The squid and the crow.

Eva was on the Beach at night, laying down like she was making a sand angel and staring up at the dark sky. There were so many stars out here... Well, out there. Above her, all the lights from the tourist traps and beachfront property were blinding them out, but beyond the ocean, they were there. The moon seemed to hold them to it jealously, lest they go dark too. She sighed and settled deeper into her thick, baggy black hoodie and tried not to feel so darned homesick.

 She'd never been away from her family this long, even when they were sent out to work. She missed her own bed, her own room, not having to eat vending machine treats every day and get crows to keep watch over her building. She'd planned on Ethelstane finding her eventually- they were related closely, and he knew her too well- but he was right. What was she doing here? Chasing some probably-real, maybe-imaginary cup so she could wave it in all their faces? It was just another trinket, when she got right down to it, like the bike-locks and pocket knives and necklaces and other bits of shiny trash she collected and hoarded-

Eva shuddered on the beach, and looked up at the stars a lot more plaintively. She felt lost, and so small. She didn't even hear the sound of something emerging offshore and bobbing with the surf as it watched her.

Scylla had lurked near the shoreline, staying close to an overhang nearby in deeper waters during the day and eating new species of fish, things she'd never seen before, and keeping away from the light circle in the ocean above this one. When it turned off at night, she returned to the beach and hunted the shallows, and a few times, she'd gone all the way into the next layer, where the water was so weightless-had so little pressure- so little presence- it was like it wasn't there at all. The ocean behind her broke on the sand, and she'd investigated a few things, her lights off, her too-big eyes wide and flashing around.

The white towers were made of the same kind of bone as the whales closer in to the shore had been; except... She could see some of them just sitting there in the distance, not moving at all. No sound, nothing at all. She'd gotten daring, closed in and bit one, but it wasn't flesh- just bone. It made her teeth hurt. But they weren't alive, not like her, not anymore. Neither were the tongues some of the surface-dwellers had been sitting on- she'd found them left behind on the beach, and they were like braided seaweed, not muscle. That alone had made her much less afraid to surface now and again.

She'd only met two humans while she went about her routes in the dark- a little one who'd lost his fake foot, until she gave it back to him. The other was an old one who'd first been scared before being deeply confused by being talked at by a brightly-lit squid girl in halting German. He'd been nice, he'd given her some teeny red shiny thing on a stick to eat and told her about Berlin.

Now she surged up from the surf, walking onto the beach, her tentacles trailing in the water behind her. She looked down at Eva from afar, her lights dim and murky as she studied her. Scylla didn't see herself often, since she had only a few hard-water pieces in her former home that had reflected what was in front of them, but she knew that look. It was something she could fix.

Eva was deep in thought, feeling lost and lonely before out of nowhere some weird things was leaning over her. It was all mouth and eyes, and tentacles hung from it's sides.

"CAW?!" She yelled out of reflex and surprise, jerking upright.

"Gute Nacht." Eva's eyes snapped to the girl wearing the thing like a hat, before she did a double take. Her hand fluttered away from the pocket of her jacket and her sword's hilt.

"Was ist los mit dir? Bist du hungrig?"

Eva blinked. It must've been some weird ocean-people dialect... She could almost understand the squid girl. She probably didn't speak Bird. She studied her cautiously before replying.

"Nothing. I am just taking it all in, thinking about such stuff and... And things. I am not hungry, only tired..."

Scylla blinked rapidly and tilted her head. It must've been some weird dirt-people dialect...She could kind of understand the other girl, but not that much was coming through.

"Oh... Wie shade. Ich bin." She said, before her stomach gurgled. She'd met a sea turtle today and hadn't gotten around to getting food before the Sharks came out... Sharks were bullies. They didn't like to let her eat when they were around.

"You are?" Eva asked, before she stood up and smiled confidently. "I have some rations at my room- Em and Ems, with peanuts! Fish from Sweden, one or to popped tarts... I'll gladly share! Do you dwell around here? Maybe you can help me..."

"Sie haben Fleisch?" Scylla chirped.

"Sure, most likely! Come on, I'll take you there-"

Scylla took a step back from Eva's outstretched hand and looked at her doubtfully, turning around to gaze at the ocean.

"Oh, no, all is well! I promise, I am of good heart and intentions. Here- I'll tell you my name for trust! My real name, not some fake or any tricks. I'm Eva, Eva Corvus! What's your name?

"Name? Scylla!" She said, excited from Eva's excitement, lighting up. Literally, into a pale blue.

"It's an honor to meet you, miss, now let's be off- however am I going to sneak you in? Maybe you can be my granddaughter... Does your, eh, squid helm thing come off?"

"Nope!" Scylla said, following after Eva and glancing up happily at the moon. Maybe this meant things would start going right.

Blackbird

She'd paid cash for a cheap room, and moved in under cover of darkness. It hadn't taken her that long to get here, since she flew as a crow overland (stopping to snack on crackers and to pick up shiny stuff) and traveled light in any case. She'd stayed up when she'd arrived and scouted this place out, but it seemed like any other way station. People stayed and left, taking their problems and plans with them.

She'd disguised and made herself up as a tiny, frail old lady for the discount, and now she sat surrounded by her notes, books, and plans, scattered around her in a loose leaf circle. The mattress creaked as she wrote down what she'd already learned- the two truckers from Tampa were carrying frozen food and freight for Target, respectively, and a family here had snuck their dog into their room. A person on the third floor had a pound of white go-powder shrink-wrapped inside their suitcase. One of the pool-cleaners had spit in it when he was done skimming- that wasn't important, just gross and relevant.

The only real problem was that Florida sucked like a whirlpool. It reminded her of Poseidon's armpit- humid, moist, and smelly. It seemed to rain every day, and the food was somehow hot enough to burn but cold enough to be nasty at the same time. She'd have to invest in lighter clothing and more hats... And some more crackers.

She put down a rough pen sketch of a tall girl and a taller sword, covering the map of the state she'd drawn a giant mantis on before having crossed it out in frustration. There just wasn't time, she was working against a constantly clicking clock. Getting to the Islands in time for to start laying blinds and finding out secrets before the Kobbers began to show up was important. Moving in the open would be harder, even if her intentions were mostly good, but to set up shadows and holes she could fall in ready-made would take work.

Eva knew two things for sure, two things that had pulled her here like the dark before a storm; She belonged in the Kobber's blind sides, and something big was going to happen out there in the surf and sand. Well, that went without saying, but something in particular.

The Unholy Grail was out there, somewhere, and she wouldn't rest until it was hers. She glanced down at some of her books, one of them the legend of the object. It granted wishes... No strings attached. That was it. And when she had it in her clutches, not a one of the other Crows would be able to mutter about her and snicker anymore-

Her room phone rang.

She jerked away from it, before steeling herself and picking it up.

"Yyyes?" She warbled.

"It's a Ethanstang callin' for ya."

She hung up, her eyes widening before she hurriedly began gathering all her materials to pack away as quick as she could- but there was a rapping on her window already. Without looking, she held out her hand and made an upward gesture, continuing to jealousy horde her treasure as the Raven hopped into her room and croaked up at her.

"No, I don't wish to talk to him-"

"Oh? Well, I'd like to talk to you." The Crow said to her back. She closed her eyes and pursed her mouth before slowly turning around and blinking in confusion at the three foot tall white crow staring at her calmly.

"....Ethelstane, where-er, is the rest of you?"

"The rubberized lines of power, likely. Palm trees were not kind to our feet." Said the white crow. For his species, Ethelstane's voice was windy, sometimes lingering on vowels, sometimes trilling consonants.

"Speaking to only your head turns mine funny. I am taken aback to you here and now- why are you earthbound?"

"You can't guess? Eva, why are you here? There's no reason for you to be on Earth, much less somewhere like this. I preferred Georgia. The peaches were a welcome gift."

"I've my reasons, Uncle. My own reasons, as it were. I know what I'm doing, and I'll thank you to leave it at my wayside, not yours." She said seriously, crossing her arms and staring back at him before dumping the last of her notes into her satchel.

"Eva..." He said reproachfully. Ethelstane hopped closer before flapping his way up onto her bed. She sighed and looked over at him, her hands folded. She looked tired and guilty.

"I'm sorry, Uncle. I only... Do you remember Iskander?"

"Ah, yes. That wasn't a good day at all."

"They all laughed at me." She muttered, her shoulders slumping. I was always the last and the weakest. It was awful. Some of the children were greater at Magic than I, and The Other One started joking that they'd have to have the hatchlings protect me. Then I tumbled over tha chair, and they made me walk behind everyone else... And when it was over, I didn't get any of the treasure. None at all. It went to the mistake fund."

"They made sport of me, to my face. How was I supposed to keep up with spirits? I can't call thunderstorms from nowhere, or kill a dozen men with one blow. I'm only sneaky, and even then...  It was a humiliation in slow motion." She said sadly. "I had to leave... Besides, I've graduated school and all that. Surely it was time I went out and saw the great wide beyond?"

"You're still my favorite, Eva... We still must talk. First-"

"HEY! Shut up over there!" Someone yelled, pounding on the thin walls, Eva looked back over to Ethalstane, who'd closed his beak and began to whisper directly to her. She wasn't surprised most of it was family gossip.

Original OS

She'd always survived, and that was what made her special. A God in their heaven or a rat in their gutter, all things acted on their own nature, and hers was to never stop fighting. She'd slain countless targets, even if all she could remember of most of them was the final impact of her sword meeting flesh and leaving cooling blood and sinew where something living had formerly been. The red gouts of blood, shattered bones and twisted muscles open to the air. The whip-burn of new scars on her body, and the rage singing in her veins.

She'd always been strong, like all her ilk. She'd always been short, too, even before her handlers had told her smoking was stunting her growth. After her master had tried to Liquidate her- a fancy way they'd put trying to kill her- and she'd lost a leg escaping, she didn't have any plans to grow any taller.

Now she stood Off to the side of the arena that was her home (by dint of she killed things and they let her sleep in a pen), leaning on her sword and inhaling on the cigarette in her hands. She wasn't watching the cheering, booming crowd, or the sands around her- she was lost in thought.

Today was PORKCHOP day. All she had to do was kill until the sun started to set, and she'd get to eat a whole lot of them. If she did this quick, she could get back to her pen and take them from the cook instead of picking them off the floor. Her mouth was already watering, part with expectation of violence, part with hunger.

"We've got a real exciting match for you today, citizens!" Boomed the magically augmented voice of one of the commentators. She thought his name was Wilks. She'd met all the announcers at one point or another, but once she knew they weren't going to fight her and she wasn't supposed to kill them, her brain didn't consider the information important.

"In the sands now- You know her, you love her! All the way from the Stone Plains, winner of the last eight blood games, your champion! The maiden of massacres, the daughter of death, our little slaughter-stork, VOTH-7!"

She glanced up at the crowd when they screamed and cheered, taking a deep pull on her cigarette and blowing it out her nose. They hollered her serial number and stamped their feet, while children waved blunt tin swords built like hers from the stands. She didn't know any of them, so as always, she felt vaguely confused and uneasy. How did they always know her serial number...?

The crowd loved her because of the violence she brought with her. At first, the Arena staff had tried to keep her from standing out in the sands before her fights. It had only taken ten dead a show for them to realize she didn't want to charge her competition before they were ready or to showboat- she just liked being in the sunlight.

"And now, for her opponent, something special!" The disembodied voice boomed as the doors to her far, far left opens. Something big shuffled forward. "All they way from the Pendulum marsh, seized from it's cave- It's Mosstooth, the Troll Duke!"

The enormous Boulder-like monster stomped out of the gate; it's head nearly scraped the very top of the ceiling. It was all warty skin and muscle, rough wiry hair scraping from it's joints. It scratched underneath it's blanket-sized lion cloth before it burped and glowered at her.

She took a final hard drag on the cigarette before dropping it and lowering herself, popping up and tearing her blade out of the ground. "Designation; Vee dash zero dash tee dash five dash seven dash-"

"As usual, our little bloody cherub is introducing herself!" The voice boomed over hers, as she continued to list off her serial number. The Troll took a lumbering step towards her, confused and growing angry at the lack of violence. She could commiserate, but her programming made her do things a certain way. "-dash eight. Target accepted."

Her aura erupted around them; a ten feet space around her, and then her crackling willpower in a ring around that. She bounced on her heel and flourished her sword in a circle.

"Eliminate tar--target." She said, in her cracked and dry voice. 

She moved when the troll did, a full on leap that turned into a roll on the ground. Her sword was still upright, and she made sure to grip it tight. Things had been easier when it was chained to her... As she came up, she slashed the surprised troll as a part of the movement. Her blade dug deep, and it roared before it swung back at her. The fist was the size of a wagon wheel, and it was only by once again springing and rolling that she avoided it. She came up in a crouch, her sword's hilt above her head, it's tip dragging in the sand.

Clouds of brown flew in her wake, as she spun herself with her remaining leg in a pirouette that moved her, her sword quickly striking the creature's leg as it turned seized her in it's grip. The troll roared in rage before it hurled back and threw her to the ground. She impacted hard before she wriggled and took a few steadying hops; the scars and wounds that weren't fully healed on her were bleeding now, hot and sizzling even in the arena's heat.

She was fast, and strong; if she'd been whole, she would have been unstoppable. As it was, actual  movement and her attacks were crippled with only one leg. To compensate, her reactions were impeccable- when Mosstooth tried to punch her into the ground, she swung at the same time, and her blade ripped hard into it's knuckles. The troll jerked it's arm back, but she hung onto her wedged in blade.

Close up, she balanced on one foot before her shorn limb pointed outward, keeping her steady, and she began to throw strikes into the meat of her foe. With a whoosh, her aura caught fire al around them, the flames burning a dark, arterial red. With a quick two swings, she cut off one of it's arms; Her sword was on the ground, and her back was to her enemy in a crouch.

She lifted as hard as she could, driving with her heel and her back in a vicious rising strike; blood, guts, and innards spilled out of the Troll's stomach like change from a cut coin purse. Voth sprang at it with her sword in an underhand grip, her yellow eye narrowed with effort before the sword plunged into the Troll's own from beneath. 

It fell into her aura and died messily, the flames spreading quickly and black smoke pooling over the sands like early night. In front of the corpse and unseen in the smoke, Voth was breathing hard. She used her sword like a tripod, inching her way forward until she could pull a cigarette out and light it off the corpse.

"Target eliminiminated." She stuttered to herself, thinking about porkchops.

1408

She could admit when she'd had a bad idea.

Pestilence sighed and stood up, putting the paintbrush down on her easel and examining the picture she'd been painting with a flat, unsatisfied eye. Her empty room was dim as always, silent except for her own movements and activity. The canvas in front of her was covered in a swaying green, the long grass from the first place she could remember. Rocks so black they were purple jutted out of the landscape, and the sky was a stormy gray.

She'd planned to paint four girls in a half-circle, to match the four generations... But she couldn't picture herself as an old woman, and had been forced to consider the matter. Unlike the first of the Elementals, she hadn't been made through an arcane force of spirit taking will and form, but in the dark of a laboratory. Her armor creaked as she inclined her head and studied herself as a child.

That had during the end of a medieval period of time, and the beginning of an industrial boom; as a little girl, once she could walk, she'd been given a sword and armor to train with. The cabal of scientists who gene-forged her for the wars ahead needed her, she'd realized after so many mock-sword fights and sessions of infection.

It was hard for her to remember all of her childhood- much of her mind was still too human, not built to last as long as it had. The War model had been designed to kill wizards and eat magic; she was built to control battlefields and take territory. Durability over refinement. Her body was almost as brutally simple as she was.

She remembered being young and eager, burning with fever and bloodlust. She also remembered being weird and lonely, the only people she saw her masters and their support staff. There'd been a maid with wooden hands who had been kind, and once, a short War Elemental with one eye and a sword twice as big as she was. She'd had one eye, like all their kind, and Pestilence had been allowed to have Tea with her before she completed her own mission.

Pestilence smiled softly, her tired eyes warming up a little. She turned and considered herself as she'd been a few decades ago, in her 170's. A young adult. The world had boomed in the wake of technology's burn, and resources had been consumed faster than a feudal system could garnish them. War had followed not soon after, and her life had truly begun.

The war had never ended, not really. She'd come a long way from the miles of trenches and killing fields, but it had been out there she'd finally realized what she was. Her touch rotted through metal, through stone, through flesh; armor bubbled in her wake, and her sword left red mud everywhere she went. One cut was enough to spring an infection that would drop even the strongest enemies.

Her aura was her greatest weapon; she had three lungs, two that powered the third, and her body was a temple of disease. She'd acquired simple ailments from confused villagers brought to her, seized from their homes, and exotic ailments that had been neutralized and left on ice, all within herself. Her aura was when she altered them and unleashed them against her foes. It took time, and while she was immune to her own rot, she suffered the effects during the incubation. But...

She'd been sent out to pacify bandits, and they'd come out in force. The forest had been filled with their arrows and their hollering. She could hear it now, almost two centuries later, and her sharp metal fingers lingered on her sword's hilt. They'd killed her guard, and then they'd encircled her. She'd exhaled the whole time she'd fought, her new grey armor slick with her oil-blood, one arm limp and dead from the arrows in it.

Her eyes hadn't been half-lidded; she hadn't felt tired and weary then, her heart had gurgled like a drain from purpose, the joy of a tool in use of it's craft boiling in her veins. The bandits had kept coming into her glade, smiling at her even while she clashed her blade against theirs and forced them away from her. She finally closed her mouth, taking a normal breath before grinning disjointed back at them. It looked like a scream.

"Don't be afraid, girl."

"Why would I be? You're already dead." She replied, watching with sick joy as they began to bleed from their noses and their eyes, their ears and their mouths. They'd been infected once they'd come close enough, and now, a greatly-accelerated form of Bloodspill was thundering through their veins. Most of them were sinking to their knees, coughing wetly as their innards tore themselves into a mist- and she inhaled this time, the red ghosts in the woods suffusing her with a green glow. Her skeleton shone through her body, and her skull grinned under her face.

She raised her sword and charged the ones still alive-

And then, it had never ended.

States Came together and disbanded, men climbed to power and fell to their deaths. Through it all, she fought. The third generation- the Conquest- came to be. She fought beside some and killed others. It all ran together, after awhile. Victory, and defeat. War and Peace. Being awake and dreamig, asleep for years. She'd come to terms with her slow degeneration- when she couldn't remember a name, she improvised, and she held herself together with stubborn will.

But where did that leave her? Adrift in a time she didn't belong, doomed to grow senile? The worst part about circular thoughts was that they also never ended. As she considered the empty part of the picture, she had a new thought, a distinctly unpleasant one. It made her grimace.

The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. She was still lonely and lost. Ironically, the only person she thought to speak to about these matters couldn't speak at all. Pestilence picked up the picture and crumpled it in her gauntlets, putting it in the waste bin next to her bed. She folded the easel and slid it under her mattress, before sitting down and tapping her knees with her fingers.

There were, officially, no such things as Death Elementals. No agency or group had ever succeeded in creating one.

If any of her new compatriots would understand being lost, it would be a generation one. That was, if the silent Death chose to accept her invitation.