For all of you new to this story, this is the sequel to "Shadows of Darkness".

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Since the beginning of time, war has raged across the cosmos, often spilling from the immortal battlefield into the physical universe.

But at one point, untold eons ago, the three powers of the universe declared an armistice and met to hammer out a treaty of sorts. Thus it was agreed that, every ten thousand years, each faction - Good, Nature, and Evil - would each select a champion to lead their armies into a full-scale battle to determine who would determine human destiny for that decamillennial period.

Thus it is that another ten-thousand-year crux has been reached. . .

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The three supernatural armies of Nature, Good, and Evil were arrayed at the points of an equilateral triangle on the immortal battlefield. In the center, Jehovah God, Satan, and Gaea were meeting.

Satan was glowering at God, whereas the latter had a peaceful expression on His face. Gaea kept her expression neutral. Neither was exactly pleased with the way God kept winning these decamillennial battles.

"So," Gaea broke the silence, "it is time - again."

"Yes," God's voice resonated. "We are to each select a champion within one mortal year. When we have all chosen a champion, we will begin the contest."

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In the garden that was her dwelling place on the immortal plane, Gaea was pondering her choice of Nature's Champion.

Space_Orca, currently dwelling on the dimensional plane known to the immortals as Sol, was her top choice - or at least he was 100 mortal years ago, at the conclusion of the Years of Darkness.

Perhaps she should put her would-be champion to the test to determine if he was still worthy. . .

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The metaphysical nature of this energy field commonly known as "the Force" is such that it is galactically pervasive, with the potential of becoming omnipervasive, or even modopotent.

[This message has been edited by Highemperor of the Force (edited January 08, 2001).]

[This message has been edited by Highemperor of the Force (edited December 26, 2001).]

[This message has been edited by Highemperor of the Force (edited December 26, 2001).]

(A good beginning. I was just about to start this up tonight, but I guess you beat me to it. Anyway, on with the story...)

Light...LIGHT! The darkened shell cracked open, spilling its demonic contents out onto the hard tile floor. Years of darkness, years of magical learning inside one of these Hell Pods had finally come to an end, and out had come the final result: A demon of an intelligence, independance, and strength unheard of before. As the demon got up and stared around, the Devil, Satan, looked at it and smiled. Surely the pathetic angels and those stupid dendroids would never expect to find one of his demons commanding an army. Hell Dragons were his usual choice, but not this time: the enemies had learned too well their weaknesses. Now it was time to throw a wrench into their plans...


Space Orca sat in his favorite clearing in the woods, observing the animals and plants while preparing himself for the trials he knew were to come. Indeed, Gaea's soothing presence arrived right on time.

"My apprentice, come forth. You must first face three trials for me. Then can you become my champion." came the expected voice, the voice of calm and reason...

And then the world disappeared. Orca was standing inside a small arena, with an illusionary demon and angel each standing in a cage, one on each side of the arena.

"Your job," Gaea spoke telepathically into Orca's head, "will be to defeat both. You are unarmed and unarmored. Use your brains to defeat them."

Orca had expected a trial such as this, and instantly knew what to do. He slowly creeped up to the cages, and suddenly opened both at once. The two illusionary creatures flew right at each other, then proceeded to hit each other with spell after spell, sword strike after sword strike, until they both fell dead.

Once again the world faded, and Orca found himself standing beside a sick and wounded bird.

"Heal this creature using the herbs and plants of Nature. Show our caring for creatures." Gaea instructed.

Orca complied, gathering herbs and forming herbal medicines, quickly healing the wounded bird.

And yet again the world faded. But Orca by now had become used to this, and he simply relaxed as he appeared before another animal, this one fully healthy.

"This animal has a genetic defect. You must kill it to prevent it from creating more defective creatures, and thus endangering the survival of the rest of the species." Gaea spoke in a cold, monotone voice.

"No," replied Orca, "would it not be better to bring it to another place, where it will not breed but will have a comfortable life?"

"KILL IT!" Gaea howled, infuriated by this defiance of her orders in a test.

"My final answer is no. Fail me if you wish." Orca responded, his voice trembling.

"I do wish. Space Orca, you shall never be my champion. Not so long as you continue to only accept my caring and compassionate side. You must also be cruel to those who you must be cruel too. If you cannot accept this, you will never be a true servant of Nature. Now go back to your forest and care for it, and let my true servants see to the fighting!" Gaea roared, and then she was gone.

Orca stared at where she had been a while, as the real world gradually returned, then he sighed and resumed work in his forest.

NSP: Ohh...so many places to go with this one...I think I'll have to talk to Krig first though to plot--er--scheme--er--talk about what to start off with for teh side of good. And Orca..nature boy--whatever you wish to be called (hehe, I'm so friendly at 1 in the morning), I'm not sure if I understand, did Satan create a special demon to be his champion? I thought he'd choose an already living being, or would this be a demon like one from SoD (which I believe were extinct thanks to Bazaal) and if so, how do you explain its presence? Thanks for any help you can give clearing that up.

So many places to go with this...er..and is anybody else gonna be on the side of good? If so, declare yourself, so I can swap ideas for the champoin of good and all that fun stuff And even though this isn't my story and it IS an epic story, can we apply at least the rule about no powerplaying? I'd appeciate it.

-Geb (I gotta find myself some good quotes to use...)

(Nice, very nice. I'd really like to swap ideas with some of you guys, maybe on ICQ, because this could be great. Anyway, here's my one character introduced...)

As Orca resumed his toil in the forest, unbeknownst to him or any other, a silent figure looked on from a darker, unknown location of the immortal plane. The figure was tall, draped in black and bore an enchanted mask, that highlighted his cold teal eyes. Another dark being, unmasked and hard-faced, approached his side, looking at the image of Gaea's would-be champion.

"This is Nature's warrior?"

The masked one, unseen within his mask, smirked. "Potentially, but this one is...compassionate. Too much so to become a true warrior."

"Gaea has selected another?"

"No, not yet. She may have no other alternative but to select this one. It matters not, Satan's champion seems to be powerful enough to destroy any opposition, even from God."

The unmasked being raised an eyebrow. "And God's champion?"

"Undisclosed. I was going to personally inspect the proceedings shortly."

The unmasked figure turned to his partner. "You are aware of our...commitment...to this contest?"

The other didn't flinch. "I am."

"Then go, noble one, and make us proud."

His eyes visibly glowing with pride and responsibilty for but a moment, the being known only as Kronaemix turned, and willed himself into God's territorial ground on the immortal plane...



[This message has been edited by The Last True Evil (edited December 28, 2000).]

(You know, I would very much like my character to be selected as the champion of Evil. No time to write anything right now, but I'll write something later on.)

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An optimist is someone who stomps on the floor and calls it tap dancing.

In a serene forest, a man stepped out of the underbrush, with a strange emerald light flashing in his hand.

The two horses reared, frightened by the strange occurrence, but the woman and her red-cloaked companion soothed them as best as they could and wondered who this strange man was.

Standing at 6'1, he had brown eyes and a shock of white hair. There were some wrinkles on his face, but not too many. He wore a violet cloak over a midnight blue shirt and pants. The costume was completed with, strangely,a bladeless sword - that is, a hilt - strapped to his belt.

"Interesting. . ." the woman's red-garbed companion breathed, barely audibly. The woman, for her part was silent.

The man who had stepped out of the underbrush stopped and looked around. His eyes fell on the woman. Hazel eyes stared out from beneath a wreath of honey-colored hair.

The newcomer smiled, just a little, then spoke, "Hail. I am called Stanin eth Calenb. . ."

The woman, dismounting from her horse, replied, "Greetings, Lord eth Calenb. I am Lady Melantha, of the court of King Urston."

The man, Stanin, bowed. "My lady." He looked up slightly, meeting her eyes with his, and added softly, "Melantha."

Lady Melantha's smile took on a shy aspect, then she swept her arm to encompass her companion. "This is Teroc, my guard and my friend."

For the first time, Stanin forced his eyes away from the lovely Melantha to look at Teroc. "Hail and well met," he said, to which Teroc nodded gravely. The two men appeared to be taking the measure of one another.

"Come," Melantha said, "you may go with me back to the palace of King Urston of Maygard as my guest."

Stanin smiled. "I would be delighted."

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The metaphysical nature of this energy field commonly known as "the Force" is such that it is galactically pervasive, with the potential of becoming omnipervasive, or even modopotent.

[This message has been edited by Highemperor of the Force (edited January 12, 2001).]

[This message has been edited by Highemperor of the Force (edited December 26, 2001).]

Time passed slowly for Krig. He'd been here for a very long time, it seemed. Where was he? What was he doing here?

Ever so slowly, Krig moved his eyes to look around. Even that tiny motion seemed to take years. Krig saw that he was on a sailing ship of some kind. Where was he? A ship. Ships were good. Krig liked ships. He remembered something... a ship... had he been here before?

What seemed like decades passed as Krig looked around some more. There was a man... he was not moving. Perhaps it was not a real man. Wait... he looked familiar. His name was... but Krig had lost the name. What was a name anyway? They had something to do with people... their faces?

Ever so slowly, Krig looked down at himself, as if moving through cold molasses. Protruding into his field of vision, he could see a short, stumpy body, clothed in a rough tunic that had once been blue. His feet were clad in sandals, their straps wrapped around the leg-cloths covering his legs.

Beneath his feet, rather than the expected wood of the slippery deck, the steel gray of a stormy ocean stood frozen, as if it were the work of a master glass sculptor, not the open sea. Krig should have been surprised. He was not on the ship after all, but was hanging suspended in the air a few feet from the ship's railing! It looked as if he'd been trying to jump over board, when he'd been frozen in time.

Frozen in time! Suddenly, the dam broke, and Krig's memories came flooding back, jumbled and storm tossed, making no sense until they fit in together with other memories to form part of the puzzle. The ship... his friends! His fellow Northmen! Something about a storm. A battle. A kindly wizard who was dead. A battle. Evil. What had happened?

The pieces began to fall together. Krig and his fellow Northmen had been sailing - to find their home? They'd angered a powerful wizard, a servant of Bazaal (What was a wizard? And who was Bazaal?). The wizard had done something... waved his arms about... the storm had come upon them suddenly, unnaturally. Something... the storm was crashing! It was crashing! Lightning striking the mast! Jump out of the way! Mast is falling! Jump! Can't jump... too slow... everything's going too slow... have to get out of the way... slowly...

Krig hit the water with splash, suddenly. He thrashed about, trying to stay above the water. Something was pulling him down!

Krig's shield slipped off of his arm, floating slowly to the ocean floor. Why was he wearing his shield in the water? Without the shield's weight, Krig bobbed to the water's surface. The silence was deafening. The water was calm, with barely a ripple. What had happened to the storm? Krig slowly turned in the water, to face where his ship should be.

The ship was there... but something was wrong. It wasn't moving! Around the ship, twelve foot high waves stood, frozen in the air, suspended above the ship's deck. A bolt of lightning glowed in the air, striking the ship's mast, unmoving. Shards of the mast floated in the air, and the mast was tilting dangerously. Whatever was wrong with the ship, Krig could not return there, for now. He rolled onto his back, and started slowly paddling with his feet, heading in a direction that possibly led to shore.

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Oft evil will does evil mar.

The small procession of Highemperor, Lady Melania and Kejis continued through the aesthetically pleasing forest, although Melania and her Royal Guard friend and ally appeared to be more and more edgy as night began to fall on the land.

"Only a little while to go, Highemperor..."

Lady Melania, Highemperor mused, appears to be quieting her own fears more than mine-

A dark portal materialised ten yards ahead of them. Lady Melania gasped, and Kejis visibly flinched. A tall man stepped out, dressed completely in black and bearing an enchanted mask.

Lady Melania tried to be diplomatic. "Something we can do for you, friend?"

The figure raised his hand. "I have no quarrel with you, noble citizen. It is this one I am after."

Before any of them could react, a dark blue ball flew from the figure's hand, enveloping them-

Highemperor cast around. The ball had expanded so that they were all inside it! He turned to his compatriots, but to his horror, both were in a stasis-like state of suspended animation.

Roaring, Highemperor's lightsaber blade engaged as he hurtled toward the being-

Highemperor's shock was complete as a bright golden blade sprang from a jagged handle in the figure's other hand, deflecting the killing blow.

Highemperor didn't understand. Who WAS this man-?

"Stay your hand, noble warrior! I mean you no harm..."

Highemperor stepped back two paces, lightsaber assuming a defensive stance. The ominous being deactivated his own, teal eyes staring from behind the mask at the other man.

"Who are you, what do you want with me, and where did you get that weapon?"

The other didn't even blink. "My name is Kronaemix, Highemperor, I want nothing from you alone and this...is a reminder. Of a past long gone."

Highemperor sensed great power in this being, so pressed the diplomatic approach again. "What are you doing here? On this land?"

Kronaemix paused, still staring at the other. "I am here for a contest, Highemperor, that amongst other duties. Duties that in time, will involve you...and other noble men."

"You refer to the decamillenial battle of the gods! Are you a champion?"

The being's eyes flashed with sadness. "No...no, I'm not. I came before you today to warn you, Highemperor, dark times are upon us. Many brave men are going to die. Maybe it's time for you to stand up for what you believe in..."

Highemperor laughed, shrugging off the insinuation. "I always HAVE stood up for what I believe in."

"Perhaps, but your strength is diluted by other less important pursuits..."

"Such as what?"

"Your infatuation with Lady Melania for one." Highemperor was sure Kronaemix smiled behind the mask. "But don't worry, Highemperor. I will return at a later time, when you are ready, and explain more."

The tall dark figure turned to leave.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

Kronaemix cocked his head. "I must warn the others...of the times to come. Farewell, Highemperor. We shall meet again..."

Highemperor opened his mouth to protest, but a blinding flash distracted him and when his vision returned the three of them were walking normally through the forest.

Highemperor considered saying something, but held his tongue and considered the confrontation he had just been through...

The dimension known as Shamoor had been a beautiful land, once. Now it was a sickly one, devoured by the shadowy magic of the dark wizard Bazaal. Bazaal was long dead, but his legacy, the magic shadow, was not. . .

In the Citadel, Ebon Skull looked out over the villages. People, hunched over and covered in boils, went to drink from grey and polluted water, treading on brown grass to do so.

The once-demon smiled. This was his realm, in all but name, for an emperor - a pawn, in actuality - ruled here.

Ebon Skull had two large, black, bat-like wings with an impressive wingspan of six meters. His head resembled a skull with charred skin stretched taut over it. Around his neck he wore a potent talisman - the Pendant of the Knell of Death.

Now, Ebon Skull was a castout, unwelcome either in Heaven or in Hell, free to wander the wretched wastelands of Earth, Shamoor, and all the mortal planes inbetween.

Now, his plans would soon come to fruition, and he would return in triumph to Hell, with the universe as a gift to his master Satan!

The demon switched to his disguised form: a blind old man with a wooden staff in a black robe, named Ihsaimo. As Ihsaimo, he walked the halls of the Citadel, passing the rooms of the dark wizards and the dark clerics, both essential parts to his plan.

He had the pendant. The Black Shadow was nearly complete. And the matrix would soon be his. . .

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An optimist is someone who stomps on the floor and calls it tap dancing.

[This message has been edited by Dark Lancer (edited January 08, 2001).]

[This message has been edited by Dark Lancer (edited December 26, 2001).]

Highemperor, Melania, Kejis, and Aesheim are copyright Highemperor of the Force. Kronaemix is copyright, um, The Last True Evil, I guess.

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Highemperor was walking beside the horses of Melania and Kejis, thinking. He knew about the demillennial war, of course, but he had no intention of becoming involved with it. He had a mission of his own, one that would give him his heart's desires.

Melania broke the silence. Highemperor reflected that neither she nor Kejis seemed to remember the confrontation with Kronaemix. "Highemperor, tell us more about yourself. Who are you and what sort of things do you do?"

He answered, "I was once human, but now I am something more - an Andor, a one-of-a-kind being who is human in all ways except these: he is extraordinarily long-lived, and he has the ability to manipulate energy fields of any and all kinds. I am the first and only Andor to exist. As for what I do... I write poetry sometimes, and I - well, I suppose what you're really asking is why I am here in Irgard - er, Aesheim. That, however, shall have to be an explanation for another day." And he lapsed back into silence, pondering the beautiful Melania.

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

Highemperor, Melania, Kejis, and Aesheim are copyright Highemperor of the Force. Kronaemix is copyright, um, The Last True Evil, I guess.


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The metaphysical nature of this energy field commonly known as "the Force" is such that it is galactically pervasive, with the potential of becoming omnipervasive, or even modopotent.

[This message has been edited by Highemperor of the Force (edited January 08, 2001).]

[This message has been edited by Highemperor of the Force (edited January 08, 2001).]

NSP: To Dark Lancer-- I don't know if you've read The Shadows of Darkness, but if you wish, the evil realm you described your character being in could easily be the Dark Realm that Yimir was cast into (Yimir was even fond of ravens), though the only contradiction so far seems to be that this realm you describe seems to have been established for some time, where Yimir's Dark Realm has only been a hundred. I was just wondering if you wanted to have Dark Lancer come from Yimir's realm or not. And Why don't you write at Neverending Story thread anymore? We miss ya! Don't let the duct tape stop your evil reign, hehe.

And I'll put in my story post soon. Honestly

(Hmm, maybe I should read the Shadows of Darkness to be familiar with the lands and such...someone tell me if I screw up majorly, ok?)

Krig continued swimming, but there was no land in sight, and his strokes became more desperate, marred by fatigue. Eventually, he knew he could not go on, and numbly, no matter how hard he fought, he found himself sinking underwater-

A gloved hand grabbed him firmly by his arm, pulling him gently toward the surface again. Krig's impulse to resist was squashed by complete exhaustion, and he gazed up submissively at the black-clad figure that had saved him-

The two broke the surface. Krig sucked in air noisily, desperately, then passed out.

---------

When Krig awakene, he was lying on a small unmarked raft, next to the towering masked figure that had saved him. Struggling to his feet, Krig prepared himself for combat, unarmed though he was.

"Fear not, Krig. My intentions are peaceful, even though you are entitled to your doubts."

Krig gazed upon the masked figure with disguised awe. While he was still soaked from head to toe, this being had not a drop of water on him.

"You...save Krig?"

THe figure smiled. "Yes. My name is Kronaemix. My intentions, at this point in time anyway, are irrelevant."

"Why you save Krig?"

Krig seemed to humour Kronaemix. "Because, noble warrior, you aren't meant to die yet. You still have a destiny to fulfill."

"Destiny? What this means?"

"I think you know what it is, Krig." Kronaemix extended a gloved hand to point at him. "You just haven't come to terms with its importance."

Krig was getting confused, yet this being made, in another realm of his mind, perfect sense. "Why you save me? Answer Krig!"

"Because that is part of my mis-"

He cut himself off, and inside his mind, chastised himself for his error.

"That is a part of my being here. You aren't the only nobleman who I've visited, Krig. Already I have seen one, and I will shortly visit another. I place an ultimatum above your head, Krig; you will steel yourself for very trying, dangerous times, or you will die."

Krig flinched. "You...try to kill Krig?"

"Perhaps." Kronaemix's eyes flashed ominously. "It isn't my place to dictate the events of the universe. What happens, will happen. There is no stopping it."

Krig prepared another question, but Kronaemix halted him with a gesture. "This raft, Krig, is enchanted. In short time, it will take you to the nearest port. You may sell it at your leisure, and the money gained from that will start you off again. We shall meet again, Krig. For now, farewell."

A blinding flash of gold and green forced Krig to turn away for but a moment, and when he turned back, Kronaemix was gone.

Before Krig could even try to think, the raft turned abruptly and sped at an alarming rate towards lights in the distance. Krig noted numbly that by the time he reached the port, it would be nightfall. He lay down, catching up on rest while he had time. He would need it soon enough...


[This message has been edited by The Last True Evil (edited January 08, 2001).]

Yeah, The Last True Evil, you screwed up majorly. Krig doesn't talk elegantly; he's essentially a barbarian - in other words, a very limited vocabulary. I'll let Krig himself work with you to change that; after all, "it's not my place to dictate the events of the universe", hehe.

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The metaphysical nature of this energy field commonly known as "the Force" is such that it is galactically pervasive, with the potential of becoming omnipervasive, or even modopotent.

(Homer Simpson "D'OH!")

Sorry about that, I'll edit my post to make it more true to barbaric tastes...

And thank you for that ominous quote, heh heh heh...

And please, you don't have to address me every time with "The Last True Evil"...

"The Last True Evil, Sir" will do nicely

Yeah, Geb, Shamoor IS Yimir's dark realm, as we've now established. Hehe.

***

Ihsaimo, for such was the name he was using, appeared in the Earth realm in a volcanic rift. Yes, he thought, this would be the perfect place to execute his plan. . .

[This message has been edited by Dark Lancer (edited January 08, 2001).]

[This message has been edited by Dark Lancer (edited January 09, 2001).]

[This message has been edited by Dark Lancer (edited December 26, 2001).]

And thne a spooky Taco appeared and it nauseting smell killed all of the warriors and and Good, Evil, and Nature becam angered and came togher to for (GIANTGOODEVILNATURYANDHUGE) and did Kamahamaha and the SpritBomb on the Spooky Taco but in a Flash the heros showed up, Duo Maxell, Goku, Gohan, and SandRock. But the God summoned the suprise Ricard Simmons, Paully Shore, and Barney.As the Spooky Taco team moned and groaned suddenly Goku and Gohan did a fusion and Sandrock started to balast. Meanwhile....... Richard Simmons Did his Exerise Ball which was made of sweat and OB ododrs while Goku was lying on the Ground hardly breathing, Goku did Kamahamaha and destriyed Ricard Simmons and the God became angered............... Continue this Thread................................

Highemperor, Melania, Kejis, Aesheim, Aesnor X/Aesnor, Elayne, and Hornswoggle are copyright Highemperor of the Force. The Guess Who? game I made up, too, but I don't care if anyone else uses it.

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The castle of King Aesnor X, currently cloaked by night, was a large and grand design, towering over the forests and valleys of Aesheim. In the grand chamber, a feast was being held.

At the head of the table was King Aesnor X himself. He was a plump man whose hair was graying, but he seemed full of good cheer.

At the other end sat Highemperor, as guest of honor. The female servants had stubbornly insisted that he change his attire for the banquet. He had likewise insisted that he keep on his attire. Finally, he had compromised, trading his black tunic, trousers and cape for an royal blue set provided by the hospitality of King Aesnor. His shoulderpads and sash he kept, however. He had demanded that his original clothing and lightsaber be left untouched in the chambers that he had been given and had put wards around them to insure that.

Highemperor had been introduced to Aesnor and his court by Lady Melania and was immediately accepted by everyone - particularly Princess Elayne, daughter to the king, who could not keep her eyes off the visitor. Her stares were making him uncomfortable. He tried to find some solace both in the food and in the fact that Melania sat to his right in a blue evening gown. Unfortunately, his solace ended there, as Kejis sat to her right, wearing a set of clothes that seemed to resemble his Royal Guard armor somehow. And on Highemperor's left was Lord Hornswoggle, an elderly yet jolly gentleman who represented that middle ground between being thin and being fat.

Elayne sat to her father's right, and Highemperor couldn't help but notice that she was wearing a red dress that showed entirely too much cleavage. He tried to put her out of his mind, but Lord Hornswoggle noticed him noticing her noticing him and remarked conspiratorially that the princess had no husband - yet. Highemperor sighed and tried to ignore him, too, by paying attention and engaging in conversation with Melania.

He found out some things, such as Kejis's story, of how he had tried to betray the Emperor to the Rebellion but how he had almost been caught before falling into Irgard/Aesheim.

More importantly, he found out that Melania was not just beautiful and friendly, but sweet, kind, caring, and, on the whole, innocent as well. She was good and pure.

Aesnor's voice cut through the dinnertime conversation. "So, Highemperor, tell us about yourself. Are you a good man?"

"I am a moral man, yes," he answered. Obviously, they don't understand that there's a difference between being good and being moral.

"You have told us already that you are from another world; but are you of noble blood? I'm just curious, you understand," Aesnor hastily added.

"No," he laughed, "where I come from, there are no kingdoms. Where I lived, we have a democracy."

"A demo-what?"

"A democracy. I am in the area between the upper and middle classes, though not of nobility." Everyone stared blankly at Highemperor. He sighed, and said, "Nobility."

Everyone nodded in understanding.

"Tell me," the king continued, "why are you here in Aesheim?"

Highemperor hesitated, then said, smiling, "I suppose you could say I'm trying to find God."

Aesnor nodded seriously, then grinned. "A noble cause. If you need any help, don't hesitate to ask it." Highemperor nodded to show that he understood.

"Well," King Aesnor boomed, wiping his mouth none-too-daintly, "it is time for the games!" Everyone clapped and got out of their chairs. Highemperor followed suit. "Everyone who wants to play, go over there!" A number of people, including Kejis, went over to the other side of the room, to stay out of the game. Highemperor went that way, intending not to play, but a tug on his arm from Melania convinced him to do otherwise.

Aesnor cried, "We are going to play the Guess Who? game!" Everyone cheered, and Highemperor thought, Well, that seems harmless enough.

The king got all the women who were playing - which included Melania and Elayne - into one row, and all the men - including Highemperor - into another row facing them. "Ladies," Aesnor continued jovially, "Close your eyes! No peeking!" Then he continued, just as jovially, "Gentlemen, you know what to do; go kiss one of the ladies!"

Oh, no.

For a moment, Highemperor just stood there, at a loss. Obviously, he wanted to kiss Melania, but he didn't feel worthy or pure enough; he felt as if he would be defiling her by that act. Yet who else would he kiss? Elayne? Ha!

After several tense moments of agony, he stepped in front of Melania - She looks so sweet, especially with her eyes closed like that - and kissed her lightly, shyly, on the cheek. Then he resumed his place in the men's line, where all the other men had returned.

Aesnor said, "Open your eyes, ladies, and go kiss the man whom you think kissed you!"

There were more men playing than women, so several of the women had to kiss more than one man. Melania seemed to have been a popular choice among the men, for she kissed quite a few men on the cheek. Then she came to Highemperor. He held his breath. . .

Melania stood up on tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek, in the same place where he had kissed her. He blushed furiously, and she smiled.

Elayne, however, squealed and rushed at Highemperor, kissing him full on the lips. Squirming uncomfortably, he tried unsuccessfully to extricate himself from her embrace.

The king finally said jovially, "Alright, daughter, that's enough!" Elayne pulled away, smiled shly at him and winked. It was all he could do to keep the disgust from showing on his face.

They played a few more games, then it was time to dance. Aesnor's personal orchestra played waltzes of all sorts. Highemperor watched Melania dance from one man to the next, getting ever closer to him. He realized that Melania had awakened a hunger in him. . . for what? He realized that he had always had this hunger, but had just now discovered it. . . but what was it for? The question perplexed him.

His eyes connected with Melania's from several feet away. Please dance with me, he silently begged her, please. She smiled and started to come over.

But then suddenly Elayne swept into his arms, pulling him away, dancing with him like it was the last dance of her life.

The princess didn't pull away until the dances were over. Highemperor had never gotten the chance to dance with Melania. Drat that woman! he thought furiously, then retired to his quarters along with everyone else.

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

Highemperor, Melania, Kejis, Aesheim, Aesnor X/Aesnor, Elayne, and Hornswoggle are copyright Highemperor of the Force. The Guess Who? game I made up, too, but I don't care if anyone else uses it.

------------------
The metaphysical nature of this energy field commonly known as "the Force" is such that it is galactically pervasive, with the potential of becoming omnipervasive, or even modopotent.

[This message has been edited by Highemperor of the Force (edited January 09, 2001).]

(All right, I've edited my Krig post, makes more sense now. Moving right along...)

Dark Lancer, free of his Saatch disguise, leaned forward on his throne, admiring the tapestries the Claio had soundlessly woven for him.

"So you are the dark one."

A tall, ominously-clothed figure stood motionless before him. Lancer leaped to his feet, racking his brain for an answer as to how this interloper dodged all of his security measures. He could find none, and warily, he stared at the other man.

"So," Lancer ventured, sure that it was another trying to win Satan's favour by assassinating him, "what makes you think you'll be any stronger than the would-be champions I humiliated earlier?"

Kronaemix's mask hid the bitter contempt on his face he held for this creature. "My intentions are non-threatening, Dark Lancer, quite unlike yours."

Lancer allowed himself a thin smile. "And you are..?"

"I have gone under many aliases on several different worlds and universes, but in this one I am Kronaemix, and shall be addressed as such."

Dark Lancer felt a slight admiration for this man; he was direct, to the point.

"I came here, Dark Lancer, or 'Saatch', whichever you prefer, to share something with you." Kronaemix walked closer; Lancer readied himself for a sneak attack.

"I am not young anymore, and have gained several talents throughout the years, or perhaps more accurately, throughout the milleniums. One such talent, a direct spin-off of extrasensory perception, is called advanced psionic prediction. This essentially means I can see into the future.

"There is, however, a catch. The future has many possible outcomes, and I see them all. In one such outcome-"Kronaemix's eyes glowed with malice-"I see you, and all the damage you will work on this fair universe when Satan rewards you for besting Gaea's and even God's champion."

Lancer's thin smile bloomed into a sneer.

"In ANOTHER outcome...your fate is, shall we say, vastly different. I am not powerful enough to predict which outcome will actually occur, and which is, quite simply, fantasy. All I will say, Dark Lancer, is that the dark path you walk will possibly gain you absolute power, yet deny you true contentment."

Kronaemix turned, walking into the opening portal behind him. Just before he left, he turned, facing Lancer once more.

"I will see you again, in good time, and we will see if my words ring true."

Then he was gone. Lancer lounged back uncomfortably on the throne, completely at a loss as to who this Kronaemix was, how he knew of his intentions and why he had warned him of the danger ahead.



[This message has been edited by The Last True Evil (edited January 09, 2001).]

NSP: Hehe, I like the last long post sorry, I forgot who wrote it--the part about the other woman. And Dark Lancer is really setting his posts up well, and I look forward to reading on, especially his posts. I will post the story part as soon as I get some info back from the great Beyond (aka Merlin, hehe). I'll be back, yah.

-Geb

(The Last True Evil, sir: Much better, now that you've improved Krig's speech. Although even that seems a bit too cohesive for Krig... on the other hand, he does have his good days.

BTW, Krig's - unique - speech is not because of his Northman heritage. Other Northmen speak just fine. It's just Krig. )

(Oh, by the way, for those of you who haven't discovered it yet, Merlin's Citadel has a bunch of stuff about the world and... stuff. Basically, it's the Encyclopedia of this world.)

The jarring of the raft hitting ground woke Krig from his deep, snoring slumber. Krig sat up and rubbed his eyes, blinking. The raft was grounded in the shallow water beside a pier, and beside a low sea-wall. Krig stood up, yawned, and stretched to his full four and a half feet in height. With his stature and bristly red beard, many people mistook Krig for a dwarf, but he was most definately human.

Krig looked around this new place. It was night time, but it wasn't truly dark yet. The city was constructed almost entirely of small, low stone houses, at least the part of the city Krig could see. The odd man strolled down the street in the dim, flickering lights of the city. No women were abroad, however, not at this time of night, in this part of the city.

Krig clamoured up the low wall, leaving the raft in the mud below. It smelled funny, and Krig didn't like it. He began to make his way into the city.

As he walked, Krig slid his axe off of his back. A long, slimy piece of seaweed dangled off of it. He plucked it off, and looked at it closly. He sniffed at it, then popped it into his mouth.

Krig slid his axe back and strolled along the street as well as a four foot tall man can stroll. He looked around at the city, at the buildings. He was pretty sure he'd never been here before. The buildings were strange looking, different from his home. His home had been nice. When he looked up at the sky, he saw the same constellations, but they were skewed. After some pondering, Krig concluded he was south of his home, somewhere. Perhaps he was near that place where the dwarfs lived.

Krig yawned again. He felt tired, despite his snooze on the raft. He was stiff and sore, he felt like he'd been lying around for a couple years. Spotting a small bit of grass growing by a building, Krig stumped over to it and flopped down, promptly falling into a deep slumber.

------------------
Oft evil will does evil mar.

You know, I'm sorry, but I completely forgot that Dark Lancer has the Claio. He doesn't need to get any other builders beside himself and the Claio.

I'm going to edit my post so that he builds the castle right then and there, and then TLTE can edit his post to confront my character in his castle. So go back and look at it, please!

------------------
An optimist is someone who stomps on the floor and calls it tap dancing.

Out of character: Hey, this still doesn't make complete sense to me. When the three champions of the respective gods are chosen, where do the armies all go to fight? Is it on the immortal plane, or Aesheim, or Ji'toria, or somewhere else? Plus, does the competition end when the other two champions are destroyed, or the armies themselves? Thanks guys. Hey, do any of you have ICQ?)

The Last True Evil, sir (hehe ), my idea is that the armies have to be defeated AND the champions have to be defeated, but neither has to necessarily be destroyed.

And thank you for the compliment, Gebohq. That was me who wrote the long post. I'm hoping Princess Elayne can provide comedic relief, so feel free to write something about her, everyone!

------------------
The metaphysical nature of this energy field commonly known as "the Force" is such that it is galactically pervasive, with the potential of becoming omnipervasive, or even modopotent.

The next morning, Highemperor was walking through the courtyards, back into his normal attire, looking for certain herbs. He was distracted, however, by children playing and men and women practicing swordsmanship or archery.

Walking beneath an archway, he espied Princess Elayne practicing with her bow. She let loose an arrow that would have gone right into the bull's-eye, except that Highemperor had a, er, mischievous moment and used to his power to control energy to nudge her arrow completely off course.

Elayne's arrow went flying up into a small window slit, and cat shrieked. Highemperor winced empathetically. He'd have to find that cat and heal it.

The princess, he noticed was about to see him, so he quickly turned around to walk away. As he turned, some dust caught in his nostrils, and he sneezed-

Right on Lady Melania, who was walking up behind him. An expression of shock showed on her face for just an instant, then she lapsed into laughter.

Highemperor, however, was mortified. "I'm so sorry, Melania!" he said. "Really, I am! I'm sorry!" He pulled out a handkerchief and tried to mop up her face.

She was still laughing, however, and, in between laughs, said, "Oh, Highemperor, it's alright, it really is!"

Highemperor, however, was on the verge of panic and despair, and soon began promising her the entire world if only she would forgive him. Melania finally stopped laughing, recognizing his embarassment, and said, "Highemperor, I'm serious, I really don't mind; it's not your fault. I just think it's funny!" She tried a tentative smile.

Highemperor grinned. Her smile broadened. So did his. Soon they both started laughing hysterically.

Finally they stopped and began talking, friend to friend, then Melania had to leave. Staring after her as she walked off, he smiled contentedly.

Still smiling, he turned around again - to see King Aesnor X and Princess Elayne heading in his direction. Before he could escape, the king called out, "Hail, Highemperor! Have you heard?"

"I don't believe I have," Highemperor replied. "Enlighten me, please."

"Certainly," Aesnor answered him. "There is a tournament just a few days from now, outside the castle walls. All men in the land who consider themselves warriors are invited to come test their strength against each other. Would you like to come?"

Highemperor hesitated. "I suppose."

Elayne whispered something into her father's ear. Aesnor smiled, then said, "Highemperor, Elayne would like to know if you would escort her to the tournament."

"I don't know-" Highemperor began to say, but the king interrupted him.

"I would feel better if there were someone I can trust with her."

"Very well," Highemperor acceded.

------------------
The metaphysical nature of this energy field commonly known as "the Force" is such that it is galactically pervasive, with the potential of becoming omnipervasive, or even modopotent.

Imprimis, the dark lancer shall open a portal
Into a land where there is combat mortal.
Using the mighty jewel
He shall prove a god a fool.

-from "Canticle of the Dark Lancer"

***

Dark Lancer sat in the throne room of his castle. He had put Kronaemix out of his mind long ago, deeming the event too unworthy of his attention to think about.

At one end of the chamber was the entrance. At the other end was the throne. And on each of the other two sides were ten doors - doors that seemed to be made of, not wood, not metal, not plastic, but something that seemed to be all three.

Dark Lancer, in his true form, went through the first door.

He felt himself spinning in a void. A voice in his head said, "Welcome to Mortal Kombat."

Dark Lancer had arrived precisely at the moment that the fallen Elder God Shinnok had reclaimed his cosmic amulet.

"You! Who are you, and what are you doing in my domain?" Shinnok roared.

Dark Lancer was silent, but held up the Jewel of Alves, a ruby in the shape of a dodecahedron, hanging from a golden chain. Speaking the incantation, the jewel leeched the power of Shinnok's amulet from it!

Without a word, he stepped back through the portal, leaving a raging god behind...

[This message has been edited by Dark Lancer (edited January 10, 2001).]

NSP: I won't be on Massassi much, so I can't make any promises I'll be able to post here. You may do whatever you want to do with Orca, this story, and anything else you want. If you need to contact me for any reason, my e-mail is naturepaladin@hotmail.com or naturepaladin@massassi.com and you can also find me at Z@NARDI's House of Homosapients, where I am an administrator, and the head of the serious debating forum The Castle of Nature Paladin and the serious interactive and non-interactive story forum The Bard's Tavern.

ZHOH's URL is http://zhoh.speckz.com/

Thank You,

Nature Paladin

Secundus, the demon of the night
Shall go into the war of the stars,
And emerge with a
Force to be reckoned with.

- from "Canticle of the Dark Lancer"

***

Dark Lancer appeared in the Imperial Palace on Coruscant. Some people who saw him suddenly appear gasped, but the demon ignored them. He raised the Jewel of Alves and muttered the incantation.

The power of the Force was pulled into the jewel. Life withered as its Force was sucked from it. Soon, all the Force within the entire galaxy was within the jewel. Stormtroopers, noticing the disturbance, tried to stop him, but he, being a demon, shrugged off their attacks until he was done.

Then he went back to his castle in the nexus.

------------------
An optimist is someone who stomps on the floor and calls it tap dancing.

Kronaemix stormed through the portal into the dark, unknown section of the immortal plane, racing to his Master, Kinn-Akan.

"Master, Dark Lancer can't DO this!"

Kinn-Akan's infinately wise teal eyes met Kronaemix's. "Do what, Kronaemix? Steal the power out of other universes? Of course he can!"

Kronaemix didn't relent. "But if he keeps on absorbing the power, God's and Gaea's forces put TOGETHER will be no match for him!"

Kinn-Akan did not wear a mask; Kronaemix was able to see his withered face crinkle in a smile.

"You underestimate their own wisdom and power, Kronaemix. That has always been your weakness..."

Kronaemix, infuriated with his mentor's lack of action, pointed a gloved finger at him accusingly.

"I will stand for this lack of appropriate action NO LONGER! I will stop him, ALONE if I must!"

"You will do NO SUCH THING!"

Termaan-Li, the current Grand Master, strode in, imperious and demanding as ever.

"For centuries, this organization has acted when the situation calls to do so! Not because a secret weapon has been located! You, Kronaemix, are meant to ENCOURAGE! Not kill at the first opportunity!"

"And WHEN is a good time to act, Termaan-Li? WHEN?"

Kinn-Akan suppressed a gasp. To not honour the Grand Master with the appropriate honorific was the highest insult.

Termaan-Li's face burned with blood.
"GUARDS-"

But Kronaemix was already moving. He leaped into the air, landed a kick on the Grand Master's chest, spun in the air, lightsaber deflecting the beams of energy the guards fired at him. Upon landing, Kronaemix sprun into action, slicing the first guard's weapon in two and removing the other's arm-

Kinn-Akan had not reached for his own lightsaber; his face, infinitely sad, watched on helplessly.

Kronaemix ran for the portal, pausing briefly to survey the carnage he created. Termaan-Li shouted incomprehensibly for more guards, but they would be too late. His face fixated on his Master, Kronaemix bowed.

"I will return one day, to restore my honour."

Then Kronaemix stepped through the vortex and was gone.

Tertius, he shall go to the place
Where humans trek all over space
And take Accuser without the sir. . .
-from "Canticle of the Dark Lancer"

***

In the universe known as Star Trek, there is a plane where practically omnipotent beings live; this is the QContinuum.

Dark Lancer appeared in this strange place and held up the Jewel of Alves in front of Q - a Q without the "ser"/"sir" of accuser/a Q sir, thus fulfilling the prophecy. Q screamed in agony as Dark Lancer did not stop at merely absorbing his power, but his very life energy. . .

***

NSP: Alright, everybody, I know my character is powergaming, and you can try to stop him, but please don't actually do it. I'm doing this so that the victory of God and/or Nature will be far more spectacular. Comprende?

------------------
An optimist is someone who stomps on the floor and calls it tap dancing.

The cat wounded by the arrow of Elayne's that Highemperor had knocked off course lay in front of the strange visitor. Highemperor concentrated, tapping into the energy flow of the universe, sealing the wound and repairing the damage that he had inadvertently done.

He had been asked to be left alone with the cat while he healed it, and his request had been granted. Now, he gathered the completely recovered cat into his arms and walked out of the room, where a small crowd was waiting.

Everyone held their breath as Highemperor exited the room. Then he showed the cat, as good as new, and everyone clapped and cheered. The cat's owner, one of the servant girls, thanked him profusely and took the cat out of his arms. Highemperor smiled, especially when he saw Lady Melania there in the crowd. His grin froze on his face when he saw Princess Elayne there, too.

Highemperor ignored the princess and studied Melania. She is so beautiful. . . Oh, that I could just hold her in my arms, for just one moment. . . He shook his head angrily. Highemperor! Enough! Get her out of your head; you have work to do!

He brusquely left, going back outside the castle to gather more herbs. The herbs of the sort he needed were not too hard to find, but neither was it too easy. . .

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

Highemperor stalked up to Elayne's chamber in the castle. It was time for the tournament, and he had to escort her. He had determined that he would be as charming as possible. Just because the princess, beautiful as she was, paled beside Melania was no reason to be rude to her.

Highemperor was wearing a set of green tunic, trousers, and cape with a black sash. His jet-black hair with its silver streak was neatly in place, as always, and his blue eyes seemed subdued.

He knocked on the door, and it opened. For a moment he stared at the woman standing there. Elayne, in rags? Then he realized that it was merely her maidservant.

"Princess Elayne shall be out momentarily, Master," she said. . .

*****************

(Ach, I have to go now, I'll finish this up later.)

------------------
The metaphysical nature of this energy field commonly known as "the Force" is such that it is galactically pervasive, with the potential of becoming omnipervasive, or even modopotent.

Elayne was true to her maidservant's word, appearing in the doorway a minute later in a purple dress, her long black hair going down to her waist, her green eyes glinting. Be charming. . . Highemperor reminded himself, and proferred his arm. "Princess?" Just because I have to be charming doesn't mean I have to be intimate with her.

Elayne smiled and gripped his elbow, and they started off. "So tell me, Highemperor, have you ever been in love?"

"No," Highemperor said truthfully, and added under his breath, Not before now, thinking of Lady Melania.

Elayne beamed. "Do you think it might be possible for you to find love. . . within this castle?" she asked tentatively.

"Oh, yes," Highemperor affirmed, his thoughts still dwelling on Melania.

The princess's smile broadened. "I think so, too," she said softly.

Highemperor turned his gaze to Elayne, as if seeing her for the first time. "Hmm. . .? Oh, yes, of course. Well, Princess, time is short, and we must go to the tournament."

They walked down the corridors until they came out of the gate leading from the keep into the grassy lawn where the tournament was being held. Colorful tents dotted the landscape, and men all around were donning armor and testing the weight of their lances.

They came to the platform where King Aesnor and his court were sitting, including Melania, and Highemperor shied guiltily away from her gaze. He sat down beside Elayne, who was herself next to her father. Suddenly an inspiration struck Highemperor. He could get away from the princess and impress Melania at the same time! He whispered, "Please excuse me, Princess," and stood up, walking to one of the tents where knights were suiting up.

"I would like to participate in the tournament," he announced. Everyone looked up, surprised both by the visitor and his declaration. Some of the manservants and squires came up to him and said, "Very good, Master Highemperor, now we must get you suited up. And before he could do anything, they had taken off his shirt, pants, and cape. "Now, Master, you must put on these trousers and this padded tunic before you can get into the armor." Highemperor gladly donned the pants, but when he put on the tunic, he found it far too warm for his liking. That, plus the armor. . .

"No," he said. The manservants stared at him. He took off the tunic. "I will not put on this tunic or the armor."

"But, Master-" the bewildered servants began, but he interrupted them.

"Do not fear for my safety. I shall be fine."

"Well, Master Highemperor, as you say, but what lance shall you use?" one of the men spoke up.

In response, Highemperor held out his hand, and dust swirled about it, coalescing into a lance. The Andor had used his energy-manipulation ability to create a lance! "This one," he replied.

They started saddling up a horse for him, but the other participants were already on their horses and lined up in front of the king. A scribe read off a scroll the names of the men who had come from all over Aesheim to compete, ". . . and lastly, Sir Gatrin of Rekben!"

"Thank you, sirrah," Aesnor called. "Sir Knights of Aesheim, I bid each of you good fortune today-"

"Wait!" a voice called out. "There is one more participant!"

And Highemperor rode out on a black horse, shirtless, holding his lance, taking his place in the line. Everyone, even the other knights, gasped. To participate in a tournament without armor was folly!

Highemperor smiled, ever so slightly. Yes, today he would indeed impress Melania. "King Aesnor, I ask your permission to compete."

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

[And I have to leave AGAIN, so I'll finish this up later.]

------------------
The metaphysical nature of this energy field commonly known as "the Force" is such that it is galactically pervasive, with the potential of becoming omnipervasive, or even modopotent.

HA the eternal war? that name sounds a lot like a thread i made called THE NEVERENDING WAR

------------------
If you insult me, I will disregard it, if you kick me, that would hurt

NSP to RabidPlatypus: Obviously, you have no idea what this story is all about. It's about Good, Evil, and Nature facing off, selecting champions to do their fighting for them.

NSP to Highemperor of the Force: Hurry up and finish that tournament thing! It sounds like a great idea. And do you think there's any chance that Dark Lancer could participate, because he is, after all, a lancer.

***

The lancer of the dark shall face the two brothers of reality,
One a marvel, the other DC,
And he shall do it with equanimity,
So that they will gaze after him with enmity.

- from "Canticle of the Dark Lancer"

***

In a strange and wondrous world known as the Marvel/DC reality, two mighty brothers dwell - the brothers of reality, one who created the Marvel universe, the other the DC universe.

Dark Lancer appeared in this world, armed as always with the Jewel of Alves, and the brothers felt their power being drained from them. Raging, they were powerless to stop the Ravynyan demon.

Dark Lancer smiled coyly. "It is said that your creations are greater than you, the creators. So I shall absorb their powers, too!" And with that, he took the power of the DC Phantom Stranger, who controlled hypertime (which was all of the DC alternate realities and the true one put together), and of the Marvel Axis of Time, around which all time existed and revolved in the Marvel universe.

Then the demon, his work here finished, went back to the nexus, leaving the two brothers to glare furiously after him. . .

------------------
An optimist is someone who stomps on the floor and calls it tap dancing.

Kronaemix stumbled across the fine tournament ground of King Aesnor X. He needed a disguise, of some sort. Then, he needed to win the tournament and reap whatever monatery reward there to get far away from this place. Finally, when he accomplished that, he might be able to set about his plan-

Kronaemix's eyes fell upon the competing knights. Smiling, he willed his essence into the being of the knight named Sir Gatrin of Rekben. Sir Gatrin buckled over for but a moment, and King Aesnor cried;

"Sir Gatrin! Are you well?"


Kronaemix put his helmet-visor down to hide Sir Gatrin's now-glowing teal eyes. "Fine, my Lord!"

Aesnor smiled. "Then let the competition BEGIN!"

Highemperor and Kronaemix exchanged glances.

'This would be very interesting,' Kronaemix mused. 'Very interesting indeed...'

Highemperor stared at Sir Gatrin. Somehow, he seemed familiar. . . He shrugged off the odd sensation.

Aesnor sputtered something about armor, but Highemperor waved a hand dismissively. "Do not worry, sire, I shall be fine."

Comments went up and down the rows of spectators, along the lines of, "The courage!" "The boldness!" "The foolhardiness!" "The muscles!"

That last comment came from Princess Elayne, who stared at Highemperor, enraptured. Melania kept quiet, but looked at Highemperor worriedly.

"Then let the tournament begin!" the king commanded. And it did.

Sir Gatrin went first, unseating his opponent with ease.

Next Highemperor faced his opponent, unseating him as well.

After that came Kejis, in full Royal Guard armor and wielding a lance. He beat his opponent as well.

The tournament went on and on, for hours, and soon only three were left on their horses - Kejis, Sir Gatrin, and Highemperor, still wearing only trousers.

"Good luck to you all," Aesnor said gravely.

Kejis and Highemperor faced off.

Highemperor summoned the cosmic energy all around him and made a construct in the form a beautiful red rose. He tossed it into the air seemingly randomly, then manipulated the energy currents to have it come down to Lady Melania's hand. She smelled the rose and smiled, while Elayne looked jealously at her.

Highemperor was on a roan, Kejis on a brown horse. Their lances gleamed in the sunlight. They spurred their horses and charged, hooves thundering on the trampled grass. Clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop, CLIP-CLOP!

The former Royal Guard evaded Highemperor's lance and his lance collided with Highemperor's stomach. The latter man fell backwards off his horse, landing with a sickening thud in the dust.

The crowd and court alike sprang to their feet in excitement and fear. Kejis held up his lance in astonishment. Its point was shattered, and the lance splintered down half its length!

Highemperor stood up, wiped the dust from his pants, and revealed that he was unharmed. He alone knew that he had merely channeled energy into his stomach so that he would not be hurt by Kejis's lance.

Clapping began. Kejis had won the bout, but Highemperor's escaping unscathed would be the talk of the towns of Aesheim for years to come.

"Well fought, noble Highemperor," Aesnor commended him. "And now, Sir Gatrin, are you ready to face your final opponent?"

"I am," Kronaemix/Gatrin said.

A squire brought Kejis a new lance, and the two final contenders faced off. Kronaemix concentrated his will, teal eyes glinting, as he and Kejis charged toward one another.

The Royal Guard's lance came at Gatrin's body like a dagger poised to strike. Kronaemix deftly dodged - though with some difficulty, as he was not used to this body - and landed a blow solidly on Kejis's chest.

But the Royal Guard held on, grunting with the blow, but remaining on the saddle.

King Aesnor X ordered them to form up again, to have another go at it. Again the two last participants charged at one another.

This time, Kronaemix promised himself, he was more used to how Sir Gatrin's body responded and he could unseat Kejis. Again he dodged the red-armored warrior's lance and landed a blow on his midsection.

Kejis teetered, for one eternal moment. . . then toppled off his horse. Kronaemix had won!

Kejis picked himself up, then offered his hand to Gatrin. Kronaemix gripped it, nodding that secret nod that warriors used among one another to acknowledge the presence of an equal.

Then Kronaemix rode up in front of Aesnor's platform. "Well done, Sir Gatrin," the king congratulated him. "Now name your prize, even up to an eighth of my kingdom."

Kronaemix/Gatrin took a deep breath. "Gold," he said.

Aesnor smiled. "Then gold you shall have."

------------------
The metaphysical nature of this energy field commonly known as "the Force" is such that it is galactically pervasive, with the potential of becoming omnipervasive, or even modopotent.

NSP: Isn't anyone else besides me, HEF, and TLTE going to write this? Come on, people, we need some more writers.

***

Then the demon of the night
Shall betake the demon of the blight
And the dark one's nemesis as well,
He shall weave as he wills.
Taking one power after another,
So shall he become strong.

-from "Canticle of the Dark Lancer"

***

Dark Lancer felt himself spinning, and a voice in his head said, "Welcome to the Wheel of Time."

He appeared in a desolate wasteland called the Blight, just outside the Dark One's prison - the mountain called Shayol Ghul. The Dark One, Shai'tan, was one of two cosmic primal, Zoroastrian forces. The Creator was the other.

There were seven seals that contained the Dark One within Shayol Ghul. Each was made of heartstone - a wondrous substance that, once made, could never be broken, not even by the One Power, for it absorbed all power into it, becoming ever stronger.

Dark Lancer, however, had two utilities at his disposal that he could use to break the heartstone, however - the power of universes he had already absorbed, and the Claio. Opting for the Claio, the demon selected the Thunder Card - the Card of Energy.

Holding the Card up high, he willed it to disintegrate the heartstone, by manipulating the energy bonds into breaking down, thus causing the heartstone to disappear in a tiny explosion. One seal after another broke, until all seven were destroyed.

The land shuddered. The Dark One was breaking free! An enormous clawed hand breached the surface of Shayol Ghul. Before Shai'tan could make it any farther, however, Dark Lancer had replaced the Thunder Card and the Claio and taken out the Jewel of Alves.

"Jewel of wonder, awe, and beauty,
Give me such that others envy," he incanted. The power of the Dark One was leeched from him!

Then Dark Lancer spirited himself away, to appear in a place that was neither time nor space.

A very old man in silver robes stood here, with a generator of sorts and a gigantic wheel close by - the Creator, True Source, and Wheel of Time! Out of the True Source poured the One Power, which drove the Wheel of Time.

The Creator did nothing, but merely smiled sadly as his power and the power of the True Source was taken. He knew that Dark Lancer was part of a larger struggle in which he dared not take part.

And the demon of Ravynya returned to his castle.

Several of Aesnor's strongest men lifted the gold into Sir Gatrin's carriage, and Kronaemix watched on, satisfied. King Aesnor was extremely generous, and he probably would not need most of it, so in good time, he would give it back. With interest.

He was equally amused to see King Aesnor himself, flanked by his guards, Princess Elayne and even Highemperor, coming to see him off. King Aesnor was beaming.

"You two put on a fine show today! We are indebted to you, noble sirs..."

Highemperor moved to speak, but Kronaemix beat him to it. "I beg to differ, your Highness; we are very much in your debt. Please, accept this..."

Sir Gatrin's palm opened to reveal a Cnycinthican ruby, dazzling, rare, and undeniably beautiful.

"...and of course, one for the Princess."

Gatrin's other palm produced an identical, and offered it to Elayne.

Kronaemix resisted a grin. It was almost embarassing to watch the Princess fall all over Highemperor. He had even considered asking, instead of gold, for Elayne's hand in marriage, just to see the disgusted look on her face.

"And finally, to my competitor Highemperor, who I didn't face off against, much to my dismay."

Gatrin revealed a small ring, adorned with sparkling emeralds.

"Take it. They say that under dangerous circumstances, the ring will give you the strength of ten men."

Highemperor nodded, thanking Sir Gatrin.

"I thank you all, for such a wonderful competition. Perhaps some day soon, we shall meet again. Farewell."

It was then that Highemperor worked it out. Why Sir Gatrin's visor was always down. Why he was so familiar.

Why he needed to hide his eyes.

But before he could move to speak, the carriage was underway and Gatrin/Kronaemix was gone.

In an ancient time, in a place yet unknown,
A world out of timeless faerie,
Where a Shadow falls upon the land,
Wielding a magic and a matrix,
There shall Dark Lancer come.
And conquer.

-from "Canticle of the Dark Lancer"

***

In a medieval universe called Faerie, where magic worked, a malevolent being ruled the entire plane from within a castle of blackest stone in a marsh. This being was Shadow, and she possessed the matrix of all magic in the universe, though her control over was not perfect.

Into this castle's throne room appeared the demon of Ravynya. Surprised, Shadow demanded, "From whence hast thou come? And what is thy purpose?"

Dark Lancer, having long grown bored of talking to his victims, mutely held up the Jewel of Alves. The brightly glowing power that always surrounded Shadow and represented the matrix slowly dimmed, then disappeared, the light - and the magic - vanishing into the jewel!

"No!" Shadow roared impotently, but she could do nothing. Dark Lancer once again spirited himself away. . .

***

NSP: I hope you're not getting bored with my posts. There's going to be almost thirty universes that Dark Lancer absorbs the power from. If you are getting bored, tell me and I'll combine several of these universe-absorption posts into one.

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An optimist is someone who stomps on the floor and calls it tap dancing.

A mournful wail shattered the stillness of the night, and awakened Semievil from his slumber, and he stood upon the lush, grassy hillside where he loved to sleep, and could overlook the dwelling places of God, Satan, and Gaia-former dwelling places, they decided to make their own planes and left him with only minions to talk to. He arose with the sun, or rather, the sun arose with him, for he was total lord of his domain, and took stock of the work he had still to do. Gazing out across his home in the Plane of Power, he pondered the matters at hand. The contest... he had to prepare. Sem saw little point to his being there, as the judge of the battle, he could not use his power at all, and he rather hated having power and not using it. Ahh well, it was only for 300 days in every 10,000 years, so he could deal with it. It was the form he had to assume every time that bothered Sem the most. Every time God won, Lucifer and Gaia demanded that his form reflect their powers more, so that the judge would not appear partial. It was important that you never seem partial when judging the outcome of the universe for the next 10,000 years, but the costume was rather silly. Sem cracked his neck and yawned, knowing that it was a mere 300 days until the contest... which ment 301 'till he could go back to sleep. controlling the balance of the universe was so much easier to do in your sleep- dreams don't make you work out the specifics, and unlimited power is so much easier without worrying about fine print. He split his chest open. Sem rather enjoyed his internal organs, but about 3 contests before Satan had accused him of being too sensitive to God because of his heart, and too sensitive to Gaia bacause of his mind. Gaia had countered that his lungs and stomach rendered him succeptible to whatever poison attacks Satan's minion used. Finally he had to just take it all out, except fo bones, skin, and brain, which, it was determined was counter-productive to remove as it might impair his judgement. Sem re-sealed his chest, and pulled his skin tight. He nodded his head at the former residence of Gaia and a soft green aura surrounded him, and finally settled in vines draped about Sem's body like armor. Sem gestured at the other two houses in turn, and was suddenly holding a shield bearing a cross, and a skull-tipped staff, and wearing a neutral gray cloak. First on his list, was to begin to collect Andamantite to build the arena and imbue the heroes, he hated the job, but the three insisted that he do it himself, to ensure fairness in all aspects.

(NSP: what do you all think? I looked at my name, and Semievil seemed kind of right in the middle of this story<pardon the pun>. I figured that being a court-side official would suit me kind of good in this situation, and also it solves the problem of where we are going to have this fight at the end. <building an arena sounds like fun too, can't wait to try> anyways if you all like it, I'll keep writing it, if you don't, ignore the post and I'll go crawl into a dark hole, and try and get box-seats for the final battle.)
(NSP arkLancer- if this meets with approval, no you may NOT absorb any power from the Plane of Power: heroes who attempt to do this will be disqualified, and thier patron god will automatically forfeit the match for the next 5 contests- just keepin it fair)


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The early bird may get the worm-
but it's the second mouse who gets the cheeze.

Omnia quae specto dominavi, et tantam magnus sum, ut non specto!