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On the western beach of an island in the middle of a lake, halfway between Kosha and the mountains, and far from the chaos that had fallen hard on Cythera, a figure was meditating.

Technically, she was not on the beach. K was seated cross-legged in the lake, up to her waist in water, hands resting lightly on her knees. Behind her a pair of shoes, gloves, a sash and a weapon sheath attached to a belt were neatly organized on the sand. The ends of her long blue hair floated on the water as the current gently swayed her back and forth. Although her eyes were closed and she seemed deep in concentration, her ears were carefully attuned to her surroundings. She would not slip up again.

Although she was in plain sight here, it was safe enough for now. She would hear anyone approaching before they got near enough to harm her, and in the unlikely instance that someone managed to get too close, it would be easy enough to escape them by diving into the water. Years of practice had made her an excellent swimmer, and a bit of delicate and oft-overlooked spellwork could filter oxygen out of the water, effectively allowing her to breathe underneath the lake surface.

Of course, there was the troublesome issue of the other, who quite possibly knew water magic equally well. It was this frustratingly omnipresent obstacle that caused K to be at this island, mentally poring over every tiny detail that could give her an edge. She seemed to have escaped pursuit for the time being, but if the other were to catch up it could prove deadly. That was the one person who was exempt from any precautions, any planning, any form of protection she might have, and as such time was going to be a precious commodity. K's mouth twisted into a slight frown and she sunk deeper into her mind, placing herself back in her memory from the night before.

*

Somewhere west of Kosha, a wolf ran flat-out through the forest. It was small in stature but ran with the natural ease inherent to all wolves, paws hitting the ground lightly as it darted between trees and leaped over rocks and fallen logs. Spears of moonlight that fell between branches shimmered on its glossy, navy-coloured coat. Its upright ears and intelligent eyes gave the illusion of calmness, but the breakneck speed at which it ran betrayed its rapid thought process.

K was not pleased with herself, but she was used to pressure and was determined to handle this rationally. It had only taken a few seconds for her to overcome her shock and for the danger instinct to kick in before she began running. That head start ought to allow her enough time to sift through the details and decide upon a more concrete plan.

She had discovered the existence of the other woman yesterday - the other 'her,' although she still had trouble thinking of the other as such. She hadn't seen her directly, but had stumbled across the scent of the group that the other woman travelled with. K didn't understand it, but understanding wasn't important. Escaping was important. Discovering yourself could never be a good sign and not knowing what potential threats that might bring, she fled toward the eastern coast.

Naturally, K was more than aggravated when she attempted to circle around Kosha, only to come across the scent of the group's path as they headed into the city. Of all directions they could have chosen...! She was in the midst of re-planning her route when she realized that the breeze carried a fresh, living scent toward her: the other woman was nearby, and she was alone. All her caution, training, rational fear, were insignificant compared to the overwhelming curiosity that seized her at that moment.

K felt faint with trepidation as she paced silently through the trees toward her other. Would everything else - the physical appearance, the voice, the mannerisms - be just as identical to herself as the scent was? It was difficult to believe this could actually be a duplicate of herself. The smell had to be some bizarre coincidence. Perhaps the two of them were related. But despite her skepticism, as the wolf crept closer a shiver went through her body that warm fur and logic couldn't stop.

The unnatural other was sitting on top of an open hill, which forced K to stop at the tree line and observe from a distance. She crouched in the bushes, her dark fur concealing her from sight. Her eyesight was weak compared to her sense of smell and hearing, and the angle from the bottom of the hill was far from ideal, but she could at least see her seated on the grass. Behind the woman, the moon was rising in the eastern sky, sullenly drowned out by the last vestiges of twilight.

A sudden gust of wind lifted the woman's long blue hair, and K's insides went cold with the familiarity of it. There were differences between the two - K hadn't worn a full-length skirt like that in years, and she had altered some of her hair to a darker shade while the other's remained her natural light blue - but these were subtle differences, malleable and unimportant. When the other put her hand to her lips in a nervous gesture that was so recognizable it hurt, K could no longer deny that she seemed to be staring at a duplicate of herself.

The need to be closer was irresistible. Overriding her better judgement, K did a quick scan of her surroundings. To her right, the ground rose and and the tree line extended closer to the hill. She began shifting through the underbrush carefully, trying to reposition herself to see better, but as she moved her attention was momentarily distracted. The other had stood and was picking something up. K's tail twitched with concern and she crouched lower to the ground so as not to be noticed. She kept an eye trained on the figure at the top of the hill as she continued to circle around to the right. Was the duplicate leaving?

With her attention divided K didn't notice the wind shift. The other was putting on a black hooded cloak now, and then twisting and dropping lower to the ground -

K paused in shock. How could something so obvious have escaped her? Obviously another her would have the same ability for metamorphosis, and she watched in growing horror as the other woman was replaced by a small, ice-blue wolf. Obviously another wolf would also have the same acute senses. The breeze rustling through her fur suddenly caused her to realize she was now downwind of the hill... and with that thought, the dark wolf was already up and running.

The knowledge that there was a potentially dangerous person out there with exactly the same abilities as her was what kept K racing westward at her fastest maintainable speed. She couldn't hear the other wolf in pursuit, but it might decide to track her scent later, and she was not keen on the idea of fighting herself if it caught up. Indeed, perhaps she was wrong in her estimate of the other's abilities; was it not possible that the other could be faster or stronger? The only solution was to make sure the other wolf would lose her scent, and for that she needed water.

*

K sighed as she awoke from her memory. It had been a long and exhausting trip to the lake. Her wolf body was built for running long distances, but not at that speed. Dawn had been breaking behind her as she reached the eastern lakeshore and swam straight to the island, where she collapsed into sleep, hoping that it was secluded enough to be safe.

When she woke in the late morning, the first thing she did was check nearby for signs that anyone else had been there - footprints, scents, broken flora and so on. Finding none, she changed out of her wolf form and walked down to the western shore where she would not be immediately visible to people arriving from Kosha. It was here that she left her possessions on the beach and stepped into the cool water, wearing only skintight clothing that would be easy to swim in if she needed an escape route.

Keeping her hand positioned at her knee, K made a brief gesture underwater. The lakewater coalesced and rose from the surface in the shape of a miniature woman that spun slowly in front of her. "What advantage could I possibly have over you?" she murmured to the liquid manikin. The memory hadn't given her much to go on, but it seemed like a reasonable assumption that the other woman could do anything K herself could do - and to be on the safe side, it ought to also be assumed that the other could do it better.

"I know you, though," K said to the waterform, and it slowly shifted to become a wolf. She paused, reflecting on how her duplicate had been alone when they encountered each other. "You... are... me. You left your companions because you needed to be alone, same as I would do. So if I want to avoid you... I have to do what we wouldn't be expected to do."

She knew even as she said this what it would be. She habitually avoided people unless she needed them, which meant she would expect to find herself as far away from civilization as possible. Which meant... K made a contemptuous sound in her throat. It was just her luck that to avoid one person, she would have to stop avoiding all the others. Kosha was out, of course; she couldn't know yet if her other was still there. Cademia was the next closest city.

K rose gracefully from her meditative pose and turned back to the beach to get her possessions, already forming a plan in her mind. Behind her, the abandoned water manikin dissolved in mid-air and collapsed back into the lake with a gentle splash. It had been the better part of a day since she had eaten and she felt a bit faint, so her first priority was searching out sustenance, which she probably needed to return to the mainland for. While there she could also leave a clearly marked path to the west as a decoy, then return along the same path and swim across to the north shore where she could begin the trek to Cademia. It was far from an infallible plan, but it was the best she had.

This post has been edited by iKaterei: 19 July 2009 - 09:31 PM

Dark Mirror

One day south of Cademia
Eighth Day

Silver flew lazy circles over the forest canopy. From his vantage he could see much further than the others but there was little that demanded his attention. A dense shroud of leaves hid the forest from him. What he could see was drowned in darkness. Below Talos walked in step with the glowing trail laid before him. The flashing steps were rushed and the ground was visibly disturbed. Even without Silence to guide the way the path would have been easy to follow. The gauntlet spoke to itself in its own written language oblivious to whether or not its services were crucial anymore. The night he first followed this man it was like chasing a skilled hunter. Someone well used to tracking and staying hidden in the woods. Now he followed a drunken bear. The shambling trail cut right through the forest with no regard to stealth. Maybe the man believed the group could follow him again no matter what he did. Maybe he wanted them to.

“I don’t like this.” Selax spoke up from beside him, “We’ve been after this trail for two days and it’s never turned. He isn’t trying to lose us in the forest. He’s leading us to a specific place or making a run for Cademia.”

Their formation had grown tighter as time wore on while Silver’s aerial patrol fanned wider. Wizard approached from the rear, “Perhaps he intends both.”

“Neither idea is comforting.” Selax said dryly, “If he planned on running to Cademia all along then we wasted time advancing slowly. He’ll be there by now, or soon, and we’ll have lost him. Talos how confident are you that you could track him in a city filled with people?”

“Not very.” Talos admitted. Silence had not told him anything outright but he got the sense that a large crowd would through off its ability to trace a lone man.

“I suspected as much.” Selax quieted in thought.

“If this man is indeed Raperian’s accomplice running to Cademia would make sense.” Wizard theorized, “The others headed north after the necromancer days ago. They did not return to Kosha and so must have continued north. The two might intend to meet there. If not then at the very least we will reunite with the others.”

Talos sheathed Shimmer in the back of his gauntlet, its golden light fading out as the metals bonded together, “The further we go the less likely I think an ambush is.”

“But if we aren’t cautious and there is an ambush…” Selax didn’t need to finish.

“I know.” Talos growled, not angry with Selax personally, “When I get my hands on that man it will be the end of him.”

Two kilometers south of Cademia
Eighth Day

Dark magic had a strange effect on the forest. Trees curled and twisted, frozen in a writhing agony. Their gnarled fingers reached to the heavens to beg for mercy that would never come. Every breeze was a tortured groan struggling through their grasp. The underbrush grew savage and bold with tangles of weeds and roots. They clutched at you to tear you down. They snapped loud and sharp as brittle bone. Snakes fled before the hurried steps of a man in a brown cloak. His clothes dirty from hard travel through the woods. The trek from Kosha was long. It only felt longer when you pushed.

Devlin leaned roughly against a tree and caught his breath. Damn that daemon. Damn those adventurers. Damn that man who tracked him across half the island. He marched through the forest for two days afraid to rest for more than an hour at a time. Aremis was the agent overseeing Cademia, as Devlin had watched over Kosha. The other man would patrol the area soon and feel his presence. All servants of the Master could sense one another if they drew close enough. All that was left to him was to wait.

The old warrior closed his eyes. In the last days he had begun to feel his age more than he had in years. Old scars ached and forced him to remember. The Wars of Power… They were years when his land was consumed by fire and battle. When the Dread, men and women of great ambition and ability not unlike the Master, vied for control of all they laid their eyes upon. It was a land so much like this, and yet so different.

A sudden stirring of leaves begged his attention, “Aremis?”

“Has outlived his usefulness to me.” The familiar voice was strong as still. The sound of it poured ice over his soul. Devlin’s eyes burst open and he stood bolt upright.

A young swordsman in black stood before him. His hand rested on the hilt of the ebony sword at his hip. His green cape fluttered softly in the breeze, “…Galahad.” Devlin managed a bare whisper.

“Uncle.” The man’s eyes were gems cut from midnight. There was no love in his voice. There was none in his heart so far as his uncle could tell. That had left him as a child when he watched his parents butchered during the Wars. Fear, compassion, and mercy had left with it along with the better part of his humanity. Now he was one of the Dread and one of the most terrible.

The old man began nervously. “You’re supposed to be in our world. The Master commanded—”

Somehow Galahad’s gaze hardened, “You are supposed to be in Kosha. Why are you here?”

Lying to his nephew would only end in his death. That was likely Aremis’s fate. As quickly as he could Devlin explained his situation. Galahad listened without a word. His cloak made the only sounds in a wind Devlin could not feel. Why is he here? The old warrior’s mind reeled. Few of the Dread defied the Master now and those who aligned themselves with him had come to this world already. Galahad didn’t dare challenge them on his own, not on the eve of facing a new enemy. Did he?

“One of the Daemon’s sent you to Cademia as bait. Which?”

Daemon’s did not have names that could be pronounced in any human tongue. As a matter of convenience they were given other names to be called. Always the name was a defining characteristic like Red Claw or Shriek. The particularly nasty beast Devlin worked with in Kosha had a fitting name, “Feral. He was the one.”

“To Daemon’s a bloodline is a source of pride and power. You letting one of them command you has made me look weak. I will have to make right with this Feral quickly.”

“I’m sorry I troubled you that way.” He took a step away to place more room between them. No one knew the extent of Galahad’s powers, no one had lived to tell. “If you’ve learned all you need I must meet with the Master and warn him about that man.”

“You are a cautious man uncle.” The swordsman mused, “You will tell your Master that I have come?”

Devlin ignored the mocking tone and tried to sound apologetic, “I must tell him everything I know.”

Galahad sighed, “On this you must keep your silence.”

“There are no secrets from the Master Galahad. You know that.” The old man backed away another step.

The Dread swordsman shook his head, “You disappoint me uncle.”

Not knowing what to say Devlin turned to leave and bumped into a dark figure. His muscular frame was draped in layers of torn onyx robes. He wore spiked obsidian greaves and a bladed gauntlet on his right arm. A black cloth covered his face save for his right eye. It was a ruby forged in blood, “Impossible!” the old warrior gasped, “I watched you die!” The memory was from more than a year before but it was as fresh as the day it was formed. That man tried to summon a fell beast to devour their world. Two of the Dread died trying to stop the ritual. The remaining tore the man nearly in two and forced him through the portal he was opening. They fed him to the darkness of the monster he tried to unleash and his sundered body fought against them every moment. His remaining eye smoldered with hatred as the portal closed and the darkness consumed him.

His left arm was missing when Devlin saw him last. Now it was blacker than nightmares with hellish claws instead of fingers. Striking like a serpent the man latched onto Devlin’s throat and lifted him off the ground, “I am glad you remember that day.” He said darkly, his claws biting into the old man’s flesh.

Devlin clutched at the fiend’s wrist and felt the warm flow of his own blood run through his fingers. The life that flashed before him was not what he expected. He saw a life fulfilled and happy. A life he could have had. It was the life of a good man. He saw all the choices he had made and those he regretted never making. He saw his slow transformation from a man of principle into a servant of evil. And then he saw the boy. Scared of the child as the old man might have been Galahad was still his family. He had loved the boy as his own son once and tried his best to raise him after the death of his parents. Perhaps he had not tried hard enough, for if anyone was to blame for what Galahad had become it was him. There was still hope for that to change. There was still time for the boy to be a great man, but he could not die with his uncle at the hands of this monster. Through the pain Devlin struggled to rasp, “Run boy!” Galahad was proud and one of the few never to face this creature. Devlin begged whatever gods there were that he would listen.

The gods laughed in his face, “Run?” Galahad asked softly. For a moment the edge was gone from his voice. Or perhaps that was just the imagining of a dying old man. Galahad turned away with a flourish of his cloak, “Make his end a quick one Rythan. We have places to go.”

Shadows smothered Devlin’s vision as his last questions tormented him. How did that monster return? How had Galahad come to ally himself with it? His warnings would never reach the Master. A savage jerk and Rythan’s claws came away with most of Devlin’s throat. The old warrior hit the ground in a heap and gurgled his last breaths. Rythan looked down upon Devlin’s ruined form, his unspoken promise of vengeance fulfilled, “As you wish.” That red eye glowed with an unearthly light that seemed to read Devlin’s last thoughts. Galahad, what have you done?

Somewhere west of Kosha
Fourth day

The morning sun filtered through the leaves, brightening up the forest and warming up the cool air. The night chill was slowly being blown away by a soft wind coming down from the mountains to their west. The forest was quieter than the day before, but still crawling with life.

Avatara sat with his back to a large tree, watching Beorn stooping over the lake. They had not made good time. His initial assessment had been the brown-haired man was highly perceptive of his surroundings and possibilities, the mark of an intelligent man. He seemed to know where hidden dangers were bound to lie and seemed always alert. He also was quiet and reserved, never once complaining that they risked much by traveling at night, as if he too could feel a sense of urgency.

Yet, for all his brilliance, he had packed an empty canteen. Avatara had refused to loan him any more water after he had squandered the one bottle he was given. The man seemed to lack common sense, first nearly collapsing from dehydration, then drinking too much too fast, causing him to throw up. He probably had stomach pains from the cold water too, but he didn't mention it. How could someone with such mastery of the mind have so little knowledge of the body?

It was tempting to leave him here and press on alone, but the more he thought about what he needed to accomplish, he became more convinced he would need the help of a native Cytherian when they arrived in Cademia. Avatara looked at Beorn washing his face in the lake, drenching his shirt in the process, and wondered again if this had been the right choice. He clutched the small pendant around his neck, as he did often of late, and pushed away his doubts. There may never be another chance.

He stood up, noting that Beorn would be ready soon, if he didn't collapse from suppressed fatigue, and wandered down to shore to refill his own water supply. Assuming no further delays, he guessed they could probably make the trek in two days.

Avatara grimaced as Beorn slipped on the mud while standing up and narrowly missed falling into the lake. It was going to be a long two days.

Some distance up the shoreline, a figure stood hidden in the trees and cautiously watched the man filling his canteen with lakewater. When K had come ashore, her sharp wolf's nose picked up the scent of fruit in the trees further down the lake, its warm aroma drifting temptingly through the morning air. It was a lucky break, she thought; she wouldn't have to waste time hunting.

But now she doubted her luck. It was because of this that she hadn't first smelled the man coming, having had to switch forms to pick fruit from the tree. While she ate and mused over how long of a decoy trail it would be necessary to make, the man had emerged from the trees and headed toward the lake. She saw him almost as soon as she heard him. Abandoning the fruit tree for the moment, she crept closer to investigate, hand resting warily on the handle of the flail that was sheathed at her side.

When she was close enough to see fairly well, she stopped to watch, and her worry gradually faded. The man was clearly not the most coordinated of people, and she felt confident that she could take him in combat if it came to that, though she hoped it didn't. After all her paranoia about her other following her, it was almost a relief to see someone else. K weighed out in her mind whether to approach him or not. He might be more dangerous than he looked, and she didn't especially need anything. She had food and thought she had a decent idea of how to get to Cademia. She was about to turn and slip away silently when she heard motion in the forest, about the same place where the man had come from. Alarmed, she paused to see who else was there.

Another man walked out of the forest and across the beach toward the first. Something about his stride, perhaps the fall of his hair, looked familiar, but K dismissed this thought immediately. It was impossible and she couldn't afford to be distracted. But as he approached the other man, who had just very nearly fallen into the water, and K heard the faint words "Almost ready to head off again?", she gasped as if she had been stung. She knew that voice.

Uncountable emotions washed over her like an ocean wave in a storm, flooding her mind and drowning out everything else. Why was he here? What did that mean? This could be the best or the worst news of her life, but either way, she had to find out. The curiosity that had driven her to approach her other the previous night was nothing compared to what she felt now. Heart pounding, all plans and precautions forgotten, she stepped slowly out of the trees onto the beach.

The two men were talking as the second knelt to fill his canteen in the lake. K didn't recognize the one that was half-drenched in water, but as she drew nearer she knew without a shadow of a doubt who the other was. She was barely aware of their conversation until the first man noticed her approach and pointed toward her. The second turned to look and as their eyes met from across the rocky beach, K felt as if the weight of the past threatened to suffocate her. "Avatara?" she said tremulously.

He looked older, and something in his expression seemed worn, as if the years had taken more of a toll on him than was allowed; though his comportment was grim and determined. His eyes seemed distant as he watched her walk slowly closer, but he recognized her. "Katerei?"

K flinched. "No one's called me that in years," she said quietly.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

That question gave K pause. It wouldn't do to explain to him that she was running from an apparent copy of herself; that would bring forth a whole host of other questions that she didn't want to go into, including possibly 'have you lost your mind?' On the other hand, she hated the thought of lying to him. She finally settled on an evasive, "Going to Cademia. What of you?"

"The same."

K frowned inwardly at his taciturn sentences. Clearly some things didn't change: she always hated that she could never tell what he was thinking. On the other hand... she would be safer travelling with others. At the very least she could no longer make her decoy path with these two around. She gave a sideways glance at the other man, who was watching them with a strange look. She didn't know him, but if Avatara trusted him as a companion he must not be dangerous... right? K hesitated, all her training to overcome her impulsiveness and take precautions cracking under the weight of years of repressed emotion. She put her fingers to her lips nervously, trying to rein in the storm of conflicting thoughts. What would he think of her?

Desperation won out over pride and caution. K felt dizzy as the last fragments of the plan that she had made not half an hour ago evaporated. "Let me come with you," she said.

*OoC*
The struggle that Prusa refers to is the war among the elementals. It seems to be a major focus of hers, so I thought it should at least be mentioned.
*BiC*


The fifth day

Having retrieved some of his more invaluable potions and books, Rapierian's mood was much improved.

Even better, he had earlier come across a couple of ruffians. Draining their lives had greatly restored him. Something which he suspected was about to be of great use.

As he neared the head of the river, Rapierian thought again about the person that he was going to see. He had been to see Prusa once years ago. He had been curious about whether or not she ever actually had anything to say of value. After about nine hours, when he had carried on a one-sided conversation with her and the magess had carried on a one-sided conversation with who knows what, he had heard only one or two things of minor interest.

That result might have discouraged most people, but Rapierian considered the venture a success. Besides, rumor had it that she had gotten a tiny bit more stable after Bellerophon had healed Alaric. Thus, he was again coming to her with a question.

Casually, he looked at the book he was carrying: The Chronicles of Therac. One of the darkest texts to be found on Cythera, it contained many rambling predictions, ostensibly about the future or dark magic. Quite a few mages now considered the book to be a lot of nonsense . . . not that anyone had seen it in years. Still, it was at best a book of dubious authenticity.

Through means best left unsaid, the necromancer had acquired the book years ago. Months back, he had given an excerpt to Shanadar, although he was quite certain that the Enforcer had not taken him seriously. Now, he believed that it might be of some use to him, if he could translate it.

Therac had written in his book in archaic, mostly forgotten tongue of the dark mages. Few in Cythera could read it at all, and none could read it without taking great effort in the translations. Rapierian had spent a great deal of time on the work himself but had not gotten as far as he would have liked. Now, he was hoping for a shortcut.

Rounding the bend, he at last caught sight of Prusa.

The magess spun to face him, madness gleaming in her eyes.

"Ah, good day, Lady Prusa," the necromancer greeted her. "Fine weather today! I was hoping that you might have a look at a picture for me."

"Yes, you have come to learn, to laugh," she hissed, "but never to teach! Always a laughing actor!"

"No, not lately," he replied sadly. "It's been very dull of late. Now, as I was saying, about this picture..."

"A picture is worth a thousand words! But we are better off if you know none of them!"

Rapierian considered that.

"No, I'd say most are worth about eight hundred or so words. But anyway—"

"And what of the great struggle? What of Alaric? He alone could save us from the unseen war, but now, it and he are both bound—but by what? Themselves? Something from out? Can Alaric save us now or is he too doomed to fall?"

"Bound? Does that mean that Alaric is out of action again?" Rapierian responded, momentarily chuckling. "And this unseen war . . . the elementals, I guess?"

The magess glared wildly at him before saying, "Thus all things are presented by shadows."

"Yes, yes, I see. Anyway, I have a very rare book here The Chronicles of that I—"

"Therac! Another old fool. You and he are much alike."

"Now, here," he said indignantly. "I resent that. Therac was an idiot, yes, but I am not dumb enough to run and claim to be a seer, while participating in plots of world domination. Much funner to watch said plots fail, you know."

This discussion continued back and forth for about five hours. Finally, Rapierian got Prusa to look at the single illustration that was of any relevance. Details were hard to make out (Therac being a lousy artist) and the use of the image itself was dubious, but the necromancer was perhaps in a world all his own and persisted in believing it important.

By cornering her and shoving it before her eyes, he finally got a reaction from the magess.

"Past! Past! The past is important, but dangerous for such as you to know!"

"Past?" Rapierian mused. "Yes, I see. Well, thanks. I hope that we can do this again sometime, maybe in a century or two?"

"What do you want from me!"

"Nothing anymore."

Drawing back into the shadows, Rapierian mused over the picture.

"Past, are you? Well, I can't be sure, given the poor drawing, but I think that I have a lead now..."

So saying, he vanished into the shadows...

Silver continued to circle overhead for some time before drifting back down to his companions.

"I can't see anything in this accursed forest! We'd be better off running & hoping to pass any ambush before they notice us."

Then they passed under the branches of one of the gnarled trees. An ear-splitting roar later Silver was calling down to his companions from a safe distance, "I detect a forest drunk on incantations. Proceed at your preferred pace, I'll help if anything goes awry."

"How can you expect to help when you fled at the touch of a little magical interference?"

"Even a great warrior may flee an angered bee, though he thinks nothing of the gashes attained during battle. I'll be more prepared now."

Cademia
Sixth Day, early hours of the morning

A lonely guard wandered the southeast edge of town, just north of House Attis, circling around the old nobles' houses. There had been a lot of vandalism reported from the previous night, and Berossus wanted to be sure to discourage ruffians. It was especially important right now, with all of the fuss about killings in the south and the grave news about Alaric's condition.

For his own part, Garmr couldn't feel more wasted. These houses had been abandoned for so long that the weather was causing them more damage than a vandal could ever hope to. But, it was the principle of the thing, Berossus had insisted. He was very clear to Orthrus, the captain of the guard, that vandalism should be nipped in the bud.

Why did he assign me here?! Garmr complained to himself. Surely Orthrus doesn't believe that any vandals are going to bother coming back here. . . they're wasting their own time just as much as mine. How he wished he could be helping guard the main part of town! It wasn't so much that Garmr wanted to get involved in a fight, but he did want to help stop a resurgence of ruffian activity if he could. Out here, at the very edge of town, there was really nothing he could do to help. Of course, with House Attis so close by, it could be in danger if a gang of ruffians were to come here, Garmr thought, somewhat encouraged by the idea that he may yet be helpful.

He thought he saw a figure move out of the corner of his eye. Moving silently, he approached the shadow. The figure was crouched next to one of the old cottages with a torch in his hand. "You there! Stop!" Garmr shouted as loudly as he could. The person dropped the torch, and with a burst of flame, the grass and vines that had grown so tall around the house began to burn. The figure turned; it was an innocent looking old man. Garmr thought he recognized him, "It can't be. Hey! STOP!" The man darted away from the building and down the street. Garmr followed.

That looked like Typhos, he thought as he ran with all his might. "Cerberus!" he called to his companion, who he'd glimpsed outside the Two-Tailed Rat. "Go alert Orthrus that one of the old noble houses has been set on fire, I'm chasing the culprit now!" He tried to be as brief and as quiet as possible, but there was little time. That old man moved fast.

For what seemed like an eternity, he followed the shadow around corner after corner, winding through the city like a rat caught in a giant maze. "You can't outrun me forever! We're going to get you!" Garmr shouted as the figure disappeared around a building.

* * *

A few minutes before. . .

Typhos was having trouble sleeping. His rest had been tainted all night long by a recurring dream, more like a burning desire: to hold that amulet. It was a family heirloom. His father had given it to him, and he had given it to his son, Orthrus, captain of the Cademian guard. Supposedly, in addition to being beautifully-crafted, it was magically imbued. His grandfather had claimed that it detected certain kinds of magic and suppressed them. Typhos never really believed that, but if there were any truth to it at all, he figured that Orthrus would be able to put it to good use. To this day, Orthrus still wore it around his neck, mostly for its sentimental value, since it had never really done anything to help him.

Typhos had never been very taken with the amulet; he'd practically forgotten about it. Until tonight. He couldn't stop thinking about it. First thing in the morning, he resolved to visit Orthrus and give it a second look, just to see if there was something about it he had missed before. He had to hold it. . .

Typhos started to drift off to sleep again when he was suddenly being shaken vigorously. "Grandpa! Grandpa!" Cindy called to him. Cindy, Orthrus' daughter, was spending the night with her grandfather. He was the only one who could calm her down at night -- she was very afraid of the dark. "What's wrong now, Cindy?" This was the third time she had awoken him.

The child was unusually frightened, her face contorted in a horrifying expression of fear. "Grandpa! They're coming to get me! Help me grandpa! They want to hurt me!"

His mind still groggy, Typhos' vision blurred a second. "Oh, no monsters are going to get you while I'm here," he tried to comfort the child. Cindy turned and ran to the door as she sobbed loudly. "Cindy! Don't go outside!" She undid the lock and vanished into the night. "There could be ruffians outside!" Typhos jumped to his feet. As he ran outside, he didn't see the small child who slept soundly on the floor, having finally lost all her energy after waking her grandfather twice. Outside, he was just about to call for Cindy when --

"You can't outrun me forever! We're going to get you!" a cruel voice growled from around the corner. Fearing for his granddaughter's life, Typhos waited against the wall.

* * *

Garmr hoped that he would catch up to the figure soon. He was beginning to think that whoever it was could outrun him forever. He ran around the building, not expecting anyone to be there. He was wrong. The figure pounced on him. *Oof* Garmr fell to the ground.

"Leave my granddaughter alone, ruffian!" Typhos shouted as he beat relentlessly on the ruffian.

"Granddaughter? I'm not a ruffian!" Garmr tried to block the blows. For a split-second, he doubted that Typhos had anything to do with the fire, the old man seemed more confused than Garmr, then something in his mind told him beyond a shadow of a doubt that Typhos was guilty. He couldn't say what. The two struggled for a minute, but Typhos was not a young man anymore. Cerberus had successfully alerted a few other guards who now came to Garmr's aid. "No!" Typhos shouted, blind with rage. It took three of them to subdue him; they had to knock him unconscious.

"Take him to the jail to hold him until Orthrus can speak to him." Garmr ordered the others, rubbing a bruise on his head. "Berossus will also want to question him about the building that was set on fire. Was anyone able to stop the fire?"

"No, the building's a complete loss," one of the other guard's replied.

Garmr looked east at the glowing sky, as well as a pillar of smoke that rose from the burned cottage. Soon, the sun's fingers would be reaching up over the horizon and the town would be waking up. Maybe then he could get some answers as to what just happened. "What a strange way to start the day. . ." he said to himself, again rubbing his head.

This post has been edited by The Wizard: 27 July 2009 - 01:09 AM

I do not know who you are and there is little chance you would have called me friend. All the same I must entrust my task to you. If you are reading this then I have already died unsung and unremembered. History will forget my death as easily as it did my life. You must ensure I did not die in vain.

My true name was Seralcard. There are none who know it save for you. I was a master of shadows and death. I was an Assassin. It was without conceit that I named myself the greatest practitioner of my craft.

I was a master enchanter. With time and skill metal can learn any spell. Enchantments do not tire, they do not weaken, and above all they do not falter. At least that was what I believed. I crafted a bracelet with a spell meant to let me transport anywhere at will. I could not account for the ripples passed through the magic of Cythera in the moment I used the artifact. The smaller waves of my spell warped against them. Instead of traveling through space I was thrown through time. I was quickly trapped by the artifact. At seemingly random moments it flung me back or forward days at a time. Never before the moment it was first used.

Had that been all you would not be reading this. I would not have cared. For a week I ignored the world and did nothing but puzzle over the enchantment in search of a way to repair it. My last jump changed that. It changed my life…

Day Four, a cabin somewhere north of Catamartica

The scratching of Seralcard’s pen stopped as he laid it beside the inkwell. The letters dried under the silver light of a Null stone. The palm sized crystal was probably his greatest work. A child of genius and irony. Trying to create a stone to amplify magical energy he crafted a gem that nullified it completely within a field of a few yards. It wholly swallowed the room he was in. He nudged it across the table with a gloved finger. It had no effect on normal people so far as he could tell. For creatures of magic it was lethal as a dagger in the night. Even enchantments were made worthless in its presence. All he wore was little more than steel inside the Null. Even the Nightmare bracelet, as he had come to call it recently. But he could not remove the bracelet without magic and he dare not leave the field to try again. The last time he used magic directly on Nightmare he was hurled weeks into the future.

Seralcard felt a prisoner to his creation. The black artifact shackled his wrist. He glared down at the cursed thing. Its deep blue jewel stared back at him wide-eyed and mad. It would be restless after being suppressed by the Null. Whether he left the field or it failed on its own he would make the next jump to whenever Nightmare wished to go. He had fed many souls to the gods of Death in his time. Now the assassin could feel their breath on his back. He feared falling to their hungering fangs before he could keep them from devouring the world. He retrieved his pen and set upon the parchment. The most important part of the tale was yet to be told and time was growing short. He relived the last jump as he struggled to find the words.

Day Twenty One

In one moment Seralcard traced Nightmare’s twisted spell. In the next there was a flash, a crackle of blue, and he was blind in a darkness that assailed him. A mad howl screamed in his ears. A tortured sound no men should ever make. The pained chorus groaned at the edge of understanding and he knew comprehension would harm his soul. The song stabbed oily tendrils through his skull. In a panic Seralcard clumsily fed magic to his light-charm. When it forced the shadows back the attack stopped and the screams died off. He dropped to his knees in an icy sweat. The assassin’s breath fogged in the air. It was cold as vengeance. His hands trembled as he pushed up from muddy soil and drew his cloak around him. Looking around he almost felt better off blind. Where am I?

Nightmare had dragged him down to a demonic realm, a birthplace of greater nightmares. A wall of darkness writhed against the edge of his light. It looked thick enough to drown a man. His black garb felt pale next to that void. The world smelled of fresh blood and old rot. The grass shivered scarlet and sickly. What trees he could see were plague ridden. They were misshapen things that wore scabs instead of bark and bled white ichor. They swelled and shrank to the rhythm of a wind he couldn’t feel. It was a sound that came from everywhere but refused to stir the air. The forest itself pulsed to the beat of a dying heart.

A dull light flashed in the distance like a torch on a foggy night. It showed the forest’s grotesque silhouette just before the darkness smothered it. The flash came again slightly brighter and with the outlines of five people running his way. Krakooom!! A fountain of lightning clawed at the sky with a deafening roar. “SILVER!” A woman’s voice cried out to the fading thunder.

Seralcard was on his way before the ringing died in his ears. The dull light was faint but steady as he headed towards it. Passed the dying trees strangers stood before a glowing stream. It was warmer there. The air was thick with the smell of burnt meat. Scattered fires grumbled irritably at either side of the river. Smoke and steam crept above it. A man carrying a torch knelt by the water, “By the gods… Did he stop them?”

“Don’t touch it Radik.” Growled a woman with long blue hair and matching skin. Arcs of electricity stalked the water’s boiling surface. Scores of smoldering shapes bobbed slowly downstream.

“But Katerei, Silver might still—”

“No,” her voice wavered. She steadied herself with a calming breath, “he saved us. His sacrifice won’t mean anything if we stay here…” She trailed off as the light of Seralcard’s charm seized her attention. Things happened very quickly then. Radik unleashed a brutal claymore as the other three men brandished swords that looked like toys beside it. Katerei stood still as stone but in the firelight of that hellish scene she seemed the greatest danger, “Are you one of them?” Unshed tears glistened in her eyes though her gaze was hard as steel. Seralcard had seen the woman before but he could not place where. There was no time to puzzle that out. He raised his hands to show himself unarmed. She didn’t back down, “Take off your hood.”

The depths of his cowl were shadowed. No one had ever seen his face. Even so he only hesitated long enough to work a few of his enchantments. When he drew it back the face they saw was young and smooth. He had blonde hair, green eyes, and a pale scar on his cheek. It was not his face, but they would never know. That seemed to settle the group, “I have no issue with you or your friends. I just want to get out of here.”

“Then you’re headed the wrong way.” Radik declared gruffly as he lowered his sword and reclaimed a torch from one of his companions, “Odemia is gone.”

“Odemia?!” the assassin blurted. Impossible, this ruined world can’t be Cythera

Radik mistook the reason behind his surprise, “It’s just rubble and fire now.” He turned to Katerei, “We should bring him with us, we can’t leave anyone out here to die.”

The woman weighed Seralcard with her eyes, “We can’t stay here. Fill him in on the way.”

“You have light so you’re with me.” Radik commanded, “Never split from the group on your own and never go into the shadows. No matter what.” He finished grimly. He and the Assassin led the group with one of the other men. The remaining two tried to scare away the darkness behind them with their torches. It looked to be scaring them and the torches both. At the heart of the group was the strange Katerei. She gave the torchbearers a wide breadth and cast her cautious gaze to the fires near as often as she did the shadows while they picked their way through the forest, “… the Bone Dragon forced us to scatter and retreat.” Radik was saying.

“Bone Dragon?” Seralcard repeated in confusion as he pulled his cowl back up, “I never heard of anything like that in all of Cythera.”

“Neither had we before today. It was a giant serpent of blood and bone.” The other man shrugged, “It breathed a glowing red smoke that killed everyone it touched. I don’t know what else to call it. We’re lucky we made it out at all. Or very unlucky. It’s only been two days since the darkness came.” He grimaced, “I never thought I’d live to see the end of the world.”

Two days? What the hell could do this in two days? The assassin kept his musings to himself for the moment. The thoughts of his companions were still very much back at the river, “Who was Silver?”

“A Hero.” Katerei replied solemnly. Radik only nodded. They would not speak of their loss with a stranger. The woman was clearly the leader but she wore that mantle uncomfortably. It was not a position of her choosing so a sense of duty to her companions must have forced her to accept it.

The dry breath of the forest and the squelching of their boots were the only things to be heard for a long time. And so a new sound, an eerie clacking, raised his hackles more than a scream. As the shadows melted off the trees ahead he saw the source. Unsettling gashes big enough to fit a man yawned open in many trees. They were lined with cruel tooth-like barbs and oozed the white fluid he saw before. Abruptly one snapped shut with a clack and slowly pried itself open again. The clacking came from many trees as the group moved passed, an angry chittering that came out of the black all around them, “What happened to the trees?” Seralcard asked.

“Those aren’t trees, not anymore. Stay away from them.” Radik instructed.

“Why?”

“They’re not fast but the white sap is venom. Touch that and you’re paralyzed, good as dead. They don’t have to be quick if you can’t move. They’ll drag you into one of their mouths and eat you slowly. I’ve seen it happen.” He looked back the way they came, “I’ve seen a lot of terrible things.”

**

The advance through the forest was slow, cautious, and thankfully uneventful. Seralcard learned that this was likely Silver’s doing. After saving his friends he used the last of his strength to cut off pursuit by making the river virtually impassable. What sort of man was he? the assassin wondered. In his work he met few truly selfless people. Katerei and Radik would say little on the subject. His three other companions Bellum, Celt, and Wallace had known the adventurer for only a day.

The party reached a clearing lit by half a dozen bonfires set around a modest home. Seralcard saw open sky for the first time since Nightmare sent him into the forest but the black starless expanse only placed him more on edge. Radik sheathed his blade, “It doesn’t look like the others made it out of Odemia.”

“They just haven’t made it here yet.” Katerei corrected firmly, “Let’s get inside.”

A man in full white armor came to the door. What caught Seralcard’s eye was not how powerfully and strangely the armor was enchanted. Nor was it the way its glowing runes seemed to dance across its surface. What stuck him first was the fact that the man’s right arm was missing at the shoulder and how trickles of blood leaked from each of the suit’s joints, “You have returned.” The man said with a strength he didn’t seem to have, “But where are the others?”

“What are you doing out here!?” Katerei demanded.

“I—“

“No.” she cut him off and hustled him back inside. The group followed her in, “Without my healing you would have died and that armor is the only thing keeping you alive. It’s amazing that you can even stand.” The larger man kept struggling to get a word in but Katerei rode roughshod over him and forced him to lie down.

There were perhaps a dozen other adventurers and warriors who greeted them inside. Wallace, Bellum, and Celt were received warmly, Radik respectfully, and Seralcard was largely ignored. But the men were looked around for other familiar faces. The party was far smaller than the one that first set out.

A very old man seated in the middle of the room chuckled tiredly, “You should listen to your doctor Talos. Though you do have a point. What is the situation in Odemia?”

“There is no Odemia.” Katerei said quietly. She sat down with the old man and told everyone of their failed journey.

Many hearts had sank by the time the tale was over, not the least of which was the old man’s, “First Selax, then Avatara.” Katerei flinched at the mere mention of that name, “and now Silverfish.” The old man looked even more ancient in his sadness, “Did you see the others? Beorn, Shanadar, Yomu?”

“No Wizard.” Katerei replied sadly, “There was too much chaos in Odemia. We had to run our separate ways.” Wizard? The names they said brushed across his memory. Even the old man’s face, though far more haggard than when he’d last seen it, was also familiar. And then it hit him. Almost all were renowned heroes, the greatest since Bellerophon, and in disguise he had seen a few of them before.

“Who is our new friend?” Wizard regarded the assassin.

Radik spoke up, “We met him on his way to Odemia, just after Silver…” he shook his head, “I thought he should come with us.”

“A wise decision.” The old mage conceded, “We will need all the help we can… ugh…” he closed his eyes and put his hands to his temples. There were dark bags under his eyes and he was barely steady in his seat.

“Are you alright?” Katerei asked gently.

“Y-yes.” He managed, “It is just fatigue. I am not as young as I once was.” He sat up a little straighter as if he recovered some of his vigor.

“You need some rest.” The healer insisted.

Wizard waved away her concern, not unkindly, “I cannot and you know that. I regret not going along with all of you. Searching the area for friends and danger is the least I can do.”

She put a hand on his shoulder, “You’ve been at this for two days without sleep. We would all be dead if not for you. Let us keep watch for a while so you can regain your strength.”

He wore a grandfatherly smile, “That is very kind. I wish I could rest as you say.” Wizard sighed, “But I can feel the creatures out there tugging at my mind. Hundreds of them, thousands, I cannot count them all. They are an ocean of madness and all of them are connected. The deception I am using is difficult and must be maintained. If the trees know we are here then all of those monsters will soon enough.”

“Does it matter?” Radik asked no one in particular, “Avatara was the one who knew how to stop all this. Now that he’s gone…”

“We must not give up hope.” Wizard said sagely. He looked to the door, “We have more visitors coming.

The door opened and two injured men shambled in dragging a third between them, “Beorn, Shanadar!” Katerei exclaimed. Then her gaze found the third man and the room was gripped by a shocked silence. His skin was pale from loss of blood, which continued to drip onto the floor from a claw wound to his chest. He looked up with eyes of the darkest blue. When his eyes settled on Katerei he laughed. Radik was closest to her when she lunged forward. He caught her around the waist and jerked her back. There was a dagger in her hand she seemed to conjure from thin air, “How could you bring him here?!” she yelled angrily.

Shanadar looked abashed. He leaned on his metal staff and clutched a wound at his side. Beorn did the talking, “We need you to heal Galahad. He has information that can help us.”

Radik had released Katerei but seemed ready to jump in again if necessary. No one in the room seemed happy to see the man but her eyes burned with pure hatred, “Heal him? He’s half responsible for all of this. It’s his fault Avatara died! I should let him bleed to death on the floor.”

No one rushed to protest her decision. Galahad chuckled to himself, “You are right of course. I am a fool who was betrayed and is getting what he deserves. But more than seeing me dead you want to kill the man who actually murdered your friend. And for that you will need my help.”

“Rythan.” Katerei said darkly, “But it’s too late for Avatara’s plan to work.”

“There might still be time.” Beorn said, “But it will only work if we know where Rythan’s portal is. Galahad knows—“

“But my life is the only currency you have to bargain for that information.” He broke down in a fit of coughing and spat a glob of blood onto the floor, “Save me and I will show you the way.”

“This could be a trap.” Radik cautioned.

“What choice do we have?” Beorn shot back.

In the end it would be Katerei’s decision. She glared at the man for a long moment, “Lay him on the floor.” Beorn and Shanadar did as commanded, just as grateful to be free of his weight as they were to the healer. She knelt beside him and poured water over his wound. Seeing it clearly the assassin knew the beast that struck him had to be terribly strong. Katerei worked her hands over the water as it took on a faint glow. Her brows furrowed with concentration, “What did this?” she asked.

“Rythan. I confronted him in Odemia before the city fell. He handled me like I was a child.”

“What about the daemons you commanded?”

He laughed mirthlessly, “His creatures made short work of mine. Everything is just meat to them, daemon or no.”

Seralcard spoke to Radik, “Who is this Rythan?”

The warrior’s fists clenched, “A monster. I’ve never seen anything like him. Two days ago Selax confronted him in the Judge’s castle in Cademia. I still don’t know what happened but Rythan got him just before we made it there. Avatara had a plan to take him down but Galahad showed up out of nowhere with an army of daemons. They wreaked the plan and half the castle with it. The group got split and thrown off balance. Avatara tried to save Kat from Galahad and wound up facing Rythan alone.

“Talos over there,” he gestured to the man in white armor, “is one of the strongest fighters I’ve ever seen. He helped us cut down Galahad’s daemons left and right. When Avatara went down Talos tried to avenge him in a one on one. Got his sword arm torn off for his trouble. Everything fell apart after that, if not for Wizard none of us would have gotten out alive. The darkness came soon after that and brought the monsters with it.”

Katerei hung her head, “The wound is too deep and you’ve lost too much blood. I can’t save you.”

Galahad smiled as though he knew that was what she would say, “My uncle was right after all.”

“If you tell us where to find him I swear to you I’ll see him dead.” The healer pleaded.

“Keep your oaths woman.” Galahad answered, “You would just go and die. I thought you would have a chance if I came along but without me you will never beat him.”

Beorn reached down and grabbed the man by the collar, “We are not playing games. Our world depends on this.”

“And why should I care about your world?”

Beorn grunted in disgust and let go, “Wizard, can you probe his mind for an answer?”

The old mage shook his head slowly, “I doubt I could even stand for very long now. I do not have the strength left to overcome his will.”

“Just accept your fates.” Galahad said tiredly, “I am doing you all a favor by not letting you rush to your deaths. Cherish what time you have left…” He trailed off as he saw Seralcard, his eyes wide in recognition, “You! I thought Rythan...” the swordsman burst into laughter, “Of course. You are the Other. Maybe, just maybe, you have a chance.” He struggled to stand on his own and removed his sword belt and handed it over.

Seralcard accepted the black hilted weapon. The blade was masterfully crafted. It was glossy obsidian with glowing red runes shifting on its surface. It looked surprisingly like Talos’s armor. Most surprising though was its edge. The sword was as blunt as a practice blade, “Why give me your sword?”

“I am just returning it to you.” Galahad said with a cryptic grin, “Land King’s Hall. You will find Rythan and his portal where you took his eye.”

Katerei looked at them both strangely, “Why would you—“ An inhuman cry rose from outside followed by another and another. It was a screaming tide beating against their sanctuary. The color drained from the healer’s face, “They found us.”

Wizard slumped in his seat with sweat beading on his brow. His voice was strained from his mental efforts, “I did not feel them until now and I cannot turn them away. Something is leading them to us. I have never sensed anything like this.” Katerei moved to him, “Never mind me child. They are surrounding us, you must protect the fires. I will do what I can to slow their advance.”

Seralcard held out the sword he had been given, “Won’t you need this?”

Galahad looked at him with a small smile, “What would I do with it now?” he glanced around a picked up a discarded short-sword, “This will serve just as well.”

“As you wish.” The assassin belted the sword around his waist. It was lighter than it seemed. Men were already rushing outside. Talos was on his feet and out the door before anyone thought to stop him. Wizard and Galahad remained within but Seralcard followed the others back into the night.

The approaching horde grew quieter with every moment passed until silence reigned over the field. Even the droning trees held their breath in anticipation. The gathered adventurers shifted nervously as they faced an unbroken ebon wall beyond the firelight. Fires crackled and popped. Metal clattered together. Leather creaked as men altered their grips.

Something misshapen skittered out of the shadows. Like an insect the size of a child. The thing hissed with a dozen mouths as its broken form came into view. Its six pointed legs were fractured bones jutting out of its ragged flesh. It was eyeless and covered in bleeding wound-like holes filled with jagged teeth. It was a predator crafted by a mad god. He must have hated it almost as much as the things he sent it to hunt. The sight of the thing made Seralcard uneasy, “What is that?”

Radik unsheathed his claymore, “That’s what attacked us at the river. A whole swarm of them.”

“How did you kill them?”

“We didn’t,” Radik said gravely, “Silver did.”

The monster sucked in air through its many teeth, tasted it, and loosed a chilling shriek. A hundred more sprinted out of the darkness like a swarm of massive locusts. Radik’s crushed one beneath his sword and kicked another as it leapt to him. His massive blade smashed the monsters to gory bits. Shanadar wove an expert defense with his staff. The weapon blurred in his hands as he knocked the monsters away with a heavy metal crack that shattered their twisted bones. Warriors of lesser skill fell as they were overrun. A creature jumped onto Bellum’s back and dug in with claws and teeth. As he fell screaming more piled onto him and gorged on his flesh.

Seralcard hacked at the beasts with his seemingly useless sword. The blade sucked magic out of the air in every swing and formed its own edge. The monsters fell away from him in pieces as he prowled the field. Talos was covered in the horrors, but however much they bit and clawed they could not pierce his armor. He stomped them beneath his boots and crushed them in his gauntleted fist roaring back at them in the heat of battle.

From the corner of his eye the assassin caught a fan of blue that sent several creatures into the flames. Katerei danced amid the carnage with razor whips of water tearing through the monsters around her. As quickly as it began the battle started to die down. Monsters ran or limped back into the shadows. Victory came at a price. They left half of the adventurers dead and most of those stripped to the bone. Horribly mauled or torn to pieces the creatures that could not leave were still alive. They hissed angrily as their bodies started to rapidly heal, knitting bone and reattaching severed tissue, and they too began to slowly crawl away. Even those that burned twitched pathetically as they struggled to be free of the fire, “What does it take to kill these things?”

“You can’t.” Beorn answered, “None of the creatures we’ve seen can die. You can only hurt them enough so they can chase you for a while. We’ll have to head out sooner than I expected.”

An enormous figure lumbered out of the shadows. It was a headless mockery of the human form twice as tall as any man and spotted with massive armored plates. The behemoth flexed vicious claws as it stared down the adventurers with a single crimson eye. Thick cords of muscle lined its body, red and slick as though it were flayed. A second appeared beside it and then a third, “By the gods.” Someone gasped breathlessly. More of the huge monsters started marching out of the black with a second wave of the smaller beasts sprinting passed them.

A dozen warriors charged the larger threats. The first of the monsters ripped two men in half with a swipe of its claws. The other behemoths cut down the remaining force like so much wheat. Talos rushed to meet the first and was slammed into the ground by its bloody claws. The beast’s chest split open to reveal a monstrous set of jaws with immense fangs in place of ribs. Shanadar staff whirled in his fight against the smaller creatures. Another behemoth opened its mouth and lashed out like a frog with its tongue. He noticed just in time and deflected it. The impact knocked him off balance and the tendril stabbed into the ground like a harpoon of bone.

Radik and Seralcard went back to back as they were surrounded by the smaller creatures. They hacked at the beasts until the ground was sticky with mud and they were ringed by a knee high pile of convulsing bodies. New creatures heedlessly charged over the injured. “There’s no end to them.” Radik growled as he sliced another in half.

Gripped in a behemoth’s mighty fangs Talos freed his left arm thrust his hand into the monster’s eye. The creature groaned and toppled back with a crash. Its mouth opened to release the warrior. As soon as his feet hit the ground he raced to the next giant. Two of the other behemoths were overwhelmed by warriors Beorn commanded in battle. More than half of the monsters were down. A sword in one hand and a torch in the other Beorn rallied the surviving warriors to route what beasts that still stood. For a moment there was still hope.

It did not last. A woman descended from the sky on raven wings and stood before Talos. She had scarlet eyes and skin carved out of the surrounding darkness. Beautiful and terrible she was a faceless goddess. She had the silhouette of a perfect woman like the featureless shadow of an angel. When her wings unfurled the fires shrank into themselves in fear. The other beasts grew still in her presence. Talos would not be cowed so easily as that. He lunged at her. She caught his fist with a graceful gesture and placed her other hand on his helmet. He struggled in her grasp. The runes of his armor flashed erratically almost too bright to look upon. He screamed long and loud as his armor went dark and the bonfires closest to him died off.

The monsters renewed their attack with terrible ferocity, “Fall back to the house!” Beorn commanded over the sounds of battle, “Argh!” One of the smaller beasts latched onto his leg and he dropped to a knee. He tried to stand but another leapt onto his chest and knocked him back. More of the creatures swarmed over him before he could cry for help. His fledging unit panicked and broke ranks as soon as he fell and were quickly slaughtered in the confusion.

Katerei and Radik made it inside first. A barbed tongue shot out the darkness passed Seralcard and impaled Shanadar as he reached the door. With a savage yank he was pulled out of sight. The assassin slammed the door closed for what little protection it would buy them. Wizard was arguing with the healer, “I cannot come with you. Not if you would have any hope to survive.”

“Don’t speak that way!” she admonished, “You can make it.” A tear trailed down her cheek.

He patted her hand affectionately, “You have skills in the healing arts, you know what I say is true. Thank you for being concerned for me at the end.” He looked out the window. The dark angel stepped out of the shadows for just a moment before the last of the fires in front of the house died. She would be inside very soon, “That is the creature I felt. The one that led the others here. You can still save this world but you have to escape her and survive first. The three of you must go. Go now.” He finished sternly.

Visibly conflicted Katerei hugged him and headed for the back without giving herself time to dwell on her loss. Radik shook his hand firmly and went after her. Seralcard stayed for a few seconds longer. For enough time to give Wizard a respectful nod and hear Galahad’s last words, “That sword is my vengeance enchanter. When you run that through Rythan’s black heart he will know who it was he crossed.” The swordsman wore a cocky smile despite standing at death’s door. Galahad turned to the mage, “Now old man. Let us make this demon regret ever being spawned.”

If more was said Seralcard did not hear. He ran out the back door and met with the other two. Radik held a torch and Seralcard’s charm shined brightly. They sprinted away from the house. The group reached the furthest fires when a blinding light made them look back. With a massive roar the building erupted in storm of fire and light. A wave of force slammed into them, sending them flying back. All of the fires on the field guttered out at once and Radik’s torch was killed in the blast.

Seralcard gasped for air and climbed to his feet shakily. Beside him Katerei did the same. Radik lay still on the ground. A jagged log had run him through in the blast. Only the assassin’s small pool of light stood between them and the darkness. Katerei shuddered, “They’re all gone. Everyone.”

Seralcard clasped her shoulders, “I’m still here. I will not leave you. We will survive this together and we will end it for all your friend’s sakes.” He didn’t know how much those words would mean coming from a stranger. If they would mean anything at all.

The healer looked at him for what seemed like a long time before nodding her understanding, “You’re right.” Her voice was a shaken as he felt. Every sound around them died away. They stood alone on an island of blood red grass about to be swallowed by an ocean darkness. As quiet as it was Seralcard knew the monsters were creeping closer from all sides. He could feel it in his soul and the knowing turned his blood to ice, “We can make it together.” Katerei said with more strength, as much for her own benefit as for his. She offered her hand. Seralcard raised his to accept when Nightmare started to glow, “What is that?”

“Oh no…” he breathed. The crackling energy enveloped him as he met her startled gaze, “Take this!” he tore the light charm from his neck and the world disappeared…

**

Day three

Seralcard appeared just outside of Catamartica and his light charm fell from his hand to the dusty road. The assassin dropped to his knees, “I’m sorry.” He whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

**

Now you know my story and the terrible fate you must avoid at any cost. Heed my words and seek the heroes of Cythera. Seek Avatara, for among all of them I believe only he will learn what must be done before it is too late. Warn them of the monster that is Rythan.

Day four

An enchanted scroll lay on the cabin’s lone desk. Its spell compelled any who saw it to read. Beside the scroll a mound of sparkling powder marked where the flawed Null stone had shattered. The breeze through the open window scattered the dust on the wind. And somewhere, somewhen, its maker struggled on.

The forest north of Kosha
Fourth day

Katerei gazed blankly up at the patch of sky that was visible directly above her, the circle of blue bordered by green treetops. Her arms hung limply at her sides, looking as useless as she felt. She was only vaguely aware of how her companions watched her, Shanadar looking concerned and Yomu inscrutable. In the still air of the forest and the silence that stretched on painfully, the only sound was their breathing.

"So where do we go from here?" Yomu asked in a bleak voice when the silence had grown unbearable.

With a weary sigh that shuddered through her body, Katerei finally lowered her eyes and turned to look at him, as if remembering that he was there. Her words were empty. "I don't know."

"We could try following the more recent path-" Shanadar began, but Katerei cut him off.

"Wherever we go, I'm not leading," she said hollowly. "I have no idea if we've even been following Rapierian. I could be leading us straight into danger."

"I think if it was a trap, we'd have found it already," Shanadar pointed out, but he didn't press the issue.

Yomu glanced at the Enforcer. "I know you feel you're obligated to catch Rapierian," he said, "but realistically I think we have to accept that we won't be able to. Not like this. We're all exhausted and he's evaded us for this long already. Our chances won't exactly improve with time."

Shanadar didn't like to admit defeat, especially when they had been so close to having Rapierian locked up for good - he wistfully recalled seeing the necromancer behind bars in Kosha - but he knew Yomu was right. Without a way to track Rapierian's path, their odds dropped to virtually nil. "We should regroup with the others at Land King Hall then. Maybe they've had more luck with Alaric." He looked inquiringly at the others, receiving a nod of assent from Yomu.

Katerei made no response, but went ahead and cast Direct Nexus. When nothing happened, she pursed her lips imperceptibly and tried again. "It's not working," she said testily, and flicked her wrist somewhat more sharply than intended. An arc of water shot through the air and broke against a tree trunk. "My water magic is fine though. Direct Nexus itself must have gone faulty."

"That's not a good sign," Yomu muttered.

Shanadar frowned with worry. "Something must have gone wrong within the last day - I hope that doesn't mean Alaric has gotten worse. It worked fine for the others just last night."

"...did it?" Katerei asked with a sense of dread. "All we know is that they disappeared..." The three companions looked at each other fearfully, wondering about the possible consequences of that statement.

"It sounds like we'll have to travel non-magically," Yomu said. "We should be about two days from Cademia; perhaps that should be our destination instead. It doesn't seem like we'd be able to do much back in Kosha."

"Agreed," Shanadar said. His gaze flickered briefly to Katerei, but she seemed not to want to be responsible for any decision-making. "We can't do much else until we have a better idea of what all this means, and Cademia will be the best place to get info. Let's hope we hear some good news there."

This post has been edited by iKaterei: 30 July 2009 - 03:12 PM

*OoC*
As I understand it, Selax and the others have been following Devlin who is now dead. I'm not certain whether you have any plans for what they find, Ragnar0k, so I'm assuming that they find nothing for the moment. If I am incorrect, please inform me and I'll edit this post accordingly.
*BiC*


The eighth day

Selax and the others carefully continued forward down the trail as they had been doing for two days. Around them, the forest seemed to have become distorted, almost twisted into a nightmare. The effects of some dark magic were plainly obvious.

Abruptly, the trail they followed vanished. Stopping short in surprise, Talos began to carefully examine the ground. The others also began to look around.

After two hours of searching, they had found nothing. There was no trace of the trail, the man who had made it, or of anything that might explain how he had vanished.

"This is most disturbing," Wizard murmured.

"Very much," Talos replied, looking disturbed. "I think that our man might have met his end here."

"What makes you say that?" Silver asked, having come down closer.

"I don't know, just a feeling. It just seems strange that we'd be led so far to this place and then find nothing. There's not even any evidence of an ambush."

"Whatever the case, there's no sign of him or of anything else," Selax stated.

"Maybe he meant to lead us away from Kosha," Wizard mused.

"But why?" Silver interjected.

"I'm not certain," Wizard replied, frowning. "At any rate, I don't think we can afford to start second guessing ourselves now.

"So, what now?" Talos asked, turning to face the others. "Should we keep searching or move on?"

"I think we should press for Cademia," Wizard answered. "We have found nothing so far. At Cademia, we can at least give a warning and possibly hear news. We need to find the others and tell them of these developments."

"Agreed," Selax said. "We can also learn what has become of Rapierian. He may possibly have had something to do with this."

With that, the group began to head north toward Cademia.

Just southwest of Cademia
Sixth day

At first, it had seemed natural to let her come along. He hadn't seen Katerei for years, and part of him was glad to see his longtime friend still doing well. There was so much he wanted to ask her, but it didn't take long before he felt the rift that had been growing between them ever since he had cast her away after the death of his wife several years ago. When suddenly confronted with casual questions about what he was doing here and where he intended to go, he found he was reluctant to confide the truth to one of his best friends. He gave her an awkward answer, immediately sensed it wasn't satisfactory, and regretted it.

As the day trudged along, he began to sense her distance as well. Something bothered her immensely, but she also seemed reluctant to bring it up, giving replies that were just as non-committal. He inwardly wondered how much of the past she kept with her; she had been furious to the point of hysteria during their last exchange and he was certain his words were at least partly responsible for her disappearance. As the years ticked by in his self-imposed solitude, sometimes his thoughts had drifted to wondering what had become of her. When finally he tore down the walls of seclusion and returned to interact with the world, he found that she had vanished without a trace. Now, he felt those long-buried feelings of shame and regret resurface, but he was reluctant to reopen the wounds of the past. So the uneasy silence between them dragged on.

Beorn, for his part, stayed mostly apart, perhaps sensing the hanging tension and respectfully distancing himself from it. Still, Avatara couldn't shake the feeling that Beorn was observing everything silently, and it added to his discomfort that a stranger would be a party to the shadows from his past.

They camped that first night without much talk and set out early again the next day. During the brief periods of time when Beorn was "otherwise occupied", Avatara tried again to find some hint about what had happened in exchange for some brief snippets about his activities, but he was only able to learn that she had moved to Catamarca, a claim that was highly suspect. He didn't press her further though, and Beorn's return from the trees saved both of them from another awkward pause.

They made good time that day and estimated they were probably only a few hours away from Cademia when they stopped. Avatara and Katerei (to his surprise) both wanted to press on further, but Beorn reminded them that it would be unusual for travelers to arrive in the middle of the night. After a brief debate, Avatara relented, even though it would be another half day delay. He had to remember that Beorn knew the customs of this world better, and things were not the same as the place he was used to.

Beorn reminded him of that all too clearly when he suddenly broke the silence to ask what Avatara intended to do the next day.

"What do you mean? I'll just ask around for the Wizard," Avatara replied, somewhat confused. He noticed Katerei give a start out of the corner of his eye, apparently that was something he had avoided mentioning until now. Oops.

"You're still wanted in Pnyx for the murder of a freemage," Beorn replied, and the way he tilted his head Avatara knew that Beorn knew much more about him than he wanted him to. He probably even suspected his origins. Avatara had underestimated him again, another major tactical blunder. It would not happen a third time. After a pause, Beorn continued, "However, I can go in and ask around and let you know what I find. After all, you helped me get this far."

Avatara spent most of that night wondering what might be different in this world. For a time it provided some much needed relief over worrying about Katerei, until he thought about it and began wondering what Katerei would be like in this world. That inevitably led to wondering about his own fate and suddenly wondering if that meant she would be here. His resolve wavered as he thought about what would happen if he managed to see her again, sending him into an even deeper gloom than he had been in for the last two days.

Eventually dawn broke and they continued their sojourn north, passing into more settled lands. As predicted, they reached the outskirts of the city by mid-morning. They paused just inside the tree-line southwest of the city, watching an occasional traveller from the west enter the city. Beorn again pledged to return with information and warned Avatara about approaching the city on his own. Katerei started off heading to Cademia with Beorn, her unusual eagerness to reach the town plainly visible, but then to Avatara's surprise, she stopped and looked back. For a moment they stared at each other quietly, Beorn proceeding another couple dozen paces before he realized he was alone.

"Go on ahead alone, I'll wait here," Katerei said finally, and then turned to head back.

For a moment, Avatara was torn between a mix of emotions. She didn't completely disdain him, but she wasn't willing to talk to him. Yet, she was giving him a chance to set things right. It would be painful, but in the end, it would be best for both of them to reconcile the past.

He gathered all his resolve, banished all his doubt, and plunged into a battle against an enemy more terrifying than death.

Regret.

K watched Avatara tentatively as she returned to where he stood among the trees, trying to read his expression. Did he want her to go with Beorn? She had spent too much of the last two days wondering if he even wanted her around. True, he had agreed to let her come with them this far, but he seemed as uncomfortable as she felt and his answers to her questions had been so evasive.

On the other hand perhaps his reluctance to talk was due to Beorn's presence; maybe he had more to say that he didn't want to be interrupted. It was this sudden speculation that had caused her to hesitate about going into Cademia. They would have at least a few hours alone together until Beorn returned. She probably didn't need to worry about avoiding the other her anyway; even though she had travelled slower with the two men than she would have alone, there had been no sign of anyone following them. And so she stayed.

Of course, since she had stayed behind, Avatara probably expected her to initiate conversation and so far K hadn't had much luck in thinking of a way to broach any of the subjects that really mattered. Silence rest heavily on them as she stalled for time, delicately flipping her hair over her shoulders and finding a seat upon a low tree branch that kept her roughly at eye level with Avatara, so she was relieved but shocked when he spoke first.

"I'm sorry," he said, sounding both awkward and hesitant, but sincerely apologetic.

That was the last thing she had expected him to say. She would have to approach this line of conversation, whatever it was, with great care. "For what?" she asked cautiously.

"For whatever it was I said that caused you to leave. I know things ended on bad terms between us... but I didn't mean for it to be that way."

K looked into his eyes with a pained expression. He didn't know. After all this time he still didn't know. Her fingers instinctively dug into the bark where her hand rested against the tree trunk, as she tried to suppress the emotions that were welling up inside her. She couldn't bring herself to tell him now. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Then why did you leave?"

And there's the kicker, K thought, gritting her teeth. How could she answer that both honestly and tactfully? When she didn't answer, he said almost pleadingly, "Katerei," and she cringed at how he said her name. It wouldn't be easy to get used to anyone calling her by that again.

"You didn't need me there," she said finally. "You needed to grieve her on your own."

"But that was years ago... you never came back."

"You never came looking for me either, did you, though?" K watched for his reaction to that remark warily, not daring to hope.

"I did," Avatara said, but added regretfully, "but I should have done so sooner. By the time I did, there was no sign of you. Even when I was in Catamarca I never saw you."

K looked at him, eyes wide with surprise. The news that he had tried to look for her should have been a relief, but it was overridden by the realization that he had seen through her half-truth. She quickly tried to amend the situation so he wouldn't think she had been lying earlier. "I haven't lived in Catamarca for several years. I did move there, but I came back from a trip one day and found my house burned down. Vandals, lightning strike, I don't know what it was. After that I..." Her voice wavered; he knew about her fear of fire. "Well, I couldn't stay in Catamarca."

"You didn't come back even then?" He didn't seem satisfied with her answers. "Katerei, what really kept you away?"

The emotion in his voice cut through her willpower like it was water. He must not have believed her when she said he didn't do anything wrong. K pressed her hand harder into the tree, not noticing the bark scratch her palm. "I didn't think you wanted me around anymore," she broke down. "You were... so distant after her death and... I thought it would be better for you if I was gone."

"I'm sorry," he said again quietly. "It was just a difficult time. I didn't mean to give you that impression. Would you forgive me?"

She flinched at the question. How could an apology hurt so much? "You aren't the one who should be asking forgiveness," she whispered.

"I'm not angry at you for leaving-" he said, but K shook her head and cut him off.

"Don't. That doesn't matter anymore." She felt guilty about not giving him an opportunity for the closure that he obviously needed, but it was nothing compared to how she would feel if he knew the rest. Years of being apart hadn't prepared her for that confession; a couple days of awkward conversation and an unnecessary apology didn't change much. Already she felt like she had given too much of herself away.

The earnestness of his apology persisted in her mind though. She couldn't bear to leave things hanging like that, so she offered a compromise. "It's not because I'm still hurt or offended or anything that I can't forgive you... it's just that there's nothing to forgive. It's my fault for leaving." K paused and gazed at him sadly. "...I've missed you."

This post has been edited by iKaterei: 01 August 2009 - 11:43 PM

The forest North of Kosha
Fifth Day

Shanadar woke a good half hour before his companions did. They had decided to made makeshift camp the night before and rest briefly before making the trek to Cademia. 'Makeshift' was the operative word; having traveled light for their manhunt, they'd had little more than make a small campfire and some provisions between them.

Although he was used to using rocks as pillows, he nevertheless slept little. A great deal troubled him, and his pondering deprived him of a great deal of rest. Not only had Rapierian once again eluded him, the deteriorating state of his companion's confidence was not something he could simply ignore.

Katerei had seemed deeply troubled that she had seemingly detected the trail of not one, but two Rapierians. As terrifying as the implications of two Rapierians about in the world was, it didn't seem that far fetched. After all, they'd travelled through time not so very long ago. Bizarre was obviously the norm for these adventurers, and that went double for Rapierian.

Then again, she seemed more spooked by the fact that she had detected another of herself than of Rapierian. The Enforcer had to admit, that was more than a little creepy. Still, his blue-skinned companion had seemingly fallen into a state of denial. As far as Shanadar was concerned, if Katerei smelled something, then that was the shape of it, no matter how improbable the conclusion was. He knew that her nose knew what he couldn't know, and, frankly, was depending on that knowledge.

He would have to discuss the issue with Katerei it in earnest before they reached Cademia; he'd bring the matter up when they reached the southern vinyards. Katerei was falling into a visible state of depression and Shanadar was honestly concerned for her well-being. Talking to her might be difficult; likely, she was under the impression that he was only upset about losing Rapierian. True enough, losing the trail had been disappointing, but the Enforcer knew that he'd have another chance to bring the Necromancer to justice.

Capturing the renegade was his most visible ambition, but the simple fact of the matter was that it was his responsibility to see to the safety of his peers just as much as it was to apprehend fugitives from the law. He would have gone on ahead on his own when Yomu had suggested they rest, otherwise. His foremost duty as Enforcer was to serve others, not his own vendettas.

Rising from his impromptu mattress of leaves, he moved to the smoldering remains of their pathetic campfire and attempted to revive the flame from what remained of the embers. Achieving some moderate success, he rummaged through their meager provisions and attempted to cook breakfast. They had a long day ahead of them, and he was not about to let their group set off on an empty stomach.

This post has been edited by ~vIsitor~: 02 August 2009 - 12:28 AM

The sixth day

As Beorn carefully made his way toward the city, he pondered the situation. His own circumstances were quite perilous. He had learned much from both of his traveling companions and had surmised the truth about them. Unfortunately, it seemed quite likely that they were aware of or at least suspected these facts. In his injured state, he could not say that he liked his chances in a fight with one or both of them. Fortunately, they were too distracted by one another to show much concern about him.

Turning his thoughts to what lay ahead of him, he again did not like his prospects. There was no telling him what awaited him within the city, and, although he had many plans based on whatever he might find, he knew one could not always prepare for everything.

The first thing he noticed, as he entered Cademia, was the unusual level of activity. It was not to him entirely unexpected.

It is as I feared, he thought, unsurprised. Alaric must surely have fallen ill once more.

Beorn ignored the commotion and headed for the Tavern.

Entering the building, he looked about and saw that the place was virtually empty. He paused for a moment and considered what to do now. Cademia's Judge and the others mages in the city would be far too busy to speak to a stranger just now. The next best place to get information was the Two-Tailed Rat. Quickly, he left the Tavern and headed for the inn.

It was not a long walk and he soon reached his destination. He went into the dining room of the inn and looked about, spotting Apis almost at once.

"Excuse me," Beorn said to her, "I'm looking for a friend of mine. I believe you know him as the Wizard?"

"Oh, yes, I know him," the innkeeper responded, "but I've not seen him or any of that band about. 'tis not good, since Alaric knows we have need of them here, with Alaric ill once more and all the other strange goings on about here."

"What do you mean?" he asked in surprise.

"Why, old Typhus burnt down one of the old noble houses and attacked the city guards! And that was only the beginning!"

The innkeeper quickly related the other strange occurrences. As she spoke, Beorn's facial expression did not change, but his mind began to work quickly. He had a guess at what was causing these bizarre incidents, but he dared not voice it yet. It would only make his situation even more dangerous, which, if he was correct in his guess, had just occurred anyway.

"Hmm, strange indeed," he mused aloud when she was done. "And not one of the adventurers has returned?"

"Not so far as anyone knows. It'd be terrible if something has happened to them."

"Most certainly," Beorn agreed. "Well, thank you for your time. Perhaps, I should avoid town for a little while...doesn't seem safe right now."

Having obtained the news he had wanted, he bid farewell to Apis and headed out of town. He was passing Halos's old house when something heavy hit him suddenly on the back of the head.

Beorn staggered, grunting in surprise. He fell forward and only just managed to catch himself with his hands.

"Tough fellow, isn't he?" a voice above him said.

To himself, Beorn wished again he had not been injured. Shrugging off such a blow would have been much easier. As it was, his head pounded and his vision blurred. Annoyed, he thought to himself, I have felt worse.

He managed to throw himself to the side just in time to avoid a second blow. Swaying, he staggered to his feet and looked about him. Two men had come from the building he had been passing, and another now moved out from his other side.

"Good day, sir," one said mockingly. "Got anything of worth you might be willing to part with? It'd save us time and you a lot of pain."

"No," he replied, pulling out his quarterstaff.

"Ah, too bad then."

The man behind him charged, and Beorn spun to face him. Despite his work to overcome his injuries, he was still too slow to avoid the blow and was only just strong enough to turn aside the man's club. Before he could counterattack, the man swung again, but this time Beorn blocked the blow and managed to smack the man on the knee, causing him to limp back a moment.

Before he could follow up on his attack, Beorn heard a movement behind him and spinning he ducked under the axe that had been meant to take off his head. Unfortunately, the third man, also carrying staff managed a glancing blow on his left arm. Momentarily pained, Beorn tried to retreat but the man with the axe came at him again.

This time, both Beorn's speed and strength seemed to have improved and he hit the axe handle with his staff, hard to enough to drive its haft into its wielder's face. The man stepped back, spitting out a tooth. Before Beorn could do anything else, both the man with the club and the man with the staff came at him.

For a moment, Beorn actually managed to hold both back. Still, he was being rapidly forced back into one of the old buildings. As he fought, his movements were becoming faster, more graceful, and stronger. His injuries had left him unable to fight properly but he was now learning again.

Not fast enough.

As he stepped back through the doorway of the building, the other man's staff struck his side, knocking him back and down. Rolling, he managed to avoid the axe-wielder, who had now re-entred the fray, but the man with the club struck a hard blow on his head again.

Driven by pain, rage, or something else, Beorn grabbed the club and pulled its owner toward him. Somehow, he stood, lifted the man, and hurled him across the room into the wall, hard enough that something snapped in the man's body. Unfortunately, the staff-wielder hit Beorn in the legs and he fell to his side.

Both of the remaining two muggers came at him with murderous expressions. Trying to stand again, he stumbled and fell back once more. This time, however, the floor beneath him gave way and he fell.

The building around him dropped out of sight, and he dropped into a smelly, wet darkness. He struck his head as he did so and this time the world faded around him...

Day Six
Kosha

It was just before sunset but already dark as night. Storm clouds roiled pelted the town with a steady rain out of spite. Few people braved the muddy streets. The dirty streams vying for control of the village went largely uncontested. When the last adventurers left they took with them the last sense of comfort in Kosha. Homes were closed and barred, veiled by the water that poured off their roofs. Jacob hated what black magic did to the weather. He cursed it as he wished he brought something for the rain. Jacob and his fellow guard Daniel stood by Itanos’s house watching the road out of the village. They were more wary of people trying to leave than they were of anyone making their way into town.

The sound of a withered cane tapping against the road rose above the water’s clatter. Jacob gave Daniel as puzzled look as they moved to bar the path. An aged man in a sodden travel cloak hobbled up to them. His cane looked more a sturdy branch than a proper crutch. His hair was pure white beneath the hood that shielded him from the rain. He took a moment to look around before he squinted at the guards, “Am I in Kosha?” he asked tiredly.

Jacob took in the sight of the man. His voice held a dignity that had faded from the rest of him with his youth. The hand he held his cane with trembled slightly. A trek to the village must have been hard on those old bones, “Where else would you be?” Jacob replied with a smirk as he swept his hair out of his eyes.

“Good ale here?” the old man demanded.

“Best you’ll find in a day’s ride.” Jacob said wryly. The old man nodded as though appeased and started to walk by.

Daniel gave them both hard looks, “I’m sorry traveler but you’ll need to go elsewhere.”

“And where else am I supposed to go?” the old man replied indignantly, “I want to speak to Itanos.”

“You can’t right now.” Jacob cut in thinking quickly, “He went to Cademia a few days ago. We have our hands full with some trouble in the area and he wanted to ask for help. Maybe you passed him on the road here without realizing?” he offered.

“Well…” the old man frowned pensively and cast a look back to the road, “I suppose that could have happened.”

Jacob draped his arm over the old man’s shoulders and lowered his voice conspiratorially, “Don’t mind Danny. Everyone’s a bit on edge. Why don’t you grab some ale at the Roasted Haunch, tell them Jacob sent you.”

The old man licked his lips at the offer of free ale, “Alright.” He smiled and headed down the road. All was forgiven apparently.

Daniel didn’t feel the same way. He took an angry step after the old man and Jacob had to grab his arm to stop him, “What are you doing?” Daniel hissed, “Our orders say no one gets in or out of town.”

“What would you have me do?” Jacob nodded to Itanos’s house, “He asked about the Judge, I had to tell him something. If he figured out Itanos was missing we’d have had to cut him down here in the street.”

“There’s still time.” Daniel insisted angrily. He watched the old man down the road drawing closer to the tavern.

“Don’t be an idiot. There are still too many people who haven’t been replaced. If one of them saw us we would have to slaughter all of them and there’s always the chance of one escaping to tell the tale.” He sighed. Daniel was all bite and no brains, “We’ll convince him to wait till morning before heading out. If you want him so badly you can kill him in his sleep tonight.” That seemed to settle him some, “Keep watching the road while I go take care of it.”

Any excuse to be out of the rain was a good one. Jacob found the old man at the bar working on a tall glass and chatting to the two men next on his right. Bart and Carl had yet to be replaced. They spent most nights in the tavern getting drunk and making a ruckus to take their minds off their fears. The old man’s cane/stick was propped up against the stool at his other side. It was a gnarled thing he might have found drifting down a river somewhere. Small chance the old man had money to pay for a room if that was the best he could do.

“… yesh, but yous should try thish.” Bart was slurring as he lifted his mug, “A mansh drink rightsh here. Putsh hair on your back itsh will.”

The other man snickered, “Your wife should lay off it then.”

“WHATSH?!” Bart demanded loudly, grabbing his much larger friend by the collar, “Yous pickin a fightsh witsh me?”

Carl was too busy laughing to pry away from the man’s grip. His seat tilted back and threatened to drop both of them in a heap. The old fellow was chuckling and drinking his ale as he watched the show. “I didn’t get your name out there.” Jacob tapped on the counter to get Wendal the bartender’s attention. Wendal was a plant like Jacob and, like Jacob, was doing his best to maintain his disguise until ordered otherwise.

“Mithos.” The old man smiled good-naturedly and extended a hand, “Thanks for the ale.”

With a crash the two drunkards landed sprawled on the floor. Jacob did his best to keep a straight face and ignore their flailing limbs as he shook the traveler’s hand, “Least I could after Dan’s rudeness.”

Mithos waved the apology away and spared a laugh for the men struggling to their feet, “I’ve been learning about the problems you’re having. I understand. You even had heroes here to help you.” Wendal was busy giving Bart and Carl the rough side of his tongue. They looked like a pair of children caught doing something they weren’t supposed to. At least they had the decency to look abashed.

“Oh yea,” Jacob acknowledged, tapping his fingers on the counter impatiently so Wendal would give up his charade, “to think you only missed them by a day. Selax, Wizard, Silverfish… what was that last one’s name, the one who saved little Sara?”

“Talosh?” Bart offered.

“Yes Talos!” the guard beamed, “They all went off towards Cademia. That seems to be where everyone wants to go now.”

“Just them?” Mithos asked.

Jacob arched an eyebrow, “You were expecting someone else?”

“Oh… No.” Mithos finished with an air of disappointment. He finished his mug and set it down on the counter, “Thanks for your hospitality. I think I’ll head off before I wear out my welcome.”

“In this weather, with all the danger surrounding the village?” Jacob protested, “Nonsense. I’m sure the barkeep would be more than happy to put you up in a room upstairs.” He gave Wendal a meaningful look now that he had his undivided attention.

“I don’t have much money…” the old man began.

“Please,” the guard smiled, “your money is no good here anyway. Get some rest and you can head out on the road tomorrow if you like.” he shepherded Mithos to an empty up the stairs while Wendal urged Bart and Carl to go home since he was closing shop. Jacob brought the old man to an empty guest room and made sure he was comfortable before taking his leave, “Poor old fool.” He muttered on his way back down. Mithos wouldn’t survive the night.

**

The storm continued its assault on Kosha well into the night. The town managed to sleep through the barrage. Daniel crept into the Roasted Haunch with no one there to see him. A lonesome candle did its best to brighten the common room from the bar. Its wan light was enough to guide the guard to the stairs in the back. The old steps creaked mournfully as he climbed. “_{Damned rickety hovel}” he muttered under his breath. The noise felt loud enough to wake half the village. His pounding heart was only a fair bit quieter.

The old man’s room was at the far end of the hall. Daniel listened outside the door for a long time. Mithos was the only guest at the tavern but if he screamed there was the chance he would be heard from outside. So the guard waited with his ears straining. All he heard was the steady drum of rain against the roof and walls.

He pulled a dagger out of his coat and pushed the door open gently as he could. The old man slept facing the wall bundled tightly under his blankets. Daniel raised his dagger high and thrust. The blankets spit up a plume of wool and feathers as the blade bit into the mattress, “Over here.” Called an unfamiliar voice.

The guard whirled around into a face full of dark powder, “Who?” he fumbled for his sword in a daze. His fingers felt clumsy as he snatched at the hilt. The sword clattered to the floor harmlessly. Daniel’s vision clouded over like the night sky.

**

It had long been Seralcard’s opinion that torture was a practice for sadists and amateurs. You could learn many things, but most would be unimportant. Much would be untrue. A man would say anything to make the pain stop so you never knew what you would learn or whether it would be useful. He considered this as he paced in front of his prisoner. Daniel sat tied to a chair borrowed from the tavern’s dining hall. The guard was gagged but contented himself with glaring at the assassin.

Seralcard continued to weigh his options, rolling a black stone over the back of his fingers. The more elegant solution was a softer approach. Gain a prisoner’s trust and respect while you made them think that helping you was in their best interests. More often than not they would tell you all you need of their own free will. Eventually. However there were times when such a slow route was impractical. Unfortunately for Daniel this was one of those times.

The assassin stopped before the guard and held the stone before his eyes, “I call this a Void.” He began casually, “Sound can’t escape this room. I tell you this so you don’t waste my time with screams for help, but you’ll do plenty of screaming anyway.” He pocketed the Void and crouched down to eye level, “I’m going to ask you questions now. And every time you lie to me I’m going to hurt you in ways you never imagined. I’m not going to kill you. No matter how long this takes I won’t let you die. Now,” he removed the guard’s gag, “why did you try to kill me?”

Daniel spit in his face, “Go to hell!” he snarled, “You don’t scare me.”

Seralcard wiped his face with a gloved hand and reached into his cloak. He pulled out a silver compass. One whose true north always pointed away from falsehood. The assassin met Daniel’s eyes coldly, “You’re lying.”

Hours passed. Rain still tapped against the window from the darkened sky but the sun would start to rise before long. The air carried the faint scent of burnt flesh. Seralcard sat at the edge of his bed across from the whimpering guard. Daniel’s left hand and wrist were only bone. His arm was skinned up to the elbow and the raw flesh beneath was charred black to stop the bleeding. An elixir the assassin fed him kept Daniel from going into shock. It forced him to feel every moment of his agony. The guard’s eyes were rimmed red with tears and exhaustion. He had revealed all he knew. None of it was what the assassin had hoped to learn. All of it was dire none the less, “What do I do with you now. Should I heal you again?”

He removed the gag and Daniel pleaded with him between gasps and sobs, “Please, no more. I need a real healer.” He glanced to the ruin of his hand and then away immediately. He looked like he would be sick again, “Oh gods.”

“I believe you.” Seralcard said softly, “But—“ The door exploded into the room as a hundred pieces of kindling. Jacob stood in the doorway. An invisible hand locked around Seralcard pinning his arms to his side painfully, “A psychic?” he grunted.

“Impressive,” Jacob grinned, “you guessed on the first try.”

“I, I didn’t want to say anything!” Daniel stammered.

“It’s alright calm down.” Jacob said gently, “We’ll get you healed and then you can tell me what this man asked you.” He turned on Seralcard, “Honestly, did you think you could use cast a magic field like that and have it go unnoticed?”

“Honestly?” the assassin shook his head, “No.” he closed his eyes and overcharged the charm around his neck. The enchantment blasted the room with blinding white light.

“My eyes!” Jacob screamed and staggered back into the hall.

Seralcard dropped to the floor with the psychic’s concentration broken, “I’m blind.” Daniel cried pathetically.

“I’ll take the pain away.” The assassin assured him. He grabbed the guard’s neck and wove a hurried flame spell. Daniel gasped as a scarlet flash incinerated his throat.

Boots pounded up the stairs, “Hurry!” Jacob commanded from the hall. Seralcard drew his cloak about him and leapt through the window with a crash. The wind and rain rushed at him all at once as he splashed against the muddy ground.

The assassin rolled to his feet and looked around hurriedly. Daniel said that Itanos was imprisoned in House Comana. There was no time to spare. A familiar blue light enveloped him as he sprinted for the manor, “Damnit!” with a flash he disappeared.

**

Day eight
Outside Cademia

A small army of Daemons made their funeral march through the forest outside of Cademia. The horde dragged stained cloth sacks through the tangled brush. Each carried a massive stone weapon, stained and cracked by time and blood and battle. The gray scaled Black-Horn was the strongest and most brutal Daemon of his tribe, even more so than their leader Feral. His weapon was a spiked boulder tethered to a dark iron chain. The links were coiled around his fist and the rock hung swaying like a pendulum in his grip. It was easily the sized of a human’s chest.

He glared fire at the back of the dark creature ahead of him. Feral was cunning and well liked. Enough to fend off Black-Horn from the coveted role of leader. Feral paid little mind to the waves of hatred crashing like surf against his back. He noisily gnawed the flesh off a human leg.

The scent of bloodied meat slithered through the bags to Black-Horn’s nose. It was sickly sweet stench, a smell to make the mouth water. But Feral was the only one who defied orders and ate. He constantly prodded the boundaries set by their masters. He made an art of finding and exploiting weaknesses to advance his standing. Feral believed he had found such weakness in Devlin. That insatiable ambition kept his sights focused ever higher. It left him blind to the dangers lurking below.

“Halt.” A voice commanded from the woods ahead.

Daemon warriors dropped their burdens and bared crude weapons. They growled at the shadows around them. Black-Horn kept his peace and stepped away from Feral. The leader didn’t see the gesture, “Calm yourselves, this forest belongs to the Master.” Feral rumbled, “Show yourself servant.” A hard-eyed swordsman strode out of the trees and stopped fifteen paces from them. His green cape was a piece torn from the background, so well did it blend in, “Ah, Devlin’s pup.” The Daemon shouldered a sword bigger than the man he faced, “When did the Master let you leave our world?”

A fool might disrespect one of the Dread. But he wouldn’t long survive it. Feral was among the Master’s favorite minions but he was still playing a dangerous game. Galahad’s face could have been carved from granite for all the emotion it showed. Without words he drew his sword like a black wind and slammed it back into its scabbard. The breeze swept passed Feral and rustled the leaves of the tree behind him. The bark cracked loudly and the tree leaned over with a great crash. Feral’s face was contorted by shock and pain as he toppled to the dirt without his legs, “Rahhhh!” he howled in agony, beating the soil with his pathetic stubs and reaching for his fallen sword, “Kill him! Rend his flesh!”

The Daemon tribe was paralyzed with confusion. Their leader was bested by a single strike they couldn’t see. They turned to the strongest among them for guidance. Galahad too turned to him, his voice quiet and grim, “Black-Horn.”

When no one moved Feral cursed, “Do as your leader commands damn you!”

“Gladly.” Black-Horn sneered. The gray Daemon whirled his chain over his head menacingly and brought the boulder down with a crash. Feral’s skull burst like an overripe fruit, “I claim the right to lead, who would oppose me?” he declared loudly. Feral was well liked. Several Daemon’s clutched at their blades in outrage. One of them raged forward with a great-axe. Black-Horn ripped his gore laden weapon from Feral’s corpse and whirled it with all his wrath. The spiked ball shattered the axe and half the charging Daemon’s face. Pebbles, teeth, and bits of skull spattered onto the dirt under a rain of blood, “Another?” Black-Horn stared down the rest until they lowered their eyes and their weapons submissively. Satisfied, the Daemon faced the swordsman. Their bargain could not have ended better, “How may we serve?”

Galahad waved to the shadows at his right, “This man will show you where to go.” Black-Horn had neither seen nor heard the one-eyed man arrive. He was simply there where a moment before he was not, “Treat his word as my own.” The swordsman turned away and spared his companion a last look, “Stay out of Cademia Rythan. We have more than just the Master to contend with now.” Rythan bowed respectfully until Galahad moved to leave. The gesture belied the bloodlust burning in his crimson eye as he watched the swordsman’s retreating back.

**

Galahad looked out off a stone balcony on the east side of the Judge’s castle. The ocean glittered in the starlight. Its waves rocked the beach with their somber lullaby. A cool salted breeze brushed passed his cloak as it stole his breath. This was not his home, but he recognized it with everything he was. And not for the first time did he doubt what he was doing there.

All he had of his parents were faded memories of that view. All those he had ever called friend had left him with little more. He pulled his sword from its scabbard to marvel at its ebon beauty. An invisible artist drew scarlet runes on the blade that faded soon after, never the same twice. The sword had made him so much more than he once was.

The swordsman vividly recalled the night it was given to him. A chill white fire crackled in the Enchanter’s forge the way it always had when Galahad came to see him. Sparkling embers danced about and gave way before the swordsman. But the Enchanter’s tools hung neatly on their racks and he was nowhere to be seen. The door to his armory yawned open at the back of the room. Curious to know why he had been summoned Galahad entered, “Hello?”

No answer came. It was dimmer in the chamber, lit only by the glow of magical artifacts. Amulets and rings slept in neat jewel encrusted boxes. The gems twinkled with their secrets. The room was a rainbow burst of fireworks frozen in time. Four pieces stood out from all the rest. Three weapons rested on a table: an intricate obsidian longsword, a fearsome silver battle axe, and an elegant pearl spear. Behind them was a masterwork of gold and black plate armor on a wooden mannequin. Each pulsed with runes of a different color, their hidden powers enough to outshine the whole room, “So you’ve seen them.” The Enchanter came in through a hidden door dressed the grey hooded robe he was never without.

The swordsman was so captivated his voice betrayed his awe, “Seralcard, what are they?”

The crafter walked over to the table and gently lifted the sword. He ran his fingers over its blunted edges, “The spirits of the last Elementals.”

“What?!” Galahad gaped. Their war had shaken the land, almost consumed it. Those creatures had been powerful beyond reason. It was sheer luck they had all died in the final days, “You couldn’t have killed them!”

“No.” Seralcard agreed, “They destroyed each other. Or near enough that my presence would not have mattered in the end. I murdered their spirits so they could never return. I forged their fractured essence into these.” The shadows of his cowl turned to study the other artifacts. The Enchanter’s words were heavy with sadness, but it was hard to tell anything with his face shrouded so.

The swordsman’s mouth felt desert dry. He spoke quietly without thinking, “You could conquer Cythera with weapons like that.”

“I helped wipe away an entire race.” He replied quietly, “I am not worthy of such a thing.” The Enchanter stared at him still holding the sword, “I know you have worked with Raperian to betray the Master.”

“Wha—“

“If the Master does not already know it is only a matter of time. Then his vengeance will be merciless.” Seralcard took a step towards him.

Galahad darted for the sword at his hip, “What do you want?” he demanded.

His face hidden and unreadable the Enchanter considered that for a moment. Abruptly he held out the black sword, “Take it. This is why I called you here.”

The swordsman hesitated, “I don’t understand.”

“I know why you betrayed the Master.” Seralcard said, “I believe in your dream, foolish though it may be.”

Galahad warily accepted the blade. The weight of the metal was lighter than he would have guessed. The weight of its power threatened to crush him where he stood, “Whose spirit was this?”

“You’ll learn soon enough. For now you have to leave. I must find masters for the others.” The swordsman spared a glance for the other artifacts before he did as was told, afraid the Enchanter might change his mind. He would see the spear and axe on more than one occasion but that proved the last time he ever saw the armor.

Galahad’s thoughts returned to the balcony in Cademia. He was still staring intently at the dark blade, “You fought for so long to be free of your prison only to be killed and imprisoned again.” He laughed softly and shook his head, “I owe you my freedom, Ur Sylph.”

**

Black-Horn and his tribe followed Rythan still carrying their grisly treasures. He led them into a brooding cave that crouched at the edge of Cademia’s forest. Within was a long winding tunnel that burrowed deeper into the earth even as it angled towards the city. A stream had run through long ago. It chipped away at the earth and smoothed over the stone flooring. Several tripped over slick ground they could barely see. The damp caverns were drenched in everlasting night dim even to the Daemon’s eyes. Rocky spears jutted up from the floor and hung from the ceiling. The stalagmite teeth of some fell beast.

“The Master will learn of our betrayal.” Biter was cautious not to say your betrayal in his quiet voice. Black-Horn chose the blue-scale as his second because, like Feral, the beast was well liked. Unlike Feral he was a coward. When there was time he would be killed and replaced. For the moment Black-Horn would suffer through his prattle, “We can still kill this mortal…” Biter ventured in a tone that suggested he would not be first to strike.

Black-Horn gave him a sidelong glance and considered murdering him. The man in black picked his way through the cave’s treacherous footing with practiced ease. If he heard the fool he gave no sign, “Hold your tongue or I will tear it from you.” Black-Horn growled. The blue-scale relented as if struck. He would be quiet for a time.

Water dripped into hidden pools in places out of sight. Vaguer echoes haunted them. Branching paths crept out of the shadows as Black-Horn approached and melted back into darkness as he passed. A long moan heralded a frigid breeze where none should have been and finally their guide deigned to speak, “We are here.”

Here turned out to be several yards beyond that point. The cavern opened into a vast chamber carved out of the stone. The floor was many yards below them with a pond at its heart. Black-Horn stood on a ledge as he entered, his breath fogging before him. Scattered torches did little to warm the frozen air. They would have to descend a ramp that ringed the room. Rythan was already making his way down.

Black-Horn followed close behind. The moan of the wind grew louder and louder before he realized where the sound really came from. The pool was whispering to them, screaming softly though its surface was perfectly still. Like a dark mirror. A knee high barrier of bones lined its edge. Hundreds of them. How many had died to make something so large? Rythan peered into it and Biter moved to stand beside him. The Daemon tried not to appear obvious as it sized him up. It clutched its heavy club tightly. The man paid biter no heed, “Bring me the corpses.” He said to no one in particular.

Biter balked indignantly, “No,” he began. Black-Horn prepared to strike him dead then and there, “We gathered these for the Master and to the Master they will—“ Crack!

Rythan thrust his clawed hand through Biter’s ribs in a spray of red mist. The Daemon gurgled something in protest as blood filled its lungs. The man in black did not even turn to face him. With an offhand gesture Rythan threw him into the pool like a discarded doll. Biter splashed into the black ichor on his hands and knees. Dozens of monstrous claws rose up and tore into him. They dragged the struggling Daemon into the inky depths. The moan grew to a hungering wail as Rythan watched on. From where he stood Black-Horn could not see the man’s face. He could however see the horror painted on Biter’s bloodied features before he sank out of view. As soon as the Daemon dipped below the surface the pond was still as death once more, “Bring me the corpses.” Rythan repeated coldly, “Or become them.” The tribe was quick to obey.

This post has been edited by Ragnar0k: 06 August 2009 - 01:26 AM

(OoC: This post is a joint effort of me and vIsitor. BiC:)

The forest North of Kosha
Fifth Day

The tree roots formed an upward staircase for the downcast group of isloated travlers. It was nearly midday, and Yomu guessed that the nearby vineyard was only a few hills away. The meal Shanandar had prepared earlier, although petite, was well cooked and sufficient to last untill supper time; though Yomu's stomach did not agree. Underneath the creaking of trees in the autum wind, small impatient grumbles could be heard.



"This forest seems to go on forever." Shanandar stated, pausing only breifly to catch his breath before continuing his upwards march. He peered behind to check on Katerei; she was watching the ground as she walked on in her humanoid form, seemingly in a state of deep contemplation. Yomu, meanwhile, was at the front of the group, leading ahead. They had travelled alongside one another in a previous adventure, but Shanandar was still uncertain what to make of the quiet drifter.

Yomu felt eyes on him and turned to meet Shanandar's stare.

"What is it?" he inquired.

Shanandar paused, then replied abruptly: "Have you noticed Katerei has been kind of...distant, lately?"

Yomu looked behind to Katerei, then back to Shanandar.

"She's acted that way for the short time we've known each other," he replied, "I assumed that was her nature."

"I mean moreso than usual," Shanadar clarified, "She's become increasingly reserved as of late, and you saw how she nearly broke down when she lost Rapierian's trail."

"A warrior's resolve fades with the heart." Yomu suggested, "Her doubts and confusion block the path to her soul."

Shanandar was a bit befuddled by Yomu's 'flowery' style of speech, and took a moment to compose his reply. "Well, whatever her problem is, its starting to worry me. She is not well."

"Hm, Yes. As her companions, it's our duty to ensure her well being." Yomu said as he turned abrubtly, nearly colliding into the burly Enforcer, "We will counsel her up ahead."

Shanandar looked beyond Yomu, and saw a glimpse of a quiet, sunlight vineyard past the overgrowth.

"I'm glad you agree," he replied, "Because that was the plan I had in mind."

Cademia
Sixth Day, dawn

Hidden in the shadows, a small child watched the guards pass. Cindy smiled to herself as the unconscious Typhos was hauled off in the direction of the jail. Garmr lingered behind the others, staring off to the east.

Cindy waited impatiently. There was a lot to be done in very little time. If Garmr stayed much longer, he might interfere with her plans. Finally, much to Cindy's relief, Garmr turned to follow the others.

* * *

The door to the Two-Tailed Rat swung open; Garmr walked in. He slammed the door roughly, making it crash so loudly that everyone present looked over at him.

Apis, trying her best to smile, went over to his table. "Garmr, so nice to see you again. I suppose I don't need to remind you that there is still an unpaid balance on your tab." Not certain whether or not she had made her point, "A considerable amount, actually."

"Yes, I know. It's so thoughtful of you to continue serving me anyways."

"I'm sorry, but I will not give you another meal, not even another drop, until you've paid me!" Apis tried to compose herself. She had run the Two-Tailed Rat for many years now, and she'd dealt with her fair share of difficult costumers, but Garmr was among the worst. He always seemed to be in debt somewhere, more recently at her establishment. If he weren't a city guard himself, she would have called for one a long time ago. As it was, she considered taking her case to Judge Berossus.

Garmr seemed to ignore her, "I'll have a mug of your strongest stuff -- " Apis looked like she was about to explode " -- no, wait. Actually, just give me the whole bottle. . ."

"I already told you that I won't serve you any drinks until you've paid me what you owe!"

Garmr lifted a hand to calm her, "I know that." Briefly scanning his surroundings, his eyes fell on a lone man sitting at a table across the room. "There, that man. He'll cover the bill."

Apis was taken aback. "I don't even think that man knows you, and if he did, I can't believe that he'd want to pay off your debt."

"Just bring me my drink." There was a glint in Garmr's eye, a look Apis had never seen before. For a second, it seemed to her that this person wasn't Garmr at all. Those eyes. . . so cold, so evil.

Apis stepped away. "All right, I'll get you this one last drink, but if somebody doesn't pay for it before you leave, I'm going to Judge Berossus!"

* * *

Orthrus marched along the street toward the jail, Cerberus struggling to keep up with him. "I'm sorry, sir, there is no mistake. Myself and half a dozen others saw your father trying to kill Garmr."

"Ridiculous! My father would never do any such thing. And what do you mean that he's responsible for setting the building that burned on fire?"

Cerberus shrugged, "Garmr witnessed the whole thing apparently. He followed him, and we caught up just as Typhos leapt on Garmr."

Presently, they arrived at the jail. "Garmr!" Orthrus called as he walked inside. The jail was dimly lit.

"Yes, sir!" Garmr stood.

"Where is my father being held?"

Garmr pointed to one of the cells that lined the back wall.

"Release him!"

Garmr grabbed the keys for the cell but didn't move. "Uh. . . Sir, I'm very sorry about all this, and I do hope its just a misunderstanding, but until there is something that can explain what I saw, I must insist that we hold him here."

Orthrus couldn't believe his ears. Why were all of these men saying such terrible things about his father, one of the most upstanding citizens in Cademia?

Garmr continued, "If you order me to release him, I will. But, if I may speak freely, I think you need to put personal sentiment aside and follow procedure."

Sighing with frustration, Orthrus headed to the back of the jail without another word. He knew that Judge Berossus would prefer that he not release Typhos until Berossus was ready to speak to him. Reaching Typhos' cell, he called out, "Father, are you okay?"

Typhos had just started to wake up. "Orthrus? What happened? Where am I?"

"You're in the jail. One of my guards is saying that he saw you set fire to a building this morning."

"What? I'd never. . ."

"I know, I know. Unfortunately, several of my men also claim that they saw you attack Garmr."

"I would never do anything like that! I certainly don't remember doing either of those things."

Orthrus paused; he doubted that his father would lie to him. "Do you remember anything that happened this morning?"

"No, well, Cindy woke me up, but. . ." Typhos gasped. "She ran outside! Where's Cindy? Is she safe?"

"Yes, yes, she's perfectly safe. I sent one of my guards to fetch her and have her stay with her mother."

"No! You need to bring her to stay with you! She's not safe! They're out to get her!" Typhos started to rave like some sort of madman.

"Father! She is safe! Are you okay?!" Instinctively, Orthrus' fingers went to the amulet around his neck, as they always did when he was in deep thought. His father had never acted this way before. What could be wrong? He stroked the amulet lightly with his fingers.

Typhos fell back against the bench in his cell, holding his hand to his head. He had a pounding headache.

* * *

Garmr continued to drink silently, looking out the window near him. Soon, the rest of the town would be waking up. This was already evidenced by the growing number of people entering the Two-Tailed Rat.

He took another swig from the bottle. It should be just about the time to act. Apis was likely working up the nerve to ask the man that Garmr had earlier pointed out if he was really going to pay Garmr's bill off.

* * *

"What's the matter, father?" Orthrus asked.

Typhos still held a hand to his temple. His thoughts were jumbled and confused; he couldn't remember anything that had happened just a few minutes before. But he could feel. There was an overwhelming desire that welled up inside him -- to hold the amulet. He needed it to get through this time. It would help him think. It didn't matter what it would do or what use it would be to him; he simply had to have it.

Orthrus noticed how his father stared so intently at the amulet. "Oh, this old thing. I often forget that I carry it."

"That's a shame," Typhos said, almost mechanically, "I was hoping you would be able to use it. I've missed it for a long time." He continued to stare.

"Father?" Orthrus waved his hand in front of his father's eyes. Typhos seemed dazed. "Here, why don't you keep it for a while. If it will be of any comfort to you, I want you to have it." Orthrus slipped the chain off from around his neck and extended the amulet towards Typhos.

Typhos hesitated a moment. The proximity to the amulet almost made him forget why he wanted it. Then, the desire overpowered him again, and he yanked the amulet from his sons hand. Typhos held it closely to his chest, obviously in a world of his own.

Orthrus tried to get his father's attention one last time before giving up. "Don't worry, father. Judge Berossus will be awake by now, and I promise to have him talk with you as soon as possible. We'll clear you of this in no time!"

Orthrus turned to leave but paused when he walked by Garmr. "You're right; something is very wrong. Hold him here, and I will return shortly to take him before Judge Berossus."

* * *

Finishing his drink with a loud gulp, Garmr slammed the mug on the table. He got up to leave. Across the room, he noticed Apis talking to the man about Garmr's bill. He chuckled to himself.

Garmr opened the door, but before he set foot outside, a harsh voice shouted to him. "Hey, you! Hold on!"

Garmr turned around. Apis still stood on the other side of the room, pursing her lips. The man she had just been talking too, and the one who had shouted, stormed his way to the door. "I hear that you've been billing me for your drinks!?"

Garmr said nothing.

"Hey! I'm talking to you! I am not going to pay for your drinks, and I'm certainly not going to pay all the rest of your debt! DO YOU HEAR ME?! You must be some sort of lunatic to walk in here and think that you can just point at someone and make them pay for you!"

"On the contrary, my boy, it's a tried and true method." It sounded like Garmr's voice, for the most part. But there was something in the tone, or maybe the words, that seemed to come from a different mouth. It sounded so cold, distant, yet there was a hint of excitement in it as well.

The other man paused for a moment, not entirely sure what he was up against, but he was still confident that he could handle this. "Someone needs to teach you a lesson. . ." he reached into his shirt and pulled out a knife.

This is what Garmr had been waiting for. He grabbed the other man's wrist, twisting it sharply. With a cry of pain, the other man released his hold on the knife. "Looks like it won't be you." Without hesitation, Garmr caught the knife in his right hand, brought it back up, and slit his opponent's throat.

There was a collective gasp, someone screamed. Blood trickled down into a growing pool beneath the dying man. He struggled for breath, but he would be dead within moments.

Too long to wait. Garmr started searching through the pockets of the other man. In a matter of seconds, he withdrew his hand, clenching a small bag of oboloi. The body fell to the floor. Garmr dropped the oboloi next to it. "There's your money. . . if you want it," wiping blood off his hands, Garmr disappeared out the door.

"You! Go get help!" Apis shouted to one of the bystanders as she ran across the room. She knew that the man was dead. They should have done something, but it all happened so fast! Other patrons gathered around the body, some ran outside to try to catch Garmr.

Outside, Garmr was no where to be seen; there wasn't even a trail of blood. The man who Apis had shouted to searched frantically for a guard. "Help! Help!" It was no use, there didn't seem to be one around. The man set off as fast as he could toward Judge Berossus home. That would be the only way to insure that they get help.

Thinking nothing of it, the man didn't notice when he ran past a small girl skipping down the street. As he continued north, having to run across town to reach the Judge's home, Cindy turned east. She knew exactly where the nearest guard was.

Cindy wound through a couple abandoned buildings and avoided a few beggars. She stopped skipping when she caught sight of Cerberus. Her eyes turned red and watered, tears appeared down her cheeks. "Cerberus!" she yelled through the sobs. "Cerberus! Someone's been murdered!"

Cerberus turned, "What? Murdered? Where? When?"

Cindy grabbed his hand and started to pull at it. He followed. "It was horrible!" She led him north, into a deserted part of town. It was just west of the town square, where there was a lot of activity. Yet, nobody ever came by this place. It was also fairly close to the jail.

She pulled Cerberus into a small room, enclosed on three sides. It was dark in here. Cindy let go of Cerberus hand. "Cindy? You need to tell me more about what happened, even if you don't want to talk about it. Who died? When? Where? Cindy! You're not playing a joke on me, are you?"

*Clang* Cerberus collapsed on the ground, unconscious. "It's no joke, I assure you," Cindy dropped the shovel next to Cerberus. She stepped outside, and stood in the doorway for a minute. She would be able to leave the body hidden here for as long as she needed. Content with that, she started north toward Judge Berossus' castle. Only, it wasn't Cindy, now it was Cerberus.

North of Cademia
Sixth Day


From a secluded grove of trees outside of Cademia, Rapierian carefully watched the city. After his talk with Prusa, he had spent the better part of a day working his carefully northward until he was now due north of Cademia. He now had a vague lead to follow, but he was not certain where to start. With that thought in mind, the necromancer had determined to at least visit Cademia as secretly as possible. He needed information and the Mother City was as a good a place as any to get it.

It seemed that his pursuers had lost his trail, but it was not safe to assume such. Rapierian, however, was quite certain that his presence in Cademia would not be expected, and, in any case, there were surprisingly many places to hide in the old city. Besides, a visit there could be great fun whatever happened. Still, he had no intention of entering it openly or without a plan. His chances of getting into the city unnoticed were much better after nightfall. Thus, he had decided to hide out where he currently was for the remainder of the day. If all seemed safe, he would enter the city.

The necromancer kept a careful lookout. He had an escape plan in case he was surprised here, but it was best to remain vigilant. Something very strange was going on in the land of Cythera, and Rapierian did not plan on being surprised by whatever was causing it.

Vineyard south of Cademia
Fifth day

Following along behind Yomu and Shanadar, Katerei was barely aware of where they were going until they stepped out of the dense overgrowth of the forest into bright sunshine. She looked up in surprise, blinking in the light. A peaceful-looking field stretched out in front of them, surrounded by a rustic wooden fence. Hundreds of grape vines embraced wooden stakes placed in neat rows up and down the vineyard, their leaves stirring gently in the trace of a breeze. It was a quiet and pleasant place under the noonday sun, and a welcome change from the dark and oppressive forest they had been travelling through.

Katerei vaguely recognized the place, having occasionally passed it before on her travels. "We must be on the right path to Cademia," she said, raising a hand to block the sunlight from her eyes as she gazed past the vineyard.

"Yes," said Shanadar, who along with Yomu had stopped up ahead by the fence. "Do you mind if we rest here for a bit? We'd like to talk to you before entering the city."

Katerei turned her eyes to her companions, but she almost seemed to be looking through them. "What about?"

Shanadar indicated that they should have a seat, and they settled down on the strip of grass between the forest and vineyard fence. "We're concerned about you," he said, perhaps with a note of apology in his voice. "We just want you to know that you can tell us if something is bothering you."

"It is understandable if you don't wish to share your troubles with us," Yomu added, "but we would like to help if we can."

The forest had trapped Katerei's mind as if in the mires of a dream, and still waking, it took her a few moments to register the men's words. They're... worried about me? she thought, completely nonplussed. Dozens of thoughts drifted in and out of focus as she considered this. She supposed there was more than enough to worry about, but she hadn't realized that her companions had been so attentive. She had thought Shanadar was fixed on Rapierian, and Yomu seemed to have been occupied with his own thoughts. Perhaps they observed far more than they let on.

It was an odd feeling to know that people - least of all ones she had only been travelling with for five days - cared about her. It was always implicit that companions looked out for each other's safety while travelling together, but that didn't necessarily include emotional well-being. The warm feeling tempered the rising panic that she felt at the thought of discussing her innermost fears aloud. What would they think of her? How much could she bring herself to tell them? But she reminded herself of why she came on this quest to begin with. She was meant to be spending time around people, learning to socialize, working through her problems. What better opportunity than this?

Shanadar and Yomu had been kind to her so far, as well. Their exhausting chase through the forest after Rapierian had been hard on them all, but Katerei felt a strange sense of camaraderie with them afterward. Travelling with only two companions was different, more personal, than with the usual larger group. They had also seen her as a wolf for extended periods of time, which she tended to feel awkward about letting other people see. Most of all, they had trusted her to track Rapierian when she hardly trusted herself: she at least owed them her trust in return.

Katerei realized they were waiting for an answer and her cheeks flushed slightly. "It's complicated," she hedged.

Shanadar shrugged. "You don't have to explain everything to us, but if talking about anything would make you feel better, go right ahead."

"Well..." Katerei sighed, wondering how to begin. "I said earlier that I thought I found another 'me' back in Kosha. I'm still not sure what to make of that possibility, but I've been thinking about it. Imagine if there was a duplicate of yourself. Would that person be identical to you only in physical ways such as appearance - or in my case, scent - or in mental and emotional ways as well? What if they turned out to have better qualities that you wish you had, if they were smarter or braver or more compassionate? You'd spend a lifetime wondering where you went wrong, why you didn't end up as the kind of person you could have been and wanted to be."

She paused to see if the two men were following along. They were listening intently and seemed to understand, so she carried on. "On the flip side, what if your duplicate was a worse person than you? Maybe they're selfish and cold-hearted and cowardly. Then you'd waste away fearing that you might end up like that too. It'd be like seeing all your flaws laid bare, not only to you but to everyone your duplicate meets."

"We are not necessarily defined by our past actions," Shanadar pointed out.

"Who can say what we're defined by? I can't know that until I meet this duplicate, and that isn't something I want to do. It's a chilling prospect." Katerei stared out over the red dust and green leaves of the vineyard. She always felt so out of place in this land, a speck of blue amongst all the earthly colours, but the attentiveness of her audience encouraged her to keep talking. "The other possibility is I imagined the entire thing, which has an entirely different array of consequences. When I'm a wolf I rely heavily on my senses, and to suddenly not know if what my senses tell me is true... it's unnerving, to say the least. It's like walking without knowing if the ground in front of you is going to be solid. When does it turn from imagining into hallucinating? How do I know I'm even sane still?"

"A few strange scents does not make your mind lost," Yomu said reassuringly. "This is only one of many unusual occurrences lately. With Rapierian escaped and Direct Nexus crippled, we ought to expect strange magic in some form. Perhaps some external force is deliberately affecting your senses."

"I'm still inclined to believe your senses," Shanadar put in, "but Yomu has a point. Our last quest took us through time. It wouldn't seem unlikely either that there really are duplicates of you and Rapierian, or that false scents have been laid. Regardless, I still believe you're as sane as ever."

"I don't know what to believe. I just don't want to be responsible for misleading us or putting either of you into danger." Katerei bit her lip and hesitated as she looked at the men. "I like both of you, and... people around me always seem to get hurt, and I can't prevent it."

Yomu heard the shake of Katerei's voice and, sensing there was more to the story, asked, "You don't have to explain, but to whom do you refer?"

Katerei paused for a moment, wondering if she could handle talking about this, and began tentatively. "Several years ago there was a war, carried out mainly in subterfuge on the coastlines. I don't think news of it ever reached the main population of Cythera. Our group of fighters was ambushed and either killed or captured... I saw my parents burned to death later. As far as I know I'm the only one who survived, and I never wanted to be stuck watching helplessly again as someone I cared about died. But at Pnyx, at Malis and Danae's wedding... I saw Trundaylan die and I couldn't save him. Avatara was wounded heavily next to me in combat and I didn't protect him either."

"I was at Pnyx that night too," Shanadar said gently. "Nothing more could have been done. Trundaylan was a brave man who died doing his job. No one holds you responsible."

Katerei noted that Shanadar said nothing about Avatara, but she suspected as an Enforcer he was being tactful and not mentioning their differing views on an escaped murderer. She rubbed her eyes wearily, trying not to think about that... to think about him. "Rationally, I know it's not my fault, but all the same, I don't trust myself anymore. I don't know how to deal with all this, these recent murders, the duplicates, and not knowing what any of it means. If it's between all that being real or having lost my mind... I'm honestly not sure which one I'd prefer."

As they continued on, Shanadar mused over Katerei's confession of bewilderment.

Her overt statement that people around her tended to get hurt stung at Shanadar a little. He'd felt that sort of survivor's guilt himself, not only with the recent murders but also when his peers, the other nine Enforcers, were systematically slain by the gang violence they had originally endeavored to put an end to. Apollos, who'd been cornered and beaten to death in the sewers; Cipio, whose throat had been slit in his sleep; Tanus, who'd gone down fighting thirty men, and took half of them with him: all good friends and colleagues, long departed, whom Shanadar missed dearly, and he had failed to protect in their hour of need.

Even so, he'd come to accept that their line of work had an inherent amount of danger, and they had, all ten of them, accepted the risks when accepted the positions to which they had been appointed, and the duties their rank required. Katerei's lost loved ones were much the same: brave people who had died doing their duty, not by any fault of her own, but because their duty demanded it of them.

He could not force her to see the truth as he understood it; it was a revelation that she would have to arrive at on her own. He only hoped that she would come to it soon, before she destroyed herself from her grief and despair.

After the short pause Yomu stood and looked towards the sky, then over the treetops of the forest, and finally to the road ahead. "Listen." he said. Shanadar and Katerei silently examined their surroundings. A soft breeze rolled over them. "That's the world." Yomu explained as he turned to his companions. "It's lives on despite what's happens to it. Who knows why it doesn't try to do anything about it, maybe the world sleeps or perhaps it lacks the power to act. But we are all like this, with an exception: we have the power to act." Another breeze blew past them as the night's first stars came out over the horizon. "Do not sleep like the world Katerei, use the gift of will." Yomu had ended his speech as night overtook the heavens.

"You! Monsters! Demons!" a rattely voice echoed over to them. The group turned to see an elderly man angrily gesturing at them.

----

"I won't apologize for earlier," Borus grunted, "hangin' about a man's property all suspicious and what with these monsters about I had a right to be yelling at the likes of you three."

Briseis went to comfort her husband, "Borus, come now, these are adventures not spirits, and besides, what would monsters want with a vineyard? Let's just move on with the night." Borus grunted in defeat.

Shanadar turned to the couple, "Thank you for letting us stay at your vineyard for the night. We'll be heading off for Cademia in the morning."

Borus smirked, "Well good luck, what with folks disappearing, and sightings of strange monsters in the forests, you might be lucky to make it. I tell you, the world's gone mad." Borus turned to hide the glint of genius brightening his eyes, "Hm. Might be good for business."

After exchanging goodbyes the group headed for the weathered room on the side of the house.

Yomu opened the creaking door and the fragrant smell of wine filled the air, "That man said something about strange monster sightings. Maybe our culprits?"

Shanadar sighed, "Or it could be the imaginary spooks created by the panic of people disappearing." he continued as he prepared a makeshift bed next to some barrels, "Regardless, we can find out more when we get to Cademia. Actually, it would be a good idea to stop by the tavern as well."

The three of them drifted off to sleep without saying goodnight. The aroma of wine was somehow comforting and relaxed their weary minds for the night.

----

Outside the Southern Borders of Cademia
Day Six

"I can see the city clearly now." Yomu stated to the two followers behind him.

"Good, it's only midday. We should have plenty of time to look around." Shanandar pointed out.

Katerei looked somewhat uneasy, but better than when they were in the forest. She had not said much since they left the vineyard, but Shanadar and Yomu decided not to comment on it, figuring that she needed time to herself.

A strong breeze came away from the city, Yomu stopped. "What's wrong?" Shanadar inquired, "A frantic wind, that's all." Yomu replied as he continued down the path.

This post has been edited by Two Jacks: 24 August 2009 - 10:55 PM

Morning, Day 6
Jehezekel watched from behind a shrubbery as Shanadar, Katerei, & Yomu left the vineyard in the morning. A part of him yearned to go with them, to fight the coming darkness, & Yomu's words the night before echoed through his mind like a prophecy, "Do not sleep..., use the gift of will." Jehezekel sighed, wishing he could have heard more of the conversation than just that.

Borus & Briseis were arguing about just how they'd managed to acquire guests the night before, & Jehezekel allowed a smile to play across his lips. He would miss them when the time came to leave, but until then he would do his best to protect them from the darkness.

Forlong sat by himself in the corner of the tavern. A tall, dark-haired man, he leaned forward in his seat, quietly sipping at his drink and watching the other patrons come and go, living their meaningless little lives, raucously discussing their meaningless little 'politics' - in other words, doing little but making fools of themselves.

He'd always preferred solitude to the hustle and bustle of the big city, but there were more opportunities - and dangers - here, then where he'd grown up.

He took a long pull from his drink, then leaned back, wondering if anyone truly intriguing would show up. Forlong hoped so. The regulars' conversation palled after the first fifteen minutes, and most of the passerby hadn't looked strong or smart or capable enough to take care of themselves in a fight.

So he sat here.

Waiting.

*OoC*
I'd prefer that no one have their character follow the ranger giving Forlong the warning. I want him to remain hidden a little longer.
*BiC*


Tavern, Cademia
Sixth Day


As Forlong sat waiting, bored almost to death, he became gradually aware of a commotion near the door. Turning, he noticed that a new person had entered and was attempting to speak to the patrons near entryway. Since most were lost in their food and drink, no one really noticed him. Usually, they simply let the heroes who were often about handle such things. When there were no heroes in, they ignored such things.

Curious, he studied the newcomer, the first person to resemble an adventurer that he had seen since had had arrived. The man wore a long green cloak and hood, which was draped to shadow his face; both garments were more after the style of a ranger than a mage and both were old and worn with much travel. Across his back, he had a quiver of arrows and a bow. At his side, he wore a sword.

"I am telling you there is some sort of plot against the mages in this city," he said, speaking sharply to one of the patrons and shaking the man. "Do you not care?"

"Why should I? The food and drink are good! Besides, the adventurers handle that stuff. Always going around getting into one mess after another."

The ranger threw up his hands in annoyance.

"So it would seem in this land! But now they all seem to be gone! Don't any of you care at all about a threat to some of the most important people in the land?"

He was ignored. The patrons of the Tavern were very good at ignoring crazy people.

Fortunately, for the ranger, Forlong was new to this place and was, in any case, intrigued by what the man was saying.

"Excuse me, sir?" he called. "Might I speak with you?"

Sighing, the man came over.

"I heard you speaking of a plot against the mages. What do you mean?"

The stranger regarded him warily before answering.

"I have traveled through this area and this city much in recent days. I have heard some speak threats about Berossus, Anisa, and Bryaxis. Of what these plotters plan to do, I know next to nothing, save that it is to happen in the next day or two."

Forlong digested this information for a moment and asked, "But why come here? Surely you should warn the mages themselves?"

Seeming to become even more cautious, the man hesitated before replying, "I do not think that they would believe me. There is so much chaos in this land these days, from what I have heard, that a stranger coming with a warning might not be trusted. But, I had heard of heroes here who investigated such things and hoped they might help."

Forlong immediately knew the man was not telling him the whole truth. His cautious manner alone suggested that, but he waiting willing to hear the stranger out.

Sensing this, the ranger pressed on, "Please, at least take my message to these heroes if you can find them."

"Why don't you wait for them?" Forlong suggested, wanting to see the man's reaction.

"I can't!" he burst out in a whisper, looking around furtively. "I have spent too much time here already, and I have precious little! I don't know if I can trust you or anyone else in this land, but I have no choice. Please, heed my warning!"

Without waiting for a reply, the ranger spun about and moving swiftly was across the room and out the door almost immediately.

It was mid-afternoon when Shanadar, Katerei and Yomu entered Cademia. The sun radiated gently overhead, melting away the breeze that had greeted them outside the city. The stillness of the air felt oppressive to Katerei: it reminded her of the subdued atmosphere of Kosha, the silence before a storm strikes.

They headed to the Alraeican Tavern first, partly to find out what news there was to be heard and partly to get a decent (albeit late) lunch. The three travellers were quiet as they walked through the city, each of them watchful for suspicious activity, but the streets seemed unusually morose. People shuffled along, keeping their heads down and their business to themselves. Shanadar only broke the silence once to murmur, "Shouldn't there be more guards around?"

The chatter of patrons and clink of glasses was a welcome relief when they entered the tavern. Life carried on as usual here, with alcoholics drinking throughout the day, cloaked and hooded figures occupying corners, and the bartender wiping glasses in between serving drinks. The sense of relief was short-lived, though. As they headed toward the bar to order their meals, Katerei heard an excited voice behind her whisper to another patron, "So did they catch the murderer yet?"

Katerei nudged her companions with her foot and casually crossed her arms on the bar, a flick of her finger indicating the direction of the voice. Still doubtful of her senses, she wanted them to be able to verify what she heard. Shanadar and Yomu listened carefully as they pretended to be waiting for the bartender.

"Not yet, but ten oboloi says they do before sundown," the other person was whispering back eagerly. "I heard it was a guard who did it. Be a bit hard to hide when all the guards know who you are."

The first person scoffed, forgetting to lower his voice. "I'll take that bet. He'll probably flee Cademia."

"Twen'y oboloi that 'e fights anyone who arrests 'im!" another patron slurred. "Saw it meself, 'e robbed the corpse an' jus' left it there in fron' of everyone! Comple'ely 'eartless!"

The three travellers looked at each other in surprise. Murder was one thing, but by one of Cademia's own guards? Katerei felt slightly disgusted at the depravity of people who would place bets on a murderer, but she was not surprised; the Tavern's patrons were not known for their civility.

The bartender approached them then, and after the travellers ordered their meals, Shanadar leaned across the bar and quietly asked, "What was this murder by a guard we've been hearing about?"

"Happened over at the Two-Tailed Rat this morning," the bartender replied as he began getting their drinks. He was a reserved man who didn't volunteer information until asked, but he was the eyes and ears of the tavern. He also recognized the three adventurers, particularly the Enforcer, and did not hesitate to be direct about the truth. "Victim was an ordinary citizen, doesn't appear to have provoked the murder in any way. The murderer is still on the loose as far as I know."

"Has there been any other news since we left town?" Shanadar asked, his brow furrowed gravely.

"Alaric has taken ill and is in a coma at Land King Hall. No one knows why. And Typhos was arrested for arson on one of the old houses, before dawn today. These are troubled times, no doubt."

"Indeed. Thank you, sir," Shanadar said. He, Katerei and Yomu took their drinks and sat down at a table that had the fewest people nearby. "So what do you make of that?" he asked his companions in a low voice when they were settled.

"It doesn't make sense. From what I know of Typhos, he's no more likely to burn down a house than a guard is to murder a citizen," Katerei murmured. Far from being reassured that her hearing was clearly still functional, the news they had just heard was both worrisome and bewildering. She added tentatively, "But given what we've encountered with apparent duplicates of Rapierian and myself..."

"You think there may be alternate versions of Typhos and this guard, acting in their stead?" Yomu enquired. "It could explain their erratic behaviour."

Katerei desperately hoped her suspicions were wrong. If not, and these so-called duplicates existed and were capable of acting differently than their respective originals... then the fear she had confessed to her companions in the vineyard about her own duplicate might well be true. She shuddered and looked away, but as she did so, her gaze fell on a dark-haired man in the corner of the tavern. He was watching their small party with interest. Katerei flushed as he locked eyes with her. Had he been able to hear their conversation?

"Be on your guard. I think we're about to have company," she muttered to her companions as the man stood and picked up his drink.

"Good afternoon," he said politely after wending his way between tables toward them. "My name is Forlong. Do you mind if I join you?"

Shanadar eyed the man surreptitiously before indicating the empty fourth chair at their table. "Not at all. I am Shanadar, and this is Yomu and Katerei," he said in a friendly tone.

Katerei knew both Shanadar and Yomu had heeded her warning though; she could see the tension in their postures as Forlong placed his mug on the table and took a seat. The newcomer looked safe enough, but after learning how fraught Cademia was with suspicious going-ons, it seemed best to be cautious about a stranger who suddenly took an interest in them.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Forlong said. "I believe you are the people I have been waiting for."

Out of the corner of her eye, Katerei saw Shanadar's hand move toward his iron quarterstaff. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Not long ago, perhaps about an hour, a man who looked to be a ranger entered the Tavern bearing news. He was searching for some heroes who have a reputation for investigating problems, but as he could find none, he asked me to pass the message on if I saw them. So far I had not seen anyone of that description enter until you arrived."

The three adventurers exchanged a glance. Forlong's words carried more meaning than the man likely realized: there had been no sign of the rest of their missing party here. "We do not tend to consider ourself 'heroes,'" Yomu said.

"I am an Enforcer for Cademia, though," Shanadar added. "My companions and I have just returned to town. What was this news about?"

"There has been word of a plot against mages in this town." Forlong frowned slightly. "I am not sure I remember their names, though I believe Berossus was one, and there were two others. This plot is meant to be carried out very soon, within the next two days, but what is to happen or who is responsible is unknown. It sounds far-fetched, but the man was very earnest."

"Not as far-fetched as the other incidents we have heard about since arriving," Katerei said and rubbed her eyes wearily. She was still not sleeping well, and any faint hope she might have had of getting some rest in Cademia was now erased. If Forlong's words were true, it sounded like they had their work cut out for them here, especially if no other adventurers were to be found.

"Who was the ranger that gave you the message?" Yomu was asking.

Forlong shrugged. "I don't know. He had his face covered, and he gave me no name. He said he was a stranger in town though, and seemed to think that the mages would not believe him if he went to them himself. You may not want to mention him to the mages, but I will leave that to your discretion."

"Thank you for warning us about this," Shanadar told Forlong. "It is hard to know what to believe these days, but we will look into it."

"Good luck," the man said with a nod. The bartender was approaching with their meals, so he stood and gave them a grave smile. "I'll leave you to your meals now. Thank you for hearing me out."