Lightning rippled across a red-black sky. Wisps of flame and plasma drifted through the tumultuous air. The ground boiled and hissed, spitting up molten earth. Freezing rain poured down from the heavens.

Djarin had entered Chaos. Or at least the fringes of it.

He hadn't known what to expect, but he was amazed by the beauty of the destructive landscape. Energy rippled and moved everywhere, so much power - followed, always, by silent gaps of nothingness. Everything met its counter in a frenzied embrace, heat and cold mingling in a lovers dance, earth and sky twisting around each other eagerly.

It's no wonder, in such a deadly environment, that Djarin was killed instantly.

A wisp of reddish smoke drifted over him and the Seer simply burned away, consumed by the searing hot plasma. His ashes drifted off with the fatal smoke. But to his amazement, Djarin still remained, whole in spirit. The transition from life to death had been painless. In fact, it was better than painless - the numbing shock that his body was forcing on him was gone, and the sensations of sharp pain in his mauled torso were already becoming a distant memory.

Green-hued lightning licked across the sky as pebbles began hailing from the heavens. Djarin walked further into the Chaos.

--

Blend approached him, ducking under a massive boulder which hovered carelessly in the air. Djarin hadn't seen the man since, well.. since he killed him. Aleris seemed so far away now, and he recalled the voyage on the ocean with a pang of regret and longing. He knew he'd never be able to return there. Djarin studied Blend as he neared, careless of the molten earth beneath his feet.

"Long time, friend," Djarin said towards the cat-like man.

"Yeah. It's a shame we didn't come here together. Pretty mean trick you pulled, knifing me in the neck like that."

Djarin shrugged. "It was necessary."

"Who knows what necessary is and isn't? Ohh well, no sore feelings. In fact, you did me quite an honor. I was suffering from some mean toothaches.. Not to mention, there was this debt. And this girl. Oy. Don't even get me started."

"So what are you doing here?"

"Good question, actually. You have to admit it's a pretty fascinating place. No two places are alike.. Truth be told, I was lurking around the Grand City, following you and your little pack ever since that disreputable instance on the boat. I figured if you can see spirits, you'd see me eventually. Then Fingers and I had this wonderful idea.."

Djarin shook his head. "You got me killed, that was your idea?"

"You're not dead yet, are ya? You've just changed. Same as me. Change is inevitable, the nature of Chaos, remember? Now let's go, there's something waiting for you."

"Some thing? Why not some one?"

"Ehh, yeah. That too." Blend trudged off into the alien landscape.

--

The creature before him was magnificently beautiful. Taking the shape of a bear, it towered over him, four times larger than the inn in the Grand City. Its body was made of jagged crystals of glass, and pulses of light radiated from its eyes and mouth. Magma dripped from its enormous maw like saliva, and the beast growled as Djarin neared, a bestial sound which pounded through his head like tribal drums.

Blend gave him an encouraging push. "Don't be afraid. It's not going to bite.. I hope. I wonder if spirits can die, anyways?"

Djarin didn't much care to find out, but he neared the crystalline bear anyways. The enormous beast began to speak, to the nomads' pleasure in the Tral tongue.

"Mortal, I have been watching you." Light poured from its mouth as it spoke, and its blue eyes peered down at Djarin, bathing him in an eerie glow. "I am the immortal guardian of Chaos. I have been and always will be here."

That didn't explain much. "What do you want with me? What does Tempesturo want?!" Djarin asked up at the towering behemoth.

"Tempesturo is not speaking - to anyone. It is his nature to be unpredictable. You must decide for yourself where your path will lead."

"Then why did you call me here?"

"It was the only way. I cannot enter Order. Order is stagnation, a revolting influence that would destroy me in moments. My very blood would harden as stone. But with you here, I can give you a gift. First, your life, mortal. And to act as an extension of your will, I shall send this man, Jelaephon Delai." Blend stepped forwards eagerly. "You will return to Aleris, to the Grand City. The King has become a lodestone of power. It is there you will find answers."

The bear released a massive pulse of energy, and Djarin was returned to Aleris.

--

Blend nudged him. "You act like you've never seen a laser bear before."

Then he laughed.

--

Life was good. Djarin never felt better. The sun was beating down on him, the warm reminder of Tempesturo. The birds were chirping, and the wind sung a beautiful song as it pushed against the boughs of trees.

Life was also bad. Bodies drifted through the water, bloated and pock-marked by scavenging birds. Spirits clung to these bodies, wailing miserably about their lost ambitions, their lost lovers, their lost families, while they tried in vain protect their corpses from the birds who were entirely oblivious to their ethereal protests.

Djarin looked down at his right hand. It was still missing, but the pain was gone. The stump was covered in tattoos, bizarre bestial lines which writhed slowly, ever changing, curling up his arm. His chest felt fine, and he peered down his robe to determine what was left of the disgusting wound he'd suffered earlier. In the wounds place, a black line churned across his flesh, an intricate tattoo of unknown nature.

He pulled shut his robe and turned towards Blend. The man seemed in perfectly good health, and his eyes sparkled with mirth. "You see that?" Blend motioned towards a boat. "They're taking in passengers to the castle. Seems like a perfectly valid excuse to get closer to the king, right?"

Djarin nodded his assent and they began waving the ship over.

Within an hour, they were being pulled into the castle on a boat loaded with survivors of the tidal wave.

{Several days later...continued from chat}

She and Melvin were off of their little island and while the waters were receding, the pair of them were still quite a ways from home: FairWood Valley. She had taken care of the Werewolf as best she could since they had met after her first initial tantrum upon discovering his identity. He now thought she was his girlfriend and she had NO idea how well her family would take to that idea, but despite him not being the brightest crayon in the box, he was very protective of her. That she admired.

Knowing what she did of Wolves and Werewolves, she knew he'd rip off limbs, heads and tear out entrails of someone who attempted to harm her. There had been many humorous moments and some serious ones in their days together. Despite he and his brethren attacking her aunt's home, she had forgiven him. Maybe the rest of her family could in time. She had taught him to row the boat and when it became too dark to see, they sheltered wherever they could, sleeping wherever they could. More often not, she curled up against him for warmth and more importantly safety.

When those Dragons began fighting one another, she had stared in awe and terror, til she realized the danger and she had bade Melvin to hide them from the sight of the dragons. People were killed and their screams haunted her. Lightning flashed and she had thought another storm was coming, but it was those water dragons fighting. The fighting didn't last long, but it was enough to terrify her and she actually wound up in tears and clung to Melvin over that. Kyrian, Verial, and even her Uncle Khem could be vicious when in their Dragon forms and she didn't fear them, but this was nothing like she's ever seen. She couldn't fear the people she loved after all!

More people had died, but they had noticed the guards taking people to safety. One morning, a couple guards had tried to convince her to seek safety in the palace, but she had explained about Melvin and a Werewolf among so many people might prove dangerous. They had even thought she had been kidnapped by Melvin, but once she explained that she had rescued him and was not kidnapped, they eventually let them go after she politely refused the invitation. She was sure to tell them that if she or her family were needed, they would help in whatever ways they could.

From then on, she'd been ever wary of the guard. She was on high alert and so was Melvin.

And still no one from her family came for her yet. But she had sent word to them telepathically that she was fine and helping a new friend and they'd be home as soon as they could make it. It was damned time she had an adventure anyways! She was trying to prove she could be useful, helpful! Maybe they'd let her out more after this or maybe her parents would never let her leave the Valley again! For now, she and Melvin were on their own again and they were still in the fight of their lives.

Survival, that's what it was all about!

Their goal was simple, reach the nearest forest they could find and then he could hunt to his heart's content. She was adept enough to make a fire for them, find edible things and he could hunt deer, goat, and other game he preferred. And the first source of fresh water they found, they would bathe! Oh how she looked forward to having a bath, even if it might have to be in a creek! Clean hair, and skin would make all the difference for this tiny Faery girl! Presently, she was napping, curled up beside Melvin while he was hunting down a place where they could move from water to land.

The water had seemed to go on forever and ever, and how many days had passed, she wasn't entirely sure, they all seemed to blend together. Surely a week had passed by now, maybe longer. Time seemed almost irrelevant now. It was simply reduced to day and night, morning and evening. Through all these days spent together, the two were growing inseparable, and she was determined that no one or nothing would tear them apart. She had a friend outside of her family, for the first time!

Her head was resting on Melvin's hip, her hair splayed all over the place. It appeared more dingy than snowy white, kinda like a dirty mop. Her hair was so tangled it would take -forever- to comb it out. With it being so hot, she had taken her blouse and made a sort of tank top out of it and she had split her pants legs down the outer seam and made capri's out of them. She had no bra or anything like that on when she had arrived, but through some raiding, they had acquired things. No bra still, but a cute bustier had been found! It was dark green with a cute little 'V' neckline.

On their journey through the city to the forests, she had the fantastic idea to 'borrow' from homes and other buildings. From the buildings they had raided, some clothing, food, and essentials had been gathered. And if need be, she had conjured up things they required. One building they discovered was a general store which seemed to belong to a family of merchants. From it she 'borrowed' a couple cloaks (dark blue for Melvin, dark purple for her), an awesome studded leather war-skirt for Melvin so he could hide his wolfy-bits, and some girly things for herself; that bustier mentioned above for one. She even picked up clothes for Melvin in case he wound up in his human form again.

Among her other treasures, she found flint and steel, sugar, flour, and other basic needs.

She had found a backpack and it now held some things they had found. Far as she could tell, they would make it! Nature would provide many things, but some things just had to be 'borrowed'! Maybe soon they'd find some land! She sure hoped so, she longed for a warm fire and something in her belly, it was beginning to growl fiercely.

((OOC Note - I will be leaving town on May 1st to the 15th for my friends' wedding, and I won't have regular access to the internet during this time. As such, I will only be able to post a couple more times as Djarin before I have to wrap up this leg of his epic journey. Enjoy.))


The castle was alive with energy. Survivors of the recent cataclysms had flocked to the relatively dry safety of Alerions' fortress. The courtyard entrance was crowded with frenzied citizens, their clothes matted and their skin filthy. Guards mingled with these commoners, bellowing out orders and sending people to the crowded castle quarters.

A spirit pushed through the crowd, hollering at each person it passed by. "Help! Hey, you, help!" The spirit pounded violently on the head of a guard, who completely ignored his efforts. "Why won't you listen?!" The spirit clenched the mans shoulders, trying to shake him, but the guard simply walked away as if nothing was happening.

The spirit noticed Djarin looking at him and rushed over to the Seer. "You! I saw you watching! You can see me?" Djarin made a point of looking away, but the spirit swept in front of his view. "Hey, stop that. You can see me, can't you?"

Djarin sighed. "Yes, I can."

Blend gave him a quizzical look. "Excuse me?"

Djarin shrugged and motioned at the spirit. "It's talking to me."

"Of course I'm talking to you!" cried the spirit, its face cracking into a wide grin. "And you can hear me! I've been here for three days, THREE DAYS, looking for someone to talk to! Finally! Ohh, you need to help me."

"Help?" Djarin didn't have time for this. "I have to see the king. There's not much time, sorry. You will have to find your help elsewhere."

The ghost groaned. "Time? You don't have time?! My sister has been pinned under a beam of wood for three days, dying from thirst, and you don't have time! Well, let me tell you, I won't leave you with one moment of rest until you help."

--

The spirit was true to his word. Everywhere Djarin went, the ethereal ghost was there, screaming at the top of its lungs, twirling in the most outlandish dances, slapping the faces of each person Djarin talked to. The Seer was finding it nearly impossible to focus with the persistent ghost bothering him at every opportunity.

The spirit had busied himself with urinating on a guard, sending ghostly rivers of liquid running down the mans leg. Djarin chuckled.

"Ok, ok, you've made your point," Djarin offered towards the spirit. The ghost grinned towards him, hitching up his trousers.

"I don't think the guard minded much," the spirit chuckled.

"If he knew a ghost was pissing on him, I think he'd mind."

Blend looked at him and laughed. "Interesting spirit you've got there, lad."

"You don't know the half of it." Djarin grinned, then looked to the spirit. "Tell me then, what's your problem. Let's see if I can help."

"Like I said before," the spirit said, straightening up. "My sister Aisha has been pinned beneath a wooden beam. No one can hear her, besides she's stopped screaming - I think she's unconscious. I can't help her.. I was a guard, but I was killed by the tidal wave. I couldn't get back in time.."

Djarin couldn't focus. The name Aisha brought back too many memories. Memories of sand. Memories of love. Memories of pain.

--

A decade ago, in the distant deserts of Heruin, Djarin had been a young and lustful boy of fifteen. The sun hadn't burned cracks into his olive skin, and youth radiated from his flesh in waves. It was in this lost time that Djarin had met his lover.

According to Tral tradition, a man and a woman cannot even touch each other until they are married. To get wed, the fathers of both parties must agree on the coupling. Even then, the husband-to-be would have to pay a dowry as an offer for the bride, and the dowry was often worth more than a lifetimes share of toil. Thus, marriage was a difficult and long process, designed to slow the quickening heartbeats of the young and eager.

When Djarin had met Aisha, he fell into maddening desire instantly. Her skin was smooth as glass, a rich olive shade, and her eyes were an exotic green. Her cheekbones were proud and prominent, and a pair of luscious pink lips rested above a perfectly round chin. When she smiled towards him, Djarin felt his heart stop, stutter, and then start again at twice the tempo.

They had spent weeks together, honoring the traditions of the Tral. No contact, and a respectful distance at all times. Moreover, they had to have an adult male in their presence at all times, preferably someone from her family, to further ensure no impure actions occurred. But as the weeks melted into months, their closeness drove them to steal precious moments away from the Tral clan, where they would sneak out into the desert behind the camps and spend the nights talking about their forbidden ambitions.

Like him, Aisha resented the old traditions, traditions which seemed designed to quell their burning passion. When they spent these hours alone, they held each others hands, and stared into each others eyes as they lay in the sand. The closeness, the contact, was so potent that Djarin waited each day with eagerness for their next chance alone.

One fateful night, the couple found themselves alone in the desert like so many nights before. Djarin had brought a blanket, and the cloth was spread out on the warm desert floor. The pair lay together, their eyes locked, not speaking. A gentle breeze of wind brushed against Aishas' face, running ethereal fingers over her ebony hair.

"I could stay like this forever," Djarin said. It wasn't an uncommon sentiment, one he probably said each night.

Aisha sighed. "If only.. My father is growing suspicious.."

"Why should we care? Our love is between us."

Aisha giggled, her eyes twinkling in the moonlight. "I love when you talk like that. You sound so angry!"

Djarin cupped her cheek in his. "I just don't want this to end.."

Aisha leaned forwards and planted a gentle kiss on his lips. "It doesn't have to. Not tonight.."

Djarin watched in surprise as her robes slid from her shoulders and her nude form climbed onto him. What followed is best left to your imagination.

--

Their bodies entwined, the wind whispered against their nude skin, chilling beads of sweat. Their eyes were locked, their lips inches apart. Djarin smiled.

"I love you, Aisha."

"I know," she whispered. "Now we'll always have this night."

A loud crash started Djarin as the mammoth figure of Aishas' father came barreling out of the encampment. The man had been spying on them for several seconds now from the shadows of a tent, and he charged towards them with murder in his eyes. Aisha quickly clutched her robes to her naked body, her eyes wide with fear, as the man strode straight to Djarin and struck him full across the face with a closed fist.

Stars blotted across his vision as Djarin took the blow. His eyes swimming, he looked up at the man as he swung again, pounding agony against his temple. The man raised his fist to swing a third time, but someone restrained him - Djarins' own father, Achtel.

"Stop!" Achtel hissed angrily, struggling to restrain the infuriated father. "Let the clan decide their punishment."

The attacker went limp, no longer struggling against Achtels' restraints. "Very well," the man spoke venomously. "Get your clothes on, boy. Meet us at the bonfire. I'll take this.. whore.. to her tent." The man grabbed Aishas' wrist and yanked her to her feet, half dragging the crying girl towards the Tral encampment while Djarin and his father stared after them.

--

The proceedings that followed were viciously blunt. According to Tral tradition, defiance of the teachings earned punishment for both parties involved. For the man, banishment into the desert for two moons. For the woman, she would be married into another Tral clan without dowry, and never see Djarin again.

Those forty days in the desert only served to sharpen the blade of suffering which now pierced his heart. Aisha..

--

He'd never seen the young girl again. That last glimpse of her half-naked body, crying and struggling as her father dragged her away from him, was an image which burned itself into Djarins' mind. Some nights, it'd waken him, and he'd find tears streaming down his face in profusion. He'd wipe them off and try to push those bittersweet memories away.

--

Back in the present, this spirit spoke her name. It couldn't be Aisha, could it? Surely the name was common, especially for those in Heruin. Only this wasn't Heruin. Regardless, Djarin refused to accept the possibility.

"You okay?" The spirit asked. "You look like you've just seen a ghost." It chuckled at the irony. "Well, I guess you have.."

Djarin shook his head. "It's nothing. I.. just.. Well, I knew someone with that name."

"Well, now you're about to know two someones with that name. Come, follow me. I'll show you where she's at."

The ghost confidently strode off into the castle, leaving Djarin and Blend to follow. The winding paths of the castle were incredibly complex, and Djarin found himself disoriented within only moments of beginning the journey. Apparently, they had left the region of the castle now crammed with guests, and the more remote quarters of the garrison now laced the halls on either side of him. Great wooden doors covered each portal, nearly as thick as the walls which housed them.

They turned a hall and the ghost finally stopped. It motioned eagerly to a door. "Here, here." Then the ghost walked through the door. Djarin heard the subtle click of a latch and the door pushed open. The spirit was on the other side, beckoning him in impatiently.

The room was a wreck. A beam from the ceiling had been torn loose during the earthquake, and this massive wooden support had decimated the entire room. The fragments of a bookshelf littered the floor. Dislodged bricks and stones covered everything, and a fine powder made of shattered mortar left the room looking ghostly grey.

Beneath the beam, lying on what remained of a bed, was the emaciated figure of a woman. Thin, bonelike hands rested against wisps of black hair. Some contraption had been made out of shards of the bookshelf lashed together with strips of cloth, a sort of grabbing device, which apparently the pinned woman had been using to try and get water. An overturned bowl of water rested halfway across the room, evidence of her failure. Surely, she was dead by now.

"No, not dead," the spirit cried happily. "She's just unconscious! Help me with this."

The spirit was pushing against the wooden beam in vain. Djarin motioned Blend over and the pair strained against the wood. Groaning, the beam rolled over, freeing the pinned woman.

Her legs seemed broken, twisted at odd angles. Her body was skeletal beneath her nightgown, suffering from extreme dehydration. Her skin was leathery and wrinkled, too much skin for the meager body beneath it.

Djarin reached a hand out and rolled her slowly onto her back.

The wrinkled face of his lost lover stared back at him, her green eyes dull and unseeing.

Aisha.

--

Chaos had taken so much from him. So many sacrifices. Djarin had given his very life to Chaos, and it had given his life back. That, and so much more. His love.

Aisha. He'd never dreamed of seeing her again. The Tral are very adamant about their traditions, and Djarin had heard that Aisha was married into another clan long before his own banishment in the desert was finished. He'd often imagine sneaking away and finding this distant clan, of stealing her away from her husband, but then the memories of their crude separation convinced him that she would be best off left alone. For the longest time, that had been that.

"Blend.." Djarin motioned the man over. "I.. I want you to take her out of here, take her to safety. I still must see the King. But when, if, I return.. I want to find her again. Can you do that for me?"

"Who is she?" Blend asked, his curiosity peaked.

"I.. I once loved her.. I suppose I always will." Djarin looked down at the figure longingly. "Chaos has given me a gift, Blend. When all this is done, I can be with her again." His lips curled into a smile, emotions pouring through him. "Tempesturo is good."

Blend nodded. "Yeah, I can take care of her. But don't you think you'll get rid of me this easily. We've still got a king to talk to, don't we? You think I'd miss out on that?"

The spirit, Aishas' brother, spoke up. "Seems you've done me a favor, Seer, by saving my sister. It's my turn to return it. I used to work here in the garrison, before I died. I know this castle like the back of my dead hand. There's an old passageway which leads up to the Kings' chambers. They made it as an emergency escape, should the King find himself locked in his room for whatever nefarious reason. If you're trying to get close to the King, I can take you there. What happens next is between you and your God."

Djarin nodded his assent. "Very well."

"Come with me. We have to go to the reception room."

Blend crouched down and picked up the frail figure of Aisha. She seemed to weigh less than a hundred pounds, for Blend carried her effortlessly as they turned to follow after the ghost.

--

In the reception room, men and women of prominence mingled with eachother. These people served the Kings' Court, land owners, princes and barons, the noble and established. Many of them appeared to be survivors of the tidal wave, and were being directed by guards to their own personal quarters. Of course, Djarin hadn't expected the commoners to mingle with these well-to-do lords of the realm, but the sense of civility and normality that pervaded the air seemed forced and it made Djarin sick. These people were sheltering themselves from the atrocities of the outside world by surrounding themselves in fine clothes and foods.

To Djarins' surprise, he noticed Deanna. The woman seemed freshly bathed, her skin flawless, her hair silken smooth. Her companion, Quinn, was at her side. The pair seemed involved in a conversation, and Djarin could tell by their sensual motions that they'd just finished that sacred ritual reserved for men and women in love.

Djarin approached the couple and bowed his head.

"A pleasure to see you both," he offered. Blend promptly translated for him. "It seems that we've been destined to cross paths again." His eyes were filled with warmth and friendliness as he studied the pair. The warm affection they mutually shared reminded him of his long-lost Aisha, the emaciated woman in Blends' arms. Soon, Djarin would know love like this again.

"I am going to speak with the King. To show him my revelation. You're welcome to come. I have a suspicion it will be quite the event."

They hadn't been interrupted during their session, however they'd been quickly asked to leave once it was obvious that they were done. Apparently it was frowned upon. So they took the offered clothes and made their way to the dinner hall. Apparently they were to be treated as honored guests of the king. He wasn't sure if that was because they had been with Wish and Victor or because Deanna was manager of the Tavern, either way they were here.

Quinn's mind kept returning to the conversation he had with Deanna before they'd been asked to leave. There were still so many things that they needed to talk about. Her past, his past, their future. He'd hoped that they would have been able to answer so more questions with their talk, however it seemed that more questions had arisen.

The couple had sat down to dinner and had only begun to eat, when they were joined by someone Quinn had hoped never to see again. He didn't trust the stranger that had pulled such a reaction from Victor, and the feelings he'd felt coming off of Deanna. Of course he expected the man to come back. Quinn couldn't get that lucky. The fact that he approached them with what appeared to be friendliness only put him on edge.

He stood and put himself between Deanna and the man, the first time he'd shown any sense of possessiveness towards his mate. Normally he'd let her stand on her own, but something about this stranger didn't sit right with him. He'd spoken about showing the king his visions, and that it should be a good show. The uneasiness he felt about the other man grew. He didn't like the sound of what he'd said, but he wasn't about to miss it either.

Simply nodding to him that they'd go, he reached back for Deanna's hand and followed the man to the thrown. Stopping before Djarin did, he put his hand up to stop Deanna from going further. He didn't want to be too close to the action, but not too far either. One way or the other he had a bad feeling about this and didn't want either himself or Deanna getting too close.

Normally he didn't 'tell' Deanna what to do. However he seemed to be taking the lead this time, asserting his alpha position for a change. Whether she would say anything or actually do what he wanted was another matter. One that he was interested in finding out. He wasn't sure what hep expected, but he was hoping she'd follow his lead this time.

The Redeemer had spent his entire life living up to the idea that the Redmonts where this great and honorable family, one that had been lead a stray by his brother, and when that truth came crashing down he focused mainly on his new life with Deanna. Truthfully he'd began to lose his interest in his lost family the moment he'd met her, and she'd slowly became such an important part of his life that her well being over shadowed the Redmonts.

His life had changed so much since their first meeting. She'd worked her way into his life without even trying and had stolen his heart without even knowing. They knew so little of one another that it was amazing that it could happen at all, but it had. Even before he had a beast, he felt a primal attraction to the Lady Dicorvino. And now, he wanted to make sure she stayed in his life, and would do anything to make sure she was.

A disruption. That's what Quinn and Deanna had become to others waiting to bathe. A disruption.

She shot those who waited impatiently with her irate glare as they wrapped themselves in provided bath sheets. No sooner had they done so when in hurried Felix and Lani into the bathing chambers. Deanna glanced at Quinn with a smirk, wondering if the dynamic duo had been waiting on them outside the entire time. Surely they had heard the 'disruption' she and Quinn had created.

Felix grabbed her mate by the wrist. "Oh, myyy!" The much smaller more effeminate man urged him out of the bathing chamber to find 'far more fetching garb for such a fine young man' and that was the last she saw of her mate until it was time to dine. Deanna chuckled, only imaging the horrors that Felix was planning on putting Quinn through, when Lani followed suit, practically yanking Deanna out of the bathing chamber and through a series of twists and turns, onwards and upwards to where the servants' quarters were. The shifter clung to the front of her towel as the smaller more delicate woman, who was stronger than she looked, continued to pull her along.

Far more amused than irritated, Deanna ran behind her, nearly tripping and breaking her neck on the stone stairwell until finally they stopped at a closed door where Lani entered, apparently her room. The serving wench's room was sparse but decorated quite lovely, and clean with sweet smelling rushes on the floor and incense that burned steadily in a metal holder. The younger woman tugged at Deanna's towel before tossing her something flimsy her way which Deanna assumed was an undergarment that she held up for inspection before she shimmied into it.

“I assume this has been washed, seeing as it obviously is yours.” The shifter said dryly as she donned the underwear.

Lani appeared unfazed by her reaction and chuckled as she reached for a long gauzy garment in vibrant colors of green, copper and cream. “Of course. I am not prone to wearing filth. Unlike...say, you.” Lani smiled even as Deanna narrowed her eyes at the girl. She admired her spirit and considered not snapping her neck like a twig. Lani paid no attention to the therianthrope as she shook out the dress and held it up for Deanna to admire.

Which was the complete opposite of what Deanna did. She arched a dark brow at the serving girl. “You don't seriously expect me to wear that, do you?” Then she laughed, assuming that the girl was playing some practical joke on her. When Lani did not speak, simply staring at Deanna, the shifter's laughter died and she sobered quickly.

“I cannot wear that...that...thing! I'll look like a...well like...,” Deanna faltered then, knowing the next word out of her mouth would be an insult to the girl who was kind enough to offer her own clothing to Deanna who should have been grateful and humble instead of criticizing.

“A whore?” Lani offered helpfully, a small tight smile on her lips.

Deanna regarded the girl steadily, a heartbeat or two passing before finally she said, “You said it, not me, but essentially, yes. A whore. I am not a whore.”

Lani shrugged as she made her way to where Deanna stood, ignoring the taller woman's protests as she slipped it over her head. “As it happens, I am a whore if and when I am needed to be. I have many talents.” The girl straightened and fussed as she adjusted the garment before locking her eyes with Deanna's. “Nor am I ashamed of who I am or what I am.'

The dig was clear and Deanna frowned as Lani directed her over to a mirror that took up nearly an entire length of wall. So the little wench had a tongue on her, a sharp barbed weapon that she did not fear to use. Deanna wasn't sure if she proud of her spunk or simply annoyed by it. Wisely she kept her mouth shut as she gazed at her reflection.

The dress was sleeveless, the earthen colors playing upon Deanna's skin tone and eye color perfectly, she quietly observed. The straps were thin and held together with jeweled clasps. The bodice was form fitting and slit in the center of her breasts exposing her skin just above her navel where a brooch in the same jewels lay. It cinched in the waist only to flow outward around her hips to reach her calves. It was, Deanna had to admit, rather spectacular.

Lani smiled as she brushed Deanna's hair out, pleased to see the shifter's reaction. “It is one of my favorites. I thought it would be suitable on you.”

Deanna caught Lani's gaze in the mirror, suddenly feeling ashamed of her earlier judgment...of the garment and the girl. “I suppose I owe you an apology. You were trying to be kind and I did nothing but mock you and your generosity.”

Lani finished brushing the tangles free until her hair flowed freely down her back. “It is not necessary to apologize. I am what I am, just as you are what you are.” The girl's eyes glinted mischievously. “Which is a bitch, I'm not sorry to say. Felix was correct.” She noted Deanna's scowl and had to laugh a bit. “Tell me, my lady, up or down?” Deanna blinked in confusion until she realized that Lani was referring to her hair. “Oh, down. People tend to stare at the scars. I find it rude.”

The girl was surprised and shifted Deanna's hair aside to take note of two inverted V shaped scars that decorated her shoulder blades. The scars appeared old, and Lani's fingers lightly traced the rather ugly markings. “Was this done by torture?” She asked softly.

Deanna shook her head, settling her hair once more in place as she stepped away from the girl. “No. On purpose actually.” She sat down upon a cushioned bench where soft leather sandals dyed in a copper color were waiting for her. Deanna slid her feet into them, impressed that the footwear nearly fit perfectly. She tied the laces into bows around her ankles and stood, a look of surprise on her face as she glanced at the horror struck Lani.

"What in hell is wrong with you?"

“Why?” The girl whispered. Deanna shrugged. “It was done to test my loyalty.” She offered no other explanation to the girl, who was kind enough not to question further. Perhaps the serving wench didn't want to know the truth of the story, and for that Deanna was grateful.

Lani began reaching for a jar of cream that had a pleasant citrus scent to it and began applying it liberally to Deanna's arms, back, chest and finally face. “You're skin is dry, my lady. This will help nourish it and protect it from the sun's harshness,” she explained. Deanna made a face at such unnecessary primping, but held still as the girl finished.

The torture wasn't quite complete much to Deanna's dismay. The girl lined her eyes with something she called a kohl stick and patted a colorless waxy substance on her chapped lips. Deanna protested, finding this all ridiculous, but Lani held firm. “You are a woman. You should dress like one.”

“C'mon! You're going a bit overboard, don't you think?” Deanna complained, though grudgingly, she admitted she looked...well, nice.

“Would you rather wear a burlap sack for dinner, lady? I'm sure I can find one for you.” Lani smiled innocently, a gleam in her eyes.

“Very funny. Now are we through? I'm starving.”

Deanna met up with Quinn who stood chatting with Felix. She was surprised to see that the rather foppish man found clothes suitable to her mate's tall, lean frame. She smiled at him seeing that he cleaned up rather nicely. Her smiled widened as Felix even admitted she looked better than the gutter rat she appeared before to him. Deanna placed a kissed on the flamboyantly gay Chamberlain's cheek before making their way into the dining chamber.

It was there that Djarin and a male companion made their way over. Deanna wasn't taken aback seeing the prophet, for she knew that they would cross paths again someday, somehow. Still it was a tad unsettling seeing him so...well...alive and somewhat well. Deanna remembered old courtesies and dipped her head in greeting to him and his friend as well.

The shifter remained silent as she stood beside Quinn while Djarin's translator expressed the prophet's desire to seek out the attentions of the King himself. That unsettled Deanna, for she had seen the chaos that ensued after the last revelation that Djarin had brought to the populace. She noted with a silent chuckle, Quinn's reaction toward Djarin as he took a stance between them. She supposed she couldn't fault her mate, but still...his 'concern' was rather touching in an amusing sort of way.

Deanna glanced around, wondering where Wish and Victor had found themselves, and hoped she would spot them. She didn't have time to thoroughly look for they began to follow Djarin, Quinn taking her by the hand. She had noted the prophet's expression earlier, more importantly his remaining eye. They eyes, they said, were the windows to the soul, and Deanna could see, or rather feel, a sense of hopeful longing within the prophet. Was it his desire to reveal his 'truths' to the King, or something else?

Suddenly her movement was stopped short by Quinn, and Deanna frowned as she peered up at him. She shot him a questioning look and when she went to move forward, her mate hindered her by blocking her path.

The shifter narrowed her eyes at her mate, unhappy with how we was handling the situation. Surely he could contain his jealousy for a single moment so they could focus on more important matters? Deanna did something that shocked even herself. She checked her anger. Sure she felt it rising, for no one disliked being told what to do, how to act than Deanna. Still, she kept her comments to herself, though she was sure Quinn would take note of her bristling. More than anything, Deanna refused to be a possession. To anyone. Not even her mate whom she loved, but she knew he was acting in a manner for her own protection, or so she hoped.

Deanna sighed heavily and placed a slim hand upon his arm. “Relax. We are here to simply observe. Nothing more, nor less.” She hoped that her calm demeanor would have an effect on her mate. She knew how ugly things could turn should Quinn's emotions get the best of him and take action.

She was questioning whether she would have to stop him or not, when she felt a sudden chill creep down her spine. The weather was borderline hot, even in the castle, so surely it couldn't be that. Deanna couldn't place where this unpleasant sensation was coming from, only knew that it was there, present in mind and spirit if not body. Something nagged at her, some feeling of incredible confusion and despair pricked at her subconscious, and the shifter then realized it had nothing whatsoever to do with what was taking place here and now.

The shifter rubbed at her bare arms, trying to rid herself of the icy feeling of dread that clutched at her. She suddenly knew what she was feeling.

Chaos.

And it was bigger and more terrifying than whatever Djarin had in store for Alerion.

((OOC Note: Post is assumed to have happened after Verial awakes Aursra from her nightmares.))

Sometimes the Gods give you a reason to do something, that is, if you are a believer in said Deities. Verial, he was not a believer, so his reasons for going to Tempesturo's Temple were mysterious. Perhaps it was because he wanted to help try to stop what was going on with the strange weather. Already it had caused too many deaths, too much sickness (Aursra's and Mycha's included), so what he wanted like everyone else was answers. What better way to get results then to fly on over to the Temple of Summer?

Once Aursra had been shaken from her nightmares and was on her way to recovery, Verial snuck out of the Villa like a thief in the night. Well, not totally like a thief. He did tell Kyrian and gave him this very serious look that suggested his son better not follow him this time. He told Kyrian because unlike last time when he went off to Elved alone, he didn't want Kyrian to be concerned and fly off after his reckless father. On the other hand, he also wanted Kyrian to tell Aursra just a wee, little lie for him; that he'd gone to see King Alerion. After all, it seemed going to see King Alerion was better news than Verial going to Tempesturo's Temple.

Verial hoped Kyrian could keep a straight face.

As a dragon, it was a few days journey (a little under a week) to Heruin. Verial took breaks here and there, resting his wings and always flying above the clouds where no one would see and be frightened of a black dragon. The sun had come out again and while he did not need to travel through torrents of rain and lightning storms, he did not appreciate the sun on his obsidian colored scales. In fact, there were often times where he thought he was very well on fire and assumed he had terrible sunburn on his normally pale skin. The sun was not the only issue; once he had crossed into the desert continent's territory, wind filled with sand lashed out at him dangerously.

He contemplated going home thinking this idea of his to come to Tempesturo's temple was indeed a stupid one when suddenly those harsh, sandy winds seemed to cease. Verial circled around, looking down towards the earth and saw it - the Temple of Summer. The crude stone building reached towards the sky ever imposing, but something was wrong with it. Verial landed on the opposite side of the temple from where wandering Khory Bannefin was; for a fleeting moment, she might have felt that the sun was blocked out of the sky. Verial shifted back into his "normal" form, shaking what sand he could out of raven feathered wings.

The entrance doors were open, but inside the main hallway it was dark and uninviting and not a single priest was to be found. Verial had read up a bit on the Temple of Summer before visiting it and knew there were a few distinct things the temple was missing. Namely, the mists that shrouded the temple in a protective manner were all but gone and the blazing fires that decorated the structure had disappeared, as if some giant had blew out the flames. It was eerily quiet... too quiet.

Verial began to scout, walking around the temple and looking for any signs of life or clues about what had gone on here. When he reached the other side of the Temple of Summer, he stopped and his breath caught in his throat. There, leaning over in the sand and facing the opposite direction was a woman with flame colored hair. He thought he was over her, but instantly Verial found himself asking if that could actually be Necia, his first wife. Then, the woman who was once slumped over was wearily pushing herself off the stone platform she was on and heading away. Verial then knew as she stood that this was not Necia and his mind was just playing tricks on him. In comparison, this lady was very tall, as tall as him, and unless Necia had grown about a foot since he last saw her...

All staring and wandering thoughts aside, Verial took a few seconds to catch his breath again. It was in these few seconds that Verial saw something lumbering out of the sand and dragging itself towards an unaware Khory. A zombie? What in the hell is a zombie doing out here in the desert? Before Verial realized it, he had sprung into action and advanced towards the undead creature, closing the few feet between him and Khory. The zombie fell easily as Verial knocked it out of the way, kicking it in the side. After it tumbled a few feet, Verial pulled out his sword and was on the zombie before it could get back up. The blade sliced through the undead being and severed its rotting head from its body. The zombie moaned in protest for a few agonizing seconds and then went silent.

Verial turned back to Khory. "Are you okay?" he asked, though clearly he could tell she was not. The woman looked to have been travelling the desert for quite some time, her skin burned and caked with some layers of sand. On top of that, her eyelids were rimmed with red coloring and Verial couldn't tell if it was because she was crying or because of the sand in the wind. Among other things, her knees were also bloody and it pretty much looked like she had been to hell and back. Maybe he shouldn't have asked her that. "What are you doing out here?"

In a way, it was amusing that he questioned why she was out here. After all, he had no real reason to be in the desert except that he was foolishly trying to find answers once again.

However, before Khory could answer Verial, something was unnatural forming. Behind him, there was this awful sound consisting of a symphony of groans and growls. Verial hesitated to look over his shoulder for a brief second already convincing himself this couldn't be good. As he turned around, he found he was very much right. The one zombie he had killed wasn't the only one; there was an unruly hoard of between eighty to a hundred undead (zombies and walking skeletons) headed their way. Verial sheathed his sword and turned back to Khory with a very serious look in his odd colored eyes.

"Run."

Unfortunately, the zombies were too close for him to even think about shifting back into a dragon. He did, however, waste no time to move away from the temple and made sure Khory was following as he headed in the southern most direction towards the sea.

The spirit led Deanna, Quinn, Djarin and Blend through a series of remote passageways. Eventually these passages led to a dusty wooden door. The spirit strode through the wood confidently and unlocked it from the inside, then beckoned Djarin forwards.

Beyond the doorways' threshold was a series of dusty stairs. They zigzagged upwards, towards what Djarin predicted to be the back side of the Kings' bedroom.

"Lead the way," he motioned the spirit forwards. The ethereal ghost headed up the stairs, and Djarin followed with his companions.

At the top of the stairs, they were met with a bizarre looking wooden door. There was no handles that Djarin could note. The spirit explained.

"This is the back side of a bookshelf. Beyond here is the Kings' bedroom." The ghost stuck its head through the doorway, then pulled it back. "Yeah, he's in there. Studying. There's two guards though, but they're facing the hallway. If you're quiet, you can get near him."

Djarin nodded. "How do we open the door?"

"Leave that to me. You ready?"

It seemed he wasn't. Djarins' spirit was viciously torn from his body, and he found himself within Chaos once more.

--

Djarins' spirit strode through the tumultuous realm of Chaos. Droplets of rain lifted from the ground and drifted off into the sky, defying gravity. Lightning pulsed through the air. Djarin forgot how beautiful this place was, despite the destructive nature of everything around him. Massive boulders coated in bizarre crystals drifted by harmlessly. Fingers of flame twirled upwards, spiraling. Everywhere he looked was some different phenomenon, each more curious than the last.

Before him was the massive beast he'd met before, the one who called itself the Guardian of Chaos. The last time he'd seen the enormous creature, it had taken the shape of a bear, coated in crystals of glass. Now it appeared to be a wolf, and its skin was made of granite and marble. A pair of eyes studied him, no longer radiating light. Indeed, they were pools of blackness, absorbing every drop of energy that dared to venture too close.

"Do not be surprised at my change," the beast growled towards him. "It is my nature to evolve. Like the God I worship. Like you."

"Why am I here again?" Djarin asked, staring up at the majestic being.

"The time has come for your final decision. You are going to be faced with an ultimate sacrifice. It seemed prudent to warn you of the consequences of this decision."

"Ultimate sacrifice?" Djarin didn't understand. "My life?"

"That, yes, and more. Before we discuss this furthur, you must understand why you have been chosen for this moment. The King Alerion is one who understands sacrifice. His immortality came at a cost, the life of his entire realm, and the King understood this. When he drew his own blood and broke the curse that plagued Aleris, he also sacrificed his immortality. But with this great sacrifice, the Gods were woken, and the realm was renewed.

"Now it appears that Tempesturo rests. I do not understand why. But there is a sacred truth of the gods. The gods are like the weavers' wheel, while the mortals are like crude fur. Without one, the other has no purpose. The Gods refine us much like the wheel refines the fur into threads, and we in turn give the Gods meaning, a.. purpose. You are this purpose.

"Tempesturo must be reached. His absence is causing a great deal of suffering. Your sacrifice may be the only way."

"What is this sacrifice?" Djarin asked.

"If you walk away from the castle, and leave the King untouched, you will find love. The woman with you, Aisha, will grow old in your arms, and you will bear many children together. Your family will prosper. When you die, the gods will welcome you into the afterlife, and you will live forever."

"Well, that settles it then. I don't need to do anything else.. My work is done."

"No."

What the Guardian of Chaos told him next made Djarins' soul tremble.

--

Returned to his body, Djarin found himself still standing. Blend was behind him, and the man was impatiently asking him if everything's alright. Djarin shook his head. No, it isn't alright, he wanted to say, but he knew that would only slow them down. Instead, he simply motioned the man over.

"Blend, give me Aisha."

Blend frowned, looking down at the frail body in his arms. "Why?"

"There's no time for that. Here," Djarin reached out and took the skeletal woman into his arms. She was lighter than he expected, and Djarin carried the figure with ease. "Wait here, Blend. You should be able to watch from the safety of the shadows."

Djarin turned his eyes to Deanna and Quinn. After speaking for a moment, Blend translated for the nomad. "I don't understand why you were fated to see this.. but I think Tempesturo has great plans for you. Do not forget that Chaos is only another name for Change.."

The Seer sighed, steeling himself for what was about to come. He turned to the back end of the bookshelf, where the spirit of Aishas' brother still waited.

"I'm ready, spirit. Open the door."

The spirit nodded and dissappeared through the shelf. Djarin could hear shuffling noises on the other side as the spirit tried different books for the hidden handle. While he waited, Djarin turned to Blend.

"Remember what I said before, that Tempesturo is good?"

Blend nodded.

"I'm not so sure anymore if he gives one damn about good or evil, right or wrong." Djarins' voice was bitter. Blend made to respond, but the door opened, and Djarin strode into the Kings' chamber, carrying Aisha with him.

--

The Kings' chamber wasn't nearly as elaborate as his throne room. Nevertheless, it was fitting for the most powerful man in Aleris. A warm fireplace lit up the center of the room, and a massive rug was spread across the floor. Elaborate images played out on the elegant fabric, scenes of distant lands. With a start, Djarin recognized the artwork as distinctly from Heruin - his home. Djarin longed for those desert lands.

Mounted heads lined the walls, trophies of bears and wolves and deer, and even an exotic reptile with bulbous black marbles for eyes. Where there wasn't proud displays of hunting prowess, there were bookshelves, and much of the room was lined in a profusion of literature.

The King Alerion himself was sitting at a table near the fireplace. Several candles flickered from their silver sconces on the walls, illuminating the paperwork the King was busy pouring over. His back was to Djarin, and the Seer could see two guards. Their backs were also turned to him, for they flanked the sides of the front entrance, which stood open even now.

Djarin didn't have time to linger and examine the room. At any moment, one of the guards could glance into the room, as they were no doubt required to. Once that happened, the alarm would be raised, and Djarin would be hauled away as an enemy of the crown. So he took the slim oppourtunity he had.

He strode over to the King until he was directly behind him. Looking down at Aisha, he felt again the weight of the sacrifice soon to come.

Forgive me, my love.. he thought.

His right hand, the spirit hand, remained clutching the woman. With his left hand, he reached out and touched the King. Immense energy poured directly from one human to the other. The very soul of Aisha was transformed through Djarin, and by the time it had left the Seers' left hand and entered the King it was changed entirely. Chaos had warped the essence of the woman into the revelations of Ae'Vescra, Tempesturo.

Djarin watched as the life force of his lover blinked out. She felt even lighter, somehow. The King had let out a cry of alarm, and as Djarin delicately placed Aisha on the ground, a steel blade plunged through his back and pierced his heart.

Djarin died instantly.

--

"Ohh crap," Blend hissed. They were in the shadows, but it wasn't safe. The bookshelf stood open. At any second, the guards would charge in. The sailor whipped around and almost plowed right into Quinn. "Err, umm.. Why are you just standing there?! Let's go!" He gestured down the stairwell. "I don't know what the hell just happened in there but you saw as well as I did, they ran him through with the blade. Now hurry before you get us killed!"

The sailor was growing frantic. Time was running out. Not to mention, Djarin had just got himself killed - for the second time. Blend had an aching suspicion this would be the last time he'd see the Seer. For what purpose? What did Djarin achieve?

Blend couldn't wrap his mind around it. But there was no time for such pondering. The clinking of chain mail reminded them that the guards were on their way.

Melvin rowed like the spectacular rowing machine that he was. Normally quite the lazy creature, since meeting Ita, Melvin had discovered his purpose in life in the pint sized, child-like, small breasted pixie girl.

There was the chance that maybe, kind of, sorta, in some small way....
He loved that little gal!

Or at the very least, he really really really really really liked her. Even if she was small breasted.

So he would row until the ends of time for Ita, or at least until he got that uncomfortable cramp in his rear that made him whine like a girl. For the most part they sailed in their little canoe of love in relative quiet. He would gaze adoringly at her, a thick line of drool would hang from his lolling tongue, and she would stare at him like he had a giant booger coming out of his nostril, which was often the case.

Still, there was something about those cockeyed glazed over orbs of his, that foul breath that could make a baby cry ten yards away, those impressive globes between his legs just begging to be slapped and tickled. He knew that Ita was slowly but surely falling for the walking matted rug with claws that was Melvin.

IT WAS SEX APPEAL BABY!

He had it and she wanted it! He could see it with every glare of loathing whenever he ripped a fart or missed his aim while peeing. Every time she laughed and those pale curls of her sparkled with sunlight, Melvin could see she was falling for him a bit more with each passing day. Each night that they rested, she would curl up against his flea ridden, tick nested fur and snuggle. It made Melvin's heart flutter in his chest, his stomach queasy with knots.....and then the raging diarrhea would begin.

THIS WAS TRUE LOVE DAMN IT!

When the came across where those evil lizards with scales and all that fire-breathing terror were slaughtering people left and right, his precious little Ita almost shit herself with fear, and honestly...that seriously turned Melvin on. Still, it was his job as THE FUCKING MAN, ERR...WEREWOLF, to protect his lady love, and so he did.

“Fear not, Ita...uh...Bonita! Your Melvin, Stud of Studs, shall not let those cold blooded scaly dicktards get anywhere near you! This I vow as your hot blooded Wonder Wolf!”

Melvin did as his fair Bit O' Little asked of him and they hid amongst the taller buildings, finding sanctuary in the shadows of abandon structures where the dead floated by, they eyes pecked clean from the hungry birds who weren't too particular where they lay their beaks. Melvin was proud of himself for not even considering an on-the-go meal, for he vowed to his woman/child lust bunny that never would another human being, whether alive or dead, pass through that awesome terror inspiring maw of his.

For Ita, he would do this.

He would hold Ita snugly upon his furry muscular thighs (damn right baby...hard like rocks!), and shield her delicate eyes from the horrors that surrounded them. One large paw was placed against those dewy precious ringlets of hers, nearly smothering his lady love from lack of oxygen, but it was for her own good! She'd have nightmares if she saw this fucked up shit!
He held her throughout the night and well into the morning. He was almost finished with his morning pee when he noticed the city guards rounding up staggering civilians to safety (ha...say that five times fast) and growled at those who attempted to snatch Ita from him. He nearly showered his angel in pure gold as he settled in their canoe once more, up nodding as Ita assured those nosy busy bodies that she was in perfectly good hands with Melvin.

“That's right ya'll! She's with me!” Melvin jabbed himself in the chest with his thumb. “So just back off, bitches!”

Days and nights meshed together. They would paddle, they would stare, they would eat and sleep, but they were together.

Presently Ita was asleep while Melvin was rowing away. Poor little thing was heat exhausted and Melvin hunched over as her head lay upon his lap, her little legs curled against her chest. He used his massive and mighty form to shield her from the sun as much as possible, while panting the entire time.

Damn it was hot. Like really hella hot. Melvin was sure he lost a good amount of weight just in sweat. Ita wasn't faring any better and he did his best to keep her cool and comfortable. From time to time he blew on her, but that only made her gag and retch, so he stopped that. He switched to fanning her instead. She seemed to like that.

Melvin rested his mighty clawed hand on her matted and filthy curls and thought they were the most gorgeous curls he had ever seen in his life. Wait, was that a louse? Melvin snatched it with his dexterous fingers and crushed the little life out of it. “You stay out of my gal's hair!”

He knew Ita craved a bath in the worst way, like Melvin craved a good monkey spanking. Actually, now that he thought about it, it had been several weeks since he had given the one eyed beast a good tugging. Not that he didn't want to, but with Ita around, he felt bad and didn't want to embarrass her.

She was, in his opinion, making him a better wolf.

Damned if his balls didn't ache though. He'd have to take care of this rather 'huge' problem soon enough, but for now, was content that she was breathing heavy on his thigh.

His lady love was also a crafty little thieving shit too! He was mega-impressed with her when she went a lootin' and came back with all sorts of goodies. He soon followed her influential crime ridden spree and together, they managed to sniff out useable items completely at their disposal.

They robbed from the dead to give to themselves! How sweet was that?

Ita had rustled up some cloaks and a cool looking leather and metal studded (heh...stud) skirt for him so that his baby-maker could stay cool and refreshed. Wasn't she the most thoughtful of girlfriends?

Stocked with all sorts of cool shit, they continued on in their little bandit mobile they called a canoe, until finally, FINALLY! They came to dry land. About twenty yards away was the beginning of a forest clearing.

It took a few more days, but finally Ita spotted it....dry land! Melvin was so excited, he jumped around in the canoe, whooping and fist pumping like the champ that he was!

Which is when he promptly fell overboard into the water.

'OH MY GODS! HELP ME....HELP ME! I'M DROWING! I'M GONNA DIE! I DUN WANNA DIEEEEEEEEEEE!'

And on and on Melvin screeched and thrashed about like a total pussy until Ita, who stared at him in utter amazement from the canoe informed him calmly that the water was only about two feet deep where he was.

Melvin paused in mid-thrash and looked at the love of his life. Yeah, there was something muddy under his butt and he wriggled around some, squishing it against his fur. Which felt nice.

“Ahem. I knew that. I did. Just uh, making sure you were awake. Yeah.”

Melvin flashed those yellowed canines at her in what he thought was a dead sexy smile.

He stood up and flexed the the hairy Adonis that he was, wowing Ita with those bulging muscles of his before he grabbed the canoe with one clawed hand, and with his Little Bug still in it, dragged it ashore. He knew this would make Ita happy, considering they were on a rather complex journey to her home.

Melvin was going to meet....the in-laws.

A single act that terrified him, making him pee himself each time he thought about it. What if her family didn't like him? What if they thought he was just some gold-digger? What if they didn't think he was good enough for her, or was just planning on getting her knocked up and leaving her with his puppy brood?

Melvin shook these thoughts off as he gathered their supplies in hand while he and Ita ventured into the forest. Soon they would need to camp for the night, but HUZZAH! He could hunt! He couldn't wait to sink his fangs into a prime piece of deer rump!

"Shouldn't you be doing something? Aren't your friends and fami-"

"You still haven't given up, hm?"

"Well, it is a little difficult to just forget the fact that the entire realm is either drowning under displaced water, and what's not submerged is dying in the rising heat. Or that at any moment, just to add to the severe cosmic hilarity that is Aleris' current situation, a meteor should be dropping on Heruin any time now. And yet here we remain, as though the outside world just doesn't matter."

He glanced back at her, and then shook his head after a moment. Beyond the window, it wasn't exactly as disparaging a sight as the other continents were -- in contrast, Arthuran simply had no more snow. News of the floods that had all but submerged Eiler and Elved had reached him, and he had simply shrugged in response -- as he did now. "And what do you expect me to do? Perhaps you haven't realized it, but it's not like I can just row out to the center of the ocean and shake my fist at the skies, in hopes of intimidating the weather patterns," the Redmont muttered, shaking his head with an exaggerated sigh -- and though he couldn't see her rolling her eyes, he didn't need to.The sounds of movement behind him were ignored at first, until he felt her hand upon his shoulder, and in her other hand were the blades he had started carrying again -- reforged by her, though nobody but him knew that. "You may need these. I can't quite figure out why, but you seem to get into fights an awful lot," she reminded him, her voice dripping with sarcasm despite the brief, genuine smile that accompanied the statement.

Fiery eyes narrowed, and then he strapped the blades in their proper places as she made her way back to the chair where he used to sit. "So, while you're sitting here in relative safety, I'm supposed to just sail off into danger, looking for... people that I honestly don't know where they'd be? And help solve problems that wouldn't have affected me in the first place?" he inquired, tilting his head as he cast a final glance back at her. The brilliant smile she offered then had him turning away and slamming the door behind him before she could even think of a sarcastic reply.

"It's not like you wouldn't have gone anyway, Maxim..."

An undetermined amount of time later...

The situation was slightly worse than he had expected, at least for Eiler. Both were submerged in places, and even the areas that weren't in any immediate danger were still suffering from the obvious ecological effects of having an ocean where there previously was most certainly not an ocean. He had avoided Arthuran, since it didn't appear to be in nearly as much trouble, and instead found his way to Jade City, on Eiler. He had chosen to avoid Grand City for reasons of his own, having no desire to risk running into old... well, they weren't enemies, but they certainly weren't friends, either.

Surprisingly enough, he found that Jade City's architecture had protected it somewhat from the flooding, though it hadn't been enough to withstand everything, especially with the relentless natural disasters sweeping through the realm on a nearly daily basis. It was still functioning far better than most of the other places that he'd seen since leaving his sanctuary in the Oblivion Mountains. The sounds of horses stomping in the water and men shouting broke the peaceful silence of the evening, and one of them pointed at the Redmont before they approached, weapons at the ready.

Maxim couldn't help the smirk that passed over his pale features, instead lowering his head for a moment. "Before any of you say something you'll regret, let me inform you that I'm here to help. Why are there no refugees here? Are any of you aware how desperate things are elsewh-" "We've heard, and we don't care. Serves 'em all right, I say. Jade City is under martial law, and you're breakin' curfew, mate." The leader, armed with a sharp spear, gestured to two of his comrades after a moment. "Disarm him and cuff him, take him to the jail, you know the dr-" Having been interrupted earlier by the man, Maxim returned the favor and did the same -- by bringing Ruin up and splintering the spear down the middle. Both blades were held out as he began taking steps backwards, as the apparent captain of the guards stared in idiotic shock at his destroyed weapon. "Let me explain something, that I've learned to hate about your kind. In the wake of disaster, you should be united instead of divided. But nothing will cause humans to start knifing each other in the back like a catastrophe, will it? Utterly pathetic," Maxim hissed, raising his head then, those scarlet-shaded eyes narrowed as he surveyed his would-be attackers. The sight caused most of them to back away, and the leader finally dropped his spear into the knee-deep water before staring at Maxim. "What do you want here, then? Is it so bad that that even the undead are flocking here to murder us?" he sneered, and Maxim shook his head in disbelief.

"If I wanted you dead, it'd be your carcass in the water instead of that spear. Whoever is giving you these ridiculous orders -- I wish to meet with him, now."

"And I'll be keeping my weaponry, thank you."