To Be Wanted

[Raksha]

Tamryn shouldn't have bothered with the morning ritual. Fireheart, enchanted and edged with adamantine to boot, would no more require sharpening than Hano's fragment of Torm's own weapon did. But there was value in ritual; value in doing things the way they had been done before. And so upon awakening and making herself decent, Tamryn padded on bare feet over to the cabinet against the edge of the bunkroom. Her scabbarded greatsword leaned up against it, alongside her longbow and the quiver of arrows, half-emptied on Karthus and his Veritas allies.

Thoughts crowded in as the last fog of sleep cleared from her mind, but she fought them off with rote motion, trying to lose herself in the familiar.

Take the sword. Five paces back, two to the side, open the door and walk into the training ring.

It's happening again.

Four paces left, to the rack of weapons both steel and wood. Take the whetstone and the oil.

It's happening again, isn't it?

A thin layer of oil on the stone, just enough to make it shine in the light of candles and lamps. Nod to Balthasar as he went past, following his own morning ritual.

You're growing close to him. You want to grow closer still.

Unsheathe Fireheart and damp the flames with a thought, leaving the steel and adamantine of the blade naked. Inspect it for nicks and irregularities, though there were none. Fight down the loss, fight down the memory of Kaldaris giving the sword in the camp on the side of the Schild.

Kaldaris. It happened with him. When he asked you to court him, you'd been wishing for him to ask for a tenday. Jeshana. It happened with her. On the basis of half-remembered lies from an old life you made her a promise that you couldn't keep. And before...

Love made you a traitor, Tamryn. Tamara.

Lay the left edge of the sword on the stone, just an inch beyond the crossguards. Drag it from base to tip, a continuous stroke. Linear, following the pattern of the blade. Don't grind.

Kollotta was right, wasn't she? You love too quickly. You are too ready to devote yourself, too eager for someone to share in your burden. It hasn't changed. Why hasn't it, Tamara? Why do you still lust after that which may destroy you?

Eight strokes down the left edge front. Eight strokes to the right edge front. Flip the blade.

You're lonely, aren't you. After just two months of his absence, you're ready to take solace with someone else. It's too soon, and you know it or I wouldn't be telling you. But you still feel it. Why?

Focus on the strokes, keep them regular. Eight to each edge on each side, flip. Watch the fingers holding the stone.

It doesn't matter, and you know this. It cannot happen this time. With Hano, there is more at stake than your ragged, stained excuse for a soul. He's no Kaldaris to be pulled from deals with devils and deals with Stormlords. He is a paladin. The embodiment of what you should have been, but were too flawed to be.

Lift the blade to examine it after four cycles. Inspect the edge to make sure it's neither too dull nor too sharp. Lay it back down on the stone and continue.

He will fall, Tamara. If he takes you as his lover he will fall. Not by that act, but by the breaking of something that tells both of you it's wrong. Have you not learned from the past? Have you not recognized that the chain of command is there for a reason? He knows it -- do you?

Examine the blade a second time, nod slightly in satisfaction. Reach for the cloth near the rack, wipe the last traces of oil from the weapon. See it shine.

Better to seek comfort with Karthus, if you can stomach a traitor. He is alone. He might understand. But whatever else happens, Hano is not an option. Swear it, Tamara. Swear that you'll discourage him from anything beyond a sibling's love, if it comes up. It might not. He's better than you, Tamara. He knows his duty better than you do.

Put everything back into its proper place. Ignite the flames again, with a thought, then extinguish them and sheathe the sword. Buckle it across the back, distributing weight with the buckles and straps so that you only notice its absence as opposed to its presence.

Swear it, Tamara.

Walk towards the kitchens, for a breakfast surrounded by friends but eaten alone.

"...I swear..."

[wangxiuming]

Tamryn and Alyrian sat down on two neatly made beds within the privacy of a closed door in the Temple of the Triumvirate. Tamryn was exhausted, wearied from the loss of the Genum Cube. Alyrian was ... a little shocked, but his expression was somber, serious, in a way that it often was now.

Tamryn sighed and looked up at Alyrian. " ... gods. Where do we begin? What do you desire of me? Do you know?"

Her questions pressed at him, and Alyrian stood up to leave. "I ... should not have come. You need rest."

"No! Please ... ! I - want to give us both some resolution on this. I will rest better for it."

Hesitantly, Alyrian sat back down, fidgeting slightly. His words came slowly, as if reluctant to leave his lips. "All this time ... I've been fighting. Fighting for this land, fighting for its people - I've done it all in your name."

Tamryn's voice was full of questions. "In ... my name? Or in Tamara's name?"

But Alyrian couldn't answer. The way he felt about the woman who stood before him ... words were beyond him, the sensation was indescribable. Nevertheless, he tried: "When you ... when Tamara ... when I learned of ... her death. I ... was beyond devastated. But then she ... you ... came back."

At these words, Tamryn's shoulders slumped heavily, but Alyrian didn't seem to notice, so intent on expressing his most fateful desire. "You came back and it was like I had a purpose again."

Her voice came with uncertainty, but stopped his nonetheless. "Alyrian, you ... you need to understand something." Her expression was pleading. "I can't be Tamara. I can't be her. She failed. She betrayed Sundren, and ... one act of valiance at the end can't make up for that! Whatever the origin of the soul, and the body that I wear ... I can't betray Torm again."

Alyrian's eyes seemed to stare past Tamryn. " ... was it all meaningless then? All this time, all the battles I fought, all the ..."

"No! No, no, don't think that!" She stretched out a hand, reaching out to him. "Alyrian ... cherish her memory. Hold it tightly. You are the only one who can remember what you had. I ... I can't ... she ... I, would have wanted you to fight well. To protect Sundren. And -- you have."

He stared blankly at Tamryn's outstretched palm, his expression a mix of bitter disappointment and desire to hold even the smallest part of Tamryn close to him.

"Cherish it ... alone, you mean."

Tamryn looked away, unable to offer him what he truly wanted. "Be honest with me. If ... you could take me now, as your lover, not remembering anything that had come before, sharing nothing but a soul ... would you?"

His answer was quick, but full of ... hesitation. Fear. "I would ... "

There was a long pause, but his words broke the silence, resounding in its terrible veracity.

"I have joined Tifton."

Stunned, Tamryn trembled his name, " ... Alyrian ... " drawing in a shuddering breath. He looked to her quietly, eyes filled with regret.

" ... I always knew you were beyond my reach. From the very beginning, I knew."

But Tamryn wasn't listening, still trying to comprehend the motivations for such an act - " ... why? He ... helped you, but ... the Banites ... Tamara died to defy them!" Her eyes suddenly blazed with fury. "And I was given my second chance so that I could destroy them, ruin their machinations! Why do you do this? You know it will come to no good!"

For the first time that night, Alyrian's words were not marred by hesitation. "Tifton is lost ... he needs someone to hope for him, to try and save him. I have to try. I have to save him."

Tamryn had to look away. Biting her lip, she asked, "Do you ... worship ... "

Silence, before finally ... "Yes. He would not accept me as a brother if I did not."

He continued, desperately trying to explain his actions. "I ... longed to be like you. To have purpose, to mean something to someone ... anyone. Tifton saved me ... at risk to himself, betrayed his master, of his own free will. How can I not do the same? How can I forsake him?"

Tamryn could no longer face Alyrian. "You can not do the same because he serves a power that seeks to subjugate all life. And the artifact that will give them an edge with it is nearly in their grasp! He doesn't do so willingly! He hates himself because what he is doing is wrong!"

Alyrian's voice was calm, eerily quiet. "That's why there is still hope for him. You were all so quick to forsake him ... to abandon him. Even I ... "

Tamryn's let out a cry of unmistakable sorrow, rage, and discomfort, as she rose to stalk across the room.

A quiet request slipped through the elf's lips. "... help me. Help me save him."

"How?! By joining you? I can't, Alyrian!" She glared at him with a furious intensity. "You shouldn't!" Laughter fell bitterly from her mouth. "One more friend, falling away, betraying my cause ... "

"I cannot abandon him. Not after what he did for me. You all say that you are willing to help ... but Tifton believes all you seek for him is death."

She whirled around to face him. "It seems the only way! If there was some way to restore him to the man he was, I'd take it! If there was some easy switch I could pull to make everything better, I'd pull it!"

His voice was almost begging now. "The cube! The power of the cube - it has to be able to restore him."

But her mind is made up. "No. There's no switch, there's no easy way. And in all of this, my fate ... his fate ... yours, Hano's, it doesn't matter. The world is at stake here! All of Sundren, and more! What credit is it to us if we restore him and unleash power that slaughters thousands more?!"

His anger and desperation burst forth to match hers. " ... I don't give a damn about the world! What has this world brought us but misery?! What have the people of these lands done for us but lay upon me persecution, and you, intolerable burden?!"

"Then that's what separates us." She looked upon him coolly, even contemptuously. "The thousands of people out there you see as faceless, each one with a story. I care about them. I have to help them. I have sworn to protect them even as they spit in my face."

"Why ... why?!"

" Because if I stop caring about them, I lose myself. Stop caring about them, and I might as well turn traitor then and there. It is my sacrifice. I don't matter, Alyrian."

"You mattered to ME!"

She faced him, and asked "Why? Why did I matter to you?"

He couldn't find the words, and in his heart, he knew he would never have her support. He stood up to leave. " ... I ... I have out-stayed my welcome. If you will not help me ... then I will do my best alone, as I always have."

But she wouldn't be so easily dissuaded. "I want an answer. Why did you care about me? Why did you care about Tamara?"

Alyrian was obviously reluctant to answer. " ... what does it matter now?"

" ... Humor me," She responded wearily.

For a minute, Alyrian merely gazed upon Tamryn, and in his heart he could see the face of his first love. Even with her exhaustion, her anger, her contempt for all that he had done - she was beautiful, she was his savior.

" ... more than anyone else ... you made me feel less ... alone."

His answer hit Tamryn in the gut. Staggering back to the bed, she clutched her face in her hands. Alyrian turned away, not wishing to see her in pain.

" That feeling. It was so fleeting ... but it was enough."

Tamryn's voice shook with emotion. " ... i-it would be wrong of me ... to offer it again ... I can't ... not now. I would ... like to ... I'm so sorry, Alyrian. I'm so sorry ... "

He smiled longingly, though his back was still turned against her. "We were never meant to be ... in my heart of hearts, I always knew that was the truth. Perhaps, now that I will have to face you as an enemy - I can finally lay these feelings to rest."

He opened the door to the stone room, lingering at the door for just a second. "Goodbye, Tamara."

" ... Goodbye, Alyrian."

[Lollercide]

He could not stop.. Not now, not for his wounds. They were shit compared to what he had invoked on Sundren - What The Triumvirate and his failure had caused. His hand trembled holding his quill void of ink against the parchment in front of him.

Recalling the threat from The Left Hand of Mundus that should he have failed.. That his soul would be claimed. The least of his worries, now, but The People had abandoned him, and now, even The Abbot denies Hano his presence in The Temple of Helm.

"...Alone." He mocked the word forcing a grin on his face. "...A petty burden compared to what I have given Sundren." He gains focus on the quill and reassures himself. "The True - Hear me now - Understand these words as truth. No matter how much pain I must endure... Even as I stand hated by those I love and protect, I will not falter." His facade shatters immediately after stating the words meeting the blank parchment with his forehead. His thoughts drift momentarily to his Sister in faith and her meeting with Alryian. "Will she be able to come to terms with Alyrian? What are they talking about...? She seemed... She won't admit it, but I know what I felt when I saw her. She was far from just fine."

"Damn!" He cursed at himself snapping his quill between his grasp. "How can Osclow tell Tia... A story of a supposed Hero when he so foolishly damned his people?" He glares at his hand clutching onto the broken quill in despair. Just then, he was interrupted by a quiet voice coming from the door behind him as a woman slinks through. "...Can I borrow you for a moment?"

He managed to compose himself well enough for his distress to be played off as frustration with paperwork. He carefully sets the quill down and slides the parchment over it unnoticed. He stands up and slides his chair back with the same motion then turns to Tamryn, who is still rattled by emotions. He doesn't hesitate physically, but his mind wants to.. He fights it and recalls Torm to give him the strength to remain strong. "Speak your mind, Sister."

She weakly gestures for him to follow and he does so accordingly.. Through the halls, past the training room, and to the door to their bedding room. She stumbles through the door way as she opens it stopping where she regains herself and keeping to herself while Hano shuts the door quietly behind them. Turning from it he is immediately embraced by Tamryn clutching onto his chest.

His eyes widen for only a moment before he closes them and accepts her embrace, returning one of a worried brother more than a lover, despite his own feelings. He lowers his head against hers and whispers the first words that he could grasp from his mind cluttered with worry now, "I'm sorry, Tamryn."

(( There is lots more, but damn I'm tired and don't have the mental capacity to continue for now. Will pray Raskha finishes it or that I can later. ))

[Lollercide]

((OOC: More of a IC mental rant due to my lack of creativity and stuckedness in the AFK zone ))

It was more than obvious to Hano where this would all lead to - A painless decision on his half, but for Tamryn it was far more. Thanks to a careless promise made in hopes of being careful... "Irony." he thought, but his mind was already set in stone. He knew from the very beginning where his heart stood. Ever since the encounter with Tifton and Alyrian - When the truth was revealed to him.

Even if, for one reason or another, she decided not to return his ideas or feelings, he refused sway from his position. It was far too late for she had already stained herself into his heart and memory. Nobody could replace that. Nobody could take that away from him.

The feeling was beyond mortality, it would continue to exist even after her or his death. Physical attachments were a petty joke compared to this gift of understanding - Having the webs pried from his withered eyes. Seeing himself for the first time, after years, in full clarity. Recalling Hano, and not the Paladin... Understanding that to better himself is to not remove one or the other, but find harmony between the two of them. Between conviction and being human.

He would forever remember and cherish the one that was kind enough to open them, even if by circumstances he could no longer embrace the feeling... The memory was more than enough to strengthen his convictions and oaths. Reinforcing his will to protect the people that wish, no, that are entitled to feel the same. That is not to say he had abandoned his feelings and need to be with her, to love her, but loving her while staying loyal to his convictions was a task that required him to delve deep into his mind and heart to find which was right.

After such, he understood all too well the priorities and dangers between love and duty. That while Tamryn may have claimed a special place in his heart and will forever have it, his love belonged to the innocents, unconditionally. He understood there will be a time where he must treat Tamryn's life no higher or lesser than another's - Especially should they be faced with evil. To accept her as a lover, but never prioritize her life or position over another. He was more than fine with that.

As the days pass by he lives by his decision with comfort. Empowered and relieved by the bond growing between his Senior Officer and himself. Sure of that whatever may come he would not regret his choice, not in death or even in eternal anguish.

[Raksha]

Of Promises

It's an ungodly early hour of the morning, when the first touches of dawn start to grey the skies over the mountains that cut Sundren off from the world.

See the Temple, a sprawling structure of stone and metal, built by hundreds of willing hands. The streets are silent save for the skittering of a rat and the regular tread of the paladin on watch.

See inside, through the training ring and its racks of practice weapons. A Lionheart is on duty, his gaze focused inwards in the quiet, but at this hour even Balthasar has gone to take rest. The torches flicker and burn, casting imperfect illumination across the hall; shadows linger behind the pews and the statue depicting Torm that towers over the space of worship.

See into the second bunkroom, half its beds occupied, testament to the hazards of duty. A scabbarded greatsword leans against the cabinets, the egg-sized ruby set into the pommel gleaming even in the faint glimmers that come in under the door. Not far away is a set of plate, ancient in its own way but cared for well. Designs worked in silver twine up the bracers and adorn the pauldrons. It does not gleam in the light as a museum piece might; despite all the care taken in maintinence and repair, it is armor that has seen use. Heavy use, recently.

See the leftmost bunk, on the bottom. Linen sheets, a grey woolen blanket and the pelt of a winter wolf all cover an irregular lump that slowly rises and falls. Too large to be one person, it resolves into two after a moment of observation. Only their shoulders and heads show above the covers, but the impression of one shape does not die away; they are tangled, entwined together. It's impossible to tell more in the faint light, except that one of them is a woman, and her hair nearly glows, white in the darkness.

See her eyes open, and a sharp breath taken disturb the blankets, before she lets it out and beds back down, her arms still tightly around the other form in her bed.

-

"A dream," Tamryn murmured to herself, reassuring, as she tucked her head in against Hano's shoulder. He didn't seem to wake from her stirring, for which she was quietly thankful. Eyes closed, but sleep didn't come before her thoughts.

Heh. Look at you, all cuddled up in him like a newlywed. Just a few sheer pieces of linen and a lustful motion away from breaking your promise. What are you thinking, Tamryn? What are you thinking, Tamara?

Her eyes squeezed shut, but it brought no peace.

You started giving him what you shouldn't. Just an innocent little embrace, and a kiss, there at the campfire, but it was one too many. You saw the happiness in his eyes. You had his approval, and for a moment you didn't feel alone.

Why are you doing this, Tamara? No good can come of it! For either one of you!

She squeezed him just a bit more tightly, and delved into her own doubtful thoughts.

But isn't it? You heard him at the Temple of Helm. The last night he slept with you was one of the best he had in a long time. But it is more than that... he needs comfort. He needs support.

...but he is...

...a paladin, yes. He understands the Penance of Duty at least as well as you do. He could likely quote the Code forwards and backwards, if not in his mind than in hissoul. Look at the happiness he has when he is close to you! Hear how he loves you! Is that the face of a falling paladin?

Tamryn's lips brushed against his cheek as he stirred in her arms.

Yes. It may be. What if he is called upon to sacrifice you, and he can't?

A-hah. See. Is this wrong now because you doubt yourself, or because you doubt HIM?

Fine, then. Turn it around. Could you sacrifice him?

And Tamryn knew that the answer was yes. She'd proven as much. As he'd fallen under the onslaught of the ambush, her thought had not been to keep Hano safe -- she had been dedicated, like an elven archer's seeking arrow, to killing the leader so that the rest could be beaten off and the cube saved. She only permitted herself to worry about him... and perhaps to mourn him... when all of the fighting was done, and the reinforcements had arrived.

It would happen again. It might even be that she would be called upon to retreat, and leave his body to the enemy. She knew that while it would rend her heart later, she could do it at the moment.

And he was a paladin. He was better at it than she was.

He draws comfort from this. As much as you do, or more. He was lonely, and stiff, and all discipline to shield himself from it. And you helped him be human again. See how much happier he is! See the hope you've given him! Your love is helping him do his duty. It is a service to Torm.

Is your oath so easily broken, then? You swore not to be his lover. Would you make your word a mockery?

A sigh escapes from her lips, warm against the side of his neck.

Oaths, then. A conflict of oaths. I swore not to allow myself to be his lover, yes. I swore it because I was convinced I was only pining after what could not be, from loneliness and loss. He needed this, but didn't let me see until I opened myself up to him.

Which oath takes precedence, then? Shall I deny him anything but the most chaste of touches because I made a promise to myself? Or will I uphold the promise sewn in my soul to support the True and his followers? All of them?

There is but one answer.

I will love him. I must love him, so long as it upholds our god. As long as it strengthens our convictions instead of weakening him.

...as soon as I know what happened to Kaldaris. I would not willingly break -that- oath, even for this.

Gods help me. Tifton was right.

Strangely, that thought did not hold as much unease as she once would have thought.

Tamryn let out another breath. Her body shifted slightly against his as she found a new position, then let herself slip away into the comforting warmth. Sleep came quickly.

See her face, as she falls asleep again, and the slight smile on her lips that slumber cannot banish.

[Lollercide]

That golden light again.. Those warm and wild eyes, shimmering, that comforting smile hidden behind the most beautiful of helms, stretching out his battle-worn skin. "Not again... I can't. Not right now." Beckoning him, he can't help but move forward, slowly, each step placed against the white void below him. Standing before the warm light completely bare, from everything but the sword wrapped loosely within his right hand. "...What has made me worthy?" He questions himself, daring not to look at the face within the light.

He could feel it though, he no longer needed sight to bear witness to what was happening.. That smile - Why is the smile so comforting? I don't belong here, not now. "Home..? I've come home... Now?" He couldn't stop himself from moving.. Terrified of what may come, but only able to embrace it. "Fear..? So... Foreign. Why now?"

Even such a foreign feeling could not stop him. This was.. "More." He muttered within the confines of his mind, clutching his chest. The scars.. His torn and twisted chest that had become so worn from his lifetime of battle, they were.. Slipping away. Washing from his figure - As if clearing the canvas from all the vivid and horrible colors that, through time, came together and formed the Knight. The basic components, the events, his experiences, flushed away within the light. All of it slipping through his fingers as he held onto his chest, unable to stop them... Unable to stop moving forward. "Is.. Can I not hold onto them? Not.. Not even for one more moment?"

He knew the answer even as he asked it, feeling the warm presence of the man before him approaching, hearing him place his sword away. There was no guessing how valiant a blade it must have been, but.. That didn't steal his mind from worry. That didn't stop him from meeting him half way, looking up and into the wild eyes. "He's.. Speaking to me, but I can't.. What is he saying?" The man lifted his helm from his face, tossing it to the side, letting it be consumed by the void. The aura burned brightly now, blinding the Knight with his golden brilliance. He couldn't look away, he couldn't hesitate, the man towering over him wouldn't let him. Looking down to Hano as if he was staring at his own feet. The man took a knee, and embraced Hano with an arm, wrapping it around his neck and drawing him into his chest.

Such a firm embrace, but yet.. Even with his arm wrapping around him, all he could feel was the most feint of brushes against his cheek, like a kiss. Feeling himself stir, he was unable to break the embrace. No... It was too comforting. Slowly he came to terms with it, finally able to accept it, able to forget his position and ignore that he stood bare before such a glorious figure.

And now as he looked to his eyes, his fear began to fade. The words and colors came into place, the pieces falling together in his mind and heart. The scars - The colors that once made him were gone, forever washed away within the light. The man released Hano and stood before him once more.. Hano began the motion to offer his blade, but... Was quickly denied with a polite gesture, a brief shake of his head with that wide smile.. Those all too familiar eyes.

Wrapping his fingers around the hilt as he never had before. Not with violent intent or with desperation to protect, but now, simply to hold on. His colors were long gone by now, but even then.. They would not be forgotten. Even as the morning sun woke him with its warm embrace, placing him back into Tamryn's arms they would not be forgotten. He couldn't claim to enjoy his current position in this given time and space, but... He couldn't help but look forward to where he was going. He couldn't help but to remember the colors that washed away. After all, they are what made him.

[Lollercide]

Waking from the dream, the Tormite, instinctively removed his arm from around Tamryn, placing his hand on his cheek, looking down on the top of her head and nestling his chin against it. Her white locks shined against the morning sun. Still drifting through the thought of his dream... Lost in the feeling that wouldn't remove itself from his cheek, or perhaps he refused to let go.

"No matter..." He thinks, drawing in a long breath and placing his lips against the top of her head, wrapping his arm back around her. Whispering his thoughts into the soft white strands of hair, knowing she was fast asleep. "Finally, tonight, at your side I've accepted what I've feared for so long... I've embraced The Truth and rested within his very grasp. Through the limitless possibilities and infinite outcomes, there can only be one. No matter how time will bend and twist the world around me; shifting the universe that I'm bound to by this body holding me... I will remain stationary." He pulls his lips from the top of Tamryn's head and slides his limbs from between hers, silently escaping her embrace to sit at the side of his bed.

He reaches for his hairpiece on the nearby stand and begins to fix his hair to his liking, now thinking to himself. "Every task I have taken has ended in failure or some form of dishonor. Humiliation and pain are all too familiar to me now, but... I can stand proudly before Torm and look him in the eyes. Look him in the eyes and tell him that during my time here on Faerun, I might have told a lie... But surely never lived one. Never swayed against the cruel tides of fate or the violent sands of time. Not against evil or the unlawful. That I have, as I always will, stand loyal to him and the people." Finished with his hair he pushes himself off the bed and walks over to the corner of the room where his blade is kept away, safely in its sheath. Lifting it by it's strap and holding it above his shoulder he pauses to glance at Tamryn lone in his bed.

"No pain or burden will ever change that."

[wangxiuming]

Alyrian watched, as Hano and Tamryn lay in bed together, resting against each other, smiling and looking into each other's eyes. His blood began to boil, he could feel his temper rising, feel unfettered frustration bubble up to the surface - he wanted to stop them, to scream at them to stop tormenting him, but he was frozen in place, unable to move nor speak. He watched as they shared in something that he had longed for, had wished for, but would never be able to experience. He watched, in horror, as they turned to face him, simultaneously, their affectionate smiles twisting into cruel sneers. Derisive laughter poured from their mouths like a deluge of contempt for him, pounding into his mind, echoing off each other and reverberating into his very core.

He awoke, sweaty and exhausted, his heart racing. He sat in his bed for a moment, still trembling in anger and unrequited desire. Leaping from his room, he found the nearest skeletal guardian he could and slammed its skull into the wall. He watched, as venom-green acid enveloped the bones, eating away at the monster until all that remained was a smoking pile of goo. He whispered to himself:

"Get out of my head ... "

[Leaving Hope]

* Just prior to dawn within the Citadel of the Seven Mestra Ill'Koresh slinks out of Tifton's room under a veil of invisibility. A thin smile of fulfillment adorns her pale face. The Coterie guarding her son's door leave their post and accompany the dark mistress through the halls to her chambers. Along the way, Mestra hears a loud disturbance coming from one of the antechambers; intrigued, not alarmed, she makes her way with shadowy escorts in tow.

Mestra is amused to see Alyrian standing over the bones enveloped by acid. She regards him for many long minutes before making her next action. A purr escapes her lips as the invisibility drops in accordance with her will. *

My, my, Pet of my Pet. What seems to be the problem? Is it that woman you so pine for? Would you like me to get her for you? All you have to do is ask, you know.

[Lollercide]

~ After a few nights, in the Triumvirate. ~

The two Tormites laid beside each other in the single bed. Lowest and left-most bunk. Like always. Most of his nights have ended in such a manner ever since the one night in the Temple of Helm. Ever since they had come to terms to at least attempt sleeping together. Even though they restrained themselves to chaste touches, activities... To Hano, it had become the most comforting moment of each day, something to look forward to. Those few hours he could spend beside Tamryn losing himself in slumber while being comforted by her presence. He was never alone, but she... She had become a part of him that reminded him that life, his life, was never a burden. That all the pain, the deaths, the tears, the sweat, the blood - It was all worth this one moment. This one memory. If she should pass in the morning, then he would forever have the comfort of this one memory that made the painful path he had chosen worth while.

Hano slid his hand from over her to her stomach remembering the words she spoke to him. "Thanks to Mestra.. You can no longer bear a child? That's fine. I can't lie, I was more than flattered that your wish was to bear my child. Even if it was only to bring me peace of mind, the piece of my mortality I could leave behind before I pass, but it isn't about me. In my heart, I knew that wasn't going to happen, but Mestra has denied you the possibility. Denied you the comfort in even flirting with the idea. For this... I promise I will see to it that her, the Ill'Koresh, and her empire fall."

Hoping not to wake Tamryn from her sleep he silently draws in a long breath. He rests his head against hers, caressing her stomach out of instinctive care. "She has let her sins pile up, and through it all... I think I can finally see the opportunity to make sure she pays. She exposed us to the truth. By claiming you within our very own city, she has showed us that all along, they could have easily swept through by force to take us all, but.. They haven't. Why? They need us - At least, for now. Syran and the visions he taunts me with... Lady Tao... The Servants of Talona... They all revolve around one common organization. All of the strings are leading straight to them, and the beauty of it all... We've been playing along as well." Despite coming to this realization he remains snug pressing his lips against Tamryn.

"Now, even if but silently it's time for me to feed them their own poison. You've defended me with your sword and spirit for so long. Protected me and given me more than your support. It's time to return the favor. I may be weak, powerless, but... I don't need power. Not after I even the odds."

The Tormite gets little to no sleep at all that night, but receives efficient amounts of rest laying in his peaceful meditation with Tamryn in his arms. Plotting.. Pulling the pieces together and planning their downfall. Justice. Retribution.

[Lollercide]

All of the planning and all of the plotting would not amount to much as the pieces kept slipping between his fingers. Time and time again he found himself sitting there at the side of his bed alone, wishing for times of yesterday while searching for future opportunities to fulfill his oath.

"So weak..."

The paladin pressed the cold tips of his silver gauntlet's fingers against his forehead, contorting the stressed induced wrinkles around the pressure. Hano had been sitting there on the edge of his bed in the dimly lit bunkers in his lonesome for five hours now, unable to sleep despite how he told Mithrilia he would retire as he had been fighting the struggle; to be alone and spare the danger for others, or to do what is comfortable.

"...so weak, but I..."

It was easy for people to tell him to forget his past and to move forward, but people had already forgotten or forgiven Hano for his sins and failures. They believed that good intentions excused someone from indirectly or accidentally taking the lives from innocents, but Hano was different. Hano could not overlook a good hearted person that takes the life of an innocent and then turn around to swing his sword at an evil man who did the same. An evil act is an evil act, and while circumstances must be considered, a good heart never excuses someone from committing them.

"...but I'm still alive."

His soul was still heavy from the two villages burned by Colibrus for Hano's intrusion, and even more so from the people's abandonment those many moons ago. Still overburdened by the thought of how he failed to protect Tamryn that day.

"Tamryn..."

Tamryn -- his wife, his lover, and his equal in rank in the Triumvirate. The paladin could not remember the last time he saw her, but her tragic history continued to ring brilliantly in his mind. She had suffered so much for such a short existence, and fate was so inclined on having her suffer more that he swore vengeance on those that continued to cause her more harm; swore vengeance on the Ill'Koresh, driving him to mercilessly kill Neradnal.

But there were two more that were still alive and that's two more to kill before his oath would be completed. Two that should have remained dead when they were killed many years ago at the hands of Orlan Proskus.

Should be dead ... but then again, Hano should be as well.

And now there was Mithrilia who not only walked a tragic path like Tamryn, but also suffered from fate's relentless cruelty in the present. More disturbing to the paladin was the similarities in appearance between Mithrilia and his wife, but he managed to keep silent on those matters and didn't allow it to bleed through in his emotions or actions.

The question was: How could he help her when he failed others so many times? He hadn't even fulfilled his silent oaths to Tamryn and yet he's daring enough to pick up even more for another? Oh how it riddled the paladin and brought even more stress to his mind when he was not even sure where to begin. Still, he was compelled by some reason to try, even with the other burdens he chose to carry and how they weighed down upon him.

"...I will find a way. I love you."