Forest Temple {Ultra5, Quill, Eternis} (OOT)

Players: Ultra5, Quill, Eternis
Characters: [Relerin Ba'al], [Loft Kiratel and Marcus Heilari], [Holle Dagdon]



'Feh. Still one day away from that haunted temple.'
Sitting on the tree trunk, watching over the still forms of his three sleeping comrades, Holle started thinking on the conversation he had nearly a week ago with the haggard-looking man that stumbled into the western caves. He said that his family was being plagued by a malicious Poe, and that his family could barely sleep at night from the racket it makes. He claimed that the source of this terror was the ancient Forest Temple. He begged for help from everyone, but too many people disbelieved him, were too afraid, or just couldn't be bothered to do anything for him.
So, like an idiot, he agreed to help.
Since then, it had been six days of tedious travelling with a nobbish-looking bloke that exuded an aura of menace, a healer more serious than a fatal wound, and a... companion that's just plain weird. Also, SO MUCH BORING GUARD DUTY!
He would've played a trick on one of them by now, but the healer would probably take it the wrong way, and the other two had something about them that just chilled him to the core.
... 'Gah! How does that weird one do it? In his sleep, while Holle is keeping watch, the weird one moved over ten feet, silently, to HUG HIM.'


Note: The hug was performed with full permission from Quill.
End rewards:

No rewards for abandonment! (open) No rewards for abandonment! (close)

Relerin: Unique companion, costing 50 rupees (10 saved, 40 from thread); Marcus: Hibernation, costing 20 rupees, leaving 5; Loft: 25 rupees;

Holle Dagdon: Magic Bolt (30 Rupees), 10 Rupees.

Sleep-hugging is an art form mastered by few. Loft was a master at it. He should be; he had practiced it on Marcus many a dull night. His companion would be on watch, silently gazing at the moonlit sky above, ready to raise the alarm at any sign of attack, not noticing the silent form creeping up behind him in the night. Without any warning, Loft would strike, grasping Marcus around the middle and hugging him with reckless abandon like the ninja he was. The greatest thing about the sleep-hug is that he could easily feign innocence. It wasn't his fault, he would wail. One second he was dreaming about sunshine and hordes of talking candy corn and the next he was in pain and being lectured! Marcus had no way of proving that Loft was secretly training himself in the art of the sleep-hug, and so he was always forced to grudgingly accept Loft's declaration of innocence.

It was nice to have a new target. Marcus scolded him, and Loft was shocked to hear that he wasn't supposed to scar the newbies until after they had entered the temple. What was he supposed to do until then, eat butterfly wings? Marcus quashed this idea, and told him to keep his hands off of the others until they had passed into the Forest Temple.

Loft was glad that they knew the name of the Temple this time. Marcus agreed with him, saying that he was happy just to know where they were. They were both used to this by now. Here one minute, there the next. Divine transportation left no traces, and it didn't feel like anything at all. They would blink, or turn to look at something, and they would find themselves somewhere completely different.

Loft had been playing pirate on the ship in the Eastern Sea when it had happened. He had flung himself off of a hastily erected plank, his arms and legs tied together by a willing shipmate. He had closed his eyes right before he had hit the water, but the expected splash had never come. After a few seconds had passed, he had opened his eyes to find himself surrounded by trees. He was still tied up, and Marcus had quickly completed the outfit by tying a strip of cloth around his mouth. Marcus had said that the pirates had used to tie their prisoners' mouths shut so they wouldn't hear them whine, and Loft had been grateful for the help. Eventually, they had stumbled across the others, and they had their quest.

"To the Forest Temple!" Loft cried.

"We're not going now," Marcus said, laying back down and closing his eyes, "go to sleep. And for Din's sake, stop hugging people."

"I thought you liked Farore best?" Loft asked, settling down on the grassy ground.

Marcus didn't open his eyes. "'For Din's sake' is catchier than 'For Farore's sake.'"

"But," Loft said, "isn't that blasphemy? To swear to another Goddess like that?"

"Just go to sleep, Loft," Marcus said.

The Forest Temple. At first thought a place called the Forest Temple sounds like no place for a Necromancer. Trees, bugs, maybe the occasional Wolfos or other woodland creature. Supposedly there are unsettled spirits dwelling within the temple. This is the kind of thing that would get both my attention and that of Ba'al as well. Ba'al, in his usual 'loving' way, 'suggested' that I go and learn about the spirits to further my Necromancy skills.

Much to my delight or my agony I am not alone on this adventure. I have been picked up by three odd fellows to say the least. Out of them all I like Marcus the best. Marcus' seriousness is the main thing I suppose. It also helped that, like myself, Marcus is a more scholarly mage. But where I practice the magic of death, Necromancy, Marcus practices the magic of life. It was an interesting combination to be sure, but, as I see it, both of us can learn from the other's style of magic.

The companion of Marcus, a kid by the name of Loft, was, as far as I can tell, the complete opposite of Marcus. Loft shows no sign of any real intelligence and treats life as one big game. I would not mind it if did not annoy Ba'al so badly. When Ba'al is annoyed it is only me who suffers. Sharing a soul with a demon has it's ups and it's downs. Feeling all of the few feelings that Ba'al had only intensified is NOT one of the ups.

My final companion is a kid about my age. Neither myself nor Ba'al had payed him much attention. I do not think I can write an accurate enough description for Holle. I'll write more as I figure out more.

Relerin finishes writing in his notebook marked "Travels" and closes it sighing a bit. Relerin had not expected to run into anyone else on this trip, but here he was. Sitting against a tree as the Holle kid watched from the top of it. Marcus and Loft were laying close by sleeping. Although Relerin knew he needed sleep, he couldn't seem to fall asleep easily at night. "Good thing not particularly tired. Sleep important, but can't seem to at night," Relerin says to himself. Relerin puts the notebook back into his bag. This task is helped by the soft orange light the pentagram in Relerin's eye gives off. Although it is a harsh reminder than Relerin is never alone, even in his own body, it was nice to have a little bit of light without having to use a spell or a candle.

As Relerin closes his bag he overhears a conversation between Marcus and Loft. Relerin chuckles and feels a bit of head pressure as Ba'al doesn't find the conversation as amusing. Relerin scans the area around them before opening his bag again and pulling out a book. This one titled "The Art of Death". It is a personal favorite of Relerin, who smiles a bit as he cracks it open and starts reading the pages being lit by the glow from his eye.

Holle watched as his companions drifted off towards slumber, then waited and watched for the moon to reach the point where it would be when it was time to wake Relerin for his share of the nightly watch. Knowing that he had to keep active or he'd start to become drowsy, Holle moved around the campsite, gathering suitable stones for his sling. Once his pouch was full to the brim, he sat back on the log and continued watching.
And promptly fell asleep.

As the pre-dawn light began to glow, Holle awoke to find that, while nothing else had been touched, someone had taken his boots off of his feet, placed a ring of spiky stones one foot wide around him, and placed the boots on the other side.

'Nice one.' Holle murmured to himself as he jumped over the ring of stones. 'Looks like someone managed to keep watch without falling asleep. I wonder, who exactly are you?'

Marcus climbed up the last few steps of the marble staircase, and he sat down gratefully on the soft earth. The long, unswerving steps had only been the latest in a series of exhausting paths. The last one had involved a hedge maze, where Loft had had the bright idea of diving head-first through the nearest wall in an attempt to break straight through. Needless to say, he had been unsuccessful. He was still picking leaves out of his hair, and his face was dotted with scrapes and scratches that Marcus refused to waste healing magic on.

He leaned up against a tree stump, breathing heavily as he watched several birds circle through the sky overhead. Their wings were dark as night, and they stuck out against the bright blue sky like blood-stains on white carpet.

"That was a rather depressing simile," Marcus thought to himself. Still, the thought seemed appropriate. The way they winged through the air in close, tight circles seemed to suggest that they were birds of prey, or perhaps some form of carrion-birds. Suddenly, the group broke ranks and dove down past the tree-tops. Marcus shrugged and shifted his position against the stump.

The entrance to the Forest Temple was slightly shrouded in grey mist, and the trees around it cast deeper and darker shadows than their fellows away from the entrance. The mist, the dark shadows, the way the sunlight didn't seem to reach its surface, all these elements worked together to give the Forest Temple a decidedly unwordly appearance, as if it was only slightly anchored in this reality. The broken stairwell leading up to it only furthered the impression that this was a place steeped in the supernatural netherlands of slippery mist, haunted spirits, and unfixed landmarks.

Feeling secure in the warm light of the sun, Marcus continued to stare at the Forest Temple, noting the gradual darkening between himself and the Forest Temple. He did not want to leave the comforting familiarity of the sunlit woods, even though he knew and was slightly excited about the prospect of diving headfirst into that which is unknown, unfixed, and entirely unsafe.

He shifted his body again and tried to find a place where the wooden stump wasn't digging into his back. He decided that he was going to call it the "Forest Temple" in his thoughts, instead of simply "the Temple." It really was getting old, calling each and every temple they came across as "the Temple." They were all different, after all. Each of them hosted a variety of different ways to painfully kill him and his companions, and each of them was possessed by a different sort of supernatural evil. Marcus had fought wizards, godly warriors, and massive undead behemoths. This time, the threat was a mischevious spirit that kept its victims awake at night. "How the mighty have fallen," Marcus thought with a wry smirk. He chastised himself almost immediately. Pride did not become an agent of the Goddesses. There was a legitimate reason why they were here, and he was not to judge the decisions of his Goddess. There was more at work here than a trickster poe, he was sure of it.

There was a sudden rustling of leaves in the trees to the right of the Forest Temple. A series of thuds met Marcus' ears, and he turned his head to see seven Moblins crouched on the ground. Marcus scrambled to his feet. They were either working alone, renegade Moblins in the woods, or they were allied with the Poe. If the Poe had minions, then it was much more serious than a simple mischevious spirit. Marcus flared up his reflective magic and called his companions. They probably had already noticed the sudden appearance of seven Moblins, but he wasn't taking any risks.

Holle frowned as he saw the group of seven moblins drop down from the tree canopy above them to land in front of Marcus. "I'm supposed to be a hunter," he thought to himself as he pulled out his sling and one of the rocks that he had spent the previous few nights gathering. "Why didn't I spot them earlier?". But he knew. Holle had gotten lax and lazy after the only problems that showed themselves were simple obstacles, with nothing to fight. Even the rabbits in the region were hilariously easy to catch.
Holle cursed himself as he fumbled the placement of the rock in the sling, but as Marcus' call came into his ears, he quickly slipped into the intense focus that he maintained while hunting.

"My first shot needs to disable or otherwise remove the moblin closest to Marcus from combat, as it has recovered the fastest from the drop. Easiest point to achieve a kill is the temple, but he's facing straight at me, so there's too much of a chance to be blocked. Neck next, but still too small a target, same problem. Next best shot is the shoulder for a broken arm, or perhaps the elbow- no, too much of a chance to fail. Aim at the shoulder." These thoughts barely registered in conscious thought as he spun the sling with speed, achieving optimum velocity after one full rotation and then letting loose. The stone was slightly off target but Holle gently "nudged" it in the right direction. The solid "crack" he heard of the stone breaking bone gave him a small smile as he sent his next shot off at the elbow of the one slightly behind.
"Damn, missed." Holle's thought flashed past as his stone only scraped the moving moblins arm. But he'd achieved his goal, the moblins had turned towards him for a second, and away from Marcus.
"At least that healer bloke isn't in as much trouble." He thought as two of the moblins turned and started running towards him. "Only problem is, now I am..."


Editorial Note: While I know that it's bad form to deprive you, U5, from your turn in the role playing, I really felt that my previous post was inadequate, and this /is/ the sort of thing that Holle's good at.

Relerin looks over at his three traveling companions with his pentagram eye as they enter the temple. "Shame. Did not finish." Relerin puts the book in his bag and hastily puts his bag on his back and grabs his staff. "Here to learn about Poe. Well may as well start." Relerin runs to catch up with the other three. Seven Moblins drop from the trees as Relerin catches up to the others.

The pentagram in Relerin's eye flashes as Ba'al growls his usual pep talk for when Relerin gets into a battle. "Whelp. Don't get yourself killed. I am here too." Relerin's orange eye flashes again as Relerin rolls his eyes and starts charging up an orange Arcane Bolt from the jewel of his staff.

A Moblin charges Relerin spear extended as Relerin lets loose the Arcane Bolt. The Arcane Bolt hits the Moblin in the stomach releasing a few small bolts of electricity coursing through a small area around the impact area. The Moblin hunches over mid stride and trips over it's own feet. Relerin jumps out of the way of the tumbling Moblin as it crashes in to a tree trunk behind Relerin.

Dazed the Moblin tries to stand up again as Relerin runs up to it and jumps grabbing it's neck. With his hand around the Moblin's neck Relerin chants quickly, purple flames forming around the Moblin's neck and Relerin's hand. After a few more seconds of chanting the Moblin tries to throw Relerin off, but Relerin's hand bursts with energy sending both himself and the Moblin flying backward. Relerin stops himself by sliding on the ground and the Moblin gets hurled into the tree again.

Relerin draws his dagger and runs over to the Moblin. Still trying to gather itself the Moblin barely moves before Relerin slits it's throat with the dagger. The Moblin claws at it's throat a bit as Relerin licks a little blood off the dagger and sheaths it. As the Moblin bleeds out Relerin starts to draw a pentagram on the ground under it.

This was not the first time that Loft had been ambushed by malevolent woodland creatures. That time, he and his companions had been set upon by a group of tribal Deku. First ugly wooden twigs, now misshapen pigs. Why couldn't the forces of evil ever throw pink ponies or unugly unicorns at them? He could trap one and ride it over the rainbow into a land of candy corn and endless chocolate rivers. Unfortunately, the anti-Goddesses never granted his prayers for such wonders. Nope, no crystal cats or dashing dogs for Loft, only snarling pigs and feverish plants.

"So cruel," Loft muttered, unsheathing his knives. In his left hand he balanced a throwing knife, and in his right he gripped his stabby-knife tightly. Relerin was playing with one of the piggies while Holly was facing down the two he had shot. Marcus stayed put, calmly watching the battle unfold with an air of logical undetachment. Loft really wished sometimes that Marcus could fight, but as the Healer constantly reminded him, he didn't possess any form of combat spells, and he certainly wasn't going to pick up a blade to fight.

Holly looked in trouble, so Loft ran towards him. Loft had to run past Marcus, since he was on the opposite side of the clearing from the Moblins. The Forest Temple stood to his right, and even though it was surrounded by cheerful trees and beaming sunlight, it looked so sad. The surrounding gloom was choking it, keeping it miserable by detaching it from the happiness of the forest around it. Loft felt bad for it. He had been imprisoned once too, and it had been one of the worst experiences of his short life.

He pushed off of the stump that Marcus had been leaning against earlier, flipping into the air with his knives gleaming in the bright light of the sun. He brought his foot down in an airborne ax-kick, smashing his heel against the Moblin's skull. It crumpled to the ground, and he followed it down, pushing off the ground with a hand and flipping back to his feet. He danced around the other Moblin's blade and threw his knife directly into its right eye. The Moblin screamed in pain and staggered back, clutching the hilt and hesitating, doubtless unsure amidst the pain as to what it should do. Loft raced forward, capitalizing on its distress and slicing a large smiley-face onto its neck. Any pain the Moblin had been feeling ceased immediately as it sank to the ground.

Loft wrenched out his knife and laughed at the strange blood. He flicked it, sending gelatinous drops of the green life splattering out onto the paler shade of the grass. His giggling was cut short as he toppled to the ground, dropping his knife. The Moblin from earlier had gotten a hold of his leg, and it was now bearing above him with an unpleasant dagger. Loft's hand whipped forward, pushing against the descending, armed arm. His other hand was snaking down to his own side, where a lumpy wooden pouch sat.

This pouch was something he had won from the wild Deku that had last attacked him. He and his companion had been travelling through the woods towards Impa when they had been attacked by a tribe of the hostile plants. Loft had been tied to a stake and, ironically enough, was about to be sacrificed to the nature gods that had caused the Great Freeze. It was ironic because normally Loft was the one killing random monsters that wandered across his path in the name of some random diety or another. Sometimes it was Farore, but more often than not it was for things like the rainbow overhead, the insane cannabilistic Moon Gods, or the really cute Rito on his ship in the Eastern Sea. Loft and his companions had escaped, and a battle had naturally ensued. It had ended badly for the Deku tribeleader. Loft had pinned him to the ground and, after dodging a spat Deku Nut, proclaimed that he wanted to make Deku Nuts too.

Reaching into the pouch that had once been that tribeleader's Deku-Nut producing organ, Loft pulled out one of the remarkable nuts. He closed his eyes and crushed it against the ground, hearing the sharp crack! and seeing the blinding white light through his closed eyelids. The stunned Moblin slacked his grip against its dagger, and Loft easily shoved him off and rolled on top of it. He grabbed his discarded knife and embedded it into the Moblin's forehead, sighing in relief as it gurgled its last.

Loft looked up at Holly with shining eyes. "Did you see that, Holly? Did you see my flip-kick? Wasn't that awesome?"

Holle leaned to his right to place his next shot in the centre of the forehead of the moblin that was creeping up behind Loft. There was a satisfying 'thunk', and the moblin started bleeding freely, his club dropped and his arms by his sides.
"Very spectacular, Loft. Extremely impressive. It's just, well, could you keep your eyes on the battle..." . Holle's voice faded away as the moblin, still bleeding picked up his club and raised it once again.
Holle tensed his muscles, and, with a mental nudge, began that fuzzy feeling that meant his jumping would be better. Surging past Loft, Holle tackled the moblin with his palms landing in the middle of his chest. As they slid back another three feet, Holle realised two things:
1) He didn't have his skinning knife on him, having left it in his pack. And, come to think of it, he didn't have any melee weaponry.
2) The two feet that they slid back put him right in the middle of the remaining three moblins.
The three, club-wielding, angry, murderous moblins.
And the one that he had "tackled" had an iron grip on his wrist.

Holle brought his hand up to the moblin's throat and clicked his fingers, but the flame only lasted a moment before he was clubbed viciously on the head by one of his captors

The wounded moblin started dragging Holle up to the temple gates as the other three moblins formed a ring around their companion...

Relerin starts chanting his Raise Dead spell. As Relerin chants the Moblin's body twitches and convulses. Relerin waves his staff in the air, the jewel glowing with a dark orange light. Relerin thrusts his staff into the ground at the edge of the pentagram as the entire pentagram lights up with a dark orange glow. Orange light shoots out of the Moblin's eyes as it shudders regaining it's motor control. The Moblin looks down to it's spear and grabs it. Looking up to Relerin the Moblin raises from the ground to it's knees. "Rise." Relerin points to the group of Moblins taking away Holle. "Bring me the Hylian. Alive." The Moblin raises off it's knees and nods.

The Raised Moblin charges the group of Moblins. Caught by surprise the Raised Moblin manages to run through a Moblin throwing it off a gaping hole in it's chest spewing blood. The wounded Moblin convulses for a few minutes before stopping moving dead. The other two Moblins readied to attack the Raised Moblin. The Raised Moblin roars as it swings it's spear at the closest Moblin.

Marcus walked over to Relerin. "Necromancy." He said. "You flooded its still-intact nervous system with your own energy, enabling you to directly input commands until it deteriorates. Very nice. Who taught you that?"

Loft was confused. Moblin fighting Moblin? Weird! Still, he decided to join in the fun. Deciding that the not-really-evil evil monster had the other evil monsters under control, he sneaked up behind the Moblin holding Holly captive. It was so busy watching the fight that it didn't even notice Loft's knife until it protruded from the front of its throat. Holly looked almost unconscious, and Loft figured that Marcus would want to examine him. So, he did the logical thing.

"Hey, Marcus!" He called. "Holly's hurt and needs healing!" He promptly sat down, poking the dead Moblin absently with his bloody knife as he watched the evil Moblin and the not-evil Moblin kill each other.

"I apologize," Marcus said to Relerin, "but I must see to our companion." He jogged over to where Holle and Loft were, and sighed. "You do know that his name is Holle, right?" He asked Loft as he triggered his healing magic.

"No it's not," Loft said, looking at Marcus strangely, "it's Holly. Maybe you got hit in the head too."

"I'm sure," Marcus said, pressing his glowing hand against Holle's head. The magic seeped into his skull, and Marcus set to work. Holle had been viciously clubbed by a Moblin. His brain had been shaken around the insides of the skull, colliding violently against the sides. It was damaged and disrupted, and on top of that it was swelling. No bleeding, though, thank the Goddesses. Marcus worked quickly to repair what had been done, his magic reconnecting destroyed neural pathways and returning chemicals to their proper levels. He soothed the brain, gently reversing the swelling and taking away the pain and shock of being repeatedly slammed against the sides of a skull. By the time he was done, Holle was as good as new. Whether he needed to rest or not was up to him, but Marcus was content in the knowledge that Holle would not suffer from a severe concussion before they even entered into the Forest Temple.

"Holle," he said gently, "are you awake?"

Holle opened his eyes and blinked twice.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine."
Holle pushed himself up on his elbows.
"Why am I at the steps to the temple? Last I remember, some moblin conked me on the head, around about there."
Holle pointed vaguely around where he had been clubbed.
"Did you guys- Is that a moblin I see defending Relerin?
Holle pauses for a moment.
"Meh. Hey Loft,"
Holle said, turning to his erratic companion,
"Should we help Relerin, or watch the two moblins duke it out?

"Necromancy. You flooded its still-intact nervous system with your own energy, enabling you to directly input commands until it deteriorates. Very nice. Who taught you that?" Marcus asks to Relerin directly. Relerin looks blankly at Marcus. "Umm...well..."

Relerin sigh with relief as Loft calls for Marcus. "Hey, Marcus! Holly's hurt and needs healing!"

"I apologize, but I must see to our companion." Marcus jogs over to Holle as Relerin turns back to his Moblin. "Should I tell?" Relerin goes over the idea in his head as the pentagram in his eye flashes and Ba'al demonic voice issues forth from Relerin's mouth. "While you are thinking whelp, I'll get things done as usual. Moblin! uppercut now! Left shoulder!"

The Moblin does as Ba'al commands and kills the last of the Moblins. The Raised Moblin returns to Relerin and kneels. "That's right. Bow before your master, the Lord Ba'al!" Ba'al laughs a demonic laugh as the Moblin rises and laughs as well.

Relerin and the Moblin walk over to the group again as Relerin's eye flashes and he speaks once again. "Well then. That was...interesting." Relerin pulls his notebook out of his bag and begins writing in it.

Loft considered, then plopped down on the grass beside him. "Nah," he said, pulling out a piece of cold venison and gnawing on it, "just sit back and watch the show." He nudged Holle, and said, "I bet this meat stick that the Moblin with an identity crisis dies." The Raised Moblin destroyed the normal Moblin, and Loft sighed. He offered the piece of partially-chewed venison to Holle. "Well, I lost. Here you go."

Marcus, meanwhile, walked back over to Relerin. His posture was guarded, and his reflective magic was ready to be activated, but he decided to give Relerin the benefit of the doubt. He took a moment to collect his facts before speaking, not wishing to stumble over his words or give off the impression of ignorance. True, he was ignorant, but that wasn't important. "Relerin," he said quietly, watching the necromancer scrawl in his notebook, "when I was in Impa, I knew a man who had been attacked by a demon. The demon left its mark on him, and he suddenly found that he could breathe fire. Relerin, your voice changed completely; it dropped into a lower octave, it spoke with a different inflection, and it called itself by a different name. Now, tell me... where exactly did you get your powers over death from?"

Relerin takes notice of Marcus as he walks towards him. His stance is guarded...he is afraid of an attack. Shit. Is all the runs through Relerin's head as he continues writing in his notebook not looking over. "Relerin. When I was in Impa, I knew a man who had been attacked by a demon. The demon left its mark on him, and he suddenly found that he could breathe fire. Relerin, your voice changed completely; it dropped into a lower octave, it spoke with a different inflection, and it called itself by a different name. Now, tell me... where exactly did you get your powers over death from?"

Relerin freezes, his eyes widen, and he stops writing. "D-demon?" Marcus was to the right of Relerin so the eye with the pentagram in it is the first one to turn and Marcus is well close enough to tell what it is quite clearly. Relerin is freaking out. He is caught and he knows it. "I...um...I have a split personality...one that I call Ba'al is rather angry and he is the one with most of the Necromantic knowledge. M-my master was a very old Hylian that I met in...uh...Mido. I learned from him." Although the first part isn't a complete lie is isn't the full truth and Relerin hopes that Marcus buys it. The last part however was complete bullshit and Relerin couldn't really hide that fact.

The Moblin stands next to Relerin eyeing Marcus. It's spear stands at it's side ready, but not pointed. Relerin gulps extremely nervous and ready to order the Moblin to attack if the need arises.

Marcus stared down at his companion. Widened eyes, frozen body, stammering speech, darting eyes, hasty cover-up... the boy was obviously scared. Scared and lying. A pentagram flashed in his right eye, and Marcus' breath hissed. He would have to be careful here; he was not sure of the extent of the possession. The demon could be in direct control, in which case he was dead, or it could only be in partial control, in which case... he would have to tread lightly. His eyes flickered over to the still-controlled Moblin and back to Relerin. The boy looked like a caged animal, frightened and cornered. Loft was too far away, chatting with Holle; no help was coming. If he made a wrong move, the Moblin would slice him apart.

Marcus straightened slowly, keeping his palms open and his movements slow and non-threatening. He needed to treat Relerin as he was in this instant; a frightened, deadly animal. "I respect secrets," he said. "But I'm going to ask you a question, and I've spent years studying the workings of the human body, so believe me when I say; I'll know if you lie to me." He fixed his terrified companion with a calm stare, and his voice held the inexorable strength that came from wholehearted conviction and righteous resolve. "Are you a threat to us? Loft, Holle, and I; because if you are, if you're someone who hurts innocent people, then you're just as bad as those Moblins, and we will take steps to end you."

His heart trembled slightly. This wasn't the best thing to say when facing a frightened animal- in fact, it was almost the worst thing that could have been said. But... what he had said was the truth, and if the boy was innocent, he had nothing to fear. Their mission was to eradicate evil and cleanse the Temple they were deposited near, and if this was a demon... well, if the demon was in control, Marcus was about to be attacked by the Moblin and powerful dark magic. His guard was already tight, but he made sure to keep his eyes on both the Moblin and the mage. His knees were slightly bent, ready to spring to one side, his voice was tight, ready to scream for Loft, and his arms were ready to snap up to cast his reflective magic. Everything depended on what the boy did next.

Relerin is a bit surprised and a bit insulted by the way Marcus is treating him right now. Yes Relerin is scared, most people want to kill him the moment they figure out his secret, but he hates when people treat him like an animal. "I'm not an animal! I am a Hylian! Stop treating me like I'm an animal!" Relerin takes a few breaths to calm himself down. "I am Relerin Ba'al. I am a Hylian necromancer with a literal demon inside me alright? There I said it. There is a demon inside me. Are you going to try to kill me for it? Are you going to be like everyone else I meet and judge me not on my actions, but the fact I have Ba'al? I have done nothing, but try to help people ever since I got Ba'al! But all you..." Relerin's voice begins lowering in pitch and sounding close to Ba'al's. "...Hylians do is treat me like a damn animal! I am a Hylian! My soul may be fractured, but I could never purposely bring harm to another living intelligent being! So stop...NO!" Relerin shakes his head his voice returning top normal. "No Ba'al you will not take control of me! This is my body and no matter how angry I am I will never let you take over!" Relerin pants looking back at Marcus. "I have not lied. I mean you no harm. I try to help people. That is all I try to do...I'm not an animal. Moblin...back off." The Moblin snorts before backing away. "I will give you no reason to kill me other than your own preconceived notions of good and evil. I'm not evil."

((Hey Lucario, so not sure how to really respond to that... hope this is alright))

Marcus stood up straight, looking down at the boy. After a few seconds, he spoke. "That's one of the stupidest things I've ever heard in my life." He shut down his magic and relaxed his stance. "I wasn't treating you like an animal," he said, "I was treating you for what you were; an unknown threat. How was I supposed to know the intricacies of your past, of your situation? Blaming the people you meet for leaping to assumptions is a battle you can never win; it's a battle you shouldn't even be fighting. So, instead of assuming that I automatically hate you and blame you and think you an evil person and consider you no more than an animal, you should be calmly explaining the situation to me. Frankly, your words and actions have done nothing to convince me of your mental and emotional stability; I have learned that you are an innocent person who wishes no-one harm, but apart from that?"

He shook his head and turned to walk back to Loft and Holle. "You're not a danger, I know that now. Clearly, you hold control over the demon. You're welcome to continue journeying with us; we won't hurt you. But please, stop blaming us for things we haven't done to you."

"Man, that Relerin bloke looks really stressed out, Loft. What do you think Marcus is saying to him?"
Holle sits back on his log, chewing on the tough piece of meat he had accidentally over-dried on the fire the previous night. It was horrible for eating, but it gave his mouth (and, to a lesser extent, his hands) something to do when thinking.
"I mean, I'm no expert, but Marcus looks like he's about to leap away, and that can't be good."
Pulling a twig out of his hair, Holle turns to Loft.
"What do you want to do now? We really only have a few options:
Camp in and fortify the entryway, and be really careful taking watches,
Camp up in the trees that the moblins were in, and take care not to fall out,
and just rush in."
Holle pulls a leaf out of his hair, and attached to it is a beetle.
"Will you look at the pincers on this one! This is a magnificent specimen of a stag beetle if ever I saw one!"
Holle drops it back on the ground, a smile now on his face.
"Ooh! Here comes Marcus!"

Relerin sighs motioning the Moblin to his side. "Right. I apologize Mr. Heilari. I am just used to being treated like an animal. I can not stand that. I assure you that I am more mentally stable than that display may have shown. Me emotional stability however...might not be so...good. Being bonded to Ba'al for fifteen years now has taken it's toll. I still wish to accompany you and help the troubled spirits within this temple." Relerin bows not saying anything else. The boy and his Moblin follow Marcus as he walks to Loft and Holle.

In his head Relerin is thinking of anything and everything to distract himself from the embarrassing show he just put on. Stupid, stupid, stupid! What in Din's name were you thinking Relerin. Marcus was right. You shouldn't jump to that all the time. Even if that is what everyone has done. Hm...I do need to re-evaluate my emotional stability...these bouts of rage have been happening more and more often recently...that can't be good.