It took only a little while before he heard movement outside and the door opened, the men entered and he listened to the one speak, Protector Regent Verial Akilara . He mulled over his choices, he would remain prisoner for sure if he did not speak and being imprisoned when a battle started was a good way to get yourself killed. His shoulder length grey hair falls in his eyes as he ponders; he had perhaps a moment to answer before the king would draw bored.

“I did not mean to pry but an old woman told me that the guard was training and I had to see what you were up to. And I never meant to speak to the person in charge, I merely said that when your guards noticed me.” The Redmont started, “In fact you should praise me for controlling myself I could have killed at least a dozen of your men before they would have struck me down. I have not provided a name for I do not know if it carries much merit in this realm being estranged from my family at this current moment. Your army is in need of some help though if the rumors I hear are correct. I believe I can provide a bit of assistance though it may not be enough to change the course of war.”

He stands slowly removing his coat leaving him in a plain black shirt over his leather padded leggings. He removes his shirt his small body muscled and fit, his boots are kicked off and he closes his eyes. It had taken much time to learn to do it at will, in the beginning fits of rage would kick off his transformation and would leave many bloody.

“I do not believe in the deaths of innocents, my family has always and will always hunt the undead and the monsters of the night. Rumor has it a Bluefield is a part of this army, I don’t know if you know their family history but they do not share much love with mine. I may be estranged but how many have died already at the hand of the lycan? Or worse dealt the fate of being a monster as long as they live?”

His eyes open the once dark grey orb colored in a blood red which fades to a dark orange as fur sprouts across his body, his muscled form growing and shifting as ribs crack and shift, his arms and legs snap and extend growing much longer. His jaw extends into a muzzle, molars shaping themselves into pointed canines.The pants which had been baggy now stretch taut around his legs. Claws extend where finger and toe nails were and those wrap around the bars the lycan tilting his head so one orange eye stares out at Verial and Madrin.

“Wouldn’t it be fitting that a lycan joined you in battle against an undead army? A treat it would be for me to find the Bluefield in battle and remove his head with my teeth. Lives have been lost and transformed and the monsters that do it still live. This is unacceptable. ‘’ Darius snarls in anger at the mere thought ears pulling back.

“Protector Regent, I am Darius Redmont and I wish to join your army against the undead. You should count yourself lucky, Maxim Redmont had to fight for me to join him and even more for me to call him King. But dire circumstances call for dire decisions I am afraid and if I must swear allegiance to Aleris in order to get out of this cage then so be it.”

He steps back from the bars body shrinking and fur disappearing as he dressed himself again waiting for a response from this Protector Regent. Once fully clothed again he turns back to the two. He had known Maxim had come here at one point but he’d be far to the south in Heruin at the time. Isabella had disappeared since they had arrived and coming to Grand City had seemed the good idea, only time would tell.

Madrin accompanied Verial to the dungeons where the two men met with the prisoner, Darius Redmont. Verial listened attentively and fixed on Darius' every word, but after the lycan started speaking, Verial found himself shaking his head softly. From their first bit of conversation, Darius appeared to be young, hot-headed and rather full of himself. Verial crossed his arms over his chest and listened though, forever patient.

"You never meant to speak to the person in charge? My guard, as he led us here, explained to us that you said, 'I yield. But I wish to speak only to the man in charge; I will wait here until he gets back.' If you did not want to speak to me and are requesting false audiences merely to save yourself, then honestly, you are wasting my time," Verial said a brow lifting in question. When Darius said that Verial should praise him for not killing his men, Verial let out a single laugh. "You believe I should thank you? It's funny you can say such a thing when you are behind bars and they are not dead. I wonder what sort of things would make a man in your position state these claims? I'm not interested in people who would try to look strong and puff out their chests in front of me."

Verial turned to Madrin and nodded to the Lord Commander of Eiler. Verial studied Madrin with his odd colored gaze as if saying, 'Can you believe this guy?' When Verial looked back at Darius he saw that the man was undressing. Darius had taken off his boots and shirt; thankfully he had left on his pants. Verial wasn't sure what Darius was trying to do. If he was going to attempt to transform to perhaps break out of his cell relying on brute strength like most therianthropes, he was going to be met with the feeling of silver.

"I am not a stranger to the Bluefield family or the therianthrope. I fought against the Bluefields several months ago, about 50 to 75 of them in number. In addition to my knowledge, Madrin Kir, Eiler's Lord Commander and military strategist, is a highly skilled warrior. His information and expertise has helped our men greatly. At least, we can all be in agreement that what they are doing is wrong and that they need to be stopped," Verial said pausing briefly as he spoke. Here Darius shifted into his wolven form, fur growing thickly over skin and his body extending and twisting in response until it was animalistic.

"Yes, it would be interesting to fight therianthrope against therianthrope again," Verial said. He was reminded of when Deanna and he fought down in Tezzra's Gorge against the Bluefield family. She, a were-hyena, battled against her own kind, the same blood that ran through her own veins. Verial's thoughts, however, were taken from him with Darius next words. Verial blinked a few times, as if surprised, and then followed this confused look with another laugh.

"Your arrogance is astounding, Darius," Verial said shaking his head as if chastising the werewolf for inflated pride. "I do know Maxim Redmont. I met him several years ago and he is a close friend of mine. In some cases, he is... like a brother to me. You would do well to remember that next time before you try to insult me and this kingdom with the size of your ego. If you are a Redmont, then act like one. Offer to protect this kingdom, not because it insures your freedom, but because you want to save the lives of the innocents who do not have the strength to save themselves when pinned against the wall by the snarling fangs of therianthropes or the magic of the Aliscowri."

Verial let out a sigh then and lifted his shoulders into half of a shrug as Darius shifted back to his normal form, his pants now ripped and stretched out. While Verial could not deny having Darius might be useful among their ranks and it would be mostly a learning experience for everyone, he wasn't sure this lycan was the right fit. Even behind the bars of the cells, Darius' boasts of his own strength were hardly believable at best.

"The Kingdom of Aleris is always accepting of help that others offer and their expertise when it comes to war, though I'm not so sure you belong among our ranks. There is a difference between you and the other soldiers out there. If you would have killed them, like you so casually claimed that it would have been easy, they would have gladly accepted their deaths as it is their duty to protect the kingdom and the people in it. I am not so sure you fit that type of honor," Verial said. However, he did gesture to Madrin with a wave of his hand. "If you would like to stay in Aleris and assist, then do so. Only you will work with Madrin Kir and you will address him as your Lord Commander because that is what he is and he has earned that respect. Madrin did not get this title by simply flexing his muscles and showing that they were bigger than the next mans, something you would do well to remember. Or if you do not want to stay, then you may leave."

It was as simple as that. Darius could either drop his ego upon leaving the cell and offer Madrin any tips he might have while training under Eiler's Lord Commander, or he could leave the city before war hit them. Verial fished inside his pockets for a key and unlocked the cell door, opening it so that Darius could take a step out and decided what to do with himself. In the meantime, Verial turned his back and headed away from the dungeons, not sure if Madrin was in tow. If he had to be honest, he wasn't sure if this particular meeting had been worth his time. In any case, there was so much to do and beyond the city's horizon where no eyes could see yet, a fleet of airships loomed coming from Bariston to Grand City.

The pilot of the commandeered airship wiped beads of sweat that began falling into his eyes. His hand began to tremble. “…but ma’am…err…my um, lady…,” he stammered, unsure of how to address the woman who hovered behind him, her slim pale hands tipped with long oval nails resting casually upon his shoulders. “It is not safe to land there. It would be best to land at the Harbor docking station. The landing strip can accommodate an aircraft this size and I believe…urgh!” The man’s words were cut off as the woman ever so gently flexed her fingers, the subtle movement applying great pressure against his carotid arteries, effectively cutting off airflow as well as conversation.

“I would use this time to reflect on how you wish to live out the remainder of the time I deem you of use to me.” She squeezed a bit harder, the action causing the man’s face to turn a rather lovely shade of purple, his eyes bulging out of their sockets and he feebly attempted to free himself from Deanna’s grasp. She cast her gaze downward, almost bored as he clawed at her hands in his clumsy childlike movements. “The only reason you are not digesting in the belly of my wolf is because I needed you to pilot this airship to the destination of my choosing. My choosing, not yours. Your opinions would serve best if kept to yourself. You will land exactly where I told you to land, and if you continue to…must you make those noises? I can barely hear myself speak.” Deanna sighed as she finally released the man who gasped and choked as he sucked in gulps of air, spittle decorating his lips.

The pilot finally returned to normal coloring and Deanna leaned over and grasped his chin within her hand, forcing him to meet those bottomless pools of glittering onyx. “As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, if you continue to disobey me I promise you I will find ways to keep you conscious while my Aliscowri feed upon your flesh. Nod your head if you understand me.” The man nodded, thin ribbons of blood dripped unto his shirt from where Deanna’s nails dug painfully into his jaw line. “Good. I was afraid I would have to resort to interpretive dance to get the picture across.” Once more Deanna reclaimed her place behind the terrified man. “Now, continue your course and land when I tell you to.”

***

It was near dusk before they finally made landfall in the small valley area east of the Hyperborean Mountains and a few miles south of the Soul’s Ferry Cemetery. The aircraft had been carefully piloted to stay directly over water to avoid detection by those in Joi. Navigation had been particularly treacherous as Deanna ordered the pilot to fly as low as possible as to not attract attention. To arrive in the Harbor would be extremely foolish for she had no doubt that the Grand City Army as well as their newly crowned King would be expecting that. The Dark Goddess had announced they would quietly land their ship near the mountain range and make the rest of their way on foot. It would take at least a full day of nonstop traveling, but her army was strong and more than capable of such an exhausting journey. Besides, there were small groups of nomadic people that made camp in the area. They should sustain her children’s appetites for now.

All disembarked: Deanna and Elijah, the therianthropes and Aliscowri cradling the newest generation of Dead Seed, the Guluwrath led by Donovan and the demon Gethe, with Kotik carrying a frail Delorah who clung to him with weakened arms. Deanna turned to face her army. “My children at last we arrive. Do not think I do not feel your exhaustion, your hunger.” She looked pointedly at certain Aliscowri and therianthropes.

“We do not turn on each other. We are a unit, a family. Our hunger must be sated yes, but not by our own.” Her cold gaze caused even the fiercest of those to wither and cringe. “You shall feed my children and very, very soon.” The ice in her stare melted as she regarded Delorah and Kotik. “My sweet,” she murmured softly as she approached to stand before the duo, a loving caress was offered against Delorah’s wrinkled cheek. “My beautiful brave Delorah. How you have suffered so, my love.” Deanna’s gentle almost maternal like coo was a sharp contrast to the Dark Mother they had come to know. “Can you feel them, sweetling? Can you hear them?” Deanna pointed with her free hand due north. “The tribe, Delorah. They set up their camp for the evening. Their day of traveling is done; they are weary and must feed and rest, just as you and the rest of your brethren. “ Deanna smiled to Delorah. “I promise you that there must be one who is worthy of such a glorious death as they spill their seed into you. A child Delorah. Your child. I promise you love, before your last breath is taken you shall birth a most magnificent child to carry on your lineage.” Deanna’s amber orbs caught those of Kotik’s and nodded. “Make it happen, Kotik. I will not have my Delorah’s last days in such agony.” Deanna placed a loving kiss upon Delorah’s forehead before turning her attention back to her army who was eagerly awaiting her permission to hunt, to kill, to feed.

“Regardless of the size of this nomadic group, I expect all of you to share in your kill. My children must be strong before we storm the gates of the Grand City.” Deanna paused then as all growled and shouted, cheering in a victory they could all taste, glancing at Gethe and Elijah who were tense and coiled, ready to spring into attack to quell their own hunger. She had already sent Kotik and Delorah ahead, knowing that had she not done so, the aging Dead Seed woman would fail in finding a worthy mate for none would be left after the feeding frenzy. Deanna had purposefully kept her army waiting to give the pair enough time for Delorah to select one she found to her liking.

Her children were restless, lycan snapped at Aliscowri, the Guluwrath threatening both groups. Finally after what seemed an agonizingly long time, Deanna gave the signal. When the dust had cleared and her hand finally lowered back to her side once more, she was the only one remaining save for a few Aliscowri women and their Dead offspring. The Dark Mother turned and smiled brilliantly at them. Slowly Deanna turned to stare at the opening of the airship where the kidnapped human pilot had been quietly attempting to flee unnoticed by all, the Aliscowri women following in her direction. He froze as Deanna’s gaze bore onto him, a mouse cornered by the cat.

“Did you think I forgot about you, little mouse?”

There was no begging or pleading for his life this time as he broke out in a flat out run, unsure where he was heading, but self preservation dictated his actions. Deanna shook her head and chuckled softly as she stretched out her arm, her palm facing outward. Black tendrils slid under her skin and shot out suddenly, several thick gelatinous snakes writhed along the ground as they sought out the pilot who was a fair distance away from the women. Within moments Deanna hear the screams of pure terror followed by silence. Soon after, the snake like tendrils of Chaos returned, dragging the fresh corpse behind them to lie at Deanna’s bare feet. The Goddess lifted her gaze to peer at the Aliscowri women who licked at their cracked dry lips greedily.

“He outlived his use.”

Deanna turned away and began walking in the opposite direction, nimble fingers toying with the medallion around her neck. She knew the women would have the man stripped naked, a fire burning for cooking the meat. These women were efficient. They did not require their men to hunt and provide for them. Still…the effort was appreciated and she could hear them murmur offerings of thanks to Deanna who paid them little heed. Her brood was by now effectively killing each and every member of the nomadic tribe, feasting upon their flesh. Their moods would be drastically improved, and that pleased Deanna. She did not approve of dissension within the ranks. She believed in orderly control of her minions, yet never treated them badly. What good was an army to fight for you if they loathed your very existence and would turn on your in a heartbeat? Loyalty was something she did not compromise with.

It was much later when her army returned, bloodied and covered in filth, yet utterly satisfied with their full bellies and murderous urges contained. She spotted Elijah, covered in gore but grinning widely, his sharp canines dripping with crimson colored saliva. The Bluefield werewolf had something slung over his shoulder, something struggling against the hulking beast’s hold, his free hand holding the remains of a cooked rabbit he found roasting over a spit. Elijah was well aware of his Mistress’ preference for cooked food, preferably non human and would hunt for her without her asking. Only on rare occasions that she adopted the sleek and powerful form of the were-tiger, her animal to call, did the two hunt together, did she indulge in the taste of man’s flesh.

While her army crowded around the fire and set up camp for the evening using the supplies the extinguished nomadic tribe no longer required, Deanna cocked her head to the side, a brow lofted as Elijah unceremoniously dumped what was now discerned as a human on the ground before her. A boy, perhaps in the threshold of teenage hood cried out in pain and surprise as his head slammed against hard packed dirt. “I brought you a present, Mistress,” Elijah chuckled darkly. “Found him among the tribe. I thought it would please you if I brought him back alive.”

Deanna crouched down near the lad who crawled away in fear as she studied him, finally drawing in a sharp breath. Her amber orbs widened in surprise. “I know you, boy.” And indeed she did. He bore similar resemblance to his father, save for the striking turquoise of his eyes. “Kyrian, what a pleasant surprise seeing you here.”

The son of Verial Akilara choked out a gasp as he sat up suddenly. “D…Deanna? Is…is that you?” Wide frightful eyes travelled from the familiar face of an old friend to the twisted ugly features of the undead werewolf who nearly killed him in Tezzra’s Gorge, unable to understand how she was here next to him and why she would be in alliance with Elijah, whom she sought to destroy with the help of his father. Tears began to fill the boy’s eyes. “I don’t understand….you died. Dad said you died! He told me before I left…just to visit Jade. Just for a little while so Dad could get his bearings as King…Protector Regent. I...I was on my way there. The tribe...they took me in...said I could travel with them...then....then...you... Kyrian began to sniffle again, wiping at his eyes and nose with the back of his hand, staring at her with confused and fearful fey eyes. Part of him was happy to see that the woman he came to care for like a sister was still alive, yet the other was afraid to have her near him. The boy wasn’t stupid, he knew something wasn’t right.

The woman regarded Kyrian with an indifference she had never bestowed upon him before. “I have been reborn, boy. Baptized by fire and by Chaos.” She sighed then, not wishing to be deliberately cruel to him, despite knowing the ultimate outcome of the boy’s fate. She shook her head sadly at him. “I’m not your Deanna, Kyrian. You know that, don’t you?” She asked quietly as the hybrid young man forced himself not to cry, nodding in reluctance, surprisingly brave considering the situation. She stood and sighed again, glancing at Elijah who she knew would relish the opportunity to finish what he started with the son of his enemy. Though Deanna had no particular desire to bring harm to Kyrian, she knew the boy would be a hindrance to her future plans regarding Verial and simply could not afford to have Kyrian as a distraction.

Elijah was prepared to launch himself at the boy before Deanna stated softly, “Do not toy with him.” She spared one last glance at Kyrian who started to his feet, prepared to run or at the very least, summon one of the two dragons that inhabited his form, but Elijah was faster and held the boy in a crushing grip, who cried out in pain, begging for Deanna’s help. Deanna just stared at him in silence, a flash of what could have been taken for pity flashed upon her face before lifting her gaze to find Elijah’s. “He has beautiful eyes, my wolf. I would have them when you are finished, unmarred.”

The dark woman then turned and walked from the grisly scene, the boy’s cries dying under the snarls and growls of the Bluefield werewolf as she found a place beside the fire where she sat, unmoving, staring into the flames. However much time passed before Elijah finally joined her, she could not say. He set beside her a small sack fashioned of brown cloth knotted at the end and Deanna knew what was contained within. The Dark Mistress nodded to him, offering a semblance of a smile. “Rest now, all of you,” she commanded to her brood. “Before the first ray of light of dawn breaks, we march. The City will fall before us soon enough.”

Deanna settled against her bedroll, Elijah’s protective form hovering nearby. Her fingers clutched at the dragon scale around her neck, her eyes settled upon the small brown parcel and thought of Verial. Elijah had estimated they would reach the City’s gates in less than two days. The Goddess of Chaos closed her eyes and slept, a small smile creeping on her lips.

Soon Verial, very soon.

"I shall be along in a little while Lord Akilara I need to discuss something with the young Redmont." Madrin's tone was very respectful as he addressed Verial. He kept his head bowed until the Protector Regent had gone from the dungeon. "Well Darius I must say that your offer of help is appreciated and the Regent has given the okay." He spoke in a commanding tone with a slight edge. "I shall formally except your offer."

As Darius listened their eyes met. "Repeat after me, I Darius Redmont do swear by my name and honor to protect the innocent and punish the guilty, My life for theirs and my strength for Aleris and its leader Protector Regent Verial Akilara." Madrin felt he went overboard with the oath but, a descendant of the Redmont line probably expected a huge ceremony. Not to mention the young man would likely find a strong oath more binding than a few words. Madrin's rise in position was very simple and straightforward however, he wasn't a nobleman.

After the therianthrope had sworn Madrin continued. "I welcome you Darius Redmont to the ranks of the royal guards." He gave the lad a firm handshake and went on while still clutching the Redmont youths' hand. "Your post will be in the new watch towers as a lookout until battle comes since you clearly have the skill to climb down quickly if needed. First however we need to get you your new uniforms and show the men what a therianthrope can do to them. Remember something Darius I'm in command of the soldiers here and if you kill any of my men in training purposely, I will slay you myself." He released the youth from his grip after his threat was delivered.

Next he dropped the edge from his voice and passed Darius onto an available unit leader to get his equipment. Madrin could see great potential in Darius Redmont not to mention a sense of nostalgia as he remembered he wasn't that different from him at that age. He gave a few more words to the therianthrope before he was led away. "Remember Darius, actions will tell more about a man than boasting ever could." With that Madrin departed to find Verial and inform him of the lad's new position.

As he traveled across the training area Madrin was barraged with questions about the spy that had been captured. The voices were too numerous to understand their words. "Soldiers shut your mouths and listen, now!" His warriors all stopped at once and stood at attention. "Excellent, Darius is not a Bluefield but, a Redmont who came to offer allegiance to Aleris, his foolish escapade was not hostile just poorly thought out. I assure you all, he is your sworn brother by his own word. However, if he does something hostile to anyone report it to me immediately." The group broke up and, went their respective ways after Madrin soothed their fears. One of them did inform him that Lady Sahar had remained in Grand city as an advisor to the Protector Regent. He was more pleased than he ever would have guessed to hear that. The healer would be a great asset to the city when the enemy was at the gates.

South Bariston fell with ease the rabble barely held out for any length of time. Bariston itself however, was much more fun. The dance of blood began after the prideful human Captain was practically beheaded. Gethe's laughter filled the air as he slew soldiers that had too much good in them for his use. He was surprised at how many people were beyond his power. This Layla Victoire must have strong values to inspire so many good soldiers. She would die begging to bow to the Dark Queen but, she wouldn't get the chance, only death awaited her. It was a shame he couldn't turn the woman, his mistress wanted her dead.

The mansion would be destroyed by his hand. Unfortunately the cursed light of the sun bound his full strength. As a result it took many times longer than Gethe would prefer but, his power reduced it to ruins by the end of the day. When he saw Layla he wanted to describe how he had torn apart her ancestral home. After killing all her faithful servants, with years of service to her family, in the most painful way possible, of course. He would enjoy watching her hope fade as he showed her how much fun it was.


These airships were quite pleasant to behold to Gethe he had never seen the like. He was sure they didn't usually have the desirable scent of burning human flesh. The aliscowri seemed to have some of their humanity still despite sampling the taste of people. He could hear the annoying whining from the two vessels. Frankly it made him very excited but, there simply wasn't enough pain in it so he decided to make it more appealing.

The demon grabbed one of the pregnant cannibals and used tendrils of dark power to bind the women to a unused table. Some of the weaklings complained but, they had seen that Gethe was capable of performing amazing feats of healing with the right amount of blood. Fresh kills littered the floor as the aliscowri feasted on therianthropes. He laughed loudly when he noticed they attempted to hide them.

"I couldn't care less that you decided to have shifter for dinner, as long as I get my fill." Some of them brought bowls of blood drained recently from their victims major arteries. It seems some of the fools were good for something. "Wonderful, looks like I don't have to kill you all the dread mother wouldn't have been pleased." His grin was wide and showed his sharp teeth. "Now back up, I have work to do you will have more sorcerers survive with my help." His skilled use of dark magic and, knife work produce many more delightful screams.

Gethe was most pleased when he worked on a operating table showing the joy of pain to his victims. His desire to kill his patient was strong however, the stupid cannibals could imprint him as someone worthy of being followed. So he made sure both mother and child survived to make more of their kind. If he got the fools willing cooperation he might be able to start his own priesthood in Aleris, which would be one of many steps towards his control of the realm. He smiled as he worked with that thought.

His work with the aliscowri had produced great results he easily doubled their survival rate. The flight took longer than Gethe expected based on his slaves estimation. He had little knowledge of the continents of Aleris, so he was forced to listen to his servants when it came to it.

The dark mistress explained her plan to ambush Grand city by attacking from an unexpected direction. When he disembarked he scented the nearby humans thru his slaves that located them. Nomads were often very prickly about guards but, they had no chance. The slaughter was far too quick for his taste. However, the meal was satisfactory, Gethe just liked to play with his food. The army had grown once again in Bariston because of that, so had his power.

Lieron was exhausted beyond caring when he spotted the airship flying the Bariston colors. He finally lost the enemy vessel when they turned northeast unexpectedly. Their low flight pattern was dangerous but, he wouldn't shed a tear if the twisted creatures crashed and burned. The foul smoke that trailed the two airships was a testament to their insanity. If the shifter hadn't seen the size of the army before they left Bariston, their number would have been impossible to determine because of the black smoke. His eyesight could determine many things in this form but, smell was mercifully diminished.

He spotted the blond noblewoman above deck and landed a few feet from her guards. The humans nearby jumped a little as the emerald eyes of a large hawk met the soldiers duller orbs all in one sweep. The dull red feathered bird severed the leather thongs with his sharp beak, holding a message from the mayor of Vandual making sure the seal was clearly visible. One of the bodyguards approached him cautiously and took the message. It was presented to Layla seal unbroken by the guardsman. The message was short and to the point the mayor had little time to write a longer one.

Lady Victoire ruler of Bariston and its surrounding lands,

I hope this message finds you well, I must apologize for the briefness. The bearer of this message, is well known for his ability to guarantee they reach their intended destination. Lieron Brona has a keen eye for scouting and has come with a warning of a dark army that has torn apart Shimmer, and Garis towns. His last report stated that they were headed for Bariston the details beyond that I leave to him. To ease your fears I want you to know Vandual is untouched and has received a few refugees. Your people are battered but, they have faith in you please stay safe.

Sincerely, Mayor Stephen of Vandual

Layla looked at him strangely when she finished reading the missive. Lieron shifted into human form at that point to the shock of nearby humans. He knelt and respectfully addressed the gray eyed woman. "Sor..ry my lady I'm ex...hausted, my mind was not the clearest." His heavy breathing proved the truth of his statement. "I have a report on the state of Bariston. I'm sorry to tell you Lady Victoire it's in ruins." He gave her a few moments to let his statement set in and continued. "The army of abominations is composed of human cannibals, lycanthropes, and huge biped cat people that resemble mountain lions. They are led by a dark haired woman who commands indigo lightning that she employed to burn alive hundreds of soldiers that guarded Bariston. She was directly responsible for the destruction of the gates with her power." He stopped briefly as he remembered the evil humans lack of reaction.

"She has three commanders that serve under her. A half living, and half dead werewolf that seems in charge of the lycanthropes. His anger at such twisting of nature was impossible to hide. "There is an older female cannibal that gets the first choice of meat from kills. They rape and then behead men for some unknown reason, my lady it was sickening." He thought of his wife at that point and swore to himself he would kill those blasted cannibals to the last. "The last one is black haired and seems to move with the flow of battle his exact role is hard to place. However, He was directly responsible for the destruction of your mansion, he wields dark magic and relishes slaughter like a cub with a new toy."

He listened as Layla gave her opinion on his report. The armies numbers were passed on to her after that. "Also, lady Victoire the two airships turned northeast just before I continued on my path to Grand city they may be circling around, I am unsure they could have plans for Arthuran." He waited for any response she may have then went on. "I'm sorry my lady I need rest if you have any questions please, only approach from the front I will have your scent, I would hate to injure you." With that he changed into a large wolf with rust colored fur and sniffed Layla's hand. Lieron would hear anyone approach but, scent was deceptive on a flying ship. He showed her his throat, and padded off to a corner of the airship. He circled the spot a few times and curled up, sleep found him quickly.

The fires that still raged in the destroyed city of Bariston were nothing, compared to the rage of the returning Redmont.

By midnight, he stood upon the one dock that hadn't been destroyed -- the wrecks of other vessels that couldn't possibly be recovered had left the harbor far too treacherous to navigate, and so the dreaded warship that had brought him to Bariston had set anchor nearly half a mile away, its crew standing guard. The Northwatch was one of two ships left in what had been Bariston's fleet, and the former slayer knew where the other one was -- and he knew that Layla Victoire was coming home, for precisely the reason that Maxim now stood by her side as her second-in-command. Her duty as the leader of Bariston (and by proxy, all of Elved) came, and everything else was a lesser priority.

Scarlet-colored eyes closed for a moment, and his hand absently lowered to rest upon something that he hadn't even bothered to look at in ages... yet now, it was once again part of his arsenal. Irony at its finest, really -- the same stake that he had crafted years earlier whilst hunting Deanna had purpose once more. The few survivors who had taken refuge in the catacombs beneath the Victoire mansion, along with less than a dozen 'lucky' people who had been spared by chance had all relayed the same story. A swift and brutal assault had crushed any hope of resistance, and what followed was pure genocide, with absolutely nobody being exempt from execution no matter their age or gender. Even Meredia, who normally preferred to look the other way, had been mortified by the carnage.

Even so, it was the description of the woman leading them that had ignited his fury despite not knowing how she had been revived.

He finally turned, and looked back at the two soldiers who stood behind him -- both had survived the massacre by sheer luck, knocked unconscious by the same debris that had miraculously hidden them. "Corporal, signal the Northwatch. I want them to prepare for departure once our Lady has returned; the destination is Eiler. Minimal crew -- I want the rest of them to remain here, with the survivors and Lady Victoire," he stated quietly, that calm tone a direct contradiction of the vengeful determination inferred by the look in his eyes. The younger soldier nodded and headed off, while the Redmont turned his attention to the other one.

"Vengeance won't set things right, Commander Redmont," the sergeant pointed out. He offered a brief nod of affirmation as he swept his gaze across the devastated city yet again, and the thought that Bariston might not be rebuilt crossed his mind again. The destruction was unprecedented, and Maxim had seen places far larger destroyed permanently by less than that. "It won't, true. But it's definitely a step in the right direction," he observed bitterly, before gesturing towards the ocean. "When Lady Victoire arrives, inform her that I'm here and will personally brief her on what happened. And until I'm there with her, do not leave her side. There's still nothing to prove that the threat is gone, and I'll not risk her safety." "As you wish, sir." With that order acknowledged, the Redmont began to move back towards the city itself, the Serpentasm blade at his side.



The streets were literally painted red with the blood of Bariston's citizens, and the armored guardian's expression was both bitter, and determined at the same time. The haze of smoke and ashes stirred by the fierce coastal winds that tore through the forsaken city surrounded him, and there was silence, save for the occasional sound of buildings and homes collapsing as the fires consumed them, one by one. For the second time in as many months, he couldn't help but be reminded of Oneiro... and he knew how difficult it had to be for Verial, one of the select few that he considered a close friend. Aleris stood on the brink of destruction, and the development of a bond between the Redmont and his unlikely Ravenholm lover only strengthened his resolve. Though trust hadn't come easily, she had earned his and vice versa... and it was her, that he eventually encountered not far from the nearly destroyed harbor.

Meredia stood upon the balcony of one building that while ruined, still hadn't fallen. Even after he quietly arrived to stand in the doorway behind her, her attention was focused upon the ocean. After their arrival, she had volunteered to keep watch in case their enemies returned, something that had brought a rare smile to his face in spite of the situation. Even she had already come to think of Bariston as a new home, a fresh start that freed them from the living hell of her past. With her silken tresses brushed back from her face, he admired her for a moment, the reddish-orange glow of the surrounding flames leaving her illuminated in a fashion that made her beauty all the more evident to him. He moved to stand behind her, one hand lifting to rest upon her shoulder to let her know that he was there -- she glanced at him, and then back towards the sea with a light sigh. "We both know I have to go, Meredia. Somebody has to stop her, and my history with her... if anybody should face her, it's me. I care not who deals with the rest, but Deanna Di'Corvino will die by my hand alone." Silence followed those words, reigning for a brief span of time before he embraced her, both of them gazing at the ruins of what was to be their home. It wasn't meant to last, of course... he knew what question had been on her mind ever since they had learned what had happened.

"You wouldn't try to save her, Maxim?"

He held her closer, and she settled into his muscular arms willingly, though without looking back at him. Even then, his answer was given without hesitation or reluctance. "Her fate was sealed with the destruction of this city, Meredia. Even if Layla were to forgive her transgression -- which I know she would never do -- I would not. Even without an order, I can't and won't let her live," he replied, and when she finally nodded, he fell silent once more. For what seemed like hours, the two of them stood there, both having already realized how close to destruction Aleris was. The realm hadn't even recovered from the battle against Terra Vale and her own army bolstered by the Val`nothe, and now that it faced a second war, it was struggling to just survive.



He released her, and she turned to face him again -- they shared a brief, but impassioned kiss as he felt her fingers brush against the side of his face gently. "I need you to remain here, Meredia. Bariston needs you now as much as I do, and if I know that you're here to protect Layla, I'll have nothing to distract me from what I must do," he explained, his gaze locked with her own. He could see the worry in her expression, and knew instinctively what she was thinking: that he wouldn't be coming back. This time, it was Maxim who looked away, those fiery eyes lowered for a moment. "We knew it might come to this... but if it ends that way, then I want you to know that you reminded me of what's worth fighting for." The words were simple, but their meaning conveyed something far more complex, especially coming from him. Nevertheless, the sight of a ship approaching from the direction of Eiler ended their momentary reverie.

He leaned forward to brush his lips against Meredia's once more, and then turned away, his stride ever purposeful. Once in the doorway though, he paused and then cast one last glance over his shoulder. "I love you, Meredia Ravenholm." Those words echoed in the silence that followed, and the Redmont departed quietly, already moving through empty streets to begin heading in the direction of the harbor once more -- though he knew by the time he got there, Layla would have already arrived. The fact that she had to see the burning silhouette of her beloved city even from a distance was something he knew would both enrage and upset her, and he had no intentions of letting her suffer through that alone.

Vengeance wouldn't set things right, but it certainly was a step in the right direction.

Among the Aliscowri, a new hero had formed. Gethe. The man was vicious, bloodthirsty, and most of all he was outright scary. In truth, it was a matter of debate among the Aliscowri if Gethe was even human. His sharp teeth, his massive features, and his deadly demeanor implied the demonic truths. Some Aliscowri preferred to believe he was mortal, so they too could one day climb to that heroic standard that Gethe was setting.

The demon was getting a following. Little kids, grinning and staring up at him with shockingly intelligent eyes. Dead Seed, one and all.

"Mister daddy," one of the Dead Seed girls called out, tugging on Gethe's legging. "Can you teach me how to kill, too!?"

"Me too!" another kid cried out.

"No, me first," the girl hissed, black fire blossoming around her.

A bone flew through the air and slammed into the girls head, knocking her out cold. The wielder of that accurate toss strutted up, appearing no more than three years old. His left hand still had a bone, this one coated in bits of meat, and the child chewed on the human's leg as he stared up at Gethe.

"Me first?" he made out around a mouthful of meat.

--

Blend sat cross-legged in the chaotic landscape, brown eyes peering at Fingers cautiously. Lightning licked across the sky, oddly silent as it crackled through the crimson atmosphere of this particular region of Chaos.

"Try not to focus," Fingers was explaining. "Try not to do anything. If you're going to focus, focus on not focusing."

Blend grunted. "Makes sense."

"Shh.. Talking won't help you concentrate on oblivion."

Blend tried to focus on Fingers suggestions. It wasn't too far from the meditation he'd practiced in his teens, and thinking about oblivion was right up Blend's ally. Closing his eyes, the sailor let his mind drift away, paying attention only to the cool core of focus that was his mind.

"Do you feel the thread?" Fingers asked. "The tether that binds you to your body? Search for it."

In the landscape of his mind, Blend found what Fingers was mentioning. A thin, gossamer string stretched from the planes of his consciousness and into Aleris. He reached out with his mind, seeking to grasp that string, to pull on it--

-- and found himself in an Arraki's body.

Shocked, Blend tried to move, but realized instantly he had absolutely no control. Soul felt his presence, and there was a brief (and confusing) interaction between their two minds before Blend felt himself recoiling, back and out, returning to Chaos.

Fingers studied him. "You found your body?"

Blend grinned. "Not unless its been busy these few days without my help. I was in .. someone else." Sudden shock filled his face. "Now he's in me!" The presence of the Arraki was overwhelming, as new words and ideals flooded his brain, and Blend resisted. The presence retreated.

"Umm.. Well.. That's unexpected. Try again."

Blend did just that, focusing on oblivion and the threads that bound him to its counter. To his amazement, there wasn't one thread drifting through his mindscape. Hundreds and thousands of threads lazily flowed past his awareness.

"There's too many." Blend reached out and touched a thread --

-- And looked at Delorah, through the eyes of Deanna, as the Aliscowri returned from her raid on the tribe. Delorah's bloodshot eyes were filled with pride, as she clutched her womb and approached Deanna. The Dead Seed was shockingly aged, her shoulders hunched and her skin weathered and cracked.

"He's dead," Delorah said to her goddess. "Kotik. I killed him. The tribe was too weak, but you were right. I did find a suitable spirit for my child." She grinned, the cold smile cracking her arctic face into a thousand webbed creases.

The Dark Goddess felt him peering through her eyes, and Blend recoiled as probing thoughts chased his spirit into Chaos.

Trying again, the sailor clutched another strand. He became the Iltorian, his companion in Chaos, lumbering through fields of blue grass. The demon, feeling Blend's presence, lifted its head inquisitively and glanced around with a single alien eye. It clicked out a question before Blend pulled back. "My brother?"

Grasping another thread with his mind, Blend found his flesh coated in fur. A lycanthrope, snarling and hissing as it paced around its companions, begging for scraps from the alpha male. When it recognized the presence of Blend, it growled and sent him a vulgar thought of violence and gluttony.

Blend's spirit retreated into Chaos once more. "This isn't working. There's too many threads. I.. I can see them all.. Deanna. And Delorah. The Aliscowri... even the Iltorian (and here I thought he was dead!)."

Fingers nodded slowly. "They have all received the Revelations of Ae'Vescra. It seems you are connected to them all. Let's hope it doesn't work both ways. Never-mind that. Try again. This time.. look for the biggest thread. The strongest one. Your thread, Blend."

Blend focused again.

--

"He's back!"

"Gods, I was hoping we lost him-"

"Sergeant, get Tarc over here. If the devil's back, he's bringing Silenti with him."

Blend struggled to open his eyes, then realized he had none. Darkness greeted him, but silence did not. The sounds of hasty preparations surrounded him.

"Jasker, sir, the ritual --"

"Probably didn't work. You know this mans track record. Here, make sure those locks are nice and solid. Tarc, damnit, are you checking the wards?"

"Wards are holding, sir. I cannot detect -- ohh.. hmm."

"What?"

"Silenti is gone. But look. This rock, it's not supposed to be rolling over. And here.. see? The water is going uphill."

"Deruge, where the hell are you?! Ohh - there you are. Go get the rest of the squad, boy. We may have a problem."

"Sir, yes sir."

A grunt, and a chuckle. "He's always so proper."

"The green ones always are."

Blend listened as footsteps approached him, then his skull rattled as someone knocked against his forehead.

"You in there, bastard? Good. Don't try to speak - there is a veil of silence - and besides I don't care what you're here to say. Keep yourself nice and calm, and we won't have to crush your bones into dust."

"Captain Jasker, sir!"

"What is it, Tarc?"

"The wards are breaking, sir!"

"Weapons at the ready!!! Tarc, let's send this bastard back to oblivion."

Blend's frightened spirit retreated from the corpse.

--

"Well, captain, it worked."

Jasker Ellins grunted. The man was massive, and his Evincan heritage was obvious in his green eyes and brown hair - a trait shared among most of the men under his command. All in all, the Almeddans had allowed one hundred of their warriors to enter Aleris on a 'exploratory' mission. Their true objective was to determine if Aleris was capable of repelling Almeddan invasions. If it was, then the only profitable option between the two realms resided in peace and trade. However, if Aleris was in truth led by barbarians or tyrants, the Almeddan military would be happy to rectify the situation.

The only problem was this damned corpse. Just the thought of Xezvimhi being so near sent chills up his spine. The fact that the High Lords thought such a violent entity could be manipulated and controlled was proof of Almeddan ignorance.

High Lords, Jasker thought to himself. They know nothing of the risks they're taking.

Luckily, the flaws of the leaders doesn't always transmit to their subservients. Jasker wasn't interested in taking risks or making a pact with Xezvimhi, so the first task set before Almeddans when they entered Aleris was to completely deconstruct Xezvimhi and surround the corpse in a thousand wards. Jasker would have preferred to kill him outright, but the sorcerers warned that Xezvimhi would simply reincarnate.

Killing Servants of Death is regrettably a very bad idea, so the imprisoned bones were carted across Aleris. This wasn't enough, Jasker knew. Eventually, somehow, the man would break free and slaughter his captors, before returning to Almedda to resume his conquest.

That was when they met Fingers.

"I'm not convinced," Jasker said towards his companion, the archer Cherin. "Tarc said the wards can tell if he's changed.. and yeah, sure, he did run like a dog with his tail between his legs, but that doesn't mean he's any different."

"Ehh, well, I never heard of Xezvimhi runnin'. You saw what he did in Almedda. Especially when we let up on his chains."

Jasker shrugged. "Still don't trust him."

Tarc ran up to them, beads of sweat on his bald forehead. The sorcerer was as wide as he was tall, and sweated profusely beneath the thick blue cloak that marked him as a Venefican mage. "He's back!!! Get up!" Tarc rushed away, moving impressively quick in a waddling sprint.

--

"Come on guys, let's just talk about this," the skeleton's skull was begging. It was placed in the middle of the cart, a ring of arcane symbols surrounding it. Other bones were tied and secured to the cart by chains and more spell circles. "Sure, I was an evil devious monster that did stuff, but hey, I've had a change of heart. Haha. I don't even have a heart!"

Sighing, Jasker turned to Tarc, but the mage lifted a hand towards the Captain and approached the corpse.

"What is your name?" the Venefican inquired, swiping a rag across his beady brow.

"Jelaephon Delai. Blend. Little twig aka Runt. You might know me as the dreaded Kezzyeevee."

"What is your earliest memory?"

"Running with my.. father.. I.. It was a forest. We were chasing a wolf.."

Tarc looked to Jasker. "Steelwolf." The Captain only nodded, listening.

"Where were you born, Jelaephon?"

"Heruin. Aste'Tenur."

"Then when were you running through the forest? Where was it?"

"I.. well.. It must have been on Elved, or Eiler. I don't know. I was young."

Tarc nodded to Jasker. "He's safe. Whatever Fingers did, it worked."

"Ok, listen here, 'Blend'. We're going to let you up. If you value your freedom, you will not resist. You may have forgotten, but I will remind you that your body is now property of the Almeddan Army. Consider it your debt, for the atrocities of your past."

"Sounds like a plan. I promise, I won't bite."

"If you so much as bare your ugly smile, I'll wear your teeth as a necklace. Are we clear, Blend?"

"Crystal. Hey, watch it, that arm is valuable!"

"It's your leg," Tarc muttered, working at the bindings.

--

Hours later, the Almeddans and their former warlord were joking as they took a break from the march.

"And then I asked her, is this bone big enough?!" The skeleton reached down and grabbed a leg bone, waving it through the air like a sword. The Almeddans burst into fits of laughter. Even Jasker allowed himself a grin.

--

"Gods, I hate marching," the skeleton complained as the Almeddans headed north towards the Grand City. The Second and the Fourth Squads, each comprised of twenty men, followed their captain Jasker Ellins. The rest of the Almeddans remained behind to guard the Ripping Gate. Hours of marching was beginning to lead to the predictable gripes.

"You're not one to talk! At least your legs don't get tired," Cherin chided in.

"How do you know they don't? My ethereal muscles are worn out."

"Ether-what?"

"You don't get out much, do you? So, what's the plan when we reach the Grand City?"

Ahead of them, Jasker shrugged. The man was lucky enough to have a horse, while most of the squad marched on foot, and he rode now five paces ahead of the column. He glanced down at the skeletal remains of Xezvimhi. "You said Deanna intends on attacking them soon, right? Well, there's an opportunity for Almedda, if I ever saw one."

"So, we're going to lend assistance to the battle," Cherin said from Blend's left.

"Yes.. But it depends on which side is winning." Jasker grinned down towards the man then slammed his heel into the side of his destrier and rode away from them.

Blend's skeleton chuckled. "Double-crossing bastards. I'll fit right in."


--

[ Show content ] OOC: Blend is now indirectly connected directly with any followers of Chaos. That means they can look into his eyes, and perhaps visa versa. So if you are a follower of Chaos and decide to 'detect' Blend, you will be able to see him wherever he is.

Sorry for the 30000x characters! [ Hide content ]

The desert magae was watching from a safe distance in the courtyard as Lord Commander Madrin Kir was rallying his unit of soldiers to inform them of someone named Darius Redmont (whom she assumed was a relative of Maxim Redmont, Lord Commander of Bariston), a therianthrope to join their ranks. Sahar smiled as she listened to Madrin’s commanding tone, her smile widening as she watched how each and every soldier paused in their actions, their words to listen intently to their newest Commander. It was evident they respected Madrin, as a leader and as a warrior. This was good to witness, Sahar thought as she turned on her heel, saffron colored silks trailing behind her.

Though she wore a traditional head scarf covering her thick dark hair, Sahar’s lovely face was bared for all to see. Only when in formal meetings with those she had never met before did the healer apply the use of a veil to obscure her features for all but her honey colored eyes. Autumn was approaching, but it was still warm enough to wear the silks of her homeland upon her body and sandals upon her feet. Sahar did not look forward to the cold winter days when she would have to bury herself in woolen tunics and breeches, heavy mantles and boots. She much preferred the gauzy material worn by her people in a variety of colors.

The magae smiled to all she passed, murmuring soft greetings to familiar faces. Previously Sahar had paid a visit to the kitchen where the women were hard at work preparing various dishes for the multitude of people to feed. Sahar had excused her intrusion and politely helped herself to a honey cake, not wishing to burden anyone. She daintily nibbled upon the sweet as she found herself in the main infirmary, politely inquiring about the health of those who still resided there. Once the room was filled to capacity, now it held but a few who were still in need of care. The healers had informed the magae of their patient’s progress and asked for advice in certain situations, but other than that there was naught but small take to be made. Sahar was killing time until she felt it was time to seek out Verial Akilara.

The desert healer could not help but feel the pangs of loneliness without her lady. She sorely missed Layla as well as Ambrose, Miles, Neera and the familiar faces of the Bariston guard. She was a stranger in a strange land, a black sheep in a flock of white. Sahar felt incomplete without the people she had known since childhood. Her heart was heavy and her sorrow great at being left behind by Layla, and even more so at the task her Lady had ‘requested’ from her. Sahar had prayed for the first time in quite some time to the goddess Elysia for guidance and direction, but so far the deity remained silent. Sahar did not take this as a good sign, but learned the value of patience in her young life.

Finally a familiar face came into view, the face of the Protector Regent Verial Akilara. Sahar’s smooth long legged glide allowed her to cross the courtyard in moments. She dipped her head in greeting to the King who appeared surprised to see the desert beauty here. Her eyes lowered, long sooty lashes brushing against her cheeks as she dipped her head in greeting and quite out of character for her, Sahar felt her throat tightened and willed herself not to tear. Somehow she felt disgraced in Layla’s eyes, for why else would she deem such an unsavory and dishonorable task to Sahar? The healer straightened, squaring her shoulders and she forced a polite smile on her beautiful face.

“My Lord Verial,” she began. “I am sure you are aware my Lady and the rest of her people have returned to Bariston.” Sahar paused then, realizing she had referred to her adopted family as “Layla’s people.” Sahar was sure that Verial had caught that slip as well and quickly move forward. “In any case, my Lord, the reason I am still here is that Lady Layla felt my place would be best suited if I served you, advised you if you like.”

Sahar bit down on her lower lip, hesitant to continue. “My…lord….,” Sahar waited a beat of ten, deciding on how she wanted to approach Verial on this particular subject. “Walk with me, my Lord?” Sahar did not wait for Verial’s reply as she began strolling down one of the numerous walkways that outlined the castle. Sahar did not look at Verial, keeping her gaze steady in front, but out of the corner of her eye she knew Verial was studying her in confusion.

Sahar took a deep breath. “My Lord, the truth is…,” Sahar stumbled over the next few words, “…I am here to ensure your success over the oncoming army.” Sahar did not mention Deanna, knowing from Layla this was a sore subject. “Please understand that my Lady does not believe you are incapable of doing your job as King, simply that I could be of use to you during these stressful times.” Sahar blinked, realizing the implication of her last statement and felt her cheeks burn. “Err…as a healer, a magae and perhaps as counsel.” Sahar hated lying, abhorred it really, but assured herself she was telling half truths. She would serve Verial as counsel, as a healer to him and his men. Before the desert beauty even considered swaying her King in any way shape or form, she would see exactly how Verial was planning on dealing with the army.

Sahar finally stopped walking when they came upon the main entry way inside the castle, and Verial followed suit. “That is, if you would allow me to remain here by your side, at your service, my Lord.” Sahar once more dipped her head out of respect to Verial. So far, he remained quiet while she ‘attempted’ to speak, but the Lord Protector was no fool, and Sahar prayed her earnestness would quell any suspicions he would have regarding Layla’s intentions. She hoped Verial would believe that Sahar was here to be an asset, to help in all ways she possibly could. The magae wasn’t so sure she agreed with Layla’s intentions regarding Verial, and before she acted in any manner, she vowed she would hear the Lord out, and allow him to seek the right path for the realm and for himself. She had searched Verial’s heart once before and found him a righteous man, a just man. Somehow, Sahar did not believe he would falter from those personal beliefs, despite Layla’s concerns.

Sahar looked at Verial and waited for the King to respond. Hopefully he would not shun her and force her to return to Bariston. At this moment, Sahar had doubts she belonged at Layla’s side anymore.