Angelfire (WOTS, Shade, Tiroth, Shrub, LEA, Safer, Bloodsword)

OOC: Welcome people. As you can see, the battle has begun. You can begin posting in any order for the first round, but after that lets try and keep the order the same for the following rounds.

I believe I've laid down the story clearly enough, though some may know more than others because due to my lack of time, I was unable to brief everyone. Apologies to Safer to whom I was unable to give further details, I hope you're with us. Just to clarify: the battle will take place in this cave, wherein lies the citadel of a demonic being. More on this being will become known later on in the battle. Now, this being has created the demonic sword, Angelfire, using dark magic (which is physicaly felt by angelic beings), and plans on ransacking and subduing the overworld. Inherently "good" characters may wish to prevent such an event and destroy the sword, whereas inherently "evil" characters may wish to join it or take the weapon for themselves, however I'll leave that up to you. It goes without saying that emotianilsms, character buildups, alliances and conflicts are to be developed at your will, we can make this a long battle

Now, about the battle arena: firstly I'll leave your mode of entry into the cave up to you. Secondly, the arena will be of the dark and wet variety at the beginning, with huge halls, rivers and lakes, but as we dwell deeper, don't be afraid if you encounter lava or ice chambers, use your imagination. There also exists the possibility of monsters/demons crossing our paths inside it. At some point we should be reaching the citadel which is in the cave's deepest reaches, and within lies the demonic being.

That about wraps it up, just link those character bios (if they're not in your signature already), and lets get this party going. Don't be reluctant to improvise, that'll make it more interesting.

IC:

Lonely drips echoed in the misshapen grotto. A steady stream of minuscule globules elegantly plunged to the ground, iterating the monotonous reverberance in a constant beat. Gentle rivulets encouraged the punctual procession, swirling and flowing in an intricate dance upon a pedestal of bare stone.

Amidst this harmonious ballet lay a figure of splendour seldom seen upon mortal lands. A graceful dress of ornate fabrication adorned her alluring outline, accentuating her slender features and emphasizing her imposing stature. Softer than the most delicate silk, her skin shimmered with an ethereal radiance that seemed to draw from her very spirit, and lit up the encircling gloom. Golden hair whose brilliance rivalled the majesty of the sun crowned her forehead and fell behind her back, and brilliant eyes which seemingly enclosed the oceans within them lit up her beautiful face.

But something was terribly amiss. A troubled expression overshadowed those eyes, which sparkled not with joy or bliss, but with tears barely contained behind them and the despair which threatened to overwhelm her. Her chest heaved in apparent agony, rising and falling as laboured gasps escaped her parting lips. Great wings flowed behind her back, but they lay broken upon the unforgiving rocks, twisted and shattered, deprived of their strength and beauty.

And the streams continued to flow, drenching her elaborate attire, twirling and waltzing upon the stone altar, tinting the unsullied fabric in shades of crimson and burgundy, gathering on the pooling floor, and spreading out into the cavern.

With a final exasperated sigh, the angel relinquished its final breath and conceded its futile struggle. Tranquillity returned to her troubled form, her glazed eyes staring blankly ahead, her velvet lips remaining slightly askew, chest no longer throbbing in suffering, bruised arms no longer shuddering. Her incandescent radiance began to slowly die away, surrendering her body to the encompassing darkness.

Visible under the light of the torch it held, a solemn figure clothed in impermeable black stood before the altar, hood drawn heavily over its face, relishing in the torment of the heavenly creature. In its hand lay the sacrilegious weapon, a bitter dagger encrusted with blood. Vile words escaped its desecrating mouth, an unearthly chant piercing the utter silence. The voice grew in strength with every spoken word, until it began to rattle the very foundations of the cave, pillars of stone shattering in all directions. The vibrations grew in size, until it seemed that the earth itself was churning in protest at the pungent tongue. Suddenly, the serene form of the angel was once again ravished as it violently burst aflame, and the flames burned black and foul, reducing its coveted beauty into an amorphous heap of tarnished ash.

Upon the altar, amongst the despoiled remains, now lay a sword. Its blade was crafted from a metal as black as death, though it was streaked by luminous veins which subtly interwove within it, creating a pearlescent surface whose hue changed as you altered your perspective. One edge of the blade was unnaturally sharp, and the other was serrated, giving the weapon a ghastly appearance. Completing the image, the pommel of the sword was fashioned in the form of a face contorted in agony, flames spreading along the hilt.

Angelfire

The figure concealed the dagger and confidently reached for the weapon, sparks flying off the hilt as its fingers closed around it. With one swift motion, the sword was held high in its hand, gleaming in the flickering torch light. In a sudden surge, the figure brought the blade heavily upon the altar, the metal glowing blue with heat as it whistled through the air, and as it made contact the stone was hewn right through and burst apart, sending sizzling chunks of rock everywhere and scattering the remaining ashes to oblivion...

****

A placid zephyr caressed the emerald meadow, coaxing the shimmering blades of grass into streaming tributaries which merged in rhythmic torrents, sending all the grassland into hypnotic patterns of lime and jade. Gleaming amidst the prairie stood another one. Its wings were unfolded in all their glory, gently fluttering in the spring breeze. Shelled within the garb of war and strife, it seemed utterly misplaced within such peaceful atmosphere, basking under the loving sun and flanked by nature in all its grandeur.

Entranced by the beauty of the landscape, yet ever spiteful in his anguish and fury, Osiris sighed. Too long had it been since he had seen purpose in his existence. There had been once, a sacred one, but that life had long since been forsaken. It had cost him harshly, for not only had he tarnished his soul, but had his heart ripped open, leaving an unbearable desolation within. For this he felt woe and wretchedness tearing at him, and rage and resentment brewing in his thoughts.

But now he felt pain. Irrevocable, excruciating pain shot through his body. He fell to his knees, clutching at his chest, wheezing and struggling to inhale. The wind died out inexplicably, as if sharing the angel's anguish. Visions of cruel agony raced through his mind, numbing him with despair. He saw an angel, much like himself, dying in facilitation of dark designs. Venomous hymns polluted his conscience, rattling his sanity, their hideous sounds ringing in his ears. Finally, a vicious sword, a demonic weapon reeking of corruption filled his thoughts, and he could sense the immense evil it was capable of inflicting upon the world. And then, just as suddenly as it had come, the pain left him.

The warrior slowly rose to his feet, slightly short of breath. The once vivacious landscape seemed to have lost its vigour. The grass stood weak, defeated, the sky was blurred into grey, and the sun seemed to have been replaced by an echo of its former grandeur. Only an act of outmost evil could have affected the world so profoundly, and Osiris, being an angel, could feel it tugging at his heart.

Purpose

Without hesitation, his great wings beat into life, draping the ground with clouds of leaves and pollen, and the golden warrior took to the skies. Speeding through the heavens, Osiris followed the plaguing anxiety which swelled inside him. At length he came to a halt in mid-air, spreading his wings to glide for a moment before pulling them behind him and diving to the ground. With a gentle thud, Osiris landed on rocky terrain. Before him rose a gargantuan cave entrance, with earthen columns barred like vicious teeth within its obscurity. An ominous sensation permeated the rock-strewn foyer, speaking of vast recesses and unfathomable perils. Without so much as flinching, Osiris stepped forth and disappeared into the catacomb.

While the resolute and holy chose his path down into the harsh darkness, there was yet another player in this dark turn of events who had yet to reveal himself. He was far away; in fact, he was worlds away.

**

The sky was a broken and quivering thing above the handsome man standing on the boundaries of creation. Before him was a giant creature of unrivalled strangeness and beauty. It was a monumental lion, with fur that was so red that it made the sun look dull. Where the head of the lion would be, was the head of a man. The man had radiant white hair that stood in graceful spikes in all directions, and pure eyes that were black as night. Twisting beside the titan was the thick ebony tail of a scorpion. The monster stood on two legs, and floated on a tiny chunk of earth, much like it's observer. Besides that, there was few land in this world.

Humbly, the sinewy onlooker watched the magnificent monster clutch it's paws together. Upon their embrace, the claws they bore lengthened and locked them together. The thick white mane of the beast rustled wildly as a wind was born from it's gripped hands. The one who looked so weak in comparison to this monster stepped forward as he had been instructed, and spoke in the toughest voice he could muster, pointing with a firm hand:

"A mountain, THERE!"

The monstrous creature who was firmly locked in prayer responded with a howl of bestial command, and that command did not go unheeded. There was a massive ripple in sea to the east, and a massive chunk of land seemed not to ascend out of it, but rather grow from it. The mountain towered beyond sight, and it looked exactly as Max had pictured. The thing before him was, without a shadow of a doubt, a supreme being.

HOW SHALL IT BE KNOWN? The words echoed telepathically through Maximilian's mind, so much that he gripped his head in pain. He tried to speak the first time, but his voice failed, but in the second try he spoke clearly and loudly.

"The mountain is thus named Babel, for now and eternity!" The words echoed, and transitioned into a roar of thunder. A bolt of lightning struck the vortex of sea below them.

Max's fangs overlapped his lower lip. He was, as some call them, a vampire. Even as he was here, he had yet to understand the body he was made of at this point was a psychic replica of his true flesh. In the depths of the world called Earth, in the subterranean depths of the pacific ocean under a small island, the remains of his body were sealed within crystal, slowly undergoing rebirth. That rebirth itself was courtesy of this deity before him.

He had died on that island, and had done so when exploring the cave hidden there with the rest of his entourage. Using a peculiar bone that was carved with an ancient script, the medium that worked at the vampire's company had traced that place by acquiring the mana signature, and, like a dog proposed with as interesting scent, the millionaire entrepeneur had rushed to the isle with all haste. There, he had faced a familiar face: his own. His replicant foe, Maximus, and a crew of hideous creatures called Rep'tal had tried to ambush and kill Max and his allies upon arriving, but they were simply no match. After continuing their exploration, the friends discovered an open cave, much different from the one Osiris was entering at this very moment. There, perils were scarce, but when they were present, they were almost fatal to every member of the travellers. Once reaching the end of the cave, there was...

The huge titan, which was known in some places as a Manticore, was now a small figure in a drab cloak.

"I see you are too distracted to help me right now. I understand. You have much to think about." Max felt shame upon these words. He thought back to the image of the island once more, and to the dried husk of purple that lay defeated on the shore. Max, never forgetting the friend he had lost during the quest to meet this supreme force, and he wasn't even following His divine orders. No. His death would not be in vain.

"Forgive, please. There is no excuse for insubordination, my lord." Arimas did nothing for a moment, as if he was thinking, and then shook his small head.

"Well, since your mind is too clouded, and you wish to follow my orders, I have something you can do." This caused Max's spirits to rise considerably. He fell to his knees, and with all humility, asked for this task. Arimas smiled in his current form, and he reached out with a tiny black hand. A shard of the sky descended to his hand, and it's color shifted until there was an image of a heavy concentration of trees that seemed to end at a rocky area that tore open like a wound in the earth.

Looks like Rep'tal Cavern... He shuddered. That was the very place where his son, Julius, had been slain. Quickly, Max pushed back his sadness and observed the differences this place had from that sinister cavern. After giving it a good examination, he looked at Arimas.

"What would you have me do there, my lord?"

"Please, simple "Arimas" will do. After all, I do owe you a debt for believing in me. Without a follower, my power fades into dormancy. As for the cavern, forces that could pose a threat to a large number of creatures that I hope to protect are dwelling there."

"Couldn't you simply defeat them with a mere gaze?"

"Yes. But this is a hardship I am placing before you to prove your worthiness. Do not worry about your true flesh. I shall care for it until it is complete. Now, go through the doorway.” Puzzled by his words but not willing to ask questions and test the patience of a god, Max threw himself into the shard.

**

The rocky, desolate place where the angel had entered not so long ago was suddenly filled by a divine, red light. A misshapen piece of what looked like stained glass took form, and figure stepped out of the thin surface.

"So, this is it...I'm starting to notice a trend..." He decided to stretch a little before going inside.

OoC: Yo, Andurhil. For anybody who doesn't know, there's a link to my characters in my sig. Max's current state may seem a little confusing, but it's basically like a hologram that is projected so powerfully it is actually physical, just about the same thing as his real body. This is going to be awesome.

Quick news. I am indeed in this, but I may be the last to post an intro, like LEA said, since I'm grounded off my computer under friday after next. I'll try to sneak on occasionally to write my piece, but first I'll have to read the first two posts, of course... see you guys later. I'll be in touch. Don't leave me behind.

OoC: I am sooo sorry this took so long, Andurhil! But I really wanted this to be of high calibur, so I was waiting for my CJs to rejuvinate. ^_^; In any case, I hope you enjoy the first battle of my star character's alter-ego. It's time for the Harbinger to enter the fray!

BiC:

The sun had shone down brilliantly in a cloudless sky throughout daytime while a gentle breeze caressed the Earth. Green grass had stretched on indefinitely in all directions, broken only by the occasional oak tree in all its ancient glory. Straight and steady currents of wind blew across the upper airways a mile off of the ground, carrying birds of all shapes and sizes from one place to the next. The only difference between now and then was that the sun was in the final stages of setting, painting an array of mind-numbingly beautiful hues on the horizon, ranging from violet to gold to yellow. Soon all that would remain would be utter darkness.

Wings stretched to their greatest lengths of nearly twenty feet, beating against the steady air currents rhythmically, Drake soared through the skies in a single direction with no particular destination. It was some time since he had left Alliance headquarters, and now the black-skinned man found himself wandering aimlessly through an endless sky. His milky white hair, which he thought of as a dragon would think its horns, streamed gracefully behind him. The impressively long weapon strapped to his back did not appear to slow the man down; even less so as time wore on. As light faded from above, he could feel changes occurring within himself; changes brought about by gentle nighttime and a grandiose moon. When that time came, he would descend to the ground where his kin always walked.

Finally, after twelve hours of waiting, the last vestiges of sunlight were gone. From this height, Drake could hardly see the ground. Yet flight was more than second nature to the dragon-man. His wings straightened and ceased to beat the air; he tilted his body sharply to the right and slowly descended in long, lazy circles toward the green-infested earth. Hardly a minute later, Drake sensed that his target was near, and brought his feet forward. Wings suddenly glowed, shrinking until they had disappeared into his back. Then, he touched down, forcing hard against the dirt with his feet until he had come to a stop.

Rising to his full height, Drake gave his new surroundings a careful gaze. Sweeping his eyes from one end of the horizon to the next, the dragon-man took in every blade of grass and every distant tree. For the most part, all was calm, silent. Even the usual chirping of crickets remained unheard tonight. “Hmm…” mumbled the dragon, taking a step forward. There was something else, something beyond the silence and darkness. A certain presence permeated the otherwise empty field; very minute, yet surprisingly bold.

Drake took another step, and was surprised to find that said presence grew stronger yet. Suddenly wary, the dragon gave his surroundings another sweeping glance, this one hastier and more thorough. Nothing appeared to have changed, but he knew better than not to trust his instincts. A predator’s blood flowed through Drake, perfectly in-tune with nature. Throughout the years, he had learned to trust this instinctive wisdom even with his life. Ready to draw the massive double-bladed sword from its scabbard should the need arise, Drake began a casual walk through the field.

Nothing moves without my notice, the dragon-man told himself correctly, perking up his ears. So long as he kept careful watch over everything around him, his keen dragon senses would pick up even the slightest change in the environment. No single blade of grass would bend without his knowledge.

Ever cautious, muscles tensed, he had walked a full fifteen meters when the presence suddenly grew exponentially in magnitude, as if staring him in the face. Drake faltered, startled by the sensation, but stealthily reached behind his back and snapped the scabbard from its straps. Soundlessly, the fabric split apart down the middle, revealing a fascinating and intricate weapon. It hovered in the air momentarily as the two ends of the scabbard slid away, and then Drake snatched the hilt from the air. Spinning the weapon between his fingers so quickly that it was but a blur, he surged forward just as a breath of wind swept past the dragon’s neck. Whirling around, still windmilling the sword, Drake locked eyes with a bizarre creature. Its eyes were of a bloodlike color, but that was all Drake could see of it; the rest of its body was shrouded in a thick haze of darkness energy. He could hardly tell whether it even possessed legs.

I see, thought the dragon-man to himself. This is a creature of the darkness. An evil one, at that.

The wicked beast eyed him with something bordering on bloodlust, though slightly different. Unable to identify the emotion, and unwilling to care, Drake surged forward with his windmilling blade and delivered a lightning-quick slash to its torso. The dark-skinned man watched in satisfaction as the two ends split apart, falling to the ground in a wispy puddle of darkness energy. “Humph! Pathetic…”

Whatever solidity had been within the smoky darkness now dissolved, pooling at the dragon’s feet. Gathering himself for his nighttime journey, Drake took one step forward, not caring that his feet treaded upon the wicked being… and then he began to fall.

OoC: I wrote something last night, and I decided since no one else has joined, I'll just post.

BiC: The vampire was facing away from the cave entrance as he stretched. He was looking this way because he felt something watching him from deep inside the stygian gap. unceremoniously, the nightwalker yawned and twisted his neck, being sure not to alarm whatever malign or righteous force was approaching. Either way, he would probably kill them. Paladins and Clerics alike can sense vampires, and they show no mercy. His father had taught him that.

Whoever the being was, it was very quiet. Max supposed he could give it that, considering only his keen intuition had given it away. The sharp rocks beneath his shoes felt uneven, like the teeth of an ogre. Without moving an unnecessary inch, the vampire wondered if Jenorath would come if he called. He closed his eyes, out of the watcher’s view, and felt for the spectral force. Nothing.

Oh, well. He could manage without his sword. His fighting skills were at their peak from the training he received at Kagrua-Ji, and his new style was ripe for more testing. Continuing to charade a stretching routine, he waited for the spectator to reveal itself. Nothing happened for twelve agonizing minutes.

When the watcher finally sprang forward, it drew twin daggers and sunk them into the vampire’s back. At least, that’s what it wanted to do. What actually happened was this: the creature had lunged out with it’s weapons, and Max had melted into the air, leaving the creature to sprawl onto the dirt. Behind him, Max was solid again. When the fiend turned around, the vampire was able to more carefully analyze it. It was a shadowy creature with a spindly, agile body. It had beady eyes the color of his own, and a shroud of darkness hid it’s raw appearance.

“So…a little minion, are you? How pathetic is it that you feel you could carry out my murder? Do you realize what I am? Who I am?” he bombarded confidently, his typical way of handling weak foes.

The dark thing simply stared it him with those red, buggy eyes. Max interpreted it as a look of stupidity. Breathing a sigh, he shook his head. The thing rushed him once again, but he sidestepped it, and brought his hand into the creature as fast as he could. It was neatly gutted through the midsection. The thing then fell apart. Stepping away from the thing, he noticed it’s gaseous, watery remains trying to approach him.

“No you don’t.”

He pointed a single, black-nailed finger at the large puddle of shadow. Max focused, and a beam of light from his digit cut a swathe through the ravenous dark residue, leaving nary a thing.

Sad. Really sad. I can only hope his master shows to be at least three times this mighty.

OoC: I'm halfway through writing my piece. Almost there, guys! I'll edit this post if someone doesn't post before I'm done with it.

EDIT: Finished! Gotta post it quick... here you are, gentlemen. And here's Terrin!

BiC: The land was dark. Very dark. Pools of luminescent moonlight hung in sparse patterns across the empty plains stretching out for countless miles, the flatness distilled only by the scrubs and scraps of shrub that littered it’s blank surface. Not a single entity, be it fowl or land dwelling, disturbed this calibur of quiet. It was at total peace... something virtually unheard of to some.

Two solitary figures stood at the very edge of this long desolate stretch of parched land. They happened to be standing at the front of a massive woodland. Their silhouettes made of pitch black gave them the appearance of teenagers, but as many things now are, they were not as they appeared. One was twenty-eight years of age, the other, twenty-seven.

They stood close together, fingers interlaced, not inches apart from each others bodies. One was Terrin Tankira, the other, his wife Courtney Tankira. Both elves stared into each others eyes, not wanting to look away, but both knowing that they eventually must.

“Terrin,” whispered Courtney softly, caressing his fingers gently, “I don’t want you to go. You remember, I trust, what happened last time in a situation such as this?”

“I went to a Cloud Castle and fought to the edge of death to get my hands on an ancient relic that rid us of an unspeakable blight. Yes, my love, I remember. So it was that last time I had to go. This is no different. Many have sensed the growing Darkness on this plain, and I must now rush to combat it before it grows beyond our control.”

Courtney bowed her head, and quietly wept behind her long curtain of brown hair.

She believes me to be moving to my demise...

Terrin pulled his hands away and embraced his wife gently, allowing her tears to fall. She hugged him tightly back, and he felt her agony as his own. He ran his hand softly through her hair and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“I understand,” gasped Courtney, looking back up at Terrin with tears rolling in small rivulets down her cheeks. “But it will do nothing to console my grief.”

“Then maybe this will.” Terrin pulled her form against his, and kissed her passionately, putting all of his love into the action. And so much was his love that Courtney’s tears halted, and she gave in to him completely, allowing herself to be swept away.

After what could have been only a few minutes, or several suns, they broke apart, holding each other close.

“Never forget,” breathed Terrin. “My love is unrelenting, unstoppable, unconditional. If I have to fight through fifty Samlea clones and a thousand dark armies, I will return to you. Nothing will withhold out love. I will let nothing stand between us.”

Courtney smiled, and even laughed softly.

“I believe you.”

Terrin locked eyes with her again, and said strongly, “I love you. I will come back to you and the SEF.”

“I will inform them,” Courtney promised. “I love you also. Do not be away overlong.”

They broke apart, and with a final kiss on the cheek, Terrin was off at a jog, out into the arid land.

She watched him until he was gone.

* * *

Lets go, Terrin. Stay sharp. It’s time to prove you aren’t completely worthless. Dispatch the demons and get back to Courtney.

The elf beat a quick pace across the plain, displaying his insane speeds, one of the many traits that made him a part of the SEF. Even as he raced across this desert-like place, he saw neither hide nor hair of his quarry. It was one of the emptiest places he had ever beheld. It’s like the Pasal Plains.

The nimble elf ran for nearly another half hour before coming to a half. Nothing had changed around him, and it was likely he was now lost in this barren area. And he still saw no sign of any demon. UPon glancing upward, he saw unfamiliar constellations. It was a full moon. Well, he thought bitterly, at least I’m getting somewhere.

Instantly after this thought passed through his head, a shadow descended, and in a split second, his expertly forged beauty of a sword --- Yuthian --- was held in both hands. The point snagged in the gleaming claws of a hulking shadow that had just descended in front of him. All that was visible of this mysterious creature was its pure white eyes, and the claws that Yuthian was held against. No aura... that’s how it got to me without my attention.

“Hmm,” murmured Terrin. This was a demon, alright, but not only did it not have an aura... no evil emanated from it like regular hellspawns. This puzzled him... his mind unwillingly soared back into nightmarish memories.

A huge red monstrocity tearing at me while everyone around me is quarreling... being thrown off a massive head with a severed horn... a sparkling dome with Keir and Isukimi standing as enemies below a glowing golden relic... Tokumaru... Ovirian... Ranul... Drago... Blitz...

The demon screeched out at Terrin, startling him out of his trance. The elf swiftly unbuckled the sheathe and smote the demon in the temple with it. The black hell dweller stumbled backward, clutching at the wound, although no blood was visible, for it was still nighttime, and it was a dark demon. Terrin lashed it in half with a lazy flick of his wrist.

“Bastard,” he uttered, forcing an angry foot heel into it’s top half.

Terrin was surprised when, upon his foots impact, both the body and all the ground beneath him gave way, crunching to loose rubble and sliding inward.

Bloody hell, it’s hollow!

Terrin fell into the crumbling ravine, scrabbling for a handhold, and finding none among the loose stones. The gap widened, and he tumbled through.

Ah... ****.

OoC: Now any of you can just connect my post to yours. Have your character find Terrin the cave doing... whatever.

OoC: I have seen it, Andúrhil, and I'm afraid I can't do anything about it.My jurisdiction doesn't extend to the Battle Arena - I am only capable of wielding my modly powers in the Din Clan. Sorry about that.

Anyways, here is my introduction for this battle. Here's hoping it measures up to what's already been posted. Oh, and any questions about it that Chetarren's profile (link in sig) don't answer, just ask. I'm always modifying things like his belief system.

BiC: Kneeling in the centre of his familiar chamber in the Dome, the centaur held his steel and flint over the stone bowl in front of him. He held the position for a moment, staring at the dried herbs and flowers that filled the bowl, thinking on how difficult it had been for him to find and refine them since he had come to the strange realm. They were hard to find, even for a tracker of his considerable skill, and whatever intelligence it was that watched over those who occupied the Dome had often seen fit to throw various fiends, demons, and other opponents in his path when searching for them. The risk in gathering them had been great, but the old warrior considered the aromatic herbs and soothing scents well worth the effort.

Taking a deep breath, the old warrior struck his steel and flint together, releasing a spark into the bowl and igniting the dry materials inside. He reached out with the magic that Aurora had granted him, feeling the warmth and innate power of the small fire, and altered slightly so that it would burn for longer, take up less of his small stock of the herbs before being replenished. That small task done, he settled back and breathed in the smoke, letting the familiar scent fill his head

Chetarren wasn’t sure how long he knelt there, thinking about the past and future and allowing the scent of the herbs and flowers to carry his thoughts wherever they would go. But long before the contents of the bowl had burned themselves out, he found his mind being pulled and led by a pair of familiar minds, vastly more ancient and powerful than he himself was or ever could hope to be. Focusing on them, he waited until the mists in the landscape of his mind parted to reveal their figures, then bowed as low as he could possibly go.

The White Dragon stepped forward and bowed her own head to the centaur. “Rise, Chetarren,” she whispered, her voice as soft as silk. “We have a task for you to perform on our behalf.”

Doing as the beautiful god bid him, the old warrior raised himself to his full height and squarely met the gazes of the Moon-Gods. The Black Dragon, twin brother and darker half to she who represented what was commonly misinterpreted as ‘good’, studied their servant for a moment before stepping forward beside his sister. “A great evil has been forged, Caesar – an evil that has the potential to upset the balance for centuries to come. If it is allowed to go unchecked now, at it’s birth, it may even be millennia before one with the ability and chance to stop it comes. One of the two great opposites will triumph, and all creation shall suffer for it.”

“You wish me to face this evil,” Chetarren said. It was not a question, merely uttered to make it plain to his gods that he understood what they wanted him to do, but the White Dragon nodded her perfect head anyway.

“This will be dangerous,” she said softly. “The evil lies on the edges of our realm, almost to the limits of where we hold power, and so there is not much that we can tell you.” Her dark eyes captured the centaur’s gaze, drawing him into their dark depths. “But we can take you there, to where the evil lies in it’s infancy.”

Bowing again to the two Gods of Balance, Chetarren Caesar asked the only question that he considered worth asking. “Is there anything that I must know about this task, my lords?”

“Only this,” replied the Black Dragon. “You must not allow one who follows one of the paths of evil to leave the place with the black sword forged by a messanger’s death, or all of creation shall fall as swiftly and surely as the angel that you shall meet along the way.”

The old warrior bowed long a third time, and held the position as the mists of his mind came again and swept him away. When the centaur opened his hazel eyes again, he found himself kneeling in front of the stone bowl in his chamber, it’s contents reduced to a pile of ashes in the bottom. Thinking over what he had been told as he breathed in the fumes, Chetarren took the bowl and scraped it out into a small container he had reserved for this purpose, the absently placed the stone bowl onto the small table and picked up his weapons from the rack against the leather walls. Their familiar feel from decades of use brought a smile to his face, and the greatest centaur warrior in living memory turned towards the door of his chamber and stepped out into one of the Dome’s many corridors.

Almost immediately outside the room, Caesar saw a door like none he had ever encountered before. It’s design was simple and beautiful, depicting two dragons flying into a sunset with the entrance to a cavern shown on the ground below them, and in front of the entrance stood a centaur holding both hammer and spear. The door seemed to beckon to the warrior, to urge him on, and so he pressed one palm flat against the surprisingly warm wood and pushed against it. Swinging easily to one side, it revealed a scene like that on the door in every detail, save for the dragons and centaur in the skies and on the ground.

Idly spinning his spear in one hand, Chetarren removed the sledgehammer he had been gifted with when he was first trained as a warrior close to eighty years before and cantered towards the cave entrance, and the evil that lay within it.

OOC: Okay, I’ll be using good old Tokumaru-sama!

BiC: The chirping of the morning birds fluttered softly throughout the large tower, giving off a feel of elegance for it. The Tower was old and sage-looking, and for good reason; many generations had fought, ruled, lost, and reconquered the mighty tower. It was had a large veil of swamp-green moss all along its sides, coursing intricately around the door. The Tower was designed in a tier-to-tier format, just like many temples in the Karazuna region.

In the highest tier, there was a small, circular room, with a table in the center. Abroad the table sat three men, two of which were laden with heavy armors and weapons, each with a stern and worried face. But the other man, who was garbed in a simple kimono, sat with a smile. He had a small glass of sake in his hand, and a wondrous red sheathe at his side, sporting a night-black katana hilt from its top.

The other men also had sake in there hands, drinking heavily.

“Tokumaru-sama,” said one of the men, finishing off a sip of sake, “what do you plan to do, now that Naoru has disappeared?”

“Yes…” said another one of the men, “Do you intend to do anything about Hanshin Daimyou of the west? I haven’t heard anything from our scouts about his actions, but in the time that you’ve been away from Miiazu Castle hunting for Naoru, I wouldn’t have a doubt that he’s recalibrated his forces.”

“Haha…” chuckled Tokumaru softly, “I see... it has been awhile since I’ve encountered good old Hanshin, hasn’t it? Bah, I shouldn’t make much of it. Now the power of Hephaestus’ Hammer is infused with the Hinotama, well… I wouldn’t fear much of anyone, eh, gentlemen?”

All three men burst into laughter. Merriment was all around, but at that instant, a wave of dark energy pulsated quickly throughout the land; Tokumaru, being the most magically diverse of the three, felt it greatly. The Heavenflame Samurai’s happy face then turned firm and alert; Tokumaru placed his right hand on the hilt of his omnipotent blade, the Hinotama.

“Kaezu…” the Samurai said to his men, “Mitsata… There is a disturbance in the air, can you not feel it?”

“My lord,” said Kaezu, “what are you talking about?”

“Don’t ask questions.” snapped Tokumaru, “Hold the fort for me while I’m gone, there is an issue that needs attending.”

“Wh… what?” asked Mitsata, “Tokumaru-sama, you’re kidding me, right? Your son was going to come and visit tomorrow, are you positive you want to leave?”

Tokumaru winced at the thought, but nodded, turning towards the higher window in the room. Tendrils of flame then licked up from his sword, swirling around his back in a fiery display. Embers were scattered to the wind, and a pair of feathery wings emerged from the fire upon Tokumaru’s back.

“Men!” the samurai said to his comrades as he stepped up to the window, “Hold Alex here for all the time you can, I do not know when I shall return… er… nor do I know where I am going. I am sorry for this, but I must take leave.”

And with that, Tokumaru jumped out of the window and took flight to the air. A warm updraft caught strongly beneath his wings, sending the samurai high into the sky; he flew steadfast to the source of the heavy aura.

Alex… Tokumaru thought, closing his eyes, It appears battle will tear me from you once more. But this aura… this true feeling of eternal hate; I can sense that is extremely powerful. Heh, I wouldn’t doubt it if I saw Terrin or Blitz there. Those two always have a way of—

Instantly, another wave of dark energy, this time stronger, pushed through the air with a great force. To Tokumaru, it felt similar to when he had forged the Hinotama… but it was different; this feeling was so purely evil, that it could even rival…

Naoru… It isn’t him, that I am positive of, but this aura is practically as evil as him… Whatever the hell is going on, it is not good.

But as soon as these thoughts crossed his mind, a mountain revered itself through the hazy morning overcast. Tokumaru did not understand why he, with his hawkeyed vision, could not see it, but could obviously see that the dark aura was permeating from it.

Something demonic has been created. Tokumaru thought, And I can definitely sense that others have been called here. There are many auras radiating from here… but one, it’s familiar!

The samurai then flew down into the wooded area at the mountain’s base, and saw a dark crevice that had recently been cragged open into the ground. Sensing a friendly aura, Tokumaru flew down in.

Contrary to Tokumaru’s thinking, the crevice was greatly illuminated; a bright blade shone in the distance. Having battled with the blade previously, Tokumaru immediately knew he its owner was.

“Terrin!”

OOC: Tiroth, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to switch places in the official order with you, hence (not including Shade’s second post) I would be the last in line with WoTS and BS. So, if you’d let this be, I’d really appreciate it. So… the order would be: Andurhil, Shade, WoTS, BS, SS, Tiroth, and then the others. That okay with everyone?

OoC: M’kay, I shall be using Shan. *winks at Safer* You’ll find her profile in my sig. Some of you guys have read her profile before, but I've made several important changes to her abilities. So you guys need to read up on her again. *looks at WoTS and Bloodsword*

BiC: Shan wiped her forehead with her crimson and white sleeve. Her small black sandals sank into the red sand with each step. She hated sand, it always got in her sandals and socks causing discomfort as she walked across the great desert. The female samurai also hated the heat of the arid climate. It made her feel slow and sluggish. However, it was night which made it much more cool than it had been when the Faia’s Eye was above the horizon. At the moment thousands of stars quivered in the dark blanket of the sky. The large silver orb, known as Nasake’s Silver, was cradled in the midnight heavens.

Shan’s amethyst eyes grazed over the rolling dunes of dark red sand. It seemed as if it could have gone on forever and that the whole planet was all just great waves of sand. But tearing up from the ground in the horizon, ahead of the warrior, were great, rocky mountains. She would reach them in no time at all. Though, the clenching feeling in her stomach increased as she neared them. It was a warning. Her father had always told her to listen to her instincts and they would guide her away from danger or defend her when needed. Yet, she knew she would not be turning around and going in a different direction. She would go to the doom that was tingling in her gut. Her instincts would have to defend her this time. What does it matter anyway, my father is dead …

What did matter now was freedom. Shan hoped Sheinron had meant what he said. The Dark Elf King was known for his silver tongue and for his lies. “You bring me the sword and freedom is yours.” Somehow she knew he was lying. Would he ever let her go? Shan closed her eyes but continued to walk toward the ridged mountains. Her hope was what made her go on. Maybe he had meant it and perhaps if she did this last request he would free her. The warrior could not stand another second of living in the Dark Elf’s presence. His very aura disgusted her. It was hard to believe she even allowed him to touch her with those sickening hands.

No matter, hopefully I will be free of him soon. Shan’s thin lips curved up into a tranquil smile while her eyes remained closed. It was such a soothing thought. Her heart seemed to almost sing at the idea. Her purple eyes opened and the samurai spurted forward across the sand. The faster she got to the mountains the closer she was to her freedom.

How did Sheinron know of the sword’s existence so quickly? According to him it was made not too long ago. Tak must have told him. The raven came around Delu often to bring news to the king. Nothing got past that bird. He knew everything. She had never heard it speak a word but she would see the raven and Sheinron stare at each other for long periods of time. Shan knew they were speaking with thought.

Before she knew it she had sped through the last stretch of sand and had reached the rocky base of the mountain. “Once you reach the mountains you will find a worn path through all the boulders and rocks. It is obviously a path, you will have no trouble finding it. You must follow it for a short while up to a small opening into the mountain’s great caverns. There you will find the sword. But I warn you, there are others seeking it as well.” These mountains were dry and abandoned of all life forms. All there was to see was dirt, rock, and more sand. However, the color of the earth was a dark brown unlike the desert sands. It was a change at least, Shan had been growing weary of the rusty color. Along the steep slopes of the mountain sides were huge boulders and large rocks. So many that it seemed to cover all of the mountain’s surface. And just as Sheinron had told her, there was an obvious gape in the rocks. It was a narrow path that spread along the slopes, carving a road through the mountains.

Shan stopped shortly to catch her breath. Sitting down on a fair-sized rock, she pulled off her sandals to brush the sand off of them. She inhaled deep and slowly, catching her breath lost during her run. It was harder to run in this arid land. The dry air was harsh on her lungs. The samurai placed her sandals back on her feet and leaned back to stare up at the stars.

She could remember when her brothers and her would lay on the soft grass in the fields of Ranelu and try to count the stars. They would eventually get bored of that game and then try to make out shapes and figures. Her brothers made up the wildest and craziest stories about these imaginary shapes. They had been very energetic boys, those twins got into trouble every where they went. Pulling pranks and tricks on the others in the village and several on herself. Shan felt her heart contract painfully. I miss those boys …

The warrior bowed her back down to the earth and shook it. What was she doing? There was no time for this. Shan stood up from her seat and started a fast pace up the mountain path. For about another hour she hiked up the mountain slopes until she came to an opening in the side of a mountain. The opening had jagged sides and sharp rocks protruding out of the ground. The air in her lungs paused at the sight of the cavern entrance. The warning inside swamped her, flooding her body with a chill unlike any winter she had ever experienced. Normally, Shan liked the cold but this was a different kind of cold. It felt as if the darkness of that cave was threatening to swallow her up and the cold was suffocating.

I shouldn’t be here … thought the female samurai, hesitating. She turned around and was about to walk away from the cave opening. “You bring me the sword and freedom is yours.” Sheinron’s words whispered through her head. She wanted it badly, that freedom he spoke of. Even if he could be lying, she would do anything for it. Shan bit her bottom lip and stared at the dry earth at her feet. I must be crazy, thought the warrior as she turned back around and walked into the gaping cavern. She strode into the darkness, not knowing if she would be able to make it out. But she didn’t care. She wanted her freedom and if she couldn’t get it this way, she wouldn’t mind dying.