Anarchist Bonfire

Anarchist Bonfire
Date of Scene:	25 May 2013
Location:	Giza Plains
Synopsis:	A Heretic and a Templar walk into a church...
Cast of Characters:	Faruja Senra, Sydney Losstarot

---

Sydney Losstarot has posed:
It is a rather average day on the plains of Giza, the sun shining brightly on the grassy plains beneath it, wild monsters and chocobos roaming freely. A well-traveled area of the plains, used mainly for merchants and pilgrims to pass by. It is just as dangerous as any other part of the plain, but it is still a populated area most of the time. But today...something is different. Something feels off.

CLANK. CLANK. CLANK.

Sydney stomps along the plains, a hard, ruthless determination to his eyes. His destination? A small priory for Glabadosian monks. It may not seem like much, but it often brings converts by offering charity to those along the road who cannot afford to help themselves. These are all good things to Sydney, for they would help attract attention to him. Today would be the beginning of the reckoning. The first step of the plan. (Second, if you count beating up Tyrin.) He holds strange implements in his hands. One: A modern lighter, something Sydney picked up in manhattan. And the other? A bottle, filled with some brownish, foul smelling liquid, a rag stuffed into the entrance of the bottle. A foul-grin spreads across his face as he calmly opens the door, walking in.

"I have no wish to harm those who dare not lift a sword. Flee, fools! Or you shall be swallowed in the flames of cleansing!" He shouts as he brings the lighter to the bottle, lighting the rag. He tosses it to the far end of the church, creating an explosion of fire. He has no intention of harming the monks, so he's aiming for an area clear of them. But he will do nothing to assist those who get in his way.

"H-h-help! Its a madman!" Faruja might hear over his linkpearl, the cries of a desperate monk as he flees from the now-burning priory.

Faruja Senra has posed:
-- A Bar In Carwen Some Time Prior --

Faruja sips at his drink leisurely, waiting on his informant. The Holy Office of Inquisition had been informed of a shipment of Heretical documents being traded in the town, thanks to some pious members of the community. The great wheels, eyes, and ears of the Church turned their attention to the place, and Faruja given his orders; wait, get the necessary information, and perform whatever holy duties as may be necessary.

When the call upon the linkpearl goes out, Faruja's hand is shaking that of the young woman who had given him the sensitive documents. A quick trip to a trusted courier, and the Templar finds himself upon the back of his great wyvern, making for the small priory with all due haste. This certainly called for the intervention of a Templar.

Swoop! Faruja doesn't bother announcing his presence, the roar of Arista the wyvern being more than necessary. Wordlessly, holy-infused ice slams into the fire produced by Sydney's molotov cocktail.

This priory is decidedly /not/ militant in the least, unlike other sections of the Church. Some monks flee, while others mill about in a panic. Faruja's voice cuts the air.

"Brothers and Sisters of the Holy Church! Let no blasphemous knave fill thy heart with fear! Get thee to Carwen, post-haste!" Calls out the rat, thoughts shifting to the men and women of the priory even before Sydney comes into play. The rat even kicks a recalcitrant monk in the rear just to emphasize the point. It works. A rather rotund monk is off, the ratling already calling up what few agents of the Church he can get on the linkshell to escort the no doubt fearful monks to safety.

Which, of course, leaves the Templar more than open to assault, should a certain Heretic think to take the opportunity!

Sydney Losstarot has posed:
Sydneys back is to the door as Faruja enters, the Blood-Sin displayed rather prominently. Sydneys arms are raised in the air as the flames burn about him, laughing amusedly. As Farujas voice cuts through the air, Sydney shoots his head over his neck, offering a grin most foull. "...Blasphemous knave?" Sydney grins amusedly, shaking his head. He throws his arms outwards in a rather maniacal motion.

"I am the messiah!"

He announces loudly, as a huge amount of dark energy bursts forth from Sydneys body, far beyond what any amount of darkness, save a shadow lord could command. Shame Sydney can't use it for much more than a scary aura. The fire begins to spread, coating the pews of the chapel as Sydney narrows his eyes at Faruja, unintimidated by the blaze he's set.

"Like a lamb to the slaughter."

Faruja Senra has posed:
"What is thy purpose here?" Returns the rat, the mere sight of the Blood Sin enough to sicken Faruja. His soul ever attuned to the more destructive side of the holy element has him blazing even as the fire spreads, white light filtering off of the rat as if in opposition to the great darkness Sydney exudes. Spear in hand, he does his best to douse the flames with Holy Sword skills, but it certainly isn't anywhere near the power of a Black Mage's ability to quench the element. The rat can only pray his Church-aligned black mage friends can get here in time!

"Messiah? Fah! Naught but a follower of Darkness. Heartless summoner! Heretic! Witch! Be gone from this holy place, and trouble the innocent souls here no longer! If 'tis conflict you desire, face me! Now off with thee!"

Though most of his attention remains on saving the Church, shards of holy ice destroying pews to hopefully save the building as a whole, he's sure to throw a few Sydney's way.

Life is short! Bury! Stasis Sword~

Faruja Senra has posed:
Attack made, the ratling digs into his robes, pulling out a potion. Slurp! It eases much of the damage of Sydney's abilities.

Sydney Losstarot has posed:
Sydney turns his back to Faruja as the shards of Ice fly through the air, waggling his finger mockingly. "Tsk Tsk Tsk." He remarks as he disappears in a flash, reappearing a few paces away as a dark laugh echoes throughout the chapel. His eyes turn as he watches the shards coalesce, a foul smile on his face. " My purpose? Ah, but you do not care, do you? You fiends burn innocents under a guise as thin as 'holy justice'. You trounce about so freely, firmly convinced that you are the heroes of this tale, despite any idiot being capable of seeing you as naught more than theicidal monsters. For every twig you have ever added to a heretics stake-fire, I shall add another log to the pathetic funeral pyre that is your church." He says, frowning angrily at Faruja. "You'll find that not all heretics are as idiotically merciful as the braves. You will not be let loose from this encounter. As I leave the ashes of this monstrosity, the only thing that will remain will be charred logs, and a stick in the middle with the still pompous face of a rat held so highly atop it." ...Someone likes monologues!

Sydney sighs, shaking his head. "'Tis so hard to turn evil when it is so convinced it is doing right. It leaves only the option of..." Sydney raises his hand, darkness growing heavy once more. ".../Destruction/." He finishes, holding the ball above his head. It grows larger and larger, as Sydney begins to chant in the ancient language once more. Unholy text in an ancient language begins to sail towards Faruja, snaking its way through the air as it emits an inhuman hum.

"Follower of Darkness? Not all of us are so idiotic as to worship the elements we command. For 'twould be idiotic. The brighter the light. The longer the shadow..." Sydney trails off enigmatically, breathing deeply as a foul look crosses his face.

Faruja Senra has posed:
"...No, I suppose not, when 'tis so plain. Burn a church, spread panic, draw out those in authority. Naught but a deluded anarchist stands before my sight." Whatever his words, a majority of the rat's focus flickers to the burning church. Well beyond his skill to douse, all he can do is growl another order to get some bloody mages down here! A difficult thing, given the relative remoteness of the area.

Sharp, tiny teeth flash towards the Heretic, shaking his head in something close to pity. "'Guise' is it? Those whom break the laws of Heaven need be punished. 'Tis Faram's will that /we/ be the ones to carry it out. Quite simple. This 'holy justice' as you would put it is the right of the Faithful, to weed out that which would corrupt and destroy our charges! Persons such as thyself!"

Words attack him. Thankfully, in a land so steeped in the arcane, such a thing isn't /too/ much of a surprise. Going on the defensive, the Templar throws up a magical shield, the dark language battering off of it harmlessly.

"...At least in that, we share kinship. Death is the only punishment for what you have wrought here."

With that, the ratling rushes forward, attempting to quite simply spear the man in the chest with his glowing weapon!

Sydney Losstarot has posed:
Sydney laughs mockingly, raising a hand as if he were about to go on another monologue. SCHNK. The hollow sound of metal piercing flesh echoes as the spear passes directly through Sydneys body. Striking several arteries, and his heart itself, it would've killed any normal human being, and for a few moments, it looks like it did just that. Thankfully, the Blood-Sin makes it so that things like "Organs" and "Blood loss" aren't as big a deal in a fight. Thats not to say he's immortal, though... Sydney slumps over limply, sliding down the length of the spear. ...Only to move back up just a few seconds later, breathing deeply as the Blood-Sin flares violently, numbing the pain. Sydney narrows his eyes at Faruja.

"You think you have /any/ right to murder someone, because a god you have absolutely /no/ evidence of existing commands it? ...Shutup!" He shouts, as a spear of holy light falls from the sky...skewering Sydney completely. If Faruja doesn't pull the spear out in time, the holy energy will dance across it like electricity, searing all it comes into contact with...except Sydney.

Faruja Senra has posed:
A monologue ended, in the way only a Templar can: violently and with great zealotry. As Sydney slumps over, Faruja sighs, shaking his head.

"...May the Lord grant thee forgiveness within his ar...!!!"

The rat has no shame in the slight shriek he gives, squeaking loudly, staring at the 'suddenly-alive' mage skewered upon his weapon. Light falls from the heavens, and only a keen danger sense as well as excellent training saves him from being completely melted by the strike. Letting go of his spear, he leaps away into the air, armor scorched as well as some of the flesh beneath on his right arm. As he peaks, flipping upside down, he glares down at Sydney. "What foul witchery is this!? Fah, thy very /existance/ is a stain! By all means, flee from death, it shall catch all within its jaws in due time!"

Then, the rat tucks in his legs slightly, flipping back around to attempt a hard, dragoon-leg powered kick to the butt of the spear in Sydney's chest; hoping to impale the man into a wall!

Sydney Losstarot has posed:
Sydney flies back a few feet, the spear cracking the stone wall of the church behind it. He coughs, a small amount of blood dribbling from his lip as he writhes about mildly. "Crafty one, aren't we." He says mockingly, his words ignorant to the fact that there is a SPEAR IN HIS CHEST. He blinks out, reappearing a few yards away. "But not crafty enough, you fool." He says, raising a palm towards Faruja once more. Darkness grows heavy in the air as he casts a debuffing spell, one that weakens bones and muscle alike temporarily. He follows it up with another spear of light, but this time, it explodes before it can skewer him. Sydney raises a palm, and the holy energy is sucked into his body like a vortex. Raising his other hand towards Faruja, it begins to blast out in a heavy, searing beam.

Faruja Senra has posed:
Faruja feels the effects of Sydney's spells robbing him of strength, the usually strong and steady Templar breathing heavily. At least he's managed to skewer the man. The mage manages to end his current plan, however, by teleporting away. Frown. "...Damned mages." Mutters the Burmecian, a statement which will no doubt one day prove to be a foolish one to make, karma-wise.

Kaboom! The surge of holy energy blows up neatly in Faruja's face, causing him to stagger back before being blasted back out. Once again, the rat barely manages to avoid having a hole in his own chest, wincing as part of a wall explodes outwards.

A quiet incantation, and a vortex of white light sucks up the Burmecian's spear, only to be spat out in his hand. "How dare thee mock the Church and this holy place with thy spells! /DOWN/, witch!"

Leaping into the air, holy light flares at the tip of his spear. Falling, he brings it down like an axe upon Sydney a wave of physical and holy power upon the man.

Sydney Losstarot has posed:
Sydney laughs amusedly. "Ah, it always makes the church fearful to see how easily its elements are commanded. Light will bend to even the cruelest of hearts, yet darkness will only bend to those who work for it. Does it make you angry, you foolish templar, that I command the energies you worship better than /you/ do?" He says mockingly, throwing his hands to the side as he laughs.

"Mage? Witch? You haven't really studied much magic, have you?" Interlude paragraph!

Sydney looks up boredly as he sees the templar falling. This is likely going to hurt. A lot. But Sydney has one hell of a poker face. He cringes, preparing himself for teleportation, but it doesn't look like he's going to make it. He disappears in a flash.

VWOOM.

This time, there's no monologue. No witty retorts. No time. There's only an incredible weight of Darkness. So heavy, that it gains physical form and begins to fall like purple snow, floating gently through the air. Its actually quite the pretty sight. It suddenly begins to shake violently, interacting with the particles in the air to create a nuclear-dark-ultima spell, with a blinding flash of energy to go with it.

"Hmph. Feel the awesome power of darkness!"

Faruja Senra has posed:
Faruja doesn't respond to the magic bit. Mainly because Sydney's absolutely right; his magical studies are quite off, given his own world's lack of more diverse magical studies.

"'Twould be a most impious Faithful to /not/ balk at such a display! Cast not thy twisted power as some sort of accomplishment, knave!"

Faruja /really/ is starting to hate time magic's teleportation powers. Or at least that's what he's assuming! He'll have to have a grumble later about it, if he survives.

By the time the Darkness fades, Faruja lies on the ground, coughing up blood and shuddering from twin pains of body and soul. His shed blood seems to melt into the floor, only his soul's own burning pyre of light keeping him from fading completely. A normal Burmecian would perspire on the spot. Faruja, if nothing else, is known for being stubborn about the whole 'dying' idea.

Surrounded by fire and darkness drags back old memories. It's about all that the ratling has left in him "D...damned humans...frakking Alexandrians...LEAVE OUR HOME!" yells the rat, charging at Sydney with rage, and an eye that doesn't seem to be at all in the current day and time.

Sydney Losstarot has posed:
Sydney laughs amusedly as he sees the shattered form of the rat on the floor. "Hmph. You templars are naught more than dandelions. Everywhere, but utterly worthless and easily removed." He says with a smile, turning to finish his little church fire before the rats backup arrives.

Why can't you just die?

Sydney turns surprisedly, watching the rat rise. "Impressive. You templars defy every notion that survivability and idiocy should /not/ directly correlate." ...And then Faruja had to open his mouth. "...Or not. It seems your body has survived. But your mind did not. Perhaps I'll make this a mercy killing." Evilsmile.

Sydney disappears...again. I swear he doesn't do it this often. Whatever the forces that be in this world clearly are backing Sydney in his attempt to smite the heathen god. When he's a few yards away, he raises his palm. Gravity will begin to grow heavier, just like a gravity spell. The only difference? Those are focused externally. This one is focused /internally/. If Faruja doesn't move fast, he'll feel a great amount of pressure on his internal organs. Its followed up with another spear/boom/beam combo.

Faruja Senra has posed:
All Sydney gets is growled mutterings of rage and anger as he teleports away, the Templar stabbing and kicking at opponents that aren't even there! Something about his comrades, demons, and burning yellow eyes is said.

Gravity, however, isn't part of this shadow play. The feeling of something trying to squish his internal organs brings the rat back to reality just in time, throwing himself aside from the area of effect. Still, a horrific crunch, and his right arm goes limp; throwing the reflexive Holy Spear Skill's aim wide a touch, perhaps enough for Sydney to get away. Shellburst Stab's purple crescent falls, if badly so.

Luckily, flat on his arse, spears of light go over his body, quite literally saving his life. Dropping the far-too-long-for-one-hand spear, a short-spear is summoned. "...Teach a..*cough*...body to live within the past's grip." Mutters the Burmecian more coherently, though in that distinct manner of a person barely able to keep conscious.

With what little strength he has left in his legs, the rat thrusts himself into a mad leap, pouring all of his strength into one more blow. Could it be enough to finally finish this.

"To the end of this useless endeavor!"

Sydney Losstarot has posed:
Sydney sighs, shaking his head. "...Why won't you /die/ already?" He says, a bit of exasperation in his tone as he hears bone cracking, instead of squishy aortal rupturing. "Shame. You regained your full senses. 'Tis never fun to face death with a thoughtful mind. I take pleasure knowing that in wh-"

Hey! No stabbing during talktime!

Sydney dodges this one the more conventional way. With a quick leap to the side, followed by a roll. He's not the fastest to his feet, but he's fast enough to follow it up with a counter of sorts. While he's rising to his feet, his minions take the moment to shine, and two heartless leap forth from Sydneys shadow, scratching violently at Faruja. They're stronger and faster than normal shadows, thats for sure. ...But that isn't a very hard thing to be. While they're scratching and clawing, Sydney takes a moment to shoot another text-line of Darkness at Faruja. With less time to chant, though, this one is a little weaker.

Faruja Senra has posed:
TEXT! It causes the rat to bleed, no doubt in part reducing his love for the written word. He'll have to punch a librarian some time. An evil librarian. There's also the fact that a pair of Heartless are currently cutting through armor into fuzz-and-burnmark covered flesh. Amidst the smoke and smell of blood and fire, Faruja can do little more than slash away the pair of Heartless.

Blood pools beneath the rat, barely on his feet. All the Templar can do is point his spear and pray that he can drive the dark mage off, the voices of a few fellow Templar, Temple Wizards in this case, crackling into his linkshell.

Light falls from above, Faruja attempting to blast away the mage with Holy Explosion. Hopefully his superiors will forgive the crater he's about to add to the floor, given the circumstances.

Sydney Losstarot has posed:
Sydney disappears in a flash, the holy explosion missing him completely. ...Wait, scratch that. There's a loud explosion a few feet away, apparently the explosion hit him before he could go ethereal and teleported with him. It sends him flying, knocking over a burning beam as he does. Rising to his feet, another beam falls on him, distracting him for a few moments as he has to pull it off.

"Hmph. Even a cur like you can land a hit every now and then, it seems." He remarks as he rises to his feet. The heartless leap back to Sydneys position, their adorably evil faces staring at Faruja. Sydney can tell he's on his last legs. Fires rage about behind him, but Sydney can't hear a bit of it as he gives his next command.

"...Kill him."

The heartless leap forth, a third one joining their ranks. They scratch and claw violently, moving with greater coordination than most heartless as Sydney orders them about magically.

Faruja Senra has posed:
Heartless crowd around him amidst the flames and fire, Faruja once again fighting off a flashback of how his own world fell. All the Burmecian can do as they reach down to claw and bite, and leap into the air, the ratling finally falling unconscious mid-air.

This time, he hits the ground, and doesn't stand again. The church is heavily damaged, almost utterly ruined, only the great stoneworks spared aside from heavy scorching. Magical energies shimmer, and red-robed forms wink into existance, Temple Wizards finally arriving to douse the area with water and ice. One enterprising mage sees fit to gather up the heavily wounded Templar. The eldest of the good five mages, amidst directing a few gouts of flames of his own at the Heartless, glares over at Sydney.

"Be gone from this place, Witch, lest it be thy last day! We shall not abide the burning of our homes, and harm coming to those in our service."

Sydney Losstarot has posed:
Sydney grins devilishly, his heartless prepared to remove and consume Farujas heart. Its clawed hands are wrapped around the glowy orb inside Farujas chest. It begins to pull slowly, and darkness begins to whisp around Farujas form as it wraps upwards, prepared to consume him and turn him into a heartless. Suddenly, a gout of flame strikes the Shadow, disappearing it completely as the heart sinks back into Faruja. "Oh, Bollocks." Sydney mutters under his breath. Turning to the group, he smiles foully, and whisps of darkness begin to dance about his form. "...Burning of homes? You /dare/ speak of the burning of homes, when you freely burn the people who live in those homes? Nay, for today, I have memorized your faces. I shall kill each and every one of you. Except for the rat...he shall remain alive, if only to know that you all died so that he may live." He says, grinning evilly. "And for the record...you would not have allowed me the option of leaving after burning a church...if you thought you could win the fight." Sydney holds his arms out, laughing evilly as a corridor of darkness rises to consume him. It falls back to the floor,disappearing into nothingness.