The Fall of Altryca (FanT, Semi-Open) (IC)

[Escalan Corps-Star Island]

The Fall of Altryca IC
OOC is here.

Castle Delanosu, Altryca

---

Nemmerlas Estarriel rushed hurriedly through the streets of the capital. Bending close to his horse's neck, hesoftly whispered into his ear. "Advaní." Onyxis responded with an increase in his already rapid pace, causing passers-by to leap aside to avoid being impacted by the flying hooves. The iron of the shoes clanging on the cobblestone hill added to the general din of Delanosu. The Archmage continued up the gently sloping main thoroughfare, his destination the towering bastion of the castle itself, triumphantly rearing its white walls on the mountainside overlooking the great city below. Bursting noisily through the great silver-adorned gates of the citadel proper, Nemmerlas dismounted and purposefully headed in the direction of the central keep.

Surrounded by nine towers of exactly the same height on the outermost wall, the great palace and fortress of the Altrycan kings was a sight to behold in the radiant morning sun. Though the gleaming parapets and obdurate towers were nearing their third millennium in age, they remained as unmoving as ever, seemingly affixed and, indeed, part of the mountainside from which they rose. In reality, however, the current situation was not quite as peaceful nor the outlook as sunny as one might expect from such idyllic surroundings. There was war on the horizon- both figuratively and literally. For if one were to look south from the walls of the castle, the dark, brooding volcanic land of Krygyz was easily visible on a clear day.

---

Nemmerlas sat at a table across from the king. Whereas many- if not most- countries were encumbered by laws demanding formal bearing and subservient postures when in the presence of royalty, the Altrycan customs simply entailed a slight bow of the head and the sane respect one would accord an elder. But not even these relatively relaxed strictures did not really apply to the Archmage. After all, he reasoned, after 4000 years even a king's memory faded somewhat. Yet here he was, now serving Amrath Cinterenas, the forty-first ruler of the mountainous kingdom. So by now, even the king himself gave the Archmage some measure of respect.

Across the maps and charts spread haphazardly across the oaken planks that separated the two, the elfin king looked askance at his friend. "So, Nemmerlas," he said preparing to voice the question that everyone had been wondering, "what-"
He was cut off mid-sentence by a movement of the Archmage's finger to his lips. Nemmerlas turned slowly and spoke, his voice rich, deep, and rolling. "Not now, Your Majesty. There are unfriendly eyes about these days. Let us retire to your chambers."
"Very well," said the monarch, a bit puzzled. But who was he to question Archmage Estarriel's wisdom?

Estarriel sat and spoke four words, forestalling his king's question. "I've been in Kryzyg."

---

The White Oak was doing a roaring trade- even in the middle of the morning. However, unlike the drunken sots that frequented the less reputable inns, the denizens of this particular establishment were of a more elegant sort. Dwarves from the mountains, elves from the grasslands and cloud forests, and humans from the lowlands mingled freely, along with the odd faerie merchant or rare dragon. The lively conversations- and sometimes fights- that resulted from this mingling of news and cultures were the best source of information in the Kingdom- aside from the Archmage, of course.

However, Captain Rihilis Ingloriad of the Altrycan Royal Army was in no mood to sit and talk. Haggard and weary from five straight days of hard riding to reach the capital, his news was of a grimmer sort. Freshly relieved at the Kryzygan border, he glared around at other customers as he tethered his horse to a post at the gate. They knew better than to speak to the brooding, irritable elf. Ingloriad strode through the door, walking up to the counter with long, carefully measured strides. A lifetime of marching in step had given him that.

"So, might you- by any chance- have. . . a room?" He spoke sarcastically, and a bit rudely as well.
"Er, yes," the corpulent, red-faced barman- often suspected of having faerie blood- replied nervously. "Second one on the left, if you please."
"Very well," growled Rihilis. "See to it my horse is fed and stabled."
"That I will," said the man, hurriedly seizing at the chance to get ad far from the vehement captain as possible. Ingloriad's jet-black eyes followed him as he exited, then he strode upstairs to find his room.

[Shadyrya]

Ravelin

The bloodlust.

It coursed through him, telling him to kill the helpless, sick woman he saw in the alley before him. Taking a deep breath, he tried so hard to resist. It had become harder and harder as the years went on, not killing. The shadows wanted to see blood spilled, they wanted their nourishment. He couldn't give them that, though. Not now, he screamed silently, wishing he could just turn and run. It would not allow him to do so, however. It made him stay.

And so, with little other choice, he embraced it.

A tendril of pure dark, of pure evil shot forth, faster than a thunderbolt, with swirling, black puffs of what looked like smoke emanating. Directly through her back, it speared forth; blood spewed from the large exit wound, and the once-dark shadow was now a deep crimson. Part of him, the part that still resisted, was disgusted; however, most of him urged he kill more. He knew he could settle for this, but why should he stop? Why not appease the Dark One for moons? No, he could not. He could not. He repeated this to himself, as another sensation passed through him. That gnawing, extreme hunger, as he felt himself thin, as he felt the need for nourishment decrease and the need for the kill increase. He had seen a sign; the Glowing Oak? No, the White Oak. He could buy food with what meager money he had left.

It took an hour or so for him to get his bearings and find the luxurious inn, though it was worth it. A cheap loaf of bread and glass of wine later, he felt slightly better. Not by much. A thought went through his head that he had been playing with for over a year now;
Could I find Meredith?
He needed to put it out of his head. He knew he'd kill her if he did, which would make living like this for naught. So he sat there, bitter, resentful, and hungry.

Arkias

He laughed as the man who he hunted tripped. "Clumsy oaf," he said to himself as he brandished his weapon. "My thanks for letting this be easy," he said, a vicious leer on his face. Holding it blade down, he prepared to strike, as he felt a rock hit his back. Turning, it was that damned weaponless guard. It took little more than ten seconds to kill him, but that was all the victim needed to get up of his fat ass and run. He chuckled, starting to sprint down the alley. His victim, right there...he could smell the kill, his greatest pleasure. A throwing knife to his ankle, his long knife to his throat. All is well that ends well. Withdrawing the small, sharp blade, he smiled.

How fun, to be an assassin.

[Jormengand]

Khy'gu'ra. Hal'de'os. Sei'ta'nos. Va'lo'mo'kel. Mor'ta'za. Five warriors of the dragon disciples. All five equipped with the best weapons and armour that... well, money would be hard-pressed to buy it. Forget dwarfs, forget elves, half-dragon smiths invariably did much better, most often by expending small amounts of their flame to shape the blade, as well as using normal flames and their skill.

One might think that a morningstar was a vaguely simple implement to create as well as to wield, but they would be wrong. The chain links were well made to slide over each other, and were almost unable to tangle. The head of the morningstar was not merely a spiked ball, but a compendium of forms to jut out bladed and spiked against the unfortunate victim. The strong abjuration didn't do the enemy magi any favours either.

They were currently heading towards Altryca, the capitol. Elena Ignacio, Khy'gu'ra, the leader of the group, was worrying. The fact that she was flying over from the disciple tower to Altryca was painful, the fact that her period had come up wasn't helping, the fact that she was about to go into a death trap was honestly the last straw.

For she was not the only one who was mobilising towards Altryca...

---

"Comander Hathraka?"
"Ezkhor. It is time. Ready the troops, and bring Ulthara in."
"Yes, my lord."
Hathraka called to his smaller companions. "Takah! Toa! It is time."

Takah jumped up onto the stand on his back, Toa climbed up more sensibly. Both were armed quite literally to the teeth, but not quite so much as Hathraka. They were more there to kill the ones he missed than to actually do anything useful, alternatively picking annoying bowmen off the walls with their crossbows. Although, that should not be necessary...

"Commander." It not a question, and barely a statement - more a command to speak. Of course, even a death master would not take such a tone with a commander directly. "Ulthara. You are ready."

They often made conversation like this - statements which would usually be questions. "As are you, but there is still something else you want of me." There was, in a sense. "There is most likely something you need." Surely even a death master would need something else? "Make sure I get a clear path to the wall or gate," He started to leave, but then stopped. "And tell your men," he continued while turning around, "to stay out of my way." He turned back, and left.

Hathraka left his tent. "Ezkhor!" His second in command walked to him. "Ready." And so they were. "Then let us begin." He turned to his army. "Kryzyga! This day we march to the enemies' door! You know your duty, now do it! Any who die will be forever remembered, but we shall not die! It is not us, but they who shall taste defeat and destruction!" His speech continued to outline their secret weapons, half of which he wasn't even sure he had.

"We will fall on the enemy and we will overwhelm them! We are Kryzyga, fury of the south!"

Though the march was long, the black tide would soon be upon the city of Altryca, and none could stand before it. The Kryzyga would not falter. It was said one of the many verses of the song that often turned into a furious war cry.
"We will not be moved!
We will not be silenced!
They will not presume,
That they can defy us!

We will never fail!
We will never falter!
We will never fall!
We will not be slaughtered!"

The song went on for long enough for every battle that they went into, mostly because by the end they were breaking up to fight alone. Hathraka enjoyed the song, and it was definitely keeping morale up along the long march.

[G-Tech Corporation]

The White Oak

---

Malar grumbled softly into his ebony beard, then wet his lips again from the mug of ale. It was a rich hearty nutty brew the barkeep had supplied him and the craftdwarves he had fallen in with, soothing to the throat and mind in these times of trouble. His fingers tapped subconsciously on the thick haft of his great hammer under the rough dark wood table and his keen strange eyes roved around the tavern taking in the sights.

His drinking companions were almost to a man snoring, and the only one that remained awake was hastening to follow his fellows. Four red and brown bearded dwarves slumped around the table; they were the first Ironhelm dwarves he had encountered in almost a year, and the last day had been a positive joy, hearing news of his homeland and its prosperous activities far to the north in the Jagged Hills. These lowly commoners would normally be beneath his social level, but even peasant-artisans could be fine company given the dirty humans and elves he would otherwise have to speak with. And they had brought news of his family, more than enough of a boon to justify the round of drinks Stormstriker had had the innkeeper supply.

Not that he minded the booze himself; like any self-respecting dwarf he imbibed alcohol religiously, operating on a level of inebriation that would have rendered any other race drunk in the span of an hour. Even the rare draconians and their cast-iron gullets couldn't handle their beer like a dwarf could. Truly Ara had blessed his bearded creations before all others. He drained the mug, then lifted a brawny arm to his mouth to wipe away the foam from his elegantly sculpted facial hair.

A commotion broke out near the innkeeper; some lout of a military man was treating him truly abominably. Not a fitting way to deal with the owner of such a fine establishment. Malar's enormous bushy eyebrows came together in a v of dislike, but he didn't rise from his position. This was none of his concern, not for now at any rate. No, the Starmetal was the thing that occupied his attention, the strange material that had engendered his trip to this mighty metropolis from isolation in the Rur Mountains.

[The Blazing Aura]

Thorne calmly walked into the White Oak, he'd made a nice amount of money from his last job and he looked forward to spending at least some of it in here, one of the more reputable Inns he'd visited, ordering a pint from the barmaid he watched another elf seemingly hassle the barman, scanning the room Thorne saw the usual motley mix of humans, dwarfs and elves, sitting on one of the bar stools he relaxed, glad to be sitting down after several days on the hunt through the grasslands.

[Escalan Corps-Star Island]

The White Oak, Delanosu

---

Setting his meager personal effects aside, Captain Ingloriad sat down hard on the edge of his bed. Surprised at the softness, he ruefully admitted that he was not used to such luxuries. I'm more used to the hard ground than an actual living establishment? Fancy that! Massaging his parched throat, he decided to head downstairs and get something to imbibe.

Carefully closing the door, he muttered a brief spell of sealing before stepping out into the hallway proper and walking towards the stairs. Devoid of his military accouterments, he cut a less threatening figure. This time around, he was at least slightly more courteous. Pitching his voice a bit higher than normal and speaking in an almost laconic tone, much of the menace was gone from his voice.
"I'd be most obliged if you would be so kind as to fill me a mug of your most excellent ale." Flattery always helped smooth over past. . . misunderstandings.

He took the cup, bound in iron bands, from the maid who handed it to him. She cuts a nice figure. . . I wonder how principled she is. Ingloriad was not quite as remote and emotionless as he might seem. Damn!, he thought, almost dropping the brimming mug. I left my personal drinking vessel upstairs. I'll have to chance it this time. The captain was a bit paranoid about poison, so he always carried a personal mug to use at social gatherings. There was nothing to be gained from carelessness, he reasoned.

Espying a table mostly occupied by dwarves, he walked over and took a seat next to Malar. Dwarves were not known for their conversational bent, so he wouldn't have to talk much. Between gulps of ale, he glanced sideling at the black-haired dwarf, and, by way of introduction, simply stated, "Hello, Master Dwarf. Rihilis Ingloriad, Captain of the Altrycan Army."

[Shadyrya]

Ravelin

An ebony beard caught his eye. 'Twas the most notable feature of the dwarf at the counter, long and bushy; perfect to grab, pull back and slit his throat.

No. Killing is not something I think about like that.

His attempt at barring the thoughts from his mind failed. He couldn't help but fantasize of how he could extend a tendril of the Shadow, close his mouth with it and then stab viciously into his back. the blood spraying everywhere...wonderful.

No. Horrible.

Yet still a small, almost unnoticeable leer sneaked onto his smooth, gaunt face, concealed only by the cloak adorning his shoulders. Perhaps he could turn the dwarf into a Shadowed One. It would be so enjoyable, seeing that broad frame twist into a pathetic toothpick of a torso.

No. It'd be agonizing.

Yet still a sadistic, quiet chuckle escaped his lips. Some small part of him scoffed in disbelief. How could he think like that? How could he be such a monster?

Because you are one. You're my little monster, Sy'likva.

The haunting, disgusting voice of the Shadow, the Father of Darkness. It crept into his mind, played with him, tortured him; quite often now. Fury coursed through him. He should have kept that pathetic girl dead, lived his own life. He could have been great. But now, he withered away. Every day he became thinner, every day he felt more of a need to kill. Every day. He hated this sorry excuse for a life. Yet that did not show. Twisted joy showed, a leer here, a devilish grin there. He made his finger elongate sharply, as a dark, swirling mass took the small piece of flesh and made it a deadly, dark dagger.

Hunger. He touched it to his own skin; instantly it parted. As crimson liquid welled in the ravine-like cut, he smiled. Why did he smile at his own pain? He let the blood trickle down his pale, needle-like arm. Staining the skin a light, bright red, he sighed heavily. Regret, anger, hate. The three things that drove him always. He smiled against his will at the thought.

I am your monster.

[Mondrova]

Delanosu Market, Ellessar

It was a fine morning in the city of Delanosu. The sun was shining high, casting a veil of bright light down, illuminating even the darkest and most forgotten of streets. The shining star enveloped all those who basked in his light in a warm, soothing glow. The birds chirp overhead, singing out a delightful melody to the wandering citizens. The trees stood tall and vibrant, their crisp green leaves vibrating with a life, swaying in the gentle breeze of early afternoon. On this day, which like any other was surrounded in the chaos of everyday life, all felt peaceful, delicate almost. It was much as if there was a quiet but ever present song in the background with such a harmonious quality that it made sense of all things and knitted them together in a disgustingly beautiful collage. At the heart of the mismatched series of threads was a the beating heart of Delanosu, the great marketplace.

It is here, among the overbearing colors, the sharp imagery, and the many roars and screeches of the populace that one would find an oddity of an elf, Ellessar Mirlthyl. He stood at the epicenter of this organized chaos, seemingly the core of the thin wires that connect the day. As such, as people walked down the labyrinthine streets, past the luminescent stalls and the calling voices they would invariably find their way to him. Why people were drawn to him is a mystery to all but the man himself. Everyone's stall called to passerby's, their warm colors extended a gentle hand out, alluring people with its cozy feel and soothing nature, or their swaying and cool blues and purples, whose existence merited a certain mystery and swagger. However, with this particular elf it is said there is something more. His wares glow with an attraction not unlike the old fables of cupid and his arrows. There is a almost divine way about them, as if those that posses them may soon find themselves subject to great vitality or wealth, perhaps good fortune. His words are said to be serenaded in honey and wrapped in a soft blanket to bring back memories of home and a tranquil childhood. He seemed to be the source of the music that so wonderfully sewed everything together that day, and all found him to be so irresistible that to decline the offer to buy from him, to accept his wares, seemed almost evil and lacking of any civility or candor.

---

Ellessar himself was well aware of this of course, why he himself was the cause of his supposedly desirable nature and form. As he always said in his early days, "It's amazing what people will believe with just a dash of magic." Though perhaps a more adequate statement is that of his old mentor, "People spend so much time looking for magic in your actions that they miss the magic in your words." Either way he was happy. Large market places like this are perfect homes for a magical conman such as himself. People, their purses jingling with coin waiting to be spent, come so carelessly into a den of snakes all waiting to alleviate them of their funds, and he was the king of these snakes. As it were, today was all about potions. Ellessar naturally carried an assortment of "high quality" wares everywhere he went, from fake jewelry, to useless spell books, to sharpened sticks of staffs, but potions were always the best. They were cheap to make and could be sold for just high enough to be extortion but just low enough to be acceptable to people. Whats more magic potions can be made to do virtually anything, at least as far as the costumer knows.

"Come one, come all my good friends! Today, oh today, I have a truly amazing gift for you. A potion, but not just any old potion, a miracle potion. Oh yes, you may look at me with skepticism but see here. This magical concoction, is not only a genuine miracle of magic, it is also well known to you." By now a sizable crowd was gathered and staring at him with confusion. "What do you mean?!" Shouted a plant of his from across the crowd. "Glad you ask my good man. Tell me how may of you know about a nice little mixture known as Drummile?" Hands shot up, for Drummile, being a common cure for fevers and ailments of the lungs, was well known. "Now, how many of you think it costs just to much, how many wish its was cheaper?" This time everyone not only raised their hands but shouted in agreement. "As I thought myself, and let me tell you, your all right! For you see I have discovered the secret of Drummile. It is derived from an herb from the far east, where it is not only common as the grass in the fields, but just as cheap. You see long ago the many alchemists, the merchants and apothecaries, they all decided to make money from you, by taking advantage of you. They know you will all someday need Drummile and so they have joined together to rob you all! They charge a hundred times more than what it is worth, and give it a fake magical smell to justify it!" He then produced a green vile with a root of a plant inside.

"Come, come friends, smell this and tell me how you feel, if you think this will help you, or that foul smell of concentrated magic you are used to." Dozens came up and sniffed and immediately felt invigorated. This was normal, the root inside is an expensive one from the north used to give strength and energy and not the supposed root of some eastern plant. However, these poor people couldn't possibly know. "Now what is your answer." They of course shouted out his root. "That's is right my friends, now take a look here. This vial, green as the last, used to house one such root, but after just some water, jimba berries, and a few other bits and pieces, we get this. All natural and far more potent Drummile. Not that fake stuff they sell to you, weakened so they may got more money from you. Do you want that, to be conned, scammed, eh?! The crowd gave a roar of disapproval, a blasting "NO". "Well then your in luck. You honest people need no longer suffer their lies, your answers are here. I have well over a hundred of such concoctions for sale. Come, buy your medicine. Its more expensive let me tell you, but such is its strength that not even a quarter of the bottle must be used to cure someone. Your getting 6-8 uses out of one bottle. Come buy, show those deceitful charlatans whats what, buy these, and help end their corrupt business. Run their faux potion out of business, bring the real cure to your home. Come my friends, come!"

A hour later Ellessar had unloaded nearly 150 of his "cures", along with several "enchanted" necklaces, and some "antique" spell books. He was considerably more wealthy than when he started. Naturally he knew he would have to leave soon to escape any potential unpleasantness later, but for now he sought a drink. So, his purse brimming with wealth and under a magically encoded ward, he walked to the White Oak. He pushed open the door with a graceful gesture and a smile and smoothly asked for a drink of his finest wine. Expensive, but he could afford it, especially now. He now casually sat and ever so subtly observed the rooms inhabitants.

[Memnoch de Marbulia]

The White Oak - Aiyana

Aiyana was not happy today. Her imbecile servant prepared her the wrong drink for the wrong time of day. She would probably kill him, but she could let him suffer a few hours first. She came into town today to replenish her stores of herbs and such and also to complete some personal shopping. While in town she decided to partake in a drink and maybe a small vacation from her home at her favorite Tavern, The White Oak. As she entered she nodded to the owner who knew her and headed to her table in the back corner of the establishment, sat in the seat with its back to the corner and waited. The owner would send her her regular, a botle of red wine, a bottle of gin, and whatever their meal of the day was. She hoped it was fish.

Unnoticed by the room, as she moved across it most of the taverns patrons watched her unabashedly, and she watched them. However, she did it with a little different intent. She noticed the Captain, the dwarves, the shadowy man she couldn't quite place, and the man who sold fake potions in the market. She intended to have a talk with him, but she was content just relaxing for now. She noticed their demeanors, and calculated their sobriety, and figured out the best way to kill them, just in case.

The red paint on her nails caught the light of the torches burning in the tavern, it was the exact same color as the red, skintight, leather body suit she wore which was accented with black lace and gold jewelry. A gleaming ruby inset with onyx blazed between her breasts. He black thigh high boots had red lacing, gold buckles, and red spiked heels. Her green eyes burned as they pierced the darkness with an uncaring stare and her fire red hair fell in braids around her.

As the owner of the tavern well knew, Aiyana began to play her lyre, so that anyone who so wished would hear it. She played quite often and was very good at it. She used to depend on it when she traveled and it saved her many a night. She began to sing while she was playing, she sang one of the most well-known epics of the area, of dragons and great battles, of kings, queens, and shining knights. She played a few songs and put her lyre away, sure she would play again later.

A man sat at her table, he thought she was pretty. She could smell the dirt and the alcohol on him as he asked if she would like to accompany him. She just laughed, and as the smile vanished from her face, the poison seeped into her voice as she said, "Men are useful for only three things, plowing fields, wielding swords, and making children. Two of those things I can do alone and if you want to still be able to perform the lattermost you shall vacate my vicinity immediately." She smiled warmly as he stood and began to walk away, "Thank you". She said cheerily.

At that moment her nourishment arrived and she began to eat and drink...goody, it was fish..."Maybe I should make a friend...", she muttered to herself.

[Escalan Corps-Star Island]

Obdural Vyraxn, Kryzyg

---

A red flash lit the tormented slopes of the mountain, tendrils of lava falling to the scorched and blackened ground. Rivers of molten fire gushed in slow agony from tortured orifices in the sides of the volcano. Looking like the maw of hell itself, the Kryzyg stronghold was a truly terrifying sight, magnificent in a profoundly evil and unsettling way. Columns of Kryzyg soldiers marched to and fro like ants, nine-foot bulks dwarfed by the massive bulk of the three-peaked Mount Vyraxn.

Rearing like an upthrust finger from the slopes of the mountain was a many-tiered spire of obsidian, the ground around it eroded by millennia of highly acidic rain. It was here, carved into the living rock, that the towers of the Kryzyg Lords were to be found. The multitude of parapets and mangonels there ensconced were lost in the deep shadows that collected almost like tar between the various pinnacles of the massive keep. From a high window of the tower, the entire southern reach of the Empire was visible when not obscured by clouds of ash.

The great domain of these demonic creatures had grown steadily for centuries. First their northern, then their eastern, and most recently their southwestern neighbors had fallen prey to their juggernaut-like advance. Crushing free civilization beneath iron-shod boots, those who were not killed immediately were used as slaves or food. Now only Altryca stood between them and the southern kingdoms. That mountainous expanse occupied the only pass through the Encircling Ring for thousands of miles. Accustomed as they were to the heat of volcanic eruptions, snow and freezing climes were a far more deadly opponent than any mortal warriors. Several attempts to sidestep the ever-watchful Altrycans through the mountains had ended in massive failure and loss of life. Not that the Kryzyg cared about their own, but one less warrior was one less blade in the arsenal of hatred and cruelty that was their army.

Among all these fiendish fighters, several stood out from all the rest. The Lord, Malevolar, noted these as he waited in his high chamber for the daily reports. Nirakzur. The short, stocky chieftain had been scorned and shunned- until he ripped apart the throats of three training mates with his teeth. Now he commanded the Fourth Legion. Elakvarix. Chief among the shamans and spellcasters of the dark armies, he possessed a greater intrinsic knowledge of evil, hatred, and darkness than any other being that walked the earth. One to watch indeed, lest he grow too powerful. And Hathraka. Also one who bore surveillance. The Imperial Overwatch would keep him in line. But was it necessary? The Kryzyg as a race valued combat as a way to assert authority and dominance- status in their culture, as it were. The moment the Lord shows signs of weakness is the day that Lord dies, thought Malevolar grimly. Then again, when were the thoughts of a Kryzyg ever not grim? Anyway, about Hathraka. He had risen through the ranks swiftly, that one. Perhaps too quickly, some said. And perhaps their concerns were not ill-founded- Hakrath showed surprising cunning and independence at times. Though nothing was for certain in the cutthroat oligarchy of the Fallen Lands, Lord Malevolar had his suspicions about some of his generals. If they weren't planning to murder the young commander, he'd be willing to eat his wiry beard. Perhaps that was why they'd sent him to the front to prepare for the attack. . .

The preparations proceeded apace, though with little sense of urgency. After all, reasoned the slaves, why hurry to aid in the destruction of our races? As more and more troops arrived, the ground turned black with thousands of milling warriors. Due to their immense bulk, the monstrous creatures could not ride horses or even most dragons. Instead, they ran, eating up the terrain with massive fifteen-foot strides. Yes, nothing could stop the Kryzyg now. . . or so it would seem. . .

[The Biased Conservatives]

The White Oak

Fault Lungreen tossed an rounded red and slightly green fruit in his hand while talking to some other merchants who he surly was out to impress in any way he knew how. the locals were much different but not anything he couldn't handle he turned to the nearby barkeep, "You know I use to sell things sorta similar to this, but much nicer" he said to him in a snide way The barkeep didn't seem to pay him much mind anyhow. Fault walked around looking for someone who in his mind was a "sucker" but to their face was a "needy customer" or something nicer.

[Shadyrya]

The White Oak - Aiyana

Aiyana was not happy today. Her imbecile servant prepared her the wrong drink for the wrong time of day. She would probably kill him, but she could let him suffer a few hours first. She came into town today to replenish her stores of herbs and such and also to complete some personal shopping. While in town she decided to partake in a drink and maybe a small vacation from her home at her favorite Tavern, The White Oak. As she entered she nodded to the owner who knew her and headed to her table in the back corner of the establishment, sat in the seat with its back to the corner and waited. The owner would send her her regular, a botle of red wine, a bottle of gin, and whatever their meal of the day was. She hoped it was fish.

Unnoticed by the room, as she moved across it most of the taverns patrons watched her unabashedly, and she watched them. However, she did it with a little different intent. She noticed the Captain, the dwarves, the shadowy man she couldn't quite place, and the man who sold fake potions in the market. She intended to have a talk with him, but she was content just relaxing for now. She noticed their demeanors, and calculated their sobriety, and figured out the best way to kill them, just in case.

The red paint on her nails caught the light of the torches burning in the tavern, it was the exact same color as the red, skintight, leather body suit she wore which was accented with black lace and gold jewelry. A gleaming ruby inset with onyx blazed between her breasts. He black thigh high boots had red lacing, gold buckles, and red spiked heels. Her green eyes burned as they pierced the darkness with an uncaring stare and her fire red hair fell in braids around her.

As the owner of the tavern well knew, Aiyana began to play her lyre, so that anyone who so wished would hear it. She played quite often and was very good at it. She used to depend on it when she traveled and it saved her many a night. She began to sing while she was playing, she sang one of the most well-known epics of the area, of dragons and great battles, of kings, queens, and shining knights. She played a few songs and put her lyre away, sure she would play again later.

A man sat at her table, he thought she was pretty. She could smell the dirt and the alcohol on him as he asked if she would like to accompany him. She just laughed, and as the smile vanished from her face, the poison seeped into her voice as she said, "Men are useful for only three things, plowing fields, wielding swords, and making children. Two of those things I can do alone and if you want to still be able to perform the lattermost you shall vacate my vicinity immediately." She smiled warmly as he stood and began to walk away, "Thank you". She said cheerily.

At that moment her nourishment arrived and she began to eat and drink...goody, it was fish..."Maybe I should make a friend...", she muttered to herself.

Ravelin quietly observed the woman from afar. Before whatever...this was had taken him over, he would've thought she was pretty; beautiful, even. Now, she felt nothing but the want-no, the need- to watch the life seep from her. It would be wonderfully elegant, yet so simple. Just a thought, and the Shadows would dart forth, end it. He'd bring her pain. It'd be great. Anyone who tried to stop him, he could kill too. Add even more fun-

You're better than this.

Fat chance.

Exhaling shakily, heavily, he fought off the need to kill her slowly, violently. The presence of the Living Shadow retreated slightly, as if to say, "I'll give you this one." He sighed in visible relief. "Wine," he whispered to the barmaid as she passed. Some nice red wine would help. It had to.

Otherwise, he didn't know if he could help himself.

Standing, ever-shakily, he approached the woman, who emitted authority. Sitting across from her, he said in his raspy, deep whisper, "I think you should leave." He didn't know if he could keep in his hunger for the kill. He didn't want to test himself, either.

[Dalkarth]

A pink rose seemingly undisturbed for its entire existence stood softly alone in a spot that meant certain death to any plant that would try to grow. Such an oddity it was for a single rose to blossom from a dead bush. It had chosen to take its first and last breaths of sunlight in between two mighty forces soon to be at odds. Others would flee the area or consider it a No Man's Land but here it stood defying all of existence. The Chutzpah Rose the legend calls it. The Chutzpah Rose always has appeared before a significant change. Very few had ever seen one and many have always feared the sight of one. It always signified death was to come and in mass quantities. But, it also stood for hope. If hope was not lost during the dreadful events to come. "My nightmares seem to have more merit than I thought. I must show this to the Archmage, at once. Although...I suspect he has been expecting the Chutzpah for quite some time now."

Nox took out a scroll of paper and rolled it out onto the ground. Then she took her hands, her right with fire and her left with air, channeling the image of the Chutzpah Rose into the paper. The fire singed the paper with heat but without burning aflame because of the lack of oxygen for it to feed upon. With the image of the Chutzpah drawn into the scroll, Nox, rolled it back up and cast an orb of air around the scroll. Then she closed her eyes and looked deep into her mind to remember the way to Nemerellas' chambers. Then opening her eyes she stared at the hovering scroll surrounded by an an orb of airlessness. She wafted her hands in a circular motion churning magical energy closer and closer together until...

"Finally."

A stream of airlessness opened up from the scroll to the door of the Archmage's office. And, with one small move of her finger signaling the spell to take hold the scroll zipped across the horizon all the way to the door, knocking on arrival.

"I can only hope this arrives at just the right time. Things are not what they seem. The Truth in this may be nothing but a lie. But, I am just a forecaster of where the winds might blow. Oh, the raging fires that will come. Beware! Beware! For this is the message I have received. "

---Nox

XOXOXO Signed with a winking kiss.

[Yekaterinburgz]

Thorne calmly walked into the White Oak, he'd made a nice amount of money from his last job and he looked forward to spending at least some of it in here, one of the more reputable Inns he'd visited, ordering a pint from the barmaid he watched another elf seemingly hassle the barman, scanning the room Thorne saw the usual motley mix of humans, dwarfs and elves, sitting on one of the bar stools he relaxed, glad to be sitting down after several days on the hunt through the grasslands.

John Aeli was disgusted by the large amounts of what he thought "Animals" roaming around. Before he joined the Royal Army, he had the dirty job of being a tax collector and never gave a second thought on whether or not they were human or not but now he had to. Now he had to not just fight off beasts from an "uncivilized" land but to fight FOR these elves and creatures. He whispered to the other soldiers nearby that "keep at the ready, it's what our supremes would want."

"You there, elf. What business do you have here" he asked trying his best not to sound attacking in his delivery. The elf looked like a suspicious one and if there's one thing Aeli valued was not trusting creatures unlike his own, just look at the Kryzyga.

[Videssos]

Malachar Silann,
Delanosou

Malachar knew that in order to find Osserc, wading into the dens of barbarian lesser races was a necessary evil. It still irked him that he had to suffer being in the presence of all these worms upon whom the Light had hardly reached, if at all. At least, he thought sourly, they were not the foul and bleak Tiste Andii. An hour ago, he and his companions had stabled their pristine mounts just outside the city. He despised letting such filth as the human stable-hands touch them, but yet again; he told himself it was necessary. Few Liosan had enough strength of will to withstand the urge not to draw their blades and kill the unclean creatures where they dwelt in these lands, and Malachar was one of those who could. Most would have said that not remaining in Kurald Thyrllan would be dooming them, subjecting the pure Children of Light to the permanent taint of the impure, who unknowingly drown in foul darkness.

Refocusing his attention- and his stray thoughts, to his surroundings, he glanced at a nearby establishment. The White Oak. From what he could see through the doorway, it was certainly less filthy and raucous than most of such buildings he'd seen since leaving the Realm of Light. He saw the considering looks Jorrude, Orenas and Enias gave towards it. "It is probably time we have some rest from roaming these lands, no?" Orenas asked.
The others muttered in agreement. "Very well. Try not to draw blades because some fools give you sour looks. That incident before resulted in a motley array of heathens trying to kill us." Malachar replied.
They simply nodded this time; it wouldn't do well to slaughter too many of those cretins that dwelt in this kingdom, even if they weren't Liosan. Malachar led his companions towards the inn's door, the sunlight making their ornate white armour seem to glow, and their forms blaze like the brightest of stars. Many of the passers-by had to shield their eyes from blinding light emanating from the four Tiste Liosan. The warriors proceeded through the doorway, and warily eyed all of the inn's occupants as if they had just entered a den of adders. There was also a certain haughtiness in those eyes; three pairs of cold silver, and one of gold-flecked silver that seemed to rage with inner fire, too; as if they knew how dangerous their enemies were, and were even then confident that they would win with ease. And there were several individuals of note that Malachar viewed as more dangerous than the rest, these he kept a close eye on.

[The Blazing Aura]

Thorne calmly walked into the White Oak, he'd made a nice amount of money from his last job and he looked forward to spending at least some of it in here, one of the more reputable Inns he'd visited, ordering a pint from the barmaid he watched another elf seemingly hassle the barman, scanning the room Thorne saw the usual motley mix of humans, dwarfs and elves, sitting on one of the bar stools he relaxed, glad to be sitting down after several days on the hunt through the grasslands.

John Aeli was disgusted by the large amounts of what he thought "Animals" roaming around. Before he joined the Royal Army, he had the dirty job of being a tax collector and never gave a second thought on whether or not they were human or not but now he had to. Now he had to not just fight off beasts from an "uncivilized" land but to fight FOR these elves and creatures. He whispered to the other soldiers nearby that "keep at the ready, it's what our supremes would want."

"You there, elf. What business do you have here" he asked trying his best not to sound attacking in his delivery. The elf looked like a suspicious one and if there's one thing Aeli valued was not trusting creatures unlike his own, just look at the Kryzyga.

"I have a business of removing YOUR criminals from society" Thorne answered immediately disliking the human's tone, "Because you don't seem to be doing a good enough job of it." Thorne took another swig from his drink, "I also protect those towns and villages that the army doesn't bother about. For a small price of course but thats how anyone makes their living, right?"

[Mondrova]

Ellessar Delanosou, The White Oak

Ellessar carefully sipped at the fine bottle of red wine he had been given. He considered its flavor as he drank it. A somewhat earthy flavor, but sweet with a fruit as well. Undoubtably from the vineyards to the southwest, on a hill somewhere facing the sun. Smooth but at the same time a kicker. All in all a good wine for an inn. Of course in truth he was only vaguely interested in the wine, he had tasted much finer blends in his time on this world. However, it did give him the appearance of being preoccupied with something. In actuality he was scoping out the rather odd scene of the White Oak. There were many odd figures present in the room, still that was to be expected, after all Delanosou was a quite a multicultural place.

He did, however, note that there were certain figures who deserved more attention. The first was a group, the new arrivals who had just entered the White Oak and were now rather obviously staring at everyone. He recognized them as those annoying Tiste Liosan, a bunch of self righteous xenophobes. He had the thorough displeasure of visiting their lands. The people had been openly hostile and irritating to the point of being deadly. On several occasions he had been tempted to magically saw their lips together and melt their eyeballs simply so they could no longer berate him with their constant drivel. The only good thing about that trip had been how much he had taken from the vermin. He had scammed them good, sold them some fake gold, jewels, and jewelry, all supposedly enchanted to bring fortune and wealth. After that he had broken into the wealthiest household and taken some bits and pieces then set it ablaze. It was very unlike him actually, but he felt that those Liosans deserved it. He has a rather pure hatred of them as a species, why exactly is unknown, even to him, but he embraces it. After he had glared at them for several minutes while drinking his wine, he turned his attention to the pair that really interested him.

The first was a she-elf, and from the look about her she was quite powerful, well that or she has quite the ego. Or both I suppose, the two usually go hand in hand, he reflected. She looks to be just a little dangerous, but then she's not my type anyway so at least I don't have a reason to talk to her. I mean she looks nice but I've seen better. Still, definitely a look of power about her, should make sure not to tell that at any point. His gaze then shifted to the other, the man in cowl. Now him, he's got a look about him, of someone you don't want to even see around you, let alone talk to. A smell to, and my nose never lies. This in a certain sense was true, 68 years ago he had been looking for a rare mushroom that is used in making some of the most potent poisons. It normally takes a habajav, a small pig, years of training to find them, and they cost a fortune, literally. As such he had elected to have some mystic from the North do, what she called, a sensory tune-up on him. Since the nose was how the habajav's found the mushrooms, he needed a better nose. Long story short, he had a quite painful magical surgery, that left him in agony for 5 days. However, after those five days, he found he could smell, really anything from a mile away if he wanted. Many instances though, this was not a good thing. Still he found his mushrooms and made his money from them. Since then though he had noticed that sometimes he could almost smell a persons self. And that one smells foul, covered in blood and evil. I'm not staying here with him slinking about. He got up and walked over to man from the Royal Army. He had a look of contempt about him, directed towards the non-humans. Ellessar ignored that this time, and simply said as he walked by. "Might want to watch that one talking to the she-elf over there." He then walked right past them. He approached the door and without a word moved past those vile Liosan's with a contemptuous look.

[Yekaterinburgz]

John Aeli was disgusted by the large amounts of what he thought "Animals" roaming around. Before he joined the Royal Army, he had the dirty job of being a tax collector and never gave a second thought on whether or not they were human or not but now he had to. Now he had to not just fight off beasts from an "uncivilized" land but to fight FOR these elves and creatures. He whispered to the other soldiers nearby that "keep at the ready, it's what our supremes would want."

"You there, elf. What business do you have here" he asked trying his best not to sound attacking in his delivery. The elf looked like a suspicious one and if there's one thing Aeli valued was not trusting creatures unlike his own, just look at the Kryzyga.

"I have a business of removing YOUR criminals from society" Thorne answered immediately disliking the human's tone, "Because you don't seem to be doing a good enough job of it." Thorne took another swig from his drink, "I also protect those towns and villages that the army doesn't bother about. For a small price of course but thats how anyone makes their living, right?"

"Sounds to me like there's more scum because of creatures like yourself, quite honestly. Your small price comes with no honor like that of what I do, defending the good people of Altryca while beasts from foreign lands try to overrun us all" Captain Aeli said with one hand on the hilt of his sword. "Why don't you just go ahead and leave hunter, you give true men of honor a bad name."

[The Blazing Aura]

"I have a business of removing YOUR criminals from society" Thorne answered immediately disliking the human's tone, "Because you don't seem to be doing a good enough job of it." Thorne took another swig from his drink, "I also protect those towns and villages that the army doesn't bother about. For a small price of course but thats how anyone makes their living, right?"

"Sounds to me like there's more scum because of creatures like yourself, quite honestly. Your small price comes with no honor like that of what I do, defending the good people of Altryca while beasts from foreign lands try to overrun us all" Captain Aeli said with one hand on the hilt of his sword. "Why don't you just go ahead and leave hunter, you give true men of honor a bad name."

"And you know of honour then? that surprises me" Thorne retorted, "you know human i actually wonder how many battles you've been in, how many times you've actually seen the people or creatures you're army is fighting, instead of only hearing the rumours. Besides its obvious that you haven't got much brain left, for you've just walked into an inn where over half of the people sitting in it have been offended by what you said. and I'd bet my last drink that they're all armed, doesn't look good for you does it?" Thorne noticed Aeli's hand stray towards the sword, "Don't even think about it, I can manipulate time to my advantage, I could draw my sword and chop you're head off before you've even pulled yours halfway out its sheath." Thorne knew inside he couldn't really do that, perhaps the first part yes, but he wasn't good enough to carry out the whole threat.

[Escalan Corps-Star Island]

Castle Delanosu, Altryca

---

Nemmerlas' audience with the King had been satisfying, at least. For seven years- a short time to him though an eternity to others- he had wandered, searching across the lands of the First Expanse for the one thing that could save them from the coming darkness. And find it he did, buried deep in a sunken, ruined library at the roots of a mountain, far away in the forgotten south. The lost book had told him but a little before it was destroyed, but the rest he had pieced together from his vast knowledge of the legends if that world. Beneath Obdural Vyraxn, in  an obsidian vault, lay the Heart of Darkness, a enchanted volcanic stone that had twisted the Kryzyga aeons ago, corrupting their human or elvish nature, morphing them into the demonic beings they now were.

And so it was that the only was to end the compulsion that had been laid on them by this ancient power was to destroy it. But no hero of legend had ever faced an Ancient Power and live- so who was to say that Nemmerlas could do the same? He sighed and put down the scroll he held, runes and glyphs marked in smooth, flowing lines on its tan parchment. He picked up the note that lay on the desk beside him, shaking his head in amused disgust. She never tires of baiting me, does she? 'Unending' indeed. . . However, there was the small matter of the Rose. Worrisome indeed, since the Kryzyg were gearing up for war. He shook his head as he set it as well to the side. The Archmage had seen many winters yet, but never before had he been this uncertain of the fate of the Kingdom.

A knock on the door caused the great man to stand, ermine cloak swirling as he stood. How cold the castle became at this time of year. . . Or perhaps it's just my weary, aging bones, he thought ruefully. Taking two long strides, he opened the door. Outside stood a boy, a messenger. He couldn't have been older than twelve, and as such was filled with awe of the great, majestic figure before him.

"Sir," he began respectfully, voice quavering, "I bring a message from the King. He says to tell you the Kryzyga attacked a border post last night and killed forty men. The war has begun again in earnest, he says. Let Altryca take heed." Bowing, turned and sprinted away.

Cold dread and icy fear wrapped claws around Nemmerlas' heart, the sort that he had not felt in centuries. Our time draws to a close, then. . . He turned to the east, looking out across the square wherein lay the market. Sadness creased his brow as he surveyed the pandemonium below. Soldiers scurried to and fro, mothers clutched wailing children. Stalls were overturned and trampled in the chaos. And it was but a foretaste of what was to come. . .

[Crazy girl]

The White Oak - Aiyana

Aiyana was not happy today. Her imbecile servant prepared her the wrong drink for the wrong time of day. She would probably kill him, but she could let him suffer a few hours first. She came into town today to replenish her stores of herbs and such and also to complete some personal shopping. While in town she decided to partake in a drink and maybe a small vacation from her home at her favorite Tavern, The White Oak. As she entered she nodded to the owner who knew her and headed to her table in the back corner of the establishment, sat in the seat with its back to the corner and waited. The owner would send her her regular, a botle of red wine, a bottle of gin, and whatever their meal of the day was. She hoped it was fish.

Unnoticed by the room, as she moved across it most of the taverns patrons watched her unabashedly, and she watched them. However, she did it with a little different intent. She noticed the Captain, the dwarves, the shadowy man she couldn't quite place, and the man who sold fake potions in the market. She intended to have a talk with him, but she was content just relaxing for now. She noticed their demeanors, and calculated their sobriety, and figured out the best way to kill them, just in case.

The red paint on her nails caught the light of the torches burning in the tavern, it was the exact same color as the red, skintight, leather body suit she wore which was accented with black lace and gold jewelry. A gleaming ruby inset with onyx blazed between her breasts. He black thigh high boots had red lacing, gold buckles, and red spiked heels. Her green eyes burned as they pierced the darkness with an uncaring stare and her fire red hair fell in braids around her.

As the owner of the tavern well knew, Aiyana began to play her lyre, so that anyone who so wished would hear it. She played quite often and was very good at it. She used to depend on it when she traveled and it saved her many a night. She began to sing while she was playing, she sang one of the most well-known epics of the area, of dragons and great battles, of kings, queens, and shining knights. She played a few songs and put her lyre away, sure she would play again later.

A man sat at her table, he thought she was pretty. She could smell the dirt and the alcohol on him as he asked if she would like to accompany him. She just laughed, and as the smile vanished from her face, the poison seeped into her voice as she said, "Men are useful for only three things, plowing fields, wielding swords, and making children. Two of those things I can do alone and if you want to still be able to perform the lattermost you shall vacate my vicinity immediately." She smiled warmly as he stood and began to walk away, "Thank you". She said cheerily.

At that moment her nourishment arrived and she began to eat and drink...goody, it was fish..."Maybe I should make a friend...", she muttered to herself.

Ravelin quietly observed the woman from afar. Before whatever...this was had taken him over, he would've thought she was pretty; beautiful, even. Now, she felt nothing but the want-no, the need- to watch the life seep from her. It would be wonderfully elegant, yet so simple. Just a thought, and the Shadows would dart forth, end it. He'd bring her pain. It'd be great. Anyone who tried to stop him, he could kill too. Add even more fun-

You're better than this.

Fat chance.

Exhaling shakily, heavily, he fought off the need to kill her slowly, violently. The presence of the Living Shadow retreated slightly, as if to say, "I'll give you this one." He sighed in visible relief. "Wine," he whispered to the barmaid as she passed. Some nice red wine would help. It had to.

Otherwise, he didn't know if he could help himself.

Standing, ever-shakily, he approached the woman, who emitted authority. Sitting across from her, he said in his raspy, deep whisper, "I think you should leave." He didn't know if he could keep in his hunger for the kill. He didn't want to test himself, either.

The White Oak - Aiyana

The amount of alcohol necessary to inebriate a centuries old elf with power akin to that of creatures that no longer walk this world is almost impossible to come by, let alone actually imbibe. However, Aiyana had a special knack for it. She was about a quarter of the way there and already bored. No one enticed her anymore, no one excited her anymore, most beings were dumb and dull. Nothing happened these days, the world had fallen into a lapse of action. Beings of her stature and power were no longer needed. She mulled over thoughts of possibilities of her future when the Shadow Man spoke to her.

She smiled at him, "That is an interesting prospect. However, I think I much prefer to be here. You know, usually one does not approach another and simply tell them whay you think they should do. That is very rude." She chuckled at him, "You think I know not what you are? What dark powers you possess? Or vice versa? I am incorruptable and beyond the taint of your shadow. Now, if you would like to have a seat and take part in discussion, by all means, be my guest. Otherwise, disperse yourself from my presence and leave me to my drink before I become agitated." She smiled blindingly at him awaiting his decision. He was thin, before he had pacted with the Shadows perhaps he was beautiful, perhaps he could be saved, but she was not one to force her ideals on someone.

She then noticed the altercation brewing across the room. Usually she would intervene. But, today, at this moment, she was occupied, and not even really interested. Why not let them beat the hell out of eachother? It might be interesting to watch. Her gaze traveled back to the poor boy before her...yes, he used to be very attractive, and in a dark way he still was. She let a single, solitary wave of power, enchantment, and influence roll off her body across the tavern. Just about everyone in the room would want her attention now...her enchanting was flawless, she brought hordes to their knees as a baby.

[Shadyrya]

Ravelin quietly observed the woman from afar. Before whatever...this was had taken him over, he would've thought she was pretty; beautiful, even. Now, she felt nothing but the want-no, the need- to watch the life seep from her. It would be wonderfully elegant, yet so simple. Just a thought, and the Shadows would dart forth, end it. He'd bring her pain. It'd be great. Anyone who tried to stop him, he could kill too. Add even more fun-

You're better than this.

Fat chance.

Exhaling shakily, heavily, he fought off the need to kill her slowly, violently. The presence of the Living Shadow retreated slightly, as if to say, "I'll give you this one." He sighed in visible relief. "Wine," he whispered to the barmaid as she passed. Some nice red wine would help. It had to.

Otherwise, he didn't know if he could help himself.

Standing, ever-shakily, he approached the woman, who emitted authority. Sitting across from her, he said in his raspy, deep whisper, "I think you should leave." He didn't know if he could keep in his hunger for the kill. He didn't want to test himself, either.

The White Oak - Aiyana

The amount of alcohol necessary to inebriate a centuries old elf with power akin to that of creatures that no longer walk this world is almost impossible to come by, let alone actually imbibe. However, Aiyana had a special knack for it. She was about a quarter of the way there and already bored. No one enticed her anymore, no one excited her anymore, most beings were dumb and dull. Nothing happened these days, the world had fallen into a lapse of action. Beings of her stature and power were no longer needed. She mulled over thoughts of possibilities of her future when the Shadow Man spoke to her.

She smiled at him, "That is an interesting prospect. However, I think I much prefer to be here. You know, usually one does not approach another and simply tell them whay you think they should do. That is very rude." She chuckled at him, "You think I know not what you are? What dark powers you possess? Or vice versa? I am incorruptable and beyond the taint of your shadow. Now, if you would like to have a seat and take part in discussion, by all means, be my guest. Otherwise, disperse yourself from my presence and leave me to my drink before I become agitated." She smiled blindingly at him awaiting his decision. He was thin, before he had pacted with the Shadows perhaps he was beautiful, perhaps he could be saved, but she was not one to force her ideals on someone.

She then noticed the altercation brewing across the room. Usually she would intervene. But, today, at this moment, she was occupied, and not even really interested. Why not let them beat the hell out of eachother? It might be interesting to watch. Her gaze traveled back to the poor boy before her...yes, he used to be very attractive, and in a dark way he still was. She let a single, solitary wave of power, enchantment, and influence roll off her body across the tavern. Just about everyone in the room would want her attention now...her enchanting was flawless, she brought hordes to their knees as a baby.

Ravelin doted on her each and every word, doing his best to contain the want-no, the need to kill her. A small smile found his lips. "One must be either wise or very foolish, to tell one of Us that we cannot do harm upon you." His smile grew. "I think the former." As his blood-red wine found its way down his throat, he said, "If you do prefer to stay and engage in talk with a killer born and made, by all means, do." Thumping his finger on the table in a steady rhythm, his smile grew into a smirk. Feeling her attempt at seduction, which certainly worked on the majority of the gusts, he let out a slight chuckle. 'Twas hard to resist, but the evil that dwelt within him was much more powerful. An ancient power, it was, imbuing his relatively young body with a ability far beyond one of his years. One so young shouldn't possess anything so powerful, yet he did and he knew that some part of him loved it.

Part, young one? I would believe all of you did.

No. Not yet, my...master. Not quite.

In no means letting his mental struggle be noticed, Ravelin continued his beat.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

[Yekaterinburgz]

"Sounds to me like there's more scum because of creatures like yourself, quite honestly. Your small price comes with no honor like that of what I do, defending the good people of Altryca while beasts from foreign lands try to overrun us all" Captain Aeli said with one hand on the hilt of his sword. "Why don't you just go ahead and leave hunter, you give true men of honor a bad name."

"And you know of honour then? that surprises me" Thorne retorted, "you know human i actually wonder how many battles you've been in, how many times you've actually seen the people or creatures you're army is fighting, instead of only hearing the rumours. Besides its obvious that you haven't got much brain left, for you've just walked into an inn where over half of the people sitting in it have been offended by what you said. and I'd bet my last drink that they're all armed, doesn't look good for you does it?" Thorne noticed Aeli's hand stray towards the sword, "Don't even think about it, I can manipulate time to my advantage, I could draw my sword and chop you're head off before you've even pulled yours halfway out its sheath." Thorne knew inside he couldn't really do that, perhaps the first part yes, but he wasn't good enough to carry out the whole threat.

"All armed you say? I imagine everyone pulling out a weapon and swinging will only end in disaster if you things are as smart as you claim to be. How dare you threaten me anyhow you troglodyte" Captain Aeli said as he tipped over the elf's drink purposely spilling it on him. He took a step back and mouthed the words "Oops" with a pouting face to mock the elf. "Get up, I'm going to teach you some true manners barbarian."

[The Blazing Aura]

"And you know of honour then? that surprises me" Thorne retorted, "you know human i actually wonder how many battles you've been in, how many times you've actually seen the people or creatures you're army is fighting, instead of only hearing the rumours. Besides its obvious that you haven't got much brain left, for you've just walked into an inn where over half of the people sitting in it have been offended by what you said. and I'd bet my last drink that they're all armed, doesn't look good for you does it?" Thorne noticed Aeli's hand stray towards the sword, "Don't even think about it, I can manipulate time to my advantage, I could draw my sword and chop you're head off before you've even pulled yours halfway out its sheath." Thorne knew inside he couldn't really do that, perhaps the first part yes, but he wasn't good enough to carry out the whole threat.

"All armed you say? I imagine everyone pulling out a weapon and swinging will only end in disaster if you things are as smart as you claim to be. How dare you threaten me anyhow you troglodyte" Captain Aeli said as he tipped over the elf's drink purposely spilling it on him. He took a step back and mouthed the words "Oops" with a pouting face to mock the elf. "Get up, I'm going to teach you some true manners barbarian."

"You need to know what manners are before you can teach them" Thorne replied, "I'll battle you sure, though it won't be hard." Thorne got up drawing out both his swords, whispering an incarnation under his breath to speed up his time frame, using this speed to his advantage he knocked Aeli on the head with the hilt of his sword, slowing his time frame down again he spoke "I'm sorry was that to fast for you, shame. I've got plenty more up my sleeve."

[Memnoch de Marbulia]

The White Oak - Aiyana

The amount of alcohol necessary to inebriate a centuries old elf with power akin to that of creatures that no longer walk this world is almost impossible to come by, let alone actually imbibe. However, Aiyana had a special knack for it. She was about a quarter of the way there and already bored. No one enticed her anymore, no one excited her anymore, most beings were dumb and dull. Nothing happened these days, the world had fallen into a lapse of action. Beings of her stature and power were no longer needed. She mulled over thoughts of possibilities of her future when the Shadow Man spoke to her.

She smiled at him, "That is an interesting prospect. However, I think I much prefer to be here. You know, usually one does not approach another and simply tell them whay you think they should do. That is very rude." She chuckled at him, "You think I know not what you are? What dark powers you possess? Or vice versa? I am incorruptable and beyond the taint of your shadow. Now, if you would like to have a seat and take part in discussion, by all means, be my guest. Otherwise, disperse yourself from my presence and leave me to my drink before I become agitated." She smiled blindingly at him awaiting his decision. He was thin, before he had pacted with the Shadows perhaps he was beautiful, perhaps he could be saved, but she was not one to force her ideals on someone.

She then noticed the altercation brewing across the room. Usually she would intervene. But, today, at this moment, she was occupied, and not even really interested. Why not let them beat the hell out of eachother? It might be interesting to watch. Her gaze traveled back to the poor boy before her...yes, he used to be very attractive, and in a dark way he still was. She let a single, solitary wave of power, enchantment, and influence roll off her body across the tavern. Just about everyone in the room would want her attention now...her enchanting was flawless, she brought hordes to their knees as a baby.

Ravelin doted on her each and every word, doing his best to contain the want-no, the need to kill her. A small smile found his lips. "One must be either wise or very foolish, to tell one of Us that we cannot do harm upon you." His smile grew. "I think the former." As his blood-red wine found its way down his throat, he said, "If you do prefer to stay and engage in talk with a killer born and made, by all means, do." Thumping his finger on the table in a steady rhythm, his smile grew into a smirk. Feeling her attempt at seduction, which certainly worked on the majority of the gusts, he let out a slight chuckle. 'Twas hard to resist, but the evil that dwelt within him was much more powerful. An ancient power, it was, imbuing his relatively young body with a ability far beyond one of his years. One so young shouldn't possess anything so powerful, yet he did and he knew that some part of him loved it.

Part, young one? I would believe all of you did.

No. Not yet, my...master. Not quite.

In no means letting his mental struggle be noticed, Ravelin continued his beat.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Aiyana smiled at him and poured herself another glass of gin, "Darling, I have been a murderer since before the light cast that shadow that wishes to control you. Tell me, what did you gain out of making this pact? Does it make you happy? Are you at peace?"

She once again noticed the altercation, and saw the man tamper with time, "Excuse me one moment." She appeared before the group of men, "Excuse me gentlemen, I was just wondering if the two of you thought fighting was absolutely necessary? Could you not settle this dispute in a more civilized manner? And if you must bash eachother could you please do it outside so as to not disrupt the peace in this fine establishment?" She allowed a wave of pure seduction to roll off of her as she disappeared and was back in her seat before "the one who had pacted with shadows".

She continued to drink, "I apologize for that, sometimes I feel like a public service announcement. Would you like a drink?" She motioned tot he bottle of gin and her hand accidentally brushed against his skin. "It ios a bit stronger than that wine you have."