To Fight Or Flee

To Fight Or Flee
Date of Scene:	10 December 2012
Location:	Traverse Town
Synopsis:	After awaking from the battle in Manhattan, Zia discovers her world has fallen. Fleeing to the rooftops, she is soon joined by a friend.
Thanks to:	Zia, for being awesome!
Cast of Characters:	Zia, Faruja Senra

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Faruja Senra has posed:
Traverse Town is utterly packed, what with the influx of new citizens from Manhattan's fall. Faruja, having been yanked out by a certain monk, was in a rather foul mood for the short time he rested his injuries. Ruining a Glorious Martyrdom is a quick way to get off a Temple Knight's Ajora's Day card list. But, despite the sense of anger, confusion, and failure resulting from the loss of the city, he's solved his problems by throwing himself into work. In this case, that work is tending to the wounded and preaching.

Offering spiritual guidance to any who will take it, and healing whether they want it or not, the Burmecian has donned a fresh set of robes and is shuffling about the refugee camp sponsored by Xanatos. With an exhausted sigh, he leans against a wall adjacent to an alleyway, resting for a moment. His tail droops, the young knight feeling more tired than he has in his entire life.

Zia has posed:
Unfortunately, the poor Burmecian's rest is bound to be disrupted by something sooner or later. Alas, it seems sooner rather than later. There is a crash from a nearby tent that has been set up to deal with the wounded. There is the sound of metal clattering against the ground, the sound of shouts, and above all of this one voice is easily discernable. "Let go o' me!" The Scottish brogue of a certain gargress carries over the voices of healers trying to get her to calm down. "Dinnae touch me! Away wi' ye!"

The poor gargoyle has been backed into a corner of the tent by a group of human volunteers, who may very well be trying to help her. Waking up in a strange place is bad enough. Her last memory before now was being blasted by a rocket launcher, and a strange feeling that she can't quite shake that something /else/ had happened afterwards. It's like a dream, though - something she can't quite grasp onto just now. Add to her confusion - the fact that she's in pain, and surrounded by humans trying to restrain her, poke her with needles, or shove things down her throat, and you've got one not very happy gargress.

Her eyes flare red, and she swipes a claw at a nearby table, sending it toppling between her and a group of healers. She turns, tries to run, and ends up taking out part of the tent with her as it trips her up, making for quite a bit of chaos as the healers try to work their way out of downed canvas and the gargoyle goes running off towards the nearest building she can find while still clutching one arm across her side. She's quick, so they must have done some healing before she woke up, but that doesn't mean she's fully recovered by any means.

By the time she reaches the relative safety of the roof, the gargress is panting visibly, her face an expression of pain and her entire body tense. Sitting against the chimney, she reaches beneath her top and pulls out a small crystal dangling from a bit of chain. Where it once had held a bright glow, the power it held has now grown dark. "It cannae be possible..." But it is, and she realizes that more than anything else. If the crystal is dark, then her world is certainly gone. For all her courage in facing the Shadow Lords, she had failed to buy enough time for the others. Zia's head falls forward onto her arms, her back twitching with silent sobs.

Faruja Senra has posed:
Perk. One ear tilts as a familiar accent hits his sensitive ears. Yup. No rest for the zealous. He pauses, unable to believe it. Hadn't...hadn't she fallen? Wasn't she dead!?

A form bursts out of a tent, causing healers to be wrapped up in canvas. It'd be comical, if it weren't for the fact he has more important things to concentrate on. Like a certain Gargess!

Really, Zia would've made a fine Burmecian, gravitating towards rooftops as she does. For Faruja, it makes her all the easier to find. A hop, hop, and a Jump have him quietly landing on her perch. Looking her in the face, with her pain, her confusion, and her disbelief...he sheds a tear. A feeling he remembers all too well. A clawed fist clenches. Woe be to the Shadow Lord who meets him next.

As she sobs, the rat feels as though he should say something. But what words are there? No. There are none he can give to comfort her right now. They failed. They all did, despite their best efforts. All he can do now is approach, quietly chanting words of healing as curing spells wash over her. Should she look up, a handkerchief is being offered to her.

Zia has posed:
Normally, the gargress's cautious nature would have had her listening for the sound of any sort of approach. In this moment, though, she's too caught up in her own grief to realize that those tiny sounds are Faruja's approach. What she does feel is the waves of magic that flow over her, and it is this that causes her to lift her head, rubbing at her eyes. It is a sad sight, the girl with her ears tucked down, looking quite miserable for the events of the last few days.

At first, she fully expects the healer to be just another of those meddling humans, but whatever she had planned to say falls silent when she sees the handkerchief, and then the ratling offering it. Wordlessly, Zia takes it and uses it to clear some of the tears from her cheeks. "Ye... dinnae need to trouble yerself, Temple Knight Faruja Senra. Ah'll heal on m'own." The magic of that crystal had kept her from the stone sleep that is the bane of the rest of her kind, and now with it's magic broken, she will inevitably fall victim to it when this night ends.

There is no point in hiding the dead crystal now, and she leaves it sit against her chest. It does ease some of the pain, though. If the wounds that remain are any sign of just how bad things had been down in the Labyrinth, it's a miracle that she made it out alive. Of course, that miracle had a name - she just doesn't know what it is yet. A mouse... with a sword shaped like a key. "Did the rest o' the Shard Seekers make it out alright?" Her voice catches here and there. "Ah didnae see anyone but Skoll Ulfang near the end." She's clearly looking for some sign of hope. Unlike the others, she hadn't been at the evacuation, so she doesn't know just how many were saved.

Faruja Senra has posed:
Faruja shakes his head, a ghost of a smile coming to his muzzle. "I am a healer, M'Lady. We can be stubborn bastards." It fades quickly, however, as he joins her. The Burmecian slides down the chimneyside, one leg clutched to his chest. Tellingly, he lets her sit on his blind side.

His tail is still as he sits, muzzle sitting on a knee. Tired, angry, but most of all, there's that horrible feeling of loss in the rat's eye.

"Lady Lily and Ser Seatlan are fine. Lady Misaki and Ser Galvan are safe as well. I do not know where Lady Lenn is currently. Nor Ser Riku." He doesn't bother hiding his worry for the last two.

Faruja Senra has posed:
"How fares Ser Ulfang? I...had feared you both lost." The rat's voice chokes for a moment. He pauses. "...What of Lady Avira? Know you the young adventuress? Forgive me to ask this so soon...but I must know."

Zia has posed:
Learning to accept the kindness of others is quite a difficult thing for someone who has lived on their own for a long time. She's only just developing that ability to put her trust into others. At the very least, Faruja is one of those creatures of a race she isn't familiar with. There are no pre-concieved notions to war against as there are with humans. She isn't used to the way the magic eases the pain, and for a time, she looks at the cut on her arm and just watches it heal itself. It's not quite so miraculous as the werewolf's ability withstand damage, but it seems amazing to one who has never really seen it before.

"Makes me wish we had yer type o'magic in m'world. We dinnae have healers... didnae have healers." She corrects herself, that somber look in her eyes. She lets them scan skyward, but there is no way of knowing which star had once been her home. All she knows is that it is gone. Shifting her eyes from the night, the gargress looks to him, "Ye look te be in one piece, though. Well, at least as many peices as there were b'fore, anyways." Some people might not not be the sort to mention such things, but Zia has never really found much good in not speaking he rmind.

"Riku." Zia tenses suddenly, and the small growl in the back of her throat and flash of her eyes to that fierce red shows just how angry the name has made her. "He... he." She starts, but there doesn't seem to be a way to finish it. "He was in the Labyrinth." Her breath catches, and one hand clenches into a fist. "He was working with /them/." These words are said through gritted teeth. "He was bringing the Heartless right to light. He fought /against/ us." Everything that happened is a jumble. She'd been infected with something early on that made her memories swim in and out.

Still, a few things do register. She remembered, distantly, the sound of Skoll Screaming a name. Avira? Could that be the woman he was fighting with against the man with the strange glowing lines? Zia holds her head in her hand for a moment, trying to sort everything out as well as she can remember. "I... don't know. Skoll Ulfang was there, but he was fighting along side a woman against this man who looked like a reject from a sci-fi flick." For the ratling, this might not make much sense, but she continues on anyways. "I remember hearing him call for her later, but I think I was out of it. I... I haven't seen them. I just woke up here a few minutes ago."

Faruja Senra has posed:
"Given the technological prowess the humans of your world show," He can't quite use the past tense. He'll be damned if he considers allowing the new world shard to forever live in Abyss. "There is little wonder. Magic of a different form, at least through my sight. But I should be glad to tutor you in the healing arts if ever you wish it."

Smirk. Faruja chuckles, weakly, but it's genuine. "The Lord was with me, that I am relatively in one piece. Though the dear healers still wish me in bed. Too much to do now. There is a world to reclaim, and murderers to be brought to justice." Forward looking, this rat. It seems he hasn't yet lost hope.

Riku. Silently, the rat listens. Slowly, he stands, eye never leaving the angry Gargess. Shock. Anger. Then, slowly...dawning comprehension. It /fit/ with his suspicions. Faruja turns away.

His head bobs, nodding to the rest. A clawed hand clenches, tail lashing in barely contained rage. His entire body shakes, light starting to pour off of him in waves. Should Zia touch one, it would have a slight burning sensation to it, though no harm is done.

"Lady Zia of Manhattan, swear to me. Swear to me, upon the fallen world you called home, that all you say is true." Authority flows into his voice, as well as an undercurrent of /purpose/.

He turns, a tear sliding down his cheek. For all of the rage, betrayal is clear on his face. "...Do this, and I shall do everything in my power as a Knight of the Church to bring him low, or die in the attempt."

Zia has posed:
"It isnae magic, good mouse. It is what the humans call science. Yet it cannae explain a great many things." Like - for instance - a gargoyle's abilty to regenerate during stone sleep. "But wha magic ah know is all related te the winds. Last ah checked, they arene particularly good at mendin things back tegether. Ah'll havete leave that in yer capable paws." There is still a lot she doesn't understand about magic, and having it go out of her control once is plenty for a lifetime.

She's not about to argue if the ratling should be up and around, especially since she probably should be bed-ridden herself for all the damage she endured. But passing along information about the others seems far more important than any rest. She had all the time in the world to rest. The only thing she's ever really given herself to protecting is gone. What else is there?

When Faruja begins to give off that light, looking for all purposes like the duty-crazed templar he probably is, she just blinks, looking a little taken aback. "Ah swear te ye, it's true, 'n more than tha. There was a man he was fightin'. Ah think he's one of those detective folks. He went all crazy 'n blasted /everything/. It felt... like everythin that connected me te the world got cut." Her hand comes to her chest, a shiver bringing gooseflesh out on her arms. "Never felt anythin like it."

She trails off, looking over at him and shakes her head, "Nae. Ah dinnae want ye te die. Nae even if it would avenge m'world. Keep yerself and the others alive. That'd be oath enough fer me." The gargress seems quite somber at the moment, but the last thing she wants is to see yet another body strewn across the ground.

Faruja Senra has posed:
"Wind magic. A rare discipline. Yet, as a Dragon Knight, I can quite appreciate the usefulness. Mmm. I know a Temple Wizard or two with an affinity for the elements. Perhaps you can swap notes, if you do not mind it being a human. Trustworthy, of course. Dame Agatha is a touch...ahh, excuse the phrase...air headed at times, but a good hearted soul."

Faruja clenches his hand, concentrating as he brings it back under control, and the light slowly dissipates. "...Curse me for a fool, Zia. I had my doubts about that boy. It seems he has duped the entirety of the Shard Seekers. No longer. The Church, nor I, do not suffer traitors."

Rejoining her, he nods, sitting. A hand goes to his cross, rubbing it. "I believe you. You are given to bluntness, not lies. Tell me what you can. Ser Ulfang, then, has witnessed this as well? Whom else was there? Tell me as much as you can. The more witnesses I can find, the more I can know of what that damned traitor is capable of, the easier it shall be to find and persecute him."

A bitter chuckle escapes the rat's muzzle. "My Lady. I am a Temple Knight of the Holy Church of Saint Ajora Glabados. Every Templar makes the same Oath: "Before the Lord, blessed be His Name, do I solemnly swear to bring blade, spell, and fist to every Shadow, Murderer, Heretic, and Abyssal Servant within my reach. Only when the last breath leaves my body shall my duty end. Only when my limbs break, my life leave me, shall I cease my assault.' A Templar dies for a cause, for the sake of others. And one day, I too shall meet that fate."

He shrugs. "However...perhaps you are correct. This shall not be the cause for which my life ends. Nay. I have a home of my own to reclaim, and those of my friends, and people to protect. Let us both live, and triumph even against an obstacle we now find ourselves against."

Tilting his head, he brings his single eye to Zia. "...What will you do, Zia? I understand your fear of humans. You are not a soldier, nor a Knight. If you wish to abstain from the war upon all the worlds, I cannot fault you that. But you must decide. And should you decide to fight, I will gladly do so beside you. What will you do? Shall we seek out Riku, and bring him to justice? I know the path I shall walk. What shall be yours?" It seems the ball's in the gargess' court.

Zia has posed:
"Tha isnae really the trouble. The wind has always been easy fer me te grasp, it's other sortsa magic tha get tricky." Her fingers move, eyes looking down at them for a moment. "Last time ah tried te use more advanced magic, it didnae turn out how ah expected." For all the years that have passed since Valen's death, there is still that bit of guilt. He may have held her prisoner, but he didn't deserve the death he received at the hands of his own magic. The girl manages a small smile though, "Maybe someday. Ah think ah'll needte figure out how-te defend myself wi' more than just m'magic, though. Ah'm nae usedte huge battles. Tha's more fer warriors like yerself."

Her eyes go to the cross that he holds - the way that his hand curls around it as she used to hold that crystal so delicately. Even with it's power gone, it still has sentimental value to her, and she lets her hand come back to it, tucking it beneath her shirt. It is her family's secret, and even if it's power has died with her world, at least she can still carry that memory with her. "Would ye hunt me then, sweet mouse? Fer ye know Ah dinnae follow yer god or any other. 'N even m'hands arenae clean o' the blood o' others." She watches him carefully, not sure if she should have told him such things, but better he know the truth now than consider it a betrayal later.

The harder question is the one that he lays to her to answer. What will she do now? "Ah dinnae think there is a way te not be involved. Ye either fight fer the fall, or against it." It is another pendant that she pulls out this time, which contains two small shards of bone, burnt at the edges. "M'da usedte tell me tha the worst thing a gargoyle can do is te nae do anythin at all. Ye might try 'n fail, but if ye never try, yer nae more te this world than a breeze passing through. Be'ta te make yer mark."

With some of her wounds now healed, the gargress pushes herself to her feet, steadying herself against the chimney. Her eyes look out over Traverse Town, as they had only a few days after her world first fell. Now, it's gone completely, and she has changed. "Ah dinnae know aboot huntin Riku, but there's somethin goin on deeper than tha. It was like he wasnae himself, and ah dinnae understand it. Maybe he's a traitor, but darkness doesnae necessarily make one bad." She had that seed of it in her, and she knew the darkness that Skoll carries as well. "Ah have a lot te learn, but figurin out tha first step is gonna be the hardest part."

Maybe it's not an answer just yet, but she has a lot to think about. At the very least, it seems likely that she isn't just going to hide from what is coming. She'd fought once, and she would fight again.

Faruja Senra has posed:
Slowly, the Burmecian smiles. "Now physical defense is a topic I can certainly assist you in." The ratling flexes his gauntleted claws. While he's no expert, no nezumi warrior is without at least some skill in using what they were born with.

"If I thought you guilty of some crime, of harming the Faithful I am sworn to protect, of assisting those that would pursue the fall of entire worlds to Darkness? Without a moment's hesitation. I consider you something of a comrade, perhaps even a friend. I would owe you that much."

A shrug. "I am a soldier, and then a Knight M'Lady. My own are soaked in blood. I can hardly complain. Certainly, however, those that met their deaths at your hands deserved it."

A small nod. Faruja's tail swishes. "Your Father was an intelligent gargoyle. I think I shall remember that. May the Lord bless his fallen soul."

Faruja pauses, taking in her answer. "...I see. Well, do as you wish. Here, take this." She's offered a Ma Belle.

"If you decide to join me in seeking him, or if you find Ser Ulfang, notify me immediately. My number is stored in this device. Or anything else you may find out."

Zia has posed:
Seeing the templar flex his claws is enough to cause the gargress to raise her eyebrows, chuckling softly to herself. "Ah may havete take ye up on tha offer. Ah've never hadte defend myself against much, other than hunger 'n cold. This is somethin else entirely." She looks down over the edge of the roof, eyeing the refugees that still mull about on the streets. Soon enough, they would find new places to rest their heads, but would any place really be home ever again? It's not as if she had any place to go home to, anyways.

Her eyes look back towards him with that curious light to them, although they are still red-tinged around the edges from her sobs earlier. She's strong enough to hold them back, no matter how lost she might feel at the moment. "The one ah killed held me prisoner for nearly fifteen years. It was ne'er my intention te take his life, though. Ah jus... wanted te be free." She lifts her hands, and then lets them fall back to her side again. This is the first time she's told anyone about Valen, at least more than in a passing manner.

"The sad part aboot it is, since Ah gained m'freedom, Ah havenae been able te figure out wha te do with it." She lets out a sigh, "Ah'm learnin though, 'n it's folks like yerself tha are helpin me find the right path." When he offers out the phone to her, the gargoyle's ears tip back again and she shakes her head. "Ah've got one. Left it back with the Shard Seekers wi' the rest of m'things." With a somewhat sheepish expression, she rubs at the back of her neck. "Ah havenae had much luck figurin out how te use it." Little does she know, but there's probably about sixty messages waiting for her back on the one stashed in her borrowed bunk.

"Ah'll probably stay 'round here a while, see if they turn up. Then head back tha way, if ah can figure out the way." She's had some bad luck with that, since the first map she'd gotten from Faruja had been one of Reize's fail-maps. Not that she blames the ratling for that.

Faruja Senra has posed:
The ratling beams a smile to the Gargoyle, tail lashing behind him. "M'Lady, it shall be an honor to instruct you. Headquarters has more than enough room in the gardens. Mmm. The target dummies are in need or repair as well. I shall have to pick up a touch of wood and cloth before I leave here."

"'Tis not a fate I wish upon anyone. But, there is little choice for anyone these days. Were it up to me, I would have every single able-bodied person learn to defend themselves throughout the many worlds. Though it seems traitors lurk, we must find allies true, and band together. Politics be damned." His voice catches a moment. Would such a thing be possible, with so many worlds. The thought is sobering, and he finds his muzzle dry. He fixes the problem with his hip flask.

The mention of a captor, and his death has the rat snorting. "Forgive me if I do not mourn his loss. To capture another sentient without due cause...this /WAS/ without due cause, correct?" A fuzzy brow rises. "To do such a thing is immoral and honorless. Most would call that 'self defense', M'Lady. Waste not tears upon it."

Standing, the rat walks over to the edge of the roof, peering down thoughtfully at the people. So many saved. So many lost.

"You are an oddity in some ways, Lady Zia, and your attitude is...mmm, some back home would say rather unkind things. We Burmecians are 'stuffy' as some put it. But I find your attitude refreshing. It pleases me to know that you are gaining friends. No one is a tower, M'Lady. To live alone is a slow descent into despair and madness."

Freedom. The rat shakes his head. "I suppose I am not one for advice on that. The military, and the Church after it, is quite adept at leaving me with purpose. All I can say, is to greet every day with fresh eyes. Follow your heart, your wisdom, your intellect. Do what you feel is right. Do not compromise on your values no matter whom or what stands in your way. Act boldly, and with honor." A shrug. "Some people spend entire lifetimes searching for what to do with the time given them. Strive to find some purpose in living beyond survival; a cause, an ideal, an occupation, a goal, a person or people to protect. You have talent. Use it. 'Tis a gift given you by the Lord. Do not let it dull."

Cough. "Ahh, but I do ramble. Yes, annoying little devices, but that goes for most human...science, you call it? Science. Seek out Lady Misaki, she is rather adept with the devices, 'tis only thanks to her that I can use the Faram-blasted thing. The tactical advantage outweighs the annoyance."

Faruja turns about, snapping a salute reflexively. "Good. I shall be doing what I can for the injured for a little while longer while a few...arrangements are made regarding our mutual 'friend'. There will come a time that I will call upon you, your insight will be necessary. No attachments, no deals. All I shall need, unless you wish otherwise, are your words and ears along with Ser Ulfang's. The Shard Seekers must know."

Zia has posed:
If she were to ask, there would probably be a number of people willing to help teach her the finer points of combat, but this is a start. For someone who has never had to really fight, the process of discovering just how much strength you have, and just how capable you can become is a long one. Still, every journey starts with a single step.

"Depends on what ye deem as due cause. He wanted te use me as a conduit for magical energy. Like ye'd use a wire te transport electricity. Still... t'was a fair bit be'ta then were Ah was before then." That's another story entirely, and it seems that this is as far as the templar is going to get tonight. Bits and pieces of a life that have brought her to stand on this rooftop, so afraid of humans that she'd rather isolate herself from them for the most part. She's learning to trust some others, though. It is a start.

She lets him talk, then, to what some might consider preaching. While she does not believe all the same things that he does, there is a good deal of truth to his words. "Nae one is a tower." The girl repeats his words, taking them to heart. Gargoyles are not really the sort to live their lives alone. The need for family, for friends, for clan - it's a strong instinct, and one she's only beginning to give into.

"Ah am wha Ah am, m'friend. Ah cannae say tha it isn't strange te see the world through yer eyes. Ne'er met anyone quite like ye." She could say much the same for the others, too. Every member of the Shard Seekers or their grater aquaintences were... unique. As he salutes her, she cocks her head quizically, blinking with some confusion. "Anytime ye need anything, sweet mouse. It isnae a trouble te me. If ye seek more aboot wha happened, perhaps try te find yer Lady Avira, 'n Skoll Ulfang. There was also two humans who Ah believe were part of tha detective group. M'fellow gargress Diedra is allied wi' them, and she was there, too."

It's the best she can offer in way of leads. Trying to describe the key-wielding mouse would be a bit harder, and until her foggy memories solidify again, she's going to keep that one to herself.

Faruja Senra has posed:
Froooown. The rat's at a scowl as Zia speaks. "...There are objects designed for the very purpose you describe. To use...to use a living being...a /sentient/ being, a person!" Fur stands on end, and the rat's tail is lashing again with renewed vigor. "Heretic." It's practically spat out.

Faruja stills, going suspiciously stiff as if trying to forcefully control his own body's actions. Worse? He can hardly imagine worse. It sounds like her former captor could teach an Inquisitor a thing or two about torture. But he doesn't press, letting he matter drop.

Faruja chuckles, flicking his tail upwards. "'Tis always so. And through the eyes of another race? Strange indeed. But insightful, at times, for we are often blind to our own failings."

The Burmecian blushes. That nickname! Turning away, he coughs. "I shall seek them out indeed. Mmm. More than useful, thank you." His heart hammers in his chest. Is Avira alright? What about the TDA? So many unanswered questions.

A bow, and the ratling smiles. "But I do believe I have taken up more than enough of your time with my prattling. And there are injured to see to. Lady Zia, Lord bless, and remain strong. There is much to be done yet." Leap! The rat's off the roof to the ground with a slight hop.

Zia has posed:
Perhaps there are items that could have done the same job, but it is likely not the exact goal that her former captor had in mind at the time. Maybe he was some sort of heretic, but he's gone now. Unlike many who might carry deep scars from such things, Zia only has that slight guilt at times, and little else. Better to live in the present than the dark past.

She seems oblivious to her words effect on the templar, although she does offer him a nod of her head and the faintest of smiles. She doesn't feel much like smiling, truly. Her world is gone, and she's still very confused. "Fair thee well, Sir Knight." The gargress offers, and then sighs to herself, eyes looking skyward. Tonight, the stars hold no solace, for tonight, her world is not among them.