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Quote from the story/poem here. Mistakes will be in bold and numbered.

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The damp, dry air was stifling. The 1. peat-like ground was moist, muddy and let out putrid fumes with the scent of decay. It felt like walking on tar; the 2. soles of their greaves 3. dirty with the unclean soil. The 4. "BadLands", true to its name, was a hellish wasteland. Still, the group trudged on. Their armor made loud, clinking sounds as they went. Two of them were knights, bearing the royal insignia of Swordhaven. One of them was a hooded man, 5. garbed in priestly robes. He carried about a huge backpack full of indecipherable wares, and by his side were a number of dusty, moldy tomes. Leading them was a short, blond haired girl in shimmering silver armor.

They 6. have been journeying for seven days 7. now, with little rest and sleep. Three of their knight companions 8. already fell to 9. sickness, hunger, and to the harsh environment. However, they 10. persevere. Their leader, known as Jeanne D'Arc, 11. is inflamed with great surreal passion. Her teal eyes shone with dedication and 12. will to endure it all. 13. They must succeed, she thought. Her companions, despite 14. the odds heavily against them, 15. honor her decision and comply without doubt as they continue to blindly search the barrens. Except one.

"Captain...Are we really sure he is here?" 16. one of the knights, croaked in a dry, raspy voice.

"You doubt the Order's knowledge, Sir Vice 17. ?", snapped the hooded man.

18. "N-No,...I-"

"Or maybe your weak willed mind is starting to submit to this accursed land19. ? ", the man growled, his eyes burning with anger.

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"Enough, both of you." 1. interfered Jeanne "Our mission is to hunt and execute the traitor, Sir Pulchure... 2. '. She adds, "...If Sir Vice has fallen into the enemy's dark temptations, I will be the judge of that. 3. For now let us not tarry any longer."

The others momentarily fell into silence. They nodded, and moved on.

An hour later, the party 4. is still on the 5. move; relentless to their cause. By now, the wind was even 6. drier and hotter. The humidity worsened with each passing minute, the gaseous odors fuming from the cracked, muddy earth was now too suffocating and foul to be even breathable.

"I-...I can't do it anymore..." gasped Sir Vice. At long last, the weary knight fell to his knees, wheezing and coughing.

"It was only a matter of time." said the hooded man. "Just goes to show how you frail imbeciles are so weak in faith, how you fail to see the great picture that matters most; that we must not fall short before our holy king! Not even trivial matters like weariness must extinguish our souls in carrying out his divine will 7. !", he exclaimed.

8. Sir Vice barely listened to his words, who was by now on the verge of collapse. His fellow knight held him up straight and made him sit to catch some air.

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"C-Captain...Please...We must go back..." 1. pleaded Sir Vice.

The hooded man continued with his 2. furious rants.

"Silence, inquisitor." 3. snapped Jeane.

Jeanne walked over to the exhausted Sir Vice. She knelt until her face came into level with the knight's teary eyes. She extended her arm, and gently gave him a pat on the shoulder, with a vague expression that could somehow be interpreted as a faint smile.

"Come. Rise up. You all know too well that we cannot fail in our quest. We have trekked too far from the safety of our kingdom to even consider returning. There is nothing left for us but to end Sir Pulchure's treachery, even if it costs us our lives."

Suddenly, a dark column of light stabbed the heavens, crackling like mad as it went.

Jeanne returned her gaze to Sir Vice.

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1. "Let's go. I won't allow my soldiers to die like starving dogs in this inhospitable wilderness."

"Y-Yes...Ma'am.", Sir Vice weakly 2. nods. But after a moment, a smile 3. formed across his face, as if he was magically rejuvenated then stood up, proud and strong.

The party traced the source 4. of the energy and led them to a nearby cliff 5. overlooking the north. The wind billowed, ripped and lashed out in a chaotic frenzy. The air let out a haunting shriek that sounded like thousands of insects chirping and squirming. At the edge of the cliff, stood a man in crimson armor with demonic spikes protruding from his pauldrons. His hair was 6. the color blood, tinged with the tang of hate and fury and waving with the wind like sentient serpentine locks. His eyes were orbs of pure red energy, crackling and hissing. 7. His ruddy face was pale, devoid of life, with veins bulging at the sides branching towards the center of his face, forming a gruesome mask.

This was the traitor whom they have searched so arduously.

"H-He is a doom knight?!" 8. the inquisitor exclaimed. Fear creeping in his tone.

"Fear not. With the king's blessing and guidance, he will preserve us." 9. said Jeanne, as she prepared to unsheathed her katana.

Sir Pulchure grinned, 10. showing files of teeth most cruel and vicious.

"You..." He spoke, his voice deep and thundering.

"You took her away from me...You ruined my life...and now...you foolish dogs of that wretched king WHO BETRAYED ME...WHO FORSOOK ME...plan to finish the job."

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"No..no..I can't let that happen...Gravelyn...She..Y-Yes...Yes..YES!" 1., murmured the doom knight to himself, as if talking to a voice inside his head.

However, before he could finish his insane chatter, the inquisitor rolled out an aged scroll upon the ground and started chanting. Jeanne ordered her knights to encircle the 2. doom knight. One of the knights produced a metal globe and flung it at Sir Pulchure. Somewhat confused, he let out a pulse of dark energy to block the mysterious projectile. The orb diffused, 3. and exploded before him, and let out a blinding light that enveloped the whole cliff.

Sir Pulchure was dazed from the concussion,4. still standing not knowing what to do; as if he wasn't sure on how to use his new dark powers.

The inquisitor finished his chant and stabbed the scroll with a golden crucifix. A circle of light then slowly carved itself beneath Sir Pulchure. Magical runes danced around the edges of the circle, slowly gaining speed with each revolution. Suddenly, a cross 5. forms in the middle of the circle and gold, glistening chains burst out from the ground, 6. constricting Sir Pulchure's limbs and torso. They were white hot, melting 7. even through his crimson armor. The chains pulled and tugged, forcing him to the ground.

The doom knight was now kneeling, chained, and at the group's mercy.

"Sir Vice...You may have the honors. Do it quick 8..", commanded Jeanne.

Sir Vice nodded and hastily drew his sword, about to decapitate the traitor, Sir Pulchure. With this single, final strike, they would end years worth of trouble against the kingdom and King Alteon.

Slash!

The grim sound of cold steel ripping through flesh.

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Blood poured over the ground.

Everyone’s eyes 1. fixated at the gruesome sight.

Sir Vice looked at his companions in confusion, until he tasted the bitter tang of crimson liquid dripping from his lips.

His 2. throat was cut open by his own blade resting upon his breastplate which was soaked with his blood.

“C-Captain…I--“ Those were the last words of the knight as he fell dead.

“The monster’s influence is spreading!” Warned the inquisitor.

Without a moment to lose, Jeanne, infuriated with the loss of her soldier, charged at Sir Pulchure along with the other knight. She drew her katana and made a quick scraping motion against the ground, as if lighting a match, and instantly her blade was set ablaze. Her scorching sword glided with ease leaving a trail of embers in its wake, set towards the doom knight’s neck. However, a few inches before hitting its mark, Jeanne’s katana paused in mid-air as if unseen forces had gotten hold of her hand. Immediately, she was flung hard off the ground. 3. The other knight though was not as unfortunate. Approaching the enemy from behind, he drove his sword against Sir Pulchure’s back. Golden runes etched upon the blade flickered as it tore through the demonic scarlet armor, piercing all the way through Sir Pulchure’s chest.

For moment, it seemed like he had succeeded but the doom knight only sneered.

“FOOLS.”

Soon, bony ligaments began to creep out of his head, forming some sort of frame as fleshy material began to mask his head. The form grew fangs and great horns, revealing the visage of a dreadful dragon.

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“I NOW SEE…WITH PURPOSE.”

Surprised, the knight quickly withdrew his sword from the monster’s body and 1. attempts a second strike, this time to decapitate him. But, the enemy was prepared. As he swung his sword, he is met with a wave of pure black darkness 2. encroaching at high speed emitting a screeching sound so foul and evil. With his holy blade, he slashed through it, suffering only minor injuries. The 3. doom knight was now trying to break loose from the binding chains, 4. while inquisitor tries to cast another spell.

The 5. knight somehow annoyed at the enemy’s resistance, grabbed a vial from his pouch and 6. spewed all of its contents unto the latter. The liquid smelt of sulfur 7. , and burned through the doom knight’s armor making him flinch in agony. Jeanne recovered and returned to aid her party in the fight.

The inquisitor finally finished the second chant 8. , and sliced off one of his fingers, squirming in the process, as his blood trickled over the scroll. This time, a circle of light hovered above the restrained Sir Pulchure, and rained hundreds of ethereal swords upon him. The luminous blades punched through him, leaving cauterized and smoldering holes through his armor, reducing him to an undecipherable mass of charred flesh and bone.

Jeanne walked over his burnt carcass and performed the rites of damnation 9. over his now accursed soul. As she was about to utter the final words, the seemingly destroyed traitor emerged from his own carcass, whole and without a speck of damage. The doom knight towered over Jeanne, who was only about half his size, and back handed her 10. across the face sending her several feet away. The knight hacked his arm clean off, but it reformed 11. right back nonetheless. He swiftly retaliated, punching sizable hole through the knight and lifted him up in the air. Still defiant, the knight 12. performed an act of desperation, brandishing his sword like wild and even managed to slice through Sir Pulchure’s chest.

Annoyed, the knight of doom grabbed him with both arms drained the life out him, leaving the valiant knight now only a withered husk of his former self. Sir Pulchure then 13. dropped him crumbling to dust as he hit the ground. The former now has his eyes on the inquisitor who had been a great "nuisance".

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By now the inquisitor was performing a third chant, but unfortunately for him, the doom knight pounced on him with unbelievable speed. 1 He slammed the inquisitor against the ground with such impact it produced a small crater. With a broken hip and arm, the inquisitor refused to die easily. From his tattered robes, he grabbed another golden crucifix and plunged it deep into Sir Pulchure’s glowing red hot eyes. For a moment, he howled in pain but pulled it away and ripped open the inquisitor’s breast plate. He dug through the fallen inquisitor’s bare chest, as the latter screamed in anguish. He ended the miserable man’s life by pulling out his heart and 2. squished it on his blood soaked palms.

Sir Pulchure, 3. victorious and triumphant, stood at the edge of the cliff.

“FEEBLE WEAKLINGS. YOUR WEAK MORTAL MINDS CANNOT COMPREHEND THIS ANCIENT POWER! YOUR FRAIL BODIES WILL CRUMBLE TO ASH BEFORE ITS RAW POWER!” Gloated the doom knight.

Then came a sharp, numbing sensation across his back. Then another. Soon it came in rapid succession.

He glanced over his shoulder to discover that he failed to dispatch the short blond haired girl who was by now carving her sword through his back in quick graceful strokes.
Angered, he clawed at her, but Jeanne ducked and 4. retaliates by doing a somersault, twirling her body and 5. lands her steel boot heel against the 6. doom knight’s face knocking him off balance. He then shot a beam of darkness at her, but the latter effortlessly evaded it. Jeanne was now working her way through his armor, cleaving and slashing as she moved around him.

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“You pesky worm!” Exclaimed Sir Pulchure, who was having a hard time catching the small, agile girl.

He glowed a monstrous glow, 1. the air around him tearing apart and infernal flames sprayed forth from the ground. The dry earth cracked and 2. out came jet black tendrils. They hastily seized Jeanne but the tendrils faded into nothingness as they touched her.

He batted an evil eye in surprise, but had no time to properly question why his powers failed as Jeanne's fiery blade was inches away from cleaving through his neck. She struck him hard enough to have him stagger a few steps backward. He groaned and cursed in pain as green slime oozed out of his gaping wound. His demonic eyes 3. bore into her with great menace. He raised both arms 4. at her direction, a pose signifying a summoning spell. Quick to analyze, Jeanne dashed forward and immediately slashed off one of his hands but she was a few seconds too slow.

The ground belched out a grotesque mountain of skulls and bones, entombing Jeanne then 5. gradually reformed itself- displaying her like a puppet upon a throne in a most darkly macabre fashion.

He had finally caught his last enemy. 6. Out of his right hand, evil powers gathered, creating a sheet of darkness. The wind howled with frenzy. The bloody sky darkened 7. ‘till pitch black. 8. And out of the darkness came a crimson blade, with bones for hilt.

It spoke.

“It took you 9. a while enough…”

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“It doesn’t matter. It all ends here now.” Replied the 1. doom knight.

He returned his demonic gaze to the restrained Jeanne 2. , her limbs were tightly held by a dense piles of bones. For some reason, the throne of death managed to effectively capture her.

Or so he thought; as he noticed to his dismay that parts of it were starting to wear out in the same inexplicable manner. He had to act fast.

3. He pointed his ruinous sword at her and said,

“I admire your zeal, valor and ferocity, inquisitor. But sadly, you fought for the wrong cause.”

“And now, you will share the fate of all those who have wronged me!”

In a swift motion, he drove the blade through her; the latter shrieked in pain.

“Y-You cannot kill me…But remember this…I WILL hunt you down even if it takes a thousand years! You cannot run from me traitor…” Grunted Jeanne as her face distorted with agony and blood watered down her mouth.

“I see. I will wait for that time.” Replied Sir Pulchure, his tone now mellow and natural, devoid of his previous hellish chatter.

He pulled out the sword, gripped Jeanne by neck and brought her over the edge of the cliff.

“I will be waiting, Inquisitor.” He whispered 4. through Jeanne’s ear.

And with that he lets go of her, causing her to plummet down the bottomless chasm.

As Jeanne fell, time seemed 5. to have slowed down. As her consciousness slowly faded and became hazy, she saw the lasting image of her party slaughtered at the hands of a monster. How she has been a terrible leader. How her last actions could have redeemed her of her past deeds.

All of it.

Gone.

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The magician stepped back. He knew he was a goner. Nothing could possibly save him from the fate that would soon be upon him. He was surrounded and outnumbered twenty-seven to one. The supposedly legendary mercenary, 1. Shadowair, whom he paid a huge sum of gold to act as his 2. body guard now lay upon the cold obsidian floor a bloody, butchered corpse. His loyal familiars decorated his walls, impaled upon pikes.

His magic was of no use, his long sleepless research on the 3. thaumaturgy proven worthless, his ancient tomes that held centuries of great knowledge could offer no help as to 4. even the tides. Not even a single teleportation spell could spare his neck from his persecutors.

Before him, 5. was a number of knights and 6. cloaked men draped with religious icons. They crept closer towards the frail, ailing magician. He tried to cast a fire ball, gathering the oxygen around his palms and igniting 7. them to form a brilliant globe of scorching flames. He tried uttering the arcane words to release the spell, but he was immediately countered. One of the hooded men, dressed in a billowing cloak adorned with holy sigils, crosses, and suns, traced a magical rune in the air with his forefinger. The rune spelled out "8. Silence." 9. Immediately, the magician felt his throat constrict and tighten. His vocal chords 10. ceased to give sound. His voice deserted him. The voice needed to cast the spell.

A knight pulled out a crossbow and 11. lets fly a deadly bolt upon his arm. Surprised, the magician lost focus and his powers went awry, allowing the ball of fire in his hand to combust and 12. draped him in flames. He scampered towards the ground, flailing and rolling about. He hurriedly tried to at least summon even the lesser powers of cold to extinguish the fire but he was interrupted yet again.

Jeanne walked out amongst the crowd.

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"Technomantress, rid him of his mana." She ordered.

Immediately, a female technomancer arrived by her side. She 1. aimed her mana glove at the magician and transformed it into a miniature dragon head. Out of it came a fiery stream of inferno, sending the latter into further throes of agony and draining him of his 2. last bits of power 3. ; his only means of salvation.

He crawled 4. limping and writhing towards the face of the wall.

A pathetic sight.

Jeanne rolled out a scroll before her and read its contents with a loud, confident voice.

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"Janeas Radrvor, eldest son of Norman Radrvor, master and high priest of Kealdwor keep...You are charged with anarchy, conspiracy, and extreme defiance against 1. His majesty, the King. Namely; aiding the Slugwraths during the rebellion, writing grievous and damaging literature that is propagandist in nature, 2. refusal to submit to his authority, and 3. is suspected of being a spy of the old regime plotting to dethrone his Majesty and bring back power to the Slugwraths..."

She directed her gaze to Janeas. She signaled for the hooded man earlier to erase the rune of Silence. Janeas' voiced then returned, making him take huge gasps for air.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

The broken man held himself up and leaned on the cold cobalt wall. He glanced at the young girl in armor before him. To his surprise she was nothing he ever expected. This was the first time he had met the so called Inquisition, but it was very astonishing to find someone like her amongst its ranks. Her short bob-cut hair was pale blond. Her piercing crystal azure eyes were mesmerizing. Her silken skin was smooth and suggested tender youth. Her strong, unmoving countenance was intimidating as she was pretty. Everything about her radiated with an angelic, yet dominant aura. T'was like being in the presence of a saint.

Janeas took a deep breath, and 4. spoke.

"You'll grow up into a fine woman one day, young lady."

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Jeanne took no heed of the sudden compliment. With a flick of her finger, she ordered her knights to grab Janeas on both arms. They pinned him against the wall. She gave a nodding gesture, and immediately the knights produced iron stakes. In a gruesome manner, they hammered the magician's palms with the stakes into the wall. The latter howled in pain, echoing throughout the entire chamber.

"One more thing..." Grunted Janeas, struggling to keep his calm despite the severe pain that surged through his arms.

1. "...How did you locate me? How did you know of my plot? I disappeared, leaving no trace of my existence for nearly decade, hiding high up in the Willowshire mountains and even going as far as cloaking my keep with a magical barrier!"

"The eyes and ears of the Inquisition stretch far and wide, mister Radrvor." Spoke Jeanne, unsheathing her katana.

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A quick strike along the obsidian floor, and her blade was lit in wild flames.

One of the knights held Janeas by the hair and slammed the back of his head against the wall, baring his neck.

1. "I...have failed. My rebellious plot was all for naught. But...If I were to die glancing at such a beautiful face....I...would have no regrets." Smiled the magician.

"...Guilty." Whispered Jeanne, her eyes blank and void of emotion.

2. She made a step closer, and 3. hunched her upper body forward. 4. She rested her sword sideways, with the point facing the back, and with great force she sprang her arm along a horizontal path, carving the burning blade searing through the air. Flaming steel ripped past moist flesh, leaving a smoldering mark.

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A swift end.

One of the inquisitors retrieved the dead magician's decapitated head and placed it in an iron box, trimmed with red ornate wood. Probably, to add to the Inquisition's ever growing severed head collection for the gallery of traitors and heretics.

Jeanne 1. washes off the fires on her sword and sheathes it back.

"Captain, are you hurt?" Asked one of the knights.

"Back to your post, Sir Vice. We still have much work to do."

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Sir Vice jolted, made a quick salute and hastily left Jeanne's presence. 1. The young knight was just fresh from knighthood, and was absorbed into the Order for some unspecified reason. He showed promise, and at 2. that time the Inquisition was severely under manned so it may have been possible he was conscripted.

"You know yourself that it's a bad thing to disturb the captain especially at a time like this, rookie." Said Sir Mon, 3. has he jokingly jabbed Sir Vice on the shoulder.

"Well...It's just because she's 4. merely a young girl tasked to do all this stuff. She's so much younger than any of us here that all this work must have given her some traumatic lapses already."

"Don't worry about her. She can hold out just fine. She may be like a younger sister to us, but believe me. She's tougher than all of us 5. put about." Smiled Sir Mon.

"You seem to know much about her." asked Sir Vice, with a puzzled look through his half open visor.

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"Nahh...You see lad, I've been with the captain for months now and trust me. She's been through far worse." Said Sir Mon, 1. rubbing his scruffy beard with his hand.

"You two over there! Enough talk! Destroy everything to the ground! We must not leave any trace of this wickedness." Shouted Jeanne at the two chatting knights.

"Well now..."Sir Mon crossed his arms. "This is going to take a lot of work." Said the knight as he gazed up at the cavernous chamber.

"This castle won't demolish itself you know." Said a smiling Sir Vice as he lit up a torch.

However, beyond the shadowy corners of the chamber, hiding behind a great marble pillar; a pair of red eyes glinted in the darkness.

"Jeanne~" A voice hissed.

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The loud, 1. heavy marching of boots and grieves filled the narrow, dimly lit corridor. At the end was a massive iron door, with metal studs that dotted its rusty edges. Two angels 2. decorate the worn, corroded surface facing each other on different panels. One was heavily armored, holding a balance on his left hand and a flaming sword on the right. The other wore a flowing robe, his face hidden under a hood and in his hand was a thick iron bound tome. He also held a lengthy scroll that fell all the way to the bottom of the door, which contains a number of verses written in an ancient language only the Inquisitors 3. know. Making an arc on the top of the door where words deeply carved, 4. saying-

"Thou Shalt Not Suffer The Witch To Live"

An inquisitor pressed his arm against the door and began to heave. Two others followed and helped him open the heavy iron door.

After much effort, it gave way and yawned open with a loud rumbling sound. Beyond the door was a great chamber of sorts. 5. It somehow resembled a throne room, but with several podiums forming a half-circle at the center similar to a council or court room. Sitting at the podiums were a number of shadowy cloaked persons, each of whom had a distinct marking on their hoods. At the very throne itself sat a regal figure dressed in popish garments, clad in intricately ornate armor trimmed with golden symbols. Rested upon his head was a tall mitre embroidered with ancient golden runes.

This man was the supreme head of the Inquisition, the Grand Inquisitor Markus Honorius, the third ever to have taken the responsibility.

The company 6. knelt in reverence to the holy man... Except the young lady in front of them.

"Kneel.. 7. .Jeanne D'Arc", spoke the Grand Inquisitor in a slow, dry voice.

Jeanne jerked in surprise 8. , clearly her mind was off somewhere else. She genuflected in such a hurried manner that her head almost hit the pavement. By now, sweat slowly began to trickle down her cheeks. Her eyes were widening in awe. She bit her lower lip so much it almost bled.

She was shaking in fear, and yet at the same time in adoration. All this, because t'was was the first time she had ever seen the Grand Inquisitor in the flesh and not just by the lonely whispers of fellow inquisitors.

10. Being summoned by Markus himself could only mean either of the two;

Life and Death.

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"Raise your head, Jeanne 1. D'Arc"

She raised her head 2. slowly, her eyes moved cautiously trying to avoid eye contact with the Grand Inquisitor.

"What of Janeas Radrvor 3. ?", asked Markus.

"Executed, your Holiness."

"And the evidence?"

"B-Burned...I-..We dutifully searched every library and...destroyed every book, scroll, manuscript and codex that mentions his name. We tracked every relative of known to the Radrvors and put them into silence. Th-There is no longer any trace that the man known as Janeas Radrvor ever existed 3. .", her voice wavered with each word, full of nervousness.

"Excellent. No son of the King should ever taint their ears with such a wicked name 3. .", Markus clasped his hands and nodded in approval.

"I have been pleased by your performance lately, Captain. Thanks to your vigorous efforts, we have greatly thinned potential seeds of trouble that would sow problems for the Kingdom in the future."

A smile awkwardly formed on Jeanne's face. She wasn't sure on how to receive the compliment.

"I-I am greatly honored, your Holiness. Do you have any order 3. s?", her tone now 4. hinted some confidence.

Markus stroked his gray beard, and shifted his pale blue eyes to his left.

"Yes. Yes, in fact. We have a mission right now of great importance that could use your services."

The aged Grand Inquisitor snapped his finger and one of the mysterious seated men came down towards the kneeling Jeanne. He held with him an ashen banner with symbol of a skull impaled upon a crucifix.

Jeanne recognized it all too well. It designated missions regarding the 5. purgation and eradication of the unholy forces of the undead. Though this job was mostly left to the Order of the Light, it must have been somehow implicated with the Inquisition.

The man brought out a scroll and began reading it in a low, gravelly voice.

"Varhaedil, an instructor of the dark arts in the Sword Haven Magic Academy, has gone rogue and 6. went into hiding for over two years now. Upon request of the Dean of Higher Thaumaturgy, the Inquisition has located him and 8. now a necromancer operating in the most southern part of Doomwood. Varhaedil is purportedly to have stolen a number of important tomes of sorcery and has with him great and dangerous secrets of the Academy. In accepting a code of silence, the Dean wishes that he be executed as soon as possible and the retrieval of the arcane tomes."

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"The insufferable fool also took with him an abhorred book called "The Black Library of Noxus" from the King's Librareum Vault. We cannot allow this sacrilege and treachery to pass!", Markus' withered bony face turned red with scorn, and his eyes now blazed with anger.

"Understood, your Holiness."

With a solemn bow, Jeanne and her company left the chamber.

***

"Your Holiness, Varhaedil has with him one of the most potent books of necromancy. I would suggest resupplying and refreshing Jeanne's troops."

"No. That is too costly. Just send in 'Heaven Breaker' instead to aid her."

"At once, your Holiness."

***

The open balcony gave way to a wonderful view of the blue, midnight sky. The vast heavens formed a beautiful celestial orchestra. The dazzling stars twinkled with some sort of mysterious significance. Jeanne stared above, her eyes gazing into the distance of space. The midnight wind made her suit of armor cool, hugging her girlish frame with the frigid embrace of steel. The icy, autumn air sent a slight chill to her exposed shoulders, seeping into her skin.

The young maiden, Lady Inquisitor or Captain as some may call her, savored this moment of refreshing solitude; a rather nice pause from the hellish tasks of ridding the land of traitorous sorcerors and unholy, ruinous powers who seek to harm the sons of the King.

"Captain, If you may excuse me."

Came a voice from the balcony door.

"What is it, Inquisitor?", spoke Jeanne, who was still enjoying the soothing calmness.

"When do we mobilize? We are armed and ready, awaiting your command, Captain."

She contracted her eye brows, and opened her bright sapphire eyes.

"Soon, Inquisitor. We march to South Doomwood by dawn."


At an adjacent tower, on its spire roof, stood a figure dressed in a nun-like dress. Her left arm shimmered as brilliant colors flowed along her crystalline skin. Her face was deathly pale, and her eyes were crimson red with a cat-like iris. Her raven hair was long and flowed like water along her slender back.

"I can't wait to meet you, little Jeanne", She smiled, then vanished into the night.