No Good Deed

No Good Deed
Date of Scene:	26 November 2012
Location:	Rabanastre
Synopsis:	A charity event held by the Church turns chaotic thanks to the efforts of two particularly Dark individuals.
Cast of Characters:	Faruja Senra, Jasmine, Avira, Minerva, Zargabaath, Angantyr Vespar, Garland, Seith

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Faruja Senra has posed:
The streets along the Merchant Quarter of Rabanastre are packed even more than usual as the hot desert sun beats down upon locals and foreigners alike. Sounds of the city fill the Quarter, hardly unusual, but above the normal clamor are far sweeter voices.

Several berobed holy women sing slow hymns as they stand on pulpits brought in by the Church. In front of these, several tables are lined up along a few closed storefronts; no doubt paid off for the merchant's troubles. All along them, lines of the poor, hurt, and those simply wishing to make charitable donations by way of several crosses and icons of silver and gold, all with symbols of the Glabados Church's venerated figures.

The lines are kept orderly by a group of about six Church warriors, bedecked in robes and gleaming gold armor, most of whom are warily watching those within while trying to not look half-way to heatstroke. Anyone who pushes, or shoves, or generally causes a scene are at first sternly warned, then removed physically if necessary. As people wait in line, they'll be visited by the occasional Priest or Priestess offering them water, prayers, and a chance to be led off to Confession.

Healers at one table often bring one or two more seriously ill or injured persons to a small trio of tents, where the sound of spells can be heard if one listens. At the table with those handing out clothing and other goods (the most populated table, and longest line stretching from it), workers both of the Church itself as well as helpful locals work to ensure everyone gets what they need but not drag off too much.

Overseeing this whole affair is one Templar Faruja Senra, the Burmecian beside a pulpit and glancing out at the crowds. Almost constantly, he whispers into a communication device, or speaks to a red-robed, greying blonde woman beside him.

~Oh, Holy Faram bless thy Children~

~Take us into Your heart~

~We look to You in our darkest hours~

~Shield the souls of the Faithful~

~Lead the lost and gone into your arms~

Zargabaath has posed:
After the incident in the City main the other day, A few extra guards had been posted near the tables and the choir, some obvious, others not so obvious. Some actually volunteered to be near the choir, especially when some of them believed in Faram themselves. Those that made a small scene tended to walk away with their dignity intact. Those that made a larger scene tended to be arrested on the spot by one of the guards or Judges on hand. Otherwise, none of them were accosted by any of the Arcadian Empire

The reason being was that one of the Judge Magisters were nearby, namely, Judge Magister Zargabaath. Some of the singing choir weren't even armed, and he made it a point to make a patrol run every so often to make sure Faruja's troupe didn't have that much trouble. Of course, every time he passed by, he'd make sure to make himself known to Faruja, letting him be visible to the mouseling as he passed by.

Avira has posed:
"What the..."

Avira is thoroughly confused. She must've not gotten the memo that today representatives of the Glabados Church would be visiting Rabanastre. It was a needed trip to the market to pick up some potions and a new breastplate (she seems to be going through a LOT of those lately) that brought her here. She's NEVER seen the market this crowded before and thanks to the significant church presence, it doesn't take her long to figure out what's going on.

She quickly learns that most of the stores along here are closed for this event, so the supplies will have to wait-or she could head to Migelo's Sundries.

Avira wanders around, taking note of the extent of the operation. Hmm, quite a few poor people receiving aid were here-she had half a mind to drop down to Lowtown and pass off the word of this event to anyone that wasn't already here. She herself was not unfortunate enough to direly need the handouts.

Angantyr Vespar has posed:
After Angantyr collapsed at Clan Dagna's house, and then having a 'strange encounter' in his room with Avira, which ended with them both beat to hell...

Look, lets just say people talk.

However, afterwards, Angantyr went to get Jasmine, leading her into the market place.

"We should probably get things and then find a place for you to hang out at afte-.." Angantyr pauses, looking at the chruch set up by the Rat.

Avira was nearby, which causes him to walk over towards the building and looking at it oddly. "The heck is all of this? When did we get a church in a den of scum and villanry. Good honest scum is trying to do good honest villanry here." he 'complains' towards Avira, and loud enough to be easily heard.

He just gives both ladies a grin.

Seith has posed:
Ah, the poor. What miserable little creatures, flocking to easily handed out slob and drink as he would expect them to. Atop of one of the nearby buildings, Seith thoughtfully glances down at the foolish creatures below. He is being held up on a stone throne of sorts, his both hands still on their armrests. The throne itself is being held up by a flock of heartless. How he's gone unnoticed so far, is anybody's guess.

People of light - he considers - people with good hearts, believing themselves right in offering support to these wretched things. How would they ever learn that the only way to restore themselves from their current form is to claw their ways out by their nails!? To hand-feed these unfortunate souls is to tell them that it is alright to remain poor, as the 'light' will feed them with its scraps.

The greenish eyes shift within their sockets, as the man's gaze flicks to find Faruja amidst all of this. After all, he is the reason that these fools are being granted food. Should he not step in? Of course, it's not as if they would understand. Maybe a little Chaos to spice things up - and teach this foolish mouse that these pitiful creatures don't care about their silly church - only for what it can do for them?

And so, the man slowly waves one hand forwards, followed by the Heartless suddenly jumping up into the air along with him and the throne, and landing it before a set of tables of food - probably startling a few of the good men who were trying to get to it. In the progress, the Shadows are squished comically... only to wiggle their ways out by merging with the ground, and then picking the throne up once more.

The man then suddenly holds up his hand before the poor citizens, and puts one hand up into the air. "Why take their pitiful little food, when you could have untold riches?" The man suddenly speaks, his voice loud and booming. The horned man glances towards Faruja for a moment, grinning, before suddenly, from his raised hand, Gil starts spewing up like a fountain, clattering onto the ground before him... allowing those pitiful souls to grab any money their hearts might desire... if they can prevent themselves from being drowned in it all.

Jasmine has posed:
This is the first time that Jasmine's returned to the greater desert region of the crazy mish-mashed remains of the world she once knew. Familiarity breeds both fondness and nervousness; the hairs on the back of her neck prickle at every sight and sound in the lovely city of Rabanastre that is so like, and yet so unlike, her home.

She herself is both foreign and not, in her brown burlap robe and beige linen veil; these desert-dwellers are far paler than she, and dress more brightly, but she feels a kinship nonetheless. Her heartstrings tug at the sight of the many needy, and before long she's falling behind Angantyr to donate some alms to the Church, which appears to do be doing some good. Her smile for the priest is warm indeed, and the money is more than a pittance, though handled swiftly, lest she attract undo attention.

Her slight grin at the Dark Knight's commentary flashes briefly, before being subsumed by a mix of wonder at Seith's 'generosity', and concern that it's about to start a riot. Then she notices the Heartless, and that more or less settles the question about his intentions.

"Trouble," she murmurs to him, and to Avira, who is recognized and greeted with a now somewhat distracted nod.

Faruja Senra has posed:
The added guards from Arcadia's forces are welcomed with open arms, given the volume of people they're all dealing with. So far, there's been little trouble, and cooperation between the Church's forces and Arcadia's seem to be going swimmingly so far. The fact that every time that the Judge Magister makes his rounds, Faruja is seen saluting the man and the highest ranking Priestess of the bunch crosses herself and blessed him likely has something to do with it. A show of mutual respect.

As Avira watches the goings-on, a shadow would fall on her from behind. With all of three inches on the other woman, a short-haired blonde young woman dressed in robes and rather large spectacles on her face nearly rams into the mercenary. "Oh, Ser Senra's going to kill me! Where ever did that worker get off to...oomph!" Wham! It's like the mousey-looking blonde has blinders on instead of glasses. "O...oh my, I'm so sorry! Are you alright, my Child? Come. Up up with you! Here now!" A pause, and the woman grins, the Priestess grabbing one of Avira's wrists with both hands.

"The Lord blesses His Children! Surely this is a sign! You look like you're not busy. You've got some time to do the right thing, the charitable thing, the pious thing! Right? The Lord loves he, or she, who helps the most wretched in society. Come on! We've work to do!"

Poor Avira will then be tugged by the rather weak grip of the Priestess towards the poor-helping station unless she shoves the holy woman off!

Of course, Angantyr's antics don't go unnoticed by Priestess Mousey One. "Oh, how horrible! These people are not scum! They're good, honest people who are simply less fortunate. It's our Faram-given duty to help them! And yours!" She asserts, glaring at the mercenary.

For a moment, as Seith's throne lands, all is still amongst line and guardians both. Heads turn as the Heartless once more raise up the horned one's throne. The sound of blades being drawn are heard as Templar and donated Arcadian soldiers both work to form a line between the dark one and the people. Before anyone can make to remove the mage from blocking food from those who need it, his magics goes to work, and piles of gil spill from the man's hands.

Almost immediately, the desperate push their way through their surprise to try to get at the falling gil. With so many people, and relatively few guards, it's inevitable that a person or two slips by to start piling as much gil into their hands as possible. Another follows, stepping on the back of the other as gil begins to simply cover the greedy first-nabber.

Turning a hateful glare to Seith, Faruja leaps into the air, landing in the short space between piling gil and the many poor. As a woman makes her way forward, the Burmecian shoves her back towards the crowd. As he looks to the cover man, it's far too late. The back-stepper runs off as a spear-butt hits the un-claimed ground yet to be covered in money.

"Citizens of Rabanastre! I beseech you! Many of you are desperate, and of little means. The desire to have enough for your families, for yourselves, and to have a life worth living is a temptation known even to myself. None are without sin, or want for decadence, or some other moral failing. Hardly can I say any differently of anyone here. But I beg you! Pause! Think!" The Burmecian raises his voice, carrying quite well.

The point of his spear turns to Seith, and his throne bared by Heartless.

"Think of from where this gil comes! A man, born on a throne by creatures we all have lost so much from! Heartless! Tell me, how many of you have lost friends, family, dear companions to these creatures? And now, to take the coin offered by one who uses such beasts? Dear citizens of Rabanastre, I believe you are above such! Above taking the coin of those who direct the murder of friend, family, and stranger alike! These coins may glitter, but they are covered in naught but blood! Turn from this temptation, and look to the Lord. Or if not, those who you hold dear. For to walk this path is to be destroyed, either drowned by one's greed or consumed by the monsters at this man's leash!"

Avira has posed:
"I think it's one of those...uh, what do you call them...pilgrimmages?" Avira taps her chin, then laughs at Angantyr's "complaining." "Quite nice of them to come help the less fortunate here. I hope the occupiers haven't hassled them too much..." she trails off, taking note of the tall form of Zargabaath. She follows him with her eyes as he walks around, taking note of a familiar face after the Judge Magister passes him.

"Oh!" Avira exclaims, pointing out Faruja, "I know that guy. He's quite awesome."

Avira's actually quite surprised to see Jasmine here. Sure, Angantyr did tell her he was watching the Princess for the past day or so. But she assumed she'd moved on since then, given her unique circumstances. "Hey, hello." Avira greets quietly, taking care to not actually voice Jasmine's name. Never knew who was listening in these crowds, after all. "Thanks, by the way."

Being actually pretty observant of her surroundings, Avira notices that tall and ominous shadow. Immediately, she whirls around, actually expecting that she's about to get attacked out of the blue by a CERTAIN SOMEONE. Instead, a tall blonde lady runs into her and knocks her over onto her rear. She isn't hurt but she is a little stunned. "Buh...what the-"

The priestess pulls her up and Avira takes a moment to dust her butt off, "Sign? I-what? Buh...wait-ah he's kidding, wait, hold up, I don't know if I have the time!" She's tugged along anyway, at least until a most heinous interruption occurs.

That mysterious man drops out of the sky, seated atop a throne. A throne by Heartless. "...yeah, that's trouble alright." Instead of getting pulled, Avira reaches over and pulls the Priestess to her. "Listen." she says quietly to the woman, "This could get dangerous very quickly. People need to be directed out of the area."

Zargabaath has posed:
Having walked by only a few minutes earlier, Zargabaath's momentum stops as he hears the call from Seith, followed shortly by Faruja's voice. He pointedly turns around and tromps right back towards where Faruja's stands are kept. On the way, he runs into Jasmine, his momentum being quite enough to knock her WAY off balance and onto her butt. Zargabaath stops long enough to lean down, grab Jasmine by both arms and puts her back onto her feet, muttering an apology before starts back towards Faruja's booth, not knowing if Jasmine actually regained her balance before walking off. He means well, perhaps.

Upon reaching the area where all of it started, Zargabaath listens to parts of Faruja's speech, but his attention was elsewhere......

Heartless.

So this was someone controlling them. He nearly snarled under his helment, but he had to seem like a neutral judge....even if the empire he was working for wasn't. "REMOVE YOUR ABOMINATIONS FROM THIS CITY BEFORE I THROW YOU IN AN ARCHADIAN PRISON!" His voice booms out....the threat very real.

Angantyr Vespar has posed:
Angantyr sighs...

"Avira, help Jasmine, kay? I'll get involved..." he rolls his eyes...goddamn kind hearted princesses and priestess...he doesn't bite back at the Priestess...no, it's okay. Not everyone is born with a sense of humor, and he's okay with that. However the Judge runs by, knocks over Jasmine, but he helps her up. Again, this causes a slight annoyance...but his path was determined.

He fades, darkness taking him right behind the throne. "Ahem." he says, "Kindly get out of my home, take your money, and of course use it responsibly...like paying Mercinaries. God, it's what we're for you tool." Angantyr says. The man can sense the darkness as it rolls off him. Hand on the large mace...

"Now kindly stop with the riot."

Garland has posed:
Arcadia.

Garland loathed Arcadia. He loathed everything about them; petty, expansionist children who reached outwards towards all that they could hoard, attempting to bring all the world under the hands of their nobility without foresight or forethought. They were little better than any of the other great empires Garland had seen across the worlds, run by emperors with more soldiers than intellect and more ambition than lifespan. Like all other such empires, they would inevitably crumble in time; they would break down, perhaps to infighting, perhaps to the barbarians that lurked ever at the gates, perhaps simply to time itself. Their advances in machinery, in magitek, were like the Lufein - and it was for that reason and that reason alone that Garland hated them, for they were pretenders to the throne of people who had been greater than they could ever imagine. All it would take was a little push, a little nudge, a reminder of their empire's fragile mortality, and the seeds would be sown - though they would be unlikely to bear fruit for decades. Perhaps they would even pull out of the downwards spiral that claimed all such empires...but time has a way of making fools of all. Besides, there is always the unpredictable element; the plague, the terrorist disaster, the rebellion, the economic decline, the environmental change...there were so many many ways for the structures Men built to fall. All it took was a little interjection of Chaos to bring their secure lives tumbling down around them, to shatter the hourglass and loose the sands upon the ground. Arcadia was, and would be, no different; in time, all such order fell.

He knew. He had seen it before. He had *caused* it before.

Still, Arcadia had its uses, and its quirks, that even Garland's hatred could see the purpose of. For example, the Judge System; Garland found it most entertaining. Invest a few, loyal citizens with absolute power...implant them with strength beyond strength, and then expect them to remain incorruptible while they act as judge, jury, and executioner across he vast expanses of the Empire's reach. Yes, Garland could see many uses for such a system...and, indeed, he had already begun to work his magic on one of Arcadia's infamous Judges, preening and pruning him just as he pruned every other branch upon his tree of intriuge. Garland was nothing if not a careful gardener of his schemes, after all...but then, when your schemes take decades, centuries, millenia to play out, can you afford to allow passion to rule your blackened soul?

It was that Judge that Garland was visiting today - or more accurately, training. Cosmic irony dictated, of course, that mere moments after stepping out of the Judge's secret abode, he be called by his erstwhile Apprentice - and what should that apprentice have, but news about the girl he had suspected of being a Princess of Heart? Once again, Chaos ruled all things; random chance was occasionally more profitable than his greatest and most arrogant schemes.

So Garland took a detour. Rather than leave Rabanastre through the Corridors and make his way to Mirage Tower - which even now can be seen from Rabanastre, looming high above it like a metaphor for the Judges themselves - he simply moves and turns down the street, the once-and-again God simply striding throug the marketplace in his massive armor. He does not pause even as he notices the surges in Darkness - one from the entrance of the Heartless, one unmistakably from his foolish apprentice.

Garland steps into the scene. Jasmine would likely notice immediately; Seith and Angantyr not far behind. It's almost impossible not to notice that all-consuming, ancient, overwhelming Darkness that Garland exudes, that crushing pressure of pure and unrelenting Evil that makes neither excuse nor repentance, that neither justifies itself with kind words nor has any desire to present itself as anything but a monster. The rest of the group would likely notice shortly afterwards, as Garland passes idly by the Heartless, utterly ignoring the monsters in favor of the far, far more interesting Jasmine. He says not a word; he makes not a sound, his heavy armor unnaturally and eerily silent, his billowing, voluminous purple cape brushing just above the ground. When he stops before Angantyr and Jasmine, he does not speak; he simply nods at Angantyr, a nod of acknolwedgement, and nothing more.

Seith has posed:
Seith sets one elbow to one of the armrests, and leans his head down upon his hand, watching in utter bemusement as citizens flock to the gold, trying to grab as much as they can - until they are interupted by Faruja. The Burmecian manages to get between him and the people, and the man just... keeps on smiling. Gold keeps on piling and piling, littering along the streets, starting to trickle along Faruja's little feet.

"You would shove a poor woman from getting this gold?" He chuckles, as Faruja pushes a lady away. "How pitiful." Yet, he leaves Faruja to his little speech, glancing around while he speaks, clearly not caring too much what the rat has to say. No, he's far more interested in the reactions of the more notable people - such as Jasmine, or Zargabaath. Avira and Angan get their own little glances, a smile sent their way, before the man finally stares at the back of the churchmouse once more.

Then suddenly, the mouse turns and points a lance at him. "Such pretty words." He then finally says, sitting back upright and reaching a twosome of fingers out to the flat blade of the spear, and touches it as if it were a toothpick - staring curiously at it. "By a creature who points a weapon at a person who grants these poor ~ poor people the money they truly deserve. And I don't even need them to speak well of me. I don't need them to bow to me, or even pray or 'look' to some 'Lord'."

He flicks against the blade, and closes his hand, now that a full wealth of coins has formed like a flood before him. "Still, perhaps it is only fair for them to gain another thing. How about Revenge? As you said, they lost their place in life to these wretches creatures." He flicks his hand once more, forcing the heartless to set down the throne, and then makes then wobble up onto the pile of gold - trembling before Faruja. "On you go then. Why not beat them up? I hear it's what you people love doing as well." He stares then at Zargabaath who speaks up.

"Now now, no need to be so loud. Why not remove them yourself? They won't dare do a thing lest I tell them to." He claims, and is about to continue when a certain Mercenary suddenly stands behind him. Seith's expression clearly darkens. Why would a man of darkness wish for him to leave? Yet, still, this man threatens violence as much as the other. How troublesome. "Oh! Pay a Mercenary you say?" Seith looks back, looking up and down. That armor of this man certainly looks like it could do with an 'upgrade'. And his clothing... is he perhaps a mercenary too? Seith tries something;

In his hand, coins appear - beautiful coins of Archadian make, offered to this man. "Very well. Take this money and keep this from being a riot..." Or so he says, before falling silent before Garland. Such delight! Such delight! Ohoho such delight! This man! This man!

Such darkness!

Seith's smile turns dark and wicked as he beholds Garland.

This man!

Minerva has posed:
Avira isn't alone actually she's not alone at all. Minerva after an chaotic fight with sewer monsters which kept her from aiding with rescue. She had been trying to catch up with her friend. However things are kinda delayed again as someone shows up with heartless. Her eyes narrow looks like catching up is going to go be delayed by Heartless. She blows a silver strand of hair out of her eyes and looks at Seith for a moment and she says. "Those who consort with daemons have no place here. Be gone from this place...Or your will be feeding the crows before the end of the day!"

She's about to say something else when then something comes. Garland comes he's here where did he come from? He's just there and the monk for all her power and skill she takes a damn srtep back from him as he's just got that sort of presence without any power needed to radiate it. He also ahs power so one with senses like her couldn't ignore or miss it. She'd likely seem like nothing but she'd seem strange mixing two things that normally do not mix but really she's just a gnat compaird to him.

Jasmine has posed:
Jasmine returns Avira's thank you with a soft, friendly smile, right before being crashed into by a passing Judge Magister.

This comprises her first interaction with the Empire of Arcadia. Good thing she's a forgiving soul. Her eyes go huge and furious afterwards, not because she was body-blocked onto the ground by a massive amount of heavy metal, but because she was manhandled. Womanhandled. Princesshandled. Whatever. Regardless, she obviously didn't appreciate being grabbed, but there are bigger things at stake...

Things like those unfortunate souls hurting each other in order to get to what is presumably false gil, that will fade away, leaving them just as poor, with the added desperation of wounds from the riot. Some actual trampling? Also very likely.

But what can she do? Her immediate instinct is utterly predictable, in the 'give the Heartless-controlling man something more interesting than noncombatants to focus on', but converting this mob scene from a riot into a war is less helpful than she'd like.

Not that she isn't passively noticable anyway, a walking pillar of purest Light to those with the sense for it, to see the unseen... Light that surges within her to obscene strengths as it responds to the arrival of Garland. It's less of a rushing river and more of a gigantic ocean, an overpowering maelstrom that wants to squeeze through the tiny conduit of Jasmine to counter Garland's presence, to restore the cosmic balance that his existence threatens to unhinge.

He is ancient, and she is very young, but the primal force within her is not. It may promote serenity, but embody it, no. It wants a piece of his Darkness, and it wants it /now/.

She stares up and up and up at him, dwarfed by his frame and seemingly transfixed by his helmet-covered gaze, but actually fighting twin battles within herself.

The first is to not let the crushing, all-consuming Darkness she can feel directly with her soul cause her to fall over on the spot and curl into a tiny miserable ball of princess. She is forced to gaze into the abyss by her very nature, and it gazes back, corruptive, toxic, soul-tainting. It makes her want to weep, scream, vomit, or better still, collapse, so that in the bliss of unconscious ignorance, she wouldn't have to face it any longer.
The second is to not let the crushing, all-consuming Light that dwells directly within her soul out in response.

And the second one, amazingly, is harder and more fiercely waged, but she manages to triumph over both, for now, with an extraordinary effort of will. It's a good thing that she had her first long rest in weeks last night, or she knows, down to her marrow, that she would have failed.

As she slowly masters herself, the expression in her eyes focuses, becoming calm, steady, even tranquil... the fires of pure defiance writ large upon her spirit but contained within her heart, for now. Dimly, her ears pick up the sound of many other heroic souls handling the riot situation, one way or another, and buoyed by their concern for the people, she knows she's free to handle her own problems.

From some improbable -- or perhaps not so improbable, given who and what she is -- piece of her indomitable spirit, she actually finds her lips turning up gently, serene pleasantness painting her face. Except for a single, silent eyebrow, which eloquently asks him a question: 'what now?'

Jasmine looks Garland right in the eyes, to the extent that that's possible (and with her oddly penetrating gaze, it feels more possible than usual), and waits.

Faruja Senra has posed:
The Mousey Priestess lets go of Avira's wrists, rather openly grinding her teeth and going red in the face with indignation as gil is summoned and people begin to push their way forward. "Ohhh! Damnable heathen! Surely his soul is already lost and...huh? Oh! Yes. Yes!"

Seems the novice adventurer's gotten to the holy woman, as she whispers into a communicator. The various Priests and Priestesses start working the crowds, reinforcing the words of the speech-giving Templar and even those of the Judge Magister. Twin threats have the crowd pushing less, and several people are starting to be led away from the group. Slowly, oh-so-slowly, those whose hearts wavered on the fence make their way into closed shops and open taverns alike as trouble brews. It's a thinner crowd, at least.

But Seith isn't to be outdone, as he mocks and speaks. The Heartless upon the pile of gil are spat at by those who seem less eager to get into the nabbing of gil now that it's stopped. Several children throw rocks at the creatures. It's rather pitiful. At least this time, the soldiers don't stop them.

"Petty revenge? That is not what these people deserve. They deserve justice. Justice that will only come once each and every Abyss-tainted mage, summoner, and demon-dancer are strung up upon a gallows! Now cease your 'pretty words'. Ones laced with poison!"

The crushing power of Garland is easily noticed by the Church party. A man and woman of the cloth each faint after wretching, the pure weight of evil and darkness too much for their minds and souls to contemplate. Luckily, a few more bodily strong pious souls manage to drag them off into a nearby building to safety. The rat near the sorcerer barks orders into his communicator, the other Church and Arcadian warriors now rather forcefully urging people away and inside to some effect. Garland's appearance, paralyzing some and putting pure fear into others, has at least dampened the chances of a riot.

As Minerva speaks, the greying-blonde Priestess steps up to the recently vacated pulpit. "Oh, Lord in Heaven, guard our souls against the Darkness! Let no demon, no unholy Witch tempt us into ruin! To your homes, leave this place! Evil men walk here, turn from them and your souls shall be safe!"

The war between Garland and Jasmine goes unmolested, as there's far too many other souls for the Church-Arcadians to deal with. Faruja concentrates, slower to react as his own soul rages, instincts to purge, slay, and destroy the darkness with the consuming light of a zealot urging him to simply pierce the sorcerer's heart. Stomach clenching, and the rat looking more than a little green, he snarls at Seith.

"Be gone. Even with your tricks there are too many here. So much as I would love to kill you, that would simply validate what you are trying to sew here, Witch. Trouble them more, and you shall wind up in the Judge Magister's cell."

Zargabaath has posed:
Reaching into a pouch, Zargabaath rolls his eyes, not that anyone can see underneath his helmet. "Then why don't you tell them to leave this place? That seems to be within your power, isn't it?" He then turns a little, noticing Garland as he approaches, but at the moment, he wasn't the obvious threat. However, then Vespar literally teleported behind Seith and he inwardly groaned. If anyone would take a job against Archadia, he would. Unfortunately, all it would do it hurt the people of Rabanastre at the moment, and he was trying to prevent that. "This is your last warning. Take your abominations and leave this place, or you can sit in an Archadian Prison until I decide you should be released."

Faruja Senra has posed:
A glance to the mercenary. "Ser Mercenary, toss aside this one's gold. Assist us in calming the people, and ensuring this one does them no harm, and I shall pay you whatever price you desire from my own pockets if necessary. I say to you what I say to the others; take not tainted gold. This witch means to tempt us all."

Angantyr Vespar has posed:
Angantyr nods towards Garland, it is light...Oh god then Jasmine just walks right up to him. Gooooood. This is going to be complicated...very complicated. However, he is distracted by A) the Judge Magister actually keeping the peace, the Church suddenly going on about the darkness. God...fools, he thinks, and then focuses on the new bag of money placed infront of him. Keep the peace, is the job given to him, prevent the people from rioting. Angantyr is not torn...not even a little as Faruja offers him a job too. "Huh. I accept your job too." he says, putting the bag of money in a slot on his waist after making sure it was what he said it was...

t"So. You said that my job was to prevent rioting right?" he says, with a grin.

Then suddenly Angantyr swings the mace with full force, darkness trailing behind the weapon, aiming to bash the little mage's head in! "IT'S CALLED PREVENTIVE MAINTANCE!"

Avira has posed:
A satisfied look appears on her face as the priestess heeds her suggestion and speaks into her...communication device? For some reason, Avira actually hadn't been expecting that. She notices that the crowd is starting to thin a little and those here with the Church are actively working towards that goal.

Turning away, she hears Angantyr speak to her before rushing off to confront this mysterious gold-chucking elf person. She looks his way, following to Seith and for a brief moment, their eyes meet. Avira looks a little perturbed.

"Oh, yes, of course." Avira mentions as her dark knight friend goes rushing off to confront and/or get paid by Seith. She will gladly stick by Jasmine to make sure nothing horribly bad happens to her...oh, hello Garland.

Avira is not unaware of the overwhelming darkness that Garland emits though she doesn't see it as profoundly as Jasmine does. "...we should probably..." Avira's eyes are on Garland, much like Jasmine, though her reasons are entirely different. So she only briefly glances over at the Princess, noticing how intensely she's focusing on the tall, armored man. "...uh, hey, are you alright?"

Zargabaath has posed:
Zargabaath, for all of his credit, does not draw his sword immdiately. He almost laughs at Angantyr swinging at Seith's head, after he anounces he's a mercenary. However, one command DOES come up when Angantyr attacks, but Faruja doesn't. "Keep your guard up. Remember that he has heartless here...." THAT'S when he draws his sword....

Garland has posed:
There is nothing Just or Kind in Garland's soul. If he even still possesses that organ of spirituality the world calls a Heart, it is not merely tainted with Darkness - it has been utterly consumed, devoured, swallowed entirely into the depths of shadow. It takes little more than a look at the man to make that connection; titanic, swathed in indeterminate metal that is most assuredly neither steel nor iron nor any other common alloy used by anyone in the worlds, utterly assured in both his own power and strength, and completely comfortable in the form of the demon that he takes simply in the armor he has dwelled in for ten thousand years. There has never been need to update it; there has never been need to change the design. It says everything Garland has ever needed to say about himself; that armor says more about Garland than Garland ever *will* say about himself. He is. That is all that need be known.

Seith has not escaped his notice, of course; nothing ever does, nothing ever has. Seith's offer to his apprentice quietly amuses him; Garland knows how that will go over quite well, based solely on the man's appearance and the boy's personality. Still, a mistake - a mistake of ignorance, but one that Seith could easily learn from. He had potential; Garland would have to note him down as one more interesting individual. There surely were not enough of those in the Multiverse; too many would-be heroes and would-be villains who spoke the words, who waved their blades and guns menacingly and acted as though they were under some great compulsion or suffering through their actions. The pitiable masses, who could neither achieve nor surpass the great heights....the half-way heroes who used the Light, and the wannabe monsters who still tried to justify their actions. Garland had little respect for either; in his long life, he had faced more than enough of both, and found them...wanting. Seith, at least, seemed to have that vital spark of true Darkness; Garland would remember him.

As the Light surges upwards inside Jasmine, as the young girl stares down a titan of steel and shadow and even makes eye contact with the face-concealing helmet, Garland takes an involuntary step backwards. It is the first involuntary action he has taken in more than seven thousand years; even his breathing had become something so precisely controlled to create a very specific effect upon his opponents that he no longer thought of even that as 'reflex'. Indeed, for a man who had turned reflex into control, the very fact that he still *had* a reflex - that he had a reflexive action to anything, at all - was shocking to him. Not that it's easy to tell that he's visibly shocked, because his entire body is covered in that metallic shell, but there it is. It takes him all of a moment to regain his control over his own reflexive actions...but the damage has already been done, and now, without a doubt, he Knows. He need say nothing to Jasmine, now; he has confirmed what he suspected in the halls of Baron merely the other day, ascertained her identity simply by the fount of beautiful light that spawns within her, that surges and roars forth and threatens to try and drown out his own darkness. She is one of his antitheses - one of those seven so pure, so just, so kind and good and innocent, that the Darkness cannot touch them, can find no crack nor root inside them.

Briefly, Garland considers snuffing her life out. Oh, it would not be difficult; she was a young child, protected by his foolish apprentice. He could likely strike and be done with it before anyone even reacted, given her size, her stature; he doubted she had ever wielded a sword, let alone defended against a master swordsman. Her death would ruin the plans of many - would set about events that could not be stopped, crumbling Maleficent's well-laid acts and ripping to shreds all of That Man's mysterious desires. Were Garland the sort of man to desire petty vengeance and absolute control, he would do just that - and laugh at them both as their plans fell into Chaos.

Garland has posed:
But Garland is not that sort of man. He does not perform such an action. He does not draw his massive, segmented blade out of the darkness and run Jasmine through in the middle of Rabanastre, as satisfying as it would be. Instead, Garland takes another step backwards, giving himself room; then he folds one of those massive, clawed hands over his chest, where his heart would roughly be, and bends his head slowly to the Princess of Heart in what must be the first time Garland has politely bowed to anyone like an equal in at least ten thousand years - perhaps longer. Briefly, bathed in the Light, onlookers might see some glimpse of the man Garland once was, the kind, just, honorable knight beyond measure, the good man swallowed by the Darkness; briefly, bathed in the Light, they would see the ghost of a chivalrous man long-since dead by his own hand in the all-consuming depths of Chaos Incarnate.

"I am Garland," his dark, rumbling, terrible voice rings out across the plaza; he does not raise his voice, nor does he need to, for it echoes with power and authority born of both age and strength, a declaration for all who would hear him and know that he named himself Enemy. In that name that he announces to the Church and the Judge Magister and all else who would know of him his power, for in that name is contained the power of ages long gone by, experience long accumulated.

And then he turns to look upon Seith once more, his iron gaze falling upon the man despite the lack of visible eyes from his helm. He simply gazes at the man for a very very long, silent time, assessing him more seriously in that point between Jasmine and the Heartless; with absolute calm and absolute conviction, the Champion of Chaos observes. Then he swings his head around to the Churchgoers, the children of Ajora who walk this world. Another mental note - the Glabados were most worth getting involved in as well. He had't played with Religion in a very, very long time.

Garland says nothing more; he simply stands there, a potential threat, a towering, seven-foot-tall incarnation of pure and utter Darkness next to a tiny girl made of Light, unmoving, unchanging, as he looks over the situation unfolding. Either Angantyr would beat the man down, or Seith would win and Garland would find more reason to dig up more on the man, or more than simply Angantyr would assault the man and then Garland would simply watch and find out how things went.

Avira is not unnoticed. However, for this immediate moment, she and her friend are not Garland's concern; he does, however, note that he needs to attack her later out of nowhere, and see if her experience in Baron taught her anything. Perhaps he would also share with her some tips on breaking enchantment spells.

"You are Princess Jasmine, I presume." The statement is little more than tossed over his shoulder, an afterthought in the middle of the soon-to-blossom chaos of the city. Somehow, those words coming out of Garland's mouth sound incredibly, incredibly menacing; fortunately, it at least doesn't look like he has any intention of BEING menacing to her. He's just sort of standing there, his presence a poison on the land...though that in and of itself is menacing, where Garland is concerned, isn't it?

Seith has posed:
"They deserve Justice? And how is Justice going to help them now? Justice is taking their lives into their own hands, and /taking/ it." Seith makes a firm grasping motion as he says this, bringing his fist to his chest. "Yet here you are, doling out food like they are sheep to be fed! Give them money, so they can arm themselves. So they can buy their own food. So they can take care of their sick children! Look upon them, RAT!"

Seith gestures outwards to the Heartless, as kids throw rocks, and men spit on the cowering Heartless. "Look at how the pitiful take delight in finally being given the opportunity to strike back at those who harmed them - without fear! Arm them - let them show their anger to those who took away their homes!" His voice raises in volume, for all to hear! He then looks back down upon Faruja, after having gazed towards the 'people'. "Yet you call it 'petty revenge'. Is it not equally petty to point that blade at me? To deny them my money, just because I bring with me, these black creatures?"

The man then smirks at Faruja. "Cute."

"Still, at least you speak with fortitude behind your words. You refuse to do that which would make you a hypocrite." A glance goes to Zargabaath, "Is that not your job? To protect the people from these Heartless? But they clearly don't /need/ your protection. Are you frustrated, knowing that no bad deed is being done, that nobody is in danger - and you don't get to do anything? Come on then, take the first swing! Prove how much your 'justice' means to you! For I have done nothing to break the law. Have I?"

And then Angantyr happens. He takes the fake gold, and strikes out at Seith. In that moment, the bag of gold, and the pile of gold all disappear. The man smirks. "Pity." And the heartless immediately jump for the men and women who dared to spit upon them - retaliating for their boss. The mace itself comes down towards Seith, and the mage brings a hand up. Immediately, a purple pulse comes to hang between him and Angan - halting the strike just barely from his face, yet clearly 'forcing' the hand down which had summoned this 'pulse' - creating a small wince of pain in the sorcerer. And in that moment, the man pushes the wave forwards, and attempts to release gravity for this man, and send him up to the air.

Yet, Jasmine and Garland go untouched by the heartless. Yes, Seith had noticed the strength of light and dark. One could sear, and one could dare to draw him in further than he found safe at this point. He would not touch them. It was not safe for now. Yet, he does lock eyes with Garland for a moment, staring into that helmet with that grin of his, before raising his gaze back to the lifted Angantyr. "You really should not bite the hand that would feed you, pup. For with that gesture, you just put all these people in danger. Now, float up there and watch the consequences of your violent deed - so unprepared..."

And so, finally, Seith stands up from his stone throne and lets the thing disappear into a portal of darkness - moved by heartless shadows - and raises his arms. "Come on! Let me feel your VENGEANCE!"

Minerva has posed:
Minerva is suprisingly devout for what manhattan native might call a party girl. Still that's neither here no there the monk sees what' shappening she knows something bad is very much going down. She however isn't gong to take the first punch, she knows better the level of power here is terrfying she can feel it. iststill a dollow of Ajora herself, She's not foolish enough to make a hostile move aqlso Gardland whatever he is not making physical actions to attack she's more concerned with what else might happen here. She is trying to edge over to Averia at this point whomever her friend is they are likely worth yes backing up should things get even more nasty here. This was /not/ what she expected to happen Seith however gets her notice he does seem to be prepared to cause trouble. Ya she just looks to Faruja for a moment prehaps she might have to truely cut close.

"I have known cut purses and highwaymen with fart greater wit than you. You seem to he a mewwling child playing with a power you have no understanding of."

Angantyr Vespar has posed:
Angantyr is thrown into the air...he flies end over end, before...

He stops, a dark surge expands, and rights himself mid air...he was prepared for this, after all, because well...he just struck at the man. However, Angantyr upheld his end of the bargin. He was paid to keep the peace, specifically to prevent rioting...Seith was trying to invoke that. Then the bag disappears...

"Oh...you just did that." he says, with a frown. "Well. Either you better give me that back, or we're going to have a problem. A big problem." He says, eyes narrowing.

Then, without mercy, he falls back down to the sky, aiming to try and slam him right back into his chair, then swinging his mace in a arc to once more shatter things as he moves to weaken the mage.

The judges spell is not ignored, as he acknowledgs his efforts with a nod. "Well. Who would have thought I'd be on your side..." he says to the Judge... "For now, we both have the same goal...do not confuse this with forgiveness."

Faruja Senra has posed:
Faruja's entire body tenses as Chaos' Champion makes himself known. The large man doesn't need many words. Instinct as much as intellect has the Church party, for a moment, give the man their undivided attention. Each person has their own desires, schemes, motivates base or pure. A challenge offered, and one accepted by the cries of 'Witch', 'Demon', and 'Heretic' that a few brave souls spit back. The wiser heads amongst the group simply listen. No words are needed. Especially as a Princess is mentioned by this man of impossibly ancient power /bows/ to her. Faruja and the gray-blonde Priestess meet eyes and nod before turning back to the task at hand. A Templar knows a duel when he seems one.

Chaos indeed lurks, waiting for that simple spark. Glancing to the Judge Magister as he once again threatens, the much shorter Burmecian can practically feel it coming. The Mercenary raises his weapon. Faruja sighs. "Lord save us all from brazen fools."

As for Priestess Mousey, she occasionally directs people away from the wall of metal and Evil that is Garland. Otherwise? She's right beside Avira, a smile made of paper mache plastered on her face. A gun, yanked from her robes, is aimed at the Heartless just in case. "Take care of her, Miss Warrior." Indicating, of course, Jasmine.

"To be frank, I do not blame them their hatred. But these people are not meant to be warriors when their souls are yet unshielded! If I thought it best for them to take up arms against this blight, the very blight that YOU call upon, then I would do so without a second's hesitation. But the reason Knights and Soldiers exist is to spare the people that, for it is a path of suffering and death. These black creatures of yours are the /cause/ of much of their suffering! And that of many, many others! They fell entire worlds! I deny all that you offer these people, for the only intent of a summoner of devils is destruction, chaos, and trickery!" A shrug.

"As for the politics? I shall leave those to the dear Judge Magister. Now then. I have had quite enough of you!"

Faruja glances to see the mercenary being Darknessed up, or the attempt anyway. A barked order, and the crowd is pushed back against as they try to surge forward against the sorcerer. The grey-blonde Priestess eyes the two Heartless, a pair of shots ringing out as soldiers bodily intercept the beasts, one Templar glanced by the Priestess' shot. One man is tagged by the leaping Heartless, but the woman is spared. Screams fill the area, and different groups flee to safety while others yet still try to assault the Darkness. Oddly enough, few approach either Jasmine or Garland, their polar powers driving away most persons when brought so close.

At least the Mercenary is alive after that. "Grrr! Fool! Your actions only encourage a riot! He was /goading/ us. Half pay. Half!" Then, the Burmecian is kind enough to attempt a lovely clonking on the chin with the butt of his holy-infused spear; intending to break bone, and hopefully shut up the spellcaster.

A nod to Minerva. "The Lady has it rightly! Darkness does naught but destroy! A lesson you both would do well to learn!"

The Judge Magister's spell protects the Burmecian. He nods to the man. "I say, Your Honor, we subdue the Witch! No doubt he knows much."

Zargabaath has posed:
"You and I have more in common that you might think, Dark Knight." Zargabaath says before looking to Faruja. "More than likely, Templar. For now, let's get to him before the heartless consumes Mister Vespar. Starting his way forward, he begins to slash at the heartless, perhaps even hitting Seith. "Now, when You have been subdued, little man......I will Red card you to prison!" Those last words sound absurd, but in fact, it's a very real threat.

Seith has posed:
Minerva decides to pipe up. Seith? Seith just chuckles. "Do you have any idea how often I hear such strawman arguments? I will tell you though, /child/, I understand the power I am 'playing' with'. The fact that your ability to conceive a better retort is so lacking though - that is where a lack of wit comes into play. Off you go." He even makes a dismissing motion, before looking back up at the angry Mercenary - even when Garland speaks. He makes for a surprised look. This one is being 'fed' by Garland? Well, it would explain the darkness within. But this kind of foolhardy and hotheaded behavior would never be capable of wielding the darkness. Still, who is he to deny a foolish dog to one such as Garland?

The Sorcerer shifts his weight and raises an arm, letting Angantyr slam down upon the heavily armored thing and cause him to move back a little, just before he makes for a second go with the gravity-manipulating spell. The man then twirls around in order to try and stop Faruja's from holy Spear - only to notice too late that integral part of the weapon: the holy part. The man bites back a hiss of pain as the weapon strikes against his colarbone and sends him momentarily to one knee, before he rises once more.

"It is because you shield their hearts that their world has fallen! It is your silly little notions like 'protecting the weak' that weakens all your worlds. Do you not understand, RAT? That light that attracts the Heartless, the many powerless humans that did nothing but cower! They all led to the end of their world! There is only one thing that rules - Darkness, and /Power/. Just like you are now trying to 'solve' me - your 'problem' - with Power and Anger at me!"

Before Zargabaath, the Shadows quickly dive into the ground, avoiding his strikes. And before he may reach Seith, the man throws him too up into the air with that same purple pulse spell! "This is getting mightily tiresome. I would have allowed you to destroy the heartless. But then you had to strike at me." He comments. "Pity."

And in that moment, the sky seems to grow darker just over the market place, as a bulb of darkness forms. Air starts sucking into it, pieces of litter and paper ascending up. Anyone with a proper footing would probably be fine. But those in the air... they will have far more trouble staying away from the crushing gravity-entity which will most assuredly attempt to magically crush their armor and scatter them 'away' into various directions.

Jasmine has posed:
Jasmine, of course, has no idea what she's wrought, by simply standing in Garland's presence long enough for him to realize what she is. She herself has only recently been given the exact definition of her condition, which explained some but not all of her troubles, and none of her wider significance. She hungers for further insight, for the meaning of the endless pursuit. How do they keep finding her? Where should she draw them, away from all others they'd try to hurt, to finally stop running and confront them? Why is she being hunted so endlessly? What is her value to these Dark and mysterious Shadow Lords? Who is behind it all?

'I am Garland,' he intones, partially answering the latter question -- and yet, in some ways, the least important of the collection -- and her response is measured, the dangerous silence between them lasting for several beats longer, impregnated by the incredible tension of Darkness and Light.

"Yes," she replies quietly, her voice nearly drowned out by the din of those who scrabble for gil or implore them not to, but the word somehow imbued with respect, understanding, and perhaps unsettlingly, acceptance. Her tones are revealed to be melodious and soft, yet contained within them an incredible firmness, a gentle kind of strength. How similar it is to the Chaos God's, in some ways, while being its polar opposite! "I know."

Not because he announced himself in a similar manner in the battle-torn halls of Baron, but because that even as he recognizes her, she, on an instinctual level, recognizes him. She bears witness, all too briefly, to the incredible memory of Light that once dwelled within him. To the decline and fall of that Light, the self-inflicted wounds, the knife-stabs through the heart and soul that so skillfully forged his spirit into pure and endless Darkness. She can feel, in her own heart, /exactly/ who he is, and what he has chosen to become.

'It was in the choice to remain that the battle between Light and Darkness was won,' she once remarked to a scrappy, brave teenager who stayed at her side when the Heartless threatened, instead of leaving to save his own skin, even when she'd invited him to. 'Everything else is mere details.'

But how terrifying those details are. Terrifyingly beautiful once, and still, in certain ways. In the darkest night lie visions one can never experience under the blinding sun. Every contour of his armor is filled with menace, a perversion of the Holy Knight so complete as to be utterly recognizable, except, perhaps, in this moment.

She returns his bow with lissome, fluid grace, the gesture absolutely identical and completely different, their duality played out in similar ways. She literally wears the pants in the Princess of Heart family, after all, there are no curtsies here. Her hand -- so tiny it could disappear within a couple of his /fingers/ -- curls over over her heart, and her head lowers, briefly disappearing within its linen veil.

For she respects what he once was, understands what he has become, and accepts him for exactly who he is.

His total dismissal of her ability to defend herself is completely fair, when you're Garland and she's Jasmine. She's not in a fighting stance, not in the slightest, because she's still such a novice that she has such times in her life when that's ever the case. Plus she is, by all reports, a tiny, helpless, sheltered child, and despite all the terrible things that have happened to her, it's still horrifyingly -- to her -- true. She has worked so hard and suffered so much, voluntarily and otherwise, to become someone who can stand against the Darkness, if not alone and if not without terrible fear, and in a heartbeat she realizes how little she's amounted to, when put up against this.

The sense of powerlessness reminds her of being at Jafar's mystical mercy during the coup of Agrabah, and she trembles, briefly held hostage by the memory. But then she rises from it, still free, still defiant, and still herself...

And, invisibly beneath her robes, her toes point outward at the /precise/ angle that a great man's once did, in a land virtually but not quite before time.

Garland's presumption is responded to with a silent nod of equal afterthought, as she witnesses the utter violence Rabanastre is descending into. Several people instruct Avira to stand by her, but she gestures at the crowd, now beset more by Heartless than by each other. That is a tragedy within a tragedy. "Please, help me help them."

She herself stands by no longer, wading into the mess to yank a pair of children out of the flailing mass of humanity before they can be accidentally crushed. The princess makes the most of people parting instinctively around her, bringing the tiniest bit of order to the chaos, one rescued urchin at a time pressed into the hands of priests on the periphery, who in turn start helping others. This means turning her back to the greatest threat she's ever known; she does so without even a moment's hesitation. Because he is what he is... and so is she.

She is what she was made to be.

"Please, excuse me," is all she says to the Lord of Darkness, precisely as she springs into action.

Zargabaath has posed:
Knocked into the air, Zargabaath gives out a loud grunt when the magic tries to crush his armor. Zargabaath uses what little bit of magic he has to bring himself back down to earth and take a few moments to rest himself. "Mmmf. He uses magic. Somehow that isn't surprising to me." He steps back for a mere moment.....and quietly watches.

Minerva has posed:
Things are bad with this she's not about to wait any longer to join the battle, she has planted her feet and is focisying now she's prehaps waited too long but Seith is now not thinking about her fists become covered in ice and she takes another moment before she launches into a border line super human rush at Seith. No words are said as she moves to close. She has nothing to say to this man with her voice only her fists remain.

She leaps for Seith now her fists empored by the force of ice and he nodnes' move to strike Seith with a bunch she's going to attempt to grah his head and starts to unlahse her power upon him. Saping his body's natural flow of energy if successful. It would be like one's mind is being slowed down fozxen and it's not very plesnet she'll leap away even if she fails to connect with any part of him to do this.

Angantyr Vespar has posed:
Oh no, you little man, the darkness that flows through Angantyr is not something he weilds...he does not simply take the darkness...he is not just FED by him...

This man is a FONT of darkness, he is a man born with the power of darkness inherrant to him as breathing or walking. The issue here, is that this wasn't a darkness he could control, it was already being controled...The mace comes down...and he tries to weather the attack.

It leaves him burning...he tries to challenge the darkness, and is now bleeding for it...grunting, he curses...slowly he falls towards the ground...

Then he channels his own darkness. The ground shakes but for a moment...

"No. It is time /I/ showed you the power of darkness." he says, rumbling. Slowly, he starts...to change. Darkness wraps over his form, linking within his armor and slowly transforming the armor into a strange mix of shadow and plate. It comes over his head, chaning the helmet into a full helmet that obsuces the face completely, and then...from the slits, is just a blood red glow, as he looks right back up towards the mage. There is a low rumble, as the whisps of darkness start to increase, looking closely at the armor almost seems like you are staring at the abyss itself.

Faruja Senra has posed:
"Agreed!" Faruja shouts to the Judge Magister, only to glare at the Dark Mage.

"Indeed, I channel my wrath against you, Witch! I have strength, what little measure of it was blessed by the Lord to receive in this worthless shell of a body! It is Light that sustains, that keeps our Souls lit! For it is of the Heavenly Father, and Good! Only our lack of Faith, our wavering hearts and souls, and the desires of those who use the Darkness allowed the word to fall! Darkness is naught but entropy and decay!"

As gravity crushes the Burmecian, he screams, bones near to snapping. Thoughts of fighting Seith are given to thoughts of life, and the crowd is quickly dispersing with the help of the Templar and soldiers. Pained orders are given; the people first, then the Witch.

And so, Faruja incants, light swirling as the large scaled form of Arista the Holy Wyvern fades into existance. Her breath washes over Zargabaath and the Mercenary, healing their wounds as the Burmecian works on his own. A swing of his spear, and a purple crescent of energy will scythe into Seith as Priests and Holy Warriors do their best to keep the Heartless at bay.

As Minerva joins in, Faruja nods. "Brave Lady, fight well!"

The Mercenary is given a brief look of horror as he /changes/. But the Holy Dragoon can sort that out later. There's a greater, more immediate concern. "Truly corruption eats into the very marrow of this world! That good men are brought so low."

Seith has posed:
As Zargabaath halts his attack, Seith stops seeing him as a target it seems. Instead, the man turns to Minerva - as she throws herself into battle and is just about to touch him - having gone unnoticed until just then! "Ah, you failed at talking, and now you wish to face me in combat?" His hand moves to his back and grabs the staff that had been there all this time. "Must believe a mage such as myself could never use a melee weapon, and thus be defenseless?" The girl's fists strike against his horns, freezing them over and partially littering gems of frost over his hair as it strikes...

And then the staff suddenly releases a massive scythe from its tip, aimed at her body which he then rakes up and twirls along her side as she drains his /Dark/ magic. After all, if she desires to sap his magic... she's certain to not come out unscathed in the darkness vs light department. Much like Angan - though not in as great of a severity - this man too has been born under a 'dark' omen. Still, she leaps away before the sharp weapon can do any real damage.

Then Angan himself happens once more. The man looks up at the dark 'armored' man and tilts his head a little... and then starts laughing. "Yes! Yes! That's more like it! Show me your darkness! Let it spread in your heart! Show me that anger! Come ooon! What are you waiting for!? Show it to me! Show it to all of these people that this darkness will prevail over their pitiful Light." He's really just egging them all on. He knows very well that the Light is a dangerous thing.

And then Faruja comes to heal his allies, and manages to bring them all up to a better status of being able to fight. Yet, he's not satisfied. "No no, more!" He interjects. "Come on now, if you don't heal them better than that, I won't be satisfied."

And so from his hands outwards, a dark healing spell erupts in an attempt to assist the combattants further against himself...

Remember what he came here for?

Garland has posed:
Jasmine's stance does not go unnoticed. She is inexperienced only; she is not without potetial, and certainly not without power. She holds something inside her that cannot be replicated, that cannot be engineered, that cannot be produced under even the most strenuous replicative situations. She is a creature unique among the worlds; only seven exist, to the knowledge of Garland, and only seven ever will. The Light is eternal, unyielding, and uncompromising, and it is all that Garland hates and loathes - all that he seeks to crush and grind under his heel without mercy. The Light is his ancient nemesis; even as Chaos, he is a creature of Darkness profound and foul. But once...once, yes, he too stood in the Light. Standing near Jasmine...bothers him, not simply because of what he is, what he has always been and will always be, but because of what, once upon a time, a long long time ago, he was. It stirs ancient memories of the fields of Cornelia, of the Princess Sarah, of love and kindness and all the virtues Garland has worked for ten thousand years to purge from himself. It stirs those memories, and it confirms only that Garland still holds a heart - even one so black and twisted as the night sky, Garland still is in full possession of his heart.

It sickens him. He takes another step away from her, turning away and allowing his cloak to billow about once again as he surveys the battle. True, his apprentice, the Judge Magister, the Rat and the Monk probably had things well in hand; still, the Heartless threatened to engulf Rabanastre, to destroy his apprentice, and to otherwise get in the way of his plans. And for Garland, nothing is more important than his own plans - not even the struggle between Darkness and Light that he champions for the forces of Evil.

Garland considers the situation as Jasmine begs for Avira to aid them. He considers Seith - who is, all things considered, promising, but arrogant and misguided. He considered his apprentice, slashing outwards with all of his might. He considers a great number of things present, but mostly, he considers his own plans, and how he would be affected if Seith actually manage to eke out a win or let his Heartless rampage over Rabanastre.

Yes, he was more than adept at pulling victory from defeat. Yes, he was more than adept at making the most of the hand he was dealt. But he was physically here, right now, and had more than enough power to answer the Princess's plea.

"Very well," Garland intones. He reaches outwards, crushing the Darkness in his hand; it manifests physically, as though he were simply bullying it into form, physical muscle applied to magic for the purpose of crafting spell. He reaches into the Darkness, crushing it into a form that suits him, and then he casts it outwards at Angantyr, at Faruja, at Minerva, at Zargabaath, a mere sample of the might at his command. Seith tries to do something similar; Garland simply brute-forces his spell into existence, however. He doesn't rely on magic to corrupt people.

CLASS CHANGE ENACTED: YOUR CLOTHES ARE NOW ONE HUNDRED PERCENT MORE AWESOME. PROBABLY THREE HUNDRED PERCENT MORE EVIL.

Garland tilts his helmet backwards at Jasmine. He says nothing more.

Avira has posed:
Faruja's people are simply full of surprises. The Priestess, turns out, is packing heat. The level of preparedness is very admirable. And yet...

Jasmine speaks to her. "...go, we'll work together." Avira says quietly, a strange sort of anger settling in the back of her mind. There were just so many people, even getting some to move and evacuate earlier hadn't entirely helped. It had turned into...this. It was exactly the sort of thing Avira had feared as far as Heartless encounters go.

With one of her hands, she draws her weapon before following at Jasmine's heels. That gives her one free hand to pull and reach for people, one to beat back any Heartless that come near them. Given that it's Jasmine, she knows full well she'll need both.

Though before that, she will give Garland an almost puppydog-like confused look. Why on earth was he helping? Was it due to his apprentice? He's clearly operating on a level Avira's not yet...seeing.

Angantyr Vespar has posed:
Seith sends darkness into him...

He FEEDS into it, the darkness feeds on itself...it was the nature of it. Faruja's light does not diminish the darkness, it was...and was not opposed to light. This wasn't quite the same...

Then Garland's spell hits...The Dark Knight's armor grows even more, the shadow nearly EXPLODING off of his body in every directly, and whisps of larger tendrills whip behind him...

"I am not unaware, you idiot." he says, calmly. "I control this darkness, because I was taught to. I had to, or else I'd kill everyone around me. It was born to me, because of what might be called a curse...but I don't think of it like that. The greatest light casts the deepest darkness." he says...

"However, it doesn't necissarily mean I can't lose a shadow now and again...SO TIME TO DIE YOU SON OF A" GOOSEHONK.

He blinks, not that it can be seen and looks to a civilian with a handy goose.

"Huh." He says, shrugging. "Convient." he says, and then...

He dives towards The mage, aiming to grab him in the suddenly extended monsterous claws...each one aimins to dig into his flesh, tearing out energy from him and blood...absorbing it before...

Hundreds of claws form from the blood he traces...before they all swipe out at The mage...aiming to completely obliterate it him.

Jasmine has posed:
With every step that Garland retreats from her, or that she retreats from him, Jasmine feels less wretched. But the bolt of darkness that he sends forth, which both fulfills her request and makes mockery of it...

Her other eyebrow lifts. 'Very funny,' it remarks, both disturbed and mildly amused, the expression leaking into her smile.

It's her turn now, and she plunges herself into the Light, allowing it to not only fill her, but to finally fill others; to stoke their inner radiance to blazing and beyond. To allow them to realize a moment of sublime perfection, as they are enhanced to realize the infinite potential of who they could be. Of who they already are. For the Light will never change you fundamentally; it may burn away your imperfections, but it embraces your flaws even as it heals them. It loves you for yourself.

RADIANT HEART ENACTED: YOU MAY NOW LOOK EXTREMELY ODD, AS LUMINOUS, BEAUTIFUL BEINGS INSIDE REALLY EVIL CLOTHES.

The princess tilts her chin up right back at Garland.

Then, very probably, most of the Heartless on the field converge on her instead of the crowd. Just as planned.

Zargabaath has posed:
Zargabaath grunts a bit, even at the heals from both Seith and Garland. While it does awaken a rather dark place inside of Zargabaath's heart, he falls to his knees for a second or two. He stands back up and hos sword glows with that holy light of his. "No......I swore to protect these people, no matter what the Archadian Empire does. Especially from the darkness of the heartless." Faruja can hear his conviction.......

Then Jasmine's holy light is added to his.....even healing him....and the sword flashes even brighter. Zargabaath steps forward yet again, and raises his sword over his head. "BEGONE ABOMINATIONS!" Swinging the sword with conviction.....

Faruja Senra has posed:
Faruja feels the wave of unholy, Dark healing heading his way. The very thought of his wounds being aided by that most Abyssal and Evil of sources shakes the Burmecian to the bone. The sick, insidious feeling of the element he's so opposed to, and yet holds so many traits near to it...the Darkness reaches out. It finds only resistance, a wall of blazing Light. Unlike the pure, innocent one given off by Jasmine, it's the intense heat of a zealot, a martyr in the making...or perhaps a fallen knight, like Garland. Far too soon to tell.

The Burmecian's body flares with that very same energy as Seith's demonic vitality nears him, the ratling quite simply slashing out with his weapon. It parts before him, though not away from his companions.

"HERETIC! My soul belongs to the Lord, the Holy Son, and no others!"

Garland offers up more Darkness. The far older, far more experienced Knight cannot be physically overpowered by the much smaller nezumi Holy Knight. But Faruja is a Burmecian. Where Garland uses physical force to try to force him down a dark road, he dances aside, Darkness falling as if casted by Light itself. A leap into the air, and he's upon the back of his wyvern, staring down. Barked orders, glares, and Faruja casts spells; intent on purging the far more heavily corrupted of the two with his White Magic. If it's even possible, at this point.

Thankfully, Jasmine's own Light, so very pure and potent, assists the rat in his work as he heals the Mercenary. The ratling's voice rises. "May the Lord forgive us all our sins! For we are weak, fallable, and only through His Love may we be saved!"

The rat-Templar's minions are now far more easily directing away the people, now that they're no longer the target of the Heartless. Jasmine isn't left defenseless, however, as she'll find a pair of suddenly free Templar stepping before the heartless.

Minerva has posed:
Minerva is a strange one to be sure She feels the power she feels it surging into her however she's known it's touch before this woman is quite teh strange monk shefeels it but it's strange she settles down to the ground. She seems to be quite suprised however about this. She's never quite had that happen to her before. Tendrils of darkness corse over her body. It's still more than she's used to channeling in her own fighting style. She'll have to do something about that but not now she's got to well? Handle what's coming she feels something happen.

"I'm not what you would expect knave...." She's talking to Seith, she seems to start to control the darkness that's leaching about her body. "You'd be suprised what some of Ajora's children can do."

She's going to suffer side effects to be sure but not to the point someone whose not had the training she'd had or being something like a dark Knight. He clothing has changed it's far more ornate yet simple her gauntles remain somewhere she's gained a head band she's now clearly a Master rather than a simple black belt or monk.

Also her armor's now well dark black she's not noticed at least yet. She takes a moment to stare down Seith and she launches her self at him again her attacks are rapid then with warnin she slams her fist into the earth sending a shockwave that could rip througth Seith as she yells.

"Earth's anger running through my arms! Earth Slash!"

Seith has posed:
When Garland steps forwards, Seith's attention is drawn to him once more. It is hard not to notice every movement such a wall of darkness makes - especially for one as attuned as a Shadow Lord. He watches, with strange flee then, as Garland meshes something into his own spell and winds its threads around his 'pupils'.... and grants them a new set of clothes; that is to say, those who do not resist the call of darkness. Not that his spell would seek to dip their hearts in darkness. It was merely a mending spell after all.

One can see the glee in his eyes, it is obvious that in observing this binding of metal and magic, he is 'learning', studying this effect. "Beautiful." He comments, grinning. But then... something else happens. Jasmine's spell - her prayer if you may - comes into existance. And that is when he feels it. Deep, very deep darkness, combining with beautiful eye-searing light. His lips part slightly, even as he moves a hand slightly over his eyes to block out the dreaded feeling that this grants. "How... unusual. Light and dark together. It is as you say... little pet..." He comments to Angan in this moment.

"It is the brightest light that casts the longest shadow." And with that, he stands still. "Come at me. Let me feel it. Let me learn from your progress!" The man immediately winds a grand spell of magic around himself, and lets its shimmering purple light become his shield as Angan comes down and grabs for it. His massive claws meet nothing but resistance at first - tangible, resisting... and then /shatters/ through it. Like glass, the shield shatters before the might of his darkness and Angan then grabs onto his shoulder and absorbs some of the blood - while other parts of it attack its user.

All-throughout this... the man stares back to Angan, smirking - in pain - but smirking. "Now I see why he chose you..." He whispers. In the distance, Zargabaath has come to the aid of Jasmine, and with one fell swoop of both darkness and light, he rends the Heartless to pieces - the things exploding into bubbles of green and yellow.

And then finally, while Seith has finally pushed Angan away from himself and is lumbering back, in comes Minerva - now wrought in darkness and light, she too unleashes punishment upon him; a massive punch slamming against his well-armored belly, and send him straight back into a wooden stall. The man slams into it, splintering the planks and momentarily coming to 'sit' down amidst the rubble... before he slowly comes back up. He's clearly bleeding by this point, and he even spits out some blood.

"That's enough for now. It seems that I too have something to learn still." He glances to Garland - and then far more importantly... Jasmine. That light she's imbued these people with... yet still -- Angan had done the most damage. And he'd been a man of darkness. To him he speaks; "I wonder... can anyone see your light?" Before a portal of darkness forms behind him. He has yet to step through, taking a moment to get up on his legs properly. The heartless in the area - thanks to Zargabaath - are now gone. But surely, if he wanted to... he could summon more.

Yet he does not. What'd be the point?

Angantyr Vespar has posed:
Angantyr stares at Seith...

Then he is gone, the words left behind...but it was a victory, as the heartless are cut down. He turns, the armor shattering and the darkness fading from him. The mace is back in hand, as he places it back on his back holster. He turns, looking towards Garland, with a nod...and then to Jasmine with the same nod and...

Oh wait. "Shit." he considers. He moves towards her, ignoring others for a moment. "I think we need to move." he whispers to her. He didn't think about this, but he can feel it...the heartless know now. All that work for nothing...and he's obligated to fix it. "Judge." he says, turning towards him, "That is not the end of the darkness. They will be back, and now stronger. I would, if I were you, prepare." he says. "Do not think this is forgiveness. I do this because these people do not deserve the fate that await them...and my pride is not worth their heats." he grunts. "Remember this well, because the next time we meet, and you are in my way, it might be you who falls." he comments, and then towards the Rat. "I am sure you're now going to yell at me."

Zargabaath has posed:
Watching the Shadow lord fade into the portal, Zargabaath barely gets a red card out before the shadow lord can escape. There was no way he'd have enough time to use it before the portal closes. However, his attention is then drawn towards Angantyr. He stares at him for the longest time. "Your pride is what is causing most of your troubles, Dark Knight." He then looks towards Faruja. "Are you all right, Templar?" His helmet may be looking towards Faruja, but out of the corner of his eye......he's looking right at the veiled dark haired lady, whom he does not know the name of yet. She helped him when she didn't need to. Despite Vespar's claims that all of the Archadian Empire was completely, utterly and irrevocably evil, there are always pockets of people that try to do good in their ranks. In this case, Zargabaath was one of the odd men out.

However, Zargabaath was still holding that red card.....

Faruja Senra has posed:
It's a testament to efficiency and training on the parts of soldiers both Church and Arcadian that have the streets nearly empty as the battle's raging comes to a near close. There are bodies, certainly. But many are yet alive, and the healers and men and women of the cloth brave enough to stay are already working on those that can still be saved.

Faruja and the wyvern land, the pitched battle causing the rat to lean against his scaled companion. So much Light, and the warding off of so much Darkness has taken a toll on him. That portal opens, and the Burmecian simply tilts his head. Blam! Blam! A pair of heat-packing Holy Persons with their fire-and-ice laden guns, unload on Seith.

"Be gone, Witch! Or stay a corpse. Either is fine by me."

Then, there's Garland. Faruja turns, summoning up what little strength his battered body has. Step. Step. He leans on his spear. "Garland. I know not who you are. I have not met you. Yet...you are what I, what /we/ fight! Your Darkness, so deep and black, shall be drowned out by the endless radiance of He in Hea...argh!"

The Holy Dragoon falls to his knees, a burning sensation running through his bandage-covered arm. Paralyzed, his ranting and proclaimations are cut off as he endeavors to simply stay conscious.

Zarg speaks, and about all he can do is nod. To the Mercenary, there's a pained grin. "Per...perhaps later." He tries to make it sound threatening, but it just doesn't quite make it there with all of the pain he's in.

Angantyr Vespar has posed:
"Remember the other stuff I said, judge. The heartless are going to come." Angantyr says starting to walk, if Jasmine comes. He doesn't have many other words, even for Faruja.

Garland has posed:
Garland is about to leave for Mirage Tower when Faruja speaks. He pauses, mid-step, his boot hovering just above the ground as Faruja makes his declaration. He speaks of fighting against the Darkness, wielding the Radiant Light of Heaven and Justice against Garland and his 'kind'. The little rat speaks like a hero should, and Garland's foot settles on the ground as silently as always as Faruja finishes. Then Garland turns; his massive, bulky armor shifts as lightly as though it did not even exist, and he walks, silently, like a predator approaching a downed and cornered rat, until he looms above Faruja with his full height. The shadow he casts across the little rat practically engulfs him, so massive is Garland in size; his horned helmet inclines just a bit, to look the Rat in the eye. Faruja would probably get a sense of looking into the Abyss, and discovering that the Abyss looks back - and that the Abyss is very, very, very, very old. Garland's eyes remain locked with the rat for what must seem like an eternity to Faruja.

"Adorable." Garland replies after a moment, the word cutting the tension hanging in the air like Garland's blade across someone's throat. The malice in his voice practically bleeds from it, hanging on that word, dripping from that word as he stares at the little knight. For a moment, it almost seems as if Garland would draw his massive blade from the shadows and simply strike the wounded rat down with the same dispassionate mercy as he did everything else, the same monstrous abandon that fed into all that Garland did.

And then he simply walks past Faruja, disappearing down a corner and parting the darkness before him; the Corridors open at his mere approach, and he returns to Mirage Tower to contemplate the Princess of Heart, the Glabados faith, the man called Seith, and the Judges of Arcadia.

Jasmine has posed:
Jasmine places her back, and thus her trust, firmly against Avira's, moving fluidly with the other woman through the crowd. Faruja's Templars promptly have their hands full -- of children. "Please, help the rest of them." Even after Zargabaath renders Seith's Heartless threat unto nothing, she can dimly feel, beyond Garland's perception-drowning presence, more of them rising to the challenge she's just expressed by the definition of her existence.

They'll be upon her very soon. Angantyr has essentially read her mind, and she nods to him, but turns, instead, to the woman she actually came here to see.

"Lady Avira, I need a fast way out of the city, before more people get hurt," she murmurs with great urgency, though her face is oddly serene as she grapples with getting the Light under control, stuffing it back into her heart with gritty determination. This is its shortest explosion on record, having only lasted a few seconds; once again she appears to be a tiny girl in the humblest of garments, not a walking bonfire of pure, coruscating radiation, a holy white containing all colors and none.

Though even without the Light, there's blatantly more to her than it seems. She wears majesty like a cloak; no ostentatious garb is necessary to establish her authority, or her quality. She looks Seith, the original instigator of all this violence, dead in the eye.

"I can see /yours/," she informs him gently, as to what he said to Angantyr.

And then she disappears into the crowd, trusting her allies to guide her.

Zargabaath has posed:
Turning his head back to Angantyr, Zargabaath growls a bit at him. "Do you delight in repeating yourself, Dark Knight? If you had watched spherevids around here, this would be the second time in as many days that heartless have been here."

He then walks over and holds down his hand for Faruja, to help him up. Strange gesture for a Judge Magister to do for a non-hume. Any other comments from Angantyr or Garland is ignored, his attention on Faruja, to assist him.

Seith has posed:
As the templar soldiers lift their weapons to take aim at Seith, and the others come to ignore him, the Sorcerer draws a shield before him in order to let the bullets ricochet off into nowhere. He then looks back to Jasmine as she suddenly looks at him. He feels his heart jump in that moment. What was she going to do? He pauses for a moment... and listens to her four... simple words. She can see his light.

"One cannot be all darkness." He informs her - aware that there rests light within him even now. "As you showed very clearly. There must be light within darkness to make it strong." And with that, he lets the portal close before him.

Later that day, he would sit - recuperating within Hollow Bastion's Library - contemplating the results of today's 'lesson'. The combination of darkness and light. What was the importance of this new information, and how would it shape him in the future? But what's more... for all the darkness within him, for that shred of miniscule light that remained. How had she managed to see what even he had trouble seeing sometimes? How had Jasmine... seen that light within? As if it held the answer, he would take the picture from his pockets, and stare at the image of his dead wife and daughter. "Is it you two?"

Avira has posed:
At Jasmine's back, Avira fights to her fullest, only vaguely aware of her shift in purpose that fuels her right now. Most of the time she's had to fight just for her own life. But now it's to actually reall,y really protect someone else. This does little to alter the willpower and effort behind each blow she makes.

"...chocobos." Avira says immediately once the princess begs for a fast way out, though even that is a speedy run from the merchant's quarter to get to the stables. It'll have to do since Avira doesn't know about "moogling" and the warp crystal system is no doubt a little messed up now. With her free hand, she reaches out and grasps Jasmine's wrist just as the Light is reined in by the princess.

"Let's go! Angantyr I'll be back later!!" Avira calls out over her shoulder as she runs, holding on to Jasmine as she does lest something try to tear her away.

Angantyr Vespar has posed:
Angantyr is moving with Avira and Jasmine.

"Oh ho, you think I am leaving? I am getting paid." he pauses, "HEY, AND TELL THE RAT FACE THAT I AM SENDING SOMEONE TO COLLECT MY WAGES SO HE BETTER NOT JIP ME!" he shouts towards the Churchies.

He turns to run, slightly behind Jasmine and Avira.

"Avira, we need to talk."

Minerva has posed:
Minerva sees Seith is gone there's not much she can do about him now right? Either way he's departed, she's now trying to bleed the surplus darkness from herself she takes a deep breath a very deep one and exhails she sees Faruja for a moment aas he stand down Garland but prehaps wisely Faruja doens't attack there's a time and place for everything after all. "Ser Knight do not presue he's beyond us and if he choses not to fight we should not press it for now we were forutnate to stop the other. She'll move to fall in with Avira and Jasmine as quickly as she can if Avira needs help? then away she goes.

Faruja Senra has posed:
Faruja is /not/ a person known for fear, sometimes to his own detriment. The looming presence, the idea of being consumed or slain by darkness, he's dealt with these things many times before. But as the Burmecian's single eye stares into Garland's own...he finds himself being tugged, pulled into the gaping hole that is true and utter Darkness. Utter Abyss. The ratling's eye dilates, a look of absolute terror coming into the Templar's face. Physical pain is nothing against the seeming endless glimpse into the most darkest of places.

When Zargabaath reaches him and Minerva speaks, the Burmecian doesn't respond. Instead, he simply shivers, clutching his spear and mumbling prayers as his teeth gnaw upon the holy weapon.