Fiction:Tales of Champions/New Age

The Mudpriest: Midnight's Feast
"*incomprehensible*" Date: 3 NA

They're here again. The murky ones.

I've lived in this village for all of my thirty six years of life. I was born here, as was all of my family, in this small village at the northern coast of the Tropical Lands. No elves or beasts live here, not because we shoo them away or anything, as their traders often pass by. It's just that they have no reason to stay, so there are only us, hard-working men and women who live off our crops and cattle. Really, our village would probably be the most uninteresting thing in all the land, if they didn't visit every so often.

Who are they? The murky ones, who come from the sea every few months. The elders say they've been visiting us for centuries at random occasions, sometimes once every two months, sometimes vanishing for years before reappearing. I don't know what they're supposed to be, but they're definitely fish men. Their heads look like those of piranhas, their bodies are filled with fins and webs, a long tail drags behind them as they walk, and their eyes... blank. Completely and utterly blank. It sends me shivers to even think about them for too long.

The reason they visit? To take some people with them. The elders say the murky ones demand sacrifices in order to keep us safe, and they personally come and pick who they want to take. This always happens at night, and their victims are also random. Virgins, whores, men, children, elders, sometimes pets and cattle. The murky ones drag the victims to the sea where they're never seen again. Guards have tried to face them multiple times, and I know they can die for I've seen them perish to soldiers. However, they always defeat the guards by using their own weapons and strange magic. Their blades are twisted, curved and serrated, as if designed to cause as much pain as possible in every blow.

Something's different tonight, though. The elders have warned us. is here. They think he's angry.

The murky one who leads over the others, his right eye leaking mud almost as if he was eternally crying. Muddy footprints are left by him as he walks, and he speaks in a horrible, loathsome voice which gives us terrible headaches and fill our ears with whispers. Forever is the life of the king. The king of all crystal. It rages through our minds, and I watched my brother go insane from them, raving like a lunatic before the murky ones pinned him down and dragged him to the sea, kicking and screaming. But the elders say the Mudpriest only appears when the situation is dire.

I'm afraid. I can hear the murky ones outside of my house. My wife and daughter are in the next room, barricading the windows. Images are appearing in my head. Screams of horror and pain. The sound of gaggling as someone drowns in the sea. A huge, monstrous visage with reddened eyes. The Mudpriest takes a man to the visage and slashes his guts into its mouth, allowing the blood to fall into the beast's throat. The whispers become more and more unbearable as the Mudpriest chants again. Your death is my rebirth.

Noise is coming from the next room. I can hear my wife screaming and the hisses of the murky ones as they bash their way into my home. Our pet dog barks at them, only to have its head severed by a slashing motion of one of them. I'm paralyzed in fear, too afraid to see them take her away. My wife, the love of my life, gone. My child, my greatest pride, gone. All I manage to do is sit down, holding on my head as it looks like it's going to explode.

The whispers stop for a moment. All goes silent.

I look down to the floor.

There's a puddle of mud before my eyes.

Marcos: Primal Drives Never Rest
"I am either feared or hated, never loved. Not now anyway."

Date: Unknown

Icy rain hammered the wooden rooves of a town on the borders of the. An unremarkable settlement hidden behind a curtain of icy droplets that obscured much. On a good day the town may have been visible, its hard stone walls chipped and scarred from relentless assaults, which could have been a grim contrast to the orchards that lay behond the walls. Riding in this malicious eve was a single man atop a large chestnut stallion, both weary fro mthe rains that tore at the spirits and bodies of those unfortunate to stand underneath their cascade. Two of the town watch saw him approach and pproached themselves, looking up at the rider who wore a ragged leather coat, a hood over his head that obscured his face and several visible weapons - a greatsowrd and three javelins.


 * Watchman - Its late tonight. What is your business traveler.
 * Stranger - A bed and a meal is all I ask, sirs. I have no interest in causing grief.
 * Watchman - And you are...
 * Stranger - No one you should fear or cast out. I will see myself gone by the morning.
 * Watchman - That you'd better.

His companion, who stood silently, nodded and walked over to the town's doors, banging thrice with heavy blows. In response the doors opened and the stranger rode through towards an inn not too far from the gate.

Taking shelter in the stable the stranger jumped form his horse, binding the hose t oa post within a stable stall and giving two firm but considerate pats on its shoulder before leaving for the inn. The figure, wet fro mthe rain, pushed the door open and stooped inside, standing a full head above most of the human clientele tonight. He trailed cold water as he approached the bar counter, the twisting of his hood an indicator of his head moving from side to side, observing the crowd before resting his frame upon a stool and slumping upon the counter. In waiting for service he was approached form behind by a delicate woman in a grey linen dress, who caressed a hand dow nthe stranger's arm, feeling solid muscle underneath leather padding and fabric. Any woman may be appealed to such power but as the woman took but a brief exploration of the texture unsettled her as her hand felt something almost akin to rock, not firm flesh. The stranger, realising her presence turned around, his quick jolts caused a jerking reaction that sent the elven woman backwards. She gasped as she looked into the hood to see the glint of dark chestnut eyes staring back at her.


 * Stranger - Did I startle you?
 * Woman - No-no sir I was--
 * Stranger - Just curious? I do not blame you, but I do not appreciate strange women coming too closely.
 * Elven Woman - I-I Apologise. You looked lonely

The stranger huffed and looked down, avoiding eye contact.


 * Stranger - Indeed I am.
 * Woman - Well...I could help you with that if you like. Are you fine with company?
 * Stranger - I suppose I am.

The woman sighed with relief and curled her finger for the stranger to follow. As he turned around to do so she began walking away and towards the stairs with heavy, tired footsteps, creaking a few of the old floorboards beneath him. Keeping behind the woman as he walked up, she turned to him with a warmer smile.


 * Woman - I forgot to mention. They call me Sanah.
 * Stranger - A beautiful name, I almost wish I did not encounter it on such a miserable night
 * Sanar - Well you are a smooth one. And what do they call you?
 * Stranger - A few things, most of them I do not wish to burden you with. If you wish for a name, you may call me "Tracker"
 * Sanah - "Tracker". Mysterious, I like it.
 * Tracker - It keeps things quiet.

Sanah opened the door for Tracker and allowed hi mto enter first, admiring his stature before joining him and closing the door behind him, twsting the knob to ensure the door was locked.


 * Sanah - Now...Shall we get you out of those grubby clothes?

Tracker sighed and nodded slowly, as if he was admitting something.


 * Tracker - Promise you will not judge me.
 * Sanah - Odd thing to ask but...okay

Sanah shrugged as she accepted this peculiar request and her companion lowered his hood slowly, his back to her and revealing a head of long dark blonde shoulder-length hair, but it was when he turned around that the mood changed. Those chestnut eyes she remembered were set into sockets surrounded by blackened veins, his skin was dulled, marked with hairlike, throbbing black veins and blotches of rough thickened skin. Sanah immediately felt flush and she pressed herself against the door, her blue eyes wide and in fright.


 * Sanah - Are-- Are you okay?
 * Tracker - You said you would not judge me.
 * Sanah - I did not expect, well--

Tracker paced up to her, undoing the broach on his cloak and allowing it to fall. Sanah pressed herself further against the door. Realising she was afraid, the man reached out to her, as she blubbered in fright he stopped and retracted his arm, looking mortified. In an instant his features perked up and he looked towards the window, rushing to it as if he had seen a ghost, or a demon.


 * Tracker - They're here.
 * Sanah - Wh-who?

Tracker did not answer. Instead he opened the window to her room and threw on his harness, a band of leather that held a greatsword, an arming sword, three javelins and two daggers. Without warning he jumped out of the window int othe storm outside. For a minute Sana thought he had gone mad and run off int othe night after decieving her, but then she heard the noises and the smells on the wind: Chilling horns, savage roars and snarls and the scent of ash and burnt flesh in the air. She watched as the man ran through the streets and darted behind a corner. She looked back up to the ramparts to see twited creatures swarming over the battlements. The sight of the abominations was provocation enough for her to slam her window shut and draw the curtains. Now more frightened than before.

Out in the streets the man drew his greatsword and met a horde of abominations head-on. Swinging the blade in a horizontal arc, the stranger bisected two before lodging the colossal sword into a third. This third bomination, vaguely Deiwos in appearence, screeched at the man. As if in response, he yaked his sword out and swung the sword to cut off an ar - which was rising to attack him - and the monster's head. A fourth came charginf and the stranger smashed the pommel against the centre of its chest, sending the mutant backwards. As it scrambled ot stand up, he walked over and plunged the sword int othe core of its body before driving it to a more horizontal posture to cut the mutant apart. As he left, he wilted the sword the other way to dice it even further before pulling the sword out and wiping the tained blood on a shirt that had been scattered in the carnage. Tossing it against a wall once he was done.

As he moved closer to the walls, the hordes grw thicker, he joined watchmen and militia fighting back against the corrupted tide. Swing after swing, he fought with a verocity rarely seen. In the heat of battle he took glympses to see watchem being overpowered, torn apart and devoured. On glympsing a soldier being thrown fro mthe walls he looked up as the sky went darker and saw a gargantuan form soar over him. The sight made the man's blood boil, seething as he recognised the abberation as some form of Kelodhros. Acting alomst on instinct, he reached for a bundle of rope and wrapped one end around one of his javelins, knotting it tightly. Once ready he darted into a tower and climed it as quickly as he could, emerging as the flying Kelodhros - most likely a Draonoggr of some kind - was about to make another pass.

Holding the jevelin firmly in hand, he tossed it with all his strength as it flew over, piercing the monster's side, soliciting a thundering snarl from the colossus as it bled a foul murky blood. Holding on tightly, the man who called himself "tracker" was suddenly cast into the air, holding on t oth erope for dear life. The Draonoggr knoew this and began more dangerous flight patterns, soaring, looping and twisting in order to dislofge the insect that crawled along the rope towards it. The rope burned away at the man's gloves as he was tossed around like a ragdoll, one tumble sent him around behind the draonoggr before swinging back around and landing with a rough and unprepared roll on its back. He quickly grabbed a jutting rib in order to stay on as the beast did its very best to shake him off. Clenching his jaws and bearing a set of fang-like teeth he climbed up the Draonoggr's back and towards its nack. Upon reaching the top of the back he unsheathed one of his daggers and plunged it into the Draonoggr's body, or tried to, as the knife bounced off the hard scales, causing the man to cuss as he mad ea further attempt to climb. It became increasingly difficult to stay on, he even found himself - on occasion - being carried upside-down. The colossus did its very best but could not find any way to shake off its unwanted passenger.

Reaching the base of the neck, the man drew his greatsword and plunged it as hard as he could into the flesh of the creature's neck, watching as the scale he hit buckled and the flesh gave way. The impact caused the Draonoggr to roar, the shockwave leveling several houses below. Tracker jerked as he found himself being taken upeards, high into the clouds but this di nto deter him. HE kpts tabbing, kept hanging on, every wound he left this black ichor seeped from the injury. Eventually he reached the creature's head. For a moment, he looked down, seeing the city as a small grey stain on the forest around it, smoke billowing from homes and buildings pillaged by the invaders. Drawing his sword one more time and keeping himself in place ar the creature's horns, Tracker swung down, smashing the edge of the greatsword on the dragon's crest. Jerking it free, he hacked again, and once more, the creature screaming as what remained of its head was torn apart by the stranger's blows. With the third hack the creature slipped out of consciousness and descended towards the ground below. One more hack, this time cutting right through the skull.

The creature crashed into the fields a few miles out from the town centre. THe strange,r the dragon slayer, lay slumped next to the deceased Draonoggr's body, where he lay there for several hours. Exhausted, injured, but as far as he could tell, safe...for now. He would wake up next morning to find his horse brushing its snout against his head, its breath wafted into his nostrils which stirred him uncomfortably. Realising who woke him up, the stranger patted the horse affectionately on the side of the head before struggling to his feet.

Once standing, he approached the horse's side and pulled a soft leather bundle that was strapped to the back of the horse's saddle and unfurled it before wrapping himself in it - another hooded cloak for another journey. He left this village behind, not fully understanding its fate while he was unconscious, but secretly knowing that those he did slay offered him a few steps towards a safer life for himself with their expiration.

Filonan: Lord of Dragonriders
"What is an Erylia Elf without his mighty mount? Nothing, I tell you."

Date: 18 NA

A yell echoed through the corridors of Dragonsthrone, the great fortress located at Polendohth, capital of the Erylia Elves. The Erylia were known as the Fire Elves, a race of elves who had mastery over fire to the point they could set themselves alight if they so wished. Dragonsthrone was built in a mountain, far away from the populous centers, and it served as the headquarters of one of the 's most feared Assemblies, the Wyvernrider Legion. As its name implied, the legion was composed of Erylia Elves who rode Red Wyverns as mounts, these draconic beasts being specifically bred to be smaller and less hostile than their wild cousins. Only the bravest and boldest men and women dared to join the Wyvernrider Legion, for the possibility of falling off your mount, or get attacked killed by it, was constant and very present. Many elves died when they failed to tame their dragons, and because of this, their numbers were rather low. was an experienced member of the Legion, having joined its ranks at the age of 17 and made herself famous for her victories against humanity and even the eldritch forces of the, during one of their invasions to the Sovereign capital of Purity's Apogee. She was known for having tamed perhaps the most aggressive Red Wyvern the Legion had ever bred, affectionately named by her as Daggis, and the two of them soared through the skies in an almost symbiotic fashion. The elven woman and her dragon companion saw themselves as extensions of a single body, a single burning soul.

Filonan was the one who had yelled that day. She was visiting the supreme leader of the Legion, the Wyvernlord Ailmar Othorion, who was the most respected and strong member of the entire organization. And when she opened the door, she saw her leader with a young elven woman on his grasp, blood pouring through holes on her neck. Ailmar was a vampire. There was great commotion at Dragonsthrone as Filonan ran away, screaming out at everyone how she saw Ailmar sucking the blood out of a recruit. She saw his fangs, she saw dark power emitting from his being, and the soldiers of the Legion knew Filonan was not the kind of person who would pull pranks, let alone say things of this magnitude unless she had really good proof of what she had seen. Being discovered by Filonan caused Ailmar himself to panic, and he quickly made his way to where the Wyverns were kept so that he could escape, likely never to return. As he ran through the fortress, soldiers went after him, demanding answers.


 * Soldier - Lord Ailmar! Wait!
 * Ailmar - Leave me be!
 * Soldier - Is it true? Are you really a vampire?
 * Ailmar - I said leave me be, damn you!

His refusal to cooperate was enough proof that something really was off about him. Many soldiers tried chasing Ailmar down, but his nature as a vampire allowed him to move faster than any Erylia Elf could hope to, and individuals who stood in front of him were thrown aside with superhuman strength. Once he arrived to where his Wyvern was kept, he quickly mounted on it and ordered it to fly, throwing away anymore soldiers who were still at his vicinity. The vampire's eyes shined in a darkened purple as he rained blasts of dark magic down at the soldiers from the air, keeping them strained and incapable of following him.


 * Ailmar - I'm afraid I must leave you now, for you know too much. Farewell, mortals!

Ailmar's Wyvern began flying away, but before it could leave the area around Dragonsthrone, a fire blast was launched at the vampire, narrowly missing his head. He turned to see Filonan Aerember, who glared at him while riding her loyal Wyvern Daggis. He looked at the young woman with a smirk as she chased him.


 * Ailmar - Young Filonan. You were a prodigy, I must admit.
 * Filonan - You're not getting away alive, blood-sucking leech!
 * Ailmar - And who will stop me? You? There is a reason I became Wyvernlord, and if you want to learn it so much, then I will gladly teach it to you!

Ailmar's dragon turned itself to Filonan's direction and charged at her. The vampire carried a pike, like most Wyvernriders do, for only spear-like weapons were large enough to be usable in melee without harming the rider's mount. Filonan too carried a similar weapon, a spear, and she had a scowl on her face as she saw her fallen leader approach her. The enemy wyvern launched itself at Filonan, its talons readied to grasp at Daggis while Ailmar aimed his pike at him, but Filonan ordered her dragon to launch itself upwards, easily evading the attack. Daggis would look down and let out a fire breath, hitting Ailmar and the back of the enemy wyvern directly, causing the vampire to let out a mildly annoyed grunt. Being an Erylia Elf, fire could not hurt him, no matter how intense. The enemy wyvern chased Daggis, launching its long tail at his direction as it flew above him. Filonan's wyvern let out a pained yell as the enemy's stinger hit his wings, causing it to stumble in the air before it regained its composure. Filonan looked at the wound on her dragon's wing and her scowl only grew. Hurting Daggis was hurting a part of her own body. Filonan ordered Daggis to threw himself upwards, and she thrust her spear at the enemy wyvern's leg, piercing through its scales and causing it growl out in pain. However, Ailmar used the opportunity deliver jabs at Daggis' back with his pike. The men and women of Dragonsthrone looked in awe as they watched the two battling each other in midair, fire and draconic blood being spilled more every moment passed.


 * Ailmar - You're tough for a woman, I'll give you that.
 * Filonan - You cannot put down the fire that burns in my heart, demon!

As the two wyverns clashed with each other in melee range, Filonan suddenly made an unexpected move. Holding on her spear, she leaped out of Daggis' back. Ailmar's eyes widened as Filonan landed on the enemy wyvern's back, only barely and almost falling off. Dragonsthrone was built almost 50 meters above sea level, so falling from the dragons now would mean a certain death. Thrusting her spear, Filonan began stabbing the enemy wyvern's back, and as he saw her doing this, Ailmar's eyes narrowed and he threw a bolt of dark magic at the woman, causing her to let out a pained yell and fall to one knee.


 * Ailmar - What recklessness. I expected more of you, Filonan!

Ailmar began approaching the weakened Filonan, licking his lips as his fangs became visible. He would feast on her soft, warm flesh, which was something he had been wanting to do for a while. Daggis turned its eyes to the two and as he saw her rider in danger, he threw himself forward and clenched its teeth on the enemy wyvern's neck, causing it to screech out in agony and shake itself. Ailmar was thrown backwards and fell on his back, while Filonan was given the opportunity to get back up once more. Glaring at her fallen leader with anger, she thrust her spear at each of his arms and legs repeatedly, making sure to pierce them enough so that her spear also stabbed the enemy wyvern's back. Both the enemies could only cry out in pain, but this was still not enough damage to kill either of them. Filonan walked over to the fallen Ailmar and raised her spear above him with both hands, the pointy end aimed downwards.


 * Filonan - I have no stake, but this will do!

Filonan launched her spear downwards. Blood gushed at her as it hit Ailmar's heart, and not only that, Filonan thrust it hard enough to pierce the enemy dragon's back and pierce its own heart as well. The vampire let out a short gasp before remaining in silence, and then let out an echoing, almost demonic scream as dark magic poured out of his eyes and mouth. His skin combusted and burned away, leaving only his skeletal remains behind, while the enemy wyvern let out a pained roar and began falling from the sky. Filonan's eyes widened and she jumped out of the now-dead dragon, only to be caught in midair by Daggis, who let her fall on his back. The enemy wyvern fell and crashed into the forest below, disappearing among various trees.

As Filonan returned to Dragonsthrone, her fellow soldiers all cheered in amazement at her for her victory over the vampire. Both her and Daggis had been gravely wounded through the battle, and the woman collapsed as soon as she touched the ground, being taken to be healed while her dragon rested on its den. As news that a new Wyvernlord was needed following the death of Ailmar, the supreme leader of the Erylia visited Dragonsthrone. Fire Lady Kassina walked over to the medical room of the fortress, where she looked down at a sleeping Filonan, who was still recovering from her battle. A nearly commander of the Legion walked over to the Fire Lady and bowed to her in respect, while Kassina herself nodded to the commander in acknowledgment.


 * Kassina - So this is the woman who slayed the vampire.
 * Commander - Correct, my lady. Filonan Aerember is her name.
 * Kassina - Filonan? Isn't that the name of the heroine who pushed the Idkin out of Purity's Apogee three years ago?
 * Commander - Indeed.
 * Kassina - In that case, I believe there is nothing to discuss. We already have our new Wyvernlord right here... Or should I say, Wyvernlady.

Madiiraxaven: A Day at Paarosasekatvas
"Once one guy asked me to give him a footjob. So I kicked him in the crotch until he cried. Took me a few minutes to realize that was not what he meant."

Date: 21 NA

The sun was rising at the city of Paarosasekatvas, south of the. Handmaids prepared the room for the arrival of the High Priestess, who was finishing up her morning activities, and while the younger ones found it somewhat difficult to work with the loud moaning sounds coming from the other room, most of them had grown used to it long ago. Eventually, the ruler of the city, the half-succubus elf, emerged into the chamber, wearing her ceremonial armor - it did not actually function as armor to begin with, for it barely covered her chest and hips, leaving her nipples and privates exposed as she walked - and licking her lips with her long serpentine tongue, which passed by her two vampire fangs. The handmaids greet the Priestess as she walked up to her throne, a large chair dedicated with all sorts of precious gems.

As she approached her throne, however, she immediately stopped in place and put a hand in her chin, as if inquisitive. The oldest of her handmaids, another elf of Aithrena origin, approached her and spoke.


 * Handmaid - Something wrong, my Lady?
 * Madiiraxaven - Wrong? No, no. All has gone as I wanted so far... But. I have just suffered an epiphany.
 * Handmaid - Oh?
 * Madiiraxaven - Okay, hear me out here. See the throne? I sit on it all the time to do my things. But it's flat. Nothing in it to do. So, what we do is, you go over to the craftsmen and tell them Madiiraxaven ordered a large phallic instrument, and that they have to install it on the throne.
 * Handmaid - ... So whenever you sit, you will have sex with the throne!
 * Madiiraxaven - Indeed! A most magnificent thought! Actually, order the craftsmen to make several of these! One for each of my dear handmaids!
 * Handmaid - You are too kind, dear Lady.
 * Madiiraxaven - Tis the will of this Kychtdar! Now, open the curtains! I must watch over my people.

The half-succubus sat upon her throne as the handmaid nodded, and she signalled the others to work on the large curtains placed in front of the large decorated chair. As they opened them, a very large window and a balcony were revealed, giving Madiiraxaven an extensive view of Paarosasekatvas's main plaza, allowing her to watch the city's most populated part with ease. She smiled as all seemed to be going as usual - men and women at work, some wandering around minding their own business, while others had intercourse against the walls of buildings. Such was the life at Paarosasekatvas, a city where the maddening energies of the Order of the Black Sun convinced all to be as hedonistic and promiscuous as possible. Except the children, who merely played around with each other - they were considered off-limits, as according to Madiiraxaven, "they're bratty and not very big yet so it might kill them".

As she watched the city and the time passed, Madiiraxaven's handmaids brought over fruits in golden plates, which they proceeded to feed to the High Priestess while one of them dropped to her knees in order to attend to her mistress's other wishes. This continued for the following hours until the sun was seen directly over the city - it was time for the daily prayer. Madiiraxaven grabbed her staff and rose it as she exclaimed to her handmaids.

Madiiraxaven got up from her throne - which had since been equipped with her requested apparatus - and she walked over to the balcony, looking down at the city plaza. The people of Paarosasekatvas had congregated there, looking up to the High Priestess as if waiting for her. She rose her staff as she begun preaching in a dark tongue, manifesting an aura of black energies around her as it caused her dark magic to manifest. The citizens of the city lowered to their knees and put their hands together in prayer, perhaps the one time of the day where Paarosasekatvas was completely silent, though on this day in particular, they found themselves interrupted.
 * Madiiraxaven - The sun has touched the hills! It is time for our prayer to Whats-Their-Face!
 * Handmaid - Amuvasaq, my Lady.
 * Madiiraxaven - Yes! Amuvasaq! God slash goddess of the flesh!
 * Handmaid - It would be unwise to forget Paarosasekatvas's patron deity as often as you do, my Lady. It would presumably displease the Enamal.
 * Madiiraxaven - I do not forget our gods, my dear. I merely have them out of my priorities considering they have not yet descended from the heavens and done me hard enough for me to not stand anymore. Speaking of which, have the scouts reported any sight from that beautiful hulking piece of man I spotted?
 * Handmaid - They have not, I'm afraid. However, by your descriptions, they came to the conclusion it's probably a demon of Id, so they're on the lookout for any of those.
 * Madiiraxaven - I hear Idkin are savages. I have to test how long they can last with me. And how many I can take at once.

One particular man, very old and wearing nothing but a loincloth, giggled loudly as he skipped into the plaza, his long bear dragging through the rocky floor. Even compared to the other citizens, he had clearly been pushed over the edge by the mad energies of the place. This got the attention of the others who quickly grew annoyed, and as Madiiraxaven lost her focus, she opened her eyes again and glared down at him, clearly enraged.


 * Madiiraxaven - What is the meaning of this?! How dare you interrupt the daily prayer?
 * Old Man - Hee hee hee! I'm not doing this anymore! Too boring!
 * Madiiraxaven - What did you just call Amuvasaq?!
 * Old Man - Amuvasaq! Bleh! I'm my own boss now! Amuvasaq is boring! And bland! And probably doesn't bathe properly.

The half-succubus clenched her fists in anger as she jumped out of her balcony, using her magic to slowly levitate to the ground. The old man giggled again as he turned back and tried to run away, though one nearby citizen put a leg forward and tripped the madman, sending him face-first into the ground. As he tried to get back up, he suddenly let out a pained scream as Madiiraxaven shoved the end of her staff into his rear, knocking him back into the ground again. Nearby city guards then approached as they immobilized the crazy man and lift him into their grasp.


 * Madiiraxaven - Take this monkey to the walls of Manaasekatvas and throw him at the other side! If he wants to be such a massive bother, then let him bother Vultusk and not me.
 * City Guard - Yes, High Priestess.

Madiiraxaven then turned to the citizen who had tripped the old man, am adult male, and she signaled him to stand as she put her staff upon his shoulder.


 * Madiiraxaven - You are a credit to Amuvasaq! As your reward, you get to have your way with me after the ceremony is over! Make your way to my private chambers!
 * Elf - Hooray!

With this, the elf ran off while Madiiraxaven made her way back to her residence in order to return to her balcony. She had a ceremony to finish. And people to have sex with. Mostly the latter.

Earath: Lair of the Necromancer
"I've had many adventures in my life. Some more pleasant than others."

Date: 25 NA

Having accepted a job while travelling, the by the name of  made his way upwards through a mountain. His destination, a tower located at its peak. Earath was unlike other Merovar, for he showed no interest in trading and would much rather embark on adventures to explore the land and fight hordes of enemies. There was also the fact that he had been raised by s since he was two months old, after his parents were killed by forces and he was saved by the ancient dragon called. He wore an armor made out of the scales of other Sand Drakes, which granted him exceptional defenses, and wielded a large Merovar longsword as his weapon of choice. Of course, because of their size differences, a longsword to a Merovar was a greatsword for a human. Right behind him was an elven woman, his loyal companion, who he had befriended several months earlier after the two of them met in a pub. Lyra was an eager but clumsy woman, wielding a mace and a shield while carrying the duo's collective luggage. She always made her best efforts to be useful. It would take them several hours until they arrived at the peak and spotted the tower they were tasked to attack, the skeletal remains of both men and beasts being visible beneath the thin veil of mist. Their target was a man by the name of Dannerick Spiderbane, a necromancer who had terrorized the region for several months. From the information given to Earath and Lyra, he apparently was regularly looting the tombs of nearby cities and taking the rotting bodies and skeletons of the deceased away. While records of attacks on the population existed, they were actually lower than one would imagine. No one knew what this necromancer wanted, but he was stealing the bodies of the population's deceased loved ones, and someone had to do something about it.


 * Earath - There we are. Dannerick's lair.
 * Lyra - The tower is smaller than I thought.
 * Earath - It likely goes underground. It fits the whole necromancer motif, I'd say.
 * Lyra - I'm just worried that no one's defendin-

Before she could finish her sentence, an arrow was shot at the elf's direction, with Earath pushing her out of the way and letting it hit his armor. The arrow broke on impact, while the Merovar and his friend both looked at the direction of the shot. Out of the thin layer of snow, skeletons rose carrying falchions and bows, their eyes shining with small, glowing blue fireballs serving as eyeballs. Earath took out his sword and quickly charged at the undead, tearing through them and throwing their bones around with the sheer strength of his attacks. One of them rose behind Lyra and tried to strike at her, but the elf was alerted by its rattling and ducked out of the way, before swinging her mace at the skeletal creature's head, severing it and sending it flying through the air. Lyra let out an humoured laugh before the headless skeleton began attacking her again, ignoring its lack of a cranium. The elf warrior yelled out and used her shield to defend herself before bashing the skeleton into the ground, pulverizing it. Once all the undead were defeated, Earath and Lyra turned their attention to the tower's doors, obviously locked from the inside.


 * Lyra - Phew! That's the last of them.
 * Earath - Obviously, he doesn't want us to just get inside.
 * Lyra - What do we do? Do we look for a back door? Climb to a window? Wait until the necromancer opens it himself?
 * Earath - Heh. You're so innocent, Lyra. Egredere!

An unrelenting force came out of Earath's mouth as he shouted in the tongue of the Sand Drakes, a primeval magic gifted to him by Vixaatus through the years. In an explosion, the doors were blasted open and flung forward, tore away from the walls and crashing into the other side of the main hall. Lyra looked at the scene with her eyes widened before whistling and crossing her arms.


 * Lyra - Remind me to never leave my door locked to you, Earath.

The duo entered the main hall of the tower, looking around. They easily saw many dark sigils, runes and artifacts scattered through the building, as well as blood. The smell of corpses dominated the environment, causing Lyra to sneeze and put a hand over her nose as they walked on. As they progressed inside the tower, moans and groans were heard, and both took battle positions behind walls in front of a corridor. Out of it, several zombified women, either wearing damaged rags or completely naked, appeared and growled at them. Those were the bodies that Dannerick had stolen from the cities for whatever vile purpose he wanted. Earath let his cover and swung his blade, cutting through the much smaller targets with ease while Lyra took out her own bow and fired arrows at the zombies. The battle's noise attracted more skeletons which were also quickly disposed by Earath and Lyra's efforts. After defeating the undead horde, the duo made their way deeper into the tower, going underground as Earath imagined. However, it looked like the necromancer himself was not there. Instead, the duo found several undead women locked away in cages, all of them naked. They all appeared clearly distressed and some even cried, though no tears come out of their eyes. Earath and Lyra watched them and could not help but feel sorry of their current situation.


 * Earath - Look at them. Why are they jailed like this? What is Dannerick doing with them?
 * Lyra - They really look like they don't want to be here...I have an idea of what's going on.
 * Earath - What is it?
 * Lyra - Those zombies who attacked us before? I think they were brainwashed. These ones don't seem hostile.
 * Earath - Hmm. You have a point. Should we free these ones?
 * Lyra - I don't know, might not be a good idea. what if they get brainwashed again when we free them? I don't wanna have to kill them...
 * Earath - True. Let's just deal with Dannerick and then save these women.
 * Lyra - ...That's another thing. They are all women. Not a single man.

Earath and Lyra stared at each other for a few moments before moving on, making their way to the top of the fortress. Earath analyzed the situation, and his look appeared somewhat unnerved, as if he was slowly getting creeped out by this mission. Truly, all the zombies were female, but male bodies had also been stolen...were the women turned into zombies and the men into the skeletons who served as guardians for the tower? But why keep them as skeletons and not as zombies? Or rather, why keep the women as zombies and not as skeletons? The air felt heavier with dark magic as they ascended the staircase leading to the uppermost floor of the tower, facing more falchion-equipped skeletons on their way. And the closer they got to the top, the more sounds they could hear...As the pair came to face the door that stood at the peak of the staircase, their ears were filled with wrongly carnal gasps and and pants, with monotonous moans droning on and on without end. Wet sounds of moist, dampened flesh haunted their eardrums, and there was an audible sign of struggle emanating from behind the door.

Earath narrowed his eyes and walked forward, with Lyra behind him. He threw the door opened, his blade in hand, ready to face the necromancer...and there he was. In a bed. Nude. With a zombie woman. He let out a mildly surprised yell while Earath outright screamed in sheer terror, shutting the door, launching himself back and tripping on his feet as he tried to run away. The Merovar warrior slithered through the ground and curled himself into a ball in the nearest corner he could find, visibly shivering, tears coming out of his eyes. Lyra walked over to him and crouched, patting the Merovar on his head.


 * Earath - He's...HE'S...HE'S...!
 * Lyra - There, there. Calm down. I'm here.
 * Earath - By ...my stomach...I'm going to kill that man even if I have to blind myself!
 * Dannerick - H-hey, h-how did you get here?!

The door opened again and the necromancer, who put his clothes back on in a hurry, pointing his skull-decorated staff at the duo. Earath took a moment to compose himself and got back up, looking at Dannerick with clear disgust. The zombified woman shambled to the door's direction, wheezing in what looked like agony before Dannerick pushed her back inside forcefully.


 * Dannerick - I don't know how you got here, but I'm going to turn you into my servants now!
 * Earath - I'm gonna enjoy killing you, you sick bastard!
 * Lyra - I don't wanna be the next in that bed! Attack!

Lyra charged at Spiderbane, swinging her mace at his direction. The necromancer created a barrier of dark magic while backing away back into his room, while Earath joined and swung his large sword at it. The pair could see how the room was in fact littered with zombies, all in pained and tired positions and expressions, as if he had "used" them recently. Earath's rage only grew, and with a mighty shout, he let out a dragon's roar at the necromancer, sending him flying through the room. His staff fell close to Lyra, who looked at it and immediately had an idea. Sending her mace at it, she broke it into tiny pieces, while Dannerick shouted out and reached a hand at their direction.


 * Dannerick - No! My staff!

As his staff was destroyed, the zombified women suddenly all screamed in unison, a bright light coming out of their mouths. Earath, Lyra and Dannerick all watched as ghostly apparitions, the souls of these women, left their zombified bodies, freed from his control by his staff's destruction. The women all joined into a wave of ghosts who circled around the heroic duo, glaring at their captor, who screamed in fear as they charged at him. The women he had been abusing for so longer now attacked him, tearing him apart limb from limb. Earath and Lyra watched the blooded scene and could not help but enjoy it. The souls of the males who had been turned into skeletons, and the souls of the trapped zombies at the lower floors, both also arrived and joined in the vengeance. In a matter of moments, all that remained of the necromancer were his disemboweled body parts and a large pool of blood. The spirit of one of the women approached Earath and delivered a quick kiss to the Merovar's snout, causing him to jump in place and have his cheeks turn red from blushing, before the ghosts all circled them again and left to finally rest in peace.

Their mission complete, Earath and Lyra looked at each other as they watched the ghosts depart. They then realized now that they were in a bedroom filled with corpses.


 * Lyra - ...We're done. But who's gonna take those corpses back to their graves?
 * Earath - Not us. Definitely not us.
 * Lyra - Yep. Agreed. Grave? I don't even know what that is.

Lyra: The Path Back Home
"Not a thing to worry about when Lyra Shinerun is on the case!"

Date: 28 NA

A few weeks had passed since had parted ways with. Lyra, a young, naive but very determined had been travelling with the Merovar warrior for months now, having grown used to his presence ever since the two met a long time ago at a mercenary guild. However, Lyra and Earath were forced to part ways once the elf received a letter from Purity's Apogee, capital of the Dryadali Sovereign, detailing a great illness which had befallen upon her father. Mounting upon a horse, Lyra made her way back to the capital of the elves so that she could aid her mother in taking are of her father, but as she did, she quite clearly missed the conversations, adventures, quests and experiences she had gone through with Earath. She missed that lizard man as if she had just lost a brother. As her horse galloped, Lyra checked her map once again. She was making her way northwest from the Tropical Lands, meaning she should arrive to Purity's Apogee in a matter of a few more weeks. The distance was vast, but the elf girl would not rest until she was home... or so she thought. Lyra's body was beginning to get sore and her horse was getting tired, but there was not a single settlement anywhere she could see. Lyra pouted as she looked around, clearly annoyed as realized the situation she got herself in.


 * Lyra - Not again.

At this moment, though, something got Lyra's attention. A trail of smoke, coming out of the woods. A smile grew on the elf's face as she noticed it, as this surely meant there was someone in this forest who she could rest with. Of course, there was the possibility that this was a group of bandits setting camp nearby or even a fire-breathing, magical beast, but these thoughts did not even pass through the girl's head as she made her way through the trees, taking her horse with her. It would take a few minutes for her to find the source of the smoke, and once she did, she was surprised by what I found: sitting close to a small campfire was a heavily armored knight, his armor radiant and a feather on his helmet dangling up and down as she rested down. As Lyra arrived, the knight raised his head and looked at her, his blue eyes inspecting her through his helmet. And with a welcoming expression, he spoke.


 * Norrigan - Why. Hello there, miss. I didn't expect to meet anyone around these parts.
 * Lyra - O-oh... erm... I-I was looking for a place to rest...
 * Norrigan - Well, if that's so, why don't you sit down here with me and appreciate the fire? I have supplies here including water and food, and even some horse food too, I think.
 * Lyra - Oooh! T-thanks, mister! I'm L-Lyra! Lyra Shinerun!
 * Norrigan - And I am Norrigan. Norrigan of Aynach. Knight of the All-Seeing and devoted follower of Isiris.

Norrigan closed his eyes and contemplated to himself while Lyra sat down near the campfire, which she could only assume was made by him. By his body shape and height, he was quite obviously a human, but there was something on Norrigan which caused Lyra to become nervous and put her hands on her face as her cheeks became rosy. Once she sat down, she immediately began approaching Norrigan, giggling to herself as the knight opened his eyes and looked at the elf girl with a friendly, if not vacant face.


 * Lyra - M-mister, you have g-gorgeous eyes, you know that?
 * Norrigan - Oh? Why, thank you, kind lady. Yours too are not bad looking either.
 * Lyra - Hee! Hee hee! Tell me, m-mister Norrigan... d-do you have a... companion?
 * Norrigan - Hm? Companion?
 * Lyra - Y-yeah, like... one for life... one you really like...
 * Norrigan - Oh. Oooh. I see where you're going, lady... and the answer is yes.

Lyra's eyes widened as Norrigan suddenly got up and threw his arms up. He stared straight up, maintaining a pose for several moments, and Lyra stared at the knight in confusion until he spoke again.


 * Norrigan - I have dear Isiris! I love him, her and or it more than anything! Isiris watches the world through the sun, and one day, I will be able to reach my hand and caress it. I will find Isiris, and I will deliver myself to him, her and or it one day! Hahahahaha!

Standing on his pose for a few more moments before sitting down again, getting back to the position he was on before he raised from the ground. Lyra turned her head away and held on it with a hand, pouting once more as she talked to herself.


 * Lyra - Ngh. Why must the hot ones also be the craziest?
 * Norrigan - Now, lady, why don't you tell me why you're here? From your gear, I can tell you're a fighter.
 * Lyra - O-oh! Erm... I'm going to Purity's Apogee to visit my family. My father is ill and my mom needs me by their side to help her take care of him.
 * Norrigan - Oh, I'm so sorry. May Isiris bring health and fortune to your family. As for myself, I merely go where the wind takes me, doing my best to vanquish darkness and make lives better along the way. Such is the task of a Knight of the All-Seeing: to be a force of justice and altruism in the world, to prove that not all men are beasts who thirst for war and to make Koldenwelt a better place to live at.
 * Lyra - Wow... You're a lot like a friend of mine. Earath is his name. He too is a wanderer who always does his best to fight evil and make things better for all. I'm sure you two would get along just fine.
 * Norrigan - I love having friends around! I was feeling lonely earlier, but you being here has put me in a good mood again, lady! Hahahaha!

Lyra and Norrigan would chat for hours more, the two of them telling each other about their own adventures while the knight gave both Lyra and her horse something to eat and drink, much to the delight of both. Lyra did not even notice the sun slowly setting due to how distracting and entertaining Norrigan was, and she found great humour in his bizarre mannerisms. Moments of these were something Lyra greatly cherished on, as they helped alleviate her mind and have her forget her problems for at least a while. After all, as much as she loved her family, she also loved adventuring, and helping her ill father meant she would not be able to adventure anymore. As the sun finally set, Lyra and Norrigan shared more stories when they both heard noises coming out of bushes, the sound of heavy footsteps approaching them grabbing their attention.


 * Lyra - W-what's that?
 * Norrigan - ...You said you use a mace, right?
 * Lyra - Yeah.
 * Norrigan - Arm yourself.

Lyra gasped and immediately went to grab her mace, her weapon of choice, while Norrigan took his shield and unsheathed his longsword. It would not take long before they saw the source of the sounds, slowly approaching the two of them with menacing faces: Goblins. Most specifically, s, famed across the Western Forests as irritant pests. Armed with spears, the blue-skinned, fagged toothed creatures giggled to each other as they surrounded Lyra and Norrigan, who put their backs against each other and prepared themselves in case any of the Goblins decided to attack. After the two were surrounded, another, much larger being emerged from the shadows and looked at the two with a smirk: a Wranploer, clearly a bandit, carrying a curved sword on his belt. The Goblins looked at the Wranploer and laughed among themselves once again as he spoke.


 * Wranploer - Now, what do we have here? You've picked a bad time to date in the outdoors, friends.
 * Lyra - H-he's not my boyfriend!... I wish... 
 * Norrigan - Rotten Wranploer thieves with little Goblin slaves! I order you to stand back, or you shall face Isiris' wrath!
 * Wranploer - Woah there, pansy. Don't come to me with your fancy sausage words now. Put the weapons down and give me everything you have, or I'm gonna have to cut your girlfriend's throat in front of you.
 * Lyra - I'm not defenseless, you stinking brute!
 * Norrigan - You will not touch a single hair of this woman's head if you value your life, bandit.
 * Wranploer - Bah, they never cooperate. I don't know why I bother. Boys, your dinner is served!

The Goblins all cheered and retched as they jumped at Lyra and Norrigan, ready to attack. What followed was the severed members of Goblins flying away as Norrigan hacked through them with his longsword with tremendous force, using his shield to defend himself from their spears while also using it to bash other Goblins away. Meanwhile, Lyra sent her mace at the heads of the little monsters, reducing their skulls to a bloody pulp with ease. The Wranploer's eyes narrowed as the two fought, and he unsheathed his curved sword as he approached them to attack the two himself. However, the bandit was startled once Lyra's horse made itself visible, neighing loudly and causing the Goblins to panic and run around aimlessly. The horse stomped down on the ground beneath him, crushing a pair of Goblins who got too close while Lyra and Norrigan killed off any other who got too close to them.

The Wranploer barred his teeth as he attacked, sending his sword at the duo and hitting Norrigan across the chest. The knight stumbled back while Lyra let out a yell and sent her mace at the Wranploer's direction, but the bandit stepped back and caused the attack to miss, the elf losing control of her mace until it hit the nearest solid surface: Norrigan's face. The human knight let out a pained yelp and fell down on the ground, his eyes spinning and his helmet slightly dented.


 * Lyra - Oh no! S-sorry, Norrigan!
 * Norrigan - Worry not friend... I'm fine... and I'm seeing so many pretty stars...
 * Wranploer - You're dead meat now, woman!

The Wranploer sent his sword at Lyra's face, who only barely managed to dodge the attack and watched some of her hair separating from her head. Her teeth barred, the elf was now quite annoyed at the bandit and instead of attacking him with her mace, instead sent her armored foot at his mouth, causing the Wranploer to stagger back and squirm in pain for a moment. Wranploer are twice the size of a man or elf, meaning that while they are considerably strong, they are also slow and their mouths are vulnerable to attacks. Lifting her mace to over her head, Lyra sent it down at the bandit's mouth, who screamed in fear as blood and teeth came out of it before he took more steps back. Now enraged, the Wranploer unleashed a flurry of attacks at Lyra, with the elf grunting and stepping backwards as she was forced to rely on her armor to shield her from harm.

Eventually finding an opening, Lyra sent a kick to one of the Wranploer's knees, causing him to shout out and stop attacking before the elf sent her mace at him once more. The weapon collided with the Wranploer's sword, breaking it in two pieces which flew away and caused the bandit's eyes to widen before Lyra sent her mace at him once more, now crushing the bones of his knee with her strength. The Wranploer screamed out and fell, before Lyra proceeded to bash him repeatedly over the legs, torso and finally face until he stopped moving altogether. The Goblins had long ran away and forgotten their 'boss', and Lyra walked over to Norrigan and gave him a hand for him to get back up, the knight passing his hands through his armor to clean himself as he looked at the mess of dead bodies around them.


 * Norrigan - Well, that was eventful.
 * Lyra - Ugh... I'm sorry, Norrigan. I must've ruined your night.
 * Norrigan - Now, now. This is hardly your fault. If anything, I'm extremely glad you're here, otherwise I'd have had to fight these thugs by myself.
 * Lyra - Y-you think so? You think I'm helpful?
 * Norrigan - Why, of course. Don't make silly questions now.
 * Lyra - Heehee! Thanks, Norrigan. You're a great friend.
 * Norrigan - Now, shall we set camp elsewhere? I don't feel like sleeping next to a pile of corpses. At least not today.

Lyra nodded and the two of them grabbed their belongings, moving on to another part of the woods so that they could rest. While this was an entertaining day, Lyra needed to move on once they woke up. Move on, and make her way back home.

Pelagrios: How Do I Write Stories Again?
"Trust me, if you wake up with a sore head and a bad memory in the morning, you either had a good night or you got mugged." Date: 28 NA

Nearing the midsummer of 28 NA, Pelagrios and his crew had set sail to the western coasts of the main continent, nearing the Everwinter Highlands. A coastal port there that was known for its rich trade centre for many treasures from the forests and whatever unassuming traders could pick from the Orocathi Domain, which was more than often a once in a blue moon occurrence. Pelagrios had just recently escaped the volcanic wastes of Abyssus for the second time round, having claimed a shard of the World Devourer. Such things halted his ageing and the scars he bore from his torture in Abyssus had faded, but such things as partial immortality did not occur to him. Instead, Pelagrios was usually too inebriated to even begin to tell what had happened to him. Though the scenic coast line of the west offered much to those with coin, Pelagrios had little coin to his name and nor did his crew. It was often that Pelagrios' notorious kleptomania came into great use for the time being, though his most recent instance was commandeering the ship he sailed into. Guards were notified of this, but Pelagrios was known for his honeyed words and made them turn a blind eye.

Though he had only a few pieces of gold left, Pelagrios' supplies, namely his alcoholic supplies were running low. Usually, a scheme to rob a delivery of all of its supplies would come into place very quickly in Pelagrios' mind, though there did not seem to be any delivery. It was nearing midday as he entered the town, the salty smell of the sea, and more importantly the smell of a tavern was close by. His crew were often quiet and kept to themselves on land, usually observing the patterns of guard patrols or any other noticeably valuable piece of information. Instead, Pelagrios was drawn to the smell of the tavern. Indeed, it was a powerful smell of food, and, most importantly to him, alcohol. His looks, half-elven yet not particularly well groomed at this time, attracted the attention of courtesans in the area - often something Pelagrios would venture upon but the lack of money would have proven difficult for him to escape.

Walking into the tavern, the dimness of the darkly decorated room with a warm fireplace, candles and numerous patrons caused him to remove his hat. It was a hot day as it was, though he himself never tended to feel the heat. Waving a gesture to the barmaid, and putting two gold pieces on the counter, he waited there for her to pour him an ale. Rum was scarce in this area, something Pelagrios resented. However, despite his apparent vacancy, he was indeed crafting a scheme in his mind. Perhaps it was a little more crude than he was used to these days, but his skill in pickpocketing the unaware was unparalleled far and wide. It was an area of a little-to-do nature; Pelagrios was not well known here, and therefore such exploits would have proven easy. As a tankard of ale was put in front of him, he sipped it slowly, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the tavern. There did not seem to be anything of much interest, until his eyes were drawn upon a single individual in the corner of the tavern. He was not human - definitely elven, yet unlike anything no one had seen before. The elf had holed himself up in an area where little attention would have been drawn to him; that, or the patrons of the tavern cared not for foreigners in the room. What Pelagrios noticed first was his complexion - dark, deep sea blue marked with black stripes that would have possibly better suited a noble's clothing. The individual was smoking a long pipe, seemingly made of bone, whilst reading a tattered book of what appeared to be written in one of the elven tongues of the Sovereign. His face was severe of nature, an aquiline nose and gaunt cheeks. His eyes were a midnight black, discernible with deep blue rings for irises. His lips were hard and thin, and his teeth fanged. Many things ran through Pelagrios' head, but the possibility of the individual being aware of him watching was not one.

It was only until he finished his twenty-second ale did the figure eventually move up to the counter to order a drink. Pelagrios was swinging like a pendulum, his concentration on his target yet his eyes meeting the table, sticky from the many times ale had been splashed on it in the past. It was in the middle of the afternoon and his crew were beginning to wonder where he was. The elf nodded at the doubled-over pirate, asking for an ale at the counter whilst placing two coins of gold at the counter as well. Whilst he then turned, Pelagrios noticed the pouch of coins that dangled from his waist. Reaching for it without hesitation, he only grabbed the strings of which held the pouch together; the elf noticing it.


 * Pelagrios - ...I can explain.

The elf had little care for an explanation. Though he seemed to be of a similar height to Pelagrios, his strength seemed to be of at least four men. The elf's wiry hand grabbed Pelagrios with such force that it shook him off his feet, and then, accompanied by a girlish scream on Pelagrios' part, hurled the pirate through the smoky glass window and out on to the street. The crew noticed him flung through the window, with a groan, walked over to the pirate on the floor. Gadha, one of his crew, spoke to him as he lay flat on the floor.


 * Gadha - Been drinking again, captain?
 * Pelagrios - Elf. Blue. Strong.
 * Gadha - Been drinking too much I --

Gadha's eyes were drawn to the blue elf standing in the door frame, then drawing his cutlass to engage the threat. Most of Pelagrios' crew were former criminals on the run from the law much like he was, and, whilst street smart, only had limited knowledge in combat. Gadha was only met with being flung away similarly to his captain as the elf's fist met his chest. The other two members of the crew, Phaspan and Sungcheim, then drew their weapons.


 * Pelagrios - Guys...don't do this.

Pelagrios made it to his feet, taking him more than a minute to do so as he tried to draw his sword, but could not find his hand nor his hilt.


 * Elf - Who are you and why did you try to steal my money?
 * Pelagrios - If you told me who I was then I'd send the guards to get you...wait...that came out wrong. If I told you who I was then you'd send the guards to get me.
 * Elf - I think the guards are already coming.

The guards made their way to the scene, their rapiers in hand. They were more startled by the appearance of the elf than the pirates there, and made a poor assumption on that remark.


 * Guard - You! Elf! You causing problems?
 * Elf - ...What?
 * Guard - Vandalising property and then on assault, you're looking to do some time in jail here.
 * Elf - I think you're mistaken.

Pelagrios took the opportunity.


 * Pelagrios - Yeah, he threw me through the window and hurt my friend! He's a maniac!
 * Elf - Bastard!

He then ran at the best of his ability, though only making it fifteen feet and tripping over his own foot and falling over again.


 * Pelagrios - My face!
 * Guard - I think we've seen enough here. Seize the elf!

Pelagrios again made it back to his feet, much quicker than last time. He ran through the docks, pushing aside many civilians as his crew followed him. The elf pursued him further, who was in turn pursued by the guards.


 * Elf - Get back here, human!
 * Pelagrios - Uh, I'm half human for your information!

Running further and further down the docks, Pelagrios noticed a larger ship than his own which was of some interest. The sails were impressive, and it seemed that numerous supplies were being loaded on to it. Quick observations of the area caused him to change his path, this time, running towards the elf. As the blue figure swung his fist at the pirate, Pelagrios ducked under, running the other way and pushing further civilians out of the way. The guards took little notice of him, instead chasing the elf. The elf himself had little recourse, and, in one bound, leapt on to the shale roofing of the buildings straight after the elf.


 * Elf - Where the hell are you going?!
 * Pelagrios - If I could tell you I wouldn't.

Meeting with his crew, Pelagrios ran straight back to his ship and cut the anchor from the dock, causing some confusion amid the crew themselves. Pelagrios himself noticed the elf running towards the ship, though he could do little now to get the ship moving. The elf found himself on the same ship, though it was him against Pelagrios and his entire crew. The crew then all drew their weapons again, whilst Pelagrios, panting at the ship's wheel as he used it as cover.


 * Elf - Face me, you coward.
 * Pelagrios - No, I'd rather not.

The guards marched on to the ship, noticing the identity of the crew as pirates, and then the elf. Their decisions were changed, having possibly more rewards if they were to apprehend the pirate crew. Pelagrios resigned himself to walking drunkenly to the deck, pulling out his elven blade whilst the elf pulled out an obsidian knife. Pelagrios' eyes widened at the knife, almost whining.


 * Pelagrios - What in the twelve hells is that thing?

The crew roared as they chose to engage the guards, whilst the elf blasted towards Pelagrios furiously. What the elf had not taken into account was the swordsmanship Pelagrios had mastered with his training under Kinmorunddraver - Pelagrios had already far outmatched him though it was not of Pelagrios' willing. Slash after slash, Pelagrios lazily dodged the attacks whilst kicking and kneeing at his enemy. Whilst the elf was far stronger and potentially faster than him, Pelagrios indeed was running circles around him.


 * Elf - How are you doing this?!
 * Pelagrios - This is your fault, you know!
 * Elf - My fault?! What do you mean my fault?!
 * Pelagrios - You're being irrational! Besides I can get us out of this mess!
 * Elf - Oh yeah, how?!

Pelagrios kicked the elf between the legs, him letting out a sharp, raspy roar as he fell to the ground in agony. Running along the edge of the ship, Pelagrios made way for the capstan that his ship was tied to, though the volley of arrows from the guards caused him to lose balance and fall into the water, with a vulgar remark as he fell. Hitting the water, Pelagrios made the rest of the way by swimming, climbing back on to the dock using the wooden joists of the dock. Whether it was out of sheer energy or his elven physical strength, Pelagrios single-handedly pushed the capstan away, causing the ship to pull out of the dock. Whilst the plan worked, what he did not think through was on how to get back to his ship, causing another vulgar remark as he ran as fast as he could towards the ship again. Phaspan noticed Pelagrios running across the docks, and fed him a rope from the ship which Pelagrios jumped for - and missed.


 * Phaspan - You call yourself a captain?!
 * Pelagrios - Language!

Pelagrios slammed into the ship's hull, bouncing back on to the dock as he started running again. The second time round, he grabbed the rope in his hand and was pulled back into the ship by Phaspan and the rest of his crew. The guards were disposed of as they were hauled off the ship back on to the harbour, and held the elf at the point of their swords. Pelagrios took back to the wheel, turning the ship drastically starboard. It was directly on course for the other ship he noticed earlier; it was all a part of his manic scheme.


 * Sungcheim - Captain...what are you doing?
 * Pelagrios - Getting us a bigger ship.

As the wind caught the sails, the ship was taken to the direction of his target - it was only a minute or so before the ship halted motion. Pelagrios ordered his crew to board the ship they were coming towards, with ropes and hooks as they sailed down to the other ship. Pelagrios was on his way, until he noticed the elf was free to move. Out of drastic fear, Pelagrios then sailed down to the ship as well, though with a less graceful landing than the rest of his crew. The crew of the other ship were then alerted to engage Pelagrios' own crew; in the midst of the guards of the coast firing arrows at the pirates. Whilst they were fighting, Pelagrios sneaked his way out of the fight, going down the capstan of the next ship to pull it away. This time round however, Pelagrios returned to the ship with little hassle as one of the ropes slipped free of the deck, climbing back up it. Returning to the fight, Pelagrios and the crew hauled the other crew overboard, eventually claiming it of their own. They cut free the reigns of his old ship, whilst Pelagrios then took the ship's wheel for himself as the prevailing wind took them out of the harbour, still being fired at by the guards.

Pelagrios breathed a sigh of relief as the crew cheered themselves on, though as he turned to view the sea, he was only met by the knife of the elf at his neck. He yelped similarly to when he was thrown through the window, though he was prepared to talk his way out of it.


 * Pelagrios - Lemme explain.
 * Elf - You've done enough talking. Now tell me why you wanted to steal from me.

Pelagrios tapped the knife away from his neck as he stood up to face the elf at full height.


 * Pelagrios - I don't need to explain now. I just got this ship that probably has thousands of gold pieces on it.
 * Elf - ...You commandeered the ship while you were running from me?
 * Pelagrios - Aren't I just brilliant? You can put your knife away now since we're even.

As the elf lowered his knife, the other fist came swinging around as it struck Pelagrios in the face, snapping the pirate's nose with a crack. Pelagrios held on to his face as his eyes watered.


 * Pelagrios - Ow!
 * Elf - That's for getting me stuck on this damn ship.
 * Pelagrios - Listen, I'm sorry you're on this ship and I'm sorry I stole from you. But we're even now.
 * Elf - Guess I was acting...a little irrationally.
 * Pelagrios - Definitely even for breaking my nose. ...So...what's your name anyway?
 * Elf - Riadmanath. For short. Yours?
 * Pelagrios - Pelagrios. For short. Well, at least we're on a name basis now.
 * Riad - So, when am I going to get off this ship?
 * Pelagrios - What, you don't want to go on a little adventure? Elves from...wherever you're from must like adventure right?
 * Riad - The Polar Lands. And no. I don't want to go on a little adventure.
 * Pelagrios - There's a lot of gold involved.
 * Riad - I'm not a criminal like you, pirate.
 * Pelagrios - You'll like me soon enough.

Bastion: Paladin and Witch
"First time I've met a witch with a soul as white as yours. Normally too busy dodging spells to get a good look, to be fair."

Date: 29 NA

A simple caravan wound its way towards the, one of the main trading nations of Koldenwelt. Its passengers were all sorts of merchants, businessmen, and those simply wanting to travel. Among this assortment of drifting souls was a young girl in a black dress and a tall man in a long brown cloak, sitting across each other in an awkward silence. The girl read a large book, ignoring the other people around her, while a small cat-like creature slept on her lap. On the other side of the carriage the man looked around, trying to avoid staring at the strange girl across from him. Things continued this way until the caravan was brought to an abrupt halt, the sounds of shouting and raised weapons filling the air.


 * Clothovera - H-huh?

The man looked around, his dull grey eyes shining with some strange light. He pulled a sword out from his pack, unwrapping and drawing it.


 *  - Something wicked.

The door to the carriage was pulled open, a ragged-looking man with a rusty sword staring inside.


 * Bandit - Alright, yer money or yer lives!
 * Clothovera - Aaah!

Quick as a flash, Bastion's sword was at the bandit's throat.


 * Bastion - You'll stay right there if you value yours. That ain't a way to treat a little girl.
 * Bandit - G-gah!

The bandit slipped back a little, caught by surprise. Clothovera watched Bastion's attack and cowered, holding tightly on her book. Her cat familiar woke up from the noise and looked around lazily.


 * Nyakik - Tell these men to silence themselves, I am trying to sleep.
 * Bandit - We got a fighter over 'ere! Le's get 'im!

The other carriage door was swung open as more of the bandits came around. Bastion sighed and closed his eyes, undoing his cloak with the other hand.


 * Bandit - Once we're done with you, think we're gonna have ourselves a little fun with that girl you'se hiding.
 * Clothovera - W-what?!
 * Bastion - I'm going to give you one chance. Turn around and walk away, and this doesn't have to get bloody.

The bandits started chuckling, clearly confident in their superior numbers. Bastion let out another sigh as he tightened the grip on his sword.


 * Bandit - Ye think yer scarin us? We got a dozen of us, and there's just one of you. What do ya think yer gonna do to us?
 * Clothovera - Y-you dare talk to me like that, p-pervert! Hexus Diabolus!

Out of Clothovera's hands, a stream of fire was blasted at the bandits. The bandits shouted in alarm, trying to dodge out of the way of the fire. Some got caught up, and tried to run away as the flame spread across their bodies.


 * Bastion - Well well, looks like I misread you, little girl. Atah Auriel!

As he spoke, Bastion's sword blossomed into white flame. He dashed into the other group of bandits, taking them on in a one-sided sword fight. It was clear that despite their numbers, they couldn't match his skills with a blade.


 * Bandit - Who the hell are these people? Someone grab that girl and gag her, don't let her shoot that fire thing again!

One of the bandits tried to rush Clotho, aiming to grab her and stop her talking. Nyakik jumped on the bandit's face and clawed his eyes, while Clotho began throwing balls of fire at any bandit who got close to her. Seeing the futility of their attempt to fight, the surviving bandits quickly broke and ran. Bastion simply watched them run, knowing that sooner or later they'd try again. Clothovera thoigh kept throwing balls of fire at their direction, even after they were too far for her to hit them.


 * Clothovera - Die, all of you!

Seeing this, Bastion walked over and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. Clothovera turned to Bastion and panted as her magic vanished from her hands.


 * Bastion - They've quit the battle, no sense in hitting something that isn't there.
 * Clothovera - Huff...t-they...tried to take me away...
 * Bastion - I'm not saying it was wrong to fight. Hell, you sure have a bit of fire in you if I can say, heh. The hard part is figuring out when to stop, really. Never caught your name, though I've been meaning to ask. Mine's Bastion.
 * Clothovera - I guess you're right...m-my name is C-clothovera Moirai...
 * Bastion - It's a pleasure to meet you- certainly glad I wasn't on the receiving end of a fireball like that. By the way, hold still for a moment.
 * Clothovera - H-huh?

Bastion's eyes shone again, as he looked Clothovera up and down. The light faded, and he cracked a smile.


 * Bastion - Just making sure. Despite your powers, not a shred of evil in your soul.
 * Clothovera - Oh...I-I'm...a witch...but I only use m-my magic for good reasons...
 * Bastion - And I'm a Paladin. I sort of… see the evil in others. First time I've met a witch with a soul as white as yours. Normally too busy dodging spells to get a good look, to be fair.
 * Clothovera - P-paladins often want to kill me...
 * Bastion - I'm not surprised. I'm just the kind of man who likes to ask questions before I try to kill something.
 * Clothovera - W-well, you're not a bad guy at all...
 * Bastion - I'd be more than a bit concerned if I was. Hey listen, if you ever run into another Paladin like myself, just say "Atah Auriel," should give them enough pause to at least search your soul before they attack.
 * Clothovera - W-what's that?
 * Bastion - It's a blessing in Celestial. Paladins often use it as a focus for our powers, kind of like asking Elysium for help.
 * Clothovera - I-I'll keep it in mind.

Nyakik inspected Bastion from head to feet, keeping her eyes locked on his being.


 * Nyakik - You speak funny words, person. They amuse me greatly.
 * Bastion - Last time I saw a talking cat, I was far too deep in a bottle for my own good. What's this one's story?
 * Clothovera - T-this is Nyakik. She's my familiar.
 * Nyakik - Not one familiar. The greatest familiar.
 * Bastion - Heh, and what makes you the greatest? I've met a lot of witches familiars who've made the same claim.
 * Nyakik - If you cannot tell how great I am by looks alone, you are obviously blind.
 * Clothovera - D-don't mind her, mister Bastion. S-she's the an ego larger than a mountain.
 * Bastion - So I see. Eyes that have seen Elysium tend to go a little dull. Well then, with any luck the rest of the journey should be less eventful. And if there is a little more action, I feel all the safer having someone like you around.
 * Clothovera - O-oh no, I'm not that helpful...I'm still really bad at magic...
 * Bastion - If you're bad at magic, I'm a novice with a sword. Sure I've seen more impressive spells, but that was still one hell of an opening.
 * Clothovera - M-my magic usually blows up on my face...I was just lucky today...
 * Bastion - Well, seems to me like you're already well on your way. A word of advice though- if you're looking for a teacher, make sure you choose well. I'd hate to one day match my blade against your fire.
 * Clothovera - I'd never have an evildoer teach me! I want to be skilled enough to destroy all evildoers myself!
 * Bastion - Then you have an ally in me, girl. I can already hear the lower realms quaking at the thought of having to face both of us!
 * Clothovera - Y-you're too kind, mister Bastion.
 * Bastion - Someone has to be. In a world full of people that would rather use their swords to hold up pretty girls than hold back the darkness, someone has to be.
 * Clothovera - You're not wrong there...
 * Bastion - Well, we've still got a ways ahead of us. If you ever need help, I'm always on hand. Not that hard to get word to me, I'll find out sooner or later.
 * Clothovera - Okay then...it was nice meeting you.
 * Bastion - Same to you. Stay safe, Clothovera Moirai.

Longinus: Manus Celer Dei
"Si quid novisti rectius istis, candidus imperti; si nil, his utere mecum. [If you can better these principles, tell me; if not, join me in following them.]"

Date: 31 NA

The coastal lines of the Tropical Lands were always exceptionally quiet. Beaches had scattered themselves across the coast, some sixteen thousand miles from east to west. Evening was often considered beautiful there, the sun could be seen crawling under the horizon with an open sky. It usually gave whoever saw it a certain kind of warmth one could not experience anywhere else; except, this time around, such peace was to be broken. Fifteen thousand years prior, the Orichalcum Elves had built vast cities on this same coast. They were washed away in a critical moment of time; where The Adversary was cast under the earth. Waves blasted and eradicated the cities along the coast, every single one. Millions of lives were lost - except, perhaps one.

This evening, nearing the very end of the calendar, a great force threw itself out of the ocean. Heat as great as the sun and force more powerful than a Colossi's swinging fists laid thousands upon thousands of tons of rock on the earth, nearly a mile from where it had laid. The sea was parted in its calmness, and from it, stepped a lone figure. The figure's name was of a language long lost upon the lips of modern men, but he had a name nonetheless - Tarquinius Silvanus Saturninus Longinus - one of the ancient elves of gold, was alive. Time did not stain his body nor was he slain in the disasters that ensued. Instead, he was indeed alive. His body was as white as sunlight - great qualities of heat made him as bright as the sun itself. A spear, of his kin's craft, was held in his hand. Using his power, his magic propelled him from the depths of the sea to the shore, letting out a deep, solemn breath as he did. The light of his body dimmed, revealing an almost divine figure, adorned in golden armour to compliment his golden skin. He stood twice the height of a man, perhaps taller.

Longinus was unsure of where he was - the landscape had changed completely in the time he was asleep. Instead, he travelled north to find civilisation, no matter how far it was. He travelled, spear stowed upon his back, for two days and two nights before he found a road of which many travel. However, it was in fact the middle of the night of when he arrived at this road. This road was notorious for highwaymen to patrol, as well as marauders who often expected Mervoar to be travelling this road. And, as expected, Longinus encountered a group of marauders on the road. They stationed themselves in a fortress which was centuries abandoned, hidden from the main path. They were not educated, and, because of it, took no surprise in an Orichalcum Elf standing before them.


 * Marauder #1 - Stop! Your money or your life, mate. And those clothes while you're at it. They look expensive.

Longinus had no knowledge of the modern tongue. Yet.


 * Longinus - Acta deos numquam mortalia fallunt. Auri sacra fames. [Mortal actions never deceive the gods. Accursed hunger for gold.]
 * Marauder #2 - What kinda fancy lingo is that, eh? You can scream in it if you don't shut it.
 * Longinus - Condemnant quod non intellegunt...[Agh...they condemn what they don't understand...]
 * Marauder #3 - You're a fucking pansy, you know that? Oi. Let's just dump 'em in a ditch.

Perhaps by some divine governing, Longinus began to spoke in the common tongue.


 * Longinus - I would not do that, if I were you.
 * Marauder #1 - Yeah, like I'm gonna listen to an elvish prick like you.

The first marauder, armed with a war axe, charged his way to the elf. Perhaps too obviously, he was no match for Longinus. His spear swung across, tearing the air with a deep whoosh. Striking the marauder with a sickening crack, he fell to the ground as clumsily as he charged towards him. The other two, frozen in disbelief, proceeded to charge at Longinus after. The second was decapitated with a following swing, but the third Longinus wished to keep alive for the time being. Perhaps the marauders underestimated Longinus' size, as the third trembled as he picked him up with only one hand to meet his face.


 * Marauder #3 - Get off me you giant idiot!
 * Longinus - Subsiste sermonem statim [Shut up]. Where does this road lead?
 * Marauder #3 - You just killed my mates! Am I going to fucking tell you anything?

Longinus sighed. Resigning to brute force, he threw the last marauder against the tree like a ragdoll; his body shaped around it like a ribbon, mangled and broken, and death came instantly. Longinus, mockingly, spoke in a whispered voice.


 * Longinus - ...I'll just find my own way, then.

And thus, he did. Leaving the scene behind, a bloodbath of three dead, Longinus travelled north to the Sea of Sand, to hopefully get his answers.

Valentinianus: Legion's Wrath
"Governed by anger, and driven by hatred. What man can live like that?" Date: 31 NA

The name I carry is the name of Valentinianus Septimius Vergilius Iovita. Commander of the armies of the Legion of Shiarchon, and most humble of servants to Imperator Constantius Castus Matthias Laurentius. My name resounds through the most divine plains of Abyssus as a name to instil fear and inspiration to allies and enemies alike. My fists govern death as I grant it to those who my Imperator wishes death upon.

Where I am stationed, is upon a fortress that overlooks a great, dried river, built over the canyon with a stone bridge. It has been my residence for the best part of six years as of the dawn of this new year, and my routine, daily, has become mundane in its service. Donning this suit of armour every day - giant - black, crafted by the Imperator's men, to appear like genocide incarnate as I patrol this fortress every day. It has become maddening with boredom. In the very midst of Abyssus itself - where no man dares to tread, nor can they, as the walls are guarded adamantly by the those who are stationed upon them. But this day, I was called to Sangua Mons itself, the very capital of my kin, to be given new orders by the Imperator himself. It seems that at last, something was to happen.

My mount, known to most for its savagery to those who wander too close to it, took me to the walls of Sangua Mons, reined in by guards who almost failed to calm its great temper and hunger. I was welcomed with these great gates, forty metres tall that which were inscribed with great tales of old; legendary tales from a time before - a time now that seems almost as if it were another lifetime. Those of my kin looked at me with both awe and horror. What am I to them? Governed by anger, and driven by hatred. What man can live like that? I resigned my vices of love and compassion the very day I gazed into the abyss. And what I saw was the great, finality of nothing - so driven by this revelation, and so enamoured by its words that it spoke, that my mind and body gave itself to Him - and now, what do I exist as? One could not see past this armour, and twisted flesh, an eyeless skull; that I was once golden; but none of that matters now. None of it.

I came to the palatial complex of Sangua Mons; a great tower, countless heights above the clouds, among great halls and daunting buildings, hundreds of metres high. Hewn out of the very mountain which was baptised in darkstone; impenetrable and infinite in quality. Great quantity of red, imperial red had been painted and red cloth had draped as much of the palace as it could to give it colour; intricate as it was, there was such a lack of colour beyond the abyssal black. The throne room is where I had entered; directly in front of me, of course, was Imperator Constantius' throne, though it was designed so that many others, Praetors such as myself, were to sit when meetings were in session, to stand, or sit on carved benches like steps. Bowing before my Imperator, I addressed him with his full title, though, as his closest friend for the past fifteen millennia, I did not have to. Despite my height, of which legends claim that I was half-giant, the Imperator always seemed taller.


 * Kalarah - Valentinianus, my old friend. How fared your travels to this city?
 * Valentinianus - Unhindered. Though your guards are ill equipped to deal with my mount.
 * Kalarah - I know not why you ride that drake. Its mind has been twisted.
 * Valentinianus - Knowing that it serves me gives me a certain kind of power over those who witness such...
 * Kalarah - Power?
 * Valentinianus - Indeed.
 * Kalarah - I know not also what goes on within your mind, friend. But I know of its qualities. You desire a stimulus. I can grant that to you, as something which He has revealed onto me will require your service.

Constantius was always mindful of me. I did not...dabble in the religion of his father and him as much as he had wished me to. Whilst I believed that great finality of all things was to occur with His awakening...I did not believe it was to be done of His own will. For this was why I was the Legion's commander. To slaughter those who deemed it wrong for Him to awaken. It is the natural order of things that we were all to be given as sacrifices to the Void.


 * Kalarah - Do you remember that...ordeal with the necromancer, Ahdramilús the Immutable?
 * Valentinianus - Yes. Amusturrnys wished for me to capture his soul and deliver it to Osdaemonis. I did not. It was...dangerous.
 * Kalarah - Indeed. Something once in his possession is of interest to me now. Something that He had not revealed to me as it was not the right time those many years ago. The Chalice of Havoc.
 * Valentinianus - The Chalice of Havoc. I remember the artifact. But why have it now, Constantius?
 * Kalarah - My goals...our goals...are simple. Retrieve this Chalice. I believe drinking from it will have its benefits.

Constantius was also always a far more intelligent man than me. Perhaps not in the ideals of stratagem on the battlefield, but his hindsight proved unquestionably agreeable. The Chalice of Havoc was said to grant immortality...but as our kind was deathless, my conflicts were piqued.


 * Kalarah - I know what it is you are thinking. The artifact will not work on us. I do not intend it to. My intentions with it are far more...aesthetic than practical.
 * Valentinianus - I will question no further.
 * Kalarah - Good. Make preparation for Ahdramilús' Rest, then. Take some soldiers with you as well if needs be.
 * Valentinianus - If needs be? Soldiers?
 * Kalarah - The Angel has given me warning. I cannot utter his words to you by divine law, but such law is final. Take soldiers with you.
 * Valentinianus - And if we fail?
 * Kalarah - Do not bother coming back to Sangua Mons until you have found that chalice. If it is out of your hands forever...you will be forgiven, but He will not forgive you. As much as a friend you are to me, I cannot sway His laws.

I nodded. He, that is, He, was an entity of cruelty. My wrath upon the battlefield was notable, even to myself, that mercy was not meant to be given to those who did not deserve it, but His cruelty was beyond that of Constantius' anger and decree. What kind of entity has that power to turn the Imperator from the man he is into a powerless...thing in armour? But His words are always final. I wish death to come to me honourably. Not being cast into ash upon the floor of Constantius' throne room. So there, I left Sangua Mons to begin this journey.

Vanguard: Eyes of Night
"I walk among the great winds of Pavor; a lord of my subjects...servants of the great Uirzalith..."

Date: 31 NA

The far western reaches of the world were often thought of in the minds of men as rural and plain. However, in such extreme places, where forests began to turn into ice, laid the Insomnolence; servants of the dark goddess Kaicaiusarin. Those who served in the Insomnolence were quickly building their bastions on the coast, and among the greatest of these structures was a fortress that simply breathed nightmarish evil. Blackened stone, scuplted granite and other conglomerate rocks were illuminated with a purple-blue smoke as thick and as mesmerising as incense, seeping out of every orifice as it rose into the skies and darkened the cosmos into perpetual midnight. For this was the fortress of Uirzanarxaarek; the Insomnolence's capital. Those that were swayed towards the dark and enticing powers of Kaicaiusarin had made themselves residents of their territories, donning blackened robes to hide their faces, casting themselves into anonymity as per the command of their leader; the Vanguard - a creature borne out of the depths of Pavor, Kaicaiusarin's most favoured servant and Pavor's greatest denizen.

It sat in a throne composed of bone and demoniacally-crafted matter, tendrils of tall, wiring and perplexing colours shaped themselves into a seat for the Vanguard to seat himself upon. The throne room was as black and void as the skies which the magic of the fortress had plagued, and only the chilling amethyst light of the magic that flowed through this place lit the Vanugard in deathly chiaroscuro. He himself always sat upon this throne in mid-sleep, his breath filling the throne room with the sensation of great discomfort. One could not see the eyes under the Vanguard's meticulously crafted helm that latched on to his face with crystalline purple flesh, and a great darkness like the blackness of this room filled the openings of his mask to deny his face of form. He was bathed in purple mist, as his body seemed almost one with the throne.

The throne room's gates opened, much like the sound of flesh ripped open accompanied with the heavy whoosh of air passing through its thick composition. Through these doors, passed a man...or a least a man who once was. He was known as. He was Vanguard's benefactor for nearly five centuries, someone who blindly served the once-disembodied spirit of the denizen. He stepped through the halls with urgency, his feet echoing as they collided with the stone floor of the Vanguard's throne room. Vanguard had requested his presence, being distant from the Insomnolence's territories due to such recent events.

Vanguard awakened. His voice was as soothing as it was stabbing to the ears; sibilant in nature and spoke with with a soulless whisper.


 * Vanguard - Avantár...
 * Avantár - Lord Vanguard...you requested my presence?

Vanugard leant forward, out of his dormant posture. The throne, seemingly containing his being shaped its way out of Vanguard's arms in order for him to move forward, as the sounds of writhing tendrils caused Avantár's teeth to go on edge with the sound. It was no secret that Avantár was afraid of Vanguard; everyone in the Insomnolence was afraid of Vanguard. Vanguard existed since ancient times as a figure present in the nightmares of the sleeping, something of which incomprehensible horror and myth had surrounded since before civilisation was even born. And this creature was now their master, their leader and the direct link between them and Kaicaiusarin.


 * Vanguard - The time is almost ripe. Queen Uirzalith is almost ready to be freed.
 * Avantár - ...Now? After all this time?
 * Vanugard - I have seen it. I have had a visitation from the Angel of Voices...and thus...He demands our plan to take ahold.
 * Avantár - My lord...u-uh...even after centuries of s-searching, we don't know w-where our q-queen --
 * Vanguard - Cease your witless stammering...the vile Nalashtannylor may have kept her prison secret from us...though for not much longer...I have felt a presence...in the north. I spoke to this presence...and Kaicaiusarin spoke back...
 * Avantár - Y-you are sure of this...?
 * Vanguard - Indeed...though my senses are weak...and this is why I have commanded you here...

Vanguard stood from his throne. He easily towered over many men and even beast folk, perhaps the size of an infantile dragon at full standing height. The approaching presence of Vanguard had fazed the mind of Avantár the same way Vanguard's presence would cloud anyone's mind; as Avantár saw the world around him disintegrate into the bleakness of the void, and Vanguard's breath felt like the winds, and Vanguard's voice was the only one he could hear. He was always dreading whenever Vanguard would approach him, and it was the same for all others; Vanguard's very presence was an incarnate nightmare.


 * Vanguard - You...are to travel north...and take our forces to our...smaller bretheren...and tell them that their master has ordered them...to begin their final preperations.
 * Avantár - And what of our...enemies?
 * Vanguard - Lay waste to them...if you so wish...

Xacutus: The Final Preparations
"HAHAHAHAHA! I hate all of you!"

Date: 32 NA

The skies were perpetually darkened by volcanic smoke at Akriarion Island, the lair and sole territory of the. A large, extensive island which at one point of history was part of the main continent before it was sent southeast by 's rampages thousands of years in the past. The original inhabitants of the island were an orcish race now only referred to as Akriarion Orcs, who eventually were turned into half-lava golems by the Vulcanus Horde once they chose the island as their headquarters. Leading this horde was one of the four last Ondarei Mharinis, the dreaded pyromancer, who was until recently trapped inside the island's volcano due to being separated from his weapon, the. In the distant past, defeated Xacutus with the weapon and cut the pyromancer's soul in two, trapping one half into the Exacutus and locking it away, but due to the meddling of mortals, Xacutus had obtained his axe and therefore his soul once again at 31 NA. Months later, he would also be approached by of the, leading to the creation of an uneasy alliance between the forces of the Void and the hordes of flame.

It was now 32 New Age, and the way to the mainland was clear at last. Xacutus' throne was located at the top of a massive obsidian tower built near the crater of Mount Pyronans, the imposing volcano of Akriarion Island. To get to the pyromancer, one would have to enter the gates of the tower, leading to the intruder being hit by a wave of hot volcanic wind, and then climb a massive staircase which would take at least fifteen minutes for a human to reach the top at normal speed. It was possible to see the insides of Mount Pyronans' magma caves from inside the tower and it was also decorated with ornaments built from obsidian in the shape of skulls, dragons and demons. Xacutus was said to decorate his tower with the things which plagued his worst nightmares.

Climbing this staircase was a Vulcanus Orc of massive size and armor, wielding an equally large and massive greataxe also made of obsidian harvested from Mount Pyronans. Lesser servants such as Red Smeevers and Vulcanus Men kept out of the orc's way as he made his way upstairs to see his master, a stoic and even cold expression on his face. s flew inside the magma caves of the volcano, and s could also be seen, gazing at the orc from where they stood, watching him climb the stairs. Some of these dragons had shackles over their limbs while other did not, these being dragons who had been enslaved by the Vulcanus Horde in the event they flew over the island while the unshackled ones were individuals who had fully accepted the Horde as their masters and were willingly members of the pyromancer's great army.

At the top of the staircase, the orc warrior was greeted by the sight of his master, Xacutus, repeatedly snapping his fingers at a group of Fire Elementals, narrowing his empty eyes as the Elementals had their shapes molded by the Sea Giant and turned into a variety of different forms. A cackle came out of Xacutus as he then swung his hand at the orc's direction, causing the Elementals to be launched at his direction in a meteor of fire and magma. The orc responded by tilting his body to the side, causing the Elementals to miss him entirely and fall down the staircase, and the sound of crashing and screaming was soon heard from the lower levels as furniture and Smeevers were hit by the Elementals. Standing tilted against Xacutus' throne was the Exacutus Vulcanus, who also let out sharp, high-pitched giggles from the destruction his master caused.


 *  - Master.
 * Xacutus - I hate when you dodge like that! I used to hit you all the time 70,000 years ago.
 * Wrugrak - I had time to practice dodging.
 * Xacutus - Speak your mind, my servant.
 * Wrugrak - The Horde is prepared. We await your approval so that our march to the continent may begin.

A gleerful cackle came out of Xacutus as he clenched his fist and hit his throne, and it proceeded to rise as a gigantic lava beast was revealed to be laying beneath it. With a leap, Wrugrak landed next to the throne as it was raised high into the air by the lava giant, and Xacutus got up as he cast an orb of darkness in the air in front of them. In instants, the pyromancer and his general could see other locations through this orb, with Xacutus' expression becoming inquisitive as he gazed upon the rest of Akriarion Island.


 * Xacutus - Are the Vulcanus Men all spawned and armed?
 * Wrugrak - Yes. The depths of Mount Pyronans are filled to the brim with them at this moment.
 * Xacutus - The breeding caves of the Aranignun?
 * Wrugrak - Fully prepared, and eggs are being carried into battle so that new nests can be created in the mainland.
 * Xacutus - The hive of those RIDICULOUS goblins?
 * Wrugrak - Secured and currently spawning more and more Smeevers as time passes, with enough numbers to rival hives in the mainland.
 * Xacutus - The Berserkers?
 * Wrugrak - Spawned alongside the Vulcanus Men.
 * Xacutus - Fire Elementals? Dragons?
 * Wrugrak - Tamed, either peacefully or forcefully.
 * Xacutus - ... And the rest of the Orcs?
 * Wrugrak - Awaiting my signal so that our march can begin.
 * Xacutus - HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Perfect! It looks we really are ready!

Loud, echoing laughter came out of Xacutus as Mount Pyronans began to rumble, this being a somewhat common sight whenever Xacutus was very agitated, either with happiness or anger, which was often hard to tell considering his person. The pyromancer reached over to the Exacutus Vulcanus and took a hold of it, passing a finger through the weapon's blade as a malevolent grin formed on his face.


 * Xacutus - Soon, we'll reach the continent again, and the world will be forced to remember me. They will remember me as I BURN THEM TO THE GROUND.
 * Exacutus - And then we kill the Guardians, right?
 * Xacutus - Oh, of course! Logically, we'll start with the one who caused me the most pain... Vectrom! I'll kill him! Slowly and painfully! But I need a creative way of doing it...
 * Exacutus - How about fire?
 * Xacutus - ... Lots of fire?
 * Exacutus - We're going places with this plan, ey!
 * Xacutus - I knew I could count on me for a good idea!
 * Wrugrak - I must note, master. I do not trust these allies you have obtained.

Xacutus' laughter ceased as he looked at Wrugrak, not in anger but in an indifferent expression. He held the Exacutus Vulcanus on his right hand as he stepped closer to his servant, speaking.


 * Xacutus - I don't trust anything related to him. He caused it all. It's his fault I've become what I am.
 * Wrugrak - And you do not enjoy it?
 * Xacutus - I enjoy it but I hate it! I have great power but it's terrible! I'm a Sea Giant, Wrugrak. FIRE BURNS ME. It HURTS ALL THE TIME.
 * Wrugrak - I was... not aware. Are you in... perpetual pain?
 * Xacutus - YES. I've been in pain ever since I cast my FIRST fireball. A pain which made me understand how utterly insane and unique fire is. A power unlike any other... I am an entity of the seas, a creature of water, yet fire now flows through my very soul... I am reduced to bones, Wrugrak. My fire keeps me alive. AND IT HURTS SO MUCH.
 * Wrugrak - Master...
 * Xacutus - HAHAHAHAHA... Please... Enough. Back to the subject... Vargash's lapdogs and his allies are a mere way of getting to the main continent. These false elves and their pagan god are nothing but an excuse to get us there. The elf boy will betray me as soon as I turn my back on him... Which's a shame because I'll out-betray him first! HAHAHAHA!
 * Wrugrak - The old Giants and the demons of crystal failed to destroy us in the past. These new kingdoms of the modern continent will not be different.
 * Xacutus - Yes! All of this new world... every man... every beast... every single piece of land, sea and air... I WILL BURN IT. I WILL REDUCE IT TO CINDERS. CINDERS. I WILL KILL THIS ENTIRE WORLD, WRUGRAK. PREPARE THE ARMIES. WE MARCH NOW.

A few hours later, the Vulcanus Horde's armies stood near the shores of Akriarion Island as Xacutus made his way to the front, carrying the Exacutus Vulcanus on his hand. Wrugrak stood by his side, alongside the other great commanders of his army, such as the vile red dragon Avakorah, the Berserker champion Rahkavarh and the great spider matriarch Nercyvrus. A roaring laughter came out of the mad Ondarei Mharinis as he raised a hand to the air, and jets of lava erupted out of the very ocean, causing land to raise from the ocean floor in the form of a bridge large enough for the army to march through. And so, the infernal march of the Vulcanus Horde began as Xacutus created a bridge from Akriarion Island to Abyssus' southern gates, a maddened grin locked on the pyromancer's face as he prepared for the coming war.

As he prepared to destroy the world.

Hathgar: Smouldering Ruins
"By the name of Clan Jalaric, the walls of Khargrimhold, and the people of the Khargrim Realm, I bestow to you and your damned horde... my grudge!"

Date: 32 NA

Dhagdaral, a prominent eastern fortress-city of the and a powerful naval supplier with much history and renown for its armada and the quality of its crews and admirals at its back, had been almost entirely laid to waste; towns and streets had been reduced to ash and dust within mere hours and the fortifications had failed to defend its walls from being breached after some days of being sieged. Civilians and soldiers, fearing for their lives, were being pushed and confined to the heart of the city, merely waiting for their demise as they were beset upon from almost all sides by the sudden invasion force that had somehow extended from beyond the coastal waters while lacking even the slightest form of navy of their own.

They had come from the sea. Charging at the city's direction was an army of monsters who left a trail of flame and ash behind them. Golems of lava, giant arachnids, goblins, orcs and wyverns all combined their efforts in their ultimate goal; the complete destruction of this region - the had arrived. The night was almost as bright as day as the city burned, its treasures and anything of worth having since been lost to the chaos that the servants of the Mad Pyromancer had brought with them, and their fiery hides seared with such ferocity that not even the heavy downpour of rain could extinguish them. However, as the Horde focused its efforts towards the heart of the city, where what remained of the city's populace were sheltered, hope was not lost as the less-enforced quarter of the invasion force to the western segment found itself not only facing resistance at the forefront, but also deep and swift assault from the rear. Flanking the Vulcanus Horde and making its way to the city's heart was an army of roughly two hundred or so dwarven warriors, each equipped with heavy armour decorated with inscriptions and fine patterns and wielding blades, axes, and hammers engraved with runes, which they used to penetrate the Horde's western line from behind.

At the head of this dwarven force, his brow furrowed and teeth gritted, was the Great-Captain of the 4th Khargrimhold Company and the First Heir of Khargrimhold:. The enemy force was composed mostly of Red s and Vulcanus Men, the dreaded lava golems of Akriarion, who attacked the dwarven forces with a combination of melee blows and pyromancy. Flying over their heads were numbers of s who launched fireballs down at them from the sky, while numbers of spider-like Aranignum crawled across the battlefield, attempting to latch themselves into soldiers.


 * Hathgar - Warriors! Aim your cannons to the sky and knock their damned drakes from the sky! ... Be wary of their infantry, but show them no fear! We would not want to feed their morale!

The Great-Captain's cannoneers aimed high and launched cannonballs into the air at the Horde's aerial forces, while Hathgar himself and a detachment of a dozen dwarven soldiers charged ahead into the enemy line, channeling force and electrity through their heavy weaponry as they met with the Vulcanus infantry and support units; while some found themselves battered and burned to cinders, Hathgar soon managed to smash through the enemy line and grant passage through the siege of the city's centre, allowing his forces entry and granting the tired, fearful dwarves within at least a means of escape from their horrid predicament. The Great-Captain ordered his guard to assist in evacuating those who yearned to leave and arming those who wished to stay and contribute in the evacuation effort, while he analyzed the much larger enemy force as they loomed within the walls of a once-great dwarven city and a staple to Khargrim pride.


 * Hathgar - ... Bastards. I had thought these fiends and demons confined to their little wasteland in the eastern waters. ... What are they doing here, ravaging our cities and killing our people?!
 * Town Guard - G-Great-Captain Jalaric! ... W-We had not anticipated their arrival on the mainland. We had seen no boats, no ships... Dhagdaral is in ruins and we cannot put a finger to the reasoning as to how they g-got here, let alone why they are attacking...!
 * Hathgar - Hmph! Accompany your brothers and keep the barricades reinforced while we focus on evacuating the civilians. ... What of Thane Slothi and his Clan?
 * Town Guard - The Thane is dead, G-Great-Captain, as is his eldest... But his younger sons remain behind these walls, well-guarded and cared for.
 * Hathgar - Then rendezvous with the rest of my forces here with them in hand and we shall allow them safe passage to Khargrimhold. I shall assist in holding the line--

As the wyverns were shot down via cannonfire, one of them, carrying something - or someone - in its talons flew over the dwarves' heads and then let go, allowing what it was carrying to be sent down crashing into the battlefield. As the dust settled, it was revealed to be a tall, armored Vulcanus Orc who rose his head to look at the fortress-city, raising a hand to his back so that he could grasp on his giant greataxe. The dwarves present within the city's centre all glanced towards the sudden arrival of the large, fiery creature that had somehow managed to evade the dwarven anti-air fortifications, with the Great-Captain's eyes widening as he turned his head to observe the Vulcanus Orc in a combination of shock and frustration. Hathgar clasped his own dwarven greataxe in hand as eletricity ran through its length and blade and he cautiously approached the burning warrior, a pair of escorts from his personal guard accompanying him to supply support should he require it. With rage in his voice, Hathgar bellowed;


 * Hathgar - And by the Hammer Throne, who do you believe you are?!

The Orc rose his free hand, displaying his claw-like armor as he spoke in a deep, guttural voice which caused the Vulcanus Men around him to back away, as if not wanting to be in his way.


 * ??? - I am the Scorched General, of Akriarion. Let it be known before you meet your fate.

The Great-Captain felt his bravery briefly wane upon hearing the name and title spoken before his ears alongside the sight of the gargantuan Vulcanus Orc rising to his full, immense stature. The dwarven commander admired the fierce greataxe in the Scorched General's hands as much as he feared it.


 * Hathgar - ... Lies! The Scorched General you speak of fought out ancestors millennia before this day! You could not possibly be the very same who ravaged our Akriarion settlements all those eons ago.
 * Wrugrak - It matters not whether you believe me or not. You are but another man who will become one with the ashes.
 * Hathgar - Hmph! If I am to die this day, then I shall ensure I die letting you know my name! Great-Captain Jalaric Hathgar... the Berserker! And I will be the very last dwarf you fight, scoundrel!
 * Wrugrak - The Ancients failed to put me down. I highly doubt you will be the one to do it.

Hathgar spat at the ground as he raised his greataxe, the runic engravements across its metallic shaft allowing the essence of electromancy to flow freely through it, and he gestured for his escorts to step back from his side. The Great-Captain stepped towards the Scorched General, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the molten warrior that stood so greatly before him. He felt his blood beginning to boil.


 * Hathgar - ... The scriptures of the survivors from Akriarion tell tales of a dreadful warrior, whose very breath is fire and whose flesh is armour greater than steel. ... For your sake, I hope you are that very same Scorched General Wrugrak.
 * Wrugrak - Are you trying to intimidate me? I am beyond the concept of fear, mere dwarf.
 * Hathgar - Then you shall have no qualms with fighting me, barbarian!
 * Wrugrak - Be quick. We have an entire world to destroy.

The Great-Captain charged without hesitation, swinging his axe with great force while taking swift, powerful strides in his heavy armour, all the while calling forth a ferocious cry of battle as his armour and surrounding debris seemed to spark with jolts of electrical power; he made the first move, aiming to swing his great dwarven war-axe horizontally towards the Scorched General's torso. Wrugrak made no attempt to dodge the attack, which chipped the obsidian armor of his torso as, with one hand, the Orc sent his own axe vertically at the dwarf, aiming to carve his head. The axe left a trail of flames as it was swung, setting the Khargrim's beard partially alight as he evaded the attack with a swift step to his left at the cost of a small portion of his proud, thick beard being cut and burned. He spent a moment to panickedly extinguish the flames before they travelled upwards towards his face.


 * Hathgar - ... You cut my beard!

Wrugrak wasted no time with talking as he swung his greataxe again, this time diagonally and aiming for Hathgar's neck region. The orc delivered powerful swings, but his face remained locked in an almost emotionless expression, except for what could be considered a mild scowl. The Great-Captain found himself put on the defensive, having to take steps back and attempt to block the Scorched General's mighty swings with his own; if at least some merit was in his favour, it was that he could muster enough force to least interrupt and shield himself from Wrugrak's attacks with his own dwarven strength, yet he found it difficult to analyze an opening in the orc's pattern of attack. In between yet another clash of their weapons, the Khargrim ferociously threw himself forward and made an attempt to butt heads with the great orc. Hathgar felt as if he had just headbutt solid rock as the General did not even flinch, raising a hand and grabbing the dwarf by the neck before tossing him away, launching him into a mob of nearby Red Smeevers. The dwarf roared as he collided with the Smeevers, the force of his launch and his weight causing several Smeevers to be killed or knocked unconscious as he made impact. Despite the humiliation of both having his beard cut and being tossed, Hathgar stood and swung his greataxe through the mob angrily, his eyes fiercely placed upon Wrugrak.


 * Hathgar - ... Answer me this, Wrugrak! How did your horde get to the mainland without a fleet? ... Why are you even here?!
 * Wrugrak - Our master has reawakened. He has ordered the destruction of Koldenwelt.
 * Hathgar - Your master...?
 * Wrugrak - You thought me the leader of this horde? You are wrong. I am but one of four generals. My master is the greatest pyromancer of the world.
 * Hathgar - ... Hmph! I'll send you home to your master in a coffin for what you and your horde have done to my people! And for cutting my beard! ... And for tossing me! Especially for tossing me!
 * Wrugrak - You will not.

The Vulcanus Orc general ran at Hathgar's direction, taking the opportunity his Smeevers were keeping him busy as a blast of lava erupted out of the orc's mouth at the dwarf's direction. Hathgar roared in agony as he felt his side burn - a pain unlike any he had experienced before - as he had attempted to move from the trajectory of the blast while having his movements restrained by the slew of Red Smeevers. The smell of burning steel filled his nostrils and his stonelike flesh boiled as he collapsed to a single knee, resisting the urge to place his hand upon his wound and extend the damage further while his breath quicked irratically.


 * Hathgar - S-So it is true...! You are the very same Wrugrak from... f-from all those millennia ago!
 * Wrugrak - Hmpf.

The orc half-golem approached the dwarf, causing the Smeevers still alive to back away as he swung his hand at him, delivering a backhanded blow to Hathgar in order to knock him down. The Great-Captain could do little to stop the attack and was thrown onto his back, grunting as he hit the floor and glared up at the Scorched General with a scowl.


 * Hathgar - ... Urgh...
 * Wrugrak - Enough talk. Die.

The general raised his greataxe, preparing to deliver a killing blow on the dwarf by carving through his torso vertically. However, rather than the wet feeling of hot, fresh blood spilling against his flesh and armour, Wrugrak instead felt a tremendous force crash against his torso from somewhere ahead of himself; a cannonball had been launched by a Khargrim cannoneer some distance away, accompanied by the rest of the Great-Captain's guard as they made an immediate approach on their location. Wrugrak roared in pain as he was flung backwards, his armor left cracked and his helm being broken as he collided against the ground, rolling across the battlefield which led him to crash into - and crush - many of his own troops. The orc struggled to get back up, and as he rose his face, the dwarves could now see his eyes, each burning in red like an inferno as his face went from a mild scowl to a furious frown. Hathgar, meanwhile, was helped to his feet by his brethren and glared at the Scorched General with a seething, furious expression of his own, having to be briefly restrained by his soldiers so as to not charge at the orcish general.


 * Hathgar - ... By the name of Clan Jalaric, the walls of Khargrimhold, and the people of the Khargrim Realm, I bestow to you and your damned horde... my grudge!
 * Wrugrak - Run if you will. The fires of Lord Xacutus cannot be extinguished. Your Realm, and your entire world, will be burned to a cinder.
 * Hathgar - I will be the last dwarf you ever face, I promise you that!

Moments afterward, following a spiteful exchange of glares, the Great-Captain turned with his guardsmen and made haste for a quick departure and retreat from the walls of Dhagdaral now that the civilians had been evacuated and the barricades of the city's heart were in the middle of crumbling to the Vulcanus Horde. The once-great city was now little more than smouldering ruins at the feet of the Scorched General and his legion of unnatural monstrosities, while the the remnants of Dhagdaral's army and the detachments of the 4th Khargrimhold Company retreated from the site with their Great-Captain greatly wounded, his exchange with Wrugrak and the sight of the dwarven fortress-city leaving him angered and bitter.

Despite the number of estimated survivors evacuated from Dhagdaral having exceeded expectations, no glory was had that night. No songs were sung and no celebrations were prepared. All that was to be had from this incident, and the likely incidents to follow it, was the feeling of unrivalled hate and dread within the hearts of the Khargrim Dwarves, and an overbearing sense of humiliation for the Khargrim Realm in its entirety.

D'arcy: Return of the Artifact
"The living are always amusing to watch."

Date: 32 NA

It had been more than a week or so since the cleansing of Clothovera's mind from the influence of the Blood God due to efforts pushed by the warriors of Dar-Nahalant - a fair deal of time following the acquisition of the prized possessions and artifacts of the Simulacra. It had almost slipped their minds that, while some items were annihilated in the process of opening the gateway into the Void and back, some artifacts were yet to be returned to their rightful owners; in particular, the Gravekeeper's Sack which one group had acquired from the infamous Blackharp Mansion, which its guardian had ordered returned to their possession sometime ago. Only recently did, accompanied by his companion and partner, take it upon himself to restore ownership of the artifact back to its attrusted keeper. He had paid for a small boat to be taken and rode out to the isle upon which the Blackharp Mansion resided, although it was him that had to do much of the rowing, leaving Clothovera to do whatever she desired to entertain herself on the journey there. Clothovera spent most of the trek reading from Alhazred's pages, and the duo eventually arrived to the Mansion while it was still sunny.

They could, this time, note the building's great size and the decayed trees which surrounded it, as well as its very old structure, something they could not really notice the last time they arrived. The door was open, as if they were being expected. Hachi kept the Gravekeeper's Sack in his back pocket, and while he walked along the path towards the entrance, he froze as a chill shivered up his spine, unnerved by the nature of the mansion's exterior and how its front doors remained open to them.


 * Hachi - ... W-We don't have to go in, right? Just like, l-leave the Sack on the porch, or something, and w-we can r-row back to s-shore...
 * Clothovera - Of course not! I want to meet the ghost of Blackharp again!
 * Hachi - Ngh! S-She's gotta z-zombie in there! A big... strong... u-ugly zombie-thing! With a sword!
 * Clothovera - I'm sure the zombie will leave us alone if we just be polite and don't try attacking the ghost and her pets. I'd seriously do the same in her situation.
 * Hachi - ... I hope you're not considering turning me into your z-zombie bodyguard or something.
 * Alhazred - That might not be a bad idea, in the future...

Wincing as they got closer to the entrance, Hachi almost resorted to dashing back to the boat were it not for the dark witch's hand gripped onto his wrist, effectively dragging him to the door. Soon, the duo breached the point of no return, walking onto the porch and through into the front corridor of the rather eccentric and archaic home, with Hachi beginning to coldly sweat as he glanced around the interior a second time - he could swear it had become even creepier than before. Clothovera looked around with a smile on her face as she observed the surroundings: the main hall's candles were all lit, allowing them to easily see around. The mansion was dusty, and spider webs could be seen at practically all directions. The Lagosi wrapped his arms around himself and remained close to his partner, nervously looking around with his pointed downwards in a cowardly, scared fashion. He walked slowly and cautiously, shaken by every creaking noise the floorboards made as they walked through the main hall, the sound of his teeth chattering filling the otherrwise quiet manor with noise. The half-elf witch turned to her boyfriend, an annoyed expression on her face as she noticed his fear.


 * Clothovera - Would you stop? You're gonna embarrass me in front of the ghost.
 * Hachi - Oh gee... S-Sorry, I wouldn't w-want to embarass you i-in front of your crush n-now would I?
 * Alhazred - What ridiculous behavior, Hachi. Why are you so afraid? You know the Revenant wishes no harm on us.
 * Hachi - T-They used to t-tell L-Lagosi kids about p-phantom warriors back home... G-Ghosts who p-prowled the night, who would t-take the heads of c-children who were out p-past bedtime! ... I-I don't like ghosts, they're unpredictable, c-creepy, and you can't d-defend yourself from them when they're m-mad...
 * Alhazred - Your ghosts are not real. The Revenant is harmless. You faced Zran Kar up-front yet you nearly wet yourself over a young human woman.
 * Hachi - S-She's probably gonna be mad I haven't r-returned the Sack until now, though... She'll p-probably think I stole it or something...
 * Clothovera - Well, good thing we're here right now, then. Let's go.

As the couple ventured into the mansion, they eventually came across a large framed picture in a wall, showing the Blackharp family. They could easily identify the youngest in the frame as being a young D'arcy, who was accompained by a man and woman who wore similarly black clothing. Clothovera stopped to admire the frame, her eyes turned to the young D'arcy, with her noticing how similar she was to herself physically. Hachi also looked at the painting, tilting his head somewhat as he glanced over D'arcy's parents and let out a quiet chuckle to himself, while his teeth still chattered and he continued to shiver where he stood.


 * Hachi - Think you're related?
 * Alhazred - It would be an amusing coincidence, but no, the Moirai and Blackharp families share no blood links.
 * Clothovera - When we ever get to the point we have our own gold, I wanna buy robes like those...
 * Hachi - H-How about... you j-just buy the whole d-damn place?
 * Clothovera - ... Yeah! We could live here!
 * Hachi - W-Wait, no, I wasn't b-being serious--
 * Clothovera - This mansion fits me like a glove! I could ask the ghost to let me decorate it with all kinds of nice symbols! And no one would ever bother us because they're too scared to come here!

Hachi huffed as he stepped back and continued to shiver, looking around the place before walking away from Clothovera as she admired the painting, taken in by curiosity; he crossed the main hall and glanced through a doorway at the far end, looking into a rather large ballroom area, fitted with chandeliers lit eerily with candles while paintings of human figures, possibly relatives and associates of the Blackharp clan, adorned the walls. The Lagosi walked into the room, somewhat amazed by how large the Blackharp Mansion truly was on the inside, having not had the chance to see more than a couple of rooms during their previous visit to the site.


 * Hachi - M-Man... This p-place is huge. A-All this space... no wonder the ghost likes h-having guests here, it feels so... so empty.
 * ??? - La la la la la...

As Clothovera followed Hachi, her eyes widened and her ears perked as she grabbed onto the Lagosi so that he would move onward with her, with the two of them eventually encountering the ghost herself,, sitting in a chair. She hummed as she held a small bat in one hand, while brushing its head with what looked like a toothbrush. Hachi attempted to feign a smile to hide his cowardice in the presence of the young, eccentric spectre, while his cheeks became red from embarassment - he was hoping that she would not be angered with him for having failed to return the Gravekeeper's Sack sooner, or that she would not have any ghostly tricks or pranks up her black sleeves.


 * Hachi - H-He... H-Hell... Hell... H-Hello...

The Revenant woman turned her head to the arriving duo, a warm smile growing on her pale face. Clothovera waved at her with a grin, happy to see her again.


 * D'arcy - Welcome, once again.
 * Clothovera - Hi, Miss Blackharp!
 * D'arcy - Call me D'arcy, my friend.
 * Hachi - I-It's good to... t-to be here again, M-Miss. I hope you've, uh... b-been keeping w-well since our, um, l-last visit...
 * D'arcy - I have been the same. I trust you have brought back the Gravekeeper's Sack.
 * Hachi - M-Maybe I have! ... I mean, y-yeah, I brought it b-back. It's in my b-back pocket, l-let me just grab it.

The Lagosi warrior uneasily reached into his back pocket and grabbed ahold of the Sack, bringing it out while clasping it tightly in his palm, going pale in the face as he held the object while close to the ghost woman. He held out his arm with the Sack in his hand, closing his eyes and wincing as he did.


 * Hachi - H-Here.
 * D'arcy - ... Why do you fear me, young man?
 * Hachi - W-What? ... I-I don't fear you, d-don't be silly! I'm n-not scared of anything! I mean, you're l-looking at... a-at the guy who fought Zran Kar and w-won with Mortium's scythe, a-after all!
 * D'arcy - Yet you are terrified of me. You shiver, your teeth chatter, you wish you were at the other side of the world right now.
 * Hachi - Hey, I... I-I don't wish that at all. I... I c-can't help it, I mean, y-you're a pretty girl and all, it's just t-this place and all f-feels... r-really weird to me...
 * Clothovera - Ugh, I shouldn't have brought you. You're embarrassing me like I said you would.
 * D'arcy - No, no. It's okay. It is only natural to fear death, for you stand before a Revenant Gravekeeper, after all.
 * Clothovera - Gravekeeper?
 * D'arcy - We are the five hands of the masters. I am the fifth and youngest. Compared to other spirits, we are, you could say, the "greatest". But I do not like to brag.
 * Hachi - W-Wait, really? That's... That's kinda cool. H-Have you ever used your powers to, like, beat up bad and... a-and evil guys and all that stuff?
 * D'arcy - I have. Many have come to try and steal the Gravekeeper's Sack. It is my duty, no, my family's duty to ensure its safety.
 * Hachi - ... I'm surprised you're not m-mad at me for almost forgetting about it.
 * D'arcy - I am not. I knew you would return.

Hachi pondered for a moment before looking down at the Gravekeeper's Sack, and then back at D'arcy as she sat in her chair, stroking the bat's head with the toothbrush. Taking a deep breath, he approached the Gravekeeper, still quivering slightly as he walked while blushing slightly, feeling embarassed for his actions and behaviour in front of the ghostly woman.


 * Hachi - I, uh, kept good c-care of it for you. ... A-And I'm sorry.
 * Clothovera - We would have returned it sooner, but we have been through a lot.
 * D'arcy - I am perfectly aware of what has been happening around the world. As a Revenant Gravekeeper, I am aware of all that dies, and what happens around those who die. I know of your defeat at Talmyr, and I know of your issues with Zran Kar. That awful thing.
 * Hachi - Yeah, it's been r-really tough for us. Surprised I still have the Sack a-after all of that, to be honest with you. ... And all of that w-without a reward either, because w-we're just that noble of soul. Or I am, at least.
 * Clothovera - Are you implying I'm not a noble soul?
 * Alhazred - It is more of a statement.
 * Clothovera - Oh wow, thanks.

A giggle came out of D'arcy as she put the bat in her hand against her cheek, caressing the animal before allowing it to fly away. She got up from her chair and looked at them, snapping her fingers, and instantly, Hachi saw the Gravekeeper's Sack disappear from his grasp. Hachi's eyes widened as he witnessed the Sack disappear into thin air, leading to him to rather goofily look at his hands and arms before looking at the ground while checking his pockets, beginning to panic slightly as he sweated again.


 * Hachi - Oh no, i-it's gone! I lost it!
 * D'arcy - Hm hm hm. I have transported it to the Mansion's basement. That is where it is meant to be kept.
 * Hachi - O-Oh... Well then! Glad to see that it is b-back where it belongs, s-safe and sound once again! All because of me, the... t-the great Hachi! ... And a l-little bit of help from Clotho.
 * Clothovera - Ugh! The nerve!
 * D'arcy - Hm hm. I can see the chemistry between you two. You are a cute couple.
 * Hachi - Yes, I am r-rather cute, aren't I? ... W-Wait, what? Oh! Thank you, y-you're the first p-person who's said that to us. M-Most other... other people think that w-we're kinda... weird.
 * Clothovera - I'm proud of my weirdness. What would be the point of a world where everyone is the same?
 * D'arcy - Yes, that is the kind of thing we Blackharps like to hear. I can see we have much in common, child of Moirai. What is your name, may I ask?
 * Clothovera - I am Clothovera! And this dumbass is Hachi.
 * Hachi - Yeah; the dumbass who saved you from enslavement around three times now, I think you'll find!
 * Clothovera - The dumbass who doesn't think before he talks and comes across as really rude in front of his girlfriend!
 * Hachi - Well excuuuse me! ... Yeah I suppose I'm k-kind of an idiot.
 * Clothovera - You are... but you are my idiot.

Hachi smiled as blushed fervently, proceeding to hide his face in his hands in order to make his embarassment not be seen in front of the two girls. His quivers had calmed by now, now that he had done the deed of delivering the Sack back to its rightful owner and exploring the Mansion as Clothovera had desired.


 * Hachi - You're gonna embarrass me in front of the ghost...

The two girls giggled as Clothovera put a hand over Hachi in order to embrace him, while D'arcy sat down again, taking hold of a dusty book from her table in order to read from it.


 * D'arcy - Your delivery is done. It is time for you to return to your friends. You have many more hardships ahead, and you must remain focused.
 * Hachi - Yeah, I was expecting more trials to pop up in our lives. So that means we have to keep our minds focused and heads set on straight, which also means no crushing on the ghost girl, Clotho.
 * Clothovera - Hey, I'm not the one looking at the legs and skirts of every woman we pass by. While I'm present.
 * Hachi - I haven't done that for a long time! ... Oh, I just noticed how nice D'arcy's hair looks today.
 * D'arcy - Thank you.
 * Clothovera - Y-you should look at MY hair!
 * Hachi - Hehehe. Come on, we'd best get home before D'arcy starts thinking that I'm some sort of weird pervert or something. ... And you owe me a reward when we get back to the fortress for making me come in here while scared.
 * Clothovera - Not covering you in tar and setting you on fire for perving over other women in front of me.
 * Hachi - You're one to talk, Miss I Wish I Could Kiss All Day Long.
 * Clothovera - ... What in the world are you even talking about?