NationStates

For many generations, Kenettra had been peaceful. It was a shining gem of trade and wealth, a place to attract wealthy merchants, ruled by kings and queens with a fair and steady hand. Then a king had two children: Enzo Valenciano, the crown prince, and Giulietta Valenciano, the princess. Enzo was to grow up and rule Kenettra with a queen of noble birth, while his sister would become a noblewoman, or perhaps an arranged marriage for alliances.

However, it was not to be. The blood fever appeared from nowhere, striking hard and coursing through all countries. All above the age of twenty who caught it died, while the young ones were spared. Yet even they were not left without scars. All who caught it and survived were deemed malfettos, creatures lower than dogs who had no status. Anyone who dare take a malfetto wife would drop out of the hierarchy, and those with malfetto children a bad omen of the gods.

Even the royal family was not spared. The queen died, and the crown prince left scarred. Since malfettos were seen as creatures, animals, monsters, Enzo was suddenly unfit for the throne. Giulietta took his place instead. She married a powerful duke, and when her father died she became second in command of Kenettra, subordinate only to her husband, the king.

That's when things became dangerous. Malfettos began developing powers. Wind, rain, fire, illusions - anything imaginable. They were connected to the strings of energy that bind everything together more than the average human, and could manipulate it according to each their abilities. Malfettos were now feared. Angry mobs began hunting them, and Prince Enzo vanished without a trace.

After the fever itself died down, societies rose out of the ashes and into the light. The mostly noble Dagger Society, meant to save and recruit as many powered malfettos as they could. The Inquisition Axis, a force created to exterminate these powered abominations, or "Young Elites", as they were now called. Each was lead by someone chosen - the Daggers by the enigmatic Reaper, and the Inquisition by Teren Santoro, who was a malfetto himself.

Throughout the land, malfettos were suddenly known. In Kenettra, feared and hated. In the Skylands, revered and even worshipped. In Tamoura, treated as the humans they truly were. However, the climax was in the first, where forces clashed to discover who lived and who died. It was man versus man, brother versus brother. No malfetto was safe. Sides were taken, loyalties made, oaths sworn.

The war for freedom in Kenettra had begun.

---

It has been twelve years since the plague broke out in my hometown in Kenettra. I was seven at the time. Back then, I had everything a girl could ever want; a home, a family, beauty, riches, suitors, power. I lived in a three story mansion, decorated with polished marble and solemn statues. The gardens were beyond extensive; even I didn't know how far they went. We made our money in various ways, my mother dealing in the clothing industry and my father a wealthy banker. My brother earned money at fairs, where he would preform "magic" tricks for kids that were really just slight of hand.

Of course, when the plague struck, everything changed. My brother's heart swelled from the fever so much it burst, and the doctors debated on removing my tongue due to swelling. However, it died down, and I made it out alive, albeit scarred. I was no longer the pretty girl with hair like golden sunlight and eyes the color of a summer meadow; I was a malfetto. No longer would young men say I would make a fine wife in the future, and soon my father stopped caring about me. He would've been okay if I starved to death.

My mother was the reason I'm here today. She was the buffer between my father's wrath of having a malfetto daughter and myself. She cared for me, and bought me Tamouran silks to cover my hair and lavish makeup to disguise my paleness. My eyes she left, for she said they were something that would catch the attention of young men. I trusted her judgement, as I still do.

The best thing that happened to me was probably when my father died of a balira accident when down at the pier. He was always cruel to me, and I'm surprised he didn't kill me before this point. However, I do believe some of his untamed fury passed down to me, something I wish I didn't have of his.

I don't quite remember exactly when I discovered my powers, but my mother knew the entire time and said nothing to the Inquisition. She had powerful business allies, and soon found connections to the Dagger Society and had me put with them. Although they did train me to become more powerful in my arts than I would on my own, I must say it's a little odd to be taking orders from those younger than I, albeit a very short amount. I was mainly trained by the Reaper himself, for my powers were the exact contrast to his and we made a deadly combo. He was fire, I was ice. Still am, actually.

At this moment, I'm wandering through the catacombs beneath Kenettra to find the arena, for my next training session. Most Dagger gathering places are in the tunnels and catacombs that lie forgotten beneath the city. I stumble and place a hand on the wall to steady myself, only to reel back in disgust. It's covered in layers of slime and moss, although thankfully it's too dark for me to see the details. Grimacing, I continue on my way.

The approaching sound of clashing metal tells me I'm nearing the arena. I take a couple more turns and find myself in an open area, one that could fit hundreds with stone seats ringing around the central area. Only two people are in the seats - Star Thief and Windwalker, from what I see - and two are fighting in the main area. Both are male. The fire surrounding one's palms is the calling card that he's the Reaper, and based on how the other doesn't use a light has me guess he's Spider. I know the Messenger or Architect couldn't fight like that, anyway.

"Good evening," I say loudly, announcing my early arrival. Although the two fighting don't even look up, the Star Thief waves at me and gestures for me to sit next to her for the battle. I do as she says. While I align with wisdom and fury, she is aligned with joy. Her presence helps keep my temper in check. A red falcon sits on her right shoulder, crowing as I approach. I nod peace to it as I stroke its neck.

The clang of a fallen sword heralds the end of the battle. I look up to see Spider has lost - no surprise there. Reaper keeps his sword pointed at his chest for a moment before sheathing it and stepping back. Spider leans down and grabs his weapon, sheathing it as well. Reaper nods to me. "Winter," he says as a brisk greeting.

"Reaper," I reply, standing up. I pull my sword out of its sheath and tap into my powers, so that they may be accessible when needed. He takes another step back and readies into a fighting stance, as do I. His blood red hair is visible behind his mask, and his dark eyes search me, waiting for me to be fully prepared. I pull my mask down as well - the masks and robes we wear are customary Dagger attire, although I know my mother would rather I wear something more appealing for hopes of finding a husband. I don't really know why; we don't wear this in public, otherwise the Inquisition would know we were Daggers and swarm to us like flies to carrion.

He strikes first. It's fast, fast as a viper, and flames spring from his palms and towards me. I dodge and parry the blow, striking back and chilling the air to make it harder for fire to form. He grimaces as I nearly hit him, and I yelp in surprise when he does hit me. The battle continues, both of us gritting our teeth and pulling forward with all we have to win this battle as if it were real.

Revenant

With a gasp, Peter's eyes flew open, and he looked up at the sky through the trees. He winced as he felt his latest wound, given to him by the sword of an Inquisition agent. He sighed as he felt the jagged edge of demonite poking through his pale skin.

Rolling on to his side, he propped himself up and staggered to his feet. The wound was still inflamed, but it should go down soon. Peter surveyed his surroundings. Two Inquisition lay dead on the ground, and next to them a unpowered malfetto. Peter swore. He knew it wasn't his job to save those without powers, but he still didn't like the fact that they died on his watch.

A grumble emanating from his stomach made him realize just how hungry he was. "They better have some bread." The Inquisition's wagon had come to rest a little way down the road after Peter killed the horse pulling it. Climbing inside, the soft red glow from Peter's red eyes and veins on red on his arm offered some illumination.

A few minutes later and Peter finished ravenously eating a loaf of bread he found. "I better be getting back." Still weak from the regeneration, he slowly rose to his feet and trudged back to the catacombs.

---

Two red eyes peered through the darkness as Revenant snaked his way through the narrow passage ways the daggers used. When he reached the arena, Reaper and Winter we're in the middle of their sparing. He watched from the entrance for a bit, leaning heavily again the wall. Wordlessly, he claimed up to the seats and took on in the most isolated corner of the room, observing without a word.

Dmitri looked around in the marketplace, 'another one.' He muttered as he stared at the man on the other side of the plaza.

The Inquisition frequently roam around the large plazas of the marketplace, trying to find any stray malfettos roaming around. Of course they wouldn't as blatant as to roam around the city armed and armored. In a bid to blend in with the civilians, they only carried small daggers. Small they may be but they were still deadly, laced with poison able to kill a healthy man in minutes. Although well disguised, you could see the daggers they sheathed under their garments glint in the sunlight. The way they acted also gave you a clue as they roamed around the plaza, never stopping to buy anything, but spying for unsuspecting malfettos roaming the streets.

This man was no different, an inquisition agent trying to blend in with the civilians. Dmitri gritted his teeth as he quickly turned around and hid in a side street. This was the third inquisition agent this day, he was getting sick of them. He tried to avoid coming to any areas with inquisition presence. However he couldn't avoid coming to the marketplace as much as he hated it. He had to restock supplies for the tavern every few days and there were no alternatives.

Everyday he fears that it may be his last, having been in a few close encounters in the recent past. After a few minutes he looked back out towards the plaza and saw no sign of the inquisition agent. He checked the surroundings once more, looking to all sides to make sure no new inquisition agents had sneaked their way into the plaza. Once he decided it was safe, he began to head back to the tavern, it would be a long walk back.

"Come on, come all!" announced Elias Blacke, smiling as he shuffled three cards on the table. A small crowd had gathered around the young man, "Any who wish to test their luck today?"

Blacke smiled as he looked around the crowd which had gathered in the marketplace, which held many new faces today. Of course, there were the regulars who came to see just how much someone was going to lose today, and to see if they could catch a glimpse of how he did it! Today, a young man with a purple bandanna wrapped around his head volunteered.

"Yes sir, step right up my friend! What's your name?" he asked the white-haired lad.
"Lucian Masters," he replied, his piercing purple eyes looking into Elias' own violet ones.

Elias smiled and welcomed him, then explained the game. He revealed the three cards on the table; the King of Spades, the King of Clubs, and the Ace of Hearts. He told the lad to keep his eyes on the Ace of Hearts, explaining that he was going to shuffle them. If the boy got it right, Elias would give him a talent, if the boy guessed wrong, then he would owe Elias a talent. Lucian agreed and the two shook hands. Elias began shuffling, talking as he shuffled, some of his comments centered around the cards others about what a beautiful day it was. Finally he stopped.

"Where is the Ace of Hearts?" he asked.
"Right there," Lucian said, smiling as he pointed to the card on the left.

Elias turned it over and revealed the Ace of Hearts, giving the boy a gold talent. The regulars chuckled, knowing that this was a part of Elias' trick. Elias looked stunned and scratched his chin like he was confused.

"Double or nothing?" he asked, to which Lucian agreed too.

Elias began shuffling again, and after a few moments stopped. Lucian smirked and picked the center card and Elias revealed, once again, the Ace of Hearts. He pretended to be completely shocked as he handed the boy two talents.

"One more time. How much would you be willing to bet?" Elias asked, looking determined.
"I'll bet you five talents." Lucian replied with a smile.
"Five talents plus what you just won? So eight in total?" Elias countered.
"Deal."

And with that Elias went to work, shuffling the cards with a smirk on his face. He reached out to the cards using his powers and slyly switched the Ace of Hearts with an extra King of Spades which had been hidden in his sleeve. No one had seen the switch, he was too skilled with not only his powers but also with basic sleight of hand to allow that. Finally he stopped.

"Take your pick, Mister Masters." Elias said with a smile.
"That one!" Luke replied confidently, pointing to the one on the right.
"Ooo, too bad!" Elias smirked after turning it over.

Lucian was amazed. He chuckled and handed over ten gold talents, saying that the extra two were a tip for putting on an amazing show. The young man left as Elias picked up the cards and began working on another scam.

Illusion~
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Illusion was leaning over a barrel of wine, in some secluded alleyway in god knows where, nibbling away on a loaf of bread. Well, not really nibbling. Illusion was actually just tasting it, not really taking a bite and putting it in his innards as sustenance. It was a quirk that he has, since street food was what he grew up upon, and he really is getting tired of this thing that the authorities of the lower class even considers edible. Gods forbid, he'd rather eat bathroom moss than these pieces of bread.

Too bad his criticisms aren't reaching anyone's ears however, and especially will the politicians and the ruling government would even pay heed to their people's needs. All they care about is the extermination of Malfettos and the reigns and reproduction of their Gold Talents. One of those things are being actively supported by Illusion, and it sure as hell wasn't the raining of money on those over-spoilt blokes that puts crowns upon their heads and calls them royalties. To those people, quality is a tragedy, quantity is a statistic.

But no matter, that won't be a problem of his soon, and neither will all the Malfettos in the whole damned world will have a problem with it. The Inquisition, and Illusion himself, will make sure of that...

As the mind-manipulating being that is Harry Jacobs Winston is about to take another fake nibble upon his un-gregarious loaf of bread, a man's screams audibly echoed throughout the secluded alleyway. Which is the umpteenth time since he decided to lean on the barrel wine.

The poor bloke bellowing for his life was actually getting interrogated by two Inquisition members, three if you count Illusion, while tied to a run-down pub chair. And it wasn't helping that he had supernatural powers too as well, courtesy of him being a Malfetto. And the evidence that the interrogated bloke was actively collaborating with the Dagger Society, which just hammers the final nail to his coffin.

Illusion sighed leisurely, looking about at the simplicity of the alleyway, before briefly straightening his leather garments and throwing his loaf of bread aside for the Rats and Dogs to take turns in nibbling. He swiftly walked until he was at the scene of the interrogation area, Illusion pushed away the two goons with awfully large-looking pipes and looked at them before turning around to face the interrogated.

-"I'm not telling you anything!"

Harry can only giggle a tad' bit', before removing his leather gloves and speaking in a rather young but gruff voice.

-"Funny, that's what they all say..."

Illusion lunged, planting his hands and palms to the target's forehead and extracting random bits' of memories here and there. All the while pulsing in some "signals", "blinks" and traumatizing ideas into the interrogated's conscience. Mentally frying the man's mind and soul temporarily.
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...

The unfortunate sod was lying, metaphorically and literally, braindead in the floor. With drooling and snob everywhere, along with random twitching. His status as of now, combined with Illusion's infamous "mind vomit" technique would've given someone temporary amnesia or even some even worse mental illnesses. Good thing that this particular individual has a stronger will, he would've become dumber than a dog if he haven't.

Illusion rubbed his hands together before facing the two Inquisition goons and speaking.

-"Tell the others that I think we may have a lead, check the plazas and the pubs first..."

The two small but mildly-buffed men were reluctant to follow, seeing that a Malfetto was giving them orders, before ultimately deciding to abide. Seeing that they wouldn't be wanting to be in the position of the metaphorically half-fried drooling man on the dirty and greasy alley floor.

Illusion can only sigh as he looked down at the interrogated at the floor, probably dreaming off in some off-set wonderland. He pulled out a dagger, standard-issue by the Inquisition Axis for gods-know-what, and proceeded to kneel down. Pressing the tip of the blade into the Malfetto's neck, before pushing quite deeply in.

Harry stood back up, wiped the dagger's structure on the dead man's garments before sheating the macabre-styled knife and walking off. Leaving the body for the stray animals to have a grandeur feast on.

As always, the walk back to the tavern was quite monotonous, and potentially dangerous. However there was one thing that always made the journey a little more enjoyable. In the same spot, almost everyday was this one magician that always managed to win no matter what. It was quite humorous watching the challengers get befuddled by the brilliance of him. Today was no different. As Dmitri continued walking back to the tavern, he soon came across the same small crowd that gathered every time he passed by. It appeared someone had already challenged the magician. He stopped for a second to watch on, to see who the victim was today.

Although he decided to stay for a second, the game was much too enjoyable to watch, he chuckled along with the crowd as the magician acted surprised as always. But just as the game finished and the challenger handed over the winnings, Dmitri caught something in the corner of his eye. Towards the main plaza he saw a suspiciously cloaked person walking across the plaza. "Goddammit not again." He muttered, another inquisition agent. He hurriedly recollected his items and looked back one more time, but to his surprise, the inquisition agent was gone. "How did he..." he was stunned, never before had an inquisition agent disappeared when he looked back for a second. He knew it wasn't some low rank foot soldier out this time, it was someone much more skilled, someone who wasn't incompetent for a change. It was now too dangerous to stay in the open, but he couldn't seem desperate, lest attract suspicion from the inquisition agents. He carefully picked up all his items and headed into a back alley; he knew the layout of the town like the back of his hand, and although it'd take longer to get back, he wouldn't be exposed in the open this way.

Psionic

A lone figure crouched in the darkness, her profile a black silhouette against the faint light the sun provided. She laid in wait behind a dark alley, her prey getting nearer with every second. She could hear his thoughts getting closer, closer, closer.

... another one today. At least I didn't have to see. Harlin says it was terrible. It's a shame I'm getting put in that crazy malfetto's regiment... The thoughts had a darker tone to them, laced with fear and a bit of respect. She sighed as she interpreted the thoughts. Rumors had been swirling about a malfetto in the Inquisition, aside from the leader himself, whom the Reaper had revealed as a malfetto back when she was a Dagger. This seemed to confirm it.

The crunching of boots on pebbles announced that the soldier was coming into her trap. She drew back her bowstring, aiming at where she assumed the man's neck would be when he came around the bend. She was right. Unlike many others today, he was wearing the standard issue white and gold Inquisition robes along with a visible broadsword and dagger. Strangely, instead of flaunting their power, agents had lately been going in disguise. This man must've missed the memo.

A high pitched twang pierced the air as she let her arrow fly, it finding its mark in the man's neck and poking out the other side. His eyes went wide, his jaw dropped, and his hands flew up to his throat just before he collapsed. His murderer grinned. Back in the Daggers, they'd named her the Black Arrow for a reason. Now she went under the alias Psionic.

As she jumped down from her ledge, Akita slung her bow once again on her back and landed next to her victim. They would know it was her; an arrow through the neck was her signature style. She took off his cloak, another calling card for her. However, something she didn't usually do was put it on herself, which is just what she did. She was going undercover now. As she pulled out a Tamouran head wrap from her over the shoulder bag, she heart footsteps approaching. She quickly put up her hair and turned abruptly to see the newcomers.

Two Inquisition agents, one in uniform, the other disguised. The uniformed one raised his eyebrow. "And who might you be?" He asked, obviously suspicious.

"Adelina Amouteru," she blurted in a heavy Tamouran accent. It was fake, of course, but the Tamouran last name and headdress should trick them. She had in fact met the father of the real Adelina when searching for Elites with the Daggers. Like Akita, Adelina had discolored hair and a mark about her eyes. However, there was one main difference between the two: Akita was a Young Elite, while Adelina was merely a powerless malfetto. "New recruit. I was investigating this death; looks like the work of the Black Arrow."

"So it does." The two agents stepped forward and began to examine the body. When their back were turned, she silently fled the scene and into another alleyway. The first things she saw were the scavengers sniffing something. The next was that that something was a corpse. As she stepped forward, she realized with a pang that it was a malfetto, one she was too late to save. She was about to murmur an apology to the gods when she realized she wasn't alone in the alley.

The man was leaving, and although he didn't seem like much he walked with a power only Inquisition agents had. She shifted on her feet. "Hey!" She called after him in her accent. "Santoro doesn't appreciate leaving bodies in the streets for civilians to find!" Although most malfettos were burned at the stake when found, some such as this poor sap were killed in darkness and typically left alone, which drew attention.

Illusion~
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-"Is that so?"

Illusion quickly pivoted using his only foot in the ground mid-step in his walk, turning in a 180-degree angle to face this particular curious eavesdropper.

-"Ever heard of a martyr?"

Illusion examined the peculiar figure with a careful eye, taking in the details and features of the opposing individual. Which, in all unexpectedness, turns out to be a woman with a strange accent and an even stranger and enigmatic appearance. Other than that, all seems well, she could probably pass up as one of those nut-case clairvoyants of the streets. Hell, Illusion can even try to woo her a bit', if he wasn't so pre-occupied saving the world from it's Malfetto problem.

But one thing however, that sets Harry off about the cloaked woman was that she has mis-matched eyes. One paler than the moonlight, while the other one is darker than the temples of Formidite. And if one thing about this detail reminds Illusion, it's that the only ones that can get such strange features are Malfettos. And that immediately rang the mental emergency bells in his mind.

Although he would not be taking too much of a drastic action as of now. Since the lady, who might be a supernaturally-powered being, might also be part of the Inquisition judging by her choice of words. After all, the Inquisition isn't too nitpicky' with their recruitment programme, and Illusion can testify to this information himself.

-"Why do you care anyways? Last' I heard, Santoro wants them punished or dead, not given a stealthy and out-of-sight funeral..."

Illusion removed his leather gloves, packing the cow-skin hand-covers into his low-hanging belt. Just right beside the oddly shiny and glinting Inquisition dagger that he also has sheated. He rubbed his hands together in a similar fashion as before, readying his mind into doing some mental "magic" once again. Just in case his assumption was wrong and the mysterious woman was actually a low-life thug or some thief, or worse, a member of the Dagger society perhaps. Which is a particular group of Malfettos that has decided to be a thorn in the Inquisition's behind.

Psionic

Akita could sense his alarm at realizing she was a malfetto. However, although she saw no mark, a quick scan of his mind revealed he was a malfetto as well - a Young Elite at that. Stop being such a hypocrite, she projected to his mind. She put her hands on her hips.

"You're not the only marked one in the Inquisition," she said aloud. "Not to mention Santoro himself, but only the gods know what he can do. And speaking of him, he doesn't want this because then civilians will see, and then they'll riot, like, 'My dear husband!' Or 'He was such a good man!' Or 'Why did he die?'. Really, he wants to keep that nuisance away."

Halfheartedly she kicked a pebble away. "I care because I don't want to be trampled by an angry mob. And when the mobs start defending the malfettos, the Daggers get allies. And when the Daggers get allies, we loose some." She shrugged. "Logic."

One thing about Akita was that she actually did hate the Daggers. In her eyes, they only saved Elites for more recruits, and those were to help gain the throne. Then there was the Inquisition, who wanted the throne safe in their hands. It was all a great power struggle, and Akita was stuck somewhere in the middle.

"What I want to know is why you think scattering corpses is a good idea. Martyrs just boost a rebellion, not stop it. He could be seen as a hero. With how many malfettos people see burned at the stake, I doubt a couple found in the streets would scare them into submission."

Alia Petravic

Alia made her way her way through the dense crowd, pushing past people packed between vendors. The market was unusually crowded, especially for this time of day. Dangerous. Very dangerous. Alia stopped and leaned against the walls of a hearty stone tavern, the Green Dragon, catching her breath. She had been out here all day, and it wasn't exactly cool out. But it was a job she had, she needed, and she wanted.

Alia carefully watched a group of young men walk past her, laughing boisterously and tossing small rocks in the air. Upon deeming them no threat, Alia cast her gaze back towards the busy marketplace, her pale green eyes invisible under the deep, ocean blue cowl of her hood. It was likely going to be another boring day, nothing to report and nothing to confront. But then again, there were always those days where she did have to do something...and the situation was always like this.

Alia rose from her spot on the wall and dove directly back into the crowd, cutting through groups of men and women all watching the street vendors attempt to sell them trinkets and food, so,e useful, some worthless. Her blue cloak flapped in the wind behind her, revealing clean white robes embroidered with gold seams. Alia, after a struggle through the now growing crowd, made it out on the other side of the market, in front of yet again another tavern. This one's door was cleanly opened. Just inside the tavern door sat two young men, both surrounded by a small crowd of older men. Alia watched curiously as the two gambled over cards which she could not see, but by the end of their bidding, she could see it was some kind of trick, not really a game. The man sitting closed to the tavern door stood up and congratulated the other man on his victory, before walking away. Her interest now lost, Alia returned to watching over the crowd.

Illusion~
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Harry's heart skipped a beat when a sudden mental intrusion, that is of a message, entered his mind like a foreign invader.

Illusion hasn't felt nor experienced the infliction of telepathy on himself before, but he has known or atleast predicted what they felt like. He was taught that the presence of Telepathy is akin to that of the feel of his illusionary magic, only in a slightly different frequency or form. Which was a courtesy taught to him by a xenophobic but quite experienced trainer from the Inquisition.

-"Don't you even think about the possibility that maybe no one cares about this worthless Malfetto in the first place?"

Illusion breathed in discreetly, recollecting and re-adjusting his mind, building up a ready mental stance for when another unannounced telepathic entrance might come again. He also steeled himself, seeing that said telepathic powers must be coming from the eavesdropping lady in front of him. Unless the Rats and the other scavenger animals in the area have acquired superpowers that is. Who knows what unsolicited message she might input into his mind next?

-"Ever even heard of children and relatives getting thrown away by their families since said particular individual caught the fever?"

Harry looks down for a brief second, looking at the dead Young Elite at the ground, quickly scanning his body along with the nearby surroundings before looking back up at the assumably-telepathic woman.

He was banking on the fact that the urbansfolk wouldn't care about another Malfetto dying in the street like always. Since it happens all the time on some of the other nations in this world after all, he could see the possibility of it being in the norm. He was also relying on how fast these rats will eat him as well.

But the ideas of the lady telepath nags him however as it would deal a serious blow for the Inquisition if the body is indeed enough to sympathize the people. Which is a situation he would very much would like to avoid. Since the integration of supernatural individuals into society would surely bring about the end of the Axis, along with the world as well. Like openly accepting poison into a man's system, doesn't matter how much he is willing to swallow the dangerous substance, it would still kill him nonetheless.

-"But, I understand what you are trying to convey here Ms. 'I-know-where-to-put-bodies'. But the thing is, where the hell do you think we can put him in? Surely the people of this noble town wouldn't mind two strange individuals carrying a rotting carcass across the plaza and into the rural areas or the cemetery would they not?"

Illusion slowly inched closer, determined to get in range if something goes awry with the present situation. Since the Telepath has the advantage of transporting messages and using her abilities from a range, while Harry does not share the same circumstance.

As Lucian left the magicians table, he noticed a young woman who seemed very familiar to him. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen her somewhere before, but he couldn't quite place where. Shrugging he stood next to a wall, leaning against it and watching everyone around. Lucian knew that he needed to get back to the local chapter of the Inquisition Axis soon, he was certain they'd want him to search for more malfettos, but Lucian was enjoying himself! This was the first time he had gotten out in months, and he was loving the warmth of the sun and bustle of the busy streets! Lucian smiled and ran a hand through his long, white hair, watching everyone. Soon, however, he became curious. Under his bandanna, a yellow eye-shaped marking began to glow as he closed his eyes. After a moment, he was looking through the eyes of the magician, watching what was happening.

"Who's next, who's next?" Elias asked, smiling as others came up to challenge the man.

A woman approached him and Elias pulled out his cards. He asked her to hold her hand out in front of her as he showed her an Ace of Diamonds. He explained that this was simply a diamond. Elias put the card in her hand and smiled before showing her an Ace of Hearts. He returned the card to the top of his deck as he continued talking, explaining that he was going to switch the cards so fast, that she wouldn't even see it. The woman, of course, laughed and said it wasn't possible.

"Are you willing to bet on it?" Elias asked.
"Of course!"
"How much?"

The woman looked around and heard the crowd yelling various amounts of gold talents to wager. Finally she settled on five. Elias agreed and and took the top card from the deck, saying he was going to do it slowly first, just to show her what he'd later do. He slowly switched the cards and showed her the Ace of Diamonds. He then began talking again, switching the card in his hand with the top card on the deck while she was distracted. Finally, Elias performed the trick, sticking the card under her thumb and quickly jerking it out almost immediately. It looked like he never even TOUCHED the other card. He slipped the card under her thumb and asked her which card she thought was on top.

"Ace of Diamonds, there's no WAY you could have switched them that fast!"
"Turn them over."

Her eyes went wide as she looked and saw the two black Queens. Elias smiled and she paid him, returning the cards so he could shuffle them. Lucian smirked as his vision returned to him, opening his eyes and chuckling a bit.

Psionic

Akita smirked at his reaction to telepathy. No, I'm not a filthy rat - although I've been called that before. She looked down, trying to hide her amusement while making it obvious that she was the malfetto, not the sewer rats.

"Yes, I see all the what ifs you're conjuring up in that head of yours," she said. "But I can counter it with my own. Haven't you heard of people who've died to protect their scarred children? And don't even get me started on Beldain." She waved a hand dismissively.

"Back in Tamoura, people didn't care about malfettos. They thought we were human, that the gods had no reason to mark us, to make us stand out. However, some believe that we were given these... abilities to show we were the chosen ones of the gods." She stifled a snort, all part of the show. "If only. My problem is, if people who rever malfettos catch wind of this, things are going to crap."

Of course, now she was in a problem. Somehow she had to find a way to discreetly dispose of a body that she'd rather not touch anyway. The public couldn't know, of course, but the alleys were the only option, and sometimes malfettos made camps in the back corners of the city. However, given no other option, it was a risk she'd have to take.

Akita looked back up. "I don't like the new nickname, but I do know where to put bodies. Although really, just Adelina will do, not Miss I-know-how whatever you said." She undid the clasp on her stolen cloak and let it fall from her shoulders and into her hands. As she leaned down, Akita spread it out over the man's body and wrinkled it enough until it looked like a long, oblong chest of some sort. "Here. I'll take his top half, you grab the ankles. We'll take him through the back alleys and out of the city until we reach the border, where we can bury him or burn the corpse. Your choice. I'm also open to suggestions should you have a better idea."

Illusion~
.
..
...

Well then, that whole mental wall-build-up thing was totally useless. She still managed to insert a message into his mind even with all that try-hard mind blocking. Which was already an insult to injury.

-"Fine, fine, you have a point. Let's just get this guy out of here and buried in some farmer's wonderland, fast. I don't want any of this blood getting to my robes, leather is hard to clean, and I don't think the Axis provides free coverage on that ordeal..."

Illusion glanced over the telepath warily before walking over and picking up the Malfetto's cadaver by the ankles, still tense about the whole mental intrusion and the fact that she can read his mind so easily. And that in itself was an insult to his image, seeing that he should be the only one poking and blowing minds in the Inquisition, literally if need be. But oh well, turns out that the town should be pretty big enough for mind-manipulators and mental tricksters after all.

-"Although, I am seriously disappointed that you don't like the nickname Ms. I-know-where-to-put-bodies, it sticks y'know? Such nomenclaturial ingenuity don't you think?"

Harry looked over to the are surrounding the alleyway, examining for any other eavesdropping Inquisition member to drop down and start questioning his funeral methods. Or just to take in the looks of saddened Rats as they see their meal taken away as fast as it was given, which was surprisingly amusing on Illusion's perspective.

-"But oh well, Adelina sounds swell too, just don't poke around my head too much in return. You might find something you don't like..."

The warning was in behalf for his privacy, much to the irony of his powers, and because of his mental condition. Much of his powers has been a helping hand to him for all his life, saving his behind for a couple times as Illusion lives out his measly span as a Young Elite. But it did come with cons, with the main focus that his mind is an unstable arena when left to wander on it's own. The silence provokes the whisper-like voices, that has been with him ever since he was struck by the fever, to summon themselves. The whole thing isn't bad as it seems, it gives him company when he is isolated from anything social-related. And it also gives him someone else to talk to other than the self-righteous Inquisition Axis goons that roams the urban areas of almost every town or city he visits. Even if all said beings are inside his mind.

But he isn't sure what would happen if someone that could enter his mind meets these voices. It has been too much for his mental state to handle more than one conscience in his little think-pan and it will be overwhelming if it was accompanied by another trespassing and peeking mind. The trainer back at the Axis base say that he'll go insane, or maybe even spread some sort of crazy disease. Which doesn't sound too good for the races of this world.

Speaking of a trespassing and peeking mind, Illusion really needs to stop thinking about anything right now, the telepath might still be exploring his conscience.

Psionic

Akita pursed her lips at the corpse. She was beginning to regret her choice of body part to pick up. However, not one to go back on her word, she leaned down and hooked her arms under his armpits, pulling him up with some effort. It was rather obvious that she wasn't the strongest person around, but she'd manage alright.

"You could always steal some dead malfetto's robes, should they wear any," she pointed out as she raised the body higher. "I mean, we kill them, we make them invisible, and we completely forget about their families and funerals, so why should stealing be a big deal?"

"On a totally different subject, if you must, I suppose I could go by Ms. I-know-where-to-put-bodies, although that name is practically begging for attention. And since you didn't impart me with the information on your own name, and you are adamantly opposed to telepathic information gathering, I have no other choice than to call you Mr. I-don't-want-to-deal-with-bodies." She grinned mischievously. "No way are you going to stop me from calling you that."

His aversion to her powers was not undeserved. She herself would hate someone poking around in her brain, which was perhaps a reason to stay away from Mr. I-don't-want-to-deal-with-bodies, since she sensed a similar power in him. Or maybe not sensed, rather, found it while rummaging in his brain. Although they may be enemies, for the sake of his sanity and her own, she would stay out of his brain for now. She'd seen (and heard) some rather unsavory things in there.

It was almost as if... it seemed impossible, but it was almost as if there was another person in there. It seemed connected to his powers, of being able to warp reality in one's mind, and perhaps it was wearing off on himself. She'd felt something similar in the real Adelina Amouteru's mind. Maybe it was a side effect of malfettos, to go insane from their powers? She shivered. Hopefully she wouldn't catch it herself.

Shaking her head, Akita backtracked out of the alley, pulling the body and the Inquisition agent with her. After traveling through many back ways, dusty side streets, and shady neighborhoods, they finally made it to the edge of Estenzia. The dense city finally gave way to lush farmland. Once she established that no one was looking, she promptly dropped her end. "Start digging," she said as she kneeled down and began shoveling away dirt with her hands.

I stood, panting, staring into Reaper's eyes for as long as I could without blinking. His dagger was pressed up against my neck, the cold metal freezing compared to the fiery battle just finished. My right arm was still covered in a thin layer of frost from when I'd tried to subdue a burn wound I'd received.

"Well done," he said, but he didn't back away. "Next time, try to make weapons quicker and flow easier. Your movements were too jerky. If you want to win, you need to be more fluid in your motions."

"Who said I didn't win?" Before he could respond, I focused all my power on his dagger, flash-freezing it into dry ice. His jaw dropped in surprise. While he was distracted I lashed out, smacking his arm with the flat of my blade made of ice. He dropped the dagger, and it shattered into hundreds of pieces on the ground. My blade shattered as well; ice just wasn't durable.

"... I'll credit you with that one," he said after a pause. "But you'd be dead in a real battle by that point, unless you are able to chat about life with that silver tongue of yours." Smiling, he backed away, his boots crunching the ice shards underfoot. "Training session is over for today. I'll be at Fortunata Court with Raffaele; you're free to do as you wish." Although it wasn't public knowledge, all the Daggers knew well that the Messenger's real name was Raffaele. Reaper bowed his head slightly before turning and walking away towards the catacombs, likely to his room to change into something less conspicuous.

I smiled and turned to the seats in the side of the arena. "I'm going to go check on Ace after changing into something more casual," I say, gesturing to my robes. "Feel free to join me." I nod to Revenant. He hasn't had a break from work for a while, and although he his four years older than myself, I still pity him. He'd do good to stop by the tavern for a drink, and I'd take him myself because in Kenettra, the drinking age is quite young. I, at 19, am completely eligible.

---

I entered the arena for the second time today, this time in something slightly more normal - although here, almost anything is normal except for Beldish furs. Then people will look at your like you have three heads, or have a mark worn loud and proud on your cheek. Like Star Thief and her purple splotch of skin.

"I'm leaving," I announced to those still gathered in the musty arena. "If I'm not back by midnight, assume something happened, and if I'm still not back by six o'clock tomorrow, assume I'm dead or in jail." Star Thief gave me a look for talking about things so negatively, but I shrugged. "Anyone coming with me?" I scanned the room, settling on Revenant. I actually hope he says yes; sitting in some ancient catacombs sure isn't going to help him.

Dmitri Mikhailov
As Dmitri exited the alley next to the Tavern, he was relieved yet shaken. Having close encounters with inquisition agents were doing no good for his psyche. Every encounter made him more and more paranoid. He started wondering if this day could have been his last and if he could have died there and there. Uncomfortable thought swirled in his head as he stood there. But then he shook his head, he couldn't keep thinking about such dark things if he wanted to stay sane, he had to focus on the task at hand. And that task at hand was explaining to his co-workers why he was late.

As Dmitri opened the door he said "I have returned from the markets," to which his co-workers responded with annoyed faces. As he started to move the fresh produce onto the counter, one of his co-workers asked "So, what's the excuse today buddy?" "I.. uhh.. took a wrong turn...?" he replied. "No don't give me that crap, you know this place like the back of your hand!" It was clear that his co-worker was getting annoyed by the half baked answers he gave every time he went to restock supplies.

No one knew that he was a Malfetto, if they did, he would have likely died long ago. People in the city aren't like those in the countryside. They don't protect one another, they only protect themselves. If he told anyone, they would have reported him to the inquisition not long after. He simply couldn't risk it. And so every time he had to give these half baked excuses as to why he was late. He couldn't say 'I ran into an inquisition agent' because that would be a telltale sign telling everyone that he was a malfetto. All he could do was come up with these excuses and shrug them off.

As he thought about his situation, his co-worker continued to drone on about work ethnic and what not but he began to ignore it as he continued to move the fresh produce onto the counter, one by one. "Ok someone take these to the back and restock the shelves, I'll stay at the front and serve." he said as he switched positions with his miffed co-worker. "Make sure you're not late next time." "Sure. I got it," he replied as he stood in front of the counter, beginning to take the orders from those who were waiting. He hoped that he wouldn't see any more inquisition agents for the rest of the day, but fate had already cast the die.

Revanant

As Peter sat watching the sparring match, he couldn't help but crack a thin smile with Winter's unconventional antics. Wincing with a hiss of pain he looked down at his abdomen through the tatters that remained of his clothes. Something felt wrong. When Winter asked if anyone was coming, Peter held up a finger telling her to give him a second. He caused a sharped shard of demonite to grow from his left index finger and made a small incision above his newest metal scar and fished around.

'Bingo.' He thought to himself humorlessly and he pulled out a tip of a steel sword that was left behind. Gathering his power again, the scar on his stomach grew a little wider and cover the cut he'd made. "All good now." Almost falling more than walking, he staggered down the steps of the arena. "Give me a second to get a new cloak and pair of gloves. I have some stored down here somewhere." With his red glow softly illuminating the walls of the catacombs, Peter slinked off into the darkness only to remerge a few minutes later in a brown cloak with a hood he could pull up to hide his glowing eyes. His tunic, like all of the ones he had to wear in public, had long sleeves and was made of a thick material to hide the metal growing out of his left arm. If anyone looked closely they might notice the slightly odd and uneven texture of the metal poking through, but if they bumped into him they were almost certain to notice the jagged shards.

Struggling to fit his hand into a leather glove, he nodded at Winter to go ahead as he walked along next to her. His leg was almost better, but his hunger was still grossly unsated. He was glad she had asked him along, going to the tavern was better than scavaging something to eat in the catacombs.

[/spoiler]


Alia Petravic

Alia's eyes scanned over the crowd, watching for anyone that seemed out of place. Noticing nothing out of the ordinary, Alia let out a small smile before turning her gaze towards the side of the tavern. She saw the same young man that had lost run his eyes over her before shrugging and leaning against a nearby wall. Alia narrowed her eyes and surveyed the man's features as he closed his eyes. She knew she had seen him before, although that wasn't out of the ordinary considering she saw thousands of people every day. But this man stuck out, as if she had seen him multiple times.

As the man let out a small smile and opened his eyes, Alia threw her hair over her shoulder and walked steadily over to the man until she stood directly beside him, eyes still watching the crowd. She glanced towards the tavern door as a man walked out, who seemed a little shaken by something. Probably drank too much. Alia turned her gaze back to the man leaning next to her.

" Hello there sir, I hope you've had a good day. I came over because I wanted to ask who exactly you are. When I saw you, I recognized your features instantly, but could not put a setting nor name to your face. So, who are you and are you often here? What's your occupation? Do tell, please." Alia's tone remained deathly calm and unchanged, her voice flat and her blue eyes almost dull, as if she had no life left in them.

Hothnia wrote:

Chineke wrote:[spoiler]

As Lucian left the magicians table, he noticed a young woman who seemed very familiar to him. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen her somewhere before, but he couldn't quite place where. Shrugging he stood next to a wall, leaning against it and watching everyone around. Lucian knew that he needed to get back to the local chapter of the Inquisition Axis soon, he was certain they'd want him to search for more malfettos, but Lucian was enjoying himself! This was the first time he had gotten out in months, and he was loving the warmth of the sun and bustle of the busy streets! Lucian smiled and ran a hand through his long, white hair, watching everyone. Soon, however, he became curious. Under his bandanna, a yellow eye-shaped marking began to glow as he closed his eyes. After a moment, he was looking through the eyes of the magician, watching what was happening.

"Who's next, who's next?" Elias asked, smiling as others came up to challenge the man.

A woman approached him and Elias pulled out his cards. He asked her to hold her hand out in front of her as he showed her an Ace of Diamonds. He explained that this was simply a diamond. Elias put the card in her hand and smiled before showing her an Ace of Hearts. He returned the card to the top of his deck as he continued talking, explaining that he was going to switch the cards so fast, that she wouldn't even see it. The woman, of course, laughed and said it wasn't possible.

"Are you willing to bet on it?" Elias asked.
"Of course!"
"How much?"

The woman looked around and heard the crowd yelling various amounts of gold talents to wager. Finally she settled on five. Elias agreed and and took the top card from the deck, saying he was going to do it slowly first, just to show her what he'd later do. He slowly switched the cards and showed her the Ace of Diamonds. He then began talking again, switching the card in his hand with the top card on the deck while she was distracted. Finally, Elias performed the trick, sticking the card under her thumb and quickly jerking it out almost immediately. It looked like he never even TOUCHED the other card. He slipped the card under her thumb and asked her which card she thought was on top.

"Ace of Diamonds, there's no WAY you could have switched them that fast!"
"Turn them over."

Her eyes went wide as she looked and saw the two black Queens. Elias smiled and she paid him, returning the cards so he could shuffle them. Lucian smirked as his vision returned to him, opening his eyes and chuckling a bit.

[/spoiler]


Alia Petravic

Alia's eyes scanned over the crowd, watching for anyone that seemed out of place. Noticing nothing out of the ordinary, Alia let out a small smile before turning her gaze towards the side of the tavern. She saw the same young man that had lost run his eyes over her before shrugging and leaning against a nearby wall. Alia narrowed her eyes and surveyed the man's features as he closed his eyes. She knew she had seen him before, although that wasn't out of the ordinary considering she saw thousands of people every day. But this man stuck out, as if she had seen him multiple times.

As the man let out a small smile and opened his eyes, Alia threw her hair over her shoulder and walked steadily over to the man until she stood directly beside him, eyes still watching the crowd. She glanced towards the tavern door as a man walked out, who seemed a little shaken by something. Probably drank too much. Alia turned her gaze back to the man leaning next to her.

" Hello there sir, I hope you've had a good day. I came over because I wanted to ask who exactly you are. When I saw you, I recognized your features instantly, but could not put a setting nor name to your face. So, who are you and are you often here? What's your occupation? Do tell, please." Alia's tone remained deathly calm and unchanged, her voice flat and her blue eyes almost dull, as if she had no life left in them.