OOC: *Warning**Warning**Warning* There Is a long post ahead.

This world...this life...do I truly understand any of it? My death was foretold yet I delay the inevitable even longer. Over my shoulder, behind my back the specter of life and death looms as if preparing to reap my soul...but he has no weapon within his grasp. No sword, no spear, no scythe. Such an image as this one has plagued my thoughts for many nights...many months...maybe even many years. It just seems since I abandoned my people of the North every movement, every thought, every action; each are invaded by the foretold presence and image of the unarmed specter. Am I supposed to slay him? Should I swing at nothingness before the others around me so they can declare my insanity and laugh at the poor man recklessly assaulting what appears to be nothing but thin air? It doesn't matter...my actions that is, but what does my matter is the face of the threatening specter. Such a familiar visage...but his bodily build and muscular physique are not even close to something I remember. Sad...stalked by an unknown specter that only I can see...forced to abandon my people...and now I'm on my own once more. With nothing but the rugged, tattered, and torn shirt upon my shoulders I, the great Mike Namaru, shall depart upon the never-ending path that winds through my future...and over my forsaken past.

Laying upon the firm yet fertile soil of the town known as Valud, Mike gazed upward at a graceful dance of utter bliss being performed in the sky. Clouds dotted across a light blue stage of emptiness maneuvered majestically to and fro, as if attempting to entertain or maybe even amuse Namaru as his wandering eyes scrutinized the heavenly array. This situation could only be described as utter peace, coated with a harmonic outer layer. But such a moment was shattered once Mike closed his eyes in a state of relaxation, only to see the eyes of the specter watching him carefully. Within his own mind thoughts began to flow and question each other as he spoke aloud to the horrifying specter, "You, why are you here? Exactly what do you want from me? My soul...is it my tainted soul you wish to reap?"

No response exited the exposed jaws of the specter as his hooded figure swayed silently within the mind of the stressed Mike Namaru. The dreary cloak that coated the specter's body was as dark as the sky itself upon a night of many storms. The only flesh of the specter's that was revealed from his cloak was his oddly shaped visage that seemed out of proportion in appearance. But to conclude this peculiar set of physical alterations the specter's eyes were a solid bronze color that gleamed somewhat mysteriously in the darkness of Mike's mind. The appearance of such a man frightened Mike deeply, thus he opened his eyes with absolute haste and revealed his presence once more to the engulfing sunlight around him.

Warmth from the beautiful day itself consumed Namaru's body completely as he basked in the delightful rays of light. Such a day as this one easily erased the mental and physical scars of Mike's past away from his current wave of thoughts, unleashing a peaceful state of mind beyond any other. But no matter how graceful, elegant, or majestic a day appeared it was known that evil was roaming beyond it and chaos itself was awaiting to be tamed. These troubles could easily be forgotten, for evil and chaos were no threat to the power and sheer brutality of Mike Namaru.

"A beautiful day it is, a day beautiful enough for redemption." Spoke a shirtless Mike as he rolled over onto his exposed stomach, pushing it heavily upon the tender farming soil. Now lying face-down the tattoos engraved upon his shoulders were emphasized in a whole new manner; random words, rhymes, and symbols trailed down his back only to entwine with one another forming a jumbled paradox. But now with closed eyes and a relaxed mind the cheerful man solemnly dozed off into a slumber as his mind departed from the plane of reality...for now.

A fair distance away from the area where Mike rested in a state of tranquility stood a farmer holding a pitchfork within his grasp. He had recently brought today's duties to a conclusion as his eyes gleamed proudly whilst gazing at the cylinder shaped piles of hay he had assembled. The farmer finally felt at ease, for now he had an opportunity to visit the Hazel Inn that he held great value for. The quality of their food and ale always distracted the farmer's mind from worrying over his long list of tasks begging to be completed and the constant stress of living such a simple life. But of course the farmer would bring his family also. Lately his sons Tomas and Donald were performing a magnificent amount of work for someone of their age. And how could he forget, his wife Laretta would have to accompany him so they could have a complete family dinner. Sighing with relief the farmer's mind rushed with emotions and images of happiness and bonding as the family ate together at the renowned restaurant...but a deep, yet gruff voice demolished the farmer's daydreaming state abruptly, "Hey, old man tell me all you know about a half-orc passing through this town or trust me, you'll regret it."

During the time when the farmer had shut his eyes to create visions of how he and his family would spend their dinner at the Hazel Inn two youthful figures unfamiliar to the farmer had appeared before him. Both of them were male in gender, appearances though varied greatly between the duo. The boy on the left had bright crimson locks that dangled freely over his forehead, creating a rough match with his tanned skin that gripped his muscular figure tightly. He was clad in a simple tunic of a darkened orange shade that was outlined in a bright red sparkling trim. Adding the final touch to his appearance was a towering sword constructed from two separate blades. The largest blade was a massive cleaver-like sword that possessed overpowering width, the opposing blade was slim and of great length, the exact opposite of its brethren, and merged with its predecessor at the tip of its handle. This man's appearance, blade and all was frightening, but the man's visage tended to give off a certain easing vibe. Right now this man's appearance was not a relaxing one at all from the farmer's perspective, for he was barely managing to stand still in his nervous state with such a weapon aimed directly at him.

The man who had spoken in his blatantly loud tone stood beside the fiery haired one with the astonishing blade. He stood solemnly, almost nobly as his hair swayed easily in the morning's crisp breeze. His features were simple, but the expression on his face appeared complex, almost confusing. Thickly coating the top of this man's scalp were brunette locks that narrowly managed to stretch halfway over the man's forehead. Streaking to and fro shades of darkened blue were striped across his brunette hair; the blue shading blended in amazingly despite the fact it was such an exotic color. To conclude this man's striking appearance were two thin swords of astounding length that were attached to each of his hips. The left sword darted outward at a 45 degree angle while the opposing one upon his right hip formed an absolute straight line at 180 degrees. Both of these mysterious figures seemed powerful in appearance, and most likely powerful in strength too.

"I don't have anything you want...I don't know anything you want to know...please...please leave me be! I am a father of two children and a loving husband to my wife, spare me I beg of you!" The farmer bellowed nervously as he shook violently in his life threatening state. He had never been faced by people that were as strong as these two in appearances, thus the farmer shivered in his own fear before their blades.

"OId man, we understand that you have a nice, loving, caring family on this little farm of yours, but we want some information. I'm just telling you, my buddy here is known to get a tad bit violent in situations such as these. So the best thing you could possibly do is tell us everything you know." Spoke the twin blade wielding man as he smirked with ease, offering a hearty expression in this dire situation. He offered his friend a slight glance only to see how close his blade actually was to the throat of the farmer. This allowed the man to feel a sense of regret, though he truly did not mind if he killed the farmer or not.

"I swear! I swear that I do not know anything! There is none now or there wasn't any half-orcs passing through this town. I've told you all I know, please spare my life!" The farmer was now cowering before the might of the man who held such monstrous sword to his throat. His life sluggishly began to pass before his eyes in an act of human nature, for he expected death would be the only way to resolve this situation.

"Heel Marca, allow me to take care of this." These words were released calmly from the jaws of one who wielded the twin blades. Almost instantly upon command his comrade Marca, the one who brandished the exotic sword, stepped away from the farmer while still gripping the hilt of his weapon taut. The farmer was left no time to relax, because as Marca stepped away from the farmer the one with the twin swords stepped forth and immediately pointed one of his weapons directly at the farmer's heart, and his other under the farmer's throat; as if preparing to thrust into his jugular veins.

"Don't! NO! DON'T KILL ME!!!" Fear had manifested itself within the farmer's mind and only the human instincts of begging, pleading, and crying for life remained. The situation was even more grim than it once was, for now the farmer's dreams of enjoying a nice meal with his family were farthest from his mind. The only topic his mind was willing to discuss was planning an escape or plotting a survival plan. These thoughts were exactly that...mere thoughts nothing more. Escape was impossible...death was inevitable.

"Since I am a man of some honor, I will allow you last words of your choice. Lowlife scum." The words were spoken in a solemn fashion whilst the twin blade wielding man's visage held a taut grip on its stoic appearance.

Last words...last words, what would the farmer even dare to say as his final words upon this planet? Would he cry for help in attempt to summon his sons to defend him? No, no, he did not want to endanger their lives also...but what if these two planned to kill them anyway? Should he inform his sons to flee? So complex...so confusing...such a paradox...such a predicament. But what if...exactly. Finally the farmer had reached a solution to the question of what he desired his final words to be.

"MIIIIIIIIKKKKKKKKKKKKKKEEE!!! HELP ME!" The two threatening the farmer's life were rather intrigued by the words with rising interest in their minds. The wielder of the double swords stepped down from preparing to kill the farmer and backed away to stand parallel with his comrade.

"Hey, do you think it is him, Tsum?(pronounced Toom)" Questioned Marca, revealing his partner's identity finally. It seemed the two held a strong feeling toward the name "Mike" mentioned by the farmer.

"Actually Marca, I think we found the answer to your question already." Almost on command once the farmer's plead for help from Mike had been brought to a close the once at ease figure appeared standing tall before the farmer. A smirk was plastered across his lips, but despite the cheery expression being displayed by his visage upon his fists two monstrous weapons sat. Twin metallic gauntlets that seemed to be constructed from a sturdy mineral were fitted precisely onto Namaru's fists. His knuckles fit perfectly in the spot assigned to them, and due to this exact fitting his arms seemed not sore, nor in pain from the heavy gauntlets he brandished. The most deadly feature of these weapons though were the spiked ends that jutted out at least two inches from each of his knuckle ends; adding to a total of 8 pointed spikes in all reaching out from his fists of overwhelming strength.

"So, are you the fabled Mike Namaru, deserter of the Miscelites, and plague of my tribe's people?" The words were expressed not by the tone of Tsum's voice, but the expression his was portraying. His voice was at ease...but his visage revealed only an enraged hate for the one called Mike Namaru.

"But Tsum, he doesn't even look like a half-orc...though he does brandish a set of weapons one would." Replied Marca in an attempt to check to see if Tsum's assumption was truly correct.

"Heh, nice to meet you two also. So, how about you leave this farm? I mean it wouldn't be such a bad idea, now would it?" Mike's face barely managed to hold the massive grin his lips were displaying.

"I'll gladly kill you..." Despite this comment from Tsum Mike's smirk remained. "I'll rip your guts out...disembowel you while you live..." Mike's smile appeared to not be going anywhere. "You better take me seriously or I'll slice off each of your appendages, remove your heart whilst it still beats, and drink your blood from your own skull afterwards..." And the smile remained..."FEAR ME ALREADY! SHRIVEL IN FEAR YOU WELP, JUST LIKE THE FARMER DID!!!!"

"Oh I am shivering in fear, that's why I'll take both of you on at the same time." Mike spoke with absolute confidence as he broke down into his self taught fighting stance influenced from the ways of Orc fighting. Mike was now mentally and physically prepared for the fight to come...but nonetheless it seemed the odds were actually against him.

"Whatever your wish is, jackass." Marca could not resist but to add such a wisecrack as he and Tsum surrounded the seemingly arrogant, but yet heroic Mike Namaru.

((Excellent first post ^_^ And, just because I’m feeling lazy, Cassandra’s usual gown looks somewhat like thus, except for emerald in color. That said, onward with the post!))

The night, for Cassandra, had been restless… even the stars had shimmered their glory endlessly in an agitated fervor, as if they, too, struggled to succumb to the calm of slumber. The profound musings that flowed about the Celestials thoughts would no sooner silence as they would resolve… the questions she longed to have answered held no solutions and the betrayals she sought to forget had already left their scars upon her spirits. Though sleep might have come and gone, it offered only nightmares of anguished love and painful deaths… from the loss of her daughter, to her granddaughter, to her closest companion and follower… the list went on, and her night grew colder.

It was no wonder that the splendor of dawn had thusly caught her off-guard, gloomy as her midnight had been. The colors that she saw splashed across the canvas of the heavens took away the darkness of her pensive remembrances, touching the recesses of her empty heart and lighting again what few dusty embers remained. The sunrise had an offering of hope, a sacrifice hidden beneath the vibrant painting of day’s birth… it offered the realization that she had made it one more day without being strangled by the reality of her newly gray world. Though the Goddess of life, she had found herself betrayed by her own creation, forgotten and forsaken, time and time again… an eternity was a long time to break. She had reached her limit, and was now slave to this gray world she forced herself to live in, knowing that here at least there was no wide spectrum of pain and love, sadness and joy. There was no black, no white… just the serene nothingness of gray.

She could survive in this lonely philosophy she now lived in, though some days seemed to drag on forever, and others passed so swiftly she hardly felt herself blink. Deep within the burning flames of her emerald eyes still remained the everlasting hope that tomorrow would bring the answers she sought, the hope she clung to, and the dreams she feared would never come true. In more ways than one, she was fighting to find her happy ending.

But as the dawn danced overhead she knew that the coming day was one to relish in, a celebration at her own survival in spite of the hardships fate had pressed upon her along the way. A celebration that took her to a town she had come to claim as a town of tranquility… a peaceful resting area, not crowded like the other cities, but simply thriving on the uncomplicated threads of life that its prosperous land offered to it. Her chosen destination… Valud.

The day’s hours passed quickly by as she spent her time traveling along the harbor, feet hanging off the pier as she danged them towards the shimmering surface below. She moved on to visit with some of the mortals she had befriended long ago, spirits lifting from her previously solemn night as she allowed the leisure pace of the town to warmly consume her. It was not long before she began traveling along the farmlands, finding solace among the nutrient rich soil that would house her own flowering creations. Her own serenity, however, was to last only so long. In the distance she saw two men threatening what appeared to be a helpless farmer, and immediately worked her way towards the situation, visage already drawn into a determined expression as she planned how to get the farmer to safety.

By the time she reached the three a fourth had already joined, seemingly a man dubbed Mike, or so she gathered from the farmer’s loud cry for help. She hid herself along a nearby shed, watching from behind the wooden walls, magic already forming upon the tip of her tongue as she prepared to stop any fight from happening before one could get injured. She had no desire to be found out, not unless the conflict grew too great, for fear that she was perhaps overreacting and the four were in fact just friends having a rather misleading conversation.

Of course, the last snippet of the conversation she caught sounded an awful lot like a threat unless the big brute that spoke the words mistook Mike for a donkey.

“Come now, you wouldn’t dare fight in front of a lady, would you?’ Her overly noble sounding voice softly pierced through the tension of the air, her tone exaggerated in mock regality as she stepped forth from her chosen place of hiding. Her emerald gown twirled around her feet as she swayed confidently towards the group of men, gaze temporarily touching and holding upon that of the farmer, her eyes reflecting a silent message of encouragement, seemingly letting him know that everything was going to be alright.

Not that she felt he would believe her, of course. She was just a “harmless” female, and unarmed at that. Such facades were played on purpose, as setting forth the innocent card would hopefully catch the lot of them off-guard. She would not stand to see any blood shed, if possible. Her main concern was protecting the farmer, the only one she knew to be innocent, and second the man named Mike who had come to his protection.

“Though I suppose your attempt to kill the innocent takes you out of the ‘gentleman’ category, does it not?” She stepped closer to the group as she spoke, her piercingly confident gaze resting fearlessly upon the two men who had started the fight. All the while she worked her own magic, Life flowing unseen around her form, though one attuned to the aura of her element might have been aware of her silent workings.

Her mind slowly called forth thin vines to sprout from the ground beneath Marca and Tsum, so small in size that they were hardly seen, though strong enough to easily withstand a few hundred pounds. She then worked the vines around their ankles, so gently that she hoped they would not be able to feel them until it was too late. It only took a matter of seconds, and in the meantime she hoped to keep them preoccupied with her own sudden appearance.

“But you see, I am no ordinary lady, and I will not stand for such behavior from pig-headed men such as yourself.” She smirked lightly here, grin tugging on her flush lips as if she were trying to rile the two nemesis’ spirits.

If they were to move forward or backwards in an effort to attack, immediately the magically summoned vines would tug them to the ground, and would finish the attack by speedily growing around their bodies, tying their arms and weapons to the soft soil beneath them. Of course, for now they remained harmless, merely waiting for the two men to make their move.

She turned her gaze slightly to look momentarily at Mike; even in that brief glimpse one could tell that her previous words had been sincere… she was certainly no ordinary lady.