<div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://i51.tinypic.com/2e2qq02.jpg">[ img ]</a></div><br/><br/><br/><ul>They found her praying by the altar, her back a constellation of straight, thin lines of red. Hearing the footsteps as they approached, Myra set the small whip down by her knees and straightened up. The two messengers from the High Order stood for a minute behind her, shifting their weight from one foot to the other, as she languidly picked up the black shirt that she had tossed away and slipped it over slender shoulders. The blood from her cuts seeped through into the fabric, but the black obstructed it from view. Glancing over with steel grey eyes at the two men, her fingers worked to button up the shirt, hiding the paleness of her flesh from the world. <br/><br/>"What has he stolen this time?" She knew why they were here. It was a weekly occurence that had began to grate on her patience.<br/><br/>"The copy of the Creator's Scripture in the Magma Crypts," came the answer, forcing the female to curse softly. What the hell did this fool stand to gain from this? There was no money to be made by religious artifacts, the only meaning they held was to the believers. No, his crimes were purely symbolic, but what was it that he wanted to say? Crossing the distance to a small basin of water, Myra washed her face clean, and picked up the heavy belt she had left upon the surface of the table. Doing up the buckle, hands secured the knives and guns that hung threatingly, plump lips pursed in annoyance at being disturbed yet again.<br/><br/>The High Order was everything to the world now. After the skies had turned black with ash and the screams of women and children filled the air, they had been the only salvation. The world had crumbled, the giants of a glass and concrete lay in ruins and only religion would save them. The female was a soldier for the Order, her mission a simple one of bringing the unfaithful to justice.  She had been on the trail of this criminal for a long time now, and it pissed her off that he managed to escape her each time. The messengers stood silently behind her, each one of them having played this role before. They did not bother to tell her what must be done because they knew that Myra would break their jaws for their insolence.<br/><br/>Once fully dressed, the female began to make an exit, turning only momentarily to acknowledge them, "Gentlemen. May Enleos be with you."<br/><br/>She knew the bastard's favourite hangout, having followed him here many times before. There was a very small chance that he would be hiding there now, but Myra had to start somewhere. Gripping her gun between two hands, her heavy boots stepped over the bent steel and broken glass that was the floor of an ex-car manufactoring plant. Birds fluttered across the high ceiling, their wings drawing her attention for a brief moment, before her eyes floated back down. "Rhensivar," she called out his name, her voice almost playful as it echoed through the walls. "Come out, come out wherever you are, you piece of shit." </ul><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://i51.tinypic.com/mighdz.jpg">[ img ]</a></div>