The War of Power

[dark fuschia]

Time is a funny thing. Sometimes it sneaks up on you, and sometimes it announces its presence with a resounding thump. This is what happened on the day Unique D'neverwas turned one thousand three hundred and thirty three. To be exact, there was a resounding thump, and Time said, "Happy Birthday!"

Unique looked up from her scrying tube, a tube of clear crystal which she watched constantly for fear of missing anything.

"Oh it's you." she sniffed, and returned her gaze to the tube, "Its my birthday is it? I suppose you would know." She regarded the scene in the scrying tube with cold blank pebble like eyes, "You wouldn't believe what's going down in Ameloct."

"I know." said Time, or at least, the entity who represented time and had some modicrum of knowledge and control wherever time was concerned. "I don't believe it. It makes no sense at all. A nexus in this world. I've never known such a thing." It was a little known fact that Time was a raging homosexual who liked nothing more than to use excessive profanities. However he had to defer from doing so in the presence of lesser beings, a spell that was cast on him by a disgruntled fellow eons ago. He couldn't have cursed if he tried. Though sometimes he did the next best thing, "If my calculations are correct we haven't much time before we're all at least nine types of poked up the hoohaa."

"Not nessesarily." Said Unique, ignoring the semi-obscenity, "Look." she pointed a long and boney thousand year old finger at the swirling colours of the crystal, "See here? And here? There are forces gathering, the nexus has awoken strange powers all over the land."

Time blustered unhappily, "But what could have caused it all!! Power like this can't just appear. There are the laws of conservation to consider."

Unique pursed her shrivelled lips and turned her cold eyes back to Time, "I know what caused it. In fact I can't help but feel partly responsible."

"How so?"

She smiled, it was the smile of an old and cunning woman, who has seen much and cared little. "The age we live in now is known as the age of reason, yes?"

"Yes..." Said Time.

"Well its not." Said Unique, and perhaps there was a sense of sparkle beneath that blank stare. "In truth this is the age of Chaos."

"What are you talking about? This is the most organised age we have ever known. Supply and demand, alchemy, learning, the womens lib movement, unions, centralised government. Even wars are at an all time low. Peace is paramount. People hardly even believe in magic anymore. This is no age of chaos."

"Precisely." Said Unique, "So where do you think all that chaos went?"

Time rolled his eyes, "I don't know, and clearly you want to tell me."

Unique cackled merrily, "Indeed I do. Indeed I do. I shall explain. When this age of chaos was unleashed, the stage was set for eons of disaster and disorder. But somehow, the chaos just faded. Order returned tenfold, and the world embarked on a peaceful age of learning and reason. I have long wondered why. And now I have found the nexus I know. Someone clearly transmuted all that chaos into a vessel. Probably an inanimate object of some kind. Maybe not, I am yet to find out. Over time the chaos has clearly transformed into the nexus we both now sense. A great concentration of power, untapped and pure and of unknown quality. Just as compressed, coal will turn to diamond, so has this trapped chaos turned into power. I doubt it even has any quality of chaos left in it." Unique paused, dramatically, then declared, "Who knows what will happen when it is unleashed!"

"Well I am rather concerned about that actually." said Time gravely, "Any number of things could happen. All vastly unpredictable. It's probably the end of the age of reason at the very least." he pouted prettily, "I like the age of reason. Why only the other day, some people invented clocks."

Unique smiled, "Well you are welcome to do something about it. I wager that a great deal of immortals and possibly even some mortals are acting upon this knowledge even as we speak, aware of the nexus and desperate to use its power for their own ends."

Time blinked in alarm, "By golly, that never even occured to me. Hmm things are about to get really interesting aren't they?"

"Yep" said Unique. "How about you stay a while and we'll have a cup of tea."

"Sounds good." Said Time. And the pair sat down together in the sheepskin rugs of Uniques cave in the Black Mountains, enjoying a quiet cup of tea before things got very interesting indeed.

[Tatum]

Millright Snowbeard sat behind his imposingly large desk and listened politely to the concerns of his two colleagues. Though, truth be told, he wanted nothing more than a stiff drink and a full nights rest in his feather bed, he knew neither would be forthcoming this night. "She has NOT mastered control of what she has learned here at Onimas. To graduate her and send her out into the world would be irresponsible and a liability for the school!" Professor March repeated for the third time, her black cape swooshing as she paced the room. "What do you suggest we do Melody? Tell the girl that she is too dangerous to graduate and then lock her in a broom closet for the rest of her life?" sighed Professor Thorn. Professor March sniffed loudly, "well thank you for your imput Ash. If you can't contribute anything constructive then maybe you should get back to your classroom and finish preparing for tomorrow's lesson. You know you are considered the "push over" teacher of the school. Professor Thorn's face clouded over "HOW DARE YOU!" "All right both of you, thats quite enough." Snowbeard's voice cut through the tension and both Professors took their seats, a bit abashed. Snowbeard rubbed his temples for a few moments and contemplated his options. Nadia Summer was a sweet, bright and lonely girl. She had taken all of the required classes, passed all of the necessary tests and met all of the agreed upon requirements..all but one. She had never been able to master her rage. It was a rare thing, only seen in its entirety once during her fourteen year stay at Onimas, but that rage had nearly caused the death of a fellow student and the destruction of a nearly indestructable school. Nadia was a soul teetering on the brink.

Finally Snowbeard spoke. "We will graduate Nadia Summer." Melody March opened her mouth to protest but Snowbeard stopped her with a look. "But she will not be allowed to leave the school grounds. We shall offer her a job as a Jr. Professor. Ash, I expect you to take responsibility for her. She will be your charge." A bit of color drained from Ash Thorn's face but he knew better than to argue. After a few more minutes of final preparations on how things were to be presented to Nadia, the Professors left Snowbeards office and headed back down the darkened hall. They were so engrossed in their complaints that they did not notice the small girl tucked behind the statue just outside the headmasters office.

Nadia let her legs give way as she slumped against the wall and cried quietly into her robes. It would not be horrible to be asked to stay and teach at Onimas. To be honest, it was something she had hoped for for a very long time. Onimas was her home, the only one that she had ever really known, and yet she had just found out that its inhabitants did not trust her. Worse than that, they felt she was too dangerous to be let off school grounds. Nadia felt betrayed. As she stumbled back to her quarters she made a decision. She would show Onimas that she could make it on her own.

[QuirkyTemplate]

He was running away from them. They’d relock the gates soon too. He had waited for the opening that he knew there would be, and now he was running away. But then he stopped suddenly, ducked under a table, and then curled into a tiny ball. He did this because he had to; it was part of the answer to escaping. The angry grown-ups would run past him, and then double back. By then he would have already stood up and ran the way he’d come. He’d need to ask a grown-up lady for an apple, but she’d give him a piece of pie and a scarf instead. He didn’t know why any of that was necessary, but it was. They’d take him out of himself if they found him. This was an answer to the first question, and it didn’t make a lot of sense, but it made him really scared. Like when his bro used to tell him scary stories about the jabberwalk going after Andy. Except that he was Andy this time. Pill just followed the answer in his head, and after a really long time he was out of their hidden sanction and staring at Ominas’ docks on the Windy river within the city proper.

His mop of brown hair scattered against his head in the wind as he stood there. With big round eyes he stared at the people lifting, running, shouting, and occasionally stabbing each other. The answer ran out here though. He was out of the scoundrel wizard’s hidden sanction. My brother is so clever, he thought. They thought they cleaned him up. Thought they scrubbed him right out. “But my bro didn’t let them.” He said aloud. No one even glanced at him. He got me to here, he thought. Then all the sudden he got really sad. ‘Cause his bro was dead. They’d cleaned him all right. They’d scrubbed his mind, because that’s what the They did. And no one could stand up to that if the They went to work on you. Not even his bro.

Then his stomach and chest hurt really bad because he was so sad, so he had to sit down on the ground and not move much. Sooner or later he’d have to get moving though. ‘Cause the wizards would be out looking for him in the city. Soon, they’d look for him. Even find him maybe. But he was really tired from running and really sad too. So he wrapped his arms around his knees and tucked his head down and cried.

[Apoc]

Atheini’s eyes opened slowly. Her mind was lost as she stared down at the cold, wet ground beneath her dangling feet, wet with blood...her blood.

She hung by bloodied wrists at the centre of the dark room, the only light coming from a dying candle in the corner. For the lone window, though open, was a vast abyss of darkness. A sour wind impaled her eyes and tears of pain began to slowly fall, yet she did not cry out...for she was not alone.

Out from the shadows he came, his deep set eyes where dark fire, his face contorted with rage...she simply did not know...and that was not good enough, his fist lashed out again...and again...and again...”where is he!?!” he screamed as his fists pounded her everywhere, “where is your brother!”

She had no answer. The candle weeped until it became ash...and her world fell once more into darkness.

[Amos]

The fire of the sun gives warmth and vitality to most. Likewise, the fire of arson had breathed life into Erip's cold and dark existence. But while Gaia orbits the sun at a safe and stable distance, Erip was forever drawn too close to the heat, entranced by the destructive flames he had wrought. It was another world for him. A bright place of magic where the light could not harm him, instead bent it's will on burning anything and everything else. But sooner or later the real world, in the form of the Ameloct Constabulary, was going to catch up to him, as it did this night. Well, almost caught up with him.


...


After some inspired pleading on his behalf, the two thugs let him hide out in their rickety backstreet home until the following night. Then they insisted he repay them for their kindness and hospitality. He had no money, so they gave him a sword and an empty sack. His task, as they explained it, was to find someone who did have enough money to repay them, and negotiate the transfer of said money back to them. All before dawn. Otherwise they would ensure that he ended up in the very place he'd been trying to avoid: the prison cells.

"Actually, I think I'd rather take my chances with the cells."

"But are you sure you want to get beat up first?"

"Beat up?"

"Yeah."

"How much money do you want?"

"You're the one holding the empty sack. What do you think is appropriate?"

"Right, I'll be off then."

"Hold up Snow White, one more thing.. Don't you go trying to pull a disappearing act on us. If you don't come back, we will find you."


...


The point of the sword quivered, almost nicking the fat man's neck. Overhead, a Ligon flew in lazy circles. Sweat poured down Erip's forehead. Tears rolled down the fat man's cheeks.

"So what'll it be?" Erip whispered, his voice as shaky as his hand. "Your money or your life?"


...


His two friends laughed when he returned with the sack of money.

"Shit. Didn't expect to see you again Snow White. Figured you'd pull a disappearing act on us. It's not like we'd ever have found you."

They took the sack of money, beat him up, and left him lying on the doorstep of the nearest police station. A short time before dawn the two constables who had almost caught him the previous night, and who had spent the better part of their time since then searching for him, returned to find him curled up fast asleep on the entrance to their station. They recognised him immediately (that pale skin was unmistakeable, even in darkness), and were so surprised that they didn't know whether to laugh, or beat him up for causing them so much trouble. In the end they did both, then shoved him into a small, windowless cell.

[Darth Everhate]

It happened again. Quinn sat with his head in his large bloodied hands. He looked at the five mangled bodies and sighed, "Stupid humans." he muttered, he was just trying to find something to blame for this. In truth he felt the responsibility weigh on him. These were just men who were searching for the 'beast' that had eaten one of the local farmer's cows and they had found it, him, and now he had another mess on his hands. If he really tried hard enough he could convince himself that this was payback for the years the humans had kept him in servitude, but he knew deep down that was his fault as well.

He finally stood and walked over to the bodies stripping each of his clothes, weapons and whatever else they had, a grim task to say the least, one he was starting to grow tired of. The farmer had caught him eating the cow, what in the nine hells was he doing up at that hour? He hung the clothes on a low branch and set everything else aside. He dug a deep grave large enough to accommodate the five bodies sadly wondering if they were fathers, husbands, brothers or sons. He was no priest or holy man, he could not offer any prayers save the hope that their gods would watch over their souls.

As he dug he took note of the strange runes that sorceress bitch had the slave-master burn into his fingers just below his knuckles. Again he had no one to blame but himself, had he not been a slave to his desires he wouldn’t have been a slave period, at least he got to bed her a few times before she sold him to the coliseum. As a gladiator he had killed many but he felt little remorse, everyone knew what to expect when they stepped into the ‘games’.

He clapped the dirt off his hands and stood up reaching for the clothes that could not possibly fit his seven and a half foot frame. A tatter of cloak flapping in the breeze held his attention as the vertigo began to take him again.

The flapping was everywhere as dark shapes filled the sky. Everywhere people ran, people died as chaos consumed all around him. He knew this could have been prevented, he could have stopped this, the screams filled his ears, the smell of blood…..

He found himself sprawled out on the ground, as he was always after he received the Glimpse. The visions were getting more frequent yet the headaches remained as bad as the first time. He quickly gathered all the clothes and gear, holding his head he ran, his destination unknown. Maybe this time he would find his way home.

[Apoc]

Warning: contains moderately descriptive violence that may offend and a dark theme throughout.

The candle weeped until it became ash...and her world fell once more into darkness.

She could see him in the darkness of her mind, his features shadowed beneath a hooded cloak of death, he spat blood at the ground before her. As he faded into the nothingness of unconsciousness, the remembrance of Dainians whispered advice from long ago, lingered in her waking thoughts, “Do not wait for aid, that may never come.” As his words ended, from a great distance it seemed, she heard the sound of a buckle being undone.

With that sound, she fell. A thousand miles of darkness passing her in a second, violently rushing from the black nothing of deep unconsciousness into the dark of consciousness behind closed eyes. She came to a sudden halt, her eyes opening slowly, dried blood having caked them closed, the flakes as they broke made her blink rapidly as they opened slightly, into the nightmare of reality.

A short, balding, fat old man stood before her. A noble by his clothing. A man corrupted by his desires, for upon his face he wore a sickly grin, scarring his otherwise friendly features. He was wrestling with the button of his trousers, his stubby, fat little fingers having great difficulty undoing it. Sweating and growing with frustration, he wrestled with the button further, as Atheini hung by her bloodied wrists, beaten and in apparent unconsciousness. Distracted with this annoyance, he did not see her silently studying eyes, hidden as they where behind her blood soaked dark hair.

Her eyes rested for a moment behind the man, then continued to search the room...they where alone, her interrogator was gone and the plans being contrived behind those calculating eyes, where made...for behind the man, the door was open.

Dainians words whispered again in her mind, “Do not wait for aid, that may never come.”, the fat little noble finally gave a great sigh of relief as the button came loose and his trousers fell.

Closing her eyes, Atheini, ever so slowly gathered her strength, her fingers curling around the rope that bound her wrists, she heard the man give a gleeful giggle as he padded across the stone floor toward her. She held her breath as his excited hands made contact, wincing as every squeeze and fumble brought pain, but she remained silent, her eyes opening to look down upon the vile little man as his hands wormed their way beneath her clothing, eyes closed, his head shaking side to side, lost in his world of pleasure, his face, beaming in euphoric ecstasy as his hands groped and felt her naked flesh, drool ran down his chin as he wore a fools smile and laughed...and then his eyes opened for a moment and met hers...all became still and his laughter died, as her eyes narrowed and his widened. With great speed and efficiency, Atheini’s knee shot out, connecting with the mans belly as in the same movement, she pulled herself up with such swiftness and agility to wrap her knees around his head, he hadn’t the time to even fall...she had him, kneeling upon his shoulders she twisted with all her strength. He spasmed and gurgled as she twisted until his neck made a couple of sickening snaps. His body went limp beneath her, a final few twitches and he was with Reis.

Exhaling heavily she took a few deep breaths, then turned her attention on her bound wrists. Still balanced upon the dead nobles shoulders, his slumped form kneeling limply beneath her, she adjusted herself to take pressure off them. After another calming, slightly trembling breath, she began to pull her right hand through the tight knot, clenching her teeth and wincing, tears forming from the pain, a quiet scream escaped her lips as her hand finally slid free.

She crashed to the ground and quickly kicked herself away from the nobles corpse. She sat in the corner for a moment, staring at her bloodied wrists. Her lip quivering, tears slowly ran down her blood stained cheeks, with panicked deep breaths she looked toward the door...it was still open. With the back of a blood soaked hand she wiped the tears from her face and stood. A wave of dizziness hit her and she stumbled a few paces, closing her eyes she took a calming, settling breath...

“So...you still have strength...i thought so.” came a voice, burning through her soothing darkness.

Eyes blazed awake, a fiery panic overtook Atheini, giving her strength. Without a moments hesitation she launched herself with great speed at the man who now stood in the way of her escape, the man who had beaten her...her captor...her interrogator.

In the blink of an eye Atheini had crossed the room, her Ranger training in close combat taking control, with all her skill and agility she engaged her enemy, reigning blow after blow upon him...and then...as he fell to a knee and freedom shined brightly in her mind...it was over...as her final punch was caught in his massive left hand and crushed, fingers breaking in his powerful, ever closing fist. Atheini let out a scream that was silenced with a sickening uppercut from his right, snapping her head back, returning her to darkness instantly.

***

Balthazar rose and caught the unconscious Atheini by the throat as she fell. He leaned in close to her face, eyes ablaze with fire, his voice trembled with madness and dark laughter, “you suprise me, i wonder how long your strength will hold...” his evil blood stained grin vanished for a moment, replaced with a look of once existent compassion as he gazed upon the beaten girl before him, then it was gone, vanished as fast as it came with a flash in his mind, blazing before him,

Dainian, smiling and laughing.

In sheer hatred and anger he spat blood in Atheinis face, with a last look of disgust he released her throat, letting her fall. Her ruined hand, still clenched within his own, held her up in a slumped position at his feet, “Where is he?” he whispered as he slowly twisted her arm upward, “You know where he is...I know you do...” he continued as he hooked his right arm behind her elbow, “...and you will tell me!!!” he screamed as he pulled sharply, breaking her arm.

[QuirkyTemplate]

((anyone can feel free to hop on in and interact with my character ))

So he wrapped his arms around his knees and tucked his head down and cried.

Pill was like that for a really long time. For awhile people tried to talk to him, so he had to cover his ears, and then he didn't have to hear them anymore. He didn't know exactly how long he stayed like that, but after a while he fell asleep. Later, he woke up but didn't move, then more time passed. He fell asleep again. He woke up this time because Pill felt someone knock against his foot, so he curled up tighter because he still didn't want to move around. He felt it again, but a little harder. He couldn't curl up any more so he didn't move at all and wished really hard that they would go away. They didn't, so he finally peaked up. It was two pretty mean looking grown ups. One of them had an eye patch with an overgrown beard and a old dirty vest covering a stained and ripped up shirt and he had three missing teeth and his hair was pushed straight down in some places, but not in other places and he had three warts on his face, and he was moving his lips but not making a lot of sound.

Then Pill remembered that his hands were covering his ears pretty tight, so he let them down. Then he could hear him really well. While he was hearing him he looked at the other guy. He had four belts on, but they were not all around his waist and he had a lot of bags attached to them and his eyes were shut and he didn't move his face at all. He was really thin, like a skeleton but not that thin, and he had ... a pin on his cuff. A tiny sword made of blue flame. That was a Little Clue. Little Clues are when you see a small thing that everyone misses, but it's really important. His bro always said that Pill was good at finding Little Clues. His big bro had a tarrot card like that once, and all the sudden he felt pretty safe around them.

"... I'm Pill." he said at last. The guy stopped talking and Pill stood up. "I wanna go with you guys." The thin one smiled knowingly, but didn't open his eyes.

[Darth Everhate]

((anyone can feel free to hop on in and interact with my character ))
"... I'm Pill." he said at last. The guy stopped talking and Pill stood up. "I wanna go with you guys." The thin one smiled knowingly, but didn't open his eyes.

Disclaimer: contains descriptive violence that may offend

Quinn had been walking for days not knowing where he was going; instinct told him west. He knotted the cloths he had taken into a bandolier to carry the weapons and supplies he'd taken on his back. He wore a cloak draped over his head to hide the pointed ears and cat-like eyes just in case he should come across anyone. Soon he'd have to cover his feet as the climate changed, good luck finding boots that would fit.
As he pondered this miserable outcome the wind brought the sound of hoofbeats, the smell of horses and men: filth, foul breath and...fear. He got off the road and climbed a tree for cover. Humans in general didn't pay much attention to anything other than their sight which made avoiding them easier.
A little under an hour later they came into view.
Four men moderately armed, leading a horse drawn cart that carried a makeshift cage. Slavers the thought curled his lips back into a snarl. He peered into the cage to see who these parasites were carting. The small eyes staring right back at him belonged to a child. Quinn blinked to make sure he wasn't hallucinating again, but the boy was staring right at him. A voice broke him from his stare.
"The wizards want this one out o' th' city fer awhile, th' pay is good lads fer such simple work." said the smelly one with the eye-patch, he seemed to be leading this little group. He laughed spewing rotted breath and rasps from his near-toothless mouth. The adrenaline coursed through him as the runes burned into his fingers burned with memory.
He reached down with one arm and grabbed the human at the rear of the caravan and pulled him up into the tree covering his mouth and quickly snapped the man's neck. He leapt from the tree and landed as the one carrying the hammer spun. Quinn uncoiled like a snake to his full height and looked down at the shocked man. He let the man get over his initial shock as he yelled and swung the hammer forward, Quinn caught the blow in his massive hand and pushed forward with all his might sending the weapon into the man's skull which imploded with a sharp crack.
He heard the bowstring snap and fell to a crouch watching the ugly one come at him brandishing a wicked looking sword. He pivoted on the ball of his left foot spinning and kicking out with his other leg smashing into the knee of the wart covered dog. An arrow thocked into the wood of the cage above him. He saw the other one moving further down the road trying to get a decent shot. Quinn roared and tore the harness from the horse and watched as the the frantic beast galloped towards the archer. He kicked down and ground his heel into the ugly one's throat. As the archer turned to avoid the horse he dove into a crouch and came up ready to loose another shot. He watched as the large red skinned beast came toward him, he watched as he loosed the arrow right into the beast's shoulder and as the wickedly taloned hand came down tearing out his throat and lower jaw.
Quinn searched for keys among the remains and walked over to the cage. As he unlocked he spoke as softly as he could, which still sounded like a low growl.
"I ain't gonna hurt you child." he unlocked the cage carefully. He opened the cage and peered in. He caught one look at the child and his vision blurred, his thoughts became waves as the now familiar vertigo took control of his body.

A glowing blue sword cut deep into the flesh of thousands. Their screams begged for mercy that would not come. The corpses of those slaughtered reached for him; their hands reached into his body tearing organs from his body, his still-beating heart, his guts, his soul......For he could not stop what was destined to come again.

Pill watched as the large red skinned beast-man grabbed his head and collapsed. He lay sprawled out on the dirt road not moving and night was falling quickly.

[QuirkyTemplate]

The boy watched as the large red skinned beast-man grabbed his head and collapsed. He lay sprawled out on the dirt road not moving and night was falling quickly.

Pill watched the big monster not move for a long time. It had said it wasn't going to hurt him; Pill didn't know if that was true or not. He decided to walk out of the cage, so he did. The night was kind of cold, but not uncomfortable, and there was no wind, which was fine. The monster looked like he was asleep, because his chest was moving up and down really slowly. It's hands were covered in blood, and there was an arrow sticking out of one shoulder. He knew that you got blood when you got cut. He got a blood from being cut once. The monster had a lot of blood. Pill thought that this was kind of like a Little Clue, but he didn't know what to make of it. Last time the Little Clue was a lie. If Little Clues lied about good stuff being bad, then maybe they lied about bad stuff being good.

He walked over and pushed on the good shoulder to wake up the monster. He didn't feel safe, but the last time he felt safe doing something he got carried away and then locked in a cage. So maybe feeling safe didn't mean much.

The monster's eyes opened all the sudden, and then Pill took five steps back and hid behind a wheel. The monster shook it's head slowly, then looked around, muttering something Pill didn't hear very well. Pill stayed behind the wheel and said, "I'm Pill. You are really ugly."

Then he had to laugh, cause it was funny.

[dark fuschia]

Shadows were always longest in Ameloct. It was a world of ruinous towers, a city in decay, and it was Lucky Jane Jessop's favourite place to be. It was her first day back in two years, and already it felt as if she'd never left. Her feet picked up their old rythm as she made her way along the canals, which still stunk of old grease, fish guts and urine. It smelt like home and she laughed happily as she picked up her pace.

"Wait up!" said her companion, a tall rangy man, who was having difficulty with the slippery and narrow path. "No offense Lucky, but your home town stinks."

"Yeah" she grinned, "Isn't it great Gnat? I'm home!" Gnat smiled, though not one to smile often, on this occasion he couldn't help it, her excitement was contagious, and he was happy for her. They had seen and suffered much during their journey home, and though Gnat still had a few days journey left before he would rejoin his wife at DarkStone Keep, he was glad to be stopping by at Lucky's for the night. They had become firm friends during their diplomacy service to the fast west, and during many long nights in the galley of "The Sea Witch" he had heard Lucky speak fondly of her family. "If we hurry we'll make it home in time for dinner." She continued, "You'll love my mum's cooking Gnat. She'll take it on herself to fatten us up." Gnat's stomach rumbled at this thought, he was ravenously hungry. "We're there ---" Lucky stopped so suddenly that Gnat almost walked right into her, narrowly missing tumbling both of them into the stinky canal. "I don't understand." She added. For she stood directly in front of an empty block. It looked bizarre and out of place there by the canals, which were surrounded by a ramshackle shamble of dwellings that were virtually piled on top of eachother. "My house is gone... I don't understand."

[Illdoran]

The water was dark.
Well the stormy waters beating against the cliffs of Balenocts shoreline were darker than usual. A shiver ran up the priestesses spine as she pulled her cloak tighter around her body. Illyana often went to this hiding place when she needed to make a decision.Secret and beautiful, the cave looked out over the sea under the temple of Corzon situated high up on the rocks. She had found this place when she first came to Balenoct, lonely and scared she had looked for a place that was only hers, where nobody could find her. The cave was well hidden and she could tell that nobody had set foot there for ages when she found it.
The likelyhood of anybody getting to her here was miniscule, one would have to be te size of a child and quite strong to get there. Luckily Illyana was tiny and strong from her slave working days, and climbing had always been a passion, so had exploring and the need of a safe haven.

Safety. Now that was a joke, the dark waters were not the only bad omen that could be read lately. She had been sitting here for three days now starring out at the water, meditating and praying that the love of Corzon would protect them all. She needed to return now, the signs all spoke of a journey. The answer lies in an ally someone that could help her shift the powers in their favor. She might not know what she was looking for exactly but if she didn't start they would all end in ruin and chaos.

The night wind howled as she ascended to the halls of the temple, over the distant cliffs she could almost hear the roaring laughter of Sankra as the dark waters thrashed in anticipation.

[LaughingTurtle]

“Master Dimas, will you please focus.” Gregorian‘s heavy Dardenion accent shattered his lords momentary reverie of the previous nights escapades. “The masquerade ball is but two nights away and the tailor has been waiting anxiously for hours to perform your measurements.”

Idly twirling some golden trinket between his fingers, Dimas sent a scowl in Gregorian’s direction. “Honestly man, do you really think I have any inclination of going to some stupid gala? The sole purpose of said event is merely a pretense for the prince to openly go cavorting around displaying his lecherous tendencies.”

“Because my Lord, it is what your brother would have done. It is not a simple matter of wanting to go or liking something. As heir it is your duty and as your steward it is my duty to see you through it.” Rather than continue any pointless protest, Dimas conceded with a disgruntled noise. “You do realize I had other plans for that particular evening.”

“Indubitably my Lord, I know all too well of your rather illicit hobbies, yet all my efforts at persuading you to the contrary have proven quite fruitless.”

“And will continue to be so. In fact that gives me an idea.”

“There goes any chance of a good nights rest” Gregorian sighed wistfully.

“If this celebration is going to be as highly touted to the court as you claim then there shall be more than ample opportunity to ply my trade amongst the wealthy wining and dining.” What began as a simple smirk erupted into laughter as his steward’s face grew even more increasingly despondent.

“Cheer up man, what’s the worse can happen?”

It was then that Gregorian turned away. “Eerily similar words were spoken the same night your brother soul departed from this land.”

Being doused with a bucket of chilled water could not have washed away his earlier mirth more completely than mention of his brother’s death.

“I take it there has been no new word from the so called investigation?”

“None. You know that I would not withhold such important information from you.”

“Unless it benefited the House, can’t have the Heir apparent traipsing across the countryside playing the angel of death now can we.”

“Honestly my Lord, I don’t know where you get such notions.”

“Irregardless, I have plans of my own to set into motion that will have Danian Noradeis believing he is the bastard of Verlet and Sankra.”

[Nachtnoir]

Smoke streamed from the piles of burning bodies. The clank and hum of steam driven gears and pistons filled the night. This was the last village on the long march down from the mountain. No more villagers to taunt the Toymaker, no mothers pushing their children to the other side of the road so they would not be near him. His revenge was nowhere near complete, but he allowed himself a moment of restfulness before the War would resume.

Movement caught the Toymaker’s attention. None of his clockwork men where nearby, they were off in other sections of the village finishing their work, the screams of terror still sporadically came to his ears. Maybe one of the peasants thought themself an assassin. Come to kill the Toymaker and end the War. He would not allow it.

Turning his helmeted head towards the movement with a whir of gears, he turned the torch in his hand to lighten the darkness that concealed the would be killer.

“Do you think to sneak up and kill me?” asked the Toymaker, the helmet he wore giving his voice an ominous tone. “Someone like you will not be the one to kill me. It was your kind that made me what I am! My end will be far more grand than a quick stab in the back from you!”

* * * * * * * * * * *

Beginnings are complex and strange. As are endings, but both can be beautiful and happy, or horrible and painful. No one ever chooses the horrible and painful type, but they happen anyway.

A toymaker’s job is simple, bring joy to those around you. Smiles to little children’s faces and looks of contentment to their parents who have chosen the gift that will bring many hours of joy to their little ones. Jonas, was a very skilled toymaker. His entertainments were well known throughout the land. Genius in their construction and beautiful in appearance.

Jonas had spent many years studying the construction of timepieces to learn of gears, as a blacksmith he learned the strength of steel, as an apothecary the basic substances of all things, and as an artist he learned of beauty. All these skills he brought with him as an apprentice toymaker. His master taught him to bring joy.

When he was allowed to leave the tutelage of his master, Jonas set off to make a place for him and to create wonders that no one had ever seen. And for the first few years he did. Clockwork birds chirped their song in many a child’s bedchamber, stuffed animals of all sorts danced for their owners and theaters had many of his stage devices to wow their audiences between acts while actors changed wardrobes.

Wealth had never been Jonas’ goal. He had what he needed to continue. Food was on his table and a roof over his bed and workshop, all the rest went back into his work. Better materials and more study was all he ever wanted. Sometimes the heart wants things too though.

Loneliness creeps up on you when you aren’t watchful. Jonas never realized that he was lonely until he realized that although his name was on the lips of every child on their birthday, he missed having someone to share his own joy with. There was no one he could bring joy to and see it on their face.

Toymakers are never present when a child receives the gift he has spent many hours creating for them. Jonas had never seen it for himself. In his own bookish and untrained way, Jonas began his search for a bride.

One would think that being famous and well known would help in the pursuit of a bride. In Jonas’ case it did not. He was far from ugly, and he did have some measure of wealth, but brides want to know that they will get the attention of their husband. They want nice things, and Jonas was not known for his mansion or really spending much time away from his workshop.

A friend suggested that he use his strengths in this particular case. Jonas’ most famous invention was a steam driven singing bird. These beautiful creatures could be made to sing beautiful songs and move as if the real thing. Perhaps something could be made to send to whichever lady he had chosen of late to persuade her to consider him a worthy mate. Something beautiful and lavish, something to open a woman’s heart.

Jonas spent months on designing and building the gift. The intricate song and movements were difficult to get correct, so he had to move exceptionally slow to get it just right. When it was complete, he packaged it and wrote a short note to send to the lady in question.

On the day it was to be delivered, Jonas woke very early and sent for the messenger.

“Take this to the lady, and be sure that everyone knows it is from me and that my wish is that she will say yes.” said Jonas to the young man. “It is very important, so make haste!”

[Nachtnoir]

Jonas smiled as the young man left. He did as instructed and held the package close and ran up the street towards the lady’s home. He did not see the young man drop the package a few blocks later nor did he see him pick it up and dust it off and continue running.

“Milady, the toymaker bids that you open his note and accept this gift.” said the messenger as he presented the lady with the note and package.

“This should be a delight.” smiled the lady.

“He wishes that you send a reply.” smiled the messenger. “He hopes that the answer is yes.”

“Oh, I must see what entertainment he has devised for me” said the lady as she took the package and opened it.

Within the box were two Lovingbirds on opposite sides of a perch. On the base was a concealed switch surrounded by gold fillagree. A small card was attached that said “Press Here”

A look of wonder filled the Lady’s face as she set the gift on a nearby table. Neither she nor the messenger noticed the crack on the face of one of the birds. Pressing the button where the toymaker had indicated, both sat back and waited for the wonderful show to start.

Seconds turned to minutes as nothing happened. No sounds nor movements occurred. The lady had seen many of the toymakers amazing moving toys, and this was nothing like those. She moved closer. Pressing the button again, nothing happened. She picked the birds up and shook them, nothing happened. Again pressing the button, nothing happened.

“Milady, I don’t know what seems to be the problem.” muttered the Messenger who just now remembered dropping the package. “He seemed very happy this morning. I doubt he would have sent the item to you if it did not work.. Are you sure that you pressed the button hard enough?”

Shrugging, the lady walked up to the birds and pressed the button very hard and held it a moment. There was a loud CLICK inside the device and the birds fluttered to life. The male bird began a flurry of movement and singing. It flapped it’s wings wildly in a dance. The irridiecent paint on the wings caught the light and amazed them. The song it sang was both beautiful and lovely. Slowly through the bird’s dance, the female bird edged on the perch closer to the other. Her only movement was the slow shift to the other side. As the male neared the end of his dance and song, he moved ever so much closer to her, she to him, and at the end, he wrapped his wings around her and she began to sing. Her song was even more lovely and beautiful than his.

The lady moved closer so she could see and hear more. There was a quiet whir of sound coming from the female bird, but it was not enough to detract from the song. The lady was now close enough to see the outlines of each feather that the toymaker had painted with his own hands. She could see the amount of love and work he had put forth into the toy. This was truly a man with compassion and love. A good husband he would make.

Again the toy made a loud CLICK sound. It scared the Lady for a brief second but she moved closer, the female bird was nearing the end of her song. The whir sound was getting louder now, and the lady did not think it was supposed to. She reached out to turn off the device. Her hand traced the fillagree around the button. Pressing hard, the device again made the loud CLICK! This was the loudest, and as she released the button the whir sound stopped.

With a nod to the machine, the Lady placed her finger under the sealed flap of the envelope and opened. At that moment the birds both erupted into song and for a brief moment they sounded happy and content, then the Lady’s whole world exploded with a flash of pain and heat.

The Toymaker spent the rest of the day at work. He had fresh orders for toys and other entertainments, and they would not build themselves. But that did give him an idea for later. A steam powered assistant would make some of his life easier. Especially if the lady said yes.

The noise outside had always bothered Jonas. So over time he had learned to filter it out, to ignore it. It only slowed his work and he had no time to fuss about that. His first indication was the sound of someone busting in the door of his workshop.

“What are you doing!” yelled the Toymaker.

“We’ve come for you!” said the man who had kicked the door in. “Your toy has killed the Lady and my son. You will pay for their deaths with your blood!”

Jonas stood dumbstruck. The lady killed? The boy killed? The toy was meant to bring love and joy.
“She must have spurned your advances and you would not take no for an answer.” cried the villager. “My son died because of you.”

The toymaker did not notice the other men as they jumped him. Heat from the nearby forge warmed the stone floor of the workshop. Fear filled him as he heard the sounds of his tools being moved at the baffles priming the fire.

“You will burn like they did Toymaker.” said the father.

All the Toymaker could remember from that point was pain and heat as part of his face was burned. Part of his body burned, then the screams of those around him as he fought back and hit the release of the boiler and burned everyone in the room to death.

That was years in the past now though. Years of pity of those he met when they looked upon him, and years of the stiffied gasps from mothers and children. He no longer brought joy with his creations, now he brought revenge.

* * * * * * * * * *

“No, you will not be the one that kills me.” said the Toymaker as he quickly moved. The steampowered suit of armor he wore making his movements faster than any man. “You will be nothing more than an addition to the long list of those that have tried and ended up under my boots!”

The piston of his legs driving the iron boots down on the skull of the man in the shadows. A crossbow tumbled from his hand. The bolt from it intended for Toymaker’s back.