Northernlands

NORTHERNLANDS

DESCRIPTION - LOCATION - PEOPLE - CLIMATE

FLORA - FAUNA - RESOURCES - MYTH/LORE

This whole region is haunted by the evils committed upon its scorched earth. Few areas in the entire world have had so many dark deeds perpetrated upon them. From the physical manifestation of Coor, well named for the devious tortures he inflicted upon all of those around him, and even those far away. So many of the horrific things, for that is all they can be called, that he created still remain in one form or another. The rising of Draeger centuries later only rekindled the black magics that had lain dormant. With this resurgence, some of the creatures and beasts that had been trapped were released. While Draeger was eventually defeated, the planet itself did not have the power it once did to seal up the wasting sickness that was the Northernlands.

• Description:

Where does one begin describing this festering sore upon the world? Some would say, the most dangerous, others the most mysterious, still others places that treasures may lay. Let us start from the point that civilization leaves off and the corruption begins. The closest civilized people and those with the worst memories of the place are the inhabitants of the Mithral Mountains, far south. Past the mountains, is where the Celeste lowlands, and eventually the Celeste mountains begin-- and past that mountain range, is where the Northerlands start. Adventurers start out from the fishing village located at the base of the Mithral Mountain ranges, and begin the long and dangerous trek.

The first thing a traveler will notice is that the green scrub and grass quickly becomes sickly and yellow looking. Then, with but a few minutes of travel, one comes to almost a line that marks the beginning of the Dead Lands, as many have named the plains. At this line, all of the plants go from yellow to black, it is rumored that the line of death and decay slowly moves across the landscape. Many report hearing ghostly howls echoing across the plains, and these are the lucky ones, for quite a few adventurers are set upon soon after by misshapen wolves of enormous size. Many believe that these are the same wolves that were once used as mounts by the armies of Coor. The past few decades have seen a resurgence of these packs.

If one first survives the several days ride in these 'Dead Lands', then they will come upon a forest. In all truth this can not even be called a forest; for all that remains of that once furtile place are endless blackened trunks and splinters of trees. This continues far into the horizon and creates a place for beasts to hide in the shadows and wait upon those that might enter their realm. Blackened rubble and desiccated woodland is all that remains of this once proud example of nature. Adventurers though, flock to this place to fight all manner of the foul thing that has now taken up residence here. Those that return, do in fact come back with some treasures, though many will say that it was not worth the loss of friends, nor the nightmares that will forever haunt them.

Very few people travel further eastward, deeper into the peninsula and the horror it contains. A vile river of filth, aptly named the Ebony River flows from the Ebony Lake, and cuts across the land like a knife. It is well known that the waters are not to be drunk, and not to even be touched. For, the very waters which run black as night will boil your skin away should you touch them, and if you dare drink them, then your very stomach will melt and run out of you taking your bowels with it. Luckily though, there are some points where the river narrows enough to allow passage by jumping rom one bank to another. Never go near the lake for strange reptiles with thick, mottled scales inhabit it, somehow immune to the poisons it contains. Long razor sharp tongues flick out and can catch a man, slicing him in half. Stay furthest to the south if you dare to journey onward.

Now, you have reached the Forbidden Zone. So named, for it is believed that Coor forbade the very ground to give life to any living thing. The earth is cracked and dust flies about constantly. No sign of bush nor weed can be found. The very earth cracks with ones footsteps, causing even more dust to fly. It is as if the harsh, gritty, dust attempts to carry on Coor's orders. There is not a single place that it will not invade. Armament, clothing, eyes, throat, all things are prey to its invading force. Whether it is simply the now exhausted mind or some lingering effects of foul magics, but the heat of the sun is enough to crack and blister skin. A man's brain may fry until not even his sanity is left to him.

If an adventurer is so lucky, or more likely, so cursed he will be living still. Creeping out like a deadly fog, a mesmerizing power will then draw them to the above ground remains of Tak'Dinal. Like a brooding master it sits elevated on an immense plateau. Stone the color of midnight, enormous craters, and downward spiriling staircases to oblivion is all that will great your eyes. Only a few of the strongest have survived this pull. All others have met their death in the depth, or worse they have been subverted into the very creatures that they had been fighting the whole of the way. No contemporary accounts exist of the lands that exist beyond the keep of Tak'Dinal. The looming mountains were only reached a few times in the past and tell of gaping wounds of Eckra's ancient mines. If one so dares to travel to the Northernlands, they better say their goodbyes for they will likely die there.

Location:

Sticking out like some unnatural growth from the mainland of Northern Gaia it thrusts itself out into the sea.

Originally, the Peninsula was connected to the mainland, however during an old battle, great powers were released and the landscape was drastically altered. Southward there are the sulfurous, smoking volcanoes of the Celeste Mountains.

People:

The dubious title of people could only go to the Orcs & Demons. The most common tales of Coor tell of armies of these creatures. Supposedly they were created from the offspring of human, orc, and giant, with mutations made from foul magics. Once thought to be a myth from ancient texts, some had been rumoured to have been seen amongst the armies that Draeger marched. At first these rumours were just thought to be visions caused by the stresses of battle. Though, with adventurers now coming to these areas in greater numbers independent travellers have given similar descriptions of the inhabitants of this region. Here follows a report from an adventurer who was attacked:

"I and my five fellow adventurers had made camp for the night in the blasted lands. We had started out twenty strong but had been taken out, piece by piece as we got further in. We dared not have a fire, for the monsters are drawn to it, so we huddled in the freezing night. Oddly so since we burned by day. Without warning it was upon us, my first sign of it was hearing Kurlin next to me scream. Looking at him all I saw was an axe head made of what seemed black metal that had split him nearly in half from top to bottom. Jumping up I only stared at the axe, following the long haft up to the gruesome hand that groped it. The fist that held it was surely the size of my head. I thought it a giant or ogre from its size. But as lightning flashed above, I saw a most twisted site. The face was that of a humanized orc. As if somehow the two had bred and created this monstrosity. It bellowed and when it did so, I saw something that would later haunt me. It was as if its face split apart showing rows of jagged teeth, drool hung down from these wicked teeth. Next it pulled the axe free, it swiped the axe in a circle around it, felling another of my comrades. I began to run for all I was worth, lightning flashed in the sky again and I looked back and there a horrific thing meet my sight. The great creature had Kurlin in it's grip and it's teeth were embedded in his body. I continued to run without ever looking back."

Climate:

Seemingly changing as one journeys through the lands, as if even the weather is against the adventurer. The plains are freezing during day and night, fur is a must to stay warm. Around the Ebony Lake a humid, toxic environment filled with noxious gasses envelops the traveller. Further in, hot, blistering days are followed by freezing nights. Enormous clouds can be seen hovering over the mountains, so while the climate there is not known it is assumed to be filled with snow and ice. Truly the varying climates of the region can only be attributed to the magics seeping out of Tak'Dinal.

Flora:

When one mentions the flora of the area, they can't help but laugh. Well there was a dead bush here that looked like it may have once been leafy. Also some burned out runks that may once have been very tall trees. After an adventurer goes on in this vein for some time it can be seen by the researcher that they will not get much from them. A commom thing said when asked this question is a variation of the following, "I was too busy running and fighting to stop and sniff the withered flowers."

Fauna:

Now this is an interesting thing. How many of the descriptions of creatures are real, and how many are imagined? Others still, such as the Demons may take on multiple shapes from one's nightmares. So, a researcher may only truly describe those things that seem more concrete. This only leaves one creature, an enormous warg. While wargs can be found further to the south, they actually bear only a slight resemblence to those seen here. First of all these creatures are twice the size of their nomal cousins. The thick fur common on southern varieties is once again not seen here, rather it is described to have thin strands of hair covered what appears a reptilian skin of some sorts. Two other characteristics seem to stand out to adventurers. The first being the fangs, the front two canines extend past the others, to a position slightly below the lower jaw. It is said that these fangs can pierce the thickest of plate armour. The second difference is that of the tail, for the last third of it is covered in small spikes that it can actually use to whip about itself, most unlike the near stationary position of the furred tail of a normal warg. It is also much thicker, having a strong muscle there to sweep it to and fro and giving enemies a hard blow with it.

Resources:

No actual resources have been gathered from the peninsula in some time. Tales tell of armies using weapons of black iron, and of countless slaves working the mines in the mountains. Whether the iron is for some reason black upon mining, or if it was treated during forging or in some after process is not known. At one point the forest was a good source of lumber till it became decimated. Rumors of gold and jewels abound, as Draeger not only amassed a large fortune from those he conquered, but supposedly much was mined as well. It are these rumors that help draw adventurers.

Myth/Lore:

Countless myths and lore hover around the place as a vulture around a dying creature.

He stands on top of a rock, his coat whiping through the wind. Snow lands on his helm and melts. This is a repeating process but he is not cold. He burns with fire even though he doesnt know it; fire that can stop the hardest winds and the largest storms. He walks on up the mountain. What is on the top he doesn't know but he longs for it. Longs for a purpose to keep going even though he might have to come back in the end.

Wings of black ash emerge from his back and cover him as he walks up the mountain path.

He reached the top of the summit heart pounding. He digs his hands into the snow and whispers words out into the wind. Snow comes flying off the ground into the air creating a vortex or snow and ice. He gets up and walks into the vortex their is a spark of light and then everything turns back to normal but the man is not their he disapeared.

((will continue in Ethereal Void))

The night had come and gone, unfortunately, without occurance. Rising with the morning sun, Methrir awoken from his sleep screaming in pain and thrashing his arms about wildly. After several minutes of calming himself down and repeatedly grasping at his face and right arm to make absolute sure they were indeed still attached, he began to break camp as he chatted idley with nobody. "So what do you think we'll encounter out there today? I hope it's something big," he said, rolling up his bedroll before simply dropping it and the blanket back onto the ground with a grin. "We won't really be needing these, will we? The furs should keep us warm enough in the night." With that, Methrir wrapped the large furs around his shoulders and pinning them to his cloak. Taking his censer into his hand, he reached into the satchel he now had slung over one shoulder and across his chest and pulled out a thick disc of incense and dropped it into his censer. Then, taking a smouldering twig from the fire pit, he placed the still burning end onto the disc until a thick smoke began to rise from the censer. "Locust breath," he muttered, dropping the twig to the ground and reaching into his satchel once more, this time pulling out a bloated waterskin and taking a quick drink from it before returning it to its place. He stood staring at the desolate lands ahead of him and smiled wickedly. "I've given you fair warning," he laughed as he charged towards the horizon. "Ready or not, here I COME!"

It took several minutes for the wolf-creature to stand back up, but when it did Methrir recieved the most horrible of stares from the beast as it growled low in its throat and tensed its back legs in preperation to attack. The two circled each other for a minute before the creature finally launched itself at him. Methrir performed a diving somersault, rolling beneath the beast and coming up on his feet behind it, swinging his chain into its back as it landed behind him. With a loud yelp, it dropped to the ground, but only momentarily as it returned to its feet and turned back towards its quarry, albiet with a slight sign of strain. "You're a tough one, aren't you," Methrir quipped, "not many things would be able to even stand after a blow like that." The creature growled again, and Methrir waisted no time in launching his chain towards the wolf-creature again, wrapping one end around its huge muzzle. It should have struck him odd that the beast showed no sign of resistance, but his realization of this came shortly after the beast gave what appeared to be a grin. It jerked its head back, and Methrir instinctively let the chain go, opting not to be hurled through the air and watching as his weapon was tossed behind the creature. "Well that's not good," he smiled. "We acknowledge your superioity in this bout, dog. Now if you'll excuse me..." he was cut off by a deafening howl that escaped the creature's lips before it stalked closer and closer towards him.

Methrir awoke with a start, flailing wildly as he launched himself out from beneath his fur blanket. Looking around, it was apparent that he was no longer in the dank, underground chamber he had been in only moments before. He was, apparently, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the emptiness of the Northern lands. Had it been a dream, or hallucination? He was always aware of when he had become entranced by his own noxious vapors, and he certainly would have remembered if he'd been dreaming. If it had happened, if he'd really spoken to whoever the robed figure was, what was he doing here?

(Rocker):Blue

(Jason):Red

"Man! i'm freezing lets hurry and try to find a place to stay in for the night"

"Alright alright.. look there's a house on that hill lets go check it out"..points to the shadowy winterous house on the hill

"....................."

Red could feel the aura of a noxious evil as she approached the land where the grass was changing from yellow to black. She checked her, supplies, a full load of bullets, cartridges and other equipment was with her. There was no point in bring ether suppresant. The point of this mission was to loose herself, to die. Soon the third mark would be on her, and she could leave these lands for the final reckoning. There must have been something immortal under that tower if Forsooth had forced her here. She trudged onwards, watching the grass grow blacker and blacker as the ground became a dead wasteland. All she had to do is tag the tower, and she would be ready. A very simple mission, she hoped.

She stretched out shortly after letting go, sliding downwards until the hem of her coat was only inches from the bubbling water. There she remained breathing heavily as her feet and back pressed against the walls of the canyon to keep her from falling in the mire below.

I knew it, Forsooth gloated, You want to live as long as can, you were'nt really planning to cut your life short. Even a shell has a desire to remain uncracked.

Shut up, Red thought, as she fired a chamber of her revolver, which hooked to a sturdy rock above. She proceded to pull herself up out of the canyon and go on her way. She ran, not stopping unti she reached the tower Tak'Dinal, and the enormous evil aura of that very tower almost crippled her as she felt the walls, purpously provoking it to take her. But despite the pain, there was nothing. Then something spoke to them, as if a voice from the wind. She pulled the fragment peice of rotton, leathery, fabric from her pocket as flung it in the air. For the brief moment she touched it the spirals spread up her arm, glowing.

Then it happened, slowly at first, then faster, fragments from all over the Northernlands, indeed from all over Gaia, came blowing in to that very spot, circling, accumulating. Slowly it formed, coming together, the brown threads reforming and acumulating from the scraps and dust that was blowing in. Soon enough, a plain brown robe, appearing to be made of simple flax, fell on the cursed soil.

My Robe, Forsooth thought, dipped in the blood of Ymir saved by the Gods from time immemorial, wear it. It will provide you with the power of Ymir himself. That way we won't have to seek the third immortal, but instead bring an immortal's power to us. Besides, it would be sacrilege to seek Ymir's escape from among the gods. Now wear it!

Red moved slowly, but conceded, taking the robe to her bossom. The marks moved up her body, glowing yellow and red, heated. Then the robe went over her head and on her body. Her hands glowed, her face glowed, her eyes growed a brilliant dark orange as the same glow escaped her mouth. And she passed out in a swirl of pain and darkness.

Forty-eight later she awoke in a pool of her own blood, but still wrapped in the robe. There was a new spiral on her forehead, on the back of her hands, her palms, both cheeks, and a series of small spirals running up her arms. She took her boot off and lifted up her pant leg. There were two spirals on her foot as well a series of spirals running up her legs.

Forsooth had left her in control again, only because she would be better able to navigate out of the Northern lands. She sighed, got up, and got going without complaint. Keeping her hood up. The marks were still absorbing the evil aura, but the pain was all but gone. She was thankful for that much.

Darshendros lounged back in his reclining leather chair, with his feet propped onto his black oak desk, idly watching the images floating around him. They came to him from various parts of Gaia, provided by sentries he'd sent out when first arriving back on this world. He saw what they saw; heard what they heard. Unfortunately, he could only do the latter with one at a time, otherwise his study would be filled with noise and he'd be hard pressed to make any sense out of it all.

His main focus was on the sentry observing Leviathan Stadium, where the finals match was going to take place. The blimp had arrived and the first team was already stepping off. The time was drawing near. He silently commanded the sentry to hold its position and keep an eye on events in the stadium.

He moved his gaze to another floating image. This one showed a massive cavern deep under the earth, and a stone castle surrounded by fiery pits in the backdrop. Hordes of creatures moved about over the cavern floor, shuffling to and fro. Skeletons in suits of armor screeched orders as groups of undead - mostly zombies and skeletons - shuffled into loose formations to await orders. Golems made of stitched flesh, and others made of bones, lurched across the cavern carrying heavy loads, loading them into the backs of large wagons. In one corner of the cavern, vampires in black leather armor were practicing shooting targets with their crossbows, while in another a small detachment of drow soldiers trained with their blades.

Good, Darsh thought to himself. This will be more than enough for the raid, unless the others don't provide any additional numbers.

Corruption. It was the energy that thrived throughout the city and surrounding land. Without the proper protections, a living creature would be affected by the negative energy that permeates everywhere, feeling weak and easily tired. If that wasn't bad enough, every undead creature in the near vicinity that could sense, smell, or otherwise sense living beings, would be alert to the emissary's presence almost immediately. In a city of the dead, living creatures were rare to come upon, so they were quite the wonder.

Fortunately for Thompson, the vampires had passed laws that protected humans and other mortal races. They couldn't be killed, but they could still be captured. However, a presence in the city had been watching the boy's progress through the cursed lands. To have made it all the way to the outskirts of the city was an oustanding feat by itself, which probably meant that the boy had some kind of protections on his person. The only question now was, who was this boy and what was he doing out here?

((takes a scene from Return to Oz))

The streets were as quiet as death - literally. The streets were littered with debris and trash, looking as abandoned as it would be regardless of the undead presence. No need for sanitation since the place would be dirty regardless. At the center of the city stood a towering clocktower, the face and half the roof blasted off from some great explosion from long ago.

A slight breeze kicked up a little dust.

Squeek. Squeek. The sound came from behind him, but he would see nothing if he turned to look.

Squeek. Squeek.

The sound was coming from the sides now. This time, if he looked, he would catch a glimpse of a leg, with a wheel for a foot. Giggles and cackles answered his announcement. The sounds were coming from all around him now, except from the direction of the clocktower.

An odd figure suddenly sprang out from an alleyway. It looked humanoid, tall and lanky, but its hands and feet were metal wheels, the source of the squeeking sounds. He wore some sort of leather outfit - a jacket with tubes and other junk hanging from it - and a metal mask over his face. The odd figure looked directly at Thompson, then rolled its head back and let out a high pitched howl.

The wheeled beings suddenly popped up on rooftops and along the sides of the street, at least a dozen or so, staring at Thompson and rolling toward him slowly, squeeking and laughing.

The "Wheelers" (for lack of a better name) didn't respond to his questions. Whether they were incapable of or just not feeling like it was unknown, but they continued to laugh at him insanely. They were but a few feet away from him now when they all suddenly stopped and grew silent. They were looking at something behind Thompson. Whatever it was, it sent them spinning around and wheeling off in all directions, screaming in insane fright.

"It's not wise for mortals to walk into this city alone," rumbled a deep voice from behind Thompson.

A tall, imposing figure stood in the doorway of the clocktower, garbed in black robes. He had pale skin and stark white hair that hung to his shoulders, black pits for eyes that seemed to trickle out black mist at the corners. A pinprick of crimson light burned from within the dark hollows, staring down at the boy.

"That would depend on your definition of authority," came the robed-man's response. "The vampires pass the laws, but only the vampires follow them. The sentient rule over the mindless ones, and it is their word that is law. In a sense, everyone who's a sentient here is authority, unless you'd rather take your chances with the Coven."

"To have made here alone either says someone takes real good care of you, or you've some power inside of you. You should be more careful. Come inside, and tell me of this Voice of the great purge."

The man stepped inside before waiting for Mark's response.

"I will tell you what you wish to know, once you've told me why you've come. It's not everyday we get visitors here." He walked down a dark hallway, the only light seeming to come off him, which was a gloomy violet aura, hardly illuminating at all. "You may call me Darshendros."

He rounded a corner and started to ascend a flight of stairs, fishing a key out of his pocket and inserting it into an ornate looking door, which, in contrast to the rest of the infrastructure, looked relatively brand new. He turned the key and there was an audible click, then opened it and stepped into a small study.

The room smelled of exotic herbs and insense. A bookshelf occupied the wall tot he right, filled with dusty, leatherbound tomes, some with writing or runes on their bindings. The opposite wall had a table with an assortment of beakers, tubes, and a small assortment of laboratorical equipment. To the back of the room, where Darshendros was headed, was a great oak desk with a plush leather chair behind it, two smaller ones in front of it, sitting on a fancy, expensive looking rug. The back wall was plastered with disgrams of humanoid bodies, and standing next to the desk was a skeleton.

Darshendros rounded the desk and sat in the plush leather chair, folding his hands on the desktop and gesturing for Mark to take a seat.

"No. Not many in this city are. Despite the vampires' efforts, the human population here is dwindling. It won't be soon before they begin to raid nearby towns to replenish their supplies. They should learn how to take better care of their food. Please, have a seat."

D'oh! Okay.

Darshendros leaned back in his chair and listened to Mark, tapping his fingers together idly. An anti-undead paramilitary force? This wasn't anything new to him, but he was surprised that this particular one was diplomatic enough to send an emissary. Perhaps he was just a decoy. He would entertain the human for now.

"No one is sure what the dead to living ratio here is. As I've said before, the sentients rule over themselves, and the vampires govern over their own kind. You would probably get a more accurate assessment from them, since they depend on the living to survive. I would advise against seeking an audience though, unless you aspire to join their ranks either as food or kindred. Is there anything else you would like to know?"

The arrogance of this human was beginning to annoy him more than amuse him. Darsh sat back in his chair and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't know of any necromancers or liches gathering armies of undead in the caverns underneath the city. Nor do I have any maps available," he said, despite there being a whole rack of maps in one of the other rooms of the clocktower - but Mark didn't need to know that.

"But I can tell you where you can start. The Hangman's Post is the local tavern around here. It's a Green Zone, so you won't have to worry about anything trying to hunt you. It's located in the square, just a few block to the east. Look for the building with the gallows in front of it."

"And one more thing," he added. "Watch out for the Wheelers. They're a ravenous bunch. I apologize that I couldn't be more help."

Darsh rose from his seat and took the man's hand, grasping it with a sinister grin. Normally, he had his gloves on, but when he was in his own home, or anywhere else in the city, they were off. As a result, Mark would get a taste of his paralyzing touch, numbing his hand and arm with an unnatural chill, perhaps even weakening him a little. If his protections held, though, he would just feel the chill, but none of the other effects.

"Happy hunting."

A wraith appeared to escort the man to the door.

Perhaps he should hold back on aspiring to revive a dead city for now. The Hangman's Post was a big vampire hangout, and was always packed with them and their "pets". The base floor was a regular tavern - old-fashioned, tables and chairs, ghostly bartender. There was a basement floor, though, which was more or less a vampire nightclub. Since the sun never shown in these parts, the party never ended.

Mark's aura of purity (or whatever it was that protected him) would instantly draw the glares of vampires and other undead in the tavern, like a beacon shining through a thick, black fog. Fortunately for him, the vampires respected the laws passed down by the elders - otherwise they would be thrown up into the sunlight. It didn't stop them from looking hatefully at him though, whenever he does find and enter the tavern.

Obviously disgrunted that Mark wasn't one of the Hero types, the vampires muttered under their breaths and averted their gazes, going back to whatever business they were doing.

"Don't mind them," came the ghostly echo of a voice from the bartender, whom had floated over to the edge of the bar to greet him. "Holy types don't come around here often, so each time one does, they expect a grand battle or some sort. Apparently you're not here to fight. Are you?"

"We've plenty of water 'ere, although I don't think you'd want any of it. How 'bout some ale? Nobody ever drinks it, 'cept Roland, so it's always fresh and stocked." He moved to grab a mug, setting it under the tap and filling it up with sparkling, foamy ale, then setting it down in front of him. "Name's Casper, by the way. What's your's, human?"

Sorry for answering slow, Darsh. D=

I'm going to work, I'll go on once I'm there. =D

Cute. "Who's Roland? Some necromancer?" If he drank ale and collected corpses, that'd make sense. Thompson frowned upon thinking of what Roland would do with these corpses. Unless he was a priest who wanted to give them a proper burial, which was quite doubtful in these surroundings, he was either building himself a monster, or making them undeads.

Something that wouldn't be tolerated.

Great ******** joy. He'd have to deal with that, too. Thompson had better get paid overtime for all this. At least, there were still chances that there wasn't an army gathering here, but where there's necromancers, there's always truckloads of dead crap.

"For how long has he been here, do you know?" He took another long swig and started on his second mug. "What about the clergy? What are they up to?" If they were to some dead deity thing, Mark would've hit the jackpot. Sadly.

Might be worth checking out after all.

Thompson made his ale roll around within his mug for a few seconds, deep in thought. In the end, he just gave a shrug and emptied it, before putting it back on the counter.

"Thanks for the pointer. Do you know where that Roland guy lives, by the way? Oh, and again I ask, do you have a room I could rent? Only for a few days, won't be staying longer than a week."

"I'll be on my way, then."

The man replaced his beret and slowly got up. For a moment, he just stayed there, thinking of where to go next. He could look for a temple of that clergy, or he could look for a graveyard. Or maybe ...

"Say, one last question before I leave." Thompson turned back toward Casper. "If you could die, would you?"

"You know what I mean."

And Thompson walked out. As soon as he left the building, he frowned again, on his guard. In case a few vampires would want to take advantage of the fact that the green zone didn't spread any farther than the tavern. Now that he had been seen, word of his being in the city would get around fast. He needed to act quickly before he'd get overwhelmed.

Two more days ... then I'll contact lady Rachaelle.

Thompson waited until morning to make his next move. Even though the sky was covered in clouds that almost made him nauseous, so heavy they were, he knew what little light that filtered through it was enough to drive some of the weaker undeads to the undergrounds.

"I guess I should seek out that cult thing first ..." He held back a yawn as he made his way through the ruined streets, sighing. "Dead cities are so boring. Where to look?"

"So you can talk after all." Sighed Mark. "Would you be nice enough to tell me where I could find the order of the black moon? I've been searching for a few hours, and have no idea where to go to."

Although his tone was amused, Thompson wasn't. He had been hoping to avoid an encounter so early, but in a sense, this could work at his advantage. He awaited, for the answer from a wheeler, steady, tightening his white leather glove around his fists.

"What a nuisance."

Thompson spun around himself as the wheeler lunged. For a second, bright light emanated from his gloved fist, growing stronger, blinding, until the man kneeled to punch the ground below him with all his strenght, sending the light under the surface.

Burst crack

It was as if lightning had just struck the area. The street shattered and flew in the air, taking with it the wheelers closest to Thompson. The man would lose no time in contemplating the damages, though. Immediately, he stepped onto the closest monster and pushed himself on, running down the street.

Oh, by the way Darsh: Thompson is a disposable. I'm planning on him dying at some point, so if you wanna take out some huge DOOMthing and rip him apart or make him join your undead army, don't hold back. ;D

What a pain in the a**. After having turned a sharp corner in another street, then straight into an another alley, Thompson had pressed his back and waited, listening to a pursuit. Upon realizing that they had left him alone, the man let out a relieved sigh, followed by a grimace of pain. His pristine white glove was now smeared with dust, dirt and blood. Without proper defensive equipment, using arts as destructive as burst crack was dangerous for the user. Being of diplomatic nature though, Voices don't carry weapons on missions. All in all, it came down to Thompson's knuckles being quite a mess.

After all, he did just destroy concrete with his bare hands.

"Well I guess that with all that ruckus, the people I'm looking for will end up taking interest in me ..."

He could always hope.

The Voice muffled a curse and quickly brought his arms over his chest, forming a cross with them, before calling forth his thinning magical resources.

Prevention

Thompson's soul was out of the wraith's reach. Instead, the shadow would find itself sucking onto a wall of protective, purifying energy. Prevention was normally used, as it's name implied, as an extra precaution before jumping into the battlefield, but it could also be cast as a last-moment defense.

Again, Thompson was left with little options. In such a close, dark space, the wraith had the advantage over him. Quickly, the man spun onto his heels and jumped back out of the alley and resumed running down the streets.

"This ... isn't good ... I need to contact lady Rachaelle immediately."

It was pretty clear by now that humans weren't welcome nor safe in this city, and that the undeads weren't of the peaceful kind. Although he wished he had done more exploring and recon to make an approximate of the necropolis' population, Thompson decided it was better for him not to stay much longer in this damned place.

Finally, the man stopped running. He was back in front of the clock tower, in that empty space where he had met that lich. A faint breeze was flowing down south, just what he needed.

"Lady Rachaelle." He whispered, standing still, eyes closed. "May the Voice of the Holy Purge get to you over the distance."

"The undeads here are strong, numerous, and clearly not pacifists. I will need a team as soon as possible to investigate further, it is too dangerous alo---AGH!"

And he fell. Damn, that had been the worse day of his life.

Where does he wake up? =O

By now, Thompson had a headache. The tapping wasn't doing anything to help either. The man spent a moment wondering why the ground suddenly went bye bye under him, or why he hadn't gone splat upon landing. The memory was somewhat hazy, but he could tell it had been a long fall.

Thompson painfully got to his feet. His uniform was now covered in that sticky substance. The cleaning fees would be taken off his paycheck, if he did find a way out of there.

What now?

The hiss made Thompson jump around onto himself in surprise, but it was too late. Already, the thing was upon him, and he fell down onto the floor, on his back. The man yelled, struggling and fighting to free himself from legs he guessed belonged to something spider-like. If he had time to think, he'd probably be thankful the darkness didn't allow him to see whatever it was, but he wasn't thinking. Thompson was frightnened.

There was nothing he could do. Pinned down, he couldn't fight back, all his offensive spells requiring the use of his hands. Thompson was completely helpless. His strenght left his limbs and he was left with that dull, numb sensation you have when you fall asleep on your arm, and then are unable to move it. Despair was slowly getting to Thompson as he felt, terrified, that his end had come.

"Master. The human has been dealt with."

Darshendros glanced from the shadows to the stained windows, looking out to the dark horizon beyond the city. He nodded, then rose from his chair, moving around his desk and toward the study door.

"Make the final preparations. We march soon."

::The brilliant light pierced the viel of night like a knife gracefully sliding through the darkness. The most brilliant of lights was gently cast down onto a small patch of land, and very slowly two figures came into view.

One, a woman, her body clothed in a tight fitting white suit, and her wings as obvious as can be. They were flowing and white, expanded out of her back, before resting again. In her right hand, was a glowing ball of white, and in her left was a small laptop folded in her arms.

The second figure was a man, his clothes dark as sin, and coal. His eyes violet, and piercing. From his head plopped two small bat wings, as odd as that may seem it seemed to flow with the dark garb he adorned himself with. One would think, Heaven and Hell were in for a talk...you'd be wrong. The woman spoke, her voice flowing and elegant, calm and yet beautiful, it was almost as if she sung each word...and why not, cherubs should sing.::

Anuksu Noir...welcome to your new home.

Anuksu Wrote:

well, will I have the pleasure of you here?

My apologies...

::She stepped forward, he sexy gait shifting her curvy hips from side to side. Her delicate hand rose as the laptop vanished into a flash of white. It reached forward and gently placed itself on Anuksu's chest as she stepped forward.::

Noir...have you ever wondered where these bodies...come from?

::She pressed a bit closer, into that more "personal" range that only certain night guests visit. Her breath was so wonderfully sweet, everything about her from her beautiful face to her flowing blond hair, it was beauty given form. Purity...waiting to be....well, you get the idea.::

Anuksu Wrote:

:: Anuksu slips his arms around her waist and pulled her in closer, looking deeply in her eyes with the stare that he'd given so many other females in the past, his fangs extended a bit and his voice took on a sweeter, more polite tone. ::

I know what these bodies are for... is that not enough?

Wow, has my power of presence begun to act already?

::She smiled, completely leaning into the pull. Her body pressing against hers as she let out a slight moan from their sudden "contact." One could feel the breath seeping from her lips, as sweet as a bed of roses.::

We build them...

::That tone of arousal slipping into her voice and overtaking it.::

Piece....

::Her hand slid down, from his chest now to his stomach, tracing where his belly button would be.::

By piece...

::And down again, sliding just over his pants to a more precious area of his anatomy. Her hand was kid, a gently gliding up and down as she make a few heavy breathes::

Even the....pleasurable...pieces...

::Grip!

A tight grip from her gently hands, and all of a sudden. The tone was gone. The look of arousal on her face, gone. As she jerks away from Anuksu's body she says flatly.::

We can take the pieces away.

::And she did. In a flash of light anukus's most precious chunk of anatomy....gone. There wasnt a gaping wound, Anuksu was now simply as anatomically correct as a ken doll.

She flicked her hair back into a more professional pony tail, and slid on a piar of gold framed glasses as she suddenly looked...very serious.::

We're here for business not, pleasure.

::In flash the laptop appeared back in her waiting hands.::

You are not here on vacation, we have work for you.

::She doesnt even budge, at Anuksu's barking. She simply, and flatly responds.::

We get no work, you get to deal with the unforgiving eternity.

::She pulls a single lock of hair from before her eyes, and continues.::

You thrive off the erring belief that you have eternity. So do we. But when a rogue hunter, or townsman, or warrior wanders here and slays you...

::Her voice grows a bit sterner, more direct, and she takes a step forward.::

...When you are left begging outside the gates of Hell, with no where to go...

::She steps forward again, unphased by the vempires air, her tone completely shifted to one you might hear from a drill sargeant. Her breathe yet still smelled of roses, yet now one might wonder if this was how the thorns of thoses roses felt.::

...we will send you back. Back to Hell, strapped to a wall with every demon you've upset able to give you what punishment you deserve for all eternity. And you with no way to cope.

::And with one large step back the anger vanished from her tone, and back was the cheery innocence.::

Now, are you ready for work? He he.

::The giggle at the end, perfectly timed with her lifting the glowing ball and twirling it on her fingers end.::

Anuksu Wrote:

:: Anuksu looked around again, expecting this nightmare end at any time::

Well... since you asked so nicely. I believe we got off on the wrong foot here... We both need each other. I need my uh... propert, yes property returned to me, and you require my services. You and your kind should know me as a being of my word, so lets set up a deal here... what is it you need me to do?

Much better.

::She said with a bright smile, and a glint of her sparkly eyes. A flick of her finger flicked the glowing ball square down into her hands. And she offered it to Anuksu.

The ball itself shined a bright white and was about the size of the average softball. Lines of gold swirled with the white, and all in all it was beautiful. This was save for the strange object which seemed trapped in the center of the ball. It was rather foggy, and the object didnt rattle it seemed content to simply be, but it was a key. Golden and pure.

The Angel spoke::

You will guard this key, with your un-life, it is by request of a friend that one of the 7 keys is being left here. As your reward, we give the right of land. You may build a home here, and once killed here is where you shall return. This will be your own personal Hell, or Heaven, or whatever you may choose to make of it. Do you understand?

::Anuksu was met with a silent cold, and yet beautiful stare as she lifted her arm a bit higher, so that it was now in his face...and offered it to him again.::

::As his hand draped over the ball, her hand slipped from beneath it, leaving it safely in Anuksu's grasp. Gently, she pulled her hand back down to her side and her thumb began idle play with the golden ring she wore.::

There you are. Guard it and you will be reap the benefits--

::And as she said the word benefits, she slightly flicked her wrist returning Anuksu's....pieces, all in tact, all functional. There was no pause, rather she did it as she spoke, all in one fluid motion.::

--of being loyal.

Anuksu Wrote:

:: A look of absolute joy crossed Anuksu's face for the first time in untold centuries, and he placed the ball in his trechcoat. ::

Finally, I have something to do with eternity. Thank you for your time angel, may we see each other again before the next apocalypse.

And fear no treachery from me, I have better things to do with my time.

:: Anukus turned as if to walk off, but glanced at her over his shoulder --::

::At nothing. God doesnt have many voices, and sadly he has entirely too many things to say. Though most will get confused and garbled on the way out, that didnt change the fact that they had to be said.

Anuksu's sarcasm was noted, as was his compliance. And it was time to move on to the next item on her list.

As he turned away, he might hear her make a check on her checklist. As he turned back, he'd only see fading specks of light, and a few white feathers drifting to the ground.::

"Rise, my children, and embrace the world you have been brought back into."

After the raid on Latent and the several live and dead subjects brought back from it, the dracolich had been hard at work, along with his most trusted and skilled associates, conducting experiments on the humans in the crypts deep below the city. Out of twenty-three subjects, four survived to become reborn as the final results of the experiments. Four organic incubation sacks hung from the ceiling of the stone dungeon room that had been serving as the laboratory. Blood was spattered over the entire room, and there were several examination tables with bloody remains of what could only be assumed was once a human body. The four that remained incubated in their organic sacks, pulsing and glowing with a soft, red-violet light, were all that remained of the captured humans of Latent.

At his command, the sacks began to writhe with activity. Clawed hands tore through the membranous sacks, ripping the thin walls and spillling a slimy substance over the floor below them. Four tall, gangly, human-like creatures dropped from the sacks, landing on clawed feet with a wet slap. Eyes glowing red in the darkness, they looked upon their creator, the dracolich in human form, quiet and still as they awaited his command. These creatures had no name, as they were just newly created. They were not alive, but neither were they dead or even undead. They were without gender. They simply existed. The dracolich had a name for them however. It was a name fitting their nature, for that is what they had been created for, among other things.

"Soul Reavers."

::It was about then that the tearing echoed out. It was less the sound of paper being torn in twain, but rather more the familiar sound of flesh being rend from bone. This was accompanied by the backdrop cries of countless voices, begging, screaming, laughing...crying.

It only lasted for a moment, as at the base of crater came into view a small black tear in existance, it seemed to be a black hole in the center of the crater and from it began to rise a form. It was as hidden as it was obvious.

It seemed at first glance to be a man...but normal mortals do not possess such boisterous entries. This man, rose from the hole as if pushed up through it by some unseen force, allowing him to keep his pose as he simple rose up out of the ground. He wore a jet black fedora, something you might see a detective in the 1940's wear. The fedora was laced with a crimson ribbon, and seemed to have a holes in it for two suprisingly small horns. The horns were black with red stained tips and came up just barely over the brim of the hat.

The hat itself was pushed forward a bit and down, this covered the top half of the mans face, and yet allowed one to see the clear grin on the lower half. His skin was pale, causing a stark contrast against his black and crimson hair. It wasnt that his hair was styled, or died, but the random nature of the blood red streaks would leave one to believe that the color had simply caked on over many many years.

He wore a black suit with a black dress shirt beneath it, and a crimson tie. Whilst one of his hands gently pulled his hat down, the other rested just behind his back and out of view. His black panted legs stood directly beside each other, with his heels just barely touching. As his black loafers came into view the black hole shrunk closing beneath him, and reducing the screams to barely a whisper, and then nothingness.

This...man, this person, was not one to be late to anything. And this was more than just a normal anything, this was the fall of an angel. And yet still, not just any angel. Nathaniel Graves...Guardian of the "Darker" Grave, as some had come to call it.

The man spoke. And as he opened his mouth, black embers could be seen fluttering out from betwix his lips. They were accompanied by an eerie flame red light, which poured from deep within his mouth giving a slight hiss to his voice. Though the hiss accentuated by fork of his tongue. Strangely, it was a...kind voice, it spoke in a most friendly, and almost trustworthy tone. Perhaps the most trustworthy tone Nathaniel had been gifted with hearing since he last heard God's voice.::

Oh, how the mighty have indeed fallen. You saw things in a different way than He, and He could have none of that. And so He cast you down...tch..tch..tch...

::He shook his head just gently, just enough to be seen, but not enough to show his face, then he continued.::

...Thats not fair at all is it Nathaniel? After all those many years of doubtless...loyal...faithful service....dont you feel you deserve...better?

Lies...judging...

::The man stepped forward. Not a hint of fear on his voice or on his face. He did however smile as he spoke again. It wasnt a threatening smiled but a truly friendly one.::

I've done the first, many times, and have been victim of the second...as have you...

::He took another step, followed by another, bringing him well within Nathaniels sword range, and yet, he wasnt trying to be a threat. He didnt raise a fist, or draw a weapon. He didnt slash or attack, he didnt even flare a demonic aura.::

One would think, after having been victim of such unfair childish "judging" by your very father one would be tired of His mantle...but I understand...old habits die hard...Still, we need not be enemies...we are, after all...brothers.

::He stepped forward again gently lifting his hands to show he was quite unarmed. Infact he even took the initiative to tug his sleaves slightly so Nathaniel could clearly see how empty his sleaves were.::

Would you swing really on your brother? Or would you give him the honor of simply borrowing your ear for a moment.

::Each word glided into the next, his tongue slipped across verbage like butter slipping across toast. And as brazen as it was, he stepped forward yet again.::

The look faded swiftly though, going back to that same careful, cold nuetrality that Nathaniel was best recognized for. His body seemed to relax aswell as his eyes quickly took survey of his 'brother', " And how do you even know of my fall?" He asked in a rather bored voice, glancing around himself before back at the Demon. " Surely I did not make that much of a spectacle....?" he asked, his voice trailing off to rise into a questioning tone.

His eyes went wide at the sudden revelation, his jaw dropping and an expression of the purest and most unexpected suprise dawned on his face as he made a kind of grunting sound. It was as if he had a thousand thousand replies yet could voice none of them. His eyes followed the floating ball as Harbinger mimicked it's movements around Nathaniel. His head shook slowly before he closed his mouth with a soft click as his teeth clicked together. His eyes never lost that look of shock and he was took two steps back before falling on his a**, looking up at Lucifer with something akin to awe now, the suprise fading. This was his idol in many ways, the one who had rebelled against Gods design, and it was a shock to see his brother again. He never shied away after falling down though, the outburst not even bothering him." Lead me...." Was all he said, his voice hushed with his own eagerness to take up a new cause, it was his purpose after all to have a cause.

:: The air pulsed with a sudden release of energy as Anuksu materialized in the air space above the child. His elegant wings showing and his violet eyes burning with anticipation.::

Oooh, you are certainly the strong one... wait! I see now... would you like to be set free dark one... would you like to regain your former strength? I can help you gain a more... permenant hold on your captor... all I request is that you refrain from knocking holes in my castle!

:: Sensitive to their master's mood, a pair of pudgy black bats began to circle Anuksu's hands, waiting to be used. ::

The next move is yours...

:: Anuksu smiled a big, toothy, fanged grin.::

If you wish freedom and ultimatley more destruction... sleep is what you require, for through your dreams... I can set you free.

YOU... WILL... BE... FREE...

I promise it to you!

Anuksu Wrote:

:: Anuksu smiled a big, toothy, fanged grin.::

If you--

::Thats all he got out before the boy continued his death march. The next slash took a chunk out of the nearest chunk of wall, and the boy simply broke out into a free run down the hall slashing at everything in sight whilst black tears strolled down his face.

Where was the darling elf to save him now? Were was his big brudda? Where was freedom? Where was peace? Where was right? Why him, why now?!

It didnt matter, some sort of fate must have smiled that the boy as their was nothing living in sight. But everything in sight, was tasting his mighty blade.::

Hmm... maybe I should try a different approach.

Anuksu walked out of a shadow in the same room as the young boy. Taking a tone of voice that could calm a raging balverine, Anuksu spoke to the him.

Calm yourself child, you are safe here, as this is my realm, I swear to you that no harm shall come to you as long as I hold sway here.

Maximos Wrote:

::Flick. Thats what it looked like, a deft flick of the wrist, that launched the sword in a disc like spiral at the boy. It aimed to cleft the vampire in twain. And as the giant 6ft, 150lb sword flew with deadly intent...

Anuksu faded from view only to reapear on the other side of the boy seconds later.

That's not terribly nice you know. Oh... your unconsious. Let me help you then.

Anuksu walked over picked the boy up and turned to leave the room.

Ok, you're getting annoying.

Anuksu waived his hand and foze the sword in midair with mental energy. A thing outline of blue surrounded the sword, showing the involvment of a psychic. Anuksu looked the sword up and down, then spoke to the blade itself.

Why this hostility toward me, you know I want to help you.

Persistent little ******** arent' you?

Anuksu's wings glowed a light purple and formed a large number of demon tails. The tails writhed and shaped into a ball large enough to shield Anuksu on all sides. Each black tail was like a blade of it's own, waiting to take the impact for its master.

::Anuksu's shield would serve him well, at least for a time. The razor sharp bits of blade would continued attempting to crash and smash against the black ball gaurd for at least the next 2 minutes. And then, Anuksu from within his orb of black would feel them stop. Utterly and completely, there wasnt a sound in the room save perhaps for Ruuvan stealing away the boy. Unfortunately, covered in ones appendages, one isnt usually gifted the ability to see outside their own shield. Unless Anuksu peer forth using some sort of psychic perception in which the only psychic feedback he'd recieve was the sound of thousands on thousands of tiny laughs, like an army of crazed children...::

[quote="Anuksu"]:: Anuksu withdrew the tails--::

::And in they charged, waiting for their prey to exit his shell like a cat waiting for a mouse to exit its hole. There was a loop! One tail moved and in they went they needed nothing more than a fraction of an inch a sliver or a hair, razors are thin things. And they would cut, slice, bleed and well...do what razors do.::

::And what timing he had. As Anuksu's body fell like bits of rain, one would see that the bits of sword snapped quickly into place, like a puzzle re-assembling itself with lightning speed. And with a mighty clang it struck the floor beside boy.

And indeed there was silence, as Ruuvan was allowed to scoop the sleeping D up. This was a large house, surely it had...something worth eating or sleeping in.::

::Food, drink, splendor. Their were even a few empty rooms with beds and the like. And D....D was so very asleep that even Morpheus, God of Dreams would not be waking him. He would be alive, his breathes were slow, and steady, but he was alive.

Yet, as dark as it was outside there was an ever present red hue across the sky. Should Ruuvan choose to step out of one of the many castle balconys he would be presented with the lovely imagine of...A giant red eye, looking something like a vicious slice in the sky hovering over the all of the Northernlands.

And there he was left. Eventually D would need to bed down, and so would he.::

Finishing off the items of food on his plate didn't take long once he started, but there was little evidence left in the form of crumbs and other such pieces; every bit savoured as if it would be his last, that's how Ruuvan believed it. So, with the food gone and a pause in movements for a while, he took the time to move a few feet away from the table and outside the castle walls by means of a balcony. He was immediately met with the large red eye Walter had described, though much larger than he had imagined, so it was apparent fate needed him to be here.

"Just need a really big finger to poke it now, eh?" Ruu turned his head slightly, addressing the sleeping child left on the bench, a small laugh escaping his lips as he shook his head.

Ruuvan made sure that his equipment, by which the narrator means weapons and other such defensive/offensive implements - including his bow - was all in place and ready to be drawn should that being come back. In his experience, something that could float wasn't destroyed so easily, so they needed to be careful. With this in mind, Ruu scooped D into his arms again and started on his trek through the castle, looking in each door until he found what appeared to be a small bedroom. Without the care to find one with two beds, the elf lay the child on the sheets and drew the cover over him, turning around to face the door as he slumped into the bedside chair. Slowly, as the time past, Ruu closed his eyes until he drifted into a shallow sleep; something like this was practiced by Rangers, or fighters in any case, in order to allow them to wake up if they sensed a threat near them.

((I guess that interupted my post and means we're still just outside the dining area, eh?))

Ruuvan turned his head slightly as he was addressed, later on he would feel annoyed for letting the person sneak up on him, but for now he'd humour the fellow up until the point that he left or one of them ended up dying. Of course, the fact that this man had already been torn apart once and was now in front of him showed that killing might've been something difficult, but what can you do?

"I fail to see how a symbol of evil can be considered 'beauty', sir." Ruuvan turned around and stared at the figure, one brown and one sea green eye trying to find the true intention of this being, "My name is Ruuvan Lassenger, who are you that owns this castle so near a gateway of evil?"

Unable to be killed, knowledge of manners and a Philosopher to boot; how Anuksu was rather full of surprises so early on in their meeting. Ruuvan didn't reply to the phrase at the end, chosing to turn his gaze back to the eye and scan over it once more before returning to Anuksu's face.

"So is it you who have put this eye here or are you just a lodger?" It was quite to the point and would clear most things up, perhaps give Ruu the information he needed to clear it from the land, but that was all speculation.

Ruuvan smiled slightly and shrugged in response to Anuku's question.

"This eye is not only a sign of evil, but I have reason to believe that terrible things are coming out of it; a gateway to hell as it were." Ruu turned another brief gaze to the eye, "Aside from that, I do not wish to part any other information, you understand?" This whole thing had been quite formal, so why break the trend? Why bother telling this man that Ruuvan wished to enter hell itself in order to get to Heaven? Why tell him he was trying to find an old friend lost a while ago and was now in Heaven, what would this mean to someone else? Nothing. Ruuvan kept his reasons to himself and for a good reason.

"The only thing, eh?" Ruuvan raised an eyebrow at this fact, what with being under the assumption that most of the evil things in Gaia had come from this, "So is it true what they say: That the eye leads into hell? If that's the case, how did you manage to get out, I thought it was eternal damnation." A little joke about sinners and their punishment in thea afterlife, but that was just Ruu's way of helping the ice break.

Ruuvan had obviously hit a sore spot in the vampires mind, which was a strange thing since most people saw them as heartless and uncaring people, never showing too much or giving anything away, so Ruu felt slightly pleased he had managed to hit a nerve and was sure not to show it.

"How would one get into hell through the eye?" A very strange question for someone without a purpose, but Ruuvan had a duty to his friend, if not himself, and he was going to follow through with it.

Were all Vampires this annoying? A simple 'I don't know' would've sufficed, but no. He had to go the whole way of proving how unknowing Ruuvan was, but at least he got an answer.

"My apologise for pressing too much, vampire." A sarcastic apology with a tinge of disgust in the racial name, "I guess I shall figure it out for myself once the time comes. For now, however, I'm tired and my little companion has already drifted off. Perhaps you have a room in this castle that we could use for the night?"

"Thank you for your hospitality." Ruuvan nodded and entered D's room, placing the child on the bed and covering him with the duvet available.

With D secure in his room, Ruuvan closed the door and moved into his own, taking a chair from within and stepping back out into the hallway. Just like a bodyguard would sit outside the door of their client, Ruuvan sat outside D's door and leant back against the wall.

"I assume we'll see you in the morning." He said, rolling his head back and closing his eyes, slowly drifting into a comfortable, but light slumber; a hunter's sleep used in order to wake up should something not fit right.

V stood in the edges of the Northernlands and looked acrosse the feilds of death in horror. Once a long time ago this used to be where people prosperd and his home was, now it just brought pain and suffering. His feet crushed the mangy yellow plants and other foliage that was in his way as V slowly stagerd forward and let the tears roll down his face. This was a blow to him that he was not sure he could handle. This was all to fake, this seeminly unreal part of the living world. It reminded him much of his time when he was dead. V would just lie there day after day in the endless plain of nothingness along with other lost souls, or with others who decided to spend their time in that plain rather than where they were condemed to. The similarity was too much for his emotional mind to handle and tears rolled down his face as he knelt down over the line that seperated the mangy yellow plants from the black dead ones. V rose his left fist above his head and then brough it back down, ponding the ground with it as he sobbed in anguish. His right fist dug into the brittle ground and squesed at the little bit of dirt that he had picked up. Slowly as V whiped tears away from his face with the sleve of his jacket he sat back onto his legs and knelt looking over the vast plain of death. As V looked his heart was filled with greif and emotional pain that he had not felt since his family had died that fateful day. Slowly brinign his right knee out from underhimself V stood up and colected his thoughts together and scaned the horisen for any sings of life or any buildings. He knew too well the tower that stood in the distance only a tiny speck now though. He would head in a differnt direction though, he was heading to the basement of where his house had been. V would search it as long as the magical seal that was strong enough to survive for etenity but so low in magical pullse that it wasn't noticed by many. As V took his first step into this new plain of death the wind blew at his back and all of the foliage behind him seemed to decay in seconds and turn black. As far as the eye could see V was in the fist part of this Hell on Gaia. But that was not the part that botherd him, it was the sweed melodic tune that the wind carried as well. V had avoided human contact since he left the stadium for the sake that if not enough people were going to come with then he would attack what he had planed to do at the very end of his trip first. From stories of his age when he was a boy there were two tails that stayed in his mind. The first one was the ledgand of Atlantas, and how the city sank and rose from the depths of the sea. The part that went along with that was the rumor that there was an under ground tunnle that lead to Atlantas. But only thoes with good intentions could pass. The second tale was that of fallen and destroyed gods. Here V with V's final life goal was to replace of of the fallen gods. How, he had no idea but He was sure that if he found the stones that conected the world to the Netherworld he could change the flow and make the portal open up to the heavens where he would possibly be able to take the seat of a fallen god. But that would have to come after he found his old home area. So V set out walking forward with no baring to find his wrecked home and a ledgandary item that he remeberd his father talking about. That compas would be his no matter what stood in his way.

As V walked though the desolat land and spoke not a word at all. The blood stained hair of his now drug along the ground along with his sword cut in ground. Beside V walkind in scaters rows and in dstorted froms. There were souls beside him that had stoped attacking him after geting sick of dieing over and over again. He stoped as infront of him was a place that he remeberd all to well. He knew exactly where he was and stood still as the souls around him faded away and he gazed upon the small cricle that pulsed with light. It was a dark light that made it hard to look at without the pupils diolating and becomeig distorted. V walked forward and smiled as the cresent moon that surounded teh burning sun of his family crest changed and shot up into the sky aproimitly 400 metters. Any person in the Northernlands would be able to see it and maybe if a person was in the space, the heaveans, the death ring of the stadium or maybe even at the highest point in latent. The light quickl vanished as a trap door apeared in the middle. After V took the first step into the area it changed from being desolat to show a burnd down house with black roses all along the border. The grass was growing fluently but was black as well. It was a beautiful house, old, and shaterd. The image itself was ghostlike and transparent the house shone in the far western border of hte Northernlands and V smiled as he waled into the house and opend the door of the house smileing the entire area changed and the house along with V dissapeared. All that remained was the famil crest that snon with darkness. If any person aproced it the house would not apeare but five souls would stand front of the crest as a sing Door apeared in the crest. Inside the Door Was a maze that had been genorated over the thousand years of it's sleep. V on the other hand just walked through the house to the basement of the house to the maze and stood looking at it. "If I can get through this. I can get that compas to find all of thoes damn stones. What to do now my family. Please protect the maze entrance and let it stay Hidden." V wisperd.

Moon lit her skin almost shone, the darkness making fire red hair almost look like blood pooling around her face and shoulders, finger nails flashing silver in the dim light, the small woman blinked again at the strange sight that she had just witnessed Well I was just taking a walk... but I aint a meal for no one so I think you better look someplace else if you want dessert Sir

oh ya... no hard feelings at allshe scoffed at him, snapping open the metal blades of her fan with a step back after all, it is just business for the likes of you....

just don't blame me, if I decide to live a little longer and teach you a little lesson in table manners...

Raven snorted and shook her hair back behind her shoulders What you think that just because I'm a woman means I don't read?

I saw you fancy a** picture in a biomedical article that crossed my desk a few months back... I happen to run a clinicshe slid into a better stance, black slippers moving silently against the long grass

Rave just rolled her eyes with a soft growl and waited for the down stroke of the axe.. that was the only way to deal with pole arms when you worked best close range... As he swung downwards she would heal spin to her left and strike out with the razor edge of the fan, a blade that was very capable of slicing through solid stone if need be..

smiling to herself, and feeling quite proud Hono Snapped her fan shut and turned to finish her walk before heading back to Siat's place to see if he needed anything from her

bother...Raven slowly looked over her shoulder and shuddered a bit as the man "pulled himself together" again well I guess I will just have to try a little harder... perhaps a different tactic would work better

and on that though she snapped her fingers to ignite a small fire ball in her hand, squinting her chaotic orange eyes against the light

call me Raven she laughed a little, her blood pumping as she tossed the fire ball in his face and threw herself into a back handspring, suddenly wishing that she wasn't wearing a dress today

Hono'o Raven to be exact...Most people didn't recognize Japanese word for blaze... but she had chosen it for herself because it was fitting.

Hono stayed in a half crouch, snapping her fan blade open again, wondering if she should just bounce out of there... but the fight was kinda fun, and a little fun was always a good thing.. even if it almost got you killed

oh crap....Rave raised the fan and braced it flat against her other arm like a small half shield, even as she threw herself into a shoulder roll in an attempt to get away from what looked to be a very nasty dark energy attack. The wind picked up howling in a gale Vidunder, not much of a counter, but enough to make most people blink at the least

The edge of the fan blade snapped up and slashed at the deamon head coming down for her as the small red head would kick out at Vidunder's legs with force

back off blood sucker she threw another fire ball at him, more than a little worried now, that he was way too close for comfort

well I was... just for a minute there Hono rolled to her feet, keeping the fan in a guard position until his next words dawned on her wait, dark and wet?

Man you know... if your were my type I would likely be turned on by that... but seeing as how you are kinda trying to kill me ...that is so not sounding like funshe shuddered a bit in revulsion and turned on her heel, the fiery haired woman becoming a raven in the blink of an eye, midnight wings beating at the air as she tried vainly to get the hell out of there

Vidunder would expel no effort to stop her. Wounded as he and his bats were, they turned and reformed into the swarm, flying off in the opposite direction.

In the middle of nowhere...

In an inhospitable environment...

In an empty wasteland...

Grace spoke up to Providence sheepishly, being the shorter of the two, "I accidentally dropped the Godslayer." At least, it would seem sheepish if not for the fact that her words were accompanied by a mischievous smile, which probably denoted that it was not really an accident.

There was a long pause of silence.

"So... where do you want to go?" she asked him after the dreadful silence. What? She didnt actually expect the man to say anything. It was as if he was mute or something. Not to mention his facial features never changed its cold stone-like facade. He didnt have opinions.

Again, no answer. It certainly was not a surprise.

"Ungh... Let's just get out of here." she expressed as they both began heading southwards, leaving no trace of their presence even being in the area. They could always go get it later, wherever it was. It wasnt like it was placed in the middle of the street of a metropolitan area with a bright flashing sign pointing to it saying it was the Godslayer.

It was a good thing that the Northernlands was a wasteland devoid of all life, in the middle of nowhere. Otherwise, if a deity just so happened to want to watch rocks sit in one place, which would defy logic, and come across the conversation, they'd probably piss themselves and retract all their avatars from the world. Because when a weapon which can actually harm, not to mention actually annihilate a god, falls into mortal hands, then their very existence is jeapordized.

The Northerlands were supposedly devoid of all living things. Even as Tombs dismounted his black horse, it was still completely without living things.

Tombs would pull his new shovel free from the saddlebags of Pestilence and send it on it's way. Leaving the Victorian era zombie with a lantern, a shovel, and a whole lot of land to dig up.

Tombs the Gravedigger wasn't stronger, faster, or particularly smarter than any other undead, but he had a way with grave plots. After a short time, Tombs would be standing over a 6' x 3' grave that was as deep as it was long.

Then he'd step to the side with a couple foot stride, which just happened to be the exact uniform width between grave plots, and started again.

One grave down, nine hundred ninety nine thousand nine hundred and ninety nine to go.

Expansion was all well and fine... but sometimes when you pushed limits, limits pushed back. Or rather shoved.

Drae'shli'yian'ah watched from far beneath the surface of the Northernlands.

The drow necromancer had created a small empire far beneath the wasted earth. Being a master of poisons, she knew how to counteract the toxins that would normally be lethal to others.

Her built up resistances, her affinity with death and her psuedo immortality, made the Northernlands a perfect camp for her troops.

Months ago she had moved her armies in. Hauling with her, undead slaves who worked tirelessly to carve her fortress and underground palace out of the harsh, unforgiving land.

Home sweet home, as it were.

Her new residence provided the Lady of the Grave with one delight after another...

Not only did the land defend itself, leaving her little bothered by the trifling annoyances mortals brought with them, but beneath ground provided a plethora of natural resources for poison making.

Immediately she'd set up a lab.

What was one man's hell, was this woman's paradise.

But now... Now others were edging closer to her turf. And it didn't bode well with her possessive nature.

If this sort of intrusion persisted, Yian'ah was going to introduce them to an enchanting location that had whispered it's name in her dreams... Tak'Dinal.

Claw-like nails scrape across the arms of her obsidian throne as she watches the outside world through her 'window of seeing'.

Her blackened lips twisting into a sneering smile.

The piercing cry of one her wyverns echoing through the underground chambers, followed by the shouts of some of her lesser soldiers. Then silence...

Apparently the service had tasted better than what they were serving, or so thought the winged beast.

Her head tipped back and she laughed into the darkness, smiling... and the darkness, smiled back.

A black hound sniffed around somewhere in the wastelands, looking for something.

He felt a shift of energy, causing him to divert his attention to the horizon. He knew what was there in the distance, and he knew what was happening. It was beginning; Necropolita was on the move. Veszafein dropped his material form and shifted back into the astral plane. Whatever he was looking for would probably be easier to find there, depending on how bright it shined, and the sooner he found it, the better. He only hoped it would be worth it.

The airships blazed like beacons on the astral plane. Veszafein had been in on the initial briefings concerning the next invasion of the surface, and he knew what the appearance of Necropolita's airships pertained. At least, he thought he did. Should he warn someone? He pondered on it for a moment. He did owe Evan for saving him before... even if he was still killed in the end. It would also get back at them for throwing him away so casually, and at Darshendros for turning him into this... this thing. The wraith set out west, where he knew Evan to be residing. He only hoped he was there when he arrived.