Rising from the ash..

[Moridanu]

*Smoke rose in the horizon, the grey ash seeming to reach up to the fading red sun that painted the sky with the blood of the dead with outstretched limbs, clinging in desperation to the hope that the sunlight had offered. But as the sun was completely absorbed by the thick acrid smoke, the sky grew as dark as Moridanu’s heart. She looked back, far behind them towards where the smoke was coming from. The city of Bendelsain, once the shining jewel in her Kingdom, was now nothing but a burning mass of horror, the stench of the burning flesh of the dead still riding high on the wind. Her beloved Kendelah had only just survived the second wave of the attack, only to be conquered by Lucien and his horde of evil minions.

The thought of the Lord of Darkness sitting in her throne, tainting her childhood home with his evil ways, filled her heart with a heaviness that made it hard to move forward. But move forward she must, and she forced her head to lift up as she fixed her eyes upon the back of the head of her beloved Terrance. She shuddered all over as she thought of how close she had come to losing him.

She watched his straight back as he barked orders at the flanking soldiers, sending them off to scout the road ahead. The party that they led was considerably smaller than the army that had gone up against Lucien and his army of darkness, but they were her people and she would die to protect them. She knew that since the defeat of Kendelah and the subsequent disappearance of Crowe that she had failed them all. The thought of Crowe being truly gone from her life once and for all was more than she could stand, and she knew that she had gone deep within herself in an attempt to protect herself from the pain. The man that she loved, the Demon Auditor, had stepped up in her absence and had led the survivors into this mass exodus from her former home, and she knew that she would be forever in his debt. Quickening her pace, she walked until she was beside him, and keeping pace with him she reached out to take his hand in hers, their fingers interlacing in a way that felt familiar and safe. Offering him a soft, sad smile she had to look away before the tears that had been threatening to erupt, did so again. She had no idea where they were headed, but she hoped that it would be to their new home. They needed somewhere to lick their wounds, and to rebuild their shattered army; somewhere that they could regroup and plan their attack on Lucien. She would take back her home of Kendelah if it was the last thing that she did in this world. And with her beloved beside her, and the spirit of Morthika in her heart, she hoped that even Lucien and his millions of minions would be nowhere near strong enough to stop her.*

[The Demon Auditor]

The Demon Auditor walked among the troops, feeling more uneasy as a general directing the army of Morthika than he ever felt directing armies of demons. Not that he ever did that much, to begin with. He was used to running solo ops; corrupting souls, stealing lives, implanting demons, and other such fairly evil stuff. His life turned around completely when he met Moridanu, and as much as he had resisted it, she was solely responsible for his new powers and station. The responsibility, though, was not something he expected. Moridanu's spirit had been crushed by the defeat at Kendelah, and he was now forced to take command with no one else available to step forward. Other generals were either missing in action or taking care of business in other areas, paving the road ahead.

When Mori's fingers slipped into his, he turned to her only to see her face away from him. It was clear to him she needed to rest, but there were still too close to Kendelah. It was possible Lucien would send his troops after them and try to finish off Morthika entirely. For what was Morthika without Moridanu? His coat flapped around him, partly out of anger, partly from the wind. He was bruised and cut in many places, and without the healing powers of a shape-shifter he used to have, they would remain until he figured out what to do. The black spirals along his arms felt powerful, but even he did not know the extent of their power. He recalled a moment in the battle when he had actually held back when he felt himself losing control. He was going to question himself for a long time about whether he might have helped turn the tide if he had just unleashed his true potential.

He held hope only in the wooded mountains to the north. He remembered Moridanu telling him once of all the races and independent city-states of elves and men around the realm of Morthika. It was a conversation he wished he remembered better, for at some point he had fell into distraction and missed most of what she said. That was the old Demon Keeper. A selfish, petty, worthless man. Yet somehow Mori had seen something in him. With her help, he'd become a better man. The man she needed. And he was happy to change. After what felt like eons of the same "evil" drudgery, his life felt like it had become a cheap foreign cartoon. Now there was something to live for. Someone to live for.

A mounted scout rode up to them in the march, and saluted. Terrance winced in anticipation of another rejection. So far three of the closest cities had turned them down for aid and shelter. He didn't blame them; if word got out where Moridanu and her people had landed, Lucien would surely send an army to attack, regardless of opposition. The scout spoke, "Sir, I bring word from the elven city of Mirwelleth. Their chancellor, Bromand, welcomes us with open arms and wishes an audience with the Queen immediately."

"At last, a bit of good news," sighed the Demon Auditor with a small smile, "How far from here?"

"Five hours on foot. Their city is well guarded, we should be able to make camp there for a few days."

A few days. It was more than he knew they'd get, but at least it would be a reprieve. They would have to move on from there very quickly after arriving, but at least they would receive aid. He gave Mori's hand a squeeze, hoping she'd react to the good news.

[Moridanu]

*The ground on which they walked was familiar to her. It was close enough to Kendelah to mean that she had played there with Crowe as a young girl. She gazed about her in wide eyed wonder at how the raging war had ravaged the landscape, forever changing it from the paradise of her childhood. Trees had been uprooted, mountains reduced to layers of rubble, deep aqua pools of tranquil water transformed to bubbling pools of tar like poison. The tears that had been building at the corner of her emerald orbs spilled forth as she thought about all the devastation that her home had seen in the past few months. So many lives were lost, so much hope had been destroyed, only to be replaced by Lucien and his corrupt darkness.

Moridanu felt herself sinking into a level of despair she had never known. Crowe had always been the one to pick her up in her times of woe, to make her laugh at herself and the current situation and to always see the light at the end of the tunnel. But Crowe was gone, lost in the battle at Kendelah. They had told her he had died, that she must remember the good times they had shared and to let his memory rest with dignity. But deep within her soul, she knew that he was not dead. He had been created for her, and they had felt a deep connection ever since the moment that he was born. Although they were now separated by space and time, Moridanu still felt that connection. Terrance had comforted her, told her that Crowe would “always be with her” and she had just nodded, knowing that he would never believe her. But she just knew that Crowe was still alive, somewhere out there. And as soon as she had recovered and rebuilt the army of Morthika, she would find him and bring him home where he belonged.

The arrival of a soldier on horseback brought her mind back to the present, and she could not help but notice that the soldier saluted the Demon Auditor beside her, and not the Queen herself. She knew that this was her own fault more than anybody else’s, but was surprised by the fact that she simply did not care. For the first time since her inauguration, Moridanu Darkflame toyed with the delicious prospect of no longer being Queen of Morthika. She would love nothing more than to drop back into the crowd of people trailing behind them, to let others lead for a change. Terrance had proved to be the strong leader she had always known he would be, and she had faith that he would lead the others to rebuild their shattered lives, and maybe (one day) to victory. She looked over to him then, her eyes drinking in his handsome features as the soldier delivered his news. It appeared that one of the neighbouring cities had finally welcomed their arrival, this news pleasing Terrance enough for his lips to curve into a slight smile. Her eyes fixed on his lips, and for a moment, she wished that they were alone. All she wanted in this world was to curl up in his arms – to share one sweet kiss and then to succumb to the peaceful slumber that had been calling to her for the past few days. With the battle never ending, Moridanu had gone the past eight days with no sleep, and before that she had only caught a few hours rest here and there. She ached all over her war ravaged body, the shoulder she had dislocated during her last battle with Lucien throbbing incessantly. Terrance squeezed her hand, causing her to look up at him, offering him the hopeful smile that she knew that he wanted to see.

It was indeed good news that a neighbouring city had finally welcomed them. Although she understood the hesitance of the first three cities, she could not help but harbour a bitter resentment towards them nevertheless. Kendelah had always defended her neighbours whenever they were in times of need, and it pissed her off no end that they had not been prepared to do the same. Of course the fear of incurring Luciens wrath had stopped the others from welcoming her kin into their city, but the fact that they had not trusted Moridanu to protect them should this indeed occur, merely proved to her that she had lost her connection with the people of her kingdom. She felt weaker than ever when the soldier announced that although the chancellor Bromand welcomed them, he requested an audience with her at once. Weary to the very core of her being, Moridanu nodded her head and spoke quietly. ~Of course..~

As Terrance began to ask how far it was until they reached the Elven city of Mirwelleth, Moridanu tuned out again. The Elves had always been a close and strong ally, and Moridanu wondered briefly if they still made the drink she had discovered when she had first visited Mirwelleth so many moons ago. She heard the soldier say ~ Five hours..~ and then sent her own guard to pass the word on to the rear of the pack. As he rode off on his steed, she smiled her thanks at the soldier who had delivered the news before he rode off ahead of the party to keep an eye on the road ahead.

Alone again with Terrance as they walked several metres ahead of the pack, she looked over at him once more.

~The Elves will welcome us with open arms, and I shall meet with Bromand as requested though I doubt what hope I can deliver in m'current state..~ She gestured at her bloody and bruised body, her once glorious auburn curls plastered to the side of her head with blood that had only just began to dry from a particularly nasty gash she had received courtesy of Elyza. ~All I ask is that once we have had the meeting as requested, yemay find me a warm bath and a comfortable bed large enough for the two of us to sleep a thousand years..~ She squeezed his hand, smiling up at him before she reached up on Tipp toe to plant a kiss on his cheek. She heard the few women that were at the front of the pack behind them sigh in contented bliss, happy to see their Queen standing strong beside the man that they believed would be their future King. Moridanu’s brow furrowed at the implications of their thoughts as she strode on ahead, willing her tired body to keep going for five more agonising hours.

There was still so much left unsaid between them, the war inconveniently postponing the long overdue discussion they had been owing to each other for so long now. Although the night stretched ahead of them, she hesitated at saying what it was she longed to say. In an echo of the frustrated tears that slipped down her cheeks, the heavens above finally released their hold of the dark clouds that had been forming over the few remaining people of Morthika. Thankfully, the rain fell softly and was somewhat refreshing against the sore and battered bodies of her kin. Reluctantly letting go of his hand, Moridanu used the rain as a shower of sorts to begin to wash away the crusted blood on the side of her head. She winced as her fingers grazed the still fresh graze, causing more blood to seep from the wound. Glancing over at Terrance, she worried about the wounds on him that she could not see. She knew that he had made great sacrifices to be with her, relinqueshing some of his previous powers for ones he still did not fully understand.

Knowing that one of them would have to speak soon, she cleared her throat as she fixed her eyes directly ahead.

~I... uh.. wanted to thank ye.. I know .. I .. I have not lived up to m'peoples hope for me as a Queen.. I have let them down, somethin' I will carry with m'for the rest of m'days... But .. You.. you have saved me.. and them.. ~ her eyes turned to his briefly before she looked away once more, blinking the tears from her eyes, grateful for the distraction of the falling rain. ~I thank ye M'love.. both for m'people and for m'self.. Without ye.. I don't think I would've left Kendelah alive..~ *

[sabis]

'Sabis has been acting as a scout and skirmisher for the Queen's refugee's since the city fell. After ensuring the survivor's had all fled, he snuck back into the city to try and find more holdouts, maybe some in hiding or a resistance, and found none. He found several noble heroes however on the fields that deserved proper burial. A heroic paladin, clad in scales of silver, afew dwarves he knew by their outfitting to be commanders, the dwarves leader, an enourmas man with a hammer, all dead. He had to kill numerous demons to get in and back out of the city, but he finished his task before taking on the duties a ranger would be proud of. But without holy ground to rest and recuperate on, and his powers severely drained from the battle, he is having to rely greatly on his skills and wisdom and less on his might.'

'The Quickening powers that feed him grow weak, and it is easy for those who saw him in battle to see it. He is running on less then one quarter of his power, and he conserves energy in any way he can, even having sheathed his katana in a real sheath instead of hiding it within his cloak. He has not had the chance since the battle to rest and recover his array of ranger spells either. After the soldier leaves though, he comes out of the shrubs and high grass and reports to the Queen, pulling his hood down.'

M'lady. The area ahead and behind is clear for a distance of two miles. To the sides we are clear for half that for certain, though i saw nothing nor did Imowen past that. There were afew stragglers at the back of the column I had to help catch up with the body of the refugees, and several of them seem to be ill, I'm guessing they ate some of a local mushroom variety I have discerned to be mildly poisonous to humans. I would suggest we warn them not to eat anything they find without it being checked first.

'He didn't tell Mori where he was after they fled the city. He's his own free man, he owes nothing to these people, but he is a GOOD man, and won't let them just die without helping. He has nothing to lose by it anyway. But these people touch him, speak to his honor, and he did not wish to see their heroes unburied. Among the bodies he didn't find were those of her closest advisors and escorts, people he looked for so he could bring word of their fate. He found no evidence either way, indicating either escape or capture. He stays walking with the Queen for now, awaiting further orders.'

[Moridanu]

*Moridanu looked up with weary eyes as she saw the hooded ranger approach from the trees. As he removed his hood, she recognised him to be Sabis, the young and brave ranger that they had been fortunate enough to welcome to their army during the battle of Bendelsain. He had no ties to Moridanu or to Morthika as a whole, yet he had chosen to stay and fight for what he believed was right and Moridanu thought absently about Knighting him. It had been the tradition of Kendelah for as long as she could remember, to reward such a loyal soldier with the highest order of the Morthikan army, but without her beloved home, and now with the throne tainted by Luciens evil ass, she had no tradition to fall back upon. All she had was the man beside her and the loyal people that followed them wherever they may lead.

Despite her weariness, the smile that she bestowed upon Sabis was bright enough to make the dark clouds above them appear as if the sun was finally struggling to shine through. But the sun had now slipped from the sky for the night, and beyond the dark clouds, the first stars of the night had begun to wink into existence. The moon, Moridanu’s largest form of energy of which she may tap into, stayed hidden for now and she sighed heavily as she willed her body forward while Sabis presented his report.

She nodded, gasping slightly as she learnt of her sick people at the rear of the pack. Immediately, she turned and told one of the nearby guards to ride back and warn them all not to eat anything else until they arrived at Mirwelleth. Turning now to Sabis, she smiled at him again in gratitude of his service.

~Thank ye Sabis. It is comforting to know that our path ahead appears clear, at least for the time being. On behalf of m’kin, I thank ye for your continuing support of Morthika.~ her words felt hollow, even to herself, a small token of the gratitude that they all owed this brave soldier. Recognising in him a weariness that she felt in her own bones, she reached out to thump him once softly on the shoulder and then twice on his chest above his heart, a gesture that Morthikan soldiers had used for centuries to welcome their brethren home after battle. ~When we arrive at the Elven City, m’men shall see to it that ye are rewarded with a warm bath, a hearty meal and a comfortable place for ye t’rest and heal. We have received word that we should arrive in Mirwelleth in around five hours, just before midnight. If ye would be so kind as to go on ahead of the party, to ensure that the entire route is clear of danger, I would forever be in ye debt?~

She gasped then as she stumbled slightly, her weary body warning her that she might not be able to walk for another five hours. She knew that her people were just as tired as she, however they had not been Lucien’s personal football for over ten hours, nor found themselves on the receiving end of Elyza’s warped sense of torture. Squaring her shoulders, she tried to walk on bravely, but found herself leaning more against Terrance for support as more time passed. *

[sabis]

Thank you, m'lady, but I need no such honors. I am a far older man then I would appear, and the need for such accolades has long since fled from my desires. I am here because my honor demands it, and because I know you are a wise and caring ruler deserving of defense. I didn't tell you, but I saw your coronation ceremony, I have been this way before. Even then I could see strength in you, and even then without your knowledge I protected you. When we arrive, I will need not a hot meal or warm bed or bath, I need holy ground, a church or cemetery, but for the moment I am of better use among the pack. Imowen will be our eyes and ears, she is a fine hunter and an excellent watcher.

'He reaches up to his shoulder and gently strokes the head of his hawk companion, Imowen. She is a lively and intelligent animal, and significantly larger then most specimens of her breed, a perfect example of what a hawk should be, from her feather to her claws, her beak and eyes, she is a PERFECT member of her species. With a nod to her, he catches eyes with the bird and she seems to nod back before taking flight, going quickly high into the sky. He returns his gaze to Moridanu when she orders the rider back to the column, but he holds him for a moment and reaches into his pack, pulling out a pouch of dried plants. He opens it and pulls out a cloth roll, carefully preserved leaves stores within.'

I did not have time to distribute them, but each person who has eaten the mushrooms, have them chew one leaf. it will counteract any ill affects they may be feeling, though the mushroom is hardly deadly without proper preparation.

'With that he returns to Mori's side, his hood being returned to it's usual up position, covering his face in a magical shadow, that only his chin may be seen regardless of lighting or his own movements. He whispers low, so only she can hear him, and this time he doesn't speak with his strange accent he usually does, an accent that seems melded of many different regions, he speaks with his own voice, revealing a Norse or Celtic origin.'

M'lady, I will defend you to the end of this, good or ill for any of us. Should they find a way to end my lifetime upon lifetime, I ask that if it is possible, my sword, and the pendant I wear around my neck, be recovered and stored for safe keeping. Someone will come for them if I do manage to die, and will know where to find them, and will need to know how it happened.

[The Demon Auditor]

He looked down at Mori after the scout rode ahead, and nodded about the state of things. He replied quietly, "You're right...but we have to say something, otherwise it'll put us in a position even worse than this." When she mentioned a bath, he smiled and nodded again with a grunt of agreement. At the kiss on the cheek, though, his face turned red, and he glanced over his shoulder at the swooning women. Focusing his eyes forward, he wondered when the hell he'd become a stud? He used to rely solely on magic to face his enemies, now he was using swords and enchanted weapons like a warrior. It had been eons since he'd ever fought anyone so intensely as he fought for Moridanu. It was probably the reason he'd died once already...

He snapped out of it as Mori broke the silence between them and thanked him from her heart. His face burned hot again, and he swallowed hard. He couldn't have been solely responsible for saving her life, there had been tons of other people willing to stand beside her and fight. His was but one sword among many, right? But, he knew she also meant he'd saved her heart, perhaps. Nodding, he looked to her as she fought back tears, "It's okay...everything will be alright. We'll get this all cleared up here soon and take back what belongs to you." There had always been a lingering thought in the back of his head about what would happen if he and Mori were ever married, but everything still belonged to her, and he was sure there'd be resistance if he ever even entertained thoughts of taking command from her.

With the approach of Sabis, he vaguely remembered the ranger and nodded in acknowledgment. The news of poison mushrooms didn't surprise him; likely the whole land would be poisonous soon as Lucien's influence spread from the throne. It still amazed him how closely tied to the castle Morthika was. But, when the monarch is divinely made for the purpose as Mori had been, one would have to assume things like this were possible.

He could feel her leaning on him heavily now as they walked, and understood she wouldn't make it five hours. He mulled over Sabis' words to Mori about protecting her from afar, but left it for later. As soon as Sabis stopped the rider, Terrance pulled Mori aside as well. "We'll wait here a moment and secure us a horse. We need to move ahead and speak with Bromand as soon as possible so they can make arrangements for us and our host." Suddenly he felt cheerier, having used a word he'd almost thought he'd never use to refer to a large group. Ah, the little things. He motioned at the guards to keep the column moving.

Sabis had more words of encouragement for Mori alone, and Terrance smiled, but he would not respond on Mori's behalf. He patted Mori's back to make sure she could stand on her own, before moving away to 'secure' the horse he'd mentioned before. With his back to the column and everyone else, he spread his trench coat and lifted his head, shutting his eyes tightly to concentrate. It used to be simple to conjure what he needed from the depths of his coat, but now his coat had become its own entity...alive and writhing around his ankles in irritation. He still only wore the black trousers and boots he'd materialized from the coat before the fight in Bendalsain, and blood covered his chest. Fresh blood from a still open wound trickled down his side until it met the hem of his pants, disappearing into the blackness to not reach the ground. With the physical abuse of his wounds taxing his body, his energy to manipulate the coat was weakened, allowing it to whip wildly about him as if in a blazing gale. Moments later, the coat seemed to burst in every direction, allowing a black-spotted white horse to leap from its depths right past him, and stamped onto the ground before him. The coat settled down and resumed its annoyed rippling at his feet, but he was visibly fatigued.

Bent over with his hands on his knees, he looked up to study the horse. It seemed ordinary enough; no demonic-looking markings, no wings, no snakes for hair, or red glowing eyes... "Thank goodness for small favors," he sighed. He wouldn't know how to explain a demon steed to the people of Kendelah marching on behind him -- at least this way they could see he was indeed a mage of sorts. He stood up again and clicked his tongue at the horse, which obeyed him completely and walked beside him back to Mori.

"Steed secured," he breathed heavily, "Sorry, couldn't find the saddle...I know I left it behind the hay, but things must have gotten all jumbled up in there when the shit hit the fan in Bendalsain. I'll have to do my millennium-cleaning early this season." Without even a command, the horse bowed before Mori, then settled on the ground for them to get on.

[Moridanu]

*Terrances’ promise that they would sort this horrible mess out and reclaim what was rightfully hers was like a thin straw of hope that Moridanu clutched to with both shaking hands. She had never felt more confused or alone, a feeling that caused her entire being to feel somewhat hollow. As the rain continued to fall all around the weary heads of Moridanu and her exhausted people, she listened to Sabis, a slender arched brow the only sign of her surprise at hearing him describe himself as much older than he appeared. Compared to her many years in this realm, she considered anyone less than a few hundred years old to be “young”, especially if they were human as well. This ranger however, was clearly more than he appeared, and she would probably have found the whole situation rather intriguing if she were not so tired.

She was more intrigued by his disclosure that he had been at her coronation however, this statement further puzzling her as to his true age. His praise for her strength and the revelation that he had protected her even back then rendered her speechless and she could only gaze at him in awe, her eyes glistening with tears as memories of the coronation and her unfulfilled hopes and dreams merged as one in her already exhausted mind. She smiled her thanks, and dipped her head in gratitude, nodding as he told her what he would need once they reached Mirwelleth.


~If all ye need is holy ground, then I shall see to it that ye are taken t’the Meneiah Burial Grounds as soon as we arrive. I was there many moons ago t’bury a dear friend and can testify first hand as to its holy healing grace.. Both m’self and m’people thank ye for staying with us. I shall feel better with ye travelling by our side..~ she trailed off sadly at the mention of his hawk.

Moridanu watched as he stroked his beloved companion before sending her off into the skies, unable to help but wonder where Crowe was and if he was even able to take to his avian form in his current situation.

Absently, she noticed Sabis approach the soldier that was about to ride to the rear of the pack and hand him something, though her attention was more focused on the falcon that was now nothing but a speck in the sky. She longed to take her own avian form, to fly high into the air and to lose herself in the feel of the wind ruffling her feathers, but it had been so long since she had left her corporal form and without Crowe flying beside her, the whole exercise seemed pointless and even more painful as memories of them both flying together flooded her entire being. She was grateful for the pouring rain as it disguised the fresh wave of tears that were now slipping down her cheeks.

She suddenly became aware of Sabis speaking directly to her, and she blinked back the tears, hastily wiping them from her cheeks before she turned to nod and smile at him. ~Of course, if that is ye wish, then it shall be honoured. And I thank ye for ye continued service..~ She offered him one last smile, before her attention turned back to Terrance walking beside her.

He appeared to be thinking something over, if his quiet demeanour and slightly furrowed brow were anything to go by. She shot him a questioning look, which appeared to be enough to bring him out of his self imposed silence to pull her closer to him and suggest that she wait a minute while he found them a horse. The thought of not having to walk the many miles to Mirwelleth was enough for her to stop dead in her tracks, causing the guard behind her to hold up his hand, signalling to the party behind them to stop as well. She heard the sighs of relief from her exhausted companions and took a deep breath as her head threatened to drop down in frustration at her inability to lead her people into victory. Terrance however had other ideas as he motioned for the guard to move the people forward. Moridanu stumbled wearily to the side of the road as the lead soldiers led the group forward while five of her personal guards stayed with their Queen. The feel of Terrance’s hand on her back still caused the electric shivers to run throughout her body, even though it was merely a pat on the back before he moved off to find them a horse.

As the people walked past their Queen, several turned to offer her hopeful smiles, which she tried her best to return. Although her whole body wanted to collapse into a trembling mess by the side of the road, she forced herself to stand with her back straight and her head held high, the epitome of the Queen that her people deserved. So focused was she on meeting the gaze of any of her kin that should happen to look her way, that she failed to see how Terrance suddenly had become the owner of a beautiful white horse with black spots. She grinned at him in approval and offered a slight shrug of her soldiers when he mentioned his inability to find a saddle.

~Never mind.. I have been riding bareback since I was a young girl.. saddles are just for padding.~

She giggled as the horse obediently bowed in front of her, before it lowered itself down so that she could climb aboard. Throwing her legs over the wide girth of the horse, Moridanu was grateful for the fact that she would not have to walk the remainder of the way, but instantly felt guilty for her people who must soldier on unassisted by horses. She shimmied forward on the horse, waiting for Terrance to climb on and sit behind her. Once he did, she would thankfully sink back against his strong body and allow her body to rest before they reached their destination. *

[sabis]

'Sabis nods to the Queen when they are done talking, then turns and heads more towards the front of the group, but stays well within eyesight of her. As he turns away, if her eyes as be keen as his own, she may notice and remember something from during the battle. His cloak, and his clothes, are just riddled with holes, large ones from harpy spears piercing his back. the holes are deep and wide in the fabric, and have dried blood on them, but the few small patches of skin visible through them are perfect, flawless, unmarked by scar or scratch. And something about his eyes when his hood is down... he may appear very human, if dissected noone could find any physical, visible differences between him and any other human. But something has sustained him well beyond mortal years, and something healed fatal wounds. The front of his clothes were caked with dirt and mud from his fall from the church tower, a fall long enough every bone in his body should be broken, but her he stands. His eyes have seen centuries upon centuries, and his knowledge of the world would be nigh impossible, even for a man to find in three lifetimes.'

'But he has seen the rise and setting of hundreds of thousands of days, thousands of years. More then a millennium and a half has he lived, and still goes strong. He is one of the oldest of his kind, an Immortal, killable only through the separation of head from neck. They are a breed of wanderers, warriors, poets, and everything in between. They seek each other out, fight, and die by the hands of their own brethren, until eventually only one shall remain. What separates him from his kin, however, is his personal tastes. Most of his people will hide and intermingle with th rest of civilization, moving from place to place and living full, human lives all over the world, many places, many people, many experiences. But he has never changed. He was born a nomad, and will die as such.'

'But for now, it is not his own death he fears. He fears for these good people. He has seen this same story cycle in many places, with mixed results, and he won't let the ill end befall this country. His power is not infinite, but it is vast, and he will wield it all in defense of these good people. He wonders silently to himself if Moridanu has ever heard of his people, if anyone here knows of them. Wonders if perhaps a Watcher is among them, a human member of a hidden sect that tracks his kind and records their lives. He chuckles quietly to himself, considering what his Chronicle would show, and how long it would be. Most of his folk don't make it past six or seven centuries before their head is taken, he's one of the few to have made it over the thousand year mark in all history.'

'But for now his place is here, protecting a Queen and her people, gathering more war stories and more tales to tell. More of the world seen, more of it's history to keep for himself, or pass on to whomever is skilled enough to take his head.'

[Camus]

The little creature hurried alone the line of refugee’s, excusing himself politely. He looked like a small mess of dried blood and tangled, matted fur. He waved at the group of Gnomes, hurrying with the crowd, the poor little creatures were so small they had to walk twice as fast to keep up, they were all that was left, exhausted and terrified. They cheered for him as he hurried past; he was their saviour, a title that made the blood rush to his sullen dirty cheeks. The rain started. Camus giggled in delight, it almost felt like the rain was washing away all his disappointment and shame. He stuck his tongue out and tried to ‘drink’ he suddenly realised how thirsty he was, how thirsty they all must be.

He hurried further along, a few of the soldiers knew him, they waved and smiled, but it just made Camus feel foolish. He’d fought and fought hard, until his body was just about to give out. them he had to keep fighting to make his way out of the ground and back on land. He waved back and found what he was looking for. He tried to smooth his dark hair flat with little luck. The Queen was getting atop a beautiful horse. His oversized hooves sunk into the dirt. Camus was holding a small pile of what looked like green leaves.

‘M’lady, Your majesty!’

He said, finally catching up, a little out of breath. He bowed lowly and managed to flash a bright smile through the grime and blood on his face.

‘I’ve prepared some Oli’a bread’

He said warmly, reaching up and handing Moridanu one of the leaves. He unwrapped his own to demonstrate how to open the small package. The contents looked like very soft bread or even dough. The bread had a peculiar red tint and was covered in dried herbs. He handed one to The Other Demon Auditor and threw one of the packages to Sabis, trusting that he of all people would know exactly what the bread was.

‘It’s good for you; Lady Odessa told me how to make it when I was a baby, It has January berries in it, it’ll make you feel warm in the chest. Legends say it speeds up healing’.

He said brightly, managing to keep up with the horse.

‘Um… I know your exhausted my lady. But I was wondering…. Can you feel her? Oona I mean. I’m just worried. What worries me the most is that I can’t feel anything. If she was dead, I would know. If she was alive, I would know. But… I can’t feel anything. As if she’s just vanished out of existence. Can you feel her?’

The Faun asked hopefully. Pressing a small hand against the horse Moridanu and ODA rode on.

[sabis]

'A few hours later, after much walking, and much scouting by the ranger and his companion, they finally arrive at the great elven city. Sabis has seen several such cities, but he is too tired to not be comforted by it. He blends himself in with the crowd of people as best he can, awaiting Moridanu to make arrangements for him to be lead to the cemetery area.'

'Once there, he finds a comfortable spot, one without any graves under it, and seets himself, practicly drinking in the sacred energies of Holy Ground. His kind have but one unbreakable Rule in their Game. Holy Ground is sanctuary, they use it to regenerate, to rest and recuperate when weak. Some choose to spend centuries on Holy Ground, preferring the life of a monk, in seclusion, to a life of constant combat. Sabis is certainly not one of those. He Leaves word with the city guard that brought him here to request Moridanu meet with him, when she finds the time, but for now, he sits and rests, removing his shirt, boots, cloak, stripping down until he is wearing just his green linen pants and his undergarments. He sets to work, needle and thread to repair his clothing and equipment, his hands steady and well practiced. Thousands of times has he done this, sat on holy ground and renewed himself, his things, his views. Yet despite the numerous marks on his clothing where he's had to repair arrow holes, spear strikes, sword slashes, and so on... his flesh is strange. In that it is flawless. Whereas before there were but afew holes in the cloak showing no marks, now that he has washed his skin and removed his clothing, it shows stranger for the lack of any marks of any sort. Not one single scar, scratch, any signs of any imperfection.'

'And so he waits, so he sits, once his clothes are repaired he packs up his things into his bag and dresses himself with just a tunic and his pants, keeping his feet bare as he recuperates himself. He sits and meditates, accumulating and restoring his powers as quickly as possible for the battles that loom on the horizon.'

[Camus]

Camus felt himself nodding off. He hadn’t slept in so long; in fact he couldn’t remember the last time he had. But falling asleep from exhaustion probably wasn’t the best idea in the world. The water had long since gone cloudy with grime, dirt and blood, but he felt thoroughly clean. He combed his hands through his thick dark hair and gingerly pulled himself out of the bathtub, shaking to get the beads of water off his body.

The group had separated soon after they arrived, the soldiers needed taken care, the sick and injured were being looked after, Moridanu and The Other Demon Auditor were in talks with the leader of the Elven city, Camus wasn’t sure what his title was, a king?

Oona would have hated the city, he thought miserably, she detested the world of Elves, even though she was one, she was a different breed, what that meant she wasn’t even sure. It was beautiful, that much was true and Camus couldn’t help admit he was slowly falling in love with the beautiful city. Camus gingerly walked out of the room, an attendant was supposed to be waiting for him to show him to his quarters, but when Camus poked his head out through the doorway, there was nobody there.

‘That’s odd’.

He said quietly to himself. So Camus wandered, his natural Faun curiosity getting the better of him. He wasn’t sure how long he was walking for, but the winding hallway didn’t seem to end, it almost felt like he was winding upwards or maybe it was down. The pristine white walls seemed to slowly be taking a darker sheen. Camus stoped. He could hear voices, talking quietly, in an Elvish dialect, but very different from the dialect the elves were speaking in the city. Me crept forwards, his hooves quietly clip clopping against the once marble (now jet black) floor. Camus could see a dim light ahead, he crept ever forward, stopping at a slightly ajar door. Camus peeked through. Immediately a wave of terror griped his heart. He clamped his hands over his mouth to keep himself quiet. Sitting in a well lit room, talking quietly to each was an Elf, a Drow and a Goblin. A large jet black mirror was propped against the wall, the Harpy Queen; Pruaga was speaking to them through the mirrors glass she was one of Lucien’s top lieutenants. Camus hastily tried to step backwards, his hooves got tangled and he fell backwards, letting out a small whine of terror as he hit the floor. The talking stoped.

‘The Faun!’

Queen Pruaga screamed from behind the mirror. The door burst open. Camus scurried to his feet, everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, the Drow, his skin jet black with a vicious sneer planted on his face, pulled out a bow and let an arrow fly. Camus shifted to the side; he felt the arrow impale his shoulder with a sickening thud.

‘Nyyarrh!’

He yelped through gritted teeth. The Drow hissed, and loaded another arrow, while the Elf and the Goblin pulled out weapons; the Drow let another arrow fly. This time he was prepared, Camus flung with hands up, he had become quite efficient in calling the corners with a blink of an eye during the war. He channelled wind through his fingertips, hardening it in the process. It all happened in an instant. A larger shimmering forcefield exploded between them, the arrow harmlessly bounced off the forcefield.

‘Diad’dren’Dard’Em!’

Camus roared the Forcefield exploded backwards, filling the room with a concussive shimmering force; the three companions flew backwards, smashing against the opposite wall with a crunch. The black mirror smashed to pieces and Camus was off. He ran as fast as he could, for as far as he could. But the hallway had become a maze, and Camus had no idea where anything was.

‘Stop fool!’

The Elf screamed at Camus. He’s stopped for as second by a large stained glass window, his shoulder ached terribly, his shoulder was seizing up and he was loosing feeling down his arm. Camus snarled angrily, his hooves subconsciously grinded into the marble.

‘Traitor!’

Camus roared at the Elf, the Goblin and Drow appeared behind him, both had arrows pointed at Camus.

‘You don’t understand! They’re too powerful! They’ve been here for years!’

The Elf sneered; his eyes looked wild and crazed.

‘Septempia!’

Camus called out, slamming his right hoof against the marble. A large red bubble exploded from his body protecting him. He heard arrows crack against this forcefield; each arrow was like taking a blow to the head. Camus felt a drip of blood flow from his nose. The Elf was capable of magic, Camus could hear him working a spell, the forcefield was begging to close around Camus, he was good.

‘Blor’spektra! Um… Bluetatiria Morge’thiem, Septempia Blor’Spektra!’

Camus called out trying to stop the twisting of his own spell, but he felt the Elf’s resistance.

‘No. My name is Camus Ondessa! Ward of Oona Ondessa, Lieutenant in Queen Moridanu’s royal army!’

Camus growled, Elyza hadn’t killed him, Discord hadn’t killed him, even Lucien himself hadn’t killed him, he’d be damned if a little Elf did the deed.

‘Burn!'

Camus screamed, The Forcefield exploded.

Camus was flung from the building, out the window, he wasn’t sure where he was falling, and how far, but he could see grass, he could see a tombstone? He landed with a crunch on the grass, his already injured arm and shoulder was twisted behind him, broken. Camus could see the building he’s just fallen out of, about 6 storied tall, half the building had exploded. Camus reached out with the little strength he could muster, searching for Moridanu, but he couldn’t feel her. There was someone else. Sabis.

‘Sabis!’ He called out wearily, He was starting to loose consciousness, the world was growing dim. He wasn’t sure if Sabis was there or not, but he felt around for him, searching for his friend’s hand.

‘They’re here. Lucien’s here!’

He cried.

((Ok, Oops. Longer than i intended! Hope thats cool!))

[sabis]

'The ranger is half naked. Un-equipped. Barely armed. Wearing none of his protective gear, not even his boots. But when his quiet meditation is broken, his gear isn't on his mind. When he watches Camus fall, his defenses are ignored. When he hears about Lucien's men, his anger is all he would need. He pulls on his cloak only, not for it's protective properties, but so he can call forth his sword from it's folds of fabric, literally by magic. But not any magic of mortal man. This was IM-mortal magic. The magic of the Quickening. The same magic that, with his power rejuvenated, allows him to dart straight to the wall of the building, then race straight up it barefoot.'

'Two guards lean forward to try and see where Camus fell to, just in time did they stretch out their necks for both of them to be cleaved off with one, perfect stroke of his katana blade, the ranger landing on the edge of the broken wall and spinning his body around to jab the blade into the third guard that had been sent to investigate. No normal man would have expected the expertly executed killing stroke coming from behind as the goblin that attacked Camus came at him, but the creature's longsword finds itself deflected off Sabis's sword, the the goblin's blood finds itself splattered all over the wall and it's innards become outards on the floor, the ancient man having deflected the enemy sword with his own by placing it over the should and across his back, and in a long, fluid sweep turned and lead it go across the thing's body.'

'Two halves of goblin drop to the floor, quivering and spasming still, as the ranger looks down the hall. There they stand, the drow, and the elf. The drow has discarded the bow in favor of a pair of long blades, thicker then rapiers but not quite as thick as a longsword, and shorter still. The elf is armed with a single bastard sword, longer then the longsword but smaller then the claymore. They size him up, speaking to him in flowing elvish, knowing someone like him would understand.'

"This is not the place for you, ranger. You are VERY good, that much is clear, but it is also clear you are an outsider. This is not your homeland, if it's even your home plane. Are you even as human as you look? Are you some form of demon or angel banished here?" 'The elf spoke with a slight quiver, a bead of sweat running down his brow. He'd never seen such speed and skill from a human before that wasn't under heavy enchantment, and no way had Sabis had time to cast such magic on himself. He was half naked too, only pants and a cloak and a glove, rings on his hands, a pendant around his neck. Most items that could make a man so fast were worn on the feet. The drow, however, is much more confident it seems, and stepped forward to challenge him.' "I see you wield a very unique type of sword. Have not seen one like it before. It moves very quickly for a blade so large, but i wonder still if it can keep up with my blades...!"

'The drow darts forth, attacking Sabis, driving at him with his twin swords, assaulting from multiple angles, with complex patterns that even a seasoned human warrior would have a hard time countering. But Sabis doesn't even get pushed back. He stands there, using his blade to deflect each strike. He doesn't even dodge, just stands there, parrying strike after strike while the drow pushes at him. He continues for nearly a minute before the drow thinks he sees an opening, one his blades can't reach. He attempts a kick at the ranger, fast and nimble....'

'Only to find that leg pinned to the ground, skewered through the thigh by a katana blade that pierced flesh, bone, and then stone. The drow screams and looks Sabis right into his eyes. The big, blue tranquil oceans he usually has replaced by raging maelstroms. the pain is too great for the drow to do anything but drop his blades before his life is ended, Sabis putting full force into swinging his blade forward, cutting through more flesh, more bone as it ears free of the leg and the sword neatly, cleanly, severs the drow's head. sabis stands once more, staring coldly, blankly at the elf standing before him. Awaiting his response to his companions deaths'. He speaks, also in elvish, his accent far too well practiced and too fluent for a human to master in a lifetime.'

"Perhaps it would have been better for you, and your companions, to have not defrauded the queen or her allies. My honor demands my presence here, and I will not idly stand by and let you harm them with your cowardice. I give you the opportunity to surrender. take it, and live. Or come, strike at me, and die."

[Catrux]

((Hope no one minds if I hop in))

The half-breed couldn't stop replaying the terrifying events, he should have acted sooner, but he had purposely stayed neutral. It didn't matter to him who was in power, the attack on his Palace placed his full fury behind Moridanu. Sarushen was now an enemy of Lucien, a mistake the man would damn well make him regret.

Sarushen had been coming to discreetly check on one of his women that was currently entertaining a customer; he knew the darkness every man carried within and that made him protective of his girls, when he felt the demons approach. The half-breed broke into a dead sprint causing candles to flicker and extinguish in his wake. "Kail! Time to earn your keep! Alexandria get the girls!" He didn't know how or why he knew demons were on their way to his palace, but every fiber in his being screamed it at him. As he entered the foyer and the girls fled toward the secret exit, a moment of doubt crossed the man's mind. The calm before the storm. The heavy oak door was sent flying off it's hinges as a large demon stepped into the space it previously occupied. Looking past the hulking demon Sarushen spotted the waves upon waves behind it.

So this is how he would die.

The split second of despair and thoughts of martyrdom to provide Alexandria with enough time to get the girls to safety quickly gave way to a wrath the likes of which he had never felt before. Planting his feet firmly on the polished marble he began weaving a spell a shield of sorts. Something inside him urged him on telling him the words and gesticulations to produce the brilliant white glow that emanated from him that began to fill the room.

No he would not die here, he still had a promise to keep, he vowed to protect these women. Once he fulfilled that promise he would exact his revenge. While channeling his ward against the hordes of Lucien Alexandria had been getting the girls into the passage that would lead them safely outside the city, once the last girl was in she shouted back to her boss "We're ready to head out!" Those simple words brought a wave of relief over Sarushen, his wrath sated to a terrifying calmness. The lead demon seemed to have figured away through his barrier or at least was determined to not let his quarry escape so easily and attempted a few exhausting steps forward. "You will not follow." The glowing man stated matter of factly, before proving his prophecy true. The glow receded back into the man for a breath before lashing back out in a shock wave decimating the demons sent to his Palace.

The man's vision reeled as he finally shook the memory loose, He was back walking amongst the troops and survivors. Needing something to keep himself occupied in hopes of staving off his memories, Sarushen began trying to convince the soldiers still riding horses to allow his women to ride. Some soldiers were more than willing to allow the women the rest, while others needed more convincing in the form of a monetary bribe. The ironic part is the chivalrous ones found them selves with a larger purse than the greedy. All that was left was to find Moridanu and inform her he would be joining her cause as an enemy of her enemy. He would hold no allegiance to her, he just now wanted to reach the same end.

Unfortunately they reached the city before he was able to speak with her, surely he'd be able to get and audience with her before she retires for the evening. After ensuring his employees were taken care of and Alexandria was watching over them he and Kail would seek out the fallen Queen.

[Moridanu]

*Moridanu remained silent but thoughtful as she followed the tall elf through the long winding corridors of the palace. She had been in talks with Bromand for several hours, and this exhausting discussion combined with the long trek and disastrous battle was enough to drain every ounce of energy from her weary bones. She stumbled slightly as she walked, grateful that the elf had his straight back to her and was unable to see her in such a state.

Terrance had been taken to the quarters that had been set aside for them, and she prayed that he was there now, waiting for her. Knowing that she would be with Bromand for a while, she had requested that he visit with her kin who had been offered shelter in two large halls southwest of the Elven Army’s barracks. She would visit them herself in the morning, as soon as she had enough energy to offer them the Queen they expected to see. Right now however, she was a shell of her former glory, a lonely and battered girl who was ashamed to admit that at this exact moment in time, she would welcome death gladly if it were to be offered to her.

Finally the elf stopped in front of a large door and turned to face her with a hesitant smile on his fair features. ~Your quarters, M’lady..~ he offered her a deep bow. ~His Highness has requested that you receive everything you and your… ‘friend’ require, so please, do not hesitate to ask. I shall be right outside this door if you need anything.~ With that, he saluted her before opening the heavy door for her. Moridanu smiled her thanks, willing her feet forward just a few more steps.

Once inside, she reached back to close the door behind her, but the elf had already closed it for her. With weary eyes, she looked around the large room, her eyes opening slightly in shock as she realised that she had been given one of the best rooms in the palace. Several closed doors hinted at other rooms, but for now all she could see was the large bed at the end of the room. Four posts of the darkest wood were carved into replica trees, and their reaching branches were draped in dark green velvet. The patchwork quilt upon the bed was a sea of soft greens and browns, and the many pillows and cushions seemed to call to her weary head. With shaky hands, Moridanu fumbled her way out of her dirty, smelly and blood drenched clothes and armour. They fell into a heap on the floor and she stumbled again, banging her already bruised knees against the base of the bed. Cursing, she called out ~ Terrance?~ as she allowed her naked body to fall onto the bed. Fighting to keep her eyes open, she tried to move her head so that she could look around the room, but her thick lashes had other ideas. ~Terrance?~ she called out again, this time more softly, as her lashes fluttered closed. Within seconds Moridanu was sleeping, and within minutes she was snoring softly. Soon, dreams of Oona and Camus raced through her head. She heard screams, and smelt blood but was powerless to intervene. She did not notice the large black bird that flew up to the closed window above the bed, and did not feel its gaze as it watched her sleep with large black eyes. After a while the bird cawed softly, and somewhat sadly, before flying away and disappearing into the night.*