Ambrosia Software Web Board: The Aftermath... - Ambrosia Software Web Board

Lightning struck a tree about a mile away.
It was stormy and overcast, and Zephyr Sigma knew that he shouldn't be outside, but he always did enjoy seeing dry lightning.

It had been 3 months since TheDarkDragon had vanished from Cythera, leaving Avatara as Land King until Alaric returned. Things were going well in Cythera, the kesh operation was revealed before the Magi and the Great Houses, the forgotten rooms of LKH were repaired, and people could travel the world safely again.

But...

There was a shadow looming just over the horizon. Avatara knew it, Zephyr knew it, the Magi knew it.

Something was about to go terribly, terribly wrong.

Sensing the evil was closer than ever, Zephyr set out towards LKH.

Something wasn't quite right in the world, and something told him it was gonna hit everybody like a sack of dead batteries.

*Make of this what you will (course, I already know where it's gonna go).*

------------------
-TheDarkDragon
I am neither left wing nor right wing. I am falling from the sky because my wings beat each other up.

Everyone jumped as a loud thunder rolled over the sky. A bolt of lightning, strong enough to blind the poor fool who dared to lay eyes on it, carved the sky. Another bang. Then, silence. It started to rain. Heavy drops of water, and very many of them.

Suddenly, the sound of an animal drew the LKH perimeter guards' attention. Out of the rain and the dark shadows came a warrior, clad in metal armor from head to toe, carrying a large broad sword which could make the most savage ruffian, maybe even a Crimson Ranger feel great respect. A large kite shield was strapped to his back. The only thing which didn't radiate some respect, was the seemingly extremly tired and dehydrated horse he was mounted on. Both the horse and the warrior was breathing heavily. Apparently, this man had been travelling for a long time. The guards followed his every move until he stopped some seven paces from them.

"Got any water for my horse, Royal guards?" the warrior shouted to the guards who could barely hear him because of the overwhelming noise of thunder and rain, accompanied by the howls of scared, or hungry, wild animals.

"Guess you and your old horsie will get plenty to drink now" one of the guards joked, though with a serious look on his face. The warrior dismounted and grabbed the horse by the saddle to convince the tired animal to follow. He approached the front gate, and the three Royal guards.

"May I please spend the night here in the castle?" he asked, a little more calm voice this time. Drops of rain and sweat decorated his forehead.

The guard captain looked from one guard to the other, then back at the stranger. "Fine by me. We can't simply just lock you out in this fierce thunderstorm, now can we?" he said, "you may pass. You will need the Land King's permission, of course, but I'm sure he will offer you shelter from this ugly weather. Besides, he will most certainly be delighted to have a visitor. Not many strangers drop by, you know..."

"Excellent." the warrior smiled a modest smile and continued past the guards. He let go of the horse and walked inside as the captain opened the gate. "You can sleep in the barracks. We have an extra bed. Food is piling up, too" the captain said, "and don't worry about the horse. We'll escort him to our stable...last thing I'm doing tonight before I eat my supper." he spit once and then grabbed the saddle and walked towards the stable with the reluctant, stubborn animal behind him. The two other guards were quick to seek shelter within the castle walls as a lightning eliminated a tree, about a hundred metres away.

------------------
-Rogan-
Not charmed, just pissed off

The warrior's footsteps echoed down the marbled hall. He knew where he should go to seek shelter, and that's where he was headed. When he went past the little pool and entered a crossway, the floor carpeted, expensive statues decorated the room, he took a sharp turn and walked up north towards the throne room. The raindrops dripped off his now shiny armor, leaving stains on the carpet.

When entering the throne room, he knelt before the new king and said: "Noble Land King Avatara. I was on my way to a...hunter's convention when I got surprised by the bad weather. I can not travel any further; My horse is resting out in the stable. The guard out front told me I could most certainly spend the night...and perhaps the next day, no?"

------------------
-Rogan-
Not charmed, just pissed off

Okay, a few things to keep in mind here.

Yes, you can join, but there are a few restrictions due to the timeframe. Nobody can use any current characters created *after* The Coming of the Dragon (about a year ago). However, you can create new characters to fit the story, but be warned...do not become too attached to your characters. You have been warned.

(An example for those of you that are confused: say cache22 wants to join. He joined after the Coming of the Dragon, so he can't use any of his current characters...like Flynn, or Sideline. Instead, he can create a new character for the purpose of this story.)

That, and this story has a rather defined plot, so we'll steer you toward the general flow if you go a bit too far astray.

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"I'm a controversial figure. My friends either dislike me or hate me."

Avatara frowned. He was standing before the last plainswalker, Dark Dragon. Dragon was telling him about the need to assume the role of Landking, and handed him the staff, reminding him sternly that the user can control the fabric of the land through it and to not let it fall into evil.

A flash of light...then Avatara sat up in bed. I have done what you requested. I wait only for your signal. He rubbed his eyes, wondering if it all had been a dream. He looked around, confirmed he was in the late Alaric's former quarters, with the staff leaning against the bedpost and knew it was not. Of late it was becoming hard to tell what was dream and what was not, and over it all a shadow of evil lay...just out of reach.

Avatara shifted the pillows, so as to not have to sleep on his chill sweat. He suddenly recalled something about a prophecy...one that foretold the end of the world, when the plainswalker would return.

He knew, this was just the calm before the storm...

------------------
"I'm a controversial figure. My friends either dislike me or hate me."

OOC
Yeah, this is an old one, but I came up with an idea to finally end it. To catch up on your history, make sure to read
[url="http://"http://www.AmbrosiaSW.com/cgi-bin/ubb/newsdisplay.cgi?action=topics&number=52&forum=*Cythera+Chronicles&DaysPrune=1000&article=000023&startpoint=40"]The Fourth Prophecy of Nelenius the Savant[/url]
[url="http://"http://www.AmbrosiaSW.com/cgi-bin/ubb/newsdisplay.cgi?action=topics&number=52&forum=*Cythera+Chronicles&DaysPrune=1000&article=000018&startpoint=60"]The Dragon Manuscript[/url]
and most importantly [url="http://"http://www.AmbrosiaSW.com/webboard/Archives/Archive-000003/HTML/20011228-5-000713.html"]The Coming of the Dragon[/url]


Zephyr reached the enterance of Land King Hall.

It'd been a year since TheDarkDragon had left. Since he had granted Avatara the power of a Land King. Soon Alaric would reform, and Cythera would have it's Land King back.

Zephyr walked through the tall stone doorway that had been such a friend to all travelers over the past century.

As he entered, he noticed his old friend Rogan sitting at a table with Talos.

"Zephyr! Look who I ran into." said Rogan as Zephyr approached.

"Talos, it's been a while. Where ya been?" asked Zephyr, reaching his hand to Talos.

"Here and there. Crazy weather eh?"

"Very. Listen, you seen Avatara?" asked Zephyr.

"Yeah, he's in the library reading." replied Rogan.

"Thanks, I'll see ya later."
Zephyr walked off towards Alarics old study.

Zephyr approached the door and knocked.
"Hey chief, you home?"
The door opened, behind it stood a man who had seen far too much stress in the past year. Avatara stood, clasping his staff that TheDarkDragon had given him to help him handle the power of being a Land King.
"Zephyr, it's good to see-"
"We need to talk." Interupted Zephyr.
"Time's running out, I know," said Avatara, "come and sit down."
Zephyr walked into the room and sat down on one of the armchairs.
"It's been a year. He should have been back by now."
"I know, but we just have to wait, perhaps Dragon missed on his estimate of a Cytheran year."
"It's more than that. Last night I had a dream. Dragon spoke to me, told me to assist him in opening a portal. He has something to tell us."
"Alright, how do we do it?"

------------------
-TheDarkDragon
[shameless IRC plug]Go to #cythera on IRC for the rock-hard-abba-dabbas #ev3 just can't do. [/shameless IRC plug]
[url="http://"http://homepage.mac.com/thedarkdragon/"]http://homepage.mac.com/thedarkdragon/[/url] (My new homepage)

A lonely road stretched to the entrance of Land King Hall, traveled by an even lonelier man. The tears that dropped from the face of Heaven were matched only by the tears that came from the man's face, and the wails of thunder were surpassed by the wails of his mournful soul. The man was garbed in a peasant's clothing, with cotton pants and shirt covered by a cloak and leather boots. He wore more layers underneath, and carried no visible weapons.

His head constantly pointed towards the ground, perhaps watching his feet so that he might not trip, but perhaps drooped in gloomy solitude. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his destination, the Land King Hall. His head turned up, and he gazed into the eyes of the gate guards. One called out.

"Greetings, wayfarer. Friend or foe?"

"It depends. If you let me in to the warmth, you may most certainly count me as a friend." His voice was the soft rustle of the wind on leaves. "I can pay for my lodgings in the standard way."

"Which is?"

"Companionship, and the promise of a tale. I come to hear stories of adventures, tell stories of adventure, and, if I am lucky, live a story of an adventure."

"Then enter, by the grace of the Lang King Avatara."

He strode into the hall, taking in the heat of the wall torches. A guard offered to take his cloak, but the man refused. "Instead, good man, could you fetch me a glass of wine? For is it not custom to wet the tongue of a storyteller before he begins his tale, and to whet it too?" The guard hurried off to the kitchen for the requested drink, and the man walked into the room where the two, Avatara and Zephyr, talked. He interrupted, saying, "My lord Avatara, would you grace the ears and soul of an old man with a place to stay, and with the tale of whatever plot you cook up here?"

"Certainly, traveler, even though you could use manners. But your age must make you dote, so I forgive you on that count."

And with that, the tale continued.

------------------
"... For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause..." - Willaim Shakespeare, Hamlet

Tlepolemus stared at the spot that his fishing line entered the water, and sighed contentedly. The fishing had been good lately, especially here, at his favourite spot just North of Odemia; he found that to be most gratifying. Thunder rolled heavily in the distance behind him. He glanced up at the dark skies once more, and shrugged; as long as it didn't start raining here, he'd keep at it.

So intent was he on his fishing, that he didn't notice the small ship pulling in to the beach until its wake disturbed the water around his line. He glanced up then, watching curiously as the boat pulled close to shore. Its sails were rent, and showed signs of hasty mending; several of the upper planks had been stoved in, but on the whole, it appeared seaworthy.

Two dark-skinned men leaped from the deck to the shore, strode a few paces inland, and halted. Lightning flashed in the distance, followed a few seconds later by a loud crash of thunder. Even though he was growing used to it, Tlepolemus flinched; it was far louder than any previous thunderclap that day. The two dark men seemed unphased, and stood staring into the distance.

The smaller of the two men wore long, pastel coloured robes, that appeared to be made of silk; on his head was a white turban. The larger man was dressed in strange, studded leather armour, with silken pantaloons beneath. His hat was a half-turban, bound around a spiked steel cap. Both men wore shoes that curled up at the toes. On his back, the warrior wore two huge swords, of a design Tlepolemus had never seen.

Two crewmen dropped a gangplank, and led a lively white horse down onto the sand. It was rather smaller than the horses found locally, but its lines were nevertheless graceful. It had no saddle, but bore instead a silken rug on its back.

"Definitely not from around here," Tlepolemus thought to himself.

"My lord, are you certain you wish to do this?" the smaller asked of the larger.

"I must, Omar. I cannot shrink from my destiny; and this is where it lies, I am sure of it!"

Tlepolemus tried hard to place their strange accents, but soon gave up.

The warrior glanced around, and seemed to notice him for the first time. "You there, good fisherman! Would you be so good as to tell me, where I may find your king?"

Tlepolemus pointed northward. "Follow that road, stranger; it leads nowhere but to Land King Hall."

The stranger bowed, one hand to his chest, and the other held out before him in a graceful gesture. "I thank you, good sir; may the day grant you good fishing."

Tlepolemus bobbed his head and smiled at the odd salutation. He couldn't take his eyes off the strange man as he leapt astride the horse, and made for the road; when the fisherman turned back, the ship was already well on its way back out to sea.

--------

The guards came to the ready, at the sound of a horse galloping up the road. Within sight of the gates, the rider pulled up short and leaped to the ground. He strode forward, silken cloak streaming out behind him in the wind of his passage; the horse seemed to be well trained, as it remained where it had stopped.

"Greetings," the stranger called. "I am a stranger, from a far distant land; I come seeking an audience with your king."

"Wait here," the guard captain replied. He sent a messenger to Avatara, who returned quickly and bade the dark man enter.

"His majesty will receive you now; the guards will take care of your horse."

The man strode through the hallways of Land King Hall, facile eyes darting every which way, missing nothing. He was soon brought before Avatara who, since an audience was requested, received him in the throne room.

The dark man strode boldly forward, then dropped to one knee with his arms curved gracefully out from his sides, palms held upwards. "Your majesty, I am called Saracen. I come across the waters from a far distant land, seeking my destiny, as was foretold in an ancient prophecy. I believe that here, I will find it."

Avatara glanced meaningfully at Zephyr, who was lounging almost unnoticed against one wall, then stood up and pulled Saracen to his feet. He shook his hand warmly. "Welcome, Saracen. This is indeed a significant time in the affairs of Cythera; all who are drawn here because of it should be made welcome. Please, join the rest of us at dinner."

------------------
I will classify my lieutenants in three categories: untrusted, trusted, and completely trusted. Promotion to the third category will be awarded posthumously.

[This message has been edited by Overmind (edited 04-14-2002).]

From the back of the room, a silent figure was watching, noticing everything while remaining unseen.
She had chosen this spot intentionally, having figured out the function of the room, and had waited patiently, listening to the conversation of the two guards placed at the entrance of the hall. It had ben of little use other than giving her a better understanding of their language. The only other relevant information she had gained was that something important was apparently about to happen, and that the people of Cythera were ruled by a "Land King" named "Avatara".
But her long life had taught her that patience always paid off, and this time it was no different. Her wait had even been particularly rewarding this time, though she was not too pleased with what it had revealed: a High Elf, posing as the ruler of Cythera. Great. Just great. Instinctively, she reached for her sword, but reason prevented her from doing something she would surely have regretted afterwards. It would not do to upset these people by killing their king. Additionally, experience showed that High Elves never hid alone.
So she decided to wait and observe. The human man who called himself Saracen had left, and the other man had stepped forward from the shadows. Avatara remained unmoving for a moment, then turned towards him. "So, what do you think?"
"He looks capable enough." The man replied. "And he seems trustworthy."
"And what about you?" Avatara asked.
The man frowned. "What do you mean, I -"
"He was not addressing you." The woman in the shadows remarked quietly. The man whirled around, surprise on his face and hand on the hilt of his sword. The elf turned towards her, seemingly unconcerned.
Zephyr couldn't help but wonder how Avatara had noticed the strange woman, even with his elven senses. Though her skin was pale as that of most elves, the rest of her appearance surely wasn't. Her eyes were golden, flashing like those of a cat in the darkness surrounding her, and her hair was black, like onyx, and worn in a long braid. Her clothing was black as well, and she was wearing a short chain mail, finely crafted and made of an unknown metal that seemed to absorb light... or maybe it was just drawing the shadows closer around her. The hilt of the longsword at her side was just as finely wrought, though it was impossible to say anything about the quality of the blade itself; the sword was sheathed. Otherwise, she was only wearing a quiver with arrows and a shortbow on her back. She stood no more than five and a quarter feet tall, and she was obviously, unmistakably elven.
"I would have expected less... considering his ancestry." She put an odd stress on the word 'his', indicating she was not referring to Saracen. "Though his race has apparently lost much of their edge since I last fought them."
The Land King's reaction was immediate and predictable, though not overly excessive. His expression hardened, his eyes narrowed, and he seemed about ready for a sharp reply, before he caught himself... maybe remembering his non-existent dignity. The woman had not had so much difficulty keeping her face neutral for a long time. Still laughing inwardly, she continued. "But relax, both of you. I'm not interested in a fight."
"Then what are you interested in?" Zephyr asked suspiciously.
"Shelter, food... the usual." The woman shrugged nonchalantly.
"Right, and I'm the Land King..." Zephyr muttered under his breath.
"We were about to have dinner, anyway." Avatara replied. "You can join us, if you wish." Better than having her walk around unobserved. Somebody who could sneak past all the guards to the throne room without being noticed needed to be watched.
The other elf nodded politely, and took a few steps toward them, though she seemed reluctant to leave the shadows.
"By the way... what's your name?" Avatara asked, trying to assign a memory to the stranger. She claimed to have fought High Elves... but where? Maybe a name would help.
"Onyx." The woman replied, with a slight smile.
"Your name's not elven."
"Speak for yourself... Avatara." Again, the Land King showed little surprise, though he hadn't introduced himself. Onyx sighed mentally. She was apparently expected to be good at her job.

------------------
Life is relative.
I am relative.
This is probably relative, too.
Too bad I hate my relatives.

"A pleasure meeting you, I'm sure. Avatara, I'm afraid we won't have time for pleasantries. Time is of the essence, and we must head to the Spire." said Zephyr.
"Very well, we'll be on the way." Avatara said as he casted Zephyr a heartwarming smile, while still studying him strangely with his eyes.
Before the two left the dining hall, Avatara spoke. "The time draws near when the true LandKing will return to assume his role. Zephyr and I leave to attempt to welcome the one who will guide us all. Talos, I leave you in charge." Avatara turned and slipped away, before the guards could so much as absorb his words and follow him.
Zephyr and Avatara traveled north aways, through rocks that were rarely tread upon. Once they reached a clearing, they turned West and headed into the edge of the Demon's Spine (might want to double check that name) range. For hours they hiked passed tall boulders. Further and further south they traveled.
"It's more than the dream you know." said Zephyr.
"What is?"
"This lightning storm has been going for nearly a week now. I've never seen it last this long. But then again, I'm only about 30, how old are you?" asked Zephyr.
"I'm older than you can imagine, but this storm does seem rather odd."
"And there ya go. There's a kind of energy in the air as well."
"I feel it." responded Avatara.
"It's as if- look, The Spire!"
As the two passed around a large boulder, the saw it.

The Spire is a lofty mountain, peaking very sharply with only a few square feet flat at it's zenith. It overlooks the path to the Pynx, and is the highest point in all of Cythera. Upon it's summit, snow covers the ground year round, not because of it's incredible elevation, but because of a perpetual low pressure in the air. Strangely, clouds very rarely envelope it's peak, leading some to believe majick is holding them at bay. Because of this, one can see clear to the Kosha ruins and the Land's End Volcano from it's peak. The Spire is rarely climbed, because for centuries it was believed to be the home of an ancient Arc-Mage, who lived here exparamenting with majick and the weather.

Slowly the pair trudged towards the top. By the time they had reached the summit, the sun had set and it was dark.

"Now the question remains, how do I open it?" asked Avatara.
"Ok, let me think," he paused a moment, "do you remember how to summon up Ethereal energies?"
"I think so." said Avatara.
"Alright, begin charging your staff with those energies, and move it in a circle in the sky there." he pointed to the sky near the gap between mountains.
"Like so? Say, are you just guessing or did he give you instructions on how to do this?"
"No, no. He gave some instructions."
"Okay..."
"Now, picture a door. See the abyss beyond it."
"How far did the instructions go exactly?"
"Would you just-"
"Alright, alright."
Avatara closed his eyes. After a moment or two, the staff he held began glowing a bright white/purple. It followed his staff in the circle until it had reached completely around. When it did, Avatara stopped circling, and opened his eyes.
"Now what?" asked Avatara.
"Now, open the door." commanded Zephyr.
"Got it."
With that, the circle of energy grew a bright white and the intervening space turned a brilliant purple.
"I think that's it. That's what it looked like in my dream," said Zephyr, "now what do we do?"
"You don't know?" asked Avatara.
"No, he just said to open it."
"Okay... Dragon!" Avatara shouted into the portal.
"I'm not sure if that's how it works."
"Oh yeah? Then who's that?" Avatara pointed into the portal.
In the far off distance, Zephyr could see a tiny shadow growing quickly.
"Let's just hope it's him."
After a few minutes, while Avatara and Zephyr were sitting on rocks, waiting, Dragon fell through the hole and hit the hard rock below the gate. As he passed through the bright white circle, a bolt of lightning blasted the gateway, presumably attracted by the energy involved.
"Dragon! Are you alright?" asked Zephyr.
"Yes, *cough*. But my energy has been sapped, I have to wait somewhere to regain it." said Dragon.
"That's fine, let's get down to the Hall."
With that, Avatara, Zephyr, and TheDarkDragon began descending the mountain, slowly, towards Land King Hall.

Behind them, the portal remained open.

------------------
-TheDarkDragon
[shameless IRC plug]Go to #cythera on IRC for the rock-hard-abba-dabbas #ev3 just can't do. [/shameless IRC plug]
[url="http://"http://homepage.mac.com/thedarkdragon/"]http://homepage.mac.com/thedarkdragon/[/url] (My new homepage)

[This message has been edited by Avatara (edited 04-15-2002).]

Drat, I should've posted last night. It seems everyone has their own impression as to how Avatara acts, but I'll ignore most of it for now. Just a note tDD, he probably wouldn't have just left dinner, offending all 5+ guests that have come so far, and if you keep this pace it'll be over too fast. You still have to give people a chance to develop their characters. That's said, tDD's post will take place after dinner (and I changed the beginning of your post slightly already) as we were in the midst of it anyway.

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"I'm a controversial figure. My friends either dislike me or hate me."

[This message has been edited by Avatara (edited 04-15-2002).]

Avatara sat, brooding, in his unlit study. They had returned in the late hours of the night, and the Dragon was resting in one of the chambers, regaining strength.

"I have to admit, I will be relieved once Alaric returns." He finally spoke, waking Talos from his silent revere. A moment of silence passed before the LandKing stood and walked over to the basin of water, peering down at the depths in it. "Its almost like a hundred years have been stolen from my life in the space of one." Avatara numbly fingered his hair, the ends of which were showing a slight greying.

"And the tremors," he continued, "They never really went away. They come upon me at the oddest hour, betraying my deteriorating strength." As if a bad omen, he clasped his hands together to hide their slight shaking. He turned his gaze to Talos, who had wisely remained silent. "Most of my youth has been drained from me." He sighed wistfully.

"Do you think Alaric will be the same as when he left us?" Talos ventured.

"I don't think anybody will be the same," Avatara replied. "I can't tell, dying is different for every person."

Ignoring the puzzle of his words, Talos continued, "And what of the Dark Dragon?"

"I'm not entirely sure about him."

"Zephyr trusts him."

"I don't entirely trust Zephyr. I think I know his allegancies, but I am not certain."

"And what about the foreigners? We have a man that has travelled from far across the ocean. Not to mention an elf that shows dislike of you." Talos reminded calmly.

"Rest assured, she won't try to harm me. Not yet, until the true LandKing has returned there is too much of a risk for her. But, I would appreicate it if you would keep an eye out, I have a feeling the plainswalker is the key to Alaric, and he won't be ready for at least a week."

Another moment of silence, Avatara seemed to be considering something.

"Shall I leave then, sir?" Talos asked. Avatara glared at him, but Talos apologized with the hint of a grin on his face, then excused himself.

Avatara stood up, pacing for a few minutes, before slipping through his study and into the chamber of the void. He did not light the brazers, but rather walked to the balcony, observing the dark shifting hues of the void. Now, Saracen...something about him just doesn't make sense... The empty night refused to answer his question.

------------------
"I'm a controversial figure. My friends either dislike me or hate me."

As Talos exited the study of Avatara, the man, who was known as Jaln to those he had long ago decided to trust, quietly stole into the room the two men had just vacated. He had been listening at the door to their conversation, and now wanted more. He was especially curiously as to the new arrival, and to the reason Avatara had left so soon. Inside the study, he dragged a chair over to the door in front of the chamber of the void, striking a non-chalant pose, and waited for something interesting to arise.

------------------
"... For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause..." - Willaim Shakespeare, Hamlet

[This message has been edited by Celchu (edited 04-15-2002).]

[edit] Hey, it wasn't that long after all... [/edit]
Shivering and dripping rainwater, Dhieva wrapped her arms around her frail body and forced herself to keep walking. The freezing rain had long penetrated her thin white cloak, soaking her, although the white material was barely distinguishable under the mud which splattered as she stepped.

She glanced upwards and winced as lightning split the sky in two, quickly followed by a crash of thunder. Would the storm ever stop?

Lifting a clawed hand to her head, Dhieva wrung out her sopping hair, but it was futile. The rain immediately drenched her again. Staring down at thw road she was treading, she wondered where it would lead her. She really had no clue where she was going- just away.

Maybe at the end of the road there'd be a house. Maybe there would be a family, and they'd take her in for the night...maybe she could have a warm meal; it'd be the first one in three days. Maybe they wouldn't mind her lavender-colored skin, her claws, her cat's ears, and the blue markings on her face. Maybe...maybe...

Flinging herself down on the half-dead grass by the side of the road, Dhieva lay there and just cried. There wasn't any point in going on, was there?

Another bolt of lightning illuminated the world, and in the brief flash of light, Dhieva spotted a pair of eyes watching her. Animals! She couldn't see it any more, but it was still there. Cruel sixth sense...

Creeping back behind a rock, Dhieva watched the spot where it had been. Terror did not wait long before taking hold, and she began to run blindly, tripping over the hem of her cloak. She fled all the way down the road, not caring where it went.

*

Eventually exhaustion won and Dhieva collapsed again. Looking up, pulling her hair from her face, she peered through the darkness. Was there something there? It looked big- like a building. Dragging herself through the mud, Dhieva tried her best to stand. She fell to her knees again, sobbing. Futile.

Lifting her soaked head to the sky, Dhieva stared at the clouds, blinking away raindrops. She wasn't going to die here. She had to make it to that building.

Walking was hopeless. Ignoring the mud and stones, Dhieva crawled on hands and knees all the way up to the building. As she approached, she could see that it was large, very large indeed.

Suddenly a voice called out, halting her. "Hallo! Who goes there at such an hour of the night?"

Dhieva tried to call back, but her voice was hoarse from disuse. She slowly crept up to the gate and spoke weakly. "My...my name is Dhieva. Could you please..." she looked up at the guard, her eyes filled with a forgotten hope. "May I have lodging for the night? Please?"

"Oh-ho!" the guard exclaimed. He hauled her to her feet, supporting her thin body, and called to the other guards, raising his voice against the wind and rain. "S'a bit late to bring her to the Land King, eh? Should we give her lodging?"

Another guard nodded. "She doesn't look like she could do anyone any harm right now. Take her in. Not a night fit for man or beast; hasn't been for quite a time. We'll take her to see his Majesty Avatara in the morning."

"Thank...you," Dhieva gasped, and lost consciousness.

------------------
Some people say I have too much time on my hands. I say their hands aren't big enough.

[This message has been edited by iKaterei (edited 04-15-2002).]

After dinner, Saracen was shown to the guest quarters assigned to him. He closed the door as his guide left, and looked quickly about. The room was fairly simply furnished, having a bed, a dresser, a mirror, desk and stool, and a bench along one wall. There was also a rug, covering part of the floor.

Saracen removed his heavy swords, laying them on the bench, then stared speculatively at the rug. He knelt in the centre, stretched his hand out to one corner, and began to move his fingers in a peculiar way; once finished, he moved on to the next corner, then the next, until all four had received the same treatment. He stood up, and grunted in satisfaction.

Since the night was still early, he returned to the dining room - the nearest Land King Hall seemed to have to a communal area. Several of the people he'd met that night were already there; aside from those that were obvious, his sharp eyes spied Onyx, sitting alone in the shadows.

"Saracen, come sit by the fire," the man named Talos called. Saracen chose a chair facing the man, welcoming the warmth of the flames - Cythera was far cooler than the lands he was used to.

"Those were strange swords you were wearing," Talos continued. "I don't think I recognise the design."

"They are called 'falchions'; they are a common weapon in my country."

"I prefer a scimitar, myself."

"Some of my people, also, would choose such a weapon; but if you have the strength to weild it, a falchion is best."

Talos was about to dispute Saracen's assertion, when a guard entered, carrying the begraggled, shivering form of a young girl - or a young something. She appeared very frail; her clothes were soaked through, and caked with mud.

"Excuse me, please," the guard said, "but this poor thing appeared at the gate begging for shelter, and then collapsed. We'd best let her warm by the fire, while quarters are prepared." Talos and Saracen quickly stood and pushed their chairs out of the way, and the soldier laid his bundle down as close to the hearth as he dared.

As the guard left, Saracen knelt down next to the girl, felt the coldness of her cheeks, and checked her heartbeat and breathing. He reached into a concealed pocket, pulling out a small tube of a dark red coloured liquid, and allowed two drops to fall on the girl's lips. She moved restlessly and licked her lips, ingesting the fluid.

"What was that?" Talos queried.

"Juice from the fascha berry," Saracen replied. "It is very rare, and much treasured in my homeland - it has some restorative virtue."

Saracen replaced the phial, then reached out and quickly traced a rune over the girl's heart, and another on her forehead, with his finger. They glowed briefly; but as they faded, the girl's eyelids began to flutter. Her eyes suddenly snapped open, and she gasped in fright at the sight of the people bending over her.

"Rest easy, little one," Saracen soothed, placing a hand gently on her cheek. "You are safe here, with us. Sleep, now."

A look of wonder crept into the girl's eyes, but was rapidly overshadowed by a tired calmness. Her features relaxed, seemingly for the first time in a great while; her eyelids drooped closed, and her breathing became deep and regular.

Saracen stood up, smiling softly to himself.

"The pieces join; the threads entwine. It shall come to pass."

Onyx looked up sharply at the strange words, quietly spoken; it had almost sounded like Saracen was quoting something. She studied the dark man appraisingly, giving him slightly more attention than she'd deemed him worthy of earlier.

Although he'd removed his... falchions, he'd called them, he wasn't entirely unarmed; there was a curved dagger in a sheath, tucked in his belt. The grip and scabbard were of brightly polished metal, encrusted with gems; it looked quite valuable.

"I'd like a closer look at that, sometime," she thought to herself. She had no intention of stealing it - but she was used to doing things her own way. It never even occurred to her to ask.

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I will classify my lieutenants in three categories: untrusted, trusted, and completely trusted. Promotion to the third category will be awarded posthumously.

[This message has been edited by Overmind (edited 04-16-2002).]

Zephyr was sitting on a chair in the dining room, picking at a piece of meat. He was disappointed, but he didn't know why. The immortal who had saved Cythera had returned, and Alaric would soon sit on the throne again. Still, he was disappointed. He stood up and walked towards the door. Taking a right, he passed a pair of guards carrying a weak girl in rags towards the dining hall. "Hmm..." he thought to himself. He walked out the main gate and climbed the rocks behind him to the top of the great stone door frame. He sat down, perched above the guards, his head in his hand.
It must have been the lightning. Lightning always made him depressed. Interesting how such power and energy made him feel so worthless in the greater scale of things.
It flashed again. A bright white bolt of energy struck the ground beyond Cademia. And yet... no. It was nothing.
A lightning bolt hit the ground near where the last one had. There it was again! No, it couldn't have been. It had seemed as if the lightning had disappeared for a bit, a gap between the two parts.
Maybe it was the darkness, the sun hadn't shown through the dark clouds in weeks. One could hardly tell where it was light and day.
This was getting to be a little much for him.
"I need some sleep." he muttered to himself and began climbing down the rocks to the hall.

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-TheDarkDragon
[shameless IRC plug]Go to #cythera on IRC for the rock-hard-abba-dabbas #ev3 just can't do. [/shameless IRC plug]
[url="http://"http://homepage.mac.com/thedarkdragon/"]http://homepage.mac.com/thedarkdragon/[/url] (My new homepage)

Dhieva kicked her legs restlessly and her eyes flickered open. She was staring at the ceiling. Where was she?

Thinking back, Dhieva remembered finding the castle- then waking up in that room, with the strange dark-skinned man leaning over her- and she couldn't remember anything past that.

They must have taken her to a room, and that's where she was now. She attempted to sit up, and it worked, surprisingly.

Dhieva peered around. It was a small room, plain and sparsely furnished, but it was much better than wet dirt in the middle of an endless storm.

There was a wardrobe, a mirror, a table and chair in the corner, and of course the bed she was sitting on. It was a nice bed...soft, with white sheets and a pale blue quilt. She fingered the material, wondering what good fortune had smiled upon her so that she had wound up in such a nice place. And such nice people, too!

Dhieva wondered if she could stand. She tried and, to her delight, she could. She tried walkng around a bit. It didn't hurt any more. What had that man done? She had to go thank him!

She walked over to the door, then paused. What if that man had already gone to bed? She didn't know what time it was. Turning around, Dhieva looked at the window on the other side of the room. It was pitch-black outside, although given the recent weather conditions, that didn't neccessarily mean that it was still night.

Well, no matter, she could check anyways. She opened the door, slipped out, and shut it again. Peering down the hallway, she suddenly realized that she didn't know where the dark-skinned man would even be.

Dhieva fought back tears and slumped against the door. Everything seemed hopeless...she shook her head in annoyance, rubbed a hand across her eyes and stood up again. It couldn't hurt to explore, could it?

She crept down the hallway, glancing back over her shoulder every now and then. When she reached the end, she checked the next corridor. Empty.

Scurrying around the corner, Dhieva hurried to the end of that hallway. She paused again at the end, thinking she heard something, but the corridor was still empty. She turned around and rounded the corner, running smack into someone coming from the opposite direction.

Dhieva fell to the ground. She peered up at the person through her hair. It was the same guard who had taken her to the dining hall.

"You again!" said the amazed guard. "What are you doing? I'd expect you to be asleep at this hour, eh?"

Dhieva stared up at him, a frightened expression on her face- rather like a puppy who's been kicked one too many times. "I- I'm sorry...I wanted to go see if that man was still awake, you know, the dark-skinned one..." she trailed off.

"Well, he's probably sleeping, like you should be." The guard gently helped Dhieva to her feet again. "But if you really want, I'll help you find him, ok?"

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Some people say I have too much time on my hands. I say their hands aren't big enough.

[This message has been edited by iKaterei (edited 04-27-2002).]

Saracen was seated on the floor in his room, in the centre of the rug. He was concentrating on the Runedance, a mental exercise the adept of his race performed each night before retiring, and each morning upon waking; it was designed to centre their being, expel the effects of negative experiences or dreams, and prepare them to face the coming hours.

Tonight, he was distracted. Following an elusive thread of thought, he concluded that his soul was telling him that he had unfinished business to complete before the day was done - but he had no idea what that might be.

There was a gentle knock at his door. He opened his eyes, rose smoothly to his feet and strode over to the door, finding a guard standing there - with a timid creature half hiding behind him.

"Sorry to disturb you, sir, but this one-"

"Ah!" Saracen exclaimed. "Now I understand! You need not apologise, sir - you did exactly the right thing." Dhieva breathed a sigh of relief, and smiled broadly. The guard nodded politely, and withdrew.

"Now, sahina, I suppose you are hungry after your long sleep!"

"No, not-" Dhieva began, but was interrupted by a growl from her stomach. "Actually, yes." She lowered her eyes, slightly embarrassed.

"It was clear from the first that you were undernourished," Saracen said conversationally, as he lead her to the dining room, "but it was also clear that your greatest need was for rest. I trust you slept well?"

"Yes, very well! I wanted to thank you - and to ask - what exactly did you do!?"

Saracen chuckled, a rich, deep sound from the centre of his being. "First, I gave you some medicine that was given to me by my mother. Only once before have I used it. Then I applied a simple healing technique my people have used for generations."

"Well, whatever it was, thanks!"

Saracen waved his hand dismissively. "It was nothing. You required help; I gave it. That is all. Ah, here we are, and there is food provided." He studied her slender, half-starved form appraisingly. "Some fruit will be best, but not too much. You must grow accustomed to plentiful food gradually."

Dhieva chose an orange, and joined Saracen by the fire. "What was that you called me before? Suh... Sah..."

"'Sahina*'", Saracen pronounced carefully. "The nearest I could come to it in this language would be 'little one', or 'little miss'. But there is much more to its meaning than that. We use such address among friends; never enemies."

Dhieva finished the orange in silence, and fetched an apple. She stared into the flames of the fire for a while; studying her face, Saracen could tell there was something she wanted to ask, but either the question or the probable answer troubles her.

"You have another question, sahina?"

She glanced up, startled. "Um, yes, I suppose. Don't you - that is, aren't you bothered by my appearance? I mean, I look so strange..." Her voice trailed off into nothing, her eyes pleading with him for understanding.

Saracen met her gaze unflinchingly. "I myself am a stranger in a strange land," he said, after a pause. "Who am I to judge another by appearances?" Dhieva smiled happily. "Besides," he continued, "you are destined to be a part of what lies ahead."

Startled, she stared at him blankly for a moment. Before she could ask any further questions, he rose quickly to his feet. "It is late, sahina. Although you may not feel it yet, you will need more rest. Come."

He helped her to her feet, and in silence, led her to her room. He stopped at the door, and placed a hand on her shoulder as a gesture of farewell. "Goodnight, little one. Rest well, until morning." He wheeled about, and marched back towards his own room.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Saracen reached his room and softly closed the door behind him. The calm, slightly cheerful expression dropped from his face, replaced by an expression of deep sadness and pain.

He pulled a small scroll from a secret pocket, and unrolled it to a particular point. The section Saracen was looking at bore a small image - a portrait that looked remarkably like Dhieva! He shook his head sadly.

"You may be grateful now, sahina; but when this journey is over, you may well wish the guards had turned you away from the door, this night." He sighed, and returned the scroll to its hiding place.

He returned to his previous position on the mat, sitting cross legged in the centre. Breathing deeply, he once more began to perform the Runedance.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-

*Don't read anything into this, I'm making the honorifics up.

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I will classify my lieutenants in three categories: untrusted, trusted, and completely trusted. Promotion to the third category will be awarded posthumously.

[This message has been edited by the Overmind (edited 04-27-2002).]

-Ha! Foiled your plan!

[This message has been edited by Avatara (edited 05-15-2002).]