Hoja Mesto. The City on Legs. The Walking City. That is what it had been called, and that declaration was easily understandable once Caligo came within sight of the massive structures. The place strode forward on what appeared to be many legs made of stone pillars. They trampled the ground beneath without hesitation nor obvious care towards any creatures or other buildings below. All were trampled and crushed to death or ruin under the vast city. She watched it makes its way across the ground, having heard from the eavesdropping of others about the guards and fortifications against it. She would wait here until the sun set and darkness overtook the world. Then she would strike and head forth into the great moving metropolis. 

She had been drawn here by an unusual feeling, almost a magnetic sensation. There was something in the city, some sort of prey that was unlike the other mortals that resided there. Even from the vast distance, she could sense the difference. It was alluring and delectable, the odor resembling something akin to angels, and yet they were not an angel. She wasn't curious to find the source of the smell, surely other predators like her would be lured into them, whoever they were. It was like dangling fresh meat in front of piranhas or lions, it wouldn't be long before the other hunters in the vicinity picked up on it, and then they would all be competing against each other for the meat. No matter, she would just have to make sure she was first to arrive.

Underneath the tree where she stood, merging nicely with the shadows, she was able to survey the area unseen. She was to the side of the great city's path, so that when it got close, there would be no threat of her being crushed beneath. Her tail flicked lightly behind her, the bones clicking under the dark skin and tickled the inside of her back legs. Lifting her head, she lightly pinned her ears and flared her large nostrils, taking in the scents of the city. There were many races here, far beyond the standard norm. Yes, once aboard the moving streets in the dark, she could feast freely amongst the occupants. She inhaled deeply and if she had eyes and eyelids, she would have closed them so that she could savor the scent better. 

Instead, she focused both of her large empty sockets on the city. In one quick movement, she opened her jaws slightly, just enough that she could flick her pointed tongue out and moisten her teeth and lips before tucking it safely back inside her mouth. She could already imagine the taste of sweet fresh meat in her mouth. It had been a while since she'd had a good fresh meal. Her last few kills, short of a few rabbits and a cat, were mostly scraps and kills off the side of the road. It would be a nice change to have a hearty serving and feeling herself content, if even for a moment. She could easily picture all the men, women, and children going about their day in the city. Come dark, they would be relatively defenseless, unable to see what was directly in front of them and easily snatched out of the open spaces. She would only take a few if, given the opportunity, they wouldn't be missed by many. That wasn't a concern to her.

Eagerly, feeling her excitement build in her limbs, she shifted her legs beneath her, casually turning her lower legs below her knees into smokey shadows, tendrils of which drifted out a short distance from her body and wrapped around the rest of her legs. It had felt like an eternity, but now the sun was starting to set in the west. She took advantage of the dimming light and long shadows to move out of the cover of the tree. She felt herself fade even more so into the dark fog and drifted her way quickly towards the city, mindful of the pillared legs. Tonight she would hunt and for the first time in a while, be at least momentarily satisfied. She couldn't help a smile, her large white teeth terrifying in the darkness as she made her way up the ramp and into the street of the moving city. Tonight she would kill and she was less than excited to wait about it. 

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The constant peripheral noise of Hoja Mesto's motions resounded like a beating heart. Most who dwelt upon the golem's back had well tuned the noise out after some time. In a small house on the West side of the city, however, it was only this solitary sound that could be heard, as a family gathered by a bedside with bated breath. Daughter lying ill, mother, father, and brother watched with a mixture of feelings as Lazarus, a man whom they had met only moments before, treated the sickness as he had promised he could.

They watched the cleric with hope, but also with cautious discernment. Although skeptical, they had brought him all that he needed to prepare some sort of tincture. The poor girl shook violently, and she clutched Lazarus' hand when he lay a warm soaked cloth across her brow. Her gaze peered into his own, which he purposefully did not immediately return. His eyes were strange, he was well aware. Some who saw them felt curiosity or comfort, while others felt fear or revulsion. The Autumnal windows to his soul held an unsettling sense of keen perception within them, a trait of any eyes belonging to one who fathoms all things deep and terrible. One would expect the voice accompanying the fiery tapestries to be soft and wizened, but it was far from it.

"There, there…" Lazarus coaxed as softly as his gravelly drawl would allow. He held out his hand as the girl's father offered him the finished tincture. "Drink."
The young girl flinched at the bitter taste, but no sooner had the first drops trickled past her lips, her convulsions suddenly ceased. She sat up in the bed, much to her parent's surprised dismay, and forced the rest of the amber-hued concoction down.

All eyes were wide, and looked to the would-be physician.

Lazarus, with a smile, stood upright and observed the family for a moment. "Reckon I can use a touch of spare flint?"
The girl's father grabbed the box of flint from the hearth and ushered the cleric to the door, wishing to speak with him outside.

"How?" the man exclaimed to him while handing the flint over and shutting the door behind them. "Every conventional treatment had done nothing."

Packing a mixture of herbs into a small pipe, Lazarus seemed both amused and thoughtful, as though choosing words that could be understood before speaking. He turned and sparked the flint in the dark street, and inhaled deeply of the heady fume. It was not at all unpleasant smelling, sage being the main note, but he exhaled down wind away from his host respectfully nonetheless.

"Everythin'  in Creation is cause and effect. It's a world bound by rules. Though magic does muddy things a bit," Lazarus explained simply. "Ain't any exception, even with affliction. Rules can be bent, but not broken. Knowing what constitutes a thing, there are inevitably things that counter, balance, or intensify it. Et cetera. Many folk know that silver harms certain creatures. Many more buy into old superstitions. Almost none know the why behind reactions and occurrences. It's my purpose to know just that. To extrapolate, if you will."
Although appearing more confounded than before, the man nodded nonetheless, having gained at least some sense of insight. He was still unsure of the single treatment's efficacy, but Lazarus spent a good amount of time reassuring him before at last taking his leave.

Having spent the majority of the day aiding this one family, Lazarus reveled in the solemnity a simple night stroll brought. At first, he focused entirely on being unfocused as the lotus extract in his pipe made his mind lucidly swim. He felt the subtle pin prick on the back of his neck, the intuitive sensation of there being something amiss - but he mostly ignored it. It was a feeling that was all too familiar.

The city was magnificent. High buildings soared high into the sky, rocking lightly as the many-pillared legs walked below. It was very similar to being on a ship, the rocking back and forth just being easily adapted to with time and experience. There was no trouble getting aboard the city from the ramps. The guards weren't the most observant, so getting past them took minimal effort. Caligo stood near the wall toward the middle of the street, her form dissolving slightly into the shadows around her. She watched silently as she observed the goings on in the city. As it steadily got later, fewer people were out and walking around. She slowly turned her head as she watched a young man walk around and light the oil lamps that went down the street. 

The light was dim, but enough that shadows were still concealed well but people could still see enough to walk around. He got so close to her that she could reach out and touch him, her jaws aching to reach out and latch on, swinging him violently around like a ragdoll until the life left his body. But she refrained. Killing him would do no good, there would be more people to come and light the lamps after he was gone. There would always be more people to create light in this dark world. Though she hated it, she was powerless to stop all of it. For now, she watched him light the lamps and make his way down the street. A dull rumble echoed in her throat and she slowly looked up at the lit lamp high on the post. Even without eyes, the light was still blinding to her. In an instant, she reached up with part of her smoke and snuffed the flame. Again she was bathed in her beautiful darkness.

Slowly, she stepped forward, remaining near the buildings as she made her way down the sidewalk. Her hooves made no sound, but even in the silence, if one tried hard, they could still hear the faint clicking and clinking of her bones. Her nostrils flared as she took in the scent of the city itself, honing in on the individuals around her like a serpent. Her mouth opened slightly in anticipation. She stopped at the corner of a street and waited for her prey to approach. A small child, likely separated from its mother, ran past her, only a short distance from her feet. The temptation was too much to resist and she lunged out, her jaws wide and fangs ready. In an instant, her jaws closed on the child's chest and shoulders and were pulled back into the shelter of the shadows. The child only had enough time to give out a small scream before it's life was extinguished as easily as a candle's flame. Then silence.

The sweet taste was delectable, the meat tender and fresh. It only took her a short time to finish with the child, it's body small and easily digestible. It was satisfying, at least for the moment. After eating the entirety of the small creature and making sure to clean as much blood and remnants off the street as possible, she picked up the shredded clothes and threw them off the side of the moving city. They disappeared beneath the building's giant pillared legs and she turned to resume her hunt throughout the city. She felt stronger now, having eaten, her jaws open in a terrifying smile as she went. Her ears perked forward as she caught the scent of her original prey again. She paused, focusing on the direction, before racing towards it in a cloud of smoke. 

Lazarus' pace was slow, but deliberate, seeming to sway slightly with the subtle motions of the city. His eyes were shut, as though he were lost in some sort of private reverie; though he waltzed in a straight line down the narrow, winding streets of quaintly mismatched painted cobblestones. Denizens of the walking city paid him little to no mind as they beckoned their children indoors, for the hour was late. Occasional clouds of fragrant smoke trailed behind the cleric, shrouding his face and whisping about through his clothes. It was not a particularly frigid night, but amidst these vapor-laden breaths, his normal breathing also lingered in the air.

The herbal mixture in the pipe had the properties of both a ward against evil, given the sage, and one of transcendence - traditionally used in meditation for astral projection. Though in a euphoric and calmed state, Lazarus was, in fact, hyper-aware of his surroundings. He heard not only the voices of the people in the houses that lined the streets, but he caught whiffs of tea brewing, or of late, light suppers being served. Beyond this, there was more, a chaotic cacophony of sound. Voices that had no physical origin came to him. Some of them incoherent whispers, others mourning cries, or mirthful laughter. With the strange and ancient nature of this city, there was an abundance of restless energy woven into it. It was mostly benign…not anything like somewhere such as Kurayo, that was bathed in hostility, tragedy, and death.

As if summoned by merely dwelling upon it, a familiar, violent pricking of his senses caused Lazarus to stop in his tracks. The pins and needles on the back of his neck was far stronger in this moment, and coursed down to the base of his spine, giving him unpleasant gooseflesh. Oblivious, the young lamp lighter for the neighborhood strode towards him and passed by, cheerfully attending to his duties.

Mullions on windows nearby cracked from the force which shutters were closed when one of the lamps caught the glint of metal being drawn from the visitor's person. From beneath his long dark coat at his side, Lazarus withdrew a rather mundane, though quality hatchet. The axe head was heavily worn and blemished, but dutifully sharpened. The cracked mahogany handle was stained with various rust-hued shades, and was wrapped with fine leather cord, which fastened frayed raven's feathers just below the end. Altogether, it was rather unremarkable. Like the rune-etched whale bone that hung about the cleric's neck, however, it was a fair assumption that this simple tool held more power or significance than assigned to it at first glance.

Tapping the still smoldering ash from his pipe into his palm, Lazarus then rubbed his hand along the flats of the axe, focusing intention and whispering a consecrating incantation to the implement as though it were an old friend. The blade began to emit a soft, pale white glow, akin to moonlight reflecting off a tranquil lake. The feeling of imminent wrongness was so close now he could taste its foulness on his tongue. Willing a barrier against it, he held the old hand axe out  towards the dark street before him, causing the blessing upon it to flare blindingly.

The cloud of smoke rolled quickly through the city. It went by as silently as a cloud, but with a speed greater than any mortal beast. If one listened close enough, they could hear the soft rattle of bones as Caligo made her way through the city. The shadows that followed her overwhelmed the small flames in the lanterns and caused the streets behind her to become plunged into darkness. People who saw her fleeting shape racing by were either terrified or confused, both by her presence and her physical abnormalities. She paid them no mind, the source of her desire was worth more to her than all of them combined.

The scent became stronger the closer she got to the source, her nostrils flared and her head down, tracking the earth like an unearthly hound. Her ears perked forward as she jumped eagerly towards it. Her body shook in its violent fervor. The presence alone was driving her into a frenzy, she looked frantically at both sides of the street, searching for it. She paced back and forth across it, her breath kicking up dust up from the stone. She paused a moment, holding her breath for a short time, before running towards it again. This time, as she made her way around the corner of the street she saw him. 

She stood upright and stared at him. A younger man, judging by his face, but not terribly tall and yet, incredibly stocky for his size. He wore a heavy coat and thick clothes, with a large hat upon his head. His aura was unusual, causing her suspicion and skepticism. She growled deep in her throat, sensing something bigger going on, feeling like the man himself was some sort of bait. She had walked the earth long enough to recognize a trap when she came near one. Men were simple creatures. Easy to read and understand and see through their intentions. This one would be no different. 

Carefully, her attention both on the ground around her and the surrounding buildings, she made her way towards him in a large arc. She flexed her neck and raised her lips, flashing him her long fangs and sharp tongue. Each stride was precise and slow, her tail flicking behind her, making a quiet clicking noise while the tendrils of smoke floated around. Slowly, she made her way closer to him. After what felt like a long time, she decided he was not bait for a trap, merely a very unfortunate individual. With shocking speed, she lunged forward, fangs extended to sink her teeth into his sweet flesh. It was only then when he turned, showing her the bright light that shown from the blade of his ax.

An unearthly scream escaped from her throat as she stopped in a flurry of dust, smacking down on her haunches and backing away hurriedly to get away from the soft glow. Holy objects and beings, though lacking eyes, were still blinding. The very sight of it pained her, even though she didn't have eyes to see it with. Her smoke and shadowy accompaniments retreated with her, going no nearer to the man than she was herself. She bared her fangs and made small sounds like a screech and a growl put together. She paced back in forth in front of the man, but this time going no nearer, remaining a safe distance away. What trick is? She hissed at him. Religious or shamanistic?

Lazarus' expression exhibited a sort of inquisitive calm as the specter of smog rounded the street corner, barreling towards him. The creature, that revealed itself to be an equine plagued with what he assumed to be some state of undeath had halted and let out an unholy shriek when the light of the blessing he had cast touched it. Accompanying this were shouts and screams from nearby onlookers coming from the windows and doorways that lined the street. Lazily hacking at the air before him, the consecrated weapon crackled and flared once more. What smoke did not recede back towards its origin was cleared from the air around the cleric, and he narrowed his eyes at the thing that now impatiently paced in a predatory manner.

The cleric did not move an inch, only following the creature with his gaze. He did not react to the rancid voice invading his thought space at first. "No pig in a poke here, Charger," Lazarus remarked at last with a sly grin, his gaze locking with the hollow, yet intense stare of the preternatural being. "I am but a humble friar."
This statement was a wee bit more on the sarcastic side. Boldly, he stepped towards the skeletal beast, holding the glowing axe out before him like a lit torch. "I declare, one might reckon what brings a thing of your stature 'round this neck of the woods. If that might be little old me, I'd prefer we have an honest go of it out of the city. You're making the folk here more anxious than a bunch of long-tailed cats in a room full of rocking chairs."

Thoughtfully looking theaccursed animal over, Lazarus lowered his weapon respectfully, though the ward between them remained. He scratched at his beard. The bemusement never left his features. If he weren't entirely certain he would lose a hand doing so, his demeanor suggested he may well have reached out and pat the creature on the head. "Succulent a morsel as I might seem, I guarantee you'll find easier query elsewhere. I don't interfere with the natural order…within reason. Though….bless your heart, if you're fixin' to sate a bottomless hunger here, we're going to have a real problem."

Never one to lay all of his cards on the table at once, Lazarus still intended to show he meant business. The effects of the herbs still swimming in his head, he let projection take hold momentarily. Rapidly, he moved adjacent to the strange horse, his body seeming to vanish and shimmer momentarily. The sounds of rustling leaves followed the short range blink, and the the sacred light upon the hatchet seemed to grow in intensity. Frost had appeared to form in an instant in his whiskers, and he huffed in exasperation. "I don't suppose I can reason or make some suggestions? Surely you've some redeeming qualities. I'm far too tired to make a mess of things. You got a name?"

The man was a strange one, not from any region of the world she'd ever been before at least. Falling silent, Caligo watched him intensely as he swung the glowing axe through the air, the holiness of the instrument cackling in the air before her, forcing her to retreat a step.  She blew air heavily through her nostrils, flaring them and lifting her head high. Angling it to the side, she was able to take in the full sight of the man before her without a blind spot in her view. Her ears flicked back and forth anxiously, unsure of this man. Though young, she sensed in him power, a foreign type of presence alien to her.

If she had eyes, she would have squinted at him when he spoke. Unlike most men who confronted her, she did not smell fear upon him, betraying his bluff. He stepped towards her, the movement surprising her, and she bared her teeth and growled at him. Her ears pinned flat. When he advanced no further, she calmed slightly, loosening her ears and letting them drift forward and letting her growl dissipate. The man continued to speak, his voice still calm and even as it was initially, which was simultaneously surprising and unsettling. Fear she could understand, for she had instilled fear in many before, but this form of boldness was of a type she rarely ever came across. She decided, that even though she still lusted for the taste of his flesh, she would let him remain. For now at least. 

He gave a slight pause, scaring her as he momentarily disappeared and then reemerged out of thin air next to her. She shrieked and spun quickly away from him, taking her cloud of darkness with her, several parts of which too slow to move were promptly dissolved by the brightening light of his ax. She snarled at him, her fangs extended as her head snaked out towards him from the dark. She stopped a short distance from him, still prepared to strike a lethal blow to the moral man before her. He was powerful, yes, but she had yet to meet any man or creature who could overpower death, short of a god. And even then, their power and immortality would surely end eventually, as was the natural course of things.

The man finished speaking and she stared at him without saying a word, her mouth open and fangs still at the ready. She was only a short distance from him, if he had the bravery or the foolhardiness, he could very well have extended a hand to pet her on the nose. Though still in pain from the holy ax, she remained within such a range, ignoring the searing pain in her skull. It does appear we are at an impasse, humble friar. Her tone for the last words betrayed her sarcasm, but the first part she was still serious and sincere. I can strike you a fatal blow as easily as you can me with your holy instrument. Life and death mean little to me, for I have seen both, each as damning as the other. From your apparent boldness, I can only question how much or how little you value your own life. Though the fact that you are attempting to defend yourself from me shows that you at least care about it.

After a moment, she closed her jaws but remained showing her teeth, should he try anything, she'd still be more than ready and capable of dealing him a mortal wound. She dropped her head in order to look at his face directly with her empty sockets. I'm sure your flesh is the most delectable of all, for it almost shocks me that you have managed to survive so long while existing with such a magnetic presence. For it is you that has lured me in from a great distance, better than any magical mean, trick, or trap. What is this about you that is so alluring? Even now as we speak, I struggle to refrain from indulging in your sweet flesh. As for a name, I have gone by many. Those that live in different worlds call me different things; Shadow horse, the Plague, the Chaos Charger, the Mortis Mare, Persefoni, and Thana. In this world, my name is Caligo. 

Affixed, Lazarus' curious stare did not waver. Even as the sky rumbled above, and droplets began to fall, he listened to the harsh voice that echoed in his mind. His focus, conscientiously hanging upon every word, was unfeigned, and unfaltering; even as this…Caligo lashed out at him and threatened him - both verbally and physically. "Lazarus. Just…Lazarus," he obliged her after some pause.
"If it doesn't matter to you one way or the other, perhaps I should just put you down now," the dark cleric quipped. His tone was far from menacing, still intent on building rapport, or getting a point across. "You would stop me though, would you not? Though partially un-living, I doubt you yourself would take kindly to having your continued existence snuffed out. Ain't no such thing as a critter, person or no, that truly has not a care in the world. Preservation is a doozy."

Commentary of how enticing he was seemed only serve to amuse him further. "I suppose I'll take your hunger as a compliment. Though, I can't rightly take credit for things that are beyond my control. I wouldn't recommend having a taste…for both our sakes. Mainly yours. The last to sneak a nibble was a lycan, and boy did it ever give him some conniptions."
Lazarus unconsciously rubbed at his shoulder in reminiscence of what he spoke of. Straightening up, he leaned his head to one side, cracking his neck. Despite the danger Caligo posed being so close and clearly on edge, his demeanor remained at ease. This had ulterior purpose beyond mere potential diplomacy. Rigid muscles and a stiff stance made it difficult to react quickly.

"Life ain't so bad," Lazarus continued, wading in his sea of musings. Whether Caligo cared for the conversation, it mattered not. They were at a perceived stale mate, and his wards kept her at bay. Either she would stay and participate, or lose interest and find easier prey, thus inevitably incurring his wrath. "You clearly possess ego and intellect. That means purpose. Surely there's more to it beyond death, and the need to feed. I'm givin' you the benefit of the doubt, despite knowing you've already claimed one unfortunate soul." Indeed, that singular disembodied voice in his mind, beyond any other, rang clear. It was a young girl from what he could discern. The strange horse, truly an effective hunter, had likely ended her in seconds. Her spirit, he sensed, had not yet come to grips with what had happened.

"Death ain't so bad, either. At least speaking on its mistress' behalf. Lovely woman…" Lazarus trailed off. "Tell me…regale me…what was your purpose in worlds before?" he suddenly intoned rather ceremoniously, his voice seeming to lose some of its characteristic twang. Rain had begun to fall in sheets now, but it didn't seem to bother him. "If it is misery that compels you, bitterness for what was lost…" He stopped mid-thought as alarm bells rang throughout Hoja Mesto. The sound dis-harmoniously started nearby, a few streets over. Rope having been yanked with urgency, the clapper at first flatly quelled the bell's resonance. Soon, however, the entirety of the city reverberated with the toll. Even this did not break the cleric's attention. He held up his palm, perhaps comically, in gesture to steady Caligo as though she were an ordinary spooked mount. Obviously, he took care not to let his hand wander too close to her bony maw.

"You've a decision to make now, it seems," Lazarus hastily pointed out. "The Archon's guard are not as merciful as I am, and are well-acquainted with dealin' with more of a mixed bag of the supernatural than I am. You won't stomach them all."
Jaded and blunt a creature as Caligo seemed, he half-expected her to simply flee or lash out in a last stand. With implication that this conversation could continue to greater depths, he hoped to appeal to her curiosity with his novelty and his palpable assumption that there was more to her than there appeared to be.

Caligo tilted her head to the side as the man, Lazarus, spoke to her. She puffed air through her nostrils as she contemplated his words. Death is not as permanent as you believe it to be, I'm afraid. Your namesake is proof of that, for he was a man who died twice. The body dies, for it can not last forever. But the spark, the light, the soul, it never truly dies. Most are released from the endless cycle of death and rebirth when their bodies fail. For someone like myself, the gods will not be nearly as merciful. You could slay me now, destroy this body and set my soul free, if only for a moment. Though not for eternity. In no time, I shall be bound inside the body of another until it too is destroyed. Such is the half-life of the damned. 

I will always be, in one form or another. In the shadows of a great city, in the nightmares of children, the darkest corners of a broken mind. Where there is darkness and fear, I shall always reside. She was silent as he spoke some more. Her gaze was diverted as he made a motion in correlation with his words before she returned to looking at his face. She let her lips slowly slide down over her teeth as she perked her ragged ears forward. He seemed more interested in speaking than engaging in a conflict with her, and frankly, his words had caught her interest and she let them derail herself from her original intentions. She raised her head at the mentioning of the child she had already claimed for the evening. How could he know about that?

Suddenly, interrupting his voice, a loud alarm went through the city. She looked up at the sky and the towering buildings around them. The rain was starting to come down more heavily, soaking her body, even though she could not feel it. The wetness made her thin skin appear almost scaley or slimy in appearance as if she was now composed entirely of tar. A low growl echoed in her throat, more out of annoyance than anything else and was momentarily surprised at Lazarus's attempt to reach out to her. She shuddered a moment, creating a ripple effect through the smoke near her body. What the man before her said was true. There were likely too many for her to protect herself at once, though it would be fairly easy and simple for her to fade away into her surroundings and disappear if the need arose. However, as of now, she was more interested in continuing to speak with the man named Lazarus.

I suppose it would be in our best interest to get out of the street. Extinguish your light and come with me. She walked towards the buildings, glancing back to see if he was following her. She would be a little disappointed if he didn't, but she still had to disappear for the time being in case the guards appeared. Between two buildings was a narrow space, dark and empty, but not so tight that she couldn't turn around if need be. Once in the darkest part of the alleyway, she allowed herself to disintegrate into the shadows of the building. She was near invisible in this form, only her teeth, should she choose to open her mouth would reveal her presence to any that didn't see her disappear. She looked at Lazarus. Light can not rest side by side with darkness. You have piqued my interest and some respect, so I shall not harm you.

After a moment, he came and stood next to her again. She inhaled his scent, her nostrils flaring as she looked at him again. A lifetime ago, I was a simple beast. Strong, proud,  beautiful. In time, I despised servitude, being a beast of burden insulted me. I worked and toiled for man's gain. This loathing became hatred and I desired to conquer those that would subdue us. I met an angel, who felt that way about being subjugated by the gods above as well. So we joined together, in a joint effort to defeat our masters. We gathered a vast army and fought in the land of the gods, to our inevitable defeat, our side taking heavy losses. Myself, my kin, and my companions were thrust from grace. Those that perished were the lucky ones. The hatred and corruption in our souls manifested itself on our bodies, stripping us of our beauty and sight. We became the creatures you see before you now.

In a way, the curse helped me to fulfill my original desire. In this body, I can subdue those before me, both physically and mentally. I can kill, as you must have sensed earlier, but I can also create madness and destroy a person from the inside. I can appear in dreams, haunting visions, my voice I can project great distances and can direct and corrupt the minds of those far away from me. The dark recesses of the mind, where people fear to tread. I live there, waiting, always waiting for the right moment. That is my purpose now, to create darkness, and sin, and sadness, and fear, for light needs darkness in order to exist at all. That is the task I carry out in this world and it is a burden I will always carry until my judgment.

Listening carefully to Caligo, Lazarus could not determine with complete confidence if she were proud of the purpose she fatefully espoused, or regretful. Casually tilting his hat down, he meandered after her as she shambled betwixt the rows of houses into a dark alley. As per request, he did not hesitate to dispel the light upon the hatchet. He snuffed the light out with a muttered word and a dismissive wave. In truth, the weapon and the blessing were not entirely necessary. Not for a creature of Caligo's sort, if things had come down to confrontation. It had served its purpose in affording him time for diplomacy…and he would trust the dark creature….for now.

"I beg to differ on several counts," Lazarus whispered with grit to the inky blackness with a face that his debate partner had become. Speaking directly to the mind as she did would be useful in this scenario, he thought in passing. It was a talent that he could likely develop, given his foundational abilities…but he had no interest. He knew the hearts of beasts and men as it were, from experience. He did not wish to peer into their thoughts. "Judgement and prophecy, like life and death, is not as etched into stone as you might think. As well, light dwells within the dark, and the dark within the light in every facet of existence. Ours is a world of disparity." He searched the void carefully to no avail, relying instead on intuitive feedback, as he would when communicating with a spirit that tried to hide itself from him.

"Funny thing that you should mention my handle," the cleric quietly mused. "I've died once as well…though, I don't rightly recall. That could be said for much of my life." He paused with a smile. "We're not discussin' me though. This is all about you."
He fell silent as guardsmen cautiously passed down the road with torches. He was not as well-hidden as Caligo, but his dark clothing did well enough. He was grateful that their watchful eyes did not stray to the alley, however, as the light from their flames traveled just enough to glint within his own for a second.
"You are not the same creature that you once were, that is evident. You are not bound to purpose though, either. No more than I am to my profession. I was chosen, but I did not have to choose this life. Did you ever once consider using your curse for the betterment of the world? Your sense of justice in such a reality would be harsh, to be sure…though I can confidently say we wouldn't be at odds any longer."


In a way, this steed had tragically become like the many wights and wraiths that Lazarus had encountered in his time. No soul though, however twisted by hatred, was beyond redemption. The curse had roots in the Gods' power, but the Gods were created players of parts in this reality just as any mortal was. They could manipulate reality, but they were not the primeval weavers of it; thus, anything that they had done could be undone under the right circumstances. He knew this to be truth. "Deliberate pursuit of good would not upset any balance any more than what you're doing at present, I reckon," he uttered a bit louder as thunder roared above. "Every soul has something wholesome it values. Hell, I've met devils that fear other devils, and see to it to help folk. Any shackles of one's perceived nature are pure imagination."

Lazarus' tone was somber as he spoke. His autumn gaze seemed to glow faintly in the darkness. Again, his voice was strangely absent of any characteristic tinge for a fleeting moment. "Food for thought. I cannot force you to hear me out. If you decide you are Hell-bent on embracing such a purpose, I fear this conversation would be over." Having been nothing but accommodating up to this point, this last note unmistakably had an air of a threat to it.