As Isador reached out to touch the orb, he realized that a round deep red glass object floated towards it out of his fingers. It placed itself gently among the other mass of marble like figures inside it. He was so close now, and as he touched it, he fell forward, the last thing he remembered being waking up in a high vaulted room embellished by silver and gold, a terrifyingly beautiful man hovering above him, before he fell unconscious.

All dreams are as one. Iktash hateesh.

The fire amongst the shadow. A lone construct, a fortress of ebon stone, held aloft by its own will, above a sea of writhing shadows. A fire demon fortress.

All wills are as one. Atas hateesh.

Faces blurred by. Faces of demons. Esofar, a youthful warrior. He had never seen the demon before his short trial in their guardian citadel. Isador tried to comprehend... tried to understand... but he could not. He was an unwilling observer. Were these his memories... or those of the human he had seen? No... genetic memories... but how... why? Another face - Kalkatha. His tremendous frame dwarfed his sons, and in his right hand an enormous curved sword whose infernal light illuminated the entire realm. Motion within the darkness...

A friendly face... that of his father. A demon, too, of considerable scale, towering over Isador's derelict perspective. But he was not fighting. He was dying. His face, bristling with lengthy violet tendrils that could be conceived as almost a mane of twisted hair, aloft in cosmic wind, and exotic, angular sets of horns, with lengthy, needle-thin magneta teeth. The moon - the human moon - in the sky behind him. Isador was too young then to understand what was happening around him, but in this vision, he knew his master was near-death. His lord had said something then. Something he couldn't remember. Magnificent, reverberating whispers coursed through his thoughts but he could not understand them. It was the last time he had ever seen one of his kind, or felt the lifeblood of his homeland.

Isador felt a deep sense of sorrow trickle through his weightless mind, but he could not respond to it. The whispers continued to echo through him, drifting his consciousness beyond dreams, into an infinite nothingness.

Athenos became reclusive during their journey, merely nodding when communication was required. His mind was preoccupied with other thoughts, meditating at every opportunity. He delved deep into himself; into his own dark mind. There, Serena was waiting, and his talks with her became regular.

"How must I proceed? The gods will not hand back your power if I ask nicely."

She chuckled, tickled by his response, "You are adorable when you are sarcastic."

He looked at her dully, rolling his eyes, "Do you have a plan?"

"That which is mine shall return in due time, the gods cannot keep what is not their right. And once that power that they retain has returned to me, I shall once more be free," she took a breath, "but for you, my little knight, you enter the realm of reverie to reclaim it. There, they shall not know that which you explore; it is only a secret ancient guardians share."

---

He opened his eyes, withdrawing from his world of introspection. He did not know what lurked in the forest ahead, but he had little concern for whatever terrible creatures there were, so long as they bled when he cut them.

Fridolf, Martin, Dan, Athenos and the princess were camped a good deal east outside of Rallos two days after the party met with each other. While it was not as large as Astron, it was the only city they had seen since leaving the forest around the capital city. They ran into very few people, the princess pulling her cloak hood high for some of them and letting it rest easily for others. She was most often at the front with Fridolf, and when this strange behavior of her covering herself and then uncovering herself happened he did not comment on it.

Fridolf had sent Martin to eavesdrop and to buy the much needed armaments for the princess. He returned now to their camp, the sun low in the sky, Fridolf and Dan talking a ways away about regionally herbs, their medicinal purposes, and toxicity. Catching eye of him, they stop their conversation and the party sits together, Martin placing the things on the floor before the princess. She immediately pulled out two leather wrist and arm guards and expertly laced them up her arms, she seemed almost giddy pulling out a bow next, and a quiver of arrows. Fridolf barked a laugh. "Just like your father are yea?" He asked, watching her struggle a bit more try to figure out how to properly attach a simple short sword to her waist.

"It isn't the quality I had hoped, but it will suffice," she said sheepishly, giving up on the sword for then, "can we train, Fridolf?"

"Ah, soon, princess. First we must here what Martin has to say," he said.

"Nothing." Martin said simply. No one talked. "I asked a few shop owners while shopping if he heard anything, nothing. I want to pubs, nothing. No one is talking about the royal family, and the rumors of monsters are just now reaching this protectorate," he smiled guiltily, "sorry. There isn't anything to report."

"Well, maybe that's for the best then, that means they have no reason to believe you'd be going to Pryti, doesn't it? Come then, princess. I will train you," he pointed to Dan and Martin as well, "you two come as well." He looked at Athenos carefully, and not having a bow or arrow in his hands thought better than to ask. After several hours, the princess sat with Athenos. She had looked better than she had in days while she was practicing, and she was almost smiling when she came to sit by him. They didn't say anything, but he knew she was watching him. He shot her an inquisitive look.

"My father insisted the royal family learn how to use a bow and arrow, but I was the best at it," she explained, "he used to say I was just like my mother. A peculiar thing to say, as the queen is particularly horrid with her aim," she said, not making eye contact, intent on just talking. She tried several more times to start a conversation, and finding herself unable to she finally asked Athenos, "who do you talk to while we're walking, or while you meditate?" He did not answer right away, so she continued quickly, "When you meditate you do not speak, but as you walk your mouth moves. My father and I...we have a bond. I can't describe it. When I was younger, I was in the field behind our estate up north, and I broke my ankle. I was there for eight hours, but after the sun set it was he that found me first. He said it was a gift, from my mother, but he was always bitter in it, I would always become sick when I was younger from it and I didn't know what it was let alone how it worked, which would drain me more..." she trailed off. "I feel I owe you an explanation for it. It has greatly endangered you. It is urgent I find Pryti, you see, because it was she that gave my father the cure to my sickness. I have over exerted already, extending my kindness to the man you killed and the one you injured. And now I hear a voice every minute I'm awake, asking me what I have to offer..." again, she trailed off. Dan, Martin and Fridolf concluded their training, and started walking towards them. "But you cannot tell anyone of it," she said grabbing his arm and speaking in a whisper. She looked like she had more to say, but the others were upon them then.

"We will camp here tonight," Fridolf said, "if we leave at daybreak then we will be at the forest's edge tomorrow morning."



Isador awoke groggily, finding himself underneath the cathedral-like ceiling, the moonlight glimmering through pained windows. All around him he saw mortals, gods, and everywhere in between reading, practicing, or meditating on the magic of the place. They were a variety of styles that spanned many hundreds of years. Isador tried to stand up, but he was weak. He must have been asleep for days. The same terrifying man came upon him. "You have come for something," he said to Isador, "but what is it? The knowledge that we hold, that traps men for hundreds of years must not be new to you...so why then are you here? What do we have to offer you?" Isador did not answer immediately, a glimmer of a red book sitting abandoned on a side table catching his eye. He walked up to it: DEMONOLOGY. He flipped through the pages...the wars of his fathers were here and at the end, in fairly newer pages, was his own battle with the mortal outside the orb.

Isador's eyes traced back to the man, who still stood at ready. An eerie, unsettling aura surrounded him and this strange world. It was connected to the orb he had touched... but how, he knew not. Who was this man, and why would he offer information when the guardian of the orb had nearly destroyed him? Isador tried to trace his location through the shadow realm... but it was beyond anything he had been to thus far. The man seemed patient as he ran through his mental checklist of possible events leading him to this locale. His hand instinctively ran across the scar of Esofar's charge, which still burned with his recent exertion. He was vulnerable here.

Isador studied the man before him. Who was he? Could he even be trusted with the information of what Isador really sought? If he knew... Isador could not fight such a creature. Not now. There was great power and responsibility in the words of his father. Words he had yet to understand. Words that were intentionally hidden from him. Words he could allow no other to hear. He dared not utter of their existence.

"I seek to restore that which was lost. To undo the old scars and -," Isador caught himself. "I seek to commune with the elements of this world as I do the darkness. That I may unite them."

The man before him looked deep into Isador's eyes. "I see that my appearance deceives you," he said, his mortal appearance fading. "I have taken the form of something you had feared, and it had been that man you fought outside my domain," he walked to the edge of the cathedral, and the wall became translucent. The man was dead on the floor, but Isador's own body was not there. "That man tried to force his way back in, and when he could not he sought to seek the path below this cave. But it did not lead here. And when he came up and saw you, he felt threatened, he wanted to guard 'his' knowledge. It did not end well for him. Tryvali will surely not so much as miss their embassy for several months, and he will be here, rotting on my floor."

When Isador turned back to his companion, he had changed in form. He was much taller now, and his skin was a teal that cracked in many places like old bark. His posture straightened menacingly, although Isador notice his hand impulsively go to his side on several occasions, only to drop. He stepped away from the wall again, and it became opaque. "I am Justifar, Guide of all knowledge - mortal and not. My retainers," - he swept his hands over the mortals, gods and spirits alike, all in study - "and I spend our days learning, talking and philosophizing. I do not know everything, but I know where to find it," he said. Justifar walked ahead of Isador by many paces, winding up and down rows of activity. "All who are able to come here are able to stay as long as they so wish. We are on the summit of neutrality - fighting and needless bloodshed will not be tolerated," he said firmly. He picked up a book casually, flipped through the pages quickly and put the book back. "Artifacts do not leave the room. The only thing that will leave with you is the knowledge you receive from the books, but once you leave you cannot come back, I can say it no simpler." He paused for a second, reading another book quickly, and placed it back on the shelf. Before striding on.

"You are very guarded, Isador," he said carelessly reading through another volume, "but fear not. The retainers here have no intention of ever leaving. And the ones who do not stay are quite unable to remember anymore than what they read in my tomes." He handed a set of books to Isador, titled THE ELEMENTS volume i-iii. "This should give you the information you ask for," he said "but the knowledge you seek is elsewhere in my library. Unfortunately, I am bound to only guide those who ask - and those that search end up quite lost."

"To myself," he answered truthfully, before getting up and moving away from the others so he could meditate.

Isador shuffled through the first volume. The man was speaking the truth. Within this tome contained the information of water and air... with such knowledge he could... well, practice would be required. Such wisdom was surely deprived of his fathers in their hour of greatest need. He considered the implications of this. In knowing how to commune, he could sense the elements through his shadow fonts... even project them... Isador's mind sorted through the information as he studied the first tome.

"You asked me what I sought," Isador said, scanning through pages, building a mental library. "There is a language as old as the shadows, the language of the shadow essence, that which is written in the lifeblood spilled across barren worlds long forgotten by all but the eldest demons, yet bonded to every splinter of our kin. Our experiences and memories, words and actions, and indeed the sources of our strength, are written in this phantom tongue, bound to our essence. Our genetic memories. I seek to understand this language, that I may uncover its secrets."

Did he know the implications? Did he care? Isador studied the man carefully.

"I see," Justifar said to Isador thoughtfully, " you seek the ways of your tradition to accomplish your means...but for what ends I care not. Follow me." They walked in silence, far from the others, in a secluded part of the library. Isador had the feeling that this section had not be touched in a hundred years, but it was meticulously cleaned all the same. Justifar picked a book off the shelf and handed it to Isador. All the books in this section were old, worn and faded. "I don't know what the book says or what these patterns mean," he said, pointing to the runes on the front, "but I believe this is what you are looking for. Call on me if you need me for much else, but I afraid I am out of my...element....in these far reaches of my library. Take great care, Isador, the path you are choosing leads to great destruction," but even as Justifar said it, Isador doubted the man felt it would sway Isador in the slightest.



Athenos, Dan, Martin, Fridolf and the princess all slept soundlessly through the night, awaking at different times to keep watch. They left at dawn as planned, Fridolf making sure that everyone knew about his own apprehension for going into the forest, though when asked neither he nor the princess would speak as to why. Within hours they could see the treeline. Only a few kilometers left to go, Fridolf stopped, made a great show of stretching, and continued forward muttering that he wasn't a coward. They trees began gradually, pulling them in until the open field behind them disappeared. "It'll be another few days to reach Pryti's home from here," Fridolf said, pointing up at the terrain again, "we are about to come upon a pass around giant stones. Luckily it is dry and warm, the switchbacks are brutal in the winter..."

He trailed off suddenly, beckoning to the others to stay silent. They paused in their path, Fridolf grabbing for a hidden dagger the group had not seen before. The princess backed up hastily, putting distance between her and the direction Fridolf was looking at, but nonetheless pulled out her own bow and readied an arrow. Athenos and Dan drew their weapons now, five men, all in the apparel of guards, came upon them from the front. Hearing a twig snap, Athenos turns his back on them and sees another three guards, creeping from behind. All eight had bow and arrow to the ready. "Stay your weapons, boys," Fridolf growled, "We attack them we go from 'wanted' to 'wanted dead.'"

"The armor's weak spot is in the armpits, neck, wrist and upper thighs," the princess murmured, "there is only chain there. Anything else, you will have to bludgeon through steel. If you wish to kill them make it clean, we don't want any stragglers running back to the capital." This comment even made Fridolf arch an eyebrow in surprise.

A horse galloped up to them, the Captain of the Guard atop it, sword drawn. "Gentlemen," he said, bowing curtly at the party, "we have no time for pleasantries. Release the princess at once and we will speak no more of this incident."

"Of course," the princess said loudly, "you were there at the breakfast after the fire, weren't you? You had your suspicions I would come here too," she looked at the Ring of Leaves on his armor, "how come you have not scrubbed off the sign of the former house? Are you so afraid to tel your people of your betrayal?" The air tensed dramatically. The Captain peered down at her menacingly.

Isador studied the book's cover. How could such a thing exist? Who had created it? A forefather, before the fall....? He looked to his side - the man was gone. Placing his other books on a table, he sat down, opening the tome. His eyes carefully studied the text, written in a demon tongue flamboyant and formal. Whoever had departed this knowledge was probably not even alive anymore.

Time passed. Isador knew not how much, nor cared. The more he learned, the more he attempted to unravel the words in his thoughts. But the further he understood, the more concerned he became. From what he had understood, he should have born the genetic memories of all Shadows before him. What he was instead translating seemed like a comparatively insignificant amount of information, with its scale bloated by considerable extent to encrypt its message. Was his father responsible for this? Why had he not been impartd with the wisdom of his peers? Isador's search to reveal the message came to fruition sooner than he expected, for the words were the simplest aspect of it - the emotions and energies that laid within were even more sophisticated. Isador's completion of the cypher lead to an instant vision.

Isador blinked. He was at the dawn of his birth. Again, his father loomed overhead. Again, the feeling of sorrow and much pain.

...A shadowborn with no name. The winds shall speak of thy title - Isador - with such refute, to those who would seek thy being, and surely many shall. Know this, Isador night-born: that thee may consider me thy creator, I bear no such honor. You are a seed of Midnight. A shadow of the blood from which all other shadows are born, pure, sentient. The last drop of our lifeblood with no bondage to our doom. And so I must deprive thee of the ties to thy kin that thee surely seeks, and bind these words so that they may be silent until you are prepared. That thine enemies may search in darkness forever, without clause nor motion to guide their careless steps, for thee has many enemies. I grant thee the last of my essence - Excellion, Spire of the Night - though know that the fireborn brood of Kalkatha will recognize it, and identify my lineage. With it you may listen to the songs of your sleeping kin should you find the places they last sung, and open the gateway to the stars should you free it of its chains. Midnight smiles upon thee, nameless son... Though you shall hunger as I have hungered, though you shall yearn as I have yearned, you shall not share my fate, for I shall bleed for thee one last time, and cast your fate in darkness where you may thrive. Asta Hasheesh, our dreams shall unite again, and may the fireborn fall before your retribution. Farewell.

A terrible battle trickled through the words, as though his father was fighting at the same time he was present before him. A double image... he was losing this fight. The shadow world, embroiled with tremendous violet spires, great wyrms of light, and twisting tendrils. The only images of the world alive he had in memory. Images he had seen, though more faintly, in times previous. The words cut off, and the memories faded. His father had died, and the warmth of the shadow world had blinked out of existence with him - Kalkatha's binding spell. The shadows would sleep for all eternity. Isador growled as his haste through the tome slowed, his thoughts broiling with the emotions of the memories flooding his thoughts.

"Order your men to stand down," Athenos growled. His hood hid his appearance, but beneath the cowl a pair of eyes glowed menacingly red, anxious for blood to be spilled, "Do it, or I will ensure that you die with me. Are you willing to gamble with your life?"

His muscles tensed, sword eager to pierce into the man's flesh. He felt the demon within him urging him to strike, wishing that he say no.

The men turned their bows in Athenos's direction. The princess laughed. "How noble of you...nine on one man," she said snidely. The party looked around, already some of the weaker archers had started to grow tired of holding their bows taut. "You do not trust your own abilities, and so you must travel in a large pack?"

"Give us some room," the Captain yelled much louder than necessary. The circle of men backed up, the party protecting the princess with them. Fridolf positioned himself to shield her from the most of the fighters. It left Athenos and the Captain in the middle. The bows and arrows now pointing down, but still ready to spring into action. Athenos removed his cloak and drew his sword, frightening the archers that had not expected it. The two men walked around the circle, eyes never leaving each other. Athenos' eye caught a glint of metal higher up on the hill, wearing the same armor as the guards.

Immediately he thought they were reinforcements - five of them. He dared not look at them for so long, he changed his direction, keen to keep the back of the Captain to these new men, and the circle of archers attention on the fight while he got a better look, and saw that the man at the front of them had a now expertly bandaged arm, the four men behind him all wearing a red bandana in homage for his sacrifice. The Captain saw Athenos's gaze, and turned his head to look too...

"Turnin your back on the enemy already, are ya?" Fridolf heckled, drawing the Captain's gaze back to him before he could see the five men behind them. Fridolf had seen it too, and it gave Athenos the assurance he needed. Erik had returned, and was waiting for the right moment to join the fray.



Isador sat in the library, his quest for knowledge in vain. Nothing he read would bring him back to the influx of memories he had found before, and as Justifar had said before, he found himself quite lost in the books, reading tome after tome that looked like it might yield information, only to find nothing more. "I am sorry, Isador," Justifar said upon him again, "is there something else you would look for?"

For what little Isador had learned from his genetic memories it did him no good now. He bore knowledge of the elements, fire, wind, water, ice... for applications he'd have yet to experiment with. For some reason, his father - nay, his caretaker - had thought he'd survive best in this world. The mortal world. Born of midnight... the element of the shadow's creation... Isador knew not what it meant. But if his forefathers had seen value in placing him here, there had to be a reason.

"I seek knowledge of the mortal world and those within it."

Justifar grinned impishly. "That is a tall order, to be sure," he said, motioning Isador to follow him as they went back to the more active, lighter side of his study. "We have the histories of mankind here," he said, motioning to a bookshelf, pulling one off, flipping through it carefully and placing it back on the shelf," and beneath that the history of every region this planet, even the ones not yet discover by the men of this region." He pulled a large volume, the thickest one it would appear in the library, off the top shelf and handed it carefully to Isador, "but perhaps this is a good place to start." It was named A PRIMER TO THE MORTAL REALM, PRESENTED BY DARTE, goddess of the hunt. Inside it were maps of the world, descriptions of those that dwell there, and a brief description of their worship habits. She went into great detail about the day to day activities of men and women. "She is my favorite author on the subject. Quite thorough indeed. She took a special interest in the mortal realm." Justifar said, reaching for two more volumes, continuations of the first but when with the subheading "Magic and Uses" and the other with "Wars and Strife."

Athenos stabbed his sword in the ground, "I do not dance to the song of the masquerade. Put down your weapons," he looked at the three guards, "Unless you have a deathwish; you are outnumbered."

The Captain turned to look at the way Athenos was pointing. Color drained from his face. "Mutiny..." the Captain whispered. He rose his own sword to point at Erik, but he did not have the choice. An arrow from one of Erik's men hit the steel plate garden his chest. Four arrows followed then, and the Captain's men sent a volley of their own, neatly missing Erik's well trained men, marching in step, arrows flying. Fridolf took the chance and cracked his fist over the back of the guard nearest him and the Princess, Martin and Dan quickly joining the fray. The princess was behind Athenos now, Fridolf in front of her, creating a human shield, but no one seemed to want the princess hurt...in fact, stray arrows seemed to miss the three of them entirely when they should've hit their mark. Erik's men now too close for arrows, the men pulled out swords. It was impossible to tell who was on who's side. It was only by discipline that Erik's men did not get as confused as the rest of them. Erik had quickly sought his mark on the Captain. "Get the princess out of here," he said to Fridolf's party as one of his men served as a momentary distraction, "they are confused, you will get no second chance."

Fridolf grabbed the princess' hand, she instinctively grabbed Athenos's in return, who barely had time to grab his sword. Seeing them running, Martin and Dan followed in the rear, cross bows drawn. "They're escaping!" The Captain roared, Erik still hammering down him, "After them!" But already two of the men were wounded on the ground, the others engaged in combat. One broke away, running after the party, they neatly shot in the leg by Dan, making him stumble and fall back. Away from the clearing, the sounds of fighting far behind them, they finally stopped to rest, everyone panting heavily.

"We have run right into the lion's den," Fridolf said bitterly to the princess, who looked sicker still.

"Have faith," the princess struggled to say. They were still for some time, waiting. The sun was setting before Fridolf risked starting a fire for the night. Immediately after it lit, they heard footsteps. Everyone braced except the princess, who seemed content not to move.

Erik came around the bend, his four men in tow, two of which were carrying a nearly unconscious man. They threw the man aside roughly, who groaned in protest. "May we share your fire?" Erik asked. Fridolf nodded, and he sat before it. He and his men slumped over, pulling out their hard rations. "The Captain escaped, but the others are dead except for this man," he looked at Athenos. "You were ready for a fight when my partner and I were upon you outside of Astron, and yet here you did not move? Your chivalry almost cost the princess her life; they would not have taken her prisoner - at least, not for long after," he grimaced, "with any luck, he will think twice before coming after you again...we got lucky we caught wind of his ploy. I still have men stationed in the capital city...but it will be much more dangerous for them now," he held resentment for his actions in his voice.

"Unavoidable," Fridolf grumbled, "If you had not forced their hand now, it would've happened sooner over later. I reckon the Captain won't go running back, saying his men defected against him. I doubt he has much control over his men in light of all this," He looked meaningfully at the princess, who did not make eye contact. He turned his gaze and looked at their prisoner. "What will we do about him?"

Isador sifted through page after page. He knew he was searching for something, but he didn't know what. His father's... last words were intentionally vague. Perhaps he had thought that Isador might have fallen, and that something or someone might have been able to decipher his genetic memories. Isador scoffed at the notion. But without a direction to work from... he opted to work at any possible angle.

Isador noted that some men had been worshipping demons, particularly those of the fire sect. Water demons were rare, and with the Shadows asleep, the fireborn were largely uncontested other than internal clan wars. The Gods had, for some reason, largely ignored the fire domain. Perhaps they lacked the strength to challenge the fire demons upfront. Inner conflicts between humans, however, seemed likely as a result of inner feuds. Nothing that served Isador's efforts, though. Isador noted that between the large human kingdoms, considerable tensions had been forming. They seemed nearly poised for a much larger conflict. The missing king in the locale region didn't do much to remedy the tensions.

Turning his attention to the maps, Isador sought possible positions of strength. The current region he was positioned in was largely void of magic, he had already concluded this. But if others had a region... something he could draw upon... he might be able to locate a nexus that he could devour. As safe as Darkfall was, Isador considered he may have to forge a more permanent base of operations, especially if he located a font of some nature.

"I will miss your company, little knight."

"An odd thing to say; you do love to amuse yourself."

Serena moved close behind him, playing with his hair. Athenos sighed.

"Were you always this playful?" he asked dryly.

"Mffmmfl mmfflf."

"My tunic is not for chewing."

"I said, you're no fun," she pouted, "when you get to be as old as I am you may understand."

"I am as old as you are," he retorted. She smiled, maintaining a look of complete innocence. It was difficult to think someone so childish could have been one of the three guardians. He noticed just how cute she was and looked away, "Now you have me doing it."

"I have been witness to love more strange," she chuckled, still playing with his hair.

"And your witness should stay just that; yours," he returned, before realizing what he had said. It was fortunate she let it slide, perking up.

"This is the last time we meet; fate may be fickle, but in this it is set. Farewell, little knight."

Her voice faded and he opened his eyes to the mortal realm around him. He laid on his back, rummaged a piece of dried meat from his pack, and chewed on it while staring at the sky. It didn't take long for him to drift to slumber; he had never felt so relaxed.

Sorry I'm not going to be posting for a day or two.

Post has been edited 1 time(s), last time on Jun 19 2012, 5:25 pm by Tempz.

I swear said im said I'm not going to be posting for a day or two

I SWEAR ITS A CONSPIRACY I'VE TRACKED YOU DOWN (not you nude)