i. Step: Florina
It was sunset over Florina Beach. At the harbour, various people were milling around; some flirting with Riel and the girls, a couple bargaining with Valen, the rest arranged in small groups around the area to enjoy the comforts of sun-warmed sand and cold sea after a long day of training. Nobody seemed to notice the duo sitting on the shore away from the rest; a pale man and a young woman.

“That was foolish,” the man said quietly, lifting one of her arms and turning it so the underside was exposed to the light. She shrugged, seemingly indifferent.
“It seemed like the appropriate thing to do,” she answered, and he glanced sharply at her.
“Nonetheless, it was foolish. They expected you to serve out penance for this, and they were little pleased when we intervened.” She laughed softly in response, burying her other hand in the sand as she responded.
“They are so self-righteously indignant about everything. Perhaps they do not know, but you’ve forgotten, then?” He met her gaze levelly, asking, “Forgotten?”

“I promised never to leave your side,” she answered calmly. There was a long moment where neither of them so much as moved, then a faint smile crept onto his pale face.
“Yes,” he murmured sardonically. “I suppose I should have remembered that. But I did not expect you to go to such…lengths.” As he spoke, he gently placed one hand over her arm. Beneath the pale fingers was a long, obvious slash wound, travelling from the heel of her palm down to midway along the forearm. It stood out pale against her tanned skin, and she shook her head.
“I wasn’t…I thought you were dead.”

“And if I was? It was foolish, regardless. I thought you more rational than this.” She raised her head, staring straight into his eyes.
“Loyalty should not be confused with idiocy, master.” His face was devoid of emotion for a few long beats, then he dipped his head and let out a low laugh.
“Nothing will still that tongue of yours.” He rose to his feet gracefully, red robes swishing. “Come. We leave.”
“Where to?” she asked, standing in her turn. As she straightened her own robes, he appeared to be staring at the sunset, his lips moving very slightly.

Finally, he turned to her and took her hands. “To him. He will need to know of this. He needs to do this before it is too late.” As he spoke, six white wings slowly unfurled from his back. He pulled her to him, one arm around her waist, and then-

-they were gone. The sand where they had sat was almost pristine, untouched. Almost. Another couple came and sat down, a red bean sundae clutched in the girl’s hand.
“What’s this?” she asked, raising herself onto her knees almost as soon as she had settled. Passing her sundae to her boyfriend, she sifted the sand where she had sat. A long red stem was revealed, and she whistled as she pulled out a long construct that appeared to be nothing more than a metal stick. However, it was a bright red metal stick, shaped like the lower end of a staff.

Her male companion extended a hand and turned it around, examining it closely. “Mage staffs shouldn’t be breakable. I wonder…wow, it’s sheared clean in half.” He held out the cut end to her, revealing the neatly sliced edge. She searched the area around them for a while, but the other half did not reveal itself.
“Shame,” she remarked. “We could have taken the top and sold it as an Evil Tale, after a little alteration.” He laughed at that, and pulled her down into the sand next to him with a soft thump.

ii. Step – Victoria Dungeon
“Do you think it was the right thing to do?” asked the female Chief Bandit worriedly, looking over at one of her companions. He shrugged in response, removing squashed Unagis from the side pockets of his pack.
“She has to do this herself,” he answered finally, closing the pack and placing it on a ledge beside them. “If she doesn’t, then she’s lost.”
“How can you say that so calmly?” she demanded, sounding incredulous. “She’s mourning! She obviously needs help!” He muffled a laugh, handing her an Unagi and an orange potion.
“He’s been missing for how long?” he asked, turning to the third member of their party and passing over the dish. “Her mourning should be over. None of us can help her now.”

There was a beat of silence, then the third adventurer said darkly, “Never felt grief like this before, you. Never lost someone you loved. You don’t share your heart with anyone. Easy for you to say.” There was an uncomfortable, drawn-out silence before the first male answered, voice sing-song, “How do you know I haven’t?”
“You’re you,” replied the dissenter curtly. “Pain you feel is all self-contrived.” The addressed burst into lilting laughter, an eerie sound that echoed through the tunnels. The woman looked worriedly from the stoic face to the mirthful one, finally shaking the Hermit’s arm.
“Stop it,” she scolded. “We should turn around right-”
“More is at stake than the emotional state of one fledgeling, Mica,” he interrupted smoothly, a slight smile twisting his lips. “We’d best leave, if you’re done eating. She’s stronger than she thinks, and he’s closer than he thinks.”

iii. Step: Otherwhere
Hello, there.
Essy looked around, eye widening in the whiteness. Her eyepatch had fallen off somewhere, but that was all right. She had never liked that red one anyway. She just wished there was something else to cover her socket with; it made her feel nervous. Placing one cupped hand over it, she called, “Hello?”

There was silence. Even while she had spoken, silence. It was though the surroundings stifled any sound, any movement, any sign of life. Yet that voice…
“Hello?” she tried, again. Still silence. Sighing, she curled up into a little ball, still keeping one hand over her eye. She couldn’t remember much. All she recalled was how she had lost her eye, and her name…and Az. She remembered Az. His smile and his laugh and the way he had held her close, everything about him that she had loved. And everything about him that she had hated, too. Everything that had been the man she had loved.

…and Saedas too, how he had been, in those years, everything she would have wanted with his measured words and out-of-place tenderness…

…and Maestro, with his strange laugh and cold smile, with his voice of winter ice and his frozen white lips…

…and all that she had been, and all that she would ever be, like scattered crystals forming all over her mind in that concentrate solution of memories and dreams and hope, with the rose-vine thread of love snaking through it all.

She waited in the white, waited, waited, waited. She didn’t know how long she had waited. She didn’t know what she was waiting for. She just waited, with the vague recollection that someone had told her to wait and stay here. Why was she listening? She didn’t know. But she never stopped to think that this was unlike her, that normally she would be looking for something and not just waiting for it. Something inside her told her to wait, and so she waited.

Suddenly, the whiteness grew a little darker, not so painfully, blindingly white. She shook her head. Was her eyesight going?
“Essy?” She whirled around at the word. It was the first real sound she had heard in this strange white place. The speaker had come up on her blind side, and she was just about to reprimand them for it, when she realised who it was.
“Az!” Quickly, she rose and threw her arms around him. He returned the hug enthusiastically enough, laughing. This was the Az she knew, and he was happy, and because of that she was too. It was a while before she could trust herself to speak without bursting into tears, but when she finally did, the words almost wouldn’t stop. “Az, I’m so sorry about everything, can you ever forgive me? Please understand, Finesse wasn’t me and I wasn’t her, she was just the very worst of me and I don’t know how everything happened this way, I’m very sorry-”
“Ess,” he said gently, putting one finger on her lips. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be strawberries and cream.” He paused. “Maybe watermelons instead. I like them better. They don’t get smooshed as easily.” Az leaned over and pinched her cheek. “Smoosh. Like this.”

She almost choked on her own tears. Whether they were of laughter or regret or terror, she didn’t know. But he was here and he was smiling at her, and he wasn’t being cruel to her like he had been in-

Her smile faded at the memory of what he had said, and he must have noticed, for he loosened his hold on her. It took a lot of effort to suppress the urge to cry out, No, please, hold me again, but she remembered. She was quiet for a while. When she was about to speak again, he tried to speak too, and it was a jumble of words until finally she put one hand over his mouth and said softly, “Shh.” He shushed.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s happened. Everything’s happened. It wasn’t me, though, and you know that I know that. I know who it was. But I’m still sorry for not doing anything about it. Is he…taken care of?” Az hesitated, then he nodded.
“Maestro is,” he said, tone almost casual. “Saedas is…he’s coming here. He can take care of you.” The strain was barely there, but she knew him. She heard it.
“Not you?” It tumbled out involuntarily. A second passed before he reached over to brush her hair back out of her face and said quietly, “Stuff happens.”
“Yes,” she said eventually. “It does.” With all her effort, she smiled at him and patted him on the shoulder. She had to struggle not to rub him on the cheek like she used to. “Where is she? Out there?” He nodded slowly. “Go get her. Good luck, Az.”

“Thanks.” For a second he looked as though he was going to lean forward and kiss her on the forehead, but she pushed him back.
“I’m breaking up with you,” she said. It was easier than she’d expected. “You’re not my boyfriend any more. Really, I think I just ought to make it so you know, because you can be endearingly oblivious sometimes.”

Az looked thunderstruck. He was still looking thunderstruck when Saedas appeared, put a hand on her shoulder and asked her, “Are you ready?”
“Maybe. Goodbye, Az. Good luck, again.” A practiced flick of her hand, and Finesse pushed her hair back over her shoulder and smiled radiantly. “Get the girl and save the day.” Az managed a sort of twitchy wave before everything faded to nothing; everything, except the weight of Saedas’s hand on her shoulder.

In the distance, she heard the beating of great wings, and smiled.
Thank you. I don’t love you any more.

iv. Step – Henesys
To Chief Stan’s immense annoyance, a guild war was taking place. One guild was huddled in the entrance to the Henesys Market, the other one behind a makeshift barricade of wheelbarrows and haybales.
“My guild is going to pwn your guild’s butt!” shouted the leader of one, a shrimpy-looking magician in a Black Starlight. “Your guild is full of noobs! You’re a noob, noob!”
“Come over here and say that again!” shrieked the leader of the other at a volume fit to shatter glass, a warrior brandishing a black axe in one hand and a skull-emblazoned shield in on the other arm. She was wearing a pink bandanna.
“Do you think I’m a real nubcake? I haven’t trained really super hard for nothing! You come over here so my guild can own you!”
“Why you little-”
“SUPER LEET PWNAGE ATTACK!”

Somewhere in Henesys, there was a place free of guild wars, disrespectful youths and loud noise, Chief Stan thought. When he found that place, he would go there, and sit there, and hit anyone who found him with his cane until they went away.

In the meantime, the market entrance exploded.

.V.ertex
The alleyway had fallen silent a long time ago. Occasionally, the quiet was punctuated with the sounds of shattering glass or harsh breathing, but the sole inhabitant of the alleyway did not do much to disturb the quiet of Kerning the rest of the time.

This particular inhabitant was a barely-visible, half-curled figure wedged between wall and planks, with one hand clutched around the neck of an empty bottle. The figure raised the bottle to its mouth, only to lower it when it proved to be empty. Seconds later, the bottle shattered on the opposite wall, jagged fragments scattering over a small arc that was already coated in glass pieces. If you were close enough, you could see the shoulders heaving up and down, as if the subject of observation was breathing very deeply or trying not to cry. There was no reaction, even when glass crunched under heavy boot.
“So.” A low voice, edged with menace. Still no response. The sound of more glass crunching, followed by a light, silk-clad step. Yet the alley’s occupant said nothing, keeping her head down.

“Are you sure it’s her?” A female voice that sounded uncertain. Laughter. Male.
“Maestro’s vanquisher is now some delirious drunk in a Kerning side-alley? Irony’s taken its course, I see.” Another voice, also female. Wavering with each word, so it sounded slightly delirious.
“Let’s just get this over with,” said the male. A boot nudged the curled figure. Still no response. “Is she even conscious?”
“Wake her up,” said the second female, giggling, a crazy high-pitched sound. “Come on, I want to see her scream when I gut her.” Her foot was a little more forceful, shoving the curled-up figure hard enough that she listed sideways.
“Go away,” the curled figure finally said, voice hoarse and rasping.
“Sorry,” the first female said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “We – we’re here to…”
“Kill you,” the male said abruptly. “We have a job to do. Don’t hold it against us.” This was answered by a whoop of laughter from the second female.
“Do hold it against me!” she said, raising her arms. “At least a thousand ghosts have sworn vengeance on me, maybe you can be number thousand and one-”

“Actually,” said a mild voice, “It’s closer to twenty-five. Or maybe twenty-seven.” The three would-be assailants whirled around. Standing in the mouth of the alleyway was a young man in what looked to be a Red China set, bare-headed. His hair looked like it ate combs for breakfast.
“How do you know, crazy boy?” demanded the second female, a Warrior in an Ice Queen set. “Are you one of them come back to take your vengeance?”
“Nope. People who aren’t trying to kill someone I kind of like alive usually call me ‘Sir Awesome’.” He raised one hand and drew a shinkita off his back. “But you are trying to kill someone I kind of like alive, so you can call me ‘Death’. Or ‘deathliness-causing lord of awesome doom’. I like the second one better, just so you know.”
“Stay out of this,” warned the male, drawing a Rower. “Won’t you? I don’t want to have to kill you, but I don’t speak for the others.”
“Cliché. Like touché. Only cliché instead.” The bandit suddenly vanished. The first female, a thief in Mantis set, looked around hurriedly and drew a Deadly Fin. “I can’t see him anywhere. Watch out-”

The next second, she was sent sprawling to the ground. The crossbowman swung the Rower upwards, aiming at the spot of air from which the blow had presumably come, but his bolt shot through thin air and landed on the other side of the alleyway. The Warrior had a Maple Scorpio out and was swinging it wherever she could reach, the eye of a slicing whirlwind. There was a sudden whooshing sound and she collapsed as if under the weight of something heavy, the Scorpio flying from her grip; the bandit abruptly appeared, crouching on her back, and said conversationally, “You know, I really don’t like having to use these. It makes me feel like a cheating little Lupin. Maybe a Zombie Lupin.” He looked up and cocked his head at the crossbowman, who had lowered the weapon. Surprise was written all over his face. The bandit grinned and said, “I’ve never seen anyone who looks that much like a Zombie Lupin before. Maybe it’s the slack-jawed drooling.”

“You’re one of those Cash people,” gasped the crossbowman. “I’ll leave now! Just – I’ll leave!” He made good on his word, only stopping to pick up the thief. The bandit looked down at the warrior he was using as a perch and tapped her on the back of the head with two fingers. This drew an angry snarl.
“You’re almost as bad as the evil Kitty-Li,” he observed. “She’s less grumpy, though. Or maybe she’s just as grumpy and you’re just louder about it.”
“I’ve killed over fifty of your kind, boy!” she howled. “Get off me and let me kill you!”
“Sorry, but I’m too awesome to die,” said the bandit, grinning like a drunken Buffy. “Anyway, you can’t have killed fifty when you’ve only killed twenty-three. Or twenty-five. Unless you did some negative killing. That would make you a witch doctor like Blackbull. Do all warriors learn necromancy?” Before she could reply, he smacked his shinkita into the base of her skull, and she went limp. “Apologies, but I’m going to have to necromantize you. I have bigger kitties to take care of.”

As he stood up, he nudged the warrior’s prone body with one foot. “If I was the Seraph, you would just have been killed. But because I’m such a kind, generous and awesome angel-thing, I’m sparing you, Namai.” Then he winced. “Ooh, cliché attack.”

“Go away,” said the curled figure abruptly. “Go away. Go get eaten by a Balrog. Stop tormenting me. I don’t care if you just rescued me, go away.” The bandit tilted his head to one side and sighed, smiling a sort of tired-yet-delighted smile. It was the sort of smile you got on your face when you came home after a very long, stressful and tired day, and there was food on the table and a blanket and your favourite drink waiting for you. The situation wasn’t quite the same, but he figured it applied. Except that the food was laced with poison and the blanket was worn really thin. All right, maybe not quite the same. He reached for her hand.

A warm hand curled around hers, and Li looked up, eyes swimming from the excessive amounts of Elixir in her system. Shakily, she swatted at it, murmuring, “Let go. And go away.”
“I’m not allowed to hug you even now?” asked a hurt voice. A familiar hurt voice. Blinking, she rubbed at her eyes drunkenly and stared, trying to make them focus. Tan skin. Messy hair. Irascible, ‘stab-me-now’ grin. And straight from her dream…the six shining black wings spread out behind him, taking up a dumpster’s worth of space in their own right. She glanced around. Surprisingly, no one seemed to have been attracted by the glitter of the wings; they seemed to be leaving faint trails of shining darkness in the air around them as they fluttered.

“You can hug me,” she said wryly, turning to face him. The last vestiges of alcohol seemed to have slipped from her; perhaps being in the presence of angels did that to you. “You’re just not allowed to leave again if you do.”
“Actually, that’s what I’m here for,” he said, grin spreading. “How about it? Come with me. I can give you stabby things. And somewhere nice to take a bath at, you need it. Then we can be destructive together.” One hand already claimed, he leaned forward, extending the other one. She looked at it for a while, sitting up. Eventually, she shook her head and glared at him.
“You’ll probably wreck half of Victoria and most of Ossyria if I’m not there to stop you,” she growled, and he attempted to look like a kicked Jr. Kitty as he lamented, “Wreck things, I? Such an ebil Ickle Kitty-Li to accuse me of such deeds!” With that, he neatly pickpocketed her Steelys. Yelping, she launched at him, and grabbed at his hand in time to wrench the knives from his grasp.

Before she could let go, though, his fingers trapped her wrist as he grinned at her like a maniac, fingers creeping down and then yanking her up so she was dangling from her captured hand. Then she burst out, “You’re a conniving, devious-”
“Awesome,” he interjected, and she elbowed him in the stomach. He staggered back exaggeratedly, wings flaring as he released her. “The pain! The mortal agony! I am wounded! Save me, I am sped!” He had just sunk to his knees and was waving one hand frantically about before she answered.
“I didn’t elbow you that hard,” she countered, glaring at him. “Let’s go before you start freaking people out even more.” Now Az smiled – smiled, not grinned – and got back to his feet, as light began to gather around him.

Then the Angel Azrael, the Angel of Death, took the hand of Talian, and the sin was redeemed.

Time…

Stopped.

—-
And so Ends the Tale
For we’ve reached the end and I bid you all adieu.
For I’ve won my writer’s time and I’ve passed it in that lieu,
That place that’s born of dreams, of strangeling fantasy,
Of hopes and fears and inner aches and faded memory.

I’ve passed it well, and passed it long, and loved my time at best,
But if there’s fame and if there’s glory, then take that and all the rest.
Some people in this place and time have made it worth the while,
Encouraged me and bullied me and pushed me on to the last mile.

So know you now, o readers mine, you’ve made it worth my time,
And I hope that you’ve enjoyed your role, as I have enjoyed mine.
–

Yep. It’s over.

Bandit’s Sin. June 21, 2006 – August 19, 2007. 98 pages in Microsoft Word, on Book Antiqua Size 10 font. 1 year, 1 month and 28 days. 19 chapters. Four arcs. Seven characters. And any number of slimes.

The one loose thread I had to tie up, and couldn’t stand to leave alone, but didn’t have the motivation to finish. And now I have.

So thank you all. You’ve made this worth it for me. (If there are still any of you left. I belong to a different MMOT era.)

P. S. Much love for the frontpage, guys. : D

**No monsters were harmed in the making of Sin, except for the ones which got eaten by Az.**