Magician Trials – Revived. IC





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Ryland lay tranquilized against a smooth circular sandstone window, losing focus on the world around him and drifting into a meditative sleep. It would seem an uncomfortable position to most, by Ryland wasn’t good at sleeping on a mattress with rich silk sheets after his years of uncomfortable living.
It had been 3 years since he arrived in this grand city and left his home behind again, and his trials during the Serami civil war were far behind him, although now it seemed every night he was haunted by the country then torn apart. The blood fuelled madness and greed of the Warleaders had been resolved, but his own emptiness had not. Nevertheless, he slept that lazy afternoon.

It was different this time. This time he knew he *had* to sleep. It was a very peculiar way for Ryland to receive orders from the Agency Headquarters. They were sent to him sometimes during his sleep, and now he knew that orders were due. Orders, because information he was sending them in other forms had proved to be very alarming. Fact of the matter was there were dark forces at work within the Imperial Court; Count Generry was his prime suspect, a councillor that had gotten close to Empress Katalia Kyaku. He had no solid evidence to support Count Generry being in league with the enemy, but in some ways Ryland felt he was on the hunt again and his prey was getting very close now.

He also knew that his orders would detail the name of a contact he could meet in a Rangardian City to call on for aid. That, and there was a good change the Agency would be sending a magician to give him support as he may be forced into a situation where his battlelines would be drawn for him. Violence and bloodshed within the Court was the norm, and it was likely that the closer he got to the truth the higher the chance he would be done away with by his enemies in the dark. The contact and the magician would be crucial elements to the team he was slowly building in Rangard; he was something of a nonofficial cover (NOC) in the agency, and these people would also become NOCs.

With an indescribable pulse of energy, he was shocked from sleep to find himself standing in an endless field, the sun blanketed by overcast cloud cover. The wind began to pick up and suddenly the world began to spin around him. Ryland collapsed to the floor, and stood up again now in a field of grass that grew to his waste. There he saw a woman standing in front of him. The image of her somehow surprised him, yet it was so familiar that he didn’t panic at her sudden appearance. Her golden eyes glanced shyly down at Ryland and she brushed a beaded braid of hair that fell to her face away and smiled with curious familiarity as her off-white dress blew slightly in the chill wind.

Then she disappeared instantly and was replaced by the figure of a man, obscured by his long robes and hood. He stood, not threatening or familiar, several feet in the air above Ryland and spoke in a voice that sounded both male and female.
“Find her, she will aid you in these troubled times, and serve as a medium between us. There is also a contact, a psychic man of great and mysterious talents. He is a man named Flin, another NOC, and he will find you. Do not fear what is to come, we have been preparing for these moments since the beginning of the Agency itself. We can sense the growing influence of dark practitioners within the Court, and although your theory may indeed prove true we cannot stab in the dark. Find out more. Get close to the Empress, closer then the necromancers influencing the Court, for she is in grave danger, like us all. As always, if you or any of your team are caught or killed by the Court, the necromancers or other forces we will deny all involvement and your identity will be completely erased. And if you fail then we may all be sentenced to death for despite our powers, we are no match for the combined strength of the Empire.”

Ryland woke a second time, this time back in his sandstone room, against the smooth sandstone window. He was covered in sweat, and many hours had seemed to pass since he went into meditative sleep. He looked out of his window to find the sun setting over the large city and the desert that surrounded it. The streets below were becoming alive with all forms of night activities, and in many ways Rangard wasn’t unlike the chaotic cities of Serami. When the sun went down, the law turned its back on many of the activities of the citizens of the city. A perfect place for Necromancers to congregate without being caught.
Ryland turned away from the window and glanced around his room. It was a single room apartment a few blocks away from the centre of the Imperial Court where he was employed. He had lived here for 3 years now, and it had been the longest Ryland had lived under one roof since his early childhood. And thinking of his early childhood he was forced to remember what he left behind 3 years ago. The woman who had appeared in his dream before his message; the woman he was now supposed to find again!

Ryland knew there must have been something wrong with his vision this time. The woman was still living in Kelfelar, Ryland assumed she would still be training in her magical arts. Not out in grand desert hunting down a necromancer plot to destroy Kelfelar. However, Ryland didn’t ponder on it, but instead decided it was time to hit the night scene like all the other foreigners and not-quite-upstanding living in Rangard City. He slipped on his thumb ring and put on his white, long, short-sleaved vest over his olive green cotton shirt. Fastening his khukri knife scabbard to his belt, but leaving off his leather leggings, bracers and his headband he quietly left his small apartment and walked out onto the streets that we quickly darkening.

He almost walked into a City Patrolman who was lighting the street lanterns, too preoccupied in his own thoughts to notice the patrolman’s disgruntled mutter. But then something did catch his attention that caused him to trip and fall into the gravel pavement of the city streets.

The ride across the desert was not a pleasant adventure. To one who had always stayed in a flourishing city, the blistering sun and the infernal sea of sand was a forced to be reckoned with, however, Ishani wasn’t going to complain. Her discomfort was a result of a sheltered life, and the change in atmosphere would just be the first thing she’d have to learn how to deal with. One of many steps, she thought to herself. One can only endure - it’s the point of living.

Try as she might, she could not get a more suitable animal for trekking the vast desert - she was forced to take a hefty amount of supplies and her horse - a gray-dappled, old war horse called Lio (short for Lionhearted). She was not alone, however, she also had her seven-year-old sister, Ulima, riding her young, bay mare, Awenydd (short for Awenyddion, or ‘inspired one‘ in the Chanti tongue). The two set off from their hometown together, after tearful farewells from their friends - the only family left alive (their father) was, as per usual, off on another trading commission - they took off at a steady trot and made their way past the security of all they ever knew and into what they were only told of. At first Ishani felt a little juvenile and unsure - there were many trials and errors - and Ulima was even at a loss at times, but by the third day they adjusted well enough. Although, Ulima still complained out loud of the discomfort of the heat and the humdrum of the desert surroundings. Ishani found the sunsets to be quite beautiful, actually, but as was her current tone…she kept her thoughts inward, only mumbling a, “We’ll be there soon” to sooth her impatient, younger sibling every now and then. Sometimes she’d also say, “Well, perhaps you shouldn’t adorn yourself so decoratively given the conditions?” But her sister would merely give an indignant sniff and not dignify that remark with an answer. Ishani would give a weak smile to herself.

It was quite an experience though. The heat helped her adjust her wardrobe over time, and she caught on to her survival skills, quick - give or take a few mishaps…

The biggest change, perhaps, was her occasional weak, little smiles. It would be nice to see Ryland again. It’s bizarre just knowing I got assigned to him…it’s been quite some time…so much has changed.. The pair were just outside the City when she pulled out of her somber musings. The eve had just fallen. She pulled the reins on her horse, Lio, and slid off. Her white dress swished as she moved before him and led him to the gates. Ulima remained astride her horse.

“Do you think this place is anything like home?” Ulima inquired after a length when they were past the gates. Ishani shrugged, “Doubtful. It’s in a desert.”

“I’m not stupid, Ishani. I meant the people.”

Again, another shrug. “I try not to think about it.”

“Because…emeoto, hemeho?” (Because of the war, sister?)

“Because I don’t want to miss home.” Ishani said a little stiffly, as if straining a little.

The pair traveled up and down the darkening streets - Ishani asking around for places to stay, and having little luck. All the while she also kept an eye out for her target - Ryland. Her heart raced a little in panic. What if she didn’t recognize him? It’s been quite some time...who knows how much has changed, especially given the circumstances. Well, surely he’ll notice me. I don’t suppose there are too many people who are half-Dorandi. And, it wasn’t like she didn’t draw some attention to herself already. But, of course, she just looked like a foreigner. Her off-white dress and her twin, blue sari’s - one over her shoulder and the other drawn over her dark hair like a hood wasn‘t typical Rangardian attire. Her swarthy skin was also quite a few shades darker than their average. Not to mention her many beads adorning her hair - the long trail on the side of her face, with the amber tuft at the bottom, and opposite that, swan feathers strewn in the darker, shorter braided lock on the other side of her face - weren’t in the norm either. But perhaps it wasn’t her attire so much as her sister’s lavish garb. What few people were out at this hour, mostly just thought the little foreigner looked ’cute’ or else they just said nothing at all. Ishani had stop herself from rolling her eyes as Ulima imperiously waved her hand at people from atop her mount. This isn’t the time to be acting goofy, she thought to herself, but chose not to press the issue with her sister. Instead she distracted herself with worrying about how things will progress from here on. That is, assuming she could ever find Ryland. How embarrassing it would be to not find him!

But it wasn't like her to have such fidgety thoughts. After Ryland left she'd been more detatched, quiet, contemplative and overall just colorless. But one must suppose that getting pieces of your old life back...does this sort of thing. It rejuvinates, if only for a while. It was nice to feel....nostalgic.

The pair had meandered down the streets of City, aimlessly at this point. Ishani looked over her shoulder at her sister - partially nodding off in her seat. "Let's stop wandering around a bit to figure out our options...surely we can't wander the streets all night." Ulima rubbed her eyes and mumbled in response, "Yeah, and I'm a little sore."

"You should have walked like I did."

As Ishani turned her head away from her younger sibling, Ulima shot her tongue out at her older sister in retaliation.

The duo came upon a small square, alight by a circling of streetlamps whose light glimmered in the silvery water of the center's intricate fountain. It was a charming square with small shops and buildings with signs in such lovely Rangardian calligraphy...but in the dim light she couldn't make out the spellings amidst the grandiloquent curls and curves. Ishani was also, in spite of the turgid pose she maintained, quite tired from travel like Ulima. She needed to sit down for a moment or two, at the very least. Leading her horse and Ulima to the fountain she sat herself at the edge and let her horse drink from the frothy waters. Awenydd followed suit and Ulima hunched over to rest her head on the pommel of her saddle - an uncomfortable position, but one had to bear in mind that Ulima was young and sleep hit her hardest. Ishani let her golden eyes linger on her young sister, her mind churning for a solution - her sister needed sleep and so far they had found no vacancies or inns with prices that were a little too steep..

Ishani sighed and bowed her head, a few dark strands sliding from her hood and shimmering their indigo sheen in the kindled lamplight.

Suddenly, she was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of a thud. She shot to her feet immediately and looked up to see a fallen male not too far off - near a street lamp. Ishani looked to her horse, gave an odd click (an order to stay put), and then rushed to the man’s aide. “Sir?” She called out, “Sir? Are you all right?”

Ishani bent down in front of him, the one lock that was covered in beads - the longest kept lock - brushed against him with her amber tuft in a slight wind and she shyly tucked it back behind her ear, holding out her hand to help him. “Here, let me help y…”

In the flickering lamplight, her golden eyes flashed as they connected with his own. A rush of familiarity swept her back and she almost lost her balance. Her lips parted, speechless and moving without sound, but then she closed her mouth and instead smiled. She couldn’t believe she worried about not being able to recognize him.

“Etsêhe'eso, nesne.” (It’s been too long, old friend.)

She helped him to his feet. She didn’t know whether to hug him or shake his hand - she felt overwhelmed with joy but at the same time…she hadn’t been expressive in so long…she’d probably look silly being so overcome. So, on the cusp of hugging him, she shrank back and coughed into her hand and offered a small bow of the head, her beads rustling a bit in the flex of movement. “Nice to see you again, Ryland.” She rose from her small bow and stood with a turgid poise, drilled into her posture by years of screeching of the importance of diplomacy and courtly manner from strict, elder summoners. To some, it came off as a little stiff. However, despite her rigidness.... she smiled. She couldn't help but show a smile. She smiled gently, sincerely - it had been a while since she’d done such with her smile. She looked him over a few times, noticing how much he had manage to change himself in three years. But, no, his face was still the same. His facial gestures could never change the way they shift around her - and she expected the same went for her, in spite of herself…

There was so much to tell him. Chhaya died, Ulima was in the Agency…

ULIMA!

As Ishani was about to open her mouth she suddenly remember her sister who was beginning to nod off. She turned her head and looked back in the general direction of the fountain and found Ulima, sure enough, asleep in an awkward position against her high saddle pommel. Ishani wondered if she should wake Ulima, but decided against it. There was no true need to rouse her. Ishani turned back to Ryland who had followed her gaze to Ulima. Recognition of the smaller female asleep on the horse seemed slow to come to him. Ishani helped him out, "That's Ulima. My little sister - I don't suppose you remember her? She was just a toddler when you last saw her. She's seven now and in the Agency..."

"Seven already? Feels like it really has been too long." Ryland looked from Ulima, his eyes having gone wide at hearing how old she was now, and then to Ishani. "Very long." He added a little distractly.

Ishani blinked and lost her poise for a moment, but then straightened. "Indeed. You've changesd a bit since I last saw you....you're a little more rough around the edges; travel-worn."

"You think so?" Ryland raised an eyebrow, perhaps unsure how to take such an informatory statement.

"Yes..." Added Ishani, findng herself faltering and it showed a bit in the furrowing of her brow and the faint strain on her voice. She looked down at her feet for a moment. What are you doing? You're not giving a report! "I'd say ruggedly handsome." She continued to stare at her feet. Her cheeks gave a slight flush, but it was perhaps hidden in the dimness or in the rich shade of her skin. Was that the right thing to say? Was that too honest? Was that ....was that forward? Ishani looked up and tried to go back to sounding more business-like, "But you take care of yourself, which is good. Not that looks are important, but at least it shows that you take care." She gave him an almost timid pat on the shoulder, a faltering smile, and then clasped her hands behind her back. The discomfort, however, did not leave. She knew. Exhaling after a pause she looked up at Ryland earnestly. "I missed you and thought about you...I always hoped that I'd see you again....safe. More than anything, I'm glad that has come true. It's just..." She bit her lip, and then, tentatively at first, moved foward a few steps and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her hood fell backwards to let indigo hues shimmer across her dark hair.

Ishani whispered, "It's just so great to see you again, Ry. It felt like forever and ...things have happened while you were gone..."

And yet she stopped there. Her voice wasn't too emotional. It sounded relieved and genuinely glad....she was unsure if she should ruin such a nice feeling with telling him about Chhaya. No. Now and here isn't the place. She pulled away and before Ryland could ask what he missed she interjected, "And we've been wandering an awful lot. We haven't found a place here. Where are you staying? I should like to get Ulima to a bed. It isn't healthy for her to sleep how she is."

((OOC: I hope this is better. Don't worry so much about RPing Ulima quite yet, as I'd like to develope Ishani a bit more.))

The sun gleamed brightly in the cloudless sky above. Its amber rays felt warm as a Bloodhound wandered alone through the city of Aelias. He swiftly made his way by the market place as if trying to avoid something or someone.

Bloodhound entered what he would've called his bedroom. It wasnt much. Just a simple bed and a bookshelf. He sat on his bed wondernig if his good friend Vyn would show up. Knowing the man, he probably would. But not anytime soon. He thought about the previous day and he wondered if it had been a wise decision that he hadn't gone.

Bloodhound had been with Vyn in the market place having a friendly conversation like normally everyone else. He had met Vyn not long after arriving to Aelias. They had sword fights and horse races and many other activities when they were young. Vyn was now one of the highest ranking archers in the Aelian Archer Division. He had been an archer since as long as Bloodhound had met him. Vyn was a personal friend of the Prince of Kingdom of Aelias.

Vyn had invited Bloodhound to a meeting that the prince and himself were to hav the coming day. Bloodhound was not interested much in the meeting the prince but he accepted the invitation, said good-bye and left so that Vyn could go back to training.

Bloodhound quickly sat up and took a step into the sunlight hoping to have someone walk up to him and tell him something, anything, so that he could get to work. He had been home for a few months now and he had still not gotten any orders from the Dark Guild. He had heard about two travelers that had been making their way through the desert. He didnt find this any useful. They were just travelers. He knew there was plenty out there they could have him be doing. Maybe he should've gone to meet the prince. It would've been something to do. It was too late now.He stepped back inside hoping that the next would hopfully be better.

Dermian was finally at ease. For the last few years he had been secretive, unknown, and unseen. He seemed to always be on edge. He didn't like people to notice him, or to interact with him, unless he knew them well. But now, he was in exactly the opposite kind of area. It was brightly lit, banishing all the shadows, from the room and his mind alike. Across the round table from him sat an old man of almost 70. A few other people, most in their mid 20s and 30s sat around the table too. All were laughing and enjoying themselves. Dermian especially. He loved this house, the only true home he had known; the man across from him was like a father to him. He had taken Dermian into his home in a time of great fear and confusion for Dermian. He had given Dermian knowledge, direction, and purpose, as well as love, food, clothing, and shelter. Dermian always visited when he could, and his friends had been in the area as well.

They were all friends, and all except the old man had the same job. Their job paid no money, brought no glory, gave them nothing tangible. It gave them something else: a purpose in life, and gladness that they could do something. They were like shadows in their environment. No one saw them or knew them unless they willed it. They were mysteries to the world and themselves.

Dermian had no clue about his own history, his parents, or his birth place. He was 18 as he figured it, but he had no clue how long he had been wandering before that. When he thought back, it was amazing he survived. He'd started counting his birthdays they day he'd been taken in by the man across from him. He wondered who his parents were, what had happened to them. But he had nothing to go on, nowhere to begin looking, and no clue why they hadn't been there for him. He hoped only that they were dead, because he couldn't believe, he refused to believe he had been abandoned as he had.

Tonight however, he didn't need to think about all this. Instead he enjoyed himself. He showed the old mage, Merdoc, some of his new abilities. Since he had learned conjuration and abjuration from Merdoc, he had learned many new abilities in the other schools of magic. Divination he had serious trouble with, but he was fine with the others, and quite good with conjuration and abjuration. He was currently sending a firey golum around the room, chasing it with an impressive water column. Everyone was laughing as the golum ran frantically, trying to avoid this attack sent at him by his master. Finally the water disappeared, and the golum came to rest by Dermian's side.

Finally, however, the night began coming to its end, and matters turned more serious. The companions talked of the troubles they had heard of taking place in the world. Dermian, so he had heard a few years back from a diviner, one of Merdoc's friends, would play a part in the events coming, but he didn't know how. For whatever reason, Merdoc's friend refused to tell what part. So, they simply kept an eye and ear out, listening for news so they could make their big appearance. So far they had heard little. But there was tension in the air. They could feel it; it felt like the tension between the storm. They'd heard rumors that there was a necromancer ensconced in the Empire, an advisor of the Queen of Randgarder. There was anger between the Necromancers and the Wizards of Kelfelar about something that had happened years ago, so a Necromancer in power in Rangarder could be bad news, and an attack could be coming shortly. Dermian would continue to stay in various cities in both Kelfelar and Rangarder, and see what he could, and his friends would, for once, stay with him instead of spliting apart as they normally would.

From what they shared, none could see anything tangible and real as a sign bad times were coming, only a "feeling" they all felt. Giving up for the night, they went to sleep in the beds Merdoc provided. But Dermian stayed awake, to talk seriously to Merdoc alone.

"Master, what is wrong?" Dermian asked, worry in his voice. "You seem... different. A shadow hangs over your head; you seem distracted, and... and well, you seem like you believe something will happen. What is it?"

"Dermian, you see... I'm getting older. You know this. When you came to me, even then, I was old. Fifty i was, eighteen years ago when you wandered to my house. Now, the years have passed, slowly, and i've been mostly alone, and soon... i will be released. From this body, this flesh and bone, and move on. I will be with you always in spirit, but... soon, no longer in body. You see, my time is almost up, Dermian. I can feel it in my heart that soon I will be allowed to leave. Finally to rest forever."

"But... but what can I do without you, Master?" Dermian whispered, a tear slowly coming to his eye. "Even when i left... well, I left like that to make it easier, but even when I left you were still here, and I could come back. But... without you, who will I have. Before you I was a lost little boy, and now... how can I possibly survive without you? You gave me as much love is if I were your son, and you my father, and without you I am helpless... just as I was before, it feels as though I will be again." He said this with much sadness in his voice, more tears spilling from him.

"Dermian, my son," Merdoc said trying to cheer him up, "You must not think of it like that. Not at all, no, I shall be here still. Not in this house, no I'm afraid, but in you. I shall remain always in your memory, and that is where you must learn to find comfort. In yourself. I shall be back, I'm sure, to guide you, but I will seek you out. You can no longer seek me. What you must seek is your destiny. Find the Purpose for which you were born, and then, you will find happiness. I found my purpose, which is why I have not been sad for all these years or even tonight. I as afraid of telling you, yes, but I knew I must. Yes, my purpose in life, my destiny... It was raising you, Dermian. You are my purpose for coming into this world, and your purpose is to help this world in its time of need. I know you can do this Dermian, I know because I raised you. I have seen potential in you that you yourself may not have yet seen. You can do this, I know it. Now, sleep, my son. The morning will come all too soon, and then you really must be getting on. Goodnight."

"Goodnight... Master." He calmed himself, and went to bed, and was quickly fast asleep.

The next morning brought light and after a night of sleep, Dermian's heart was at ease. He had accepted his fate, for now at least, and decided it was time for them to go. After saying their farewells to Merdoc, they decided to go into Kelfelar. They knew of a good tavern there and, since they all felt like having a drink, they decided to drop by.

Upon arriving, Dermian, his hood already drawn over his face (for he never liked to be seen,) left his friends, who were greeting the bartender and ordering drinks, to pick their usual table in the corner. He sat down with his hands folded in his sleeves on his stomach. His friends soon returned, and brought him his favorite elven wine, also sat down, and began talking about their plans for the coming weeks.

(OOC: ok they are ready for interaction. if no one wants to, then whatever. PM me if your goning to use them please and we'll figure something out. Also, Just so you all know, Merdoc's house is just outside Kelfelar to the east. (looking at the map right now) its near that little corner between the Kelfelar and Serami borders. later.)

Maureen lounged on a long seat near an open window, legs tucked against himself in a childish manner and resting his head on his knees with his emerald eyes closed. His golden curls and the soft fabric of his robes ruffled as the breeze flowing in frolicked with them, and his long eyelashes fluttered as he shifted to get the best of the breeze.

The royal prince of Aelia and next in line to the throne, Eiren Fyuria Aeli, watched his companion with an amused expression on his face, half-expecting the blonde beauty to start snoring. It was not as if it had not happen before. Eiren had caught Maureen sleeping in all sorts of places at all sorts of time, most of them unexpected and surprising than normal. And still, Eiren had no idea that a person could sleep that much, and it still amazed him when Maureen dozed off halfway during the midday meal.

“Just in case you’re thinking about it, I’m not going to snore.” Maureen’s enchantingly musical voice flowed out of his barely opened mouth, and he shifted again, a small sigh following it as he found another comfortable position. Eiren smiled, fully accustomed to his advisor’s sudden bouts of wakefulness. “Don’t be so happy. I’m still not pleased that you agreed to meet with that friend of Vyn... by the name of Bloodhound or something.”

“Are you still stuck on the Bloodhound Fiseght being a necromancer? I did a background check on him and he does not seem to be one of those agents of ill omen that goes around hurting people and getting power. Besides, you personally trust half of those he call friends.”

“I do trust them, and I know that if he’s a necromancer, he must be quite an unambitious or uninvolved one. But you can’t deny that his family has shown some involvement in practising the dark arts, and he most likely does too. What if he does intent to harm or trick you on orders from the Dark Guild?”

Eiren smirked. “That’s what I have you for, isn’t it? I think you have cleared out every single person in my court that meant me any harm at all, and it’s a known fact that you singlehandedly caught more assassins after my life than my entire army put together. Who knew I was going to have such a good bargain when I employed you?”

Maureen’s feline-like eyes peered at him narrowly. “If there’s any attempt on your life or your position, I won’t be getting quality sleep. It’s for my own benefit.”

“Whatever you say, Maureen.” The prince dropped himself down on a chair near Maureen and the window, his face looking thoughtful. “Hey, have you ever tested if you’re a diviner or something? Those visions of yours seem like those rare insight visions thing or something.”

“Within my memory, no. I recall only trying out for evocation and conjuration, and as you know, I became a summoner.” Maureen murmured his reply as his eyes slid close again. “And besides, I told you I didn’t know if those were really visions or not. It could be my bits of my lost memory.”

Eiren shrugged in a un-princely manner. “Whatever you say, Maureen. I’ll keep my eyes open when around Bloodhound, alright?”

Maureen gave a snort that conflicted strongly with his image before he drifted off, leaving Eiren to contemplate about what Maureen said.

[OOC: I'll post Rui's part up later. Probably in a seperate post. I need more inspiration to work out things for my dear little necromancer.]

"Lord Comor, will you please sit down?"

The speaker was a short man wearing robes of white, his long white hair tied neatly into a pony tail, his glasses nestled upon his face, behind them his blue eyes sparkled with a youthly fervor, odd given the man was over one hundred years of age.

Dante Comor, Twenty one years of age, Lord Of Kelfelar, High Commander of the Battle Mages, inclined his head respectfully, amd took his seat in the Council Chamber.

The room was well lit by a giant diamond candelabra that descended from the the giant ceiling, The walls, made of marble were polished to the highest degree, the light flickered and created shadows that seemed too play along the giant oak table that the council sat around.

At the head of the table sat Merlash Coonul, A Serami magician, a Conjurer, and head of the Council, he was a tall man, his tanned skin slightly wrinkled and scarred from tjhe conditions of his homeland, such was shown moreso in his facial features, the open eyesocket, his right eye had been taken out in a conflict with bandits, and he still bore a scar from where the thieves axe had caught him.

To his right sat Hurland Gunth, an Evoker, Kelfelar born and forty years of age, he was a blonde haired man who looked about thirty, he had ruddy cheeks and a neatly well trimmed moustache, his dark eyes showed signs of worry.

Next was the old wizard who had spoken too Dante, Zaiba Viraa, A refugee from Rangard ninety four years ago, he was exiled in truth because sorcerors blood ran in his veins, He once commanded the battle mages until age and an arrow wound put him in a more office bound advisory position.

Dante was seated beside him, his face expressionless, radiating that calm aura of power he always exuded, his eyes bearing that ever present arrogance and disdain that came with power and talent.

And finally the newest member on the Council Sierra Lihina, a female Sorceror, she was voted in to replace Liva Inari, who died of old age a month before, Sierra bore traces of nobility, her face was like an ivory carving, her delicate features hid her icy attitude well though.

Merlash cleared his throat and began too speak....

"Council Members, Master Comor, We have a problem, Agent Ryland has reported too us things that we feared would happen, only theories and speculation at this stage, but, You needed too be informed, we have reason too suspect the Necromancers have placed a man in the Rangard Court and that he is using the Empress for their purposes, This would make sense given the fact that a mercenary army marches to Kelfelar as we speak, with no hints as too who hired them"

At this Zaibaa stood up, his voice crystal clear, his tone gave the impression he was stressed.

"In response too this information we have dispatched the Aludra sisters too make contact with RYland in Rangarder."

Dante snorted, extremely audiably, and mumbled something under his breath, at which Zaiba only rolled his eyes and continued.

"I believe what Master Comor meant too imply is why trust a seven year old girl and her sister with such a task, the task ISN'T solely theirs, they will be with a team of Kelfelar agents"

Dante sihed and stood up and began too speak, his voice was deep, charismatic and it drew the attention of all in the room.

"What we need is too impress them, show them our power, not some girl still in dresses and pigtails who probably still plays with dolls."

"Dante, she IS a prodigy, much like yourself"

"Oh yes, so powerful she can summon spirits...." he uttered, sarcasm dripping each word
"She has SUCH great skill and power"

"Dante YOU are not on the council yet"

Dante ignored the verbal rebuttals and continued with his speech.

"Yes and yes, and I bet a necromancer could tear her and her cowardly sister too shreds befor ethey get their first spell out. WYou all know I wouldn't have that problem, I could destroy ALL of the necromancers in Rangard"

"Dante, We need you hear for the defence of Kelfelar, the Bandit/Mercenary army will arrive soon, we need you too lead the armies against them, we cannot have you running around other countries. Not even you are all powerful, yet anyway" Zaiba chimed in.

Merlash cleared his throat, and stared down everyone in the room.

"Gentlemen please we have business more pressing to discuss, the Mercenary army has sent out a scout division, Lord Comor, Dante...We need you too go out there and show them that we WILL NOT sit by and let their evil conquer Kelfelar, They've assembled near the coastline near the farm village...deal with them"

Dante rose out of his seat and bowed his head, his cape wrapped around his right arm.

"As you wish High Master"

With that he turned and left.

Displeasure flashed within blood red eyes as they glanced towards the onyx rosary which was imbued with strong magic that encircled one slim wrist. Every now and then, the beads glowed red from within, and wisps of darkness danced while it did so, until the glow dimmed.

Rui lowered his arm to allow his dark robes to cover it, effectively camouflaging him in the shadows of the night. He drew the fabric nearer to his face as he lifted his head up, as if searching for something in the cloudless sky where the moon too was absent. Apparently satisfied, he looked back down and stepped out onto the streets from a back door of a house.

More quiet than the whispers of the night itself, Rui navigated the streets as though he had lived in the city for years, knowing the roads even better than some local residents did. Which would do well to explain why, when he spotted a strange trio, Rui knew there was an alley to take to avoid them.

Rui stood where they could not see him and took a good look to observe them, the rosary hidden under his long sleeve flaring red as he sniffed the air delicately and wrinkled his nose as if in disgust. Rui was more than certain, from his many years of experience, that two of them, the females, were magic-users. And that they probably were fresh out of the conjuration school.

It was not all that hard to tell for one who was one and also specialized in finding magic-users, since there were always some hints, regardless of which school of magic they came from. But Rui had always been able to identify them correctly even when they are in near perfect disguise, a feat that not many magic-users, or even necromancers, could do. That was probably one of the reasons why Rui was sent to Rangard by the Council.

His closest companion had once commented that it could have to do with some of the forbidden spells Rui tested on himself, or that it was a side-effect from being a vampire, or just sheer natural talent. The blood-eyed necromancer was never sure which it was, but he did not care enough to find out. It was useful, and that was all that matter. As useful as the rosary that hid his own hints which were more likely to be far more prominent, Rui was sure.

After watching for a few more moments, Rui departed with a satisfied grin on his face, making his way to the back door of a moderately large mansion. Having already taken care of those spies posted around that particular house, Rui did not need to be worried about being seen, as opposed to when he first arrived and had not yet settled, and strolled in with a small smile on his lips.

He had much to tell dear Count Generry, regarding the presence of mage girls and the man with them, and about one Duke Verion Le'Ferondia of the Queen's High Court, ruler of Sero Sero and high commander of Rangarder's desert calvary.

[OOC: Rui hid the hints of his presence, so unless a diviner is to confront him face to face, nobody else can know for sure about him being a necromancer or vampire. But the side-effect is, some of his powers are sealed. Generry has something similar with him, but without the side-effect. Duke Verion Le'Ferondia is not dead, he is merely... changed, though he does not know it. xD]

Bloodhound sat against a tree as Vyn shot his arrows at the deep red mark opposite him. As he watched he noticed that it seemed that Vyn's shots werent by skill, but by anger.

"You never came..."

"Huh?" asked Bloodhound.

"To the market place....you never came to meet Prince Eiren Fyuria Aeli."

"Oh." Bloodhound looked down disgusted. "I am sorry. I thought it not a good idea."

"Then you shouldn't have accepted the invitation and told me."

The shadowknight looked up at his friend for a moment. He stood up and began practicing his techniques. Vyn set his arrow and did the same. Fifteen silent minutes past until one spoke to the other.

"If you really want me to meet him, then i shall." Bloodhound tried to smile.

Vyn glanced over at the young man with delight. "Thank you. Come tonight...I will speak to the prince and let you know." Vyn shot an arrow at Bloodhound. He deflected.

"Nice try."
~~~

Bloodhound lay at his bed waiting for a response from the archerer. Then his mind went from his previous thought to the Dark Guild. Still no orders. He understood that many of the necromancers in the guild disliked him for his thought of them as cowards. Though they had still let him in. Some said they liked the fact that he was extrodinarily well with his sword. Some said they only liked his family, which never made him feel any better. And then others just grunted and continued with whatever they were previously doing. All he asked for was that someone give him something to do. At that moment someone knocked on the door. The shadowknight openned it to find Vyn in front of him.

"You got lucky." Vyn smiled.

Bloodhound smiled back and quickly closed the door behind him. He followed the archerer down to the palace. The two entered the magnificently built building and walked down a few corridors until they reached a great red and gold room. Bloodhound looked around the room. He saw statues, paintings, book cases, huge lanterns and candelabras, and armchairs. And in one of the armchairs, Prince Eiren Fyuria Aeli.

"Ah you must be Bloodhound. Please take a seat, and you as well Vyn."

The shadowknight and the archerer did so. Bloodhound spotted a body near the corner of the room. He looked more closely only to see to see it was the sleepless figure of Maureen, the prince's advisor. He had seen Maureen a few times asleep on street corners and such. Never said a word to the man though.

"So Vyn has told me much about you Mr. Fiseght."

The sudden voice made the shadowknight quickly turn his head in surprise.

"He has hasn't he? And by the way call me Bloodhound, Mr. Fiseght is my father and my uncle."

Eiren chuckled.

"Well then. For one I hear you are well with a sword. Of course the Kingdom of Aelia is mostly archerers so to know someone with as much skill with a sword as you is pretty hard to find."

The discussion became very deep as they continued to talk. Bloodhound was on his out of the palace. Near the exit he noticed a shadow near the corner of his eye. He turned to catch a glimpse of a body before it disappeared around the corner.

"So Maureen still doesn't trust me huh?"

Alastor was enjoying himself immensly. This had been one of his better ideas since ascending to the leadership of Clan Cernunnos. Cernunnos guards running around with the authority of the Imperial Guard behind them? It was brilliant. Not the enitre weight of the Imperial Guard, mind you, but they looked the part. It was absured how many people would listen to you if you were wearing the right uniform. He smiled as he thought of how many operatives loyal to the Guild were entering Rangard without so much as a background check.

It had taken a while to arrange. Hand picking a squad of elite Cernunnos guards had been easy, but it had been hard to get a message to the Guild. It was harder still to arrange that the Guild operatives were aware of the fact that the ruse would only work at the southern gate of the city. The last thing he needed was for one of those idiots to try and waltz in the northern gate. That would put a bit of a damper on the whole thing.

"Sir."

Alastor turned on his heel to face the voice that had just adressed him. It was hard to restrain the instinctive urge to rend the man's soul from his flesh. And if addressing him as "Sir" hadn't been part of the plan, he wouldn't have bothered to restrain himself. The momentary battle inside himself did not register on his face as he answered the man crisply, "Yes?"

"There are several more arrivals waiting your inspection."

Alastor sighed, but nodded and followed the man out of the room. The only problem with creating an illusion that the guards were part of the Imperial Guard was the fact that he was forced to accompany them, to ensure that the details of the illusion remained correct. "All well," Alastor said softly to himself, "One cannot be expected to crush a kingdom without a bit of effort."

OOC from Tim: Linall, the Guild is already based in the empire, but *isn't* the largest political power in the empire aside from the Empress; just remember that. The 'Queen's Guard' is really 'The Imperial Guard' too.

Edit: Names edited for correctness.

"It didn't change your mind?" Eiren spoke up when Maureen entered the room and settled on a chair near the bed. The elf nodded, absentmindedly twirling the golden curls of his hair with his fingers as he stared motionlessly at the silver mirror on a nearby table. The prince could not help but teased. "Have you just only discovered how entrancing your appearance is?"

"Huh?" Slowly, Maureen snapped to attention with a adorably confused look on his face, then he winced when he accidentally tugged on his hair. As he untangled his fingers from his hair, he inquired with a small frown. "Did you say something?"

Eiren's brow creased, his hands pausing in the movement of flipping a page of his book. "I've never seen you this out of sorts. Does he bother you that much? "

"Eh?" Maureen blinked, trying to grasp what the other was saying. "Oh, Bloodhound? No, it's not him. I still don't trust him, but he's not what's bothering me. Not totally, anyway. I'm just concerned with some things I heard today."

Finding interest in Maureen's words, the young royalty closed his book and propped his elbows on it, leaning forward with a raised eyebrow. "Do tell me about it. I'm guessing it's something of importance if you're worrying yourself senseless about it."

"Keep in mind that it is not confirmed, my prince." Unconsciously adding the royal title, something he never did in private, Maureen tapped his chin thoughtfully. "My connections in Kelfelar had been buzzing for a while about rumours of a necromancer sitting in the High Council of Rangarder, and is highly trusted by Queen Katalia. Which would be why I'm keeping an eye open for people of the Dark Guild."

"Thus the lack of trust in Bloundhound?" The prince was by no means a stupid person, and caught on quickly.

Maureen nodded, then continued. "But just today, my acquaintances who are mercenaries were telling me that a number of their not-so-righteous and not-so-bright friends are hired to march towards Kelfelar. They are probably on their way right now. Given that the city state of Kelfelar's biggest and most hostile enemy that is more likely to attack it directly with a mercenary army would be the Dark Guild, we have reasons to believe that the necromancers are probably planning something really big."

"Sounds reasonable. But wouldn't that be an attack that's doomed to fail? I heard that Kelfelar's protected not only by a regular army of magicians, but more than half of the residence in there are able to help defend their city state by even more means of magic. Even Rangarder will have problems attacking Kelfelar without any help, and it has the largest and probably one of the most organised army."

"Indeed. It's not something that any ruler will normally attempt, but who knows what those necromancers are thinking. But this sounds rather like a subtle declaration of war." Maureen mused, then stopped as a large yawn overtook the functions of his facial muscles.

"Don't worry about it, I'll keep a lookout for more of such things, and for any possible Dark Guild activity in Aelia. It's time for your bed, Eiren. The royal physician requested a conference concerning the King's condition in the morning, and you have a meeting with the nobles after that to discuss about the tax raise they suggested."

Eiren made a face and grumbled audibly under his breath. "Those silly old men. They only care about getting more material gain, no wonder they never could outwit father, much less say me. Besides, it's more like it's time for your bed. I'm not the one stretching my face open with my mouth. Alright, I'll oblige you. Good night, Maureen."

Making his way to the door, the prince's companion smiled. "Sleep tight, Eiren. See you in the morning."

~~~

Bloodhound was instantly awakened from his sleep by a strange freezing touch on his arm, and what greeted him was a wispy sickly green spectre floating in the middle of his bedroom.

"Greetings, necromancer." A flat sibilant whisper escaped from the near non-existant mouth of the creature as it bent its half-transparent body into slight bow. "One brings words from one's master."

"Who is your master?"

"You need not know master's identity, only that the Dark Council has given master the authority to give you your orders. Your first mission, one's master says."

There was a moment of silence before the son of Fiseght spoke. "What are the orders?"

"You are to get closer to the Prince of Aelia, Eiren Fyuria Aeli, and gain his trust. Pay no heed to his advisor's hostility for it shall pass. You are not alone in this, but your role is more important than the others. Worry not for master will see that you are aided. These are your orders. One has to go now." Again, the ghostly apparition bowed. And then vanished, taking away its penetrating chill and returning the night to the way it was.

Except that Bloodhound was left awake.

[OOC: Albel, I tried to cut using your character to the minimal, but if I still managed to make him out of character, I apologise.]

Bloodhound saw the shadow past swiftly past him. He quickly drew his sword and launched it diagnally foward to his left. The sword slamed into a tree and the shadow quickly stopped. Bloodhound went and retrived his weapon. Then he turned to Vyn.

"Nice try but i still saw you." He snickered.

"Ah well. Next time don't get your hopes up."

The two walked over to an open area where they sat down and devoured their lunch. Why must i get near the prince so badly... how is getting near him going to help the Dark Guild? I understand he is next in line for the throne and the king is bound to die soon...but why? My revenge is upon Kelfelar...and Count Generry already has Empress Katalia...Alastor has the Cernunnos Clan...well I guess it would always help to have more control over things. But something is still....forget it. I've been wanting orders and now I got them....

Vyn looked over at Bloodhound.

"Are you ok Bloodhound?"

The shadowknight looked over at his friend. "I'm sorry?"

"Are you feeling ok?"

"Oh yes...I'm fine thank you..." He continued eatting. "If you don't mind me asking...what does Prince Eiren think of me?"

Vyn looked over at the man surprised.

"First you dont want to meet him, then you do, and now you want to know what he thinks of you?"

He watched as Bloodhound nodded. Vyn took a deep breath.

"Well, for one, you can tell he really likes your ablilities with the sword..."

Bloodhound nodded once again.

"...Well he practicly thinks highly of you."

Vyn took a mouthful of food as to not have to speak for a moment. Knowing this, Bloodhound decided to speak.

"How highly?"

Vyn knew this question would come. He slowly set his bowl down, stood up, and spoke.

"Very..." He watched as Bloodhound stood up as well. "Why do you ask? Do you wish to seek work?"

"Something like that..."

"I am positively sure the Prince can do something about that. He helpped me with my current position." Bloodhound looked up at him. "Don't worry I am sure of it."

"Alright." Bloodhound began to walk away when Vyn called him back a moment. "Yes?"

"Try hitting this." Vyn shot an arrow directly into the sky. Bloodhound tossed his weapon at it. The arrow hit the ground....in one peace.

"Well its ok...I don't know anyone else that can hit it either anyways."

"I'm not just anyone."

[OOC: It's ok Seluna. I dont mind if you use him as long as its close enough to his personality. I'm not the kinda person that makes a big deal about if someone uses my character as long as they dont take advantage of it ]

“Something’s happening in Rangard?” Kerolmie murmured to herself as she unrolled the tiny scroll. It was filled with neat symbols, ones discussed and decided between herself and Ryamier to employ whenever they had to send messages through Ryamier’s messenger hawk. “And to strengthen the shields around Kelfelar? This must be big, Ryamier, for you to have taken notice and warned me immediately.” She muttered and heaved a sigh, “Very well, but I’ll expect you to give me an explanation for this.”

She hustled from the window to her table. Another scroll of similar size was drawn from her drawer and she traced several intricate designs on it before rolling it up and inserted it into its holder, which was attached against the hawk’s right leg. As the bird of prey flew off with a single flap of its wings, the soft sound of door knocking alerted her and she turned to face the newcomer.

“Headmistress, you missed the time for our usual breakfast again.” The fiery haired lady who walked in stated. Ignoring Kerolmie’s response, she continued, “It’s the fourth time in this week, Kerolmie.”

“Ah, I am very sorry, Dale. I was just kept up by something. I’ll be with you in a minute.” Kerolmie replied. She folded the note carefully and slotted it into her pocket before following the redhead out of her office, retrieving her long blue cloak from its holder as they passed by.

Professor Rickendale, nicknamed Dale, is one of the three professors in Firling who is in charge of the third years. At the same time, she is also one of the closest friend or Kerolmie’s. As she strode along the long corridors in Firling, she asked, “Something seems to trouble you. Does that have to do with your little agent and his messages?”

Kerolmie muffled her soft chuckle at Rickendale’s implication and said, “He is quite possibly the cause of it, yes. And a big part too.”

“Oh?”

“He’s warned me of the movements of the Rangardians. And to strengthen the wards around Kelfelar.”

“If that is what he meant…”

“I’m afraid that what he foresees is an attack on Kelfelar.”

“That’s… impossible.”

“Unfortunately, the situation doesn’t seem to be impossible any longer.” Kerolmie replied grimly.

“If that is so, we must take precautions immediately. This cannot be delayed.”

“Of course, however, we must not alert the students. The High Council and staff must be informed, yes, but we will not let the young ones know yet.”

“I understand. However, if the situation arises-”

“Only if the need arises. For now, we shall remain silent, lest it be a false alarm.”

“Very well.” Rickendale agreed.

“Now we were breakfasting?” Kerolmie asked almost cheerfully, steering clear of their previous subject.

A plate of egg, ham and bread was laid on the table, along with mug of tavern ale. However, the mauve haired male who sat before it was too busy nodding off on his stool to notice the appetizing meal. It was only when the sharp cry of a hawk pierced through the air that he jolted upright on his seat. Subconsciously, he raised his left arm, allowing the bird of prey to land on his outstretched limb.

With tired and weary eyes, he eyed the bird blearily for five full seconds until its identity finally registered on his mind. “Wings!” he exclaimed in surprise as the gears in his mind slowly started to pick up speed. His right hand moved to the cylinder attached to its leg and deftly removed the note rolled up within the container.

Leaving the bird to peck at his breakfast, he skimmed through the message Kerolmie had sent and replied to it with a scroll produced from his pouch. Petting his pet, he slotted the message into the container, whispered to it softly and allowed it to take off again.

After its departure, he took a long drink of the ale, scrunched his face at its taste afterwards, and began to eat his breakfast. It had been three long nights since he had any rest and he was positive that if he had not the basic training, his head would have simply landed right smack on the food while he snored away. As it was, he kept himself awake occasionally by trying not to think too much, which was too darn hard as it kept drifting off to the scenario he had witnessed the previous night.

He had been on his way to the library in town when he caught sight of a familiar looking girl in equally familiar exotic clothing and tattoos. Identifying her was easy, for who wouldn’t remember a seven year old summoner prodigy who dressed like no other? However, her purpose for being in Rangard was his main question. Especially alone in the dark alleys of Rangard.

Of course, he had no illusions that she would not be able to protect herself, despite her looking as though she might fall off her ride at any time. Rather, it was the absence of her sister Ishani that puzzled him. The sisters were usually seen together, surely Ishani would not leave her younger sister alone in the night to fend for herself? Thus, he ended up following the pre-adolescent summoner, hopping across rooftops under the cover of his illusion, and silent guiding her mare towards the nearest square, which was thankfully not far from where he had found her.

That was not the end of it. Some time after following the little Chantican, he noticed the presence of a pair of eerily dark red eyes concealed somewhere along one of the side lanes of the alley. Actually, it had been more of an accidental detection, than one of purpose. He had merely been surveying the surroundings when the said eyes appeared in the dark, almost causing him to fall off a roof in his surprise.

Despite his countless attempts, he could not, for his life, figure out who, or rather what, was the owner of those eyes. Though his gut instinct certainly helped, with its constant pushing for him to get as far away from those eyes as possible.

To his utmost pleasure, their intended destination appeared soon after, and thank the blessing of the gods, they found the little lost summoner's sister just before she realised that Ulima had wandered off in her sleep. And in the companionship of another. One whom he later identified to be a ranger, called Ryland Evergreen.

His curiosity did not allow himself to be left hanging upon a mysterious thread for long, and as a result, he spent yet another sleepless night, tailing the trio until they reached a building and after that, yet more hours in the library, resuming his orginal duty, researching.

He yawned again, shuddering at the thought of the pages, pages and more pages of cursival writing which had not been the easiest of texts to decipher. Finishing his drink, he finally stood up, heading into his room in the inn, deciding to take a day off his work to finally have a good rest.

[OOC: Ryamier's side posted, finally... Anyways, if any points illogical or unreasonable or disrupts any form of plot, please notify me.

EDIT: Yup, editted yet again, since i found a few holes that I had forgotten to cover.]

At midday, all of the party, content and ready to get back to their self-proclaimed duties, left the inn. As Dermian waved goodbye, and turned, however, he felt, suddenly, deep inside himself, as though this would be the last time the all came together again. He knew it might be his divination showing a spurt of sudden activity, but he din't want to think that, so he shoved it aside and kept walking. As he looked around the crouded street, he suddenly found a small alley and quickly ducked into it. He disappeared from sight, and blended perfectly as he swept along the path and into another alley noiselessly.

"Ahh," he thought to himself, "Finally, back in my habitat. However, I've no idea where to start looking for the beginning of my path. Where does one start looking for destiny?" He stopped suddenly, in the middle of the alleyway and looked about him. He saw a few jars next to a small building and quickly reached the roof. He found a spot where he was hidden on all sides, and sat down suddenly. He closed his eyes and called upon his weakest skill, Divination, to find his way. He sat there for a long time with his eyes closed, feeling for anything inside of him. Suddenly, He seemed to strike something within him. It felt like magic, but it didn't feel like the divination as he'd felt on several other occasions. It felt.. foreign to him yet, somehow familiar. It felt powerful and incredibly magical. He went into a trance, and he saw a distant place, a place he recognized as a city in Ranguard, and a voice spoke about him, but it was his voice.

He woke suddenly, exactly where he had sat, and knew his path's beginning. He noticed quickly it was dark. It was perfect for him, the darkness. The easier for him to get around. First, he knew, he needed a horse, to get from here to Ranguard. He silently dropped from the low roof into the street and pulled aside to the shadows. He flitted along the street and found what he was looking for: the town stable. He had never felt bad about stealing things as long as he needed them. And this, he needed greatly, if his Mentor was right about his destiny.

He found the best of the lot, a large black one. He hushed it as it started neighing at him and, oddly, it obeyed without question. Dermian opened the stable door and led him quickly out, stepping carefully over the body of the stablehand, whom he had dispatched using a sleep spell on his way in. He led the horse around the corner, and quickly, as though he had ridden all his life, jumped upon his back. The horse took off without a word of command from Dermian and soon they were riding to the east, through the backstreets of Kelfelar.

Dermian, hood down, was snoozing complacently; even though he had been in a trace since midday, he felt exausted. And, as far as his new steed was concerned, he somehow felt... connected to it. It seemed to take to him immediately, and, even though he was an inexperience rider, it knew what to do, and what he wanted. It was odd, But Dermian felt the same way too, as though he and the horse were connected somehow. He felt sure that the horse would guide him properly as he slept, and his own senses, even though he was asleep, would alert him almost immediately should anything happen about him.

The next morning he woke again, the horse still trotting along at a good pace. Since he didn't want to travel during daytime, since his horse would attract more attention than he wanted, and would probably be tired, he found a nice roomy backstreet that looked fairly unused, he allowed his horse to rest and sat back to the wall, watching for any intruders. Just to be safe, he put up a mild illusion so it looked as though the alley was at a dead end to both sides of him. He could still see through to make sure none were coming, but all they would see was a large brick wall. As he sat, he pondered how long it would take him at his current pace. He pulled out a map that was enchanted to show his current location at any given time and found himself on the map. He found he was located still to the west of Kelfelar. He measured in his head how long he thought it would take to get to Ranguard City. He reached a conclusion of well over two weeks at his current pace. He made a note to try and get there a bit faster. He felt like time was ticking down to when he needed to get to the City. With that, he rolled the map back up, stuck it in a pocket, and went quickly, leaving his illusions in place, to grab some food for himself and his horse.

Hob knobs and what not cluttered the large but seemingly cluttered circular room with a large old-fashioned desk with small cases of different colored inks and quills. In which the middle of the room was a heavy black marble coffee table and a lot of exotic pillows some large and created of soft fabrics others were small and itchy or plain and what ever. Piled on this table were small treasure chests, so ordinate it must of took the crafter days to complete the designs in seashells and jems. This complied with two heavy volumes, scattered rolls of parchment with holding letters, maps and what not that in which had hidden around the folds streaks of sand and gaggles of beads. These beads were created of bone, glass, wood, stone [precious and normal], ceramic and where gathered over the different sea trips the owner of the room took to obtain them. The books seemed old either in tight clothe material and old well worn leather with the titles scrawled in large extravagant loops of black or gold. The papers on the inside were hand made but now thoughtfully yellowing and curling from moisture and other sorts of damage before being carefully or sloppily placed in a room filled with treasure. Usually these books were on the large books selves that encased almost half the room if not one third of it next to the desk that was also draped in these items. As before said the desk had many different jars of ink and a large vase filled with quills but also squirreled away in the compartments and out in the open where more knickknacks. Some of these items are clean fountain pens stolen off large officials, seals and stamps with large necklaces and heavy jems, simple seashells and flotsam of ship wreckage, crumbling paintings and photos of what was past.


Old letters with untouched wax seals, exotic papers and lists apoun lists where found in the drawer. On top of this array where other items or small figurines of a gargoyle, Foo dragon, a potted fern and a crystal vase of fresh flowers bedeck this arrangement with a small glittering fish. The Fish looked like a living jewel, moving through the roots of the large bowl and its plant in which gave sanctuary to the living organism. But still there many a treasure in the circular room that was seemly musty and dark from the heavy velvet curtains trapping the cool dark air and the crackling sounds of the fireplace off on the left side of the room. Windows budged out in a bay window sort of apparatus, set in heavy iron and lead tracings so the windows didn’t move at all, but inside near the windows was bedding sunken in to the plush wood and carpet flooring of the room. At the foot of this sunken bed was a heavy sea chest where some of the vagrant clothing was kept, others in a large closet with shelves and hangers. But rolled up almost like a small pig in a blanket was Commodore Umbriel Charlouse, the pale pine wood hair tousled from sleep apoun the soft pillows and thick blankets of their delicate material that withheld most of the bad sleeping habits she had. From any one else she was the most magpie like of any sea faring court official, always collecting or saving for later which in time either slowed her down or came in handy for some strange situations that always happen to her. The Two to three of the eight windows were open slight with a soft breeze after over the tangled body of a female, as what ever fragments of light glittered on her abandoned medals and rings as before long one eye opened sleepily to the soft bustle of a maids skirts entering the room.


The maid looked about gently with the large pleated dress, she was clucking about the mess or slight condition of Umbriel’s room. But Umbriel groaned gently with a sniff of the air as the scent of food wafted down to tease the now hungered stomach, both green gold eyes opened with a very almost seducing look apoun the mocha face. As if sudden the maid looked down setting the food near the sunken bed, before standing up wards and moving to the pulling device for the curtains as the sun poured in like a wave on the beach. Umbriel ducked down covering the seemingly fragile eyes, squinting at the form retreating from the bright room as her own pupils gained use. Looking at the steaming food of grits, milk, orange juice, hot pancakes with sausage and bacon and hash browns a favorite and yet fatty array of food she would ever want at the moment after living off hard sea biscuits and salt pork. ‘ This would go well to a good smoke or a thing of rum but I need the orange juice and milk to prevent some scurvy’ as also in this array of fatty food was haven of healthier foods, of Apple, orange, melon slices that were on a pale plate. Soon Umbriel would be bloated out in a seemingly balloon like proportion or so would it feel like, as fingers grabbed at steel and gold fork and knife to dive on the pancakes and the meat. Out side there was a gentle creak of the large ships and smaller ones on the water and soft music tinkling over from the next estate in which is sounded like a gentle piano. This all was accompanied with the publics talking and foot movements on the cobbled walkways around the port town of Iviepool as to sea birds calling to each other in a raucous laughter.

The plates were cleaned and the glasses had a small grime of liquid on its rims, and there Umbriel was sitting up wards and straight backed. Eyes apoun a small leather bound book that was intricately wove between the scaly pads of her fingers and their narrow bones, a smile curved apoun the slightly rouged lips. For one whom looked from the bedroom door, she was completely nude with smoke creamy skin rolling over the tone muscles and soft endowments as the trussed hair added an almost barbaric look to the dainty creature. Rings were slipped back apoun the narrow fingers, still eyes never tore from the literature that was so captivating in its own light. Pages curled and cracking with soft tears in the pale sunlight that stole peeks at the naked female form of the commodore, one would think that a commodore would be entirely male than female. That was a wrong statement to bring up with Umbriel, proving most wrong to whom ever was against her going in to that position of power, as the powered legs hoisted up wards and moved the body to the dank closet where up hung a pair of fluffy stripped pantaloons and a thick belt and strange coins. Slowly bending over and pulling the lower half of her clothing, Umbriel’s hand started to grope blindingly for a clean blouse nothing restrictive like all proper ladies should where at all. Clutching at a pale cotton blouse with black insides of satin, another brilliant smile peeled on the femmine lips as it was tugged over the top half of the torso.

Getting dressed was like a battle she some times couldn’t win but today was a smashing success, as her hands pulled up mismatched stripped knee socks that were tucked under the pantaloons that cut off under the knee. Padding over to the desk and rummaging almost in a homeless person way for a soft hair crush that had a few hairs tingling out like pale worms on a strange surface, slowly grabbing hold of a thick lock. Starting to tame the beast called hair with the soft brush and comb and some times a light squirt of lightly fragranced water to flatten it down from a frizzled look, soon the hair was sleek and gleaming proudly but instead of tying the backup like normal Umbriel allowed it to be so there was no stress of rushing around but a more laid back day than yesterday where a tight formal suit and medals where worn and hair in a tight hair do to meet with the admiral whom chuckled at her being stiff with him. Stretching up wards form the sunny memory, standing on the polished wood floors in a very interesting out fit that suited her just fine than anything else. The ceramic wind chime along with the bamboo one on the other side of it in the window gently clambered in which made the smile on her face much larger, but it added a more sense of peace and Zen to the cluttery room. Boots next to the rubbish bin that was filled with papers and broken dreams but not bothering to pick them up at the moment as a few minutes later the gingered feet slid in to them in ease.

Just getting ready to have an adventure out side of the tall manor, or making a trip to a small coffee and teashop as well the Apothecary that rented a room in the same manor that belonged to her. She loved the scents and interesting things to see in his shop with the large grinder and dried herbs, medicines and strange things it was almost like a workshop for alchemists, smithy and etc. Slowly the ridged soles moved over the flooring to the door with its lion’s head knob that was slowly tarnishing on both sides but ever remained regal looking. Umbriel’s hand roved over its creases and upraised knob and twisted it in a satisfying click in the door, slowly opening in a creak she peeked an half moon of her face in the long deserted hall way. Moving out in a mock covert way, the commodore moved down the hallway to a more unused staircase that spiraled out in to the rich garden filled with tall trees grass and flowers that attracted small humming birds and butterflies and at night the large lunar moths and fireflies to dance. But ever garden had their spiders, snakes and larger birds to watch the more delicate creatures in either hunger or faint interest; to Umbriel that situation of the garden was like real life where they had hunger of greed for the delicate and yet powerful. Soon enough down the stairs without much notion, feeling the sun crawl apoun what ever was exposed on her body and the sounds of crushing gravel of an over growing walk way to the side alley. With enough elongated steps she was near the small iron fence, slowly her eyes traveled over for a more vulnerable place to vault up and over from. Her hand rubbed over a bare spot where the spiked turrets had rusted away or been forcefully removed, pushing her self up with two hands than one she rolled as it would look like over that iron fence. If any one looked they fell for a small illusioning trap where the alley way looked deserted and naked of any life besides a cat and a rolling newspaper crumple.


Umbriel was pretty wild for a female of the human race when on her own and not having to care about what others think of her. Most neighbors knew she was determined and strong willed to do what she believed was right but also she liked having a sense of wackiness to her as well to being enjoyable to be around than a stiff old bag like her grandmother was. How she figured that out was from her father before he died on one of the ships that Umbriel held in a small fleet of five, he told her many stories of his parents and how his mother was stiff and a neat freak and his father strange and always traveling bringing him gifts. Umbriel paused and savored the moment like a fine delicacy at a restaurant that she was waiting to get to for a year or so, eyes curled upwards and lips slightly bent as her feet walked her to a main drag. Slowly she spoke as if a siren [Merwoman] lent her a voice that was frosted with a sagely amber and a melody of the wind, eyes now half open and glimmering as she walked down the small board to the clustered market area and shops.

“ Oh I missed this place so much with its bittersweet memories of my family and the lore of who my mother was”

There was a small legend/lore/gossip what ever one could call it about her mother being from the sea its self and seducing her father, but that was completely an untrue story from the fish wives tongues and lazy merchants. Umbriel remembered something different that her father told her that her mothers name was Melani Clovelocke and she was of divination and evocation schools, they met when she asked for a passage from Kaiateara to Iviepool. Over the duration of the trip they fell in love as if cabin fever where on the same ship the Venus, her mother Melani was impregnated with her and when she got to Iviepool they lived to her fathers parents whom seemed very pleased with the aspects of a grand kit. When Melani had Umbriel she cared for Umbriel for a few weeks to a month until she weaned the baby not stealing her away from the handsome father. Melani left him being seduced by the darker power of Necromancy and for a new love for their leader this her father was sad over before moving on but ever often when Umbriel did something like Melani did in the past her father would exclaim that she had her mother in her still. Confusing, as it was for a child her mother like her self now was magpie-ish with items and interests but now it did not matter.

Moving down the cobbled street into a small shop that had a rich smell of coffee and cocoa beans, the hot air filled with spices licked at the sea blown cheeks. Some of the floofy women stopped and stared at her form their large foamy cups of coffee or tea judging by what tidbit was left on the plate next to the large cup of ceramic. Started to wait in line now for a drink and a small bite despite the fact she just ate, walking on dry land seemed more of an effort and she was more thirsty than hungry at the moment.

Just waiting for something to happen.

“A bed hmm?” Ryland said thinking about it, glancing at the curious seven-year-old sleeping in her saddle and back to Ishani. “Well, I don’t exactly sleep much, so there is a single bed in my apartment I never use.”

“Err…” Ishani sounded timidly. “Where do you sleep then if not in your bed?”

“Well that’s simple,” Ryland said with a light-hearted tone, warm and welcoming to Ishani instead of her own tone. “I sleep against my walls. After all my travelling, I could never get used to matrasses again. My bad might hurt because of it, but at least I get some sleep.”

“Oh, I see…” Ishani said quietly, looking from her feet to Ryland. Ryland could tell she was still a little shy of Ryland having spent so much time apart.

“Well, I’m really glad you’re here and not some up-class pompous wizard with a curly beard,” Ryland said gently, smiling at Ishani.

Ishani couldn’t help but giggle at one of Ryland’s jokes about the mage nobility and their beards. She started to blush after she giggled. “Well…anyway, can we get Ulima to bed? Then we’ll do all our catching up. I really am glad to see you again.” The last part she said quietly.

“Alright then, go get her and I’ll show you to my ‘home’. It’s pretty small actually, not very impressive,” Ryland said smiling. He noticed that he couldn’t stop smiling, even if it was only slightly. He was glad too; it was a relief to finally have someone he could trust around him.

Ishani led her horses slowly over to a stable Ryland had taken her to next to the building he lived in, then Ryland gently picked up Ulima from the saddle and cradled her, being careful not to wake her on their way to his room. Ishani walked slowly beside Ryland, looking at Ryland to Ulima, making sure she wasn’t about to wake up. They arrived shortly after at Ryland’s apartment, and Ishani opened the door for Ryland and Ulima, and Ulima was gently placed down on Ryland’s bed. She didn’t wake up, and rolled over onto her side as Ishani laid a blanket around her.

“Well, this is it. My home away from your home,” Ryland whispered as Ishani repressed a slight giggle. “Pretty small, right?”

Ishani looked around the room, seeing on a table various pieces of equipment, as well as leather armour against a wall and a bow wrapped in cloth. It looked a little bit like a war room, not sleeping quarters, and that’s because it was a war room. A map of the city was hung up on one of Ryland’s walls, and there was a map of the Imperial Palace open on his desk. This suddenly reminded Ishani of what she and Ulima were sent to do. “Ry?” she asked quietly, looking back at Ryland. “Can we go out for a walk? Ulima will be fine here till we get back.”

“Alright, I’ve got to see a merchant anyway. You would be…useful,” Ryland said smiling again.

- - -

Ishani and Ryland walked through the large city together almost like a couple would, talking to one another about old times, and Ryland noticed Ishani had become more and more used to being around Ryland again.

“Isha?” Ryland asked using his nickname for Ishani. He turned to face Ishani, slowing down his step. Ishani could see something was on Ryland’s mind. “How’s Chhaya been lately? I haven’t gotten any letters from her while I’ve been here, why not?”

“Well…” Ishani began softly, trying not to look into Ryland’s eyes. “It’s just that…”

“What, has something happened to her?” Ryland asked, turning his head to meet Ishani’s large golden eyes that were starting to dampen. “What’s happened to Chhaya?”

“Ryland…” Ishani said, her old sadness coming into her voice. “The year you left….Chhaya, she passed away. Her illness finally got her. I’m so sorry I didn’t write you about it! I had no idea what I would say…”

Ryland stepped back, his eyes turned from concern to complete sadness. He was overcome by the news, even if it was old news now. He tried to ask a question, but it caught in his throat and he just looked away from Ishani’s empathetic eyes. She was the one who began to cry though, and Ryland could only wrap his arms around Ishani, letting her bury her head and weep on Ryland’s shoulder. “I’m sorry Ishani…” Ryland whispered in her ear, placing a hand on her head and holding her for a long moment until she stopped and broke the embrace.


“I…I’m sorry too Ryland. I should be over this now…” Ishani said, wiping her eyes with her sleave. “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

“I…understand Isha, its okay…” Ryland said uncertainly, looking at Ishani look back at him.

“No, it’s not okay,” Ishani said sadly. “But I’ll make it up to you one day, I promise.”

“I know you will, it’s okay Isha,” Ryland said and began to walk slowly to his destination again. Ishani followed beside him closely, looking back at her feet. Ishani jumped slightly in surprise when Ryland took hold of her hand as he walked, but then smiled slightly through her sad face. She had been forgiven.

- - -

They arrived soon after outside a generic building in the poorer side of Rangard city. It was generally run down, but inside there was a lot of bustling activity. This was an inn for many travellers, although Ishani had purposely avoided bringing Ulima here earlier, and Ryland only came down here to do business with the Rangard Underworld, not to enjoy the drink and watch the dog fighting which he thought was a disgusting sport and a violation of the laws of nature. One day he’d come back and free the animals at this place, but he needed to keep friendly with the owners for a time before he could.

It was called ‘Irondog Inn’, a name that disgusted Ryland as much as the entertainment inside. He took a deep breath before taking hold of Ishani’s hand again and leading her inside. Inside they noticed a crowd of men all sitting at their tables drinking and gambling, and to the corner of the large in Ishani witnessed to horror almost the equal of Ryland’s a large cage where two dogs were being made to fight each other for gambling and entertainment. Ryland quickly pushed past the crowd and didn’t stop to chat to one of the barkeepers who called out his name and waved. He headed directly for the backrooms that weren’t very crowded, the business centre of the Irondog Inn.

Ryland stopped at an iron door, and before knocking clasped onto Ishani’s shoulders and brought her in for a huddle. Ishani looked slightly confused at Ryland, but lowered her head as well and their faces were parallel to each other. “Listen carefully,” Ryland whispered in Ishani’s ear. “On the other side of that door, Isha, is a necromancer they simply call ‘Mr Ironblood’. He may be a necromancer, but he doesn’t work with the Dark Guild, and has been so far willing to assist me with information. Ironblood is the lowest of the low, but under no circumstances can we threaten or attack him, got it?”

“A necromancer?! Are you sure we can trust him?!” Ishani said with a loud whisper.

“No, in fact I don’t trust him a single bit, but he checks out as an enemy of the Dark Guild. He left them years ago to start his own organisation of cutthroats and thieves here in the poor quarter of Rangard. He’s a very powerful businessman, even if he’s a lousy necromancer, and although I’d just love to put a couple arrows in his eyes, we absolutely cannot cause him to attack us! Every second person in this hellish Inn is one of his men, and each one would give us complete hell before we got out of here. The fact of the matter is that Ironblood has a nice little holy gem I need to ward off vampires discovering me.”

“Okay, so we just walk in, get the gem off Ironblood and walk out?” Ishani said cautiously quiet in Ryland’s ear.

“I hope so, but if he tries to order me into another assignment for him I might as well put a few arrows in him next time,” Ryland said with a hint of determination in his voice. “Or use this.” Ryland quickly showed Ishani his khukri knife he kept concealed and Ishani went wide-eyed.

“Are you seriously going to use that?!” Ishani said looking back up Ryland with a mix of fear and excitement in her eyes. She hadn’t actually seen Ryland fight before, despite hearing stories about his time in Serami.

“Well, he *is* a necromancer, and he’s been giving me one hell of a time just to get this gem already. If he doesn’t deliver on the gem…we’ll see…” Ryland said, giving a slightly distressed look then glanced into Ishani’s large golden eyes again for some silent reassurance. “Alright Isha, lets go get that gem, one way or another.” Ryland sighed standing up properly again. He knocked on the large iron door 5 times, then 2 more times after a pause. A small eye slot in the door slid open, and a pair of eyes greeted them.

“Oh, it’s just our ranger friend, Ryland…and he’s brought a lovely female along with him. Shall I let them in?” the pair of eyes asked someone on the other side of the door, looking at Ryland the entire time. Ryland didn’t hear the reply, but after a long moment of waiting the eye slot was closed on them and the door was opened. Ryland took Ishani’s hand again and they entered.

"Then it's settled. Bloodhound, rest well today. Tomorrow you'll report to Maureen, and he'll guide you along." A satisfied smile was featured on the Aelian prince's face, but it fade a little as he turned to his advisor. "Maureen? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, my prince." Maureen tried to keep his voice steady, but his paler than usual complexion and telltale biting of his lower lip gave him away, and Eiren frowned. "I just have a headache, that's all."

"Doesn't seem like a normal headache. Should I cancel everything on my schedule today? It won't do if my advisor and bodyguard falls ill from overwork." A quick glance at Bloodhound. "Well, I have two now, but he's still not familiar with things around here."

"Are you joking, Eiren?" Maureen slowly lifted his head to mock-glare at the royalty. "I'm fine. I just need some herbs or something for this pesky monster. I'll get them later."

Eiren's face still held worry. "Are you certain, Maureen? You elves don't fall ill easily, and when it does, it's never anything good."

"Yes, I'm very sure. I had headaches like this before, just never this bad.... oh darn it."

"Bloodhound, I'll give you your first mission right now." Eiren's eyes narrowed and he turned to the other occupant in the room. "Get Maureen to his room and make sure he stays there. Maureen, I'll be here for the whole day, so don't worry about it."

Maureen shot his prince a flat unfriendly glare as he stood up and bowed stiffly, before he shuffled his way out of the royal study with Bloodhound following behind. Making his way to his room, Maureen abruptly stopped in front of his door.

"Is anything wrong?"

"Yes. You." Maureen replied simply and turned with speed that one would not have expected of somebody with a tremendous headache, letting loose three leaf blades that sped towards Bloodhound.

The latter dodged two of them easily, and caught the third between two fingers. "Is it something I did?"

"I don't trust you." Maureen uttered softly, fixing a pair of pale green ice chips on Bloodhound's face. "But I have seen your skills. Use them well to protect Prince Eiren. If he is the slightest bit harmed, I'll come after you. And not just with these blades."

With that, the blond advisor swept into his room and slammed the door behind him.

"So what do you intend to do today?" Count Generry was a distinguished looking man with silver hair streaking his dark gray hair and dark grayish blue eyes that are hard like steel. He was still in his royal advisor clothing, since he had just returned from court and was immediately told that his special guest wanted to see him.

Rui tugged at his glowing bracelet restlessly, red eyes eerily echoeing the light within the onyx beads. "I have my plans. Miteylan, the Grand Master, gave me permission to play as long as I don't spoil your plans, so don't worry."

"You can take off the bracelet. I have wards in my house to keep hints of our magic in. They are not as good as that of the guild compound, but they are not incompetent."

Rui glanced at the count and gave him a freezing smile. "You're not a vampire. There are bats in Rangard City and I don't like them."

"I see." Generry nodded, now enlightened to why Rui kept the rosary on despite obviously being uncomfortable. "Would you like me to make wards to keep hints of that in as well?"

"Don't bother." Rui continued tugging at the rosary. "Vampiric spells are not your speciality. I would do one if I want to but Morkexian's toy is good. Though annoying. Besides, the little rats will have more than me to worry about."

"Oh?"

"I released my Dolls." An icy smile curved Rui's youngish lips. "I have heard that people here dislike magic and one of my lovely toy is going to make the court kick a huge fuss over it. Maybe enough that all those foul magic-users may get banished or killed. How fun."

"I will persuade the Queen when the time comes. Keep your Doll out of the guards' way. And the one you saw with the two female mages."

Rui's eyes gleamed as he smiled again. "The guards, I will. The man and the two witches... I'll think about it. It would be most interesting."

Generry frowned, "Please don't make my job difficult."

"You'll see." Rui's smile turned secretive. "Don't worry, he won't be caught. I let two of my pets out, not one. By the way, how is Duke Le'Ferondia?"

"Alive, griefing over his daughter and hates me even more. Did you have to do that to his only child when he is trying to blame everything on me? The Queen was so irritated at his accusations that she cut short the morning court today."

"I left his daughter alive, he should be grateful." Rui muttered absentmindedly as he played with his dagger instead. "That was a necessary move. The girl will die eventually, but not before I'm happy. Stop questioning my decisions, Generry. I know what I'm doing. And I need to rest now, I'm going hunting tonight."

"I'll leave you alone then." Generry's lips thinned and left the room after the apparent dismissal. He knew better than to annoy his guest by sticking around when he was not wanted. Even if the vampire may make things difficult for him, he knew that Rui would be great help. Even if his mysterious and condescending ways were pretty annoying.

The Secret Island City of Freeport;
(Located between Dorandi Island and Han Island.)

Freeport is one of those secrets that everyone knows about but no one acknowledges. It has no government and no laws but the laws of swords and gold. And yet somehow it flourishes as an idea society. This is because everyone is too paranoid to cause trouble. And thats cause everyone here is a pirate. Even the tavern whores, the old bartenders, and the children who play in the street. Make one little slip up and you'll be stabbed in the back. But atleast its a society that works.

It is also here that the swordsman Shinoda Mifune spends his days waiting for good job. Or atleast one that doesn't sound like a suicide run. Hell, its been a month since his last job and at this point he's willing to take even the most half-ass stupid job that'd probably get him killed so long as he has enough money to get him some women and alcohol. And maybe a little killing would be nice if he can get away with it.

He sighs as he tosses another empty bottle of cheap wine to the floor. Already ten of bottles lay there in a mess as he grabs another one from the table and start chugging it back in a somewhat depressing manner. If only he could just get a job and out of this rathole even for a few weeks. Maybe he won't end up waisting all his money on cheap wine and cheap women like last time. Though he probably will.

Dermian woke with a start as the first rays of light touched his cheek. He was bouncing a little on his horse, which had been galloping, but half-heartedly, obviously tiring out. He'd been running it as fast as he could since they got out of that city. That had been about a week ago, and according to his map, he was about two days journey out of his destination, Ranguard City. He still felt a sense of urgency, so he kept the horse running for the moment.

****

Two hours later, Dermian's horse, who he had named Lornan after a man he'd met once on the road, a man who had stuck in his mind for something he had done once, was far too tired to continue. Though he was trotting still, he needed rest for the night, and the heat was increasing over the desert. Dermian, using a bit of magic, dug out a good-sized hole in the ground, and put a cloak on sticks above it to keep the direct light of the sun out, and a good amount of the heat that came from the sun.

Dermian himself had donned much lighter clothing for the travel, and the cloak he usually wore was what was now propped on sticks. Instead, he wore a white, longsleeved white shirt of a very light material, and white pants of the same material. He also had on a wide-brimmed hat. He had no desire to get sunburns, and traveling mainly at night meant he didn't get too hot from wearing long sleeves.

As he sat, his horse sleeping, and Dermian laying up against him, he thought about what he had been told by his mentor. He tried to think how he could save the world, him! a man who had spent his whole life in the shadows, doing everything he did on a much smaller scale than the entire world! He believed in the little things, not big life-changing events. Even though he was a sorceror, he had no ambitions that were as large as his abilities could give him. It meant a commitment. He prefered his own way. If he made a mistake, he had no one to answer to. He helped people as he chose, and if he couldn't for any reason, or didn't want to, he didn't need to apologize, or fix it. he just went on. And, he wondered at what really needed to be done, and what the world needed saving from. All he knew was something big was coming. However, he was in the dark about it. If he was following his destiny, he thought, it better tell him what the hell he was getting involved in first.

*******

He woke up at dusk, and woke his horse up as well. He thought for a minute as he packed his things again. He threw them back on his horse, and jumped on. Before they took off, he obliterated the hole, just in case. You never knew who was following you. Especially since this was his destiny, and maybe him and his friends weren't the only ones who knew.

(ooc: bought some time, sorry for the shortness)

"Maureen." Bloodhound, after knocking the door and got a soft disgruntled reply, entered the room. "Do you know a lady called Luryiena Doureshi?"

The blond beauty lying boneless on his bed with fatigue apparent on his face looked up thoughtfully with a small frown. "I think so... the name sounds very familiar... I'll have to see her first though."

Bloodhound's response was blunt. "Are you well enough?"

Maureen's green eyes flared as he pushed himself up and glared at the royal bodyguard. "I'll make my way to meet the lady even if I have to summon helpers to carry me over."

"The prince will not like that." Bloodhound said calmly. "I will inform the prince that you are well enough for guests in your room."

With that done, the necromancer turned to exit the room, but was stopped as Maureen's voice stopped him coldly. "Don't think that because you saved Eiren yesterday from a necromancer assassin, I'll be happy to accept you, trust you or allow you to step all over me. I acknowledge your skills, but that's all."

Without a word, Bloodhound stepped out, leaving Maureen fuming on his bed and aggravating his headache so much that he had to lay back again until Bloodhound returned together with Eiren and Luryiena.

"Oh my goodness! Maureen!" The mysterious guest, a petite lady with chestnut hair streaked with silver and dressed in a pure white robes of Aelian cut, flunged herself at the person on the bed with surprising speed and squealed in delight.

Maureen ignored his prince and Bloodhound's amused looks blatantly, and tried to pry the excited bundle away from him. At least, enough for him to breath and talk normally. "Luryiena?! What are you doing here?"

Luryiena beamed happily as she rattled off a rapid string of words. "Oh, I heard that Prince Eiren's advisor was ill and got worried when I heard that it was you, so I thought I should check it out, being your fiancee and all."

Somehow, Maureen managed to decipher it and frowned at her. "But I thought you were supposed to be staying in Kelfelar? Then how did you know?"

Luryiena's eyes went wide with shock and dismay, and looked almost ready to cry when she suddenly touched Maureen's forehead with a glowing hand, chanting softly under her breath. Her slim brows furrowed together when she stopped and stared at him sadly. "You... forgot about us."

Maureen was first surprised by what she said, and then troubled. "Well, I do have a portion of my memory misplaced. I am not even sure how I know you, but I do know that you are my fiancee and helped healed me of my headaches..."

"Ahem." Eiren, who had not said a word yet, interrupted politely with a cough. "As you have just said, Lady Luryiena can heal your headaches. And that was the purpose of her visit and the reason why we let her in. So please get on with ridding your ailment and you have all the time to chat later."

"Yes, my prince." Maureen nodded stiffly at the Aelia prince, still unhappy about being ordered to stay in bed. Luryiena gave him a reassuring smile before shoo-ing the other two out of the room and touched his forehead again, sinking him into blissful painless darkness.

--------------------

"Rui, do you have anything to do with the killings last night?" Generry threw the question out right after he flung open the door and stormed into the dark guestroom that was serving as Rui's lodgings. His eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness and seeked out the other necromancer, aiming a sharp glare at him.

What met him, was a pair of icy crimson eyes. Red was supposed to be a warm colour and represented just about everything to do with warmth, and yet, the vampire's eyes made the count shiver involuntarily. A wispy blue ghost fire lit up the room dimly from where it floated above Rui's raised hand, causing the robes to reveal the bracelet that pulsed with black energy and a steady red glow.

"What if I did? What if I didn't? You are not to question my actions, Generry. Have you forgotten in your rush?" Rui replied coolly, as he let the will-o-wisp stay where it was as he sat down on the bed, fiddling with a sharp bone dagger in his hand. "Besides, which set of killings are you talking about?"

Generry's eyes narrowed, "You know of them? Then, were you behind the killings?"

Rui pursed his lips in displeasure. "I know of the two different group of killings. Seven court officials, including your big supporters, were killed by a Serami ninja method, while a section of dear blessed Rangard City was killed in a huge magic battle which resulted in two magic-users and twelve normal humans dead. And only one set is done under my orders, and you know which it is."

Generry looked troubled after hearing Rui's answer. "Then why? Why were the court officials killed? Who would do such a thing right now when the situation is so precarious?"

"I'm not interested in finding out who did it." Rui commented with a distinct lack of interest as he produced a stone-like object and started sharpening the weapon in his hand. "But that person did you a favour, so don't sprain your head thinking too much. You are strong enough to protect your own back for assassins, even if they come from Serami. Now go, I want to try something."

Generry's eyes said much of the unhappiness he did not express as he let himself out of the room, and Rui pretended not to notice, putting his attention on the knife he was working on. When his sharp hearing told him that Generry was out of the house, possibly somewhere else where he could vent his frustration on, the vampire stopped what he was doing and muttered a short harsh chant under his breath.

The ghost fire that was still burning in the middle of the room dissolved abruptly and a transparent ghost of a young boy slowly faded into existence. "Master Rui. The mercenary army is engaged."

"What about Lauraine, Ritayia and Morkexian?" The necromancer's eyes gleamed like polished ruby.

"Lauraine is in place, Ritayia is returning to Lord Miteylan and Lord Morkexian will be active soon."

Rui smiled pleasantly. "You have done well, Kuroryu Kirin. Very well indeed. Now sleep, you have earned it."

[OOC: *Edited* The timeline for this post is two days after my last post. I'm making things happen, and I introduced a few major events as well as a number of new NPCs. Note that I changed a few statistics, of the killings in Rangard and Bloodhound's saving Eiren deed. Timmers, I hope it's okay now. Everybody, start posting!]

*not proofread and slightly brief*

In the back rooms of the Irondog Inn, Ryland and Ishani took their seats uneasily as a short, podgy man with incomplete facial hair watched them with intense green eyes. He was Mr Ironblood, his ruthlessness only surpassed by his disgusting outwardly appearance. His eyes were bloodshot, his nose was crooked from one-too-many punches to the face, some of his teeth were missing, and his hair, a mixture of dark green and jet black, came down over his forehead and covered one bloodshot eye. Worst of all was the smell; he smelt of ale, money and most of all, dark magic.

To Ishani, she could always tell a dark mage by appearances. It was mostly all in the smell; the air around them seemed to fill with sulphur and the smell of burning rubber. It was a very particular smell to have, and it usually meant you spent a lot of your time in a laboratory, planning on how to make your next doomsday device, or in this case, vampire repelling soul gem.

To Ryland, ever the ranger at heart, Ironblood smelt of death. Ryland knew the man’s track-record well, and he was responsible for many atrocities against nature in his time. It would only take one atrocity to provoke Ryland into doing his sacred duty to the earthmother and cutting Ironblood’s throat then and there. Sadly though, he needed him to stay alive, at least for another five minutes or so.

To Mr Ironblood, the site of the young woman and his ranger acquaintance Ryland simply filled him with sadistic glee. He sure did take pleasure in making Ryland jump through hoops, and he had the perfect idea for the next hoop Ryland could jump through. It was a shame for Ironblood though, that he expected Ryland to refuse and be forced to do away with his acquaintance, which was becoming more and more necessary as dark traffic in Rangard increased. Hell if he’d just let this ranger walk out with the very amulet that had protected Ironblood from his ex-comrades for so long.

To the Door Guard, he simply didn’t care for the ranger, the woman, or his employer, and he was happy to just mumble poetry to himself while he leaned on the large reinforced door.

“So, dear Ryland, welcome back. I knew you’d be back soon enough, trying to earn this little trinket of mine. Quite funny to see you go to such lengths for a piece of jewellery, don’t you think so?” Ironblood said in a playful tone.

“You know damn well it’s not just *a piece of jewellery*. And I don’t believe any of this is very funny either. But, I’ll spare you much talking, and get straight to the point,” Ryland said, not taking his eyes off Ironblood. “I’ve come to collect it.”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no, Ryland! It doesn’t work like that with me! You’re not getting this until I *tell* you that you’ve done enough,” Ironblood said, dangling the gem on a necklace in front of Ryland’s face.

“You know I could always just find someone else,” Ryland said, getting up to leave.

“Oh, sit down, you baby!” Ironblood said, withdrawing the necklace. “No need to throw a tantrum every time we do business. And I assure you, you will not find another dark magician willing to cooperate with you to make one of these.”

Ryland took his seat again slowly. “So, you make it sound like you have another job for me. It better be low risk, Ironblood, or…”

“Trust me, dear Ryland, there is no risk in this whatsoever!” He said, shooting up out of his seat energetically. “In fact, it’s not even a job, so to speak. More of a request. In fact, make it my last request to you, and I’ll give you this little trinket when we’re done.”

“Go on…”

“Well, originally I was just going to give it to you,” Ironblood lied, pacing around his office and past his Door Guard and two Bodyguards. “But now that you’ve brought this lovely specimen with you, I’ve got other ideas!”

“What the hell?!” Ishani said, turning around sharply to glare at Ironblood.

“Relax, my dear, my request isn’t as vulgar as you may think,” Ironblood said, smiling back at the glaring Ishani.

“I already don’t like the sound of this…” Ishani said, shifting her gaze back at Ryland.

“I only want you to transfer your duties working for me over to her, Ryland. You see, your talents so far have been very helpful to me, but now I have a task only this lovely lady can perform. From the moment she stepped in, I felt the magic essence within her, and it just so happens I’ve been looking for a magic-user to assist me. Kelfelar-trained, preferably,” Ironblood explained. “And in exchange, you can take the trinket when she’s done.”

Ishani shot a determined glance at Ryland, communicating her intentions to him instantly. He noticed her hands tense and clench into a fist in her lap, and her jaw fastened, making her face seem sharper. “No deals anymore, Ironblood. I’m afraid I’ll just be taking the gem now, and leaving with her. She’s not going to help you, and neither will I.”

“Oh, that’s such a shame. If only…”

“Shut it, Ironblood,” Ryland said, standing up and facing the necromancer. “No more deals, no more silver-tongued excuses, and especially no more ‘requests’! Just hand me the gem, and we’ll never have to speak again.”

The two bodyguards attentively stepped between Ryland and Ironblood. Both of them were large, muscular men, able to take apart Ryland in a few seconds. They were armed with scimitars attached to their belts, but at such a close range in the confines of the office, they’d probably neglect to use their swords. “Ooh, I’m just trembling with fear, little ranger. How about this; my two fellows here can just dispose of you now, and I can keep the amulet? I like the sound of that.”

“You bastard!” Ishani yelled standing and turning to face Ironblood with impressive speed. Her hair was pushed back by some force as her two clenched fists opened, exploding with a blinding light. When Ryland regained his vision, he saw the two bodyguards being held to the wall by many little imp-like spirits that had appeared from Ishani’s hands.

“Wow, Isha, I didn’t know you could do that,” Ryland said in amazement, looking away from Ironblood with an amused expression to Ishani.

“Damnit, you’re a summoner!” Ironblood said in a shrill, high-pitched voice. Dark electric energy began to bounce off of Ironblood’s body, but before either he or Ishani could cast a spell on one another, Ryland had taken out his kukri and with practiced precision, threw it into Ironblood’s shoulder, shattering the joint and cutting deeply into him. “Arrrgghh!!!”

“Like I said, I’ll just be taking the gem now,” Ryland said coolly, leaning over Ironblood and pulling the small gold chain off his neck. He looked at the glowing green gem attached, and it seemed to lighten in colour while being held by someone who didn’t use dark magic; as if the gem was at ease after months of stress, if such a thing was felt by gems in the first place. Ryland leaned over again and pulled the kukri knife out of Ironblood’s shoulder; being that kukri knives have wide blades, the cut was large into Ironblood’s flesh and he might not survive if Ryland or Ishani didn’t do something for him. Neither of them did.

Ishani came up behind Ryland and placed a hand on his shoulder. Instead of being comforting, like Ryland expected, she performed a magical spell, and the next thing Ryland knew, he was standing outside of the Inn, and no longer in Ironblood’s office. “There,” Ishani said as Ryland gave her a curious glance. “I may be a summoner, but I know a little bit of teleportation for when it’s in dire need.”

“No, its not that. It’s that you’re actually using magic at all, I got the impression you didn’t use it often,” Ryland explained.

“Err, I guess I don’t. But sometimes, it’s needed…” Ishani said, realising herself and looking away. “I guess Ulima is the real talent out of us. Anyway, let’s head back before they break free of my curse and raise the alarm.”

Ryland began to walk back with Ishani, briskly, and he placed the necklace securely around his neck. It would offer him some level of protection from vampires in the days to come.

Giggles of normal children sent musical ribbons streaming down the streets of Rangard City, entwining around the morning hustle and bustle of shoppers, barterers and loiterers. Making their way through the normalcy of life in the desert city were two figures - a young man, and a child of seven most exotically dressed. She giggled like the other normal children of Rangard City, her sandaled feet drumming along the dusty roads in pursuit of what appeared to be a golden ball. She drew a few stares from those who’ve never seen one of her people, but the on-lookers turned their heads upon noting the foreigner and went about their morning business. Not many noticed the young man that was always just behind her, a look of discomfort wrought on his features. Ulima’s small feet were quick, and her little toy was often lured her out of eye-sight. I’ll be damned if I have to chase her throughout the market… But he didn’t want to be rude. Ulima was Ishani’s little sister, after all…

“Roland, I’m hungry.” The jangling of her malachite and turquoise bangles, and the rustling of the beads among her amber hair, ceased suddenly and she turned to face the adult that took a few more steps and stopped before her. He sighed, “Again, Ulima, my name is Ryland.”

The child peered at him, letting a flash of consideration roll across her blue and gold iris, ever so briefly before she offered a cold shrug, an impish smirk and turned her back to him sharply. “Oops, “ She said dismissively. “Well, Ryan, I’d like to have a snack. What are you going to buy me?” She barely let a beat pass. “I want some cold talaik coffee.”

Ryland raised an eyebrow, “You’re mighty small to be drinking that. Surely Ishani doesn’t…”

“Ishani! Oh, Ishaaaaaannniii!!” Ulima took a few steps forward, with a hand cupped to the side of her mouth, calling out and searching the crowd for her sister. She stopped suddenly, and slowly removed her hand and turned to face Ryland slightly. The look on her face showed nothing but determination to get her way, but she attempted to heighten the youthful pitch to her voice, to feign sweet innocence. “Oh my, Rymand--”

“Ryland.”

“..It doesn’t appear Ishani is here.” She ignored his correction, but instead set her jaw a little tighter. Ryland noted that look as the same one Ishani took on that night with Ironblood. He smiled a little, slightly amused. “No, she’s not here, but I am and I don’t think Ishani --”

“I don’t recall being put under your jurisdiction.”

Ryland cocked his head to the side to puzzle this little monster, still staring at him, determined not to lead around by a stranger. Well, Ishani did say she was wary around strangers… It had something to do with not wanting to be treated like a kid but…and, as a thought entered his head, he smiled. Sometimes what some people need…is a healthy dose of what they’d never ask for! Ryland took a few steps towards Ulima and knelt down a bit to her height. Ulima’s eyes narrowed at this.

“Well, little Ully, grown ups have a thing they call ‘money,’ it’s very silly, but us grown ups use it to pay for all your wonderful dollies, and right now, it’s my money, so if you could just shut your adorable little trap for just a moment…”

Ryland sugared his voice more than necessary, as if to brighten it to appeal to someone as young, but quite possibly younger, than Ulima’s already youthful age. A blush of embarrassment rose to her face at being spoken to that way, but instead of backing down she remained rooted for a moment, staring Ryland down, her lower lip protruding slightly as she fought the habit to pout in front of her new adversary. But she couldn’t speak for the life of her! Her lips twitched in hesitation, but nothing. Ryland’s smirk grew and he raised himself up and walked ahead of the younger girl. “Come on, kid. I’ll get you a pretty, shiny apple and you can pretend to be horse as you eat it. Won’t that be fun!” Under his breath he muttered, “Shouldn’t be too hard to pretend to be a nag.” Two beats fell and Ulima trotted to fall a step behind him, whining, “For your information, I don’t play with DOLLS!”

. . . . . .

It wasn’t like Ishani to be almost as ornate as her sister, but today, she didn’t want to look anything else but the part of a harmless young woman. She didn’t wear dresses often, but today she wore a creamy, sleeveless linen dress, two malachite bangles on her wrists, and orange jasper drop earrings. Her sari was a clover green with a wine-red trim, wrapping about her neck to serve as a hood (though it wasn’t being used for that purpose now) and draping over her shoulder and across her chest. She wore a second one over that, only halfway covering it, letting it’s longer width end at her elbow. It was translucent and azure with gold, intricate paisleys and trim. She was exotic-looking - although she couldn’t look any other way - but nonetheless she didn’t look imposing or suspicious. Although she did attempt to look a bit older, wearing her dark indigo tresses in more slender braids than usual as they all formed an elegant up ’do, with her colored beads and pearl beads sparsely peppering her hair within the braids. One lock could not be put up, and that was the one that fell about four inches below her shoulders (whereas the rest merely stopped there). It was a single amber lock at the side of her face, mostly covered up by a long ivory bead allowing a tuft at the base. Unlike her sister, who had indigo roots that blended into amber tendrils and braids, she had straight hair and just the one pallid lock, which she often tried to hide…

There was little need to draw any more attention than necessary, but no matter what Ishani did…she’d probably find new ways to stick out unintentionally. Better to do away with accidental attention-grabbing and just do it on purpose, then. Plus, who wasn’t to say there weren’t other from Dorandi in Rangard City? She could hope, anyway. Not that she worried that much about blending in - such a skill was always a plus, but only amateurs worried about it.

Ishani had only a simple task today, which was to barter for some supplies that ran out on her trip from the desert to Rangard City. They were mostly things Ulima needed - her illusionary powders and anthropomorphic salves - but Ishani ran out of a few herbs that she wanted to have in stock just in case of emergencies. None of the items she needed would be deemed of suspicious, for herbs were commonly bought by all people, and the powders and salves were elementary ones, sometimes thought of as children’s toys…but to Ulima, who could doctor up anything cleverly, they were handy tools that needed to be kept in stock. So, before anyone and the sun was up, Ishani got out of the bed she shared with her sister and washed up and dressed quietly, so as not to disturb Ryland who was sleeping soundly against the wall near the window. Before she left though, she quickly scribbled a note and left it on a night stand.

Ry--

I’ve gone shopping, it seems the trip to here exhausted a little of our supply of herbs and powders, and I know Ulima will get nervous if she isn’t restocked with her toys.

Ulima didn’t really have toys…her magic and anything she could combi