The War, Part II: Queen Of Fire

[Apoc]

“...the days of enmity between our peoples are at an end, Enias. Bloomingdales unforunately....are not.”

I, that am still injured, stand here on this coldest of nights,
before the great city of Neves.

In the north, fire breaths at the hands of a new queen,
With my own eyes I saw you,
not one of those famed princesses of deceit,
but a woman of strength.

Though....her city lies in ruins at her feet,
and the very city I stand before now, not likely to lend aid...
why should she come to ours?

To the south my eyes have now stared blindly for some time,
for this mystery has stricken me dumb.
Taranos...you, who I thought was Alazar,
where have you hidden?

Can Ehrenhal and Neves alone stop this madness should it arrive?
Diomedeis, never defeated in battle,
A friend I thought, yet now my enemy’s champion.

...Enemy?

How do I conclude this,
Is he my enemy?

Diomedeis knows..something.
Something, that he now sides with Taranos,
maybe he knows that he of terror will be victorious in this seemingly prothesised rising of those from old who we believed gods?

And here, standing before me...Neves...Derecko’s city,
Should the time come,
Would he rise to protect it?

There is strength here,
but should the armies of the south march on us...
would we win as we are now?

[Amos]

Selena took a deep breathe for the sheer pleasure of it. Where has Yuvna gotten off to? she wondered.

“Oh Yuvna, I’m so glad you founded me!”

“Not a prob, Vic!”

“Oh Yuvna I missed you sooo much! Give me a hug and then we’ll eat some more of the queen’s cookies and I’ll tell you a really neat and mostly true story!”

“Yay!”

Grasshopper-Vic and Caterpillar-Yuvna hugged, but Yuvna could see their hearts weren’t in it. Probly cos they were both dead. And they only had little hearts anyway, not big ones like foxes and zombies, “and you can’t hug properly without a big heart,” her Nana had said once. Yuvna’s Nana had been way cooler than anyone until she’d died of oldness. Yuvna dropped the insect dolls and put one hand where her own heart was… Silence… Oh yeah. She was dead too.

“Everyone’s dead,” she grumbled, picking up the bugs. “Vic’s probly dead as well.” She wondered if foxes could be zombies. Maybe not. Vic was half person though, so maybe she could be half a zombie? Would half-zombies have heartbeats and proper eyes? Probly. Grasshopper-Vic got clobbered by Caterpillar-Yuvna for being so sneaky and not having to be a proper zombie.

“You really bug me!” snapped Grasshopper-Vic. Yuvna giggled.

“Why don’t you bug off!” Caterpillar-Yuvna winked at Zombie-Yuvna, and they rolled through the grass in hysterics. This was good stuff!

“What are you laughing at?” Yuvna froze. The interruption hadn’t come from a bug, unless the bugs were zombies now too. Maybe it’s catchy? She looked dubiously at them, but they didn’t move at all. Dead as doorknockers. I’m sure glad I’m not as dead as them.

“Excuse me? I said, what are you laughing at?” The voice belonged to a girl, about the same height as Yuvna. A lot cleaner though, and wearing pretty pink shoes that matched her pretty pink dress that matched her pretty blue eyes. And silly lookin’ ribbons in her curly blond hair. They were pink too. She looks like a flower…

“Bug off,” said Yuvna, but it wasn’t as funny this time. She stuck her tongue out to make up for it.

The flower girl ignored this. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”

Yuvna didn’t have blood, luckily, otherwise it would’ve boiled. She’d look crazy with red bubbles coming out of her nose.

Zombie-Yuvna growled, growled as meanly as she could. Grasshopper-Vic was impressed. “You could scare wolves with that growl,” it told her, and there was no mistaking the pride in it’s voice.

But apparently the flower girl was too stupid to be scared. “It’s very dark out here.” she noted. Yuvna looked about in the gloom. The oil lamp had gone out not long after the big scaly chicken had flown off.

“So what?”

“Do you want to come inside and play? I have lot’s of dolls and we can eat custard.”

Custard? Well it was kind of dark, and the dragon might not be back for ages…

“And we can play dress up too. You look silly in those rags.” Flower girl giggled. Zombie-Yuvna did not. She stood up.

“Don’t call me silly, flower brain, else I’ll kill you good.”

Flower girl shifted uncomfortably. “You would not” she declared after a moment’s thought.

“Would too. I killed a dumb lady before. Plus I beat up the Queen.”

This time the girl wasn’t taken in at all. “That’s not true, my mommy said she saw the Queen before and there’s nothing wrong with her. You’re just a big silly liar.”

There was a bunch of rosebushes growing alongside the palace walls. Yuvna shoved the flower girl into one of them. Her pretty pink dress matched the pretty pink rosebuds that matched the pretty red blood blossoming where the thorns pricked her. She screamed and screamed and Yuvna had to cover her ears. Finally she pulled the girl out, pretty blue eyes filled with tears, leaves stuck in her hair and ribbons.

“I’m sorry,” said Yuvna.

“Please don’t hurt me anymore…”

“I wont” said Yuvna. She gave the flower girl a hug, but her heart, while big, wasn’t really in it. Her heart was dead as doorknockers. She bit down hard on the girl’s neck. The screaming started again.

Zombie-Yuvna looked to her friends. Grasshopper-Vic was covering her ears too. Caterpillar-Yuvna was nowhere in site though. Guess I need annuver doll.

It was painful taking a hand from even just one ear, the big wuss was screaming her head off, but Zombie-Yuvna soon fixed that by slapping her face with all her zombie strength. Flower girl’s bitten stem snapped and she wilted and fell to the ground.

*** ** * ** ***

“Oh Yuvna, I’m so glad you founded me!”

“That’s okay, Vic!”

“Boy you sure look pretty in that pink dress! It matches your pretty black hair!” The flower girl hadn’t made a very good doll, way too lumpy, but they’d played dress up anyway and swapped clothes.

Yuvna grinned at Grasshopper-Vic, who was no deader than the real Vic probly was. “Let’s go find some cookies!”

[Tatum]

Moni's eyes glittered hate, "Don't EVER compare the two of us Dorian. You would never measure up." Moni saw Dorian's eyes flicker behind her for a split second. On instinct she whirled around, ready to take on whatever foul creature Dorian had sneaking up on her but she was shocked to find it was Tak standing behind her. "Where have you been?" she demanded. "So much for protecting me!" The princess Monique only had a moment to wonder why Tak was yelling "Look out" before something very heavy hit her in the back of the head and darkness closed in.

Consciousness slowly crept in like oozing molasses. Moni felt dead long before it fully arrived. Her head throbbed in a most hateful manner but that horrid consciousness just wouldn't leave her alone. With reluctance, she opened her eyes and found...nothing. Her surroundings were pitch black. "hello?" she whispered, not really expecting anyone to answer. She was right, no one did. Carefully she layed her head back down on what felt like cement and tried to think. Where was she? Why was everything black? Was she in a prison? If she was in prison, why? Was she a bad person? And then the important question came...who was she?

Moni dug through her mind, frantically looking for any scrap of information that would tell her who she was and why she was in a dark room, but she could find nothing. It was as if she'd been born that moment, on that cold slab with nothing more than a throbbing headache to greet her into the world. In her mind, she didn't have a name, a family, a history... a memory. She let her fingers trace up over her face and onto the back of her head where they met with a crusty mass of dried blood. Whoever she was she'd suffered a nasty head wound. She let her hand drop, let her face rest against the cool concrete and fought the downward drift of her eyelids. The drums in her head were nausiating and sleep beckoned so seductively. She felt her eyes flutter closed and wondered if someone would come for her as the deep sleep of concussion took over.

[SonoftheSands]

Geffen Rahm was woken with a kick. “Wake up maggots! The Disciple comes to inspect the kitchens!” The kitchen aides suddenly rose from their pallets, all complaints quelled. Old Varnas had been an excellent cook, and had worked in the kitchens for years, but even decades of tireless service had not saved him from the torn bags of flour left in the pantry where rats could get them. The Disciple didn’t even offer the heart of Varnas to Locus, such was his disgust at the vermin encroachment.

The kitchen staff had been lax in their duties before Varnas’ example. Certainly, they knew the rules of absolute cleanliness, but being inside, away from the slaves of the field; with delusions of self-importance for their culinary skill; had given them a superiority complex over the other slaves at the Temple of Ill-Fortune. Not for them were the backbreaking hours of labor, or the hard, callused, hands of a field slave, forced to cultivate wheat, grains and fruits in the arid heat of the Narsh Desert. Thousands of Farlinga had converted parcels of sand into fertile soil, in the Early Days, when the power of the Dark Gods, Verlet See, Sankra, Persiana, Taranos and Locus had been direct upon the world, and their followers were as the grains of sand in the Narsh. In the centuries that had followed, the Dark Gods had been driven from the majority of the land, forced back to their strongholds, such as the blasted Narsh Desert and the craggy Garenheim mountains.

All of these kitchen workers had been born into slavery; many of them part of millienia-long generations of slaves to the Dark Gods, filling the menial roles of their parents, as their parents had filled the roles of those who came before them. Geffen Rahm was one such lad, his parents had been dragged to Locus’ altar when Geffen was an infant, and the small lad had been placed in the kitchens as a scullion boy. Geffen learned quickly to obey every Farlinga in the Temple, as they were often accusers, judges, and executioners--- nonchalantly offering the slaves’ hearts to Locus for even the smallest infraction. However, the God of Ill-Fortune looked down upon the Farlingas and their slaves alike, often casting bad luck amongst the inexperienced mages of illusion as well as their chain-bound servants. Only once a Farlinga had learned to master his Dark God’s power over ill-fortune could he inflict it upon his enemies; the anxiety of the novice magi still learning their powers was a salient force in meting out punishment to the slaves.

*~*~*~*~*

Sheolin was irritable. Four scouts dead in five days, every one of them an experienced Farlinga illusionist, a master in his craft. Nadrag’s corpse had been confirmed this morning, washed up in the Drake River delta. These were no acts of chance, someone was actively seeking and killing the servants of Locus as they traveled abroad from the Narch Desert. The Farlinga had all been burned, lacerated by terrible, magical, fires. Not Lamorah’s style, Sheolin mused to himself as he contemplated who, or what, could be killing his minions. Dragons would have taken Nadrag’s belongings from his body. As the skeleton-thin Arch-Mage rounded spotlessly clean corners of the Temple leading into the kitchen, traveling down the plain yet elegant wood-paneled hallways, he pulled at his beard, as if trying to rip the answers from his long, white hairs.

There was something stirring to the North, something that would demand his attention. This would require some contemplation, -- as soon as the kitchen inspection was complete, of course-- and then definite action. The Farlinga had been introverted for too long, the Whistle of Alazar’s blowing had proven that. Sheolin grimaced as he remembered the terrible afternoon in his study when he had been wracked by wave upon wave of terrible energy, wringing sweat from his emaciated frame like water squeezed from a damp rag.

As he walked the hall to the kitchens, worry fretted Sheolin’s face. Locus had not manifested himself in months, since before the whistle was blown. Magic was as strong in the world as it had ever been, yet the dark god was nowhere to be found. This was not unnatural, in his centuries of stewardship of the faith; Sheolin had known Locus to disappear for years, but never in a time of need nor one of uncertainty. Where could the Master be? Sheolin consciously unclenched the muscles in his face, smoothing the worry from his forehead as he rounded the kitchens. Best not to worry the small ones.

*~*~*~*~*

[LaughingTurtle]

“You shall meet with his lordship tomorrow morn. We walk upon razors edge, let us pray you have more luck than General Drewski.”

“Trust in me and yee shall not be led astray.”

“Godspeed…Marsolus.”

The heralds of dawn had yet to crest the horizon, though soon enough would the sun’s rays bake the earth shedding light upon the denizens of Neves. Alas, for there is one man within the city’s walls whose thoughts dwell so deeply in darkness that not even the mighty sun could penetrate the shroud. But the thoughts were not necessarily of an evil nature rather they were troubled thoughts…thoughts best left to those in insane asylums.

The man knew he was not crazy of that he was sure, for the moment at least. The problem would have been convincing anyone else of that. For within that one body laid two distinct consciousnesses; the original inhabitant being a zealous priest of Derecko by faith and Enforcer of Order by profession. The new occupant in the man’s mind was none other than Derecko, the God of Order himself. Locked in a perpetual battle for control, the one factor seemingly determining who is master and who the slave is sleep. The one who loses consciousness, loses control.

As for the how’s and why’s of the situation, they mean little now. What was done was done, for now the man’s focus has been turned towards the future. The one known as Marsolus has an appointment with the Emperor.

I know you can hear me. How much longer do you think you can keep this up? I can feel your grasp getting weaker as mine grows ever stronger! You and your pathetic crusade, the world will soon again witness the power of the gods regardless of your temples purity.

“SILENCE!”

One of the palace guards peered into the royal antechamber to check on the guests waiting for their audience with the Emperor. Not surprisingly he only found the single priest whom they had admitted earlier that morning and two courtiers. Noting the wide eyed stares of the noblemen the guardsman merely rolled his eyes at the peculiarities of priests and went back to musing on how he wasn’t being paid enough for this.

“I beg your pardon uh, father.”
Marsolus’s haunted and blood shot gaze fixed upon the nobleman.

“Do you believe in the gods my son?”

Nervously smoothing his silken doublet the man avoided looking at the priest. Clergy types tended to be very picky where matters of faith were concerned. In Neves an innocent remark misinterpreted could quickly land even a noble such as himself before the persuasive hands of an Enforcer. Small talk was quite dangerous indeed.

“Why of course, only a fool would doubt the gods. But I must confess I am poorly suited at theological repartee. Such matters are best left to those such as yourself.”

“You fear me, and rightly so.”

Cautious he may but being called a coward to his face would ruffle the feathers of any man. “You overstep yourself priest! Do you have the slightest idea who I am?”

To this Marsolus rose and walked over to the seated noble. Leaning in close he whispered softly in his ear, “You’re the man who will bear witness to the death of Stanton Bagron.”

Laughing, he turned and left the room.

[dark fuschia]

"Your friend Monte told me all about you. Now if I could just get you to sign this document... yes, just there just beside Monte's signature... oh would you mind signing it in blood? It's all the fashion these days you know. Bit of fun... ahh good, here, you can use my dagger. Excellent. Thankyou Winston. Hmmm you don't look very well. Would you like to----" Uni was glad that she had quickly picked up the document and snatched it away. The bar was covered in vomit, and she had herself two minions. Perhaps not the finest minions one could hope for, but she had to start somewhere. Besides, the terms of their contracts would take care of their loyalty.

In a little two room shack that stood on a raised platform on the northern edge of the Yukka Swamp, Unique D'Neverwas stretched in a most languid and luxurious manner, long limbs unfolding like those of a spider in search of shadow. She had just awoken from a most pleasant slumber, and she wore a happy little morning grin as she stood from the tangle of rough woolen blakets she called her bed. It was going to be a beautiful day, she could tell by the nature of the light that peeked through the shabby curtains of her humble abode. The room was simple but functional. Its decor was various shades of dull brown, and the floor was rough cut wood that had a habit of imparting splinters to bare feet. There was a stand with a wash basin, and a wooden bench with maps spread across it. It was altogether rustic, but it was adequate and she felt no disdain for her surroundings, as her old self might have. She knew this was but a stepping stone to inevitable glory. Besides she did have one luxury, and she stood before it now. A full length mirror that had its proud place by the door, and though its surface was stained and mottled with strange blossoms of brown, she liked it alot. After all, death had not cured her of vanity. She examined herself now, pleased with what she saw. Her faintly smiling and full lips, the death cold eyes, her regal posture. It was too bad about her hair. It hung short like that of a page boy, fluffing out to just below her ears, making her look somewhat like a mushroom. It was a luminous white, an effect that had been stunning when her hair had swept down her back like a cascading waterfall, but now simply bore reminiscences of the latest style of cut for elderly white haired women. Damn that Jin hun for cutting it. But she would make do. She could console herself in the fact there was still no chance she would ever be mistaken for an old woman. She began to scrape her hair back into tiny braids that held tight against her head, she'd had enough of the mushroom look, "Winston!! MONTE!!!!" She yelled as she worked, knowing them to be in the next room, "Where is my breakfast!?"

[Lyle]

Winston quickly stirred the eggs , sweat adorning his forehead. I hate you Monty , he thought to himself. And some day I'll tell you so. The unknowing object of his hatred was similarly occupied. The steam from the boiling pot wasn't helping the sweat issue. "Winston. Monte! Where is my breakfast?".
Winston jumped spilling a good portion of the eggs down his shirt. "Damn!", he swore and began scrubbing hastily. "Horrible woman. Fetch this , clean that. I hate you Monty". Monty , with a practised air poured a cup of tea then reached over to flip the bacon all while glaring at Winston. "For the last time I was drunk. I can't be held accountable", he muttered. Neither spoke too loudly for fear of being heard. The fish-wife had uncanny hearing. "Oh? Then who is to be?", Winston snarled. He buttered several pieces of toast with speed born of desperation. "Because it is my considered opinion that something this abysmal does not just happen. There is always someone to blame".
Monty was thirsty. Thirsty, tired and in no mood for Winstons' nagging. If I had been partial to nagging, he thought sullenly to himself I would have been wed years ago. "Hurry up you two!", the awful voice resounded " Do you want me to wither away and die?". Monty and Winston nodded fervently in perfect agreement. "On our way mistress", Winston called out diffidently.
The meal was indeed coming together. Buttered toast , slices of bacon , some eggs and a pot of tea all sat on the table. All that had to be done was the trimming. It wouldn't do to serve the young mistress food that looked this...common.
"Besides," Monty continued while he removed some unsightly bread crusts "if you hadn't dragged us out to this cesspool of a city in the first place-"
"Oh shut up Monty. Hand me that knife will you". The two worked efficiently as if they had been kitchen hands for years as opposed to mere days. Uni had that effect on people.
"Still...she is a pretty wee thing," Monty mused gazing off into the distance.
"Monty! Winston! For the last time-" The young woman's irate screaming , coming as it did after Monty's idiotic statement so shocked Winston that he jumped involuntarily. The plate of bacon he had been holding flew into the face of the dreamy-eyed Monty who promptly howled , dropped the very sharp knife he had been using to carve the strips of bacon into more suitable shapes. The knife entered his left foot as though it were constructed of butter. He howled again. Winston leaned forward to help , accidentally upsetting the boiling pot of tea. Which incidentally poured it's steaming contents all over the both of them. Winston shrieked , Monty swore and in the subsequent madness and leaping about the entire meal was mashed , spilled and ruined.
There followed an instant of profound silence. "What just happened?"...
Uni's voice had a dangerous undertone which the pair had come to recognize.
Winston carefully extracted a small piece of bacon from his ear which he tossed to the ground. " I hate you Monty..."

[sir archely]

Moni's eyes glittered hate, "Don't EVER compare the two of us Dorian. You would never measure up." Moni saw Dorian's eyes flicker behind her for a split second. On instinct she whirled around, ready to take on whatever foul creature Dorian had sneaking up on her but she was shocked to find it was Tak standing behind her. "Where have you been?" she demanded. "So much for protecting me!" The princess Monique only had a moment to wonder why Tak was yelling "Look out" before something very heavy hit her in the back of the head and darkness closed in.

With one arm Dorian caught the crumpling form of Monique; with the other he pointed a knife blade at Tak. The insanity in Dorian's eyes held Tak back for the moment, and the constant smile, splashed in blood, helped as well. "Tagor, Saran, kill him... and make it messy, we must show proper obeisance in this god's home, after all." Even Tagor and Saran, both of doubtful intelligence, but with other skills Dorian appreciated, were beginning to see that their master was not as he once was. They hesitated in carrying out his order, but he paid them no mind.

Carelessly and contemptuously Dorian turned his back to Tak and flipped Monique over his shoulder with the wild strength of the deranged. Ambling out between his men, he laughed. Or at least, Dorian thought he laughed. All the other three men heard was a strange noise with an edge to it that sent shivers up and down their spines.

The drums in her head were nausiating and sleep beckoned so seductively. She felt her eyes flutter closed and wondered if someone would come for her as the deep sleep of concussion took over.

Dorian sat next to the unconscious form and smiled. It was a nice smile now, a clean smile. When he had gotten back down to the sewers and the little chambers underneath the city, he had realized that she probably needed to rest a while before going on. He'd left her unconscious in the dark without realizing she might even wake up. Now that he had returned she was wrapped in a blanket, a bit of bread and cheese were waiting for her to wake, and a flickering light bathed the small room. A small room with no visible doors or windows. Just cold stone walls and floor.

Monique's eyes fluttered and slowly opened to the sight of Dorian's smiling eyes looking down on her.

"You're finally awake i see," he raised a hand to her face.

"Who are you? Who am I?" These were the only questions on Monique's mind, trying to find something to hold onto. She cringed back from his touch.

Dorian's smile changed to an expression of concern, and his hand reached to gently turn her head. "I guess that was more of a blow than I thought. Here's some little food I could steal. We are going to have to hide here while you get better. It was a little messy getting away from everyone," he gestured to his bloodied clothes, "but here we are."

Monique sat up and took the food quickly, realizing she hadn't eaten anything in... well, as far as she knew, ever. As she ate, she stared at the face before her, trying to recognize it, or place it. For a moment, she thought everything would come back, but it faded even more. "But... who are you?"

The smile once again returned to Dorian's face. "I am Dorian. I love you, and you love me... don't you feel the bond between us, Unique?" Dorian took her hand in his, and moved to kiss her startled face.

[QuirkyTemplate]

With one arm Dorian caught the crumpling form of Monique; with the other he pointed a knife blade at Tak. The insanity in Dorian's eyes held Tak back for the moment, and the constant smile, splashed in blood, helped as well. "Tagor, Saran, kill him... and make it messy, we must show proper obeisance in this god's home, after all." Even Tagor and Saran, both of doubtful intelligence, but with other skills Dorian appreciated, were beginning to see that their master was not as he once was. They hesitated in carrying out his order, but he paid them no mind.

Carelessly and contemptuously Dorian turned his back to Tak and flipped Monique over his shoulder with the wild strength of the deranged. Ambling out between his men, he laughed. Or at least, Dorian thought he laughed. All the other three men heard was a strange noise with an edge to it that sent shivers up and down their spines.

Tak stared at them for a few minutes, no one moving. Finally he spoke. "Yeah ... so that was weird, huh?"

"Yeeaah ... " the one on the left said slowly. "Not sure what to make of all that."

"Ok then, having used my genius mind to appraise the current situation, I know exactly how we should best proceed." Both of Dorians men stared flatly at him, but Tak was unfazed. "Your leader is clearly mad. The princess--"

"--exprincess--"

"--is in danger, and as such, I am in danger. We have to devise a plan that will get this Dorian chap to sessioned therapy, and Moni into a safe padded chamber where she will never have her bodily person threatened." He thrusted both thumbs up and forward, a passionate fire burning in his eyes. "And in order to accomplish our tasks, you both should join sides with me!!" A glint of light sparkled on one eye for a second.

"Alll--RIGHT!" The one on the left shouted. Apparently caught up in the zeal of the moment, one of his fists was raised in the air. The other one nonchalantly slapped the back of his head.

"You daft twit! We're supposed to kill the bloke! And make it messy."

"Oh."

"Crap." Tak stated.

"Say," the other piped up. "What if we just killed him really quickly, instead of all messy-like?" He pulled his short sword from its sheath, a metallic ring humming in the air.

"Ah, about that ... " Tak cut in before the situation regressed utterly. "Funny thing was, in my mind, I was thinking -- not to encroach upon your honorable persons --"

"--course not"
"--wouldn't hear of it"

"-- that mayhap I could, and believe me this is purely hy-po-thetic-al, I could *not* be killed."

"You mean killed messy-like or killed quick-like?"

"Well, was thinking may-chance, killed any-like."

"Hmm ...." the one on the left responded. "Makes things simple, really."

"aah .. yeeeaaaah ... I'm just not sure about that right now." the right one was shaking his head slowly. "As I see it, there is but one solution: we must follow Dorian's outlandish orders even if it encroaches upon clearly spelled out moral and social laws that we live in accordance with as individuals and as members of a highly complex society."

Tak tisked under his breath. "That's just silly talk. Besides, I can give you all kinds of gold if you join me." Tak placed his hand on the floor and focused on a large chest of gold. There had to be some place in the world that was full of gold and generally valuable items. Seemed to work last time. Well, mostly. The monocle grew warm in his hand and a hole appeared. It instantly expanded outward and covered the entire floor, including where they were standing.

"Aaah shiiiiii--" Tak managed to articulate before pretty much everything fell downward.

[prophetic_joe]

Originally posted by LT
“Listen to me, and listen well. You are to seek out Commander Ridley, he should still be somewhere in the palace. I trust he will be able to find someone adequate to train you. Worry not about your questions. The body is the easy part and thus must be seen to first. Once the physical aspect has been tended, only then will the mind be receptive and can truly be explored fully. Do not look for me; I will come to you when the time is right.”

“Damn the training, you’re a priest of healing. What can you possible be thinking going up against a bastard like Guillen?”

Marsolus sighed and began pushing Archer out of the room. “Apparently your first lesson in faith will come sooner than I thought. Fear not for me as the righteousness of the upright shall deliver them, but the transgressors shall be taken in their own wickedness. So don’t worry, now go!”

With a final push Marsolus sent Archer on his way and then sealed the chamber door. Guillen was lounging against the far mantelpiece sipping on wine left out by the servants for the Queen.

"Master Skien we have trouble in the temple. That bastard Dorian is Killing our followers."

The high priest was praying, knelt before a sheet covered chair in his private chambers. When his minion entered he stood and turned to him.

"I am always aware of the goings on in my temple you simple minded twit. Dorian won't make it to the inner chambers and the pieces of trash will be replenished in no time whatsoever. The World is full of pain these days. Verlet See and that puny god Alazar have brought us some very remarkable times I think." Oke' Skien smiled his all too cruel smile, there was a demented glint in his eye. "Take some men, some of our lesser soldiers and send them to give Dorian a bit of a challange, I think he has some pain of his own and no man should be denied the release of that. Now Leave my chambers at once you worthless fool."

He slapped the man square in the face and spat on him laughing as the man stumbled from the room.

"And now back to you yes?" Pulling the sheet from the chair oke' revealed the tattered body of a man. Cuts covered him from his chest to his ankles. " You were easier to capture than I would have imagined. The power I felt at your approach, where is it now I wonder. I remember you know, i remember it even better than you do possibly. Such hate and fury in you because of that day and so long ago. You need to learn to let go of this pain child. Don't worry I will teach you."

The figure lifted his head as Oke' approached him. He looked at the priest with glowing blue eyes. "You will die by my hand one day." The words came out in a hoarse whisper.

"Please you pathetic little nothing, you are beaten by my hand for the second time." Oke' placed the four fingers of his left hand in one of the many slices on his prisoners torso and began to tear his flesh.

Irwin Archer looked to the ceiling and screamed.

[Anita Blake]

“How can we defeat her {Neverwas Unique}?”

Juin-Hun turned his head to her, his face filled with sorrow. “You can’t. I have a sword, created by the Order, with darkest magicks. I thought I could kill her with it. But I fear she’s already too powerful for such a crude weapon. She can reach into people’s minds. It won’t be long before she can twist a man’s soul with a look. No one living can stand against her, if she chooses to kill, or worse, control him.”…

“No one living, you say?” she asked carefully, the beginnings of a thought forming in her mind. “What about someone dead?”… Where has Yuvna gotten off to? she wondered.

It was painful taking a hand from even just one ear, the big wuss was screaming her head off, but Zombie-Yuvna soon fixed that by slapping her face with all her zombie strength. Flower girl’s bitten stem snapped and she wilted and fell to the ground….

“Boy you sure look pretty in that pink dress! It matches your pretty black hair!” The flower girl hadn’t made a very good doll, way too lumpy, but they’d played dress up anyway and swapped clothes.

Yuvna grinned at Grasshopper-Vic, who was no deader than the real Vic probly was. “Let’s go find some cookies!”

One of the hardest things about being Queen, Selena mused, was that you rarely had a moment to yourself. People were always looking to you for answers, for guidance, for reassurance. For Justice.

“My cattle… Highness, they was all burned up by the horrible dragons, and well, my wife was hoping we’s would receive some formal contemplation, in the form of twenty-five gold pieces, for our loss of livelihood,” moaned the petitioner before her, a soot-covered man who indeed looked like he might have once been a farmer, and indeed may have seen some fire. But his eyes dashed to and fro and he smelled more like cheap ale than cattle, and The Queen Of Bloomingdale wasn’t fooled. She made a small gesture at a guard and murmured something polite to the man, who was given a silver for his time and escorted out of the palace.

And she understood it, she really did. She actually found that she enjoyed providing answers, guidance, reassurance, and especially Justice. It made her feel good inside to know that she was making a difference to someone, that she was Righting Wrongs and Bringing Peace. It went without saying that she enjoyed the thrill of a good fight, for she had learned the hard way in life that few good things could be accomplished without at least the threat of physical violence.

Yes, all that was true, but at the same time, she felt exhausted at the constant tug of responsibility. She just wanted to have a few minutes to really enjoy her newly-freed body, to examine herself in one of her many full-length mirrors. It wasn’t vanity so much as curiosity. She had never seen her own naked adult body, and she wondered what she looked like. She wondered if her torso had permanently embossed lines from the corset that had bound her for her entire adult life. She wondered what her ribs looked like under her skin, the shape of her stomach muscles.

“My husband’s brother wants to marry me since the floods carried off my husband, but I can’t bear the thought…” Selena ensured the woman that her widow-right would be respected, and her husband’s estate was signed to her by the notary, who nodded his approval.

She wanted to test her strength and flexibility without the corset binding her spine to perfect straightness. She longed to slouch, to bend sideways, to become comfortable in this new skin, this lack of skin, really, because the corset had been her skin for so long, a protective leather skin against her midsection. Truthfully, she was more than a little afraid that without the corset that she had learned to fight in, learned to move in, she would be unable to fight.

It was to that end that she had quietly ordered the Royal Seamstress to make her a new corset, this one not enchanted, of course.

“My hens…” Selena listened politely and made an appropriate judgement. It was important for her to see some of the commoners each day, listen to their complaints, and be seen to do something about them. It helped restore civil order for the people to know they had a queen who was doing something.

Now she had to contend with Juin-Hun, who had been respectful of her since realizing her position, and his relative to it. He wanted to race after Unique Neverwas, but she had left him in no condition to race after anyone. Anyway, Selena had his sword, so that was that. Of course, in the meantime, Juin-Hun had retired, and Grangir the dwarf similarly retreated to his rooms. They had helped formulate a plan, and now it was up to Selena to execute it. All she needed was one agreeable little zombie girl.

The guards had swept the palace in search of Yuvna, the zombie girl, but so far, had turned up nothing. Selena was growing anxious. Where had she left the little girl?

“How hard can it be to find one little girl in this palace, even if she is a zombie?” Selena muttered to herself. The petitioner before her looked up in disapproval, before continuing his barely interrupted diatribe against the local pub, which wouldn’t serve him on credit anymore. Bloomingdale’s citizens wanted a Queen who was doing something, so long as that something wasn’t “going mad” or “muttering to herself”.

The man was starting in on a vivid essay on why a man couldn’t be expected to pay his bills when dragons and floods and darkness were tossing him about all willy-nilly, and anyway, that’s when a man needs a drink the most, and it was just downright cruel that the pub would go and cut him off at such a time, when a shriek rang out through the Great Hall.

Selena straightened in her throne, realizing with a joyful start that she had actually been kind of slumped there for a moment, and made a tine gesture to her guards that they were to remove the petitioner before her, and all those after him.

The petitioners had barely been ushered out when four palace guards entered, one carrying a small, blackish object, one apparently comforting a weeping noblewoman, and the remaining two looking very afraid indeed as they cajoled a small person into following them.

“My DAUGHTERRRRRRR!!!!!” wailed the woman, whom Selena vaguely recognized as a visiting dignitary, though she couldn’t remember what nation she was from. The guard holding the small object spoke next.

“We were doing a patrol through the garden when we saw the little girl in pink getting ready to go to the kitchens. When we got closer, we saw… the other little girl. Highness… I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The object in the arms of the guard now proved to be a little girl in clothes that looked curiously familiar to Selena, and a cold feeling flared in her belly. Yes, behind the other guards, not-so-cleverly hidden in a pink frilly dress was Yuvna, the child Selena was almost certain was the only one who could destroy Unique Neverwas.

A zombie child with blood on her face and hands, a child-killer brought before the Queen’s justice.

[Lyle]

"Besides," Monty continued while he removed some unsightly bread crusts "if you hadn't dragged us out to this cesspool of a city in the first place-"...

Winston carefully extracted a small piece of bacon from his ear which he tossed to the ground. " I hate you Monty..."

Birds were chirping happily in the gloom. Animals of every description seemed to have adapted to never-ending night far better than their human neighbours. This offended Winston who was of the considered opinion that if he were miserable then everyone should be miserable. Life certainly had taken a turn for the worse of late, he mused. What had begun as a mission of salvation-A glorious Quest! had become a farce. A farce filled with cookery and unsavoury company. Monty muttered something in his sleep between snores and rolled over. Winston, across the room glaring out the window gritted his teeth. Every night! Always with the snoring. It was a wonder the young mistress, in her own rustic quarters was not bothered by the noise. She seemed to be bothered by most everything else.
Not that Winston bore Unique any ill-will...well not much. She was a young woman of obviously good breeding and as such deserved loyal and efficient retainers. Which is why Winston couldn't help but wonder, why the two of them? Oh Winston knew the appropriate ways of behaving and something of the duties but he was hardly trained for servitude. And as for Monty well...There were wild pigs more suited to service. It was a puzzle, one among many that Winston had yet to solve to his satisfaction. One thing was becoming clear however. To progress any further on their self-appointed task the two of them would have to leave Unique's service. It was regrettable certainly, particularly in light of the bizarre contract she had them sign. Odd custom that.
Where they would go once free was up to debate as most things seemed to be. Stubborn fool that Monty be. Winston was pleased that he himself was not pig-headed and arrogant as Monty was. Walking over to where Monty snored away Winston entertained a brief but very delightful fantasy of smothering Monty with a pillow. Sighing impatiently Winston cracked Monty's forehead with his knuckles. " Wha-!?", Monty spluttered then began searing the air with blistering oaths. Rising out of bed Monty seized a chair and started advancing on Winston, hot murder in his eyes. Winston backed away nervously, " Now Monty calm down...I can explain-"
" Save your explanations for your ancestors, pansy " Monty rasped. Now would be an ideal time for an unseen observer to see the wisdom in waking others gently. Such an observer would likely nod sagely or say something along the lines of " hmm ". However no such observer existed and it was left to Winston to come to this realisation.
After much sweating and very quick thinking on Winston's part Monty eventually calmed down enough to listen to Winston's plan. Although he was reluctant to leave such a fragile beauty unprotected ( Winston had dark suspicians about Monty's motivations though he kept them to himself ) Monty grudgingly agreed that it was time to move on. There was much hushed discussion on destination, transport with occasional tangents into the approved method of waking another. So intent were the two men that neither saw Unique at the window. Observing. Unseen...

[thatguy1944]

Mehnusoclonuscousamrophideviarion slowly became aware of what was going on... the world around him was crumbling and falling apart! Suddenly his instincts were kicking in and Mehnu found himself crawling along every available surface going what was thought to be up. Everywhere around him rocks passed him some as large as himself and ever bigger. Suddenly a massive tremour rumbled thoughout the cave that he was desperately trying to escape, and he found himself falling the opposite way that he was climbing! As he fell, he felt much pain on his back and his slender arm reached back and felt rock, he looked back and found he was now going up. Next thing he knew he was going extremly fast towards his destination. But he couldn't stop and the rock he was on continued to speed towards atmosphere. As he passed through he felt an almost unbearable wave of heat singe his body. He quickly passed out as he sped towards the nearest planet, that was unknown to his own race, the Neros.

He soon awoke as his rock maintained its velocity towards a new land and slowly he crawled to the other side of the rock and looked back to where he was speeding from. All that was left of his planet, was just molten rock and a ball of fire, he began to feel grief for reasons unknown. For all he knew this happened to every young Nero as they were born. He slowly crawled back to the other side of the rock and looked towards is new destination wondering what is to happen to him when he reaches it.

After much time passes he sees a small bright light and notices it growing larger, he soon realizes that this must be his destination and as he nears it he becames ankcious (however you spell that word). Finally after much wait the planet reaches close sight and Mehnu wonders what to expect at this new world.

He passes through the atmosphere again but this time he is prepared for it. What he isnt ready for is the landing... as he plumetted to the ground he surveyed the surroundings. Much of the area was in a color unrecognizable to Mehnu he just knew it was very bright, almost too bright to look at... suddenly every thing around him went blank....

[Tatum]

Monique sat up and took the food quickly, realizing she hadn't eaten anything in... well, as far as she knew, ever. As she ate, she stared at the face before her, trying to recognize it, or place it. For a moment, she thought everything would come back, but it faded even more. "But... who are you?"

The smile once again returned to Dorian's face. "I am Dorian. I love you, and you love me... don't you feel the bond between us, Unique?" Dorian took her hand in his, and moved to kiss her startled face.

Monique instinctively turned her head so that Dorian got a mouthful of her white-blonde hair. Something about this wasn't right. Shouldn't she remember the man she supposedly loved? "Unique." she let the name roll off her tongue, it didn't sound right in her ears. Dorian noticed her concern and had to control his temper. He did not have time to wait for her tiny little brain to wrap itself around the situation. She was Unique and she would just have to accept that. As calmly as he could, he brushed Monique's face with his fingers and tried to soften his eyes into concern. "Unique, you have had a bad fall. Your head has sustained a moderate injury that has led to a concussion. Its not unusual that you are suffering from temporary memory loss. I just need you to trust me."

Monique wanted to trust this man, seeing as how he was the only person that seemed to have any idea who she was, but something about him was making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Carefully, she pushed herself into a sitting position. The room lurched nausiatingly and then steadied. "So what do we do now?" she asked, trying not to panic as she noticed there were no visible entrances or exits out of the tiny room.

[thatguy1944]

suddenly every thing around him went blank....

....
......
.........
Slowly, painfully Mehnu lifted his head and surveyed his surroundings... once again everything he saw was too bright to understand. Something inside him knew that he would be able to "see" in this world soon but, that even still many things wouldn't be as clear as it would be on Nero.

Immediately hundreds of piercing sounds came into his head as painful as anything he'd ever felt before, he tried to configure all these sounds and quiet them or stop them completely, but it was no use they continue to press harder and louder. <What is that?> <Do you think it is harmless?> <We must prepare to defend ourselves from this great evil!> What did all these noises mean? Mehnu felt a growing sense of fear as they boomed through his head. Until he felt totally numb and unable to feel or hear anything, but then a great voice entered his head but this time instead of being painful and intruding, Mehnu felt relief and satisfaction from hearing this single powerful voice.

<Awake young one and open your mind to Heramin, god of all life on a once flourishing Nero… You are all that’s left of my holy creation, I can help you understand what is become of all that you were to experience and what you have not yet experienced. Understand that I can help you at any time you need me, now I must tell you that those noises earlier were made by those that dwell on this massive planet. You though, do not communicate as they do, you talk directly to their minds. Menhu, you must learn to adapt to their way of thinking quickly, or you will certainly die a gruesome death on this alien planet.>

Mehnu began to concentrate on the background voices in his mind, trying to sort them into an understandable, bearable noise. Then slowly they came into focus,<Call for the guards! It’s beginning to move again! We must kill it before it kills us!>

<NO!>
Mehnu shouted as he stood to his full height, towering over all the small aliens. From what he could see these New Worlders were very odd, their heads seemed to jut out directly from where their arms began, with which they only had two. Compared to Mehnus arms who had eight (two for grabbing whatever and six for defense and attacking) their arms looked very weak and frail. Another thing that he found strange was the long layers of skin that they all aparently seemed to have, looking around he couldn't find any two New Worlder in sight with the same skin...odd. Then Mehnu noticed the New Worlders legs, of which they only had two also, along only two joints. He did a alien equivalent to a human chuckle, for he himself had three legs with multiple joints. Though as funny as it was to be in the presense of such simlpe creatures, fear was the dominant emotion in his mind, for if they were hostile he might be killed before he was able to learn anything about this planet and maybe one day be able to live among them. Though deep in his mind something nagged at himtelling him to run and search for shelter somewhere far away. He pushed the voice away, in hopes that he might be able communicate effectively with the New Worlders and be able to avoid any sort of conflict.

<I do not wish to harm you small ones.> Thought boomed through anything that was in the vicinity. <I hope that you will leave me be so that no one will die here…> he hadn’t even finished before four of the New Worlders began moving towards him with long pointy things. Before he knew what was happening, the creatures began hitting him with these weapons, causing mild but bearable pain in his legs and thorax. He moved quickly after the first blow came to his leg, he jumped up over the attackers and landed behind them surprising them with his swift movement, and quickly grabbed the nearest New Worlder and jumped again, over a big group of creatures and ran off into the woods with a flailing New Worlder in his grasp. Because after all he was getting hungry...