The Patron's Crucible

[Alyssia Kanath]

It was mid-day when the troops caught sight of Castle Tul'ver sitting serenely atop a high hill at the edge of the plains of Tul'enar. Below it, a large bustling town spread below it's ever watching bastions. Most of the troops stayed outside the town, setting up camp and resting from their long journey. But soon after, three carts and a small contingent of mounted guards rumbled out from the camp and through the town gates.

The cart that Jhadira, Pauldo and Victor rode in was open to the view of the public. The only thing separating them from the curious eyes that stared as they wound their way along the cobblestone streets was a number of thick, iron bars.

Victor had mentioned that since they were in an enemy occupied town, they would most likely suffer abuse from those on the streets. The three had all prepared themselves for the shame of this ride. But to their surprise, it never came.

Instead they were met with only a little curiosity. As people stopped their daily routine to watch the prisoners roll by. Shopkeepers and street vendors watched quietly, some even lowering their head after only a moment as if they were themselves ashamed of the circumstance. mothers gathered their children close as they watched the little group with obvious fear in their eyes. Shutters closed as they passed and many tried to even ignore the spectacle. Ducking their heads away and moving hurriedly towards their destination.

Pauldo frowned, head tilting as his curious eyes swept in the scenery. His thoughts were interrupted by Jhadira's soft voice touching his ears. “They all look so...unhappy...” She whispered, her eyes darkening to an almost stormy Grey as her heart bled for the townsfolk.

“They're hungry.” Victor murmured, motioning towards the carts along the street where vendors sold their wares. It was obvious that not much food was available to those of Tul'ver. Few fruits or vegetables were available for sale, and the butchers had little more than scraps of meat hanging outside their shops. Some chickens were available, but mostly what looked to be large rat like creatures hung from hooks. They certainly didn't look all that appetizing.

As the young sage's eyes darted back and forth from one morose face to another, he suddenly realized something. “Have you noticed there are very few young men about?”

Suddenly, Jhadira and Victor were struck by the realization that very few men roamed about the town. There were boys, and older men. Every once in awhile you would see a young man but more often than not he was crippled, or sickly looking.

“We passed a number of large farms just outside the town. There were cattle and fields. Where has all the food gone?” Victor frowned at them, his brows furrowing in confusion.

The other two just shook their heads with quiet frowns.

Upward the carts rumbled as the cobblestone street turned into a wide avenue that wound towards Castle Tul'ver. Just before they reached the outer gates, the prisoners were awarded a view of the low plain that lay to the north of town. More troops, looking to be near three hundred strong were garrisoned.

“Why are they not together?” A curious Jhadira asked as she looked to Victor.

“I'm willing to bet that's where all the men are.” Is all his dour voice responded with.

As the cart rumbled through the heavy portcullis of Castle Tul'ver, Pauldo Argorn murmured glumly. “I'm certainly not liking these odds. Not one bit.”

[Alyssia Kanath]

“Your Majesty, Pense and his entourage have entered the castle gates. They will be in the audience hall shortly.” The tall elf's soft voice slithered from beneath the heavy cowl that shadowed most his face from view. He was cloaked from head to toe in dark crimson robes, the fabric of which was heavily stitched with symbols dedicated to the dark Goddess he worshiped. Giving a deep, slightly dramatic bow he strode boldly up to King Morden's throne and took his place behind and to the left as his Majesty's High Questor.

King Morden had once been a strong man. Tall and fit of body to match a keen intellect and wry wit. But those days were long behind the man who now ruled over Tul'enar. His golden hair had grown long, as had his beard. Streaks of Grey now peppered the covering to his ashen, thin face. Deep set eyes of ocean blue had grown dull and lifeless as their fevered gaze focused upon the doorway that was flanked by armored guards.

“Good, let us be done with it.” The elderly man who sat back weakly upon the cushioned throne said in a tired voice, the words cracked and hoarse from long months of illness. The words were barely out before they were stolen by a wheeze of his lungs and a wracking fit of coughs seized his weary body.

To the King's right, a young man stood. Tall and lean, he wore the same handsome features his father had once been gifted with. Hair the color of golden straw, short and neatly kept, framed a face usually masked with cool indifference.

But that facade had slipped as he caught hold of his father as the elder man began listing to the side. “Father, you should be resting!” Sharp blue eyes shot upward to the elf that watched silently from just a few feet away. “This is ridiculous. He's not well enough for this. I can give them an audience. But the King must retire to his...”

Erik Morden's words were cut off quickly by the Sorcerer Priest's soft voice, “The King must show strength in this endeavor. Our allies ask little of us. Only to hold these prisoners of war until the army marches south to reach the main force just outside the Silver City.”

“And how long will that be?” Erik's clipped tone answered as he held his father upright through his fit.

“It will take many months for all the units to reach their destination. It could be a long while.”

“Malledine, Erik...cease this bickering!” King Eogar gasped breathlessly, finally able to speak. “I am still King, and I have made the decision to do this.” His voice, still weak and holding a wheeze, calmed. “That is enough.”

Erik Morden's brows furrowed with displeasure, but yet he bowed his head and retook his place. “Aye, Athair.” Using the term in his people's native tongue for Father respectfully.

Behind his hood, a smile slithered to Malledine's lips.

They all watched the door, waiting.

No more than three breaths later, the oaken doors swung open and the guards motioned for the entourage to enter the throne room of castle Tul'ver. In walked a very pleased Pense, his round face flushed with excitement. He was flanked by four guards and his Nethermancer. The man held a leash in his hand made of long chain. It was attached to the magical collar around Alyssia Kanath's neck.

For her part, she had been redressed in little more than rags. An oversized shirt of old linen and similar pair of pants. The warrior had been allowed to keep her black, polished riding boots which together with the rags looked out of place and almost ridiculous. She never looked up or pulled at her bonds as she walked slowly next to her captor.

Behind them were the other three prisoners. Unlike Alyssia they had been allowed to keep their garments. As if they'd rather watch the companion's reaction to their Arbiter's humiliation. As Jhadira was dragged into the audience chamber she could not help but wonder in grief if other more terrible humiliations had taken place to her friend's body while her mind had been trapped far away. The thought made tears spill from her eyes and she pushed them down and away. This was not the time to lose her mind to such thoughts.

Victor and Pauldo came next. Like Alyssia, both Jhadira and Pauldo were held by the magical Collars. Victor was just bound as tightly as was possible. His eyes flared with rage at being treated thus. But he remained silent, face brooding and thoughts dark.

Once they were before the raised dais where House Morden sat in judgment, Pense jerked violently upon Alyssia's leash, crashing her to her knees. She obeyed without so much as a yelp of pain. The others were pushed into a similar situation, but with more effort. As Jhadira hit the stone floor she cried out softly, causing Victor to begin to struggle. “Jha!” He called, trying valiantly to stand. One of the guards smashed the butt of his mace into Victor's head, suddenly knocking the man low.

“Victor!” Jhadira cried as she watched a trickle of blood run down the side of his head.

“Oh...dear! That was unnecessary!” yelped Pauldo, for the first time real anger creeping into his voice.

Erik Morden stepped forward as his hard, glittering eyes swept over the scene. His features flushed hotly as he snapped, “I agree! These are not just any prisoners... They are due some respect.” And then his gaze fell upon Alyssia Kanath and they softened with curiosity and a bit of sorrow at what had been done to this woman who was supposedly a leader of his people. “What have you done to...”

“I do not answer to you, boy!” Pense snapped before swiveling his gaze to Malledine.

That was a mistake.

The glare he received from the hooded man was enough to cause Pense to shrink back and begin stammering.

And then Eogar's voice rose into a hoarse shout. “Then perhaps you will have no problems answering to me! As I am King of Tul'enar! Your eyes shall be placed here! No where else!” Some semblance of the man he once was came to him. Eogar Morden stood, albeit slowly, from his throne. “And it does not matter what they have done....”

Erik looked to his father, frowning. “Athair, they have enslaved her mind somehow. It...”

“Is just punishment!” The elderly man cackled, almost with glee as he tottered down the steps of the Dias towards Alyssia. He faltered once, his loyal son immediately by his side to help him regain his posture. And then they both walked down to inspect Stormwind's new Arbiter. “A Kanath!” He sneered, spittle flying from his withered lips as he reached down to jerk her jaw upward. They then stared into the empty face of the Stormwolf.

As Eogar's face crinkled in happiness Erik's face fell and a deep penetrating sorrow spiraled him downward. His eyes traveled her fair features and he tilted his head. He should be angry with this woman. He should hate her. But something important tickled at his mind. A shiver in his spine as the ghostly caress of destiny slithered over his flesh. Erik Morden stared into the dull, mossy colored eyes of a woman that his soul screamed at him to protect.

With a visible shudder, he threw the feeling off like an old cloak and his eyes became hard once more. “What's wrong with her eyes?” He muttered.

“What do you mean?” Pense came around to inspect as one would a piece of livestock at the fair.

Jhadira spoke up, voice soft and but never despairing. “They are empty as the shell which kneels before you. Her soul has flown, the dragon is gone from it's lair. No power shines behind those eyes. It has been stolen from her by these men.”

“Quiet, woman!” As Pense rose his hand to slap the Questor upon her cheek.

His wrist was grabbed by Erik Morden in a crushing grip, he was no weakling hidden away in a sorcerer's lab all his life. He had been trained from a young age in battle, and though lean his body was strong and agile. For he was a Morden Storm-Warden. And the power that surged through Pense's wrist and into his limbs caused the weak minded man to shudder in sudden terror as emerald lightning flashed through Erik Morden's eyes. “You will not speak to a Questor like that in my presence, you fat little possum. These are our prisoners now, and you will leave them in our care.” His voice held an arrogant sneer, cutting like a razor.

A shadow pierced the room as Malledine's cool, calculated voice intervened. “Yes, it really is unbecoming to mistreat a lady. Let alone, a Stormwind Questor. Don't you think, Pense?”

Pense's eyes darted to the elf's and then spoke up hurriedly, “My...apologies. You are correct.” When the man's arm relaxed, so did Erik's grip.

“How fortunate it is, that I in my last days I will get to see the final downfall of House Kanath.” Eogar gave a hissing wheeze. “That I shall be able to see vengeance had upon them for what they did to my family.”

“To your family?” Pauldo said, his curiosity overwhelming his better judgment, “All the Houses did what they had to in order to ensure the continued survival of our Clan.”

Eogar's watery eyes leveled on Pauldo, “You must be the Argorn. And it is a pity that you are so misinformed for a scholar. When House Kanath wrested the Arbitership from my great uncle, in their and the council's idiocy they banished not only those of my House that held allegiance to Shadow Strike, but ALL of us. Their fear of who may or may not be in league with the enemy blinded them. We were all cast out! But your books didn't tell you that, did they? Of course not, because the deed was wiped from history by the rest of the Council!”

Jhadira and Pauldo exchanged confused looks.

“Without House Morden, the rest of the Clan shattered. They brought destruction upon themselves!”

Pauldo frowned deeply. “It is you, sir who are misinformed. All the Houses went on exodus, not just House Morden. In a sense, we were all cast out. The Clan's shattering happened before...”

“Enough!” The King shouted, the exertion suddenly taking him as he stumbled, only to be caught and held upright by his doting son. “Take them...” He wheezed weakly, flicking his hand dismissively of the prisoners as he turned to Erik. “I am done here, a'mac. Take me to my quarters. I must rest.”

And just like that, Pauldo was left with little more than a confused look upon his face.

Malledine stepped forward and indicated to the guards to take the prisoners away. Just as that was about to happen though, the doors burst open and a young woman came rushing in. She nearly stumbled upon the hem of her beautiful silken gown in her rush. Golden hair askew on her head and a fearful look in her eyes. Behind her was a man, looking around the same age as Erik. Only he was clad in the uniform of the Captain of the Royal Guard.

“Athair! The Watchers are attacking the troop encampment!” The woman cried.

The man with her spoke up, panting from the exertion of his run. “They're leaving our men alone, it's the Clan Encampment on the other side of the city that's being assaulted.”

Pense immediately called his guards and rushed out the doors to aid his men, leaving the prisoners there upon the floor looking dumbstruck.

“Your majesty, we must send the reserve troops to support our allies.” Malledine said quickly, stepping forward. There are not enough of Pense's men to adequately stay off a Watcher assault.” He looked to the guard captain. “How many Griffon Riders?”

“Many.” He said, looking at Malledine with obvious dislike. Though it was stifled in the heat of the current crisis. “All our troops are ground based, no number of our men can offer support against such an attack from the skies.” He then turned to look at Erik, demeanor changing to one of respect as his voice softened. “We'd be sending them to their slaughter.”

Eogar's face fell, exhaustion taking it and his sickly mind unable to make sense of this new information. Erik stepped in, “Maddie, take him to his room. I will deal with this.” He handed their ailing father over to his younger sister.

The siblings exchanged glances and the woman leaned in, whispering something under the notice of all others in the room. Her eyes then flicked to the prisoners, a frown creasing her lovely face. But without further comment, she led Eogar Morden away to rest.

“Take them to the dungeons. I will oversee this personally.” Putting a hand upon the shoulder of the Guard Captain, they also exchanged looks. Jhadira watched curiously as the two men bent their heads together and whispered quiet words to one another. There was a tenderness and care in both men's eyes as they spoke. It was obvious that these two were close friends considering the familiarity by which they conversed. There was absolute, unwavering trust in the Captain's eyes as he received orders from his Prince.

After a moment, Erik rushed from the room and it was now only they and the guards. The Captain turned and looked to them each, fluster showing in his face and an uncertainty written through his dark, resigned eyes. With a flick of his wrist, the guards from the door came to him without hesitation. “My apologies...” He said softly, as if he too was not happy over this situation as he grabbed the chain that was attached to a silent Alyssia Kanath's neck.

Softly, Jhadira's voice cut through the heaviness that settled about the quiet throne room, “You know this is wrong...”

The man stared at her silently for a moment, then just turned and began leading the Arbiter away.

The guards followed suit with the others. Not another word was spoken in the Throne Room of Eogar Morden.

[Alyssia Kanath]

They could hear the battle raging outside as the guards led them down into the dungeon. The sounds of screams and shouting only a dull backdrop to the shrill shrieking that pierced their ears. The cries of the Griffons as they assaulted the troops from high above, spiraling in deadly free falls only to right themselves and swoop past, their riders impaling the men on their long, wicked lances. Explosions thundered, magical fire and mundane as Shadow-Strike's sorcerers cast their destructive magics upward in attempt to bring down the Watcher's deadly fliers.

In turn, the Watchers were not without their magics. As Clan archers let a cloud of arrows fly, a great wind swept over the plain. With a howl of rage, it caught the arrows up like twigs and turned them back upon their senders. With screams of terror, the archers turned and began to run. Those who could not find shelter met their end at the points of their own arrows.

It was evening by now, and as the night exploded around the terrified residents and troops of Tul'ver a small group of Griffon Riders broke away and made an aerial charge for the heart of the encampment.

Once again the night was pierced by a new light as a bolt of sapphire lightning erupted from the hand of the lead rider. Over and over again jagged tears were slashed through the darkness as the deadly assault was seen too late. The ground exploded and gurgling screams could barely be heard over the crack of thunder. When the smoke cleared, the tent had been near evaporated. Bodies flung haphazardly through the blast radius like rag dolls. Only these dolls were a charred, blood soaked ruin.

The small group swept around and upward, flying at impossible speeds back towards the main Griffon Flight. They had lost many riders. But their enemies had lost more. And just as quickly as they had appeared, behind the clouds they soared.

The attack was over.

And as Erik Morden stood upon the battlements of Castle Tulver and looked down upon the destruction that his father's decisions had caused, he could not help but wonder if it was worth it.

Was it worth this death?

Was it worth their people?

Was it worth his...honor?

A single tear fell from the corner of his eye and slowly trailed down a bloody, dirt encrusted cheek. He had taken many lives this night through the terrible power of elemental magic.

And as he looked upon the ruin below him, he suddenly was not so sure they had been the right ones.

[Alyssia Kanath]

Khandril had awoken to the sounds of battle.

She and her companions watched from a safe distance in awe as the Watchers hit and run tactics confused and shattered Shadow Strike's men. Organization was lost as the abject terror of the ground troops let their fear drive them them to ruin. Commanders shouted orders as best they could over the horrible keening of screams and Griffon shrieks.

This was the opportunity they had been looking for.

While the world burned around them, the three began infiltrating their way past the battle and into the city itself. But that meant, they would have to weave their way through some of it. Luckily for them, they could skirt around the back of the camp as most of the action was taking place upon the other end.

”This is your chance, you can take this opportunity to feed.” Keegan's voice cut through her thoughts, jarring her attention. She turned to look at him curiously, head tilting.

“What do you mean?”

The wolf chuckled, “These are your enemies, look around you. They are dying. Take one. Now. Here. Call it mercy. End them. You must.” He turned his head upward, looking into her eyes seriously. “You must be able to fight.”

He was right. She was too weak if they were caught. It had been too long. Too much energy had been used. She was barely holding herself together and the hunger was getting worse. The thought made her hands twitch. She just nodded mutely and began moving once again.

”The Watchers are tearing them apart.”

Khandril cocked her head and said curiously, “Watchers? I have heard that term. Alyssia mentioned that her brother was a Watcher. As her mother was. But I know little about them.”

”They are the guardians of the Storm Peaks. They live high above and tend to their aeries. Raising the Griffons and training them in battle. They can speak to them. They can speak to all creatures of nature. Understand their ways. But they hold deepest connection to their griffon mounts. The connection between Griffon and Rider can get to be so strong that if the rider dies, so too does it's mount. It's great heart breaks with the loss of it's caretaker.”

Khandril stopped short, crouching behind the wreckage of a supply wagon. They were closer to the battle now, only three hundred yards away did the roar begin. She looked around quickly, pale eyes darting here and there. They rested on a large tent not far away. She saw a shape in there, the silhouette moving back and forth as the man inside seemingly was packing up belongings hurriedly. Most likely his fear had given him cause to escape before anyone knew he was gone. Remembering what Keegan had said she thought to herself a moment and nodded. This man, this enemy...would sacrifice his life to her cause.

She began to move towards the tent, but Riah's growl caused her to pause.

”Wait! Keegan raised his head and looked to the skies, ”There is a change...a change in thought...No. Wait. Stay back ...back away.” Keegan began backing up, his cryptic words confusing her.

“Why?” She frowned.

”Look...they come!” Both Keegan and Riah turned tail and took off back the way they had come.

Khandril had no choice but to trust their instincts. She looked up quickly and saw as four Griffon Riders changed course and began hurtling towards her position. Her eyes widened, “Damn.” she whispered before taking off into a run after the other two. She barely had time to dive behind an overturned cart before the world shattered and her vision was stolen by nothing but a terrible, piercing light. Covering her ears at the deafening sound, she curled into a fetal position and made herself as small as possible.

Shards splintered and deadly missiles of wood flew through the air. Dirt, debris, and an occasional torn limb rained down upon them as sound returned with a cacophony of screams.

Slowly, Khandril unfurled herself and peeked over the side of the cart. There was little more than a crater where the tent had been. Bodies of the men who had been nearest were flung about and the groans of the dying tickled her ears. Then, staggering out from the crater was a man.

One side of his body was burned beyond recognition. He stumbled around a bit, then fell to his knees. The dark robes he had been wearing had partially fused to his body and his mouth worked soundlessly as his dying brain tried to make sense of what had just happened.

She had precious little time. Quickly she rose and began walking warily towards him.

Cloudy eyes, damaged beyond the ability to see clearly, turned to the dark woman who strode dangerously closer. Flakes of flesh peeled and blisters oozed over his bald, tattooed head. He held out his hands, a gurgling sickly plea issuing from his throat.

Whether it was asking for mercy or a quick death Khandril was not sure.

Then again, at this point...they would be one in the same.

There was no tenderness. No care. There was no time for such frivolities. She simply knelt heavily beside him and grasped his head roughly, fingers sliding along and pulling pieces of flesh off with them. Digging those fingers deeper, pressing now against bare skull she jerked his head to the side and opened her mouth wide as long, deadly fangs revealed themselves in flickering flame light.

He did not scream when she pierced his flesh and drank deeply of his thick, heart blood. Only sighed and seemed to relax as she held him upright. He reached up and clutched at something tightly around his neck as Khandril tried to feed as quickly as possible before his heart stopped beating. In his state, she did not have long before with one last choking gurgle, the Nethermancer died. She shoved his body back onto the ground in disgust, gasping as the renewed vigor entered her body.

As he fell, his hand fell away and revealed what he had been clutching. Upon a golden chain hang an oblong crystal, delicately cut and expensive looking. But as Khandril peered closer, something moved within that crystal. She crept closer and reached out with wary fingers, first touching the gem lightly. When nothing happened, she gently took and raised it closer for her inspection.

Swirling in the center of the crystal was a white, misty light. It vibrated angrily, spinning madly as if it struggled against it's Crystalline prison.

Keegan's voice interputed her thoughts, ”Fate smiles upon you, Khandril Frostryn.” He and Riah both moved to flank her, now three sets of eyes staring at the prize in her hand. ”For in your hand, I sense a consciousness. A soul.” She looked at him, frowning.

”She is in there. Your friend. The Nethermancer must have imprisoned her in that soul shard. I can hear her calling out.” His voice was soft, almost sad. ”What a terrible fate. To have your soul ripped from your body. I will be surprised if she comes back anything less than completely insane.”

Khandril smirked slightly and ripped the chain from the dead man's neck. “Too late for that.”

Keegan looked upward, back the way the Griffons had gone. “The Watchers have another Kanath amongst them.”

The vampire turned a surprised look to the wolf.

He chuckled, ”Do not look so surprised, blood travels far and deep. This council you help are not the sole survivors.”

Pursing her lips she looked down at the crystal thoughtfully. “So if I destroy it, she'll come back?”

He shook his head as they began moving again towards the city walls. ”Only if you destroy it near her body. Otherwise, she will become lost in the Nether. The world of Spirits.”

Khandril nodded, “Then we find her body next.”

”No.”

“No?” She frowned down at the wolf who had now stopped, along with Riah.

”You must do this alone. The Cat and I can not infiltrate the castle. We would be discovered. It is not our place. We will have to wait for you out here once you enter. But I will share with you the secret way into the castle. My father had an escape tunnel created. Unfortunately, when the Mordens took over we did not have a chance to use it. I doubt they ever found the entrance.”

Nodding again, she agreed. Keegan was right, she must do this alone. To use the shadows as her advantage. And so they picked and weaved through the battlefield and the city walls, where Keegan would show her how to get into the tunnel system below the castle.

Tucking the soul shard into a pocket, it was as if she too could feel Alyssia's fear and frustration.

Khandril vowed to restore her friend's soul and exact revenge upon those who had violated her in such a way. But she was not looking forward to having to explain all this to Alyssia when she woke up.

[Alyssia Kanath]

Khandril weaved through the dank, shadowed tunnels that ran beneath the town and into the castle. It was obvious that the secret of these avenues had been tightly kept as the only living things she saw sign of were small animals and insects. It took her the better part of two hours to reach the foundations of what she believed to be her destination.

Suddenly she found herself in a narrow set of ventilation ducts that seemed to run beneath the floors and through the walls of the main complex. Every once in awhile, she would pass small narrow vents made of stone that allowed her to peek into various rooms and hallways.

The vampire stopped short when her sensitive ears picked up muffled conversation coming from one of the vents just above her head. Pausing, her eyes flicked upward. Her hands felt over the rough hewn stone. Finding the hand holds she needed, the woman climbed upward enough to allow her to peek into the room above.

It was a lavishly decorated chamber. Tapestries hung upon the walls and richly decorated rugs adorned a dusky marbled floor. A warm fire danced within a huge hearth that sat opposite a grandly adorned canopied bed. The bed itself sat within the center of a short dais, overlooking a room spotted with couches, tables, and rich trinkets.

Laying within the bed was an elderly man, his cheeks hollow and face ashen. Khandril could smell the sickness that emanated from him. His body was dying, parts already falling to decay though those around him would have little way of knowing. His cloudy eyes stared up into the cowled hood of a slighter man who loomed over the bed. She listened quietly, unmoving, still as the stone that surrounded her.

“Malledine?” The elderly man whispered brokenly, stirring from his sleep. “Wh..what is it? Is there an emergency? Wh..what brings you to my chamber?”

A cool voice slithered from beneath the hood. Steel wrapped in silk. “Your majesty, the battle is over. The Watchers have been turned back. We are victorious.”

Khandril's eyebrows slowly rose, for she knew the statement to be a lie.

The elderly man's face creased into a pleased look. “Excellent. It is good.” He nodded to himself, eyes closing with a sigh. “This will be over soon, yes? I fear I will not live to see the end of this my old friend.” His voice was weak...tired. “But my son, my son will see the field of victory. And he will march with the others into the lands that were so unjustly stolen from us...”

“Yes...” the hooded man's voice lowered an octave, softening and lulling the man who lay before him into a sense of ease. “We will regain our former glory. That much has been promised by Khelendrose. Erik has been promised much in reward for his cooperation. I have made sure of that.” A gloved hand reached back and began adjusting the pillows behind his charges back. Ensuring his comfort. “Rest now, let your worries ease. Fear not, for all is well in hand. I will protect all that ..we...hold dear your majesty.”

Weakly the King's voice came again, “Malledine, you have been a long and trusted friend. How can I ever repay you for all that you do to ensure the safety of my family?”

The vampire was almost sure that she saw the man's lips quirk into a cold smile behind the black shadows that hid his face. She watched as his hand grasped one of the lush, silken pillows upon the bed and lifted it. He brushed it off with a gloved hand, inspecting the fine stitching upon it as his soft voice answered, “You have given me all that is within your power, my liege. I can not ask more of you. It is I who should reward your long and trusting friendship. And I shall do that now.” He leaned down, his voice just above a whisper. “Freedom from all your cares and worries.”

Light fingers caressed the man's face as he cast a confused look upwards. “What?”

Before he could blink, the slight man shoved the elder down into the bed and pressed the pillow over his face. Khandril's eyes widened as she watched the frail thing beneath him weakly flail and claw at the silken finery that impeded his precious need to breathe. But there was not enough strength left into the old King, and with a patience that she had seen in none but the coldest, empty killers the man above just stared at the wall, never ceasing his quiet conversation. “Do not despair, your majesty. I will watch over your son and guide him as I have guided you. I will make him a great man. So go to your rest with the knowledge that with your sacrifice, House Morden will once again find it's place among the Thunderlord people.”

It did not take long for the weak struggling to cease. She watched as his clawed fingers relaxed and fell lifelessly to the soft bed. Slowly, the man lifted the pillow and looked down. His head tilted much like a bird who was trying to focus on a morsel of food that lay before it. Carefully he slipped the pillow back behind the dead man and adjusted it to his liking. Then gentle fingers lightly drew down the lids of his blankly staring eyes.

Malledine stood upright and slipped a small silver disk from beneath his robes. He waved his hand over it once, repeating a spidery phrase before it flared to life with a crimson glow. She watched curiously as a sharp, hissing voice entered into play.

“Is it done?”

the hooded man's head bowed before the mirror in his hand. “Yes Emperor.”

“Most excellent.” The sneering voice radiated with a perverse glee. Khandril could almost feel the madness oozing through the scrying device. “And the boy?”

“I will handle him. He is still controllable.”

“Kanath is still neutralized?”

“Yes Emperor.”

The voice rose to a hoarse shout. “I want her alive! Alive! She is mine.... Oh revenge is so sweet Malledine. Like ambrosia...honey upon the tongue!” The voice shattered into slightly hysterical laughter. But it only lasted a moment. “The others, kill them. Feed them to the dogs for all I care.”

“And Pense?”

There was a slight pause. “Who?”

“Pense, your magnificence. Lieutenant Pense. It is he who you gave the task of finding them, remember?”

“Oh yes. I remember now, that simpering nitwit. Kill him too.”

This time it was Malledine's turn to pause. “He succeeded in your errand, surely he must still have some use.”

“Why do you bother me with these trifles, Malledine!” The voice cried. “Do as you will! I don't care! I don't care!” It now sounded almost as if the man were to go into a tantrum. “Promote him, Kill him, fuck him for all I care!” Then there was a sudden, ominous silence. And then a conspiratorial, paranoid whisper. “You have the sword?”

“Yes excellency. Havoc is in our possession. It along with all the artifacts of the Houses are held within the treasury for the moment. We will dispatch them to you with all due haste.”

Once again, maniacal laughter escaped the magical trinket the cowled man held. “Wonderful! I don't give a whore's sores about the other weapons. It is Havoc I want. The very symbol of House Kanath. The very thing that gives them their paltry hope. I will use it to slay the bitch that took my place. Ohhh father...why didn't you see? WHY didn't you see that your first born son was so much more suited to the job than that scraggly little mongrel-bitch you sired. No matter...no matter...” Another tittering giggle.

Then there was silence.

Malledine sighed softly and slipped the mirror back into a pocket. He looked around briefly before waving his hand. Suddenly, he was gone. But she could still hear his footsteps as he padded to the door, though invisible as he was. She watched the door open just barely wide enough for him to slip through, then it closed again.

Quickly Khandril climbed down, head shaking sadly. She had a better idea of who the real enemy was now. And Keegan had been correct, fate did smile down upon her. With what she just observed, she may be able to appeal to the young Morden and show him the devious nature of those who's company he basked in. The problem would be proving it.

As she turned to continue through the winding tunnel towards where Keegan told her the dungeons lay, her ears picked up the sound of the room's door opening again. A soft, feminine voice whispered “Athair? Athair I've brought you your tincture. Come now, wake up. Much has hap....” The voice trailed off and Khandril closed her eyes, shoulders slumping. This was not something she cared to witness. She began moving again, the sound of the woman's sudden cries cutting sharply through the gloom.

“NO! No...da...wake up...Passions no...no...Erik....ERIK!!!!”

[Alyssia Kanath]

Four distraught people stood around the death bed of Eogar Morden.

Erik stood, comforting arm around his quietly sobbing younger sister. Pale cheeks flushed with emotion and eyes still showing the shock of the situation.

Kneeling beside the bed, whispering prayers to the Goddess in effort to speed the flight of Eogar's soul to it's final rest, was his family's High Questor. Malledine's head was bowed, cowl hiding his features as he performed last rites upon the dead King.

Standing farther back, was Davyd Vyntar. Captain of the King's personal guard. He too grieved. His brown eyes blackened with unshared emotion. But he did not grieve for the man who lay upon the bed. Eogar Morden, in his mind, had been lost long ago. It had been many years now that his illness had not only stolen his vigor, but his sanity. And though once he looked to the King as a father when he had none, long ago had that relationship been strained and embittered.

No, Davyd grieved for Erik and Maddie. The man who he had loved as a brother since their childhood together. A love that was so strong between them, that they had shared everything while growing up. Their hopes. Their dreams. Their secrets...

And now soon they were to share Erik's sister, for the two were engaged to be married, much to the chagrin of Eogar. He had refused to acknowledge the union. Turned a blind eye as the two had begun falling in love. Then refused to even believe such a relationship existed.

It had not been the first time.

The young man watched sadly as the mantle of leadership was thrust upon Erik so suddenly. So cruelly.

“He must have died in his sleep...” Malledine's soft, sad voice startled them all. The elf turned his head, pushing the cowl back to reveal a youthful, marblesque face. Honey colored hair fell to his shoulders and almond eyes of polished amethyst gazed with despair at the two heirs. As he shook his head slowly, the points of his long ears poked through to add exclamation to his perfectly elven features. He was in fact so exotically handsome that many wondered why he so often hid his face.

Davyd fought back to urge to vomit at the charade. He saw it for what it was, a ploy. But he said nothing. There was nothing he could say. No matter how hard he tried to get Erik to see through the elf's venom stained ruse, it had ended in a heated argument. Now was not the time.

Erik's own features narrowed, brow furrowing in sudden anger. “This is too sudden. Something is wrong.” Erik whirled on Davyd, causing the man to start slightly. “Something isn't right! I want a full investigation...”

It took a moment for the Captain to process this command. He was so used to no one questioning the elf's words that Erik's sudden vehemence took him off guard.

Before he could answer, the Questor interjected. “No one is able to get into the castle without the Guards knowing. Or the wards being set off. Who could have done such a thing?”

Davyd was careful not to change his focus from Erik to Malledine. He was not sure he could hide the accusation his eyes would betray.

“Are...are you saying he was murdered?” Maddie whispered fearfully, hand covering her mouth as wide eyes stared at her brother. “But...but he was so sick? He was going to die anyway.” her voice quivered with tears, “Why go through the trouble and not just wait?”

Malledine had gone very still, listening quietly to the conversation.

Erik turned to her, voice pained. “Don't you see? Everything on the same day? First they bring the prisoners...then the Watcher's attack...then Athair is dead?”

“Perhaps the attack was a cover for an assassination...” Davyd frowned, his mind trying to place pieces together as one would put together a child's puzzle. Testing the edges to see if they fit snugly.

“That would suggest...” The elf's voice suddenly slithered between them, forcing all eyes to his position, “That someone is working in cooperation with the Watchers.” He paused, cold eyes falling upon the Captain of the King's guard. Unlike Davyd, Malledine did not attempt to hide his accusatory stare. “Someone who has intimate knowledge of the Castle's layout, sentries, and magical defenses...” His voice ended with a soft hiss.

It was many seconds before anyone spoke, the silence hanging heavily between them. But not more heavily than the shroud of doubt that now lay about Davyd's shoulders. His eyes narrowed angrily as he took a step towards the treacherous elf. “What are you implying, snake? I have served this family loyally since I was a child. I owe my life to the King and his family. My mother's life. My livelihood.” Maddie rushed to her fiance, pulling at his arm and softly trying to appeal to him to calm himself.

“Yes...yes... The serving wench and the peasant boy. Such a charming tale. I remember when the King and Queen took you and your mother in. She worked for many years in the kitchens. It was such a shame when Teffya passed.” Malledine clucked his tongue and pulled the cowl back over his features. But not before a slight, sneering smile flashed to the man before him. “It is true. Where would you be without the King. Probably scrambling on the street with the other rats in search of your next scrap.” He chuckled coldly, “But you have forgotten your place, Vyntar. It was no secret that you held a great deal of bitterness when it came to his Majesty.” Disregarding his danger, the sorcerer priest walked casually past the angered Captain.

“That is ridiculous! Davyd loved Athair just as much as we did, Malledine!” Maddie scowled. “Just because he didn't approve of us, doesn't mean he loved Davyd any less...”

“Oh, princess...” The elf laughed softly as he strode to the pillow where the Crown of Tul'enar was kept when not upon the brow of the King. “He did not approve of much more than just you and your husband to be...” His eyes flicked to Erik knowingly.

The look caused Erik's features to flush hotly. Briefly embarrassment flashed within his eyes but they were soon replaced by a cold stare. “Malledine, that is enough.”

Maddie frowned, looking between the three men with confusion touching her eyes. “Erik? What is he talking about?”

“It is not important.” The elf's voice rose as he took the crown in his hands and turned with a flourished bow towards Erik Morden. “This belongs to you now, Prince Erik. Or should I say...your majesty?”

The young man stared blankly at the golden, bejeweled crown that was thrust before him. This had not even had time to enter his mind yet. But as he stared at the symbol of his father's leadership, a hunger suddenly consumed him. It dulled the pain of loss and eased the fear that hovered at the outskirts of his mind. He had been groomed all his life for this moment. He wanted it, there was no doubt. He wanted the power. The influence. The control. He thought he was ready. He knew he was ready. This was something he had been dreaming of his whole life.

But the pleasure of being within reach of that crown was suddenly overshadowed by the realization that his father was dead. Half of Tul'ver's men were dead. His home surrounded by blood and flames. And held securely within his dungeons were four people who he was supposed to hate. But for the life of him, he could not find even a spark to ignite such a passion.

As Erik Morden took the cold, metal crown within his hands it felt heavy and lifeless in his grip.

Malledine turned and swept towards the door, “May you be as wise a King as your father.” he murmured slyly. “Oh, one more thing.” The Questor turned to them with a thoughtful expression. “Pense had mentioned to me that there had been one more member of their party that he could not find. They searched in vain but the woman had avoided capture. He did not think she would be an issue but her nature could have allowed her to enter the Castle undetected. It is said she is no more than an animated corpse, soulless and with a voracious appetite for the blood of the living. That she can walk between shadows with ease.” He then waved a dismissive hand, smiling slightly. “Though I am sure such reports are greatly exaggerated. I have never heard of such a creature. But Pense was told that this woman, whoever she is, holds a loyalty to Alyssia Kanath that is unwavering. A terrible creature to have under your power. We should double the guard, just in case.”

And with that, the elf left. As he walked down the hall he heard the tell-tale sound of the King's crown clattering upon the marble floor where Erik had dropped it.

Malledine smiled smugly beneath his velvet cowl.

[Alyssia Kanath]

The sound of dice rattling within cups bounced off the stone walls of the small alcove. With loud thumps the two men slammed their cups upon the short, wooden table before carefully lifting the edges to peek inside.

One man, the shorter of the two, put his cup edge back down and flashed a toothy grin to his companion. “Ohhoho...yer in trouble now!”

The other one, sitting slightly hunched over given as tall as he was, rolled his eyes upward before blowing a strand of dirty straw like hair out of his eyes. “Ain't you ever heard of a bluff, Rin?”

“I don't need to bluff when I know that yer a rotten call!”

The other scowled, “Fine!” From a small sack , he pulled out two gold coins and tossed them to the center of the table. “I says, there's three sets o' eyes on the table.”

“Bah!” His companion threw three gold coins on the table, raising the bet. “I says there's four rails!”

Frowning, the tall man shook his head. “Can't be! I calls ya, I says yer lyin' through yer busted teeth!”

They both uncovered their dice at the same time. Sure enough, the second man had been right. There were three sets of two. But at the same time, Rin had also been right. Four sixes showed. The other guard had not had any so he didn't think it possible. “Feck! Passions be damned!”

Rin sat giggling as he scooped up his coins. “Yer terrible at lair's dice, Tick. You lose another die!”

From down the hall both men heard a shout, “Both you gully rats shut up! Yer givin' me a 'eadache!”

Two heads leaned out of the alcove to peer at their third companion as he stood at the end of the cell block. “Wha' you doin', anyway?” The winner asked as he shoved his winnings into a coin pouch.

“Somethin' ain't right. I 'eard somethin'. An' so long as you two id-gits are squawking' I can't hear it again. So shut up fer a minute.” He listened intently, hand upon his sword hilt.

After a moment he heard it again. A soft scuffling noise, and then a heavy rasp. As if something were slowly being dragged along a stone floor. But it was faint. His eyes locked on to a heavy wooden door that opened up into a storage room. In that room, all the prisoner's items had been kept. Minus of course their weapons and armor. No one should be in there. He moved slowly towards the door.

“Relax Gil, it's probably just rats! Nothin' can get down here.” The one known as Tick scoffed, but he stood anyway and gave a stretch. Just in case there was something to his partner's paranoia.

Taking up his keys, Gil unlocked the door as quietly as possible. The hiss of his blade bounced off the thick stone as he poked his head in to see if he could find the source of the sound.

Now both men were standing, nudging each other and chuckling over their friend's sense of unease. They watched as he stood leaning into the room, only his body visible. After a few seconds, his arm fell limply and sword slipped from nerveless fingers onto the ground. Confused eyes watched as Gil's body suddenly fell with a thud to the floor very noticeably lacking a head.

“Shit!” Rin breathed as both men pulled their blades. They began warily moving down the hall, fear of the unknown threatening to paralyze them. But they had their duties to perform, and punishment of cowardice was worse than dying in the line of duty. Or so, they kept telling themselves.

They watched as a long black shadow stretched from the darkness of the room and moved along through the avenues of natural darkness that touched the corners of the long hall. Quickly it moved towards them and they began backing up. Never before had they known an enemy with such terrible powers.

Tick lost his nerve, sword dropping to the ground as he turned to run. With a panicked shriek he made for the doors that lead out of the dungeon. The shadows gained on him, passing Rin all together and stretching now along the walls and ceilings of stone that would become these men's tomb. Just before he reached the door, they coalesced upon him, long fingers of shadow stretching out. It was almost as if the shadow leaped and suddenly darkness engulfed his back, tangling within his legs as the shadows seemed to solidify and reform itself into something that looked quite human.

He watched, rooted to the ground with terror, as a raven haired woman materialized garbed in fabric indistinguishable from the shadows she had come from. Her back to him, grappling with a terrified Tick as the man let out a strangled yelp. Suddenly, a loud piercing snap pierced the air as Tick's head whipped to the side. Then, his lifeless body crumpled to the ground.

Slowly the woman turned towards Rin. His fear was shattered by an overwhelming instinct to fight. To save his life. Screaming an incoherent battle cry he lunged towards Khandril Frostryn as the Vampire slid her Katana from the sheath upon her back.

[Alyssia Kanath]

Jhadira Martik hung limply from the shackles that were rooted deeply within the stone walls of her cell. Her mind whirled, trying to find some solution to their predicament. But she was not a tactician and little opportunity for freeing themselves had made itself known.

Just then, she heard cries of alarm from the hallway outside the solid cell door. Only a small barred window showed her the outside world, and it revealed nothing of the new danger that had presented itself. She began to struggle, pulling her wrists against the metal bonds but it only succeeded in cutting them into her flesh. Fresh blood seeped from her wounded wrists but she struggled more, hoping that perhaps the slickness of the blood would give her the lubrication necessary to slip her small hands from the steel.

The ringing of steel clashed through the dungeon. Swords coming together in a desperate battle. The Questor did not know who was out there, but she found herself praying vehemently to the Goddess that it was a savior and not some new devil.

The tell-tale sound of steel sliding through flesh. Bone cracking and a wet, sickening gurgle issuing from the throat of a dying man. Jhadira heard the soft thud of a body hitting the floor.

She held her breath, wide summer eyes staring at the door. She heard the jangle of keys, but no foot-falls. Then a shadow moved under the door, dancing and wavering in the light of the outside torches. A key slid into the heavy lock and she saw the door shudder as it disengaged. Then slowly, it slid with a soft squeal open to reveal a stoic Khandril Frostryn standing there. Keys in her left hand, Katana in her right. She nodded a quiet greeting to Jhadira.

For her part, Jhadira sagged against her bonds in relief. She offered a shining smile through the dirt and grime that painted her face and closed her eyes to recite a small prayer of thanks.

The Vampire walked quickly over to the shackles that held the priestess and began unlocking them.


“Khandril! I knew you would find us! Thank the Goddess. Praise the Passions! I have never been more happy to see you...”

Khandril murmured quietly as she finished unlocking the last shackle. “It was not easy to find you.” Her pale eyes flicked to Jhadira's bleeding wrists. “Are you wounded?” Then her eyes scanned over the cleric's body quickly, searching for signs of injury.

Subconsciously, Jhadira quickly tucked her wrists away within her robes, hiding the blood from the woman who knelt before her. She saw Khandril's face instantly turn cold, like tundra ice. Jhadira suddenly felt ashamed of her actions and softly whispered, “I...I am fine. It's just from the cuffs. I...thank you Khandril. Help me up, please?” She produced her arms again and held them up to her.

“You need not worry.” Khandril said quietly, gently helping Jhadira to her feet. “I have fed. You are...safe.”

“Oh Khandril, I'm so sorry. We've just been through so much.” Jhadira's soothing touch rested on Khandril's shoulder and though the woman stiffened quickly...she gave a sigh and nodded. “Now, let's get the others.”

They stepped out of the small cell, the Questor surveying the scene. She tried not to look at the three bodies that were scattered along the hallway. Whispering a prayer under her breath, saddened by their innocent sacrifice, she hurried to the next door.

After Khandril had unlocked it, Jhadira swung the door open only to be greeted by a shocked Pauldo. He tried to stand, sliding his back up along the dirty stone wall. “Jhadira my dear! I must say, we have been struck with a bit of luck, aye?” The two women moved to him and began undoing his chains. “Khandril! Thank you! I knew you would save us! I always said, that Khandril is a definite asset to this team. I have! What with your fascinating abilities to move through shadows, stealthy as a ...well...shadow!” He laughed, a bit too nervously.

The vampire stood after unlocking the irons around his ankles, smirking to herself. “Where are they keeping Alyssia?”, She asked them both, handing the keys over to Jhadira.

As the smaller woman left the cell to get her husband, Pauldo tested his arms and then began rubbing his raw wrists gingerly. “Ah...yes. I believe she is in the heavily barred cell at the end of this block. But I am afraid that she may not be happy to see us.” His tone lowered, tinged with genuine sadness. “Not happy, not sad...not...anything.” He glanced up into the taller woman's eyes with a crestfallen look, “They have used nether-magic and imprisoned her...”

“Soul?” Khandril interrupted him, suddenly dangling the crystalline soul stone from the chain wrapped within her fingers.

Pauldo's hazel eyes widened, jaw sagging open just briefly before it snapped shut. Then he began laughing. Clapping the startled, wide eyed vampire upon the shoulder a few times in his excitement, he gave an elated shout. “Yes! And that must be her soul shard! You never do cease to amaze me!”

“You've been busy.”

Khandril turned her head, repainting the smirk back upon her lips as she heard Victor's flat, unimpressed voice from the doorway of the cell. “Someone had to be.” She said coldly, striding past him and out into the hall.

He growled, flexing his newly freed limbs. “Sorry, I was a bit tied up.”

A very slight smile quirked at the corners of the Vampire's lips before she said in a flippant manner, “Maybe you should prioritize better.”

The larger man started to say something, glaring violently. His words were stolen by Jhadira's gentle hand upon his arm and when he looked down to her, he was met with nothing more than a warning shake of her head. Angrily, he held his tongue.

“Right then!” Pauldo interjected, turning everyone's attention his way. “Let us gather our things, release the Arbiter, find Argus....”

Victor snorted, “And fight our way out.”

Pauldo's weak grin forced a smile to the Paladin's face despite himself, “Well yes, there is that...” The sage said meekly.

They gathered outside Alyssia's cell, waiting anxiously as Khandril turned the key in the lock. Once unlocked, the dark woman pulled the heavy door open.

Her captors had not even bothered to shackle her. She sat huddled in a corner, dull eyes staring blankly at the opposite wall. Khandril and Jhadira rushed over to the silent warrior. Framing her perfectly as she sat between the light and the darkness, the two women sat on opposite sides and checked her over for any injury. She was perfectly unharmed, all her wounds from Pense's beatings having been healed before their prize had been shown off.

“Victor, take the keys and open the storage room. I heard them say our things were in there. I need my pentacle. Once I have it, we can deal with these collars around our necks.”

Khandril tossed the keys to Victor wordlessly, her focus more on what had been done to her best friend. Real rage burned behind the woman's eyes, darkening them to the deep blue of ancient glacier ice. Her sensitive senses immediately picked up the scent of another upon her. Intimate scents that told Khandril that in some way, Alyssia had been violated while unable to fight back. She made a quick decision to never mention it to anyone. A secret that, if Alyssia had known it even existed, she would be relieved at it never being told. Khandril found herself thankful that her friend would have no such memories of anything that happened while her soul was trapped.

“Khandril?” Jhadira's soft voice interrupted her thoughts, “Is something wrong?”

Those pale, angry eyes lifted to meet the Questor's gentle gaze and Khandril just nodded tersely, voice barely above a strained whisper. “Everything.”

Jhadira Martik gazed at the two tragic women who sat there with a sad yet understanding expression. “We will overcome...” she gave a reassuring look to the Vampire.

“All of our traveling gear and items were in the chests except for the things that may save our lives.” Victor remarked sourly as he and Pauldo re-entered the cell, arms full of their equipment. “I suspect our weapons and such are being held somewhere else.” He threw the flashing pentacle through the air and the silvery metal seemed to almost glow as it sailed directly into Jhadira's waiting hand.

With a sigh of relief, she put it back around her neck and closed her eyes. “I don't feel nude now. First things first!” Gentle fingers lifted to rest with a delicate touch upon either side of the heavy collar that was clasped around her neck. Try as they might, none of them would have been able to remove the cursed items that hampered their innate clan magics. Only through the work of the Goddess could such blight be removed. “Where once there was darkness...” She whispered, eyes closing. Suddenly, there was a flash of soft white light from the collar and the metal latches holding it fast snapped open. The heavy thing fell with a dull thud to the floor. With a gasp, the Thunderlord Questor could suddenly feel a renewed strength explode through her veins. Pulse quickening with the rush of power as sparks of violet energy snaked about her body. Just as quickly as it was there, the energy was gone. Stored securely back within herself until it was needed again.

Pauldo was next, his body flaring with a swirl of crimson sparks as his collar released. “Ahhh much better!” he grinned happily, “And even better news! They didn't take my stylus!” He exclaimed, holding the short, beryl tipped rod up with a grin. The shaft was made of a smooth, dull metal that looked more like dirty rock than anything else. But marbled along it were softly glowing veins like threaded moss. It was made from pure elemental earth ore, a resource unique to Alyssia's home world. There were ores for all the elements. Even one that was comprised of them all. Oriachulum it was called. And only the most powerful, rarest magical items were made from it. Pauldo's stylus however was only Earth and upon the end, cut into a sharp point was what looked to be a perfect emerald. This was the weapon of a Glyph-Speaker. Able to carve the wards and runes that were the basis of his magic into any surface, House Argorn used the history and knowledge of their people to defend them from harm. There were many that could even be drawn in the air, foregoing the need for a surface all together. “I suppose House Morden has been away from our people for so long they had forgotten what it was even used for. Lucky us!”

“Great,” Victor muttered, keeping watch at the door. “At least two of you are armed. I'll just punch the next thing that shows up.”

“Well sir Drakken, if it's any consolation...” Pauldo gave an excited smile, “I can make you punch it REALLY hard...” punched his an open palm to emphasize his point. Too bad the stylus was in that hand. The sage promptly dropped it and it clattered onto the ground, “whoops!”

Victor rubbed his cheek, sighing as he watched Pauldo scamper after it as it rolled out into the hall.

Khandril on the other hand wasn't paying attention. “I have the shard here. Keegan told me that you have to break it open near her body.” When Jhadira gave her a curious look she waved the question away, “Later. Get her collar off then we'll break it. We don't have much time until the shift changes I suspect.”

The slighter woman shook her head quickly, “No, I'll take it off after. There's no telling what is going to happen once she returns. She could not recognize friend from foe. If I take that collar off...” Jhadira trailed off sadly, hating that she had to restrain her friend in such a way. “Well, let's do this first.”

The Vampire nodded in understanding. She placed the crystal upon the floor and unsheathed her Katana again. Her sword could cut through the hardest surfaces. It's magic was all in it's blade. The edge so razor sharp that it sliced through anything without the slightest resistance. She barely had to put any force behind it at all, more dropping the blade onto the gem than anything else. It instantly broke open and that white misty light that had been just before spinning and dancing within it's walls began to float upward. The particles drifting and then spinning, vibrating faster and faster as the light took shape and began to turn into something more solid. The faster the particles shook the more dense the figure seemed to get until the unmistakable form of Alyssia Kanath for a heartbeat hung, only slightly transparent, in the air. Then with a brilliant flash of light it was as if something called to that form and like two magnets slamming together, the light and the physical body of the warrior seemed to collide.

Aly's back arched, body stiffening as muscles seized. Her eyes, before staring dully, suddenly flew wide as vibrant, gem like emerald bled back into her iris'. They flared golden around the rim just briefly before solidifying back to the glittering crystalline hue. The Dragon's eyes. Her father's eyes.

She gasped loudly, chest heaving and body instantly falling into a tremor. She stared around at them, eyes unseeing at first as her mind shook off it's dust and receptors began to fire again. Panting almost violently, she struggled within the arms of the women who held her.

Jhadira whispered continuously to her, soft words and prayers as her healing magics began gently rippling through the terrified warrior's body. It was overload right now for Alyssia Kanath. Her body had gone to being empty to her soul suddenly being ripped from it's prison and hurtled back in. Later, when pressed, the warrior would reluctantly describe it as like being picked up and thrown violently into a carriage. And then the carriage falls over and tumbles down a hill. And then you end up in a fire pit. The Thunderlord's brain was suddenly being asked to do all those things that one would normally take for granted. It was like a baby coming into the world, all light, sound, touch and taste.

As the Questor's magic and soothing gestures began calming her, the others watched on in silent sorrow. Once Aly could catch her breath, her exhausted body just sagged in their arms as she buried her head against Jhadira's chest and began to cry. Long, aching sobs of terror and relief.

“Leave us.” Jhadira snapped to everyone. She did not look up from the precious bundle that she cradled against her body. No one questioned her. Rarely, did anyone within the Clan ask the High Questor to justify her commands. She was the Arbiter's personal priestess. Her words were for Alyssia alone.

They all walked out of the cell, closing the unlocked door behind them to give the women privacy.

It was only a moment later when Khandril was the first to hear many foot steps falling purposefully upon the stone stairs that led back up into the castle. And they were getting closer...

[Alyssia Kanath]

“Damn.” Khandril whispered as the sound of enemies approaching caught everyone's attention. She listened carefully, growing very still as her mind tried to focus on the sounds. “There's six of them. Five men, two women...” Carefully analyzing details of their movement the Vampire was able to determine many things by the gait and heaviness of the steps. “All but one of them are heavily armed. This is more than a simple change in guard shifts.” Her eyes flicked to the men, face grim. “We will have to buy Alyssia time to recover.”

Pauldo held up his stylus and waved it around a bit. “Ooh! Idea!” He hurried over to the stone archway at the base of the stairs and set to work. Pressing the sharp, jeweled tip of his carving tool against the dusty stone on one side of the door the sage began an incantation. The magical point bit deeply into the wall as he began carving a simple rune. As he did so, he spoke the first word of binding. The dialect was ancient and sounded vaguely Dwarven. Which would not have been surprising considering that of all the Name Giving Races, Dwarves were masters of earth and stone. Many of the Glyph-Speaker's magics were pulled from the study of many races, not just their own.

Once done, Pauldo moved quickly to the other side and repeated both the rune and the binding. Both runes flashed with a crimson spark before he stepped back and called out the third and final bind. His voice rose to a shout, the sound heightened by the magics he wielded to echo through the dungeon. Suddenly, both runes exploded with crimson energy. Both Pauldo and the runes became connected by a thin chain of electrical current creating a triumvirate of power. Then...the stone began to move....

With a great rumble, from either side of the doorway fingers of rock quickly jutted towards one another. Reaching and binding together, the fingers interwove until the entire entrance was blocked by a jagged stone wall. Pauldo stepped back and turned to them, beaming proudly. “That should keep them out for awhile!”

Victor glanced around quickly, “Fancy. But how do we get out?”

The scholar's face fell suddenly, “I hadn't thought about that.... Oh dear.”

“It's alright, we can go out the way I came in. There is a tunnel system beneath the castle that leads outside the city.” Khandril motioned back towards the storage room, “There's a hidden doorway magically created within the stone. I know the command word.”

The Paladin turned on Khandril, frowning. “You know an awful lot. How did you find all this out?” There was barely restrained mistrust radiating from his gaze.

She turned to him, scowling. But before she could retort, they all turned towards the doorway as a strange sound began coming from the other side. At first it was difficult to place the noise. Like a violent rushing of wind it grew in intensity and then stayed constant as whatever it was buffeted Pauldo's stone wall. Their eyes then widened as the stone began slowly changing color. From gray to a pale, dusky pink. And then darker the shade became as they began sensing heat coming from the stone.

“Oh bother, they're burning through it! How...uh oh....” Pauldo fretted, “I think perhaps the young Morden is coming to pay his prisoners a call. He is the only one I can think of with magic capable of this...”

They all began backing up, especially Khandril.

The heat intensified quickly and within seconds the wall was red hot. The center opened like the maw of some animal as the melted slag began falling away and dripping on to the floor. It flowed down and outward into a lumpy mound of glowing orange magma. The jet of flame then burst through the opening, fast as the wind as it roared it's arrival. A long, steady current whipped into the hallway like a live snake with scales of flame. It twisted and turned, faster than they could react the long rope of living fire circled the three in a ring of death. They backed closer to one another, Khandril actually dropping her sword and cringing away from the deadly flames. She cried out, terrified. If the fire so much as got too close she would be utterly destroyed.

Pauldo thought quick upon his feet and raised his stylus once again, this time slicing through only air to write his glyph. He shouted the word and the rune flashed before him then exploded into a veil of crimson sparks that swirled around their bodies with impossible speed. The magic created a buffer between them and the flames. They could not even feel the heat now as the angry serpent spun and thrashed around them, trying to tighten it's embrace. “Whew!” he sighed in relief. They all did.

They turned to see the doorway once again awash in magic, only this time it was not fire but water. A brief deluge of icy water gushed through the doorway, cooling the orange slag that still impeded foot traffic. It flowed with a rush out into the dungeon, ankle deep. As the water flowed over the super heated rock it hissed and sizzled, contracting as it cooled. The area was suddenly full of steam, making it difficult to breathe or see. As the water flowed in, the flame serpent dissipated with a snapping hiss.

When the fire died, so too did Pauldo's shield of sparks.

Suddenly, armed guards began rushing through the door. They spread out to either side of the doorway with weapons drawn as they grimly stood their ground against the newly escaped prisoners. Their armor was different than that of the prison guards. It was finely wrought with a golden eagle upon their tab-bards. The bird of prey, with wings outstretched and beak open in a feral scream, flew within a field of emerald. The symbol for House Morden. These were the King's personal guard.

After them, two men stepped through the doorway. Erik Morden, his father's crown upon his brow, strode over the now cooled rock with an angry expression. Beside him, sword drawn, was Davyd. The Captain's countenance was grim but there was some spark of hopefulness in his eyes. The look was not lost on the others as he glanced briefly between them and his friend.

Erik stood there, glaring at them with clenched fists. Emerald lightning danced and flickered around them as his body shook with barely restrained emotion. “I have a decision to make.” he said in a choked voice, jaw clenched. “And you all are going to help me make it.”

They all looked to one another warily.

“I have to either do what I have been told is right and throw you all back into those cells until they can get you the hell out of my lands....” His eyes narrowed, “Or, you can convince me to listen to that little voice in my heart that tells me that something isn't right. Because I have been made many promises in exchange for you....”

“Promises?” Khandril said quietly, stepping forward as she studied the sorcerer with keen eyes. “Promises that will not be kept. You are being used.”

Pauldo spoke up, nodding vehemently, “She is quite right you know. If you have been promised anything by Khelendrose you really must know that the odds of him ever paying you in kind aren't likely. He is quite mad you see....”

“How do you know?” Erik asked warily, still ready to unleash a hail of deadly magic at the three people who stood before him. “How do you know that he is not everything Malledine has told me?”

“Malledine?” Khandril murmured, “You would do well not to trust anything that this man says. For I witnessed him murder another this night.”

They all stared at Khandril. The vampire looked around to them all and shrugged. “The tunnels run through the castle walls at points.” She looked to Erik, “I watched him murder your father. As he lay in his bed. In the guise of friendship did he snuff the life from the man, unable as he was to fight back in his surprise.”

There was silence. Erik's eyes wide, pale face flushed crimson upon his cheeks with rage. But he was unsure if he could believe the words of this woman who matched Malledine's description. “How do I know...” He said in a hoarse whisper, “that you did not do this deed and now blame it upon my family's Questor...”

Quickly, Davyd interjected. “Majesty...” He murmured quietly, “Malledine has been acting very strangely since word of the prisoner's arrival.” His eyes never left the three before him, yet he tilted his head towards Erik's, lowering his voice more. “My men have reported to me that he was seen earlier wandering the castle just before the battle ended. Garrik saw him suddenly appear out of nowhere. He didn't see my man, but he then rushed back to his chambers. It was only moments after that we heard Maddie screaming.”

Erik looked to one of the guards, eyes boring holes through him. The man swallowed hard and nodded. “A..aye...the Captain speaks the truth, Majesty!” his voice cracked under the pressure of his King's cold gaze.

The Thunderlord sorcerer looked helplessly between Davyd and the prisoners. “And...how do you know that Khelendrose will not give my family it's honor back? And reform the council himself?”

Pauldo clucked his tongue and shook his head sadly, “Because he is my cousin. And he is wholly insane and evil. He was banished from my family for being a Madwind. Of the most dangerous kind....”

None had noticed that behind them the cell door swung slowly open, “And he's my 'alf brother...” Alyssia Kanath's grim voice caused all to turn their attention towards her. She came through the door with and equally strained looking Jhadira by her side. The Arbiter studied Erik Morden warily, hands with palms up showing she meant only to parlay. “In a sense, anyway. So I am told by 'im an' the others. The Dragon's first failed experiment in 'is attempt to regain 'is power.” The warrior then snapped bitterly, “He is also the man tha' murdered my parents in 'is search for my family's sword, which you would now give 'im willingly.”

Her eyes locked on to his and Erik stared at her silently, listening. She could not read the look upon his face wholly. Only saw bits and pieces of emotion as they flashed through his deep, sapphire eyes. She saw sadness, anger, confusion...and suddenly, awe. She was certain that all but the last could be just as easily read within her own gaze. And she knew the reason for the last one. This was his first time truly meeting the Patron's child. The one chosen by the Great Dragon to lead his people to power once more. And Erik Morden had a great hand in that destiny, as did they all. Though Alyssia was the embodiment of the Dragon's untamed power, so too was the council that power's only control. It would be up to them to shape this Arbiter into their people's savior...or their ultimate destruction.

She had seen the same look pass over the faces of Pauldo and Jhadira when they had first found her. It was a spark of recognition, though unconscious. When he gazed at her, something spoke directly to his soul. Some communication took place on the deepest level of consciousness. As if they saw not just Alyssia standing there, but something much greater than the simple warrior that was poised before them. Jhadira had described it to her as seeing one surrounded by a blazing aura of power. And that aura rose upward, sweeping into the shadow of a great serpent, it's wings outstretched and golden rimmed,emerald eyes delving deeply into the soul of the one who stood before it. She had felt the power fall upon her like a crashing wave and just as all vision was obliterated, the Goddess' energy wrapped around her and with a voice like summer rain cooled all that white, hot heat by whispering words of destiny into her mind. But a single spark remained, though the vision faded. The spark set deeply within their hearts to defend one another. To defend Alyssia. To follow the road of destiny until it led to the reformation of the Dragon's glory and power. For without his people, Stormwind's magic was greatly diminished. They were the conduit of his replenishing.

In truth, they were all just pawns. Not only their enemies, but they themselves.

Everyone looked between Erik and Alyssia nervously, both sides preparing to spring at one another with a single command. They held their breath, waiting upon the razor edge of fate. For a moment it was as if a chasm of uncertainty spread vast between them.

Then Erik's hoarse whisper, strained with rage and wrapped in sorrow, addressed his Captain. “I have been blinded to this madness. But no more. Athair will not have died in vain.” He looked to Davyd sadly, shaking his head. “I am sorry I ever doubted you...”

Davyd's relieved eyes glittered with tears unshed. His voice gruff, though quivering with deep emotion, he addressed his friend. “We will see this righted.”

The two men grasped one another's forearms and gripped tightly, looking deeply into each others faces and reading every emotion.

Then Erik Morden looked to his Arbiter and said quickly, “Help me save my family. My subjects. And I will swear allegiance to Stormwind once more. My lands will belong to the Clan, my subjects to the Council.” He was obviously pained at the saying of it, voice tinged with bitter regret.

Alyssia looked to her companions before slowly nodding her head. Her eyes swept over Erik, not entirely trusting his words. But despite her concerns she had little choice in the matter. “Good, now tha' we're all on the same page...” She growled, “Where the fuck is my sword?”

[Alyssia Kanath]

“All your weapons are being held under guard in the treasury.” Erik said hurriedly as the group made it's way up into the main floors of the castle. Their entourage had grown eleven strong with the addition of Erik and his guard. “I can assure the loyalty of my men.”

Davyd interjected, sounding grim. “I can only say of the loyalty of my guard, Majesty. The castle guard have grown very loyal to Malledine.”

Erik growled, pace quickening as they walked through the winding corridors, “I am their King. They must follow my decrees.”

“So should yer Questor, but we obviously 'ave seen wha' 'e thinks o' you.” Alyssia brushed off Erik's glare then cast him an irritated glance of her own. “All I am sayin' is, yer in no position to assume anyone in this castle is gonna listen to you. Especially considerin' ya aren't exactly escortin' yer prisoners under duress.”

He frowned, looking forward and muttering grimly, “I hadn't thought of that.”

“Mmhmm.” was her only reply.

During this conversation, Khandril glanced back briefly. The woman suddenly stopped short, nearly getting bowled over by Pauldo and one of the guards. “Wait.”

Everyone turned to her. “Khan? Wha' is it?” Alyssia said quietly, brows furrowing. She had learned long ago that when her friend said to wait, it was a good idea to listen.

“There are only ten of us.” She looked to Alyssia, shaking her head. “There were eleven. We are missing one of Morden's guards.”

“Annya.” Davyd breathed, scowling. “Where did Annya go?”

The others just looked at one another dumbly. No one had noticed the slighter female falling behind.

Victor snorted, “So much for the loyalty of your men.”

“She's probably 'eaded straight fer the elf.” Aly growled, “We 'ave to 'urry.”

Their pace quickened, breaking into a run. They met not a soul on their way to the treasury, which in itself was unusual. There were no guards. No servants. Though it was the late watches at the very least there should have been some breath of life in the castle. Instead it's halls were silent and empty.

Until they reached the landing that held the doorway to the vault. Before the iron bound door stood five armored guards. The men quickly drew their weapons when the group approached. “Your majesty?” One taller man said warily as he eyed the newcomers. “What brings you to the vaults so late?”

Erik strode forward, voice assured and commanding. “My business is my own. You will not question me, guardsman. Now open the vault.”

All the guards looked to one another nervously, they did not stand down. “Your orders were to let none enter.”

The King scowled, agitation causing his face to tic. “And I am now ordering you to open the door. Do so! Or would you be tried for treason against the throne?”

At this all of the men began shifting nervously, looking to their ranking officer for assistance. Some gave him pleading gazes. But, despite his obvious fear, he shook his head. “I...I'm sorry Majesty. But we received words from Malledine that...”

“That what?” Erik snapped.

“T..that wit' the King's death you ain't in your right mind.” His gaze fell to Alyssia and the others, head nodding slightly. “That you was grieving and that until you was feeling better we weren't to ...” He gulped noisily, “necessarily...believe what you said.”

Alyssia leaned to Erik and muttered, “This isn't gonna end well.”

Erik didn't answer. He just stood there, eyes wide as they watched all that he had worked for slipping from his grasp. Not only did he have to give up his throne. Give up his power. His adulation. His own men would not even listen to him. His breathing deepened, almost gasping as he took deep, steadying breaths. Wide, enraged eyes stared unseeing for a moment at the now increasingly frightened men before him.

Alyssia could feel the prickle upon her skin as his static aura flared to life. There was nothing slow about the output of energy. It was as if his entire body suddenly became cloaked with power. The air around them began to sizzle and pop as his aura touched theirs. The warrior's eyes widened as she began backing up. “Ohhhhh shit...”

Erik Morden's eyes suddenly blazed as green sparks exploded within them, swirling chaotically. As his hands rose, everyone near him dove away lest they be caught by his rage. The guards tried to run, but they were not fast enough as suddenly from his outstretched arms exploded a wind so powerful that with a keening eagle's shriek it caught the five men before him up and slammed them haphazardly against the wall. The sound of armor and weapons clattering as such items were ripped from their bodies, the sickening crunch of many bones as the force pressed the hapless men against the stone, the shock wave liquefying their organs and crushing skulls.

Just as soon as the magic had been there, it was gone. Erik's aura was sucked back within himself and he collapsed against Davyd, gasping. The output of energy had been great. And dangerous. But the Thunderlord's rage had shrouded his common sense.

The bodies slid to the floor with wet, crunching noises. Trails of thick blood marking where their smashed forms had once been high upon the stone.

No one said a word.

Jhadira rushed to Erik to try and help Davyd bring him back to his senses. Alyssia and Khandril looked at one another, both now wary at this new power that had entered their group dynamic. The guards just stared in shock, two of them growing ill at the sight they had witnessed. Pauldo tried not to look, his face pale as he cleared his throat and shuffled nervously. Victor just stared. Alyssia Kanath learned that the Morden's rage could easily match her own if they were ever forced to face one another in battle. He was a dangerous ally.

She looked to the others and actually smiled, though it was more than a bit sarcastic as her eyebrows shot upward. “Well, if they didn't know we were 'ere before, they do now.” With that she walked over to where the lead guard lay crumpled in a heap and reached down to rummage for his keys. Some of the others cringed slightly when wet, squishy sounds accompanied her prodding for the keyring. Vaguely she heard the remaining female guard get ill again but she continued unconcerned. It wasn't the dead that the warrior feared. It was the living. And this soupy pile of...person, before her was now just an object. It was a reflex that Jhadira often tried to “counsel” out of her Arbiter. But fact was, Alyssia had lost the ability to care in most cases. Especially right now. “Aha!” She pulled the keys out and held them up, they and her hand coated in crimson. With a lopsided grin she turned and opened the vault.

Erik had regained most of his composure, jerking his arm away from Davyd as the Captain helped him up. His pride had been wounded, worst of all by himself. The young sorcerer wrapped himself in a bitter cloak of his own making and walked after Alyssia.

Davyd's eyes betrayed only slight hurt, used as he was to this treatment.

As they all filed into the treasure vaults of House Morden, Alyssia gave a low awestruck whistle. “Now this...I kin' work wit'...” She grinned widely at Erik.

He leaned back against the wall by the door, arms folded as he glared at the woman who now began perusing his family's inheritance with greed lighting her emerald eyes. “Do you mean to rob my family as well?” he snapped sarcastically, “Or are you really looking for your sword?”

She flashed him a roguish grin and winked his way before holding up her thumb and forefinger only slightly a part. “Per'aps jus' a wee bit, aye?” Alyssia then laughed as he narrowed his eyes. “Oh relax, yer a stuffy one. I ain't got no need fer gold an' trinkets.”

Khandril walked aimlessly around the large vault, careful to touch nothing. It was then that her eyes fell upon a large, beautifully painted portrait that was leaning against the wall in a corner. It's base was covered by a pile of various coins but she could easily see the three people who sat with smiles upon their faces as the artist plied his trade in their honor. Pale eyes widening, she studied the faces. A large, rugged looking man with long hair as black as night. Beside him was a beauty with pale hair and bright almond eyes. Faint tips of ears could be seen through her hair, denoting an elven heritage. The face was serene, perfect lips in a soft yet knowing smile. And behind the two , with a hand on each of their shoulders, stood a man. He smiled, eyes bright and carefree. Hair much like his father's though trimmed short like the beard that graced his jaw. Young, strong and proud this son stood behind his parents and looked confidently towards the future. The dawning realization that she stared into the face of Keegan's human form, before his family had come to such tragedy, caused her to reach out and lightly brush her fingers against his cheek. She suddenly felt a great sorrow for the once man who had led her to save her friends. She wondered if he and Riah were alright on the outside...

The vampire's thoughts were stolen by a loud, triumphant “Aha!” from Alyssia. Pulling a blanket off of a small pile of equipment revealed the glittering ebony scabbard and silvery, gemmed hilt of Havoc. Quickly she took the weapon up and the runes along it's length flared to life. The same flare of magic could be seen in the warrior's eyes, swirling hues of azure sparks as her mind made silent communication with the artifact she held once again. Like an extension of her own arm, she tightened her hand around the dragon-skin wrapped grip. “I missed you too, my friend. I'm sorry 'bout all this. Don' worry, you'll get yer chance...” She quickly buckled the blade around her waist, slinging it low upon her left hip.

At the same time, Jhadira retook the staff of Zephyr. It's smooth, unadorned metal shaft feeling cool and reassuring in her hands. She spun the staff about her body a few times, the unnaturally light weapon twirling faster than the eye could see. Falling into an aggressive stance she then jutted the butt of the weapon out before her like a lance and gave a pleased smile.

Victor's great sword slid into the scabbard he had re-attached to his back and he grunted in satisfaction. “Good, now I feel like fighting.”

“It is time for you to take up your family's weapon as well, sir Morden.” Pauldo smiled knowingly at the moody sorcerer who's back held up the wall.

Erik looked to the sage, frowning. “What?”

The beaming scholar pointed his stylus towards a narrow, short handled mace that lay serenely upon a specially crafted stand in the center of the room. The golden head was not large, diamond shaped and studded with short nubby spikes. The whole thing was threaded with veins of many colors, all seeming to flow and move like tiny rivers of molten metal. Oriachulum. The most powerful of all elements. For the calling of the Morden Storm Warden was as master of them all. Earth. Air. Fire. Water. And the Spirit to bind them into one deadly and destructive force. And this was the focus, just as Havoc was for Alyssia. And the others their respective weapons. This was the conduit by which they each pushed their abilities to maximum potency.

The young man scoffed, eyes rolling. “No one has touched Spellfury in years. The last Morden to wield it was my great great uncle when he was Stormwind's Arbiter.” He glared at the weapon, sneering. “It lost it's power when we were banished.”

Jhadira stepped forward, smiling gently to Erik as she placed a hand upon his arm. “You may be surprised, Erik. You have sworn your allegiance to the Clan once again. You have taken the first steps towards your rightful place. You are doing the Patron's work, as are you the Goddess'. It was the magic of those two great powers that created these artifacts that we wield. They are the weapons of the first of our lines. Why don't you try it?”

He looked down at her dubiously, searching her face for truth. The thought that perhaps he could be the one to wield such a great power. One that even his father had never been able to master, pleased him. The bitter sting began to ease as he looked over towards the mace that his family had carried since the great scourge. That a hero of his Clan had once carried. A weapon wielded more than once by a Stormwind Arbiter.

Slowly, the man pushed himself from the wall and began walking towards the artifact that now called to his mind. He was sure he could almost hear a woman's pleading voice whispering in his ear, a light touch upon a soft wind. ”Come to me.”, the voice caressed his mind with the touch of a lover. The sound causing a shiver to ripple over his flesh as he took another step forward. He had forgotten everything around him as his attention became fixated upon the object. ”Take me. I am yours. Through me you will wield power greater than you have ever imagined. Our power will become one and no one will stand in our way.”

The trance was broken by Alyssia's excited yelp. His head whipped to the side and he shook it, regaining his senses. It was too late that he realized the warrior's hand was reaching towards the grip of another sword she had uncovered within a heavily bound chest. And when he saw the twisted markings upon the black hilt and the flashing crimson gems that adorned it he held out his hand and called to her, “Wait! Do not touch...!”

But it was too late. Alyssia had already taken the weapon up. Her brows suddenly furrowed as she tried to release it, but something held her hand fast. The blood that had coated her hand seemed to sizzle over her flesh and Alyssia hissed in pain. She watched as the coagulating crimson began to slide from her skin only to be absorbed within the cool metal she held. Eyes narrowed, she let out a loud snarl. Instead of panicking, her other hand clamped down upon the grip as well, holding it within both. She thrust the blade out before her and gritted her teeth as the weapon flared to life, it's magic probing her mind as a surge of joy sang from the blade.

The Thunderlord blade-master was suddenly pitted in a battle of wills as the cursed sword impaled her mind with it's desperate need.

”Blood!”

[Alyssia Kanath]

“Do not go near her!” Erik shouted as the others began converging upon an obviously distressed Alyssia. “The blade she holds, if it succeeds in swaying her mind, will drive her to slay all who come near her! It is Blood Dancer, the cursed! Sword of Corcoran Kanath, Kin-slayer!”

They all suddenly began backing up.

“What is it doing here!?” Jhadira cried, hand reaching up to clutch at the pentacle that connected her to her Goddess.

Pauldo began rambling, “The lost sword! Amazing! Although I suppose it does make sense, Corcoran was defeated by your great, great, great grandmother. But it was thought destroyed!”

Erik shook his head, “No, she could not destroy it. She hid it away, for what purpose I know not.”

“How very irresponsible!” Jhadira scolded, voice growing high pitched at her annoyance.

Alyssia suddenly dropped to her knees, head tilting as her face twisted with the effort of pushing away the sword's incessant hunger as it pressed upon her mind. Suddenly Havoc was there, the artifact's own magic erecting a metaphysical shield that dampened the offending weapon's influence. Aly could tell that Havoc was angry, and more than a little jealous of her curiosity towards this other weapon. But not more than she. The warrior had just gotten her sensibilities back, she wasn't about to lose them now to some over sized kitchen knife. She was barely able to gasp out, “Little 'elp 'ere!”

That brought everyone's attention back. Victor snapped, “Pauldo! What do you know about it? How do we help?”

“Uh uh...yes...well...ahem...the sword..Blood Dancer, yes I remember now! Corcoran Kanath became enraged during an argument with his brother, Brom. The two had a long standing resentment and often Brom would antagonize his sibling and routinely defeat him in all challenges. For many years Corcoran's hatred burned for his brother and he thought of ways to...”

Alyssia gasped, eyes screwed shut, “Li'l faster on the 'istory lesson!” The last word came out with a squeak as the sword made another pressing attack on her mind. Her body burned with an unknown need. A hunger that she could not understand and hoped never to have to.

Pauldo continued hurriedly, “Oh, right! Anyway, long story short...Corcoran challenged his brother to a duel and was about to win but Brom, seeing his impending first loss, cheated and won the match! Corcoran's pride was wounded and in his rage he slew his brother with the magical short sword you see within the...Arbiter's...hands...” He paused as they all stared at him. “Well, Cailan, their father...cursed his son's blade, which before was light as a feather and fast as the winds, to drive Corcoran to madness. For it was his prized possession and the winner of the duel was to receive the blade. So terrified of losing his sword was Corcoran that he slew his own brother. Forever after the sword would thirst for blood, driving all who wielded it to ruin. Corcoran was cast out of House Kanath and defected to Shadow-Strike. It's influence is powerful and born of anguish. ”

“Pauldo, that doesn't tell us how to help Alyssia!” Victor shouted in annoyance.

The sage laughed nervously, voice thin. “Well really all we can do is hope that the Arbiter's will is sufficient to overcome the sword's call.”

The Paladin threw his hands in the air, cursing.

“Tha's it!” Alyssia nearly howled before with great effort turning the blade, point down. With a snarl, she thrust it downward, the tip embedding into the stone floor. “Grah!” Her eyes flared open and lifted to Pauldo, “Rock! I need rock! NOW!”

His eyes flicked between everyone and he gave another jittery laugh, “But that would mean I would..would have to get...close...”

They all shouted in unison, “PAULDO!”

“Right!” Warily, he hustled over to the quivering blade as Alyssia held it steady, knuckles white with the effort. As quickly as he could, the tip of his stylus began circling the floor around the embedded blade as he shouted his bind. Once the circle was cast he marked a rune just within and scampered back. Stone fingers shot upward and began wrapping around the blade. More and more tendrils of rock slowly rose, twisting about the weapon and within seconds the entirety of the blade was entombed in stone. Still, Alyssia's hands held fast.

“Now you listen to me you twisted little piece of shit...” The Arbiter's voice growled low, rumbling from deep within her chest. The raw, animal like sound unnerved those in the room who did not know her. “I don' know who or wha' you think you are but no one. And NOTHIN' is gonna ever take away my free will again. Are you listenin'?” She jerked the blade around violently within the stone as if throttling it. As if the thing in her grasp could feel pain. Odds are, it was only to make her feel better. “An' I will be damned if some whiny li'l butter knife is gonna even try! So listen up!” She snarled, green eyes suddenly blazing azure as the iris' swirled with her own power. “You 'ave two choices. Serve me an' I will ensure yer 'unger is fed. Because ohoho...do I 'ave enemies galore.” The woman laughed low, face twisted into a snarling grin. “Or...I will leave you 'ere wit'in this stone, NEVER again to feel the taste o' blood upon yer blade!”

Panicked rage swelled up from the blade as it reasserted it's bid for control. Pain exploded within her head and she gave a strangled cry, forcing herself to stay steady. It wanted...needed to taste the sweet wine of her enemies life blood. To bathe in it, rejuvenate from it. To drink it's power and feed it's frenzy. And in turn, it promised that power to Alyssia. If she would but just release it, they could feed that need now. She could feel the rush of power channeled through the blade as a dizzying fervor rushed through her limbs. The sword beckoned to her with the pleasure of death, the dance of blood. Somewhere in the back of her mind she could easily see how such a weapon could be wielded by a Kanath. A House known for their lust for battle and berserker type rages. The Dragon's ferocity.

“Answer me, weapon! Whom do you serve!” Alyssia shouted, trying to overcome the roaring in her ears that only she could hear.

They all watched, scared to breathe for fear of breaking her concentration. Helplessly they stood as the warrior struggled within her mind. At that moment, Havoc was there again, it's power surging through it's mistress and narrowing her focus. Like a metaphysical blade, her energy and Havoc's thrust into the weapon she held. With a flare of sapphire, snakes of energy danced up through her chest and forked down along the woman's arms and into the Blood Dancer's hilt. “Say it! Who is yer Mistress!” She howled angrily as the combined power beat back the wicked influence that had just seconds before nearly won the struggle for Alyssia's control. A surge of reluctant acceptance suddenly replaced the burning pain and in her mind's eye she saw herself wielding the weapon without complaint. Much, anyway. And then, she felt nothing.

Giving a loud, heaving sigh of relief she relaxed. Slowly her numb hands slipped from the blade and dropped to her thighs. Panting softly, she looked up and nodded to Pauldo. “Release it.” Her voice was tired.

“Are you quite s...”

“Release it!” Alyssia snapped.

Nodding, the scholar lifted his stylus and waved it around. “Right away, Arbiter!” Without further complaint, he did as was told. The rock was suddenly laced with long cracks that ran up from the base. They snaked about the stone and suddenly the entirety just crumbled to dust.

Alyssia caught the blade before it could fall and lifted it. The weapon was so light it was as if she was holding nothing at all. Slowly, she let the razor blade fall back upon her shoulder, tip extending up past her head. Grinning lazily she then drew it's edge down along the side of her neck. The cut was not long nor exceptionally deep, but it had it's desired effect. The blade's acknowledgment sprang to life within her mind, pleased at this sacrifice. Her elementally charged blood hissed and sizzled along the steel as the weapon drank. “Good boy....” Her voice was husky, almost sensual.

Erik just cast an incredulous look at Pauldo and Jhadira. “And you say Khelendrose is the crazy one?”

Khandril and Victor smirked.

“W..well...technically... I mean, they're both...” Pauldo coughed gently, unsure of how to proceed.

Jhadira spoke up meekly, offering Erik a weak smile. “She usually isn't so...disturbing...” She then grew flustered as they all looked at her, “Well she's been through a lot...!” Then, the priestess marched up to Alyssia and began scolding her. “Arbiter! Really...like a child in a sweets store! You should know better than to go about touching things when you don't know where they came from!” She helped the warrior up.

Blinking, Alyssia stood slowly. The sword sort of just dropped as it dangled from her hand and she frowned, scuffing her boot on the stone floor. “Ohhh now Jhadira, don' go all huffy on me. I mean 'ow was I supposed to know tha' the lad's great, great, great, grandsomethin' or other had some insane crazy blood suckin' sword jus' layin' aroun'...!” She looked at Erik and clucked her tongue with a shake of the head, trying to divert the blame. “Very irresponsible, Jha's righ'. I mean wha' would 'ave 'appened if I'd jus' let it make me cut all yer 'eads off!” She shook her finger at Erik.

Davyd turned his head, hiding a smile. The other guards didn't so much as move for fear of reprimand. Erik, for his part, just stared at her in stunned silence. He started to say something, but it came out more of a strangled “whmph!?”

“Awww it's alrigh, lad.” Alyssia laughed and walked past him, clapping him roughly upon the shoulder. “Don' worry. You got us now! You kin' leave the irresponsible stuff to me.” She sauntered over to the door to peek out, hands quickly buckling the second scabbard to her belt.

Erik Morden's jaw snapped shut and he cast a baleful glare towards her. “Are you always this obnoxious?”

Khandril and Victor said in unison, “Yes.”

Aly flashed a grin to them and cooed, “Awww, I love you kids too...”

“This is not renewing my faith in your ability to lead this Clan, Kanath.” Erik sneered.

“Well, all I kin' really say to tha' is; get o'er it.”

He scowled.

She opened her mouth to address his scowl but her words were stolen when a crossbow bolt embedded itself deeply in the wooden door jam next to her head. Jerking back with wide eyes, she snapped. “Yer 'issy fit 'as to wait!”

“What's happening!?” Erik asked.

She drew both her swords, the blades scraping their way free and ringing with the joy of oncoming battle. Grinning at him almost playfully, her twinkling eyes mirroring the excitement in her weapons as she said in a sing-song lilt, “I think they've found us!”

And with that, Alyssia Kanath disappeared through the doorway with a roar as she charged headlong into Malledine's guards.

[Alyssia Kanath]

The men were unprepared for the onslaught that crashed into their stunned ranks.

All of the rage. The frustration. All of the burning hatred for these abuses heaped upon Alyssia Kanath's own person and those she loved fueled the frenzied blade-storm that began tearing the front line of guards to bloodied shreds. The combination of an unarmored, wild haired woman hurtling forward to the sound of a howled battle-cry and the blood freezing look upon her snarling face momentarily threw them all. Those precious, lost seconds as she leapt into the air, body twisting as Havoc and Blood Dancer arced in a whirlwind of devastation were what ensured their doom.

The advantage was short lived however. As those bewildered guards nearest were felled like wheat in a farmer's scythe, more moved in to replace their ranks. So overcome by her eagerness for revenge, the unarmored Alyssia who in cooler moments could have easily spun and dodged away from the majority of the blows that now rained back upon her, was blind to (Or perhaps uncaring of) the fact that she was now wounded in numerous places. As crimson stains crept across the peasants garb that Pense had dressed her in, the spattering of gore only served to push her fervor higher. The pain was replaced by surging pulses of joy and pleasure as Blood Dancer rewarded it's new mistress for the feast that she now lay before it. Her motions sped, a dizzying rush of vigor as energy sang through her limbs. Even Havoc, who before had been wary of it's new partner, suddenly realized that paired with this new magic they had become an almost unstoppable weapon of destruction. Azure lightning flared along the length of it's ornate blade as it plunged into the chest of one shocked man and with an explosion of electricity his body was flung backward. Blood dancer parried the incoming blow from a spear then snaked forward and pierced anther's side. With a sizzling hiss it drank deeply before Alyssia kicked his body from her blade while at the same time blocking the downward swing of mace with Havoc. She vaguely felt something sink into her side...

Suddenly, Alyssia's body was cascaded in a warm, rippling pulse. Waves of healing energy flowed through her body as she became vaguely aware of Jhadira's chanting voice barely audible over the din of clashing weapons and the cries of battle. The wounds upon her body began to heal and some semblance of control was regained in her mind. Blinking quickly, the frenzy abated and Alyssia focused her will, pushing the sword's hunger back just enough to gain more awareness of her surroundings for the sake of survival.

Jhadira stood motionless, hand outward with eyes focused upon her charge as the Arbiter dodged and weaved amongst a group of six soldiers upon the landing outside Morden's vaults. Her lips moved in constant prayer as the Goddess granted divine protection upon each of her companions. A brief, golden shine flared from each of their bodies before dying away. Alyssia noticed that the blows that rained down upon her now jarred less and she was able to shake off more than her unarmored body should have been able to withstand.

Two guards rushed the small woman who stood unmoving and unconcerned at their charge. For she knew that she did not stand alone. Victor was there with a roar as his wide blade swung, defending his wife with a ferocity born of love and righteous fury. It caught the first in the side as the blade flared with holy fire, slicing through the man's armor and near cleaving him in two. With a slick, bone crunching sound he ripped the weapon from the man's falling body and spun about, it arced through the air and took the arm of the second cleanly from his shoulder. As he was recovering from the wild swing, Victor was suddenly felled to one knee as a third came from nowhere and flanked him The man's blade sliced deeply into the Paladin's thigh causing him to hiss in pain.

As the enemy closed in, teeth flashing in a feral grin, he raised his weapon to strike. Victor lifted his sword and parried the blow before the staff of Zephyr swung out of nowhere and cracked the guard upon the head. Like flowing water, so smooth and effortless did the smaller woman's right arm raise and hooked the staff across the man's throat. With a flick of her wrists and a sound that could only be described as the snapping of dry tinder the man's neck broke and he fell lifelessly to the ground. Jhadira's body then took on that graceful air once again and the shod heel of Zephyr was planted into the ground as she vaulted upward, landing a flying kick directly into the face of another rushing guard. He flew backward and crumpled into a heap upon the ground. Jhadira Martik landed gracefully as Zephyr spun in her grasp. Stormy gray eyes turned towards Victor and he shook his head, standing. Nodding, she saved her healing magic for those more wounded than he.

Too late did she raise her eyes to see the three crossbow bolts that screamed towards her chest. Her eyes flew wide and she fell backwards, spine bowing in attempt to evade their deadly hail. But Pauldo's voice heralded her salvation as a wall of stone surged upward, the quarrels bouncing off it's rugged surface harmlessly. She gave a relieved gasp and cast a thankful look to the sage as he grinned and saluted her with his stylus.

The archers upon the stairs began reloading their crossbows as Alyssia, now joined by Khandril and Erik's guards pressed the enemy back towards them. Suddenly, one of the archers was slammed directly in the chest with a bolt of emerald lightning. There was a crack of thunder and brilliant flash as the bolt then bounced off him and arced to the second, then third. All three were flung haphazardly in various directions, their chests nothing more than blackened ruins. In the doorway stood Erik, in his hands were firmly gripped the haft of Spellfury. His eyes were cold, set, and determined. Davyd stood beside him, shield out and sword readied to defend his liege were any of the enemy to get too close. The Sorcerer then held his weapon in both hands and gave a deep shout, his voice taking on a strange and guttural tone as a draconian sounding incantation fell from his lips. There was a brilliant flash as all were temporarily blinded by the release of magic as Spell fury's power merged with it's new Master.

Battle stopped. Time froze. They all stared dumbfounded as the short weapon he held flared to life with a terrible radiance. It's molded haft began to extend, elongating downward until it reached the floor. What he held was no simple mace, but a shining staff intricately wrought in gleaming Oriachulum. So seamless and beautiful was it's construction, so flawless it's perfection, that it was enough to make one forget just how terribly dangerous it truly was.

Erik gripped the haft and it felt right. Like it was part of him. Like it always had been. The raw power that surged through his body as the rippling sound of a woman's sultry laughter cascaded down his spine and caused his eyes to widen. Tendrils of arcing emerald energy sprang to life upon the staff's head, dancing along the protrusions that studded it as testament to the power it held. Erik spun the staff and twisted, jutting it outward as another powerful bolt of lightning exploded from the staff and hit it's mark as the stone archway over the stairs shattered and collapsed, the stones tumbling down and blocking the advance of a second wave of guards.

Alyssia felt movement to her right and instinct pushed her body to action. Like a coiled spring she lept upward, body flipping back to avoid the tumbling rocks that cascaded down the stairs towards her form at breakneck speed. She barely avoided getting crushed as she landed in a battle ready crouch, both swords still tightly gripped within her hands as she used their blades to steady her balance. One of the guards who narrowly avoided getting bowled over gave a sigh of relief, only too late to realize that the warrior that he had just been engaged with was now behind him. He began to turn as he heard the twin blades of the Stormwolf scrape along the stone floor when she lifted them for the killing blow. Both arms flew out in deadly arcs as the razor edges effectively scissored his head from his shoulders. The resulting spatter of gore fountain-ed over the warrior as his lifeless body fell backward. it left a ghastly trail down her tunic as it slid into a bloody pool at her feet. Alyssia felt the sanguine fluid spray hotly against her face and throat. She could taste the coppery tang of blood in her mouth and she swallowed reluctantly, grimacing. with a wince,she squinted as thick blood impaired her vision, burning and coloring her world in a red haze.

She fell to her knees as the rush of battle began to drain from her exhausted limbs. The pain from countless wounds, both healed and open began surging through her body and her companions turned to see both swords fall to the ground from twitching, nerveless fingers. It had been too soon. She was not recovered enough from her ordeal and now it was all catching up with her.

Vaguely aware of Jhadira's panicked voice calling her name as darkness swam at the outside of her vision. Aly croaked out hoarsely, “Nothin' some whiskey won't fix!”

That was the last thing she said before she hit the floor, floating in an ever expanding sea of crimson.

[Alyssia Kanath]

'These doors won't hold for long!”

'”They have to! Pauldo, do something!

Thump, Thump, Thump[/i]

Muffled shouts played backdrop to ancient magics being crafted.

“That's the best I can do, I'm afraid!”

Alyssia lay still as her senses slowly returned. Awoken to the sounds of a desperate fight for survival. She wasn't sure where she was or even what was happening. A soft groan escaped her lips.

“Thank the passions! She's waking up....” For the first time she was able to distinguish voices, and as Jhadira gently lifted the Arbiter's head, her eyes opened and gazed up into the soft, gentle visage of her Questor.

A smile tugged at the warrior's lips, happy to have survived. Then that smile split wide into a grin as she began to laugh. “You though' I was dead!”

Unable to help herself and despite the situation, Jhadira laughed too she pulled Alyssia up into a tight hug as tears of relief made their way down her flushed cheeks. The warrior hugged back tightly. It was then she noticed that she had not a mark or scratch upon her person. Pulling back she looked into her Questor's face and frowned. “You used all yer prayer on me....?”

Looking almost ashamed, she nodded her head. “We were losing you...I...I could not allow that to happen. But I am afraid I will have to undergo meditations in order to recover my abilities”

Just then, a loud crash interrupted her thoughts. Alyssia's head whipped around the room. Everyone was there. Pauldo and Erik stood at what was once a doorway, now sealed in stone. Erik knelt with head down and palm against the floor before the doorway. With each word, magic fell from his lips as he lay what Alyssia could only assume to be a deadly trap should the rock wall fail. It would buy them a little time, but she could hear many guard upon the other side. And they were using something to try and break it down.

Alyssia realized that they had most likely been harried through the castle's halls and come upon some sort of defensible position. But the problem with that was, they were stuck without another exit and now under siege.

Erik rose, Spellfury held tightly in his grip. He turned a glare to Alyssia and snapped, “Yes, if any of us get hurt we're on our own it seems.” His ire moved to Jhadira. “Let us hope that does not happen, for what good is a Questor who can not heal?”

Victor turned on Erik and gave him a low warning, “You will not speak to my wife in that manner. Or by the Goddess I will shove that toothpick you carry down your throat.”

The two turned to one another and began shouting.

Jhadira helped Aly up and ran between them. As she rose, Alyssia noticed that she was no longer dressed as she had been. Much of the blood had been wiped away. And someone, probably Jhadira, had re-dressed her in a pair of doeskin trousers and a pristine blouse crafted of some luxurious pearlescant thread. The pants were a bit tight in the hips and the shirt a bit loose in the chest, but she was happy to be out of those rags. As she looked around, Alyssia noticed a definite feminine touch upon the room. It must belong to Erik's sister.

Near the door, the others kept arguing.

Seeing her weapons hanging upon a chair she calmly took them up and began buckling them upon her hips. The constant squabbling made her head hurt and the Arbiter took a deep breath before turning. She watched them there a moment, all threats and screams. Pauldo stayed out of it, he was the smart one. But it was only when she saw tears in Jhadira's eyes that she became truly angry.

Alyssia stalked up to the quarreling group, “SILENCE!” And then the wave of energy hit them as the Stormwolf's static aura exploded around them. There was a deep howling tone to her voice and with it, power and dominance nearly felled Jhadira and Pauldo to their knees. It was a power Alyssia hated having. She had always been the one to call upon a person's free will. Every individual deserved such. But her station gave her a power over these people that she did not want. At this stage in her young life, it pained her to use it.

Erik however was stronger than the others. He fought back. His electrical field billowed out and pressed upon hers. The young Morden was actually defying her command, as wrapped up as he was in his anger. “I am Morden. I am master of earth! Master of sky! Of fire and rain! You DARE [/b] attempt to subjugate me to your will Kanath[/i]!? The way in which he spoke her family name was no more than an arrogant sneer.

Alyssia growled, her voice rough as she pushed against him again. “I do nae wish to subjugate you Erik.” Each word biting and angry, “But apparently we are cornered in a room from which there is no escapin' an' enemies are on our doorstep!” Her magic flared again, the air crackled as the energy became visible. Sparks of azure and emerald fought for control of the others territory. “An' yet you all stand 'ere arguin' o'er pride. Then argue tha' I am the irresponsible one!”

That brief moment when her words hit home and Erik Morden's eyes glinted with the realization that she may be right. This was the opening Alyssia needed. In his distraction he lowered his shields. Alyssia's suddenly enveloped the Sorcerer with her aura and he was rendered powerless. Slowly, like a predator, she sauntered up to him. When she was a mere inch away, Alyssia looked up his near six foot frame and whispered with only barely restrained anger. 'I am Kanath. I am mistress of blade and blood. The Dragon's rage and fury. But more importantly...Morden[/b]” She said his name with equal disdain. “It is I who am chosen by the Patron!. It is I who am Arbiter! Alyssia's voice rose to a shout, the growling undertone rippling through the room. Even the sound on the other side of the blockade had grown quiet. 'And you DARE [/b] defy me!? It is YOU and your constant simpering over a wounded pride that one day will run you to ruin if you don't wake up from this delusion of grandeur tha' binds you!.” She stood upon her toes to reach his face, lips hovering over his as she fell back into a whisper. “An' I swear by the passions tha' if tha' pride ever puts us in danger again, I will strip you of everything you hold dear.”

The man's eyes widened, for the first time showing real fear. He said hoarsely, “You can not.”

Alyssia smiled, just a sultry quirk of her lips as she placed the palm of her hand over his chest. “Watch me.”

Erik felt heat and energy radiating from her hand. He began to panic but in his confusion he had dropped Spellfuy. Or...had it abandoned him when he defied the Arbiter? He could not tell. He felt her nails dig into the flesh over his heart and then the pain. As he looked down he saw a swirl of emerald sparks beginning to ride up Alyssia's arm. He gasped, watching as she literally began stealing his own magic. Not his sorcery, for that is a learned art. But the inherent power given to his Clan by the Patron. No, Alyssia Kanath threw her head back, grinning wickedly as she felt the rippling current fill her body. She had been depleted, and so now she was being replenished. It was something they could all do for one another. But only an Arbiter had the power to take without asking. Give a bit of the dragon's magic to keep the others capacity from falling too low. But it was usually a mutual affair. Alyssia was taking without permission. And the pleasure she felt from it was clear upon her flushed features.

As suddenly as it had began, Alyssia tore her hand away and stumbled back, panting. Erik slid down the stone barricade, his knees too weak to support him. He stared at her, a mix of anger and a bit of fear now in his eyes. Such transference could be pleasurable...or hold great pain. This would be a pain that would be long lasting.

Everyone, even Jhadira and Pauldo looked between one another and in their hearts reaffirmed their duty. So close to the teetering edge Alyssia was to allowing her own power and station to consume her. It was a solemn moment as the other two Thunderlords drew Erik away from the door and magically replaced what had been stolen, ensuring that Erik had enough capacity to fight. The sorcerer said nothing, his eyes burning with rage.

Her back was to them. Now brimming with power, the others of the clan could see her static field clear as the sun, for it pulsated with every movement of her body. '”Tha'...Erik Morden, is subjugation.” she said quietly, “ Now perhaps you 'ave learned the difference." The tone in her voice was soft, menacing. But then it changed to a defiant sneer “This wolf will nae be caged. Get ready folks...it's time we show these bastards who they're dealin' wit'.”

Quickly she turned, smiling smugly. It was not often her own capacity was so full that it overflowed thus. Sparks danced around her body and the air about her sizzled loudly. Their ears popped and skin prickled as Alyssia summoned her father's magic. She spread both hands as snakes of energy burst from her chest and slithered their way down her arms. The tendrils gathered into her hands and she held them there a moment, reveling in the power. And then with a snarl she clapped them together. The thundering sound was like hammer to glass, so piercing that it temporarily deafened davyd, Victor and the the two guards left standing. Then the room exploded in azure light as a bolt of lightning crashed into Pauldo's stone barricade. The sound of the blast was just as deafening as the thunder she had wrought. Everyone dove for cover as the doorway exploded in all directions to reveal a number of guards dead and crushed by the flying debris.

It was then that Alyssia pulled her swords from their rest and spun them at the wrist, breathing deeply of the residual ozone that filled the room from her energy. “Come an' get us boys.”

It only took a moment for those who had survived the eruption of stone to begin streaming into the room. Unfortunately for them, Erik's magical trap was still upon the floor. As the men stumbled upon the trigger, great jets of fire flared upwards. A wall of flame impeded their progress now and the screams of men as they flopped about upon the floor both in the room and the hallway, trying to extinguish themselves made for a horrific scene for anyone to witness.

At least, for all but one. Alyssia's morbid and amused laughter rode high above the symphony of death.

[Alyssia Kanath]

“Let go of me!” The woman shrieked as her hooded captor drug her up the winding stairwell. At every inch she attempted to fight off her attacker who despite his slim frame, held iron grip upon her arms. She did not know what he intended to do with her. The attack had been so sudden. One moment Malledine was at the door to her bed chamber and then he had begun casting upon her. The novice sorceress tried to protect herself as best she could with what cantrips were available. But unlike her brother, Maddy did not manifest the genetic trait of the Patron. And though she was born of noble station, she was just human...not a true Thunderlord.

She fell quickly to his magic.

They made the landing at the top of the tower, both panting with the effort of the stairs and their battle for dominance. Keeping hold of her wrist by one hand, he waved the other while mumbling the words to the spell beneath his breath and out of earshot. The door flung open with a loud bang as the wood shivered from it's impact on the stone wall.

Maddy tried desperately to free herself, “Malledine! Why are you doing this? Where's Erik? What have you done to my brother!”

The Thunderlord Questor retained his grim silence as he forced the woman into a chair. Maddy had never been in the tower. This was a place reserved for sorcerers more learned than she. Only Erik and her father had been allowed up here. Somehow, Malledine had found a way past the wards. He too had knowledge of sorcery, not just the healing arts.

He threw her into a chair and instantly thick, rope-like vines slithered their way around her legs and wrists. The woman struggled against the stranglehold upon her appendages. But it was no use, they would not give way.

Certain his prisoner had been adequately subdued, he turned his attention to searching the room methodically.

So instead of giving in to her fear, Maddie decided she was going to find a way to escape all on her own. She wasn't sure how. Or if it would even work. Or...if she could really even come up with a plan at all. The woman's eyes scanned the room. This area looked to be part library, part laboratory. In the center stood a large, table of marble threaded in gold. Various devices sat atop, jars and beakers, all connected by pipes or tubes. The room smelled heavily of herbs but lying underneath that scent just barely detectible was the cloying sweet scent of mouldering decay.

As her eyes swept over the walls she now saw shelves with a menagerie of components for spells and preserved creatures for study. There was another shelf that held row upon row of potions that Erik had brewed from not only his research, but the compiled knowledge of every Morden sorcerer before him. Spell-books and compendiums were everywhere. Piled upon tables, chairs, on shelves and even scattered over the desk that sat near his alchemical station. The sight...and knowledge that she was surrounded by such magic made Maddie temporarily forget that she was being held prisoner by someone she had thought was a friend. And that her brother was nowhere to be seen.

A soft, rumbling growl snapped her attention back. She looked down slowly towards the source of the noise and noticed a large, rectangular object that had been covered by a crimson sheet. There was a shuffling sound and then there it was again. That low reverberating growl.

Malledine seemed unconcerned. He had finally found what he was looking for. The elf pulled from a storage cabinet a diamond the size of a man's fist. The dull flicker of the gem's facets in the candle light caught the young woman's attention. Watching silently as he moved to a dusty corner, Malledine pulled a cloth tarp off of another device. It was a simple, thin metal stand. At the top the stalk of the stand split into two curved prongs, like that of an insect. She knew now what he was doing. The objects he held, when put together created a magical portal that could trans-locate any number of beings or objects to which ever destination had a similar magical device. So long as it stayed open. The problem with this device was once you opened a portal, the length of time it stayed was completely random. Hence why it was rarely used.

Malledine was trying to escape...

Quickly, Maddie glanced to what she now realized was a cage. Whatever manner of creature resided in that prison may be her only ticket to stopping the betrayer. Even if it killed her as well.

She had only one bit of magic left. A telekinetic cantrip typically reserved for moving light objects or doing simple tasks. Focusing her attention she imagined the lock on the cage in her mind's eye. Her lips moved as a few silent words fell from them and then the sound of the cage's lock dis-engaging caused Malledine to quickly spin around, halting his careful placement of the magical diamond.

The red cloth shifted then rose as the cage's door slowly swung upward. Stalking languidly from beneath came a huge cat. It's onyx coat blended with the shadows cast by the cloth first, but as the creature emerged she became more fearful and began second guessing her idea. It was larger than any animal she had ever seen. And it was very, very angry.

For the moment though, Maddie was safe. Amber eyes stay focused on Malledine as he put his back to the portal device.

Argus saw his prey. Knew his enemy. The human girl was an unknown. The great cat crouched and as Malledine rose his hand , shouting an incantation, four hundred pounds of furred muscle hurtled towards him.

[Alyssia Kanath]

They searched room by room. Fewer guards were about now, but their numbers were replaced by a flood of Pense's troops into the castle.

Blades clashed as Alyssia, flanked by two armored men, parried both weapons simultaneously. Following through with her swings, her twin edges whistled through the air, arcing down before her arms crossed and with two powerful thrusts the blades bit deeply into her attackers. Unlike her last battle, where she had been weakened, this time around she was perfectly aware of everything around her.

Thanks to the electromagnetic field that surrounded her body, she was able to detect most attacks the moment they entered her air space. The vibrations hummed in her ear as enemies moved in and out of her aura, buzzing fiercely when anything disturbed her natural vibration. Everyone had such a thing. Every thing in creation gave off electricity. Every object, solid or otherwise moved to the tune of it's own vibration. Her family's innate gifts from the patron gave her control of this energy. At least her own. The others could not do this. But they were not without their own unique gifts tailored to their callings. Things that Alyssia could never dream of re-producing.

Spellfury swung about, crushing the skull of Erik Morden's foe. The sickening crunch of bone and subsequent spatter of gore temporarily catching him off guard. Erik had been trained in battle but this night had been the first real test of his skill. Killing someone, especially in such a crude way, had not yet become common place to him. Where the sounds of battle and ringing of steel seemed almost natural to the others, doubt plagued his mind with each swing of his staff. “We're near the kitchens! There's a stairwell on the other side that leads higher into the castle!”

“Lead on!” the Arbiter shouted back as she ducked an incoming mace before shoving her shoulder into the soldier's gut and lifting him from the ground. He sprawled backwards as another unlucky fellow caught an elbow to the jaw. The resulting snaps as it dislocated the last sounds heard from this most recent battle.

They were all tired. Each inch of ground had been hard won. They had lost two of Erik's guards in the last fight. Morning had dawned and Khandril had escaped into the tunnels just before the sun crested over the horizon. They could not afford to have their numbers so diminished.

They moved through the castle's corridors as quickly as possible.

“Where could they be? We've searched nearly everywhere!” The sound of Erik's voice grated in his stress. For all he knew his sister could already be dead. Swallowing the first real shreds of panic, Erik let slip a strangled half sob.

Jhadira's comforting voice temporarily eased the man's worries. “Be still, Erik. They would gain little by killing your sister. She still lives. More apt they are to use her as a bargaining chip.” He felt her hand upon his shoulder and the comforting touch relaxed the tension just slightly.

“Aye. Aye you're right. She's still alive. I know she is. I'll find her.”

For the first time Alyssia's countenance softened. She felt badly for Erik Morden. Being thrown suddenly to the hands of fate was terrifying. She knew well enough herself how startling a change it can be when your life became one of surviving instead of simply existing. It was all too similar to her own initiation into this madness. She lost her parents. Her brother had disappeared on his own path and she was not sure she would ever see him again. From that night when Khelendrose's men had murdered her family and set her world afire there had been no rest. No peace. “No, Erik.” Aly said gently to him, her voice losing it's harsh edge and rolling into a soft lilt. Placing her own hand upon his opposite shoulder, she reaffirmed Jhadira's faith. “We...will find 'er. Together.”

He looked down, noting how her face...both their faces were spattered in blood and sweat. Nodding fiercely, he wiped at the tear beginning to trickle down his cheek and inwardly cursed himself for a weak fool. He expected to see in those crystalline eyes the same accusation. But there was none. There was only a sorrowful understanding. And for the first time Erik saw past the crude bravado and caught a glimpse of the woman underneath. With a startling observation, Erik realized that Alyssia Kanath was just as terrified as he was.

The moment did not last long before her eyes steeled and with a gruff pat on the shoulder she turned away.

They continued to move. Between a set of half ajar double doors the troupe entered into a large, lavish dining hall. In the center a long table of lacquered oak dominated the room. Tapestries hung along the walls gilded in gold and green. Bursts of color bled into the centers and depicted with startling detail scenes of war and valor. All but Erik stopped short in awe, dazzled by the depictions of their own people's history.

Scenes that Alyssia had never in her life been witness to. She had grown up a farm girl on the outskirts of Trinsic. Omar Kanath had owned and operated a horse ranch that had been passed down to him by his father. And his father's father. It was the first property her family had bought when they had exiled themselves to Sosaria. As a child, it was the only life she had ever known. Just a happy girl playing amongst her father's horses and waiting for the day when she was old enough for her mother to begin teaching her magic. And then, one day...maybe own the ranch herself. After all, Jerec had never been interested in such pursuits. No, her brother had wanted nothing more than the life of a traveling minstrel. It was little Alyssia's dream to be the first woman to be sole owner of that property. Maybe marry a good, hard working man and settle down. Have children...

The thought was so alien to her now that a subconscious sneer touched her lips.

“Is that....?” Jhadira's excited voice brought everyone's attention.

“It is! Oh yes it is my dear!” Pauldo keened with equal excitement as he bustled up beside the wide eyed woman. “That is Zakhar! The Silver City! Well...at least an embroidered version....” He laughed as the group crowded around, suddenly eager to hear what the historian had to say. “Standing tall as only buffer between the Storm Peaks and the Wailing Sea.”

Victor snorted lightly, “The Wailing Sea? That sounds...really unpleasant.” The others murmured in agreement.

“Oh no no no...it is simply given that name due to the high winds as they come over the mountains.” He flattened his hand and made a rolling motion with it, demonstrating how the wind flowed over the tops of the Storm Peaks and then dropped swiftly down to the ocean.” He smiled at them all, quite proudly. “Though it does tend to cause a great number of storms as well. The warm air meeting the cool...and...” He stopped, realizing everyone was suddenly looking at him skeptically. “Well...” Pauldo suddenly mumbled, ruddy cheeks hinting crimson. “I suppose that it does make for some treacherous waters...”

As they looked at the tapestry, sure enough the white walls of Zakhar were pressed right up against the sides of Mt. Tempest. The city sprawling in a pentagonal shape. Mountain surrounded three sides of the great city. The Southern most side opened up into what looked to be a busy port. Small stitched sailing ships riding their cloth waves and sheltered safely within an enclosed bay. In the center seemed to be a small island, it's only adornment a light house leading the trade galleys to safe harbor. Stitched in silver thread was written the words ”Dragon's Eye.”

The only wall not beat upon by the elements was the south west wall. A great gate welcomed visitors and sewn carefully a train of caravans and pilgrims paraded into the city. A small, flat plain gave way to a long earthen ramp that extended up in gentle incline and into the grassy, rolling hills at the foot of the Storm Peaks. The Trader's Way.

“What are these?” A curious Jhadira pointed at the side of Mt. Tempest, facing the city. Dotted in yet another Pentagram were five large ledges. Places where the rock had been cut back to make room for a number of buildings. These spaces looked out over the bustling city below, all connected by avenues carved directly into mountain's face. The roads seemed to then travel down into the city. Something was carved in the center between the ledges but it could not be made out.

Pauldo smiled to himself. “Those are the Estates of each of the Houses. Looking out over the city like watchful parents.” He gave a wistful sigh.

“The city is made in the form of a Pentagram.” Victor pointed out, noting how the walls came to five points. And in the center was where all official buildings seemed to be stationed. Wide avenues ran to the guard towers and around the ring of the walls. “ The ledges form a pentagram too. I have to give the artisans credit for keeping with a theme.”

“Five is the sacred number.” Jhadira smiled impishly. “It is the balance of all things. The Pentagram is the sacred symbol of the Goddess.” She held up the pentacle around her neck and winked at a now smiling Victor. “It is in honor of her.”

But Alyssia wasn't looking at the city anymore. Her eyes had traveled upward and to the peak of Mt. Tempest. The colors of the tapestry had grown dark, depicting the storm clouds that wrapped themselves around it's heights. White, silken lightning webbed the sky and wrapped around his home was depicted the Great Dragon Stormwind. Green and gold eyes stared outward from a face framed in Azure and Sapphire. Silver whiskers straggled down from his serpentine chin and great wings sprouted from his back getting lost in the clouds that shrouded him. She had been given glimpses in her dreams. But they never stayed with her upon waking. Only flashes of blue scales and intelligent, shrewd eyes. A whispered voice instructing her. But never could those memories stay long enough for her to grasp what had been said.

But this time, as her world narrowed and eyes focused upon the beast's face she lost sight of everything. Her vision filled only with those huge, emerald orbs that seemed to fix upon her and hold the woman immobile. The only sounds she heard was the rushing of air as great wings beat upon zephyr winds and that voice. His voice. Though soft and hissing it held a power unimaginable as the words whispered into her mind. ”Come to me my daughter. Free me, and you free yourself.”

“Arbiter?” Jhadira's soft voice startled Alyssia back to the present. The Questor's hand upon her arm did much to ease the almost violent trembling in the warrior's body. For a moment she stared unseeing at her friend with wide, fearful eyes. But soon enough they focused and all Alyssia could do was nod mutely and answer with a painful swallow as she pushed the lump that had formed down into her throat. “Are you alright?”

“Aye. Aye I jus'...” Aly looked back to the tapestry now. It hung serenely, though beautiful it was quite mundane. With a nervous laugh, the Arbiter shook her head and offered a chagrined smile to the priestess. “Nothin', got lost in thought, tha's all. Let's go.” She walked towards the group as they began moving towards the doors to the kitchens on the opposite side of the hall.

Smiling gently Jhadira nodded. She watched Aly walk away, her friend's head down and brows furrowed. Sensing the delicate haze of recent magics in the air she looked to the Dragon as it sit upon it's perch. Gazing at the Patron's visage for a moment she sighed. Then, after bobbing a curtsey in respect at the silent portrait, she hurried after the group.

The silken Dragon just stared mutely into space.