. "Dancing is a time honored Burmecian tradition. /Debasement/ indeed." The rat starts to move back onto his patrol route, even as the scowling guard relaxes just a smidge, with his senior knight taking over. Still playing the 'bad Templar', the large man gazes at the danceress, hand on his sword's hilt. A senior worker/manager would quickly snap up Ulharisk, after some of the perimeter guards give the draconian a once-over. IN a city as diverse as Fluorgis, he hardly stands out, words of warning similar to the disguised Sydney given, as well as a water skin. It seems the Draconian may just get some of this shiney gil after all! It starts with a foreboding feeling, several workers stopping and glancing about. In the shadows of the tent city, the shade cast by the tents somehow seems all the longer, and more oppressive. Oddly enough, the closer one comes to the heavily guarded tent, the longer the shadows seem, casting the area in darkness better given to night time. Not several minutes later, shadowy figures rise from the ground, dark blades clutched in their hands. Shouts rise, of terror from workers, as the Heartless in their droves make their presence known. Many of the local Templar react quickly, some ushering away civilians and workers. There's not nearly enough, however, and more than one worker meets their end by these shadowy assassins. "Heartless! To arms! Protect the civilians, and our charge!" Yells Faruja, just as he steps a touch too close to a shadow. Blades pierce his armor from behind, and coughing up blood, the Templar falls to a knee even as he struggles to fight off the pair of dark creatures while issuing orders! The Heartless are relentless, lashing out at guard and worker alike, yet their yellow eyes stare longingly at the heavily guarded tent.
Sydney Losstarot	Heartless, hm? Well, this should be amusing.' Thinks Sydney to himself as he hears the shouts. The civilians aren't a particular care of his, they chose to align themselves with such an evil and unholy force. But if given the opportunity, he's unlike to just let them die...probably. He takes a few moments to consider what he should do when he feels a blade slash across his back, tearing into his flesh. "Gah!" He shouts as he's thrust forward, smirking indignantly as hiswith a sense of anger to his tone as he remarks "Begone, foul beasts. These are /my/ foes." Wellwellwell, looks like if anyones gonna kill Tyrin and Faruja, its gonna be Sydney. Sydney raises his palm above his head, leeching energy across planes from the wellspring of Lea Monde as an explosion of darkness washes over him, raising some of his abilities to beyond what he's normally capable of.
Ulharisk	The Draconian was glad to assist. He was use to doing this type of work honestly. After all, his people worked as a community. Though when suddenly Faruja yells Heartless, Ulharisk quickly spins around and looks. It was to late, the Heartless were on the move and coming in quick. He growled lowly as his eyes started to glow slightly with their violet light. His body warming up as the sudden wind started to pick up moving his cape. The Heartless charged in and he picked up one of the tools, attempting to swing it for the Heartless as their was little time to summon his Glaive, however the Heartless won the test as he jumped over and slashed into his arm. He staggered back as he growled lowly before he roared with furious anger. "Enough of this!" His voice almost cast in an echo as the ground under him started to glow, blue energy rushed around his form as he stared down the heartless. "You destroyed my home and no matter where I seem to go you Whe'ir followers continue to attack!" His body became bright as the sun as he yelled out once more. "Today you will have the wraith of the bloodline of Ixen!" Then suddenly with an explosion as the light beam as if Ulharisk leaps into the air. Suddenly what flares out from the very light was that of what many would call here a Dragon that rolls high into the skies before the sixteen to maybe eighteen long wing span stretches out and then starts to flap in the sky. Those violet draconic eyes staring down at the heartless below. There was room to play here, he just have to becareful on how far out he went and how close in. He could do this. He swoops then down and over the area, trying to draw the Heartless attention to him as he snaps his teeth at a few and threatens to strike a few more with his tail. It was a bluff show, but maybe it would buy some of the people time to get out of the way and for others to get their weapons ready.
Vespa	"Oh you have to be <GOOSEHONK!> kidding me!", Vespa says seeing the mass of heartless, getting piled on. The legend of the Construction Maid seems to be at a end.. There a loud KABAM sound as heartless go flying and in the centers Vepsa stands up her huge and we do mean huge axe in her hands.. "Can't have one peaceful day without heartless showing up!", she swings her axe trying to clear the area around here of heartless.
Tyrin Marius	Oh, Tyrin is happily unaware of his own ignorance where many cultures are concerned. He's probably said much worse casually... the good Paladin is simply lucky he used the concise description this time around. There's little sense of the meeting being dangerous for Margaux though, as it were. She had already been warded off from the tent, and that was the primary reason that he opted to investigate. "Ho, fair... ...lady." He's not about to call her a lady, no sir. He gestures in the direction of the camp, and it's almost like a 'shoo, shoo'. "Take your frolicking to the rest area! Working, godly men need not your -- fleshly distractions!!" Haughty indeed, looking down his nose with a 'hmph'. That would have been the end of it, before the chocobo does an unhappy 'wark!'. "Calm, girl, calm." Tyrin mutters, but he can feel it too. "...!!" Tyrin draws forth his crimson blade in a heartbeat once the first shout of alarm comes out, gritting his teeth and shifting defensively in front of lady Fleury. For she is helpless and delicate, after all. "Attack! We're under attack!!" He glances towards where Fleury is taken down, cursing to himself. He's unsure, caught between angling his chocobo to the guarded tent and the fallen paladin. And if he did either, he'd leave the dancing wench behind...!!
Margaux Fleury	Things never really seem to go to plan and they always seem to be able to get worse. Being detected by some church knights would have been bad enough. Heartless assassins springing forth out of the ground made things that much worse. From her curtsey, Margaux has little time to avoid the swinging blade of the nearby Heartless. She is able to move just enough that it doesn't run her through, but her own blood now runs free. And to quite literally add insult to injury, Tyrin admonishes her trade, her very person, and then leaves her to die. Chivalry was dead indeed. But, there are more pressing things to be concerned with like the apperance of a DRAGON and Heartless assassins. Margaux takes a needed deep breath and raises her hands to the sky and pauses in place. She -should- run, but she defended this city from Heartless before and she was not about to let them take it. There was also the matter of a certain poor Messire Zealot that needed to be rescued. The stage has been set and now the performance can begin. Can Heartless be swayed by the power of dance? Margaux was about to find out one way or the other.
Faruja Senra	The twin sources of light and darkness within Ulharisk and Sydney respectively get the attention of a good number of Heartless. Several of the dark creatures peel off from their advance towards the tent, encircling Sydney first. As the Templar work to either destroy the Heartless, or rush off the civilians, the Heretic's existance is noted. Yet for now, no one interferes, far too busy fighting for their lives, and the lives of others. From the looks of things, however, none are willing to step in to help the bearer of the Blood-Sin. Ulharisk proves as both saviour and distraction, Heartless fearlessly striking back at the swooping draconian creature. One young Templar stops to gaze at the dragon, only to be brought down by a small gaggle of Heartless! By the time some of his fellows, and a brave worker wielding a mallet unbury him, the young Templar is much like Faruja; down and nearly out. Tyrin's orders ripple through the Church warriors, Faruja muttering something like agreement from between clenched teeth. From the blood forming about him, the sneaky Heartless must have hit something important. Yet, neither do they stay to finish the job, the wounded rat proving too much with a far greater prize in store. They advance upon the tent, only a token few making their way towards Tyrin and the dancer. The surely guards shift, several others forming a tight ring, stabbing out with sword, blade, axe, and other sharp-pointy bits as the small flood of Heartless encroach upon the tent. At least, thanks to the efforts so far of those gathered, several civilians seem to have escaped unharmed, the Heartless paying them far less attention than usual for such attacks. The power of AXE clears out several heartless, however, they only seem to spring forth from the shadows! One rather inventive Heartless uses the shadows cast from her massive weapon itself to creep up upon Vespa, intending on some impromptu maid-focused surgery with what look like black railroad spikes. Can our heroin survive? It seems that the Lady's dance does, however, effect the creatures. Several amongst those making their way towards civilian and knight alike stop, mesmerized by the dancer! Luckily, surely guards are surely, and seem unaffected.
Tyrin Marius	Priorities. There are always priorities, no matter how unpleasant. A final glance is given to Margaux, before the knight curses and bursts towards the tent instead. Unshouldering his gleaming shield, he brings it to bear against a few swings and strikes from the shadowy heartless that moved to intercept him. One blow hits home, however, from a particularly burly shadow; he's knocked clean off his chocobo, thumping to the ground and rolling away as darkness seethes from the wound. "Nnngh...!!" A moment later pushing to his feet, he glances towards the tent. Only a dozen yards off, but unable to directly support the knights who are beating back the tide just yet. After all, he's got a few of his own to deal with. "Away, creature!!" With a roar that billows up a cloud of dust, Tyrin launches himself at the few heartless still around him. Flicking about his weapon before striking out, trying to cleave into the darkness of the beasts and stagger them backwards. His chocobo is currently running around in circles, kiting a few of the creatures and unable to get back close to the Knight Templar.
Vespa	"Get off of me!", Vepsa says pushing the heartless off of her with her knocking some more back with her axe then trying to pusher her way thought the heartless like a hot knife(axe) throught butter.
Sydney Losstarot	Sydney sighs heavily as he sees the large portion of the fleeing people run by without offering any form of assistance, save the...dragon. Well, thats odd, to say the least. Not that Sydneys got time to complain, since its practically the only thing keeping him alive. As the group of heartless close in on Sydney, stabbing and slashing wildly as they overtake him, something...strange happens. There's a sudden THUMP of dark, malevolent energy as heartless of his own are called forth, each bearing their own individual Blood-Sin. They begin to slash and scratch wildly at the group of heartless, attempting to free Sydney from his perpetual skewering. Finally, he manages to summon the energy to teleport away from the group, but not before he got cut up.
Margaux Fleury	Margaux has somehow found herself fighting alongside an axe-wielding berserker, the Church, a dragon, and a Heartless summoner. And she had once thought Ramza to be her most unlikely ally. Whatever the situation may be, the dancer is thankful for some timely assistance as she is without armor and blade. The redhead decides to remedy part of this problem, by twirling towards a nearby Church guard and 'borrowing' a shortsword from him before spinning now towards her foes. This time, the dancer is on her feet and able to ablely avoid the Heartless attack. 'twas time for her counter-attack now. Her borrowed weapon is drawn back and she side-steps next to one of the Heartless assassins. Her blade is now the one to dance through the air as it attempts to skewer her foe numerous times in short order.
Ulharisk	The Dragon is nimble and his scales are slightly strong. The heartless attempt to catch a ride on his blue hide with its crimson red stripes and their blades only cut at a few scales, but seem to barely penetrate in as he swoops around once more. He comes around once more, those eyes narrowing as he then tries to swoop down and barrel through several of the Heartless. He claws slashing out as he passed by them. Trying to even pick up a few with his back feet and swing them into other heartless. Never seeming to try his chances of landing on the ground however. He would breath fire, but he is unsure what damage that could cause, so for now he stays with melee style attacks. It was the safer bet.
Faruja Senra	The furious strikes from the unsaddled Ser Marius clear the Heartless attempting to surround and swarm the man. It seems he's not the only one forced to ponder priorities. Some Templar, often with unsubtle boots to rears, break away from defending civilians to join those defending the tent. Others stay herding the civilians and tending to their wounded fellows. All stoutly defend companion and valued charge alike, as each Templar takes orders and judges what they value most. It's chaos, pure and simple. The numbers of workers thin quickly, however, with the efforts of valiant defenders as well as sharp blades of the Heartless. The Church may have to start on the graveyard early. Chocobo power proves superior, as the prancing beast's kiting works, several forming heartless trampled by it's sharp claws without undue damage to the great armored bird. Scowl! A guard is now missing his weapon, the non-descript Templar nevertheless pulling out a spare. Always come prepared! Margaux now has backup, the Templar slashing and stabbing in decidedly less graceful, more brutal manner. He even takes a blow or two for the woman! The pair soon have taken care of a number of Heartless, their numbers around them thinning out swiftly thanks to the combined efforts of all. The appearance of more Heartless, attacking other Heartless, only increases both confusion and the coherence of the non-Sydney aligned creatures. One or two Templar take shots at Sydney's heartless, however, the creatures all the same to them. With her great swings, Vespa would soon find herself empty of opponents, the great swooping dives of Ulharisk doing much the same. The pair have done much to clear the civilians of danger. Greater danger awaits, however, the remaining gaggle of Heartless relentlessly striking at the quickly eroding ring of defenders around the tent!
Vespa	Vespa plowed here way thought the Heartless. She turns seeing the heartless ingoring her concentrating on the defenders on the tent. She smiles, bring her axe up. "Ingoring me is a big mistake! Go back to the pit you were spawned from!",she bring her massive axe on the heartless with all the force she can muster.
Tyrin Marius	Tyrin, however, is not a loner at heart. He begins to call out orders to the knights and templars that made it to the tent, pointing with his sword to arrange weaponry and numbers to best combat the oncoming assaults. He has the bearing and tone of a leader, and few are liable to question it all -- in chaos, such order and direction tends to be craved, and he's no stranger to the needs of morale. His chocobo is a well-bred crimson, though. It didn't even need to pull out the big guns, although the caliber of heartless that would let themselves be routed by an unmounted bird are probably nothing to add to it's war victories. Yet the onslaught that he bears the brunt of is not so simple as that. Focused more on making sure the defense is orderly, a great beast strikes him into the ground with a massive fist and roar. For a moment it seems he might be out, but as dirt and shadows cascade off his shining form, Tyrin stands tall once more. Blood streaks down his face, and his tunic and cape bear great rips, but he is not so simply felled. "FOR SAINT AJORA!!" he roars, bringing up his weapon. It flares, before he launches at the largest of the heartless. His weapon whirls, leaving a trailing pattern of crimson, before he brutally swings it down in a great, purifying strike that banishes the shadows surrounding him with a great crash of martial prowess!
Ulharisk	Ulharisk would have to be careful as he flies in, yet he seems more trouble then good. Those trying to defend the tents are being attacked heavily by the Heartless, so he does the best thing he can think to do. He hovers in the air and closes his eyes. He makes a gesture in the air as he sLight of Mit'ir, let me weave the mana of this world-- grant them the strength of our scales and the gift of our fire spirit to mend their wounds." The symbol he starts to create in the air is blue in color, before he then gestures out with his pawed like hands. The symbol shatters and two flames of light blast down from where the mark was for Magaux and Tyrin. It seems the Dragon knows some magic!
Sydney Losstarot	You'd be amazed how often Sydney has to avoid using his heartless, because someone /always/ sees fit to attack them. Instead of retaliating to any attacks, they turn into small blots of darkness on the ground, making their way back to Sydney, and getting swallowed within the darkness of his shadow. He sighs, taking a moment to survey the battlefield. Might as well focus on doing something useful, like wiping out some of these heartless. Sydney raises his palm above his head, and a mass of unholy darkness begins to coalesce together, ethereal tendrils flail about, wrapping around eachother until they form a massive ball. Sydney begins to chant in ancient Kildean, an unknowable tongue. Letters begin to appear around the ball of darkness, leeching darkness from the ball until they're as black as the void. They seperate themselves, snaking through the air towards small groups of heartless with an inhuman grating noise, making small explosions of darkness when they make contact with the ground.
Margaux Fleury	The Heartless horde seems to now be getting the better of Margaux. Her fancy footwork fails her again as she is cut along side the waist on her right side. The Dancer would not be able to take much more of this as her survival relies on DODGING blows and not trying to power her way through them. Timely assistance comes from Messire Nondescript Templar and the Dragon of all things. The magic washes over her and she spins into a brief bow towards the flying creature before turning her attention and her blade back on her foes. "Messire Drake! You 'ave my thanks!" She calls out before dashing forward with her borrowed blade leading the way. She then feints a retreat before striking again in serious of acrobatic thrusts aimed at disposing the Heartless assassins before her.
Faruja Senra	Tyrin's wounded, blood soaked form...and more importantly, perserverence in the face of such an onslaught, combined with his leaderly words and orders have the remaining Templar solidly holding the line. Order and a sense of purpose fill the remaining Church warriors, the tide seeming to turn in their favor with the help of the brave defenders, Heretic and Holy alike. The Templar's great cleansing strike cuts a swathe through the shrinking number of Heartless, now less a flood, and more a leaky faucet begging to be fixed with a good dose of Church-brand violence. Several Templar echo tyrin's words, and a few of the Holy Knights in the crowd use their skills. As for Faruja, the Templar has been dragged over to a barrel, a worker going above and beyond the call of duty to patch the rat's wounds. He's slumped over, if breathing shallowly. Vespa makes an effective pincer attack, striking from behind with wide blows that sweep away all before it with her great strength. The Heartless' actions all seem to become more desperate, several Templar falling as they seek to crowd in on the line. One nearly gets into the tent, claws ripping off the front. Within, what appears to be some sort of carved stone container, clear crystalline glass atop sheltering some unknown object. The mere sight has the remaining Heartless in a near frenzy, not caring for their 'lives', clamoring for what lay within over the others. Explosions of darkness make more than a dent within the Heartless' forces thanks to Sydney. Though most of the Templar react with predictable dismay, and in some cases disgust, they rally for it. There's only a few left! Church warriors solidly block the entrance with their bodies. "Even /Dancers/ are the Lord's children." Huffs the generic, haughty, distinctly npc-like Templar. Seems Tyrin's not the only one with an attitude towards her profession, and this one is far less polite about it! Her swift, accurate strikes further thin the creatures numbers, though they fight all the harder, the remaaining few striking with wild fury.
Ulharisk	The Dragon swoops right down for the Heartless, flames rolling from his mouth as he descends downward at them now. He lets out a roar in defiance that rumbles the area. The heartless jump for him with their darkness and he goes to lash out at several, almost landing on the ground and using his tail to swat a few more. He then charges back into the air once more, before coming back down with several speed rushes for the remaining Heartless. Clawing at some in one pass, biting down on others in another pass, even using his teeth to throw them into the air before using his tail to slam them back down to the ground once more. Ulharisk's attacks were swift and fearless. He remembered what they had done to his world. He would not let them ever do it again so long as he was alive to protect these other worlds. He failed once, he wont fail again!
Tyrin Marius	Despite taking such a terrible assault, Tyrin remains at the very front lines. He brings up his shield and strikes again and again, hacking at the diminishing heartless like a veritable bevy of shadowy weeds. But one of them turns out to be more amorphous then expected, striking him in the torso deep with a tendril. It breaks off within, a hissing sound as the Knight doubles over, feeling corruption spread within his heart. Yet he rushes forward all the same, concentrating on the magic within his blade; it shines bright, holy light as he leaps up, and brings down a final, crushing strike of his cleansing strength, shouting out his defiance yet again!!
Sydney Losstarot	Sydney takes the scratches n' slashes of the heartless about...as well as you'd expect, being thrown about like a ragdoll for a few moments before finally rising to his feet. There's quite a lot of blood pouring from his body for a few moments, and the Blood-Sin is straining the power of the Dark as heavily as it can to close the wounds before Sydney loses consciousness. Sydney does not care for these things, though. Right now he's got a target to deal with, a heartless. In a strange sight, Sydney calls upon the power of The Dark...to summon a spear of light. Three descend from the heavens, looking as though they're about to skewer Sydney. Right as they look like they will, he raises a palm. Each spear blasts into it, one after the other, filling his body with a large amount of radiant energy, conducting through his body and out his other hand in the form of small, searing blasts of light, all aimed at the heartless.
Margaux Fleury	Despite her best efforts, Margaux can not dance herself out of harm's way. She is struck again and this blow is enough to stagger the young woman to her knees. Her dancer's outfit has now been stained red amidst the bright blues and olive greens of her garment. The thought of attempting to flee becomes a popular thought in her head. Why should she risk her life for men who practically spit at her profession and are ungrateful of her assistance. The unappreciated redheaded dancer defiantly stands up once more with the shortsword still in her hand. Her blue eyes look left and right to spy that not all the civilians have made it clear of this place. With another sigh, Margaux takes her blade up in both hands and begins what may be her last dance. Like before it is a mezmerizing series of moves that will attempt to draw the heartless in so that the Death Corps member can dispatch each remaining Heartless one at a time while they are perplexed.
Vespa	There a very large gouge in the ground where Vespa struck. "They just don't know when to give up..", she says making a few sweeping motitons with her axe hopefully taking care of any heartless that are left..
Faruja Senra	The powers of Heaven strike true, or more accurately, one of Heaven and one of Dark. Tyrin's magic-infused blade cleaves through the Heartless, seeking their prize, the creatures proving little challenge for the wounded Templar. Sydney's spears of Light pierce through both leaping Heartless-beasts, as well as the tent itself, though an errant spear quite literally bounces off of the strange stone container's crystalline lid, only to impale a Heartless about to strike down one of the remaining Church warriors. Marg's aide, unappreciated though it may be, proves more than useful. Having been pounced by a Heartless, the crude Nameless Knight's assailant is drawn off towards her dance, and into her blade. The man stares at her in awe...and what may just be grudging appreciation. Flame scours the line between tent, and those such as Vespa striking from behind. By the time the great dragon is done with his fierce jaws, tail strikes, and purging flame, and the maid of the Axe applies liberal amounts of gigantic blade, there is nothing left. Those defending this day have won, though the moans of the wounded mingle in the air. Healers rush down the streets towards the holy site, already beginning their work as a few brave civilians too start to help those who need it most. The ring around the tent, however, is made all the tighter. Already, some are working upon repairing the tent, the great treasure within guarded jealously. Curiously enough, those whom may end up attempting to heal the wounded may find their efforts surprisingly effective;wounds that would prove fatal often healing to no ill done from the simplest of magics and patch-jobs. Any who peer closely enough before the renewed tent's flap is closed, would catch something shining within the case. Strangely, it may just draw the eye longer than usual, as if beckoning to onlookers.
Sydney Losstarot	Well, looks like we won. Lovely.' Sydney thinks to himself, rolling his eyes in irritation as he thinks on how he actually helped the church today. Sydney makes his way towards the tent, patting his hands together in the dust-removal motion, shaking his head discontentedly. "I know not what it is you fools hide in there, but the heartless were all clearly focused on this position. The church shall answer for its crimes in Fluorgis today." He says, narrowing his eyes as his tattoo begins to flare with Dark Magic, clearly ignorant to his current health. "You /will/ allow us into that tent. Or I will flay the flesh from your very bones for putting this city in danger of falling to Darkness." He says, his eyes hard set on the group of Templars.
Ulharisk	Ulharisk watches as the Heartless are dispatched, he starts to swing back around to make a landing down, mostly to switch back since the trouble was gone. It would also seem to very knowledge of perhaps to those of the Church was known. The humanoid who was helping them could turn into a dragon. Yet he knew no one of the Church, not yet at least. Though as he glances over the area to make sure the Heartless were indeed gone before he shifted back, something caught his eye from the tent. He stared at it for a long moment, those draconic pupil slits going tight, before he starts to carefully walk toward it. His head lowering down as he just stares at it. Dragons have a thing for shinies. Its a /known/ fact no matter what world you are from. Even if he was perhaps no bigger then a horse or so, he seem very drawn to the item that the Church was trying to protect. Yet some part of himself snapped himself out of his trance on the item and he shook his head a few times, suddenly shoving his attention /away/ from whatever it was and shifting back to his humanoid form with a flash of brilliant blue light. He placed his clawed finger tips up near the side of his head as if forcing against his instinct gave him a headache and looked /anywhere/ but at that tent. He then lowered his hand as he closed his eyes and inhaled the air deeply. He then looks over at one of the Templers. "...I hope everyone is alright. I am sorry if my actions caused your people any trouble. I.. figured it was the best action to take.." Ulharisk turns his attention to Sydney and narrows his eyes at the man. "Whom are you to speak. You use the very powers that those beasts use and you have the stench of a thousand dead." Maybe he didn't, but it seem like a good word to use. "You have no right to demand anything of anyone."
Margaux Fleury	Margaux de Fleury finishes her dance with her pilfered blade still sticking into the form of the Heartless Assassin that had practically threw himself onto her blade. It may not be the prettiest dance she knew, but it was rather effective. The blade-dancer leaves the shortsword in the fading creature and takes a step back to survey the carnage of the scene. While the fighting may be over, hostilities seem to be running high as the once disguised Sydney and the Dragon...man seem to be crossing words. The redhead has no interest in acquiring the shiny, but merely wants to know what it is and why it was worth fighting for. Margaux decides to pick up her skirts and carefully make her way closer to see what happens next. She would be a poor spy/informant/agent if she did not return with some information.
Tyrin Marius	Well, that was a bit of a mess. But Tyrin's adamant stance stood as the final bulwark against the forces of darkness, and he stands tall with the remaining knights about the tent. He takes stock of the remaining. The mono-eyed muridae appears to have survived. The dragon was a stout ally as well, even if his aiding magic was purged by the Heartless. Yet when Sydney approaches, he brings up his sword once more. "Heretic." he hisses out, eyes narrowed. Lifting his blade, his attention turns to those still present. "This man attacked me viciously in the jungles, when under sanctioned business of the Church. He believes himself judge, jury, and executioner. If you call yourself godly men, do not lower your blades." The dancing girl is still alive...? Huh. And then there is the dragon. "Within lies a holy artifact. It is no object of darkness. No; the Heartless here were merely trying to purge the Light. You need know no more then that."
Sydney Losstarot	Sydney laughs, clearly amused by the foolishness of the Dragon. "Someone with a much firmer grasp of the obvious, from the looks of it. Heartless were swarming this position, most of which had a /very/ clear intention of reaching this tent. By defending these /murderers/, you put the very world in danger, whether or not you have the...mentality to drop the heroics long enough to realize it." He says, adding on to the remark about powers. "Indeed. Wielding an element of magic makes me in league with the heartless. You have caught on to my games. Just as you are nothing more than a mindless dragon, because you look similar to one." He says, a stinging sarcasm to his voice. "You do not seem to be an idiot...so perhaps an appeal to reason is not a waste. All I ask of you is that you look at the obvious answer." And then Tyrin had to go and speak up. "...You were about to murder innocent people for a crime no worse than disagreeing with you. I see myself as none of those things...not when I have the pleasure of dealing with good men. But you are no such thing. You are a murderer, under the guise of a holy man." Sydney laughs amusedly at his continuation. "Hmph. That answers it well enough. Any artifact of your filthy church is already an unholy abomination." He says, bluntly. "The people of Fluorgis will see this church burned to the ground, I need not nudge it along. I will make my leave." ... "Unless you dare try to stop me, Templar."
Faruja Senra	The man-turned dragon-turned man again gets awed looks. The Templar he addresses, one of the younger ones, mumbles something incoherent; too in shock from his first pitched battle and the sight of a true dragon. From the crowd of gathering healers and other do-gooders, a robed man walks calmly onto the scene as Sydney makes his threats and the dragon apologizes. Priestly vestments drape the thin form of Priest Barnaby, the elderly man leaning on a cane, four Templar guards accompanying him. "Give us naught threats, vile summoner of Daemons. They are as idle as a still pond. Flay us, burn us...we shall fight black-hearted demons such as yourself until our dying breath. Faram shall now allow us to lose. Nor shall you twist the truth." The elder priest says, walking towards the tent. Turning to Tyrin, the elder priest nods respectfully. "Hold firm, brave Temple Knights! This young man speaks true. This is the work of fell powers, such as the one this /WITCH/ wields." The Shrine Knights hold firm, blades unlowered, despite heavy losses and wounds. The draconic man gets a light smile. "Well done, oh great draconic being. Truly, the Lord has blessed thee with flesh most enduring and flame most cleansing. Well done, my Child." Entering, he calls behind him. "Nevertheless, this artefact is not merely for ourselves. It is our gift to this brave, beleaguered community. Witness the power of the Lord!" A moment later, the Priest returns. Behind the wall of bodies, within his hands, Barnaby holds a chalice. At the center of the silver object, lies a green gem, emblazened with the symbol of Saggitarius. Concentrating, blinding light flashes, filling the area. Just as quickly, it recedes. The wounded, and near-dead moan. Some start to rise, others blinking in confusion. With a smile, the Priest walks back into the tent, closing the flap as he reseals the Chalice within it's resting place, it's miracle done. "Faram and the Holy Prophet be praised."
Margaux Fleury	Margaux had seen enough. Despite their victory against the Heartless, a new wave of dread washes over the dancer as she beholds the chalice that she helped defend. She quickly takes a couple wordless steps backwards before looking to her left and right. Thankfully, Sydney and Ulharisk had proved to be enough of distractions that she was able to get the information that she needed without anyone noticing. The Death Corps member then flashes a false smile as she suddenly begins to play to her wounds and makes her way off into the crowd. Margaux hated being the bearer of bad news, but this was a piece of information that MUST be passed on and with haste.
Ulharisk	Ulharisk listens to the back and forths, he growls softly though when Sydney goes to insult him, actually it becomes a very low rumble of agitation, as his eyes narrow. "If not for this being in a city.." He says with snarled teeth, showing that even as a humanoid he has a sharp set of canines. Yet his anger is quickly stuffed as he he doesn't continue to provoke or even try to start a fight. There was to many innocents here. This was no place for petty squabbles or even disputes that could turn into a battle. The people-- before yourself. Always the people first. Ulharisk huffs softly, as he then turns his attention over to the Bishop, he gives the man a polite nod of his head, though he does not understand who this Faram was or even what they spoke of. Yet when they spoke of the Lord and cleansing fire. Ulharisk wondered if there could be a parallel between their beliefs and his own people's. It was the first time he had heard anyone speak of-- well-- beliefs! In some ways it made him kinda happy, yet in other ways... fearful. He watched the odd act performed as men were healed and some even coming back from what seem to be a dieing state. He raised an eye brow and hrmed softly. It was an interesting mana weaving technique. One he knew his own people could do if-- if the soul had not traveled to far and gone to the great sun to be with those from before. "It was an honor to assist, sir. Those creatures, heartless I have heard them be called before, had destroyed my world. I could not allow them to repeat such actions again to another world in my presence. For though I could not save mine, I will do what I can to protect the people of the other." Ulharisk keeps his head low as he speaks of this. Staying humble to his words, before he stands up straight once more. He looks over at Sydney once more before narrowing his eyes. "And if I placed this world in danger by defending life, then I will deal with my crimes before Mit'ir and the father Xur'shio." He then narrows his eyes gently. "What I did was not for these brave men, but also for the people of /this/ city. For it is the people who suffer the most and it is the people who need the greater protection." He then gives a firm nod of his head. Sorry Sydney, your dealing with a very person who has a not only a strong will, but someone who refuses to lower his standard under heroics.
Tyrin Marius	Tyrin would have continued being surly, but the presence of the Priest is another matter entirely. Turning his back to Sydney, no small feat of foolishness given the tension prior, he plants his blade upon the ground in a kneel, head bowed. The glow of healing energy washes over him as well, and a contented sigh leaves the Knight Templar as he murmurs a prayer of thanks. "I will not make battle in sacred ground if you do not attack me, heretic. But know this. I have not forgotten your crime, and I /will/ hunt you down." "Ser Drake." Tyrin begins, before turning towards the dragon. He approaches with only the faintest ghost of a limp from the wounds prior. "You have my thanks. If you wish to stay, we can break bread. I would welcome your kind here." His head dips in a solemn manner, before shifting eyes sidelong to make sure that certain plated slashers are holding true to wandering off!! Although Margaux does not escape a last retreating glance. And her... she is no simple dancer. Her face, too, will not be forgotten.
Sydney Losstarot	When the man emerges from the tent, Sydney simply stops, and laughs. /hard/. "A brave move on your part to dare show such a thing. But foolish, because such a strategy requires me /not/ knowing what that foul gem is. And I'm afraid...you'll have no such luck." Evil grin. As for Tyrin and Ulharisk. "Hmph. You two will find the truth on your own, or you will remain blinded to reality for the rest of your life. I care not. But heroics...even by a /murderer/, should never be left unrewarded." He says, holding out his palm towards the pair. Magic begins to coalesce, aimed directly at the pair. They may flinch and grab for their weapons all they want, but they will be left with a strange surprise. That was a regen spell. Sydney turns his back to the group, opening up a Corridor of Darkness behind him. With no more words to the group of Templars, Sydney walks through it, closing with a flash behind him. The church has made a /grave/ mistake in showing Sydney that stone.
Ulharisk	Ulharisk gives a nod to Tyrin and a somewhat slight smile. "May name is Ulharisk, sir and I will hang about the area for a time." He looks around. "and I will help repair what I can and including aid in further construction needs. My people built comes from stone and lumber-- this work reminds me of it." He glares at Sydney, even if his magic was helpful, there was still a growl of annoyance. He reminded Ulharisk of a spoiled hatchling who had not learned their manners yet. For now though, he goes to tend to his own wounds and then sees what he can do to help around the area.

This scene contained 46 poses. The players who were present were: Faruja Senra, Vespa, Margaux Fleury, Sydney Losstarot, Ulharisk, Tyrin Marius