BEFORE YOU POST, CHECK OUT THE OOC

If you want to know what the events were before the beginning of this continuing story, you can read it here

~+-+-+~



~IN THE BEGINNING~
Time: Second Hour of MiddleDay

Old Boar's Inn; Lobby
[Kresnik/Locien

The elf's head would tilt to the side, his hat's bells tinkling as he moved. "Well, mate..." A small, sly smile would tug at the side of his face as his silver tongue danced, "That's why I stepped out to lend a hand. 'Cause you ain't just a 'No Name,' you were bred for this." A wrapped hand would gesture in a up down motion, "I mean, look at ye. You're..." The hand would spin, as if trying to scoop the right word into his mouth. Alas, he could not find it, so the bard pushed it away with a carefree gesture as he continued to speak. However, as if by some magic, the bard's voice became one of that of some ageless muse of gods, deep and epic. "This is how legends and epics begin. In some shack in the middle of a mess of a city, and then uh..." His hazel eyes pointedly looked at Kresnik, "A man of greatness is born."

With a shake of his head (and consequentially, his hat's bells), the elf's gesturing hand tapped on the wooden surface of the sturdy table. "Right, but, seeing that we're going to be spending an extraordinary amount of time together in the days ahead... My original promise with the original intent and lure of curiosity." With a tugging of his cap's tassel, he looked into the hunter's eyes, a voice followed the bard's next words. It would be engraved into minds of those who had heard it, forever to be remembered for all time, "My name is Locien Werethden."

----

The Old Boar's Inn; Bar
Bruce would stand for a moment before Missile and Pullo. However, their slight pause of silence, Bruce would give a smile (which in reality, would be more terrifying than actually friendly) as his deep bass voice gave out hearty laugh, "I'll give you guys a minute, eh? Just lemme know if you want something." With a slight nod, he would turn his back, cleaning something behind the bar, leaving the lovers to the devices...

++++

???
[Alec]

Alec's sense would be dampened - impossibly dampened. Everything around him - the bed, the wooden floor, even the light that trickled through the lone window was fuzzy, murky. It could be considered disorienting, or frightening, as it seemed that blindness threatened overcome Alec at any moment. For the next several minutes, everything would be still - so quiet that it could be considered maddening. The silence would be deafening, threatening to crash over the demigod like a tsunami. The air around him tasted and felt warm, then cold, then flaming hot, and then freezing cold. The temperature never stayed the same, wrapping around him, whipping his skin, scalding his flesh. But of all his senses, his nose would be tormented - a stench of the dead, the sick, and the rotting filled his senses, impossible to escape.

Or it seemed for a door appeared behind him. Perhaps a way of escape, but for every step he took towards the opening of freedom, the room contorted and stretched, as if mocking the demigod's attempts to escape...

+~+~+

~LONG LIVE THE KING~
Time: Second Hour of MiddleDay

???; Gerald's Home
[Halcyon/TSM/Gerald]

At the dark god's remarks, Gerald's mouth opened as if to angrily respond, but the fluid dark voice of Halcyon caused the thief to silently close it once more, though it was clear by his violet eyes that Gerald was still smoldering. But in the inner machinations of Clockwerk, the wheels were turning. This powerful being had enemies? It was surprising, after all. Usually, such things with such great power often had eliminated threats or annoyances, but...

"...Indeed, he will not." With a none-to-gentle gesture, the blade was removed from The Story Master's neck, leaving a thin bloody line across his neck as the weapon was slickly returned to its scabbard. "But a question, my dear fellow," The words were followed by a swift jab of the cane to Tyros' chest. "Where did you come from?" A step closer, "Why are you here, and!" Gerald was practically nose to nose, the last question spilling slowly from his mouth, like wet silk, "For the love of the gods, where did you get that coat?"

Before Gerald's new guest could answer, Gerald brushed past him and came nose to nose with the dark god, finger pointing directly under Halcyon's chin, "And you, sah -- we shall have words late about guests and the like." Spinning on his heel, he quickly floated across the wooden floor to the rustic chair once more, plopping down it, leg propped on his lap, and sipping the tea delicately before looking up at Halcyon once more, "And this Blixxy fellow? Who is he, old chap?"

Chaos

Halcyon stared deep into Gerald's eyes; "And you, sah -- we shall have words late about guests and the like." As Gerald whirled around and walked back to his chair, Halcyon continued to glare in the area where Gerald's eyes had just been, deeply breathing and checking his patience.

"And this Blixxy fellow? Who is he, old chap?"

Halcyon's head immediately snapped towards Gerald, eyes full of hatred for the name, but the anger subsided quickly. Halcyon turned and walked back to his chair. "In order to understand that," Halcyon slowly spoke while sipping his tea and sitting down, "I'll have to explain a few other things as well." Halcyon raised his hand and the room became dim, covered in shadow aura. "Just setting the mood." Halcyon smirked.

"In the beginning there was nothingness, and in the nothingness were 3 goddesses. They were in the nothingness and in the chaos. Thus, the goddesses spoke, and appeared the land, the sea, and the sky. The chaos, however, did not disappear. It ravaged their creation constantly, destroying all and consuming all. Thus, the goddesses spoke, and appeared a being, created and containing the chaos. They named him Son of Peace of the First Creation; Fitzhalcyon Alphagenoi" Halcyon gestured to himself in faux-humility "They bestowed upon him unlimited power. The goddesses spoke, and instructed the Son of Peace to rule over the land with the power he had been bestowed. This "Son of Peace" spoke, and appeared the Humans, and appeared the beasts of the land, and appeared the fish of the sea, and appeared the birds of the sky. With this power, Fitzhalcyon ruled kindly and justly for many millennia." Halcyon shuddered at this; the thought of him doing anything kind was disgusting. "The long years of ruling the land he named Invot troubled him greatly. His creations did not worship him; they worshiped the Goddesses. Thus, Fitzhalcyon spoke, and appeared the Shaeds, beings of darkness and chaos in his own likeness. He ruled them as he pleased, and they worshiped him. He was corrupted by the darkness and his power overtook him. The Goddesses looked down on their corrupted Son of Peace and wept. Thus, the Goddesses spoke, and beckoned their fallen Son of Peace to disappear. And the Son of Peace… did not." Halcyon smiled grimly, "Thus, the Son of Peace spoke, and beckoned the Goddesses to disappear, and they were no more, destroyed by their own creation, overtaken by the chaos they shaped him with. And Fitzhalcyon denied his name and took on the title Lord Halcyon, and like the chaos that he was shaped with, ravaged the land."

Halcyon took a sip of tea. "One of the beings my original self created was a sorcerer named Bilixor." he smirked. "A clever little devil, he wasn't exactly happy being ruled over, so he plotted against me. He betrayed me and stole from me these three stones." He motioned to the necklace that had appeared around his throat moments before. "I found him and made him suffer for that; but before I could kill him, some Hero interrupted me, and split my soul into a dark half," Halcyon put a hand on his chest, signaling to himself "And a light half and sent me to another dimension" He scowled at the thought of Fitz running around trying to find his body. "Anyway, when we finally managed to get back to our dimension, Bilixor still had the three stones. My light half was able to defeat him, and supposedly destroyed him. However," Halcyon rolled his eyes, "The incompetent fool appears to have just sent him to a different dimension." Halcyon glared off into the distance, "And he has not paid the price for betraying me yet..."

"But that can wait." Halcyon said, bringing his thoughts back to Gerald. "Please, let us continue our conversation. I do believe your employer desired to meet me?"

Pullo didn't even try to follow Missile's ramblings, he had enough difficulty with that when he was soberish. Since he was experiencing mini blackouts mid-sentence he felt it was a lost cause and just hoped she would lead him to food, preferably cantaloups, he would try and indicate that he wanted cantaloups. The bard offered no resistance as his girlfriend hauled him across the bar but he didn't help much either simply stumbling in the direction she dragged him in.

Arriving at the booth Pullo collapsed onto the table resting his head on his arms, his bedraggled hair covering most of his face. “Cantoloups... big juishy melons...” the bard smirked when prompted for an order, “and beer, lottsa beer... ... too drunk fo' a bottle.” Pullo looked around and could no longer spot Bruce, he wondered how much time he'd spent blacked out and starring off into space. “Missile, I need breakfast. Please make sure they bring me food.” Pullo felt very helpless, everything was closing in on him and he wanted to run but he couldn't even find his feet.

[Kresnik]
The dhampir's gaze did not leave the elf, even as he spoke with such confidence. The idyllic speech even amused the hunter, captivating him in a spell born of charisma. However, Kresnik knew well the power of bards, who had the innate talent to charm and persuade those who pay them any mind. Cynically, he thought about breaking the unspoken contract to avoid any form of manipulation; though he thought better of it in hopes there would be a profit... and perhaps even the ideal eradication of witches. Kresnik, during the entire telling, kept his expression void of emotion and had not, in the least, felt flattered to certain compliments thrown his way. When Locien, at long last, introduced himself, Kresnik quirked his brow in a manner that had shown that he was not impressed by the name.

"Now with all of the formalities put aside..." Kresnik began, his dark voice now a resonating force. "May we get down to business? It has been a long day and I would like to know what we are up against before I rest. I want to know everything." He explained, his cat-like pupils contracting themselves into near non-existence despite the excellent lighting of the Inn.

Darkness. Nothing but darkness. Garret could see naught but darkness as he lay on the cold, hard ground beneath him. He slowly opened his bleary eyes as he tried to sit up. Pain, crippling pain all over was the immediate result. And so the knight lay back, fighting the pain as his eyes stared up at the empty black sky.

After some time a gold light entered his field of vision. Garret looked over to where the light was coming from to see the shape of a giant golden Roc swoop down beside him. The ground quaked as the avian touched upon the land. Garret looked on in awe before uttering a single word, the only word he knew this being as. "Aquiladei." It's fierce eyes stared down at the prone warrior, clicking it's beak before finally a deep, proud voice could be heard. "That is the name thy kind hast given to me, yes. Though I possess many." The Knight sat up again, this time with considerably less pain and effort. "What happened to me? Last thing I remember was facing a million demons after the Forbidden Gate was breached." Aquiladei looked away from Garret, his eyes filled with an unreadable emotion. Sorrow? Pity? The knight couldn't really tell. "It grieves me to tell thee this. You fell, overwhelmed by the army thou had to face alone. However, thy art a great warrior. And I fear without thee Ascalon shall fall to darkness. So I brought thee here to this place, were thou might grow ever stronger until the hour of thy return comes."

Garret finally stood, silent as he processed the information the Roc Deity was telling him. "I see, and what am I to do here in the meantime? What am I to do whilst the demons set my home ablaze?" Aquiladei met his gaze once more, fierce, smoldering gold eyes met deep and doubtful blue. "You will live here, thrive here. The ancient Nosks once believed in another realm. A realm that the greatest warriors would be taken to upon death. The Vetusatrium, where only warriors of the greatest caliber would be taken to feast and fight for eternity. Think of this plane as that very same realm, and like that realm thou will certainly encounter warriors of great caliber here. Some friendly, some not. And now I must take my leave, but before I go." The giant Roc turned towards the empty expanse behind him, giving a loud call. A few moments later a small gold bird flew out of the darkness and landed next to Aquiladei, compared to him the new Roc looked like a child. "Take Sortiara with thee. She will guide thee, watch over thee, and when the time comes, tell thee when thy hour of return draws nigh. Now I must bid thee farewell, I have matters of mine own to deal with if we are to save Ascalon." And with that, Aquiladei turned towards the dark expanse and, with one powerful stroke of his huge, golden wings he took off and fly away into the darkness.

Garret stared after the Roc Deity, before looking up at his newfound companion who was circling overhead. "Well then, lead me to civilization." He called towards the small Roc. Sortiara let out a loud, shrill call as she flew away. And so Garret started walking in the direction she was flying, off to the East.

Never mind me, just RPG bugging out >.>

The diclonius nodded at Bruce as he spoke to them; Pullo would probably need a bit to become sensible. In any case, she'd never minded the bizarreness that was Bruce's slightly horrifying grins; her own were hardly much better.

Missile tried not to grin as as her boyfriend mumbled what he wanted, tilting her head as they sat at the bar. "Cantaloupes, got it. And... some beer." She lifted a hand, playing with some of his messy hair. She shook her head for a moment; maybe they needed to find somewhere to relax that wasn't noisy - or annoying, she thought irritably, glancing back at the table that wouldn't be quiet. Maybe there was a bathhouse, somewhere? Wait, didn't the inn have a washing room? She thought about it for a minute, letting Bruce get some work done before Pullo spoke again.

"...?" She wasn't sure she'd ever heard him say please before and she frowned a bit, but nodded, looking up at Bruce. "We're ready! Can he get the hangover special with extra cantaloupe and a decent serving of beer?" She scooted her stool over a bit and wrapped her arm around her half-elf (that was still a weird phrase in her head, "her half-elf,"), rubbing his shoulders. "How much did you drink this morning?"

~IN THE BEGINNING~
Time: Second Hour and First Quarter of MiddleDay

Old Boar's Inn; Lobby
[Kresnik/Locien]

"Not quite yet," Locien would state, brushing his hat jangles from his eyes, "You haven't told me your name, mate." If Kresnik revealed his name or not, Locien would either nod in the hunter's direction, repeating the name under his breath or giving a single nod in silence before complying with his companion's wishes, "Onward to business." Fingertips would meet as his voiced dropped an octave lower, "Simply speaking, this entire enterprise is straightforward. We kill the witches. However, in order to understand them, you must know their history. Cittern was suddenly swept up, the elven bard leaned back, a song began and continued to be played until Locien was done speaking, "The Order of Kau has been and always will be, at least according to myth and prophecy. And this is because, well..." Locien paused, his instrument still playing, "There is honestly only one true god in this place of tangled fates and eternal waiting: Death. He, It, has always been worshipped, even before the Great Change, even after, while this city was built and the Brotherhood of Umbra was formed and followed..."

"...However, when Tutmose was filled and many followed the ways of the Brotherhood, this created a great rift between citizens. The Brotherhood, claimed that it was not actually Death who watched over the souls of The Crossroads, but his right hand man, The Caster of Shadows. At this moment, the lightning of the Old Boar's Inn flickered, like a candle bullied by a threatening breeze. Locien's playing halted, if only for a moment. He took a deep inhale, as if to shake off nervousness, before continuing both speech and song. "The Catcher, as he is referred to by those who do not want to attract his attention, was the new god, they said. He is more powerful, more caring, more just than Death." Locien's fingers increased in pace, following the narrative smoothly, intensely. "And this created the war. The battle of magics, of cloak and dagger, of deception and tremendous power vacuums. Some say that it was a secret war, some say that there was blood flowing in the streets, and everyone knew why." The elf shrugged. "I believe it was both, as any grand war does. But unfortunately for the Order, the Brotherhood gained the upper hand when law was established in all of the three walls. A member of the Clavant family took pity and brought the high priest before the Council of Five. From there, power and sway was given to the Brotherhood and finally the Order's practice was outlawed. On the night of The Shcism, blood truly did spill. Chaos sprouted in the Lows and escaped from the iron grip of the Highs Council. Those who survived fled to the far reaches of the WildWood and the rest is history."

The cittern rested, Locien blowing on his fingertips before finishing, "But only in recent years has the Order slowly grown anew in the Lows. Dispute of the Council has reached the ears of the Wild, and it looks to regain their lost influence..." Green eyes would meet lavender, meaning every word that was spoken, "They are powerful, mate. They have had centuries to practice their art of necromancy and biology, to perfect it, and to use it ways thought impossible. Too many accounts of both Death and the Catcher have been spoken for either of these beings to not exist, and the power given to their followers is not to be passed off lightly."

----

The Old Boar's Inn; Bar
[Missile/Pullo/Ganti]

Bruce would tap his nose knowingly with his giant finned hand, his beady right giving a wink as his other free hand began to shuffle around for the requested beer, "Double paired, straight from the tap, come'n up, Miss." As four glasses were produced from bar's belly, the sharkman's voice would boom over the now slowly filling inn's space, "Oi, Davey! Set me up one morning wakeup with two juiceballs!" Suddenly, one of the walls behind Bruce's right shoulder would shift open, a long shutter revealing an octopusman, his large bulging eyes glaring at Bruce, a swift nod following. Then, as soon as it appeared, it was vanish into the wall.

Missile's question would, however, be answered by the bartender as the glasses slid their way into the couples' hands, "Trust me, he had enough to kill three men." A hint of admiration was in Bruce's voice, "Must have a shark's liver." A deep chuckle would follow his small joke. "Anything else for yo--" However, the bartender's question was cut short by a new voice, "Hey!” A woman clad in a red strapless tank came running upward, almost slamming in the polished black stone, still jabbering, “Hey dude! Its me, the girl you had picked up by the head before? Hey! Umm, where did the weird rude guy go? I want to start our little journey! Oh and you might want to talked to Maddy. She seemed kinda upset when she left me…”

Bruce's brow would wrinkle as he looked at Ganti, beady eyes looking her up and down in a suspicious manner, "I dunno what journey you're talk'n about, but if ya mean that guy back there," A thick thumb jerked behind him towards the kitchen doors, "Haven't seen him since the scuffle." His eyes would narrow, "Whatchu want with 'im?" His massive torso would lean forward, looking down over the counter as he asked another question, "And what'chu do to Madeline...?"

++++

The WildWood; West Hemisquare
[Garret]

This new world would be new, begging for adventure and exploration, or so would say the vast plain that Garret would find himself upon. The grass was like a golden sea, issuing whispers across the shifting stalks of yellow, strange specks of color dotting across the landscape as far as the eye could see. If he truly cared, the man would soon be able to recognize this color as apparently native flowers, small fields of the varying colored flora radiating from the soft grass. However, even though his deity had undoubtedly left him in a safe place, one thing would also be as apparent as his surroundings - he was indeed alone. The direction of civilization would have to be assumed, as faith would be to be grasped. If the Roc had been leading him towards life and shelter, he would be pointing in the right direction... or so said a looming shadow that would be ever present in any direction. A mountain? A city? It would be difficult to fully tell, but regardless, travel was to be forced upon him, and for what would seem like forever, but truly be a falsehood, he would see nothing but grass and flower.

But in this small time frame, something scarlet would catch his eye eventually. Eventually, because it was dancing across the field, like strain of bright fluid running over a golden wall. If followed, he would be chasing something that seemed to come out of a dream - it would be elusive, playful. However, as time would wear on, he would be able to distinguish its shape - a beautiful being, clad in a loose dress or robe, moving ever as smoothly as the moment Garret had laid eyes upon it.

However, if he continued to walk east, as his deity directed him, he would see the beginning of a forming shape, or rather shapes. The horizon's shadow began to take a shape in a tall, looming manner. It would not be a mountain, but a forest, dark and foreboding. Furthermore, as Garret would continue to travel forward, he would perhaps notice that this forest would be all of one tree, untouched by man and allowed to grow to colossal size; all possible assumptions, but none the less possible fact. But perhaps, all of this would go unnoticed, for there would be a more pressing matter. Normally, such places of nature are filled with sound - birds, insects, and the like, making their calls of mating, of territorial standing, and celebrating their existence. This was not the case, for the closer he walked to the forest, the more still the world became. If he managed to keep his wit about him, and to continue forward in the face of uncertain and quite possible danger, Garret's bravery would cause him to discover a dirt trail winding into the belly of the wood...

+~+~+

~LONG LIVE THE KING~
Time: Second Hour and First Quarter of MiddleDay

???; Gerald's Home
[Halcyon/TSM/Gerald]

A wry smile would come across his mustached lips as Halcyon dimmed the lights for a setting and narrated his history. Gerald continued to sip tea as he listened, though his violet eyes never left the dark god's face, the time-traveler fully infatuated with the story woven in front of him. As Halcyon finished, Gerald would collect the cups and other small dishes. "Well, old chap," Gerald would blink to the sink across the room, carelessly dumping the dishes into what assumed to be the sink with a obnoxiously loud crash, "I like the way you think, straight to the point, not bothered by revenge or any other..." Gerald would be walking back, but stopped briefly when seeing The Story Master. However, he would continue after sniffing, walking back into this chair, "aspects of the sort. But ah, as for my employer..." A partially gloved hand reached into the folds of his scarf, removing an over-sized pocket watch. Popping the mechanism open, he inspected it swiftly before closing and returning it to the folds with one swift motion, "We will not be meeting until this underlight."

Blinking over to the bed, Gerald laid on his side. "Best time to get some shut eye, eh?" The thief then laid on his back, allowing his tophat to fall over his eyes, "See you chaps in a few hours, wot?" Suddenly, his hand shot up over his head, pointing to the ceiling. "There's a hammock up there, though your..." The hand rolled inward, as if searching for something, "...manservant will have to sleep on the floor."

[Kresnik]
The Hunter's gaze became harder, more hate filled when the elf delayed further, wishing to know his name. Upon the Isle of Blackwood, names were not given carelessly; especially to employers, whose knowledge of one's name would bring ruin and assassins to other Hunters or mercenaries. Kresnik knew this, not only from rumors, but from personal experience. A name was a powerful and versatile tool; a name was a weakness. However, Kresnik could not simply ignore the complications of their current relationship; if anything, if the elf was to ever pull a stunt, the Hunter would simply end Locien's life. A simple, yet effective, countermeasure. With a sigh, the dhampir closed his eyes for a moment and opened them slowly.

"Kresnik... Drakonov..." he said slowly, carefully, and with great emphasis.

Back on his own world, his name had stirred rumors and nightmares, to both the living and the damned. Now, here at the Crossroads, Kresnik felt comfortable that his name did not carry any weight or legends. Simply Kresnik Drakonov, Sorcerer-for-Hire, was suitable enough for him; no more witch hunts, no more Inquisition and politics... simply a mercenary without a care in the world. This freedom elated him further. In the midst of emotional blizzard that arose within him, Kresnik did not let it show on his face and he kept his eyes cold and distant; a trick he picked up from years of experience.

As the elf nodded and mumbled to himself, Kresnik's ears twitched to the sound of the cittern as it was strummed. The music made the dhampir relax, yet attentive. He listened to the story, finding himself sinking back into despair. My world... the Grey World... and now the Crossroads... he thought, gritting his teeth in empty rage and black hopelessness. Seething with rage, eyes alight with Hellfire, Kresnik steeled himself as the story came to a close. In the place of Kresnik was now hatred incarnate, wearing a death mask with glowing lavender eyes that shown with an infernal intensity beyond that of any sun. "Necromancy and biology mean little to me," Kresnik spoke harshly, his voice somehow darker. A strange pressure began to build up around him, as though all of his magic attempted to manifest itself.

"Now, when do we start?"

Alec Drop Bass

"How do I get out of here?" Alec thought as he looked at his surrounding. Alec started walking towards the door, but suddenly the room seemed to expand and twist. "What the-?" Alec murmured picking up is pace hoping to catch up with the door. The faster Alec began to walking the more the room expanded and turned. Alec then began to run but it just made things worse. Pain stung Alec's eyes and he halted covering his head with his palm. He glanced back and he found the bed and the window right beside him and the door was not any closer to him. Alec found himself exactly where he started! He covered absolutely no distance between himself and the door. "Tch! This must be one of that elf's cheap illusions." Alec grunted coldly. "Just wait until I get out of here elf!!" Alec shouted to the ceiling. "I'll show you what Hell is!!"

Alec looked around again and this time he walked towards the window. What was once a fuzzy, bright window lighting the room became a clearer image with each step Alec took towards it. Alec could not believe what he witnessed. It was Chad! "How in the Hell did he get here?" Alec growled as he stared at the window. Alec soon discovered something odd about the Chad he sees before him. He hasn't noticed Alec yet. In fact, he hasn't noticed anything at all. He seems to be doing something else. He is fighting, but fighting what...? As Alec continued to watch he is starting to remember what he is watching. "Have I seen this before...? Impossible..." Alec whispered as his eyes widen in shock and he sees a very familiar figure... himself! "This is... my memories!" Alec realized as his eyes fixated on the window.

"Th-This is when-" before Alec could complete his sentence, an inhumane deep voice interrupted him.
"This is when you died..." Alec froze and turned his body in an almost mechanical like fashion. The bed and door were gone and in its place stood a tall figure covered in black flames and he looked very similar to Alec. Alec composed himself and smirked at the thought.
"Dead?" Alec retorted, "How can you say I am dead if I am still-"
"You are nothing but a fool!!!" the shadow's voice thundered shaking the room. "On that day, you died to yourself. You are not even a fraction of what you used to be. 'Revenge is a dish best served cold?' Ha! A pathetic excuse to cover your cowardice. You don't have the nerve to face him again."
Alec paused and looked at him with curiosity. "Who are you...?" Alec mumbled in a low voice.

"Don't you realize who I am? Do you know why you lost your powers?... I am everything you depended on. I am your powers manifest into the figure that stands before you."
"... What do you want?" Alec asked but the figure did not respond. "Why are you here?" Alec insisted but still no response. The manifestation just stood there and stared at Alec with agonizing silence. "Answer me dammit!!" Alec threw a punch at the shadow's jaw but the manifestation didn't even flinch. Alec threw another punch but to no avail. Alec threw punch after punch with absolutely no effect on the burning manifestation. Alec runs out of breath and drops to his knees and bows his head panting for air.

After a long period of silence, the burning manifestation spoke "I came here to bring you back to life..." Alec's head shot upwards as soon as the shadow spoke. " I will restore your powers and bring you back to your former glory..." The shadow's voice echoed in the empty room.

[Ganti]
Shark guy furrowed the skin above his eyes, cause fish don’t have eyebrows, duh. Ganti thought. "I dunno what journey you're talk'n about, but if ya mean that guy back there," he pointed to the kitchen they had just been in a little while ago. "Haven't seen him since the scuffle. Whatchu want with 'im?" Fish guy asked condescendingly. Then leaning forward, his giant body would threaten to make a bandit pancake, but Ganti kept smiling as she leaned back keeping parallel with him. "And what'chu do to Madeline...?”

Finally Ganti couldn’t lean farther back, and fell backwards. Almost instantly bouncing up, hitting her chest and giving the peace sign. “you nothin’ brotha! me and maddz are dope! Mad tight, yo!” all while throwing all kind of fake gang signs about. Gaudete morphed from blue ball to human, and backhanded Ganti with mild vigor. “Stop making a fool of yourself!” Gaudete rolled her eyes. Ganti stumbled backwards and hit the floor again, tangled in her long black cape. “Can’t I have a little fun before we go to find Fitz and Halcyon? Its gonna be a serioiissssss and boorring when we’re out there…” Ganti whined, pouting on the floor, cape over her head. “Ganti, please, let’s get a move on.” Ganti got up and brushed herself off. “Fine, O’ Gaudete, eternal sorceress, and mistress of the Hero, whose power is omnipotent!” Ganti said, sarcastically, flourishing her cape. She moved back to Bruce. “But seriously, Maddy just seemed to get a little worked up when she was comforting me. I guess I’ll just wait out here for that punk though…” She said, putting her hands on her hips, clearly aggrivated at the spacemans actions. Looking around, she noticed a bit of a… mess. “Hey, shark guy, what happened out here?

++++

[Halcyon]
“Well, old chap, I like the way you thing,” Gerald spoke, after intently listening to the story, he had risen and dumped the dirty dishes; cups and plates, into what could be a sink, Halcyon really didn’t care. “i like the way you think, straight to the point, not bothered by revenge or any other…” Gerald paused for some reason, but continued to speak out of Halcyon’s point of view. “aspects of the sort. But ah, as for my employer, we will not bee meeting until this underlight” Teleporting over to his bed, Gerald continued. "Best time to get some shut eye, eh? See you chaps in a few hours, wot?" Pointing to the ceiling, he continued. "There's a hammock up there, though your… manservant will have to sleep on the floor." Halcyon gazed at the newcomer smiling. Aura crept up behind him, wrapping around him. “Well then, “manservant”, I need no bed. So,” using his aura, he lifted the mysterious man off the ground and into the hammock, wrapping aura around him so he might not escape, then shrouding his vision in darkness. Sighing with content, Halcyon covered himself in aura, and continued his sleep, of which Gerald interupted.

Garret marched on for what seemed like hours, hours and hours traversing this vast, endless plain. Every now and again he'd glance up to see if his companion was still in sight, and she always was, flying ahead of him in one constant direction. And so he marched, on naught but the promise of civilization the shadow the Roc cast upon the ground gave. Eventually a streak of crimson caught his eye as he was walking, apparently some form dancing amongst the grass. "Hello? Who are you? Can you tell me how far it is to the nearest town?" He called out his questions, hoping for an answer.

The figure seemed to take notice of him, but instead of answering questions it ran some more, almost playfully. As if it expected him to chase it. Being the only native living thing Garret had seen since he arrived, he couldn't help but start to chase after it. And so he broke into a surprisingly fast sprint, nearly overtaking the figure before it bolted again. And thus the game began. Garret would get almost within arms reach until it danced just out of his grasp, time and time again. Eventually he could sort of make out the figure, a lithe figure garbed in dress or robe, though he couldn't really tell. After awhile of chasing, of pouncing, of dancing, the Knight grew weary and stopped calling out in a ragged voice. "Alright, you win. Clearly I cannot catch you. Please, reveal yourself to me so that I might know the name of they who have bested me."

~IN THE BEGINNING~
Time: Second Hour and First Quarter of MiddleDay

Old Boar's Inn; Lobby
[Kresnik/Locien]

Locien would shudder as Kresnik gave his name, though whether from dread or pleasure, the dhampir would be unable to tell. Likewise, the shudder would come once more as Kresnik spoke his piece, once again vowing the destruction of the coven, no matter the odds or power. A sudden twinge of the elf's right eye would be a subtle expression on the bard's face (and more than likely missed by anyone), but it would disappear as the cittern stopped and the elf began scooting out of the booth. "Well, that depends, mate." Locien would state, scanning over the bar with a sigh. The Old Boar's Inn had begun to fill once more, almost as if it were always meant to be filled with people and creature (and in all honesty, not even the most violent fight had ever caused the inn to lose business - it was, after all, the center piece of The Lows). "It depends on how eager you are to smite the foul creatures of policy and magic. It depends on supplies and demand of those supplies. It depends on contacts, and traveling companions of this oh, so grand endeavor. It depends on the dependability of the depended factions and factors, aye?" In all of this banter, Locien had cast his gloved hands this way and that, pointing in meangingless directions (or so it would seem). On top of this, a wink was cast in the direction of the darkened hunter before scooping up cittern once more to play a series of dramatic chords. "Supplies will be easy, as there is always one willing to sell or barter the necessities of any sort in these walls. Contacts, though limited, I can provide, and companions... well." Green eyes were directed over the shoulder to Kresnik to the growing crowd, "Those can be found here or naught." A harsh twang of the strings was finished with a final thought,

"The hero must decide before the action can be taken."

Meanwhile, a few noticeable things could, and most likely would, be observed. One, the inn was filling. Two, the "mess" that Kresnik had left was being cleaned away by the smaller girl that Kresnik had saved, one way or another, and three: Locien was looking over the empty tankards once more and looking longingly at the bar, which had now been graced with the presence of a loud mouthed rogue and a...fairy?

----

The Old Boar's Inn; Bar
[Missile/Pullo/Ganti]

Surprisingly, Bruce would respond to Ganti's "thug" speech pattern, throwing up a quick gang sign before pounding the bar, speaking in his deep voice, "Don't make pack a cap in yo', mutafuka." His eyes gleamed dangerously as his massive frame looked down, "Yo' gotta loud mouth on yo' foo." Luckily, Gaudette's mannerisms calmed the bartender and he was clearly extremely agitated, muttering under his breath, "Tch--now gonna have to fix up the bae cuz of yo' fucked up..." The beady eyes would refocus themselves on Ganti, answering gruffly, "Yeah, that foo," jerking a finger the direction of booth, "busted up the joint like some freakshow." His big head shook from side to side slowly, "Ain't nevah seen anyt'ing like it."

The booth had a strangely clad elf with a jester hat, playing some sort of guitar instrument. The fool he looked, and from his mannerisms, the fool he would be most likely assumed. However, the guy sitting across from him - he was practically death incarnate, from his strange glove to his dark clothing.

++++

The WildWood; West Hemisquare
[Garret]

The red cloaked figure would be impossible, but the more Garret persisted, the more playful the figure would become, turning its hooded face to see if Garret was still following, and even bending at the waist and beckoning with the crook of its clawed finger, its face wrinkled in mischief. However, when the chase ended, it would stand straight, the wispy folds would swirl around it before settling flat against its body.

“Why do you give into defeat, so easily, oh brave knight?” the creature would giggle in a girlish tone. “To chase is to seek, to seek is to discover, and to discover is to expose.” With each of phase, the (apparently) female would take a series of strides, in an almost seductive manner, her scarlet dress swishing with every stride. By the end of her logical sequence, she would be not two arms lengths from the knight. “If you chased me, what is it that you hoped to expose, hm?” Another giggle issued from her delicate mouth as she turned and wheeled, a flurry of red displayed in a flamboyant way fanning the air, her graceful movement allowing her to move yet another arm’s length away…

++++

???
[Alec]

At this moment, faces surrounded Alec - laughing taunting faces from the past. Anyone who could have been from the past, any naysayer, bully, kicker of pride, and the like would mock Alec, spitting on him, ridiculing him, despising him. The entire experience would whirl Alec around and around, all the world around him spinning with the smells and sound, turning turning, turning…

Stop.

Alec would find himself in a new room - or was it? The surrounding darkness completely enveloped him, collapsing around the small light of his soul, which even now would feel as if it were a small candle flame slowly burning into extinguishment. It would feel as if the shadows were gnawing at him, maddening his psyche and crushing his very existence…

And then, a voice. It was dark, menacing, delighted. “Hello Alec.” A series of whispers would come from all around him, issuing little giggles of menacing delight:

“Yes, Alec”
“Hi Alec”
“Oh, greetings, Alec.”

Silence…

[Kresnik]
The dhampir studied the elf throughout, noticing the shudderings and, soon after he had finished speaking, the subtle twinge of his right eye. However, he placed such an observation into the very darkest and deepest places of his mind. The elf had begun to speak once more, always the verbose fool. Kresnik arose with him, listening. As the elf had finished, his lips became a very deep frown. "A hero I am not," Kresnik began, his tone loathsome and his voice still that dark pitch. "And regardless, I do not need much for supplies. I have more than enough to handle those hags, ten times over if I must." As Kresnik explained himself, he followed the elf's gaze to the bar and noticed that people had, indeed, begun to flow back into the tavern and that the gory mess he had produced was being cleaned by the young girl he had saved. His eyes were no longer lit by those hellish flames and were thus replaced with a gentle glow of kindness and compassion. "If I must, I shall voyage to Hell and beyond to make sure no child suffers the darkness that plagues us all. If that means I have to confront an army bred by fear itself, then I shall... no matter how much I want to curl up and die." Kresnik sighed.

He began to walk away from the table, towards Bruce and his bar, his strides powerful and graceful, like that of a massive jungle cat. His gaze lingered upon the sharkman, his confidence visible as he squared his shoulders and raised his chin, his body relaxed despite what belied such a comfortable posture. His long white hair danced behind him as he made his way there, like flames born from the heavens, his coat following suit in its tattered state. The gentle clicking of his sword-and-sheathe beat itself gently upon his leg, joining the rhythmic pounding of his heavy boots and its clinking steel. The dhampir also focused his magic power to his throat and to his eyes. It did not take him long to make it to the bar, and when he stopped and leaned upon the bar with his elbow as support, he kept his keen, lavender eyes upon the sharkman, his eyes gazing into his. "I would like a glass of brandy," Kresnik began slowly, speaking loudly enough for everyone to hear. His melodic voice held a strange power, for it was nearly hypnotic. "And perhaps a meal. An entire chicken with a side of potatoes, mashed and buttered, and with an apple cobbler for dessert." Kresnik gave a coy, nearly innocent and friendly smile.

“Yeah, that foo’ busted up the joint like some freakshow.” Ganti’s gaze was directed towards the booth where a musician and a dark man sat talking, along with another man, seemingly asleep. The man, Ganti pondered, almost reminded her of Halcyon. Suddenly, with great poise and elegance, the man stood up and began to walk towards them. Gazing at him, Ganti eyed up this supposedly powerful stranger, from his thick, white hair to the billowing coat. “I would like…” The man began to speak, but that is all Ganti would hear. She had dashed away towards the empty booth. Sidling up against the wall, she whispered over the the conscious occupant.

“Psst. Hey. Hey guy.” She nodded towards the instrument wielding, strangely clothed man. “Hey, is he with you?” She jerked her thumb in the direction of the large, unconscious man sitting by them. Eyeing up the mans belongings with great fervor, “Cause, if not,” Sliding a gold coin on the table, “There seems to be something really interesting happening in the other direction...”

Meanwhile, Gaudete was still by the bar, eyeing up the stranger, trying to get a read off of him. He emanated darkness, but not the kind that had cursed their family. No, this darkness was different, not innate. He had capacity to do good. When he spoke, the mans voice dripped like honey, laced with magic. Gaudete smiled, as she turned towards the bar and leaned on it, putting a binding on her ears to protect herself. Now, why would he do that? she pondered as he spoke with the Sharkman.

Missile chuckled, watching Bruce go to work. She sort of had half a mind to ask if they were hiring; it seemed like a fun time, never boring, never dull. She waved to the octopus cook in the back, laughing, and she turned her head, blinking at the strange woman who appeared. "...uh?" The flurry of gestures and strange slang the shark man and this... Ganti? spat out were confusing, some of it sounded like the gibberish people spoke in back on Earth, but this was apparently not as negative and insulting - Bruce and this girl and her bizarre companion seemed to be friends.

Oh, dear lord, what had she wandered into today?

She kept her arm over Pullo's shoulders, still rather concerned as she took in the strange animation of the building around her. One of the maids had started cleaning up the place and people had slowly begun to return, and she just shook her head, turning to watch people file in. "... uh." She shook her head and turned around, looking at Bruce with a weak smile. "Can I get half a Pan-Galactic Gargle-Blaster? Heavy on the lemon please. Something to just uh." She shook her head again. "I was in the gut of a shapeshifter today, I'd like to forget I did that." Her fingers played with the half-elf's hair gently as her hand moved up his back.

One of the men from the table that had been annoying and noisy - well, in the near-silence of the bar, it had been annoying, and noisy - came over and Missile tensed up, listening to the words that came out of his mouth. Perhaps it was meant to sound pretty, but she'd spent enough time around Pullo that magic that wasn't half-bent by Chaos felt a little... wrong. "If I can make a suggestion, stranger," she said to the white-haired stranger, "don't get the cobbler. I insist."

“Yes, Alec”
“Hi Alec”
“Oh, greetings, Alec.”

Whispers and greeting surrounded Alec. It was agonizing and painful. Alec covered his ears and shut his eyes tight. "stop..." Alec said in a low voice, but the voices did not cease, in fact they became louder and more frequent. "Stop!" Alec said in a louder voice but the voices continued to giggle and laugh at Alec. "I said STOP!!" Alec shouted and suddenly silence... but soon new noises started to erupt with flashes of light.

"Dr.Bass! Please..."
"Could I have a word with you Dr. Bass?"
"A moment of your time Dr. Bass?"

These voices were familiar. They were news reporters back when Alec was a prestigious scientist. Alec opened his eyes and uncovered his ears. Alec was crowded by reporters but he didn't seem to mind. He loved the attention. Alec smiled and basked in the glory of his fame. "I had it all..." Alec whispered closing his eyes remembering what it felt like to be respected all over the world. He dined with kings and world leaders, traveled the world, riches and fame, and best of all, a wife whom he loved. Life on earth couldn't be any better... until they came.

Alec opened his eyes and the reporters no longer surrounded him. He was alone. He heard camera flashes from a distance and found the reporters surrounding the aliens, interviewing them, publicizing them on every magazine cover. The aliens could perform unimaginable feats. They had incredible amount of power and abilities and the world was marveled by them... They no longer cared for the "prestigious" Dr. Bass.

Indignation took over Alec and he became jealous of the alien's abilities and he wanted them for himself. Disfigured aliens floated around him. "Yes... I remember..." Alec mumbled. Alec remembered his hatred towards the alien. "What right did they have to come to our planet? Why are they so strong? Why are we so weak? Its not fair!" Alec abducted aliens and experimented on them trying to find out how to extract their powers. So many were torn apart and tortured in cold blood. No remorse, no mercy, no compassion. At the cost of many lives Alec finally did it! He created the serum that would give him what he wanted. Soon he will return to his former fame and glory... Or so he thought.

He didn't do it soon enough. The world government discovered his lab and the illegal experiments he has been running for so long. They destroyed his lab and anything associated with it. Fire surrounded Alec and he watched everything burn. All his work, his reputation, and his dream, gone with the flames. And he watched soldiers drag his wife on the ground by her hair. She screamed in pain, cried for help, and tried to fight for her freedom. She begged the soldiers to let her go, but they mocked her and slapped her across the face. They laughed as they kicked her on the ground treating her as if she is some kind of freak. Alec was helpless, powerless. He begged for her life but the soldiers ignored him as one soldier pulled out his shotgun and... gone. The beautiful young face that Alec woke up to every morning became unrecognizable. His Angel became a monster...

A tear ran down Alec's cheek as he watched his wife die once again before his eyes. He lost everything. His fame, his respect, and his love. All that's left is power. Power that is in the serum he holds in his hands. He made his choice. He renounces his humanity and became God. He exacted his "justice" against the men that ruined his Angel. "It felt... good." Alec smirked as he remembers how good it was to serve "justice". Alec learned that day that justice is not for the innocent, justice belonged to those in power.

Seething, uncontrollable anger was all he could feel in this moment. It was accurate to say that he was one with his anger; it permeated his very existence. Never, in all his travels, had he ever been so blatantly insulted. Tyros Atrems had been held captive countless times but no captor had ever been so audaciously, unforgivably offensive. The Story Master heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing but his searing rage. Fog, thick as lamb’s wool, billowed from him and fell heavy on the floor. The dark one and the pompous other communicated in their uncouth manner. But Tyros heard not their slander all he heard were the tempting whispers of revenge. Ignoring the conversation he was a bit shocked when he was lifted into the air and enshrouded in darkness.

The darkness was what snapped him out of it. It whispered dark things into his mind. It was as though the very darkness that surrounded him was alive. He tried to speak but the darkness swallowed his words and he made no sound. He tried to call out again but this time with his mind.

“Hello? Flame-haired? Dark one? ” He recalled the amulet and how it had changed when the strange being had touched it.

“Can you teach me to wield the power of the artifact around my neck?” He asked with a hint of desperation in his thoughts. He was scared to hear the answer…

~IN THE BEGINNING~
Time: Second Hour and Second Quarter of MiddleDay

Old Boar's Inn; Lobby
[Locien/Ganti]

Locien, who had still been eyeing the bar, would gaze back into the empty tankard in hand, in an almost musing manner. A small, knowing smile crept onto his face as his green eyes wandered back up to his ragged, white haired companion. 'And so, the bard meets with the hunter, fates now bound. The Fall cometh, as foreseen by the fifth of her ki--'

The elven bard's thoughts would be interrupted by a sharp hiss of air, causing his glazed gaze to fall upon a red shirted woman, her mischievous eyes looking to his as she said, "Hey. Hey guy. Hey, is he with you?” Locien followed her popped thumb to unconscious Alec, and then to the gold coin she slid on to the table. "Well, mate." The silver tongue danced behind slowly revealing pearly whites, "He could be, but another two coins, and I don't even know who you're talking about." A hand thrummed his cittern, a solid chord coming from the wooden instrument as a devilish smile came from Locien...

----

The Old Boar's Inn; Bar
[Missile/Pullo/Kresnik]

Bruce's beady eyes sparked dangerously as a hairless eyebrow raised in response to Kresnik's request, "No need to run a golden spell on me, bloodsucker. You can just ask." With obvious annoyance, the sharkman would turn to apparently disappear behind the kitchen doors. However, halted at Missile's request and comment. The huge frame of the land shark began to heave, his huge lungs audibly taking in air, words being spoken behind a clenched jaw. "The cobblers... are... excellent." Heavy footsteps shook the floor Bruce almost seemed to grow, his massive body slowly beginning to tower over the diclonious and her lover. “The cobblers… are delicious…” His massive hands were now clenching the sides of the counter, which were crunching under the massive pressure of his flexing muscles…

++++

???
[Alec]

The sense of satisfaction that had washed over Alec would not last for long. For as he felt it, something shifted in the scene before him. The ever present shade around his person would melt into nothing, and then:

She was there. His wife, in a bloody, broken form standing before him, bloody tears falling over her cheeks as a crumpled hand slowly rose to point accusingly at the demigod. Her voice was pain filled, hollow, echoing into the darkness she had been molded from, “Why?”

“Why couldn’t you save me, my love? Why couldn’t you bring me back to you?”

“Why?”

Suddenly her face twisted to a jaw full of teeth, a bottomless black hole as her torn, broken form leapt at him, a terrible scream issued into the black,

“WHY?!”

His wife would be heavy, and reek of death. Her dagger filled mouth would lunge at his throat, torso, anything to rip her husband to shreds…

[Kresnik]
As Kresnik ordered his food, he quickly turned to Missile, the girl who had earlier eavesdropped upon his conversation with the demigod and the elf. "Don't get the cobbler, I insist." she told the dhampir, in which he raised a brow to her. Before he could respond with a quip of his own, Bruce interjected in an annoyed tone. "Well, at least I can see that you're not as dumb as you look," Kresnik sighed, staring into the hungry, dangerous depths of Bruce's eyes. "Even if you do look like dinner, fish." Kresnik added. However, it seemed Bruce's was swept away by the girl's obvious insult towards the cobbler. The dhampir felt the waves of anger and rage roll off the sharkman as he made his way to the human... the strange human girl who possessed something beyond human... and her half-elf? lover. I suppose that girl was just asking for trouble, he thought, amused by the irony.

"I guess I'll just sit down and watch... while I wait for my brandy," Kresnik sighed, sitting upon a barstool with his elbow upon the bar, his chin in his palm. The dhampir simply watched on, wishing to see how the young girl would manage her way out of this predicament.