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Note that the following RP is entirely non-canon in the official Organization history books; it is a completely alternate past involving the principle of equal exchange and the power of alchemy, or, as it is more commonly known, magic. Player discretion is advised...

Equivalent exchange essentially means that nothing may be gained via magic without giving something in return. For more simple spells, only energy is necessary, making you more tired. For example, you may light a candle or perhaps mend a gadget fairly easily. However, for more advanced, useful magic, something more substantial must be given in return, be it time (as in rituals), human life, something of yourself, or perhaps time off your very own life.

Rituals tend to be the least costly way to do things; they require an alchemical circle, materials, and a great deal of time. This forms the equivalent exchange. They also require proper knowledge of incantations and similar necessities.

I am trusting you to judge for yourself what may simply require rest and what may require more. For example, healing a sprained ankle would probably take very little, as the material is all there. Organic compounds, however, are extremely difficult to form using alchemy, as carbon is a very fickle element. For this reason, replacing missing limbs usually requires a large amount of sacrifice or actual human flesh in return.

Feel free to ask about this in the OOC topic.

We are also around the gunpowder era in technology, except that gunpowder is extremely rare and rifles are also hard to make and maintain, remaining largely unused.

At the moment, Schmidt is on an anti-magic crusade of terror, and the other small nations are slowly being overrun by his genocidal people... what will happen, only time can tell.

Also note that you need not roleplay a whole government, but may also be any single character or group of characters in this wartorn time. Remember, godmodding is for fools. Keep the characters sane and we can all be happy.

“It was the age of fire...”

“The age of destruction.”

“The age we took back what was ours.”

“It was the age of rebirth...”

“The age of great sadness...”

“The age of pain...”

“And the age of joy.”

“It was a new chapter...”

“It was the end of history.”

“It was the age everything changed...”

The Catalyst to a Journey
-------------------------------------

The man was enveloped by shadows. He sat within his personal world, perplexed by nothing but his very own thoughts. His hands folded together, he considered what he had done in the past several hours; all of the dark evil acts he would have been smitten for.

It was all needed. He knew that. By doing what he did, it was the only way he could have saved her. But, did he? The man remembered so little since the minute he chose to follow the apostles. He did so without hesitance as soon as he heard that they could cure his sister.

He remembered bits and pieces. He had a brief recollection of speaking out the dictated incantation, provided to him by those dark-robed men, the apostles. He also had a memory of seeing the blood splotched all over his arms and fingers. It was the blood of innocent men, he realized. The blood he had spilled, and it was all for personal gain.

Where was he now? He looked around at the small, dark, room. He knew he must still be in that same room where the ritual was done. The man panted, still remembering the rush he had felt when he had began to dance around the erratic flames. He could even smell the ashes now. He… had enjoyed what he had done, even reveled in it.

He was sitting down on the cold concrete floor, and when that had registered in his mind he stood up and examined the floor below him. The bodies no longer loitered the ground, and he knew it must have been the actions of the apostles. He saw no sign of them, either.

Was his dear sister all right? When she had fallen ill several weeks ago, while both were traveling together in the woods, he had went far and wide to find a cure. All he found were arrogant merchants who had not wanted to help him, despite his begs and pleas. He had very little financial resources, and when one did not have money, persuasion was not so easy a skill to practice on greedy merchants.

He looked hurriedly around the room. He didn’t see her there. The man neither felt her there. Where did she go? The apostles must have taken here. His brows came together in frustration. He bellowed out in anger. He had committed murder this day, and he had not even achieved what he had sought.

He spent the next several hours sitting in that dark room, continuing to let the dark saturate inside him, as it should for those defiling acts he had done. Then, at just one moment in time, he knew it was time to stand and face the consequences of his actions.

He knew that he would not succumb to evil if he had any say in the matter. He knew, then, his only way of finding his sister is by looking for her. Anything lost is never really lost if the owner does not disregard it. He will not disregard his sister.

The man approached the area of the dark room, which led to the exit. He reached out and opened the door to the outside air, and let the sun and its light envelop him. The only way he could ever live with himself any longer was to beg for atonement, to seek reconciliation in his next actions.

He will become a follower of good, a cleric of a holy order. He will hastily run to the town, which he knew was hours away and outside of this dreaded wood, and find an clerical order which will accept him under their rule.

With one glance back, and then another forward, he decided to leave the dreadful cabin of lies and of mischief to time, and let time now carry him forward to his fate and destiny. He will find his sister. Only time will tell when.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Sylaris stood outside the dark cathedral with new resolve. He had completed his service at the Church of Luminance. His training to be a cleric here is now done, and the only thing left for him to do is to continue on in life, and to continue to reconcile for his actions.

That, however, was in the past.

He, once again, examined his new attire. The attire of a cleric: simple robes of white, which was crafted by the master spellweavers, to fit him and him only. These robes allowed him to use magic without the interference of normal clothing with its material that reacted with useless forces.

On a belt of white was a blue sheath holding his prized sword: the sword he had crafted and was presented to him at his graduation. It was a sword that had a sapphire blade imbued with magic. Its pommel was white and had a pearl coating. This sword was earned by his vigorous work, and its crafting took weeks of his time here at the cathedral. And it was this sword that will aid him on his search for his sister.

He did not know why, but he did know his sister must still be out there. Somewhere, where she is awaiting his return. He had only been in the cathedral for months, but he knew she must be years away.

His master, Viffharis, stood on the steps to the cathedral, and gave him a glare, obviously showing him that he wanted him to go on to his new life.

He had remembered his master's last words, "Now. Think of me no longer. Your new life is not with me. Your new life is elsewhere in this world. When you leave this room and go to graduate, do not return. You are now discharged of your training. Go forth, pupil, and feel the tendrils of life."

Walking through the town and towards the forest in the distance, he felt a new sense of courage and virtue. He would find his sister, and this time with the aid of good, not evil.

"NATHEN the grip is all wrong! If you want to use a greatsword than you need to blance the grip! You can't expect yourself to hit anything wielding it like a club." His instructor barked. "If you want to be a warden than you need to listen!"

Nathen nodded and closed his eyes, The weight of the Flamberge was extreme, much more than it looked at first glance. The serrated edge made the blade lighter than most but had an extra foot more than most to compensate. Taking a deep breathe he focused. Opening his eyes he took a step forward, sweeping in low for a cut for the knee, the instructer stopped it quickly with one longsword and launched a quick assault with his dagger. Nathen flicked the blade up just enough that dagger deflected high to hit the longsword coming in for his head. Not having time to congragulate himself he reverted the blade again and came in with a horizontal arc, forcing the instructor to give ground, follwing through he swung vertical giving a small feint. Wich the older man took and launched a double stab for his mid section. Swinging the flamberges claw like edge twice around where the swords were coming in he stopped the attack and backed off panting. Sweat glimmered down like small streams against his coppery skin, his black hair matted with it. The instructor didn't even look tired. "You've improved greatly. I'm impressed. You've mastered the kunai, wristblades, quarterstaff and the two longswords...this is your last one before you become Warden...give it time Nathen....you are still in the tower a while yet." The older man gave a big laugh and patted the 18 year old on the shoulder. "Give it time...Your done for today, go and take the rest of the day off I'll see you in the morning."

Nathen nodded and coughed into his hand. "Thanks Arthur..." He sheathed the weapon and made his way down to the quarters. REalxing he looked around the tower gardens, the paractice rings. The tower wasn't just a place for training Wardens however...it trained magic users...

He sighed and opened the door to his room. It was small, not much bigger than a servents' room, but he like it just the same. It was cozy enough... Lying down on the bed he let his thoughts wonder....
OOC:

more on the tower later....

In the dark city of Negard, a place of darkness and evil, there is a place were the most powerful of it's denizens practise the darkest of the art that make them the rulers of the city, this place is know simple as The Tower to those that live in the city and the world out side, deep beneath it's twisted spires formed from the living rock of the mountain is a chamber know only to one man.

At that moment the man in question was standing at the edge of an alchemical circle engraved into the floor and filled with sliver, in the centre of the circle rested a jet black diamond it's surface gleaming in the candle light.

The man smiled "It wont be gleaming for long" with that he started to chant in a voice filled with strength and power.

As he chanted the diamond started to transform, it ceased to gleam and started to draw the light form the candles until the room was plunged into darkness.

As the lights went out the man smiled "And so it begins"

Two men and a woman stand in amoungst a circle of soldiers. The two men, one in his thirties, the other no more than a teen stand with their weapons drawn grim determination painted into their features. The woman wide eyes in terror clutching a small bundle in her arms. The soldiers all have their weapons drawn looking at the three people with fury in their eyes and rage in their mouvements. Two rush in and the older man launches his Kunai Whip square into one soldiers chest bursting two if the three curved points through his chest blood sprayed forth from his mouth, shock in his eyes replaced the anger. Pulling hard the Kunai came free and neatly sliced one side of the other mans neck, cutting one jugular before landing into the old man's hand. Three were coming at the younger man, who held two sliver enlaid axes...Spinnging a dangerous dance he dodged an incoming slice, swung his left axe into the man's lower jaw, leaving it their he turned grabbed the sword and drove it into the second and punched out with his fist catching the third in the throat, wrenching the axe out of the first soldiers neck before he fell to the ground with his friends on the cold rain slicked stone walkway. Lightning flashed and the blades of the soldiers glamed amoungst the night sky.

"Watch your flanks Saemon. Be careful." The older man backed a step.

"I'm trying Father these men aren't going to give up....." The one named Saemon glanced back of the soldiers closing in...their weapons glaring as evily as their own eyes... "We need to get out of here now."

A burst of flame appears in at the soldiers circle out of nowhere, searing the circles men. Providing a hole to escape from... The three start running as the soldiers recover from their surprise attack. Saemon turns around yelling over his shoulder. "We can't outrun them...Father get Natalie out of here!!! The forest GO TO THE FOREST!" The man turns around to embed his axes into a another man's thigh. His green cloak is soaked through from the rain.

The old man grabs the woman's hand and urges her to run. "Your husband's death won't be for vain girl...NOW RUN!!" He runs with her down the stone road. Her soft sobs can heard over the burning buildings and screams of men, women and child being butchered by the soldiers in their homes.

They make to the forest without any other men following them, not stopping the enter deeper and deeper into the throng of trees. They stop, panting hard along the trees. Sweat mixing with rain water makes streams along the twos faces.

The women looks down at her child and sees the somehow he hadn't awoke through. "What are we going to do-"

*FLASH*

The screams of the two year old baby boy can be heard through the house. Natalie's ind face warms his heart as she shows him a big chocolate cookie... "Shhhhh, I brought you a cookie Nathen, now be good."

Little Nathen took te cookie with a warm grin and bit deeply. "Tank oo Moma."

*FLASH*

"Where can we take him?" The rain hasn't slowed since the attack as the woman looks at the older man. "Where can we take him?"

The older man frowned...

*Flash*

"Saemon what's wrong? Why are we running?"

The man looked to the river. "Soldiers have breached the walls, someone let them in." He picked up his axes at his sides and listened to the thunder. "Find my father..."

*FLASH*

"The tower, I'll take him to the tower..." He scooped the sleeping babe in his arms and sighed. "You need to..."

*flash*

Saemon smiles at his wife as they show them their horse... "Do you like it Nathen?"

*Flash*
"That's not how you hold a great sword...the grips all wrong!"

*FLash*

"Don't worry Natalie...I will take him to the tower..."

*Flash*
"Tower*
*Flash*
*flash*
*FLASH*



Nathen woke up screaming and grabbed the knife he had hidden beneath his pillow...Panting he swung at...air.
Nothing was out of place, he opened his eyes to see he was in his room, the single candle went and gave off enough light in the room to produce the eerie shadows in the room. The furniture was the same and the door locked. "A dream..." He whispered to himself, as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "But it seemed so real..." He rolled over as he turned his thoughts inward. That image of Natalie...if was only a dream...why did he think he knew her?
*************************************************
(Tower Class)

"Now as you all know their are four classes of Magic taught here. Necrmacy, Evocation, Elemental and Divine. Each has their respective colours to each. Black and Crimison to Necromacy, Red and Blue to Elemental, Evocation wears Green and Brown, Divine; White and Yellow." Master Teacher Slywyn of the Green Evocation school sighed. Swallowing he continued. "Each colour has a respective duty or magic taught to them from their schools. BLack learns more about death magic and killing, while Crimison learns to animate the dead and possesion. Reds learn how to control fire and Earth more than the other elements while Blues know water and Air more so. Greens develop an even balance between offensive and defensive magics while Browns tend toward Mischeif and illusion. Finally Whites learn to heal the most greivious wounds more easily than others while the yellows turn to casting down the fires of gods." Turning around she looked at her students with the same look as she wore as if discussing the change of seasons.

"You children will be able to pick your schools now becoming of age and of readiness. In one four day you will tell me the school you wish. From there you will see the advantages of your schools and pick a colour. Remeber this before you choose... Once you select a school there is no 'transfer' you must be 100% sure of the class of magic. Dismissed." She waited paitently for the murmers of "Yes Master Teacher." And the deep curtsies that followed.

***********************
A bouncing young Woman jogged up to two other men and another woman. "So isn't this exciting? Our own schools!! I don't lnow want to pick! What about you Archie?"

A slim red head shrugged and stroked his small gotee. "I bet I'll take the Evocation, I've liked making something out of nothing...turning skin to stone or making giants that aren't really there..." He chuckled and shook his head. What about you Eliza?"

The blonde who first spoke shook her head. "I think I might choose Divine, I've allways wanted to heal people....cheesy I know but someone has to."

"Well you know I bet Veronica will pick Elemental...she's a great turn of red when Nathen walks by..." Marcus chortled as Veronica Smacked his side and blushed.

"And Marcus might want Necromacy...he's allways loved the dead.." She glared at him and saw Marcus narrow his eyes. Archie stopped the confrontation with a quick change of subject. "Speaking of Nathen where is he?"

Eliza shook her head and MArcus cut in. "Last time I saw he was having nightmares again... I heard him screaming in the afternoon walking by his room....I hope it wasn't another one of those dreams..." They all nodded and sighed, They all knew Nathen, he had helped Archie with a small bully problem by sending them running. One with a busted Arm and the other with a popped knee cap, at the age of 12. They became fast friends right after. Seeing Nathen like this was heart wrenching for them all. "He keeps calling for someone named Natalie...whoever that is." Marcus mentioned and shrugged.

Veronica changed the subject and said the should take their break and use it for some sleep....they all agreed... Walking to their quarters...hopefully Nathen would be all right....if not.....

They had left it at that.

The Apostles and Aloris
Unknown Compound
---------------------------

Aloris gasped as her eyes jumped open, as sudden realization at the recent series of events befell her. She panted, feeling sweat fall down her brow as she pushed her hands back and pushed herself up from the stone slab she had been sleeping upon.

The young woman felt her past memories rushing in like a speeding river. The memories of her brother and strange hooded men circling around a flame, her heart beating with ecstasy and with a strange passion, was the first memory she observed. She remembered seeing blood on the concrete floor beside her, and was not sure if it was her own. She remembered seeing a torrent of light rushing through her. Then…darkness. Total and completely absolute darkness with no end in any direction, be it forwards or downwards. It was then the strange and, quite simply, unexplainable began to occur.

The young woman who sat there on the stone floor shivered as she tried to bare the freezing temperature inside of her cell. All she was given by the strange hooded men were clothing that resembled rags more than any mundane form of attire. The rags she now bore were the thinnest clothing she had ever worn, and the blistering cold that occupied the complex she was held in did not make it any more comforting.

She raised her hand and felt her face. The grime and dirt that coated her once unblemished face now made her look unimaginably savage. If only her brother were to see her now, she could only dream of the expression he would show on his bright face. Oh, her dear brother. She had dreaded their disconnection since they had parted that day in their cabin. What had happened? She remembered so little, and even less of her brother and his actions.

She sighed, and considered what the apostles had done to her since they had brought her here with their strange abilities. She was visited by what she assumed to be their leader, a tall and large man shrouded by a dark red cloak, his face hidden. His voice, however, gave hint to his old age. The man had looked her up and down, and then ordered another of the apostles to take her to a cell, and leave her there until some use of her was revealed.

Ever since that day, she only remembered the long days of light-less slumber, and boredom, in this cell. If only something were to happen that would reveal to her the apostle’s intentions with her.

Then suddenly, without her realizing it, Aloris’s wish was made true.

The door creaked open and there stood five gray-cloaked figures, their hoods withdrawn showing both disfigured, and strangely blank, faces. They approached her, and the one in the front, grabbed her by the collar and pushed her up to her feet. His eyes made him look like a strange creature, since they were midnight black, and did not seem to reflect anything.

“Yes. She will do fine as a pupil of Eridanus. Take her to Zurvan.” The strange man threw her back to the ground, a crooked grin upon his face. The others chuckled silently as they approached her.

She could only hope that her use to these fools could be something she could bare. Their defiling hands gripped her and then she was taken into their custody.



OOC
-------
Edit: Added a location marker.

"Well, Make a wish.." Harry said as he blew out his candles. The rest of the family had not cared about his birthday, and were long asleep at 12:00. He took a deep breathe and blew towards the ground, chasing away the dirt that had illustrated a birthday cake. finally 11. He thought as an envelop swooped through the door and landed infront of him.

"What could this be?" he said as he tore the crest keeping the envelop closed.

******
OOC:
I think you all know where this is going.

IC:

"Well, I got all my supplies. I hope I'm not forgetting anything." Said Harry as Ronald sat beside him. "I'm Ron by the way, Ron weasley."

"I'm Harry, Harry Potter."

"Scar?"

Harry flipped his hair revealling the scar on his forehead.

"Wicked."

*******

"Welcome to the Tower." Said the teacher who welcomed the new group of students. "I trust you are all going to enjoy your stay.." She began. "One moment please.." She said as she walked through the doors leaving the students to talk amongst themselves.

"So it's true then...Harry Potter has come to the Tower." Said a student to Harry with his blond hair slewn back. "This is Crabbe, and Goyle." He said pointing to his two friends. "And I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." He said as he walked to Harry, looking down on him. The light from the torches left a flame in Malfoy's eyes.

"I can help you make the right friends Harry, you don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort.." He said glaring at Ron.

Harry looked up at Malfoy. "I think I can tell for myslef thanks..." Harry said.

The teacher walked back in as Malfoy walked back. "We will welcome you now..." She said as the doors opened.

OOC:
Matt, you can ignore this. I thought it would be funny if it was posted. I couldn't resist. lol.

~~~~~~~~~~~~
Antioch
~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ancient city lay still, covered in a heavy blanket of darkness. The sound of running water reverberated calmingly throughout due to the large system of elegant aqueducts that delivered water to all residents of the city. The only combatants against the night were the bright lamps that lined the cobblestone streets, illuminating the sightly houses nearby as well as the road. A huge fortress dominated the middle of the city, separated from the rest of the settlement by thick, imposing walls. Even this fortress, however, had a look of graceful workmanship to it, as if every stone in its makeup had been crafted with love and care. Around this entire metropolis was another layer of fortifications, including tall guard towers and elaborate gates, acting as a powerful protective force.

A lone figure emerged from the night, his black attire invisible against the black, his cloak immobile without wind. Gazing ahead at the well-lit gates to the city, he shifted his balance from one foot to another. He had come again to Antioch, where it had all begun. He had, however, been successful in his journey. He could bask in his triumph silently; the news of his feat would not yet have reached the capital before him. Even then, they would not know it was he.

He smirked, clutching his ornate necklace, grasping the unnaturally crimson stone upon it. His fingers caressed it almost lovingly as he drew closer and closer to the gates. “Hey.” He spoke quietly, his eyes darting to two solitary figures – guards – by the gates. “Perhaps you could assist me.” His gloved hands remained stubbornly on his amulet.

“What are you doing out so late? The gates closed at twenty-two hundred hours.” A young man, muscular and clad in heavy armour, approached him, his companion trailing behind at a careful distance. The guard’s sword was drawn and pointed forward in front of his low blond fringe, ready to strike. The cloaked man took several large steps backward, as if leading the guards on, toying with them.

“That is none of your concern. It just so happens that I am looking for something, and I need to enter the city. Of course, I will do so with or without your permission.” He kept his hood up so that it cast shadows over his features, leaving his face invisible to the men before him. “I am Lucian, the puppeteer of your fates.” His fingers curled even more tightly around the amulet as he continued to back up, leading the guards onward.

“You are a madman, that is all.” The two guards stood together in front of him, their swords raised, about to strike. “Tell us your business here or we will force it out of you, vagrant.” The man’s dark-haired companion nodded, although his grey eyes betrayed a spark of excitement.

Lucian’s only response was to motion to the ground below the guards. One of them raised their torch, casting light over the path, and let out a sharp cry. The two guards were positioned directly in the centre of a rather large circle, in and around which runes had been drawn; an alchemical circle. Lucian smiled, squatting onto his knees and touching the circle with one finger. A brilliant red glow burst forth from the ring, engulfing all three men. Two cries rang out in the night, and, as soon as they had begun, stopped. The light receded into the darkness, and only one man stood where there had been three.

Lucian’s hand fell from the red stone at his neck, which seemed, if possible, to be shining more brightly than it had been before, even in the darkness. He stepped forward onto where the circle had been, then began to make his way toward the city gates. There would be no need to announce his return; she would find out soon enough...

Pawns on an Empty Chessboard
Killius, Gallitrim
------------------

The guards marched down the narrow street, their movements in perfect harmony as the sound of stamping boots emanated from their progress down the roadway. Crowds began to gather around them, their eyes soaking in the image with both great sorrow, and with electrifying shock.

Guards had never been garrisoned in the city of Killius, but because of recent events it had been deemed necessary that martial law was to be put into effect. Now, soldiers were a common site around the once peaceful streets of this small town. This once benevolent village had been transformed into a military outpost for the kingdom of Gallitrim overnight, and most of the kingdom’s citizens are in furious anger at the government’s efforts to protect them by imprisoning them within their very own homes.

Another changing factor from the martial law’s enactment was the formation of a nightly curfew. No one citizen has been given the permission to wander the towns and villages of Gallitrim past dusk.

And so it had been since a week ago when the soldiers first began to appear, here in the city of Killius.

The city of Killius rested upon a hilltop where it had sight of the large plains and grasslands that surrounded it, as well as a large amount of the coastal Gallitrim cities; it was the perfect location for a military outpost, and it was this that the government had taken advantage of.

The wooden walls of the city that had once only stood just a metre above the average person’s height had been reinforced by the controlling military and now stood over ten metres high. Watch towers were another addition at the corners of the rectangular-shaped wall, as well as at certain periodicals. Within the now busy city was a large settlement of homes and buildings that increased in size and height as they neared the city hall: a monumental stone building with magnificent architectural design.

It was in this same city, Killius, which Sylaris had trained to be the alchemical cleric he was now, and the same city he now wandered.

Strong-built men with shaven, bald, heads, and thin women with infants in their arms passed the white-robed cleric by as he walked down the busy alleyway with a calm demeanor and a straight posture. The cleric growled and thought angrily, why do these blasted soldiers and militants have to confine the city at this time, and not at a much later date? It is when I must leave that they take dominance over this city for their own uses, and restrict the permeability of persons in and out of the city.

At that sudden moment he began to hear whispers in an intersecting alleyway; his first instinct was to stop and listen. He began to overhear mid-way through a conversation, “… soldiers are overtaking the streets, and do you know why? There are rumors coming around our underground that the kingdom is going to war. They say King Oigradis is becoming ignorant of late and that he has now seeking to completely eradicate the Duil—”

Another voice broke in, with a loud edge, “Shush! Do not say that name out-loud. We should talk of this in another place. Come.”

Sylaris sighed. He was beginning to become curious of what they were talking about, but he had gained some useful knowledge nonetheless: the reason for this military quarantine is under the order of the king and he is searching to wipe out some manner of group. He knew, however, that could simply be false rumors and that it was simply some form of excuse for the government’s sudden aggressive actions.

He continued to walk on the road again until he saw his destination. It looked just like any of the other buildings around here but from his source, he knew that its appearance was blatantly deceiving. He walked right towards the door and knocked four times, just as he was instructed to do.

Several minutes passed by before a slot opened on the top centre of the portal. Peeking through was a small portion of an unshaven man’s face. He looked him up and down and then asked, “What is it you are seeking?”

“A hero’s fall,” he replied without hesitation. It was this phrase he was also given directions to speak when the appropriate question was asked to him. “I was given the whereabouts of this building by a friend of mine, and I come to meet with one of your patrons.”

The man gave what looked to be a nod, and then a rough grunt. He closed the slot as he heard a following metal click. The door slid open and the man who greeted him motioned inwards in to the interior of the building. He walked in as the door was closed shut behind him.

Inside was a wooden-floored room which was roughly three and a half metres high. The room seemed to have hardly been used; cobwebs and insects heavily massed the corners of the darkened room. At the other end of the room was a small square-cut hole in the wall where a man sat on a chair. The man had a gruff appearance to him, similar to the man who had greeted him, and had a similarly unshaven face showing an obvious unawareness of hygiene. At the moment, he was polishing a very long knife with a stained rag.

He approached the reception desk, or what he assumed it to be, and waited to be greeted. The man took a moment until he noticed the robed man in front of his desk. He put down the dagger he was giving his attention to and looked him square in the face. “Yeah, what d’ya want?” The man’s voice irritated him, but his business here would hopefully be short.

“I come here to speak to Gurill Midurdan. I was given the instructions to come here by an acquaintance of his. He has information which I seek. Is he available to speak at the moment?”

The man gave a quick scowl and then got off his seat to retire to the inner interior of the building. He came back several minutes later, and then said, “Yeah. He’s ready. Y’may go down, but be careful. There’re others with their own business down there, and if I know ‘em, they would be mighty angered by anyone giving ‘em a hard time.”

“I’ll take your advice to heart. Where do I enter?”

The man reached behind the desk and pulled back on an unseen object. A door to the left of the hole depressed into the wall and slid to the side, showing a darkness that awaited anyone who will enter. He gathered the courage and walked into the unknown. Once he was through the door and into the darkness, he heard the door close behind him. In front of him was a staircase that led downwards. He nodded up at some unknown entity, and then walked down the stairs.

A man lay along the stone walkway of the now combusted village. Soldiers wearing grins and chuckling were throwing the corpses of hundreds into giant piles to be cut up for the attack wolves food. He tried turning over onto his back and to strand but the pain in his side ripped through his body. A guard looked up from his simple work and walked over. "Hey Captain...this ones was still alive..." The guard's face implied not for very long.

The Captain walked over and smiled. "Ah yes, that accursed Warden you thought you had killed...did you find the rest of his family?"

The big man shrugged, his voice sounding like grating steel. "Naw, they ran for the woods...when we got there they were gone."

"I see..." The man's helmet desguised his features. He removed teh helmet slowly, the blood running of it from the constant drop of rain. The wounded man's eyes widened as he who it was underneith the helm. "Why.." Was all the could whisper.

He smiled at him like they were best pals and pulled a iron prod enchanted with a mage soul to make it white hot.

"So Saemon, where's your son?" He asked as if he was talking about the weather, and brought it down on Nathen's face.



Nathen sat straight...completely awake, shaking glancing around he spotted the window...it looked to be maybe two o'clock in the morning. Nathen dressed quickly grabbed his Kunai and went for a walk.

Few people were ever awake at this time at night, many wanna-be Wardens in training. The rest people who had chores to finish up or people with things on their mind. Nathen chuckled, he was getting to know the last ones. His nightmares were gettingmore and more frequent, about people he didn't even know, about places he never even heard of, about villages he never lived in. Yet they were so real to him. Why?

He sat down along the wardens fighting square and looked at the trainees fighting along the night sky. They seemed so sure of themselves, that they to could be recognized as the best blade masters in the worlds standings...Nathen watched on fingering the triple pointed blade attached to his chain whip and smiled. They would get there, but only he would make it there first.

He had been training for the position of Blade Warden since he was able to throw his first punch, the age of three. Blade Warden was the highest possible ranking for a fighter in the Tower, only next inline to the Keeper, and the Tirane, the leader of the tower. He had only few friends amoung the Wardens, Aamsly, a firey woman with no equal with a bow, Arthur his instructer who was reaching his retirement as blade Warden, and Heinrich an expert with any double bladed weapon. The rest of them were in the mages section of the school. Wiping his eyes he smiled again. It was good to have friends... especially when he needed them the most.

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

The black assailent watched the kunai man with a small smile from his tower perch and lifted his crossbow. Looking at the back at Nathen's head he chuckled, this assassination was going to be a peice of cake. He bow clicked and the quarrel zipped toward the targets head.

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

Nathen didn't know he was moving until his Kunai spun out of his hand knocking the bolt out of the air, spinning he released the chain retracted teh tri-blade and launched in the direction it had came from. He felt it strike something soft, pulling hard he saw as a man in black fell from the tower's left window head first into the ground below clutching his stomache. Nathen looked up bewildered. "The hell?" He didn't stay long enough to realize what he had done, he bolted to find his instructer.

The golden age of the newly formed Nitran kingdom is at the peek of it's power. King Nionus the great has conquered the lowlands and has secured his rule and has firmly established himself as extreme power over the Kingdom. All is well for the king and his men, but a large portion of Nitrony, (the East) Has seperated from the Kingdom, due to fear of the new king, and the king vows to re claim the land and secure his rule over Nitrony....

OOC:

Yeah, to explain that, Nitrony is a kingdom, and half of Nitrony, (The East) Has left the king so they could be free. As a result this angered the king, and vows to take back East Nitrony and kill the seperatist leaders. (Whom are wizards/witches) Also the Lowlands is Trestock. Back then called..The lowlands. Heh.

Negolos high lord of the city of Negard and it's current leader stood looking over the great city as an armed party left through the city gates with a smile. "And so you leave us to sow the seeds of chaos that will feed our city in the years to come". With that he turned from the window and re-entered his tower.

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

Richard looked at the town before him and wondered if the people who lived there had any idea of what was in store for them tonight.

"We camp here till mid-night" he said to the 2 officers behind him "when the time comes none can escape!"

The 2 officers bowed in there saddles and turned there mounts around and headed back to there respective squads and began ordering the men to set up camp.

Richard returned his attention to the small town before him and absently drew his sword and gazed at the dark gem set into the hilt as the last rays of the dieing sun shone off it's surface.

"Soon you shall feed again my friend, on the weak flesh of outsiders" he whispered to the sword and gazed once more at the dieing lights of the town that come morning would be nothing but a memory.

Knowledge Gained
Killius, Gallitrim
---------------------

As he entered the dark underground corridor, the stairway he had just climbed down behind him, he could easily pick up the scent of ale. Very dim lanterns were positioned at specific points on the sides of the corridor wall. At the end he could see a burst of light, possibly the source of the scent.

As he neared the light, he also began to hear crude laughter and hushed conversations. It was only when he finally reached the light and had soaked in what he saw there that he had realized what his source meant by an “underground.” The large common room he now stood in seemed to be a combination between a tavern and a forum – booths were positioned at different parts of the wall around the large room, some closed and others left wide open. Inside them were various types of people in stern and hushed discussions. Many different kinds of people occupied the room: the wealthy, the poor, the middle-class, and what he could discern as scavengers or rogues – possibly the members of the underground.

To his right was a bar, and behind it stood a bartender. Sylaris looked to him and nodded. The bartender simply glared him down, and then continued back to his work, scrubbing down the inside of a glass bottle. He looked back in front of him, and tried to search for the man he was supposed to meet.

Suddenly, he felt a hand clutch his shoulder, and then he heard a deep, ominous voice, “Come this way if you are here to talk to Gurill.” He was lightly pulled backwards, and then the man’s grip left him. Sylaris turned around and saw a dark, scruff and strong-built man walking towards an empty booth. He hesitantly followed. When he had come to the booth, he saw that the man was already sitting down, and he was gesturing to the other side of the table inside the booth.

He sat down on the wooden chair and now saw his companion in full light. He had a shaven face, and seemed relatively more conscience of hygiene than many of the other underground members in the room. The man was strong-built, and seemed very muscular. He is the sort of man you would not wish to get angry. His clothing was the expected attire that a middle-classed citizen of the city would wear. The strong-built man looked him up and down, then chuckled, “A cleric, eh? Never knew I would see any of your kind around here. I’m Gurill.” Their hands met and both shook the other’s hand.

He seemed to hesitate for a few moments, then reached out with his hand and put his palm open forward, asking, “What have you brought for me? I don’t give off information for cheap.” A grin came upon Gurill’s face.

The cleric expected this, but still considered his question for a moment when he finally decided to reach into a pouch on his belt and extract several gold coins. He could even feel now the stamp of the Gallitrim Legion upon their faces. He took his hand out from under the table and presented the coins to the man in front of him, pouring them into his outstretched hand.

Gurill nodded at the amount, and then asked, “What is it that you want to know?” He took the coins and deposited them in a pocket in his cloth coat.

“Who are the Duil’rimgata?”

The question stayed out in the open for several minutes. Gurill displayed a blank demeanor. It was several minutes before he replied, “I hope you know what you’re asking for you – I do know about them, but I will only tell you about them if you understand the ferocity of what you ask. There are many in our Underground who had gone out to search for them and were only met with their demise – none of them ever returned.”

“I understand. Please give me the information.”

The man nodded, “You are either a fool, or someone with little other choice to pursue those fiends. Considering you’re a cleric, you must definitely know about Alchemy. The Duil’rimgata is an alchemic sect. To my knowledge, they practice crude techniques involving human sacrifices.” He waited until what he had said soaked in and then continued, “There are also rumours centred on them about a conflict that is occurring between them and the Royal House of Gallitrim. That information, however, requires more of a payment.”

Sylaris scowled, “I do not care about that.”

“If you pursue them, it is very important.”

He glared at the man in front of him but extracted another gold coin from his pouch which he presented to him. Gurill obviously took it as an applicable payment and then continued, “A royal patrol that had with them the king’s son was ambushed by the Duil’rimgata a few weeks past. The prince was taken prisoner with them – the others were killed.”

Sylaris nodded; this confirmed what he had heard out on the streets.

“Where can I find them?”

“If you had come to me a few days earlier, I would not have been able to answer that question. However, it just so happens that I know someone in the Underground planning to accompany a caravan somewhere north of here. He is trying to persuade me that he had come into possession a map from a former member of the Duil’rimgata and that it shows their compound’s location. I can only give you his name if you provide with me one more coin.” A shine appeared in his eye.

The gold he was using now was a definite waste, since Gurill was obviously overcharging him, but he provided him with another coin regardless.

“Kurick is just opposite of this table. He is sitting there at the bar. Just tell him that I sent you and he will understand. He was looking for someone who would follow him on his foolish and suicidal quest. I suppose I just found one for him.” He shook his head and chuckled, “Now, I must leave. I have other business to go to. It’s been nice doing business with you.” The man nodded one last time and then left the table, traveling somewhere towards the back of the common room.

Sylaris looked towards where Gurill had told him this man, Kurick, sat, and there sat a man wearing clothing suitable for wandering in the wilderness. He smiled; he finally found someone that he could understand.

Prisoners Revealed
Unknown Compound, Gallitrim
-----------------------------------

Aillein sat silent in the shadows of the dark, musky cell of the Duil’rimgata’s compound. It had been weeks since he had last saw any form of light – no window or outside-leading opening had outfitted the room, and no light entered. All he could look upon was his very own fears – fears of what his kidnappers had planned to do with him, and fear of his fate here in this lifeless ruin of a cell where neither light nor life penetrated.

The rags he had received as clothing from the dreaded apostles, who stole him away from his duties and his princely position, smelled of filthy decomposing matter. His hands were completely dry because of the constant contact with the rough porous sand on the cell’s floor. He felt filthy, as he had not bathed for days.

He raised his head, and whispered to the darkness, “If I continue to look at my situation with such pessimism, I will never get through this alive. I have to look at my situation with some sense of optimism.” He supposed that his being kidnapped had allowed him to escape his dreaded responsibility for being the prince – the babying and the constant scolding he had received. His mouth tightened into something resembling a grin, but no matter how much he considered his situation, it only spells doom.

He still could not believe that they had somehow managed to constrict his usage of Alchemy – it hardly seemed possible but they had administrated some strange drug to him when he had first arrived here and told him that he could no longer use Alchemy in here any longer. Of all the tomes he had read on Alchemy, he could remember no pages speaking of a way to constrict Alchemy’s practice.

He grabbed a handful of sand with great pain, and then tried to transmute the sand to rock, but could not feel the power pouring out of him. He frowned in dismay, realizing his helplessness without the power he had so often trusted on to save him out of any possible situation. This was one situation where it wouldn’t help.

But he knew something that could – as long as he could keep his focus, he might be able to find a way to escape the black hole he was taken prisoner in. They surely could not have complete dominance over him. Despite free will being an illusion, he knew that everyone must have at least a small fraction of independence, even when fully dominated. He will find out the path to his, and will not falter.

Just then, a door opened, letting light stream in and reveal the wandering airborne dust as if they were stars in the night sky. A man with black robes entered, his face hidden by the umbra of the hood. Behind him were two apostles in burgundy robes, their dark and ominous faces revealed.

The black-robed man spoke, “You come with me, broken prince.” The man’s voice sounded like a banshee’s screech, an edgy rhythm emanating from his mouth. He chuckled and released an even more vile sound.

The two red-robed men at his side approached and pulled him upright by his wrist. Piecing pain flashed through him, and he panted as he felt bruises on his arm come to life in full strength. One of the red-robed men put his hand to Aillein’s wrist and focused on it with his eyes. A moment later he felt the air around his wrist come together and he felt pressure on it, as if an invisible chain held his wrist. The red-robed men then let go and walked out the door following the black-robed apostle. Suddenly, he was pulled ahead, being carried by an unknown force.

He growled, now realizing what they had done. They had constricted him using Alchemy, and he was being taken into the interior of their dreaded maze. He swore, then, to try in all his power to avenge the lives of the men who had guarded him in the patrol – their lives will not be in vain.

Aillein was dragged further through dark hallways that seemed to go on to infinite distances. At one point in time, he remembered the men putting a blindfold over his eyes. It seemed like hours before they finally put him down on a concrete floor, and the blindfold was retracted.

Towering above him was a man shrouded in the darkness of navy-coloured robes. The hood was off and he could see his face; his face was very stout, and seemed to be covered by a mass of facial hair. His most obvious feature was a scar above his right away. The man seemed solemn, and looked him up and down.

He felt another presence nearby, and looked to his right. There he saw sat a young maiden wearing a rag for clothing similar to his. Her face was covered in grime, but he could see that the filth had not hidden her beauty which was undiminished. He could not help but smile at the sight; she was a light in his dark present. He felt strangely secure, or so he thought until the towering man spoke in a deep voice, “I’ve found both a young lad and a young woman, given freely to me to be trained into our order. The deities have praised me this day.” He looked up at what Aillein now identified to be the red-robed men who carried him here, “You may leave them here. Go.” They nodded and left.

Nathen burst through the door to Arthur's room panting hard. His Kunai still dripping from the man's innards. "Arthur......a...a man....and a crossbow..."

Arthur was up and moving before Nathen was able to finish what sentence structure he tried to make. Bare-chested he grabbed Nathen and lugged him back to the scene. His bare feet were slapping the polished marble tiles as he made his way down the stairs to the Warden's garden.

A few people had spotted the lifeless man and were gasping, Heinrich was one of them. All he was doing was fingering the hilt of his Claymore muttering "Kunai" and "Nathen". Athur walked over. "What happened here?"

Nathen was staing wide eyed at the dead man, his features frozen in a mix between determination and surprise. Heinrich spoke up.

"From what it looks like this man fell from the tower right here, looks like he was here to assassinate someone, looks like he ended up being assassinated." One of the mages had been nodding the whole time. A White. "The wounds are clean and precise, almost looking like a Kunai." Almost all eyes turned to Nathen.

Nathen swallowed. "Teh man tried to hit me with a bolt, but I deflected it...."

Arthur looked at him and frowned. "Did you kill him?"
Nathen averted his eyes and stayed silent. Arthur gripped with both hands and shook him. "Nathen listen to me....did you kill this man?"

Nathen took a deep breathe and nodded. "yes...." Why did his voice sound like a squeek.

Arthur nodded and looked to the White Mage. "Gather some people to clean this up, Heinrich, I want the watch tripled. Every Warden and BladeKnight on duty if neccessary put the greens on to." Heinrich nodded and jogged over to the Warden Quarters. The white simply turned and walked away while to men carried the body out of teh gardens. Arthur turned back to the confused student and sighed. "You did what you had to boy...he would have killed had you not have." Nathen nodded and stayed silent.

"I....I knew he was there..." He stammered. Arthur's eyes went wide.

"What did you say boy?" Arthur looked at him squarely in the eyes.

"I knew he was up in the tower...I had my back to him but I knew he was there." Nathen started. "I just....knew..."

Arthur shook his head in disbelief. "How...did you here anything? Anything at all?"

Nathen shook his head. "No I just say his crossbow and the quarrel. I didn't even realize I used my Kunai until it happened." Arthur just glared at him.

"Boy I think you just unlocked your first Warden Talent...." Arthur looked at him and sighed. "You just learned the Warden sense." Nathen eyes went wide and chuckled.

"Really? Just like that? I thought it was magic or something..."

"Normally a Warden learns Warden sense when he or she is a full fledged Warden....as for the other part of your statement, Warden abilites are like the power of Magic, only different, we don't draw from it, we don't use any of our own strength to fuel them, they come from honing the body to perfection....There are other abilites...Some Wardens have more than others, but Warden sense is know to almost everyone. It's why we can't be snuck up on very well." He clasped the younger mans shoulder. "We'll talk more about Warden senses after practice tomorrow....you need to get some sleep." Nathen nodded and started to walk off. Turning back around he asked.

"Arthur...do you know someone named Saemon?" Arthur, who walking back to his quarters froze. Turning back around he looked at him. "Where did you here that name?"

"I had a dream about a man named Saemon and a woman named Natalie...do you know anyone?"

Arthur's face was an unreadable mask. "We'll talk more in the morning....get some sleep Nathen...." As Nathen made his way Arthur stood there for a moment longer..."A dream? But he shouldn't.....I need to consult Sophia..." He jogged off to the master suite.