Castle Made of Clouds 2: Birth Unto Ascension (the CMoC crew)

OoC:
And now, the moment you've all been waiting for... The long overdue sequel to CMoC, winner of the best BA battle.

IC:
Ranul was once again looking into the Dome’s past. There were many obscure references to a place of great warriors where many went to train. His library was vast, but actual information on the Dome itself was rare. He was searching through some particularly old books from his home world when he came across something interesting.

What he had just found was a book that mentioned the Dome being in existence back in the earliest times of Nhot history. It briefly described a large dojo where thousands of the world’s best fighters would gather to learn more. Few made it out, and they were generally presumed dead, but one account told of one of the fighters that had traveled through time in order to find where he truly belonged.

Somehow, this man had entered the Dome multiple times, but every time he was set free, he found himself in a different time. After close to one hundred entrees and exits, he finally found himself ten years after he had left in the first place.

Ranul was deeply interested in this story when there was a gentle tap at his door.

Who the hell could that be? he thought, rather angry at the interruption. “Enter,” he said aloud.

A middle-aged man, probably about forty-six, with thinning hair, average height, and a slight beer-belly strode slowly into his study. He wore a pale blue, button-down shirt, black dress shoes, and black slacks. As he stared at Ranul with bloodshot, green eyes (as though he hadn’t slept much in the last few weeks) he shifted his weight from side to side nervously.

After what seemed like hours to the man, but was only about a minute in reality, Ranul put his book down and stared at the stranger. “I assume you want something… and I’ll bet that it’s not to stand there, looking like a moron, so out with it already.”

The man stuttered a meek response. “I-I hear y-you were one of th-the last people to s-s-see T-T-T’lemenheim in flight… I w-was wondering I-if you might help me i-in my study of it.” He gained a little more control over his voice. “It has been one of my life-long projects to study and learn about the ancient civilization that built T’lemenheim. See, I’m a historian… a quite well known one, if I do say so my self. I first hear about it close to thirty years ago: A giant castle that flew among the clouds. Can you imagine the technological and historical advances if I could have studied it? Oh, that was the one thing I had wished for so long. I had almost found a way to it about years ago, when you and five other warriors destroyed it. And then, not long after that, the ruins were completely demolished by three of the same warriors that you were with.”

Ranul interrupted him, “Blitz, Terrin, and Tokumaru… I know of this. Two of them died in that battle. What has this got to do with me?” It was obvious that Ranul’s interest was piqued.

“Ah, yes,” the man continued, “I didn’t mean to ramble… Anyway, I recently found the mountain that T’lemenheim came from. See, it didn’t always float freely; it used to rest on a certain mountain: the mountain called Sadamorn. I found this mountain and the remnants of a society now gone. I understand you briefly studied T’lemenheim’s past as w-well and I-I figured…” he trailed off to the same meek whisper he had started with.

Ranul stared for a moment into the man’s eyes, for one may be able to tell a lie but eyes never lie. The man’s eyes were devoid of emotion…like he was in a trance. Ranul blinked before saying, “Alright, I’ll help you. What is your name, by the way?”

“My name? Er… My name is Dr. Ben Duberman,” the man replied. “I’m glad you’ll help.”

* * *

Ranul was getting ready for what he assumed would only be a trip to the mountains to study some old ruins, only to find that there was nothing to learn. He didn’t care though, for he was getting to leave the Dome for a while. Because there didn’t seem a need to carry an arsenal of weapons, he only brought his staff, a bow, and some arrows, just in case they ran into some angry beasties. One never knows what one will find dwelling in mountains.

The plan was for Ranul to fly to the base of the mountain, meet Ben (who had gone to find some other people to help in study), and to scale the mountain. After that, they would stay there for a week or so in order to set up a temporary base and stock it. They were then to return in a month and study the ruins until they found something… a boring adventure, to say the least, but at least it would get Ranul out of the Dome.

Ranul pulled out a map that told where the mountain rested. Damn… that’s going to be a very cold place to be, he thought, noting how far north the mountain was. He leaped into the air and took flight northward.

* * *

After an uneventful four-hour flight, Ranul could see the path Ben had told him to meet him at. Ranul landed a little ways off from the path and began to look for his newfound colleague.

“Odd…” he muttered to himself. The Doctor was nowhere to be found… and there was no sign that anyone had been there at any point in the recent past.

Ranul decided it was nothing and that maybe the Doc meant for him to meet him at the top of the mountain, so he started his ascent.

The snow falling would normally make for a beautiful scene, but the deadly slopes and possibility for avalanche made it a bit more of a death trap. Ranul walked steadily forward, huddled tightly in his cloak. He was making pretty good time, considering the harsh conditions, and could see what he hoped was a cave to rest in for a moment.

He was almost ready to step into the cave when there was a loud Crack! that resounded through the mountains, shaking the ground. The sound was deafening, but that wasn’t the real problem…

Ranul looked up to see a wall of ice and snow crashing down the mountainside. Now, at this point, any normal person would book it down the hill in order to escape an icy tomb, but Ranul was never considered normal. A tongue shriller that all music called him to the top of the mountain, and so God help him, he was going to make it. He created a mental force field around himself and ran onward and upward.

At first, the falling snow crashed into his protective shield and nearly carried him down the mountain, but after a moment of struggle he found his footing. While the going was slow, he was determined that his destination would be reached.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Ranul reached some flat, solid ground and collapsed from exhaustion. When he was able to stand again, he noticed he was no longer alone… Ben was standing in the center of a massive circle, holding up a book that looked as old as time itself.

“Now that you’re here, the trap is sprung!” the doctor exclaimed in a deep, strong voice.

Ranul looked around to see that he was even less alone than he had thought. There were four others there. An elf, an angel, a spirit… and a dragon.

OoC:
Now, Bloodsword begged me to let him go second, so... try to wait for him. I have a mass PM to send out anyway.

OoC: Lies. I didn't beg.

...I pleaded.

IC: Terrin laid back against his bed post, one arm around Courtney, holding a book in the other. It was one of the many that lined the walls of their room in the Dome. Blake had found it during one of his random book inspections. As Terrin had told all of the Stars about his experience in the Cloud Castle, now finally identified as T’lemenheim, (and for good reason, as the venture had led to Samlea’s long sought after demise), one book title had jumped out at him. He presented Terrin with the book, which was labeled on the front as simply: “Castle Made of Clouds”. Naturally, the elf – now turned permanent celestial – read the first page at once, genuinely interested in its contents. Sure enough, the book mentioned T’lemenheim, so he retreated to his room to read it with his wife, which was what he was doing. So far, they had gotten through twelve pages.

The inscriptions were in a strange language that the two elves did not recognize at once. They were forced to look up the old Dome records to identify the source. It did not give the origins, only a letter translation on very old paper. They had taken it back to their room and used it to decipher the manuscript.

“Look at this,” said Terrin, withdrawing his hand from behind Courtney to point at a few lines of scripture. “‘In the high tower of T’lemenheim, it is said that there is an ancient portal, or some sort of interstellar doorway that extends to several different times and places, but all lead to the same location; a Dome of some sort, for aspiring warriors.”

Courtney stared at the sentence in shock. She translated it twice to make sure those were the true words. It betrayed no mistakes…

“It leads here!” she exclaimed, with apparent fascination. “If that’s the case, then there must be a portal somewhere in the Dome, leading… into the past.”

Terrin stared into her eyes, his mind thousands of miles – and years – away. The possibility of discovering the origins of T’lemenheim, and its purpose, was both exciting and appealing to him. Ever since his ventures there, he had been dying to understand what it had been formerly used for, if anything. Up until then, it had appeared that there were no records of its existence before the times they had encountered it. For one wild moment, he considered jumping up and running out of the room, trusting the Dome to lead them to the portal, but his mind halted his movement. The elf felt a slight pang of guilt, since he had played a big part in its destruction, first of the architecture, and then the remains of the wreckage.

“Interesting,” he stated simply. Courtney grinned, for she knew Terrin well enough to understand what he had come close to doing. He sank back and was about to get back into reading the ancient scriptures, when the door to their room suddenly banged open. A rather chubby looking old man stood framed in the doorway, looking petrified with fear. Terrin frowned, and raised his free hand. The man was picked up and moved to the side. He squealed a little, but for the most part remained as calm as he could. Terrin set him down a few feet away, then moved his hand back to the doorway. The door shut itself calmly, and the piece of dry wood that had snapped off when it flew open reappeared, looking sturdier than before. Terrin sealed the door with a strange green substance, then dropped his hand and looked accusingly at the panicky old professor. He had never seen him in the Dome before, but he was too old to be a student.

“What the hell do you want?” he snarled. He did not like to be interrupted when he was spending alone time with his wife. He rarely got time like this as it was, what with his teaching responsibilities and the constant missions he was sent on.

The man seemed to relax his body a tad, but he still quailed under the furious stares he was receiving from the two elves. “My name, sir and miss, is Dr. Ben Duberman. I am an archaeologist of sorts, studying ancient magic despots and ruins to see if I can uncover anything interesting—”

“And you do that **** for a living?” inquired Courtney, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yes,” continued Duberman hastily. He seemed to act even more agitated now that he had been interrupted once. “And I was w-wondering if you… that is, Terrin Tankira, would be interested in coming with me to a mountain called Sadamorn… it holds what I believe to be the remains of the ancient civilization that built T’lemenheim, the cloud castle that I understand you and a few others say before it was destroyed.”

This time it was Terrin’s turn to cock an eyebrow. “You found its source?”

“Y-yes, sir,” said Duberman, nodding rather harder than necessary.

Terrin considered the nervous old Doc for a moment, before muttering “alright, just give me the directions.”

* * *

“I’ll be back soon,” Terrin said a few hours later. He kissed Courtney, gave her a hug, and stepped out of the main doors of the Dome. They shut quietly behind him, closing his wife off. He sighed, hoping that it wouldn’t bee too long before he saw her again… then he remembered that this was just a researching trip, and he felt a bit better about leaving her alone. I’ll see you soon, my love.

Anxious to arrive on Sadamorn at the stated time, Terrin bent his legs, and sprung upward into the air, sailing hundreds upon hundreds of feet into the air, where he released an inordinate amount of Posative Force (granted by his final evolution into an Enigma), and shot off in the direction the Doc had instructed.

Four long hours passed, though the elf flew at speeds he had never flown before. He sailed over large expanses of sea, plain, forest and mountains, checking every now and then on the map that Duberman had given him to make sure he was headed in the right direction. Before long, his face smarted with the cold air, and his hands balled into fists as he grew more and more frustrated with the distance of the mountain.

After quite some time, he spotted it… it was like a beacon of hope after flying for so long with nobody to talk to. Rising high above all the mountains surrounding it, was a huge monolith… it was a massive mountain peak, its tip and several hundred yards below it covered by many feet of snow. There seemed to be a big chunk of it sliding inexorably downward… Terrin guessed that with the height the peak reached, avalanches such as the one he was seeing were common, so he thought nothing of it. He angled his body and flew a little bit quicker toward the mountain, arriving on the spiraling pathway that led all the way up to the distant peak where he knew Doc. Duberman must be, waiting for him.

The elf planted his feet in the fallen snow (the avalanche had subsided by now), and hurried up the remainder of the pathway, arriving abruptly at the flat topped peak.

Before he could register what he was seeing, an unseen force gripped him by the neck, wrists and legs, forcing him down to the ground, where his cheek slapped the snow. He tried to shout out a curse, but he found his mouth to be sealed shut. Confusion and outrage swelled within the elf like a balloon. I’m a god, now, I shouldn’t have to deal with this!

The elf tried to release an ounce of Posative to break his bonds, but the same force pushing him into the ground seemed to have stifled his connection with his power as well. Furious, Terrin was forced to look past the drift of snow and stare angrily at the shadow looming before him.

It was Dr. Ben Duberman, standing quite fearlessly above him, clutching a thick black book in his arms. His composure was quite different than how he had been when he had burst so suddenly into the elf’s room. He stood tall and erect, his face set into a hard grimace. Behind him, Terrin could just make out the forms of two angels, what looked to be a transparent human, and… were his eyes playing tricks on him?

…A dragon…

Terrin squinted at the hunched over figures, attempting to place who they were.

Then realization struck him.

That’s… Ovirian! And Ranul, and Drago!

The transparent human he could not see clearly, however. Before he could even attempt to discern his features, Duberman spoke hard and clear, cutting through the biting cold wintry air about them.

“The trap is set,” he snarled, lifting the tome higher in his arms. Terrin could not take his eyes off of it.

Tokumaru walked coolly alongside the banks of a small stream outside the Alliance base, awaiting a visitor whom with he had scheduled a meeting. He was anxious to see her, for he had lost all contact with Shan; which made this new friend a very consoling person for Tokumaru’s stress. He missed Shan, but his new friend often was able to help take his mind off of the female samurai.

Tokumaru then heard a rustling in the bushes, and the young vampiress walked out, apparently happy to see Tokumaru.

The angelic samurai smiled. “It is good to see you again, Knives.”

Knives began to walk along with Tokumaru. “Yes… I do enjoy your company.”

“You know,” Tokumaru said, looking over to Knives, “as I reestablish my friendships with the Alliance members, you are really the only friend I have. I thank you for trusting me with your blood, and allowing me to be seen by humans.”

Knives laughed softly. “It’s alright, Tokumaru. You’re welcome… and I’m sure your friends will someday forgive you of your transgressions. Speaking of which, how is that Terrin friend of yours?”

Tokumaru shook his head. “Last I heard, Terrin was back in the Dome. But upon searching from long-distance the auras of the Dome, I can’t sense his within it. Courtney’s is there, but his is absent. It is most odd.”

It was then that a figure stepped out of the bushes. Knives instinctively got into a defensive position, but, Tokumaru realized there was no danger, and stood still.

“Ah… um…” the figure said, “Are you p-p…perhaps… t-t-Tokumaru Kyô, the He-hea—heavenflame samurai?”

Tokumaru turned to the man in question. “Yes, that is my name. Who might you be?”

The man, who appeared to be stout and a bit chubby, approached Tokumaru with caution. Knives was still unsure.

“Ah, yes, um…” the man said quietly, “I am Dr. Ben Duberman, an archaeologist of sorts. Pardon my asking, but I have heard you participated in the last Battle that T’lemenheim Castle had before it crashed into the ground, and was part of the battle that proceeded in its ruins a few years later. Is this true?”

Tokumaru nodded slowly. “…Yes, but why is it of importance to you?”

“Well,” the Doc said, “I am aware of the previous location of T’lemenheim, a mountain called Sadamorn, and would like to invite you in a personal excavation of it. Here is a map, and I hope you can attend. It is tomorrow, come any time.”

The man then extended a map to Tokumaru, who took it with curiosity in his eyes. However, when he looked up, the man was gone.

“Who… was that?” asked Knives oddly.

Tokumaru shook his head. “I don’t know, but his offer intrigues me. I’ll be attending this thing, for sure. Would you like to come, Knives?”

Knives shook her head. “I’ve got… other things to attend to tomorrow.”

Tokumaru nodded, and the two continued walking down the brook.

* * *

The next day, after Knives had left, Tokumaru quickly got his day started. Around noon, he memorized the contents of the map and flew off towards the mountains, which weren’t too far from the base anyway—T’lemenheim’s ruins weren’t that far from the base, either, so naturally their original location wouldn’t be as well.

As Tokumaru flew through the air, he was reminded that he could no longer feel cold. Or just natural cold, anyway. Anything above 70 degrees from absolute zero felt like a summer’s breeze to him—the samurai often missed the cool refresh of mountains such as these. As he shrugged off the nostalgic thoughts of his human life, the samurai flew faster, towards the looming mountain in the distance.



As he approached, he noticed a small band of people standing on one of the edges of the mountain. He wasn’t totally surprised when he saw who they were—in fact, he had assumed that if the Doctor was bringing him to excavate Sadamorn, he might as well bring the rest of the people who were at the Battle of T’lemenheim in the sky.

However… one figure stood out more than the rest, and for the first time in months, Tokumaru’s emotions reached fever pitch. Standing there in the snow, looking at him with a cocky smile…

…stood Drago Universi, the Dragonic Overlord.

The tanned frame bowed in solemn prayer, his muscles flexed tight as his clasped palms were held before him, the tips of his fingers pointed up at his lowered head. The white, sacred tattoos that had been his greatest defense since his death in Braśil appeared like cobwebs in the dark, as if he had walked into a spider’s nest on the way into this small Inn. A golden flicker from the back of one of those reverently positioned hands caught his attention quickly. Ovirian’s instincts, a killer’s sense, never missed much, and really, he expected something to happen. He had seen a brief omen that night.

A man had been making a castle out of cards on the front porch. As things go, the worst that could happen, did. A current of wind came, just as he had finished constructing the delicate structure, and it collapsed. Only six cards fell immediately from the table, and only six had landed at Ovirian’s feet. As he stared at them, the image of the joker card drifted past his field of vision, as if that comical, yet somehow dark card was eclipsing them all. When he turned to see if that card had landed behind him, he saw nothing but his surroundings, just as he did when he first entered Zangoria. The toll gates to the town looked miniscule and fragile in the distance.

The seven cards…what did they mean? And now, the golden triangle glimmered on his hand like the fragment of the sun. An unused wish. Could he truly bring Phailya back, defy his Lord’s wishes and the natural flow of the world? He knew that, in his heart of hearts, his son and he, and her, would be reunited beautifully if it were so. But what of this blood on his hands? Smite as he might, was it really right? The number he had slain for his creator could populate a city, and pave it’s streets in blood.

A city of the wicked dead. But were they all as wicked as they seemed? He flinched. He remembered that once, he slew a man who was consorting with a demon in the forest. Once he had slain the man, he saw the beast who had been consorting with the mortal was replaced by a large, irregularly shaped dead bush. Whether the monster had been reclining on the plant, like a throne, or transfigured into that form to safe itself he was not certain. But it bothered his conscience. Oh, yes. Just to assure the latter was not true, he had used his white-hot flaming breath to reduce it to ashes.

Zangoria was entering an profound season known as Frith, when the sky turns a sea-green, and burgundy snow falls from the sky. Ovirian imagined taking a large flake to his mouth, pressing it to his lips as it melted before his misted breath, and tasting wine. Then he imagined Phailya holding his hand, peering off into the horizon, and singing as she always did. Sweet, innocent Phailya. And then he imagined Zolf playing in the snow as it clumped softly on the ground, a little boy, like the way he remembered seeing him before Ovirian and his lover passed that day. It was still awkward, seeing him as a young man. Too much to get used to. But he supposed, it would come in time.

A knock at the door.

“Who comes tapping, as if someone gently rapping, rapping at my bedroom door?” Ovirian’s voice was as firm as ever as he recited the old line, which came to his mind in a blur of random thought. Most people thought it sounded threatening. And he couldn’t say he didn’t like that, either.

“A friend.”

“At this time of night?”

There was a bit of dry laughter behind the door, though not unkind.

“Do you know why the season, Frith, exists only in Zangoria? The skies and snow turn, all because of magic that lay in this land. Ancient, powerful stuff. An example of why I study and excavate with such passion. But there is a ruin that piques my interest far more than any curse of the weather. T’lemenheim.”

“Are you speaking of the Castle where I acquired this triangle?” Ovirian held out the back of his fist, causing the triangle to light up again.

The door immediately swung open, and a timid man entered. He gave the triangle a look of astonishment, and then masked his greed.

“The g-g-golden treasure? You haven’t made your wish yet?” He put on an expression that gave the Neon Angel the impression that this man thought he was a fool, then crossed his hands behind his back. “I’m seeking out every last of you seven warriors who left T’lemenheim in ruin, and I’m inviting you all to show up at the point of it's origin. For a bit of an archaeological dig, if you will.”

“I’ve no interest in that rubble. I took what I needed.”

“Are you sure?” The man began to show some cunning. “No man could hold back the urge to make any wish this long. I see doubt in your eyes everytime you look at that triangle. You need to know more, I see. And this is your chance.” He was right. Absolutely right.

“Where are these ruins of which you speak?

Instead of answering, the old man ran back through the door, calling for him to follow. Reluctantly, Ovirian ran into the darkness.


Magic…He’s using magic that I’ve seen before.

Ovirian was outside again, but now he was standing out in snow that was most definitely white. And even though it was winter, he recognized this place very easily. This is close to where it fell. The castle. Turning around, he saw a dragon that sent a violent surge of thoughts through his head. Universi . Looking a little to the left, he saw Ranul. And there, to his right, the elf.

Only five….he said there were six… And then he felt the prescence of the spirit, and saw it’s vague shimmer. Five men, six cards…and where’s the Joker?

The man who hadn’t even gave his name to Ovirian stood before them, clutching some sort of Tome. What he said escaped the angel’s earshot, but he knew he had been tricked. Something was very wrong here.

"AND SO FELL T'LEMENHEIM, AND THE WORLD DID QUAKE WITH SUCH THUNDER. Let's turn back the pages...shall we?"

OoC: Let the second of the greatest battles begin!

BiC: Drago slammed his humanoid fist on the table in rage, the small library rumbling from his low growl. He cursed in annoyance as he closed a book of extreme age, dust flying into the air as the ancient pages closed together. The Overlord carefully returned the book to it’s proper spot on the wooden shelves.

“How is it that the ancient castle T’lemenheim so hard to find? The name itself was difficult enough to come across! I’m beginning to wonder if Tokumaru is worth going all this trouble for!” Drago muttered to the darkness.

The dragonic overlord stood up, his bones cracking after having sat in that chair reading for so long. Drago was in a small, dark room that belonged to a deceased witch doctor in a hostile swamp. The walls were lined with ancient books and bones of all sorts. Strange ingredients that were used to mix for potions sat lined up in no apparent order on the top of the rotting oak shelves. Charms hung from the roof, spinning around slowly and making sounds, even though the air was dead in the little hut.

Drago sighed heavily as he walked out of the hut, careful not to hit his head on the way out. He took in a deep breath of the fresh, mucky air as he walked out towards the swamp. It had been twenty days since Drago began his search for T’lemenheim. He had had no great success in finding anything about the location of the castle or it’s origin.

The overlord had heard that three great warriors of fire, whom all he knew, battled in the ruins of the great castle that he had helped crash out of the sky a few years before his death. Drago had since then been searching for it, hoping to find out the whereabouts of Tokumaru, even though he also had heard an elven fire warrior was the only one who made it out alive, which Drago refused to believe.

The humanoid walked quietly through the thick trees and deep, murky waters, hoping that no unexpected visitors would try and catch him for an extra meal. As the overlord walked pass a large amount of high bushes, something in the bushes stirred greatly, and began to emerge from the swamp plants.

Drago roared and cut through the bushes with his sharp nails, almost immediately finding tender flesh, pushing his claws against it. The overlord pulled the creature he had grabbed out of the bush, ready to slice the head off of what he had found.

Drago watched in slight surprise as a chubby man tumbled out of the bush and landed hard with a groan. He rolled over and stared at Drago for a moment, seeming greatly surprised and afraid of the overlord.

“A human? What do you want, mortal?” Drago asked as his tail curled around the man’s waist and lifted him up in front of Drago.

“P-please, sir. M-m-my name is Dr. Ben Duberman,” the large man seemed terribly frightened of the overlord, but gained a little more control of himself, “I am a scholar of sorts, researching ancient artifacts and the such.”

“What does your nonsense have to do with me? I have no interest in ancient places, so speak quickly, or your life will cease!” Drago interrupted in anger as he grew inpatient.

The professor squealed slightly before he began to speak again, “Well, I heard you were looking for the great city of T’lemenheim. I was wondering if you would assist me in learning what I can, because I have discovered it’s origin, and I believe you might be of great help with your knowledge of ancient places, being a Dragonio.”

Drago dropped the man on the ground carefully and looked at him with intense wonder, “You know where the origin of the castle is? I apologize for my rudeness, this humidity is driving me crazy, my human form has its disadvantages.” Drago said more cheerfully as he looked at the mortal.

The professor nodded nervously, “Here is a map to Sadamorn mountain, I am almost sure that the origin of the great city is on the peak of that mountain.”

Drago took the map with a look of curiosity. When he looked up to thank the human, there was no one there. The overlord stared in confusion, then shrugged, slightly hoping the old man made it out of the swamp alive.

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

The humanoid soon managed to emerge from the swamp. He immediately took of in to the sky, following that map towards the great mountain. He made great speed, beating his wings at a slow pace to keep himself from tiring. Oceans, plains, and forests all passed, soon that land below him was cold rock covered in white snow.

Drago grinned as he saw the frozen peak of the great mountain. He growled in annoyance as his wings began to freeze and his human flesh shivered with cold.

“Curse the wretched snow!” Drago whispered as his body was enveloped by flame, witch soon dissipated, leaving a black dragon covered in a fiery aura that the cold stood no chance against, “that’s more like it!”

The new god of dragons soon reached the top, seeing the old man standing there with an old tome in his hands. The overlord landed behind him, soon joined by a small group.

Terrin? Ranul? Ovirian? What are they doing here? Drago thought to himself as he felt a gust of warm wind from above.

Drago looked up and grinned as he saw his old friend staring at him with confusion and slight fear, “The one and only Tokumaru Kyo…”

Right before the overlord was about to rush up to Tokumaru, the chubby professor, who seemed much different from the last meeting, raised the tome in his hands, whispering words Drago thought he recognized before he shouted, "AND SO FELL T'LEMENHEIM, AND THE WORLD DID QUAKE WITH SUCH THUNDER. Let's turn back the pages...shall we?"

As he finished speaking, a bright flash enveloped the entire mountain with a loud explosion.

OoC: Let our battle begin!

OoC: Sorry that took so long, my dad stole the ethernet modem this morning. But hey, it's done now. ^^ Rejoice! Let this glorious reunion commence!

BiC:

“What…?”

The temporal shift subsided and like glass the modern world shattered, falling to his feet in pieces. Ethan’s eyes bulged as he whirled around in panic only to find an endless expanse of green and a mountain in the distance. T’lemenheim’s remains were gone. There was no sign that its ruins, or even the castle itself, had ever existed. Even the Godmaker scepter had disappeared. Ethan whipped around again, stomach clenching in fear. Base 17, which should have been visible as a black speck on the horizon, was without a trace.

“Where am I?!”

Another temporal shift; he sensed the distinctive ripple clearly and turned to face it. High above the world, visible even from this distance, was a castle and city which hadn’t been there before. Ethan knew well the mountain upon which it sat, but remembered the peak being snowcapped. Moreover, it was high noon. Last he’d looked it was dusk, but not a single cloud interrupted the blueness of the sky.

“Better yet, when am I?”

Something which affected time greatly happened atop that mountain. Though his stomach refused to loosen, the panicked haze filling him slowly dissipated. Now able to focus, Ethan had to find his location in the stream of time and space. Temporally disoriented and with no place else to go, the time mage bolted for the mountain’s base. Maybe that distortion in time would give him some idea of when and where he was.

***

The time mage dragged himself up over the peak’s edge to find four very confused people and an equally confused spirit entity. Ethan recognized Terrin Tankira and Tokumaru Kyô and wondered what they were doing here in this time, but the identities of the other beings were a mystery. They seemed just as surprised to see him. Behind them stood the city gates, and castle beyond that. As he looked upon the many towers and the castle walls, the mage’s eyes widened in shock. It was T’lemenheim.

The misplaced Tear quickly turned to face the others who had apparently ignored him until now. “Ahh…I am Ethan Paragrine, one of the Tears of the Alliance. Could one of you please tell me the year?”

… Running. Thy time is running out. All hope to be the best is for naught. The time to prove thyself is nigh… a voice echoed in Ranul’s head. He knew he recognized it from somewhere, but its origin escaped him. And besides… he felt like he was being torn in a thousand directions at once. Such is the feeling of ancient teleportation… and time travel.

The gray, cloudy sky was replaced by a clear blue sunny sky. The sun… looked different than Ranul remembered it. Perhaps the after effects of teleporting somewhere at someone else’s whim? No, he though, teleportation only makes you feel groggy, not disoriented. So then what happened?

His thoughts were interrupted by a question from one of the other people who had been with him at the mountain… Doctor Duberman was nowhere to be found. “And just what the hell was that?” asked a rather angry Drago.

No one answered because, in truth, no one knew. No one spoke these thoughts, but all of them knew it… they weren’t where they were just minutes ago.

A young man had suddenly come up the mountain and was now standing at the edge. After he had scanned the four beings in front of him, his gaze suddenly shifted passed them. His eyes widened slightly before he turned to the others and said, “Ahh…I am Ethan Paragrine, one of the Tears of the Alliance. Could one of you please tell me the year?”

Ranul’s mind shifted suddenly. This person’s confusion about the year made a bit of sense to Ranul. “Of course…” he whispered to no one.

Ovirian heard him. “Of course? So you know where we are?” he asked in an annoyed tone.

Ranul shot him an angry glace before replying, “Yes. We are exactly where we were. Our new friend here asked the real question… When are we?” He looked at the others’ reactions; Drago seemed indifferent, Terrin seemed somewhat confused, Tokumaru seemed to believe it, and Ovirian shared Drago’s indifference.

“So… you don’t know either?” Ethan asked, breaking the silence. He gestured to the castle that the others had failed to notice… or even face in their confused state. “Well if that’s what I think it is, we are at least four hundred years in the past… if not more.”

Ovirian, Terrin, Tokumaru, Drago, and Ranul all looked in the direction Ethan was pointing. They all had the same thought at the same time… T’lemenheim.

“No. That’s not possible. If that’s what I think it is, then I’ll be damned,” Drago said, turning away from the castle.

Ranul shrugged, “Then you’re damned I guess. This is T’lemenheim, and no amount of denial can change that.”

Terrin looked up at the castle, then at Ethan, then back at the castle. “It’s not likely you did this, is it? I mean, then it’d be easy to get back,” he asked The Paradox. Ethan shook his head. “I didn’t think so.”

Ovirian shook his head, as if shrugging off some insane thought and started walking towards T’lemenheim. “Well, if anything is going to get done, it’s sure not going to happen here. We might as we-” A loud rumble cut him off.

Terrin was the first to see it… a large army making its way up the mountain and to their position. “As important as this conversation seems, it might be a good idea if we got away from here… now!” he said, starting to move in the direction of T’lemenheim.

Ranul saw the army coming soon after Terrin and said, “Um… yeah, the elf is right. The sooner we get out of here the better!” he took off after Terrin, who was about one hundred yards from the gates, which was about half way from where they were and where T’lemenheim sat. The others quickly followed, save one… Drago.

“I won’t flee to a place that shouldn’t be there. Every enemy bleeds and dies, and I’ll bet these guys are no exception,” he said, preparing to attack. The oncoming army was still a ways off, but it wouldn’t be long before they were there.

Ovirian stopped and yelled to the Dragon Overlord, “This isn’t the time. You may be able to kill every last one of them, but who’s to say they aren’t supposed to win the battle? This is the past, if you mess around with it, the future can and will be altered!” He turned and resumed his running without checking to see if Drago was fallowing. He was.

Drago knew Justice’s words rang true, no matter how he hated it, and he turned to follow the others, four of whom were now within ten feet of the gates to T’lemenheim.

Ranul reached the gates simultaneously with Terrin and Ethan, followed seconds after by Tokumaru. Ranul and Terrin both started banging on the gates in hopes to get someone to let them in. Ovirian reached the gates just as they started opening just enough to allow entrance and Drago squeezed in right before they closed.

Instead of celebrating as would be expected, the six warriors were now facing down several spears and swords.

“We caught them sir… these were the frontrunners of the army,” said one of the figures holding a spear. He looked like an elf, but had wings not unlike an angel’s. He stood about five foot, six inches tall and had a slender, elven build. He wore a black leather helm that covered most of his face, but the rest of his armor was black chain mail. He was obviously a foot soldier or a guard, based on the condition of his equipment. But then… almost all of the other soldiers looked like that.

“Caught them? Why didn’t you kill them you daft bastard? Or more to the point, why do you think they are part of the Land Dwellers’ rabble?” asked a slightly taller winged elf. He wore gold armor and no helm, but was otherwise the same size as the others. He looked at the six warriors in front of his group with sharp, blue eyes. His hair was white and partially tied up in a topknot, but otherwise hung freely about his neck and shoulders. “Well,” he said to Terrin, “What have you got to say for yourselves?”

OoC:
That turned out better than I thought it would, considering I laughed my spark out about half way through... *looks accusingly at Bloodsword* Alrighty, the second round... begins!

Before anyone posts, read the PM that I sent out.

“I know not why this group of strange individual’s has come to T’lemenheim,” said the general with a contemptuous flick of his head. “But nonetheless, they are nothing but a hindrance. We will question you later about your exact intents… but until this fight is over, you will be detained. Take them away.”

Terrin, who’s rage had been building as soon as the many spears and swords had been pointed at their necks, flinched when one of the winged elves seized his wrist. The elf Enigma instantly reached over and ripped the unfortunate soldier’s hand off at the wrist. Blood fountained out of the wound, and the soldier collapsed, screaming loudly. Terrin dropped the severed hand in disgust, and looked up calmly at both his allies, and his enemies. Evidently horrorstruck, the captain pressed forward and made to raise his own blade up to Terrin’s neck.

“I don’t have time for this sh-t,” muttered the elf Enigma. He pulled together a host of Posative Molecules in the form of air, which blasted out from his body, moving twixt his allies and buffeting only the winged elves. They all flew thirty feet into the air, flailing wildly, including the captain, and landed about fifty feet away, on their backs. Several hit their heads hard on scattered bricks around the courtyard. Those who hadn’t were suddenly encased in several ropes, which tightened around their bodies like ghastly glowing white pythons. Screams of rage and protest echoed around the area.

“Somewhere deep in T’lemenheim, there’s a portal that leads to the Dome,” said Terrin, turning calmly to the rest of his current team. “Whether or not that’s where we want to be, that’s where we have to go. That ‘Duberman’ bastard was obviously not human. He has trapped us in the past… right in the middle of a war. Who knows what he’s plotting. We have to get to that portal, now.”

Drago opened his mouth to snap moodily at the elf Enigma, for the Overlord obviously hated being bossed about, especially by someone less than half his size. Ranul cut across him sharply. “He’s right,” said the angel. “I’m sure there are more of those winged elf fellows in the city ahead. If we don’t find cover fast, they’re going to trap us out here alone again, and my guess is there will be a lot more than we’re hoping for.”

Ethan nodded. “We should start around the side of the city and make our way into the castle from the side… hopefully nobody will catch us if they aren’t covering all the entrances.”

Tokumaru, who had watched Terrin’s display of rather surprising power, cautiously approached his former friend. He tapped his shoulder with his spectral finger. Terrin stiffened, but didn’t turn around. Tokumaru distinctly saw the elf Enigma’s hand tighten on the Yuthian sword.

“You killed me once,” said the Heavenflame. “You have your revenge. Let us put aside former disagreements –”

“Is that what you think it is?” snarled Terrin violently, whipping around to glare angrily at the samurai. “A disagreement? Well, if that’s the way you look at killing one of my best friends, then you’ve got another thing coming!”

Terrin turned away in disgust from Tokumaru. Nobody dared say anything about this clearly tense issue. Instead, Drago quietly suggested that they get moving, but in his usual annoyed and bored tone of voice.

OoC: My most sincere apologies for taking so long. I've been busy.

Ovirian's singularly visible eye didn't so much as blink when Terrin's wrath struck the creatures that had tried to apprehend them. His white hair, peppered black at the tips, was in a wild state, thanks to that frantic scamper back to this place. Knowing that he should in fact be wary and guarded, he willed his glistening ivory armor to form from the mystic tattoos that adorned his flesh, not placed there by needles but by a supernatural hand, one that caressed his cheek some nights, and made him shiver in confusion and fear.

But only in his dreams.

So now, they were, literally, back at T'lemenheim's origin. No matter. There was even more of a chance now that Ovirian would find the answers he searched for. The truth of the triangle. He craved it, and his face contorted into a mask of pure determination, furious, unmitigated, and powerful. Creases formed tight lines under his eyes, and on his forehead, concentrated thickly. His teeth grinded tightly together. A crystalline sword formed in his grip. Ignoring the others, he bolted ahead, smiting those would stop him with what appeared to be streams of light from his free fingers. Winged bodies collapsed behind him, bearing small circular windows of flesh so the others could still see the Neon Angel bolting through the courtyard to the castle gates.

Terrin, Ranul, Drago, Tokumaru, and even the one called Ethan wasted no time, following his lead, not knowing that he had no intention at the moment to find any portal at all, just as before when they sought the treasure, and Ovirian had simply been trying to protect it. Blitz had been there then, but not this time.



****



The main doors of Castle T'lemenheim glimmered as though they were made of glass. If one were to look closely, they would see a design like veins or branches ingrained into the shimmering, semi-translucent metal. Enchanted by Magi. Oblivious to this, Ovirian only saw hope. And he would rather die than let that slip through his fingers. Once you've suffered a sudden loss, life is like a ticking bomb. It could all be gone in matter of the wrong combination of chemicals or just wasting time.

Without so much as the wave of a finger, Ethan practically halted the flow of time and took his place a few meters in front of the inexpressive angel at the head of their group. The mage stretched out his arms, then resumed his natural progression through time’s stream. Ovirian skid to a halt mere inches from head-on collision and scowled.

Ethan scowled back. “Just remember that your actions so far have made you a liability. Fortunately, only you and the elf, with whom my late comrade is acquainted, attacked those winged beings. The rest of us can deny our involvement.” Furious looks from around the group focused on him. The time mage returned them with equal intensity. “Don’t forget: they weren’t our enemies until you attacked them, Terrin Tankira.”

Ignoring their reactions, Ethan slowed time once more and performed a running leap at the castle wall. Nimble fingers clasped around thick stones, pulling him up foot by foot. If we’re spotted again, I shan’t be staying around. Perhaps I can disassociate myself with the group and establish relations with these people. I must find out where in Correnn’s name I’ve landed. He stopped climbing for a moment. “Why am I with them to begin with?” Shaking his head in frustration, Ethan continued his ascent and reached the battlements minutes later. Pushing past the gate guard—whose flow through time was unaltered and so he was quite oblivious that he’d just been shoved out of the way at about 60 miles per hour—he gripped the wooden wheel and pulled back sharply. With a loud groan, the gate responded and slowly rose with each tug. When the engraved construction had reached its peak height, it locked in place automatically.

Ethan reclined against a battlement to rest with a sigh. He cast a glance at the standing elf’s still motionless, unsuspecting frame. Did that blithering fool even stop to think these might be living, breathing people with lives and families before he cut them down? The time mage looked down at himself. None of their group looked like soldiers, so convincing these elves of their non-hostile intent wouldn’t have been hard. These people housed the Golden Power at some point! Certainly time travel wasn’t an unheard of idea to them. Terrin had acted unthinkingly. There was no need to kill them at all. Somewhere in this city, several mothers had been widowed and children orphaned for no good reason. The battlement shook under Ethan’s outraged fist. Some people…ugh!

He relinquished his hold on time. No doubt the others immediately went through the gate without wondering how it had opened so suddenly. Maybe his words would sink in. Perhaps they wouldn’t kill more of those soldiers. Why for Y’vakka’s dragonfish are they in such a rush, anyway? If the portal’s been there long enough to be recorded in modern textbooks, it’s not going anywhere!

OOC: Sorry for the holdup! ^^;;;

BiC: Tokumaru walked silently. Foolishly, the Angel had thought that his ventures at the Alliance base had somehow reestablished somewhat of a trust between he and his Elven friend, but it seemed this was not so. He kept his head down, right arm brought into his yakuta. Silently, he cursed ever saving those ungrateful humans in the cave of Angelfire, but a slight reminder from Hephæstus warned Tokumaru not to let his own Angelicness have him fall into the persona of his father—the samurai quickly took back his curses, asking silently for forgiveness.

Drago took note of his former ally’s sorrow, and placed a hand on his back. “Tokumaru, you are troubled. I can sense it, whether or not you’re mortal anymore.”

Tokumaru sighed. “Indeed, Drago… you and I fall very similar in these days.”

“Why’s that?” the Overlord asked curiously.

Tokumaru removed his arm from his yakuta, letting it drift at his side. “We both did horrible things, and now our friends are distrustful of us in every way… we have few allies, and Knives is our only friend.”

Drago shook his head. “Regardless of whether or not you’re distrustful of me, I won’t let you beat up on yourself in such a mediocre manner. Whether or not you like it, the Drago you met 14 years ago has returned—the good Drago that helped you defeat Naoru. And you see… the good Drago would find it in his heart not to let you think you are similar to me in any way. My evil was self-spawned. Yours was spawned out of love for your friends.”

Tokumaru gritted his teeth. “Then why the fück did I save them?”

A wave of greatly surprised looks were sent to Tokumaru’s curse.

Drago looked down. “Because you’re not selfish, like me. You would rather them hate you then have them die, as would I prefer the opposite.”

Tokumaru nodded solemnly. “You’re right, Drago… I apologize for my anger.”

Drago laughed, and patted Tokumaru on the back. “Eh, don’t worry. Terrin’s rock-hard. With time, I’m sure you’ll get his trust back. But for now… let’s investigate this castle further… …this time as allies, agreed?” The Overlord extended a hand.

Tokumaru smiled, and shook Drago’s hand. “Agreed.”

OoC: Typos? Sue me.

OoC: Yes, I know I'm posting out of turn, but so what? Ethan's separated from the group for now, so it's not like I'm disrupting the flow.

BiC:

“You, there! Halt!”

“I’m sitting down.”

The elf didn’t have much more to say about that, but there were plenty of other things to talk about. “You were with the group that attacked our soldiers. Are you not of our enemy, the Land Elves?” He bared his teeth in disgust, pointing a magic spear at Ethan’s throat.

With a roll of his eyes, the time mage nudged the offending weapon away. “We arrived as one, but we are not yet acquainted.”

“What do you mean by that?” He repositioned the spear.

“I mean,” Ethan said calmly, once more pushing the blade, “that we were forced together by circumstance. I, for one, had no intention of attacking your kind. In fact, this castle intrigues me.”

“…Intrigues you?” The sentry now seemed curious and relaxed his weapon a bit.

“Yes. You see, I am a mage with the power to manipulate time. Something unfortunate happened, and I was thrust to whatever year this is.” He looked away from his new acquaintance and thought. “A colleague of mine once encountered a castle known as T’lemenheim floating amidst the clouds.”

“The elevation dev—?”

“Yes, yes, let me finish,” barked the mage, motioning for his elf friend to hush. “It so happens that four other beings, some of which my colleague knew, had arrived at the same time. They were seeking something they called the Golden Power.” Ethan glanced up to find the elf’s eyes wide with disbelief.

“They came to capture—?”

“Yes, now listen!”

Too curious to pass up a good story—especially one about his homeland—the elf sat down next to Ethan and rested against the battlement.

“Now. All five of them raced for the highest tower, clambering over one another and setting each other back for hours until, finally, they reached their goal. But just when the Golden Power was within reach, a demon named Isukumi appeared and stole it away. The five banded together to defeat the demon and were successful. At the crucial moment, they all raced for the sky and—now here’s the interesting part—they all touched the Power at once. It flowed into each of them, and they were granted the power to do anything.”

The elf man marveled. “What did your colleague use his power for?”

Ethan pursed his lips in remembrance. He hadn’t been there personally for the event, but the tale itself was heartwarming enough. “He resurrected his beloved, who’d been slain in cold blood years before.”

Wings fluttering, he smiled. “A good man.”

“Yes, that he was.”

“Was?”

The mage sighed. “My friend recently passed away, leaving his wife a widow.”

“Oh.” His smile faded. “That’s sad to hear.”

“Mm…” Ethan looked his newfound comrade in the eyes, once more pushing down remorse for Blitz. “Tell me, what is your name?”

“My name?” The elf was hesitant, but Ethan’s attempts to rouse trust were successful, for he smiled again. “Avorigh Fynne. I’ve been guarding this gate for seven years, sir, and I’m a deadshot with the bow.”

Ethan smirked. “Good, but that won’t be necessary. I wish to preserve this castle, you see, so I will help you defeat your enemy. I am Ethan Paragrine from the world of Avalon; some call me the Paradox.”

Avorigh laughed in amusement. “I appreciate the offer, good sir, but one more man will not be very helpful. And after hearing that story, I don’t want you falling in battle.”

This time, it was Ethan’s turn to laugh, something which he rarely did. “We shall see.”

OoC:
Sorry for the uber-long wait... I've been destracted to say the least...

IC:
Ranul stood, open mouthed, staring at the spectacle that Terrin and Ovarian were making of themselves. That’s when he felt it… a shift in time. It was subtle, meaning that a skilled person had manipulated it. Ranul saw Ethan standing in front of Ovarian, saying, “Just remember that your actions so far have made you a liability. Fortunately, only you and the elf, with whom my late comrade is acquainted, attacked those winged beings. The rest of us can deny our involvement. Don’t forget: they weren’t our enemies until you attacked them, Terrin Tankira.”

Heh, well at least he’s got it right… Ranul thought, as he felt time shift again. Ethan was gone and Ovarian was a little bewildered looking. “Well that solves that,” Ranul muttered, turning on his heel. No sense getting in trouble for something you didn’t have anything to do with… that was his philosophy.

Instead, Ranul decided to track down Ethan, the mysterious person who had just manipulated time with obvious ease. Either this kid was a very powerful mage and far older than he looked, or he was something other than human. “In either case, he seems at least a bit brighter than the others.” he said to himself.

Ranul soon felt the presence of one who time flows freely around, as opposed to encasing them. That has to be him, he thought, climbing up a section of wall that he felt Ethan was at. He was about to pull himself up when he heard a voice…

“You there! Halt!” To which Ethan made a snide comment about sitting down. The voice from earlier, which obviously belonged to an elven guard, was questioning Ethan and Ethan was obliging the elf with the story of what had become known as the Race in the Clouds, or Castle Made of Clouds.

Ethan smirked. “Good, but that won’t be necessary. I wish to preserve this castle, you see, so I will help you defeat your enemy. I am Ethan Paragrine from the world of Avalon; some call me the Paradox.”

Avorigh laughed in amusement. “I appreciate the offer, good sir, but one more man will not be very helpful. And after hearing that story, I don’t want you falling in battle.”

This time, it was Ethan’s turn to laugh, something which he rarely did. “We shall see.”

Ranul decided that the time was right and hauled himself over the wall and onto the battlements where Ethan and Avorigh were talking. “You know, I knew you weren’t human, Ethan… but a time mage? I thought they were all but extinct and yet here stands one of the last… if not the last,” he said wistfully.

Avorigh stood to challenge the newcomer, though his stance gave away the fact that he was an untrained soldier and likely only there to help bolster numbers. “Who are you and what have you to do with Ethan?” he asked the Angel.

Ranul held his hands up in mock horror, “Ooh, and what if I don’t tell you? Are you going to poke me with that dull stick you carry? I am Ranul Cyrod and I am one of the combatants that Ethan spoke of. In fact, I still have the piece of golden power that was given to me, though I keep it in my cloak.” He then brought forth a small bag that pulsated with power. “I, unfortunately cannot use it to bring back my loved ones or to kill my greatest foe, so I have saved it.”

Avorigh lowered his spear as he felt the power from the bag and its familiarity. “But I do not understand… how is it that the Shineadonis, or rather part of it, is in your hand? It is still in the tower as of this morning.”

“Assuming the Shineadonis is the Golden Power, I can attempt to help with your confusion… or add to it. See, Ethan spoke of this event as though it had already happened. And by all rights, to him and I, it has. But to you and yours… this race won’t happen for many hundred years at least,” Ranul explained, glancing at Ethan. “I realize this makes little sense, but like he said, we were thrust into the past from different times.”

“What Ranul says is true. This event is going to happen at some point in your future. Which reminds me… exactly what year is it?” Ethan asked at length.

“It is the one-hundred-and-thirty-fifth autumn since the dawn of the world,” Avorigh responded with pride. “This castle has stood for the last seventy-three consecutive seasons.”

Ranul did some quick figuring in his head. “The castle is only eighteen years and a month old? And the year is 135… that makes the race in the clouds… at least 27,000 years to come! Holy ****…”

Even Ethan seemed somewhat surprised. “This castle stood the test of time three times longer than I have been on this planet, and six people managed to destroy it in a matter of hours!? Wonders never cease, I suppose.”

As the trio were talking, a large bell tolled fifteen times to mark the change of shifts.

“Oh,” Avorigh said with surprise, “my shift is up. You guys go wait over there and I’ll be out in a moment. I have to check in with my superiors.” He was pointing to the corner of a street at the bottom of the wall.

After Avorigh left and Ranul and Ethan were at the appointed spot, Ranul leaned over to Ethan and asked him, “What do you know of this battle and it’s outcome?”

Ethan shook his head to imply nothing, but Ranul didn’t believe him and attempted to read the Paradox’s mind. To the Angel’s surprise, he found that Ethan’s mind couldn’t be breached.

“Had dealings with psychics before, eh? No matter, at least I know you aren’t a moron,” he said with a smile, “But back to my question… because if I remember correctly, the castle T’lemenheim loses this battle with the land dwelling race of elves, from which the elves of our time are descended, and take to the sky for refuge. I heard you say you’d help them win, but are you sure that’s wise?”

Ethan didn’t answer, but appeared to be staring at some unseen object.

Ranul sighed, “You know, if you remain silent we can’t learn from each other. You surpass me in power and age, but I can bet I surpass you in the ability to learn things from people that they normally wouldn’t tell their mothers… if you catch my drift.”

Ethan turned to stare at Ranul, though his gaze seemed to pass through the Angel. “You would invade the privacy of their minds to learn what can be learned simply by asking? Why?”

“It’s faster.”

Ethan snorted, but said nothing.

This is going to be a long day, Ranul thought as Avorigh came out of the barracks, now in street clothes but still carrying his spear.

“Now then,” the winged elf said cheerfully, “who’s hungry?”

OoC:
Hey, I was thinking... this is turning into more of an RP. Would anyone have a problem with maybe BS moving it to the Crossroads? I mean, it doesn't really matter, but there is more character interaction than fighting and it might be better suited there.

Terrin stood, fuming, behind Ovirian and Tokumaru. Drago was hanging back, looking bored with the precedings. He saw Ranul and Ethan striding out of sight, up through the city. I save them from imprisonment so we may find a quicker way to the portal to the Dome, and they act as though I've done a great wrong! I did not kill anyone... they should be grateful of that, if anything.

With a furious growl, Terrin pushed past Tokumaru, who, startled, moved out of the elf's way. They could almost feel the rage pulsing through the Enigma. Terrin strode up along the broken cobblestone street, past the struggling bodies of the winged elves he had cuffed to the ground, and made his way off where he had seen Ranul and Ethan disappear. He would talk to them... make them understand that he had meant only the best...

He rounded the corner, and saw them conversing with another winged elf. With a slight grimace, he strode up to the winged elf, holding out a hand.

"Ah," said the strange entity, "hello. I am Avorigh. So this is another one of your friends, is it?"

"Not a friend for me," said Ethan, glaring at him. Terrin simply stared back, his face stonily set. Ranul said nothing.

It could be worse.

"As I was saying," said Avorigh, "who's hungry?"

OoC: Whoo. o_o CMoC just got a dose of intrigue.

BiC:

After they were outside the castle walls, Avorigh led the three through the market town of T’lemenheim. It was stunning; a completely different world. With their wings, these elves could build structures unlike anything Ethan had seen before. Entrances to granite buildings were located both on ground-floor and high into the air. The structures themselves, though built from stone, were all layered with a translucent substance similar to glass. When asked, their guide said he knew little about it.

“It’s called polyglass by the commonfolk, but I forget the proper name. Something convoluted. Impervious to fire, all basic spells and some strong ones, and can take one heck of a beating.” He grinned. “Amazing stuff, really.”

“You’re telling me,” Ranul mumbled, expressing his interest with a ruffle of his angelic wings. Avorigh launched into a drawn-out explanation of polyglass and its application in modern society while Ranul listened intently.

Terrin, on the other hand, was too awed by the structures to listen. No doubt he was wondering if the Stars could reverse-engineer this “polyglass” and use it to strengthen their own bases and war machines. Assuming they used machines. Falling back, Ethan stepped into stride with the other elf. “This is the past.”

“A forgotten one.”

“It matters not. Time relinquishes its ever-flowing nature for no one.”

Terrin cast a skeptical eye in the time mage’s direction. “What about you?”

Most might have felt the temptation to smirk condescendingly, but Ethan was not so inclined. Examining his bound hand, the mage answered. “Time and I have a mutual agreement. What that is, I still do not know. It is why I look to my past, while others long to know their future. Whatever I seek lies beyond my recollection.”

The Star stared at him. “You’re a strange one.”

You’re one to talk, Ethan thought, but bit his tongue. The remark might be taken offensively, given the circumstances, and the last thing they needed right now was internal strife. Instead, he began to wonder what the culinary tastes were at the peak of T’lemenheim’s civilization. “Ah, that reminds me,” spoke the mage, raising his voice to reach their guide. “Avorigh, what do you call your people?”

The question earned several blinks and a look of disbelief. “What an odd thing to say.”

“In our time, your entire civilization and its legends have come to nothing but a mound of dust and bricks.”

“Good point.” With a proud grin, he declared, “We, the elves of T’lemenheim, are the proud and sacred Tamonians.”

“Sacred?” quested Ethan with an arched brow.

“Mhm!” Avorigh thumped his chest. “We are the theocracy under the Goddesses.”

Why does that sound familiar? Wondering to himself, Ethan fell back. Doubtless, if the Shineadonis was what Blitz had described it as, then these Goddesses were Din, Nayru and Farore who created a world all their own and cultivated an individual civilization apart from the one on Earth. But what did the Shineadonis and the Goddesses have to do with ancient Earth? Every answer he received brought more questions. There is more to T’lemenheim than Blitz or his friends ever thought possible. I can feel it. There’s something special about this place. More determined than ever, Ethan strengthened his resolve to participate in this battle. Secretly, the mage had no intention of letting the Tamonians emerge victorious, but that was no reason not to fight alongside them and uncover the mystery.

“Ranul,” he called. The angel paused and stepped with him while Terrin entertained Avorigh’s chatter about theocratic order and its importance to their culture. “You sense it, don’t you?”

The sagely being nodded. “Any ideas?”

“Not a one, but we’ll find it.”

“Whatever it is.”

Ethan flashed a rare, devious smile, which Ranul mirrored. The euphoria was undeniable. I think this is going to be…God forbid…fun.

OoC:
Behold, a post!

IC:
Avorigh led them a little further, to a small restaurant. “Here’s a good place to eat. I do hope you don’t mind eating in an old dive like this, but it’s the closest place to eat.”

The restaurant was far from a “dive,” at least by human standards. It was small to be sure, seating somewhere around twenty to thirty people, but it was elegant. The pillars that skirted the outside of the building were hand-carved from what looked like ivory. The ceiling made Greek buildings look pathetic and elementary. Once they were inside, they saw tables set in a perfectly symmetrical design on either side of the door. A line of people at the window at the opposite side of the room suggested that there were no waiting services, but everything looked amazing.

Avorigh took them to a table and asked what they wanted. Three blank stares and about a minute later, he realized that they didn’t know what existed to eat. “Sorry, I forgot you guys are foreigners. Look through these menus,” he said, bringing three papers.

Ranul glanced at his paper before handing it back, Ethan didn’t even accept his, and Terrin had his upside down. Again, it took Avorigh a second to realize his mistake. “Of course, you can’t read them. Again, I’m not too used to foreigners… no one is. How about I just order you something?”

“That will be fine,” replied Ethan.

All three of them sat quietly for a little bit while they waited for Avorigh to return. All the while, Ranul was trying to remember what it was that he heard as soon as he got to T’lemenheim.

Terrin broke the silence with a small chuckle. “I hope the food’s good because I’m starved. All the excitement has drained my energy.”

Instead of giving a reply to that, Ranul spoke his thoughts. “When we got here, I remember hearing something… a voice that spoke of time running out. Kind of like a warning. The thing is, I don’t know what it was talking about. And ever since we landed in this time, I’ve felt something that I haven’t felt before. It’s powerful and it’s angry, but I don’t know what it is.”

“I would think so. We’ve been here twenty minutes and already we know that they are a sacred race and they worship ‘the goddesses’,” replied Terrin.

Ranul shook his head, “No, it’s more than that. I can’t sense their goddesses even slightly. That wouldn’t be so bad, but it’s in my nature to sense the divine. What I do feel feels like a very angry, very evil god who’s been imprisoned.”

Before anyone could respond, Avorigh returned with their food. “I ordered different things for you all, so that you can taste around and see what you like. Ethan has some grivigous, Ranul’s got arthice, and Terrin has waol. All three are excellent in many people’s opinions.”

After an amazing and delicious meal, Avorigh took them back out side and toured them around the square, telling them short histories about each building, who owned them and what the building was for.

One particularly large building was their last stop. Avorigh got no closer than fifty feet from the front and demanded that his new friends did the same. “This,” he said with a slight bow of the head, “Is the Great Temple. It is here that we worship the goddesses and ask that they deliver us from this battle victorious. It was here that the goddesses appeared to the Prophet and told him of the new teachings. The city itself would never have come into existence if he had never come. That is why it is named for him: the great Prophet T’lemen. He stays in the temple at all times and we aren’t allowed to enter unless it’s a holy day.”

The building was massive beyond proportions, sitting at around at 400,000 square meters and 90 meters tall. It was totally white and looked like it was made of the purest pearls. Three white female statues, each around fifty feet tall, stood out front with their arms outspread, as if to welcome visitors. It was here that Ranul collapsed.