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Dragon Wars: Angelus Mortis

Dark clouds whirled over-head, bluish lightening split the sky in half and where it touched the ground the earth split creating massive fissures from which fire leapt out. Ash and soot fired into the air creating a choking gas that settled on all destroying all that it covered. Magma flowed over mountains and into valleys which were once teeming with life now covered in fiery ash. A bluish ball stood in stark contrast to the devastated surroundings. Inside grass, fresh air, and a man...

He stood holding a weathered old staff, some old piece of fallen wood from a scared tree. In its tip a blue diamond glowed brilliantly. His blue robes flowing and simple covered him head to toe. His face tight and drawn in intense concentration he held the staff aloft over his head as if presenting it to some deity above. Sweat tickled his brow trickling down into his eyes making him blink before traveling down into his long white beard. No longer did he have time to look and see the world for he must use all his strength to save his own life for he didn't have the power to save others. Silently though, he mused about simpler times, times when he wasn't all that time has made of him and he wishes for a moment to travel back and undo the mistakes he has made that lead him to such a fate.

Wind rushed forth followed by the leathery sounds of wings thrusting down. A black dragon descended from the clouds billowing about landing on a rock. The dragon, the wizard knew, had come for his soul. The dragon was easily the size of a city but only the second largest he'd ever seen. Horns curled to the sides of his head much like a rams horns ending in wicked points beside his jaw as he folded his wings and leaned his head down looking to the old wizard. The dragon took a moment to lift his head and look at the world in the grasp of its final moments before turning back to the wizard and growling softly. When he spoke the words sounded less like a language and more like a series of grunts and growls though the wizard understood all too well what was being said

"I gave you all you desired. Trained you since you were but a young man and look what you have done... What you have made me do. Your greed and arrogance will cost you all that you have and more."

He wished to lift his hands, to beg for forgiveness but he knew that his pleas would fall on deaf ears. For you see many things could be said about the dragon god known as Behamut, but none of them dealt with his compassion. Instead he looked up through the haze and stress of the spell at the dark eyes beyond and watched as the dragon breathed in. The air before his mouth became alive with activity. A black ball formed wrapped in blue-purple lightning. Purple fire seemed to fill what light did escape from the blackness but in the center was so black it seemed impossible that any light could escape it. And in the moments that followed all he could think of was the path that he did choose. He stood straight, straighter then he had in some time moving the staff to his side knowing he would not escape his fate and closed his eyes feeling the searing heat of the world around him. He bowed his head in reverence and resignation. What he expected was pain, what he got was nothing. The world just went black...

Dragon Wars: Initium Odyssey

"Joseph?" The aging cardinal leaned close to the young man. He seemed to be lost in his thoughts. Cardinal Peter furrowed his brow curiously his pasty white face crinkling as he leaned closely. Joseph blinked and seemed to come back into the world.

"Please forgive me sir, I was waiting for your caravan here and got to thinking about some of the old text I was translating." He straightened his simple brown robe attempting to smooth the thick wool and somehow look more presentable though nothing he did seemed to help -- his brown hair bedraggled and windblown giving him the appearance of an unkempt child - and finally he gave up looking to the Cardinal with a small nervous smile. "Please sir, this way." He gestured to his left leading the man and his entourage into the large building's outer hall. They moved through the halls that circled the large courtyard walking briskly despite the afternoon heat that had settled in. As they approached the large double doors swung open to the even larger chapel. Pews lined the sides, great vaulted ceilings held by dainty pillars. It was truly an architectural masterpiece every piece sculpted and crafted with care and placed with precision. The polished wooden floors covered only by a long green carpet that lined the center of the isle still allowing the sight of the highly polished mahogany.

Their heavy foot falls fell echoing through the empty halls. The scribes and monks and gathered at the head of the cathedral. The head scribe held a large tomb though its nature and purpose was unknown to Joseph. He quietly lead the way and when he was close he took his place to the scribes right. There was preamble, pomp and puff then the scribe looked to Joseph turning slightly and handing him the book to take to the Cardinal however as Joseph touched the book it began to glow. His eyes, and the eyes of the others assembled there went wide. Blue light surged from the book illuminating the room with an eerie glow. Suddenly the light burst from blue to red and like an angry fire magic burst from the tomb causing Joseph to drop the book. Upon hitting the ground red lightening flared from the book to Joseph causing him to arch back and throw his arms out more in surprise then pain. The lightening lept from him to the head scribe and to the Cardinal.

He gasped in surprise watching with a red glow emitting from his eyes as both the head scribe and the Cardinal disappeared in a pile of dust. The fire quickly died leaving the room stunned, none more-so then Joseph. In shock he reached down and grabbed the book looking to it with a uncertain look. Of course the shock didn't last long, it was one of the guards the spoke first shouting "He killed the Cardinal!" the frightened boy shook his head and raised his hands in fear and denial. The guards drew their short blunt tipped swords approaching with a sinister look in their eyes as they moved slowly. "'Es a dark mage e is" one said his leather armor still dusty from the ride as were his sandals and fear showed in his eyes. The captain charged relentlessly toward the poor clerk with a slight hesitation in his step quickly banishing the fear of such a prospect in well trained discipline. "Don't matter" he said looking to the other guardsman out of the corner of his gaze never looking away from his target. The cleric staggered back holding the book up as he backed away from the guardsman. Once again the book glowed and the guards halted their advance and lifted their long tower shields. Each soldier closed shoulder to shoulder forming a tight practiced formation. The book flared a blinding flash that caused the soldiers to shield their eyes for a moment. By the time their eyes adjusted to the normal light again the book and boy were gone. Smoke the only sign something had been there. "Fan out! Search the grounds he couldn't have gotten far."

Darkness reigned, the world was cloaked in darkness as fear gripped Joseph. In his mind all he could see and hear were the last dieing shrieks of the cardinal and his life long friend the head scribe. He had always treated him so well as a father to a son. There was so much to do, so much to be said and now he would never get the chance. They were both gone forever now and soon he would be once the guards finished with him. Suddenly though he realized, there were no more foot falls. Just a gentle breeze wafting through his hair and the calming happy sounds of birds in trees. His eyes snapped open looking around curiously. He was sitting on the ground behind him a great dark wood, below his feet at the base of a large valley was the town he called home for the last decade. There was some activity below near the chapel. There was no way he could go back there. He could say nothing too shocked to do anything and now fear drove him to stand and flee through the woods clutching the book close subconsciously. He ran blindly deeper and deeper into the forest. He ran tears falling from his cheek as he fled and the sun slowly disappeared over the horizon but the trees and his fear prevented him from knowing that. In his flight he suddenly stumbled over a root falling to the ground with a thud and the book went flying. It was then that he noticed he was lost deep in the forest, the sun was down. He gasped breathing hard and crawling into the clearing looking to the darkened sky. He sat on his butt to help catch his breath his arms supporting him upright as he looked up. That was when his hand hit it, the book that has caused him such trouble. He looked down, picked it up, and prepared to throw it when curiosity overcame him. He opened the book and noted first that some of the pages were blank, most of the pages in the end. In fact only a few of them in the beginning were showing any words and at first glance they were in another language. As he stared harder at it the words started to make sense. They structured words but no coherent sentences. He could understand the writing but it didn't seem to make any since to him as he read over it. He blinked a few times before closing the book and unconsciously placing it in his pack. The pack was mostly empty and tied tightly around his waist as always. The few items it did contain were minimal, things he needed for his job, writing tools and paper and a small pouch for his money. Had he known he would be running for his life he would have stored some food something - which his stomach was reminding him now rather angrily of - that he needed to obtain soon.

Joseph was looking around concerning himself with idea of food when through the breeze he smelled the sizzling burning of fat that caused his mouth to water. He turned his head to see a faint light flickering deeper in the forest. He moved without thought his pace quickening as lightning struck the ground somewhere not so far off and rain plummeted into the foliage overhead. Thick droplets of water hammered at the tree tops overhead raining down on the fail human scribe. He staggered in the growing amount of mud climbing up the embankment towards the warm and inviting fire drawing ever closer. The campsite was warm and surprisingly dry though there were little signs of cover from the rain. There were 2 tents, a smaller one, and a larger one, the latter being to his left with tall sticks that marked its entrance holding a cloth tarp over head. The smaller tent to his right was clearly a travel tent pitched for no apparent reason as there was only one hitching post and no signs of servants or working-class citizens that would be normal of upper class travelers. Someone had gone through great care to setup this site pitching the tents, creating comfortable places to sit with chopped logs and hunting for food.

This went unnoticed by Joseph as he stared at the searing flesh of the cooking animal. It was skewered on a spit over a roaring fire which, if he were able to consider it, contained many odd things the first of which being; the meat was spinning slowly and evenly without any apparent apparatus to control it. Another oddity was that the fire was a little too high and too bright for the amount of wood within the circle of stones.

None of the oddities were noticed however as the ravenous young man approached the fire. He looked around calling out in a meek voice "hello? Is anyone here?" when no-one answered he moved beside the fire grabbing a leg of the creature on the spit, boar by the looks. The meat was tender and ready as it pulled free of the bone nicely and he looked around again "I hope its ok I share your fire and maybe your food" he said taking a bite and chewing it. Hunger clouded his judgment for he hadn't eaten since early morning and then only a crust of bread and some water. He often slept too much and had to rush his morning meal. Afternoon meals were harder to come by at the church what with all the work he did so he often ate large dinners at his home.

Joesph wasn't much of a cook but he made lots and that often made up for the lack in quality in his mind. The forest around them was quiet and clear. The rain overhead never once landed in the small but comfortable campsite and The little detail that there was no canopy of trees or anything else that could have explained this seem to completely and inexplicably slip his notice. He ate the food which was far better then his own cooking had been. He devoured it as a starving man or a man dying from thirst would gorge themselves on food and water. As he was eating wine appeared to his left on a split log with a goblet of silver. He never even thought of it as he filled the goblet and drank to his fill. It was as if an unnatural power had seeped through his body and had him eating everything he could and drinking. He was a man possessed with the need to eat and drink and nothing else mattered.

Joesph Finished the meal and drink. He stood curiousity starting to creep into his thoughts of this place and the person responsible for it however before he could focus his mind he felt an unnatural since of drowsiness. His eyes-lids were suddenly very heavy and his body fatigued. He felt pain in all his muscles. He was a scribe and the effort of the day was having it's toll on him. His eyes flicked to the small tent which looked so inviting with it's simple bed roll. He tried to look away to move into the forest, maybe find some other place to rest but his feet moved only to the tent. He vaguely remembered stepping into the tent and laying on the bed roll before the darkness washed over him and his consciousness slipped away. Joesph slept soundly and throughly. A shadowy figure stood outside the tent, the staff in his hand casting a soft pale light that could have been the moon reflected from the jewel at the top had it not been for the fact there was no moon in the sky. The hooded figure stood a lone sentry in the night neither moving nor speaking.

Dragon Wars: Inveniens Veritatem

Knight commander Gerard was starting his morning routine dressing, pulling on his belt and cinching it tight. He was clad in his tunic and hose and was pulling on his leather boots when there was a commotion in the square. He looked to the narrow window of the castle wall with mild curiosity moving to the large wooden door and pulling the latch to open it wide.

Adjusting his sword to his side he stepped out and walked briskly down the narrow halls. These halls had always depressed the Knight commander. Even in the heat of the day they would be dark if not for the torches that hung from iron rungs on the wall. They lacked any windows and were designed to let those in the barracks run from their rooms into a staging area. This wing however was the command wing so many of the rooms were empty of troops. Each knight had an entourage that they liked keeping close, servants, squires and the like. They filled many of the rooms here in the command wing and were not yet up.

The commander always woke just before the sun could be seen on the horizon. He was a crisp man of rugged hansom features. A square jaw and hair the color of the blackest charcoal. He was a tall muscular man and these hallways were far to narrow making him look as though a giant were walking within them. His cape of office flared behind him as he walked through the narrow corridor. These halls were designed to allow only one person through at a time and while not overly long they were uncomfortably narrow designed to make wild swinging a sword an impossible task. Rounding the bend however the hall emptied into a large room.

Gerard stood on the upper level looking down over an entry way. Here archers could hold the upper level and stairs with relative ease. The grand sweeping stairs clustered the center of the floor downstairs leading up and to the balcony on either side so that no matter what wing you were in they all lead to the stairs. Tapestries hung on the stone wall before the grand staircase and was flanked by two Knights standards. The Commanders on the right and the lords of the lands on the left matching the wings this portion of the castle represented. Down below Gerard could see the desk of his attendant manned and speaking feavorishly with a man who looked as though he had run from the capital to here on foot rather then rode his horse. The man with blond hair and beard sweat poured from his face and soaked his hair though it seemed that it might not be purely from activity. The man's pale face and drawn features suggested fear. His leather armor was covered in sweat as well though this might have been from his horse which by the looks of the mans armor was close to death having been pushed so hard.

Gerard descended the stairs with a grace of a trained warrior marching swiftly to the small wooden desk placed beside a support pillar. Left and right was nothing but wall leading to the stairs and capped with the balcony leaving nowhere for people to hide. The desk had been placed ned to a pillar, one of two in the room that reached up to support the building's massive roof. Left and right of the pillars the room widened and emptied into corridors both left and right. The back of the room was a pair of large oak double doors. The doors were carved with reliefs and designs but otherwise left functional. One of the doors was swung inward left open by the courier that stood now pleading with the commander's aid that he must impart an urgent message. Both were startled by the Marshal's appearance, who stood looking rather imposing over the two of them.

"What is the message courier?" Marshal Gerard was never one to waist words he preferred to get to the heart of the matter quickly.

The courier saluted a hasty gesture and spoken. The man was fit but a little soft in the face and the belly suggesting of years of peace. Gerard eyed the man with a calm outward glance but within was a turmoil of distaste. He was a regimented man who was disciplined and expected those in his command to be the same. This was obviously not someone in his regiment and had the look of a man that had grown far to comfortable with the peace the nation now enjoyed. The red in his cheeks also suggested he might enjoy his spirits a bit too much. All of this he noticed under the calm mask of interest as he waited for the man to speak. "sir! A dark mage in Helmshire killed the Cardinal and the Head scribe of the temple to Ty'guar!"

Gerard had seen magic once in his life when he was but a young squire. He was on the battlefield in the aftermath of the Chaos wars where men drew upon the powers of the gods to call forth devastating destruction. The gods had been disappointed in the people and to took the power from them in the after math of that. Magic had died as had love of the gods. Only a few places even kept their names or mentioned them. Gerard scowled looking to the man his mask of patience and indiference gone now as he looked into the mans eyes leaning over him "There is no more magic. You are mistaken. You should not listen to village rumors" He was about to march past him when the courier handed him a missive. The letter was marked with the seal of Ser Foroth a knight in his command responsible for that town. The seal was unbroken and as Gerard opened the letter he read the account. Foroth was a cool level headed knight and capable man-at-arms as his writing showed. The account was calm collected and complete but at no point did the knight refer to the magic and it's user as a mage. He simply offered that the only explanation was that there was magic at work as nothing else could explain the piles of ashes.

Gerard read the letter marching through the large double doors without another word to either his aid or the courier. He read through it again in the time it took him to step outside in the courtyard before folding it and placing it in a pouch he wore. His mind was a tormoil of thoughts. He very much wanted to dismiss the notion of magic. Even when he was young he never sought the power those around him weilded. He had no use for mages and was distasteful of them. That was before they were all punished so harshly. Now those that were still alive were crippled and blind. Unable to feed or work for themselves. Many were struck dumb and were a plague on society at large. It would be so easy to cast off this notion of magic however Ser Foroth was not one to believe wild stories and the letter had been an eye witness account of it. Horses in the stables near by reared for a moment braying in sudden agitation causing the Mashal to look to the stable hands now rushing to calm the beasts. The sun peaked over the mountains of dust their snow capped tops standing out and reflecting the sun causing him to shield his eyes.

"There is a great hand at work." The words startled Gerard coming from his left and causing him to snap his head around blinking a few times to clear the sun out of his eyes "Seems someone wants to return the magic to you humans" Gerard blinked tears from his eyes. The figure before him was a slim and slender man. Tall and beautiful with graceful lines. The Marshal had a hard time seeing him clearly as the sun reflected off the golden armor plate of the man. His hair was long, blond almost to the point of white but in the sun it shimmered more like the rays of the sun itself. He stood there staring at the Marshal with a kind and friendly expression causing the sudden recognition in the Marshals face. Pointed ears protruded through the golden locks of hair. Gerard was forced to blink and rub his eyes with his sleeve. Wind wurled about in a sudden torrent as he closed his eyes. When he opened them again the elf was gone with only the recognition in his mind. "Astiga?" He looked around startled to see where the elf had gone.

Elves had left the world long ago leaving it to men. Men and their short lives were cruel and violent and would often come to blows with the elves. Tired of war and strife the elves had disappeared on night. While they couldn't be called friends Gerard and Astiga had fought long and hard together on the battlefield. The Elves came to help during the great war. Gods and dragons fought the people of the world of Unasi. This was the last of the great fights afterwards those gods that fought on both sides had removed magic from the world and the races of Elves, Dwarfs and all others disappeared into the mist. Gerard had fought beside the elf then and had been awed by his presence as a young man. Now though the thought he might have returned caused his square jaw to set in resolve. He turned on his heel shouting out orders to his aid "Ready my horse! Gather some knights we ride to Helmshir."

Dragon Wars: Restat Via

Birds sang, wildlife flourished all about outside. Joesph's eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright. He had no idea what time it was but he was sure he had slept much of the morning. He was well rested and the aches and pains of the frantic flight from Helmshire was gone. He crawled out of the tent and nearly fell into the dirt. The carefully laid out campsite he had encountered before was gone. No cut logs, no circle of stones, no sign that there was a fire or for that matter any other tent beside the one he was in which still stood on the crunched oak leaves beneath. His pack and the book that had caused him such trouble were there. Sticking out of the book a loose velum of paper easily visible. He opened the book with a great curiosity. He was rewarded though with no answers and more questions. A short letter had been scrawled containing only a sentence and attached was a map though there were no cities or even a direction. The map was incomplete containing what looked like coastal end of a continent. Mountains covered the north end of the map moving down south east and nothing was beyond them. The bottom of the map however had a drawing and an red X was marked as were a few arrows following a small stream. The drawing was a rough sketch of a large stone structure. Two square stone pillars carved into the side of the mountain topped with two dragons standing on their flanks reared and in a fixed roar and their wings spread. The door of the tomb, for that's all it could be by the look, was fuzzy though as if smudged. He could make out no details. The part he found most curious though was that it wasn't the ink that was smudged. The image was simply blurry. Shaking his head slightly Joesph turned his attention to the letter reading it curiously.

"For the answers you seek fInd the tomb of the falleN hero Donistallen. But bE wary, you will HAve to Move Under The greatest of scrutiny."

_ _

_ _ Joesph read the note once and his brow furrowed in concentration. The words were find, the message vague but the capitlizations of the letters was off. At first he had though perhaps the penmanship was simply exagurating the letters. Or that the person that wrote them was lame in some way and simply messed the intricate lettering up however as he looked at it he thought perhaps it was a message within a message. F-I-N-D-B-E-H-A-M-U-T. Those were the letters that were accented strangely. He looked at them then tilted his head in concentration. He knew the name Behamut should be something he'd heard before but he couldn't remember what and where. Evidently he was to find this Behamut for the answer's and perhaps the tomb of Donistallen was the place he'd glean information about it all.

As he closed the book and prepared to stuff it into his bag another velum fell from it. A small map showing a trail through the woods. Another X was placed to the end of the trail suggesting he'd find something important if he moved up the marked trail. This was far more relevent because it was a map of this forest and the trail he could see clearly marked from his campsite to the x which marked the road leading north to Vallerum.

As Joesph placed the book in his bag he was startled to see a bag of coin and some dried meats and berries stored in it. It seemed whoever had left him the tent had also left him some coin and food as well. At first he considered leaving the tent and bed roll here though after careful thought it seemed that this had been left for him and he could certianly use it in his trip. For now he had no idea where he would be going he needed only to get away from his home. He was a fugitive but he was determined to find out why and what had happened. He broke the tent down, rolled the sleeping roll up and packed them neatly in his overstuffed pouch and made off down the marked trail. Joesph was ready, he had a purpose and his mind was clear. He was innocent and he would prove it. First though he needed to find out what did happen and why. Then he could return to defend himself.

The road was long and hard and while Joesph set out on the trail other tides were moving the world down familiar paths. Gerard was riding with haste down the road. He was still several hours from his answers and he was not interested in letting up the pace. Joesph was tripping over roots and vines heading towards the road that would lead him to the first destination on his long journey and in the skies overhead leather wings rode the air currents. Both humans were being watched for in that moment far above as dragons of different colors - one red, and the other blue - watched the two humans. The interest was in the magic that had suddenly appeared before them both. Not in the lower creatures themselves. The red over Joesph however noticed something far on the trail. A man standing at the road leading north and south. He was wrapped in a black shroud. A cloak and hood drawn over his head though he wasn't walking he was standing there and looking to the sky. Talon faltered in his flight. Golden eyes glowed with an intensity that sent a shiver into his very bone. His wings flapped gaining him altitude trying to break that gaze. The man was looking right at him and Talon could feel his soul being ripped from his body and dragged into the depths of that stare. Golden sunlight wrapped around his body but instead of bringing with it heat it brought only cold. He heard the man speak though their distances were great and the man spoke barely a whisper.

"Leave them as you swore to do." Talon was in a cold sweat, not easy with a dragon and it's cold blooded nature but that was what it was. The moment was gone, fear ticked the back of the dragons long neck. His mane of fins and fur shook trying to rid himself of the feeling. No longer was he curious about this man with the magic. He banked hard and beat furiously at the air bringing all the speed he could. The council needed to be made aware of the man. "round ears" he muttered to himself not refering to Joesph but to the man in black whose lingering gaze, no longer on him, rode with him relentlessly.

Ta'suria the blue flue in lazy patterns over the knight and his sad little group. she saw nothing special, no reason the human needed a visit from the magic council. she couldn't understand why they would have even given him the time of the day. she could see nor hear nor smell anything special about this lower creature. The knight below was very occupied and never looked up which was helpful. There were few clouds today to hide in. Satisfied that the human below was heading out on the adventure the council, - or more specifically Asitga-- had sent him on. The blue banked gracefully heading home to report the movements. She couldn't tell what this would accomplish and why it was necessary but she fulfilled her duty and would report as instructed. Ta'suria was a guard, a warrior. She didn't need to question her orders but she disliked the duty of keeping tabs on the humans. Since the gods had silenced their magic they had been of little threat to anyone but themselves. There they stood on the isle of their home, a large continent adrift in a sea of in-navigable waters. Bottled and safe kept from the rest of the world by vast distances and their pathetic wingless and frail bodies. Ta'suria was an elite warrior having been at battle many times in her 200 years of life. She had fought with humans once. Being among them was difficult but she had found one worthy of her attention. He had died leaving her alone afterwards. She had been his mount and she had grown through the trials to love the little human. His honor and devotion and his courage and spirit were sadly far more rare in the little creatures. She had vowed to him to die with him but the gods had decreed something else. Her thoughts were often of the man who died leaving her alone to guard the dragons council. War had ceased long ago and there was very little need for her. Most days she stood guard at the council chambers in the hot sun doing nothing more then watching the younglings run and play, the elders preach and spout philosophy and the windbags in the council chambers blow smoke. Her jaws snapped on the thought of returning to her usual duties. It was distainful to still be alive when a soldiers duty was to dye in honorable combat. A dragon chose riders very carefully and once chosen they expected to die with the rider in combat. To her every day after that was an insult to the memory of Julal. She flew fast and hard more to run from the memory then to report quickly heading over the vast ocean and gliding on the thermals lost in the memory of the past.

Dragon Wars: Nam Mysterium in Homine

Gerard raced down the dirt road. His knights followed behind the man in a daze. His haste was evident but what was he rushing too no one was sure. The Small town of Helmshire appeared over the ridge nestled in the valley of Mount tantus and the rolling hills of Evergreen Hills. The town was small but very well known. It was here the gods constructed a large temple for the faithful to come and be blessed. Praise and worship were not expected of the old gods though the prayers did seem to help the healing process for those that came. The town sprung around it as people migrated to the temple. Over the years the town grew larger and larger however now the gods didn't come and didn't heal. Blessings had dried up with the magic and the city grew smaller and smaller. Many of the stone building's laying on the outskirts lay abandoned for years. Some of the old cobblestone homes had crumbled to the earth their thatched roofs long ago blown away.

The members of the church had moved in and had begun preaching holding assemblies regularly. The religion spread through the country side once again starting here however the Cardinal's offered no miracles. The did teach wisdom and humility. The preached lessons of the past and hero's of the wars and asked only for coin to spread their lessons over all of the world.

Something about the Cardinal and his monks never sat right with Gerard but they had brought a peace of mind to the people of Tywen and a faith in the divine. The preached that if humanity could improve and grow the gods of old would return to restore the power that had been taken. True or not that gave the people hope and they wanted very much to believe it. This peace of mind brought by prayer and worship could not be denied to have creating a lasting peace among the people. Raiders and looters, bandits and even vagrants had been greatly reduced since the monks spread forth their message and so many Lords and Knights came to respect the Cardinal and his monks.

Gerard however never much trusted these men. He couldn't put a finger on the feeling however it was is every word they spoke was poison that would slowly infect, spread and eventually kill. Of course he had the common sense to keep his thoughts to himself about it.

Now thought the Cardinal was dead. Destroyed by some magical force. Perhaps an unseen hand had been working towards that. The machinations of this force though would not stop there. Gerard was certain of this. Astiga was there, he knew what he saw. He knew the elf but he knew that things in the world were changing. Astiga wouldn't have revealed himself so easily and for no purpose. After all it had been thirty years since the elf had retreat into the mists. In all that time no one saw any trace of them. Effort was made to find them and even the dwarves. Entrances to their world had been sealed with rock as if some great hand had moved the mountains down on top of them crushing all the dwell within. Of course it was assumed that the dwarves had done the damage before retreating to not let anyone have their ancestral home of Therdeus but no one could say for sure.

Here the road moved from the simple dirt trail they followed to gravel of a basic paving. Gerard had slowed his pace now to ensure he didn't run down some farmer coming to market or a random peasant. He and his horse strode forward with purpose and precision making their way to the center of town and the large ornate fountain that stood in the square outside. This fountain still shot water into the air and could be seen all through the town. The water god stood aloft holding a trident, water cascading down his long beard and into a pitcher. The pitcher was held by a woman figure who stood kneeling. She was the representation of the goddess of all known as the mother. Many had wondered why she was kneeling but that was obvious if one looked at her, even in stone. She stood with the overflowing pitcher of water offering it to all her children with the love.

Behind the water god stood a lone figure back to back with the water god. He had the look of a dourer angry man. Close cropped hair and no facial hair. The statue was of a young man though somehow portrayed the knowledge and wisdom of an immortal. He stood arms crossed and sword strapped to his side but otherwise his stone garb was very simple. Though part of the fountain water never touched this stone figure leaving the stone pale white. Somehow though it carried an air of death and destruction which was appropriate for this was who it was.

The fountain represented far more then the three figures depicted but this was for serious men. Gerard payed only glancing attention to the fountain as he moved through the center of town heading for the massive stone building beyond.

He wouldn't have even looked at it had it not been for the man standing at it's base. He was young but the look but well built. Had the air of a warrior. He wore a black cloak whose hood had been down. It covered a dark silver plate armor. The armor alone was an odd thing to see but to see it as a silver while still looking black was a feat. Where-ever the light touched the plate chest would shine as if the sun were glowing from within but the highly reflective material seemed to grab the darkness of the cloak and cling to it.

Gold emblems emblazed over the surface of the front though Gerard couldn't make out the shape. The figures hair was shaggy and seemed to flow about at the slightest wind as if it had a mind of it's own. His expression was grim as he stared at the statue of the woman bent over offering the pitcher. His arms crossed on his chest. As Gerard passed beside him he saw the glint of gold on his hip. The hilt of an ornate sword and something in his mind recognized it as sword of legend but only his subconscious mind recognized it.

Golden eyes flicked to his left glowing with an odd intensity looking to Gerard. Gerard saw them only as a flash of gold as his eyes were diverting to the large cathedral. He was vaguely aware the man turning to walk off. Recognition flared in Gerard suddenly and he started to turn to look at the man again when a sudden gust of wind blasted him.

It took all his strength to stay on his horse and when finally he could stop the animal and look the figure was gone. He stared at the back side of the fountain, at the solitary figure staring back to the temple with a resolute gaze and a dour expression. A suppressed shiver ran through his spine as he noted the sword at the figures side and the features he had seen only a moment before.

"He wanted me to know..." Gerard spoke softly as his knights behind him stared around looking for the source of the wind that had nearly deseated them. Some looked to the heavens others looked about the square and even more looked from their butts sitting on the ground and looking dazed. "...is this is a bad omen."

Joesph was approaching the end of the deer trail now. He could see the sun filter through the tree ahead shining on the road in the distance. He heard the creatures scurry away from him. All but a few he heard a wolves call distantly though not so distant and it concerned him. He quickened his pace to get to the road and hopefully a faster pace north when suddenly the animal noises stopped. All was eerily quiet and even the sun seemed a little less dim here. Joesph looked up through the tree canopy. It was mid day and he could see the sun plainly through the trees however it just felt darker somehow. He shook his head slowly to dispel the uneasy feeling and pressed forward.

Joesph's steps were measured, slow and, careful despite his desire for haste. This sudden change had him concerned. He moved through the trail stepping out onto the road and he looked around. Hobbling up on the road was an old man. Dressed in a black robe with the hood drawn it was hard to tell just how old. His posture was stooped over a long gnarled wooden cane that he used to support his weight.

Joesph could almost see the man's eyes under his hood. Gold light seemed to shine in his deep emerald eyes. Something of this man suggested that Joesph should run. He turned looked up the road longingly. From behind him the man could be heard stumbling. He coughed a ragged, raspy sounding cough that could very well be the first sign of his death lurking over his shoulder. Joesph rushed to his side supporting him and offering to help him.

"Where are you off to sir?" Joesph asked holding the mans elbow as the coughing fit subsided. "If I'm going your way perhaps I can help you."

The man in black stood a little straighter and seemed to smile a little. "No young man." he said gesturing up the road "you have a long journey ahead and I cannot hold you up long. Please sit with me a moment though if you have the time."

He gestured to a rock up the road a little bit and Joesph nodded his head helping the man up the hill and to the rock. Once there the cloaked figure laid the staff down in front of him and looked to Joesph.

"What brings you out here? You are alone on dangerous roads and look ill equipped for the journey" The man said his youth sounding more youthful then Joesph had expected.

"I.. uh" Joesph hesitated telling the man the story but something about the man he couldn't resist. "well I'm a scribe in the temple back in Helmshire, or I was." he said looking to the ground. "a book came in you see." he withdrew the book from his pack and the man looked to it with some interest. "The cardinal brought it. I think he wanted us to translate or work with it but I never got that far. As soon as the book was in my hand it fire blast from it killing the cardinal and the head scribe." tears struggled within him and his heart and breathing struggled to choke down the truth of the story. "the... the guards-" he said with some trouble. "they blamed me, called me a mage and are hunting me."

The old man sat patiently looking at the book and Joesph the hood casting a shadowy mask over his face so that Joesph couldn't tell what he was feeling or thinking. He leaned up slowly looking to the book and nodded his head "the Arkenium Tomb." he said and as he spoke it the simple on the front of the book became clear and Joesph could read the books title. He stood dumbfounded looking up at the stranger then back at the book again.

"Take that to a man named Jacob in Vallerum. Tell him what you seek and he will help you find a man who can help. But take care." the man cautioned "these woods are fraught with danger and not all of them beast." He stood slowly using the staff he carried to support himself. Standing straighter then before he thrust the staff into the others hand and turned. "before you leave Jacob though you need to find the tear of the fallen star. He will know where to look."

Turning he walked with a surprising speed down the path back to Helmshire leaving the staff in Joesph's right hand and book in the other. "Show no one else that book." he warned turning softly to look back "None but you can touch that book. It is ment for you and you alone. Do you understand?"

Joesph of course didn't but he nodded his head and looked to put the book away. He looked back up the path leading up a large hill and disappearing over it before turning back to the old man "sir you left your..." Wind was the only thing that was left of the old man. The trees whistled with a surge of wind blowing north strongly for a moment before the gentle east winds resumed rustling the treetops. Joesph stood there on the road staring dumbfounded and dumbstruck. "...cane."