Aiedo

Sunset in the thriving city of Aiedo was a sight to behold. As the sun set over the western horizon, it sent its red and golden rays cascading over the sandwashed walls of the city, the adobe buildings throwing strange shadows over the otherwise glowing cobblestones. The small creek that ran through the city sparkled as the light refracted off of its surface in all directions. But the most significant sight, for the viewer perched on the roof tops, was the Guild. The two storey building had its own walled-off area, and the guards patrolling its grounds looked dangerous in the fading light. It appeared, as the sunset slowly faded away, that the Hunter's Guild could withstand an attack by all the dark forces of the world combined.
WhiteShadow, the viewer on a rooftop, inherently knew that this wasn't true. He saw numerous windows which could be compromised easily, and the fact that the creek ran through the grounds was simply asking for invasion or sabotage of the water supply. WhiteShadow's emotions were mixed as he looked at the Guild; it represented everything he feared, and at the same time commanded respect. He feared as it seemed to spew out endless hunters, all with eager hands grasping for the bounty on his head, and respected it for the calibre of some of these warriors. One such warrior was Chaz Ashley, who WhiteShadow had just seen entering the Guild moments ago. WhiteShadow had followed Chaz to find out about this "Dark One" and to satiate his own curiousity about the hunter who was at times benevolent and at others violent.
Night had now completely fallen, and torches had been lit around the city. But, WhiteShadow noticed, the bustle of the city barely abated with the coming of the dark. In the more unprotected villages like Tonoe, nightfall was the time for all to be inside; the forces of darkness were at home in the nighttime. At this thought, WhiteShadow's blood chilled. He thought about his own love for the darkness, for its ability to aid his thievery, his survival. When he had first used his speed and agility to begin robbing homes, he hated the darkness, and hated himself for what he was doing. But with time, he found that the urge to survive and continue his wretched life outweighed any moral objections. Besides, he wasn't a creature of the darkness, despite what the others said. The "Dark One" Chaz was searching for was the true threat here. That was why WhiteShadow had to find out all he could about this notorious figure - was he the same evil creature that had aided WhiteShadow, before slaughtering the patrons of that simple bar in Paseo? And why had he called the set-upon Motavian "friend", when the supposedly good woman the next day feared him, and the good hunter had sought his life, on more than one occasion?
The path between light and darkness is a treacherous one, and it is most treacherous to travel it alone. But with none to turn to, WhiteShadow had to rely on his own experiences and impressions to base his opinions of good and evil upon. Sighing to himself, WhiteShadow vaulted silently to the next roof, his padded feet muffling his movement. In mere moments he was atop the walls surrounding the Guild. Striking downwards, he used the hilt of his scimitar to nullify the nearest guard, and leapt to the main building, digging into the loose stone wall with his claws. Scrambling upwards, he slipped inside the nearest window.
He found himself encloaked in comforting darkness. Listening intently, he heard a guard berating another. Excellent, the guard had been thought to be napping on the job. Just to be sure, WhiteShadow waited another agonizing minute, waiting for some alarm to be raised, for dozens of bright blades to be suddenly brought to bear upon him, but it never came. Adjusting his eyes to the night, WhiteShadow headed silently for the only doorway out of the room. Below, he could hear the sounds of revelry coming from the bar on the ground floor. Music filtered up to him, jubilant and bright. Moving as silently as he could, he located the staircase down. Leaping over the bannister, he made sure the coast was clear before scrabbling down the staircase on its underside, hidden by shadow.
Dropping to the wooden floorboards, WhiteShadow took stock of his now bright surroundings. The music was even louder than before, coming from behind a set of curtains far from the staircase. Suddenly, WhiteShadow heard a voice, and dived for cover under the staircase. A scantily clad Palman woman walked beside a slightly overweight male Palman, who was smoking a thick cigar. His suit was almost as spangly as the woman's costume, and although WhiteShadow knew naught of fashion, it offended his eyes immensely.
"Don't worry, Peggy, you'll do fine." The man said, patting the girl on the shoulder, while unashamedly leering at her.
"But, but I'm so embarrased, Leo, how can I go out there in front of those animals? Even the female hunters eye me when I dance!" The woman, Peggy, spoke in a high, quavering voice. She wasn't just embarrassed, WhiteShadow realised; she was scared to death.
Suddenly, WhiteShadow saw Leo's casual grip on the girl's shoulder become horribly tight, as he twisted her around to face him. Her face writhed in pain as Leo's other hand grasped her by the hair, pulling her face close to his. He muttered something, low and fearsome, while Peggy moaned quietly. Releasing her, Leo beamed radiantly and then shoved her towards the curtains. She stepped out through the them to a loud roar from the crowd.
The smile now gone once more, Leo scowled and stomped away, disappearing from view.
Was this evil? Wondered WhiteShadow. No matter. This wasn't helping him find Chaz; and from the sounds from behind the curtain, it didn't exactly seem like this was business hours anyway. He decided to leave the Hunter's Guild. Slipping out from under the steps, WhiteShadow froze as he heard a heavy footstep at the top of the staircase. But the top floor was deserted..?
Once again hiding under the staircase, WhiteShadow looked to the landing to see a sight which nearly made him gasp out loud. Slowly limping down the stairs was a Palman, but something was wrong. Very wrong.

with it's slow, loping gait. Uttering a strange hissing sound at the sight of WhiteShadow, the creature showed amazing speed, leaping down the remainder of the staircase, before the unwitting WhiteShadow had time to react. Crashing into the Motavian, the pair fell to the floor, WhiteShadow gasping as the air was knocked out of him, and unwilling to breathe in the now acrid air around him.
Mental note; he thought; never underestimate an opponent. Even a dead one.
As the pair struggled, women's screams erupted from the area behind the curtain. More scantily clad women came pouring in, heading for a set of doors on the opposite end of the room. From behind the curtain, WhiteShadow heard the sounds of a battle being joined.
"We're under attack! Zombies!" Cried one voice, before being drowned out by the sounds of the melee.
Turning his attention back to his adversary, WhiteShadow balled up his paw and struck it squarely in the jaw; and almost threw up in horror as the jaw went with his fist, leaving the zombie looking at him with an involuntary leering grin. Kicking the horror off of him, WhiteShadow leapt to his feet, nearly getting knocked down by the panicked dancers. Before the zombie could rise, however, WhiteShadow struck down savagely, cleaving it in two.
Rushing past the curtain, WhiteShadow found himself in what must be the common room of the Guild. The large room was filled with hunters of all shapes and sizes, battling hordes of the similar looking zombies. The stench of rotting death filled the air, overpowering the scent of blood, sweat and fear. Amongst the fighting, WhiteShadow could see Chaz, Elysedon shining brightly, as he chopped down zombie after zombie. At his side stood the blue-haired woman, using her slashers to cause havoc amongst the invaders, who continued to pour in relentlessly through the main doors. Suddenly, the lights went out, leaving the room in complete darkness. WhiteShadow smiled, as the hunters looked around disoriented, and even the zombies seemed to momentarily pause in surprise. This was WhiteShadow's moment. Clasping his hands together, allowing his scimitars to fall to the floor, WhiteShadow focussed on the undead hordes, chanting. Opening his eyes, he pointed his clasped hands at the common room, and finished the chant; "Purification."