tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62682706595094644032024-03-06T02:27:45.780+11:00Nix and MistThe place where all the chapters from the book of Nix and Mist shall go, first Remaining and then InfectionZathract Misthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13949771210514269250noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-53372713455967667742013-01-29T14:54:00.001+11:002013-01-29T14:54:33.606+11:0015. The House Expert<br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: inherit;">So, Mist asked me to say something funny. The pressure's really getting to me. I considered commenting on Airline Food, but I've never actually had any, so...</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: RunishMK, serif; font-size: 20pt;">15.</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: RunishMK, serif; font-size: 20pt;">The House Expert</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Nixion was not a happy tourist. Wait,
no, <i>camper</i>. Nixion was not a happy camper. He wasn’t even a camper…</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Nixion
was not happy. And he decided to leave it at that. He didn’t <i>want </i>to
go and see this war base. He liked violence, sure. He liked hurting people,
sure. War, however, was nothing something he was particularly keen on. In any
case, this was a war <i>base</i>. A war <i>base </i>that had
been used hundreds of years ago. It was going to be dead boring. Deader than
dead. It was going to be <i>deaded </i>boring. Slayn hadn’t been
required to come. She’d been promised fights and apparently, Mist had told her
that there wasn’t a high chance of a fight on this trip. So she’d lost interest
immediately and returned her house. Why couldn’t Nixion<i> </i>have stayed
behind and waited? He was confident that he’d be able to occupy himself in the
Sanctuary until they got back. He’d find one of the other training rooms Mist
had been talking about before, or else threaten a few of the idiot healers.
That would have been a little bit of fun, at least.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>This<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i>was not fun.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>This<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i>was boring.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>This </i>was annoying. Nixion was
not happy.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Admittedly,
he was never happy. People always told him how he was never happy, always in
bad moods. Of course, they soon discovered just how much Nixion valued their
input when his fist met nose. Indifference aside, however, they definitely had
a point. Nixion mostly found that the majority of all his emotions and
intentions were dark and angry things. And he was fine with that.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Those emotions worked for him. If it
ain’t broke, don’t fix it. And if it is broke, who cares - just leave it.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Nixion
scowled as the minibus went over a bump and he swayed slightly. Damn, Nixion
hated bumps. And he hated buses. The minibus <i>was </i>mini, but it
was still a bus. He hated buses.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Everyone else was talking amongst
themselves, but Nixion was sitting down the back again, silent and scowling. He
could have asked where they had got a bus, but he really didn’t care enough to
bother.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">They’d all been driving for about
forty five minutes now, and Nixion beginning to get seriously annoyed at the
lack of activity to keep him occupied. Nixon didn’t even know who was driving,
but evidently the location Gabriel had supplied Mist with was not <i>close </i>to
the Sanctuary. Finally, the bus came to a halt. Nixion was the first off,
despite being the furthest away from the exit, and everyone else piled out
after him. He allowed himself a moment to appreciate that he was out of the
minibus, then looked at the place they had stopped at.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">“This is it?” Nixion asked.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">“Yep,” Mist replied, looking at the
building. “This was Hammond’s base of operations during the war.”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">“Base, as in basic?” Nixion looked at
Mist. “It’s a dump.”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">For once, Nixion did not seem to be
exaggerating. The place was a farm. It was a farm with a barn, a shack and a
lot of field. The shack was also run down, as though it hadn’t been used since
the end of the war – and it was likely that it hadn’t. This wasn’t exactly what
he’d been expecting when the term ‘war base’ had come to mind.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Stavan
grinned. “I’d never pictured you as such a house expert, Nix.”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">“You
don’t need to be one to see that this place is pathetic,” Nixion shot back at
him, ignoring the slip with his name. “Look around.” He illustrated his words
creatively with a few gestures to their surroundings.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Mist started walking towards the
wreck, frowning, but only slightly. “Maybe it was better in its day,” he said
flatly, shrugging.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Nixion snorted. “Yeah,” he said.
“Maybe, instead of a completely run-down, old farm it had been a <i>mostly</i> run-down,
old farm. So much better.”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">They all continued after Mist and
made their way towards the entrance to the shack. Mist stopped in front of the
decaying door and attempted to knock on it, but it collapsed off its hinges
upon contact. He shrugged again and they decided simply to proceed. It didn’t
look as though anyone was here anyway. Nixion certainly couldn’t see a
legitimate reason as to why someone would be here. The place was boring – to
say the least.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">They
each split up and did a quick inspection of all the rooms. Each one was just as
run down and old as the next, and the only thing any of them found was various
forms of mould and assorted scampering vermin. Mahogany had actually found what
seemed to be a snake. Though it looked a whole lot less like a snake after half
the ceiling caved in on the thing the moment it moved.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">The floorboards were old and wooden,
covered in grime and a thick layer of dust. There were a few sections where the
floorboards had also collapsed and splintered, which everyone avoided. The
walls were an unpleasant colour of murk, splattered with mould and more grime.
Though, Nixion had found a wall in the third room he’d searched with a large
blood splatter over it. He’d smirked when he’d seen it, but it looked like it
had been there for as long as the shack had been standing. The ceiling had a
few thin cracks through it and cobwebs hung everywhere. The place also stunk
of… something. Nixion couldn’t actually put a real description to the smell. It
was just <i>oldness</i>. An unpleasant<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>oldness<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i>with a hint of moisture and more
unpleasantness.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">“Yeah, this place is a dump,” Mist
said after they had checked all the rooms, which was a pathetically short
amount of time.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">“Oh, really?” Nixion asked him
sceptically. The others seemed to be content with listening and observing the
situation. Mahogany had picked up a rat and was holding it by the tail,
watching it dangle with unnerving curiosity. Mist directed them all out of the
shack and they moved on to the barn.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">It took them an even shorter amount
of time to discover that the barn was of nothing but hay, manure and a few odd
looking animals with even odder eating habits. They left the animals to it and
regrouped outside the barn.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">“Alright, looks like Gab lied to you,
man,” Stavan said with a hand over his nose as they abandoned they barn.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">“No, I think that he came up
truthfully,” Mist said, looking around. “Gabriel didn’t actually say that
anything was going on in this place. All he told us was that this is an old war
base.”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">“<i>Was </i>an old war base,”
Lyra interjected.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Hunter ignored the conversation and
wandered off in typical vampire fashion. Nixion assumed he wanted to get away
from the barn - his scene of smell being so sensitive. Nixion watched the
vampire walk into the corn field and then walk back towards them a few moments
later.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">“Hey,
guys, you might want to see this.” Hunter called to them in his lazy voice.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Nixion
scowled. Another cliché sentence. Everyone followed Hunter into the field with
Nixion trailing behind looking disgruntled.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">The moment that Nixion stepped
forwards into the corn, everything in front of him changed dramatically. In
quick ripples, the rows of corn that should have been sitting in front of all
of them faded and disappeared, in the place of which stood a huge castle
through the ripples. Nixion stepped closer and the ripples calmed, allowing his
vision to sharpen. It was a<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>castle</i>.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Just by looking at it, he could tell
that it had been built for its defence and not for its looks. It was horribly
old, though not decaying, and looked strong. Strong enough to hold off an
attack, presumably. It was a rather imposing image.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">There was a short few moments of
silence in which everyone took in the sight in front of them.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">“So, Sir Nixion, what be your expert
verdict on<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>this<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i>particular stronghold?” Stavan
asked him, flashing a cocky smirk. Nixion gave him a withering glare in return.
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">After a few more moments, they began
their walk towards the castle. While the stacks of crop wasn’t really there and
wasn’t visible any longer, it was still a bit of a walk to the castle. It was
all hardened ground with a few patches where grass had attempted to grow but
had failed and died miserably. Upon closer inspection, Nixion noted that the
castle actually was slowly falling apart, but the structure itself was still
rather impressive, and was in no immediate state of crumbling to the ground. A
part of the far end had been damaged and had already collapsed, but the rest of
the castle was still standing and while it held wounds evidently from wartime,
it was still intact. They reached the entrance and stepped inside. It was dark
inside the building and the only provided light was streaming through the few
windows throughout the castle. There were chandeliers hanging from the ceilings
and candles along the walls, but the chandeliers were no longer working and the
candles had long since burned up.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">“Alright then,” Mist said after
they’d looked around a bit. “Everyone split up into pairs and search this
place. We’re looking for anything that might help us or any sign of a person in
this place. If anyone finds anything…” he raised his phone a bit to indicate
they should call, and then he turned away and walked in a direction that half
forced Neon Dark to fall into stride with him.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Stavan left with Hunter, Lyra turned
in the other direction with Kali leaving Nixion with Mahogany who was examining
the sleeve of her shirt intently. She looked up, realised that they were alone,
turned to look at Nixion and smiled brightly. “Hi!” she said far too happily.
Nixion rolled his eyes and walked towards the last corridor out of the main
room.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Searching for any clues whatsoever
proved to be a lot harder than it was all cracked up to be. For a start, Nixion
had no idea what a clue was meant to look like. Just like the shack, the path
Nixion seemed to be walking down was covered in dust and withered with age.
There were no footprints as far as he could see, but then again, Nixion could
barely make out the ground because the windows were few and light was thin.
Searching took a long time. It took a while, but Nixion eventually got
frustrated and ended up hurling his fist into some rusty old suit of armour
which promptly proceeded to collapse on top of him.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Even
empty armour can beat me now </span></i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Nixion
thought to himself angrily as he kicked the suit off himself.<a href="" name="13c845caa58e64c6_13c6c02a819a5a8c_13c526"></a><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>He got up at they continued onwards
after Mahogany had finished laughing.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Mahogany inspected every chair they
passed, every painting they walked by, every window to come into view and every
wall alongside them. Despite all this, she was completely and utterly useless,
and fascinated over the tiniest of cracks in anything rather than keeping on
the lookout for anything of any real use. Nixion grew irritated of her quickly
and spent half his time making sure he’d remember to ask Mist if he could swap
watch partners with someone. Not the necromancer, he’d never do. The vampire
wouldn’t work either, someone would end up dead before long… Kali would have
been fine. He’d ask if he could swap with Lyra. Mahogany was driving him insane.
Again.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">They
passed a few rooms built to branch off the main corridor, most of which were
empty. They stumbled over a certain room which had evidently been the armoury
of the castle during wartime, then abandoned and left alone when they’d all
deserted the place. Nixion left Mahogany to inspect a window outside the room
and spent fifteen good minutes inspecting the weapons in the place, liking what
he saw. He even took a hatchet and kept it for later use. He would have taken
one of the axes, but none of them fitted in his jacket.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">They’d left the armoury and continued
on their way. There was another room that actually had a door blocking their
path. Wondering what could have been so important as to keep the door locked
even while the place was evidently deserted, Nixion had decided to remain there
attempt to force it open. Even though he hadn’t consulted her on this matter,
Mahogany hadn’t seemed to mind in the slightest and busied herself by examining
a crack in the must floor with a large amount of interest.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">He’d rammed his shoulder into the
door at full force for two minutes or so when the sound of Mahogany’s phone
filled the space around them. It was an upbeat song full of happiness and
rainbows and other horrible things that Nixion would like to stamp on. He
stopped ramming the door as she answered the phone. She listened to it for a
few moments, nodded as though the person on the other end could see her, and
hung up without saying a word. Mahogany replaced the phone in her pocked and
then continued to examine at the crack, attempting to work out whatever it was
that she was trying to work out.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">“What was that?” Nixion asked after
it became clear that she wasn’t going to tell him.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">She looked up at him. “What was
what?”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">“The phone,” Nixion said, the hint of
a scowl jumping to his face. “Who was it on the phone?”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">“Oh. That was Zathract,” She nodded
thoughtfully and turned back to the crack.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">“What did he want?” Nixion asked
through his gritted teeth, resisting the urge to punch a hole through the door
behind him.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">“He wants us in the dungeon.” She
told him dreamily. She frowned, prodded the crack with her finger and gave it a
bizarre look.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Nixion stared at her with bemusement
for a moment, then turned and walked away before someone ended up dead.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Nixion, after several wrong turns and
a small fight with a crowd of deadly cobwebs, eventually found his way to the
entrance to the dungeon, where everyone else was waiting.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">“Where’s Mahogany?” Mist asked him as
he joined them all.</span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Nixion’s response was to simply shrug.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">He’d ended up back where he’d left
her twice on his long and epic journey downstairs, but she barely even
moved. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Crazier than me, </span></i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">he thought.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">“I’m here,” a voice said from above
them called out dreamily, and everyone looked up to see Mahogany hanging from
the rafters.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">There was a long silence.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">“I’m
not even going to ask,” Nixion muttered.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">They
found the girl in the dungeon.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">The room she had been standing in did
not look very inviting. It did not look very bright, it did not look very clean
and did not really look like much at all. It was dark and damp, and most of the
space was filled with various instruments that looked like they had been used
for torture. At the sight of the instruments, Nixion glared darkly.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">The girl was sitting in the middle of
the room when they walked in, shaking in fear. She was a thin thing, no muscle
at all.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Absolutely useless in a fight.
Unless, of course, she had powerful magic. Damn magic, ruining fights. Nixion
hated magic when it was used it fights. Unless it was his magic that was better
than everyone else’s, of course. Unfortunately, however, it rarely was.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">There was no real reason to be wary
of her. She was shaking like a leaf, her eyes cold with fear, and her body
rigid, seized up. She was in no position to attack them, even if she had wanted
to.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">“Who are you?” Mist asked the girl in
a low voice. Nixion could see he was tense. After a large lack of real answers
and a death already this investigation, Nixion could understand why. “Why are
you here?”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">The girl looked up at him slowly and
fearfully, her eyes bloodshot. She was shaking horribly by this point.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">“Why are you here?” Mist demanded in
a louder voice, causing the girl to flinch and shut her eyes tight before
opening them again. She opened her mouth, like she was going to say something,
but then looked down at her shoes and stayed silent, continuing to shake.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Nixion narrowed his eyes, observing
the girl. Her fear was genuine, as far as he could see, but he wasn’t about to
let his guard down. His hand had already enclosed around his machete handle.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">His gaze shifted to Mist. Nixion
could see the anger and the need for answers in the way his eyes were narrowed
and through his rigid posture. His fists were clenched and almost shaking as
well.Lyra put her hand on Mist’s shoulder, forcing him to drag his eyes away
from the girl, though Nixion could tell he did it with reluctance.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">“We’re not going to get anything from
her here,” she said calmly. “If she actually knows anything at all. We’ll take
her back to the Sanctuary and question her there. When she’s calmer.”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Mist looked at her for a second, and
Nixion thought he was going to snap at her. But a moment later the hint of a
growl was gone from Mist’s face and his shoulders loosened slightly, while his
expression relaxed too. Fists still clenched, he nodded, and looked back at the
girl.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Stavan
and Hunter stepped toward her and each placed a hand on her shoulders. The girl
gave them both a look of pure terror as they did this, but when they began to
leads her out of the dungeon and out of the castle, she kept her head down and
eyes shut as if hoping they’d simply forget about her somehow.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">They followed Stavan, Hunter and the
girl up until the exit of the castle, and Nixion watched the three walk across
the land from the castle to the minibus. Then he raised his eyebrows and
dropped them again quickly along with a deep breath. “Well, that was
unexpected,” he said, and looked over to Mist. “What does it mean?”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Mist gave a grim smile as the others
filed in front of the two of them. “It means we’re getting closer,” he
said. And walked out after everyone else.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">“Yay us…” Nixion murmured quietly as
he followed them.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">The girl was led into the minibus but
the ex-Cleaver and the vampire, and was seated next to the weird girl. She had
been slightly worried as to how she’d do this if she was seated next to one of
the team, but this girl seemed determined to draw a giraffe on the window by
fogging it up, and was spending most of her time freaking out about how she
couldn’t find a way to colour it.</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">While the strange girl next to her
proceeded to rub her finger into the glass with an increasing aggressive
manner, Hammond’s assistant reached into her pocket and sent the text message
that she had written out earlier.</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">And the text said:<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt;">Everything
is ready.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Nixion Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940998577242832277noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-31982797277940014082012-10-12T16:20:00.002+11:002012-10-12T16:20:31.511+11:00Nix and Mist: The Remaining Book CoverAnother one.<br />
But a better one, I think.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzqak1bpol4c73hXhid__j3tbCIW4WLYzd1sIJ71US9jflMPEj8QPRsl84jySASkLrG4xj33yQdD5B-RCyyeQMc-WFM2x2T04Gbs5klRPCdfS5_8GuVU5glLRg4ucrr4IISnMV929K7-I/s1600/Nix+and+Mist+The+Remaining+Book+Cover+4~.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzqak1bpol4c73hXhid__j3tbCIW4WLYzd1sIJ71US9jflMPEj8QPRsl84jySASkLrG4xj33yQdD5B-RCyyeQMc-WFM2x2T04Gbs5klRPCdfS5_8GuVU5glLRg4ucrr4IISnMV929K7-I/s320/Nix+and+Mist+The+Remaining+Book+Cover+4~.png" width="207" /></a></div>
<br />
It makes me happy. Because the only things taken from the internet were the characters. Everything else was made in Photoshop. Also because it took over three hours to complete.<br />
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Devour.Zathract Misthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13949771210514269250noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-65732615562329248672012-10-03T12:13:00.000+10:002012-10-03T12:13:28.026+10:00Stats After Ch. 14Not sure if anyone actually cares about these things, but oh well.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB5S2VC229c0Tdd_RHSuIVm4__vwHjWtOcQLAJgIAhEylZxoyDnSCGBmiiqgnnPSzvf_fiN2rpLoX1TFk64AWXoYrozdR5PrUE4Xx46O3-7nIELl8Y6_eL-ikKzua8vHAcf4KGypMDLsw/s1600/Word+Count4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB5S2VC229c0Tdd_RHSuIVm4__vwHjWtOcQLAJgIAhEylZxoyDnSCGBmiiqgnnPSzvf_fiN2rpLoX1TFk64AWXoYrozdR5PrUE4Xx46O3-7nIELl8Y6_eL-ikKzua8vHAcf4KGypMDLsw/s320/Word+Count4.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
There are approximately 86, 603 words in the first Skulduggery book, 371 pages and 30 chapters. So to be fair, we're doing pretty well.<br />
I'd say we aren't too far off the halfway mark now.<br />
<br />
Not sure when 15 will be here.Zathract Misthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13949771210514269250noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-79808222758429604862012-10-01T16:01:00.000+10:002012-10-01T16:01:15.737+10:00Nix and Mist - The Remaining Chapter 14: Or Something<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
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<b><span style="font-family: RunishMK; font-size: 20.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">14.<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: RunishMK; font-size: 20.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Or Something</span></b><span style="font-family: RunishMK; font-size: 15.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Slayn
Redeem had been briefed with Zathract over the phone that morning. Apparently
there was some war that was going to break out or something if they didn’t do
something or something. She hadn’t really been paying much attention. She never
really was. She had only come because she had been promised good fighting and
lots of it. She had also been told there was a traitor and then something about
it not being him, someone with a name she couldn’t be bothered to remember,
another person with a weird name and then one last person with a strange name.
Strange. Or something. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Slayn
wasn’t really paying attention. She never really was, after all. She didn’t
particularly care either. If the world came to an end, then she would probably
care, she figured, but that also remained to be seen, for it had not come to a
near-end yet and as such, Slayn could not make an accurate assumption on how
she would act if it did.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Slayn
could be pretty sophisticated when she wanted to be. It wasn’t often.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Of
course, she wasn’t in <i>favour </i>of
another war. She had heard the stories of The War from her father and her
mother and her older brother and one of her older sisters and it certainly
seemed like one of the most horrid things Slayn had ever heard about.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Either
way, Slayn was there now. She had only really managed to remember two things
Zathract had told her; the first being whatever war that would soon break out
and the second being that he needed her to train some people in combat. <i>That </i>particular thing was what Slayn was
looking forward to…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">She
strode into the Sanctuary in her usual cocky, carefree manner with her usual
cocky, carefree smirk on her face. The Cleavers didn’t block her path, didn’t
even give her a second glance. Her brother was one of the Elder Council. It was
probably a criminal offense to block her way or something. Rounding the corner,
she saw the group at once. Around ten or so people all standing, spread apart,
but close enough to hold a discussion. And addressing them was Zathract.
Catching sight of her, he said something to the group, gave her a nod and said
“her”. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">At
his word, the rest of the group turned to face Slayn and she kept her smirk up
as she approached them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Hey,”
she said to Zathract casually. He nodded with a smile in reply but said
nothing. “So, what’m I doin’ then?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">The
vast majority of the group were staring at her. At first she thought they were
all far too easy to impress with first impressions, but then a glaring teen
dressed in a leather jacket with brown hair spoke up.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“<i>This </i>is the person training us?” he
asked incredulously.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Yup,”
Zathract said.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Why
do we even need to be trained anyway?” another person in black turned to
Zathract again. “I’m an ex-Cleaver for god’s sakes. I think I can handle
myself.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Ex-Cleaver?”
Slayn asked Zathract as well. “He thinks he can hold his own because of <i>that</i>?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“He
does,” Zathract confirmed. “He’s better than an average Cleaver, though.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“I’ve
beaten seven fully trained Cleavers on one,” the person in black said, raising
an eyebrow.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Still
failing to see why I’m meant to be impressed.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;"> “In fact, a lot of the people here don’t think
there’s much room for improvement in their fighting skills.” Zathract
continued, ignoring the interruption.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“They’re
in for a beating then,” she said.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">The
boy with the brown hair was half glaring and half raising an eyebrow.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“I
doubt it,” he muttered.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Who’s
he?” Slayn asked.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“He’s
Nixion Strange,” Zathract shrugged. “You’ll either get used to him or hate him
forever. And knowing <i>you </i>it’s
probably the former.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Nixion’s
too long,” she said. “Imma just call you X.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion
frowned.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“What?”
he asked. “No. No, don’t call me that.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Hush,
X,” Slayn said, her cocky tone taking charge again.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Yeah,
he’s going to hate you even more than you hate him if you keep calling him
that,” Zathract said.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Huh?”
asked Slayn, her attention span waning again already.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Zathract
rolled his eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Okay,”
he said. “Cutting to the point here. Slayn, this is you, you’re training these
guys to fight, much to their distaste.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Figured,”
she grinned.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“There’s
a room down there,” he pointed to the next corridor. “Large, built for
fighting. If you don’t want to use that, take them to your house, I don’t care.
You aren’t allowed to, and <i>listen here</i>,
aren’t allowed to <i>kill anyone</i> or
seriously injure them. Feel free to shout though.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Joy,”
she grinned. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Try
to keep off their bad sides, if you would,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">She
stopped grinning.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“You’re
working alongside us now, so it’s not going to end very well if people hate one
another. Don’t call Nix ‘X’.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Can
I call him ‘Nix’?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“No,”
Nixion growled.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Zathract
shrugged and started walking. “Stavan, Neon, Kali, this is us.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Three
of the people detached themselves from the rest of the group and followed his
lead to the exit of the Sanctuary.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Slayn
smirked at the group in front of her.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">They
stared back, mostly blankly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">This
was going to be <i>fun</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">***<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Neon
Dark, Kali Nole and Stavan followed Zathract Mist up the pathway to Gabriel
Cobalt’s house. They reached the door and Zathract knocked once. Once was
enough. A moment later the same pale young woman that had greeted Zathract and
Nixion a week or so previously opened the door, surveyed them for a few moments
and then stepped aside to allow them entry once again.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">The
four stepped over the threshold and led themselves into the same room that they
had spoken to Gabriel Cobalt in their previous visit. Dark and Kali sat on the
couch while Zathract and Stavan remained standing, waiting. And then he walked
in through a door in the back wall. Gabriel caught sight of them, sighed, and
took his seat in front of the desk.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“You’re
back,” he said bluntly, addressing Zathract.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“I
am,” he replied, matching the flat tone.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“So?
How did it go?” asked Cobalt. “Have you saved the world from the brink of war?
Have you destroyed this organisation in their tracks and completed another
investigation with success? Have to adopted the title of ‘Hero’ in the
Sanctuary once again?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“You
sound annoyed,” Zathract smiled.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Very
observant,” Gabriel placed his hands on the desk and looked at him intently.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“You
know why we’re here,” said Zathract after a lengthy pause in conversation. “We
need help.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“What
makes you think I’ll give it to you?” asked Gabriel.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“It’s
in your best interest,” Zathract said, controlled. “As I told you the last time
I was here, Cobalt.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Gabriel
raised his eyebrows, amused.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“I
don’t ‘play the hero’, as you know,” He said. “I don’t do what you do. I prefer
to sit here and watch from the sidelines, as you also know. Which I have been
content in doing so far and will continue doing so.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“But
you can’t escape the fact that you think we’ll fail without you, and at the
moment, you need us to succeed.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Gabriel
didn’t speak for a moment.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Fine,”
he nodded. “Whatever. After I give you the information, will you promise not to
bother me again?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“For
at least a day,” Zathract said, raising his hand in a mocking oath. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“I
should have suspected as much,” Gabriel muttered again, then waited for
Zathract to continue.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“We
need some information on The Remaining, Gabriel,” Zathract said. “We need a
lead.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Cobalt
nodded. “Of course you do,” he said, and picked up a pen. As he wrote on a
small notepad, he continued. “As you know, very little is known about The
Remaining. I myself know very little about the organisation. Surprising, yes?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Zathract
took the note from Gabriel as he passed it to him and looked at it, not
bothering with a reply. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Those
are the coordinates for a supposed abandoned base of operations used by Charles
Hammond back in The War,” Cobalt said, settling back into his seat.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Zathract
examined the writing for a few extra moments, then nodded and placed the note
carefully in his pocket.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Anything
else you can tell us about them?” Stavan asked.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Nothing
as of yet,” Cobalt replied. “Give it a few months and I may have something new,
but by then your supposed war will probably have arisen.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Thank
you for your time,” Zathract inclined his head slightly, then turned and walked
away.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“That
was a short visit…” he heard Kali mutter as they stepped over the threshold
again and made their way back to the car.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“We
got what we needed,” he said back to her, but did not get a response. He did
not think Kali had expected him to have heard her. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Zathract
climbed into the passenger seat of the car while Kali took the driver’s and
Stavan and Neon settled into the back seats.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">With
that, they drove off back to the Sanctuary.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">***<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion.
<i>Hated</i>. Slayn.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">There
were multiple reasons for this, of course, even with the natural default
attitude of dislike he had towards new people aside. This could be because
Slayn Redeem seemed to insist on calling Nixion ‘X’, even after Mist had told
her not to. It may also be due to the fact that she had an annoying habit of
lecturing everyone, though mostly him, on how sloppy certain aspects of their
fighting technique was. But to Nixion, all these things would have been almost ignorable.
Because above all else, Nixion’s utter hatred towards Slayn Redeem would most
likely be due to the fact that now his <i>back</i>
was aching.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion
did not like most things, pain of which was high on that list. However, while
he could deal with most pains he experienced, Nixion could not tolerate pain in
his back. It hurt, sure, but back pain was also plain <i>annoying</i>. Back pain prevented him from doing a lot of things.
Bending over, ducking, spinning, back kicking, side kicking <i>and </i>round kicking were a few of these
preventions. And in a fight, having these limitations is <i>not good</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">And
it was Slayn’s fault that he had this pain.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Yet,
Slayn also hated it when these limitations Nixion now had due to what <i>she </i>had done became apparent in his
fighting. Nixion assumed that this was why that, at that moment, he was the
only one Slayn was now focusing on. She called it training. Nixion called it a
punishment.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“It’s
a good idea to <i>block</i>, you know?”
Slayn Redeem said as she sent a careless back-fist his way, which Nixion ducked
under. “Dodging uses too much energy.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion
gritted his teeth, not bothering to reply, and came up with a punch to the gut,
which Slayn pushed away. Nixion had expected this, however, and swung his other
hand up and around, flying for Slayn’s temple. She twisted her body to avoid
it, but his fist managed to clip the side of her head. She staggered sideways,
but flipped and twirled through the air before letting her left leg swing out
and Nixion did not have time to bring a guard up against it. He was pushed
backwards, his chest aching as well now, and Nixion tried to breathe. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Slayn
landed and surveyed Nixion, not bothering to raise a guard. Nixion stood his
ground and scowled at her, really wanting to get out his machete that Slayn had
taken and left outside along with all the other weapons people had on them.
Lyra had been particularly annoyed at this. Seconds stretched by and no one
made a sound, not even the others who were watching them, their own training
battles abandoned. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Finally,
Slayn simply straightened her shoulders and asked him, “What’s your magic
discipline?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“I
break bones,” Nixion replied, his breath back. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“I’m
happy for you,” nodded Slayn. “But what’s your magic discipline?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">I’m
a bone breaker,” Nixion said, beginning to frown. “I break bones.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Slayn
didn’t even bother to answer this time and just gave him a look. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Nixion
uses his magic to influence the strength and stability of bones inside any
portion of the human body with a tap,” Lyra spoke up from the audience. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“What?”
asked Slayn.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“I
break bones,” Nixion repeated. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Oh,”
she rolled her eyes. “Why didn’t you just say that?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“But
I-”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Doesn’t
matter. Doesn’t make a difference now,” Slayn said, and moved faster than
Nixion could have expected. Within seconds, he was on the ground, wondering
what the hell had just happened. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Grasping
the fact that they were fighting once again, Nixion rolled quickly to avoid
having his head crushed by Slayn’s descending boot and leapt back to his feet. At
once, he was knocked back on to the ground again as Slayn lashed out with a
back kick. Disorientated at how quickly he had gone from standing, to on the
ground, to standing and then back down again, Nixon instinctively bought his
arms up to protect his face at the sound of a running opponent. Slayn’s fist
hit Nixion’s left arm and he gritted his teeth in pain. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">He
wanted to curse, and he wanted to yell, but he knew that that would accomplish
nothing, so instead Nixion lashed out wildly with his uninjured arm and felt it
make contact with flesh. The fist withdrew and Nixion got to his feet again as
quickly as he could. Slayn came at him quickly again, a fist already blurring
towards Nixion’s jaw, but he spun sideways, letting it miss, and rammed into
Slayn hard which sent her staggering again. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">She
spun quickly, regaining balance, then stopped and observed him once more,
frowning.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Not
having a clue what was going on, but not exactly caring either, Nixion did not
stop this time, and came forwards, fists and elbows flying at Slayn. She
parried and blocked and dodged them all, but kept the frown on her face as if
she was trying to work out the answer to a particularly hard question. Annoyed
that she wasn’t even showing signs of worry that he was attacking her, Nixion
quickened his pace, attacking viciously and with wild techniques. The more wild
and more aggressive his attacks became, the clearer the look on Slayn’s face
was. Until finally, when Nixion bought both his fists into the air and
attempted to smash them down on her temple, Slayn let out a weird “Ooh,” of
realisation. And she grabbed the descending fists with one hand, twisted them
so Nixion lost his balance and bought the back of his head crashing down onto
her rising knee. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Pain
and white light exploded everywhere, and Nixion did not even realise he was on
the ground again, face down. Time lost meaning, and he lay there, staring at
the cold grey surface that was the floor, a frown on his face as he tried to
work out what had happened. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">The
back of his head hurt. The back of his head hurt <i>a lot</i>. His arm hurt. His back hurt. His chest also hurt. The rest
of his body seemed to be okay. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Slowly,
very slowly, he rolled over onto his back, intending to look up at the ceiling,
and was greeted with the mostly concerned faces of the people still in the
room, save Slayn. At once, irritation and bitterness rose back up inside him
and Nixion shot to his feet, ignoring the pain in his head that suddenly made
him want to throw up. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Get
out of my face…” he muttered, pushing someone aside with a weak arm. He looked
around for Slayn, not exactly eager to continue the battle, but too stubborn to
refuse to either. She tapped his shoulder and he wheeled around to face her,
feeling sick already.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Your
technique is wild and unpredictable,” she said, handing him his machete. “Which
is good. Unfortuntely, it’s also rather clumsy at times, and rage can make you
predictable.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion
looked at his machete dully. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Take
a shower,” she said next. “You stink.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion
frowned at her, then asked, “Where’s the bathroom, then?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Huh?”
Slayn looked up at him, having already lost interest in the conversation.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion
rolled his eyes and stumbled from the room, the back of his head throbbing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">It
took him a while, but Nixion managed to find the bathroom of Slayn’s house. At
least, he found one of them. Judging by the <i>size
</i>of her house, there was likely to be at least half a dozen more scattered
around the place. This would be because the term <i>mansion</i> better described the place Slayn accommodated.<i> </i>After he had showered and was
successfully cooled down again, Nixion dried himself off and pulled his clothes
back on, pleased to find that they weren’t too sweaty.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">After
this, Nixion left the bathroom and headed back to the Dojo. Or at least, he <i>tried </i>to. Because, as he had noticed,
the house was <i>painfully large</i>. As
such, Nixion became lost fairly quickly and found himself wandering through
corridor after corridor, turning corner after corner and wondering all the
while where the bloody hell he was. Eventually, Nixion came across something
that he recognized vaguely as a kitchen of sorts. It would seem perfectly
normal for a kitchen, if it were not as large as half of Nixion’s entire house.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“How
big does a place need to be for someone to live in?” he muttered to himself
incredulously, making his way to one of the five fridges that filled a small
portion of the room and opened it. Peering inside, he saw that the fridge was
filled with vegetables and vegetables alone. Nixion paused, then shut the
fridge and moved on to its neighbour. Opening that one, Nixion was greeted with
the sight of meats, meats and more meats. The next held sweets, chocolates and
other junk foods, of which Nixion grabbed a handful of things from. The one
after that had butter, cheese and other similar things. The last one held
assorted drinks, mostly coke, and also ice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Muttering
again, Nixion tore the wrappings off a chocolate bar and proceeded to try and
find his way back to the Dojo again. It took him an entire half an hour to do
so, but he finally managed to get back to the training area, by which time his
clothes were finally dry again. Nixion entered the Dojo just in time to see
Lyra bat a fist away from Slayn and send a powerful kick aimed at her chest. Slayn
parried it and spun, ducked under a second kick and came up with a fist that
Lyra blocked. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">As
Nixion joined the rest of the group that had once again abandoned their own
battles to watch, Slayn and Lyra exchanged fists and elbows and kicks, neither
making a noise. Punches were knocked away, kicks were parried and blows were
countered. Neither seemed able to hit the other and seemed, for the most part,
evenly matched. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">After
a while, however, Lyra’s energy seemed to be draining and her posture begun to
weaken. This continued until finally Slayn knocked away a punch and sent one of
her own to meet Lyra’s stomach, and she stumbled away.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Well
done,” Slayn said to Lyra as she looked up again. “You’re actually managing to
hold your own against-”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Lyra
had used this time to launch herself towards Slayn again with a second fist
which had caught the woman off-guard. Slayn, obviously not expecting this,
managed to move her head to the right in time to dodge the punch, but did not
have time to do anything about the powerful round kick that came crashing into
her ribs following it. Slayn stumbled to the side, let herself fall to avoid
the reverse round kick sent at her and came up with an elbow that collided with
Lyra’s chin.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Lyra
fell backwards onto the ground and when she looked back up again, Slayn was
standing over her, laughing. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Well
done,” she laughed. “You’re actually very good. You probably would have had a
chance of beating me if you hadn’t begun to tire when you did. That can be
fixed with training, though.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Slayn
offered a hand to Lyra which she accepted and got to her feet. Lyra did not
speak, but studied Slayn for a few seconds longer before returning to the bulk
of the group. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“I
can’t exactly say I’m disappointed,” Slayn said to the whole. “I expected about
as much from this group, after all. So all this means is that there’s a lot of
room for improvement.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion
stopped listening around that point and started chewing on a second chocolate
bar. He was annoyed. Lately, he had been
beaten far too often. Lyra had beaten him. Keeve had beaten him. Stavan had
beaten him. Loader had beaten him. Now Slayn had beaten him too, or as good as.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">He
had been training his fighting skills ever since he was eleven, or there about.
He wasn’t <i>meant </i>to be beaten in fights.
He would admit – only to himself, of course – that there were people in the
world stronger than he was. But he was not meant to be beaten by so many people
in less than two weeks. It was humiliating. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Just
as well no one in his new group of Sanctuary dogs particularly enjoyed mocking
him. Well, save Stavan, presumably… <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">There
was really only one obvious solution. Train. Get stronger. He trained every
day, but evidently it was not enough. The only problem was that he was now
spending most of his time on the investigation of The Remaining, and when he
wasn’t, Mist would probably want him to spend most to all of his time training
with Slayn. He could not see Slayn helping him anytime soon. She could fight,
sure, but he had a just a <i>slight</i>
suspicion that she was not a great teacher. And recently, Nixion had pretty
much done whatever Mist had told him to.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">But
then again, maybe it was time for that to change. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">***<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion
had to admit, he was feeling much better towards the Sanctuary. It may have
been because this place had been where they had been healed each time they
returned from a beating in the past few days. He didn’t necessarily like the <i>people</i> in the Sanctuary any more, but
the Sanctuary itself was growing on him. However, Nixion had a feeling it was
more because he had so many more people and so many more things to hate
recently that he had no time to go around loathing the Sanctuary. He hoped it
was that. The idea that the idiot healers were beginning to grow on him was-<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;"> “You look like crap,” was Stavan’s greeting to
him upon his arrival. The rest of the group filed past him and Nixion rolled
his eyes at Stavan.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Fifteen
minutes later, Mist had arrived at the Sanctuary again, by which time Nixion’s
suspicions about him being a traitor had risen again. It was not like Mist to
be late.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Where
were you?” Nixion asked Mist, not bothering to try and sound polite. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“The
Grand Mage wanted a ‘report on current status’ as he put it,” Mist replied. “He’s
anxious about the threat of war. Apparently Australia as a whole will be blamed
if another war breaks out, but a lot of the accusations will be aimed at him.
So really, we’ll be responsible for the hatred of this country for the rest of
our lives if we fail.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“No
pressure, then,” muttered Nixion as they joined the larger group. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Okay!”
Mist said, raising his voice and addressing the rest of the group again.
“Cobalt gave us an address for the head of operations Charles Hammond used in
the war. That’s where we’re headed.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">He
gave a quick look to Nixion, Stavan and Lyra as if reminding them to stick with
their assignment partner, then nodded and started walking for the exit. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion
followed, the need to punch something becoming very strong again. </span><span style="color: #222222;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Zathract Misthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13949771210514269250noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-69365388505693120602012-09-16T14:39:00.002+10:002012-09-16T14:39:45.860+10:00Sorry For The DelayYeah, it's been a while, huh?<br />
<br />
We've each had some writing crisis's, and a lot of work.<br />
<br />But there's also been concerns that have arisen about certain characters and the way they work.<br />
<br />
That took a while to sort out. Then there were more writing crisis's and suddenly we're half way through freaking September!<br />
<br />
It was a lot longer than I thought, but then, we're usually occupied with work during Term.<br />
<br />
Still unsure of when the next chapter will be up, but, y'know, soon hopefully.Zathract Misthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13949771210514269250noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-48651677260324093622012-07-26T21:58:00.001+10:002012-07-26T21:58:54.713+10:00Nix and Mist Chapter 13: The Remaining History of The Remaining<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 12pt; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: white; font-family: "RunishMK", "serif"; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">13.</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: white; font-family: "RunishMK", "serif"; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The Remaining History of The Remaining</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Charles Hammond missed the old days. The days of destruction, of free roam, of being able to kill without injuring himself, of being able to use magic. He missed the days of The War. He had never much liked </span></i><span style="font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Mevolent <i>as such, but he had liked the Sanctuary even less, with their absurd laws they had in place to prevent anything and everything Hammond enjoyed doing even less. These things were mostly torturing and killing, but mainly the killing. As such, he had sided with Mevolent during The War. Siding with Mevolent meant that he could kill freely. Siding with Mevolent meant that he could hurt the people he wanted to hurt and kill the people he wanted to kill without consequences, for everyone around him was doing exactly the same thing.</i></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i><span style="color: white; font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hammond did not believe in The Faceless Ones. He did not believe they existed. He was yet to see proof and such was not going to hold faith in what was currently seen to him as a myth. A legend. Hammond did not believe in legends. Hammond wanted to hurt people, torture his enemies, and then unceremoniously murder them in a thoroughly painful way. Painful for them, that is. Hammond did not like pain. Hammond had had enough pain in his days to last him for the rest of his life. </span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hammond was a warlock, the only warlock he had known to ever take a side in The War. Hammond had heard the whispers of people guessing how the forces of Mevolent had managed to get him to join a side. He had never told anyone the real reason he had joined Mevolent, had never spoken of the fact that he had not taken a side in interest of the intended outcome. He had taken a side because of </span></i><span style="font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">an <i>outcome, but not the outcome that either side had been aiming for: Mevolent: a so-called ‘perfect world’ overruled by The Faceless Ones, the rebels; a world free of death, destruction and Mevolent and his lackey’s Gods. Hammond had joined a side because he could reach the near-destruction of the world’s population easier, quicker and more efficiently with Mevolent’s assistance. </i></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So, Hammond joined Mevolent’s side and was accepted by his followers in Australia warmly after he had displayed his power against the rebellion. The times Hammond had after that was some of the best times he had ever had in his life. Hammond brought destruction everywhere he went and left death in his wake. He demolished battle-fields and he loved every moment of it. His powers were amazing and it wasn’t long before Hammond became a feared and powerful general among Mevolent’s ranks in Australia. Hammond’s reputation rose quickly in not just Australia, but other countries too. He didn’t bother with alliances or friendships with other fighters. It wasn’t </span></i><span style="font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">necessary<i>. He was powerful enough, Hammond didn’t need to worry about his own health. Or so he had thought.</i></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i><span style="color: white; font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He had been in the war for a few decades when he was captured. Hammond had become reckless, far too reckless, and with his recklessness came over-confidence and his over-confidence led to his misjudgement. He had become overwhelmed and abandoned and then he was captured and before he knew what was going on, Hammond had been thrown into a cell.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i><span style="color: white; font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He had not self-destructed, as he had expected. Hammond did not exactly know what had happened. Warlocks were meant to self-destruct once their magic was bound. And yet he did not.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i><span style="color: white; font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hammond did not know how long he had been sentenced to prison for. He had not been paying attention when they told him and he had not been bothered to ask once he had gotten there. He had thought, for a few decades, that he would count the years as they went by, but he had ended up losing count somewhere around the ninety-four mark.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i><span style="color: white; font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">For hundreds of years he had been locked away in his little cell, his magic robbed from him, no longer there, no longer serving. It was maddening. He had not needed food, nor water, nor needed to dispose of any waste. He had even begun to age after a while. Hammond did not like aging…</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He liked </span></i><span style="font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">killing<i>. But that was not happening anymore.</i></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i><span style="color: white; font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hammond had not expected to get out of prison. He actually begun to suspect that he had been given a life sentence, and he probably had. If he had indeed been given a life sentence, however, Hammond had not needed to see it through to the end, for he had been broken out of prison a mere three months previously. </span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i><span style="color: white; font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The prison had been infiltrated, surrounded, and his cell was destroyed by the people who had come. They broke him out, and left the prison with him before anyone could work out what had happened. Hammond himself had not actually known what had happened, but he most certainly had not objected when they broke apart his cell and offered him the chance to leave with them. These people were the organisation known was The Remaining, the organisation that Hammond now ran. </span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i><span style="color: white; font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He was briefed, once they had gotten back to their base. The Remaining wanted to restart The War. Some of them were devout Faceless Ones followers; others were just like Hammond and merely sought destruction. They had broken Hammond out of prison for one purpose only; to lead them to victory; to restart the spark of war.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i><span style="color: white; font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hammond, once powerful, recently free and utterly void of magic ability, agreed to lead their organisation for one reason. He needed to get his magic back and he had absolutely no idea how to do it. If there was any chance in getting his magic back, Hammond figured it rested in his abilities to restart The War and to lead The Remaining. He wasn’t sure if it was even possible, but if it was, he was going to do it. </span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i><span style="color: white; font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hammond later discovered that the people who wanted destruction alone simply wanted to restart The War simply because it was the most destructive thing they had ever witnessed, or, in some cases, heard of. The people who were Faceless Ones followers and wanted The War to restart for the original purposes that Mevolent had intended; to bring back their dark Gods. Hammond, changed though he might during his many years in prison, had not changed his views on the Faceless Ones. He still did not trust in their existence. He did not mind, however. They could believe what they wanted. He didn’t care. Hammond would not, however, waste his time as the leader of The Remaining in seeking out ways to bring back Gods who did not exist.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Of course, back then The Remaining did not have a name. They were simply </span></i><span style="font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">there<i>. Simply </i>it<i>, just a group. Hammond had soon decided that they needed a name. A name that was defining, but not something that was so dark as to be mistaken as a cliché of sorts. The Remaining’, he had finally decided; meant to give meaning to how few of them there were now compared to how many fighters that sought destruction and dominance in the days of war and battle, of wreck and bliss. And yet also to show how powerful they still were, within their current numbers of position, now. </i></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i><span style="color: white; font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hammond liked that name. Hammond liked his new leadership. Hammond liked being free. Hammond burned for revenged. Hammond still burned for global destruction. Hammond was putting his current power over The Remaining to good use. He had then, and he still was now.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The current ‘good use’ happened to take the form of Phase Two. And Phase Two was now operational and set to go. If he was lucky, then it would also be put into effect fairly soon. The operative was currently positioned in the place as planned when Hammond had originally organised Phase Two and all was going according to plan in Australia. At least it was going to plan </span></i><span style="font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">somewhere<i>. Apparently the reports still were not any good from England and now their progress in America, their only other major country infiltration, had been delayed as well. But Hammond had decided he was not going to bother with them for now; they were finally getting a move on here in Australia and so he was going to focus on their work here before he worried about things happening elsewhere in the world.</i></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">However, while things were improving in terms of plans, Clousdina was most certainly </span></i><span style="font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">not <i>become any less annoying.</i></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="color: white; font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I had another dream last night,” his niece said for the third time that day.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“</span></i><span style="font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Did <i>you, now?” Hammond asked in an irritable voice again, for the third time that day.</i></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i><span style="color: white; font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I did,” Clousdina nodded, for the third time that day. “It was about-”</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“No, please,” Hammond said in mock protest, cutting her off sharply, glaring down at his paperwork. “Let me </span></i><span style="font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">guess<i>, my dear niece. Was it, by any chance, about transforming donkeys that told you in Japanese that you had to buy a new bike?”</i></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“It </span></i><span style="font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">was <i>actually,” Clousdina said, frowning at Hammond. “How did you know?”</i></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<i><span style="color: white; font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And then, without waiting for an answer, Clousdina began talking about French fries, completely forgetting about Hammond and their previous conversation, looking as though she was either talking to herself or the desk. </span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Yes, Hammond reflected privately as he returned to the paperwork he was currently filling out on his desk, he </span></i><span style="font-family: "Bell MT", "serif"; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">definitely <i>needed to kill someone soon…</i></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div>Nixion Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940998577242832277noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-35400475396697056772012-07-26T17:10:00.001+10:002012-07-26T17:10:40.347+10:00Whoops...Yeah, so...<br />
<br />
Sorry about 13. I <i>did </i>say it was a short chapter, but everything I wrote basically contradicted with most of the history that we'd already laid out (I was pretty tired). So I've had to go back and edit through all of it again (with Nix's help) and it still hasn't been finished yet. Plus, school's back and there's work and Kingdom of the Wicked was just released so I'm pretty bent on getting through that and blady blah blah.<br />
<br />
Most likely, it'll be out by the weekend, maybe before that if you're lucky.<br />
<br />
As for the comments about getting this thing published, Nix and I have discussed this pretty thoroughly, believe me. Couple of complications have come up, but yes; we most definitely <i>want to</i>, but we may not be able to due to things that I won't go into detail here.<br />
<br />
So yeah, that's it for now. Adios.Zathract Misthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13949771210514269250noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-54397639963000388072012-07-05T11:52:00.000+10:002012-07-05T11:52:05.041+10:00Statistics After Ch. 12 + News On Ch. 13<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5SCiorBQSZz7i-9vIVRj88N0W7RlBxA7huKEVXeQH9AJxZY4rW4R948u-6EjZ0L2JWshD1K2cIubGHWv3PzFJVEqrPZXBvJOnvyktsljIo6_oeU0tq9v6JW1SdCUlyon6DhzKdNqskYQ/s1600/Word+Count3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5SCiorBQSZz7i-9vIVRj88N0W7RlBxA7huKEVXeQH9AJxZY4rW4R948u-6EjZ0L2JWshD1K2cIubGHWv3PzFJVEqrPZXBvJOnvyktsljIo6_oeU0tq9v6JW1SdCUlyon6DhzKdNqskYQ/s320/Word+Count3.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
And there's the word count for you.<br />
<br />
As for 13, the first copy has been written already (it's a fairly short chapter) and is being edited now.Zathract Misthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13949771210514269250noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-4261464371370802862012-07-03T14:33:00.000+10:002012-07-05T11:46:01.180+10:00Nix and Mist Chapter 12: Enter 'Le Blonde<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="font-family: RunishMK; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 150%;">12.<br />
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<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: RunishMK; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 150%;">Enter ‘Le Blonde</span></b><span style="font-family: RunishMK; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">He
was right. Nixion did not like the plan at all. In fact, if he was honestly
upright about it, Nixion absolutely hated the plan. That is, if Mist’s idea was
actually a plan at all. Which, in his opinion, wasn’t in the slightest. If it <i>did </i>count as a plan, though, it was not
saying much to say that Nixion hated it. He hated just about everything, after
all. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“No,”
Nixion glared at Mist after he had explained. “Not that. I’m not going there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Actually,”
Mist said, scooping the files back into the bag and hoisting it over his
shoulder once again. “You are. Take Mahogany with you too. You’re to keep an
eye on her from now on.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“I
hate you…” Nixion muttered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“You
know, something tells me we’ve been here before,” Mist frowned. “Have we been
through this before?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“I
hate you,” Nixion repeated, still glaring, as Mist made for the stairs out of
the basement.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Huh.
This <i>is </i>happening again,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Hate
you,” Nixion said firmly, glaring at Mist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“I
know,” He said. “Stavan, you come with me. We need to get back to the
Sanctuary.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“’Kay.”
Stavan said, hooking his thumbs into his pockets and flashing a smirk at Nixion
as he passed him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Hate
you both.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“We
know,” Mist and Stavan both said in unison.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“If
it’s any consolation,” said Stavan, “We hate you too.” And they left Nixion in
the basement to glower at the place they had just been.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Nixion
Strange and Mahogany Reen were walking up the short pathway that led to the
small, white house. Nixion’s movements were bitter, Mahogany’s solemn. His
insides squirmed with discomfort and dreaded anticipation. Nixion’s jacket was
zipped against the cold and the howling wind sent shivers down his spine, but
Mahogany was dressed in her usual faded blood-red shirt and her usual faded
white pants, contained in a bubble of pure calm. As his hair and clothes
billowed wildly in the wind and his entire body excluding his protected hands
froze, Nixion reflected longingly that he could manipulate the air around him
as well…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">All
too soon they had reached the front door, painted a pale blue, and Mahogany had
knocked on it firmly, three times with a fist. Nixion was hoping the wait may
have been a bit longer, simply to delay what he couldn’t exactly escape from
anymore. Unfortunately for him, the door opened almost at once, slowly,
obediently, and a welcome wave of soft heat drifted over him. Nixion’s stomach
dropped again, however, as he looked into the face of the balding man who had
opened the door in response. It was not an altogether striking image of their
fallen ally, but it was close all the same, and Nixion saw enough resemblance
in his expression to make him feel horrible again. Silently, he cursed Mist for
bringing this on him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">The
aging man surveyed them for a few moments, and then stepped aside to allow them
entry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“I
suppose you’d better come in then…” Thomas Iron’s father said grimly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">And
Nixion stepped over the threshold after Mahogany feeling too awful to
appreciate the warmth of his new surroundings. He vaguely heard the door close
softly behind them and the man ushered them quietly into the next room,
gesturing to the large couch in front of a rocking chair. Nixion and Mahogany
took the couch while Thomas’s father sat in the rocking chair and the woman Nixion
knew to be Thomas’s mother walked in with a grim expression to sit beside her
husband.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“We’re
here to talk about Thomas,” Mahogany begun softly. “Your son.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Thomas’s
mother nodded slowly and sombrely. Nixion suspected they knew already, despite
the complete lack of information release from the Sanctuary. He and Mahogany
weren’t exactly doing a very good job pretending otherwise either.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“I’m
very sorry,” Nixion said abruptly, not entirely sure why the words were coming
out of his mouth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“No
you aren’t,” a harsh voice came from behind them and Nixion craned his neck
around to see someone who looked almost precisely like an older version of Thomas
striding towards them and his parents. He looked to be in his late twenties and
was an excellent copy of Thomas, though Nixion knew he was probably a lot older
because of magic. The scar across his left eye and his wilder hair were the
only things that differed from Nixion’s last memoires of Thomas. That and the
fact that he was older and taller than Thomas had been. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Nixion
frowned at the man as he joined his parents and received a fierce glare in
return. Nixion looked away hastily. He couldn’t blame Thomas’s brother, but all
the same…There was something about his eyes that seemed to drill holes into
him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Like
Mist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Nixion
pushed the thoughts of Mist away from his mind. He didn’t want to think about
him. He needed to concentrate. Concentrate on the horrible situation he was
currently in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“This
is Loader,” the father said rather reluctantly as his eldest son stood beside
him, arms folded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Don’t
call me that,” Loader snapped at his father.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Thomas’s
mother nodded, seemingly for no reason, and, looking rather lost, stood up abruptly
and walked out of the room again. She returned moments later with a tray loaded
with cookies and tea which she then set down on the polished table in front of
them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Mahogany
took a cup of tea and took a sip.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Nixion
frowned at the tray.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Thomas’s
mother sniffed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Thomas’s
father sighed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Thomas’s
brother seethed with silent rage.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“I’m
afraid we have some…unfortunate news…” Mahogany said softly, deciding to
address the matter fairly quickly. Nixion didn’t think it was the best
approach, but if it got him out of here faster, then he didn’t really care how
it was done.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Oh?”
Loader asked, the darkness in his glare spearing through in his speech as well.
Nixion caught sight of the black handle of something tucked away in his belt
that was pulsing slightly. Thomas’s brother, Nixion now knew, was a Necromancer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Your
son, Thomas,” Mahogany continued in her same, quiet tone, deciding to direct
her speech to the parents only. “Has…passed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“We
know that,” Loader snarled. “How?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">His
eyes were daggers, filling with a darkness that was also beginning to writhe
around the handle Nixion could see.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Your
brother was killed while working on a Top-Secret Operation for the Australian
Sanctuary,” Mahogany said, now dropping the soft tone and redirecting her
speech only to Loader. Nixion had never really known Mahogany to be one to talk
much. Although, this was reasonable, seeing as Nixion barely knew Mahogany at
all. She probably spoke heaps a lot of the time. And here she was, doing
something he was refusing to. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">He
couldn’t face talking to Thomas’s parents, and Thomas’s brother looked as if he
was ready to kill someone, most likely them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Thomas’s
mother let out a strangled noise that could have been a choked cry of misery or
a groan of depression.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“So
he died for a pathetic cause?” Loader growled menacingly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Nixion
looked at the father to see him shifting in his seat uncomfortably as his son
spoke to them. He frowned as he watched, unsure of what was going on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“He
died doing a noble thing,” Mahogany countered. “Thomas was trying to make the
world a better place.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Don’t
say his name,” Thomas’s brother’s eyes were drilling holes into Mahogany.
“Don’t say his name. You have <i>no </i>idea…”
His sentence was left hanging and his knuckles were pure white as his fists
clenched tightly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Thomas’s
mother was deathly pale and her lips had drained of colour, her eyes fearful
and hands trembling. She was backed up against the far wall now, watching her son
carefully and Nixion realized that she was observing him out of fear. Loader
was ready to snap…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Son…”
the father started feebly, but was cut off at once.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Shut
up, old man,” Loader growled in something that was so beat-like that Nixion was
taken by surprise and his hand automatically slipped towards the handle that
was his machete, protruding from its holster. It was not a movement he had
intended to happen, but he did not relinquish his grip as Loader and Mahogany
continued exchanging barely controlled speech when.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">The
father shut up as he was told and slowly removed himself from the chair and
paced slowly over to join his wife at the far wall. Loader did not seem to
notice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Thomas
Iron was trying to prevent a war.” Mahogany said firmly, still staring at
Loader defiantly, having ignored his command to keep his deceased brother’s
name absent from the conversation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Who
cares?” Loader roared, letting his arms unfold and leap to his sides, fists
still clenched tightly. Nixion’s grip on the handle of his machete tightened a
fraction. “He still died, didn’t he?” Thomas’s mother muffled her gasp with her
sleeve, but still Loader ignored his parent’s obvious petrification.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“He
died trying to protect the country,” Mahogany said calmly. “Your anger is
understandable, but I must ask you calm down.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Loader
let out a strangled cry of rage and begun yelling, even louder than before.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“<i>This is all your fault!</i>” he bellowed at Nixion
and Mahogany and Nixion saw the mother quickly slip into the kitchen and out
the door of the house, closely followed by her husband.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Calm
down…” Nixion muttered, half a glare of his own rising to his face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“<i>I’ll kill you!</i>” Thomas’s brother roared
and he grabbed the hilt of the weapon that was now swirling with dark, black
energy and he pulled the pulsing machete from its holster.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Hell…”
Nixion cursed and leaped to his feet, pulling his own gleaming machete from his
holster as Mahogany begun grinning madly at all the yelling, abandoning all
composure and sensibility. Nixion made a mental note to yell at her later and ducked
under a slice of shadow darkness that was send spitting from the black machete before
darting forwards, ducking low to avoid another which tore a huge slit in the
wall behind him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">He
came up with a powerful fist which Loader pushed aside and brought his knee
flying to meet Nixion’s ribs which hit with a sickening <i>crack</i>. Nixion staggered sideways, biting his tongue against the
pain, something that he already knew was a stupid idea, but attempted to ignore
it. He spun and sent a kick in his opponent’s general direction. But Loader had
already ducked and he grabbed Nixion’s leg and spun him around through the air.
Nixion cursed again, much louder this time, as he was released and was sent
flying into Mahogany who was still sitting on the couch and still grinning uncontrollably
despite the brutal fight that had just broken out in front of her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Groaning
and rolling his eyes, Nixion rolled off her lap and leaped to his feet, only to
be sent tumbling back to the ground again as a wave of shadows was sent
crashing into him. He rolled sideways to avoid a second wave of darkness flying
his way and leaped to his feet again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“You’re
under arrest for unprovoked assault on a, uh, temporary Sanctuary official,” Nixion
said loudly, surprising himself with how professional he sounded. “Come quietly
now or we’ll be left with no choice but to use-” a fist of darkness took all
the breath out of Nixion’s lungs but he clung onto the attack as it withdrew
towards Loader. Nixion saw the Necromancer’s eyes widen as he realised what Nixion
was doing but it was too late.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Nixion
released the fist a split second later and was propelled into the brother, his
kick meeting his chest in the centre and Loader was knocked backwards and Nixion
saw him release his dagger as he did so. Nixion lowered his guard when he saw
this, expecting a few seconds of pause in the battle, expecting Loader to hit
the ground, expecting a few moments to anticipate further attacks. But Loader
had hit the wall and had rebounded forwards instead and Nixion’s opponent
remained, infuriatingly, on his feet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Though
his expectations had not gone to plan, Nixion saw that Loader was slightly
disorientated at being knocked around as such and Nixion used these few seconds
he <i>had </i>been provided with to attack.
He dived, aiming for a low tackle from the side and he took Loader off his feet
and crashing back onto the ground.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">The
small room that had been cosy and warm only a few moments ago had turned into a
battlefield littered with fragments of furniture.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Not
risking a moment of hesitation, Nixion bought a ready fist up and sent it
crashing down on the Loader’s head. He heard the satisfying <i>smack </i>of his recently gloved fist against
flesh and bone, and Nixion bought it back up for another strike. But this time
Loader lashed out an attack, whether planned or out of panic or desperation, Nixion
could not tell. Loader’s knee smacked against the back of Nixion’s head and
stars burst in front of him as pain exploded from behind and Nixion was thrown
off, disorientated. Nixion vaguely registered the hazy image of Loader’s hand
gripping a leg of the small wooden drawer behind him, but was too disorientated
to do anything about it. Thomas’s brother half threw, half forced the drawer
upwards and it splintered into pieces upon contact with his head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Pain
exploded from all over Nixion as three consecutive attacks made contact with
his stomach as well and he did not know where he was anymore, blinded by agony
and thrown off balance by disorientation. He could feel the powerful objects
that were Loader’s fists raining down all over his body and the long surface
against his back and head that was the floor as he was thrown back onto it. His
vision slowly faded back into view as the attacks ceased for a moment and Nixion
caught sight of Mahogany who had now stopped grinning and laughing. He shot her
a look of disbelief and she hesitated, then raised her arm once and splayed her
hand and he felt Loader’s attacks cease entirely and heard his body hit the
wall behind him. Head spinning wildly, Nixion staggered to his feet and turned
to face Loader who was already standing again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Instinctively,
Nixion let his fist fly towards his opponent as he moved in and it made contact
with the side of Loader’s face. Thomas’s brother’s head jerked sideways as it
made contact and Nixion hit him again. And again. Once more. Loader was sent
crashing into the wall again with a final sickening attack to the face and slid
to the ground.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Nixion
staggered backwards a few steps before sinking to the ground himself, releasing
his machete and panting heavily. He was sweating and aching all over. It was
times like these that he wished he had the money to pay for protective
clothing… Nixion doubled over, his hand rising to his head where the drawer had
smashed against it and saw some dark liquid against the black of his gloves.
Blood.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">He
raised his eyesight to look at Loader. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">His
hair was messy and untamed and eyes were bloodshot, unfocused. He had a dark
patch under his scarred eye and his clothes were battered. But it was not any
of this that made Nixion swear. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"> It was the dagger that was pointed at him again,
and the spear of darkness speeding towards his heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Before
he knew what was happening, the spear had flickered and then dissipated from
his view and Loader was engulfed in flame and screaming. Nixion turned to see
Mahogany’s arms both raised, one directed at Loader, the other at the place the
spear had just been.+<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Nixion
passed out a moment later, Mist’s voice ringing in his head with the
accompanying inquiries as to why Mahogany had not intervened sooner.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“From now on we’re going to need to
know what everyone is doing. Every move…”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">It
could only have been a few moments before he awoke again, however. His body
ached and head throbbed. Loader was unconscious and drenched in water and
Mahogany was a few feet in front of him, pulling out a pair of shackles.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Force,”
Mahogany said, finishing Nixion’s sentence that had been cut short when the
battle had first started. Nixion rolled his eyes and let his head loll
backwards. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Let’s
just get back to the Sanctuary…” he muttered. Before he started killing
something.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Zathract
and Stavan strode through the dark, abandoned school, clothing zipped up tight
against the cold and their hands firmly fixed in pockets, trying and failing to
keep them warm. Not Zathract’s gloves, nor jacket, nor shirt, nor pants ever
kept him warm when approaching the Sanctuary. There were times when he hated
the precautions set up against the place, but at least it did what it was meant
to do; keep mortals away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">The
sky above was grey. They sky above the school was always grey, but today the
rest of the surrounding sky was grey and full of black clouds as well. A storm
was coming… They passed a crumbling building and stepped into the decaying
remains of the canteen. Zathract knelt beside the cracked tile and summoned
flame to his hand with a click of his fingers. The magically enhanced tile
detected the magic offered to it, then the entrance to the Sanctuary opened up
in the form of a descending staircase which Zathract and Stavan walked down.
The ceiling reformed above them and they paced through the long hallway that led
to the larger parts of the Sanctuary.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Zathract
had called the team, excluding Nix and Mahogany, and told them to meet up in
the Sanctuary at two in the afternoon. He had called Lyra and told her to be
there and a quarter to two. This would, hopefully, leave Zathact and Stavan
enough time to explain everything to her and, if needed, convince her of the
importance of her contribution to their plan of action against the traitor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">However,
it appeared that Lyra was unwilling to wait the ten extra minutes that made the
gap in-between the time Zathract and Stavan would arrive and the time set for
their meet, for they had only travelled halfway down the corridor when the
sounds of the ceiling behind them being forced apart again came drifting
towards their ears. They turned to see Lyra Blue striding down the staircase
and entering the dimly-lit corridor by firelight and nodding to them in
greeting. The two nodded back and continued their way towards the wooden door
at the end of the path.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">By
the time Zathract and Stavan had reached the large wooden door that opened to
the rest of the Sanctuary, Lyra had already joined their side and entered
alongside them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Ah,”
the administrator said briskly, hurrying forwards to meet them. “Mr Mist,”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Zathract
mumbled something darkly, glad that Nixion was not there to hear the
administrator address him as such. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Miss
Blue,”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Whatever…”
Lyra muttered quietly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“And…”
the administrator said, turning to Stavan. “Uh…What’s your last name?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Stavan
merely offered a grunt before striding forwards past the administrator and
Zathract and Lyra followed, giving him a shrug in return. They made their way
across to the large room full of couches and chairs that they had spent their
time in the previous few days and, at a nod from Zathract, Stavan quickly
preformed a quick circuit of the room and checked to make sure no one was
hiding anywhere, trying to listen to their conversation while Zathract close
the doors. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">There
were no cameras in the room. Stavan returned from the far end, confirming with
a quick nod to Zathract that they were indeed alone in there, and they all sat
down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“So,”
Lyra said, taking an entire lounge to herself and leaving the two males to
settle with separate singular seats facing her. “What’s all this about then?
Why’s no one else here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Because,”
Stavan said, getting straight to the point. “We need to talk to you privately.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Lyra
raised an eyebrow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“And
you chose to carry out a <i>private </i>conversation
at the <i>Sanctuary</i>?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“We’re
a bit tight on time,” Zathract said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“We
are,” Stavan nodded. “Quite tight.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Tight
enough to risk a secret conversation that doesn’t seem to concern the rest of
our little rebellious group in the open and thoroughly un-private refuge of the
Sanctuary?” Lyra asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Of
course,” Stavan continued and Zathract decided to sit back and let him speak. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Why’s
that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Because
we’re tight on time, we’ve just said that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“<i>You’ve </i>just said that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Zath
said it too.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Zathract
sat up. “Call me that again and I’ll hurt you,” he said sharply.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Stavan
rolled his eyes and Lyra smirked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“So
how tight are we on time then?” Lyra continued.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“We
have about ten minutes until the others get here,” Zathract said, letting
himself fall back into the chair again. “That should be enough time for Stavan
to explain everything that’s going on.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“What?”
Stavan asked, turning his head to look at Zathract with an incredulous
expression. “Why do-?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Go
on,” Zathract nodded with a small grin and watched as Stavan grumbled a bit
before launching into a mimic explanation that had been offered to him before. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Lyra
had remained silent during the time Stavan talked. So had Zathract, speaking up
only to interject small detail his companion may have missed. When Stavan had
finished, Lyra simply frowned at the two for a few moments as if trying to decide
whether or not to believe them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“And
why do you think you can trust <i>me</i>?”
she asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Everyone
asks that…” Stavan muttered. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Because
we can,” Zathract replied simply. “We’ve discussed this.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Not
really,” Stavan said. “More like ‘briefly and un-thoroughly skated over’.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“So
you’re just <i>hoping</i>?” Lyra asked them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Indeed
we are,” Zathract nodded. “You in or not?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">There
was a pause, but only a short one before Lyra nodded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Okay,”
she said. “And Redeem person; how do you know <i>she </i>can be trusted?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“There’s
no point in discussing Slayn,” Zathract said with a grin. “You’ll see why when
you’ll meet her.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Alright
then,” Lyra said and stood up, walking towards the doors while Zathract and
Stavan followed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">She
unlocked them and they walked out of the room as a very battered, very tired
looking Nixion Strange staggered in with Mahogany Reen dragging an unconscious man
drenched in water by the leg behind her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Any
trouble?” Stavan asked, flashing a smirk at Nixion again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Some…”
he muttered in reply and staggered off, probably to find some healers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Don’t
go too far,” Zathract called after him. “The others will be here soon.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Nixion
did not reply and Mahogany walked after him, dragging the unconscious man
behind him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Thomas’s
brother,” she said to the three of them as she walked off. “He didn’t exactly
take the news very well.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">As
Mahogany Reen disappeared around the corner Hunter and Kali walked into the
room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Where’s
Dark?” Stavan asked Hunter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Coming,”
was all that the Vampire offered in return.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Right…”
Stavan frowned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">But
a fully-healed Nixion Strange and an empty handed Mahogany Reen had already
returned to their midst by the time Neon Dark walked himself into the
Sanctuary.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Sorry,”
he said at ten past two. “I was held up,”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Okay,”
Zathract said, taking charge again. “Now that we’re all here, I’m going to tell
you what we’re all going to do. Neon, Lyra and Kali are all going to go and see
Gabriel Cobalt for any information he can give us about The Remaining.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“He
tried to kill me once before,” Dark said in an undertone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“He’s
tried to kill me twice in the past year alone,” Lyra muttered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“He’s
tried to kill me three times now,” Stavan sighed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“He’s
tried to kill <i>me </i>seven times,” Mist
offered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“And
he’s tried to kill me fourteen times as well as offered me hospitality for a
single night and also hired me once to murder someone,” Nixion said roughly,
rolling his eyes. “Yeah, great, he’s probably tried to kill us all sometime.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“He’s
never tried to kill <i>me</i>,” Mahogany
said cheerfully.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Then
maybe we should send you there and see what happens,” Nixion snapped. “Get it
out of the way.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">There
was an awkward silence after that which was interrupted by Zathract a few
moments later.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Anyway…”
he continued. “We’re going to go see him and the rest of you are going to have
your fighting skills sharpened up here by a friend of mine.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Nixion
frowned. Hunter frowned. Mahogany looked blank.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“My
fighting skills are better than most,” Stavan said, mildly annoyed and Nixion
nodded in agreement. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Who’s
doing it?” Nixion asked him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Her,”
Zathract said, nodding to the entrance to the Sanctuary behind them and they
all turned to see Slayn Redeem striding into the Sanctuary, her usual cocky
grin fixed on her face.</span><span style="color: #222222;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>Nixion Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940998577242832277noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-68333768305289268752012-06-10T23:58:00.002+10:002012-06-11T00:00:49.534+10:00Nix and Mist Chapter 11: Wear Those Gloves<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">11.<br />
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<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 150%;">WEAR
THOSE GLOVES</span></b><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Nixion
frowned at the filthy underside of the car outside the front of his house and
feeling as calm as he ever could </span><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">be. Admittedly,
this was not very calm at all, but it was calm none the less and at least it
was better than he had been a few hours previously, back in the Sanctuary. It
was something, and something would have to do. No one would be bothering him
for a few more hours either. That was something else, another thing that would
have to do.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">His brow
was furrowed and Nixion frowned at the underside, scanning the pipe that ran
from one end to the other. He needed to do something that did not involve any of
his usual life; nothing that involved magic or fighting or vampires or
Necromancers or Sanctuaries and definitely nothing that involved Mist. And
seeing as the only thing Nixion knew how to do other than fight in his free
time was fix cars that was what he had decided to do. Fighting was too
familiar. Deciding that the problem was not underneath, despite the oddly
different design of it that had been puzzling Nixion for twenty minutes now, he
rolled sideways and stood up and got a burst of sunlight in his eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Grumbling
darkly, Nixion shielded his eyes with a raised arm and made his way over to the
front of the car where he pushed the bonnet up. Nixion surveyed the contents of
the front for a few seconds, then rolled his eyes and reached down into the
engine and pulled something out, something that was obviously not meant to be
there. It was a rust old knife, jammed in-between two important looking parts
of the car that Nixion did not precisely know the names of. Shrugging, he slid
the knife into his belt and went back to surveying the insides for any further problems
that may be there. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">This was
what Nixion had once done in his spare time other than demolish punching bag
after punching bag; fix cars. He did not run an official business, nor was he
actually employed by anyone; people simply came to him and requested he fix
their car problems. He did not know how they had managed to find their way to
his house, but he didn’t ask either. He fixed the cars and got a few bucks for
his trouble. In recent years, however, Nixion had not had many ‘customers’ and
his lifestyle ended up revolving even more about vicious attacks with his fists
and machete. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion had
been lucky; a man had walked up to him the moment he returned from the
Sanctuary the previous day. He figured this was a good thing, because training
against his punching bag again was going to be all too familiar to recent
events. This was going to mean that he would have to think about things again. Nixion
did not want to have to think. Nixion was sick of having to think. He was sick
of life too, at the moment, but he wasn’t going to let life win this time. So
he kept going with <i>that. </i>Thinking,
however, was going to be taking a break for a while. Sure, fixing the car had
required thinking, but at least it was thinking that he could figure things out
with. The car was a distraction, and a distraction warmly welcomed by Nixion at
that. Fighting was another thing that would be taking a break for he did not
know how long. He was sick of fighting too. Thinking, fighting, life. None of
these things were particularly good things to Nixion right now.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">This
surprised him, though. There was once a time when fighting was all he wanted to
do, was his only care in the world, even with his regular tasks of fixing cars
here and there. He did fix the cars, but fighting was still the only thing on
his mind. There was a time when fighting was all he wanted to do. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion
shook his head at the car, having found no more problems with the engine and
strode around to the driver door. He opened it, turned the key and felt the
engine growl, coming to life. Satisfied, he turned the key again, turning it
off, and shut the door. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Done for
the day, he sat down and examined the knife in an effort to block the tide of
bad thoughts that were threatening to swarm back into his head. He had hoped,
after a nights rest, he might be back to normal. But no, he had woken up
confused, disorientated and thoroughly sick of absolutely everything. He wanted
to be left alone. And yes, he <i>was </i>alone,
but he that was not going to remain the same way for long; Stavan would be
arriving in a few hours.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">He cursed
and forced the knife into the grass beside him, muttering darkly again. Now
that he had thought about Stavan, more thoughts of his usual life that would
resume all to soon were swarming back to him again. He thought about Mist for
the first time since the previous night, and the anger that Nixion had had with
him for so many years now blossomed inside of him, yearning to get out, and
Nixion welcomed the familiar sensation, to hate, to loathe, to want to rage, to
kill someone, something.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">How could
Mist betray him? He was the closest thing he had to a friend. He had even come
to <i>regard </i>him as a friend in the past
few days, Nixion was not even sure how many of them had passed since Mist,
Kali, Mahogany and Thomas had appeared on his doorstep. His fist clenched
tightly around the hilt of the rust knife as his thoughts redirected to Thomas
who was now dead. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Thomas had
been killed by Keeve, yes, but had it in fact been Mist who had sold him, them,
out? Was it he who had <i>really </i>killed
Thomas? Had he sold everyone out? Or was it someone else after all? The Grand
Mage could be entirely wrong…and yet he could have been entirely correct. He
didn’t know anymore. He didn’t know much of <i>anything
</i>anymore. All Nixion <i>did </i>knww was
that he could only trust one person: Stavan.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">While
Nixion had been in his forced state of insanity, he had trusted absolutely no
one (this may have had something to do with the fact that he was <i>insane</i>) and no one had trusted him in
return. Even if the person in question did not mind the killing he did, or in
fact were killers themselves, they did not trust him. If there was one thing he
had learnt, it was you had to trust at least one person. He did not
particularly know why, but he felt better when he trusted someone. It meant he
was not alone. Even if this sense of security was indeed false, it was a nice
sense all the same and one he had become quite accustomed to over the years. That
one person whom he trusted had once been Mist. Now it was Stavan, because
Nixion simply was not able to trust Mist any longer. Stavan was the one he was
relying on now.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yo, short
stuff!” a familiarly cocky voice called from behind him.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Think of
the Devil…</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion
looked up from the ground to see Stavan walking towards him, smirking his cocky
smirk. His world lit up. Just a little. And he grinned. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">They were
in Nixion’s backyard, where the grass was unkempt and tire marks ran across
everything from the lawn to the dead flowers. There was a lone car there, with
fading yellow paint and the bonnet open. It was the car Nixion had been building
himself for the past three. There was also a drive-around lawn mower near the mouldy
fence.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Nice
place,” Stavan grinned, kicking an empty soft drink can that was lying on the
ground.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Nixion
ignored him but grinned to himself again as he turned away from Stavan. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“You
should get a dog.” He said unexpectedly, making Nixion look up in surprise.
“You look like you’d like a dog.”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“I like
dogs,” Nixion said and smiled. “Problem is, dogs don’t like me.”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Ah, you
gotta show it who’s boss,” Stavan explained as if he was explaining why elephants
were unable to fly to an overly-emotional three year old. “You gotta <i>command</i> it.”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yeah,
sure.” Nixion looked down at his boots, still smiling.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“I think a
Chiwawa.” Stavan decided, the laugh hidden in his voice. “It’d suit you both.
You’d hate it and it’d hate you. You’d make such a pair, little yappy things
that look even stupider than the-”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Shut up,”
Nixion laughed, and aimed a kick and Stavan’s shin.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">To his
astonishment, Stavan leg blurred, came up towards Nixion, hooked his upped leg,
twisted and Nixion somehow ended up on the ground.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Gotta be
quicker, little killer,” He smirked again. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Nixion
panted for a second, wondering how he had managed to do that. Then he used his
hands to push himself up faster than most could blink, and punched Stavan’s face.
At least, that was what he had tried to do, only his face was not there anymore
and Nixion’s fist met thin air instead. Stavan had twisted, spun and had ended
up on Nixion’s left. He hooked his left arm with both hands in a lock, and
pushed down hard.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Nixion
gasped, the pain sending him to his knees. His arm was still being held, but
Nixion fought to ignore the pain that was now beginning to eat at him and
rolled forwards, loosening the grip on his arms and sent a kick into Stavan’s
knee.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Stavan let
go of Nixion, but not for long. The leg Nixion had not managed to attack came
soaring forwards and sunk into Nixion’s stomach which caused him to moan in
agony and folded into a ball. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“You
should make sure you can follow through if you attack someone like that kiddo.”
Stavan said, his voice having not changed the slightest bit. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Nixion
opened his eyes and Stavan was standing beside him, not a care in the world.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Nixion
muttered something that could have been ‘hate you’…</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yeah,
right,” Stavan said and flashed him a smirk. “I bet my big toe you can stand
worse that <i>that</i>. That was nothing, I
guarantee. I also bet you can do better, that was terrible.”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion
rolled over, closed his eyes and flipped himself up onto his feet. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">He <i>had</i> taken
worse. Much worse in fact, but Nixion was hoping to take Stavan by surprise. He
flashed and moved in, his right hand going to a hook, but he changed half way
through and spun in the air, bringing his right hand right around for a
back-fist to Stavan’s face, but Stavan had not fallen for it and pushed
Nixion’s fist away before he knew what was happening and moved under it, going
for a jab to his ribs. Nixion folded into the attack, sideways now, and rolled
around it again, fighting back the pain, and rammed into Stavan. He evidently
had not been expecting something so rash as a shoulder-barge and Stavan did not
have time to raise a guard against the powerful ram, despite his Cleaver
abilities. Stavan was forced backwards and Nixion did not stop. Instead, he
piled on the speed, hoping to trip Stavan, and brought his free hand upwards at
the same time, going for an attack to the gut. However, Stavan pushed his fist
away again with ease and somehow managed to execute a summersault over the
still-charging Nixion and landed perfectly behind him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Nixion
spun, his guard already flying up, but he had been too late. Stavan was already
striking, one powerful kick to his knee and a strong fist to his face sent
Nixion half stumbling backwards, half collapsing to the ground, then end result
of which looked something like a deformed sprawl. He wasted no time for nursing
injuries, though, and flipped himself over, avoiding another fist to the face
that sunk deep into the ground and sent bits of dirt flying everywhere. Nixion
leapt to his feet while Stavan pulled his fist out of the ground and charged
forwards again, hoping to push him off balance, but Stavan seemed to have
learnt from the last time and stepped sideways. He swept and Nixion fell to the
ground again. Another roll sent Nixion facing upwards and a moment later he had
sent a kick into Stavan’s chest and he jumped to his feet again. </span><i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Nixion
tried to punch Stavan, but he moved below it, grabbed Nixion’s wrist, dragged
him forward so he stumbled and used his other arm to elbow Nixion in the chest.</span><i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Nixion got
all the wind knocked out of him, and he staggered backwards. Stavan just shook
his head disappointedly. Nixion felt anger rise up in him, and he lunged
forward, trying to tackle Stavan to the ground.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Stavan
moved fast. He crouched down under Nixion, sent his hands up, hitting Nixion in
the chest and stomach in a way so he was holding Nixion above him, like a sort
of wrestler. He threw Nixion across the backyard and he hit the grass.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Your
anger makes you predicable and stupid,” Stavan was saying while Nixion stared
up at the sky, having no idea how he got there or why he was hurting so much more
than he was a few seconds ago. “Strong, yes, but if you fight only with
strength you’re going tp lose at least once. And all it takes is one defeat and
you’re dead.”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">The pain
hit Nixion hard and he gasped.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“You’re
not bad little man, but you’re not terribly good either.”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Nixion
staggered to his feet.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Don’t
even think about attacking me again, or this time I’ll break your arm.”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion
nodded feebly and stumbled inside, collapsing into a chair. He stared at the
wall for a moment as Stavan walked inside behind him, and then forced himself
to his feet again, striding over to the sink to get a drink. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Compared
to the front and backyard’s of Nixion’s property he did not actually officially
own, his actual house was very nice. Very tidy, very clean. Even, polished
wooden boards lined the floor and walls and nice furniture were arranged neatly
in the next room. Nixion had not done this to the place himself, the old owners
had before they had ‘unexpectedly been killed’ a day before Nixion attacked the
Sanctuary.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">He grabbed
a glass and filled it with water before walking weirdly back to Stavan. His
rose the glass to his lips before pausing for a fraction of a second. He saw
Stavan’s eyes narrow in that fraction of a second and Nixion acted fast, the
glass flying from his hand and towards Stavan. The ex-Cleaver sent an open arm
flying sideways, smashing the glass of water into a million small pieces
effortlessly. He leapt forwards and went for a tackle at Nixion and his first
impulse was to kick Stavan, but a split second before he attacked, a second
option came into Nixion’s mind, and in the split second, he went with that
second option. As Stavan reached him, Nixion brought his elbows down on
Stavan’s back. Stavan roared, and instead of the tackle, Stavan just flew into
Nixion and they went tumbling. Nixion’s arms were forced to go over his head
when Stavan rolled over him. Stavan jumped up and forward, spinning around in
case Nixion got up.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Nixion
just stayed on the ground. His shoulders were aching, his chest had been hit
more than once and he was having trouble getting his breath back. He hadn’t
given up; he was just resting… and would probably do so until he didn’t have
the chance to fight Stavan again. Coincidence.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“I thought
for sure you would kick me,” Stavan said. Nixion looked at him and had a flash
of satisfaction as he saw him rubbing his back, face screwed up in pain. “You
didn’t. I didn’t expect that. Well done,” there was a pause where he continued
to rub his back. “You hit be right in the joints…” he muttered.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Anytime,”
Nixion moaned. He hurt everywhere. Stavan knew exactly where to hit him and did
so.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“That was
better. Let’s call it a draw, huh? I’m thirsty,” he said. His smirk was nowhere
to be seen now.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion
laughed feebly and rolled over onto his back and caught sight of the floor that
was now scattered with small shards of glass. “Whatever you say…” he gasped.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Stavan
bent over and offered a hand to Nixion, a hand which he took and was pulled to
his feet. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Where are
we meant to sit?” Stavan asked, looking around the kitchen and kicking away
some of the glass into the backyard beyond.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Come on”
Nixion said, walking out and not bothering with drinks. Stavan followed him
downstairs, to the basement, which Nixion had converted to a large training
area. Yes, Nixion generally did his simple, easy training (the destruction of
many punching bags) upstairs in the living room, but the basement was used
whenever he was feeling like a larger challenge. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Not bad,”
Stavan said as he walked past a large case of various sized machete’s that was
hanging on the wall.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Nixion had
not been down here in a week now, but it was still the tidiest place in the
house, even if it didn’t have much light. He flicked a switch on the wall and
the lights he installed himself flickered to life, illuminating the place.
Stavan walked to the seven chairs and table in the corner at once and Nixion
joined him a few seconds after.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">They sat
down, in silence for a while, then Nixion got bored again.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“So… what
do you do now?” he asked.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“I’m a
bounty hunter now,” Stavan replied lazily.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Oh,
really?” Nixion did not know this. “So do you usually have to kill people or
just hurt them?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Normally
I just hurt them,” Stavan shrugged. “People don’t take much convincing to come
along after they’re hurt, you know?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“I know,”
Nixion nodded. “But what else do you do?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“You mean
like you?” he asked. “Training, fighting and fixing cars?”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Nixion
paused. Was that all he did with his life? Didn’t he have anything outside
that?</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“I do
other stuff,” Nixion muttered, completely lying.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yeah, I
forgot, you have a side hobby of cleaning houses.” Stavan was grinning.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“But <i>do</i> you do anything else?”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“I fight,”
Stavan shrugged. “I might not be a Cleaver anymore, but I still care about
people, so I fight anyone that deserves it.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Unless
they’ve got a price on their head?” Nixion asked sceptically, a smirk now
raising his lips. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">And then
they got into a long conversation about fights, Nixion mentioning some of his
favourites, while Stavan talked about ones so farfetched that Nixion wondered
if he had made some of them up. It was rather interesting, Nixion thought, and
it was nice, just to talk. He didn’t get to talk to people as a friend much
anymore.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">And then
there was a loud scraping at the entrance to the basement and Nixion leaped to
his feet, one hand reaching for his machete, the other to the rusty knife he
had taken from the car. But it was only Mist, climbing down the stars into the
basement, having found and opened the door already, a bag in one hand and a
frown on his face.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Yes,
please come in,” Nixion said sarcastically and rolled his eyes, returning to
his seat. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Nice to
see you too, Nix,” Mist grinned and Nixion’s insides squirmed for a moment. Mist
walked forwards and joined the two at the table, placing the bag on top of it
before taking a small, wrapped package out of it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“I got you
an early birthday present,” Mist said to Nix, tossing him the package. Though
Nixion though Mist may have been teasing him, he detected no trace of amusement
in his tone or in his expression.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“You’re
birthday’s coming up?” Stavan asked Nixion and he nodded stiffly. Nixion did
not like birthdays. They reminded him of home. He did not like thinking about
home. It reminded him of his kidnapping. He did not like thinking about his
kidnapping. It reminded him of the torture. He did not like torture…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">The
package was wrapped entirely in a smooth, black wrapping. sMist nodded at him
and Nixion ripped open the package carefully and a pair of black gloves fell
onto his lap. Nixion’s brow furrowed in confusion as he examined the gloves
properly. They were of material he could not identify properly, like the
wrapping, like Mist’s clothing. This must have cost Mist a fortune, Nixion
couldn’t really believe he had spent so much money on him. He slid them on and
they fitted Nixion’s hands perfectly, he barely could tell they were there.
They made him feel warm…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“They’re
probably the most expensive gloves you’ll find anywhere,” he said to Nixion. “They’re
protective material as well. You could punch your way through a brick wall and
not even get a bruise.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion
stared at the gloves for a second longer, then stared at Mist before nodding
his thanks, having temporarily lost his words. Mist nodded back to him and then
got down to business. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“So,” Mist
began. “We need a plan.”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“You mean
we’ve been going on a whim until now?” Stavan asked with a frown. “Oh, that’s
brilliant, that is.”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Mist
clenched his jaw, but otherwise ignored Stavan. Nixion realised he took that as
an accusation about how Mist’s plans had been going wrong, about Thomas’s
death. Nixion found himself wondering if it was Mist’s fault once again.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“I think
you should know something,” Mist said to Stavan. “We have a traitor.”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Stavan
raised his eyebrows, surprised. “And who is it?” He asked.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“We don’t
know,” Mist admitted, giving Nixion a glance. “So I think we should make some
estimated guesses based on what we already know.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Hang on,”
Stavan said, sitting up. “I’m assuming that you two trust each other already?”
he asked, pointing to Nixion and Mist. Mist nodded and Nixion made a
half-hearted grunt, not sure of the answer to that question at all anymore. “So
how do you know you can trust <i>me </i>if
you already <i>know </i>there’s a traitor?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“We
don’t,” Mist said. “But I’ve looked at your track record with the Sanctuary.
You were fired, yeah, but I’ve also read everything you’ve done since you were
on your own. As far as I can see, you’re still working for a little thing I
like to call the ‘Good Side’.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Ah,”
Stavan said and settled back into his previous position of relaxation. “That’s fair
enough I suppose. Continue.”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Mist
pulled out something from the bag and dumped it on the table, putting the rest
of the bag on the ground beside him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“The
files,” he said. “Of everyone in our little group.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">So they
started, going through everyone’s profiles, adding bits of information they
knew personally about the person. Their histories, their personalities, the
people they knew, the people they know, they’re criminal record, they’re
occupation, absolutely everything. They started with the least likely, the ones
that Nixion, Stavan and Mist thought they could trust most and worked their way
up to the least likely. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">They
managed to cancel out a few people who they could <i>assume </i>was not the traitor, but not necessarily trust completely.
This short list was made of Kali Nole and Neon Dark. When Stavan had asked
about Mahogany as well, Mist had simply said that she did not seem at all the
type to betray the group to The Remaining and therefor was also one of the ones
that would most likely be the traitor. Stavan agreed to this after hearing his
explanation, but Nixion did not particularly understand Mist’s logic in that. Nixion
had not agreed with the addition of the Necromancer to the list, but Zathract
and, to the surprise of Mist and much as Nixion, Stavan were particularly
persistent on the matter. In the end, Zathract promised to go and see Vai Melt
soon and get as much information about Dark from her and any other Necromancer
willing to help as he could. Finally, Nixion agreed to this, grudgingly and
unwillingly, but agreed none the less, and so they moved on to the next list.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">The people
they discussed next were on the list of people that were beings they could
trust most definitely and completely outright. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">They
managed to come up with a list of people they could trust without a doubt. Nixion
and Stavan both agreed that there should be absolutely no one on that list, but
were both surprised when Mist suggested Lyra Blue.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“What?”
Stavan asked, brow furrowed. “I suppose it’s reasonable that you may want to
trust <i>someone </i>other than us two, but <i>Lyra</i>?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Mist
nodded, unfazed and firm on the matter.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">A long
conversation arose on the matter of Lyra Blue and it was a conversation that
Nixion did not join in in. Mist remained as firm on her inclusion as ever and
Stavan persisted stubbornly against it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“She can
be trusted,” Mist said, leaning forwards as the voices of him and Stavan rose
steadily louder. “She’s never going to do anything that doesn’t have a large
advantage in it for her! The Remaining can’t offer her an amount of <i>money </i>that would tempt her, she’s
practically rich already with all the weapons she sells and when we asked her
to join us she even went as far to say that she’d deal with the matter
herself!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“But
that’s exactly it!” Stavan yelled, slamming a fist onto the table. “If she
thought she could deal with the thing herself, then she obviously knew what was
going on! In fact, it’s probably <i>her </i>that’s
the traitor!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion
rubbed his eyes and decided to speak up.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“If I had
to choose one person outside of us three to trust,” he said, “It <i>would </i>be Lyra. I’d say we should put her
on this list.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“You said
that no one should be going on here,” Stavan reminded him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“I changed
my mind,” he said. “I think we can trust Lyra.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Thank
you.” Mist nodded at him and Nixion was not sure what to do. Stavan pinched the
bridge of his nose, then looked up.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Yes,” he
said finally. “Okay, Lyra Blue then. We’ll tell her everything, I assume?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Yes,”
Mist nodded, already scanning the rest of the group. “Okay, I say that everyone
else we keep a close eye on and make sure we track they’re every move.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Everyone
else?” Stavan asked, surveying the remaining people in their group.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Mahogany
Reen,” Mist started, reading them out, “Jake Hunter and Gabriel Cobalt.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion
raised his eyebrows. “Gabriel? I thought he said he wasn’t helping…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“He did,”
Mist said. “And I still think he’s going to end up doing it anyway.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Gabriel
Cobalt?” Stavan asked. “Isn’t the guy who…?” he took a look at Cobalt’s picture
in his profile. “Ugh. He tried to kill me once…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“He’s
tried to kill me seven times now,” Mist said, waving a careless, gloved hand at
Stavan. “And I’m just a <i>few </i>years
younger than you.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Whatever,”
Stavan said. “Is that it then?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“One last
thing,” Mist said, pulling out one last profile. “Slayn Redeem. She’s an old
friend of mine, powerful, strong and bloody impatient. Lyra would like her. You
too,” he nodded to Nix. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Another
person…?” Nixion had his doubts.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Can she
be trusted?” Stavan asked slowly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Completely,”
Mist said.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Well, I
suppose that’s okay then…” Stavan muttered.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“She’s
going on the list with Lyra and us three, then?” Nixion asked, deciding to let
it go.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“She is,”
Mist nodded.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Okay
then…” Nix muttered. “Is that it then?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“That’s
all of them…” Mist muttered, surveying the profiles once again. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Wonderful,”
Stavan sat back in his chair. “Now what?”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Mist
leaned back in his chair as well. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Okay,” he
said, after a moment’s thought. “Can we all agree that we’re basically
screwed?”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Nixion and
Stavan nodded.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“So, this
is where we form the plan,” Mist continued. “From now on, every time we go out
to fight someone or look for clues or something, we’re going to divide
ourselves into four pairs. I’ll go with Neon Dark, Stavan, you go with Kali,
Nixion with Mahogany and Lyra can taker Hunter.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Uh…”
Stavan muttered. “No…I’d rather go with someone else, to be honest.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">So they
had dated then, Nixion thought to himself, confirming the matter that had first
arose when Stavan had first been brought into the Sanctuary with Kali, Thomas
and Mahogany. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Mist
paused, but only for a moment. “Right,” he said. “Alright then: Stavan, you can
go along with Hunter and Lyra can take Kali.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Stavan
nodded and fell silent again. Nixion fought another smirk. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“So,” Mist
continued, “This will mean that each of us, the people we trust, will each have
one individual to focus on for as long as this goes on for. We’ll all meet in
private, us three and Lyra I mean, and report how each of the people have been
acting. If there’s anything suspicious they’ve been doing, anything different
or weird, whatever. The point is, from now on we’re going to need to know what
everyone is doing. Every move.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Stavan
nodded, but then frowned.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Hang on,”
he said. “Yeah, okay, we’re all trusting each other, us three and Lyra, yeah?
But what if one of us is actually the traitor? I mean, no offense of course,
but for all we know, you could be havin’ secret meetings with The Remaining
every night.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“I could
be, yes,” Mist said. “And yet so could you, maybe Nix is as well and Lyra could
be the head of The Remaining operation. Yes, we don’t know anything for sure,
but if we don’t do <i>something </i>along
the lines of what I’ve just said, we’re going to be a lot worse off. None of us
will have anything to work off and we <i>will
</i>be completely screwed.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">There was
silence. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“That is,”
Nixion said slowly, “Without a doubt, the most illogical thing I’ve heard you
say. A thousand things could go wrong. Any of us could report everything we’re
doing to The Remaining, organize an ambush from the inside, compromise
everything we do, take hold of the Sanctuary with our <i>own </i>plans used against us and basically anything else they could
think of.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“And yet,
you’re agreeing with me?” Mist asked him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“I am,”
Nixion said. “Someone had to.”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“Wouldn’t
it be better if we kept everyone together?” Stavan asked. “I’m sure that
everyone could overpower any one person, whoever the traitor is, when we find
out.”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">Mist shook
his head. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“If they
really <i>are </i>organized, then they’re
most likely going to be able to predict everything we do. They could have any
number of powers we don’t know about hidden from us and strength that we didn’t
know about. If we report on everyone then we’ll have time to plan against a
suspect and organize ourselves for an attack.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“If we
don’t, we’ll be putting everyone in danger. We keep in groups of two and with
any luck, the traitor will slip up”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“So we’re
going off pure <i>luck</i>?” Stavan asked incredulously.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Luck’s
gotten me a long way over the years,” Mist shrugged.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“All the
same,” Stavan persisted. “It’s still to unsure of anything to be a good plan.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“What do
you suggest then?” Mist asked him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">There was
another short pause.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Fine…”
Stavan muttered. “But it’s still a stupid plan.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“It’s
still a stupid plan,” Nixion agreed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“It’s
still a stupid plan,” Mist nodded. “But it’s the only one we have.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“So we’re
going to have to make do with it?” Stavan asked.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“Yup.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“I was
afraid you’d say that…” Stavan muttered.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">“So what
are we doing next?” Nixion asked. “Any leads? Any plans? Where are we going?”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;">Mist
smiled and stood up. “I think I may have an idea,” he said. “And you’re not
going to like it.”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“That
sounds suspiciously bad,” Nixion said, and then nodded. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: white;">“I don’t
like it.”</span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>Zathract Misthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13949771210514269250noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-71018645468554285612012-06-04T20:22:00.000+10:002012-06-04T20:22:44.788+10:00Everything That Is Going OnHOMEWORK!<br />
<br />
THAT is what is going on. Basically that and nothing but.<br />
<br />
Nix and I are up to our necks in it so writing time for Nix and Mist and basically everything is not getting very far. In fact, the first DRAFT for 11 has not been finished yet.<br />
<br />
So, yeah, it may be a while. Just you y'all know.<br />
<br />
~ Servus Mist ~Zathract Misthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13949771210514269250noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-53096919229846407402012-05-20T21:11:00.000+10:002012-05-20T21:11:49.647+10:00Nix and Mist Chapter 10: Spin the World<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 115%;">10.<br />
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<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 115%;">SPIN THE WORLD</span></b><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Nixion regained his senses and was
brought back to reality and the present quite abruptly to find himself in an
unfamiliar corridor; lost. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Brilliant…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">He sighed and attempted to banish the
thoughts of Mist from his mind which resulted in another lapse of concentration
and Nixion was sent tumbling into the wall. Giving up all too quickly, he slid
down the rough brick wall and onto the polished floor. Nixion was confused,
hopeless and overall quite distraught about the entire ordeal. ‘Mist the
Traitor’ did not sit right in his mind. It didn’t make sense, it didn’t fit the
image of Mist and it contradicted against almost everything Nixion thought he
knew. He did not understand, he couldn’t make sense of it all, of <i>any </i>of it. The Grand Mage did not make
sense, the thing he was proposing did not make sense, Mist no longer made
sense. Nothing made any sense to him and Nixion soon found himself unable to
distinguish the difference between his right and left hand. Nixion was
disorientated and if not entirely empty, then thoroughly dampened.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">It seemed as if the action of
thinking about the Grand Mage had summoned him to Nixion’s side, because Nixion
soon became aware that he was standing right in front of him. He did not even
have enough energy to sigh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“Nixion…” he said, obviously with a
forced air of comfort.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">All the breath left Nixion’s chest at
the Grand Mage’s word once again. Why was he telling Nixion this? Why <i>had </i>he told Nixion this? <i>Why was he still confronting him?!</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“Why?” Nixion was going to say more,
but his throat closed up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“Look at the evidence,” the Grand
Mage began, pacing along the deserted corridor and speaking as if Nixion had
not stormed away from him a mere fifteen minutes ago.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Apparently, the Grand Mage had taken
the question as ‘Why do you think it’s Mist?’ rather than ‘Why are you telling
me all this?’. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“It was Mist who decided where the people
should go.” The Grand Mage continued without interruption. “He decided you, him
and Thomas should go to the factory. He decided what would happen; Mist is the
one that is basically organizing every little thing of this operation. The
Remaining knew you were coming.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“Somebody else could’ve told them,”
Nixion managed to choke out. “It could’ve been anybody. Why Mist…?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">The Grand Mage stopped. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“That’s true,” he admitted. “But can
you explain why Mist chose to raid a factory that has not been used in years?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Nixion opened his mouth and closed
it, lost for words<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“Why would he go to a place where the
metal would kill Thomas, and the only other person could be convinced to join
them?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">At this Nixion responded. “How did-?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“Did they offer?” The Grand Mage
demanded of him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Nixion blinked. One side of his brain
was wondering how he knew they offered, the other thinking about the possibility
of Mist being a traitor. As such, Nixion had no space in his head, nor time in
front of him to think up a lie, let alone one that somehow resembled a passable
excuse. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes.” He croaked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">The Grand Mage nodded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“And if Mist told you that you should
have joined, would you?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Nixion thought for a second and was
shocked. He never realised how much influence Mist had over him and was now
utterly shocked by it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes,” he said. If Mist told him that
he should, Nixion would. In Nixion’s eyes, Mist was a good person trying to
lead him the right way. From here on in, he would have to keep a <i>very </i>watchful eye. He couldn’t let
people tell him what to do anymore. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“Have you noticed Mist acting
strangely the past few days?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Nixion barely had to think. He shook
his head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“Mist is always weird…” he muttered. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“It only makes sense-” The Grand Mage
started to say, but Nixion cut him off carelessly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“Why Mist though?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">The Grand Mage blinked, thrown off.
“What?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“We have a murderer, an ex-Cleaver, a
weapons dealer, and a bunch of other people that you know almost nothing about.
Almost half of our recruits have a reason or would seem to have a liking in betraying
the Sanctuary, why would Mist stand out?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">The Grand Mage thought for a second.
“Stavan was never a good Cleaver, but I can trust him to be a good person. Lyra
wouldn’t be the sort of person to sell herself out, not even for a large price.
The others can be relied on to a certain point.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“And me?” Nixion asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">The Grand Mage shrugged. “You’re not
the type to join a group of people like The Remaining.” he said after a pause.
“You killed because you felt like it, not because someone told you do. I
seriously doubt that you would join them if there was nothing big in it for
you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Nixion almost smiled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“Look at you with your amateur
phycology.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">The Grand Mage might have grinned. Or
maybe it was a frown. Nixion was so confused he couldn’t make it out, nor did
he care. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“So what about Mist then?” The Grand
Mage asked him. “You get it yet?” but Nixion had had enough of this. His head
was hurting, his world was spinning and everything he thought he knew could now
be questioned. Nixion wasn’t confirming anything now, because nothing could be
confirmed. After that, Nixion blocked himself off from the Grand Mage and listened
no more. It took him ten minutes, but the Grand Mage finally seemed to realize
that he would gain no more from Nixion that day and walked off, muttering
darkly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">The fact that Nixion was now
completely lost did not seem to matter to him. Nixion needed to be alone. Even
if he could not comprehend the matter, he needed time and space to deal with
his new problems alone. Solitude. Nixion needed room to think. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">After a while, Nixion slowly managed
to regain some composure. And in this case composure meant the ability to think.
And seeing as thinking was about the only thing that he was able to do, Nixion
thought long, he thought hard and he thought like he had never bothered nor had
the time to do before.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Nixion was thinking very deeply. He
had absolutely no idea why he had trusted Mist from the moment he met him.
Maybe it was because Mist had saved his life. Perhaps it had been because he
simply seemed like someone to trust. Mist had always carried around that kind
of nature for as long as Nixion could recall. Or maybe Mist was the first
person who had seemed to give a damn about him. About Nixion. Aiden had managed
to have a few people care about him alright. Aiden’s mother, Aiden’s father and
his sister. That was about all, but never the less, they were people and they
had cared. But Aiden had died when the man in black had taken him away from his
life and plunged him into a world of pain and torture. Aiden was dead and
Nixion had been insane. He had been a murderer. No one had cared about him, but
up until he had met Mist, when he had regained enough sanity in him to feel
emotions of sorts, Nixion had never felt any need to be cared for. Was it
really that Mist had genuinely given a damn about him, or had he just somehow
attached himself to the first person who actually had cared? But then again: <i>did </i>Mist care about him? <i>Does </i>he care about him? Nixion could not
tell. He couldn’t tell much of anything anymore, right then, at all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Mist had saved his life because it
was his job. He had been told to bring Nixion in under the charges of murder,
and Nixion knew that Mist took his job seriously. So Nixion figured that he
would obey orders when it came to “bring him in” and obey that rather than let
him die. But then again, Nixion had seen Mist deliberately disobey direct
orders before. So <i>had </i>he cared after
all? Nixion’s head hurt from trying to figure it out. Had Mist cared about the
insane boy in front of him all those years ago? Or had he just been following
orders? Like a good little soldier boy…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">If he simply <i>had </i>been following orders, then did Mist still only do the things
he did because he had been <i>ordered </i>to?
Or had he now changed, and actually come to care for Nixion as a friend? People
<i>did </i>change, Nixion knew. He himself
was a fine example of that…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Nixion decided to sort some things
out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">What did he actually know about Mist?
He knew that he was a boy about a year older than he was who worked for the
Australian Sanctuary. He had saved Nixion’s life. He had fought for him in a
court to attempt to prevent Nixion from being executed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">What <i>didn’t </i>he know about Mist? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Nixion sat there in silence, his mind
a complete blank, for an entire half an hour after that. There were so many things
he did not know about Mist that Nixion found it impossible to find a place to
start. For all he knew, Mist <i>could</i> be
a traitor to the group, to the Sanctuary, to him. <i>Could</i> be a spy for The Remaining, <i>could</i> be responsible for the death of Thomas. Even then, though,
Nixion knew that Mist was intelligent. Surely he would have covered his tracks
better than they had been if the Grand Mage could work out what had come to
pass.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Was he a traitor?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Was he a spy?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Was he an ally?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">An enemy?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">A friend?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Nixion knew nothing of these things
anymore. Nothing made sense and everything made nothing seem like everything
made no sense. Nixion felt like curling up in a secluded place to think about
these confusing things alone. At least he did until he realized that was
exactly what he was doing at that moment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Nixion didn’t want to have to rethink
his entire life, so he stopped. All he needed to know was that anyone could be
the traitor, even Mist. However unlikely… He thought deeply. He needed someone
who wasn’t likely to be a traitor, and could help him take down Mist if needed.
Because he needed to assume the worst possible thing right now, if Nixion was
to be prepared. That would mean that he also needed this person who could help
him take down Mist able to be taken down as well if needed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">The only one person Nixion could
think of was Stavan.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Stavan. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">He was a fighter. He was decent and
honourable, at least according to the others. And was a cleaver, so Mist and
Nixion should be able to take him if it turned out that he wasn’t a traitor
after all and Stavan was. However, he was also better than the average cleaver,
so he should be able to help Nixion take down Mist if he <i>was</i> the traitor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">After a while longer, Nixion decided
that there wasn’t much more to be done and he was beginning to feel like he
could manage to stand. So he got to his feet again and slowly made his way out
of the corridor and attempted to locate something in the Sanctuary that was
familiar. Admittedly it <i>did </i>take him
an entire second half an hour to locate the corner leading into another
corridor that held a deep gash in it, but Nixion did eventually find it which
told him that he wasn’t too far from the room that held the dozen or so lounges
that, as far as Nixion knew, did not actually have a name. Nixion turned left
into the corridor, right into a second one leading off it and found himself
back in the large room that had corridors leading off in almost every direction
once again, the room that he had originally arrived in when walking through the
entrance to the Sanctuary. Another two minutes later found Nixion in the room
he had decided to dub “The Lazy Area” too see everyone but Mist, Hunter and
Dark either lying or sitting down. Dark was pacing and muttering something that
Nixion assumed was some stupid Necromancer technique of “inner peace” or
something similar under his breath. Hunter was nowhere to be seen and Nixion
found it disconcerting that his immediate thought at this discovery was the
image of the vampire attempting to get some free blood from the Healers...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Mist was standing to the side of the
room, looking right at him. Nixion could see that the Healers had already
patched him up thoroughly, but the look on his face that was literally flaming
in anger told him that Mist was still clearly very annoyed at him. Nixion
walked towards him and the closer he got, the more apparent it became that the
term “very annoyed” was majorly understated. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“What the hell was that?” Mist
snarled at him the moment Nixion was close enough to hear him in a whisper.
Evidently he did not want the others hearing them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“I dunno…” Nixion muttered after a
pause that was spent trying to work out an appropriate answer that did not come.
Even after finding out Mist might be the traitor, he still felt horrible, which
surprised him. Normally he wouldn’t think twice about anyone else and their pain,
much less Mist’s. This was all going to have to change if Nixion was going to
be prepared. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Mist glared at him and Nixon had the
horrible feeling that his eyes were drilling holes into his soul. Nixion looked
away hastily, hating the feeling and hating how week he was appearing because
of it. Nixion had never been this confused, at least not for a long time.
Normally he was sure of what he knew and the rest he didn’t care about. Now he
had no idea what to think. He felt as small as he was when he was kidnapped, if
not smaller. Because now he actually had people he could at least half count as
friends, as allies. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Or else, they <i>used</i> to be counted as friends…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Refusing to make himself out as a
weakling as he had done years before, Nixion forced himself to look up again
and glare defiantly back at Mist while his insides squirmed with discomfort at
the eyes penetrating his soul. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Mist glared at him for a few more torturous
seconds and then turned away, scoffing. Nixion was only thankful he didn’t ask
what the Grand Mage has talked to him about. As cautious as Nixion was now, he
realized that he very did not want to believe Mist was a traitor and wanted to
be counted as a friend. He was changing, definitely, was sure of it. And there
wasn’t anything Nixion could do about it now; he was too far inside, too
altered already, even if he had wanted to change back. Nixion’s head was only
filled with a thousand questions, and no answers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’m sorry.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">The words had already escaped from Nixion’s
mouth before he could even comprehend what he was doing, let alone stop it from
happening. He had said the same thing right after he had punched Mist, but it
was obvious to whoever was listening that he didn’t mean it; he just said it,
without meaning, like the old Nixion always had done. Not caring, worthless,
arrogant. Nixion hardly ever apologised. But now the apology held a note of
desperation in it that made it sound authentic. Nixion was actually surprised
himself, not at what he had done, but at how real it actually sounded, and then
how much he actually meant it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">There was a tense silence in which Nixion
froze and Mist’s face released its form of hatred and morphed itself into something
that closely resembled confusion. Then he slowly turned back and looked at
Nixion who looked back blankly, unsure of what to say or do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Mist surveyed Nixion, his face still
contorted in that confused form. Then he suddenly broke out into a small grin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“Did you just… apologise?” he half
laughed, though still speaking quietly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yeah,” Nixion mumbled, looking down
at his feet again. “I think so.” This was so out of character for him it was embarrassing
and Nixion was suddenly thankful that Mist was making sure the others didn’t
hear. Nixion’s head hurt. He almost groaned; he was so tired of this. He was
wanted things to change back to the way they were a few hours ago, when
everything made sense and the death of Thomas was the most concerning thing on
Nixion’s mind. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“Okay then,” Mist said. He looked
very much surprised. “It’s fine. Forget about it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Nixion looked up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“What, really?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“No.” Mist said at once. “No, you’re
going to pay for this when everything’s over.” And laughed. But Nixion could
tell he wasn’t kidding. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Nixion wanted to ask about Mist’s
tooth. He wanted to ask about their plans. He wanted to ask what they were
going to do next. He wanted to ask about their next move and where they would
investigate in the days to come. But didn’t want to ask anything about the
matter of Mist being a traitor. What he did want to ask about though, was what Nixion
should do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">And when he did, Mist gave him
another weird look. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“Have tomorrow off.” He said finally.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“What?” Nixion asked, completely shocked.
Things were moving faster than anyone had expected, and Mist was asking him to
take the day off?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“We have no leads.” Mist explained to
him. “I’m going to look at something in the morning by myself, and I’ll come by
your place after that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Nixion took this in and nodded,
deciding it was a good thing; he needed a day off to get his head and his
thoughts back in order anyway. He was slightly suspicious at Mist going off on
his own which triggered more of his warnings that he had set up around his mind
for things like this, but all it really did was make Nixion’s world spin more
violently, so he pushed the thought away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“What’s everyone else doing then?” he
asked Mist and was shocked at how much more exhausted his voice sounded after the
space of a few mere seconds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“Having the day off as well.” Mist
replied.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“And what about today?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“Look around.” He almost laughed and
threw an arm out in the general direction of the others lounging around,
drifting in and out of sleep to everyone excluding Lyra (who was now jabbing
the air in front of her with a deadly looking short-blade) and Dark (who seemed
to have abandoned his weird, ritual muttering and was now sitting against the
far back wall and was controlling a small amount of smoky looking shadows with
his fingers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Nixion nodded but stopped quickly
because it made his head spin again. He thought for what seemed like a long
time, trying to detangle his thoughts from one another to sort out what had
just been said and what had been discussed days previously. He was so
disorientated by now, Nixion was only half conscious of what he was saying and
as such felt no embarrassment at the question that followed in the slightest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“Can you bring Stavan along?” he
blurted out unexpectedly, struggling to maintain a balance on the ground. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Mist looked at him for a moment,
clearly struggling to work out whether or not to mock Nixion. Then he smiled
again, having reached a decision. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“Sure.” He said. “I’ll tell him to be
there at about one-ish. I might be a little late.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Nixion nodded and managed to get out “Going
now” and stumbled out of the room as Mist nodded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">He staggered out of the room, into
the hallway again and somehow managed to get to the exit of the Sanctuary
without throwing up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Nixion had had enough now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Today sucked and he hated it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">He prayed that tomorrow would make
more sense…</span><span style="color: #222222;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>Zathract Misthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13949771210514269250noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-34179403948905824412012-05-16T16:21:00.000+10:002012-05-16T16:21:40.485+10:00Just to clear things upI have people *coughIZZcough* keep pointing out errors and mistakes. I understand that you're trying to be helpful. But I just want to clear something up.<br />
Nix and Mist is Co-Written, every chapter. I usually start it, as... let's call it a draft. Then I send it to Mist, who edits and adds and changes and makes it better. Then he sends it back to me, and I look over it and change it and occasionally edit it. If I do change it, I send it back to Mist and he edits it again. If I don't change it, then I usually just post it right then.<br />
When Mist starts a chapter, he writes it, and then sends it to me. I look over it (and sometimes edits it), and if I change it, I send it back to him for editing. This happens for almost every chapter. You can understand how after this something might have been missed and spelt wrong, or we leave out some puncuation sometimes. And I think Mist often writes some of it on his phone of iPod. So there's another way mistakes can be made. What I'm trying to say is we aren't careless, not bothering to look over our work.We just have to re-write it and send it so often that mistakes are made. I might be a bad speller, but I try my best to get no mistakes, and Mist is a good speller (at least compared to me) and any mistakes are by the fact of his phone or iPod, or mistakes in email. Just trying to clear things up.Nixion Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940998577242832277noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-77953376319419119292012-05-12T16:35:00.000+10:002012-05-12T16:35:31.267+10:00Nix and Mist Movie TrailerSomething I made. There isn't a movie and there isn't anything past the large "NIX AND MIST" text either.<br />
Yeah.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/6A1WPvffG-k?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
Yeah.Zathract Misthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13949771210514269250noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-40031558207073267462012-05-10T22:06:00.001+10:002012-05-11T17:51:48.238+10:00Nix and Mist Chapter 9: Mudblood, Dried Blood... What?<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">It's done. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">------------</span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 20.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">9.<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 20.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">MUDBLOOD, DRIED BLOOD…WHAT?</span></b><span style="font-family: "Bell MT","serif"; font-size: 15.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">All the breath left Nixion’s chest as
the reality of what the Grand Mage was saying, implying, hit him with full
force like a powerful wave which quickly mounted to the power of a charging
steam train. His eyes did not widen. His hands did not clench into unbreakable
fists. His brow did not furrow. He did not speak. He did not move. He didn’t
even blink. Nixion just stared at the old rusting sword half cast in shadows
against the wall just a bit behind the Grand Mage, not really seeing it at all,
but rather desperately trying to feel something again and break through the
sudden numbness that had gripped him fiercely, the sudden ice that had
surrounded his brain, preventing him from thinking. Nixion did not breathe.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">His brain had literally stopped
working, because what the Grand Mage had just said went against everything that
Zathract Mist was to Nixion Strange: an annoying, though reliable and powerful,
detective who had once saved his life, once almost taken it, and a good ally,
now even some sort of a friend. But the Grand Mage was trying to take this all
away.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“I
think the traitor’s Mist.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">He had said it flat out. Plain.
Straight. And to Nixion, incredibly brutal, despicably forced and harsh, intent
on doing this to him. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;"> <i>“I think
the traitor’s Mist.”</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">But what could he know…? What did the
Grand Mage know about Mist that would cause him to think such an impossible
thing?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“I
think the traitor’s Mist?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">But what did <i>Nixion </i>know about Mist, after all? In just a few long days, Nixion
felt as though he had known Mist for an age and had already begun to count him
as a friend, something he had not done to anyone, even before his stage of
torture. In truth, Nixion did not know a thing about Mist. He was a detective
and seemingly hated evil.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">That was all.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“I
think Mist is the traitor. The traitor is Mist. I think.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><b><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">But you’re wrong. </span></i></b><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Nixion’s own voice rang out in the
darkness, harsh and powerful, controlled and yet giving off a very clear
message of rage. <b><i>You. Are Wrong.<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“I
think Mist is the traitor.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">You’re wrong!<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“I
think Mist.” </span></i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">The
voice of the Grand Mage in his head, replaying it over and over, the last thing
Nixion had heard, the only thing that mattered now. <i>“I think Mist. I think.” </i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><b><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">You </span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">think<i> Mist? You </i>think<i>? What do you </i>think<i>, what do
you </i>know<i>? You know nothing. At all.<o:p></o:p></i></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“I
think….” </span></i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">It spoke. <i>“I think Mist. I think…I think…I think…”<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">You think the wrong thing! The
impossible!<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Mist.
I think. I think Mist.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">It’s impossible.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“I
think it’s Mist. Mist. It’s Mist. The traitor.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Shut up! It’s not true, it can’t be!<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“I
think the traitor’s Mist.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“No…” Nixion muttered, finally, the
echoing roar of conflicting opinions still raging painfully through his head.
His voice was weak, sounded weak, probably wasn’t even heard by the Grand Mage
as he detected no movement in front of him. “Impossible.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">But was it? Nixion really <i>didn’t</i> know a thing about Mist. In all
the time he had known him…Mist always <i>had
</i>been secretive.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Nixion,” the Grand Mage said softly,
obviously having at least seen that he had said something, though whether or
not he had actually heard Nixion’s words, he could not tell. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“No.” Nixion repeated, firmly, louder
this time, anger rising to take charge and quickly pushed all forms of doubt
from his mind. He would not believe it. Would not, could not, whatever. Mist
was his friend, not a traitor and definitely not a Remaining, not one to kill
Thomas, not now not ever. Never had been, never will be. The Grand Mage was
wrong and was talking about the impossible. The plain truth was that he was
wrong. Wrong. Incorrect. Mistaken. “You’re wrong.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Nixion, look at the evidence.” He
said, continuing, preparing himself for what he could sense as a speech.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“No!” Nixion yelled this time,
desperately trying to make himself sound larger than the Grand Mage with the
only three words he seemed capable of saying at that moment. “You’re wrong! <i>You’re wrong</i>!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">The Grand Mage looked slightly
disheartened at this, but made to speak again quickly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“<i>NO!</i>”
Nixion screeched, suddenly regaining control of his body and jerked his head up
to glare ferociously at the Grand Mage. “<i>YOU’RE
WRONG!</i>”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">The Grand Mage steered to the right
of Nixion’s line of vision and the door came in to replace him quickly. At
first Nixion thought that the Grand Mage had spun him around to attack, but
after Nixion became aware of his moving legs and the pain in his arm where he
must have shoved the door open, he realized that he was storming away from the
Grand Mage and the rusting, smelly room. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">He was in a rage. Again. Another one.
Another rage. Again. Nixion was in another rage once again. And this time it
was absolutely uncontrollable. Because this rage had been caused, sparked,
started, due to utter confusion, rather than something petty that had enraged
him. Nixion had no idea what to do, where to turn, who to turn to, and what to
say when he found this person. His immediate thought was Mist, but then Nixion
remembered that this entire thing was about him, and he could hardly confine in
him the matter of the question addressing whether or not he was a traitor to
the group and working for The Remaining.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Confusion was knocking Nixion around,
as much physically as it was mentally. His mind spun as did his world and
Nixion was constantly staggering into walls and rebounding off them only to
crash into another one just as quickly. And yet, he was still the numbest he
had ever been, so even when one of the flaming torches smacked him across the
forehead, Nixion did not feel it, did not slow and did not speak.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Mist. He could not believe the Grand
Mage could think such a thing. Either that, or he was still having an awful
amount of trouble comprehending the matter. It was impossible. Nixion had
already straightened that out with himself; Mist was not a traitor. It made
about as much sense as Nixion did himself. And yet the matter remained that
Nixion knew virtually nothing about Mist.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Coming to a halt, backing up against
the brick wall yet again and sliding down to the ground only half-consciously,
Nixion thought back to when he had originally met Mist.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Back to his darker days again.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion
scowled at the small horde of zombies as they drew nearer. Not many of them had
the muscles left to scowl back, but the ones that did certainly used them,
abused them even. These zombies were disgustingly rotten, even more so than
other ones, and Nixion vaguely suspected that they had been in use (or waiting
to be put to use) for many years now. The stench was horrible. Anyone else
would more than likely be hesitant or downright refusing to go anywhere near
them, but Nixion had been through much worse, had murdered stronger people and
dealt with corpses just about every day. And there was also the fact that he
was still insane, thought his sanity was still slowly returning to him, strand
by strand. Nixion leaped closer, tucking his machete close to his own rips and
jabbed a finger into the skull of the nearest zombie. In one instant, Nixion
felt an amazing power surge from the centre of his body, through his arm, into
his finger and then transfer into the skull of the zombie which seemed to
collapse immediately, sending tiny bits of brain flying outwards. Nixion
guessed that the blood had all dried up by now if they had indeed been dead for
such a long time. Nixion withdrew his hand fast enough to avoid getting dead
skin, crumbling bone and bits of brain all over him and laughed when the zombie
collapsed to the ground after it staggered around for a moment or two clumsily.
Even insane and loving death, he grimaced. There was no fun in this. Things
that did not feel pain? They didn’t scream. They didn’t care. They just
attacked him. The ones that still had a head. They weren’t even afraid…this
would not be fun at all. Nixion was disappointed. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">But
Nixion still fought. Most other people would have fallen by now, dead or living
dead either way. Nixion slashed his machete through the air, in the attempt to
cut a zombie in half. But it got caught half way, and as the zombie fell
backwards; it took Nixion’s machete with it. Nixion reached for it, but his
hand slick with blood couldn’t get a good enough grasp.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Son
of a…” he muttered as another thread of sanity wriggled back into Nixion’s
mind. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Ignoring
his machete, Nixion punched, kicked, and magicked his way out. And in this situation, magicked meant Nixion
broke bones.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion
thought about this word. “Magicked.” He could not yet tell if it was a word. He
figured it must be for some reason, but it just didn’t sound right to him, and
Nixion attempted to think of some other way to put it. “He broked de bones.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">For
some reason this made Nixion laugh. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Unfortunately,
it also made him lose concentration. For a second he was standing, laughing as
an army of the undead surrounded him. The next he was overwhelmed. He fell, his
head smacking against the concrete, the mass of zombies trampling him
underfoot. Just before he lost consciousness, he caught sight of someone
drawing a dagger, running out from an alleyway and towards the zombies…<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Zathract
watched as the boy fell underneath the putrid things he knew to be zombies. This
boy Zathract had been watching at a distance for the past hour now was a
killer, and seemed to be a rather good one at that. Zathract had been assigned
to bring him in under the charge of multiple, repetitive and intentional
murder. Other than that, the Sanctuary knew nothing more of this child other
than his appearance. Nothing on his name, no background whatsoever, not even an
available assumption on his age (something that Zathract did not entirely
understand). Something that had surprised him was that the boy also seemed to
be rather good at evading capture. He was fast, but disorientated. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">At
first Zathract thought the boy might be smart, smart enough to kill and hardly
leave any evidence that linked him to the murder, rather like Zathract himself
had once been like. It soon became apparent, however, that this child was
nothing like the killer Zathract had once been. This boy was just insane. There
was absolutely no pattern to his technique, to his murders, to anything. There
was no connection between anything he did. The only thing this boy seemed
intent on doing was killing. Zathract could understand that; he had been in
that position once before, but right now he hated this boy. He hated everyone
like that, just like he hated his old self. Even so, this boy was still full of
surprises to Zathract. Leaving a bloody trail of bodies wherever he went,
though he did, Zathract found that this boy was almost impossible to track.
That was one of the many things Zathract had yet to understand about this boy… <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">After
searching, losing the trail a few times, and getting into many fights, Zathract
had managed to catch up with the boy for the third time that day. Now it was
night and now that Zathract had gotten used to seeing unmoving, bloody corpses
in the wake of the boy, he had been taken by surprise when he peered around the
alleyway to see the boy fighting zombies. He had just witnessed the boy laugh
for what seemed to be no reason at all, then fall to the ground under the
zombie attack. He was either more unstable than Zathract had originally
thought, or had given up. He was currently assuming it was the former.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Zathract
stepped forward, drawing the attention of the zombies. </span></i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Wonderful<i>, he thought bitterly. Though he was fighting zombies virtually every
single day, Zathract was still no more pleased with their presence than he had
been on his first encounter with them. Muttering darkly, he took another step
closer to the zombies who seemed to have forgotten about Nixion for the time
being. Zathract had heard of necromancers having a certain amount of control
over zombies as they were powered by the death magic, but had never tried it
before.<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Stop,”
he said, surprising the zombies. They recognised a master telling them to stop,
and an enemy saying something that did not matter at the same time. But these
zombies were rotten and seemed to have their original commands hardwired into
their rotting brains...One master had told them to attack this boy. Another was
telling them to stop attacking the boy. But, between the orders of kill and
don’t kill, a zombie will always go for the kill. This was not a hard fact to
figure out, but Zathract had also seen it displayed many times before…<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Zathract
swore as half of them turned back around to kill the boy while the other half
lurched weirdly towards Zathract. He pushed at the air, snapping his palm and
flicking his wrist, and knocked back a zombie, which hit another, sending two
clattering to the ground. Unfortunately for him, the zombies Zathract was used
to battling always happened to be close together due to the sheer number of
them. But this group of approximately fifteen zombies were spread out among
themselves which meant that Zathract’s techniques were going to have to vary a
bit more this time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Summoning
blade-like shadows to his side, Zathract hurled them like a spear towards to
different zombies. One sliced through the first zombie, ripping it to shreds
and sending it to the ground in a crumbling heap, but the second zombie moved
just before the shadows tore it apart as well. Whether or not the movement had
been triggered out of the knowledge that it would have been destroyed if it had
not moved or simply because it had felt like it, Zathract could not be sure. It
didn’t matter all that much, though, because another zombie had lumbered closer
to him and was now about to throw a fist into his face. Easily, Zathract
stepped to the side and the zombie ended up punching thin air and was thrown
off course, stumbling again. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Zathract
send a dancing fireball hurling in the direction of the zombie and it caught
flame at once which sent it dancing around the streets, waving its decaying
arms around and crashing into other zombies as it went. No screams escaped its
rotting mouth, though, so Zathract assumed that its vocal chords had already
rotted. He quickly spun around, seeing that there were no more zombies in front
of him, and saw three of the rotting creatures bending over the boy, mouths
opening towards his neck. Zathract cursed loudly and pushed his gloved hand
forwards towards the zombies and a swarming wave of shadows burst from it,
pelting full force towards the zombies. He saw the wave expand as it went and
quickly consumed the zombies. But as it dissipated and revealed the rotting
remains of the three zombies, it also became clear that the boy was no longer
there either. Zathract immediately panicked. The wave of shadows he had sent
slamming into the zombies was only powerful enough to destroy </span></i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">them<i>, not a perfectly healthy human (physically, of course). But then he
understood that the boy could not have been destroyed. There were no remains of
him whatsoever for one thing. <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Zathract
took a glance to his left and saw the boy taking his machete out of the
zombie’s chest before kicking the corpse back down again. The remaining four
zombies slowly advanced on Zathract and Nixion from the right side of them and
at once Zathract begun to feel slightly overwhelmed. The zombies he could
handle, the boy probably as well, but he wasn’t so comfortable with four flesh
eating creatures in front of him and an unstable, most probably insane,
murderer boy holding a machete behind him, where Zathract could not see. But he
need not have bothered. Because the next second the boy had blurred forwards to
meet the zombies and the next the sliced remains of three of them were falling
to the ground.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Stunned
slightly at this attack that was as sudden as it was vicious, Zathract did not
move and simply watched as the boy turned to the last zombie and whacked it
sideways across the forehead as it leaped at him. The zombie hit the ground
hard which sent a small cloud of dust puffing up into the cool night air and
rolled quickly, coming up on its knees; arms outstretched in a provocative gesture,
a snarl clear even on its rotting face. This must be the leader of the pack –
Zathract thought. It seemed stronger than the rest, faster and even more
intelligent. It seemed to know its way around a battle anyway. The boy seemed
only too happy to succumb to the zombie’s provocation, though, as he hurled
himself toward it, dropping the blood drenched machete, something that confused
Zathract even further as there seemed to be no blood left in any of the zombies
so far. Perhaps they had been turned earlier than he had thought after all. The
boy reached the zombie in what seemed no time at all and brought his fist up
again,, but the zombie seemed more intelligent than Zathract had thought, even
with his knew assumption that it was smarter than the other ones. This zombie
seemed to be </span></i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">trained<i> in combat as well. It ducked under the
boy’s fist and slammed itself into him, sending the boy stumbling back and
tripped over, having lost his footing. The zombie launched itself forward, arms
outstretched and mouth open. It landed on the boy who attempted to kick it off
himself, but the zombie sent a fist slamming into his forehead which hit the
ground hard and sent him spiralling back into unconsciousness. The zombie moved
in for the bite to his neck, when Zathract moved forward in one swift motion.
His kick sent the zombie flying backwards across the ground and when it came to
a slow halt, the zombie waited a few moments before getting back to its feet,
disorientated. <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Its
jaw had fallen off…<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Zathract
almost laughed when he saw that another fifty or so drones of the undead were
now advancing on him from behind the last zombie. Cursing again, Zathract took
a step backwards and drew his first dagger. Suddenly, the boy was beside him,
temple bleeding heavily, eyes unfocused, yet displaying a fine example of pure
fury.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">With
a simple gesture from the leader zombie, the new army darted forwards, this
time much more crowded than the last fourteen. Good. Something Zathract was
more accustomed to. He made a quick decision to deal with the boy after the
zombies had been eliminated: after all, he didn’t seem to want to do much but
get them out of the way either and he had not yet a single move towards
Zathract, let alone attempt to attack him. So when the zombies got close
enough, Zathract and the boy attacked in unison.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Zathract’s
dagger came high, slicing the top off a zombie, taking half of its brain with
it. It stood there for a moment looking dazed before collapsing in a heap
before him. This pack of zombies was new. Fresh blood was still running through
them for the time being and their skin, though most definitely dead, was not
rotting as such. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">The
boy did not bother with his machete, which he had picked back up before joining
Zathract. Instead, his hand blurred towards a zombie’s head and as it made
contact, a deafening </span></i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">crack<i> rang out from the skull of the zombie.
Zathract saw bits of the skull stick out from the head of the zombie as brains
went flying everywhere and it collapsed to the ground. So this boy was a bone
breaker. That would explain rather a lot, actually…<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">The
boy’s hand blurred again and tapped the side of a second zombie’s head.
Zathract saw the zombie jerk away and the boy kicked it so it went flying
backwards. </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Zathract’s
train of thought was interrupted by a zombie crashing into him. He pushed the
air again and the zombie flew out of sight. He stood and looked at the chaos
around him. The army, though defiantly lessened by this point, was enough to
overwhelm him, even with the added assistance from the insane, wanted murderer
bone-breaker boy. Zathract looked over at him. The boy was a whirlwind of
energy, taking out every zombie that got too close to him. But as Zathract
expected, he knew that it would only be a matter of time before either he or
the boy fell again and then the other would surely be killed or turned by the
zombie army. He was used to fighting zombies and armies even larger than this,
but these zombies seemed to be just as strong as the leader of the last, much
smaller horde. Stronger, faster, smarter. Hard to beat, harder to kill. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Zathract,
looking regretfully at the boy and quickly made a rather difficult decision. He
could tell now that this boy was insane, but he hoped, for both their sakes,
that he had enough sense left in him to move out of the way. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Zathract
summoned flame to his hand and hurled it into the crowd of zombies. One of the
zombies was suddenly alight. Then the flame leaped onto the next zombie. And
then the next. From one zombie to another, Zathract’s enhanced flame after
years of advanced practice in the field leaped until the smell of burning,
rotten flesh filled the air, and the crowd of zombies ended up looking like an
oddly shaped fire-field. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Zathract
couldn’t see if the boy had made it out in time or not. He concentrated on
keeping the zombies burning until he was satisfied with the level of damage. He
let go of the flames and let the zombies burn and burn until the ashes fell to
the ground. But through the huge ground of ashes that was no in front of him,
Zathract could see no sign of the boy. Yet, just like before, he didn’t see any
remains of what could possibly have been living flesh either. Zathract turned
around and there was the boy standing in front of him, holding the machete and
looking back at him blankly. He couldn’t
have even been a year younger than Zathract. He was wearing a cheap jumper and
pants, with shoes that looked like they had been through a shredder. One arm of
his jumper was burnt, showing his bare skin underneath. His brown hair was
messy and untamed. It looked like he hadn’t washed or cut it in years. But it
was his eyes that really showed everything.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">They
were dark brown, like his hair. They had lost that slightly unfocused look they
had when the boy had woken. But they still looked weird enough. You could see
pain, misery, anger, torment and untamed madness in those eyes. Zathract had a
feeling that even if the boy was smiling, the eyes would not change.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">The
boy had a sheath for his machete which he promptly placed his weapon back into.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“You
burnt me,” the boy said. He had a curious voice. It wavered at some points,
getting higher and lower for no obvious reason.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“I
did.” Zathract said steadily. He did not apologize. Something told him that
this boy had no care for such I didn’t mean to”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">The
boy did not rpely.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“What’s
your name?” Zathract asked. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">The
boy gave Zathract a curious look, like no one had ever asked him that before. Knowing
what he had done, the chances were that no one actually had. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Nixion
Strange,” he said finally.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Nixion
Strange,” Zathract said firmly, attempting to use the amount of control
sorcerers had over given names. “You are to come with me now.” He took a step
backwards to see if the boy would follow, but when he didn’t, Zathract figured
that he must have taken the name himself, or else forgotten his given name
through his insanity. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Zathract
Mist.” He said to Nixion, taking a step backwards and pretended as if nothing
had happened. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Zath-rast…”
the boy said, narrowing his eyes and speaking slowly, trying to understand.
Zathract decided not to mention he had pronounced his name incorrectly. He
nodded. “I call you Mist,” Nixion decided after a long pause. “Easier.” Then he
thought deeply for a second. “Should I kill you?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Mist
was taken aback. Not only he wasn’t expecting that the boy would be so
friendly, but he was actually asking Zathract for his opinion on the matter of
his death. He was not accustomed to that. Everything or everyone that ever had
wanted him dead simply attacked him. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“No.”
he said, brow furrowed. “You shouldn’t kill me.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">The
boy nodded, as if it was a wise move. Then he suddenly grinned. The change was
so unexpected that Zathract almost too a step backwards again. But he was right.
The boy’s eyes did not change.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“You
help me kill?” he grinned madly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Mists
shook his head. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“No.”
he said firmly. “Killing is wrong”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">The
boy stopped grinning. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Oh,”
he said, disappointed. Zathract could not yet tell whether this was because he
wanted him to help Nixion or because he had just been told that the thing that
may potentially be the only thing he knew how to do or the only thing he was
good at was a bad thing. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Do
you want to come with me instead?” Zathract asked him, deciding to get back to
his task of bringing the boy in to the Sanctuary. He was now having doubts of
whether or not Nixion was entirely responsible for his actions. Surely there
was some law that exempted the mentally unstable from charges of murder…?<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">The
boy tilted his head. Then he shook it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“No.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Mist
nodded. Then he caused a shadow to hit the boy on the back of the head, where
he had landed on the concrete. The boy didn’t even have time to look surprised
or, the more likely, angry. He fell to the ground hard and Zathract dialled a
number on his phone and waited for the response. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">In
that moment, Zathract Mist decided that he was going to do whatever he could to
stop Nixion Strange from being prosecuted under charges of murder. </span><span style="color: #222222;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
</div>Nixion Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940998577242832277noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-54250526189149446292012-05-01T22:20:00.001+10:002012-05-01T22:20:32.910+10:00An Update On "WHAT IS GOING ON?!" And Statistics After Ch. 8<br />
So yeah, Ch. 8 is out, go read that now. Anyway, the purpose of this post is basically to let you guys know what's happening. Recently, we've released three chapters very quickly. Ch. 6 was released two days before Ch. 7 and now, two days later, Ch. 8 is out too (which was written by me).<br />
Of course, a new chapter will NOT be released every two days, but we ARE trying to put a larger effort into getting them out faster now. It's Izz's fault, blame her. *points to Izz*<br />
<br />
So yeah, I wanted to put this here only because I'm afraid that, in the quick releases, that the chapters could have been overlooked. So, people, please: check the Chapter Number, check your Dashboard for new posts!<br />
Thank you!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBeVN3IZgLkXfLgIhxX-AVL96YoreKlct96GbSvhsH2g5skYWotRLPgLU1IlDsaG7EA0zjbpO7DL7-rMpDNutOjmitlqcEWRZThtRwLlLH39CIkyQPiYXI-MWoHtRmlixbOUtWhdAu4Uo/s1600/Word+Count+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBeVN3IZgLkXfLgIhxX-AVL96YoreKlct96GbSvhsH2g5skYWotRLPgLU1IlDsaG7EA0zjbpO7DL7-rMpDNutOjmitlqcEWRZThtRwLlLH39CIkyQPiYXI-MWoHtRmlixbOUtWhdAu4Uo/s320/Word+Count+2.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Zathract Misthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13949771210514269250noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-42812228244963990142012-05-01T22:00:00.002+10:002012-05-01T22:04:00.014+10:00Nix and Mist Chapter 8: Deaded<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: white;">Because Izz did not want to wait, we're going to try and release chapters faster.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: white;">Lucky you, huh?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: white;">---------------------</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: white; font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 115%;">8.<br />
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<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 115%;">DEADED</span></b><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">‘We wing it.’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion had absolutely no idea what
that meant. He didn’t mind all that much, though, because he figured that if
Mist knew what he was saying (however random it was), then he knew what it
meant, which also meant that, in this case, he knew what he was going to do.
What were they going to do? They were going to wing it. And Mist probably knew
what to wing and how to do it. With a lot of effort, Nixion vaguely managed to
string together the fact that they would wing the spy in the group, but even
then he was confused, if not more.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Despite everything that had happened
in the rather short amount of time he and Mist had arrived back at the
Sanctuary, Thomas-less, Nixion found himself yearning to talk to Stavan again
as they made their way back to the lounge, away from the Interrogation Rooms. Stavan
seemed to be taking on a role of a new friend in Nixion’s mind. Was it possible
that Stavan actually <i>did </i>count Nixion
as a friend too? Other than Mist, Nixion did not actually have any friends.
Even though the two drove each other up the wall and had come close to being
killed by one another in the past, they had, seemingly, become far friendlier
towards each other in the past few days. Stavan was different though. At the
very least, he seemed to share Nixion’s complete disregard for rules and knack
for recklessness. Maybe he didn’t enjoy killing as much as Nixion did, if at
all, but either way, he was more like him than Mist was. Or was he…?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion was pondering over this when
he became aware of a pair of footsteps following him and Mist from behind. At
once he wheeled around and faced the follower, his lethal glare dropping from
his face as soon as it had flown up at the sight of the person. It took Mist
several seconds to realize that he was now alone in his continued walking and
had to backtrack a bit to join Nixion who did not look at him. The follower had
stopped walking too and was facing Nixion looking a little flustered. And for a
moment, Nixion did not see the person dressed formally, neatly, in front of him
with a slight redness creeping up his neck at being caught before his chosen
moment to act. Instead, he saw the same person many years ago, battered,
ragged, bloody, kneeling. With Nixion standing above, in the same dimly lit
corridor, holding a machete and laughing insanely.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Grand
Mage Thyrow Slit was kneeling in front of him, clothes ripped, face bloody,
hair wild, expression desperate and full of blistering rage.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Don’t
kill me…” he half gasped. “Please don’t kill me.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“You
be deaded soon.” Nixion laughed from in front of him, his machete held loosely
in his hand while blood slowly dripped off of it. “You soon be deaded.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">The
Grand Mage stayed silent, obviously not sure what to say in response to that.
There was silence for a few moments in which Nixion’s laughter died and he
stared deep into the Grand Mage’s eyes. He gazed back, mesmerised, terrified,
outraged. “YOU BE DEADED!” Nixion roared suddenly, breaking the silence
brutally which caused the Grand Mage to jerk backwards in shock. Nixion let out
another long, harsh laugh at this, his body hanging backwards loosely, face
turning to the ceiling. The entire thing was very amusing, he thought. The
Grand Mage was kneeling in front of him, Nixion, and was about to be killed by
him, Nixion. He, Nixion, was about to kill the Grand Mage. The </span></i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Grand Mage<i>. Of Australia. And he, Nixion, was going to kill him.<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Eventually,
his laughter died down again and Nixion closed his eyes, trying to concentrate.
Concentration. That was Nixion’s new hobby. The drug that had been given to him
by the man in his prison a year ago seemed to be beginning to wear off now. He
was still insane, still had the uncontrollable urge to murder people as
viciously as possible, still had that horrible headache, that strain on his
mind that told him it was snapped, broken, but through that, he was beginning to
make sense of things. Small things. Things like recognition. He knew some of
the basic things: His name was Nixion Strange which was the name he had taken
under advisement of that man. His real name was Aiden (Nixion still did not
remember his last name). He had been tortured. He should kill people. And then some
other things that Nixion did not even know how he had come to learn: He was in
the Australian Sanctuary, the person kneeling in front of him in a horrid sweat
with a panicky expression across his face was the Grand Mage of Australia. Nixion
could feel deformed strings of sanity returning to him, and, thus far, he could
not tell whether or not he liked it anymore.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">His
body slowly recoiled itself back to face the Grand Mage again where his eyes
slowly opened again, a dark glare across his face as he breathed heavily. The
Grand Mage was sweating heavily. Large, dark rings were imprinted under his
eyes and his wet brow was furrowed as if trying to work out what Nixion was
doing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Deaded…”
Nixion repeated darkly to the Grand Mage. And with that, Nixion slowly raised
his machete, the blood still slowly dripping off it and a look of horror
increased on the Grand Mage’s face, head shaking violently.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“No.”
he said shakily. “No…please, no. Don’t…please…” Ha! The Grand Mage was begging.
The </span></i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Grand Mage<i> was </i>begging <i>to </i>him<i>, to </i>Nixion<i>. Ha!<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“DEADED!”
Nixion roared, and plunged the dagger into the wall. “You be deaded!” he was
laughing again, pointing to the Grand Mage as he desperately tried to take his
machete out of the wall. But he quickly stopped, noting the confusion and
desperation on the Grand Mage’s face slowly transforming into a concentration
and disbelief. At the same moment, Nixion became aware of steady footsteps
making their way towards him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Oooh…”
Nixion muttered, glaring at the Grand Mage, another string of sanity suddenly
wrapping itself around Nixion’s mind uncomfortably. “Yeah. You’re deaded, Mage.
You be deaded now…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">The
footsteps became faster and closer and Nixion abandoned his attempt to dislodge
the machete which was now firmly fixed in the wall and turned around to face
the person who had now drawn to a halt in front of him. His eyes were emerald
green, his black hair fell over his ears and he held a dagger in his hand.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Nixion!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Nixion?” came the same voice from
beside him as Nixion swayed. And as he turned his head to look at Mist, for a
moment he was still entrapped in his past. Instinctive, Nixion’s fist came
hurling forwards and smashed into Mist’s jaw sending him staggering backwards,
clutching at his mouth and groaning in pain.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“<i>What
the hell</i>?!” he roared, backing up against the wall and doubling over in
pain. There was a bloody tooth lying on the ground… Nixion was in shock. He
just stood there, wide eyed and stunned at what he had done and did not attempt
to resist as the Cleavers that came running on the scene quickly pushed him on
to the ground. “Let him go.” Mist gasped as quickly as possible, a groan of
agony distinct in his voice. The pair hands that were grabbing Nixion were strong
and powerful. He looked up and saw that the Grand Mage was dragging Nixion to
his feet and waving the Cleavers away. Suddenly, life surged back into Nixion
and he staggered backwards, gasping and cursing loudly. Mist spat a mixture of saliva
and blood onto the polished ground before placing his hands firmly back on his
jaw.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“I’m…sorry…” Nixion muttered, staring
at Mist in shock. “I didn’t mean to…I mean you were…holding a dagger…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“…What?” the Grand mage asked incredulously.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“I…nothing…” Nixion said after a
while, brow furrowed and feeling horrible. “Sorry, Mist.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Mist raised his eyebrows coldly but
did not reply. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Are you OK?” Nixion asked him,
slowly making more and more sense of what had happened. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“On top of the bloody world.” Mist
practically snarled back. Nixion could not blame him…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">The Grand Mage swiftly summoned a
healer to his side and gave the order to take care of Mist. “Nixion, you come
with me, please.” He said afterwards as Mist stumbled off with the healer,
brushing away the hand to steady him impatiently. Nixion’s stomach dropped. The
last time he had been alone with the Grand Mage, he had almost killed him;
Nixion had just relived that himself. He was not sure what to expect as the
Grand Mage led him back along the brightly lit corridor and then into a dark,
depressing room that stunk of rotting metal. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Perhaps the Grand Mage was going to
give him a lecture on self-control. Or maybe he would suggest seeing a
professional physiatrist…Nixion almost laughed at the thought. But Nixion knew,
when he saw the concern in the Grand Mage’s face, that he was going to be
talking to him about something very, very serious indeed. Even in the dimly lit
room, Nixion could see the sags and creases in the Grand Mage’s face lined with
worry, the face that had changed so much since the version Nixion had seen of
him minutes ago; broken, sweating, desperate. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Nixion,” he started, studying him intensely
as though wondering whether or not he should have thought this through more
carefully. He did not say anything. He simply waited for the Grand Mage to continue;
he honestly did not think it would be wise to interrupt the Grand Mage while he
was in this different, less-than-happy state anyway. And besides, Nixion still
did not feel comfortable in his presence. Yes, the Grand Mage seemed to have
forgiven him and yes, Nixion trusted him now, as much as he trusted anyone,
anyway, but he still felt uneasy. There was still a small amount of tension
whenever they were in the same room, with or without company (it was always
with). Of course there was going to be; Nixion had once almost killed the Grand
Mage and half the Sanctuary Staff a few years previously, in his days of
madness, his days of murder. But today, now, at that moment, Nixion did not
detect any tension due to past events. Instead there was something more
sinister, something deadly, something that the Grand Mage knew.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Nixion…” he repeated, more slowly
this time, thinking hard. He bit his lip, released it and opened his mouth repetitively
as if thinking of the best way to put something. Yes, the Grand Mage knew
something… Nixion thought frantically of something he or Mist may have done wrong,
but the only thing that came to mind was the interrogation of Keeve half an
hour ago. Nixion did not think this had anything to do with a few bent rules. The
Grand Mage opened his mouth and left it hanging there for a few moments, then
finally decided on something to say.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“…I know you have a traitor.” He said
finally, and Nixion was taken aback.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“What?” he asked, aghast. “How did
you…?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Nixion,” he sighed with an air of
trying not to sound irrational. “Please. I’m the Grand Mage of Australia. This
is a Sanctuary that I completely re-designed. I know things.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Ah…” Nixion muttered. “Right…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“I know you have a traitor.” The
Grand Mage repeated. “And…” he hesitated, then cut himself off completely.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“And…?” Nixion pressed him after a
moment or two, eager to find out what this was about. The Grand Mage sighed
deeply, then took a deep breath in, whether he was trying to calm himself or
trying to delay the moment where he would have to tell Nixion, he could not
tell.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“And…” he continued… “I think I know
who it is.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“What?!” Nixion asked much louder
than he had originally intended to and the Grand Mage hushed him. Nixion obeyed
only because now he knew that this was important. “Who?” he asked in almost a
whisper.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">The Grand Mage hesitated. Again.
Unsure. Then something dawned on Nixion, something so out of place, something
so obvious, that he was enraged at himself for not spotting it sooner. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Wait…” he muttered. “Why didn’t you
have Mist here at the same time…?” he asked slowly. The Grand Mage sighed
again. Sighing seemed to be the new fashion. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">But Nixion still could not figure it
out. Why would the Grand Mage hide this from Mist? He was practically leading
the team, getting the investigation moving, doing the recruiting, doing all the
work, gathering all the information and organizing everything that had to be
done. Nixion could not think of any rational reason the Grand Mage would have
to keep Mist away from a piece of information like this, something this vital.
But then he did think of something. There was one reason. The only thing that
Nixion could think of. It was really the only reason he would have to keep Mist
away from this. And that was…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“No…” Nixion muttered
absent-mindedly. “No, that’s not possible.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Nixion,” the Grand Mage continued,
ignoring him, continuing with the problem, the situation, the information.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“I think the traitor’s Mist.”</span><span style="color: #222222;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>Nixion Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940998577242832277noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-30111277271959674082012-04-29T11:44:00.000+10:002012-04-29T11:52:25.569+10:00Nix and Mist Chapter 7: Fluffy...Cloud...Bunnies<span style="color: white;">This was actually completed the same day Ch. 6 was finished/put up, but we wanted to let 6 stew for a bit. Whatever. Please tell others to read 6 and then 7 if you guys see this.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 20.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="color: white;">7.<br />
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Cambria, serif;"><span style="font-size: 27px; line-height: 31px;"><b>FLUFFY</b></span></span><span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 20.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">…CLOUD…BUNNIES</span></b><span style="font-family: "Bell MT","serif"; font-size: 15.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Hammond
looked at the girl, the anger plain on his face while the bewilderment surged
through his voice, somehow making one word sound like a death threat. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">What<i>?”<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">The
girl nodded. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Cornucopia.”
She repeated, the fact that she seemed thoroughly unconcerned by the tone of
darkness in his voice displeasing Hammond at an even higher rate. “It was a
cornucopia of sounds. At the street.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Hammond
rubbed his temple irritably in an attempt to cut off the headache he could feel
coming on before it reached its full potential.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“And
what does cornucopia mean?” he asked in a grinding voice, only slightly less
threateningly than his previous sentence. Or word. Whatever.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">The
girl frowned and looked up at the ceiling. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“I
don’t know.” She said slowly after a long pause just, answering just in time to
stop Hammond commanding an answer. “But it sounds exotic, don’t you think? ‘Cornucopia’…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Hammond
growled menacingly… If this girl had been anyone else, she would be dead at
this moment. Actually, she would have been dead long before this moment. Most
likely the second she had set foot in his office. For she had annoyed him the
second she had stepped into his office. But unfortunately, this girl had just happened
to be his niece. Hammond’s sister had asked him to take care of the girl for a
few weeks. This was day two and already he was thinking about killing her in
the most painful way possible. He had hoped that she might have her mother’s
evil streak, but instead she got her father’s idiotic head. And she had picked
the worst possible name ever for herself.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">‘Clousdina
Madonna.’<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">The
stupidity of some people… <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">A
small translucent button suddenly flashed blue and Hammond pressed it at once,
opening the door in front of him to let in one of his workers, relieved at the
excuse to end the horribly structured conversation with his niece. A small man
dressed in a black suit with dark sunglasses walked in slowly, professionally,
as he had been taught. It was a well-known fact that Hammond hated bad news.
Most people would almost always be punished if they bought to him nothing but
bad news. Punished quite brutally… Yet it was also a well-known fact that
Hammond wanted to know anything and everything that happened, good and bad news
alike. Piles of unread mission reports on successful or failed Remaining
assignments lay neatly stacked on his desk while the reports that had been read
lay crammed in a huge filing cabinet behind him, having slowly amassed over the
years. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Sir,
I’m afraid we have some bad news,” he said hesitantly once he had come to a
halt in front of Hammond’s desk. Hammond now recognized the man; he was Arlov
Travvinks. Hammond knew his workers, employees, servants and slaves all by
their voices rather than appearance. This was mostly because Hammond was almost
always reading a report while talking to his working Remaining’s and therefor,
did not actually look at them. It may appear weird, but, naturally, Hammond
killed anyone who raised the matter. He did not have time for such impotent
pests… <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Yes…”
Hammond asked him, already short on patience “What is it?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Clousdina
laughed. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“I
had a dream about fluffy cloud bunnies last night.” She said expectantly. “They
were incredibly vicious for their size and the way they ripped apart the goat
like that really made the entire thing vivid.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">For
a moment, Hammond was slightly stunned at the sound of his niece, who he had
thought to be something of a day dreamer of things most people thought were
comforting, say something so evilly explicit. It was only for a moment,
however, and Hammond was soon pointing a gun at the back of Clousdina’s head
while she examined the wall with a fascinated expression. It took all of his
self-control to put the gun down and face the man again, and even then he had
come far too close to putting a bullet through her brain of which who knew what
went on inside…<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Sir,”
Arlov said, coughing himself into speech. “Galko’s plans in England have been
delayed due to cause of the Sanctuary, unfortunately, venturing too close to
his base of operations in an unrelated investigation. He has had to pack up the
machine and move elsewhere.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Hammond
took a deep breath, which, instead of calming him, only aggravated him more. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Why?
Why hasn’t he just killed them all?” he asked irritably, turning around to the
cabinet in search of Galko’s file.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Because,
uh, he can’t, sir.... He doesn’t have the resources we have here. Sir.” Arlov
added quickly. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Hammond
abandoned searching for Galko’s file and leant forward on the desk, his head
pounding. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“You
don’t need </span></i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">resources<i> to put fear into people.” He said
confidently. “Just me getting out of jail has put tons of fear into people. With
a small group, you can do any number of things.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Yes
sir.” Arlov said, bowing slightly. “Of course sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“Shut
up.” Hammond demanded of him and Arlov straighten up looking flustered, even
with the sunglasses on. “And what of </span></i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">our
<i>plans then?”<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“Going
forward without interruption, sir.” He said, seemingly glad that he could bring
Hammond </span></i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">some <i>kind of good news. “Forgive me, sir, but may
I ask…Why did you let Keeve be captured?”<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Hammond’s
hand found the gun which he had lay down on the desk and aimed it at the man’s
face who recorrected himself at once.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“My
deepest apologizes, sir.” He gasped, bowing again. “I meant to disrespect,
sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“May
you ask?” Hammond repeated Arlov. “Why, of course, Arlov. Go ahead.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">There
was a slight hesitation befoee Arlov straightened up again slowly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Really,
sir?” he asked nervously.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">He
was dead before he hit the ground.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“No.”
Hammond growled at the corpse. “No you may not ask.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">“Can
</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">I<i>
ask?” Clousdina looked over at Hammond, a curious expression on her face. She
didn’t seem bothered by the dead body lying on the carpet. Perhaps there was
hope for her after all.<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Hammond
struggled to stand; he had spent a long time in prison, cut off from his magic.
Being a warlock, they had to have a special cell to make sure he didn’t die, </span></i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">and<i> that kept him from completely aging. Instead, he just aged faster than
a sorcerer, and slower than a mortal. So instead of the young man that had
entered the cell, and the old man that should have come out of it, he was about
forty five. Not too bad, but it was still taking some getting used to his new
restrictions.<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Hammond
stood up, looking at his niece. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“No.”
he said with much less aggression than the last time he had addressed her.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Why
not?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Because
I said so.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Why
should I listen to you?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Shut
up…” Hammond growled.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“You
know, it would be easier to just tell me.” Clousdina said teasingly. She knew
what she was doing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Hammond
sighed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Because,
my dear girl,” he said, trying to bring a smirk to his face. “If they know they
have a traitor, they won’t trust anyone else. They won’t trust their team, and
they’ll make the mistake of thinking that they don’t need the team. We’ll take
them down, and nothing will stand between us and victory. Happy now?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“That’s
kind of an overused line, don’t you think?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“…What?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“‘Nothing
standing between us and victory’. It’s a little overused.”<br />
“Isn’t there another word for that?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“You
mean repetition?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“No,
I meant cliché…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Oh.
Well come to think of it, the world ‘cliché’ is a little overused too.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Shut
up.” Hammond sighed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Hammond
stepped over the body and made his way over to the door. He opened it and
shouted for the nearest girl to come over. She trotted over as fast as her
little high-heeled shoes allowed her to, a terrified expression plastered to
her face.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Send
someone to clean that up,” he said, nodded his head back into his room. “Or do
it yourself. I don’t care.” The girl peered over his shoulder and her face
turned even paler.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“And
spread the word. We need to start phase two.” He added with a note of urgency.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">The
girl nodded and walked away. Actually, it was more of a stagger… <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">A
few seconds later, Clousdina yelled from the room. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Phase
two? That’s the best you could come up with? What a terrible title!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Hammond
closed his eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">He
needed to kill someone soon.</span></span></i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Bell MT","serif"; font-size: 15.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>Zathract Misthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13949771210514269250noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-3833419912197914682012-04-26T16:56:00.002+10:002012-04-27T18:47:38.349+10:00Nix and Mist Chapter 6: Another Idiotic Healer<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 20.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="color: white;">6.<br />
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<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 20.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">ANOTHER IDIOTC HEALER</span></b><span style="font-family: "Bell MT","serif"; font-size: 15.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Your hearing is going to be fine,
you’ll be pleased to hear.” the Sanctuary doctor said, peering into Nixion’s
ears, completely ignoring his personal space. On the outside Nixion made an
effort to scowl.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">On the inside he remained slumped and
depressed. He was still recovering from the death of Thomas. Nixion felt that
it had been his own fault that Thomas, the thirteen year old boy with a caring
family, had been killed. In actual fact, Nixion had had nothing to do with the
boy’s death, but he still felt guilty for some unknown reason. It was only then
did Nixion realize what was going on. These things kept happening inside of
him, things that he kept feeling that normally don’t stir at all; Nixion was
changing, and, thus far, he could not tell whether or not he liked where he was
heading. Nixion was brought back to Earth by the Healer who bent down and spoke
louder and closer to his ear.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Or perhaps not…” the healer said
purposefully.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion let out a yell of surprise and
jerked away from the healer as he laughed. His mood did not lift, but Nixion
could not help being slightly glad that his hearing was going to be fine. He
had been worried that they had been delayed for too long or damage done had
been too extensive.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Don’t try something like that again
or you’ll find your world a land of pain.” Nixion continued in a snarl, trying
to appear like his usual arrogant, superior self.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Uh…right.” The healer said shiftily,
seeming to regret his moment of amusement which made Nixion feel superior
again, more like his usual self. They were back at the Sanctuary. Again. Nixion
could see now that this would most likely be the base of their operations until
this was all over. He had originally thought that Mist might have wanted to use
his house/base for the main meeting place and, at the time, Nixion had despised
the idea. He now found himself wishing they were using his place for the base
of operations. He felt so involved in this now. Keeve, Nixion had been informed
ten minutes ago by an irritable Mist, was currently being looked at by advanced
Healer’s and Sanctuary doctors. Nixion was all for killing Keeve on the spot,
but apparently that was illegal. Still, Nixion doubted that the Grand Mage
would really mind. He didn’t seem the responsible kind of type.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Well…yes, you might have a little
bit of a hard time hearing for the rest of the day, but no permanent damage has
been done.” the healer continued uncomfortably as if frightened of displeasing
Nixion. Now he laughed on the inside.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion was saved from having to
answer the healer by Mist slowly entering the room, one hand on his forehead.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Headache…” he muttered in reply to
Nixion’s inquiring raised eyebrow. Mist had been sombre since they had found
Thomas dead, and didn’t even seem to care about the fate of his hearing.
Instead, he had busied himself with debriefing the Grand Mage, who was
apparently now obligated to personally oversee the investigation now that
someone had been killed, and other tedious tasks such as the writing of the
report on the incident and the paperwork for Thomas’s death.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“The report’s done, the Grand Mage
has specially assigned a squad of fifteen Cleavers to our use whenever we need
them on this case and apparently, we are the top people on the priority list to
everyone working at the Sanctuary.” Mist told Nixion, squinting as he struggled
to form understandable thoughts through his headache. He sighed and looked up
at the healer.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“How was Thomas killed?” Mist asked
the healer in a hollow voice. This was something Nixion still did not
understand. Why had a weak sonic wave attack from Keeve killed Thomas while one
ten times as strong had not killed either him or Mist? Did the intensity vary
for different people? The healer sighed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“The soundwaves bounced off the metal
again and again, getting more intense every time it did so, until Thomas was
killed. Unfortunately for him, the only type of metal powerful enough to
rebound the sonic waves from Keeve was the kind he happened to be wearing at
the time. It also weakened the structure of the metal until it was able to be
torn be non-magical means. It was just bad luck that Thomas had that metal on
at the time; any other would only protect him. Quite unfortunate, really…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Unfortunate?” Mist asked
incredulously. “Unfortunate? Someone lost their life and it was unfortuna-?”
Nixion cut in quickly to avoid an argument.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“And how’s Keeve doing?” he asked
sharply. This made Mist stop talking at once and Nixion knew why. They were
obviously being played here. The Remaining had been waiting for them. A quick
search of the rooms showed that they weren’t being used, so Keeve and the
Hollow Men must have gotten there recently, tipped off by someone. They
wouldn’t have been stupid enough to actually stay there, so the army must have
been an ambush, an ambush for Mist, Nixion and Thomas, obviously. So this meant
that one of their allies was actually a traitor. The only way to find that out
would be to get the information out of Keeve. Nixion was confused about one
thing though; why had it been such a bad ambush? He knew that The Remaining
must have placed the only metal that would kill Thomas there on purpose and
picked Keeve to lead the attack because he would be able to produce the sonic
waves to kill whoever was wearing it. Which could only really be Thomas seeing
as he was the only who could bend the metal to fit him. They only had one of
The Remaining there. They could’ve all attacked at once and killed Nixion and
Mist along with Thomas. So why hadn’t they? The only explanation that Nixion
could think of was that they wanted everyone else alive. And that unnerved him.
The image of Keeve trying to get him to change sides, to join The Remaining,
flashed into Nixion’s head and he shivered. It involved him. He knew it did.
The healer frowned at a checklist he had raised to eyelevel.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“He has…” he said as if preparing
himself for something. “One snapped collarbone, two minor fractures in his
skull and one major, three broken ribs, one of which has punched his lung, and
extensive muscle damage in his right shoulder. His left arm is broken...” he
continued, scanning the list. “There’s a hairline fracture along his left shin
has apparently lost all vision in his right eye.” One of the Sanctuary agents
nearby overheard and looked up at them in surprise. Nixion shrugged.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“When we do things, we make sure we
do them right.” He said a matter-of-factly. For the first time since the fight,
Mist looked like he might smile. He seemed to struggle for a moment, though,
and the smile decided not to make an appearance.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“We need to talk to him,” Mist said
tonelessly. “Now.” The healer looked bemused.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Keeve isn’t fit for any kind of
interrogation at this time and will not even be stable for a few days at the
least. Your friend here damaged him quite extensively, and he needs to be kept
under extreme medical care.” He said, gesturing to Nixion.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“It wasn’t all me,” Nixion replied,
pointing to Mist. “He threw him off the stage.” This made the healer look even
grumpier, if possible.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;"> “Can’t you just do a quick patch up? Like a
mortal doctor, but faster.” Mist asked him in the same, dead voice. The healer
gave him a look.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Do you want me to read the list of
injuries again?” he asked sceptically.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“When will he be ready then?” Mist
asked, impatience making an entry into his tone. The healer sighed, shook his
head and checked another clipboard. After making a few adjustments to it with a
pen, he looked back up at Mist with an answer.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“I would prefer to have him alone for
a few weeks at least to make sure he is going to stay alive, but the Grand Mage
has given us all orders to have whatever you want read.” He said irritably. “So
give us a few hours. He’ll be stable an in a condition to talk…” with that, he
strode out of the room, a tray of tools in his hands that reminded Nixion
horribly of the sharp objects that had been used to torture him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Mist remained immobile for a moment
more, then nodded and exited the room again, Nixion following suit.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“I’ve changed my mind.” Nixion
informed him. “I like the Grand Mage.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Mist rolled his eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“So what now, then?” Nixion asked
him. Mist half yawned as he answered.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“I don’t know about you, but I’m dead
tired. I’m going to catch some sleep.” Nixion nodded but did not reply, and
started thinking hard. Making a decision on the spot, Nixion began to walk
towards the lounge where a few couches lay holding the majority of the group
and Mist followed. But Nixion quickly changed direction again and he saw that
Mist appeared to be thinking so hard, he didn’t even notice when Nixion lead
him to the holding cells. He turned on Mist once they had stopped and Mist was
snapped out of his trance.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“What the hell is wrong with you?” he
asked angrily.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Why are we here…?” Mist asked,
looking around the prison cells and ignoring Nixion’s own question. He was the
one who hadn’t been paying attention, thinking about his past. If Mist was
doing this as well, they could miss something important. One of them had to be
paying attention to the things happening around them, and it sure as hell
wasn’t going to be Nixion.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Nixion repeated and Mist bit his lip. Then he said something to Nixion that was
so unlike Mist that Nixion had to grin. “Only as a last resort,” he warned
Nixion.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Yeah, sure.” He replied quickly, but
he was buzzing at the chance of doing something like that. Mist gave him a sad
look as if he knew that he was enjoying the fact that he was loving something
that everyone else would hate. Nixion was being pitied. Nixion didn’t care
though. He walked back towards the lounge, thinking happy, violent thoughts. He
was still thinking them as he fell asleep and his dreams were of violent days.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“You
be deaded,“ Nixion said happily to the corpse. Not that the corpse could hear
him. Kind of hard to do without a head. Nixion swaggered over to another
corpse. He frowned at it as it shivered and stared up at him, looking
frightened. This corpse wasn’t dead. It was an alive corpse. Was it a corpse if
it wasn’t dead? A corpse was a dead body, and this body was definitely alive.
It was an alive corpse, Nixion decided. It would be dead, but it just wasn’t
now. The alive corpse splayed its hand, and Nixion was sent flying backwards
through the air. Grunting, he landed heavily on the grass and grinned after
sitting up. It was a magic alive corpse. He leaped up and easily dodged a
fireball that had been hurled in his general direction. Nixion didn’t get the
chance to fight as much as he wanted to anymore. Mostly he just killed people.
Mortals and sorcerers alike, neither group ever put up much of a fight, which
was a shame. Today he had decided to stalk a group of people to this grassy
area, and had taken leisure in killing them. He wasn’t quite sure how he had
managed to miss this one. Vaguely, Nixion wondered whether or not they had all
been sorcerers. It didn’t matter anymore, though, so he stopped dwelling on it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">He
moved out of the way as the magic alive corpse pushed the air again, and
stepped closer to it. He punched it in the stomach and it fell over, gasping.
This wasn’t a good fight. This was all too easy. This was making Nixion sad. Or
maybe annoyed. Sannoyed. Sannoyed or…or…<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Annad.”
He said out loud, leaning over the magic alive corpse, snarling.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Huh?”
the magic alive corpse asked him, desperately trying to get to its feet.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“ANNAD!”
Nixion roared, his hand suddenly brandishing his machete. “ANNAD!” his
machete-arm flew around the air wildly and as the magic alive corpse attempted
to push him backwards with the air again, Nixion cut off its hand with a
vicious swipe.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">It
roared and clutched its stump to its chest. The roar turn into pitiful weeping
and Nixion shook his head, trying to clear it. It still had one good hand but
just sat there, crying. Nixion plunged his machete into the magic alive
corpse’s chest, and it became just a corpse. He laughed for a moment, before
bringing a glare to his face which was directed at the grass.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“No,”
he said firmly. “Dead corpse.” Then he grinned evilly, and ran off into the
night. Except that it was more of an uneasy stagger away from the scene. And it
was broad daylight.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion opened his eyes and realised
he was grinning. At once he wiped it off his face and glared around the room to
make sure no one had seen. Especially not Mist; it wouldn’t do him justice…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Insanity was fun. Of course, Nixion
was insane now, but the state of which he was in currently was nothing compared
to the madness that had once consumed him. When he cast a look around the room
again, however, Nixion saw that Mist was not there. He was probably pacing in
front of the Interrogation Rooms waiting to be let in to see Keeve… Satisfied
at the sight of everyone else in the group asleep except for Hunter and Dark
(who were both gazing blankly at the wall like a pair of Siamese Idiots), Nixion
stood up and stretched. Nixion vaguely
registered that he was hungry. Then he saw the time. Keeve should be ready by
now. Food could wait. He walked towards the Interrogation Rooms, completely
ignoring the medical facility. Mist had told him to go straight to the
Interrogation Rooms; Keeve seeing them before interrogation might make him a
little less scared…Or something. Nixion didn’t get how, but he didn’t care. Nor
did he actually understand. When he got there, Mist was waiting. Just like he
had thought…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“He’s ready,” Mist said at once
before walking into one of the rooms. Nixion took a deep breath before
following, amazed that Mist had waited for him. Keeve was sitting in a chair
looking thoroughly depressed. A large bandage was wrapped completely around his
head like a turban, only an extension had also been wrapped around his eye. His
arm and leg were both in casts and a large rise in his clothing around the ribs
told Nixion that they were also covered in bandages. There was a table in front
of him, and a chair on the other side. He was shackled, each hand cuffed to the
arm of the chair. The magic in the room wasn’t bound, but his magic was because
of the handcuffs. Mist sat in front of him. Nixion stood, leaning against the
wall. Keeve looked at Mist, seeming amused. “How are you feeling?” Mist asked.
Keeve moved a little.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Sore.” he said. “But healing.” Then
he smiled. “How are your ears?” Nixion had to bite back his response. “There
fine,” Mist said.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“And the little Thomas boy?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Nixion felt furry rise up in him. He
would have loved to smash that smiling face against the table. Instead, he
walked over and stepped on his prisoner regulation shoe, which was paper thin.
“Would you like a glass of water?” he asked innocently, while under the table his
boot crushed Keeve’s foot. Keeve gasped and looked up at him. It took a second,
but he shook his head. Nixion smiled and stepped back to the wall.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Thomas is dead,” Mist said, like
nothing had ever happened. “As I’m sure you know.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Keeve looked at him, his eyes still
watering.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“I don’t know what you mean.” He said
finally.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“We know The Remaining have a traitor
inside our group. Who is it?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Keeve raised his eyebrows. “A
traitor? I think you’re a little confused.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Tell us. Please.” Mist was
practically begging. This interrogation was going horribly…Keeve stayed silent.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Last chance,” Nixion said
threateningly. No reply. Mist sighed and stood up. He nodded at Nixion and
walked out the door. Nixion moved around and stood opposite Keeve at the table.
Keeve watched Mist leave. Then he smiled at Nixion.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“What’s this?” he asked, now
regaining his composure. “Good cop bad cop?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Something like that,” Nixion agreed,
then pushed the table powerfully. It slammed right into Keeve’s chest, knocking
him over in the chair. Nixion pulled the table back and walked over to Keeve,
who was lying on the floor, gasping and wincing. “Who’s the traitor?” he asked
brutally. Keeve just shook his head. Nixion smiled.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“You don’t want to do this with me.”
He waited a few seconds, then reached down and tapped Keeves elbow. Keeve
howled in pain as his good arm broke. “Just tell me who the traitor is,” Nixion
demanded. Keeve sobbed in pain, but didn’t say a word. Nixion pulled a key out
of his pocket, and released Keeve’s arms from the chair. Before Keeve could try
anything, Nixion pulled his broken arm behind Keeve and shackled it to his
other arm. Nixion then pushed Keeve to the ground. Keeve moaned as his broken
arm was put beneath him, keeping all his weight on it. “I’m giving you one last
chance. Tell me what I want to know.” Keeve stared defiantly at Nixion. Nixion
tapped his fingertips against Keeve’s knee, making sure to break it in such a
way that the bone pressed into the muscles tendons behind the knee. Keeve
opened his eyes wide in shock. He tried to breathe but only wheezed. “Who is
the traitor?” Nixion asked. “Who?” Nixion stepped on Keeve’s knee, pressing the
bone even deeper into the muscle tendons. Keeve screamed and screamed, the
sound reverberating against the walls sending them crashing against Nixion’s
ears which reminded him horribly of the sonic waves. Nixion knew, even with the
Sanctuary Healers, that Keeve may never be able to walk again. Keeve nodded
furiously, still screaming. Nixion stepped off the knee and knelt down to
Keeve. “Do we have a traitor?” Nixion asked.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Yes,” Keeve moaned<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Who?” Keeve shook his head again.
Nixion pressed down on his knee with one hand.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“I don’t know,” Keeve cried. Nixion
stopped pressing down on Keeve’s knee.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“You don’t know?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“I was never told. Someone called me
from a blocked number and told me everything about you guys.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Male or female?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“They had one of those voice changer
things. I couldn’t tell.” He gasped. Nixion sighed and stood up.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“You really are a pathetic criminal,
you know…” He walked out the door and saw a passing Sanctuary agent. “Will you
tell the Healers that they missed some injuries on that prisoner,” he said,
motioning back to the room before turning to Mist.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“There aren’t any cameras in there.”
Mist told him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Good.” Nixion replied. “Erasing the
tapes would have taken a while.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Mist looked at Nixion.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“We shouldn’t have done that,” he
said, bitting his lip again. Nixion shrugged.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“We found out that we have a traitor,
didn’t we?” In truth, Nixion was regretting it as well. He hadn’t enjoyed that
as much as he thought he would, which surprised him. Once, he would have loved
doing stuff like that. Was he changing?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“Yeah, but we didn’t find out who,”
Mist said. “And we basically already knew that.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“So what do we do now?” Nixion asked
him dejectedly. They had no leads, and had someone watching their every move.
Mist looked at Nixion.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">“We wing it.” He said simply. And
walked off.</span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Bell MT","serif"; font-size: 15.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>Zathract Misthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13949771210514269250noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-34101714672488534492012-04-25T14:47:00.002+10:002012-04-25T14:47:47.241+10:00Yes. Yes it is... notNo, this is not more Nix and Mist. Both me and Mist have had our hands full with plenty of other stuff to write. But this is a post to say I have finished both chapter 6 and 7, and they are being edited. I finished chapter 6 when we started doing other stuff a while ago, so that's why the two were finished but not put out at the same time. I don't know how far Mist is in the editing, but who really cares? I'm not sure how many of you actually read Nix and Mist anymore. Oh, and by the way, I want to ask you all something. How do you like Nixion, the character. Is he annoying? Funny? Boring? I would just like to have some feedback about him.<br />
That will be all.Nixion Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940998577242832277noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-54465430428533375112012-04-10T22:05:00.002+10:002012-04-10T22:05:53.711+10:00WHAT IS GOING ON?!<br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Goodbye Cruel World'; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 27px;">THIS is what's goin' on.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Goodbye Cruel World'; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 27px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Goodbye Cruel World'; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 27px;">So, quite a few things have been going on recently. I've started Battle for Blogland for one thing. I've started <i>another </i>story (but this is another collab. Blogland story so it will hopefully be interesting) and Nix has founded his "What If?" Blog. Which is awesome and can be found at whatifhuh.blogspot.com.au. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Goodbye Cruel World'; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 27px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Goodbye Cruel World'; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 27px;">Anyway, basically the point of this post is to let y'all know that Nix and Mist is going to be out, but probably delayed by...not sure how long. But hey, quality over quantity, right?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Goodbye Cruel World'; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 27px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Goodbye Cruel World'; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 27px;">~ Servus Mist ~</span></span></div>Zathract Misthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13949771210514269250noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-26984557241336265412012-04-06T16:17:00.001+10:002012-04-06T16:18:20.497+10:00Nix and Mist: The Collection Book CoverAnd because I got bored, I made a random one with both of them on it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://i1232.photobucket.com/albums/ff372/NeoZathier/NixandMistTheCollectionBookCover.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://i1232.photobucket.com/albums/ff372/NeoZathier/NixandMistTheCollectionBookCover.png" width="234" /></a></div>
<br />Zathract Misthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13949771210514269250noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-25500976845188593622012-04-06T16:05:00.001+10:002012-04-06T16:05:16.154+10:00Nix and Mist: The Infection Book Cover<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://i1232.photobucket.com/albums/ff372/NeoZathier/NixandMistTheInfectionBook.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://i1232.photobucket.com/albums/ff372/NeoZathier/NixandMistTheInfectionBook.png" width="234" /></a></div>
<br />Zathract Misthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13949771210514269250noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-46574917473962529542012-04-06T11:40:00.000+10:002012-04-06T11:40:16.598+10:00Nix and Mist: The Remaining Cover<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://i1232.photobucket.com/albums/ff372/NeoZathier/NixandMistTheRemainingBookCover.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://i1232.photobucket.com/albums/ff372/NeoZathier/NixandMistTheRemainingBookCover.png" width="234" /></a></div>
<br />Zathract Misthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13949771210514269250noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268270659509464403.post-92092815908694445062012-04-02T22:40:00.001+10:002012-04-02T22:45:19.097+10:00Statistics After Ch. 5<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-qLTRqR_hlP8caZAYstIJFCOel6-StQ_wRbmAker5ai0JIg4Zpi2dbll4Rovqrc3gPLhHuG8BP64y4wDpeqiFa4z2MZUFdLN6l9XXk2n2imdmiZ5qcW9fciRX8l7X-waUgJFoDXur49E/s1600/Word+Count.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-qLTRqR_hlP8caZAYstIJFCOel6-StQ_wRbmAker5ai0JIg4Zpi2dbll4Rovqrc3gPLhHuG8BP64y4wDpeqiFa4z2MZUFdLN6l9XXk2n2imdmiZ5qcW9fciRX8l7X-waUgJFoDXur49E/s320/Word+Count.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Goodbye Cruel World'; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;">EDIT:</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Goodbye Cruel World'; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;">As a side note, Chapter Five was the first ever Nix and Mist chapter after the first not to feature an event of Nixion's past around his torture/insanity cycle. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Goodbye Cruel World'; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;">Ch. 6 should be up soon-ish. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: 'Goodbye Cruel World'; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Goodbye Cruel World'; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">~ Servus Mist ~ </span><span style="color: #222222;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>Zathract Misthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13949771210514269250noreply@blogger.com2