The Only One Who Wanted to Die

[Leech]

(Unfortunately this is the only log that I had the foresight to get while playing Naer.)

The robe this figure wears is not the flimsy garment worn by Lithmorran nobles to bed, nor the billowing thing encouraged by scholars. Rather, it is functional - cloth, but with a solid backing and scarlet leather trim. It is narrow, clinging to the person's lean form and leaving their feet and hands full range of motion. A large hood has been pulled up to shadow most their face, but within that darkness are two twinkling eyes, their color indistinct, along with a stubble-lined chin.

They wear a pair of leather gloves with buckles, and form-fitting leather boots.



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The eastern door is opened from the other side.



A person wearing a black cloth cloak with a large hood arrives from the east.



Inside The Church [Chilly]

This church was perhaps once a fine gem in Lithmore's crown, but now little of its former beauty remains. The windows have been smashed, wind whistling through gaps in the panes; fragments of gem-colored glass are all that remains. On sunny days, rays of light filter down in concentrated beams through holes in the roof. The pews still line the room, but their wood is ancient and splintering. However, the lack of dust and debris suggests that this church is still well cared-for.

[ Exits: -east- ]



"Josephine," the name is spoken quietly, almost like a disappointed sigh, as a person wearing a voluminous black robe with scarlet accents makes himself apparent from the shadows in the corner. "Give me one reason why I should let you live." He has a steel katar with acid-etched designs filled with silver in his right hand, just in the fingertips.



An oversized cloak hides any obvious signs at who is under it. It flows smoothly without a cling to any discerning curve, perhaps they're wearing more than one?

Her equipment is hidden under a black cloth cloak with a large hood.

You are a hand taller than she is.



A person wearing a black cloth cloak with a large hood turns towards the voice, head canting slightly with a small grin touching to her lips. "Truly you do not have to, I've been expecting my death." The woman pushes back the hood of her cloak then, releasing a hold to a delicately embroidered cascading skirt of pitch-hue linen.



A person wearing a black cloth cloak with a large hood opens a black cloth cloak with a large hood, revealing her identity.



A young woman with curled, reddish-brown hair stops using a black cloth cloak with a large hood.



Reddish-brown curls crown this woman's features, bouncing above the shoulder in not quite spirals when not restrained. Thin, arching brows bring life to her nutmeg colored eyes, which are just a smidge darker than her tan exterior. Narrow lines of khol are used to accent the coloring further. A narrow nose slopes to just above her full, soft pink lips. She does not lack on the air of womanly charms, curvature well defined, as is her tone musculature as if to warn fools away without saying a word. A faint scar marks down the left side of her face, perhaps detracting from the woman's possible beauty.

You are a hand taller than she is.



"Expecting your death?" This gives the man pause. He begins pacing in a slow semi-circle around a Josephine. "Really now?" a person wearing a voluminous black robe with scarlet accents asks, eyes keen twinkles from within the shade of his hood.



He asks, "Yet you seem so calm with it. You are a mage, not immortal. Why do you grin at death?"



He thinks to himself, "She must have something, some fail safe..."



He thinks to himself, "Quiet, fool. She can read minds, remember?"



"I would have pleaded for my life months ago, but I no longer care. If my time has come then it has." a young woman with curled, reddish-brown hair explains with a shrug, arms crossing over her chest. "I love parts of my life, and others I would be happy to be done with. If you desire my death, doing so before the altar of the lady would be suitable."

"The Brotherhood collects upon the debts of traitors," a person wearing a voluminous black robe with scarlet accents states, nodding. "So yes. I desire your death, for leaving our Family - religion aside." His words are measured and precise, and it's faint but there is a twinge of a tropical accent lilting upon each.



He muses, "Will you tell me why, though? Why join our family, why get close to that traitor Tenebrae? Are you Manus? Working as the Rubeus's spy?"



"I left the family because I followed and loved our former Tenebrae. Little did I know he was betraying me personally, dear. Did **** tell you how to find me? I used to be the Tenebrae." Josephine shrugs her shoulders very minutely.



A person wearing a voluminous black robe with scarlet accents's eyes sharpen from within his hoods. "**** knew how to find you, did he?"



He thinks to himself, "He played idiocy... dull memory..."



"He should have atleast known my name, I believe... He may not have though, I have not always gone by this one or looked this way.. Minute changes make people not realize who you are." Josephine laughs very softly, hand coming to twist a reddish curl.



He thinks to himself, "Good, good. True. Dear Lord, I would of had to..."



He thinks to himself, "Arien, focus. Focus!"



After some inner monologue, a person wearing a voluminous black robe with scarlet accents goes on to state; "You were the Tenebrae?" The words come out as a mixture of fact, tinged with a questioning tone. The real question he asks, however, is a mystery - but he seems genuinely curious at the information.

Josephine nods once, a soft laugh escaping her. "Indeed. It was under me **** became the Sapiente. I no longer desired to be the leader. I was once Maena Sturmgard." She explains, tone even and a small smile to her lips.



He thinks to himself, "Maena Sturmgard..."



A person wearing a voluminous black robe with scarlet accents's fingers twitch around a steel katar with acid-etched designs filled with silver, betraying his impatience, and perhaps anxiety. "And who are you, really?"



He thinks to himself, "Enough of this, idiot. Kill the gal and be done with it! You don't need to know, you don't need to know..."



"I am really Maena Sturmgard, but I fought for the city, against the mages, when they tried to take over the city. Revealed myself in doing so." Josephine explains to a person wearing a voluminous black robe with scarlet accents with a small shrug of her shoulders.



A person wearing a voluminous black robe with scarlet accents's feet crunch into the shards of glass that dust the church's floor - the shattered paintings of past Saints, washed away in the Flood. "Why did you help? Were they not your brothers, in a sense, these other mages?"



Josephine waves a hand in a dismissful fashion. "They were not my brothers and sisters. If there were women with them anyways. They wished to destroy the city I love."



He thinks to himself, "It's time. Enough of this."



A person wearing a voluminous black robe with scarlet accents nods, after a moment. "Come then, Maena. The Brotherhood has a debt to extract, and if you choose to die in the Lady's sight, I will respect the wish." He gestures for Josephine to move further into the church, and down the hidden passage.

Altar To The Lady of Suffering

[Frigid]

Before the rows of pews is a large altar of pure white marble, raised upon a curved marble platform. The ceramic design on the floor begins around the dais, diverging like rays of the sun. Behind the altar is the Lady of Suffering in flawless alabaster, overlooking the entire church. A narrow path on either side leads around and behind it.



A person wearing a voluminous black robe with scarlet accents's fingers flutter around the handle of a steel katar with acid-etched designs filled with silver. "Do you wish to be burnt, after?" he asks, voice low in this place.



Josephine pauses as they enter into the leg of the church, then moves towards the alabaster lady. "A moment, please." She says off handedly to a person wearing a voluminous black robe with scarlet accents with a small smile his direction. "One last prayer... burnt? Well, that is all up to you. My body would be best burned I suppose.."



Josephine kneels in silent reflection.



Josephine's head bows in private contemplation.



Josephine whispers a determined statement of faith.



Josephine murmurs a final petition, hands clasped earnestly.



Josephine rises to her feet having completed her supplications.



A person wearing a voluminous black robe with scarlet accents awaits the closing of Josephine's prayer before approaching. "If you wish to fight, to draw your knife..." he exhales a tense breath. "Now is your chance."



He thinks to himself, "Killing an unarmed woman... no, it is for the Family. You swore."



"No fight, even if I wished to I wouldn't need to draw my knife." Josephine relays to the man with a small grin. "You should know we mages can call our elements if we so desire to."



"Very well," a person wearing a voluminous black robe with scarlet accents murmurs, his lips twitching into a sad frown. "Turn and face your Lady once more, with your back to me." He exhales another slow breath. "I will try to make it quick."



Josephine inclines her chin a moment, her own lips curving into a matching frown as she complies with him. "I's doaai sisi aori." She whispers into the air about her, Vandagan sounding familiar to her tongue.



With a smooth and quick movement, a person wearing a voluminous black robe with scarlet accents draws up a steel katar with acid-etched designs filled with silver and, with a smooth movement plunges it through Josephine's back - where her heart should be. As the blade plunges the skin, it's faint, but a quiet gasp comes from the hooded man.



Josephine arches as the blade plunges, her own gasp escaping as well. A hand rises to where the cold metal slips through the soft flesh which makes up her person. "Thank you." She whispers out, eyes wide with surprise.



He thinks to himself, "Thank you...? An unarmed woman, through the back, oh Lord... steady mate, steady."



A person wearing a voluminous black robe with scarlet accents pulls the blade free with a violent jerk, pressing Josephine towards the statue of the Lady of Suffering. His lips are a tight, thin line, and he watches Josephine silently as the blood starts to pool.



Josephine stumbles forward, slumping upon the Lady. Her hands reach about, holding to the statue. A cough is somewhat restrained, but still it sends a spraying splatter of crimson droplets about.



A person wearing a voluminous black robe with scarlet accents collapses to his knees, a steel katar with acid-etched designs filled with silver sliding from his grip and onto the floor with a loud clattering. "frak..." he mutters. "frak, frak, frak..."



He thinks to himself, "Pull it together. You can't be a fuckin' child anymore."



He thinks to himself, "Come on boyo... get a grip. She's a mage!"

He thinks to himself, "Right... a mage."



A person wearing a voluminous black robe with scarlet accents rises and walks over to where a steel katar with acid-etched designs filled with silver lays on the floor, swiping it up and into the folds of his robes. Then he moves over and, rubbing a palm into his face, looks over the corpse of Josephine Rikano.

[SlyViolin]

Tis why I love you, Leech...

Tis why I love you...