Arizima Sepret

She walks during the day just as easy as can be. Going to the jail, visiting him, talk to the others. She walks in the darkness just as simply as well. She lays her head where it is fit to be laid. She has no care on the outside, while on the in, her mind is in a constant battle with itself. She knows which path she could choose, but is it the right one… by now people know, they know her name , they know who she is, who she once was... but she stays shut in. She knows better to try and let anyone fully in. She seeks out answers, both below and above. No one is below to help her, but many are willing above. What does she do? She pulls the vial from her pack and slowly starts to sip, her eyelids fluttering as the first drop of liquid burns her throat like the spit of a kiss of a familiar lover. Yes, everything wwill be alright now... yes, she will survive as long as she has her one thing...She returns to the jail to see him every day... something in his look, in his demeanor is comforting to her, like an old, favorite dressing gown. More confusion, more struggles. What is this feeling. It cannot be.... she thought she was over these assinine things called feelings, she thought she was getting over them.. She walks around now in a near-trance state from the liquid, using the wall to support her. Sleep, deep deep dark, peaceful dreamless sleep... that will help her, yes. That is all she needs... when she is alseep, she does not have to think.Strings pulling this way and that. The struggles.... tearing, ripping, pulling.. wanting, needing, loving, hating, good, dark, light...feelings...struggles. Her mind reeling as she tongues the last bit of liquid from the vial and closes her eyes. Yes, sleep will come easy for once

Flom

_He waits for her. Day by day, he depends on her. When he hears her voice he smiles. Every day he thinks about her, the way she tastes, the way she smells. Reminding him so much of simpler times all the while confusing him to the point where he isn't himself. These two-faced emotions become a blur.

Was it the blood? Or was it her?

He refuses to become a monster,
Refuses to be damned with this vile addiction.

Friends, gone.
Power, gone.
Money, gone.

The only person who visits on a reguler basis is the person who confuses him the most._

Zyphlin

He watches over her, his cold steel helm hiding the judging eyes that lie behind it. He had been watching the change within her, the growth, the enlightenment. She was walking into the darkness, embracing it, and finding herself within it. He would be her guide in this, but in the end the paths she walked must be hers to decide, only then will one truly find thier destination. He frowned watching her head to Peltarch though, the worried look on her face. That one was trouble, the same ilk as Zanetar but with less muscle and a bit of a spark in him to tap into the inferior weave. However he simply watched her go before turning back, returning unseen to his city. This was her path to walk, but he would be there standing at the end

Sleep. Darkly wonderful sleep… she awakes under a tree, tears on her face as she remembers her dream. "No" she thinks, wiping her tears as she stands and stretches "It is just not right... this is just not right." She walks up to those at the fire and asks about her friends.... "He is where?" She askes? "Jail, Peltarch" She runs with all her might up to the city she has been to only a handful of times to find him, sitting there, wasting away. She starts spending more and more time in the city, in the jail. Trying to help, she realizes her dreams are coming true.... she is changing.

She dives into work, speaking with the cleric who helped her so, and then training in her off time.. keeping her mind away from everything. Then the snakes come.. as big and bold as ever, only not just shadows anymore… they are there, she can see them, crawling, slithering after her, dropping down on her head from the trees above. People look at her when she speaks of them, they cannot see...they do not know what it is that haunts her. Then one night, as she speaks to him... he takes her into his room, just for a drink and to try to get her to relax.

He holds out his hand as she sits, a small disk in his palm, and starts to chant and move the disk over his knuckles, telling her to just concentrate on it. She does as told, for he is one who she respects.As he speaks his words to her, the snakes cease to be, they are crushed by the darkness surrounding him. She blinks and looks to his face with a small smile, the first meant smile, the first of her own smiles....

They drink until dawn and then sleep... but the dreams start coming... she murmurs a single name as she sleeps... Muriella

She walks into the inn one night, badly beaten and supported by the banite Zanetar. He leads her directly to a room, the room she has come to call hers. He helps her to the bed with a sigh, and moves to lock the door. He comes back to her, sitting on the bed beside her, helping her to remove her armor, careful of her broken arm. "Ari, my love. " He says. "Why must you pick such fights… you know you could not win." He finishes unstrapping her armor and looks over her badly bruised body, then lays her back and pulls the cover over her after washing the wounds. He leans in and kisses her, then moves to sleep on the other side of the bed.

The next day she is still sore, but when she awakes, she sees him looking at her. She insists on getting back to her post, but he sits next to her, keeping one hand on her stomach and explaining to her that she would be more of a hinderance and not a help in her state. She looks at his hand, then back to him as he leans in and kisses her.

Over the next couple of weeks, she grows distant from him as she starts to get sick.After a month, a cleric finally tells her the unthinkable... she is with child. No! She thinks. She knows she cannot have this child. She tells only those she can confide in, terrified to tell him... Afraid to tell the father of this ..thing that grows inside of her. Finally he finds her in the woods, and cannot escape what is. As she tells him, his eyes light up. As she tells him of what she can do to end this unwanted thing, his eyes fall. He devises a plan.. he is going to try and convince her that if she ends this, she will be killing a citizen... she cannot bring herself to do that, but she will not end her training and heads off to the nars one night as she knows he sleeps.

She returns and sticks a note on the door of the inn, telling everyone what happened, the note is smeared in blood and dirt. He blood, and the dirt from where she dug up a shallow grave for the infant. She peeks into her room, seeing HIM there and walks down the hall, finding an empty bed.

She thrives in her new home… many changes have come about. She is no longer under the fathers thrall, and through the work of one she calls Sir, she has begun to realize what all the father has done to her. This has allowed her to grow and mature as what she is, a woman and a fighter... but something else is happening... as she sleeps. She does not know it yet, but things are happening. One major change everyone seems to notice is after two months on the death plane, she appears out in the center of the town one morning. She is naked, and the marks... all the marks... are gone. What has happened to her up there? When asks, all she can answer is that a dark dark figure has removed the marks. Who is this figure? Why did he do this? She does not know.She feels strange without the markings.. men looks at her often, and she does not seem to realize that the face behind the tattoos is amazing.

2 weeks later

She walks into the graveyard, looking for the fresh grave of the man who called himself father. She smiles as she sees it, then gets to work. LAying down the shovel and pick she has brought with her she swiftly starts to dig with her hands, her pace almost frantic. When she can dig no longer, she takes the pick up and starts loosening the dirt, then using the shovel to expose the coffin. Grinning she uses the pick one more time to bust it open.

She reaches in and a small snapping sound is heard as she dislodges her prize. Her hands come up holding a skull, split nearly in half. "Hello father." She says, her voice still mocking.

While at the graveyard she helps herself to a small hin body, cutting one foot off, showing no remorse for what she is doing. She grins, wrapping her new found treasures and disappears into the night.

The new father, the birth father, takes her alone into the Nars after talking with the others. "Muriella, I…" She stops him with a raised hand. "Arizima" She says. "My name is Arizima." He continues without stopping, "We have spoken, and you cannot continue to travel with us if you do not change your ways and accept our god as your own." She frowns slightly at this, then suddenly smiles, her voice mocking his. "You are turning me away then.... father?" As she talks her hand slowly moves down to her side and she undoes one of the buckles of the various axes and weapons she carries on her now. She raises the axe quickly and buries it deep into his skull before shrugging slightly and heading south.

The girl is a robust and strong fighter. Under the markings given to her at a young age she is growing beautiful as she looses her childish looks and becomes a young teenager. She sleeps in the old priests room, in a seperate bed near the door. Both ever viligent, even now, in the darkest hours. Suddenly, as if on cue, they both sit up, their hands reaching for their blades.

Too late…

The man in the golden armor pushes a sword though the ribcage of the old priest. Deftly she is on her feet, moving as quietly as possible to the armored man, her sword ready to strike.

Too late...

Many hands grab her from behind as the man who stands in front of her whirls around, grabbing her sword hand, trying to wrest the sword from within her grasp. He stops suddenly as his eyes lock onto the hand. He slowly brushes the birthmark with the back of his thumb

" M…m... muriella?"

The next day, the devotees gather around the girl, their girl. The priest approached her slowly, a young cleric walking behind him, carrying a chest. The priest opened the chest and produced a set of highly decorated armor, made for her. He knelt and fitted the armorr onto her seven year old body with a small smile. He reached back into the chest and pulled out a sword, still in its sheathe. Before strapping it to her waist he looked her in the eyes. "Do you know why I chose you, out of all the boys and girls around?" he asked softly, his voice fond. "Because you were chosen by Him." He took her small hand in his and brushed his thumb over the small birthmark on the back of her hand. "He gave you this, just as he gave you to us. Are you ready to work?" He hands her the blade and she looks up to him and smiles. "Yes father." The priests eyes move to the young cleric, though he still speaks to her. "On my word I want you to draw your swrord and aim for his heart."

4 more years pass. The priest leads the young Arizima to the alter and gently presses the dagger into her hand. "You know what to do." He says and steps back. She looks to him a moment with child eyes and nods, then steps to the alter. She lowers the blade, and starts to chant, then slides the blade into the flesh of the woman who lay tied to the alter. The preist watches with amusement as the child follows his orders. :She is ready," he mumbles under his breath. "You are ready." He repeats to her as he moves up beside her, placing an arm around her shoulder.

The priest looked at the toddler as the faithful held her down. "This will only hurt for for a moment, my dear. PLease just try and stay still."
The girl lets out a shriek, tears slipping down her little cheeks as the priest carves designs into her body and face, rubbing ink into the wounds.
Afterwards, the priest pulls her to him, sitting her on his lap and comforting her.
'You have done very well my dear. You are strong, much stronger than we have ever thought. I am your father now. You will be knowns as Arizima Sepret, and you will make the lord proud"