The Beast and the Shaman

The Beast and the Shaman
Date of Scene:	25 July 2013
Location:	British Countryside
Synopsis:	A shaman encounters a beast doing what they do best, terrorizing small villages.
Cast of Characters:	Disarray Grimstone, Blivon

---

Disarray Grimstone has posed:
The fact that this particular village is all but empty is probably the first sign that something isn't quite right. The second, would be the screams. A woman's high-pitched voice pleads, her words almost indistinguishable. Then, there is an explosion of fire that cuts through one side of a house, throwing a burly looking man down onto the street, his clothing smouldering. Struggling to get to his feet, he coughs, then falters, struggling for breath.

Stepping through the hole in the building is what could only be described as a beast. A huge, six-foot something creature with massive horns and sharp teeth prowls through the still smoking ruins, dragging a hammer the size of an anvil behind it.

Disarray. The beast's tail twitches, eyes narrowing on the man as she begins to approach, the heavy chainmail on her legs making rasping sounds as she walks. Closing the distance, the monster seems to have every malicious intent for the poor man still struggling on his knees, and then... a woman throws herself in front of the monster. Clearly, this is the one who had been screaming before.

The beast snarls, raising a hand to smack the sobbing woman to the side, her form crumpling to the ground at the monster's feet. Stepping over her as if she were little more than a bug, the monster continues her approach, "You had to choose the hard way, but don't worry. I won't kill you just yet." Her tail snaps again, a feral grin on her features.

Blivon has posed:
Hearing the sounds of suffering is Blivon, who could already tell that there was something afoot.... or even amiss, in this particular hamlet. The fiery conflagration is a great indicator that there is trouble emanating from a certain portion of the ville, and he doesn't fancy himself a hero, but he does have a self-image of a philanthropist, to some degree. He's made a few errors in his day, but the future is all he can really do anything about, unless by some chance he learns how to reverse time- it is said that in Ivalice, the Time-God, Zomalla, can transport one through time and space either backwards or forwards. Aside from folks like Rofel and Kletian, who are all-out /sorcerers/ in respect to the occult, Blivon will not be doing this anytime soon.

In his own right, he has druidic powers that allow him to call out to nature, which is why he's often seen lumbering around with a zebra-color-schemed abnormally large raccoon beside him, almost the size of a small lion. Blivon himself is somewhere between six to seven feet, much like the horned beast; one of the main differences, even so, is that she's probably a tad more bulky in muscle, giving her incredible strength, whereas the shaman has lean-muscle, which is well and good, but if they should end up in tight quarters in a wrestling match, the nature-boy may have a mild problem, presumably! For now, Disarray is making short work of a couple who originate from the tiny town, and while he doesn't try to mask his arrival in any way, he doesn't have as much armor as the tiger-tank. When Blivon approaches the scene, Disa may have already smelled him before his arrival, and it could be that she planned to ambush him- yet, with eyewitnesses(victims) right there, they'd forewarn the guru in a second, sabotaging an ambush.... Disa is probably smart enough to know better than to try to pull off an impromptu concealment.

Whatever the case, instead of coming into only a meter or two, he stays at least several yards away, so as to avoid triggering further wrath from the beast-woman, since it's already apparent that she's a loose-cannon. What he does do, even from his vantage point, which is plain as day to see, is to call a Nightingale fort, which swoops down and attempts to encircle the man who was just sent airborne onto the ground, trying to arise presently. The bird, if successful, will restore a low to moderate amount of health, alongside stamina; additionally, if there are any status ailments in his current condition, those noxious impurities will be drawn. "....I don't claim to know the nature of this spectacle, yet, it would seem to me that carrying out a sentence would necessitate a legally designated facility for corporal punishment." It may not be certain if he's trying to apologize to Disarray for his interruption, or if he's reassuring the victims of the attack, but here he is, even so, playing the role of the interloper, hoping a more peaceful resolution can be reached.

Disarray Grimstone has posed:
The strange creature who seems more feline than anything else pauses mid-step, watching the strange magical bird as it goes so far as to heal the man she'd put so much effort into beating the crap out of. "If you think this is some sort of court of law, you're sorely mistaken." Disarray reaches down, grabbing the man before he can scramble off, hefting him up to his feet by his shirt. The man's legs wheel for a moment, held aloft. For now, she's ignoring the interruption, "One last chance to take the opportunity I've given you. Work for me willingly, and you and your female get to live. Refuse... and you'll work for me anyways, but I can't guarantee that either of you will make it out in one piece."

The man looks at Disarray, and then to the fallen form of his wife, and only then does he lower his head. "Fine... you win." The man mutters, drawing a fiendish smile from the beast. "Good..." The dragon on her wrist band flickers a tongue, and where it touches the man's skin, a dark mark appears as if he'd been burnt, but the man doesn't even flinch from it. "You'll come to the crossroads tomorrow with your things, or I'll come to find you, and I won't be so cordial."

The man is dropped like a sack of flour beside his wife, leaving Disarray's eyes to scan over the armored man and his equally massive mount. She doesn't seem to have any fear of either of them, regardless of size. "Now, if you'll excuse me." Strange how the woman seems to speak politely, even while she had been giving those threats. There's something strange that doesn't quite fit her beastly exterior, but that doesn't make her any less dangerous.

The hammer is slung into a holder across her back, the massive weapon dangling against her shoulder. As she walks past a building, moving to make her way up the street and beyond Blivon, a few people peek out of their houses and then hide again as she passes. Clearly, these people knew to hide from the monster, but that doesn't stop her from scraping her claws against the windows, making the glass squeel in protest.

Blivon has posed:
The raccoon wasn't exactly /his/ mount, to be precise, but it was a mount, because at one the overgrown weasel had been the steed for a friend of his; it wasn't exactly a fighting companion, either, despite having claws and fangs as is innate to most raccoon-kind, yet it was more along the lines of a pet. Blivon weighed a little too much to ride it, and if he did subject the poor quadruped, it wouldn't last long. Not impressed or distressed that Disa is unconcerned by his presence, he nods to her, acknowledging that she wasn't enforcing any sort of law. He certainly didn't approve of her activities, but he had no jurisdiction over the conduct of others, for the most part- just the fact that she didn't feel unnerved by his appearance was soothing enough to encourage him to make an inquiry or two, before she had time to leave, if she'd be generous enough to humor him.

If she wasn't angry or afraid of him, that was a good thing, because there was less of a chance he'd become a recipient of the brand of treatment that was utilized against the fellow who she 'possessed'? The shaman was a little uneasy around her, but not so much that he was beyond having the internal grit needed to approach her- familiarity was said to've bred contempt, so until Blivon could acquaint himself with her enough to feel like he'd be comfortable in any dealings with this strange monstrosity, he'd probably keep their interactions to a minimum. Trust-building was essential with predatory animals, after all.... this druid had a lion-sized raccoon which was capable of shredding a pony if it wanted to, and this wasn't the only sentient threat Blivon had 'tamed' before. On the other hand.... Disarray is not just sentient, but -sapient-, because of her ability to articulate her sentiments in an orderly, and perhaps remotely mannerly fashion, even if she'd just exhibited a great outburst of violence moments prior; as a creature with the ability to rationalize and communicate complex ideas and thoughts, it would require much more subtlety and precision to not end up in a scuffle with Disarray. Unbeknownst to him, she is not just an ordinary fighter, moreover, the elite of the elite- a shadow lord, and this isn't to say that Blivon would elect to trifle with anyone thoughtlessly, but to toy with the likes of Disa could be disastrous!

Whether the outcome of an altercation would favor her, or himself.... in the end, Blivon would walk away a much less healthy person, win or lose, but even just her appearance is enough to warrant caution, so he'll put his best foot forward if he's to address the abomination whose name he has yet to know, "I didn't know what to think. But in a sense.... I wager one could consider it a court of law." He turns to her as she passes him by, wondering if she'll feel tempted to listen to his words, but as if to entice her to engage him further, he tacks on another idea to support his thesis, "In the end, a court consists of a judge, a jury, and an executioner. In most cases, that means three separate institutions manifested in multiple parties, whereas, in this case, all of those parts have been rolled into one." Strange that he'd disapprove of seeing others suffer, to the effect that he'd intercede to medicate, yet, simultaneously, refrain from patronizingly judging someone even as bestial in visage as the one named Disarray!

Disarray Grimstone has posed:
Ever so carefully, Disarray traces a claw in a circle on one window, her nose twitching. It's clearly for effect. Just one more little notion to strike fear. Let them fear her. Fear would keep them docile, or it would make them fight. One would be useful, the other, entertaining. Behind her, the man is just trying to help his wife to her feet, although the two eye both Blivon and Disarray with a look of fear. They're quick to escape to the alleyways and other homes beyond, perhaps hoping that by running they would escape her. The chase would be all the more fun a diversion, and then she would still get what she wanted one way or the other.

Her head turns to the voice of the intruder, long ears flicking once. "Think of it more as an... employment opportunity. One that comes with a quite good healthcare plan. That is, if he doesn't play along willingly, someone will get hurt." The beast chuckles low in her chest, turning towards him. Her head tilts as she looks at him, appraising the man who stands before her like one would expect from a person admiring a fine stallion. "I doubt you'd be useful to me... at least not as a worker, anyways." Her green eyes show wicked mirth, sabertoothed fangs glinting as she laughs. "Maybe there'd be other uses, depending on what you look like underneath all that." Leave it to someone who has been badly judged on appearances to do just that. Then again, she clearly never learned the lesson that this form was meant to teach.

"Though, I'm afraid I can't linger here too long. It's only a matter of time before someone decides to get brave and try to attack the monster with pitchforks and torches." A smirk plays on the feline muzzle of the beast, her tail swishing behind her, "And I'd oh so hate to spill blood today. It's such a pain to get out of my fur."

Blivon has posed:
Blivon tilts his head to the side a sliver, listening to Disa with intrigue- he does have a thing for animals of the wild, predator and prey alike.... though mayhap not in the way that some lycanthropes might hope! But then.... As an ex-priest of Glabados who'd once allowed his lustful impulses lead him astray, he'd put much labor into purging certain aspects of his personality entirely. Not to complete success, but, he had more discipline than in the past, which is probably why he didn't try to thrash the tigress with his pole-flail upon seeing the horrific scenario that unfolded before his eyes, just a minute ago.

This doesn't mean he's going to be crass, in spite of Disa's innuendos, if they were indeed that craft of concept conveyance, and so, to be gentlemanly, he props his flail against the raccoon, which obediently stands still, acting as an instrument to keep the large armament from toppling to the ground. Reaching both hands to either side of his helmet, which looked like it was partially a stechhelm, whilst also being a nod to avian creatures, Blivon removes his headgear, revealing the face underneath. Beauty is relative, so whether or not he had an attractive face was debatable, but it was definitely Germanic in appearance, though with slightly raised cheekbones, and arc-shaped eyes; this, on the other hand, was not very extraordinary, when contrasted with other elements of his aesthetics, for he had tattoos upon his face just the same as his torso, and arms.... making him look like some heathen right from some wilderness. Tucking his helmet under his arm, he bowed slightly, "Blivon Joulim.... and depending on what's asked of me, I am possibly at your service." With his free hand, he grasped his flail, which had a bludgeon-head shaped like a ram's horn, so that Mitzi, his pet, wouldn't have to act like some kind of weaponry rack. It might start to become clear that he's got an affinity for nature, if Disa happens to take sight of the hippo-shaped emblem on his kite-shield, which is strapped to his back.... but that'd only be if she actually managed, or will manage to get a view of it.

As she mentions the snippet about her fur often getting bloodied, and posing a problem for sanitation, the shaman reaches into his hakama-looking leg-wear, then retrieves a small vial. "I believe this will help you to remove stains more easily. Mix it with water, and you'll get more uses out of it; its potency won't diminish much with dilution." He nods, extending the bottle towards her. Not that Disa was probably intimidated by him before, but at this point, she's probably less inclined to be of that persuasion, since, without the bird-helmet with the high crest, he's just shy of seven feet; the overly ornate, ceremonial helmet, crown included, probably brought him to near the eight mark.... He may be a little taller than her, but he's not extremely imposing without his helmet, especially when factoring in his warm grin, which isn't outright goofy, but ranges somewhere between that and serene, leading more towards serenity.

Disarray Grimstone has posed:
Without the gift of human features, it's hard to tell if the interest in him is genuine or not. There is so little conveyed on feline features, although her eyes look all too human. There's something unnerving about how little she moves, though, the beast standing perfectly still as he reaches for the helmet. Her breath and the subtle flick of her tail now and again are all that betray her mood.

It makes it equally hard to tell what she thinks about his strange, exotic appearance. Her head tilts, but her expression doesn't change much. "As much as I might enjoy making use of your... services, I doubt you're the sort to indulge in my sort of dark fancies." The feline creature chuffs once, her tail sweeping across the dusty street, eyes lingering too long on the features of his face.

Then, it moves onward, one by one, finding the little animalistic elements on his armor, and then finally moving to the flail, and the creatuer at his side. After that, her ears tick, catching the introduction, but not seeming too interested in responding any time than at her leisure. It's only after she's taken in as much as her attention-span will allow that she nods her head, "Most people call me Disarray." Her hands open, as if taking in the empty surroundings, "A fitting name, is it not?"

The edge of her muzzle quirks in something that might be a sardonic smile, but it doesn't linger long, replaced with curiousity as he offers some strange potion. Her clawed hand takes it, squinting at it slightly, but then tucks it into a pouch at her waist. Neither the size of his pet nor his height seem to bother her, as the beast stands easily a head above normal people. That's not to say she isn't fearless, but right now, he doesn't seem like a threat. "I apologize if you had business in this town. I'm sure it'll get back to normal after I leave. It's... difficult to find help these days, so I have to acquire it in whatever ways possible." She shrugs, indifferently. It's unlikely that she really cares about any inconvenience caused to others, but it's the sort of thing you said if only to make a mockery of politeness.

Blivon has posed:
The guru is studying her facial expressions, but not too intently, as he doesn't want to seem overly nosy, and if he stares too much, it might stimulate hostility within Disarray, since some people(or animals) don't like being treated like a science experiment. It was true that Blivon paid heed to everything around him when possible, but etiquette was the key to survival, especially when confronted by dangerous beings in the World of Ruin.... and now the climate was more precarious than ever, because of the new presence of the beings called 'Heartless'. In all fairness, if Disarray is trying to put on a pokerface, she's done an excellent job of evading Blivon's ability to appraise her thoughts, and if not, it's a testament to how little disclosure a feline's expressions yields. Raising a brow when she admits that she might delight in whatever Blivon truly has to offer, his tensed orbicularis softens and lowers just as quickly, even though his lips quiver nervously in a vein so mild that it's practically invisible- 'dark fancies' are definitely something that makes him uneasy.... he is, after all, pretty much a cleric, which means he gravitates towards the light, purity, and all that other stuff which epitomizes a separation from hedonistic tendencies.

If she invited him to dine on a steak with her, he'd probably offer to eat the sides, and let her have the meat, since his palate was virtually that of a diehard vegetarian's. The healer-tank processes the fact that her behavior is a little askew, given that she hesitates before reciprocating in a warm capacity, as would be expected from more upstanding citizens eager to conform to the amicable ways of society.... but the fact that she'd just pummeled, then threatened those other folks was a clear indication that she was as heavily counter-cultural as one could get, barring Maleficent herself. Disa finally relinquishes a name, along with a little quip about its befitting her identity, which earned a quiet nod from Blivon, at first, because he couldn't disagree that she appeared to be quite adept at raising the chaos factor by at least a few degrees in this particular environment, but he felt like elaborating a little bit, while trying to employ tact, "I will call you that, if you wish. I can't contest that it's more than appropriate, but I'd rather accommodate necessity, so.... contrary to whatever respect others offer, or do not.... I'd like to address you with airs you might find most favorable." He'd almost do a little curtsy, but he's not quite /that/ feminine, even if he has relatively soft features, as well as demeanor.

When she confesses that her absence will create a more lively environment, he briefly twists his head laterally in both directions, concluding that the situation might improve with her departure, indeed; Blivon is not going to give her reason to leave if it'd be in prematurity, but he's also not going to pressure her to stay, not in the least, in observance of her very attendance adding to the risk level- the whole world posed a threat, but there were higher odds that certain folks would be inclined to commit harmful acts. "Hrmm...." he scratches his head, "I've been told that one can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar." He then shrugs it off, as though it were a throwaway statement, "I also know that the investment in the production of honey involves a higher opportunity cost than that of creating vinegar, and thus.... the potential for loss is broader." Blivon is still of the opinion that reaping ample rewards were worth the higher stakes, especially when ethicality was involved, but he's not about to lecture Disa on whether she should gamble, because there was also wisdom in the philosophy 'better safe than sorry'; going out on a limb and trusting others meant enabling vulnerability, and some folks didn't like exposing their weaknesses- the druid definitely had some of his own that he wasn't about to put out for that upon which the world might capitalize!

Disarray Grimstone has posed:
Though the tattooed man might offfer to call her by some other name, the beast just continues to show that somewhat feral smile, long teeth prominantly displayed. "It's who I am." The girl of privilage and nobility that she had once been, had died the moment that the pocketwatch had stopped ticking. It is mere coincidence that she'd been shot and nearly killed not long after it, two signs that whatever her past self had been were now unreachable. "You're a man who's close to beasts, I'm sure you recognise one when you see it." Her words are a statement, rather than a question. An opinion drawn from the various creatures that adorn his armor.

His suggestion about 'honey' over 'vinegar' leads her to a dark laugh, her hand reaching to stroke over the gauntlet covering her opposite forearm. Atop it, a small dragon that seems wrought of metal raises it's head to her fingers. "You see, there's a liiiittle problem with that. No one wants to work for a monster. I could offer them power, and wealth, but all they see is something that will make off with their children, or prey upon their livestock." Her tongue slips over her teeth, as if the idea amused her enough to whet her appetite. "So I'm afraid I'll have to continue to recruit in my own special ways."

"Besides, I'm not nice." She picks a bit of something out from underneath one claw, flicking it away. "I have no intention of being nice. Now, if you'll excuse me." She sweeps around, braided hair following the motion, arm raised towards an alley nearby. A man who had been trying to sneak closer stops in his tracks, a short sword trembling in his hands. "You've got all of five seconds to run along back to whatever hovel you dragged your filthy, disgusting self from, before I decide to have myself an idiot barbeque."

The man drops his sword, and as she starts to count backwards, he turns tail and runs, feet pattering away. "I hate villagers." Hrmph.

Blivon has posed:
Blivon nodded, willing to accept her answer without any sort of real dispute. He didn't deny inwardly or outwardly that it was her core nature, or seemed to be- but that wasn't to say that he felt her vicious nature needed to be emphasized more than what was already transparent, courtesy of her feline physique. Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, remarking, "The reason people see you as a monster is because they fear death, and you are the harbinger of doom- the tiger and the tigress are the pinnacle of mammalian predatory evolution. Designed for speed, grace, power, and.... efficiency." He nods, and paces back and forth a bit, "The problem is, most people do not commune with nature enough to respect the order of things, and concede that there is a hierarchy that ought to be respected. The herbivore and the omnivore devour the plant, which can only grow so fast. When shortage comes about, predation is the destined decree."

He shakes his head, and opens his arms, then supinates them as if discarding something of little worth, turning his head to the side while trying to accredit Disa's way; not strictly to pander to the woman's attitude for the sake of avoiding retaliation, but to be truly honest and understanding of her plight, "I don't advocate that anyone should lie down and die, but one must acknowledge that when their time comes, panicking will do no good." Suddenly, Disa warns a villager against attempting assassination, and he peers over in his direction, watching the man flee quickly, before he resumes his conversation with her, "Overpopulation is not the way of the world. I don't adore the sight of demise, nay, but I recognize that what's to be is to be." The druid folds his arms across his chest after placing his helmet on the ground, so he can retain a comfortable posture, "I will render you reverence in one respect, you may be a murderous creature, but you do not wear the guise of a fleece. There is honor in portraying yourself in the proper context, whereas some would defile truth, and feign fairness, while being quite foul."

The forester smiles, but only lightly, "There is no question as to what you are, and lest you shift to the form of a being that can subsist on herb, you have no choice but to slaughter, to exist..... Most may think me demented to associate with one who could spell my end, but I see little difference between the malice of meteorological disaster, and the menace of your muscle. We are at risk in every moment of our temporal coils, so why fret that someday, one's time will be up?" He shrugs, and pets Mitz, who leans into the stroke, glad to be afforded some attention by her master.

Disarray Grimstone has posed:
For a girl who had been raised in nobility, the association of her current form with that of a predator draws an irritated itch under the surface, as if she weren't quite comfortable within her own skin. The length of hair at the end of her tail twitches, swatting the ground. Though she appeared feline in nature, there were aspects of other animals there - the horns which appear elk-like, the lupine ears, and the length of her legs which seem a bit leaner than one would expect for such a beast. Not one thing, but many merged together. "Perhaps you would be right, if you spoke of any natural creature. As for me, I am made for nothing more than to be a monster, a beast. I can't be human any more than the animals you so respect, so why deny a beastly nature?"

Being considered a harbringer of doom certainly suits her well enough. That is what she wants, afterall. Not everyone feared her, but she found a certain perverse pleasure in it, watching them cower. She doesn't bother correcting him about her diet, which hadn't changed much since her transformation into this monsterous thing. Let him think what he wished. "While it amuses me to be equated to some force of nature, I'm afraid that my wrath is anything but. Nature is unthinking, all instinct and desire." Her muzzle curves again, the feline taking a few steps, tail swishing, "I choose this life. I choose blood on my lips and an enemy's corpse in my claws. An animal kills for food or survival... I kill for the pleasure of it."

Her dark eyes stare at him, too human in her animal face. "But you're right. Every one of us has a clock ticking the moments of our lives away, never knowing when it will end." She reaches a hand up, and lifts a small, battered looking pocketwatch that dangles from her waist. The clock has obviously long-since stopped, though she keeps it with her, anyways. "The end will come to these fools soon enough, at my hands or at the hands of others. It's only a matter of time."

Blivon has posed:
Blivon nods to Disarray, and puts a finger to his lips, considering her statement, "....I'd venture to say that your choice to slay, and the pleasure you take in what you do is still part of your nature." He continues to pet Mitz, but then stops, as he glances around, just keeping a vigil of his surroundings- it wasn't as though he could be in much more jeopardy than at present, what with being only a few feet from a Shadow Lord, but if he was in the company of several predators, he might be a hint more uneasy; maybe he actually thinks he stands a chance at repelling an assault from a singular beast, having had experience with monsters of all sorts, before.

"Everything that I see, resonates with the conceptualization of a chain-reaction, thus am I merely a consequence of something else that preceded me.... thus are you also a piece of the puzzle, and like me, subject to whatever has brought us to where we now stand, feeling as we feel, and being compelled as we are compelled." He points at her and remarks, "When others writhe in pain, which was begot by your deed, it must be a comfort, a sensation that you've shown your prowess.... an indication that you have power." He shrugs his shoulders, "....And you may be correct." He twists his forearm in an offering position, gesturing that he's giving her knowledge with Blivon's own personal bias, "On the other hand, the day may spawn where this thing called power, which so many seek, that unpredictably flits to and fro whatever entity it chooses to conduct into therein, that this reality changes. Yet, perhaps,.... maybe not. In the meantime...."

He nods to her, approvingly, showing no disdain or admiration, but mere acknowledgement, and maybe also a scant trace of discomfort, "The harried mind is availed few resources to bring reassurance. For some.... power is that reassurance- it is only natural, even if many would perceive it as evil; aye, but if such a thing as evil does exist, I would say that you would be an embodiment of it." He tries to offer a meek smile, in a way that might yield something to her that, despite her corruption, that few others could ever see themselves bestowing upon Disarray- tolerance. "No such defilement exists in this world that is backwards enough to reverse existence itself, so I believe that while the majority of your decisions have ill intent, there is no way that every single thought going through your mind serves to poison the world around you, to exclusion; self-preservation dictates that some impulses be centered around objectivity, and survival.... thus, some of your persona cannot be polluted, but neutral, at the minimum. Do you agree that anyone who seeks to survive, must tax their mental reserve even so much as a solitary neuronal pulse in a pragmatic fashion would exert?"

Disarray Grimstone has posed:
A low growl rumbles up from the beast as she clenches her hand over the hammer. Something about his words irritates her, but her own good sense tells her that starting a fight with this man and his beast would probably end badly for her. That doesn't mean that his judgement doesn't grate on her nerves. "You don't know anything about my nature." She snarls, claws flexing.

Once, a long time ago, she had been a noble girl. She had dreams of marriage and family. All of that had been snatched away from her because someone thought to tell her that she was a 'beast' at heart. The unfairness of it all - to be punished like this when she'd only been a child. There were millions out there among the worlds far more callous than she had been then, but were they stripped of their humanity and turned into a monster? No.

"If I wanted to be psychoanalyzed, I'd be on some doctor's couch right now rather than here. Then, I'd probably rip his throat out. So why not cut the crap before I decide your face looks better smashed under my hammer." Certainly, he is probably right, and there are some neutral aspects of her under the surface, but redeeming qualities doesn't mean someone /wants/ to be redeemed. "And trust me, evil exists. You'll come to see that soon enough." The beast turns away from him them, raising her hand with the dragon gauntlet.

The metallic creature lifts it's head, spitting dark fire in a circle. The flames extend towards each other until they have made a swirling portal, radiating darkness from it's core. "As for me, I've got better things to do than waste my time with you. Pray we don't meet again." She steps towards the portal, ready to depart this realm for another.

Blivon has posed:
Grimstone's intuition serves her well, but not only would a fight end poorly for herself, but also Blivon- while in his days as a lancer, he was a cut below peerless, rivaling some of the prodigious warriors of Ivalice, when he changed up his tactics on a permanent basis, he lost a considerable amount of skill, by choosing a mace over a sharpened edge, which was something he'd had almost three decades of experience in, until such time that he swapped his spear for something more like Disa's hammer. Disa is probably far more familiar with her maul than the shaman is with this flail that he's only been using for the duration of two to three years, at absolute most; but he wasn't all-out /incompetent/ with the thing.... and, there's also that weird zebra-striped badger-thing to be contended with, who might not take lightly to seeing its master trounced.

Self-control gets the better of the Shadow Lord, fortuitously enough for Blivon, and mayhap herself, so he nods his head, politely, remarking, "It may be that I know nothing about you. If I am ever wrong about anything, or anyone, then I welcome a rebuttal." However, he doubted to start with that he was wrong, and number two, that she'd give him anything but a knuckle-sandwich, if the feline monster decided to keep in his company any longer. All the same, the druid wasn't blaming her, even though one could infer that she just swore that their next encounter would end on a sour note, because, to him..... well, as he said-- death will eventually come, someday, so if it's by her hand, instead of some rockslide hailing from the side of the cliff, is she any more to blame because she's not an 'ignorant' force of nature?

And yet.... nature brought her into the world, just as it could an avalanche, or a mountain, or anything else; this is Blivon's hypothesis, anyway.

Nonetheless, seeing that she's becoming testy, he doesn't push the issue and try to argue with any of her claims on the validity of evil's presence in the world, or whether he should take her word for it, even though he barely knew the woman. Unlike Grimstone, who /did/ probably qualify as a fiend, Blivon was not the type to start trouble, and if he could have his way, he wouldn't want to be the one to have to end it, at that. Interest piqued as the woman summons up a portal to step through, he steps back, making certain that it's not some evil vortex that she's using to try and devour him with, seeing that she was already lashing out vocally, he wasn't about to chance his luck- relief comes as she moves towards it, demonstrating that it cannot be meant to swallow him up, and he nods, "If my presence brings you suffering, I shall hope we don't have to rendezvous anytime soon. Good luck, and do as you must, Miss Disarray."

Still not one hundred percent immune to the grip fear had over the living, Blivon was invested enough in survival to the extent that he would at least wait for this force to be reckoned with to depart fully, before actually going so far as to turn his back to try and go about his business. Maybe he'd see if he could help that couple in some way; the chances were, his magic didn't have the substantiality to reverse whatever curse the Shadow Lord had put on the man, but that didn't mean he couldn't try!