World Tree MUSH

    Caldeum, Jewel of the East! The city is the capital and seat of power in Kehjistan, the great eastern kingdom. It sits atop a long, flat plain that rises above the surrounding desert, the sun beating down mercilessly upon the hot, dry sand dunes. Despite the harsh weather, the polity is bustling with activity, trade tents and open markets lining the bazaar just outside the city walls.

    The architecture within involves a lot of white, grey and beige marble, tall spires and domed buildings. Libraries filled with untold knowledge await the eager scholar, and many come from far and wide to study magic here with the most skilled of the mage clans.

    Bare footfalls touch upon the ground as a stranger to the area pulls up over the sheer cliff face at the border to the plain and makes the trek, slow yet surely, toward the prominent standing of Caldeum. Headgear is minimal, clearly designed to kepe the radiant sunlight off of the face while a cloak-like garment is draped over the shoulders to protect an otherwise bare torso from the very same thing. The glint of metal at the stranger's side is clear to any observer of being armed with a blade. Posture is relaxed, although there is a bit of tenseness from the strain the heat puts upon one. 

    This stranger, though, stands taller than the average man and is broadly built, muscular, and likely a sellsword if not visiting on official trade business. More worrisome that that: the stranger is far from human. A beastman, this creature resembles a lion and scrutinous eyes pass over the wares presented at the kiosks outside the city walls as if looking for something in particular and not finding it.

    The locals are somewhat used to seeing strange things, although the creature does get a few looks. The bazaar is filled with all kinds of things from antique trinkets to food, clothing, and jewelry. Armed as he is, he gets a few merchants trying to sell him fancier and/or sturdier sword hilts. Or bows, or potions, or even extra bags.
    "Ah! Sir, you look like quite the fierce warrior, but what of when you cannot get close enough? Perhaps an iron-reinforced bow, or throwing knives?"
    "Potions! Potions of all sorts! Supernatural strength, stamina? Or what about this magical water, one drop and you will not find yourself thirsty for 3 days!"
    Everyone seems to be clamoring for the attention of any potential buyer, which is most of every passerby. But there is one empty looking booth with a lone man sitting there, just watching everything with mild interest. No wares, or advertisements, although there is a sign nearby that reads: "To all those skilled in magic--Join the Horadrim and defend Sanctuary against evil!"

    Direct eye contact is made with each merchant that comes into near cone of vision that wants attention for selling wares. Weapons only get cursory glances. There is disinterest apparent; something that comes with those who know their weapon very very well. The idea of potions and potables that have various effects do garner some meager attentiveness, but this curiosity pales in comparison to the notice of food. Unlike other stalls, the stranger pauses to look over edible goods when they are presented for sale (but where's the takoyaki?). 

    With hesitation and disappointment, even the food is ignored. Secretly, this makes the stranger all the more aware of his own hunger, but it can't be helped. He has nothing of which to barter! This is not the first new place that the creature has wandered in search for means of trading services for goods. So, when the barren stall with no goods for sale and only a sign comes up, it's only natural then that the stranger ignores the sign completely. 

    "What are you here for?" comes the bass-line masculine rumble of conversation from the lionman. A stalk of grass sticking from his mouth bobs with each movement of his jaw, although he couldn't have plucked that from the desert. It's not a native plant, at any rate. There is nothing aggressive about this delivery intended. An incline of the head denotes genuine inquisitiveness.

    The man is wearing the type of clothing one might expect to find in the desert, and appears to be around middle-aged with a slightly greying beard. A brow goes up at Rez's strange appearance, but he doesn't otherwise seem to be all that fazed by it. "Oh, nothing much." he replies to the question. "Just searching for someone who may be curious, brave, and strong enough to have a chance." At just what he doesn't specify just yet. "And what about yourself? You don't seem to be from around these parts."

    "Sore wa hantoudesu," comes an immediate acknowledgement of a differing tongue with the bobbing of that fuzzy white-maned head. While the meaning may not be imminently clear, it can likely be heavily infered as to what is being nodded along with. "I am not from here." 

    The shoulder-resting coat-made-cloak shifts aside as a broad arm lifts to point a finger off in a direction. "I came from the cliff," comes an admittance that alone may make little sense until the stranger finishes with, "after I climbed up here." Not once does the lion person turn his gaze away from the one being spoken to, even in this gesture. This stoic image, even in the potential absurdity for what is being implied, might risk a crashing collapse at what comes next. Facial features droop mildly. "I am very hungry now, but have nothing to trade. Does your work pay in food? What do you need? I can carry heavy things. I can stand watch as a guard. I can chop wood and clean things." Such mundane tasks to be asked after that some might find them laughable. Most lands don't need soldiers. If the stranger can read, he doesn't ask after anything mentioned on the sign. In fact, a discerning eye might note that the lion person doesn't even look at it. 

    "I would rather something that tests me, but being bored is better than being hungry."

    The man gives Rez a long look, his brows still raised. This was certainly...interesting. "Food? Well, if that is how you would prefer your pay, I see no reason why not." He nods toward the sign. "I seek the Horadrim's forbidden knowledge. Rumor has it there is a vast library hidden somewhere beneath the sands of the Dry Steppes north of the city. They are...hiding something there. I know not what, but I intend to find out."

    Those thick arms meet across the stranger's chest as they cross. "It is quite rude to go poking into somebody else's business especially if you know you aren't welcome. What is keeping you from going yourself?" What serves as a thoughtful frown plays over the lionman's face even as the blocked sunlight casts highly contrasting shade over the figure's eyes. What might make perfect sense to those in the political know may seem completely different to strangers unaware of current events. 

    "I am disappointed, but it is only fair to allow you a chance to explain yourself."

    "Hmph." The man also folds his arms across his chest at Rez's skepticism. "You do not understand, do you? The Horadrim claim to serve some sort of deity, even 'justice itself'." he says, scoffing slightly at the notion. "It is even more ridiculous than the ramblings of the Order of Zakarum. But I believe it is merely an excuse to justify inflicting any ill they deem necessary for what they -say- is the greater welfare of Sanctuary."

    "Now, either you want the pay I am offering, or you do not."

    One arm briefly pulls from its crossed self-embrace to gesture with an open-palm, bobbing the hand. The lion doesn't look entirely convinced, but his engagement shows some form of interest. "What do you mean 'ills'? If your neighbors are causing problems that are hurting people, then you should have started with that." The words are stained with a stern edge. The hand tucks itself back into that chestbound tangle, although the tightness of it lessenes enough so that it droops to the beast's lower chest instead. "Luckily for you, I need food. I will accept the task of your investigation, but I am unhappy with your presentation for this help. Perhaps you can think on this while I am occupied." It's technically acceptance?

    The man looks frustrated, his gaze averting for a moment, but he finally turns back to Rez and bursts out, "My daughter!"
    "They took my daughter..." Tears begin to well up in his eyes. "She was behaving strangely, and when I went to them for help, they took her away, saying they needed to study her more in order to ascertain what may be plaguing her. That was months ago..." he sighs, finally calming down a bit. "Every time I have requested to see her, I have been denied. And refused any further information regarding what may have become of her..."

    The stranger uncross his arms and leans back quickly in surprise and shock. "Your family?" he somewhat echoes in response even as the man explains something far more personal. The lion listens, concerned, and in turn offers a simple, "I take back what I said." 

    A heavy foot contacts the ground and an angry finger points accusingly at the man seeking help. "You should have started with -that-!" The creature disapprovingly looks away. "It's irresponsible as a parent to make hired help ask such questions about your hunt for information. Even if it has been months." Turning completely away in order to scan the surroundings, including the walls of the city, the fuzzy warrior continues speaking. "What exactly is it you want me to look for? Your daughter? In a library? Under the ground? Speak up. We're wasting time." The age of the daughter was never specified, but the stranger seems to be assuming something on the low end of the scale.

    The man sighs deeply when Rez chastises him. "Why don't you try telling a stranger about distress in your family, hm?" He nods at the last question. "Yes. But I have heard many similar stories from others...I fear my daughter may only be the tip."

    "There is a passage beneath the old Church of Zakarum near the heart of the city." He hands Rez a map, that seems to be marked in several places. "I believe it may lead there, if the correct path is taken."

    Turning back around at the offering of a map, a glance is given over it and the markings before the lion man swivels his gaze to regard the walls to the city and what must lie beyond. Eyes narrowing, that stare is shifted back onto the map once more. The beastman grunts. "Sounds good. I am very hungry, so we should take care of this quickly," resolves the wandering adventurer without fully understanding the scope of the mystery that is being examined. The outlander may not be the brightest torch. 

    Rolling up the map to tuck into his belt near his blade, the stranger holds out a large hand as if to offer a handshake. "My name is Rez. I was captured and held for ten years and forced into violating experiments and the only family I had was the daughter of the man responsible for it all. She taught me a lot, but her father was terrible, and she learned this the hard way and helped me escape." Distress in the family, is it? "....now, are you ready to go?"

    "I am Inan." The man says, taking the hand and shaking it. Another sigh. "I am...sorry that if I was not forward with you. It is...a difficult topic."

    But he shakes his head at that last question. "Go? Oh no, I will not be coming with you. I am far too old to brave such dangers." Wait, he hadn't said anything about dangers before.

    Funnily enough, the mention of 'dangers' doesn't seem to trigger any sort of alarm in the fighter. "But it's your daught- -how am I supposed to know what it is you are looking for if you don't know? Did you expect me to simply nod my head and march off with no other informati- -how many maps do you even have to hand out? ...how many people have you asked for help today?" Flustered, the lionman gestures in the direction of the city. "The least you can do is see me part of the way, Inan. Is that too much for you? You can always lean on me if your legs are weak from sitting. Or I can carry you." The gesturing arm retracts into a muscular flex.

    "Hmph. Fine." Inan gets up. "I will show you to the Church of Zakarum." He does not elaborate on how many other maps he has handed out or how many other people he has asked to embark on this dangerous mission. As they head out, Inan hands Rez a small glowing crystal, and inside of it seems to some kind of magically engraved image of a girl who looks to be in her younger teen years.

    The two of them pass through the city walls via the gates nearest the bazaar, and it's not long before the massive cathedral towers above them. Inan would take Rez through the front doors and into a courtyard. There is a trapdoor that he opens, and it seems to lead into a storage cellar. "The passage begins at this cellar. Go now, you may find me at the bazaar again once you have found her."

    If anything, this Rez person is extremely attentive. Keepsakes are tucked away and a keen eye is kept on nearby people each step of the way. He keeps close to Inan without essentially crowding as if the older man had a bodyguard. Once the journey into the city and into the Church concludes, for what attention it may or may not attract, the beastman nods. "I will see what I can find amidst these accusations of ill-doing." Sending off the hired help on an empty stomach, the lion reaches out to give Inan a firm pat on the shoulder before turning to venture downward into the Church Cellar to find wherever the passage forward may be hiding. No torch. No backpack. Just a strange furry man, his sword, his coat, a crystal, and a map. There have been worse starts to such dangerous investigations.

    Inan nods. "Thank you, Rez. I wish you good fortune." All right, no torch. But he assumes Rez has things well in hand. He knows this guy is an off-worlder, so he doesn't ask. Perhaps he has no need for a torch or anything to light the way. At any rate, the distressed father leaves beast-man to his own devices at this point.

    Sure enough, once Rez ventures into the cellar, he'd find a lot of crates, but also a hole in the wall that leads into the passage Inan must have been talking about. It's quite dark, and the sand can be heard hissing down the sides of the walls, which seem to be made of limestone or red sandstone.

    Rez pauses only briefly to inspect the crates in his search, but upon finding what seems to be the exit the cellar storage seems to be all but ignored. It is dark and Rez has no torch or other light, but he does possess grim determination. Who steals children away? How terrible. How can nobody step up to help out a father looking for a loved one, even if the suspected location has prohibited entry. It's one thing to want privacy and keep people out, but it's another thing to use privacy to steal children. 

    Clockwork thoughts jumble around in the warrior's head as he wanders down the passageway hopfully without needing to stoop. Rez has a hard noggin and he's taken out a few doorframe upper supports by not ducking enough. Fingertips trail against the stone wall to his right, nails scraping only slightly, adding to the soft sounds bouncing around in the confined space. The middle of the city and there are secret passages. "Why underneath a church?" he says to himself, bare feet padding along, too dark to really check the map although he -did- have a really good look at things, in case they were important. "I wish I had an apple. Or freshly grown meat straight from the tree." Grunt.

    The journey through the passage is mostly uneventful, but there are quite a few forks and junctions where he'd need to either remember the map, or perhaps use the faintly glowing stone to get a bit of a glimpse at it. In fact, if he didn't have a map, he would've quite easily gotten lost within the sandstone labyrinth. How exactly did Inan come upon the knowledge, anyway...

    Finally, although the opening was covered by some dried-out vines, the passage would lead out into a massive cavern, but upon entering he'd find it's not really a cavern, but more of what looks like a giant library. The walls are lined with shelves upon shelves of ancient tomes and books, as well as strange-looking trinkets and artifacts that glisten with magic.

    It's possible that Rez isn't quite as stupid as he looks, but it isn't until the first forking that it shows otherwise. It actually takes him a moment to examine the walls, despite the darkness, feeling over them in turn to allow information to be processed. While observing through looking is a more crude way to assimilate data, the lion's true nature allows a bit of a twist of memory recollection. That isn't to say the journey is perfect, but it does eventually reach a pathed conclusion. Strangely, Rez has no reason to question how the knowledge of such a path through the tunnels could have been gained by anybody. If the man's story is true, Inan could have had months of time trying to learn more. But, Rez has a goal in mind. He doesn't even think about how many others could have been sent on the same trip. 

    The revelation of the not-a-cavern would put many people into a frenzy to stuff pockets and probably ignore the books completely. Rez barely has pockets and as far as he understands it, he's not here to loot. He's here to look for information regarding a rescue. This doesn't stop the beastman from wandering about and having a curious look at things. "Not like the Public Library that boy showed me before," comments the lion to himself. "Those books had titles on the outside edges and the shelves had numbers." Slowly, yet not completely aimlessly, the hired help wanders forward. "Maybe a cage. Maybe need a key. ...I don't see any key- Oh, wait. Juniper showed me a hidden box that looked like a book with a key inside. Maybe I- Mmh. Too many books to check." 

    Still, as not to say he didn't try at least once, clawed fingers reach for a tome to crack it open and see.

    The tome Rez happened to pull is filled with runes and words in a strange, ancient language that he can't decipher. Dust falls out of it when he opens it, and the pages are so old that it feels as if they are going to crumble at a simple touch. But somehow they don't.

    Either way, books aren't the only thing here, either. Plenty of other mysterious artifacts fill this vast place. A few paces away, a crystal glows a pale blue color, floating slightly above a small end table. On its many facets are a myriad of strange visions, although looking at them is enough make one's head spin.
    Plenty of bottles full of odd substances of varying colors and textures, or what appear to be the body parts of monsters or something. Glittering jewels, and devices whose purpose couldn't be ascertained just by looking. No cages, though.

    Rez's footsteps echo throughout the vast chamber, but there is no one else in sight. That is, until he hears shuffling footsteps behind him, and a voice. "Excuse me, sir--are you looking for something?"

    At the very least, the lion is no senseless brute. He closes the book before finding the spot it was pulled from and begins to push it back into place. The swivel of an ear at hearing footsteps and a voice are clue that the uninvited person hears just fine. There is a pause in all motion and movement from Rez until he about-faces. His shoulder-draped coat billows from the swift precise movement with a rattle of a chain that is attached to it before it settles into place leaving the warrior to face the direction of the question. Eyes search, eyes focus, even as they reflect the image of the nearest wondrous item on display to the side. 

    "I am looking for somebody," Rez admits openly, yet he says nothing more just yet. Dressed as he is, there's nothing to hide and nowhere to hide it.

    The individual Rez would find himself facing appears to be an elderly man with white hair and a hooded grey robe. "Oh?" he questions, as he holds up a lantern with a dim golden glow, the last casting across the lion-man's features. "And who might that be?" he questions. "This is a library, as you might have noticed. Most come here in search of knowledge."

    The lionman blinks. Twice, even. "Discovering the location of this person would be useful knowledge gained," he replies. While he may look strong enough to break a tree in half, his posture doesn't show defensiveness, but he's very alert nonetheless. Where he's from, opponents can look like anyone or anything, some might say. Reaching to retrieve an item, the crystal given him is held up, but he makes no effort to close the distance. His eyes go steely. His voice is flat. 

    "I have been made aware of kidnapping and ill-doing and, in my investigation, found this place. Families are being hurt and I will not tolerate it. Where...is this girl?"

    The old man's eyes go to the crystal, examining the image inside of it. "Kidnapping, you say? Hm. And what led you to believe you might find her here? Has someone sent you to this place? This is the Library of Tal Rasha, leader of the Horadrim..."

    He looks away, trailing off for a moment, but seems more resolute when his gaze comes back to Rez. "The Horadrim hold the safety and protection of Sanctuary in the highest regard."

    There seems to be a certain amount of patience in listening to what is said. There is attentiveness, ears are perked, eyes focused. He does not willingly part with the crystal while allowing it to be viewed. That's his biggest clue! "Well, if you don't know- Maybe if I ask your leader, Tal Rasha, I might learn more about her location. If you take me to them, I can see about securing justice for the families in their losses." 

    The stranger stands there, no more inclined in posture to remain still than he is to follow after. There is another thought, though, which causes the next words added to be lower in tone. "Unless you are hiding that information: From me, that would be angering. From their families, ...unforgivable."

    Justice, he says? The elder listens to Rez, then shakes his head. "As I said before, the Horadrim are fully devoted to protecting Sanctuary from the greatest evils this realm knows and beyond. If the girl you seek is held here, it is with good reason. I am certain that if Tal Rasha were here, he would be quick to enlighten you as to the true nature of the circumstances, so that you might understand..."

    But as he is speaking, Rez might notice something has fallen from the ceiling. Or somewhere above, anyway. It seems to be a drop of blood. And if he would look up, the girl he is searching for is in fact up there, chained to one of the ceiling rafters. However, she is barely recognizable from the image he has. Her clothes are in tatters, and her spine seems to be twisted and deformed, with black spikes jutting out of her back and claws from her hands.

    "...tell me, stranger. Did the girl's father send you here?"

    "You ask me that, but do you even know who he is?" The drop is observed, but not exactly fully noticed until after the reply has left his mouth. The nagging detail finally pulls his focus away from whom is suspected to be the librarian. The distance is slowly crossed, and then he kneels, and he reaches out to poke at the splatter. "If you know who he is and can tell me his name I will answer you di...re...ctl..." Sniffing at the substance on his finger, Rez's words slow, stop, and his eyes drift upward. 

    "Nani?!"

    Eyes widening, lurching both backward in position and upward onto his feet, the bruiser has his sword -- an upsized tanto to match his build -- drawn out of pure reflex. His face is set like stone, so stiff that he almost seems to tremble, but it is not out of fear. It's a very clear mixture of confusion and anger. "What have you done? What vulgarity is this? Did you and your leader kidnap children to sacrifice to something such as this?!"

    The librarian sighs. "Such presumptuous questions..." As soon as Rez lays eyes upon the girl, he'd hear a small, childish wounding voice in his head.

    "P-please...help me...the soulstone...set me free..." it begs.
    Up above, the half-girl half-monster's eyes are fixated upon a glimmering stone set on a pedestal at the top of a curving staircase. It's surrounded by an iron fencing of sorts and seems to be inside of a glass casing, but it's nothing Rez can't smash through, right?

    "...no, we are not responsible for the girl's present condition. As a matter of fact, had it not been for us, she would have been long gone by now."

    "The girl?!" 

    The hand not holding the sword, still gripping the crystal, moves to his head. Fingers presses against the side of his head and rub. "This isn't right." His head turns, eyes briefly focusing on the object of pleading; his comment may be less about the situation involving the girl, however, and more regarding the voices he hears. He may not exactly be a biological entity, but that doesn't make much difference in extreme cases like these. It may, however, have other unforeseen consequences. 

    "Gone? This- This is the girl and you keep her alive? How can you justify this? You- You and your leader claim to serve Justice? This is not Justice. This is a perversion of justice." Rez is really and truly angry. His stony visage breaks into a scowl, teeth clenched, fingers gripping the hilt of his sword so hard they shake, and the only thing keeping him acting is the sense of dizziness that is washing over him. "You... Must... Let her go..." 

    The heavy sword clatters as it falls to the floor suddenly. The beastman stumbles as fatigue drains him and then visually glitches. His appearance as a whole shimmers, distorts, deforms, but oh so very quickly. Then again, twice more, in succession. Then, the lion crumples and falls to the ground with a thud. A bright light briefly illuminates his surroundings, shrinking in size, until the man is left with what appears to be a quadrupedal lion cub-like feline lying on its side. 

    It reeks of divine holiness and protection, a radiance like a lighthouse cutting through a raging storm in potency, from some divine source, unnamed, but clearly embodies the principle of sacredness, exalted as one of goodness and righteousness, in a way that the tall lionman did not display previously.

    "Would you have us slay her instead, to put her out of her misery?" The elder librarian asks. Then the lion-man transforms into... a cub of some sort, radiating strange energy. The man stares at the creature on the floor. What could it mean?

    The voice calls out to Rez again. "...p-please hurry...give me the stone..." The girl begs.

    Slowly pushing up onto all fours, rising, the quadrupedal leonid lifts his head to peer first at the older man, but then higher up to the creature above, before settling once again on the man. While the map and crystal rest on the floor near his feet, the sword that was dropped has since vanished. The smaller creature gets its bearings. "I feel...much better." His voice is different, much more befitting the expectance of something his general shape and size. 

    Now risen, the man present able to get a better view of the transformed creature, the band around the lion's neck is much more visible now. It's tightly around his neck; there's no way that could be removed and one might wonder how it got there in the first place, but the stone set within the band seems to be the source of such holiness. The presence of such a relic, much less such a creature, might ironically fit in well with all the other 'decorations' about. 

    "This is...embarrassing. I might be able to explai- SHUT UP!" roars the beast upward, more annoyed than existentially rattled as he was previous at hearing the pleas. His present form seems to offer some armor in ways that his other did not. "You. You and I need to have a talk. It feels like every hair on my body is standing on end and I want to know why."

    Perhaps surprisingly, when Rez shouts at the girl to shut up, the voice does stop, and she shrinks back against the rafter she is chained to.

    The librarian studies the creature before him inquisitively. It...seems to suddenly have a much different demeanor than before. Much more calm, and collected--whereas only a few moments ago he had appeared ready for a fight. Was it even the same individual? But it seems to remember its circumstances, anyway, so it seems a natural assumption, having just witnessed the transformation.

    For a few minutes, the wizened old man stands there, fixing Rez with a pensive stare. But then, a white glow starts around his body, growing brighter and larger as it engulfs him. Tendrils of light stretch out from his back and suddenly, there stands not an elderly human but something much more grandiose--an angel of the High Heavens, and not just any angel, but the Archangel of Justice himself.

    The very image of such a revelation is reflected in the beast's eyes. There is no small amount of amazement from seeing this. "That. Is. So. Cool." Colloquially, that is. Mouth open slightly, witnessing this rather amazing display, the liion creature then nods. "Good, you can Digivolve, too. I suddenly don't feel so awkward anymore, even if you are a strange-looking Angemon. I'm Rez. And I totally made a deal to find out what happened to this girl, for her father, which you absolutely didn't answer if you even knew his name and I haven't forgotten that." 

    For being much smaller in stature, he's still amazingly resolute despite his change in demeanor. "But you're like me, of course, so that means you've gotta give her dad some closure somehow." This is a Liollmon's stubborn face. The puff of red mane atop Rez's head helps add to the scrunch-muzzled crooked-frown in expression. 

    There is a crazy amount of similarity and assumption being thrown around all of a sudden. If anything, the change came as a defense mechanism.

    Tyrael regards the strange creature before him. To be honest, he is not quite sure what Rez is talking about, at least not for the first few sentences. But it doesn't come as a surprise, he often does find himself unsure of what off-worlders are talking about. Anyway, he doesn't have a face to look confused with, so none of this is apparent to anyone who isn't a telepath, and he'll just dismiss the first part of what was said and address the second.

    His voice is also different, now. Deeper and more resolute-sounding. "If that is what has become necessary, then inform her father that she has perished of a terrible plague." It wasn't -really- a lie. "Now go from this place, and speak of it to no one." Yes, he has been told he's a bit pushy before.

    "No." 

    Righteousness wells up inside the much smaller creature before the majesty of the archangel. "That's not good enough." He's bold, certainly, but he's not taking the cheap way out. "If it were that easy, you would have done so already!" A forepaw stamps against the floor, but it's not exactly an impressive sound: 'paff'. "Whatever you have going on down here, it's tearing families apart. People are weeping openly and desperate enough to ask absolute strangers for help. Now, I'm not saying I fully believe that any of this down here is good, but what's the point if you leave people broken and unhappy? Do they deserve such injustice?"

    The truth is, actually....he wouldn't have. Because angels in this particular realm are not quite as sympathetic or understanding toward humans as they typically are in the 'classic' depictions that permeate many worlds. Far from it, in fact. But in Tyrael's defense, he is the least insensitive of them all when it comes to caring about mortals. That's why he's even here to begin with and not lounging in the High Heavens not even thinking about the plights of Sanctuary. Still, human families? Not exactly something they have a good understanding of. They've been locked in battle against legions of demons for all of eternity--they don't think about a dad wanting closure on his daughter's condition.

    Therefore, Tyrael doesn't even dignify Rez with attempting to argue with him. Instead, he lifts slightly into the air above the lion-like creature and literally starts talking down to him. "You do not know with whom you are speaking. I am Tyrael, Archangel of Justice--and it is not your place to question my judgment, mortal." So -this- is the one these people were serving. As much as Inan thought it a fantasy.

    "Just because I may not understand what's going on here doesn't mean that I'm not entitled to question it when I encounter people in need. So, Tyrael, Archangemon of Justice, let me share a memory with you, not to be rude, but as a genuine reminder of context." The lion cub-like beast clears its throat and recalls some deeply stored data, reciting: 

    "Justice. J-U-S-T-I-C-E. Justice. To make sure that people get what they deserve. Justice, of or having the quality of being fair and equal. Justice, the principle of moral rightness." 

    Like a reverie, the recital ends and Rez's face, although bestial, betrays the emotion tied to that memory. "The point being, Tyrael, that you might be more powerful than the people you affect, but you have to consider them equals in the face of consequence, or else your justice is amoral and flawed. ...I can feel how powerful you are. You want to chase me away, have me lie for you instead of you making amends? That's not being just. That's being a- a BIG BULLY!"

    Tyrael is grumbling inwardly at Rez's prattling. As much as he cares about Sanctuary...it is often trying, listening to mortals who do not understand in the slightest. And cannot, truly.

    The angel's blank visage betrays no emotion, but he draws El'druin and points it at Rez. However, he does not attack yet. "You cannot judge me. I -am- justice itself." Yep, there it is. "I have existed since the very birth of this realm, and yet you, an outsider, consider your own wisdom beyond mine? Such arrogance." Pot, kettle. "Now go and do as I've commanded you--do not force my hand."

    It's a one-sided battle through and through. There's no way that Rez isn't aware of this. "And, in turn, you can't judge me. My soul, my very being, burns with the pure fire of Justice. We may live in different worlds, but that just means your ignorance of human needs and otherworldy matters brings error to your judgment. What are you going to do, fight me? In the name of your sense of Justice? I fight for the well-being and love that broken families deserve, that you disregard, and Justice -- True Justice -- never. Backs. Down." 

    Standing his ground against nearly impossible odds, the strange shapeshifter named Rez plants all four paws firmly on the floor and stares defiantly upward at the angelic presence before and above him. This probably isn't the best place for a fight, but any onlooker can probably agree that it wouldn't be much of one. "Do you even know his name? Do you know hers?!" It would seem that the lion creature is pushing very hard just for recognition of personal detail, for acknowledgement as much as importance, even though it seems completely trivial through other 'eyes'. At the very least, this is no longer about food. Still, he's braced for a blow.

    Tyrael stares invisibly at Rez for a good, long, awkward moment. The sword is lowered slightly in surprise. He has never seen anyone like -that- just...stand up to him, and not only that but challenge him to a -fight-. Not even demons. Does he -want- to get beaten into the dust? Does he not have even basic survival instincts? How strange.

    Seconds pass, minutes. But the angel just floats there, not moving. It's hard for the onlooker to tell what is going on, as the darkness under that hood reveals nothing.

    The standoff, for what of it can be called as such, leaves the smaller creature staring upward with a steady intensity. This outsider knows nothing of the politics or dangers of the world. He showed up, wandered, climbed an impressive cliff, immediately stumbled upon a call for aid, and now here he is. No other context. Just a man looking for news of his daughter among the others who also lost family. That's all Rez needs. As the seconds tick by, nothing changes. The lion cub-looking beast does not tire. He has no muscles to ache. He stands firm on all four feet, waiting. For what, he doesn't know. He's in no position or posture to be offensive, so the lowering of the sword -- even slightly -- does not elicit or provoke any sort of unwarranted attack. 

    "It's Inan! Eeeeee-naaaaan. ...say it!"

    Tyrael descends, touching down on the floor again as Rez insists he say the man's name. No, he is not going to give in to the demands and he is not going to fight this...strange, small creature. Well, relatively small, anyway. The angel withdraws the sword, and the glowing white tendrils of light that comprise his wings move toward the young lion and attempt to wrap themselves around him like tentacles. Yes, he intends to pick Rez up and physically drag him out if he won't leave on his own!

    "A man with most of his years behind him, too weak to press the fight on his own, father to a girl he has never given up hope on, lost in desperation and longing to see to her safety, openly bidding for aid-" Claws swipe at an encroaching tentacle trying to fend them off. "...he was alone! How long has it been since the mother left? How much of his life has he devoted to well-being and care? Everything he has done in his life lead to his daughter and now she's...she's gone!" Teeth click at another, nimbleness tries tries to evade. "Whatever you are doing, for whichever form of Justice you see fits best, for whatever reason you had to rip people apart, end their family, you cannot ignore that which has brought you to this moment." 

    "You will-" It's a struggle than even the super-quick Liollmon can't fully beat, but there's something about those teeth and claws that might seem far sharper than they should be. It's a very strange creature. "-acknowledge him, and-" Growls and roars and nips punctuate the movements of unending fight in this one. "-offer recompense, explanation, something, anything! Nnngh, let me go!!" 

Let me go. 

            Let me GO! 

                    LET ME GO!

    An avalanche of traumatic memory buries the beast as escape becomes impossible. Words, cries of need, all spoken to no avail in direct echo to his past. A decade and a half of imprisonment, torture, experimentation, forced to go and do as told, as commanded, as programmed. None of this could possibly be known by the archangel, yet the triggering of this trauma, the opening of this deep wound, causes the very image, the being, of the lion thing to shift, change, the color bleeding away to grayscale, hints of nightmarish deformity rippling over and through the defiant arbiter. This does not make the creature any harder to hold, but every mortal second spent is already an eternity to the digital, and the construct grows worse for it at an escalating rate. It doesn't take a programmer to see that this can't end well. There's already a growing heat, like a fire with no flame, radiating from the stranger. 

    Perhaps in Tyrael's efforts to be non-violent he has inadvertently done the one thing that leads to something far worse.

    "You will not make demands of me, mortal." And that is all the archangel offers in response to Rez's diatribe. The wing tendrils wrap themselves more fully around the creature even as it begins to transform again. Into...something else. A deformed version of itself? Or perhaps it is simply another form it is capable of taking, in its attempts to escape.

    Suddenly, the room begins to shake a bit, and there is a dull glow around the ceiling as some of the rafters move aside, and it opens upward like the shutter to a camera lens. The sand above swirls out of the way, forming a localized dust cyclone with them in the middle of it. Then Tyrael rises into the air again and flicks his wings upward at the same time as quickly letting go of Rez, in an attempt to effectively 'whip' the creature out of the Library of Tal Rasha and up onto the dry sand dunes above.

    And that, as they say, is that. Another troublemaker with mortal concerns discarded like as much inconvenience as can be from those too concerned with saving Sanctuary that they overlook the choices that will inevitably shape its future far down the road. 

    Only, it isn't. 

    The Holy Aura surrounding the ever-growing hotter beast disappears at the exact rate of the throw upward, but that might mask the streak of light that suddenly falls as a meteor with a downward force strong enough to somehow jolt the body out of its trajectory with an ever increasing velocity. Fist forward leading the direction, what was once a small lion cub-like creature has now changed back into the fierce warrior that first entered the library. 

    Flash Bancho Punch: A fighting technique signature to the lionman with the title 'Bancho'. It's not quite magic, but it might be parsed as such. There is, however, nothing mundane or mortally fragile about the sudden offense-driven drop. The being has immense strength; a miss would surely be enough to put lion's fist-sized crater into the stone itself. A blow might be sobering. Or simply angering. 

    "You cannot throw away Justice," comes the bassier voice stricken with annoyance and kindling embers of fury.

    Once Rez has been 'flicked' out the door so to speak, the ceiling begins to close back up, and the sand begins to settle as the cyclone starts to slow to a halt, but just before it manages to finishing doing so, the lion-like creature manages to propel himself right back down and through the closing hole and into the library, so that by the time it's finally fully closed, he's once again inside.

    And what's more, a super-strength fueled punched is aimed at Tyrael. The archangel draws El'druin once again--he didn't want to fight the creature, but it seems that was no longer an option. Anyway, the sword comes up to block the punch, pushing the angel back a pace or two but not quite staggering him. Once again, the tendrils reach out, but this time they are not quite as gentle. Instead, they seek to seize him by the wrist of the hand that threw the punch and yank him toward his opponent. Should that succeed, the angel would reach up and grab him by the neck, then hold him up in air slightly off the ground. "I do not wish to fight you, nor cause you harm. Stand down now, or else you leave me with no choice than to punish you for your defiance."

    The seven and a half foot tall beast doesn't draw his own sword even though Tyrael has done just that. As one of those tendrils seeks to grab him by the wrist, Rez responds to the gesture by aiming to rotate his hand and grab it in return so that he can give it a firm yank. Whatever this stranger is, it's inhuman strength might be comparable enough to the archangel himself. He's simply not going to allow himself to be lifted without increased violence ensuing. That much should have become obvious a mere moment ago. Any attempt is going to require more force and that's only going to lead to reciprocation. 

    "I will always defy Injustice," comes the response. If Tyrael seeks' to try to grab him with a hand anyway, he might be met with the lion's free hand in a contest of physical superiority. "If you want me to leave, it is only through Justice that it will be peacefully so. Come with me and tell that girl's father yourself that she was unable to be saved. Sometimes Justice requires amenity. You know the truth. It is your responsibility."

    The tendril pulls and Rez pulls back, but Tyrael finally gives that endeavor up, and withdraws it. "True justice requires knowledge of the truth--an understanding you appear to lack."

    Since it would seem Rez makes no further hostile moves, neither does the archangel. And now this creature even has the nerve to start giving him orders? "Do you command me, mortal?" The tone is slightly mocking. "If you are so obstinate in your refusal to take your leave--then let this become your prison." With that, he turns away, headed toward another staircase at the far end of the vast, cavernous room.

    "The truth? The truth here is that you are more a being of Pride than of Justice for every word that you have spoken to me." 

    For as insulting as the archangel seems to be to his unexpected guest, what Rez does next might be surprising: He follows along. "You call me mortal, but your lack of the truth of what I am also taints your judgment of me." It would seem that the lionman uses a tactic of turning Tyrael's points of argument around to use against him. "This is a library." The lion's stark white mane tussles in the matter-of-fact nod that follows a statement delivered as flatly and as firmly as possible. "As you might have noticed. Most come here in search of knowledge." 

    Oh, now he's repeating Tyrael's own words, but his tone is not sarcastic or mocking as Tyrael's tone seems to be. It's suggestive to the following point which comes with genuine curiosity: "Why are you here, then? If absolute truth is so important to -your- absolute Justice, then why are you not asking questions?"

    And Rez just...keeps talking. And following the archangel as he starts to leave. Does this creature not know when to give up? He stops at the bottom of the stairs, trying to decide just what he should do. He doesn't really want to hurt this creature, and especially not here. But, it just won't leave him alone, it seems.

    "What would you have me do, then?" he says finally, turning to face Rez and folding his arms. "I do not wish to argue with you, nor do I wish to strike you down. And neither will I speak to the girl's father. He sent you here--therefore, that is your responsibility. If closure is what he seeks, then return to him and report to him that she has been lost." He turns away again, starting up the stairs. "For now."

    The beastman pauses as the divine creature before him does listening. When he turns about to face the stubborn lion, the lion listens while slowly moving his jaw. These minute motions are amplified through the bobbing of the grass stalk sticking free from his mouth. The lion cub form thing didn't have it, so where did it come from again? "His name is Inan," comes an immediate response when reference is made to him, corrective and low, in casual interjection. He doesn't just blankly stand there, nor does he cross his arms. He's not being defensive anymore; he stands about as close as he conversationally can and runs clawed fingertips over the underside of his fuzzy chin in thought. So said, things all come full circle and it would seem as if there is no progress to be made, but one detail changes everything: 

    'For now'. 

    The bruiser takes a single step closer as Tyrael turns away, suddenly attentive and wide-eyed, and a bassy rumble half-grunts spoken words in such excitement. "There's a way to undo her change?! Why did you not say so from the start? You must explain how to me so that I can get more time from Inan to investigate."

    It almost seemed as if Rez were -finally- going to give up, as he doesn't say anything at first. But then, there was that 'for now' bit, and Tyrael immediately regrets saying it. He stops and turns around again; one can only assume that blank visage is looking right at Rez. If the angel had a face to look flustered with, that would be the look on it right now. Finally, he seems to give in, at least a bit.

    "Yes. What other reason do you suppose I had for bringing her here? If that had not been true, she would have instead been granted the mercy of a swift death. For to be possessed of a demon is to be tormented for all eternity. Furthermore, the mortals must not learn of demons' presence--in fact, secrecy must be kept as much as possible, for such knowledge will certainly bring about the destruction of Sanctuary. -Now- do you understand that my judgment is both noble and sound?"

    The look that colors the lionman's face is one of intense thought. It wouldn't take much to understand that there are many gears turning inside of Rez's head regarding the situation. It is absolutely not an expression of complacency. Mouth scrunching, grass bobbing, tail swaying, the coat the tall beast wears over his shoulders rustles from heavy fabric and jangles from the length of chain attached to the left collar wrapping underneath the left sleeve hanging free. Two fingers are held up. 

    "Two things. One, regarding the girl: I need to learn what to do to change her. I can buy time from Inan without giving away any of your secrets, but my goal was to bring her back if possible. I now know that it's possible. Reuniting them would be Justice for both." 

    One finger bends downward as the point is rattled off. For as stubborn as he has proven himself to be, this tidbit of knowledge is likely not something he will easily let go. That last finger, though, is shaken a bit. Rez is not the smartest creature, but by design he assimilates information to use as appropriate. What then he has to add next might, for such a musclehead, be immensely profound. He speaks it with an expression that borders between serious and dour. 

    "Two, regarding keeping this whole mission of yours secret: I am here." His brow raises uniformly as he says what Tyrael surely already knows. If this outlander is here, there are others, and not everybody will be so keen on keeping such world-changing secrets forever if they find out. "All the more important that you teach me what I need to know to provide Justice for these families. You may not be able-" That finger comes down, too, and if forms a fist that squeezes in emphasis, "-but I am." Ferocity burns in those blue eyes.

    Tyrael floats there, staring down Rez as he listens to what the creature has to say. This whole situation is rather frustrating. He really didn't think this individual was worth his time, and still doesn't, but it seems Rez just won't let it go. As such, he's beginning to think it might be worth it to just tell him everything, even if just to avoid unnecessary violence.

    "Understand this, mortal creature," the archangel begins, his tone severe and also slightly impatient. "Long ago, this realm was created by the union of angel and demon. Such sacrilege was not to be tolerated by my brethren, and had it not been for my own intervention they certainly would have destroyed it. However, should they learn that the demons have encroached upon it once again, they will surely rescind the prior decision to heed my request and send it to oblivion. Therefore, if you have any true concern for this family you speak of, you will do as I have commanded of you and simply inform them that she has perished of a plague."

    "Furthermore, if healing is possible--it is most certainly beyond your capabilities. The Horadrim are the only hope of restoration. That is why she was brought here." he reiterates.

    There is a bit of a nod, eyes closing for its short duration. "A war to root out and destroy a pestilence that plagues the world, capable of transforming loved ones or the unwary or the greedy, with it easier to destroy the hosts than to cure them, with an unchecked goal that would overtake the world or corrupt it so much that it needs to be destroyed. Mm. We have something similar in the world where I am from." How could a stranger possibly understand such threat of global destruction and admit to it so casually, if grimly? "If what you say is true, then you have much to lose. Still, I will not lie to Inan and bring him an unjust loss. That does not mean I need to tell him the truth." 

    At this, Rez draws his blade, but it's not an offensive motion. He holds it up, to admire it briefly, before turning the flat of it toward Tyrael as it is held up. "I may possess the spirit of a man -- Otokodama -- but I am not mortal like humans. I am a Digimon. The concepts of death and finite life that you infer so casually do not apply to my kind." The sword is withdrawn and lain back across a shoulder to rest behind his head. His other hand reaches up to point at the embroidered characters on the coat he wears over his shoulders. 

    "GAKU-RAN, what have you to say?" the lion says, apparently with named apparel. The sounds that follow are spoken slowly, carefully, and with clear enunciation: "'Tenjou tenge yui ga dokuson.' In Heaven and on Earth, I alone am the Honored One." It is not spoken with conceit. It is not bragging. Clearly, there is great nuance to what it means. "I am the highest in this world; I am foremost in this world; I am the best in this world, no matter the world I am in, because there is no alternative. Are you not the best in your world, Tyrael? You must be. As am I." 

    A satisfied smile spreads across the lion's face. It's philosphy. Philosophy! "Now, quit insulting me and show me what to do to help fix the girl. It would be an Injustice to turn my back on this...and you know it."

    Tyrael is -really- growing tired of this conversation. He's already revealed more than what he wanted to, and this is where he's going to draw the line. "It is no lie." he argues. "Demons are a pestilence, a blight upon this realm."

    He tenses slightly when Rez draws the sword, but relaxes when it seems he's not using it for any offensive purposes just yet. "It is you who insult me." he answers. "As I have already told you, there is nothing more you can do to restore her, for it is up to the mages of the Horadrim to bring her back to herself."

    The ceiling starts to move again, and the sand vortex above begins to swirl about once more. "Now. -Go-. Lest I banish you."

    "If not me, Tyrael, Archangemon of Justice, there will be others." The lion guy turns away and makes his way slowly toward a particular spot on the floor. "Pushing away one that understands True Justice out of fear will only cause you greater grief later on when you encounter problems beyond your databank of knowledge or ability to control." 

    Stooping over to pick up the map and the crystal, the latter is held upward to see one last comparison with the transformed horror above, if indeed she is still there amidst the exaggerated theatrics that, in all honesty, Rez can appreciate. "Lucky for both of you, I don't give up. Ever." Such is so to hold the honor of the title Bancho. The crystal is tucked away. "I'm going to go get some food now and then I'll continue my investigation. Whether I find more questions or fewer answers, I will be back to let you know." 

    The sword remains tucked over his shoulder and that free hand lifts in a wave behind himself as the hulking and hungry beast walks in the direction whence he entered. "I look forward to getting to fight you, Tyrael. It will be great training. Jikai made."

    Tyrael is actually relieved when Rez -finally- agrees to go. The angel doesn't have much to actually show it with, but he simply watches the creature take its leave, offering no response to its further arguments.