NationStates Jolt Archive

Privacy...aye that would be good, chuckled Viral's conscious. "Of course, your highness."

Viral looked uncertain as he approached the skeletal dragon. Not only did he wonder about his safety, but he wondered how he would sit in his bulky armor on the spine of the dragon.

He finally lodged himself in a somewhat uncomfortable position between two spikes on the dragon's back and wondered how to get the beast in the air, behind Marlene.

Cantrell had found the other horse, so he rode over to Cobiesel. She jumped on. They rode over to Ixair. She saw his eyes were closed mostly likely bracing himself. She laughed. "Thanks. I got a ride though." She didn't do anything to him this time, hoping he learned his lesson. "So, where to now?"

"Where else, but Etarah, my friends. There, Lorathin and Luthien can visit Rimoru, while I go about my secretive business, and the rest of you can continue on whatever you were doing," Ixair said as he rubbed his eyes again. The burning from the sand seemed to be going away.

"Anytime you need a ride, Cobiesel, feel free to hop right on," he said with a smile before continuing towards the city, eventually finding a well-trodded road in which they began to gallop through, much easier than sand...

"Are you going to be alright?" Lorathin asked as Ixair had seemed to get the worst of the demon's sand attack.

"Aye, aye, I will...eventually," Ixair grumbled, as his horse plodded along the road.

Beatrice remained slouched over, her mind racing about Bodista's appearance. She could not understand why he would leave so quickly. He was, afterall, her guardian...and possibly more...

****************

Beatrice...whats the occasion? Bodista asked.

A teenage female chuckle, most likely Beatrice. Aw, come on, Bodista! You know! You've been my guardian for nearly two hundred years now! You have to know that by now!

Aye, but I don't have a tux on, Bea, he laughed.

You don't like my dress? Beatrice asked with mock sadness.

Silly girl! Of course I do! It matches your color so well.

I know... she said quietly.

What's the matter?

Bodista, let's dance. Please?

Dance? Well...alright, came Bodista's response.

You don't mind me standing on your feet, right? Beatrice giggled.

As long as you won't stab them, came the cheerful response.

What song would you prefer to be playing?

Something slow...but not sad.

Right then. And so the angel began to hum a slow tune, the sound of feet lightly sweeping across the floor sounded in the background.

Bodista...I-I've been wanting to...to tell you this, Beatrice began slowly.

Alright then, Bea, I'm all ears, he said with cheerfully before continuing with his song.

Bodista...I...I like you...very much...I know...I know it's not allowed...but...you've been the only other I've got to know so well...I...I love you.

Silence, however the sweeping dance never stopped.

Well...I love you too, Beatrice, the angel replied without stopping.

Not that way...I mean...I want us to...to live together...to be with each other...to start...a family?

The dancing ended.

Beatrice...this cannot...happen...B-

I know, Bodista...I know...but...I l-l the girl's voice began to waver.

But, Beatrice...I love you too, he whispered, the sniffling ended...

"That's good, anyone else injured?" He asked the others.

"Are you alright?" Lúthien asked Beatrice as the elder elf seemed concerned about something.

"Good boy, now take mommy to that castle over there." She said patting the monster's skull making a squishy sound from the thin line of flesh left over.

A thin fabric between the dragon's wings allowed for the beast to still get lift as they violently shot into the sky. The force nearly jerked Beau from his seat on the undead reptiles' tail.

The fiend landed roughly on the rooftop being unable to maintain a decent amount of stability. Hel trotted over to a massive ship weighted down to the roof and many more like it throughout the mountains around them. The flying fortress could hold a crew of thirty and had four mounted guns: two gatling guns, and two long barrel cannons.

"Come everyone, let's depart before the dragons make another move upon us." The queen ordered climbing the ladder to get on board.

Beatrice nodded slowly. "I am alright," she said quietly. The dark elf felt she shouldn't reveal too much. They could, afterall, be trying to befriend her, only to backstab her...

She slowly picked her chin up. "Luthien, thank you, for being my friend," she said quietly.

***********************************************************

Viral nodded and continued to follow after his master unquestionably. He was just anxious to see what Hel had in store for him in her quarters...

"Thank you for being my friend as well." Lúthien replied with a smile as she looked at Beatrice, who seemed somewhat happier than before.

The skull knight grabbed the little imp gently and carried him through the hallways towards the roof without saying a word.

-----------

Hel led Viral to a secluded room in the back of the ship. Though small it was still rather elegant as far as a flying boat goes. She sat in a red padded chair padding the thin bed next to her invting her guest to sit beside her.

-----------

14 years ago

Better me than her. HER: Marlene, sweet, stubborn, and relentless. ME: Cadeyrn. My body is withered into nothingness, my spirit is all that remains. Valtrox's methods of torture have extended beyond corporal. I can still hear her sweet voice.

12 years ago

Better me than her. HER: Marlene, child, kind. ME: Cade. I can feel nothing but humiliation and shame upon myself. I don't know where or what I am anymore. I've lost the ability to become angry of my own will.

11 years ago

Better me than her. HER: Child. ME: Slave. I hold onto a single phrase aside from my anger and suffering. The inability to recognize anything around it other than a child only serves to enrage me further.

5 years ago

Better me than her. What does this mean, why do I remember this?

4 years ago

I thrive on the souls of the damned, stealing their minds and memories. I have no existance outside of that which I devour. Master tells me I'm a good little killer.

1 year ago

I can feast on the hearts of the living. Men and women in deep desperation who reach out for help only summon me from the depths of hell. Upon which I take and eat their souls.

Present Day

Master says I've been getting fat from the souls I've been eating. Lately many people have fallen into darkness making them easy prey for me. I'm still hungry, so very hungry.

Viral smiled as he took off his helmet and walked to the bed. "My queen...I don't want to dirty your room, much less your bed," the leautenant said quietly, as he made sure not to make eye contact with his queen.

"What is this, refusing a direct order?" Hel replied shooting a deadly glance at Viral.

"I-I'm sorry, my queen," Viral said immediately as he walked to the bed and sat there nervously.

"Tell me lieutenant, what do you remember of Inzikai?" Hel asked leaning a little closer to Viral.

Viral nodded slowly. He remembered the cruel man alright. If he was a man...

Near the end of his thousand year reign, the man certainly changed. He was a scared man near the beginning of his reign...and then he became a cruel tyrant, before he completely turned into a demonic creature...

"Yes, my queen. I know him...He's what made me into what I am..." he said quietly.

"And look where your insolence has gotten you," Teralynn practically spat. "It does not matter that you call Inzikai a madman, or that you say Valtrox will enslave you. None of that erases the fact that you did what you did, and had the battle not ended so early, then your people would have tried to kill me too. You cannot deny that."

She looked sharply at Habdebza as the agent of Valtrox appeared, watching him as he dragged Maverion away.

"You tried to end my chance of finally coming to power," Tera continued to Rimoru after the other two exited the room. "So now I am here to end your reign." She smiled, "And you know what? Your people will rejoice and love me for it."

***

Maverion choked and gasped for air whenever he got the chance to surface out of the tub of freezing water.

"I don't know," he managed inbetween coughing fits, struggling to fill his lungs with air. There was little else he could do, especially in this condition.

***

Daejan ran behind Jorian and peeked out at Kalzog, making an angry face at him.

"The palace is under attack!" Jorian said, his face not exactly showing any friendly features either. "How can you not notice something like that?"

***

General Ttomak swiped at a grounded dragoon that his horse charged by as Major Ravaal reloaded his rifle and aimed carefully at the eye of a nearby dragon. While there were only a relatively few dragoons, they were still doing quite a lot of damage to his troops, particularly the zombies that were too slow to be able to do much against them.

As his horse slowed to a stop, Ttomak looked ahead to see Hel and Beau already engaged in battle with what appeared to be the leader of the dragoons. He wanted to be there himself to fight Xenocrates, but a general ought to stay with his troops to command them rather than wander off by himself.

Two dragoons bore down upon the Rhinaran, and he stretched out both hands toward them, one of which was still gripping on to his sword, and closed them together. The dragoons were pulled off of their drakes and smashed into each other in the air before freefalling to the ground in a crumpled heap.

As quickly as the battle began, it ended. He looked around at the battlefield, where more of his troops died than the hundred or so dragoons that were there did. That would need to be remedied; training would have to be stepped up.

Getting off his horse, Ttomak cleaned his blade by wiping it against the head of a fallen dragoon, then gave the after-battle orders to his underlings to organize everyone. Just because a battle had ended did not mean everything was over, after all. There was plenty of logistical issues to take care of, not least of which would be what to do with all the dead bodies. The fact that they had necromancers helped, but some corpses were mutilated beyond all use, and others were already undead, redead.

After that was taken care of, one of Hel's undead dragons landed by Ttomak, and he saw her beckoning him to mount it. Handing the reins of his horse over to Ravaal, the general looked at the grotesque beast and frowned. While it would be great to ride upon such a creature into battle, he had to consider the fact that he would be sitting in a lot of blood. At least, for a little while before it all dried up. He was not too fond of dirtying his armor needlessly in such a manner.

So, calling over several mages trained in the art of fire, he ordered them to start boiling off the blood and tissue still attached to the dragon. The mages complied, and the skeletal dragon roared as it was being cooked. It started to lash out at the mages to stop their attack, but Ttomak held up a hand and stopped it from doing so. The dragon was strong. Extremely so. But the general managed to maintain dominance as the dragon continued to writhe in pain.

By the time the mages were done, the bones had begun to char, and the dragon had become all black, much to Ttomak's amusement and delight. The dragon calmed down, but did not appear too pleased, if one could tell through their bones' lack of expressions.

There did not appear to be an easy way to mount the large creature, and so Ttomak used his abilities to launch himself upwards, landing on its back between the shoulders and the wings. Settling in there, he shouted a few more commands to his officers before taking off into the air.

The feeling was exhilirating, but it was over all too soon. Getting onto the airship, Ttomak sent his mind out to black dragon's and imprinted himself onto it. He had laid his claim.

"Teralynn, you'll regret this! You'll wish you hadn't done this to me or my friends and family!" Rimoru shouted as Alegain gave Teralynn one last look before he fell back into unconsciousness.

"I didn't want you to die...if only you hadn't left me, Tera. Both you and Mavey would have been able to remain with me," Rimoru sobbed as she wrapped Alegain's arm around her.

***********************************************************

Habdebza roared as he slammed pulled the roughly man by his hair and tossed him into the wall. He then grabbed him by the leg and dragged him back into the lobby.

"Teralynn," the demon growled. "Find the woman by the name of Fala. Blond haired, blue eyed. I want her brought before me...NOW!"

Suddenly, Rimoru shot towards the demon, before slamming into a hard, oak table, a loud crack resounding in the room, followed by a loud scream. "Stupid woman, tell me where Fala went...show me her path," he growled at the bleeding Rimoru, her left arm jutting at a strange angle.

Rimoru whimpered before Habdebza placed his palm on her face and squeezed tightly. Her right hand wrapped around his and tried to pull off.

"Tell me...now," the demi-god growled, losing his temper.

Rimoru mumbled something and the demi-god gave her some slack.

"I...don't know," she gasped.

"Then I will pry it from your mind," Habdebza roared as Rimoru began to scream. Habdebza began to pry memories from her, mapping out the entire palace in a matter of half a minute, knowing it's secrets, it's blueprints, everthing. And yet he did not know where exactly Fala would be...

With a wave of his hand, the woman smashed into a wall, where several swords pinned her clothing to it. He did the same to Maverion, before once again venturing down the secret tunnels...

***********************************************************

Kalzog's red eyes flashed at Daejan and he only smiled at her, albeit a wicked looking one that revealed his deadly teeth.

"Well, I don't care. Good for the rebels, good for a change in the throne. I suppose you three should be locked up in a jail cell," Kalzog yawned.

"You bumbling brute! It's not rebels! It's...it's..." Eva couldn't tell. She never was able to see who that lone figure was. "Someone powerful! More powerful than you could ever be!"

Kalzog raised an eyebrow and crouched low so he was face level with the bold kids. "I...don't...care," he growled.

Eva scrunched her nose at the foul odor coming from his mouth and put a hand over her nose. "Well, you're just a bad smelling chicken. You couldn't fight a fly if it bit you!"

"What? You insolent little-"

"The ogre is a chicken, the ogre is a chicken!" Eva began to sing as she pranced about. "Nah nah nah nah nah"

"Silence!" the ogre roared, Eva screaming and running behind Jorian and Daejan.

"Fine, I'll go into the palace, and I'll fight whatever's in there. Then, you must never, ever, talk to me again. Got it?"

"Got it!" Eva said sternly.

"Good..." Kalzog growled as he leapt onto his rock. "Well, get on."

Eva raised an eyebrow and shrugged, before getting on the rock, almost falling back off with the lack of room. "Lose some weight, fatty," she growled.

"Does she ever shut her mouth?" Kalzog asked the others.

"Hah!" Teralynn scoffed. "And 'Mavey' was your, what? Male concubine? Sorry, but I have higher aspirations for myself."

When Habdebza dragged Maverion back in and shouted at her, Tera jerked involuntarily, then winced as he smashed a table into Rimoru. Clearly he was mad, and Tera did not want to be around him when he was mad. Even if he could not kill her on account of Valtrox, he could still deliver pain, and she could not fight back very well.

She left the room, attracting as little attention to herself as possible, and went in search of Fala. She vaguely remembered Fala. The last time she had seen the woman was just after Maverion died...just after she thought he died. Blond-haired and blue-eyed was not much information to go on - she probably looked quite different now, probably aged quite a bit - but Tera's telepathic skills would be an asset in that search.

***

Fala was riding one of Eva's horses, the one Jorian was grooming not too long ago, in fact, through the private meadow. She was heading for one of the side exits, hoping to get off of the palace compounds and figure out where the children were. If Jorian followed the emergency escape plan as he was taught, then hopefully she would be able to get to them soon.

As she reached the wall, however, a figure was already standing at the doorway, which by Rimoru's magic only led out of the meadow, and not in, unless one knew specifically how to get in. She stopped the horse and hoped that she was not already spotted.

But any hope of that was quickly dashed as the figure spoke out in a familiar voice and said, "Fala? Thank goodness you're okay!"

"Mave?" Fala asked, watching as her husband stepped out of the shadows of the doorway so that she could get a better look at him. Rushing over to him, she asked, "What happened? I thought you were attacked! I got so scared."

"It's alright," Maverion said. "We were under attack, but it's over now. We were able to stop it."

Getting down from the horse, she embraced him. "Who was that man? Why was he after us?"

"I don't know yet," said Mave. "He managed to slip past Rimoru, but she stopped him just a few minutes ago. I searched for you with my mind and found you heading for here, so I came to get you."

Fala froze even as she was hugging him. "You...what?"

"What?" he asked.

"You scanned for me?" she pulled away from him, furrowing her eyebrows.

"What's wrong, Fala?"

She shook her head, "But you lost your ability to do that a long time ago..."

Maverion stood still for a moment. "Something must have happened when we were fighting that man. I was able to regain that power."

Fala continued to shake her head, "No, something's wrong. You're not Mave..."

Mave then grabbed her roughed by the arms. She fought to free herself, but he was much stronger. "Let go!" she shouted, but he did not comply.

Dragging her, kicking and screaming, Maverion brought her back to the palace, where she saw her real husband pinned by his clothes to the wall with swords. Looking back at the person holding onto her, she saw Teralynn, who gave her a wicked grin.

***

Daejan hid behind Jorian again.

Jorian did not particularly trust the ogre. He was just threatening to eat his little sister, after all, and now Eva was expecting him to help them?

Although, there was probably little else he could do.

"Do you?" Jorian asked Kalzog back, referencing more than just speaking alone.

"Not when it involves eating little children," Kalzog grunted as he stretched his muscles.

Kalzog grinned as his floating rock hovered closer to the famous gates of the famous palace of the famous empress who inhabited the palace. The large twenty foot gates were heavy and enchanted with traps and enchantments to keep people out. The gates were a bright brassy color, with Rimoru's crest in the middle. A sand manta with a large R in the middle, along with some elegantly curved lines along the sides of the circle. The emblem itself was covered in gold.

"Ok...looks like no one came in. Just had nightmares," Kalzog growled as he rattled the gates. Nothing. The enchanted gates were locked, as the ogre expected.

"Anybody in there?" Kalzog called out.

"Shh! They might catch you...their own guards or something..." Eva whispered as she hid behind the ogre.

Suddenly two faces appeared at the doorway, pale white.

"K-k-k-kalzog?" one of them asked.

Kalzog squinted slightly as he could barely recognize their faces. Bjorn and John. "I had thought you both to be dead. I can't see you surviving any fight..." he growled. "Now let us in."

"Bjorn...and John? You know this brute?" Eva asked curiously from behind the ogre's leg.

"P-p-p-princess!" the guards gasped and bowed low, their clothing somewhat torn up, both having several wounds, but apparantly none too serious.

"Get up, you sniveling cowards! Get up and...well...do something!" Kalzog growled. "Open the gates!"

John nodded as Bjorn waited and watched.

"What did you see?" Kalzog asked Bjorn curiously as his hands closed in on several bars.

"L-lots and l-lots of death and-"

"No you idiots...who did this?"

"A-a-a-a large c-c-cloaked man wh-wh-who appeared outta n-n-n-nowhere.

"All the g-g-guards t-t-tried to kill him, but he w-w-was too f-f-fast even f-f-for our b-b-bullets."

"G-g-gates o-o-open," John said from behind as the gate slowly swung open.

"Why didn't you two escape?" Eva asked from behind Kalzog.

"Get help!" Eva shouted as she pointed away from the palace.

The guards nodded and immediately scrambled for the nearby stables.

Kalzog got off his rock and slowly made his way into the deathly silent palace grounds. The signs of death were everywhere. Whoever did all of this was definately one who enjoyed brutal death.

I guess that would rule out the jiltaken, unless one went berserk... Kalzog thought as he slowly walked along.

The sound of gagging interrupted the ogre's thoughts and he turned around and groaned. Sure enough, the little brat followed him.

"I thought I told you not to come with," he whispered angrily.

"You didn't say anything! Nothing at all, you dimwit!" Eva whispered back, her hands clenching together.

Kalzog placed his face in his hands and sighed heavily. "Just don't throw-"

Eva fell to the floor as she lost her pastry dinner all over Kalzog's pants.

"You infernal good for nothing, wretched, girl," Kalzog whispered in an even angrier tone than before.

Eva gasped as she was lifted to her feet by the ogre and shied away as he placed her on her feet.

"I should kill you...but I won't...not yet. I have a bargain to finish," Kalzog growled before continuing his walk through the sea of bodies, grass, and blood and to the smashed doorway.

"Someone certainly did a number to that..." he said as he carefully walked over it.

Eva carefully stepped over and frowned. Someone was screaming. "Auntie Fala," she gasped as she ran towards the voice.

"Wait, you stupid girl!" Kalzog growled in a hushed whisper, trying to catch the girl, but missing as she ducked under his hand and ran to the lobby.

There she saw the gruesome truth. A man was dragging Fala away, while her mother, Rimoru, hung suspended on a wall by swords, blood slowly dripping from her mouth. Next to her was the form of Maverion who was in a similar condition to Rimoru. And on the far side was Alegain, who seemed dead.

Wait...Maverion is dragging Auntie away...but then who's that on the wall?

Eva let out a muffled cry as she sank to her knees. "What...happened? Auntie!"

"Do your loyalties lie within myself, or the cult?" Hel again asked resting a hand on Viral's knee. A strange flicker in the queen's eye shot out releasing a battalion of strange bodieless monstrocities.

Hundreds upon hundreds of black puddles raced from the depths of the castle to each of the flying ships. The crew were awre of this hell spawns, what Hel so aptly named the dragon slayers.

Viral watched the hand reach for his knee. He shivered slightly as a small chill ran down his spine and his head slowly rose up to Hel's face. He did not, however, look her directly in the eyes, but rather, settled on her lips.

"My queen, o-of course my loyalties are to you. The cult doesn't even have a leader," Viral said with a weak smile. Has my secret gone out? Did someone see me praying?

"Thank you for being my friend as well." Lúthien replied with a smile as she looked at Beatrice, who seemed somewhat happier than before.

Beatrice nodded to Luthien and slowly leaned back, putting her hands on the back of her seating area and looked up at the bright blue sky.

The sand dunes were a wondrous sight, if you were not lost in the desert, of course. The dunes came in a wide variety of sizes, from a small line of sand on the well traveled road, to the monstrous Dune Mountains at the south west of Iskan, and most were ever changing from the wind.

The beautiful desert was peaceful and elegant on the outside, however underneath it's dunes, it was one of death and destruction.

The wars have devastated the countryside in the past. Magnificent cities lay buried underneath thousands of years of sand, the inhabitants entombed within. Artifacts remain uncovered. Races disappeared.

The wars that made Rimoru who she was today; a goddess.

But the days of the past are not the only signs of death. Violent sandstorms ravage the desert, some even being so powerful as to rip the flesh from a man's bones or leave him stranded with no creature to mount. The Sand Drakes that roam the are have grown violent, as have the Fire Salamanders, attacking wayward travelers in packs. The only thing worse than an ambush from the indiginous creatures are ambushes from highwaymen and demons.

Highwaymen guard the roads, far from the city, to ambush a caravan and take their loot. Demons, have attacked whenever, wherever, occasionally even entering a town or village.

The demons first began to show up about three years after the gate war. Although the dreaded beasts are all over Lustria and occasionally outside of it, the ones in the desert are some of the worst. They have learned to survive the terrible desert, and learned how to channel their energy to control some of the terrible conditions of the land. They have learned to remain in the sand until the opportune time, even the flying beasts have done so. And what's worse is that they remain organized, keeping themselves in shape in hopes their master may once again return...

Beatrice's purple eyes flashed to a movement in the distance, before something massive sprouted from the sand. A Sandray, a creature of enormous proportions also inhabited the desert, usually a passive creature, however it has been known to attack whole caravan trains before, should one venture to close to a nest or breeding grounds.

Most of the time, however, they just skim the dunes, providing shade to those underneath.

Beatrice's eyes widened and she pointed to it, pulling Luthien gently to get her attention. "Luthien! What's that?" she asked in a curious tone with a small hint of fear.

"A Sandray, miss Beatrice. No need to worry about them. That one seems to be moving towards the east. We are moving to the north," Ixair said as he was finally opening his eyes, however they were red and irritated. He admired how her dark, smooth purple skin radiated the sun off of her, in conjunction with her long white hair.

Beatrice noticed him watching her and slowly wrapped her arms around her stomach and pursed her blue lips, her eyes wide as they switched from Ixair to the ray.

"I'm sorry," Ixair said quietly as he looked away. "It's just I don't see many dark elves."

"Dark elf?"

"Aye, that's what you are. Notice how you are dark, a shade of violet, while I am more bronze. Most high elves tend to be pale, but that all depends where they live. Dark elves tend to just be a shade of blue or purple," Ixair smiled.

Beatrice began to look at her arms and slowly brought her hands to her eyes. She smiled slightly and nodded. "I am a dark elf," she repeated. "That's nice."

"It most certainly is," Ixair replied returning her smile, giving her a small blush as her cheeks turned a shade darker.

**********************************

Half the day had gone by, before they finally reached the outskirts of the city of Etarah.

Etarah was an average city, with no landmarks or importance, other than a rest stop next to Rimoru City, for those who most likely could not make the whole distance. There are, however, several notable schools of magic in the north end. The fringes of the southwest ends were the lower classes and beggars, the northwest being more low to middle classes, while the whole eastern portion, leading to Rimoru City, were high classes, to just plain filthy rich. And even those people paled in comparison to the rich in Rimoru City.

Several factories have begun to spring up, part of the largest mechanical corporations, called Miffin Merchandise Corporation. That company had a knack of polluting the air, as steam, dust, and ash belched out from the smoke stacks, as though it were an active volcano.

They passed by several shacks, where the beggars put up their temporary homes, and speedily past the jail houses, where guards remained on alert, occasionally staring at Ixair.

"I prefer to keep myself away from guards when possible," Ixair said quietly.

Beatrice looked at the men, who stared back at her with stone hard faces. "They look mean," she said with a shiver.

"Aye, they have to, to deal with some of the men they protect. They are overall good guys if you don't bug em."

Beatrice nodded, but scooted closer to Luthien as they passed.

They did, however, make it to the dividing line of the middle and the low class, when Ixair called a halt.

Several men were bunch arounded the district crier.

"Rimoru has been dethroned! No news as to who now leads Iskan!" the crier shouted.

Ixair turned back to look at Lorathin, with his eyebrow raised.

Lúthien listened with a faint smile to the conversation between Beatrice and Ixair. She was happy that Beatrice was enjoying talking with the man, but should he hurt her he'd better beg Daddy for reassignment, if only to take him out of her reach.

**************

Ixair would see for a very brief instant, of such short duration he'd wonder if he even saw it at all, a look that would unnerve even the stoutest and doughty warrior or the foulest demon from hell. It would also seem for the same briefest of instants that Lorathin had become truely inhuman as if something were superimposed upon him.

Other than the maybe sight, he would notice no other reaction from Lorathin.

Cantrell watched the sandray fly. It was truly massive. Cobiesel was sweating, and was very hot. She waved her hand, and immeaditly, a small orb of water appeared in front of her. She took into the palm of her hand, put her lips to it, and drank it. It shrunk away and disappeared. "Anyone thirsty?" she asked, making Cantrell one almost instictively.

Ezekial had not been expecting the large knight to suddenly grab him, but did manage to grab his things before being dragged away. He struggled to get out of the knights vice like grip. "I can walk you know, and what about my caravan. I better be paid for this."

--------------------------------------------------------------

Horatio had remained quiet, but as they entered the city he could be seen frowning and the further they went into the city the deeper his frown got. The poor were treated appalingly and the factories were extremely wasteful, both causing annoyance to him. He wasn't paying much attention to the news about the empresses dethroning, this was a land he had never been too before.

Jorian remained quiet for the most part, not having much to say to the ogre and not much to say in front of him either. He merely kept an eye on Kalzog, trying to be as ready as possible in case the ogre tried anything. Not that he could do much against the creature, but he was responsible for his sister's and Eva's safety, and he would do what he could to protect them.

When they made it to the front gates of the palace, Jorian was not feeling too great either. He had never actually encountered any slain bodies before; especially not ones killed in such a manner. Eva throwing up did not help much either.

"Where's mommy?" Daejan whimpered.

Jorian held her close, trying to shield her eyes from as much of the bloodshed as possible. "We'll find her, Dae. Don't worry."

Then they caught sight of Fala, and Eva sprinted off after her.

Jor, however, hesitated. Was that his father that was dragging her off like that? He wanted to go find out, but he also knew that going into the lobby would only subject Daejan to more death and bloodshed, which he did not want to do. He also could not have left her behind while he went to investigate it himself, as the ogre would no doubt try to eat her.

Torn between these options, and not knowing what to do, he finally shouted into the palace, "Eva! What do you see? What's happening?"

***

"Eva! Run!" Fala shouted at the girl before getting a backhand to the mouth from Teralynn.

Looking around, Tera saw the little princess of Iskan that she had heard so much about. This was the perfect opportunity to take out the entire ruling family of Iskan in one sitting.

"Ah, Eva, is it? So glad to finally meet you," Tera said as Eva's senses would detect a wall of fire sprouting up to cut off any retreat she could make.

***

Ttomak was making his way to the bridge of the airboat when some of the strange puddles flowed down the hall and past him, splitting themselves up around his feet so as to not touch him when they did so. The general only gave them a cursory glance before continuing with his conversation with an assistant as he entered the bridge.

Eva screamed as she huddled herself into a small ball, away from the fire. "Mother! Father! Help me!" she screamed as tears flowed down her face. But nothing happened. It seemed as though both were dead. She was alone...

Eva couldn't wait to be Empress, but she didn't want to become empress in an occasion like this. In fact, she wasn't even going to be empress. Maverion was going to kill his niece...or atleast someone who looked like Maverion.

Suddenly, she felt a heavy hand lift her out of the fire.

"I doubt you could be capable of all this," Kalzog growled as he walked through the firey image. "I seem to remember you running away from the Library..."

The ogre smirked wickedly as he tossed Eva behind him, closer to Jorian. "How did you do it?"

He looked at the children and frowned. "Let off your disguise, woman. You don't fool me..."

***********************************************************

Ixair blinked and rubbed his eyes, thinking he saw something in Lorathin, but decided it must have been his eyes acting up on him.

"You surprise me, Azrael. However, I suppose the shock must be getting to you," Ixair said as he turned to Cobiesel. He had to say, he didn't mind seeing her in such a shape.

He smiled at her. "You look very hot," Ixair said with a chuckle. "Temperature of course. I don't blame you. I would like some water though, and some for my face. Maybe I can wash away that horrible feeling."

Beatrice shifted uncomfortably in her seat and frowned slightly. All this riding had gotten her to feel very uncomfortable. "Luthien, would you like to go for a walk with me?" she asked quietly.

"I'll be fine. Here." She formed a ball of water and fired it at his face. It wouldn't hurt, it would actually be refreshing. "So, how much longer to our goal?"

"How so?" Lorathin asked as he looked over at Ixair.

"Alright." She replied as she swung her leg over and hopped down off the side of the horse. "Where would you like to go?"

"Well, thanks, Miss Cobiesel," Ixair sputtered as he wiped water off his face. He had to admit, it did feel good, once he got over the shock factor.

"Well, tomorrow. I think we've earned ourselves a nice rest."


"You look rather unnerved by the statement, considering Rimoru was a good friend of yours, according to you."

***********************************************************

Beatrice jumped off her horse, landing nimbly on her feet, before taking Luthien's hand. "I don't know. Where would you like to go?" she asked with a smile as she began to stretch, attracting looks from Ixair.

"There is nothing I can do about it at the moment." Lorathin replied, "It doesn't mean I am not concerned."

********************************

"How about an exploratory walk then?" The elf child suggested

"That's good to know. Hopefully now moe demons will ambush us on the way."

The skull knight shot an apologetic glance down to the imp as a shadow figure dashed close behind.

"We're sorry for the inconvenience." The dark elf said from the shadows. "The queen will compensate you for any losses provided you are not a dragon spy. In times of war we have to be very cautious."

Mahura silently stepped foot for foot with the large knight escaping the light from the window's passing.

-------------

Delicately lowering her robe, she revealed a large faded tatoo imbedded on her shoulder. The exotic black design, though faded, stood out from her tanned skin.

"I can tell you that no peace lies within the Cult." Hel admitted sadly as her eyes began to well up with light tears.

Rothy, Cadey...had we just never met Valtrox then we could be happy.

A tortured soul watched from a far on anxious wings. This particular spirit had smelled rife of suffering and sorrow that it was perfect for his appetite. Years have passed waiting for this spirit to ripen into her magnificent emptiness. Her soul, however, wouldn't be devoured without a fight. Links of etermination and pride still lingered and until those chains were broken, the soul eater would have to wait.

"It feels nice to be in the company of those we trust, doesn't it?" Hel asked shooting her watery eyes to Viral.

Ixair nodded. "I never said you weren't," he replied as he walked to a shoddy, run-down inn, drunks sleeping at the entrance. "And I don't think any demons will ambush us here, within the city."

As the elf entered, he was treated to the wondrous stench of unbathed drunken men, and human waste. He wrinkled his nose and walked to the innkeeper, halting before a man getting beaten up, and continuing his path as the brawlers passed.

"I'd like a room, please," he said gruffly.

"Oy, looky 'ere. A 'igh an' mighty wee elf wants ta get a room in our fine establishment," the innkeeper laughed. He was a bald, bearded man, with a barral of a stomach and large muscles. He reminded Ixair of a Morgrathien Bear Wrestler, giants of men who wrestled bears as a sport.

"Aye, and what, my good sir, is wrong with that?" the elf asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, nothin', me good sir. It's just we usually don't git any elves 'round 'ere. They tend ta be in the middle an' higher class sectors."

"Well, at the moment, I am low on money, and I figured this place was one of those glorious sneaky places that you think it won't be good. But when you check it out, you are amazed how marvelous it really is."

"Lez be honest, lil' elf. Yer just low on money and yer tired and ya don't want ta continue movin' to the next establishment."

"Aye, I never knew taverns were run by psychics."

"Well, this one is," the man laughed. "Right, lemme see what rooms are free."

With that, the innkeeper walked off, up the stairs, leaving Ixair by himself.

***********************************************************

Beatrice smiled and nodded. "Alright," she replied as she began to walk away, towards a small shop that had many good looking sweets in the window.

Lorathin remained outside, actually just outside, as he leaned against the wall of the building to think.

Lúthien nodded as the two elven lasses headed to the sweet shop.

Delicately lowering her robe, she revealed a large faded tatoo imbedded on her shoulder. The exotic black design, though faded, stood out from her tanned skin.

"I can tell you that no peace lies within the Cult." Hel admitted sadly as her eyes began to well up with light tears.

"It feels nice to be in the company of those we trust, doesn't it?" Hel asked shooting her watery eyes to Viral.

Viral sat with wide eyes. When he left the cult, he encountered several men wearing tattoos very similar to the one Hel had on her shoulder.

As tears began to well up in her eyes, he was unsure of what to do. Every moment with Hel could be his last, considering that she seemed that she could be volatile at times.

"My queen, Hel...I would never betray you," he said softly as he took off his gauntlet and did what no man would have tried to do. He wiped away a tear. "I am with you the entire way."

"I have heard those words many times before." Hel replied gently embracing Viral's hand against her face. "What can you do to prove that will never leave me?"

A small furry head poked from over the queen's shoulder. The tiny wolf's ears twitched slightly as he had just awaken from a brief nap. Unwillingly he let out a high pitched yawn no more than three inches from the queen's ear.

Lorathin remained outside, actually just outside, as he leaned against the wall of the building to think.

Lúthien nodded as the two elven lasses headed to the sweet shop.


"'Ey, ya got anythin' to give a poor beggar lookin' fer money fer 'is family?" a man asked Lorathin with a hiccup.

***********************************************************
Beatrice smiled as she walked inside the sweet smelling bakery. An poor old woman sat snoring away in a rocking chair, as several kids looked up at Beatrice and Luthien.

The dark elf hid behind Luthien, however she also waved her hand weakly. The kids ran behind the counter, looking at the couple over the side.

"Luthien, what is your favorite sweet?" Beatrice asked as her wide eyes scanned the delicious looking food.

"I have heard those words many times before." Hel replied gently embracing Viral's hand against her face. "What can you do to prove that will never leave me?"

A small furry head poked from over the queen's shoulder. The tiny wolf's ears twitched slightly as he had just awaken from a brief nap. Unwillingly he let out a high pitched yawn no more than three inches from the queen's ear.

Viral redded in the face slightly, but continued to wipe away her tears. "Anything you want, my queen. Just ask, and I shall obey," he said, scooting a little closer.

His eyes flashed to the wolf on her shoulder and Viral raised an eyebrow. That wolf's gonna spoil the moment! his conscious told him. Viral picked up the wolf and set him on the bed behind Viral's spot.

Lorathin looked at the man, "Are you looking for money for your family or for booze?"

******************************

"I don't think they'll carry my favorite but those cinnimon rolls look good." Lúthien replied as she looked over the sweet things while likewise waving to the kids.

Hel's head cocked toward the noise, but she had missed what exaclty it was and ignored it. Between the hallucinations and constant moaning of the undead she was used to unusual background noises. Her eyes turned back towards Viral whom had edged closer.

"All I ask is that you never die lieutenant." She whispered leaning closer.

"Hey don't just pick me up, what's gonig on?" A muffled voice squeeked from behind the man.

"Well, I'd be lyin' if I said me family, an' I'd be liein' if I said fer me booze, so both I s'pose," the man said as he stretched himself out. "Eh, but I understand...I was once quite the rich 'un... an' I would ne'er trust the drunk bums on the corner. But, ya look troubled, young'n. Ye want ta talk 'bout it? I tend ta be a good listener," The old drunk said as he sat down on the tavern's railings.

***********************************************************

Beatrice smiled and picked up the whole tray and brought it to the front desk. "Um...ma'am...may I...have?" she asked with a waver in her voice. One thing she did remember, especially on her travels, was that nothing was free.

The old lady slowly woke up and rubbed her eyes before standing up slowly. She looked at the elf duo and smiled brightly. "Why, I haven't seen elves in a long time," she laughed gingerly as she counted the rolls.

She then looked up and smiled. "Two silvers, please," the old woman asked quietly, looking at Luthien. "And how old are you, little girl. Oh, you're such a darling. My grand daughter looks just like you, minus the elf part, of course."

Beatrice fished around in a pouch on her belt and brought out two copper coins.

The old lady looked at them, then back at Beatrice. "My old eyes aren't that bad, my lady," she said warmly.

Beatrice nodded nervously and took back her money, before pulling out two large gold coins.

The old woman's eyes widened as her hands reached for them.

The old woman closed Beatrice's slender hand and smiled. "Take them for free, darling," she whispered as she reached for a small box to set the rolls in.

***********************************************************

"I don't plan to, my queen," Viral replied as his eyes closed, his lips reaching for hers, as his grabbed the bedsheets behind him and wrapped the wolf in it.

"So why do you want it, food?" Lorathin asked

**************

"Daddy tells me comparatively I'm eight." Lúthien replied as Beatrice started to pay. As she pulled out the two gold coins, and the lady reached out to Bea's hand, she was about to interject. When she closed the older elf's hand without appearently taking the coins, Lúthien smiled slightly as it seemed she wouldn't have to worry Beatrice about her getting cheated.

She'd have to ask daddy for a favour for the nice lady.

"Nay, I want it fer both, me friend," the drunk replied with a yawn.

***********************************************************

The old lady smiled and handed the box to Beatrice. "I am very happy to have met you both. Feel free to come any time, both of you. And you may bring your daddy in as well," the old lady said warmly, before setting herself down on the old rocking chair.

"Be safe you two!" the old lady said as Beatrice walked out the door with Luthien.

"She was nice," Beatrice said quietly with a smile, before opening up the delicious rolls. "These are for you, Luthien" she added with a bright smile.

"Alright then." Lorathin commented as he pulled out a octagonal gold coin, a coin from a different country, but gold nonetheless. If it were weighted it would come out to a troy ounce.

******************************************

Lúthien smiled brightly, "Thank you, but I would like you to share them with me."

"Oho! I definately couldn't buy drinks with this. I'd drink meself to death!" the man laughed. "I thank ye, young'n. But ye never told me what troubled ya. Atleast, ya looked troubled."

***********************************************************

Beatrice smiled and nodded. "Alright, I'll help," she giggled. "Do you think your daddy would want some?"

She began to walk back towards the others, her box in her hand as she held out a roll for Luthien.

"Don't worry about it." He replied with a faint shrug, "Just a friend in trouble and it's out of my hands at the moment."

*****************************

"Daddy doesn't like pasteries for some reason, he's strange afterall." Lúthien said with a giggle as she took one of the rolls from the box.

The drunk smiled and nodded. "Alrighty then. Many thanks, sir. Tis kind an' generous folk like ye that make this place a 'appier one," the drunk said before shuffling away.

************************************

Beatrice smiled as she bit into a roll and closed her eyes in bliss. "This is good!" she giggled with her mouth full. "I think your daddy would like sweets."

As soon as Beatrice's eyes fell upon Lorathin she smiled brightly.

"Lorathin, look what I got for Luthien!" she exclaimed happily.

Lorathin just shrugged slightly as the man walked off, and the girls returned. "It seems Lúthien has seduced yet another person into her web of pasteries." He said with a smile and chuckle.

Beatrice giggled and nodded in agreement, with a look of playfulness. She nudged Luthien gently and giggled again.

"I love pastries," the dark elf said as she walked in front of Lorathin and brought a pastry out for him. "This one's for you," she said sweetly.

He smiled, but shook his head. "I must decline. I don't do well with pastries or most sweets in general, but Ixair might like it." He paused for a second, "If it was from you, I'm sure he'd like it."

Beatrice gave Lorathin big round eyes and frowned sadly, much in the same manner as a puppy dog wanting something. "Please?"

"Why would Ixair want it especially from me?" Beatrice asked, still giving Lorathin the puppydog eyes.

Lorathin winced, either she'd learnt he was vunerable to that technique from Lúthien or she just had the wiles which would be worse he wasn't quite sure. "Alright, but I'm holding you responsible Lúthien." He replied as he took the offered roll.

Just before taking a bite, he replied to her second question, "Because unless I'm much mistaken he's sweet on you."

Beatrice giggled happily. "Thank you, Lorathin!" she said as she picked up another roll.

"Sweet on me?" She giggled again. "Is he a pastry too?"

"No," Lorathin replied as he took a bite, "I'm pretty sure it's a crush or puppy love"

ooc: Likely gone for the night

Open the Gates!

The memory was still vivid. It was night time and the giant warrior was keeping watch secretly over the encampment of companions after they had just fought gallantly for their lives in the arena of death and came out victorious. The elven priestess had come to stir him gently with a touch of her hand to his shoulder, but his eyes were already following her as she crept closer...

"My dear, I need you to do something for me?"

"Anything..."

"I have felt the pulse of the earth... I have heard the whispers of the winds... A terrible evil is coming. I know it to be true in my heart of hearts."

"What would you have me due, my princess?"

A pause as the land stood silent in anticipation. "You must go." Before the warrior could protest, she held a finger to his closed mouth in a symbolic gesture. "Take Gael'kadar and disappear like the shadows of night. You must return to Alleria and persuade my father to send aid... A war is brewing for dominion over middle-earth; a war of epic proportions."

The warrior was now standing, towering over his charge. He wished to protest, unkind to the idea of leaving the princess with strangers and evil men, but years of companionship told him there was no use arguing. Instead he mounted the nearby winged horse and turned to face the lovely elf, "I shall miss you..."

"And I you..."

"Never look back. Eyes always into the future." The bond they shared was like few others. They could talk inter-cerebrally and feel each other's presence, but it was open knowledge to both that their bond could not span the remoteness of realms. And so they would be alone. "Bael'ther...Ride hard..."

His last and ever-present memory of her had spurred him across tracts of land, mountainous terrain, and dangerous paths. He had taken her words to heart, never looking back nor thinking of returning until his task had been completed. But most of all, he had ridden hard and fast. Not once had he stopped to rest throughout the journey of miles. At some points he had taken to the skies, but most of the way the airspace was claimed by various monsters or guarded by different factions and tribes. Engaging in combat and getting injured would be a sure way to slow his trip down and so he used the horse's infinite stamina to his advantage, sprinting the entire way from Lustria. He ate and even slept on the run, as the horse (http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b360/DMG2005/GaelKadar.jpg) crossed more than a thousand miles a day...

Three weeks, twenty-four thousand miles... a horse had never done so much for its master. Bael'ther (http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b360/DMG2005/Baelther.jpg) arrived at thick oak trees that guarded the entrance to Alleria in an unprecedented amount of time. However, while they were able to span the distance of cities in a matter of an hour, the warrior had to slow his steed down to a dainty trot in order to correctly maneuver through the thick foliage of the forest and to the hidden entrance to Alleria...

Those who called the majestic lands of Alleria their home were well guarded by its secluded entrance and mystical portgate. So well hidden that many a young elf had been known to sneak out of the elven realm and then get lost beyond return. As they traveled ever deeper into the forest until the birds no longer were, they arrived in a small opening no wider than twenty feet where the trees stood tall and thick. Not another place like it existed in the entire forest, nor did any have its same importance. In a circle on the ground were small, perfectly shaped rocks placed at even intervals. In the very center was a pedestal shaped stone with an ancient elven engraving upon it. However, it was to faint to read for any mortal save those who possessed the key...

Bael'ther slowly descended from his mount and touched solid ground for the first time in twenty days. His legs had atrophied slightly and were somewhat shaky from not having to support his colossal weight during the time he rode. But that did not concern the warrior at present. His giant gauntleted hand reached inside his thick armor and removed a silver chain that hung around his neck. Attached to it was a marvelous crescent shaped stone that seemed to glow as brightly now that he had returned. Ripping the chain from his neck, he brought the pendant closer towards center stone and the ancient writing glowed as well, revealing the secret of the gate. The giant warrior slipped the delicate jewel into a small opening in the rock and the area filled with a serene humming noise as the warp activated...


"Yeh, I know... I can't wait until the festival three nights from t'morrow."

"Have you seen Arisal? Oh my, she is beautiful!"

"You should go for it, Cyless. Who cares if she shoots you down..."

"Are you kidd-"

"Look there! A rider appears on the hill!"

One of the two guards on duty at the Silver Gate had been the first to spot the arrival of the giant elven warrior. The hill ahead of them was the other end of the portgate, the only entrance into Alleria, and was arranged in the exact same manner with key and all. The hill sat surrounded by brown cliffs that were nigh impossible to surpass, and for that reason the portgate had been established there where entrance to Alleria could be funneled through a single path. About a mile from the hill, down a grassy path was the first gate that guarded the realm of the elves. It was situated between the cliffs and stood at an impressive four hundred feet wide and one hundred fifty feet high - nearly unbreachable and thicker than any castle walls. Remarkably, it was the smallest of all the gates. However, the land beyond was guarded by more than just stone... the high priests of the Akenea-raeheal clan had long since cast powerful spells to help protect the pass from intruders that somehow managed to cross through the portgate.

As Bael'ther once again began sprinting atop his steed down the hill and through the pass towards the first gate, one of the guards noticed the urgency of the rider. Something compelled him to open the gate and so he did... The multi-ton gate lurched open, revealing the path beyond, one step closer to the city.

"It's Bael'ther! He has returned!" one of the guards shouted as they recognized his overbearing form. "Send word to the others!" From there on, the warrior would find his path a clear shot to the capital.

"But what of the princess...?"


A Divine Messenger

By the time is long trek had been completed as Bael'ther arrived at the city, hundreds if not thousands of elves had turned out. They all wondered what his speedy arrival through the gates mean, and feared the worst when word of the princess' lacking presence spread. They came by the droves and waited eagerly in the main square outside of the palace. As Gael'kadar dashed through the crowds that quickly made way for the strong beast, the high King of the elves appeared at the steps overlooking the plaza. Bael'ther dismounted at the foot of the steps and quickly dashed to the top, taking the stairs five at a time. He kneeled respectfully in a bow before standing to face the King.

It was well known that this particular warrior could not speak, but it seemed at that moment he had some help. A majestic voice rumbled through the town so that all could hear...

"My Lord, Zalon... I bring a message from the princess." The crowd gasped, half in awe of the voice and half in relief from hearing that their lady was alive still. "She travels now with several companions in a far off land. She told me thus, 'I have felt the pulse of the earth... I have heard the whispers of the winds... A terrible evil is coming. I know it to be true in my heart of hearts.' She bid me go, 'Take Gael'kadar and disappear like the shadows of night. You must return to Alleria and persuade my father to send aid... A war is brewing for dominion over middle-earth; a war of epic proportions.'"

There was an eerie silence throughout the entire land. The elves had been living in an age of peace and prosperity where war was not even an afterthought. The thought of traveling across the world to fight a far off war was hard for many, but they said not a word, waiting instead for their high King. "I cannot allow our soldiers to risk their lives on a whim that need not concern us in the first place," the King responded in an authoritative voice.

Silence again. But then a lovely female's voice broke the hush. From where it came, no one could discern, but all remained quiet as it sung a dark tune...

Naur vi eryn,
lanc i dalaf.
Mathach vi geven?
Nostach vi 'wilith?
Máb le i nagor,
Bád gurth vi ngalad firiel.
Dorthach vi mar han?
Dagrathach go hain?

Ar sindarnóriello caita mornië,
Ar ilye tier unduláve lumbule...

Nu dalav
Úrui tuiannen na ruith
Leithia Orodruin oe in phan.
Ristannen i geven,
Danna eliad morn.
Si, na vethed
Meth i naid bain
I wilith úria
I ardhon ban lacha!

As the song came to a close, memories of death echoed in the memories of all. That unnatural voice had stirred the King and all to the only true course of action. "Tis a sad day when soldiers march of to war. It will be a perilous trip and a blood-filled battle. Say your goodbyes now, for time and death calls to us all... And at dawn, we ride..."


A Journey of Many Moons

At first light a trail of warriors set off through the streets and through the city's exit. Their path was lined on either side by sad women and children, come to give one last goodbye. Flowers and petals adorned their path and blew freely in the wind, a common sight at a funeral... And so their journey began across the lands of middle-earth.

Scouts and messengers were sent ahead to scour the land and decide on the path. An army of one hundred thousand elves trampled the ground in a deafening march that echoed from every hill and plain. At a quick pace and tiring length, the army covered an impressive eighty miles a day... something no normal human could accomplish. But thanks to the elves unusually enhanced endurance and stamina, they accomplished just that for an unwavering three hundred days. Ten moons had passed and the elves grew weary, but as the skies grew dark and the land decrepit, it was all too evident that they had arrived at their destination... their destiny.

On the fifth morning since the light had disappeared into darkness, the elves marched up a hill, but as Bael'ther reached the crest he stopped and peered out over the scene. Since their waking, the elves had heard the sounds of battle in the far distance, but now they had arrived. The elves had arrived...

The warcry went up and the elves charged into battle...


Ú I Vethed Nâ I Onnad...
...Nâ boe ú i. Es-teliach nad, estelio han.

As the High Templar spoke solemn words about the battle and the loss of great men, Ar'mai (http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b360/DMG2005/ArmaiCorvianna2.jpg) and the elves present grew silent. They lowered their heads in memory and prayed for all those affected...

When the Templar left with tears down his cheeks, the tent remained silent. The impact of the war was beginning to weigh in. It might be several days, but eventually everyone would have that moment when they just broke down... a wave of emotion pouring in.

The elves stood slowly and followed the others out of the tent in a procession to the ceremony. They spoke no words as they made their way to the casket that bore the Patriarch. As Ar'mai passed it with the other elves abaft, she remembered how the wise man treated her with kindness at all times. The princess walked slowly past the casket with her hand drifting over its side. "Tenna' ento lye omenta..." As she reached the end, a wreath of Moonglade flowers appeared in her hand. She paused and placed the elegant silver flowers on the casket, "Namaarie..."


The might form of Bael'ther strode across the blood sodden battlefield. Bodies lay on every side, piled one atop the other like stones. Demons, humans, lizardmen, elves... their bodies blanketed the field in death. Pools of blood had formed as if it was merely rain. The victors were walking around in exhaustion and disbelief... so many companions lost. So many brothers, husbands, and sons that would never grace the land again. Never to be forgotten. The land would be permanently stained red with blood...

As the others walked in procession passed the coffin of one of the most beloved leaders in Lustria, tears flowed from every eye. Death has a tendency to do that. The last in line to say his good bye, the grand warrior paused as he stood next to the slain champion of the Order. In a highly symbolic move, Bael'ther removed his colossal swords from his side and place them one across the other on top of his casket. A warrior always.

But then there were countless others to mourn as well. They had all fought valiantly and thousands had given their lives to stave off evil incarnate. The warrior continued on to where he finally saw his dearest princess after nearly a year apart. Sensing his presence behind her, Ar'mai turned from the three elven leaders and dashed into his arms. "I missed you..."

"And I you," he responded with a tight fatherly embrace.

After nearly a minute of embracing in which tears poured freely from the princess' eyes, Bael'ther urged them on. "Come now. We will have plenty of time to talk, but for now we must conclude our business here and prepare for the long march home..." She nodded in response, though hesitating to let go. "Your people need you..." Ar'mai did not wipe away her tears as she approached what remained of the elven army. A cry of victory was not in them even as they saw their princess approach. Beaten, battered, and bloodied, the elves were hardly in high spirits. So many of their brethren had been lost to the vile demons of the unholy god. Not one remained uninjured. Not one remained clean of blood...

"My people," she began, her voice echoing through the silence. "I thank you for your aid in this war that was so far from our home. I praise you for your vigilance and honor. I honor you for your sacrifice and that of our fallen brothers." Whatever the elves had been doing, they now stopped and listened. "Rest tonight. If you are haunted by this day, then I shall not assuage your horrors but bid you to remember them always... this war was a stain upon the land. These beasts are a corruption of our world. Never... never forget."

That night the elves slept, but it was not pleasant. The screams of the dying echoed through their minds and appeared in their dreams. Only pure exhaustion kept them slumbering. When they awoke the next morning, it was as dark as the day before and not a one felt any better. Camp was quickly packed up and all that was unnecessary was left behind. However, before they could leave the dismal land, there was one more thing they needed to do. The fallen were gathered from the battlefield, cleaned, and then wrapped in white silken sheets. A tradition from times long passed during the Age of Elves; no elven warrior was left on the field of battle... they were all gathered and given ceremonial burials back in their homelands. This meant that thousands of bodies, preserved by magic, would have to be transported across thousands of miles and back to Alleria. A daunting task for the weary and emotionally broken, but one they knew they must accomplish.

As the elves went about their duties, preparing for the long trek home, Ar'mai said her goodbyes to those she had traveled with for more than a year. What the future held was not privy to those who lived on and so future encounters were unknown. "I thank you all for helping me and hope I did the same for you," the princess said as he mounted Gael'kadar had the front of the legions. "May Elune shine upon you now and forever..."

The procession of the living and dead began as the stars fell across the sky, though still hidden by the smog of evil. Wagons had been constructed from catapults and the like and now carried the dead. The horses of the cavalry were tasked with pulling them, and all remained on foot save the princess. As Gael'kadar walked along side the lines, Ar'mai heard one of the younger soldiers comment, "At least the war of our time is over..."

"Ú i vethed nâ i onnad - This is not the end...it is the beginning..."


A Somber Homecoming

A journey across the unknown towards a battle for the ages had once taken a fresh band of elves but ten moons to complete. However, now that they were worn out emotionally and physically, battered and beaten, hauling the dead in tow, the journey took twice that; more than a full circulation of seasons and nearly another one; twenty moons across twenty-four thousand miles. And an easy journey it was not...

Despite the emotional and physical toll the Gate War had taken on the elves, they had to remain alert and ready for skirmishes at any moment. The unholy demons of Valtrox had scattered when the summoning had gone awry and their master defeated, but they were still as brutal and savage as ever. Traveling in bands of varying sizes, the fiends would attack anything that crossed their path. Often they would lie in ambush and attack when the elves least expected it, even at night, but they were not so much a threat as a pervasive annoyance. The bands of demons were no larger than fifty or so at the largest and were therefore no match for the elves, but they did slow the journey and generally wreak havoc. Eventually they became smart enough to attack the scouting parties rather than the main force, which prompted Ar'mai to fly ahead on the back of Gael'kadar and scan the lands for ambushes. However, when they had departed Lustria by a good distance, they were more or less safe from the demons, but not yet out of harm's way. The lands through which they crossed on their journey had hesitated at attacking a superior force of one hundred thousand fresh elven warriors, but now that their ranks were depleted and on the mend, such luck was no longer with them. Smaller armies saw chances to pick off a weakened foe and struck in ambush attacks as the elves spanned borders.

The attacks only added to the death toll and delayed their homecoming even longer, but eventually the elves managed to make it back home. Ever since their departure many seasons ago, the King had set forth rangers at the edge of the forest to keep watch for the army's return. Now, as the sun arose over the distant hills, a lone ranger on the east side of the forest spotted the first of the noble pallbearers. Wasting no time at all, the elven ranger entered Alleria and alerted the Silver Gate as to the presence of the returning legions. And so the message went forth from the first gate to the second to the third and so on, until everyone in the elven realm had been alerted. Tens of thousands of elves had gathered in the capital, along the streets and the edges of the main square, as they waited nervously and anxiously for their brothers, sons, and husbands to return...

And so they did. A great procession, led by the princess, moved through the gates and into the city. The streets were silent as the first of the soldiers entered, but then the tears came... in a downpour, thousands of women and children began crying as they saw the great number of bodies and few number of soldiers left standing. The convoy of wagons and soldiers entered the main square and once again atop the steps of the palace stood the high King. Ar'mai slowly ascended the steps with her head bowed low in commemoration of the fallen souls. She had not seen her father in many years, but it hardly seemed liked the time for tears of rejoicing... hardly at all. "A dreary and somber homecoming this is..." the King commented sorrowfully as he noted the columns of bodies.

"When the dead out number than living by twice, it is no longer a homecoming... it is a funeral procession..."

For the next week nobody worked and nobody played. All that was known was burial and funeral ceremony. The dead were laid to rest and their names read for all eternity in remembrance and honor. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust..."


Home at Last?

That feeling of belonging that one feels at home amongst one's family and friends... it seemed that her distance and long time period away had stolen that from Ar'mai. There was no rejoicing upon returning nor was there joy at being able to call Alleria her home again. The only thing that followed her through those immense gates was death and devastation...

She had spent the month following her homecoming either mourning the death of seventy thousand elven souls in the great Gate War or reclusively hiding in her room, utterly alone. Her mother and father, who she had not seen for many years and even then for just a brief encounter before departing again, attempted to reconcile the gap they felt between them and their daughter. As good parents they attempted to console her and talk to her about her travels, but she would have none of it. She shut them out... shut out the world.

With nothing to do and nobody to talk to, she spent her time thinking.

Look what I've done...

It's my fault they all died.

Their blood is upon my hands and stains my soul.

I don't belong here anymore.

They don't deserve me nor I them.

There would be no formal goodbyes, no going away festivals, and no sadness. She would simply disappear again like she had so many times before. Plotting her escape was fairly simple; at night she would call Gael'kadar from the skies and then disappear through the portgate and once again into the unknown world.

However, before the time would come for her departure, there was the matter of a certain ceremony to attend, even if she would be distant and detached from it all. Nobody had been told what it pertained to, but the King urged all to attend. Not even the princess knew, though she most likely could have found out if she had simply asked... something she was not doing in her reclusive state.

The crowds gathered early and thick in the main square outside of the palace. Thousands of elves crammed together as they awaited the King and the ceremony. Trumpets blared from either side of the dais type area. Drums beat loudly as the King appeared from the entrance and walked forwards. He let the crowed roar for a little bit before silencing them with a raise of his hand. "It is with great honor and esteem that I hold this ceremony today." His voice echoed regally through the streets. "I call upon Bael'ther of Dryearlylth to join me upon the stage." The crowd cheered as the hulking warrior slowly ascended the steps and stood with his head bowed. "This great warrior has served Alleria and all of its inhabitants for centuries. He has lead great warriors into battle, guarded the life of my daughter with his own, and fought heroically in the greatest battle of our day." A somber note that hushed the crowd, evoking memories of the dead that had been buried only three weeks ago. "Kneel," he whispered so that only a few other than Bael'ther could hear. "By Elune and the people of Alleria, I dub thee Lord Bael'ther, Royal Champion of Alleria." The crowd once again roared in appreciation and joy as the giant warrior was named the sole Royal Champion, a title not given in two centuries. Even Ar'mai cracked a slight smile before disappearing from the ceremony...

The elves partied in their champion's name all night, falling asleep in the wee hours of the morning. And so with only the light of the moon and stars to guide her, Ar'mai whistled into the sky and her equine companion appeared as dazzling as ever. The princess mounted her steed and set off through the titanic gates and towards the hill that held the mystical circle of rocks known as the portgate. However, when she arrived there was an armored figure sitting on the center stone...

"What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you..."

"But how did you know I was coming here?"

"You mean going..."

Ar'mai's eyes tightened slightly before Bael'ther continued.

"I've known you how many years?"

Ar'mai didn't respond as they sat staring at each other. "You can't stop me..."

"I never intended to. But you can't stop me from coming with you. It is my duty to do so, charged by the King and the goddess Elune..."

It was painfully obvious that neither would be letting up; there would be no way to convince the stubborn princess to turn back nor there a way to turn Bael'ther against his duty. Without another word they disappeared through the portgate together and then out into the world once again...


Home at Last?

It had been four moons, but now Ar'mai and Bael'ther were in the same positions as they had been when they left Alleria. Bael'ther was seated on the center stone of the portgate while Ar'mai was mounted on the winged horse. Save now they were on the other side and instead of debating whether to go, they debated on returning...

After departing the woods a season ago, the princess and her Royal Champion had set off in the direction of the nearest town. News of the surrounding world had been scarce in her travels and blocked when she returned home to seclusion. Now she headed for the nearest tavern for information. The town was quaint and small, but as it always does, information found a way to reach the bars, inns, and taverns there. The hot topic was a rumor that an elven city by the name of Val'Thamas only a couple weeks march had been decimated mysteriously. A city Ar'mai had visited numerous times in her youth. In fact the queen had been a friend of her father, but as they traveled to the city, there was no sign of her. The city had been destroyed and the countless elves had been raised from the dead by a powerful necromancer... a very familiar one in fact. The Lich known as Mavis whom Ar'mai and a couple others had helped regain a soul was behind it all. Corrupted by a dark goddess, Mavis had destroyed Val'Thamas and taken the queen prisoner back to his stronghold in Deatharon.

Ar'mai, much to her surprise, met up with a few of the others from the Gate War along with the sole survivor who had remained unaffected of Val'Thamas. With the efforts of the band of adventurers, they purged the city and wiped the taint from the land, allowing the undead elves to rest in peace. However, there was still the matter of the undead legions of Mavis to deal with. Through various means the band slipped into the undead land unnoticed and proceeded to wreak havoc on Mavis' stronghold. They rescued the queen and defeated Mavis, wresting out of the dark control of his mistress. When it was all said and done, everyone went their separate ways again, but before they left, Ar'mai propositioned the queen to travel to Alleria and take up residence there. However, she kindly refused saying that she wanted to rebuild her kingdom.

For the next couple of weeks Ar'mai and Bael'ther wandered aimlessly. Once again Ar'mai had delved deep into her thoughts. Leaving her home and traveling the world again had felt odd and wrong. There was something nagging at her that she just couldn't figure out. Perhaps she had a change of heart. Maybe she needed a change of lifestyle. All that she was certain of was that something was amiss and for the first time in her life, she didn't know what she wanted... She hardly even knew what to live for. And so she returned back to the woods that guarded the entrance to Alleria in order to make her final decision. So it came to be that Bael'ther sat on the center stone in wait of the princess' decision.

"This is it..."

"Only if you want it to be, princess."

"Aye. I am so confused right now... I don't know where I'm heading, what I'm doing..."

"I know this is a hard time for you, but you will pull through... you always do."

Ar'mai smiled for the first time since her departure. "Thanks." With that smile she made up her mind. She was not happy in the world. It was time to go home. "Go ahead..."

Bael'ther stood and inserted the moonstone key. The air hummed and slowly they faded...


The Pious Princess

There had been much talk amongst the elves, what some would call tavern-speak, when their princess and newly crowned Royal Champion had disappeared from Alleria four moons earlier. So when the pair returned as the moon shone brightly, there was equally as much discussion and question. Where had she gone? Why had she left? What spurred her to return? However, Ar'mai was hearing none of it. She entered the city on horseback and rode through the streets, but instead of entering the main square, she turned right up an unpopulated street that led to the high cliffs.

It was a daunting and dangerous path up the mountain, but as the stars glistened the sky, Ar'mai reached the small plateau where few ever traveled. A few figures milled around, covered in white cloaks, but their faces were obscured for the most part. The princess dismounted the winged horse, which then took to the night skies, before walking towards the humble building in the cliff.

"Princess Ar'mai, you grace us with your presence," a woman greeted. Her robe, like the others, was white and covered nearly her entire body, but it also had a dash of light blue and few basic designs.

"I bathe in your nobility, Lafonna."

"What has brought you to our humble establishment?"

The princess paused, remembering how she left so many years ago. "I have returned to the Monastery in order to continue my studies in praise of Elune."

"You seek knowledge and teaching, guidance and spirit..."

"I seek meaning..."

Orthannen im vi ól
Coll e dû
Or hiriath naur
Na rovail mae sui 'waew
Man prestant i ardhon?
Cerithar aen illiad dim úthenin?

The Monastery of Elune was simple and modest. It was where Ar'mai had begun her teaching years ago when she was but a child. She had learned the use of white magic, the art of healing, and the extolling of their goddess. However, she had not taken it seriously; being a free spirit, all she wanted to do was... whatever she wanted to do, which meant playing and not working, fun and not schooling. Now, however, she had grown up... matured. There was something lacking in her life and she hoped that devotion to Elune could fill the gap.

And so as Lafonna led her through the door, she entered a new life. A life of piety and modesty. She continued her studies more fervently than ever. Her connection with Elune grew, granting her more divine protection and understanding. Her arcane energies became stronger and more potent, as well as her knowledge of white magic spells. A true priestess of the Order of Elune. At first she was taught by the other priestess and adepts there, but soon she was conversing on the same level as equals. Eventually, she was the one teaching others, taking on disciples to learn from her knowledge. Ar'mai even became equals with the Lafonna, the Luminary Priestess, also known as the head of the Order. It was evident to all that she was a born priestess and devotee to Elune, she accomplished in a matter of a few seasons what most took centuries to fully complete. Her seniors looked at her with awe and looked to her for guidance.

Much to the people's surprise, Ar'mai remained devoted to her studies for a decade without break. Rarely did she ever venture down from the Monastery to the city and never did she leave Alleria itself. News of the world outside did not penetrate the barriers she had set up around her and never did she desire the venturesome life she had lived for most of her life. Her powers grew tremendously and the hole that she had felt in her soul was gone. She spent her days blissfully content, learning, teachings, or... singing. At least once a week she would sit on the edge of the perilous cliff and grace the city below with a beautiful song on an even more stunning voice...

I ngîl cennin erthiel
Ne menel aduial,
Ha glingant be vîr
Síliel moe.

I ngîl cennin firiel
Ne menel aduial,
And-dúr naun i fuin a galad firn
Naegriel moe.

An i natha
An i naun ului
A chuil, ann-cuiannen
Am meleth, perónen.

On one bright morning, as the magnificent eagles soared high above the clouds and the birds chirped cheerfully to wake the slumbering elves, a visitor appeared in the city, welcomed by the King and people, one and all. He was a peaceful and passive elf that spoke rarely, but when he did it was filled with wisdom and compassion. As a guest of the King, Ar'mai's father, the princess met the passive warrior numerous times and during those visits he grew on her greatly. His attitude was comforting, his words always serene, and his recent history was something she could relate to and find solace in.

The elf's name was Venisar (http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b360/DMG2005/Venisar.jpg) and soon they began spending more and more time together whether it be on the cliffs treacherous cliffs or in the glades of Alleria. She soon found out that he had no difficulty coming to visit her in the protected Monastery as he had an unnatural skill, with which he could jump unprecedented heights and scale multiple-mile high obstacles. They spent time simply talking, sharing tales of their adventures and discussing their different philosophies. One day, she convinced him to tell her his life story, and so he did...

He was born to loving parents of the till. He grew up as any other Elvin child of his day did and enjoyed his childhood like any other. His family owned a little claim of land in a mixed settlement in the Kingdom of Avera. The town was on the smaller side, but was home to a diverse people from different races and beliefs. Loved by his parents, it was the town as a whole that raised him as he was the only child of his age group - no other children from any race had been born to the village within ten years before or after his birth. Though seemingly lonely, his experience would teach him two important lessons for the future: to learn to be alone at times as well as relying on people at times and to be accepting of others, whatever that entails.

For the next couple decades of his life after he came of age, Venisar worked diligently on his family's land. He learned the meaning of hard work and making an honest living, both of which would later have an effect on his character. However, when he was in his mid fifties, still extremely young for an elf and looking not a day over twenty, the young laborer felt something... something very strong. It wasn't an emotion so much as a metaphysical feeling and it was not something that was to be explained. The only thing he knew was that there was an undeniable calling for him to take up arms and be prepared to defend his life, his family, and his people when the need arose.

As many an elf does, Venisar begun his training, which he did by himself and without any true guidance, with a bow. With his keen eyesight and dexterity, the young warrior-to-be became a good shot, or at least decent in Elvin terms, but not without time and temperance. However, it was clear to the young elf that the bow was not his true calling. When he first picked up a blade it was evident to all that he had a natural knack for it. In a matter of months he had become quite skilled with the blade he chose and in a couple years with any blade he picked up, but he would still be no match at this point for a true warrior. So far many years he continued training, but still his aid was not needed as the town and surrounding countryside remained peaceful for decades.

No longer a young lad, Venisar had become well respected in his village at the age of one hundred sixty. And though the dangers he felt still not come to fruition, Venisar continued using his time to better his skill and even occasionally hired himself out for various tasks in order to make a coin or two. At this point, he done away with his basic weapons and forged unique ones of his own. Taking an indestructible hilt he had found and a formation of powerful crystals that he happened to venture across in his journey over the hills one day, the Elvin warrior crafted a weapon that few had seen before - it was double bladed and sharp with the handle in the middle. It took many years to master, but when he did, the weapon and fighting style became something he could call his own... and could call effective. Quick, strong, and dexterous, Venisar had the uncanny ability to jump inanely high and far (thousands of feet) and when combined with a style and weapon none had ever seen before, he became a very potent warrior. Once, while practicing his art in the shade of a tree, a high Elvin wizard arrived to watch him after a long journey. The wizard was quite impressed and offered to imbue his stave with a self-replenishing energy (not healing) that would add effect when he made contact with the crystal and that would absorb or reflect limited amount of energy that was deflected at him. Needless to say, Venisar accepted, but was surprised when the wizard went one farther and stayed with him for a year as he taught him three useful spells; the first spell made him temporarily invisible for a short amount of time, unknown sensible in the physical or metaphysical realm; the second gave him the ability to heal the most minor of wounds; and the third was the ability to calm other beings through a strange energy that he emitted. Venisar was quite happy with the gifts he had been granted and vowed to use them for good. But still no dangers lurked near...

However, before the century was out, danger and far beyond would reveal itself. Death and destruction would rear its ugly head when Kane raised an army through his guile and trickery and marched on Avera. In the years since he had begun his training, Venisar's mindset and attitude had changed vastly. He had now become quite laid-back, relaxed, accepting, and passive. Although still a warrior through training and skill, the elf no longer truly wished to fight. He had seen his share of death and the misery it brought, and though not quite a pacifist, Venisar preferred that conflict and disagreement be settled verbally and diplomatically, relying on sword and blood as a means of last resort. In some sense, it was what set him apart from many other Champions of his day...

But when the call came for the armies of Avera to amass, the once young elf with dreams of his destiny answered. Hoping to put this evil down, Venisar took up his stave and claws and prepared his skills for battles. And a mighty it was as blood stained the land. The battle of Orchard Hill Chapel would forever be cemented into his memories, only pushing him farther towards his views. However, when the Emperor put forth the challenge of hunting down and ending the villainous man responsible for this all, Kane, Venisar had no choice but to respond in hopes that he could destroy this evil one and for all. He set off on a most dazzling adventure with a band of men. They met death and destruction head-on and in the end, triumphed over darkness. However, the war and subsequent hunt had changed the elf. He remained his same passive self, but no longer did he feel he could just sit under a tree on the edge his quaint town... he needed to go off into the world. Not for adventure or battle did he go, but for knowledge and cultural understanding. So he traveled for years, stopping off in different towns, cities, and kingdoms. All the while he had heard of a mythical elven land more beautiful than any other realm in the world. When he arrived in Alleria, it was all too obvious that the land was of legends was real...


And so Ar'mai learned of Venisar's life story and how he came to be in Alleria. So intrigued was she by it, she had a scribe write it down and preserve it in the records of her kingdom forever. But something else happened as she listened to his story. A realization and desire set in....

"Teach me."

"What?"

"Teach me your trade," Ar'mai elaborated. It was evident from his story that Venisar was a great warrior, talented with a blade and like none other in his style. He also had the compassion and patience that would make a good instructor, and now the princess desired to truly learn how to fight. No longer was her skill with a bow and tricks with a blade good enough, she needed to know how to really fight - the great Gate War had taught her that.

He paused, not wanting to refuse her. The warrior looked deep within her eyes and found the truth about her dedication to learning... "Alright, I will, but you must promise to never become frustrated and open your mind to what I shall impart on you."

"I promise." And so that very day Venisar handed her a blade and they began. She was a natural. Her hand and the blade melded into one and her mind controlled it with deadly efficiency. As she had done with her priestess training, she picked up years of skill within only a few weeks. Soon they had gone from practice and teaching to sparring, with the warrior pointing out certain moves or maneuvers that she should make in different situations. He made sure to point out her mistakes with kindness, propelling her to fix them and become better with every pounding breath.

For the next seven seasons the princess split her time between her priestly duties and studies and warrior sparring and practice. In both she continued to elevate he ability and word of her talent spread. Truly she was the blessed by Elune.


Blade against blade, strength against strength. Metal clashed and sparks flew in a meadow, empty save for two lone elves. An impressively toned warrior pitted against a seemingly delicate female. But the skirmish showed them to be nigh equals. Neither could strike a blow despite the warrior's strength and the lady's agility. But suddenly, with a swiftness that headed no mind to the rules of physics, the princess slashed across the other's body and the grass was stained red. Blood dripped from her blade, and the two ended their battle. "First blood... you are now beyond my teaching. I praise and exalt your skill and learning."

Ar'mai smiled from ear to ear as she shoved her blade into the ground. "I thank you for your help..." The wound on his chest slowly closed and the blood was washed away as Ar'mai's hand glowed with a mystical white energy.

"There is something I have for you... a memento for completing your training," Venisar said as they stood atop a grassy hill. He pulled a beautifully crafted blade from his sheathe and handed it in presentation style to the princess. "I present to you, The Crystal Moon (http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b360/DMG2005/CrystalMoon.jpg). An indestructible blade crafted and imbued with magical properties. The crystal can deflect energy. The sword is as light as a feather and therefore as swift as your hand allows it to be. It will be a light in the darkness and defender against evil..."

"Thank you Venisar..." she said as she took the blade and hugged him tightly. "For everything." The warrior had given her much more than he knew... much more than a simple blade.


At Peace

Finally, fifteen years removed from that fateful war that had turned her whole world upside down, Ar'mai had finally made peace... with the world and with herself. No longer did she feel empty. No longer did she have a gaping hole where her soul had been. Her years of practice and prayer in the Monastery atop the cliffs and battle-circle atop a grassy knoll had healed her well. Now, however, she felt the desire to witness the world again - not for the danger and adventure that had driven her in the past, but for the familiarity and knowledge. And as she had done so many times before, Ar'mai decided it was once again time to leave... but not as detached as the past had been. A herald was sent to the city square to announce her departure.

When dawn came the following morning, Ar'mai donned her white cloak and set off from the palace. The squares were packed and the streets lined with Allerian citizens wishing to bid their princess a safe trip into the world. It was a glorious and harmonious time throughout the lands. Prosperity and peace graced Alleria has the goddess lit their path with the silver moonlight. "May Elune keep you safe, now and forever," the King proclaimed as the crowds cheered.

The graceful winged horse trotted slowly out of the city as its lovely burden waved goodbye to her people. Shrouded from the world by the white cloak that surrounded her, Ar'mai regally marched out of Alleria and through the last gate... the Silver Gate.

Tinúviel elvanui
Elleth alfirin edhelhael
O hon ring finnil fuinui
A renc gelebrin thiliol...

A Bereth thar Ennui Aeair!
Calad ammen i reniar
Mi 'aladhremmin ennorath.
A Elbereth Gilthoniel
I chin a thûl lín míriel...

"Your voice is beautiful."

Ar'mai's head jerked upwards from her solitude to look at what voice had spoken to her. A figure cloaked in red sat leaning against the center stone of the portgate. Such a familiar voice... The figure stood and removed the hood of his cloak to reveal his face.

"Venisar...!"

"Aye. You didn't think we would let you leave alone, did you?"

We? As the princess looked around she noticed ten other figures, all cloaked beyond perception. Somehow she missed them in her focus. "Bu-ut why?"

"Well Bael'ther over there insisted that he come as the Royal Champion," Venisar explained as he nodded towards the hulking figure beneath a tremendous piece of red cloth. "And then with him your King sent six Royal Guards." Dressed in a blue cloth that covered their thick mythril armor stood six guards, straight postured and gripping their sheathed blades. "And then there were those three priestesses from your Order over there." Delicately dressed in white cloaks were three modest priestesses that had desired to follow Ar'mai on her travels.

"We shall learn from you," they said in unison. They were her disciples, tried and true.

Ar'mai smiled as a warming feeling filled her heart. These people cared for her and wanted to protect her. After looking at the others, she turned back to the elven warrior from Avera, "And what of you?"

"Ar'mai... I love... this land, but I never wanted to stay here forever. There is still so much for me to see and experience in the world," Venisar confessed honestly. "I already spent two hundred years complacently accepting the world as it was told to be. There is more for me out there..."

Her smile grew even larger. "Well... what are we waiting for? The world awaits us..." With that Ar'mai dropped her moonstone key into the stone and the warp activated. They disappeared with a hum from the air and then were gone... twelve companions joined together as they set out from Alleria...

Veiled Voyages

"O môr henion i dhû:
Ely siriar, êl síla.
Ai! Aníron Undómiel.

Tiro! Él eria e môr.
I 'lîr en êl luitha 'úren.
Ai! Aníron..."
"Dina!" Ar'mai's whispered command carried to the ears of her elven companions. "I can sense something nearby." She had a dark feeling tugging at her soul. Something evil was near...

But this wasn't the first time that silence had been called for during their voyages. Since leaving Alleria nearly twenty nights ago the band of travelers had encountered numerous obstacles of varying degrees and types. Some were geographical like the swamp lands that allowed nothing but the hardest of crossings. Others were moral like when they encountered a distant farmhand that had been robbed of his sheep by bandits - they felt obligated to track down the rogues and restore the farmer's goods. However, most of the time the obstacles were roving bands of brigands and marauders - hunting the land and ambushing travelers for their gold and possessions, even slaves. The troop of twelve cloaked figures seemed liked the perfect targets for many a band of land pirates, but they all soon realized that the elves were armed and deadly warriors.

After defeating a gang of plunderers, the elves would often take the loot they had confiscated to the nearest town and divide it amongst those who had been ravaged by the marauders. But every time they were forced to be good Samaritans, it delayed their travels even more. The farther they traveled east the worse the situations became. At first it was a man or two with a sword, but then it became a gang of ten, until finally there were small private armies of a hundred or so that surrounded the elves and demanded they hand over their loot. Triumphing also became harder, but the elves had a Royal Champion, six Royal Guards, three Priestesses of Elune, a Master Swordsman and the best of them all... a Princess of Alleria. Nobody was able to match the size of Bael'ther, the skill of Venisar, or the agility and swiftness of Ar'mai. At the end of the day, no matter how beaten and battered they were, the priestesses were there to heal them up and restore their energy for the next day's travel.

Now, however, Ar'mai felt something much more sinister brewing. They had been traveling through a light wooded area for roughly an hour. The owls and birds were plentiful and the underbrush thick, but there was something... dying about it...

Ar'mai dismounted from her winged horse and crept silently closer from one tree to another. The feeling became stronger and darker with every step she took. And then she saw it. In a small clearance the grass had become black with death and smelled of decay. The princess' keen elven eyes scanned the glade and settled on a black cloaked figure near the far end...

"God of Darkness, God of Death.... grant me thy divine power to corrupt these woods. Turn this forest into a foundry for the dark army of the only destiny to come. Allow the demons of hellspawn to enter this world and trample the lands. Achnu Ghaberi Lik'un Abri!" The Necromancer spoke in a corrupt demonic language that spoke only of death. As his words echoed through the empty forest, a swirling black and purple energy erupted from the skies and shot down to the dark lord. "My soul is eternally yours!"

"Halt in the name of Elune!"

The Necromancer turned on his heel, his cloak flowing from the speed, as he glared at the cloaked figure with his half decayed face. "Who dares interrupt me! Speak or I shall strike ye down and then raise you and ravage your soul for eternity!"

"I am a servant of Elune and friend to the forest which you distort. I give you a choice: cease your action or prepare to defend yourself," Ar'mai stated boldly as she removed her hood to reveal her face.

"Ha... Hahahaahah!" The dark lord began laughing erratically in mockery. "An elf! A miserable, pitiful elf would dare defy me... the Lich King of Amin'rah!"

Ar'mai's face remained unflinching even at the sounding of the dreaded name. "Then you leave me with no other choice..." The elf removed her crystal blade from its sheathe and held it in front of her. "I call upon the wind, the earth, and the forest to aid me... lend me your power so that I may defeat your enemy!" With a prayer to the primal forces of nature, energy began gathering at the tip of her blade. The light was blindingly bright, dispelling even the darkest of shades from the forest as it glowed with a growing power. As the energy reached critical mass, she lowered the tip of the blade and pointed to the Lich King with it...

A blaze of hot white energy shot out directly at the Lich... but as it was about to collide with the unflinching dread lord, it crashed together with a dark energy barrier that dispersed the attack. "Hahaahaha." More maniacal laughter from the necromancer as he was completely unharmed by the assault. "How pitiful... now face the wrath of Amin'rah!" A blast of unholy energy exploded towards the elf as a pair of slain wolves simultaneously were raised from the dead and charged at her.

Ar'mai quickly made the decision to stave off the energy before the beasts as the unholy energy surely would have knocked her out. With a cut of her blade, the energy was redirected into a nearby tree that collapsed from the power and splintered into a thousand pieces. But the wolves bounded closer and leapt into the air as the princess was protecting herself. Suddenly, a slick sound cut through the air as an arrow lodged itself through the head of each wolf and knocked them to the ground. Their carcasses were then pelted by a repetitive shot of arrows from the forest as the Royal Guard unloosed their archery skills.

"Ah! Help you have! They were smart enough to stay hidden, but you have not...! Your stupidity will be the death of you!" The Lich King was clearly crazed with power as it laughter continued to haunt the forest. From behind the Lich came two massive figures that once would have been called human, but now that were so far corrupted by the dark powers of the Lich that they could only be called Abominations. Twelve feet tall with multiple arms and assorted weapons, they came pounding slowly forward to crush the fair elf. But they were intercepted in their slow progress by Bael'ther and the Royal Guard. Four of the guards took on one, using their speed to out maneuver its many arms, while Bael'ther and two more guards took on the other. The hulking warrior took most of the damage as the smaller guards sliced fervently at its backside. "So your friends show themselves! Weak creatures... you all shall perish in the darkness!"

However, Ar'mai wasn't listening to his rant. The three priestesses of Elune were still hiding in the forest behind the Lich and unknown to him. The princess began first, calling up their goddess to light their path and grant them her strength to defeat the undead. In the sky above them, through an opening in the canopy, the moon appeared and a bright light glowed from within. With all four of the priestesses praying with every fiber of their body, the power grew tremendously until it came shooting down towards earth in a funnel of energy.

Snow-white! Snow-white! O Lady clear!
O Queen beyond the Western Seas!
O Light to us that wander here
Amid the world of woven trees!

Gilthoniel! O Elbereth!
Clear are thy eyes and bright thy breath!
Snow-white! Snow-white! We sing to thee
In a far land beyond the Sea.

O stars that in the Sunless Year
With shining hand by her were sown,
In windy fields now bright and clear
We see your silver blossom blown!

O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!
We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land beneath the trees,
Thy starlight on the Western Seas.

A Elbereth Gilthoniel,
silivren penna míriel
o menel aglar elenath!
Na-chaered palan-díriel
o galadhremmin ennorath,
Fanuilos, le linnathon
nef aear, si nef aearon!

A Elbereth Gilthoniel!
o menel palan-díriel
le nallon sí di'nguruthos!
A tiro nin, Fanuilos!

A! Elbereth Gilthoniel!
silivren penna míriel
o menel aglar elenath!
We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land beneath the trees,
Thy starlight on the Western Seas.

"Your time is up Lich!" The ever elusive Venisar appeared a mile up in the heavens and with him came the holy energy of the moon. Channeled into his crystal stave, Venisar brought the blade down and straight through the undead lord. Upon contact the energy of the heavens released and flowed through the corrupted body of the lich... and so it came to be that the Lich King of Amin'rah dropped to the ground and convulsed as the holy energy coursed through his body. Slowly he disintegrated into the land and his being was whisked away in the form of pyreflies.... With the foul beast went his demonic creations and soon the forest was safe again. But their job was not over yet...

The forest had been corrupted and distorted by the dark power of the Lich King and restoring it would take time, energy, and concentration.

"Bael'ther... Venisar... take the guard and set up camp. We will be staying here for the night as I and the sisters begin healing the forest," Ar'mai ordered as the priestesses healed the three injured guardsmen.

"As you wish," Venisar said with a bow as he and the others began going about their duties.

"Now my sisters," the princess said to the three sisters, "we must begin the long process of restoring the land." At the very center of the glade the four priestesses sat down facing each other in a circle and began praying. When night came the men went to sleep, but the fairer of the elves remained awake and working hard to heal the woods before the morrow.

Their night of labor paid off as it bore fruit... literally. The next morning the darkness had disappeared and the trees grew tall once again. The birds returned and the blood stained grass had been replaced by green life. The taint had been removed.

"Lady Ar'mai..." A voice like the whispering wind called through the forest. "I am the spirit of the forest... I thank you for your assistance in ridding this forest of the stain that had spread across these lands. In return I tell you this, 'Go east. Travel to the land of Lustria... Trouble brews once more." And then the voice was gone and with it went the elves as they traveled east...


The Dead Zone

The tainted forest had been less than a week's journey from the western border of Lustria, though exactly where the border lay was unknown to the traveling group of elves. However, as they neared their destination, they changed their habits dramatically in order to remain concealed. Fires to keep warm or provide light were extinguished. They began traveling by night and sleeping by day. As elves they were aided by the darkness in that it was much hard to see them, but their eyesight was not affected. In fact, Ar'mai had developed a useful skill of becoming all but invisible when the shroud of darkness descended. They slipped across the unmarked border unseen and undetected by any possible guards there might have been...

Through the woods they marched during the dead of night. They were in a defensive formation in case of an ambush with the priestesses in the middle and two guards on each side and the back. At the front, Bael'ther and Venisar nobly led the way forward into the unknown.

"I feel it again..." Ar'mai whispered to Bael'ther.

"Feel what?"

"A dark presence. Like the woods are corrupted by evil. Like a week ago in that forest with the Lich King."

"Keep on guard then-"

Venisar's voice came as a whisper through the trees, "I see a building up ahead." Sure enough the elf's eyes had caught sight of a large stone structure that was easily recognizable as a fortress; ramparts, gate and all. "What a peculiar location." Sure enough the fortress was situated directly in the middle of a forest. A dead forest... Not dying, but actually dead. For years it had been infected by a dark power and now it was far beyond saving.

"Let us take caution," the princess remarked as the group closed together and crept closer to the castle. The iron wrought gate lay torn aside and the wood behind it splintered and shattered so that a man could fit through. Venisar insisted on going through first followed by a pair of guards, only then would he allow the princess and the priestess in. After finding no apparent danger with the place, they all climbed through the broken gate... all save Bael'ther. His incredible size was fitting through such a small gap was an unfixable quandary. "Stay here and watch our backs," Ar'mai urged him. "We will be back soon after investigating further." There was some sense in it, leaving a rear guard, so the giant warrior did not argue the matter - clearly he could have bashed the rest of the gate down in a few minutes, but why waste his energy.

"Come hither my minion..."

"Huh...? Who said that!?" A guard nearly shouted before being silenced by his brothers.

The elves save Bael'ther explored the castle as one group and found it to be empty. At one point in time there appeared to be guards, but their bodies now lay rotting in the armor they wore and gripping the weapons they defended the fortress with. However, it was apparent that it was not a regal castle as there was no throne room or anything of the like, but rather it appeared to be a defensive stronghold. The elves continued exploring, returning to the ground floor where they had yet to explore the center of the building.

"Elune would have it so..."

"Who goes there?" A priestess demanded of the voice she alone heard.

At the very center of the fortress was a lone room of stone walls and a stone floor - no windows and but only one entrance. "Look... there," Ar'mai commented as she pointed to the middle. There stood a pair of massive stone doors, sealed shut by locks of physical and metaphysical existence. "What do you think is behind it...?" she wondered aloud.

"There is some writing on it... but I can't read it," Venisar reported as his hand rubbed over the demonic symbols."

"..."

The warrior continued to rub his hand over the symbols as one of the guardsmen stepped forward.

"Open it..."

He leapt back from the door in fright. "I heard a voice... it sounded not like any of yours."

"Open it! It is my will and command... Open the doors! Release me!"

"I do as you com-"

"Dina!" A priestess roared from behind him as the guardsmen moved trance-like to the door. Before he could grip the handle a bolt of holy energy struck him from behind and knocked him to the floor. "M'lady, we must leave this place now... it is cursed."

"I agree... come, we leave this place like the wind," Ar'mai responded as she turned from the door and exited the centerpiece of the castle. The guards picked up their fallen comrade and pulled him from the fortress, followed shortly behind by the priestess, making sure none of the others were corrupted by the dark force.

Once outside, back in the presence of Bael'ther, the group spoke candidly.

"Aye, I heard the voice too," Ar'mai responded.

"It urged me to open the door... I-I'm sorry," the fallen guardsmen added as he was recovering with the help of one of the priestesses.

"I know. It could have happened to any of us..." the princess reassured him.

"I know not of what you speak," Venisar said, slightly confused about the whole conversation and their hasty departure from the tomb.

"It does not matter... we must leave this tainted land quickly, it is beyond saving," she responded, thinking that she would fill him in on the matter later. But as the last word escaped her lips, a zombie smashed through the wooden gate. Venisar was faster though and his blade sliced the head off of the undead creature before it could lunge for the nearest elf.

"We are under attack! Defend yourselves...!" the warrior elf cried as more zombies and skeletons began pouring out of the gate and over the walls of the citadel. The Royal Guards immediately unsheathed their swords and began hacking the vastly slower undead to bits. The priestesses were as effective as they threw charged orbs of holy energy as the undead advanced.

Revaíl vyrn dan mínuíal
Ú galad, ú vín anor hen
Cano an dregad
Ú natha ored
Gwanwen ost in giliath
Dannen Osgiliath

"Dregad...!" Ar'mai roared over the clamber of battle. "Dregad!" The elves did as commanded and retreated through the dark force until the undead could no longer give chase. They had cut down or into pieces tens of skeletons and zombies that had arisen from the undead. But how...?

"That strange power... it must have raised the undead after we did not heed its call," one of the guards commented as they sat around their tents for the night. Now miles away from the fortress, they were out of harm's way and could talk freely. "Never should we return to that evil place."

"And so we shan't..."


Days of Reckoning

At first light the following morning, the elves awoke to sounds of battle on the horizon. Across the wide valleys the noise traveled, the clash of swords, the thunder of cannons, the roar of beasts, and the screams of death. They met with elven ears miles away on the edge of the dead forest. But this was hardly the sound of battle... no... it was the sound of slaughter. The elves approached cautiously, keeping their distance as their eyes scanned for the source of the sounds.

"En!" Venisar pointed down into the valley ahead of them. A lone castle stood amongst the grass and hills. Inside of it and just on the other side of the walls appeared to be a small army of advanced soldiers, wielding what seemed to be some type of mechanical bow and other technological weapons. Against them and marching forward with a full head of steam was a massive army of what appeared to be nearly three hundred thousand soldiers, not to mention various siege artillery pieces and the greatest of all... massive, powerful dragons.

"Those soldiers... they look like..." Ar'mai began to comment as she saw the detailed figures of the dragoons, but she could not remember where she had seen them before. Just then a large boulder smashed into a turret of the castle, sending the stone flying and the ten guards inside to their graves.

"They won't hold up long..." Venisar said, noting the painfully obvious.

"But why are the dragons attacking?" the princess wondered curiously and somewhat confused. And what of that army? Since when did Dragon's have armies?

"Who knows... and that is why we need to move out of here quickly before we are spotted or the area is overrun by those soldiers."

"We need to get to the nearest town and find out what is happening in these lands. Something definitely is not right..." Ar'mai commented as she stood.

"M'lady, the closest known town is Nacrador, a few miles beyond the Southern Pass," one of the guardsmen noted. "But that army is directly in our way." Another boulder smashed through the gates of the castle, and it was open to the rampaging armies of the dragons. The dragoons stormed in and slaughtered the humans before destroying the machines that were held within. Rimoru's secret weapon's cache of advanced technology had been found out and seized by the dragons in one fell swoop... but why? Why had the protectors of this world raised an army to storm the earth?

"M'lady...?"

"I'm thinking..." Ar'mai replied distantly as her mind was racing on how to avoid a possibly lethal conflict. "I see no other choice... we must retreat into the forest until the Dragons leave this land. I know it is not desirable, but if anyone else has a better plan I am all ears." The others remained dead silent in acceptance of the plan. Within moments they had disappeared back into forest from which they came. A day to recuperate and restore their energies was forced upon them by the unexpected assault by the dragons, but it wasn't all bad - they hadn't rested in a while, so it at the very least gave them an excuse to do just that.

The day passed as the dragons finished slaughtering the inhabitants of the castle. Throughout the night as the elves slept calmly in the relative safety of the forest, the dragoons under the command of the dragons pillaged the castle and looted everything of value. The most prized possession lay within the secret vaults and experimentation labs. The Queen of Iskan had been pouring a fortune into developing new weapons and apparently this was one of those places in which she researched, developed, and tested the weapons. The prefect place - remote and strategically located... until now. Now it was rubble; just stone and mortar.

Blood stained the grass and grew sticky as the morning sun rose. The dragoons were collecting their fallen comrades and moving them to private funeral pyres in the field outside the castle. They had overwhelming odds in their favor during the battle, but a fortress is a fortress is a fortress. High levels of lives were lost even if it was less than a legion of soldiers. Ar'mai counted two thousand separate bodies being laid out as she watched from the edge of the forest. Other dragoons were milling about while still others were preparing the siege weaponry for the trek home... or wherever their next target lay.

The princess watched all day, thoughts filling her mind as the dragoons and dragons began leaving the destroyed citadel at their backs.

Why? For what purpose... for what reason...

Won't there be retaliation?

Is the trouble the spirit spoke of?

Could the Gate War be surpassed in blood by the coming future...?

As night descended over the valley, the dragon armies were all but gone. The last act was lighting the funeral pyres. In the castle lay five thousand bodies piled together in a heap of rotting and decaying flesh and blood. There was no respect for the enemy, just death. Then the castle was lit ablaze and so with it went the bodies of the fallen Iskanis. A massive inferno to cleanse the land. Outside the ruined walls the two thousand individual pyres were lit, one by one in reverence to the fallen dragoons. And then they were gone... disappeared into the darkness...

"It's time," a guard announced to the party as they packed up camp and set off for the edge of the woods. Once there they met up with their princess who was still sitting on the edge of the hill. "Ready?" the guard asked as he looked to the path before them.

"Nobody is..."


The Path Beyond...

The party of cloaked elves descended the steep hill with the grace of their ancestors. Once down, they followed behind Ar'mai as she led them towards the funeral pyres. "Each one a living soul..." They burned brightly in the dark night - a beacon of triumph for miles. Two thousand bodies lay burning as their final rite in perfect rows of twenty and columns of a hundred.

"Why burn the dead?" one of the royal guards asked. "The smell is putrid. You would do just as well to bury them and return them to mother earth." The fires burned bright and how, crackling with every drop of blood.

Ar'mai paused betwixt four pyres, "Ashes to ashes... dust to dust."

Naur vi eryn,
lanc i dalaf.
Mathach vi geven?
Nostach vi 'wilith?
Máb le i nagor,
Bád gurth vi ngalad firiel.
Dorthach vi mar han?
Dagrathach go hain?

Anírach únad
Egor gurth hen
Han cenin vi chen lín

The elves left the flames of death in their dust as they continued on past the blood soaked lands of the recent slaughter. Only a few minutes walk from the castle was the entrance to the Southern pass that the fortress had previously stood guard over... and now only pointed the way to destruction.

"Go vegil tolo hi, egor íriel firi. 'Ni men hen ú veth 'war." Ar'mai looked each of them in the eyes as she repeated her words, "Go vegil tolo hi, egor íriel firi. 'Ni men hen ú veth 'war." And with each face she was met by a firm reply and knowing nod.

"My sword is yours, now and forever..."

"I have given you my skill, now I give you my sword..."

"More than just our duty binds us to you..."

"A sister of the Order is never alone..."

A lone tear ran from Ar'mai's eye as the band of elves had grown very close over the previous few weeks of travel together. But she knew the road only became harder from here on in, and the only certainly in life was death itself...

Leaving the tear to run from her face, Ar'mai turned and strode through the entrance of the Southern Pass between the cliffs on either side. Right behind in lockstep with her, the elves followed. The march through the pass was not long and within a couple of minutes they had emerged on the other side, now truly in Iskan and Lustria. Narcador... a small town she recalled as she led them into the land unknown to them. After a march of nearly twenty miles, her keen elven eyes finally saw it on the horizon. Judging by the faintness of the stars and moon, it was nearly dawn and the small town would just be waking...

And so they came to the entrance; a humble wooden frame with the name of the town carved into a swinging wooden sign: Narcador. There were modest houses, a few farms, a couple of small buildings... nothing to really remember it by except its relative quaintness. Only a few miles away, twenty-five at the most, a bloody battle had raged that had sent seven thousand souls to their doom, but here the people were none the wiser; the morning was not a red dawn but instead a calm and peaceful one for the residents of Narcador that began wandering the streets. But then a peculiar sight stopped them from their activities and locked their focus...

Their eyes were locked upon twelve cloaked figures, faces shrouded by darkness, that had appeared from the town limit and now strode down main street...

"No," Lorathin replied as he took a bite, "I'm pretty sure it's a crush or puppy love"

"Puppy love?" Beatrice giggled. "I don't want to be crushed, but puppies would be fine!"

She walked up into the tavern, before getting a small chill. Taverns scared her...that's how she got to where she was the last time...

"Ixair?" Beatrice peeped nervously as she held the box of sweets close to her and slowly walked up the stairs.

"Eh? Waz thiz? New wench?" a drunk nearby laughed, as the others at his table joined in the chorus of laughter.

Beatrice began to close in on herself. She felt her legs buckle as she began to sink lower to the ground. "I-i-ixair?"

"C'mere an' give me a kiss, ye young'n! I love em exotic!"

"Here's an exotic one for ya," Ixair laughed as he kicked the man onto his table and pulled the chair from underneath the drunk, ending in the man's head laying in his mush-like food and his knees on the dirty floor. The elf's boot lay on the man's neck as he squirmed underneath. "This is Beatrice, a good friend of mine. You mess with her, you mess with me. Got it?"

"I got it, ya elf! Now gerroff me!"

"Good," Ixair replied as he eased his leg off the man.

Turning to the cowering Beatrice, he gently put his arms on hers.

"Please don't hurt me..." she whispered, her eyes shut tight.

"I won't hurt you," he whispered back as he raised the girl up onto her feet and smiled as his eyes met hers. "Chin up, right?"

The girl gave him a weak smile, before she let out a gasp. "Ixair!"

The elf had heard the man the instant he got out of his chair. Not only did his drunken swagger reveal his exact position and intended target, Ixair's keen hearing could detect the man belching a mile away.

Ixair spun in place with a smile on his face. "I've been traveling in the desert and I just found a batch of sand that I had not brushed off. Here, a souvenir." The elf unwrinkled his sleeve, revealing a small pile of the demonic sand and blew it in the man's face.

The drunk screamed and gripped his face. "Ahhh my face! It's melting!"

Ixair frowned as he noticed Beatrice once again falling in on herself.

"Have you ever seen the sunrise?" he asked as he pulled the dark elf by the arm, trying to get her away from the man who was stumbling about.

Beatrice was in slight shock at all the contact he's been giving her, but was happy to leave the tavern in one piece. And no one chasing her. "I-I-Ixair, d-d-do you want a sweet roll?" she asked as she was being pulled out.

Ixair paused and spun around with a wide smile. "Alas, my one and only weakness...pastries."

Beatrice cracked a small smile and showed him the crushed sweet roll in her hand. She frowned slightly. "I will get you a new one," she said quietly.

"Why? Being disfigured makes it no different than any other. They remain the same, the same frosting, the same bread, the same doe, the same filling," Ixair said with a smile as he plucked the squished one from her hand. "Besides, it makes me feel as though I'm eating a smaller piece," he added with a chuckle.

Beatrice smiled and chuckled quietly, rocking herself back and forth. "I will remember that," she said.

"Delicious, Miss Beatrice," Ixair said after gulping down his first bite. His eyes met the dark elf's as he slowly closed the gap between them. Beatrice looked confused and shocked as he walked closer.

Ixair brought his finger under her chin and gently pushed it up to his as he closed the distance between their lips.

Beatrice began to shake. Out of anticipation or fear, Ixair was unsure. She let out a small moan. "Please...don't," she whispered.

Ixair cocked his head slightly and nodded. "Of course, Miss Beatrice," he said as he gently brought his cinnemon roll in between the two. "I just wanted you to taste. To prove my theory," he said warmly.

Beatrice smiled and visibly relaxed as she pulled a small piece off and bit it. It certainly tasted the same. She nodded her head slowly but continued to smile.

"That's the ticket," Ixair laughed as he playfully plucked her nose and brought her back outside.

"Looky who I found here. The portable bakery!" Ixair chuckled as he brought Beatrice out next to Luthien and Lorathin.

"Come now, I think the innkeeper has found us a somewhat comfortable room. Well two. One for the ladies and the other for the men. So if you'd kindly follow me to your rooms."

With that, Ixair led the group to the first room. The "Female Lair" as Ixair had dubbed it was somewhat decent, much moreso than the inn itself. There was a cosey fireplace, nicely made beds (despite the shabby appearance), and curtains with several wardrobes.

"Sleep well, my ladies. I shall awaken you áelí. Tomorrow," Ixair smiled and nodded before closing the door and bringing the others to the men's room.

This one definately fit the rest of the inn. The door looked as though it would fall off at anyday. The room was layered with a heavy coat of dust. The one of the beds was lopsided as it's leg was missing. The nearby table sat in a corner in ruins. The window was cracked and a small daisy was the only thing that gave life to the room.

Ixair smiled as he walked to the daisy. "Found this little darling in a small pot nearby. Bought it from a little child next door. Quite a gardner, is she not?"

"Get rest, my friends. We awaken early tomorrow to conclude our fine little adventure."

With that, Ixair took the bed closest to the daisy, the one with the missing leg and yawned as he slid into the blanket in a fluid movement and surprisingly stuck there. He didn't roll off as most would expect.

" Dumb Elf forgot 'bout Glurp!" peeped a small voice at the doorway. The little goblin walked in and shut the doorway as he looked around. "And Dumb elf decides to throw man party without Glurp! No party good without Glurp! Glurp is epetimemitemetimeti-"

"Empitimy, Glurp," Ixair chuckled.

"Glurp was testing dumb elf. Don't want elf to get too dumb."

"Mmm hmm. Pick a spot and sleep, Glurp. It's what you do best," Ixair said sleepily. "That and lie about your ego."

"Glurp no like egos. Egos attack Glurp from air when Glurp wanders fields. Especially giant egos."

Ixair laughed as the goblin seemed to have confused 'ego' with 'eagle', but didn't correct the little creature as he leapt onto a bed next to Ixair.

"Glurp so tired from all fighting. Glurp is conquering hero. Glurp need rest."


"Glad you're with us Glurp," Ixair said softly as the goblin drifted to sleep.

Xenocrates entered the cavern of many other awaiting dragoons leaving a trail of blood were he walked. Every step rattled more of his life force from the massive wound in his shoulder.

That woman, it can't be, she was just a child...

-------------

Hel fell into Viral wrapping her arms around him while laying her head in his chest.

"It's not often that I have someone to care for." The queen said softly.

Falling onto the bed there was a quiet squeel under their combined weight. The tiny wolf clawed violently into Viral's back hoping to get some sort of relief from the burden.

-------------

The three mighty gates roared open as the undead mass shuffled forward in a lose file. The setting sun dawned a crimson light over the marching horde. The airships blanketed the sky with the exception of the officer's reserved vessels whom would remain in the rear.

As Beatrice headed into the tavern, Lorathin got direction to the bakery from Lúthien. Since the odds were horribly against it, he didn't worry that there might be someone that would be able to threaten Bea with Lúthien and Ixair standing guard.

By the time the two had exited the inn, he'd finished his 'favour'. The old lady would find her bakery was suffering under an extended run of good luck, be it a lack of vermin pestering her supplies, a fortunate wind keeping a fire consuming the bakery or an influx of customers.

Lorathin arrived to watch Ixair flirt with Bea, thought he did seem to tease her a bit much.

After the girls had entered thier room, Lorathin traced a light design on the door with his finger, it trailing in flame. By virtue of Ixair's arrangements, he was ensuring that Beatrice and Lúthien were safe rather than open to predation from drunkards.

"You're relationship with that goblin is odd, and I'd like to ask that you lay off the more overt flirting and teasing of Beatrice." Lorathin commented

"We are similar in more ways than one, my queen," Viral said quietly as he tried to comfort her by rubbing her back. Although a part of him expected a kiss never to be, he was still surprised Hel fell on top of him over the bed. "We have both been touched by the curse of Valtrox. We have no more living relatives. We were alone, until...well, until we came to your organization."

"Your highness, Do not worry too much about me. I am rather low maintanance. I am potty trained and know several tricks. Not to mention I am loyal and obediant," he chuckled as he turned to look into Hel's eyes. He'd never done so before and he reveled in his risk.

***********************************************************

Ixair looked up at Lorathin with a mischievious smile. "You're jealous, aren't you!" he chuckled.

"I have to say, however, your transition from goblins to flirting was awkward. But, my relationship with Glurp is quite a strange one. Perhaps one day I'll tell you it."

"As for Beatrice, I will do my best, Azrael. It's just my nature, I suppose. I naturally flirt with woman, sometimes ending in not so pleasant surprises. I think it's the old pirate in me."

"Get off me you fat oaf!"

Hel's eyes became fiery like an erupting volcano as she shot backwards almost ghostlike. Her fingers itched on the handle of her revolver gritting her teeth like a wild boar.

"Viral, you have exactly ten seconds to explain yourself and if I don't like your answer then you're going to be 'Snukkums' next chew toy." She growled in a strangely calm and monotone voice.

"My queen! I-I-I, what?" Viral stammered as he kicked his way to the back of the bed, away from Hel, grabbing the wolf as he did so and putting him across his chest. "I-I-I want to comfort you?"

Danger danger! You went too far! Been nice knowing you! his conscious rang out.

Her hand eased off the gun as she gazed at the fighting wolf in Viral's hands.

"Fat oaf huh?" She growled approaching the cornered man. "Let's see how you like Beau as your new company, I'm sure he's the stature you desire."

Suddenly she snatched Lupo from Viral and carelessly tossed him out onto the deck where the large guard dog was laying down. The tiny varvul bounced into his line of sight and a sly grin slid across his wicked face.

"He-hey wait a minute Beau, nothing personal between us right? Us var-varul gotta stick together right?" Lupo stammered edging away from the massive beast.

"Yes, stick together." Beau replied as he kicked his teeth before pouncing onto the mouse sized adventurer only to narrowly miss. Like a feline playing with an insect Beau gleefully chased after the fleeing wolf.

Hel turned back to Viral and smiled.

"It was...nice to have this talk, maybe after we get airborne we can have another." The regal figure said slowly exitting from the room.

"Not really, truth to tell I have very little interest in such a relationship, something it took a while for Rimoru to realize." He commented as he looked over at the sleeping Glurp.

"She's been traumatized by men, seems fairly naive and innocent and I don't think she could handle serious and overt flirting."

Viral shut his eyes tightly and sheilded himself from Hel as she approached him, only to snatch the wolf away from him.

He peeked over his hands as she tossed the tiny wolf to Beau and nervously watched his master and the wolves.

"An-an-any time, your Highness," Viral said as she left the room. He let out a sigh and slouched before letting himself relax on Marlene's bed.

"That was close..." he said to himself before slowly rolling off her bed, straightening out his clothes, and picking up the things he took off. He rolled his neck, cracking a few joints and yawned. "I was close...to achieving one of my goals...Infernal wolf..."

***********************************************************

Ixair nodded. "Right then. You see, I never knew these things. I had thought her to just be nervous and tried to get her out of it. I will keep my flirting at a minimum."

Before Lorathin could walk away, Ixair asked another question. "Why don't you want a dating and possibly marriage relationship? It's such a wondrous blessing, relationships are."

Horatio had watched the goings on but had kept to himself. He was somewhat disturbed at the thought of having to share a room, but he would have to put up with it.

He entered the room and took one of the unused beds, as far away from the others as he could get, he placed his things down on the bed and then walked over to the flower on the window. He passed his hand over it and smiled as it seemed to grow greener and healthier. "She must be a good gardener if she can convince anything to grow in this place." he said bitterly, then turned and headed back towards the bed without waiting for a response, he threw himself down on the bed and closed his eyes, listening to what the others said.

He had felt strange since the demon fight, when he had touched the creatures open wound and his his hand had been covered in its blood, which had then vanished.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ezekial followed the knight and the elf. "That's good to know and i assure you that i'm not a dragon spy... Might i ask, where are we going?" He asked, he was getting slightly confused and vaguely worried.

"Horatio," Ixair asked in a tone that sounded as though he were half asleep. "I have yet to know anything about you. You mind me asking about your history?"

He shifted in his bed, looking over to Horatio who had chosen a spot so far away.Why so far? Why do you not join us?

"You're going to travel with us on our airship until we can land again." Mahura answered remaining hidden in the shadows. "This is all precautionary, if we did think you were a spy Hel would have done away with you the moment those dragoons showed up."

There was a long curved path lined with hundreds of pads and perched on top were zepplin like ships preparing to leave. The sky was already littered with the airships as these were reserved for the higher ups and the queen herself.

"Until we arrive at our first checkpoint you'll remain in our custody, after that the queen will repay you for your losses." The dark elf said leaping onto a semi airborn vessel leaving the bulky skull knight to struggle up a weakened wooden ladder.

----------

Hel examined a thick black puddle on her ship that suddenly came to life as she poked it. The viscous goo built itself into the shape of a human looking around aimlessly. The thing let loose a garbled howl as it raced around the ship.

"Now now, there will be a feast for your brothers in a few days, just be patient ok?" She said leaning against the wooden railing while mercenaries worked furiously about the ship simply avoiding the chase between the two wolves.

Twelve cloaked figures. Twelve mysteries. Within each figure, a life, a story, an adventure. Within each figure, an avenue to ruin another's life. The figures have come seeking adventure. They will get it. And they will get much more...

**********

It had been a busy day for William Marthan. He and his comrades had found a new vein of ore after building new wooden supports in the mine shaft. After all, the safety of his coworkers and friends was his main concern.

This new vein brought lots of excitement amongst the village. It was the "Big News". It would provide a little more than the meager income trading brought to Nacrador.

Currently, Nacrador was a small village fighting for town status to the passing cartographers. There were about five hundred people living in Nacrador, each one knows each other and helps as much as they can to keep their friends close and healthy. The women gossiped about how pretty someone is, about the upcoming dance festival, the children, and new festivities to perform. Over ale from one of two taverns, each owned by one of two friends, the men would talk about their wives, their children, the crop season (depending on if their little patch of grass had any rain), any mining tales, or any rumor the women may have spread about the town.

The "Big New's" was generally the buzz around town. About two weeks ago, it was the birth of a healthy new Minotaur Calf from the Neros, last week it was the look of a good crop season, and now it was the new vein of ore. The town may finally be able to repair their temple of the gods and the nursury, as well as the addition of a school for the children who dream of learning about the world rather than remain in Nacrador, learning about mining, farming, weaving, or baking.

The village never really recieved visitors, so when William spotted twelve figures one day, the town buzzed with excitement, bordering on worry. Who could possibly visiting such a small town? A town that shows on very few maps? Why would they visit?

In fact, just the week before, a group of about thirty tough looking men had taken up refuge in the inn, leaving little room for anymore. However, the town would be kind enough to offer the twelve newcomers refuge in a house somewhere.

But for now, they had to greet the newcomers first. Hopefully they would be somewhat kinder than the last...

William, the official greeter, and somewhat the mayor of the town, walked towards the newcomers, ore dust coated his shirt, pants, and face, but his hands remained relatively clean, due to, in part, the rag he carried with him at the moment. He quickly rubbed the dirty white towel on his skin and shoved it in his pocket, once he got within five feet of the newcomers.

Wiliiam, however, wasn't alone. In case the people proved to be rude, violence seeking ingrates, Pharo the eight foot minotaur, Syville the skizzarish, Baldin the dwarf, and Mae'lakor the elf followed behind, no weapons visible.

"Greet'n's, friends!" William shouted to them cheerfully, raising his right hand to wave. "Welcome ta Narcrador! What brings ya 'round these parts?"

"Personal reasons." Lorathin replied as relationships of the nature Ixair was talking about almost invariably lead to children and while he didn't mind being a daddy, he did not want to be a father.

Horatio wasn't in much of a mood to talk, but he would try, he turned slightly to look at the others and said; "You mght have guessed that i'm a druid, i have been for most of my life. I can't tell you too many interesting stories of my past, there isn't a lot to tell." After a moment he added, "What about yourself, you mentioned something about being a pirate...?"

Mienna had remained outside for the night, hunting for a meal.

---------------------------------------------------------

Ezekial nodded at the elf as he followed her along, "Honesty, that's a rarety in my business, thank you."

When they reached the ladder, Ezekial stretched his wings and flew upwards, rather than relying on the weak looking ladded. He continued to follow the elf, but couldn't help but cast a vague look back at where his caravan would have been.

Ixair chuckled sleepily and yawned.

"Well, if I were more awake, I'd let you in on it. However, right now, I'll give you the short version."

"Be a pirate while you're young. Good benefits and good friends. One word of advice; never ever betray your friends or crewmates, no matter how beautiful the girl you're looking for is..."

Ixair frowned in the darkness as the memories flooded back to him. Terrible memories, full of sadness. He began to feel the villain now that it came back to him.

Cantrell was somewhat nervous. He could easily handle the men in the room if they tried something, but he was still nervous. He had never left Cobiesel ever since she freed him. Would these men do anything? He knew the others could see his fear. He tried to hide it, but he was not good at it. He merely sat on his bed, saying nothing.

"Are you alright?" Lorathin asked the nervous man, "You look like a cat in violin factory full of rocking chairs."

Horatio shrugged as Ixiar trailed off and tried to find a more comfortable position on the bed, always an annoyance when wings were involved. Closing his eyes he tried to give the outward appearence of sleep, but his mind was far from that state as he thought about the city and the demons.

Cantrell was confused by the odd statement. "I'm fine. It's just... memories. Nervousness of being alone with people I do not know. You have to understand, the past few years of my life have been literal toture."

"Ah well you should probably relax and get some rest then." Lorathin commented

"If only it was that easy."

OOC- Jolt is really screwing up for me, so I'm out for the day. Gots some guitar to play. :D

"Why is that?" He asked as he looked over at nervous man.

Harlin watched Horatio trying to get comfortable of the bed. "You'd probably be better sleeping on your front, sleeping on your back can't be good for your... whatever it is that's growing from your back."

"Things I don't like talking about." Cantrell closed his eyes and thought for a bit.

"Alright." Lorathin replied as everyone needs some secrets.

"Thank you. I must rest now. Or at least try to."

"Slavery?" The boy asked.

"Only for a few years until we can afford to buy you back." A gruff looking man replied next to his shrew like wife.

"Let them keep the runt."

The child found sanctuary in the corner of his dilapidated room beside his ancient cot riddled with mites and fleas. Through the darkness of the child's room a slick pair of eyes danced around without the boy noticing.

A slave. I would rather be dead.

"This ain't fair." The child whimpered lowering his head into his hands.

Images of vengence against his unloving paretns entered his mind while only adding to the weight of his sadness. Trapped, the boy began to lash out against his poor accommodations. Suddenly, without warning the child dropped cold into a coma as a stream of saliva pooled from his gaping mouth. Eyes wide and bug eyed he stared into the abyss and abyss stared back.

In moments of desperation and sadness, the spirit that binds the soul to the body weakens and decays. When the mind feels all is lost it rids itself of the spirit; leaving the soul, the essence of life, defenseless from he that lurks in the abyss. A tortured stubborn spirit without a body nor a soul searches this abyss for weaker souls to feed upon. Devouring souls it hopes to fill the nothingness that it has been given. The more it eats, the stronger the spirit becomes, and the cycle continues.

Ixair had already fallen asleep, dreaming of past fantasies, his many adventures, as a small boy, to more recent times.

In his dreams, he once again visited a familiar boat, on a familiar sea, on a familiar night.




Ar'mai was standing on the bow of the ship, her arms loosely out at her sides, letting the wind blow serenely through her hair. In the distance, the waters stretched far and wide, surrounding the boat in a sea of blue. The sun was warm as it beamed down on her tanned skin, but she did not seem to notice... it was a relaxing moment in a chaotic hunt for the light…

Ixair couldn't deny the fact that Karasu and Marasu were incredibly beautiful, but he had seen a certain elf on deck earlier...

He noticed her tanned skin, gleaming in the sunlight as her brown hair flowed elegantly behind her.

He casually walked up behind her and smiled. "Greetings fellow elf! I do not believe I have had the honor to meet you," he called to her.

Ar'mai's thoughts were far from her surroundings and so it took a moment before her mind really processed the words. "Likewise," she replied calmly as she turned slowly to face him.

For the first time in a while, she had removed all of her weapons and stored them in her cabin; she looked much more... 'pure' without them. Lighter and more approachable also. "I am Ar'mai Corvianna."

"Rings a slight bell, but I tend to say that with most names," Ixair laughed as he made an elegant bow. "Ixair Riftdreamer at your service, Miss Corvianna."

"I was with Sarik and the others at the Arena...yet I do not recall seeing you, nor the other young lady. I do remember a large elven male, however...wait a second...were you the one who jumped into the Arena?"

Ar'mai paused a moment before admitting it. "Aye... that was me." She knew it wasn't anything to be embarrassed about, but still she felt odd talking about the event.

"It was quite something, Ar'mai. But...When I was speaking with your friends about the big elf...they said he was the bodyguard of an elven princess...may that princess be you?" he asked, walking slightly closer.

She returned to the present moment after a long period of thought and replied to his question in a faint voice, "Only by birth..."

"It is a pleasure to meet another royal elf," Ixair smiled as he bowed again. He was in line to be a prince of an elven kingdom that shared it's lands with the Cult...before it became the Cult. Now he was nothing but a prince of rebels and thieves...

"Please forgive me, Miss Corvianna...but you of all people should know that elven eyes are keen enough to notice mineute details...including those of sadness that hath graced your beautiful face. What did I say that brought that feeling to you?" he asked kindly as he walked up to her.

"It is not the eyes that recognize sadness, but the heart..." she said with a slight sigh. "You have done nothing of fault... I was merely thinking of another place. And please, call me Ar'mai."

Deciding to change the topic, she pursued a brief comment of his. "Another royal elf? You are a prince..."

"I am a prince of a kingdom of elves long gone...destroyed, and hunted to the end by Inzikai and his brutal followers...I watched as my family was torn to shred before my very eyes...my sister, tortured...raped...my father, brutally murdered...my mother made blind before being tossed out the window...My people, lined up against the palace walls, each one having their insides turned out...the forests were tainted by the blood of my people...A massacre..."

"My kingdom is no longer...I am only a prince by blood," he replied sadly, repeating Ar'mai's earlier comment

With Ixair's words Ar'mai remembered a few things Inzikai had said when she was in his possession. He had caught himself every time, but she knew enough that it was obvious he was hiding his atrocities of the elves from her.

"A prince in blood can, with enough work and persistence, become a king in spirit."

Ixair smiled and bowed his head. "Thank you for the kind words, Ar'mai. Tell me, are you hungry? Or thirsty? Are you enjoying yourself here?"

"It is hard to enjoy oneself when one knows the gravity of what we are doing here..." Ar'mai said. Real enjoyment and bliss, she knew, would not come until the land was safe from god and mortal alike...

"Oh, nonsense, Ar'mai. It's best to enjoy every day of life...no matter the future. Come, I'll show you an amazing sight," Ixair smiled as he gently took hold of Ar'mai's hand and gently tugged her towards the railing.

Ar'mai let herself be pulled gently to the railing - the one at which she had been standing just a few moments prior.

Ixair smiled as he jumped onto the railing, before looking back at Ar'mai. "I'm assuming you can climb and have good balance. Am I right?" he chuckled, still holding her hand.

"Naturally..." she said with a faint smile as she leapt up onto the rail beside him.

Ixair chuckled in response as he nimbly walked a few feet forward, coming to a rope, before continuing his path on the rope.

He smiled as he came to an incline and he began to walk upwards, looking back occasionally to make sure Ar'mai was doing fine.

The elven prince continued on until they came to a rope ladder and he began to climb, but his hand remained around Ar'mai's in case she needed his help.

With that, Ixair continued upwards until they came to the crows nest, where the elven prince helped Ar'mai into the small space.

He smiled as he admired her for a few seconds before turning towards the setting sun. "Looks like we're just in time...I know you must've seen the sun set countless times...but this...this is like nothing I've seen before..."

Soon enough, the sun was descending behind Rimoru's distant city...however, with the incredible magic in the air, along with the mirages of the desert, marvelous images and colors flashed in it's place.

The sky was like a beautiful painting, reds, orange, blues, greens, yellows, even a light dash of pink brightened the sky as the sun set. On land, it looked like a beautiful rainforest had taken the place of the city...waterfalls cascading down as a rainbow crossed the sky...One could almost hear the rainforest animals.

Ixair grinned broadly as he watched the beautiful sunset.

After being helped into the crow's nest, Ar'mai leaned against the short wall and peered off into the distance. She pretended not to notice his leering as she gazed out at the beautiful night. The sun's setting unloosed a beautiful scene all across the night... thoroughly impressing Ar'mai.

The two elves watched in silence as the sun drifted behind Rimoru's palace and disappeared, leaving both in darkness.

"Did you like it, Ar'mai? I have to admit, that had to be the best showing yet," Ixair said quietly. The best showing because you were there with me...

He smiled as he leaned up on the wall next to her, resting his chin on his palms.

"You know... I did. I really did," Ar'mai said honestly as she relaxed against the wall. "It was... relaxing. Sort of like when I used to just lie in the forest, far away from my people, and just listen to the sound of nature..."

"Nature...always there to calm the nerves, to aid us when asked, giving us that guiding hand..." Ixair slowly turned to face Ar'mai and smiled broadly. "Nature gives us the joy we need for everyday hardships," he said quietly as he looked into her eyes.

"So true..." Ar'mai commented as it literally did just that sometimes.

"Perhaps I will have to come up here more often..." she said, picturing herself just standing there, watching the hours drift by as they closed in on their goal.

"You are more than welcome to, Ar'mai. Any day you feel like it, go ahead...That is what I've done on many ship rides before...until, of course, the captain yelled at me to get back to my duty," Ixair chuckled.

"Would you like to get down now?" the elf asked as he stretched himself out.

"No... I am quite fine up here," Ar'mai reassured, "But if I am holding you from your duties... go ahead, I would not be insulted if you left."

"Nonsense, Ar'mai. I have to admit...being up here with a fellow elf is...a great feeling...but a beautiful elf as yourself..." he nervously scratched his golden hair, blushing slightly. "That's a moment to cherish..."

"You are too kind," Ar'mai said, slightly blushing at his praiseful comment about her beauty and not knowing what else to say to something like that.

Ixair smiled at Ar'mai before looking out into the distant city...the faint glow like more stars in the sky...

"I only speak the truth," he whispered as he jumped onto the railing and sat down on it, letting his feet hang down.

"Truth is subjective," Ar'mai stated in a seemingly oxymoronical statement that nonetheless was true when people decided to make up their own truths.

"Perhaps it is just that lack of light that makes you think so," Ar'mai said with a giggle. "I am actually quite hideous in daylight," she joked.

"Moreso than your ogre friend?" Ixair laughed as he took a good look at her. "No matter, what I see now, is what I'll remember you by."

"Actually...I think I do see some signs of an ogre or troll in you," he chuckled as he jumped off the railing, landing next to her. He gently played with her silky hair and smiled. "Definately the hair of a troll!" he laughed, as he very well knew that the hair of trolls tended to be greasy...if they had any hair at all...or else it tended to be body hair.

"And your skin...why, it must be as tough as an ogre," he continued as he gently stroked her fair skin with his hand.

Ar'mai shoved him jokingly, though not enough to push him over the wall. "Why you...!"

Ixair chuckled as he did a backwards flip onto the crows nest railing, before grabbing hold of a nearby rope. "And your eyes...definately the large round eyes of a gnome!" he laughed as he swung around Ar'mai, landing behind her.

"Your ears...those of a goblin!" He bent over as he laughed so hard, he could barely take a breath.

"Well you certainly can't be an elf then... your eyes fail you..." Ar'mai said as she did a flip onto the top of the 'mast.'

"I doubt an ogre or goblin could do that," she said after she safely landed on one foot.

"No...I suppose not..." Ixair smiled as he climbed the rope up to her. "So then...maybe you are an elf," he joked, as he leaned towards her. "But that brings us to my first point...you're a beautiful elf..." he laughed.

"Perhaps...." she whispered as she stared out into the darkness as the ship pittered on.

Ixair smiled as he watched the sky with her, silently admiring her and the calm and nearly silent night around them.

His keen elven ears could pick up the clanking of the engine room, along with the cursing of Mebbiwik and the blubbering of the guards. He could also hear the waves calmly lap up against the boat as it chugged along. He could hear Ar'mai's soft breathing and the swinging of some of the ropes in the cool breeze. All relaxing...

"How old are you?" Ar'mai asked abruptly. It was quite a bold question though said in a calm and casual manner

Ixair looked at Ar'mai with a small grin, only slightly shocked at the question. He moved a stray lock of blond hair out of his blue eyes as he pondered the question. "How old do you think I am?" he asked with a grin.

"Judging by the way you act," she said with a devilish smile. "I would say about fifteen..."

"Close," Ixair laughed. "Three hundred sixty one."

"And how old may you be?" he asked as he continued to stare out into the sky.

"You would ask a lady her age?" Ar'mai replied with a giggle.

"Oh? Pardon me, my lady!" Ixair replied with a chuckle.

"Fine then...I'll guess...Three hundred and thirty...oh...six. Three hundred and thirty six, my final answer," the elf prince said as he swung lightly around on the rope.

"Nope!" Ar'mai beamed, still not revealing her age. The truth was, there was no simple answer to the question. Actually, there were two answers...

Ixair laughed. "Then I suppose your age will be known only to you," he replied with a broad smile. "Unless you want me to keep going all night?"

Suddenly, some waltz themed music could be heard by Ixair's sharp ears and he looked towards the deck. He noticed the Karasu twins there, along with Lorathin...

"Would you like to have this dance with me?" Ixair smiled as he moved his hand to Ar'mai, palm up.

"Up here?" Ar'mai questioned. "I don't think there is enough room... especially for your clumsiness," she giggled.

Without saying another word, she leapt off of the crow's nest and landed deftly on her feet on the deck below. "Waiting..."

"Clumsiness?" Ixair chuckled as he swung from his rope, doing a flip in the air, landing softly on his feet. Immediately he positioned himself into a bow. "We'll see who's the clumsy one," he chuckled as he held out his palm again.

Ar'mai took his palm in hers and as the music started up again, they began dancing.

The music would speed up every so often forcing them to do the same with their steps, tempting them to the limit... who would break first?

Ixair smiled calmly as the two elves kept pace with the ever changing music. Despite the complicated steps, the two elves continued, not even breaking a sweat. Something only the elegance of the elves can do.

"You're a very good dancer," he said as he twirled Ar'mai around him.

Ixair and Ar'mai were dancing ferociously, twirling and almost gliding across the floor in a fluid-like motion.

The music soon ended, Ixair's arm around Ar'mai's waist as she leaned back, his face close to hers.

He smiled and took several deep breaths. "I haven't yet met someone who can dance as well as you, Ar'mai," he chuckled quietly as he looked into her beautiful eyes. He slowly brought her back up and bowed elegantly again. "It was an honor to dance with you, Princess Ar'mai," he said formally, smirking as he bowed.

"And with you... Prince Ixair," Ar'mai replied as she did her best formal courtsey.

When she turned, her eyes spotted the ship that they had been trudging after. The battle would soon be at hand... one way or another.

And that battle was quite a horrendous one...Ar'mai had been knocked into a coma with terrible wounds and Ixair had remained by her side the entire way, at times trying to reteach her what she had lost.

Alas, he had to leave when they entered the gate war. He had other business to attend to...A decision that Ixair does not know whether to regret or praise himself for...

The morning rooster cawed as the sun rose, waking the elf up suddenly. Ixair had forgotten he lay in a crooked bed and rolled out to the floor. He, however, landed on his feet in a crouch, so as not to wake anyone else up.

The blue-eyed, blond haired elf opened his mouth wide with a yawn and stretched himself out, before checking on the little plant. The druid certainly knew what he was doing. The plant was twice the size than it was before they went to bed.

Ixair smiled weakly and sniffed the flower before lightly walking out the door, leaving little sound save a slight creak in the wood, and even then, it was only quiet. He closed the door quietly and walked through the short hallway, stepping over a few drunks until he reached a doorway at the end of the hall.

A small balcony had been built on the building for the wealthier customers, however, when the place had become the dumps, it was free to use. And yet, no one did. The drunks could never get far enough up the stairs and whoever wasn't drunk, was only there temporarily.

He pushed against the weak looking railing, testing it's strength against several different weights should several different weights lean against it. As for now, it was just Ixair and the cool breeze.

He looked up at the glorious sunrise, the colors so vibrant and alive on the horizon. The massive towers of Rimoru's Palace could be seen quite well. And yet even the beautiful towers paled in comparison to the rise of the sun. It was different than that of the sunset, for it was more natural, the magician's not yet at work, or atleast not all of them, to affect the sky too drastically.

The blond elf leaned against the railing and let a few tears roll off his cheek. In fact, he just let himself start to cry. Time had passed. Things will not be the same. Most of all, he missed Ar'mai...

The dark queen leaned over the front ledge as the airship began to liftupward. Her eyes admiring the endless mass of beasts she called her own.

The land and the skies are mine.

Undead dragons chased each other between the zepplins like kittens playing in a field. Their rotting flesh drizziled onto a regiment of Bone Warriors whom shook the disgusting meat from their white semi armor clad bodies.

A repating flicking sound forced her to spin around expecting a mechanical error, but only to see Beau grapsing Lupo while flicking him in the head. A simple frown forced the varvul to release his captive whom scampered away below deck.

"The dragoons are some of the greatest warriors in the world, do you think you're ready?" The queen asked to the dissapointed wolf.

"Nothing, but the gods themselves can put a stop to my might." Beau answered standing to his haunches.

"Thanks snukkums, never known you to go out of your way to compliment me." Hel snickered turning her gaze back to the legions of undead.

Ttomak, I want you to remain at the front of the line. You shall be the symbol of my army's strength and for good reason. Leave the petty fighters to the zombies because I want you to go for the dragons leader.
-------------

Mahura watched the imp fly aboard the ship curiously. So much so that she revealed herself from the shadows.

"Tell me, what exactly is it you do Imp?" The dark elf asked crossing her arms.

Viral walked along the edge of the aircraft, his hand sliding along the railing as he did so. Around him Hel's machines of war began to prepare themselves for the upcoming battles ahead. He was proud to be part of it all too. Proud to be the ones who will make drastic changes to the world.

Yet he couldn't keep his mind off the small event that had taken place earlier. His hand went to his chest, where Hel had lay her head that fateful hour. His hand slowly fell from the area and pulled out his pipe, along with a few poisonous leaves, in which he crushed up and set inside the pipe, before lighting it and leaning against the railings. He puffed slowly as he began to wonder if Hel really liked him.

Lorathin had departed the inn shortly after the steady breathing told him the others were asleep. He needed a chance to properly relax and think and thus headed out of the city. He couldn't go to Rimoru at the present for a couple reasons, if the allegations were true it would be dangerous for Lúthien and even likely himself.

He also knew that Rimoru had a method to get in touch with him if she were in real trouble, and since she hadn't used it he was less than absolutely worried. With a slight sigh, he lay back against the tree and closed his eyes to meditate as the mental binds holding it had weakened for an instant and needed to be re-bound.

"What's the matter Lorathin?" a voice asked from above the man. Beatrice let herself hang from the lowest brance of the tree by the feet. She smiled playfully as she swung by her feet while her bright white hair dangled down to the ground.

Much the same way as Lorathin did so, Beatrice had left her room, tempted to bring Luthien tree climbing with her. It was something she loved to do. Climb trees. She had found trees to be more relaxing than the beds in the inn anyways.

"Nothing you need to worry about, it's just a bit of personal worry." He replied with a wry grin as he looked up at the elf. "What are you doing out here, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I like to climb. Plus, I couldn't sleep," Beatrice replied as let herself fall off, spinning before she hit the ground, landing on her feet and sitting down near Lorathin. "I sometimes sleep in trees. Bodista used to call me a monkey," she giggled.

"You do look like you like it, and are quite a good climber," He replied with a grin, "But much prettier than a monkey."

Beatrice smiled and blushed deeply, as she looked away and rocked back and forth. After a few minutes of silence, she looked at Lorathin again.

"How did you get those?" she asked curiously, pointing out Lorathin's birthmarks and different colored eyes.

Xenocrates stumbled inbto his quarters swearing a storm.

No one defeats me, no one should even lay a hand on me, much less ordinary humans! These pathetic worms will squirm as I lay my boot on them.

Stripping his glorious 'show' armor he opened a labyrinth of passages leading into an armory with a single suit in the center. Bulky and grey it dawned a shield on the left forearm hiding a retractable blade underneath. Gathering (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v723/Luporum/Xenocrates/X.jpg) the pieces slowly he could feel a surge of power through the armor.

"Mother, your gift will not go to waste." He muttered stoicly while putting on the last gauntlet.

Mother, a massive and most feared dragon by the name of Grumhildr. His father was presumably a human dragoon but so unimportant no one remembered. Most were so baffled by his birth that they ignored the father all together. Grumhildr was slain many years ago during Valtrox's last escape attempt. Her name lives in legend.

"Damn rodents." He snarled one last time.

"Being born. Both the birthmarks and eyes are part an parcel of my heritage." Lorathin replied, slightly pleased she'd blushed as it was a sign she was relaxing in the presence of those around her.

Beatrice let her eyes trace the outlines of the birthmarks and nodded slowly, her mouth slightly ajar. "I'm sorry," she said quietly in reference to her staring. She brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them as she rocked back and forth. Her ears could pick up a distant crying, and she frowned slightly.

"Someone sounds sad," she whispered quietly as her stomach grumbled quietly. She was beginning to feel hungry, having only eaten two sweet rolls for dinner the previous day.

"I don't mind, if you like looking, feel free to do so. In truth I'm slightly flattered." Lorathin replied as she began regressing again.

"I shall trust you on that, your ears are more accute than mine." He added as he heard her stomach growl slightly, "It also seems like you are hungry, would you like to get something to eat?"

Beatrice smiled and nodded excitedly. "I am hungry, Lorathin. I would get some more sweet rolls, but I promised myself to save them for Luthien," she giggled happily.

"We can always get her more, and I really need to put my foot down on her sugar intake anyway." He replied, "Or if you'd like I could make you breakfast?"

Beatrice let out a quiet chuckle. "Sugar intake? Why lower it?"

"I would enjoy a meal, Lorathin. But, do you think you may be able to...teach me some of it?" she asked shyly.

"Because she tends to tease me when she has a lot of sugar in her. Of course, is there anything in particular you'd like to learn how to cook?" He asked

Beatrice looked to the floor in thought, then, raised her eyes at Lorathin in uncertainty. Truth be told, she had no idea what food was for breakfast. The dark elf did not remember any breakfast food name. Instead, she decided to go with something that would benefit her greatly, should she ever leave her friends.

"Something quick and easy?" she asked quietly.

"Something quick, easy and likely convienent, well there is toasting or oatmeal." He thought for a second, "Alright, let's start with oatmeal." He commented, "It's one of the easiest and quite quick, but needs a bit of work."

Pointing to the ground beside them, he cast a few spells to get a small sack of oatmeal, a pot, a fire and a long-handled spoon. "These you'd normally need to carry with you, but I used a bit of magic as a short cut. After you get your fire going, you put the oatmeal in the pot, about a good handful per person, a double handful if you're hungry, add enough water so that it's fully covered and then add a little more. You must then put the pot onto the fire and stir the oatmeal fairly often. By the time it becomes difficult to stir it's done, and you take it off the fire, let it cool a bit and it's ready to eat." As he explained, he also did so that she could see what was happening, "Do you think you've got it?"

ooc: Gone for night

Beatrice cocked her head to the side as he mixed the strange items and instructed her on preparing the 'oatmeal'.

"I-I think I got it," Beatrice nodded slowly, her eyes looking up to Lorathin, before returning to the pot of thick liquid. "Oatmeal," she repeated, her hand reaching for the pot, but immediately pulling back as she felt the heat enter her finger.

"Ooo," she gasped sticking her finger into her mouth, tears forming on the sides of her eyes.

As he saw what she was about to do, Lorathin reached out to try and interdict Beatrice, but failed to react in time. As she burnt her finger, he slapped his head as he'd failed to warn her properly, "I'm sorry, I should have told you it needs to wait a bit longer and people usually use spoons and blow on it as well."

Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a small container of magical burn salve. He'd started carrying it when he'd begun teaching Lúthien fire magics. "Here put some of this on your finger, it'll make it feel better and I'm sorry again."

She laughed nervously as her cheeks reddened. "I think I should have known that," she whispered as she pulled her finger out of her mouth and dipped her a different finger in the salve before putting it on her burned one.

"Thank you, Lorathin," she said as she continued to rub her finger.

"Your welcome." He replied as she coated her finger in the salve. "Would you like to try your hand at cooking or maybe just watch the clouds?"

ooc: About Blasted time I can actually get online

Beatrice narrowed her eyes in thought as she leaned against the tree. "May I try?" she asked, her eyes getting wide and a smile curling on her lips.

"Of course." He replied as he repeated the spell he'd used to get his supplies so she'd have a fresh set of supplies to try with.

ooc: Agreed(I've been trying to get a post posted for like six hours)

ooc: Aye me 2...gets so frustrating...

Beatrice smiled as the supplies appeared and took the time to check them all and gently prodded the bag of oatmeal.

"Handful for each person. Two if they're really hungry," she repeated as she grabbed a a handful in each hand and tossed them in the new pot. Unfortunately, a lot of oatmeal stuck to her finger with the salve.

She furrowed her eyebrows and violently swung her arm, trying to get the oatmeal off. With no results, she attempted it again, much harder this time. Still nothing.

She frowned and stuck her finger in her mouth again but winced as she gagged. "Bleh," she coughed as the salve oatmeal tasted horrible to her.

She looked at Lorathin and repeated, "Bleh," before brushing her hand on her small jacket and proceeding with one hand. Occasionally, she would shake her head and mutter another "bleh."

"Oatmeal doesn't taste that bad, right?" she asked, the sour expression remaining on her face.

With the oatmeal in the pot, she wrapped her delicate hands along it's handels and hefted it up, waddled to the fire, and set it into it, before bring out the spoon.

Beatrice frowned as she forgot which end to use. One end for scooping, the other for stirring, she thought. Sounds logical!

The dark elf smiled at Lorathin as she stuck the handle in the oatmeal and began to stir slowly at first. She frowned at the lack of progress and began to stir faster and faster, eventually reaching a point where some oatmeal spattered across her face and Lorathin's.

She was laughing and giggling now as she kept going at fast spurts, making more of a mess.

"That's the salve, not the oatmeal. It's not intended for eating, but it won't do anything except disturb your tastebuds." He commented as she gagged on the salve.

As she began stirring with the handle, he was about to correct her that the bowlish end was for stirring, he noticed her laughing and giggling as she made a bit of a mess. As it cooked Lorathin commented, "You normally use the other end to stir and serve, and not quite as rapid in the stirring department, but cooking is suppose to be fun and that's what you're having so it's all good."

"I'm sorry," Beatrice said as she stopped her stirring and looked at Lorathin with large, wide eyes, biting her lower lip.

The corners of her lips curled up as she scooped up some oatmeal with a mischievious look on her face and flung it at Lorathin, changing into playful look in her eyes. She began to giggle and laugh again at the mess she was making.

Lorathin had begun to reply with 'That's alright' to her 'I'm sorry' when he got smacked with a blob of oatmeal. "Hey, that's for eating, not throwing." He replied with a massive grin as he took the spoon out of his, now no longer hot, oatmeal and returned fire.

Beatrice screamed with laughter as she hid behind her pot and continued to barrage Lorathin with her oatmeal.

A large blob smacked right into her face, but she didn't care. She wiped a bit off with her spoon and tossed it right back, not even sure if it went in the right direction.

The dark elf continued until she was completely out of the strange goopy gunk, and giggled as she scooped oatmeal out of her long silk hair and tossed it at Lorathin.

She sat down on her haunches and grabbed a long lock of her hair and playfully put some of it in her mouth, taking off the oatmeal. "It's alright," she giggled as she began to brush off the oatmeal on her arms, legs, face, and everywhere else, and gather it in a large pile.

Lorathin enjoyed the breakfast battle with Beatrice, thought he was getting quite oatmeally. As they cleaned up a bit, "So did you enjoy your first cooking lesson?"

Beatrice nodded with a large, bright smile. "Thank you Lorathin. It was fun," she giggled happily. "I feel all sticky now, though," she added as she tossed her last big pile of oatmeal at Lorathin.

"You're welcome." He replied with a smile, "And I'm sticky as well." He added as he dodged the big blob of oatmeal. "Is there anything you'd like to do, wash up, make a breakfast for eating rather than throwing, return to the inn?"

"I think washing up would be good," Beatrice smiled as she rocked back and forth while holding onto her knees. "And then maybe a non messy breakfast?"

"That sounds like a good idea, and I'm pretty sure I noticed a stream around here." He commented

Beatrice nodded and stood up, wiping away a few more blobs of oatmeal and tossing them in the grass and walking towards the distant sound of water.

The dark elf began to take off her coat, before she paused. "My clothes are sticky too," she said before shrugging and finishing taking off her coat, before jumping in the freezing stream.

"C-c-c-cold," she stuttered as she immediately swam for shore and brought herself out.

"And that's why you should check the water temperature before you dive in." Lorathin commented, "But we now need to get you dry and warm. If it doesn't make you feel uncomfortable, I can strip down most of the way, you change out of those wet clothes and into mine and we can return to the inn to get you properly dried and warmed."

Beatrice jumped as she heard Lorathin behind her. She didn't know if Lorathin was going to follow her or not. She began to feel greatful that she hadn't stripped naked.

"N-n-n-no t-t-thank y-y-you," she replied as she shivered violently. The sun would be up sooner or later as it was rising at the moment. She gave a smile to Lorathin, however the sound of chattering teeth could be heard.

"Alright, tell me if you start to feel numb or really cold." Lorathin replied, "Of if you'll turst me for a second, I think I just remembered a spell that wil make sure you don't get sick or anything from the cold and you should only feel cool rather than cold as you are."

ooc: Night

"I-I-I'll be f-f-fine," Beatrice replied with a stuttered giggle. "I w-w-wouldn't w-w-want to be m-m-m-melted an-and l-l-look like oat-oa-oatmeal."

The dark elf stood up, and brushed off her purplish, smooth legs and huddled closer to herself. "A-a-are y-y-you g-g-going to j-jump in?"

"Ixair and Lúthien would have my head if you got ill on my watch, and if I could figure out a way to do it, I'd probably have my own head as well." Lorathin replied, "Now would you melt."

"A-a-a-alright, L-l-lorathin. As l-l-long as y-y-you k-k-know what y-y-you're doing," Beatrice replied as sjhe began to put on her jacket.

Lorathin reached out to lightly touch Beatrice's forehead with his forefinger. As he finished the spell would find she was no longer cold. The spell had been divised by wizards who had to travel through deserts, jungles, wastelands, icefields and other places subjected to very hot or cold areas so they could partially ignore the temperature and conditions with greater ease.

"Feel better?"

Beatrice shied away from Lorathin's touch and closed her eyes as she shivered. She made a little squeek when he touched her, and immediately she felt herself warm up.

The dark elf smiled warmly at Lorathin and nodded. "Thank you, Lorathin. Thank you for being my friend as well," she said quietly. "Should we return to the inn or do you think we can eat something small?"

Mahura watched the imp fly aboard the ship curiously. So much so that she revealed herself from the shadows.

"Tell me, what exactly is it you do Imp?" The dark elf asked crossing her arms.

Ezekial looked at the woman and shrugged, her appearence had been slightly unexpected, but he was used to hiding in the shadows himself: "I do a bit of everything, whatever i feel like, provided i can get away with it and it interests me or i have an incentive, why do you ask?" He knew that if one of these people got the wrong idea he could face almost certain death, but he couldn't help but tempt fate.

"Thank you for trusting me." Lorathin replied, "And for having me as a friend. Whichever you'd prefere, we can eat here or there."

"Let's eat here. I like being outdoors," she whispered as she rubbed her arm. She was still a bit sticky, having not scrubbed herself and only taking off a small amount of dirt. It didn't matter though. Her goosebumps were going away and she was warming up.

"Should we go fetch the others or let them get breakfast later, and is there anything you'd like?" He asked as he began wiping off the errant globs of oatmeal that were still sticking to him, using a cloth and the stream to get partially clean.

Beatrice smiled as she stretched her long slender arms out and let out a yawn before laying down on her back.

She knew that it would be nice for the others to come back, however, she would get so shy around them all. Especially if they had cloaks on.

"Alone, please?" she asked quietly. Now she began to think of what to eat. Beatrice had always been a sucker for sweets, and that was what she always was in the mood for. "Would you be able to make something sweet?" she asked curiously.

"Alright." He replied as he watched her think about what she wanted. "Yes, I can make something sweet, are there any fruits or berries that you especially like?"

Beatrice sniffed a bit and rolled to her stomach, looking up at Lorathin. She didn't remember any fruits or berries she's had, if she's ever had any.

"Fruits or berries?" she asked quietly, her eyes wide with curiousity and shame.

"Strawberries, or bananas, and while there are others those are the two that are the best for the recipie I'm thinking about." He commented as he muttered a slight spell to summon a strawberry and peeled banana for Beatrice to try. "Tell me which you like more."

Cantrell had a rough night. His demons had come back to haunt him in the night. It was a similar dream to the ones he had before. Hewas walking with his friends. All seemed well, until a crossbow bolt struck him in the arm. Before he could draw his weapon, a large group was upon them. He and the rest tried to fight them. One of the warriors would find Cantrell's sword thrust into his skull. However, Cantrell would also be knocked out by a bludgeon to the head.


After this, he would awaken in a dark cell. He could not see a thing, but he could hear that someone else was in the cell with him. It was a man, also captured from somewhere, named Layne. He was shivering with fear. Suddenly, the cell door was opened. Bright ligth came in, blinding Cantrell even further. He could hear Layne's screams for help. When the light was gone, there was only Cantrell in the cell.

The next part of the dream was the torture. Although Cantrell had been tortured for years, he only remembered the most terrible ones. The flooded into his memory. Being chained to a wall, the cukt performed horrid acts on him. He could see them taking a thick thread and threading it to a large needle, which had just been taken out of fire. He could see as they approached him with the needle. He could feel the pain as they pushed it into his eye, he could hear his screams of pain. Then the worst of all. He saw the burning read chain, infused with terrible magic. They threw it around him, and it immeaditly coiled around his arms and legs, burning and sinking painfully into his skin as it did.

At this point Cantrell woke up. A normal man would have woken up screaming, but Cantrell was used to this. He got up and walked outside.

OOC: moderately long post, long and short of it, Horatio goes on a killing spree in one of the factories in town and is heading out of town.

Horatio had finally drifted off to sleep, only to suffer disturbing dreams, memories of the demon that he had poisoned. Memories of the attacks, the slaughter of sometimes defenceless travellers, his scythe like claws slicing through flesh and blood seeping from the gashes, the thrill of the hunt as some survivors ran. The taste of fresh meat as he fed on them. Horatio finally awoke drenched with sweat and aching.

He looked around the room, two of the beds were empty, what are they upto? he wondered. Then seeing the others were still asleep he slowly got up, took his things, put his hood up and crept over to the door. In the corridor he made almost no effort to avoid the drunks and stepped on one or two as he walked purposefully out of the inn.

Consumed by anger and a thirst for death he turned and began to walk towards the nearest factory, which was spouting smoke and ash into the air. He ignored any people he walked past, if they were in his way he barged past, turning down several winding alleyways he began to make his way nearer.

As he approached he saw several lightly armoured guards cast curious glances at him and prepare themselves as he approached without slowing down. One reached out to grab him saying; “You can’t go through, authorised people only.” They were his last words, Horatio’s scythe pierced straight through his neck, beheading him. He was holding it one handed and had had relied on its deadly sharpness. With his other hand Horatio grabbed a guard by the throat, unusually sharp nails digging straight into the mans throat and piercing his veins.

The other guards were surprised but reached for their weapons, one lost his arm as he half drew his sword, then lost his head a moment later as Horatio spun the scythe and swung it back. One of the guards slashed at Horatio who parried the swing with the scythes handle and then slashed downwards, the scythe piercing down along side the mans neck into his lungs. The last guard, realising his life was worth more than his job turned and ran letting out a cry of terror.

Horatio ignored his and continued towards the factory, several more guards appeared after hearing the cry and their weapons drawn ready to confront the single man walking towards them. One called out; “Attacking us was a bad idea boy, you’re outnumbered and that farmers toy isn’t going to help you.” Horatio laughed, a hint of madness in his voice, he reached into his cloak and drew out several acorns, they glowed red and he threw them in the general vicinity of the guards.

The guard who had spoken caught one and laughed; “Acorns? You must be ins...” He trailed off, as the acorn in his hand grew hotter and then exploded in a ball of fire, the ones on the floor also exploded, bathing the guards in fire, two collapsed to the ground dead, one was blasted back into a wall before slumping to the ground. The two remaining had been badly burnt and fire was raging on their clothes, one charged at Horatio hoping to at least get revenge, but didn’t expect Horatio’s scythe to take his legs out from under him, the man collapsed on the floor and made a pitiful clawing motion as he tried to move towards Horatio, moaning in agony.

Stepping over the man Horatio approached the entrance, the faces of innocent workers could be seen peering around the entrance, looking for the source of the disturbance, seeing the man still approaching they let out involuntary cries and backed away. Horatio stepped through the entrance and stopped two steps ahead of it. Through grated teeth he said “Those of you with families, leave. Now!” Several people scrambled along the wall and out of the door, a moment after most had left another man moved forward to leave. Horatio barred the mans way with his arm. His wings stretching behind him, they looked like they had grown somewhat “There’s the quick… and the dead.” He shoved the mans back and brought his scythe down on him. Then raised his eyes to the others and laughed maniacally.

In panic they at first surged forward trying to push past, only to watch those at the front get reaped by the scythe. The rest began to panic and run, grabbing at anything that might protect them or they could use as a weapon. Several tripped and fell as they barged each other and Horatio was only a few steps behind swinging the scythe and leaving a trail of bloody corpses.

Some managed to find a way out or while Horatio chased a few, others got out through the door he had entered from. Eventually Horatio found his way up a set of steps to the walkway of the supervisor’s office. He kicked the door and a hiss of steam as a bullet launched from a steam pistol announced the supervisor was still present and armed. It hit Horatio’s scythe and rebounded away. The supervisor scrambled back, bringing the gun up for another shot. Horatio leapt forward, hitting the man with the butt of the scythe, winding him and making him drop the gun. Horatio grabbed him by the throat and pinned him to the wall. In almost a hiss he asked; “Who owns this place? Where will I find him?”

The supervisor tried to swallow, Horatio loosened his grip on the mans throat enough for him to speak. “Miff… Miffin owns, this place, Miffin Mcdungal.”

“Good,” Horatio hissed, “Now where?”

“Not… not here.” The supervisor answered; “He is in another city.” Horatio tightened his grip, in a strangled voice the supervisor added “Mal… Malgavesh.”

Horatio nodded and threw the man aside into a wall, a reassuring crack suggested that his neck had broken. Turning Horatio stepped out of the office, then the enormity of what he had done struck him, his normal self was resurfacing, corpses littered the floor, the factory was bathed in blood, he was bathed in blood. He staggered and fell onto the walkway retching, closing his eyes to avoid seeing the corpses.

He staved panic away and stood, out of the front entrance he could see a large massing of guards, they were reluctant to enter and he couldn’t leave through that way. Turning feverously he saw a blackened window facing the other side of the building. He charged at it and smashed through, opening his wings to slow his fall then ended it a roll, he stood, glanced around, nobody was their yet.

Hiding in an alley he wiped the blood from his hands, arms and scythe on the inside of his cloak, which he then wrapped in a cheap shirt from his bag and shoved the bundle into his bag, the cloak was magical, he didn’t just want to discard it. He took out a clean, but normal cloak and put it on, the scythe he thrust into the bag as well. He put the hood up and stepped out into road, hurrying towards the nearest exit to town, he thought he should go back to the inn, but if someone had seen his face he didn’t want to drag the others into something that was nothing to do with them, and at this rate, he might attack one of them as well.

OOC: as mentioned earlier, it’s a magic bag. In regards to Mienna, it will follow you guys around for a bit, she senses something very wrong with Horatio and that being near him is dangerous, so she sticks around with you.

"Strawberries, or bananas, and while there are others those are the two that are the best for the recipie I'm thinking about." He commented as he muttered a slight spell to summon a strawberry and peeled banana for Beatrice to try. "Tell me which you like more."

Beatrice held up both and looked at each with large, wide eyes. With a small giggle, she took a small bite of the short, stumpy red fruit and smiled as red liquid gushed out of it, giving her tastebuds a delightful surprise.

She quickly ate the rest and then studied the odd long yellow fruit. "A banana," she repeated as she bit off a bit of that one, expecting juice, but failing to get any. She continued to chew for a while before shrugging and setting the banana on the floor.

"I don't care," she replied, even though she really enjoyed the strawberry.

"Then a mix of both." Lorathin commented as he cast a couple spells to get the ingredients and supplies to cook a breakfast of crepes with sugar to be caramalized, sliced bananas and strawberries and whipped cream to top them.

Beatrice watched hungrily, wanting to just sneak a few pieces and munch on them.

So she did. As Lorathin was turned, she'd pick one of the strawberries he had and quickly stuff it in her mouth. Each time he turned, a new strawberry found itself in Beatrice's mouth until her cheeks were puffed out, almost to their max. She giggled to herself as she held her right hand over her mouth.

"Are you sure you want to eat those before they're cooked and served?" Lorathin commented with a smile by the time Beatrice had filled her mouth. As he'd realized she was absconding with strawberries when his back was turned, he started turning his back more often so she'd have more oppertunities to feast on the berries.

"Mphhmt mwaaht?" Beatrice asked with a large smile, shrugging her shoulders and holding her palms out, before placing her hands over her mouth to keep from spilling any of the berries. She giggled again and took a few large gulps to get the stawberries down.

"They taste much better cooked." He commented as he watched some of the strawberry juice run down her chin, "And they'll be ready soon."

Beatrice only smiled before licking depriving her lips of the juice and trying to get the renegade drop that was slowly sliding down her purple chin.

"Soon? I can't wait," she chimed in happily as she rolled around playfull on the ground, singing a strange tune with even stranger words. The tune itself had an air of playfulness and joy.

A few minutes later, the skillet burst into flames for a second before extinquishing. With a bit of a flourish, he rolled four crepes, one strawberry, one banana, and two mixed, onto a plate. Sprinkling a faint amount of cinnimon on each and topping each one with a set of four rosettes of whipped cream, he held the plate out to Beatrice, "Breakfast is served m'lady."

Beatrice clapped her hands and took the plate from Lorathin's hands. "Thank you, Lorathin!" she giggled as she contemplated how to eat the strange rolls.

"Here you go." He replied as he handed her a fork as he saw she didn't know how to eat them. Since Beatrice had an aversion to knives, she could use the side of the fork to cut and the tines to transfer the food to her mouth.

"Thank you!" Beatrice giggled happily, taking the fork from his hand and speared one roll and tried to pick up the whole crepe. Instead, it slid apart, the filling spilling out on her plate.

With a shrug, she moved onto the next and made sure to puncture it completely, before picking it up and trying to stuff the whole thing in her mouth. Filling began to spill from the crepe, but she just giggled as she succeeded in chomping half of the crepe into her mouth.

"Tith ith very good," she said between chews, before shoving more into her mouth. She couldn't decide if she liked the sweet rolls better than these strange rolls, but finally came to the conclusion that it just didn't matter. They were both good, and now she was being fed. By a friend.

The dark elf blushed again and set down the plate. "Have some, Lorathin," she said quietly, smiling as she wiped away the filling on her chin with her now sticky hand.

Lorathin watched the happy Beatrice play with her food to an extent as she ate the crepes. She was childlike in many respects, but not in others, an enigma wrapped in a mystery with a side order of puzzling.

"Alright." He replied as he took another fork and speared a peice of banana, a slice of strawberry and a bit of crepe and popped it into his mouth with a smile. As he finished the mouthful, he smiled a lopsided smile at her.

Beatrice giggled and rolled onto her back, looking up at Lorathin. "You're funny," The dark elf laughed before sitting back up and taking a sniff of the air. "I hear footsteps," she said.

Certainly, the strange man with the eye sewn shut had come out of the nearby area. She kicked her way behind Lorathin. The man didn't prove to be a threat to her yet, but his appearance frightened her deeply.

"You don't have to worry, I'll keep you safe if whoever it is had bad intentions." Lorathin commented as she seemed nervouser, like she was starting to get the flight reaction.

As the man came out, he looked over and ask, "What you brings you out here?"

Cobiesel had come down with Cantrell. "We were just coming to see were everyone was. If she is not comfortable, we can leave." Cobiesel said to Lorathin. Cantrell looked at the elf. "I'm sorry. If you wish, I'll leave."

Beatrice shook her head. She didn't trust them, but she felt terribly guilty. Why should such a fate befall a poor man? Why should she treat him unlike any other.

"I'm sorry," she replied quietly as she shook her head. "Please stay."

"Well it seems you have your answer. We were just having breakfast." He commented as he looked at the two.

Beatrice slowly crawled next to Lorathin, relatively close, almost to the point of rubbing shoulders with him. Her hand stretched to Lorathin's, but instead, diverted it connected with her other hand and wrapped around her stomach. Her eyes remained wide and intense, constantly moving, making sure she was in no danger.

*******

Bodista! Company! Look! More angels! Came a teenage laugh.

More angels? came Bodista's reply. He did not sound too thrilled. What can that mean?

I dunno came the simple response. The sound of a small kiss and a slight giggle.

You seem nervous, Bodista,

Think nothing of it, my beautiful Beatrice. I just have not seen another of my kind in so long.

Sounds of heavy footsteps and then, the door opening.

Brother, it is good to see you again, the sound of a new voice said. One of the new angels.

Aye, and to you, brother Lem. What brings you here?

Bodista...they scare me, whispered the girl.

Stay close, Beatrice he replied back almost silently.

Greetings Beatrice. It is nice to see you age so well. You are certainly the envy of all the women. the new angel said.

Thank you, Master Angel. I am honored by your presence.

Please Beatrice, we are but humble angels...

Laughter rang out inside the room.

Bodista, you do know

I know, Lem. I know the consequences.

We don't want you to...you know. We don't want it to happen to you. Do not... get attached.

I know, Lem. Please, leave us be. It will be resolved.

I hope so, for all our sake. Beatrice, nice seeing you again. Bodista, best of luck.

May the gods watch you safely, Lem.

And you too.

The door closed and the sound of a girl's sniffle replaced the voices.

They wanted you to go, didn't you? They don't want us to be together...

Don't worry, my Beatrice...don't worry. Nothing can seperate us. Nothing...

Lorathin noticed Beatrice's intense nervousness, and turned to her. He pulled out a small, thin wooden coin. "Here, if you ever get scared, snap this." He said holding the coin out to her. If she broke it, it would trigger a protective barrier around her that would keep her safe against all but the most powerful magics.

Beatrice looked at the coin and took it slowly, staring at it. "Anytime I'm scared?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, thought it will only work once. I can provide you with a few more if you'd like." He replied thought he didn't have many of them.

Beatrice nodded slowly. "May I have some more?" She tended to be scared a lot, and she had no idea if she should use her current one right now.

"Alright." He replied as he fished out four more and gave them to her.

"Thank you." Cantrell said. "Again, I know I look terrifying, but I won't hurt you. So, what do we have to eat?" Cantrell felt very sory for Beatrice. Obviously something happened to her as a child, or maybe even later in life. But still, he felt that she may have suffered like he did. They had something in common. "Cobiesel sat down. "Beatrice, may I ask a little bit about you? Just to get to know you?"

"And I seem to remember you playing with oversized marbles, ogre," Teralynn retorted. "You can doubt that the sun would rise the next day for all I care; it makes no difference to me what your savage mind thinks."

Jorian caught Eva as Kalzog practically threw her into him while trying to shield Daejan from the scene as much as possible.

Tera looked at the children and arched an eyebrow at Kalzog. Ignoring his question and asking her own, she said, "So, how many of you people does Rimoru have in her employ anyway? Makes me wonder why an empress of her supposed strength would need so much protection from others."

***

The wind was picking up as the airboat gained altitude and speed. Ttomak's cape flapped about as he stood on the bridge, splitting his attention between the sights of the army around him and the pilot navigating the vessel. "Doing a good job, Captain," he said, giving the pilot a pat on the shoulder.

It will be a pleasure, Ttomak replied to Hel as he watched Viral light his pipe upwind of him. Soon, the stink of the man's smoke will reach his nostrils.

To remedy that eventual situation, he got up on the railing and looked down at the already large distance between him and the ground. The army had already started to looked like a mass of ants. Without further warning, he casually took a step off of the edge and plummeted toward the ground.

In a split second, a blackened dragon zipped under him, which he landed on with a bend of his knees before sitting down on. Under a tight mental leash from the general riding it, the skeletal dragon zoomed low over the heads of the troops and let out a roar. Though the undead minions would be unaffected, the ones that were very much alive ought to have had their morale boosted by the sight. He was, as Hel stated, the symbol of the army's strength, after all.

With a few powerful strokes of its wings, the dragon moved on ahead of the officers' airboats and to the front of the army so that Ttomak may lead them into victory over the dragons.

"I'd let you take a good look of my 'oversized marble', should you want it. Unfortunately, I seem to have lost it. May you know where it is?" Kalzog growled. "And I never worked for the prostitute. I only wish to get rid of these kids who have plagued me and..." he looked at his messy pant leg from Eva's lost dinner.

"And part of the deal was to get rid of you, woman. And so I may just have to," the ogre growled as he pulled his club out from behind his back.
***********************************************************
"Jor! We gotta try to get them free!" Eva said sickly.


***********************************************************

Viral continued to puff out his poisonous smoke when he saw someone fall before his very eyes. He coughed violently in shock and realized it was General Ttomak.

"Show off," he muttered as he regained his composure.

"Thank you." Cantrell said. "Again, I know I look terrifying, but I won't hurt you. So, what do we have to eat?" Cantrell felt very sory for Beatrice. Obviously something happened to her as a child, or maybe even later in life. But still, he felt that she may have suffered like he did. They had something in common. "Cobiesel sat down. "Beatrice, may I ask a little bit about you? Just to get to know you?"

"S-s-sure...I guess," Beatrice replied nervously. "I d-don't know how much more I know about me than y-you do."

Beatrice could not remember much of her life and desperately wished she remembered what she was like before...well...whatever that made her lose her memory.

Lorathin gave Cobiesel a look from behind Beatrice's back that said not to push or pressure her. For some reason he was feeling overly protective of her, perhaps because he had a daughter, by adoption, and associated the two.

Beatrice brought her knees up and hugged them as she awaited the questions. Each passing second got her slightly more nervous. She's been question so many times in the past. And her little knowledge of these things that would come naturally to even the smallest of childs came with great difficulty to the dark elf.

She turned her head to look at Lorathin and gave him a wane look that spoke of nervousness and confidence at the same time. "You may ask a question as well, if you wish it," she whispered quietly.

"Alright, now what should I ask?" He asked himself as he prepared to slightly tease her, "Should I ask about her past, or goals or maybe dreams? I know, Beatrice, what can I do to make you happier and feel safer?"

Beatrice slowly looked to the floor as she became deathly still as though all mirth in her body escaped the second he asked.

***

Bodista, what are you doing?

Singing. Care to join me?

Singing?

Several chords played on an harpsicord at once, before a bouncy melody played, before a more solemn one, and then finally, it stopped.

Aye, my little Beatrice. Singing. I know you can sing!

Of course, but not...well you know... Beatrice giggled.

All you need to do
Is match the chord
When I cue you
The angel sang beautifully, with a bouncy melody getting slower as he sang, his voice a rich basso.

A cadenza and an intro.

And here she comes,
My lovely Beatrice
who's voice is really bliss...
The music slowed to a stop.
That's your cue, the angel whispered with a chuckle.

What do I sing about?

You choose!

Bodista is sweet
his voice is like honey
But his face looks like chewed meat...

At first, the voice was beautiful, but as she ended, the girl broke out in laughter, as the music stopped.

What? Well, I'll have something for you...just wait. The angel chuckled.

*****

"I-I...I like to sing...and dance," Beatrice replied softly, her eyes looking up at Lorathin. "Bodista and I used to..."

"Then would you like me to sing you a song?" Lorathin asked

Beatrice thought for a bit, then looked up at Lorathin. "Alright," she said quietly.

"I must warn you my singing voice is not the greatest. I hope you like my selection." He commented as he thought of a song, slightly childish but still amusing and interesting, he thought Beatrice might like.

With a deep breath, he began singing.

1, 2, 3 You can count on me. 4, 5, 6 it’s true
7, 8, 9 don’t you agree that I can count on you
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 then
16. 17, 18, 19, 20 you see. You can count on me
20, 19, 18, 17, 16 then 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10
9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, you see, you can count on me

Beatrice cocked her head slightly at the strange and very amusing song. She laughed and clapped her hands when he finished. "I like it," she chuckled. "Do you sing to Luthien?"

"Occasionally." He replied with a grin as he'd made her happy, or at least smile and laugh, and that was what he'd asked her how to do.

ooc: Night(and this thread (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=501002) is funny)

Beatrice let out a quiet chuckle again. Can Luthien sing too? she wondered to herself. Someday, she'd ask the girl, but for now, she would not want to steal the time away from the others. She did have questions to attempt to answer anyways.

She remained silent, however her smile faded and she looked awkwardly at the others, as if anticipating what the next question was going to be.

OOC- I'll be out most of the day.

IC- Cobiesel realized asking to many questions off Beatrice would probably be a bad idea. She instead talked to Lorathin. "So, where do you come from? I'm sorry if I'm being a pest, but I guess I'm just naturally curious."

"I came from certain carnal acts between my mother and father." Lorathin replied to the question. Answering but evading the question.

Harlin dropped from the air and landed silently on the ground next to the others. "Lorathin tell us about his past, that's rich. Maybe next we can pull teeth out of an angry crocodile..."

Settling into the Lotus position, he pulled out his pipe and his small pouch of kinga root which he proceeded to pack and light and puff away quietly on.

Beatrice raised an eyebrow in question at Lorathin, but did not persue to question him further. Perhaps he forgot too, she thought to herself.

As the others had turned their attention from her to Lorathin, she gently pulled her black leather boots up. Beatrice had never really thought of herself as beautiful, however that is because of the fact that she never really thought of beauty at all.

In anyway possible, she was a beautiful woman. Her long dark legs were smooth and mildly muscular. In fact, all her skin was wonderfully smooth, her blue lips full and her large round, blue eyes, topped with light blue eyebrows and eye lashes. Her light blue stomach was flat and muscular while she had an ample chest. Her clothing was, not to her knowledge, quite seductive and very much revealing. And yet, Beatrice had no idea why or how she was dressed as so, and she never even thought of it.

As the dark elf finished examining her boots and legs, she looked up again and smiled at the others, unsure if she'd be asked another question or not.

And suddenly, someone dropped from the sky. Beatrice screamed and leapt behind Lorathin, curling herself in a ball, and trying not to see anything or be seen.

Harlin raised an eyebrow as the girl screamed. He pointed up to where he'd fallen from and said, "Sorry bout that. It's habit you know. Nothing to fear, it's just me, we met earlier I believe." He was amused though, as he noticed that Beatrice did not yet have a concept of Object Permanence, and was acting like an ostrich.

"Harlin, next time you try that, you'll find yourself in a very unpleasent situation." Lorathin commented as Harlin landed and Beatrice screamed. "It is not polite to scare people after all."

Harlin looked at Lorathin and said with more than a hint of pride in his voice, "I am a Jiltakin sir, this is what we do. Besides, your open ended threats reflect a lack of imagination. Define my punishment next time for Arcturus' sake. I mean really, I'm quaking in my boots about an unpleasant situation..."

Drawing again from his pipe, he closed his eyes and began to hum softly a song that his mother had sung to him in his early childhood.

"If I gave you a definate threat, you would almost certainly push me to see if I'd do it. Leaving it open ended is much more practical. You may be a Jiltakin, but certainly your precious order doesn't preclude common curtesy, does it?" Lorathin commented

Beatrice nodded slowly and cautiously came out from behind Lorathin. "I'm sorry..." she whispered. Someone to move so silently and mysteriously as to appear before her face was something she could not help but be afraid of. Deep down she knew one was coming for her...Silent, deadly, efficient...
****************************

Running down a long corridor, not stopping. That's what he told her.

"Do not stop for me."

Tears cascaded down her face, but she wouldn't stop. She couldn't.

"Find her! Burn it all down! Kill anything that moves!"

Jeers and laughter. She was being followed.

Bodista...please...help...

She knew he couldn't. He stayed back. He'd told her he was going to buy her time.

*******************


But the strange man pulled out a pipe and began to hum a song to himself, snapping Beatrice from the strange memory. What was happening?

Beatrice raised an eyebrow and listened carefully to it. "What is that song?" she asked quietly, calming herself as he sang, as she set a small hand on Lorathin's only for a second, before once again bringing it closer to her, in a sign of comfort. A sign that she knew, deep down, that Harlin was not going to hurt her. Not right now...

Ar'mai, Venisar, Bael'ther, the three Priestesses of Elune, and the six Royal Guards all stopped in rows of their kind as they were approached by a motley grew of warrior looking beings. Though the six guards were standing at the back of the group, they were ready to spring upon any potential threat to their princess. However, they maintained their stoic, hood covered stares and unthreatening stances with their hands gripping one another before them as the large robe hung about their bodies. A truly royal affair, as the twelve cloaked figures stood in regal cloaks of fine silk and vibrant colors.

"Greet'n's, friends! Welcome ta Narcrador! What brings ya 'round these parts?"

There was the one who spoke cheerfully, but he was surrounded by a group of serious looking figures: a minotaur of comparable size to the great elven warrior in their midst; a lizardman, known more formally as one of skizzarish like Sarik; a dwarf of some rotund figure as normal; and finally a fairly nondescript elf. There were no weapons visible in their hands or about the visible parts of their body, but the elves would take them for no fools; if they had come to seem strong, they might want to be able to back it up if a heated fight arose. However, there would be no fight to be had.

The silken, white cloak that adorned Ar'mai's beautiful frame obscured her face and the rest of her body from view or discernment. Only her voice or articulation could possibly give away that she or any of the others were elves, but it didn't seem this town had any problems with the folk. As the elves stood in rows behind her, the princess spoke calmly and clearly, "Greetings. We have traveled far across the land and recently arrived in Lustria. We seek only knowledge of what has passed in the intervening fifteen years," Ar'mai commented as the marker of time, fifteen years, would be obvious to nearly all Lustrians, young and old. A mental debate occurred in her mind about whether or not to reveal what happened a day earlier to the fortress near the Southern Pass, but in the end she decided to keep the information privy so as not to upset the townsfolk.

"Wow, the past fiftin' years?" William grunted with a smile as he scratched his balding head with a meaty fist. "Well, it may take a while, if ya want the long version. 'Owever, the short version may take me a bit as well. So if ya want, we can go to the tavern an' get comfortable, enjoy yerselves, as I tell ya what may 'ave happened. What ya say, friends?"

The elf smiled slightly and bowed his head. "I recognize elves when I hear them. If only I could recognize accents as well, I may be able to distinguish from where, so pardon us if we do something that your culture may not approve of. As you may notice, we are quite a diverse town and it can get complicated should cultures clash. As we found out with the last group..." The elf said quietly. "By the way, the tavern does have elven wine, if you care for the such."

"The long one will do," Ar'mai replied kindly with a bow of her head. "And the tavern will do fine... perhaps we can buy you drinks for your hospitality and willingness to help." Obviously the townsfolk bore no ill-will towards the traveling elves, and so the Royal Guards, as well as Venisar and Bael'ther, relaxed and brought down their guard to the normal (elevated) level.

"Aye, but I recognize a good Wood Elf when I hear one," Ar'mai commented as the elf spoke. Her travels across many realms and lands had given her the opportunity to meet many different elves and their accents, which varied from culture to culture.

However, the elf's comment resonated most greatly with the stoic warrior elf standing just behind Ar'mai. Venisar had likewise grown up in a small, remote town of friendly folk and a multi-faceted and diverse culture. Unlike what the elf reported though, Venisar had never had trouble within the town itself as the cultures melded and mixed or remained separate... the trouble was when unaccepting outsiders came in.

"Elven wine would be delightful..." Ar'mai commented as the group began walking towards the tavern. The slight comment about a previous group causing some trouble was relegated to the memories of the elves as they moved through the town unabated...

"Nay, me friends. Save yer money fer the road. 'Tis on the house," William chuckled as he opened the door to the tavern which was filled with many a citizen, having fun, a few dancers, and a lot of laughter. "Let's 'ave some o' the best elven wine ya 'ave, Jered!"

"Of course, Will!" came the response as William gestured for the elves to sit.

"Aye, a wood elf I am indeed. Grew up in the Order, Iskani border. 'Tis a beautiful place. 'Tis a shame with the Order, though..."

"Aye...but tha's what we'll be a'tellin' ya once the wine comes," William said with a smile as the bartender brought several wine glasses along with several tall bottles of wine.

"By the way, I am Mae'lakador, my friends."

"Aye, an' this is Pharo the minotaur, Syville the skizzarish, Baldin the dwarf, and I am William. We try ta keep our humble town in workin' order."

"Righteo then. Let's see...where to start..." began William as he looked down on the floor and rubbed his black beard with his meaty hand. "We'll start from the top o' Lustria an' move down frem there."

The others nodded as they sipped their wine and smiled as they awaited William to begin.

"The Cult, after the Gate War, was in shambles. Inzikai's ol' minions had sprung outta hidin' an' tried ta take the throne. An' so many o' them power hungry individuals wanted it, civil wars broke out. An' those who got the throne, died the very night they sat on the throne. 'Twas Inzikai's ghost, as they say in Upper Iskan an' the Cultist Territory. After 'bout the third civil war, only three more leaders remained. Wha' was their names, Mael?"

"Teralynn the beautiful, Maxim the brutal, an' Telthor the wise," the elf chimed in.

"Aye, thanks, Mael. An' recently, Telthor was found dead, killed by an elf girl. Poor girl was hanged, fer doin' us all a favor. If only she coulda killed the other two."

William took another small sip of wine before scratching his beard again. "Well...Iskan. Ol' Iskan. Ol' Rimmy got married to a handsome young elf by the name of Prince Alegain. May ya know anythin' bout the lad?"

"Anyways, strange enough, Rimmy gave birth to a healthy li'l child whom she named Eva. Cute child too. An' she 'as strangely red eyes, like her father."

"I never seen a red eyed elf before, but I haven't travelled much," Mael chimed in again.

"So apparantly, she's been seein' the elf before the Gate Wars even. But what's even stranger, is that a rumor has hit us that she has been ousted. Yet no one knows fer sure, cause no bodies 'ave been found. Only the broken door, shattered glass, an' the signs o' a battle on one night. 'Tis strange indeed."

"Rumors also say it may be Ixair who did it, since 'e 'as been tryin' so 'ard ta get rid o' Rimmy. 'Owever, he'd ne'er try ta 'urt 'er. An' there were some pret'y 'orrifyin' dreams that occurred, accordin' ta the messenger that came by a few days ago."

"The Morgrathien Barbarians 'ave remained pretty quiet. Been collectin' themselves together methinks."

"Aye, since the Imperium has begun their expansions," the minotaur snorted with a rich baritone of a voice.

"Aye, the imperium. Bugger's 'ave been invadin' the Order an' the Morgrathien's. An' worst thing is that they're succeedin'. Apparantly, the Order lost most o' their best in the Gate Wars includin' their leader, the Blessed Patriarch. Poor man, bless 'is soul. Took me boy ta see 'im once. Ne'er thought the man would come talk to me. Cured me boy from a deathly sickness as well. I'd give me life just ta bring 'im back from the dead."

"Not undead either. We want the true Patriarch," Mael said again.

"Aye, an' so, the Order is nothin' anymore. Only a few miles o' land around Illuminata, their cap'tol city. Poor guys."

The sound of a heavy metal foot clamped through the tavern doors, an elegantly dressed man who wore a captain's coat smiled wickedly as he played with a pistol in his hands. Behind him, a good few more of them smiled and laughed, the aura of being drunk definately surrounding them.

"I 'ate elves," he growled as he pointed his gun at Mae'lakador, who sprung from his seat.

"Whoa now, what's goin-"

A faint pop and the elf fell dead to the floor. "Don' worry, I'll send Ixair with ya in a bit," hiccuped the captain.

"You infernal cretin!" William growled as he went to the dead elf's side.

"No one move, or ya'll will be killed," the Captain growled. "Me name's Capt'n Conroy, an' I'm gonna be yer new mayor fer a while. I want e'ry elf in this forsaken town ta line up against the wall outside, fer execution. An if ya find a certain Ixair, hand 'em over an' I'll deal with 'em meself. Perhaps I won't kill all o' ya if that 'appens."

"Ya wretched-!" shouted William, before a gun pointed to his head too.

But the strange man pulled out a pipe and began to hum a song to himself, snapping Beatrice from the strange memory. What was happening?

Beatrice raised an eyebrow and listened carefully to it. "What is that song?" she asked quietly, calming herself as he sang, as she set a small hand on Lorathin's only for a second, before once again bringing it closer to her, in a sign of comfort. A sign that she knew, deep down, that Harlin was not going to hurt her. Not right now...

Harlin looked at Beatrice who had rejoined the group after her small panic attack. "No need to be sorry, in fact, I should be sorry. I'll try to be less surprising next time if you're around."

As he continued to hum his song, she asked its origin, and he stopped abruptly. His eyes were distant for a moment as plague and death clouded his memories. "My mother sang it to me as a child, before the flux took her from me. She was a wonderful woman, you would have liked her."

Sitting back, he sighed softly as he tamped out his pipe, and returned it to his robe.

"The flux?" Beatrice asked shyly. She figured that it eventually meant a death of some sort, or some other rather unfavorable ending. She covered her mouth in realization and lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry...you probably don't want to..." she trailed off.

"When Ixair drops us off...w-w-where will everyone go?" she asked quietly, not wishing to leave Lorathin and Luthien, however, she felt as though she was beginning to connect to the others, albeit slowly, but she was atleast on the long road of making friends.

Cobiesel looked at her poor dark elf. "Cantrell and I will be looking for our friends we lost many years ago. If Cantrell still makes you uncomfortale, we can part ways with you, but I was hoping we would travel with someone. Makes things so much easier."

Ixair lightly rapped on the girls door after his moment alone, Glurp yawning by his side.

"Why dumb elf always wake up Glurp? Glurp was remembering when Glurp fought against demons in Gate War. Everyone celebrated Glurp's victory and-"

"Glurp, you never fought in the Gate War," Ixair said as he knocked on the door again.

"Dumb elf to dumb to realize that Glurp Day is celebrated all over world!" Glurp retorted angrily.

"Oh, you silly goblin, Glurp day is not a holiday! No one's heard of it! In fact, you were just dreaming! You never killed a thing in your entire life!"

"Glurp has! Glurp has!"

"You haven't killed something trying to kill you. You've only killed your friends!"

"Dumb elf don't know that. Maybe friends were not friends. Maybe friends were trying to kill Glurp because Glurp's friends were actually not friends who impersinated Glurp's friends but realized too late that Glurp knew that Glurp's friends were not Glurp's friends and Glurp's-"

"Enough already!" Ixair said as he clamped his hand over the rambling goblin's mouth.

He knocked the door one last time, making sure no other girl was in there.

Cobiesel looked at her poor dark elf. "Cantrell and I will be looking for our friends we lost many years ago. If Cantrell still makes you uncomfortale, we can part ways with you, but I was hoping we would travel with someone. Makes things so much easier."

"You guys are n-nice," Beatrice said calmly. She remembered Horatio, the half-demon she met shyly in the alley. He was a nice man, despite the imperfections of his skin. Perhaps this man is the same.

Lúthien had gotten up a little before Ixair knocked on the door and after checking in with Lorathin, didn't worry about Beatrice's absence.

Opening the door, she looked out at Ixair and asked, "Can I help you?"

"To an extent, you can," Ixair smiled with a wink at Luthien. "I'm about to embark and unless you wish to stay behind, you can come with me. And if there's anyone else in there, be sure to wake them up and notify them as well."

"Well Bea and that other lady are not here." She commented, "And do you even know where the others are?"

Ixair only chuckled as he lightly tapped Luthien's little elven ears. "That's what this is for," he said with a smile. "So, pack your belongings and let's go. If you're hungry, we can pick up something small to eat as well."

"My ears are going to tell you where to find the others?" She asked as while she knew where they were, hearing them was a bit out of her range. Stepping out of the door, she noticed the ward and disspelled it before replying "Let's go."

Ixair let out a quiet laugh and gently ruffled the girl's hair. "No, little Luthy, not necessarily. But our elven ears may be able to find them," he said cheerfully as he held out his hand for her.

"Aww, our poor little ogre lost his marbles?" Teralynn said, faking sympathy. With a shrug of one of her shoulders, she said, "I might know where it is. But why should I tell you? You will only try to steal it from me."

Habdebza, I have the woman and three children here, Tera thought to the demon. You can end your search and come back now.

***

"Stay here with Daejan," Jorian said quietly to Eva as his little sister clung to him. "When the ogre distracts her, I'll try to free them."

"Aye, but I got other tricks," Kalzog chuckled as he pulled several strange objects from his belt, that vaguely resembled carved wooden scupltures. "Always come prepared, right?"

He began advancing towards Teralynn, club in his right hand, strange objects in his left.

*****************

Habdebza only frowned as he had been venturing through several mirrors, searching for the woman named Fala.

With a growl he melded into the shadows.

You impress me, my little Tera. I shall be there soon...

*****************

"Jor!" Eva cried, holding onto his arm, while holding onto Daejan with the other. She desperately wanted Jorian to remain here. She knew that if they were to save their parents, however, one of them had to be brave enough to go. And it definately was not Eva. "Please...please be safe," she said quietly, giving him a light kiss on the cheek.

"More toys?" Teralynn asked, raising an eyebrow. She feigned a yawn and concentrated part of her attention onto the club and the strange objects Kalzog pulled out. Using the gift Valtrox had given her, she began to increase the internal temperature of those objects so that they would burst into flames and turn into ashes.

***

Jorian's limbs suddenly felt like lead, and refused to move. The surprise kiss did not help either.

"Stay here with Eva, ok?" he whispered to Daejan.

The young girl did not want to let go of Jorian either, but grudingly agreed and nodded her consent, and wrapped both her arms around Eva, sniffling.

Can't turn back now. Jorian forced himself to sidle sideways as Teralynn's attention was fixed on Kalzog, slowly circling around to his dad and Rimoru.

Kalzog laughed as he felt the objects in his hands grow hot. He opened his hands wide, revealing several intricate carvings of knights. As they began to get dangerously hot, to the point of combustion, he tossed them at Teralynn, where they burst into fire, leaving several six foot knights instead, perfect replicas of the toys they were a second earlier.

"Aye, I love toys. We all have kids inside of us.." he laughed. The ogre knew they wouldn't too long against the woman, as they were made of wood as well, however, they could chase her a bit, giving him time to get close and do what he does best. "Kill her."

The knights nodded and shambled clumsily towards Teralynn.

*********

Eva frowned as Jorian began to inch his way towards the parents. She couldn't look. And yet, she did. She wanted to make sure Jorian was safe.

That's when the princess began to curse herself. Why am I not as powerful as my mom? Why have I not paid attention to studies so well?

She gave Daejan a hug and walked slowly away from view, giving only limited view of Jorian. "I hope they escape," she whispered to the little girl in her arms.

"I already know where daddy and the others are." Lúthien commented with a bit of a smug grin.

"Oh?" Ixair asked with slight surprise. He smiled as he lead the little elf girl down the stairs and out the door, making sure no drunk or other hooligan attempted something nasty. Not that they'd get away with it. Knowing Lorathin and what he knew of the little girl already, she'd probably end up safe anyways.

"How do you know, Luthy?" he asked, using the nicknamed he gave her only minutes ago.

"That's easy. He told me when I asked him, when I woke up." Lúthien explained, which while conveying the information, failed to explain how she was able to ask someone who was not present a question.

"Ah, that always works. Perhaps a bit...unexciting, but whatever works, right?" Ixair laughed as he let go of Luthien and gave her a warm smile. "Mind showing me where they are then? Or do you want to attempt to use our ears and try to forget where they are?"

"Alright, follow me then." Lúthien replied as she headed out of the inn and down the street to where the others had gathered.

Teralynn flung part of her cloak in front of herself to block the incoming projectiles, but they never hit. Lowering her garment, she saw the wooden knights. Arching an eyebrow, she wondered if setting these ones on fire would result in even larger ones appearing. If they grew by the same proportion, however, then Kalzog would have been at risk of getting stepped on too, so she took her chances and began to reduce the knights to ashes as quickly as possible.

As the creatures were mindless, there was no point in trying to ruse them.

Then a wooden sword went swinging horizontally at her, and she stretched backwards, balancing almost impossibly so that her entire upper body was horizontal as well right below the sword swing. She then stretched her arms out behind her toward the floor and flipped backwards, narrowly avoiding a vertical strike from another of the knights at where she was just standing.

For some reason, she was reminded of the time when she and Maverion was stuck underneath the ruins in the Iskani desert.

***

While Tera was busy dodging the knights and trying to make them explode, Jorian rushed toward his father and yanked at one of the swords pinning him to the wall. But the sword did not budge, no matter how much Jorian strained. He tried another one, then one holding Rimoru, but none of them gave way.

***

Daejan only whimpered a bit and nodded, not able to say anything.

"Thank you, Luthien," Ixair replied as he followed behind the little elf, eventually coming to the group, huddled in a small circle and talking.

"Good morning, everyone," Ixair smiled calmly, his eyes absent-mindedly moving to Beatrice, who waved and smiled happily. "Good morning, Beatrice. Sleep well?"

Beatrice blushed slightly, being singled out from the whole group. "Yes," she replied quietly, rocking back and forth nervously. She liked Ixair. He showed her kindness, despite his touch on her skin. He did not touch her roughly, like the other men she's seen. He was gentle, kind. And yet, something about him made her slightly on edge. Something she couldn't place her finger on.

"That's good to know," he said with a wink, making her slightly purpled face, almost an entirely darker shade of purple.

Ixair then turned to the rest of the group and told them the plans. "I plan on leaving within the hour, so I believe it's best we all get packed and ready. I expect to arrive in Rimoru city tonight or tomorrow."

"You seem more agile. What have you been up to all these years? I left you no Rothargot to help you out, and yet, I find out that a certain someone named Teralynn the Beautiful has nearly taken over the Cult. I somehow doubt a Teralynn the Coward can be this Teralynn the Beautiful," Kalzog taunted as he hefted a large piece of rock and tossed it at the woman. "How did you do it?"

*****************************

Eva peeked around the corner and watched Jorian attempt to move the sword. "Come on Jor...you can do it," she whispered.

*******************

Habdebza smiled as he watched anxiously from the rafters. The boy would never get the swords to budge. Not while Habdebza was playing with them. He let out a barely audible laugh and turned his attention to Kalzog. "My war machine...you have finally come back to me," he whispered as he slowly moved to a better position to view everything below him.

He looked at Teralynn and laughed quietly. The girl seemed to be concentrating too much on the knights...Kalzog would be on her soon, if he remembered his beastie's moves...

Lúthien and Lorathin exchanged looks at Bea's blush. It was fairly obvious that he had a bit of a crush on her and she seemed to reciprocate a bit. "By city do you mean her palace?" Lorathin asked

Ixair laughed at Lorathin's query. "I'm afraid not, Lorathin, I did not intend to go there. Although I may be loved almost everywhere, I'm still considered dead meat to those guards. Rimoru had, of course, ordered my arrest many moons ago, and until this ursurper pardons me, I'm as good as dead."

Beatrice raised an eyebrow, and turned to Lorathin. "Do you think Rimoru would be able to help me find Bodista?" she asked quietly. The dark elf has been hearing so much about this Rimoru, whether disliked by Ixair, or loved by Lorathin, she had no idea what to expect from such a mysterious person.

"You do want her dead, or at least cast out." Lorathin commented dryly. "She may be able to help. She has extensives sources of information."

"You mistake my intentions, Lorathin. I'd gladly remove her from her throne non-violently. Yet, if she does declare war on her own people, then I must abide by it and try to force her out, preferrably without violence. Cast out, yes. An exile for her would be better than a death. She is too..." Ixair trailed off and blushed gently. "I would rather not have her killed."

Beatrice cocked her head to the side as she stood up slowly and stretched, not catching the glances Ixair gave her as Glurp slapped the back of his leg, making the elf stumble a bit.

"Hey, no love stuff, elf," Glurp growled as he took a glance at Beatrice.

"I'm not doing anything!" Ixair half-chuckled, half-growled.

Beatrice stiffled a giggle and slowly held a hand out to Luthien. "How are you, Luthien?" she asked quietly.

"I'm good." Lúthien replied, "So daddy's been teaching you to cook?"

Beatrice smiled and nodded, adding a giggle and a shy look at Lorathin. "Kind of," she whispered, recalling their food fight. "I learned how to make oatmeal!"

Beatrice beamed at her achievement, as though she had won the Gate War, all by herself, or defeated a dragon alone, or faced one of the many other perils in Lustria.

Ixair couldn't help but chuckle as he crossed his arms behind his back and watched with interest.

Harlin nodded at Ixair's announcement to make ready to leave. He was about to enter the Shadowfold when he remembered Beatrices skittish nature. Best to give her some warning, he thought. "Beatrice, I'm about to disappear and then reappear again. Don't be frightened."

Without any noise, he vanished, and then after a few moments, reappeared with his pack in hand. Smiling, he said to the others, "The miracles of teleportation."

"That was the first food daddy taught me to cook as well." Lúthien replied before she added with a mischevious smile and giggle, "Did you also enjoy the food fight?"

Beatrice laughed again. "How'd you know?" she asked half in amazement, half in just happiness.

Beatrice nodded as Harlin warned her before he disappeared and closed her eyes, for no particular reason. She just felt comforted in the darkness that it gave her. Shutting out the world that couldn't decide whether it liked her or hated her.

She opened her eyes slowly as he reappeared and clapped her hands softly. Her eyes wide with curiousity as he had appeared with some sort of pack in his hands.

Lúthien smiled before answering. "Daddy told me."

Beatrice giggled again and smiled at the little girl she'd grown so attached to. "I wish you were there," she chuckled.

"Hey, Luthien and Lorathin, have you ever met Rimoru's daughter and husband?" Ixair asked out of curiousity.

"Met no. I know a fair amount about her daughter, less about her husband." Lorathin replied

Ixair nodded. "I guess you both are in for a real treat when you meet them," he replied.

Rumors have given him different views on the whole family. Many people spoke of little Eva being as beautiful as her mother, and twice as bratty. Alegain, was much different, a disgrace to men everywhere. He was shackled to the two girls and forced to do whatever they pleased.

Yet The king was also admired for being where he was. He was with the most angelic woman in the world, most likely having the most pleasurable moments, and even succeeded where people believed no one could. He had a child with her.

"Perhaps, but I wouldn't imagine you'd have met them either. You're probably operating off rumor, correct?" Lorathin commented, "I at least get first hand information, biased as it may be."

"I see no difference then," Ixair replied. "Come, it's time we leave."

Ixair walked away, stealing one last glance at Beatrice, and smiled thinly as he walked back to the stables.

"Elf like dark elf. Glurp can tell," the goblin chimed in as he walked behind the elf, kicking at random shrubbery and occasionally picking up a large bug and popping it in his mouth. "Glurp like this place. Always has good bugs."

Ixair stopped at the stables and sighed. He did like Beatrice, she was pretty, sweet, and a bit naive. But she wasn't the girl for Ixair. Not yet, anyways. He still clung onto that bit of hope that he may once again be with Ar'mai.

"Why did I leave the Gate War?" he asked sadly. Glurp looked up with wide eyes, several bug wings sticking out of his mouth. He shrugged and picked up another beetle off the floor and stuck it in his mouth. "Cause dumb elf is chicken without Glurp. Face it, Glurp make you girl magnet."

Ixair chuckled weakly and shook his head. "Glurp, you never knew me before we met in person," he said with a cocky smile. "I was always a girl magnet."

The goblin made a "pffft" sound and waved his hand nonchalantly.

From inside the stables came a waking caw of Mienna who had slept soundly in the rafters until some familier voices suddenly disturbed her sleep. She swooped down and landed on the floor in front of the door and looked around the other for Horatio, giving off a confused caw.

When it couldnt see him it cocked its head and got a look of distress when it felt anger from the bond, it wanted to find Horatio but was scared.

OOC: i cant have you forgetting me, i guess i should make a post for Horatio before long.

"Big bug for Glurp!" the goblin shouted as he dived for the crow. Ixair immediately grabbed the back of his oversized shirt and pulled him back.

"Horatio's bird. Mienna?" he asked curiously. "Where is Horatio?"

Mienna squawked and jumped back as the goblin leapt for it. She eyed him suspiciously as Ixiar caught it. Pausing for a moment she thought about what she had seen Horatio do to show others what he was thinking. She gave her best attempt at a shrug, but was ill suited to the motion. Eventually she looked at Ixiars feet and shook her head, giving a lonely caw.

"Glurp thinks it says he's stuck in a well," the goblin grumbled as he pushed himself to his feet.

Ixair studied the birds movements intently, trying to discern what it was trying to do. Mienna was definately troubled by something.

"Did Horatio die?" Ixair asked quietly as he crouched down to the floor and brought his hand out for the crow.

Mienna again shook her head in response to Ixiar and watched suspiciously as he crouched and his hand approached. She saw some dust rise as he crouched and an idea occured to her. She hopped away from Ixiar and started to flap her wings at the floor, trying to move the dust into it and the straw away from it.

Creating a rectangle of dust she began to scratch her claws along floor, wonky letters gradually appeared, slowly forming the word "anger". Mienna stood above it and cawed.

Ixair coughed and waved his hand over the cloud of dust that slowly moved towards him.

When the word revealed itself, Ixair grunted. "Impressive bird," he said quietly as he scratched his chin. "Well, if he is angry, why didn't he just meditate, or commune with the forest?"

Mienna gave a decidecididly annoyed sounding squawk and flapped her wings to make another rectangle in front of the first one, after a moment it had made the word "Very".

It then created a third block and paused for a moment, considering how to show confusion, it settled for drawing a spiral and placing a ? at the end.

Then it cawed at Ixiar once again in a tone you might here from a school teacher to a child.

"You're asking me if he's very angry?" Ixair asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Bird-Bug asking if dumb elf is very angry," Glurp replied as he imitated Ixair's chin scratching move, while walking closer to Mienna.

"Quiet you," Ixair grumbled as he shooed Glurp away from the markings and the bird. "Why would a druid be angry?"

He looked outside at the smoke stacks and then back at the bird. "Was he angry at those?"

Mienna almost gave up after Ixiars first comment and the goblin wasn't helping. But when Ixiar pointed to the smoke stacks Mienna saw he was vaguely understaning. She nodded, then shook her head, then cocked her head sideways and tried to think if it was worth trying to make the elf understand 'demon'. She thought better of it, and nodded again.

Ixair remained silent, watching the bird for anymore signs. "Well...I suppose we look there then, for signs of Horatio, right?"

Glurp shook his head. "Glurp and Ixair need to drop off bums in Rimmy City, not look for silly pixie."

Ixair frowned and looked at the smoke stack again. "Our people are patient. They'd understand. Besides, this wouldn't take so long..."

Ixair motioned for Mienna to perch on his shoulder so as to ride alongside her to the site. He looked in the distance, where he left the others and wondered if he should bring them along.

He shrugged and took out a small ripped parchment from the inside of his coat and scribbled a few words on it, before finding a jutting piece of wood over the other horse's door and using that to hold the note.

Mienna took flight and circled around Ixiar, deciding whether to trust him of not, before landing on his shoulder, talons digging in slightly more than they needed too. Mienna was sure he wasn't that close, but she wanted to know what had happened and this was better than nothing.

Ixair winced slightly, but thought nothing more of it as he mounted his horse and rode towards the factory, through the clogged streets of the busy morning, passing several carriages, darting between them at high speeds.

He passed by a large group of guards questioning citizens and immediately slowed down, much to the annoyance of a few carriages behind him. His elven ears picked up cloaked and murders.

"Get outta the way!" the shouted to Ixair, who complied and slowly clopped closer to the guards.

"Excuse me, sirs," Ixair said, hiding his face with his hat. "What's this about a murderer?"

"We got reports of a madman in a cloak with a scythe that recently massacred the workers of the nearby factory. We must get him and make him pay for his crimes."

Ixair nodded slowly, and glanced at Mienna. "This can't be Horatio, can it? I didn't know druids would do that..."

Mienna shifted slightly as they passed so many people, alternately digging in with each of his talons in anxiety.

When Mienna heard about the murders, things clicked, while she had been asleep she hadn't picked up on it, but now she had, there was a hint of madness in the bond she had to Horatio.

She looked at Ixiar, fear apparent in her eyes and cawed in agreement with the idea that it was Horatio.

"Would you like to ride with me again?" Lúthien asked Bea as Ixair began heading to the stables. Meanwhile Lorathin began cleaning up and wondered about Rimoru City. As he looked around, he noticed Horatio was absent as was his crow.

Ixair frowned and thanked the officer before urging his horse towards the factory slowly. He wanted to make sure what he heard was correct.

They came to the factory where the massacre had occured. Guards patrolled the area as mages and detectives scoured the area, searching for clues.

As they passed, guards kept a watchful eye on Ixair, however didn't pursue him. Ixair did notice, however, several mages huddled around a table of shrapnel.

"This is definately the pieces of acorn! Look at it!" one of them shouted to the other.

"You idiot! Acorns don't explode!"

"You never know, maybe he was a druid!"

"Druids don't do things like this!"

Ixair once again urged his horse on, back to the stables, giving a look to Mienna. "Druids don't do things like this," he said, repeating the phrase used by the law-mage.

*********************

Beatrice smiled and gave her an excited nod. "Of course!" she said happily.

Just then, she remembered the baker's rolls and her smile broadened. "Do you remember if we ate all of the rolls?" she asked quietly.

Mienna was beggining to go on the defensive, something in Ixiars tone seemed accusing, she kept opening and closing her wings slightly and gave a low caw. She was beggining to get a little agitated.

Ixair brought his hands up defensively. "I'm sorry Mienna. I said it the wrong way. 'Twas ment to be a question, that's all," Ixair replied to the crow's agitated caw. He fished inside his coat and produced a small piece of the sweet roll that Beatrice bought the night before.

He laughed as he wondered how it got there...Glurp must have stolen a piece and when Ixair came back up, shoved it within his coat. Blasted Goblin...

He pulled a piece off of the sweet roll and brought it to Mienna. "Here, my apologies."

Mienna calmed slightly and pecked at the roll before taking it from Ixiars hand and 'accidently' giving him a small bite in the process.

"You really are hard to please, aren't you," Ixair grumbled as he waved wrapped his finger with his other hand. "You remind me of several girls I've met before..."

They finally reached the stables again and Ixair sighed as Glurp was asleep in a pile of hay.

"All you do is sleep, Glurp..." Ixair said as he looked around. Didn't seem as though the others had come. The note was still hanging there and the horses remained in their stalls.

"Glurp needs rest if Glurp is gonna save dumb, trouble-making elf. Glurp surprised that elf didn't get lost or be running from guards.

"I think so." Lúthien replied as she began looking for the bag with the rolls.

Mienna left her pirch on Ixiars shoulder when they returned to the stables and landed on the stall containing Horatio's horse, she had ruffled a few feathers due to her aggitation and spent a moment preening herself before examining the gate to the horses pen, she felt it shouldnt be left here, so she started trying to open the gate to let it out. Not getting very far she turned to the others and cawed for some help.