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The flickering windows of Narbonen appeared like stars in the darkness from the outskirts of the city. Surrounded by kilometres of open field consisting of tall grasses and crops of farmers and the occasional shack here and there, Narbonen was secluded from the rest of the world. People lived happy, simple, peaceful lives. Trouble wasn't common there, it never was. The townsfolk lived day in and day out without much worry.

Outsiders were very rare, however. Narbonen, being within the sight of the Illyrium Empire, was not a place for foreigners due to just that. Illyrium was a complex empire with constantly changing borders and laws that held Purity very dear. Being Pure, as to Illyrians, was not being anything more than Human. The problem for this small city, though, was that they were not part of Illyrium. Narbonen claimed that they just wanted to be themselves and not part of anything or anyone, however, for Illyrium the assumed reasons were all too obvious.

Narbonen was a harbour for all that was Evil. Demons could come and go to the city and plan, recruit, and infect the Pure by seduction. The city was not far from Illyrium, of course - just on the horizon lay the Empire making it an ideal location for Evil to brood under the mask of a peaceful city. No military aside from the few police made a convincing case, but not convincing enough.

Alchemists, the Demons, stayed in Narbonen. They practiced their doings there and taught the children whether they knew it or not. Infected the crops in the fields, the trees in the small forests near by, fattened the livestock, healthened the people, cleansed their water, and kept them living on and reproducing more and more of their type.

There are no good Alchemists; it is an impossibility, a contradiction. Alchemists are not made by Nature and are not Human. They are Demons from abroad that attempt to riddle Nature and Humanity out completely in a quest for an artificial world, an un-natural world.

In Narbonen, Illyrian spies had been reporting back to the Empire for months on what had been going on in the small city. It was difficult for them to clearly determine how many Demons had been living in the city or how many had had sexual intercourse with Pure females, thus infecting them and their children for life with alchemy. The spies knew for sure that the crops were un-natural by their vary taste of perfection every time and the purity of their water. However, being infected themselves by alchemy by doing their job, the spies were looked upon by Illyrium as great heroes of Humanity and were therefore dubbed as a Clean Soul.

"Good night, sweet."

"Night, Mum." The little girl whispered back to her loving mother. The mother smiled and pushed her daughter's hair behind her head. She pulled quilt her own mother had sewn for her when she was just a girl up to tuck her daughter in. With a kiss on the forehead and a quick firm hug, she stood up and left bedroom, blowing out the candle by the door on her way out.

The girl remained in her bed and pulled the quile under chin and rolled over onto her side. The sound of the mid-summer crickets playing their stringed music carried into the small, but cozy home, and helped her to sleep at night. Night in Narbonen was always quiet. A whinny of a horse or a screetch of a cat, and even the occasional drunk stumbling home, were not uncommon, though. As she drifted to sleep the sound of trumpets echoed somewhere in the distance, from somewhere out by her grandfather's farm, perhaps?


The flickering lights of Narbonen drew closer as the Illyrian legions closed on the city. The long, wet, evening grass itched the soldiers' legs as the marched through it, but it didn't bother them. In the night their red uniforms over silver armour that was exposed on their skirts, necks, and arms, appeared black and, of course, silver. Dotted randomly amongst the troops were flag and banner bearers of iron crosses, golden coloured griffens or wolves, all on red backgrounds. Behind the rows of the frontal legionaires with their tower shields, spears, and short swords, marched a group of long-bowed archers. Followed by cavalry and off to the right of them a small brass and woodwind band with a small selection of drums; however the band remained silent for the moment.

The Illyrians were lead in the front by their most respected of all in battle - General Volkard. He sat atop an amazing black stallion, clothed in a light chain-mail body suit covered with an elegant red and yellow uniform. The moon reflected white off of his silver knight helmet that had the mask open, showing his angled pale face and dark eyes. His hair only could be seen on the top of his forehead, however, from the pressing helmet.

At about a distance of fifty metres, no one had noticed their coming. Volkard pulled the reigns up on his horse and extended his right arm to stop the legion behind him from continuing on. His horse turned around to face the army and he surveyed his troops in the moonlight. Using hand signals, he ordered the band to begin and the archers to ready.

"Archers. Ready!" Their officer, who was also on a horse, called.

The archers pulled their arrows from their holders slung over their sides and dipped them into hot ember pouches at their waists, setting them alight. The arrow tips, having been previously dipped in oil, caught fire and the archers raised them into firing position on their bows and held them sharply upward. Their officer flung his arm forward, displaying his patriotism in the thrust for his Empire.

"Fire!" The trumpets blared as the archers released their arrows and the sky lit up as the arrows blazed across the night sky on an arc towards Narbonen. The creepy whistling sound of flying arrows filled the air as they descended on the city's buidlings.

"Load!" The officer beckoned from his horse. "Fire!" He shouted again, thrusting his arm forward again as the second string of firery arrows flew across the sky. After the fifth release, Volkard lead his troops in as the band remained behind and filled in the atmosphere with the Illyrian fanfare filling the night.

The run through the tall grass behind Volkard's horse seemed to the soldiers to be an eternity. Their shields pushed the wet grass below their feet but it seemed endless, like they were rushing through a thick jungle. Their only sense of direction was Volkard himself and the banners that blew in the forced wind during the dash towards Narbonen. Then it was there and hell broke loose.

Buildings were on fire lighting up the place by its own flaming structures. The troops broke off into small groups and stormed the streets in search for any Demon that showed itself. Men rushed out of their homes to see what was going on only to be slain without mercy and leaving their women and children to be maimed just as he or even worse.

Volkard steered his horse through the winding dirt streets of the city dropping his sword on anything that moved - animal or person. He came to a dead end and turned his horse around. All around him buidlings burned from the archers and their flaming arrows. Screams and cries echoed above the sound of raging fires as people were killed on sight. He kicked the horse and headed back the way he came, this time passing some of his own soldiers with blood stains on their uniforms and dripping from their weapons.

"Take the leader alive!" Volkard shouted as he passed. "Bring him to the town square!" He rode there, only taking him a moment or two. Once there, there were groups of women, children, and the few men that hadn't already been killed in defense of their homes, rounded up grouped under supervision of soldiers.

Volkard steadied his horse and climbed off onto the street. The loose dirt and rocks that made up the road crunched under his feet as he approached an officer. "Report, Lieutenant."

"Sir," The officer snapped with a raise of the right arm in salute. "We have decimated a good portion of the city so far and have cleansed all suspicion of alchemists." He turned to the groups of people who stood petrified in fear after having lost everything. "These people claim to be Pure and visual inspections check out."

Volkard nodded. "We'll see..." He said dryly. Volkard pulled his helmet off and passed it to the officer to hold for him. He approached the group of people and stood before them, the officer close behind him. Volkard eyed them all and nodded to himself. He looked down at a middle aged woman who was sitting against a wall of a home that had been unaffected so by the blaze of houses.

"Stand." He said. Before she could stand on her own, he reached down and pulled her up. He moved her light brown hair away from her face and used her blouse to wipe away her tear stains. She looked him in the eye and sobbed. "How long have you lived here?" Volkard demanded.

"All my life, Sir." She replied. "Why... why are you here?"

"We have done nothing!" Another shouted from behind.

Volkard didn't respond to the irrational. He narrowed his eyes and tightened his sharp jaw. "What is your name, my dear?" He asked.

The woman restrained herself from slapping him. "Prisca." She replied simply.

Volkard slowly nodded his head. He ran a finger down her cheek and under her chin before turning his back to her and the group. The officer stood behind him, still holding his helmet and his face blackening from the burning all around and the sweat from the heat.

"General," A soldier approached from a horse with a man in shackles and a bleeding nose. "the governor of Narbonen."

With a tough look on his face, Volkard dismissed the soldier but kept the governor. "What do you call yourself, Demon?" He asked.

The governor looked at the ground. He felt useless in front of this Illyrian general. He could just look at himself in ragged torn bedclothes covered in his own blood from abuse and lose his confidence. "I am Governor Damon of Narbonen." He said quietly.

"Why do you allow such unpurity in your city?"

Damon shook his head. "I do not."

Volkard punched the man in the mouth after taking off his glove. He couldn't have been younger than fifty. "Why do you allow such unpurity in your city?"

The governor clenched his mouth and filled his hands with blood. "You must believe me, Sir!" He shouted. "We are a peaceful people in Narbonen; I give you my word."

"You do not give me your word." Volkard told him while putting his glove back on. "You are a liar and a coward of the truth. You are in denial and you mock Illyrium with every word you speak. You have no grasp on Purity, the Natural, or Humanity. You, your city, and its people, will be erased in the name of Purity." Volkard grabbed Damon by the scruff of his shirt and shoved him along to the group of his townsfolk.

He turned to the officer immediately after. "Kill them." Volkard ordered. "Kill all of them."

"It will be done." The officer replied.

Volkard took back his helmet and placed it snugly on his head. The archers had just arrived at the square when the officer and soldiers began to line the townsfolk. The soldiers retrieved logs from buildings surrounding the town square and assembled them in a line and lined the people respectively in fron of eash log. The officer supervised as the slaughter began.

Some of the men tried to resist but were pulled aside and had their throats slit meanwhile the women screamed and frantically tried to resist. In the light of burning buildlings, the soldiers grabbed the people lined up by the front scruff of their shirts and stood them in front of the vertical pointed log. They then jabbed their foot into the underside of the person's knee, above the calf, causing them to fall to their knees. They then forced the person to bend over to rest their head and neck on the log. They would then drop their sword as hard as they could onto the neck of the victim, decapitating them. The heads were then tossed into a pile and the bodies dragged to another.

Blood turned the dirt ground to a mud and puddled at the base of the logs, even more adding with each killing. When it was Prisca's turn to die, many had already before her. Not even an hour before was she tucking her child into bed - that was all gone now, though. She was forced down to her knees and they rested in the bloody soup that had formed at the bottom of the log. She slowly lowered her head and looked off to the side. The water in her eyes made an interesting last site as it blurred the blazing infernos and the black sky into one flickering mix of dancing yellow and black to the deafening sound of her heart beat pounding through her ears.

The soldier smashed his sword into the back her neck, but it didn't cut of the head on the first chop - it had been dulled from the dozens before her. She was instantly paralyzed and was stunned. Before anything could have gotten worse for her, however, the soldier slammed it down again, finishing the job. The head fell loosely off onto the ground into the wet dirt and the neck squirted a sizeable amount of blood. Another soldier quickly picked the head up and tossed it and then pulled the limp, blood draining body to its pile.

Volkard crossed his arms and watched carelessly as these people were removed and the world became a step closer to Purity.

Powers Received


The next day at the tower was bright and insightful for the Students. The Accepted filed into the Warden's Garden looking nervously and excited. Nathen was sitting in the same spot he had picked out the night before, trying to forget the event that had preceeded that night. He had even left his Kunai Whip behind in favour for his Flamberge and his twin Long swords. Looking he spotted Archie, Marcus, Veronica and Eliza looking for him. He gave a sharp whistle and waved franticly...today they became true Accepted. The step just under Mage. They saw him and waved before a Crimison walked passed them and gave the all a look that would have turned the Earth under him.

The Arch Mage stood above the rest with Arthur, her Blade Warden beside her. His knife and longsword shone as brightly as the Arch mages scepter. Making a simple circle to increase her voice volume she started.

"My children.....my fellow castors, you now have to choose your place amoung our order, to choose which part of magic you wish to enter. Once it as begun you can not change, for it is against the orders laws. Remember what you decide is your future." Arthur didn't need the circle to voice himself.

"My brothers of the blade...you have shown much promise of the next sept of Wardens....even our Greens have learned faster than I at their age. As you must know, with the choosing of teh school, also comes for Warden's the choosing of their final set of weapons. Once graduated the school gives you the weapons of choice, newly made, finely forged and battle ready. Also do not be afraid that some of you will be bonded to a mage, turning you from Warden to Arcane knight. Nothing will change amoung the order...." The Arch Mage picked up again.

"I want one represenitve from each colour stand." AS proclaimed it happened. Quickly one of each colour glided over to the base of the Arch mages tower. "The men and women who wish Black fall in line with Gregory of the Black Necromacy school."

As they did the man who stood kept his face hidden as he spoke. "The path of death magic is never an easy one...be sure your choice is correct before you finish your walk. Death can be a beautiful thing as much as it is certain..." Gregory's voice seemed as rough as a jagged knife....he must have given something for his colour to sound like that. Only a few turned away before the tide finished. None of his friends were their.

"The men and women who wish Crimson fal in line with Night of the Crimson Necromacy school." He saw none of his friends...it continued like that for what seemed to be hours... Archie had decided on Blue Elemental, Veronica Gree Evocation, Marcus had chosen Brown Evocation and Eliza White Divine. Nathen was proud of them all and wished them well, though how long it would be until he saw them again he didn't know....his newly developed abilites proved he was almost finished his Warden's training and would have to set out on his own if he wasn't selected for Bonding. Something he didn't would be an honor or a curse. After the choosing ceremony the Arch Mage spoke. "Those who have chosen...are you certain of your decisions...those who are uncertain, change now....for once in almost 300 years...no one moved. The Arch Mage smiled. "Then by the Power of your Circles I invoke mine!!" The Circle she started finished and started to grow...covering all the Accepted, bonding them to their schools...forever showing them their choice. The first sacrifice to being a mage.
***************************************

After the ceremony Nathen couldn't find his casting friends so he sought out Heinrich and Fiona. AS per normal they were pracicing their main weapons...Heinrich's Claymore trying to carve a path through the sturdy Oak staff of Fiona. They both stopped when they spotted, Rich slammedthe point of his massive sword into the ground and rested on it while Fiona placed her staff along her back. Nathen smiled..."Hey guys..."

Heinrich chuckled. "I seeyou went to your frends today...I trust none took Necro?" As Nathen nodded he smiled. "Good I'd hate to see what it would do to them..." Fiona nodded quickly then rested along a stone wall. "Blade Warden wanted to talk to you Nathen...something about your training,,I think your almost done, we've all heard about your Warden sense..."

Nathen shrugged. "you two will get yours..." Heinrich cut him off.

"We did../we're graduating to." Nathen nearly passed out. "Mine's Warden sense aswell and Fionas...." He chuckled.

"I can jump.." She said. And took a running leap almost 30 feet away. Than jumped back just as quickly. "Warden leap." Nathen laughed. "Well at least we're not Arcane Knights yet..." They nodded and fell in along step. "I guess we should get going."

"I agree." Heinrich's smile disapeared. "Better we all do this now than later."

"Yeah, I hope this is going to be as good as we think it is..."

Nathen nodded as the two talked. I hope it is to

The Doctrine of the Duil'rimgata
Unknown Compound, Gallitrim
-----------------------------------------

Aillein gasped as he was quickly kicked hard in his abdomen. The impact left him breathless and panting for air, his head drooped deep towards the stone floor below him. The towering man, with the scar above his right eye, that he had just laid eyes on growled, “Fool! Rise. Your place is not on the floor. You too, young lady! This is no time for hesitation; your lives stand upon a fine thread, and it is lucky enough you were chosen to be taken captive by our sect. We rarely bring among us prisoners of your kind,” he snarled, “Alas, you two seem useful enough to our group. A need of you may be in sight very soon.”

The young prince who was kneeling on the floor reached out towards the stone below him with his dry hands and pushed himself upwards to face his newfound nemesis. The man quickly exchanged glances with both of the prisoners, than continued speaking as he folded his hands behind his back and began to walk towards the far side of the room his back to the two prisoners, “Our doctrines are rarely given to strangers to our sect. I suppose that you might not really appreciate such a gift from us to you, but it really doesn’t matter anymore. It isn’t a matter of choice. Choice is an imaginary concept. Our lives were paved for us the day we were conceived and brought unto this world of lies. Everything is relative, you will soon learn. Most prominently of such imaginary concepts is this concept of ‘evil.’”

He looked back when he reached the end of the room where what seemed like an altar was expressed in the floor. He continued to speak, not bothering to wait for any questions or comments from his two spectators, “Evil is defined by a society’s perception of what is good and what is wrong. You may not realize it, but you’ve been living a lie out there in that world you call a home. Many lies, but that is not the focus of this monologue.

“You may call us, the Duil’rimgata, ‘evil,’ but you so do so simply by assumption. What we do, and I stress this, is not evil! Despite our,” he paused and began to pace around the altar seemingly staring out into space, “…tendencies to sacrifice lives for our own gains, we do so and thus provide a service back to this world. I am not quite sure, but I think this is what your society would have called ‘good.’ By transforming what nature has created into a more usable form, we use the produced energy for our own benefit, and deposit the excess back into the recesses of this world so that other life may use it. In addition, the energy we do use is later given back to the world, as is all energy. Energy is conserved; not destroyed, nor created. I assume you already know this petty fact, as you were tutored to know when learning of the science around Alchemy.”

“To call our methods ‘evil’ is hypocrisy in itself. Your ‘good’ cities practice deeds which it may call itself evil consistently, despite its preference to name certain groups, like ours, an enemy. What does it do when it taxes its populace to live on land that should be free; they are only putting a price on nature itself. What the Duil’rimgata really learn to do is to become part of nature, since we have been long disconnected with it as soon as the majority of our race doomed ourselves to our consumption of nature, instead of our use of it.”

Aillein couldn’t hold it any longer, and he yelled out despite his knowledge of the possible consequences, “You talk of our race as if it was not your own. What we do is our own choice – choice is always available, whether we wish it or not. Your thoughts are simply poisonous ways to persuade others to adopt your order!”

The man chuckled, for several minutes, with a long and deep tone. At long last, he stopped and seemed to concentrate on Aillein, thinking of unknown thoughts. Then, his voice reentered existence, “You are a boy foolish enough to be so selfish as to argue with one such as myself. You have much to learn if you are to become one of us. What is your name, fool?” He showed an amused demeanor.

“I am one who was taken by heretic Alchemists, no more.” He knew that that statement was one statement too far.

He laughed loudly for a second, then growled, “Heretic alchemists? You are to become one of these ‘heretic Alchemists’ and you have no decision in the matter. Nameless you wish to be, and nameless you will be – but still you must have a title so we may speak to you. You are from this time forward called ‘Roui.’”

Aillein replied, “Meaning?”

“It is an archaic term meaning ‘jester.’ A suitable title, don’t you think?” He laughed, then looked to the fair maiden he had looked upon earlier, “And yourself? What is your name, girl?”

Her brows met with sadness and confusion, but after a moment she said with great sorrow, “My name is Aloris. I know my surname not.”

“Aloris. That is an unusual name.” He nodded, “But your name it is nonetheless.”

The man sighed, then continued, “As I was saying earlier, the more we become one with nature, the more powers we will gain as a product. Power is directly proportional to our understanding and our equality with nature. Once we reach our highest potential of equality with Nature, known as Kür, we will become the humans we are supposed to be, untainted by our society’s mistakes and ambitions. Only then will you become a full member of the Self-Illuminated; only few full-stature members exist under our order. If you hold dear to the doctrines I give to you, you may add to their numbers.

“That is all I can say about our order. The rest you will become to understand with further teaching. The man standing here at the present, in front of you, is known as Oroigim. I am a Master of the Duil’rimgata, but I have not yet had the fortunate chance to reach the Kür. Roui and Aloris, your task today is to take the robes I will presently give to you, and wear them with an intended pride. Today you become the lowest of our order, a Euil. You are thus labeled with yellow robes. Once you break yourselves from the binds of the Euil you will be presented with the black robes of the Practitioners, or possibly the red robes of the Red Guard. It all depends on your effort and your abilities. That is all you will learn today. There is nothing else I can give to you from the Duil’rimgata’s doctrine before the next dawn.

“You will be escorted back to your quarters,” he approached the altar at the back of the room and grasped two yellow robes out from behind it and then gave them to Aloris and Aillein. Aillein grabbed his with anger, and Oroigim snared at him. Aloris, when presented with hers, took it with fluidity and calmness. She said, “Thank you, Oroigim.”

The man smiled, “One who learns. You will, however, call me Master from this moment forward.”

She nodded, and then shrunk back to her sad demeanor. Oroigim snapped his fingers loudly. The red-robed men, who Aillein now identified as the Red Guard, entered the room behind him. One of them grabbed Aillein’s hands and constricted him. The other did the same for Aloris. They were both escorted out from the rooms and back to their darkened cells.

~~~~~~~~~~~~
Quid Pro Quo
Antioch
~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I am going to kill them, Anais. There is nothing you can do to stop me. After what they have done to me... how can they possibly deserve life? The combined power of alchemy and political strength is to be feared, and it has claimed them both.” Lucian faced the deep wilderness ahead of him, his eyes averted from Anais. His dark clothing billowed quietly in the strong breeze, giving no hint about what he was feeling. A drawn out smile crossed his pale features; he looked noble with his straight chin and pointed nose. His face seemed to carry a certain air of aristocracy about it that was undeniable.

“Go, then.” Anais’ green eyes were dark and unreadable, as if their depths had been obscured by a cloud. Lucian turned, taking her in as if seeing her for the first time. She approached him, her shimmering black robes contrasting beautifully with her light skin. His hand went to her ear, gently tucking a strand of her brown hair behind it. His harsh demeanour suddenly changed, softening for the first time in a long while. His fingers traced from her high-set cheekbone down her cheek and fixed themselves softly just under her jaw.

“Anais, I miss those innocent days of our youth. I thought that the world was just composed of us and that nothing would change that.” He smiled sincerely, his dark eyes scrutinizing her delicate face as they seemed to draw closer together. “Those times have since passed. There are certain things that do not belong in this world, and alchemy is one of them. Had the circumstances been different, I think that we would have loved each other. I regret that this is not the case.” Anais’ eyes closed as she felt Lucian’s lips on hers. The kiss was deep and sorrowful, their tongues intertwining slowly, as if each of them wanted to express the dream life Lucian had described but that would never occur. Tears began to tumble from Anais’ chin as they separated, a long silence drawn between them.

“Goodbye, Lucian.” She whispered to the air. He had gone as if he had never existed. Perhaps he never had.

The streets were bustling, as he remembered them. Various shops had their wares displayed on towering shelves in their polished windows, and the bantering of merchants and customers could be heard. He had always enjoyed the market district because it was easy to fit in, to lose oneself in the crowd. Even with all the activity, it still retained the beauty and charm of the rest of the city. Its architecture was equally magnificent; the buildings were composed of finely-sanded stone, forming rounded archways and smooth pillars.

He found himself experiencing nostalgia as he stopped and sat down on a comfortable bench, listening to the soft sound of flowing water that was being emitted by the clear fountain behind him. Antioch had many such areas within it where one could rest amidst plants and water. No one was certain who had planned it that way, but Lucian thought that it had been by far the right choice to make. This intermingling of wilderness and civilization was something that was characteristic of Antiochian culture and style. With an absentminded flick of his wrist, he sent a silver coin spiralling into the pool behind him.

He had convinced himself that he had many reasons for returning to Antioch, where it had all begun. He, of course, knew deep within himself that he had only returned for one reason: Anais. As much as he knew the person had become would be loathed by her, it did not stop his emotions from transferring to his new self from his old one. As much as he wished to rid himself of all earthly ties, he found that he was unable to banish her face from appearing unbidden in his mind, like a recurring vision. Even so, he almost did not want to be able to do so.

“Anais...” He whispered to the air, letting her name be taken away by the breeze. He was no longer who he had been. He could no longer say that he regretted anything he did; his past and his quest for revenge had moulded his once innocent, caring demeanour into one of frostiness and precision. He revelled in killing, in cleansing the world of those who were unworthy of inhabiting it.

What he had to do came to him then, in a single moment, as if carried to him by the caress of the breeze on his skin. He stood, pulling up his heavy hood so that it cast a deep shadow over his expressionless face, hiding it from view. His steps were deliberately slow and heavy as he stepped onto the cobblestone street, gazing down a long row of signs for one that would give him the materials he required. He searched for a few moments, then nodded decisively, approaching the shop called “Eridius’ Forge”. There were no windows, but the sign near the heavy wooden door had been made completely of metal, and had been skilfully crafted. It was quality metal; just what Lucian needed.

The distinctive smell of heated steel greeted his nose as he entered the smith. Fine suits of armour, plate mail and chain mail, were displayed in a large cabinet to one side. They had been designed with care, both looking and playing the part of a formidable defense. Glinting weapons of all kinds were displayed on racks on the other side of the store, sharpened to perfection. Lucian whistled appreciatively.

“Can I help you?” The blacksmith, a stout, moustached man, appeared from behind a corner. His bulging arms looked as if they could crush a man’s head between them with ease. His eyes were kind, however, and were fixed upon Lucian questioningly.

“I need a sheet of metal.” Lucian was quick and to the point. He wished to fulfill his plan as soon as possible, finding each moment of waiting more bothersome than the last. He paused, and then decided to elaborate. “Enough for a mask.”

“A mask, hmm? And you plan to craft this by yourself, then? I could easily-” The blacksmith hesitated, his joking done diminishing. His eyes took Lucian in again, a spark of hope entering them as he seemed to realize something. “You’re an alchemist, aren’t you? You have the air of one, at least.”

“Yes.” Lucian conceded, somewhat intrigued. “What of it?” His senses were acute, waiting for any sign that the blacksmith was a threat. His interest did not seem dangerous, but Lucian kept himself ready nonetheless. His fingers closed around the crimson pommel jewel in the runed hilt of the bastard sword that had been sheathed across his back.

The blacksmith’s eyes widened as he saw that Lucian perceived a threat in him. He smiled and shook his head, a wisp of a smile lining his lips. “No, no, I ask only for an exchange. I will give you metal you need in exchange for a small service...” His voice grew quieter, lowering to little more than a whisper. Lucian inclined his head; the less coins out of his pocket, the better.

The large man beckoned with a beefy arm, leading Lucian down a small, barren hallway. It occurred to Lucian that the blacksmith wouldn’t last very long without his shop; there was very little in the rest of the house. Abruptly, they turned out of the hall and passed through a thick wooden door, which shut with a thud behind them.

They had entered a small chamber – a bedroom, by the looks of it – that had far more character than the hall had had. There were vibrantly-painted portraits hanging on the plaster walls, and elegant ornaments gave culture to many varnished bookcases that had been placed about the room. Most evident of all, however, was the large, plush bed in the centre of the room, aligned so that sunlight from the window streamed down onto it. “Please.” The blacksmith muttered. “Heal my daughter. She’s been fevered for days, now, and her condition only keeps worsening... Must I lose my daughter now, too? Why must-”

Lucian held up his hand, advancing to the edge of the bed. A girl’s heavily flushed face was visible, propped up on several feathery pillows; she looked to be in her late teens. Her lips were slightly parted, and her breaths came in sharply at erratic intervals. A strand of blonde hair, which hovered over her face, moved in and out with each breath she took. A single sheet clung to her sweat-covered body, not seeming to serve any real purpose.

“Very well. I am quite capable of healing this girl. I would ask that you remain silent. Alchemy is not a power to be trifled with.” He reached for a pouch at his belt, picking it up and loosening the rope around it. He took a handful of what appeared to be white powder and let it fall from his hand as he created a large circle on the even wooden flooring, large enough for the girl to fit within it. He continued, creating a series of complex runes and patterns within the circle with the strange, powdery substance. When he had finished, he traced his hands down his robes and replaced the bag at his belt.

Lucian approached the bed, removing the wet sheet and gently scooping the girl’s exposed form into his arms. He proceeded to the circle he had created, setting her limp form down atop the runes. Grasping his red stone amulet, he placed two of his fingers onto the circle. Saying nothing, he searched within himself for the familiar spark of alchemy, willing it to his fingertips and amplifying it through the circle. A blinding blue light burst from the ring, drowning the three in a wave of energy.

“It is done.” Lucian said nonchalantly. The girl’s skin had taken on a far healthier tone, and her breathing had subsided into a smoother rhythm. Lucian lifted her again, drying the bed with a spoken word and placing her upon it, watching the content expression on her face. The powder had not been disturbed at all by having her upon it, nor by the reaction Lucian had caused. Lucian touched the circle again, drawing it back into the pouch by his side.

Lucian made his exit quietly, picking up a glimmering sheet of metal as he passed back out onto the street. As it should be, he thought.

YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN


The three young wardens made their ways down to the Wardens Den, A great black tower recognized for the best Wardens alive who live there or rest below it's great obsidian walls, Nathen wondered. Was it really time, was he to leave? What about Heinrich or Fiona? What would come of them? So many things ran through the young man's head that he had to block them as he continued up the blackened steps of the tower.

"As I was saying Nathen, I somehow think that we aren't going to like what is going to happen..." It was Fiona talking...from what it sounded she was worried.

"Relax girl...nothing bad is going to come out of this." Heinrich shifted his sword to his other shoulder, he always left the weapon exposed whenever he could, in case something should happen. "If anything, this our time to head out into the world as either adventurers, Arcane Knights or Mercenaries....any would fit me fine." The man chuckled at his dry humour and continued on. Fiona merely shook his head but Nathen took the words to heart.

What is that was why they were being called...their training was over? What would they do then? He could see becoming a mercenary...or an Arcane knight, but would he want to? He just didn't know. Before they knew it they had reached the final black step of the massive tower. Arthur was waiting for them outside of the Den with what looked to be three giant bundles...

"About time you showed up...these packages are heavy....not to mention that they were made for the top three in the Tower's Wardens. Take a bundle and follow me." He tossed them quickly if visible effort and hurried inside. Heinrich caught his with his free arm muscles cording as he tried to hold onto it. Sheathing his Claymore he brought his other arm to grab the bundle before he dropped it. Fiona caught it with both arms and staggered and Nathen much of the same. Once they had their bearings they continued inside.

The Tower look like a simple black building on the outside, but very warming inside. Despite the rough outer exterior of a Warden, they tended to have caring insides. The Warden's Den was to express that, bright Lanterns created soft pale colours of red and white along the walls, great rugs spalyed along the walls showing great fights with Wardens, Mages and other creatures told only in children's tales. It was one of the few places a Warden could enter and feel at home.

Arthur waited in front of a massive door, just in front of the stairway heading to the Children's quarters. "Hurry up you three! I don't plan on being here all day!"

Nathen looked at Fiona and Rich and started a small jog, his twin long swords slapping his thighs as he kept a steady beat. It was only a few steps to the solid Ash Door. He stepped inside to see he was in the Blade Warden's office. A simple four walled area complete with a small desk, a Training dummy and every main weapon used by every Blade Warden known in existance, some so old they were almost crumbling to some that looked like they were just off the forge. From axes, to kinfes, to short swords to bows...the walls were nearly filled. Arthur stood there in the centre of it and smiled. "Well now that your here open the cursed packages, our forges and Mages didn't just make these for any reason at all!"

Nathen looked at the Cloth bundle in his arms...it reminded him so much of the small bundle in Natalie's arms before....That was a dream...it didn't happen... He opened up quickly but not to damage the cloth. AS he unwrapped the bundle he gasped. He saw a brand new Kunai, a quadruple blade bent out like a saw, attached to a gleaming black steel chain. The head swivled along and turned slowly showing it was a rotary head. He continued to unravel, he spotted a pair of gemencrusted longswords, the Black steel blades gelaming softly in the light of the laterns inside. The gold leafed hilts showed the blades even more than they did themselves. A saphire emplaced inside the middle of each hilt. A solid Oak staff, small circles tracing along the smooth surface. A pair of silver Guantlets. As he went to put them on he yelped as a silver Wrist blade shot out of one of the wrists. He reached teh last covering to find a suit of traditional Warden armour, a gleaming chainmail shirt, Plated boots and Plated leggings. The Epulets shone brightly on the mail. He eyed it all in all exclaimed wonder and looked up at Arthur who was trying not to laugh.

"Close your mouths before you attract flies. As of now you are all Full Wardens. No ceremony, just like that. I also have your first missions for you. One that only a swordsman can do. Bringing a mage with you would only attract unwanted attention. You three are to go to Antioch and meet with a member of the Guild. We have hired their expertise for a certain mission concerning the Tower. Meet with him and he will tell you what is needed. Remeber that hiring the Guild for anything isn't cheap, and that afterwards do not try to find him again. I don't like dealing with them anymore than the next man, but they know more about the outside world than we. You have 4 days to pack and ride out. Once you reach Antioch send a message by carrier pidgeon back. Any questions?"

OOC: more later

Richard watched from the back of his trusted steed as his plan was set in motion.

Below the large hill he watched from his 2 squads split and went about their tasks silently and quickly as they had trained from birth to do.

One squad secured the one entrance to the town killing the 2 guards before they even had a chance to see there deaths coming, then half the squad left the search the rest of the wall for secondary exits,

The second squad began to draw runes on the ground around the town first with chalk then with salt, as they drew the runes they chanted softly so that not even people standing a foot away could hear them.

As the 2 squads finished their work Richard rode down to meet the 2 officers and listened to their reports.

"The town is secure my lord we have covered every exit and spaced the rest of the men out so as to prevent anyone from escaping should the event arise" The first officer said as he stood at attention in his saddle with his hand over his heart "none shall escape!"

Richard allowed a small smile to show "I trust you sergeant now return to your men and make good on your promise" Richard frowned "The High Lord does not except failure lightly"

The first officer bowed in his saddle and rode off as Richard turned his attention to the second officer.

"The circle is almost complete my lord and I have personally inspected it there are no flaws. “The light of conviction shone in his eyes.

Richard smiled fully this time "Then I believe it is time to put the people of this forgotten town to good use!" With that the officer bowed and lead the way to the focus point of the circle.

As Richard dismounted a soldier stepped forward and saluted hand over his heart. "My lord it is done"

Richard smile turned into a quite laugh and stepped forward looking to his left and right making sure his soldiers were clear of the wall, when bought officers signalled that bought squads had withdrawn to a safe distance he bent down and pulled a black diamond from the inside of his cloak.

"For the eternal power of Negard!!" he yelled and was answered by the voices of his men and the great wolves they rode "The eternal throne of Fe'Dorien The Dark!!!"

The people of the quiet forgotten village woke to the sound of wolves and men hollowing in a foreign tongue.

It was the last thing any of them heard.

As Richard invoked the circle around the town there came a great sound that defied comprehension as the town and all of its inhabitants were consumed by the dark diamond Richard held in his hand.

Within seconds the only evidence the there had ever been a town was the bare ground where the town had been.

Richard turned to his troops "Lets get back to the city" he said his voice tired.

With out another word Richard the 2 squads in tow rode back toward the mountains that where there home.

Continuum of Events to a Finality
Unknown Compound, Gallitrim
---------------------------------------------


Aloris still remembered the face of the other young man who was taken prisoner along with her. He had a smooth face with a curious, yet serious, demeanor, additionally as being a man who carried himself with great confidence and pride. His eyes and hair were his most outstanding features: brown smooth-flowing hair which had steamed down his forehead, complimenting with two strange orbs of a color that resembled a warm violet; those eyes completed his face in a strange, yet exotic fashion.

She smiled, knowing there was still a hopeful shred of hope with the aid of another’s company.

Thinking back to when she and the young man were taken from their cells, she remembered that Orogoim’s words were vile and sinister. These sects of irritating alchemists twist every strand of beauty or innocence of the art of Alchemy to their own uses. They don’t deserve to live.

Abruptly, the door opened, letting a stream of light drown her in its majestic presence. Aloris stood, welcoming the strengthened grip of a red-robed apostle, who spoke to her, “Since you are to spend a long term within our confines, Orogoim has requested that you are to be washed and given better clothes to wear under your robes. He also said that you are responsible for paying back for such services with your service to the Duil’rimgata.” He growled, awaiting no response, and pulled her out of the cell after constricting her wrist.

* * * * *

Aloris felt extremely refreshed and much cleaner in more ways than one when she retreated from a strange pool room. After bathing in the warm waters that were housed in a strange small-scale cavern, she found black wool clothes waiting for her, which were of moderate craft. They fitted her well, and she welcomed their protection from the heat.

When she entered into the main stone corridor, the red-robed apostle who had escorted her there hastily grabbed her wrist and constricted her with Alchemy. Aloris snarled at him, “Where are you taking me now?”

The apostle ignored her question and pulled her back through a series of corridors and high-ceiling rooms until they reached the same training rooms where Orogoim spoke to them. She assumed that that was the day previous, but she hardly could tell the time in this place any longer, since no light entered her cell.

Orogoim was waiting for her, sitting on a wooden chair. The apostle threw her on the ground, releasing his grip on her wrist. A sore, inflamed, feeling throbbed from her wrist where she was repeatedly dragged and gripped. The moment he saw her in her present state, Orogoim stood up and walked over to her. After a moment of observation, he said, “Good. Well enough for one of the Euil.” A sound of footsteps approached, and the other prisoner, the young man, was escorted in by another red-robed apostle. He was forcedly pushed in after being released by his escort. Orogoim walked towards him and nodded, “You as well. It is interesting what a bit of water can do to us. One moment we may look like brutes,” he gestured to the left with his hand and then spoke again while gesturing to the right, “and in other moments we may look like princes.”

Aloris couldn’t understand what had happened next. The two, the young man and Orogoim, exchanged odd glances, where Orogoim concluded with a grunt and a nod, “You two are ready for training.” He nodded to the guards who bowed lightly in return and retired from the room.

Orogoim gestured to Aloris to come towards him. Aloris did as she was told and walked towards him as he began to speak, “I have pondered long and hard on how I am to train you two. I’ve never trained any but already experienced members of the Self-Illuminated, nor have I trained more than one Euil at the same time.

“I have thus come to the conclusion that since both of you are together imprisoned by us it is implied that you will be trained together. Your fates are now tied. You may rejoice because training by yourself would be far more difficult than with company, but in your case it may be also a cause for dismay. If just one of you decides to not cooperate with me, both of you will be punished in return. I recommend that you two become on better terms from now on – it will influence your survival.”

He nodded, and looked to the two of them. Aloris looked to the young man who looked back in return. His face was much cleaner now and his posture held a greater air of strength. The yellow robes he now wore brought out the strange violets in his eyes, making him look strangely exotic. The young man grinned, and so did she. Their mesmerizing exchange in glances was interrupted by their master, who loudly said, “You work will begin today with a fairly simple task. I want you two to both test one another to find out each other’s knowledge in Alchemy. Continue to do so until you can talk no longer. I would like to see how proficient you two already are in the area of Alchemy so I may judge what I am to teach you in these coming weeks. I will sit here and observe.” He pointed to and sat down on a wooden chair.

* * * * *

They both quizzed each other on fundamentals and various aspects of Alchemy: its science, its practice, and much other theoretical knowledge. No matter how hard the two tried, they could not find anything they knew that the other did not. Both were equally tutored in the areas of Alchemy, and very well knew many of its secrets as well.

Orogoim, sitting with great patience, finally cut them off while they were conversing about advanced processes that can be done in Alchemy, “That is enough. You two know more than any other student I have taught about Alchemy. I need not to teach you any further. I would ask you, Roui, where you received such knowledge, and you, Aloris, the same, but I think that that is more personal knowledge you should keep to yourselves.

“Thus, we may progress further in your training. You two spoke of such abilities and spells in Alchemy that require a great deal of energy. In such cases, Alchemic Circles were required to be formed and practiced. A great deal of effort, time, and care must be put in to do just one task. The Self-Illuminated, however, have found a way to go around such tasks in certain cases.

“We have developed ways to store energy we find from sources, such as human bodies, in a cumulative way where it can easily be accessed later. In this regard, Alchemic Circles are sometimes not needed, as long as the materials that must be given to the Alchemy are present.”

Roui, beside him, yelled out in anger, “That is unnatural! Our bodies are not just storehouses of energy which people could just bargain with!”

Aloris had the nerve to reply, “Shush, Roui. Arguments aren’t going to bring you anywhere.”

Orogoim glanced between them, and then said, “Unnatural is, again, relative. You will learn to overcome your feelings once you are presented with your potential power. I will teach you today how to begin channeling energy to your cause. Today, and everyday thereafter, will be filled with rigorous work as you train to be one with nature.”

“And how are we to use Alchemy? I’ve been stripped of it, and I assume she was as well,” Roui asked.

He chuckled, “Only in your minds you were. They simply presented you with diluted water and made you believe you were stripped of your powers. You simply believed what you wanted to, fool.

“That, however, does not mean that Alchemy would be useful for you to escape us. The walls and grounds of this compound are securely guarded by Alchemic counter forces, and the other apostles here will surely overpower you with but just a thought.” The rough skin that covered his face deformed to complete the form of a grin.

* * * * *

The training lasted hours longer as Orogoim began to teach them further. His methods of teaching were gruesome and cruel, taking such methods as physical harm into account when one of the two prisoners went out-of-line.

Finally at some indefinite point in time after a long period of seemingly endlessness, Orogoim went out to the corridor with Aloris and Roui, and Orogoim addressed the red-robed Red Guard apostles, “Today you will escort them to a different room. They do not deserve dark cells any longer. Take them to one of the guest rooms, but post a guard at their door. I also expect them to discuss their teachings today before they are to surrender to sleep. That is all.”

He disappeared back into the training room and left Aloris and Roui to the two looming men who constricted them using Alchemy and pulled them through corridors of stone until they reached a wooden door. Their strangely deformed faces with runes and scars loomed in Aloris’s vision throughout the journey, a constant reminder of the evil she had found herself drowned in. She suddenly realized a pattern now, that she had been too ignorant to see before. All of their power-mongering must have led all these apostles to their deformations – they all sought after powers that most likely overpowered them.

The compound must have been humongous because it seemed they had walked through at least a mile of corridors. During this trip, however, they did see other apostles, some training like them while others were chanting in strange altar rooms, strange languages that echoed out into the vastness of space inside these chastising and imprisoning walls; walls that made them prisoners now.

The wooden door was opened and they were pushed through, now released from the Alchemy. The door closed with a loud thud behind them, leaving the two alone in their new room; their new cell which only left the two shrouded with continued obstacles to their long-away goal of escaping.

Aloris glanced around, and took in her surroundings. The room was lightly lighted by an oil lamp on a wooden component which stood lonely in the corner. A number of metres away, a bed was pushed against the wall, and another few meters away from that stood a table designed for writing, and a chair pushed under it. The room was quite bare besides these few pieces of furniture, and the ground was covered by a rough rug with strange symbols for a design. Another room connected to this main room, and from what she observed, Aloris assumed that it was another small room with a bed.

At least they gave us something more comfortable than a stone floor to sleep on, Aloris thought.

Beside her, Roui stood up and brushed himself off from the dust he gathered from the ground. He looked at her for a few minutes and then looked away while he spoke, “Since we’re imprisoned together, Aloris, it would probably be better that we know more about each other.” His jaw cleansed together in some mysterious demeanor.

Aloris grinned and stood up to stand beside him, “Of course; I would have expected no less. My name is Aloris, as you may know. I come from Southern Gallitrim where I was taken from my brother,” her brows came together in anger, “And brought here.”

A slight grin stretched across his face, “Do not worry. I will try to all my abilities to think of a way to get you back to your brother.” He glanced her way for a moment, then nodded and walked towards the bed which he sat upon. He sighed, and then looked up at her with his arms folded, “I am unsure whether or not I should tell you who I really am.”

“Why not?” Aloris tried to read his face, but could not interpret anything.

He looked at her, and then said, “Because who I really am is in the past. To tell you might make you think of me differently. I am who I am, and I do not want that to change – I was never myself before.”

Aloris frowned, unable to decipher that somewhat cryptic reply. She walked towards him and kneeled so she could put her hand on Roui’s leg. Roui flinched and looked at her with wide eyes. The stressful appearance he had just worn across his face was instantaneously erased. She spoke softly, “Tell me. I need to know and, besides, I can’t keep calling you that name.”

The man sighed and whispered so softly that it almost could not be heard, “If you’re so vehement in your decision, I suppose I can tell you. You’re…probably the kindest person I have met in my life. All I’ve ever met were high-class self-admiring nobles who act the same as my father, who all feel they have no responsibilities for others and only care about themselves.”

His eyes met hers and the next few words escaped out into the air with a surprising amount of subtlety, “My real name is Aillein Silrilliam.”

She did not expect the answer and gasped, taking her hand from Aillein’s leg and covering her mouth in surprise, “Aillein? The prince?”

He looked down at her with a strange demeanor and said somewhat sarcastically, “The one and only.”

Her mouth still agape, she searched the once familiar but now clouded face of the man who stood in front of her. It was almost as if a blanket was pulled across his form, making him almost foreign to her since she had thought she had understood him completely. Words flew from her mouth without reasoning and almost as if it was an impulse, “How were you captured? That seems hardly possible.”

“I was with a Royal patrol group while we were scouting the borders, as was our monthly routine. We were ambushed by several apostles who shot down most of my men within a second. They then came over and took me before I could respond, and I found myself here soon after,” he said calmly as if having rehearsed the story several times.

Her mouth came to a close, and she closed her eyes in consideration. “I’m sorry I reacted the way I did when I heard your name. It is just that I would never have expected a prince, of all people, to be here.”

He sighed, “It’s not your fault. I’d rather this place then under my father’s watchful eye. You would not understand the hardships you have being a prince until you are one. You have to watch your back at every corner, and always act a certain way so that people won’t look at you in the wrong light. It’s like being imprisoned all in itself.”

Aloris felt a pang of pain for what he must have experienced. She showed a crooked grin and said, “At least…we have each other here. Imagine trying to do this by ourselves. I would certainly go insane if I had to fight this alone.”

“Insane? That is an understatement, Aloris. Their teachings are madness. They darken every beautiful aspect of Alchemy, and taint it with their power hunger. I swear to never join their order, even if it is a matter of life and death.” His eyes met hers, and once again he became his normal self – the man he thought he knew. The blanket was uncovered.

“As do I, as long as you are here with me.”

He grinned, “You’re tying your fate with me? That’s very hopeful. I certainly do not have very long to live. As soon as the fools here discover my importance –”

Aloris looked at him analytically, realizing that he had stayed his mouth on purpose to hide something from her, “What is it? What’s your ‘importance’?”

He looked at her with analytic eyes, eyes that reflected no emotion which resembled the eyes of a probing nobleman, “I can’t tell you that. Telling you my name was dangerous enough. You have to understand, Aloris, now that you’re here with me, you might be affected the same that I will be in the future. To avoid as little damage as possible to yourself, I suggest you close yourself from me. The more you know about me, the more they will try to pry it from you.”

“I have to tell you something, Aillein Silrilliam, I have as little care for the risks of trying to learn more about my acquaintances as you do for your life – I hope and I am sure that you and I will escape.” She felt her heartbeat race.

“Escape – such a hopeful word. If we do escape, then what will we ever do then? These monsters will chase us down with constant succession. We will never truly be safe from them until they are completely destroyed.”

Aloris eyed him, “That was such a pessimist reply from you of all people, Aillein. Escape is a cause for hope since we would then have a chance to fight these fools, instead of being held captive by them. We could gather help, and take them out. I am sure there must be a city near here.”

Aillein met her glance, “We are hoping too much now. Think of the present. What can we do to escape? I’ve thought long and hard since I’ve been here… and all I can come up with cannot be completely certified to be a definite solution since we have so little information about this compound and its location in Gallitrim, if we are are in Gallitrim that is.”

A silence followed, both of them realizing their lack of solutions. Aillein eyed the wall beside him and reached up with his hand to feel it. Examining it with his forefinger, feeling its ridges and texture, he tried to call upon his Alchemic power. He felt the flow of energy coming forward, such a joyful return of a long lost power, and saturate into the wall. Nothing happened. No transformations occurred, or any visible results display. He frowned, and then remembered what Orogoin had said, “The walls and grounds of this compound are securely guarded by Alchemic counter forces.” Blasted fools, thought Aillein.

A knock suddenly came at the door, which creaked wide open. From the door walked in three red-robed apostles and Orogoim behind them. Orogoim displayed a crooked grin, eyeing Aillein with pleasure, “It seems some use of you has come quite early, boy.” He looked to the other red-robed apostles, their hoods pulled back and their vile faces revealed, and said, “Bind the boy and take him to the ritual room. Ruilthurt will deal with him.”

One of them turned to him and spoke with a dark wretched voice, “What of the woman?”

Orogoim snarled at him, “Leave her! I will report to the ritual room as soon as possible, after I fetch the appropriate items from my room.” He hurriedly left the room with a sweep of his robes.

The three Red Guard apostles grunted in reply and two of them came up to Aillein to bind both his wrists. The other pulled him up by the neck and smiled at him. He punched him in the gut, making Aillein groan out with pain. “Foolish little prince,” the man said. They all walked out with Aillein into the mysterious corridor. The lone apostle not binding Aillein put his hand back to close the door. A piece of fabric from his robe caught in closing opening, and left the portal open a small creak as the apostles left.

Aloris still had her hand over her mouth from a feeling of shock. She saw the door open there, and then heard silent whispers from the red-robed apostles far escaping into the distance behind the door. She made up her mind, rose from the floor and pulled on the chain attached to the door, thus freeing herself from the bindings that left her there in that room. She vowed to not let damage come to Aillein, no matter what his position was, and what she would become a part of.

"Any questions?" Arthur gave them a look. Nathen looked around to the other three. Heinrich had but his new Claymore down and was now looking at the new bow he had received....The inlaid bronze plating seemed to glow in the Latern's light. "So you're saying..." Rich began slowly. "That us, three newly classed Full Wardens, are to enter Anitoch, find a Guild member, than figure out what to do from there?"

Arthur looked at the three of them and nodded. "Yes...what's so hard about that?"

Fiona dropped her job. "You're obviously not telling us something."

Arthur nodded again...."Yes.....for reasons who will understand later... Now so I don't need to hear you three complain leave and pack...Nathen see before you have to leave in the four day time. I need to discuss somthing with you."

Nathen simply inclined his head and gathered his equipment and left.

All was going as planned. On a small island located to the east of the main continent and to the south west of the Capital of Govoress island chain Empire a group of marauders were gathered, with their captive that they had been instructed to bring forth before their leader. This group of marauders, known as the Cerisusk, were lead by a man known as Jeronim Gorgonius.

Jeronim was a tall man with pale skin, cloaked in black he usually struck people as rather sinister. He wore one weapon at his side, a Katana, the weapon of choice among Govoress closely followed by the broadsword.

Jeronim grinned “Well Governor, now that you are before us, what would you say about taking a change of allegiance. Serve me and you can obtain true power.” Said Jeronim, more for show than out of any belief of this man cooperation.

“I will never serve you” spit the Governor, throwing a venomous glare at the man who had arranged his abduction. The Governor thought of his island of Iasa and how he had recently won the Election to attain his power as Governor to serve the people. He counted himself lucky that he had been chosen over the other candidates.

“Oh, I think that you will reconsider after you see what I have to show you Governor Kaem” Said Jeronim he stepped toward the withstrained prisoner. “As you may have noticed you are within an Alchemists circle, you will serve me whether you wish to or not.” Explained Jeronim, brining the red stone upon his ring into plain site. Jeronim began muttering incantation to focus his thoughts on the task at hand, there was a blinding flash that filled the room and the Governor, still in his place appeared stunned. “Are you ready to serve?” Asked Jeronim

“Yes my lord, I am ready to serve the Cerisusk” Replied the Governor.

“Very well, you will return to your Island and await instructions, unless told otherwise you will continue with your normal routine” HE said to the Governor.

“Very well my lord.”

Jeronims smile grew. The Governors will had been erased and replaced with obedience toward him, much like the will of many other Governors and High Council members. As the men who had brought in the Governor went off to return him to his home Jeronim addressed his men “All goes well, we are well on our way to ruling this island and will soon have complete control.” Along with various influential leaders the slow absorption of military personnel and resources had begun, a small fleet of sea vessels were now controlled by the Cerisusk along with two airships now that their latest member had been recruited.

OOC: Hey look, my first FoF post, some guy taking over the Empire I made...Well there goes my modern and medieval creative outlets time to go write my futuristic outlet...

Any question may be asked via MSN, PMs, the OOC topic or in person.

"And so when the Sol shines down upon us from the Heavens, He provides us light. He gives us life. He guides us onward and forward, delivers us our Purity and cleanses our evils." The priest declared, looking up to the high wooden ceiling of the church. He wore a blood-red cloak with golden linings and a scarf that bore the white cross. His mitre stood dominantly on top of his head, imposing a sentiment of intimidation over his listeners. The priest returned his eyes to the Holy Doctrine, a thick purple satin covered book that rested on the altar before the priest.

"When he defies Sol, our omnipresent provider, it is only but consequence that he will recieve. For defiance and neglect of our provider is that of the Devil, and that of the alchemist." The priest explained dramatically. His cold grey eyes scanning over the dozens of rows of church goers before him. The church was illuminated in all colours of the rainbow from the sun that poured in through the large stain glass windows that captured scenes of heroic feats practiced by the Gods.

"The Alchemist," the priest said with a hint of disgust, "is our Evil. Its goal is the destruction of Humanity and its Purity and the mockery of our Gods. We will not permit such treachery." The priest closed the Doctrine softly and smiled. "Let us gather in prayer." He said, raising his hands towards the ceiling.

The church creaked and groaned as the crowd moved to the floor of their benches to their knees. They placed their hands together and looked upwards to the ceiling, towards the sky. The priest began the prayer in a looming voice.

"My first cry never-ending
All life is to fear for life
You fool, you wanderer
You challenged the Gods and lost
I am mighty
I am Pure
To rid of Evil
My life to God
My first cry never-ending.
Amen."

The church creaked again as everyone sat back down. "I wish you well." The priest said, placing his hands into the sleeves of his robe and crossing his hands; making his arms seem as one. "Stay cleansed of Evil." He raised his hands over the crowd and blessed them as the church emptied.

The four days went with little to know event. Nathen saw little of his friends and even less of the teachers. They must have been really started the true callin of Alchemy. He had broken in his armour, replaced certain parts to fit his fighting style. He exchanged the chainmail leggings for a set of Plate mail leggings and asked more a more flexible weave for his arms. Smiling he as he brought the new equipment back to find it more than his expectations. His longswords were perfect, the whip lightning fast and even the Flamberge was light for a heavy weapon.

On the third day he went to see Arthur for his much needed talk. Wearing his modified armour and equipping his longswords and Staff he walked out to meet him. It wasn't hard to find the aging Warden, he was watching to Greens picking their second weapons. "You said to find you before I live Master-Warden." Nathen began obviously needing to figure out what was going on.

"Yes I did Nathen. Do you see these greens here?"

Nathen nodded. "Yes, it seems like ages since I was one."

"You started younger than these two boys here, don't you find that weird?"
Nathen shook his head. "Not really...I was just more talented than most. I've been here as long as you."

Arthur looked on. "Do you think that is different, that a boy of 8 was selected for warden training by a newly assigned Blade Warden, who trained you himself?"

Nathen shook his head again. "No...I guess not why?"

Arthur turned. "Do you remember your parents?" Nathen took a step back.

"No, they died when I was young..."

"What about your grandfather? Do you know what happened to him? Or what about your town?"

Nathen just stared..."Nothing, I think I know my grandfather passed away when I was young. "

Arthur just stared. "What about your dreams?" Nathen just stared.

"Why?"

"Now is not the time to argue with me boy... What is your dreams about?"

Nathen swallowed hard. "A woman and two men fighting to get out of a city of fire...."

"Who were their names..."

"Saemon and Natalie..." Arthur's face paled. "Did they have a child?"
Nathen swallowed. "yes." He whispered.

"What was the name of the other man?"
"I don't know but he was older than the father." Arthur nodded.
"What else happened?"

Nathen proceeded to describe the fighting, how Saemon died, how the grandfather and mother escaped and took the boy to the Tower. Arthur just nodded and sighed. After he took a breathe and answered. "Nathen, don't you find it all awkward that all of this is happening now?"

Nathen nodded. "Yes but I only thought it was coincodence..." Arthur shook his head. "Why do you think that..."

"Because a boy came to this Tower roughly 16 years ago, carried by a man with a Kunai...a Warden. That boy.......was you." Just then the world ceased to move.

Nathen couldn't form a word through his mind, Arthur continued, now that this has been started he had to continue. "Saemon was your father Nathen, Natalie your mother...that city was where you were born, the man who brought you here....your grandfather...is me." Nathen dropped to his knees, his legs wouldn't hold him up anymore. ((more later))

((Continued))

Nathen was stone, he body wouldn't move, his entire life shattered. He looked up at Arthur with tear brimed eyes and couldn't get the words to his one ever seeking question.....why.

Arthur kept going. "I know this is too much to understand, but you need to know about what is going on, what has happened, and what will continue to happen for as long as Ilyerium is still reigning apon the world. Arthur took a breathe and waited. Nathen finally found the strength to stand but needed the stone wall to support him. "I need to know what happened..." He choked out. "I need to know what happened that day." Arthur looked at him than at the two boys playing with two scimitars and a halberd. "Are you sure, you seemed to take what I've said right now with more than enough shock..."

Nathen paused and saw the concern displayed on Arthurs aged face, the wrinkles showing as clearly as the day he received the scar running down the side of his face. Nathen brought a hand up to wipe his eyes and nodded. "Yes, I need to know, why..."

Arthur looked at the young man saw the determination along the tear stained face, and nodded.

"It was a day like any other, Saemon was tending the fields, I was widdling a stick into a figurine for you to play with and your mother was making dinner. Some of the morning Alchemists were casting illusions to entertain the children that day. Saemon was a Warden, as was myself. Natalie his mage. Retired from the days of the Tower to enjoy life a little before the vacation time was over. It was a little past midday when the first warning came. Ilerium had found he village of Siron. The farmers there weren't fighters, they were untouched by any form of technology for almost 20 years. Which was why your parents decided to live there.
"They came in force, no mercy, no niceness in their voices, their mouvements. Nothing but hate for those who channeled the powers of Alchemy. Saemon had formed somewhat of a resistance. He had gathered a group of farmers that had fought for the army and were able to throw back the first wave, nearly slaughtering every farmer in Siron. They continued the siege for almost three days before they were betrayed by your fathers closest friend, Ryan.
"That day was wet and bleak as the remaining farmers moral as they watched over the palisades... before the opposing soldiers ripped a hole from behind. Ryan had opened the gates letting the soldiers in, little did Saemon knew that Ryan was a Major in the Enemies army.
"Your father reached myself and Natalie before they razed the house, we retrieved the weapons and your mother picked you up from the crib. We had almost made it to the nearby forest when we were waylaid by a group of menacing soldiers. Saemon bought us time to escape, sacrificing himself to save you and his wife.

"After that I got your mother and you to safety, your mother went into hiding and I took you here to train so you could protect yourself." Arthur finished. Nathen had stood the entire time. His arms felt heavy, his face white. "So where is my mother?"

Arthur shrugged. "I haven't spoken to her in almost 10 years. I pray every night that those pigs never found her. I needed to tell you this grandson...you needed to know the truth. ((more later))

Negolos stood at the balcony of his private tower of the castle/fortress that stands in the middle of The City gazing out over the city he loved and had sworn to protect against all enemies and at all costs with a smile.

"Richard has returned my lord."

Negolos turned to gaze affectionately at his wife as she walked over to stand beside him.

"Was his mission a success my dear?" Negolos ask has he put his arm around her shoulder with out looking away from the city.

His wife smiled and leaned into his embrace "you know quite well he wouldn't have returned otherwise".

Negolos just smiled and held his wife closer as he gazed out over the city that was his second love.

***********************************************

A few hours later in the audience hall of the castle/fortress that is Negard Keep Negolos sat on his obsidian throne with his wife in the slightly smaller throne beside him as Richard was ushered into the hall and walked up to the first step of the dais on which the thrones sat and kneeled.

"I have come as you requested my lord"

Negolos smiled and leaned forward slightly "I'm glad you have returned Richard, tell me was your mission a success?"

Richard raised his head and smiled " it was a complete success my lord better then even i expected, not a single witness escaped and there were no casualties."

Negolos smiled "you have done well my son, as I knew you would."

Richard rose and bowed " Your faith honours me father" with those words Richard turned to a soldier standing against the wall of the hall and gestured for him to step forward, the soldier handed the plain wooden box to Richard and stepped back to the wall.

Richard turned back toward the throne and opened the box to reveal the black diamond that rested in the box.

Richard smiled " The fruits of my labours"

Negolos just smiled.

"You needed to know before you left, I have kept this a secret for good reason, if I hadn't you would have wanted vengence before you were finished your training...you must understand that I would never have lied to you had I not thought it your best interest." To Nathen it was just a surprise that his closest friend turned out to be his Grandfather, and that his mother was still alive. "My mother...is still alive?" He whispered.

Arthur stopped realizing his error. "Yes but trust me, you don't want to find her yet, if you do you risk placing her in danger, the Tower in danger, we have only kept out of Ilyerium's grasp