“Marika, storm's coming, get your stuff and let's get out of here.”
“Sure thing Rahl.” Rahl, another Felon, was Marika's best friend, and had been since they were both abandoned at the same orphanage on the same day. Few made the distinction of them actually being unrelated, due to the similarities in their personalities and even in their builds.
As the storm brewed overhead, Marika grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, stopping to help Rahl pick up his own gear. Rahl, his fundamental difference from Marika, was not conservative by any means, and refused to live without his luxuries. They had not caught up with him yet, as the two Felons were still alive, but Marika seldom packed more than some food and water.
Rahl jumped off the small cliff the two had been observing from; Marika followed suit. Marika had been keeping lookout for any Kinslayers, whilst Rahl had monitored the weather patterns. It was essential that the two did not find themselves in the midst of a storm, mostly because that was when the Kinslayers were at their peak in numbers and ferocity.

The two Felons rushed to the nearest city, making it to their shelter just as the rain began to fall. Marika stood by the window, watching silently as civilian after civilian was torn apart by the Kinslayers, whilst Rahl fiddled with various gadgets, trying desperately to drown out the screams of terror and pain.
Marika wanted desperately to help the civilians, but he knew it was impossible to face up to a Kinslayer. There were, of course, stories of heroes facing up to them, surviving long enough that they could escape the city and earn their freedom, but a Kinslayer had never truly been defeated in battle, and no-one could really verify life outside the city, as no-one that made it out ever saw reason to return with their stories. Whether or not that was because they found true freedom, or if they were just dead, nobody really knew. The Kinslayers controlled the city, and nobody really knew what was outside the city walls. There were only dreams. Dreams of freedom, safety, security and a happy life. It was not much, but it was enough to give the residents of Nightmare City enough hope that they could continue to live their lives; enough to look forward to that they did not succumb to the will of the Kinslayers.
Marika watched silently as a young Felon was tossed about by a particularly vicious Kinslayer. He tossed her into the air before beating her back to the ground, throwing her around more, and never once delivering a fatal blow. That would be too merciful, Marika knew. He watched on, mesmerised by the proceeding, horrified by the Kinslayer's brutality, yet callously distanced from the girl. Rahl was not so emotionally secure. The screams of the girl tore up at him, to the point that he could no longer ignore it, and he could not resist looking up to the window.
Marika did not even flinch as the girl slammed into the window before him. She looked into his eyes, pleading to him, blood covering her entire body. Marika stood there, his hands behind his back, his stance firm and unyielding, and his eyes showing no emotion whatsoever.
Rahl was not so strong. He screamed at the top of his lungs, “I can't take it anymore! This city brings nothing but death!” He then smashed open the door, dashing out of the small, but secure shelter. Marika still held his ground, doing nothing to stop the boy. Rahl was his best friend, and he was running to his death, but Marika had already detached himself, from everything. A small part of him yearned to run with the boy, to fight off any and all Kinslayers and make a rapid dash to the border, but his rational side, the stronger side, kept him put.
Rahl was not entirely vulnerable, though. Marika watched out of the corner of his eye as Rahl leapt into the air and conjured a blade from the rain, slamming a nearby Kinslayer in the face. This, of course, brought the attention of the other Kinslayers, and the entire group sprinted after Rahl; within seconds they were all kilometers away from the shelter.
Marika, his eyes never leaving the girl, unclenched his hands. He looked down at the child, covered in blood, barely moving even as she gasped for air. Marika, certain the area was safe due to Rahl's diversion, stepped outside. He walked to the girl, casually, yet constantly on his toes. As he knelt over the girl, inspecting her injuries and deciding whether or not she would actually survive with help of his few remaining medical supplies, Marika heard a faint but distinctive growl. Most new to the Netherworld would dismiss it as some sort of harmless rodent, but Marika, in his years spent there, knew better. This rodent was anything but harmless. Kyorgs were in league with the Kinslayers, and did their duty by finishing off the wounded, taking out the unaware, and devouring the fallen. Marika sighed, focusing outward. He could feel what was left of the child's life force, he could see the trail of heat left behind by Rahl and the others, and he could hear the Kyorg. Counting down in his head, Marika turned and conjured a small dagger, from the rain, and brought the elemental blade down, slicing the leaping creature in half. Wasting no more time, Marika lifted the child and brought her into the shelter, where they would both be as safe as they could be in the city.