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The Face of Mercy [Closed, OOC comments welcome]

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Evening along the windswept grasses of Middle La Noscea was always a thing to behold; a slice of beauty amidst turmoil. Chalk white cliffs stood persistently in the face of the sea's beating salt. The smell of the ocean filled the air; invigorating and clean. Even the fading purple light of the recently set sun could not dim the majesty of Vylbrand's coastline. 


Within the scene walked a single Elezen lady, resplendent in robes of  deep plum that did not seem at all conducive to a tramp through the countryside. Yet gracefully she glided, trailing long yellow hair from her head like golden smoke. A belt was wrapped around her rather small waist and from it slung a thick, neatly bound tome. The binding matched the color of her robes, but the pages showed the slight yellowing of use. Even the quill fastened to the other side of the belt bore the same color. 


Her face was devoid of makeup and possessed a gentle yet potent beauty. The selfsame countenance turned to and fro on a long, pearly neck to sweep startlingly bright blue eyes about the area. She was clearly searching for something -- or someone.

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Silent howls fill the highlander's ears, dressed in black garbs from neck to toe. An ebony jacket keeps Oscare warm in the cold of dusk, eyes behind a dark pair of shades scans the open ocean before him. Silently, he takes off his shades and peers up at the cloudy skies, searching for a star that might have pierced through the dank and dull bubbles above.


But there wasn't one to be found.


He returned his gaze to the ocean, holding one arms with a hand and watching the poor reflection of boring torment off the glistening and hopeful water, trying to find the sunshine just as desperately as Oscare was.


But the ocean was disappointed too.

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A breeze that swept from the land to the sea caught her; the robes flapped and snapped about her form and her hair riled and reached for the horizon. Whether by chance or by purpose she noticed the lone, dark clad figure, brooding in the evening atmosphere. Likely it was that the wind had carried the scent of peppermint to him; her favorite oil, always applied daintily to her neck. 


The discovery of her presence was inevitable; and so she took her time and made her way closer to greet who she knew was her quarry.

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The jacket tail follows the winds, Oscare doesn't even bother to face his newly acquired company. He lifts a finger up to his mouth and starts to speak,


"Hm. It's rude to not introduce yourself to an unfamiliar." Oscare finally turns around and puts his shades back on, hiding his eyes. "Much less when you're lookin' so suspicious. What, you up to performing a circus show or something? Or maybe you're looking to kill instead."

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The tall, golden haired lady offered a smile. It was the sweetest of smiles that truly met her eyes, still glimmering blue in the fading light. "You have my humblest of apologies for the rudeness, then. Where I come from, a lady does not introduce herself to a gentleman's back."


The smile did not leave her face as she continued. "As for what I am here for, it's the latter, I'm afraid. You may not understand the reasons, mired in sin and depravity as you are, but I offer you mercy in a cleansing death. Will you kneel and offer your life for the Fury's justice?"


Her request was sweet and casual, as if he was asking him to reach something atop a high shelf.

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Oscare fixed the adjustment of his shades, his purple eyes trained on tge woman. He reaches for the zipper on the top of his neck and slowly sheds off his clothed casket and grins, displaying a black with white furred-outline corset. 


"You still haven't answered MY question sweetheart." He sneers, opening a holster at his waist and brandished a standard issue pistol. "But the answer to your question is no. And I'll be glad to show rather than tell."

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She clasped her hands at her front, politely allowing him time to make his adjustments. Her eyes landed on the weapon and glittered with intrigue. "Muskets," she cooed. "Loud, crude. Truly, you are Maelstrom." No motion was made to the time at her belt, she remained in the poise of an attentive student as the wind had its way with her hair and robes.



"You already know the answer to my question. Your refusal to make things easier for yourself is regrettable. All I seek is to ensure that you have Halone's favor in death. If you wish to die unfulfilled and unforgiven..."


She open her arms in a gesture of mock helplessness. "Then there is nothing I can do to prevent your fate."

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Oscare rests his hand, allowing it to drop to his thigh and gives the elezen a straight look. He snickers, using the free hand to tap his temple twice and making a clicking noise with his tongue.


"I die in my own favor, not that of some Twelve god or goddess. I'll die on my own terms, thank you. I don't need someone to tell me when I should or how to die." He remarks, looking back up the clouds.

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Very slowly, she allowed her hands back into the modest clasp at her front. Her pleasant expression was well maintained; she seemed an avatar of patience. "You said that you would show, rather than tell. Have you the strength to determine how you live and how you die?"


As she spoke there was a palpable shift in the air about her, a disturbing pressure that was clearly identifiable as aetherial. It rose in intensity until the space that surrounded her began to ripple, like heat off the desert sands. Yet still, she remained in polite , poised calm. "A godless heathen cannot stand against the smiting of the divine. Show me, Agent; associate of Stormbringer, he who is Marked. Show me your fruitless struggle."

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Oscare points his gun to the sky, his eyes following the point of the pistol. He lets the machine fall again, but Oscare's gaze still trained skywards. "You know. Tonight would be a really beautiful night," he crosses his arms, the gaze finally falling upon the female elezen with a frown. "but I think you're ruining the scene."


He snaps a finger before replying in a sharp tone. "So I'll give you one last chance, skedaddle or else I'll make sure you regret ever coming and ruining the scene. Oh, and make sure you take the stupid clouds with you, they're clogging up my theater."

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The Elezen tilted her head in what could have been measured as intrigue. All about her the air shimmered and flashed, yet she kept her calm. "Your theatre," She mused. "I see. I will not accept your offer, because we are both aware why I am here. In that spirit, let us begin."


All the while she remained poised, serene; demure. The aether seemed to coalesce in front of her, rendering the tall figure into translucence. A faint image was wrought from the convergence -- tall, male in stature. Every tick that went by gave it shape, form and clarity until at last a highlander male stood between her and her quarry. He was dark of hair and skin, with a band of deep black across purple eyes. His posture was confident to say the least -- cocky, to be more accurate. He bore no weapons, but presented an ensemble identical to the other Highlander's. It was fitting, considering his form was identical to the others as well. He did not speak, but allowed the woman to speak on his behalf.


"If this is your theatre, perform for me."

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Oscare stares blankly at the other Oscare. "A failed copy of perfection? Just for me? You shouldn't have!" Oscare mocks, taking a single step back before take a full hop backwards and pointing his pistol at the illusion. "My name is Oscare Iono -- Ex Imperial sniper, Storm Captain, amd member of the Astral Agents. I will not tolerate you mock my name or the name of my companies. So I'll let you know two things." Oscare fires once.


"I wont let you past us anymore," ... he fires once more.


"And you could have at least made me sexier -- don't forget the shades!"

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The copy jerked as it was hit in the chest. Sticky darkness blotted the material that covered it. He barely had time to wince before the second shot opened a messy hole between his eyes. He crumpled to the ground, very dead. The Elezen woman, however, was nowhere to be seen. 


Suddenly, another body appeared within range -- also quite dead, with a visibly crushed chest. Roegadyn, dark skinned. Burgenheim. A female highlander came into being, face-down in a staining of thick, red blood. Camy. Next to her laid a Miqo'te, cut to shreds and identifiable only by red-dripping mask. B'ren. A short distance away a small pile of bodies appeared -- the most recognizeable of which were the blue-armored blond Midlander and the red-haired Highlander -- slashed and bled dry. 


Atop them she sat, not a stain in her yellow hair, her robes flowing as elegantly as ever. Her tome was open upon her lap and she held a feathered quill to it with a bemused gander. "You're an Imperial?" She mused, quite disregarding the 'ex', "Well then. This will be more rewarding than I had thought."

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"What the?" Oscare gasps in pure terror, looking around at the new arrivals. "Hah! Cheap tricks!" He studies each and every face carefully -- his comrades. Fighting himself was easy enough, but this was an all time new low. "Hmph. Well, I always wanted an excuse to shoot Camy." He brandishes his pistol again, taking a look at the pile of corpse. The red-haired highlander -- more than likely Berrod. The blue armored midlander remained a mystery, but that didn't matter. He shot once, twice, thrice, and four time at Camy, feeling a little relieved.


"Hooh! That was good," He let out, taking another far jump back to let the pistol cool down from so much shooting at once. He keeps his eyes trained on Burg and B'ren, however. It was time to play the defensive.

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The corpses shifted -- all but Camy's. One by one they stood and faced Oscare as their grisly wounds vanished before his eyes. Burgenheim, Berrod, B'ren, Grimm . The ones that had been lost in the pile were now plainly visible. Tarot, Draco, T'rhiko and Athe. The Elezen woman had vanished again, clearly content to leave the work to the stern-faced presentations of Oscare's colleagues. 


While Camy remained sprawled and bleeding on the floor the others advanced, not in a shamble, but at a steady march. None of them bore weapons, but their pace and the language of their motions indicated hostility. They closed the distance, narrowing the strip of turf between them and the cliff's edge. It seemed that they meant to trap Oscare between -- or worse.

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Oscare studied his position. A cliff behind him, and a bunch of lifeless zombies in front of him? His pistol was still cooling off, too hot to be of effective use. Desperate times called for desperate measures! Holstering his firearm, Oscare retrieved a snall black device from his belt with a WICKED smile on his face, violet eyes beaming at the coming crowd.


"It's time for a meat shower." He says meekly, throwing the grenade at his undead allies. A loud pop, and then a fireworks of red and orange ravages the land. Oscare adjusts his shades to defend against the new burst of light.

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A faint aetherial shimmer wobbled before the approaching group -- then the explosions sounded. Concussive and flashing, the only thing that saved them from being ripped to bloody and burnt ribbons was what appeared to be magical galvanizing. 


However, it did not stop enough.


Still whole, the individuals in the group were pelted backward and scattered, rolling roughly on the windswept grass. Some of them smoked -- and some of them were actually on fire. All the mitigation had done was make their demise less -messy-. Once again, Oscare's colleagues laid dead upon the floor.


Or perhaps not.


Truly, they were dead, but they no longer held the appearance of those familiar forms. A roegadyn in fisher's clothing here, a marauder in adventurer's wares there. Even two corpses that looked like...housemaids. Even the corpse that had been Camy's was Camy no longer -- instead a young woman as plain as can be, riddled with bloody holes from being shot at.


Civillians. Oscare had just gunned down and bombarded glamoured, innocent civillians.

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There was a moment of quiet as the clouds swept across the sky. It was strange; the Elezen woman was nowhere to be seen. There was another shimmer in the air, and the surroundings took on a momentarily hazy quality.


A crack appeared in the sky. Then another, seemingly in the empty space in the air ahead. The cracks grew in size until suddenly there was a loud, shattering din. The scenery fell away in pieces, as if it was made from brittle glass. Oddly enough, nothing changed beyond it. The view was the same...


Except for the pair of Yellowjackets a few yalms away. 


They looked on with expressions of horror which declared that they had just seen a terrible thing. One looked young, fresh onto the boat -- a dark haired Midlander Hyur, couldn't be more than a couple months above age. The other was young as well, but seemed a few years older. A pale Sea Wolf who was already muttering into a linkpearl. 


The younger of the two had his axe brandished, but everything about his stance was uncertain. He looked quite prepared to run and let the bigger fish handle things. The older managed to gain some semblance of composure before he addressed Oscare. "Stay where you are!"


The lovely Elezen was still nowhere to be seen.

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Oscare simply looks at the Yellowjacket crowd. Not today.


Oscare pop open a smoke bomb to cloud his escape, activating his wristlet to take a teleport away. Technology helped the man every second. Several pairs of civilians were shot dead today, and none of it even budged the man's conscience. All that mattered to Oscare were two things; his company...


And her.

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"Bastard! Wait!" The younger of the Yellowjackets cried with a lunge forward. He was yanked back by his companion, who abruptly smacked him upside the head for his foolishness.


"Don't, ye idyit! Ye wanna end up coolin' off like them?" The elder chided,  "I called it in, they got a description back at Coral. Cleanup crew's comin'. This is a mess like I ain't ever seen. Who knows what he woulda got up to if that Elezen lass didn't come tip us off?"



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