(NSP: Erm.... I'm sorry if I sounded harsh, its just that I'm tired and I had to tell Geb practically 1000 times before he got that there was no lava in the Rift. Nothing personal.)

------------------
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!

(NSP: Correction--there's no lava inside THE FORMER ARENA, which is where our heroes' are, which is under the Rift (but for simplicity, we've just been calling the entirity of the place the Rift--just didn't want anybody to be confused). Don't get the idea wrong--where the heroe's are is very uneven ground, from the stone and such that's falled from above, and perhaps lava that pured down at one point and hardened, but there's no broken parts in the floor itself--the main image is that the floor in the center is DULL and not colorful liek the rest of it. Yes, I'd like the place to be lava-ridden too, but I'm letting Sem have his wish for this part

Also, Shadowlord, I'm going to e-mail you shortly concerning your involvement in this story (though if it doesn't work--I'm using hte e-mail that Massassi has under your profile/screename/etc. bar, so check that to see that it's the same one as you use--, then I guess I'll post it here). For now, to the others, don't involve the bad guy introduced by Shadowlord, thanks.

I'm waiting on you, TLTE And Highemp is right, this story is infested with NSP's, hehehe)

------------------
~Geb

[This message has been edited by Gebohq (edited September 05, 2001).]

hey I'm still here guys...I promice to make an actual post in seven days...if not then let the fleas of a thousand lamas infest my dorm!

Oh, great, is my character going to get rejected again? Let's see... whoever started this story, back me up! I want a character in TEW!

------------------
The Lord of Shadows lives ...

(NSP: Sorry Shadowlord, but I'm going to have to assume for the time-being that Saidelor doesn't exist. Geb is gonna e-mail you to work on your character and try to bring it more in line w/ the story. I know we all want to jump right into the action as soon as we introduce a character, but that's not what a good little hero does. or evil. or chaotic. Even if we were in a place where we *could* introduce new characters there have to be enough prior posts dealing with that character for the other writers to have a feel for him before we can introduce a character into the main flow of the story. I know that it looks as though that is what happened in Bais' case, but in reality me and Geb spent almost three weeks colaborating with other writers in order to make a smooth introduction. We now return to our feature presentation.)

What is andamantite? Derrivative-adament. Adament- unyielding, strong, like stone. Stone- derrivative of the element of earth.

Bais contemplated the bars which held Stanin. If they were degraded enough... but that would mean giving up his invisibility... invisibility is not an easy spell to maintain. Even now Bais was not totally invisible and would have been spotted easily along with Krystal, Krig and Noddo if not for the battle around him. It is also not a good spell to lose when surrounded by your enemies. The invisibility had been barely enough for the group to sneak up to the cages, and certainly would not hold much longer.

Invisible- not seen. shrouded. fogged. fog- mixture of elements water and air.

Suddenly mist poured in from the rift hundreds of feet above. It covered the center of the arena entirely for two miles, thick enough that Bais' company could not be seen even though the invisibility had worn off completely.

Noddo, realizing the oppourtunity, and having maked where everyone was standing as the cloud descended, struck at Yarilo. The stab never made contact. A form vaguely recognizable as that of a knight had stepped forward and smashed Noddo's weapon to the ground.

Noddo heard Yarilo cursing as he stood dumbfounded. The knight raised a massive hammer to strike, and then suddenly stopped. A small stone was embedded in the forhead of his helm. The stone glowed for a moment, then went dead.

Seconds later, the knight's armor fell away from his body in torn ragged bits of cloth. There was no trace of the metal, either in the knight's armor or now useless weapon. Bewildered, Noddo stepped closer and recognized the pale face of Jiverak Ironhands.

The shock almost numbed the pain Noddo felt as Jiverak's fist flattened him difinitively to the ground.

------------------
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!

(NSP: I really, REALLY want to post right now, but I'm not quite sure of things. Is EVERYONE on or around the Rift, so that Kronaemix will be visible to them when he makes his interrupting speech?

Better yet, could you please post a status update, informing me of where all the major characters are as of now?

As soon as that's done, this long-awaited post will be up in a flash

Thanks again,

-TLTE

NSP: Everyone (with the exception of characters from Janitor Bob and Ping_Me) is in the same place--the center of the former Arena, which (specific location) is basically under the center of the RIFT as well (The Rift, in comparision to the former Arena where we all are, is a giant tear in its roof. Immediately surrounding the tear/Rift (on the surface, as oppose to below where the former Arena and the characters are) is where the volcanic activity is. Your charcter, Kronaemix, being an ethereal being, can teleport himself to wherever the characters are, so it doesn't terribly matter upon location. If you wish, e-mail me, and I'll jsut go ahead with my post, but add Kron trying to break up the fight and Sol'iq entering, so then you can just worry about soley posting about the fight between Kron and Sol'iq.

And on a side note, an immortal (Kron--being a former angel and now a servant of Justice) fighting another immortal (Sol'iq, a demon), has got to be hard to win on either side (after all, they can't die, or can immortals "kill" other immortals? Hehe)

------------------
~Geb

As the fog dissapated, a battle of pure chaos was occuring, where one could barely be discerned from another.

"STOP!!!"

Everyone in the center of the Arena stopped. Regardless of the passion of battle, or the frantic heat of confusion, the sheer volume, and-presence-of the verbal command compelled the stunned forces of good, nature and evil alike to freeze.

From the massive tear in the ceiling of the Arena-the Rift-a golden ethereal figure glided down, his shining wings radiating the darkest corners of the chamber, though his gray armor signified his official neutrality. The members of good reveled in the righteous glory, whilst the evil snarled and stared, still in awe.

"Stand down from your fights. This battle is befouled with the taint of corruption."

Amry, squinting at the brilliant figure, could just make out a resemblance. The angel looked just like the one she had met earlier...Kronaemix.

Or was this Kronaemix?

Muted, she watched on with abject fascination. Was that...a person he was holding?

Kronaemix hovered above the fighters, grasping the temporarily subdued Ebon Skull by the neck in his left hand, and his crackling blue sword, Kinn-Akan's Justice, in his right.

"This foul one, as well as other beings present, are working a plot to sabatoge an Eternal Force's domain with the use of a certain matrix that was clearly made by a mortal, and therefore under code 13698 section 45 subarticle 111, is FORBIDDEN by use of ethereal beings and deities without the knowledge and permission of the Force of Justice. Code 47093 section 87 subarticle 329, which states that a potential mortal champion of an Eternal Force can not be forced to aid an opposing Eternal Force in the Decimillenial Battle, has also been violated. I stand here to reprove and correct this unjustness."

He tossed the limp body of Skull across the floor onto the andamantite ground with a huge crash. Ebon Skull lay unconscious and still, his demonic body slump on the floor. All present and conscious of Kronaemix stood dumbfounded.

"As Defender of Justice, and Representative of Semievil, Judge of the Immortal War, I shall remove the mortal Stanin eb Calib from his imprisionment and relocate him from this battle. The rest of you may continue to do as you were doing."

All the possible champions applying for the Forces of Good and Nature were nearly furious at Kronaemix, whom they thought was letting another unjustess, namely in not assisting their cause, from taking place. The Evil Forces were just as furiated, if not more, by the claims Kronaemix made.

"You can't do this!" Yarilo screamed. "You're interfering with the affairs of mortals, you excuse for an angel!"

"You, mortal, are interfering with the affairs of divine matters," Kronaemix said in a firm, unquestioning tone. "Stand back all!"

Kromaemix approached the cage that held Stanin and pulled a green gem from his hand. He was about to power down the cage with the gem, the other realized. The gem began to glow--

An inhuman scream ripped through the chamber, and everyone covered their ears. Kronaemix had quickly hid the gem back and spun around in mid-air, holding out his blade in defense. A haunting laugh echoed in the souls of everyone present.

The laughter continued, manifesting itself in a dark purple vortex in the centre of the room. Slowly, it expanded to human size, and then, the laughter fitted to a body, as a demon leaped through the portal, into the air.

He was a near contrast to Kronaemix. His full-body armour glowed red, and his eyes were the darkest pits of blue. His red sword-an extension of his armour- hummed, and throbbed, like Kronaemix's.

Amry recognised him too, although reluctantly.

He was the demon that they had fought at Liberate Diablo.

He was So'liq.

"Greetings, friends. My, Kronaemix has spun you quite a show, hasn't he?"

The angel's teal eyes at first widened with shock, drifted to faint recognition, and stopped finally at burning hatred.

"YOU!"

"Back from the dead, as it were." So'liq needed no wings to fly; he glided effortlessly and magically of his own accord. They hovered in mid-air, above the watching crowd, two burning stars in the obscurity of space.

"I know not how you survived our last encounter, demon," Kronaemix growled, "but the next time I kill you, you will remain dead."

"As I recall," So'liq shot back, "you had assistance in defeating me last time, with mortals no less. Assistance that this time you will lack."

Before Kronaemix acted, Sol'iq did something incredible, something no servant of an Eternal Force should be able to do. With one swipe of his hand, a translucent barrier that kept Kronaemix from entering the mile-wide traingular space the mortals were in was erected. Somehow, Sol'iq had activated the protective dome used in the final battle between the champions. Somehow, Sol'iq was able to tap into the power that only the servants of Justice were suppose to have. Some technicality, some loophole in the power system must have allowed him to do this without the knowledge of the Eternal Judge.

Kronaemix stared down, disbelieving, as Ebon Skull rose in consciousness, and the battle started to take shape once again.

So'liq's eyes pierced the angel's soul.

"You see how easily your work is undone, Kronaemix? All of your efforts to honor these people, yourself, your father...I can shatter it all in a heartbeat. You're not the only one with new tricks, friend."

"NOOOOO!!!"

Kronaemix abandoned his instincts, and reasoning that he would have to focus all of his effort on the demon, charged at So'liq, his blade sparking so violently with the demon's that it was nearly torn from both their grasps.

They stared into each others eyes, but no resolution was to be found. Kronaemix prepared to fight...

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

(NSP: Ok guys, this has gotten way out of hand. We have characters comming in from all directions right in the middle of things, there is no developed motivation to some of them, there are hints of power-playing, people are making post apparently without reading the ones before to make sure they fit, and the people who started the fight seem to be the only ones not participating here.

I move that we have a 1 day breather- no story posts, NSPs only (I know, I know Geb, but this is out of hand) and we try to e-mail, IM and communicate our way out of this very big, very ugly mess. All in favor of holding off posts until tomorrow evening... well, errr, don't post.)

------------------
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!

(NSP: Argh, and I was gonna post tonight too, heehehe. Guess it can wait 'til tomorrow night though, in light of what you've said Sem.

Semievil DOES have a point, ye loyal and talented writers. Though I'm glad we all got out of our rut of not posting, we as a whole (myself included) seem to have forgotten why we're writing. It's not for flashy fight scenes (though they're fun to read at times), or who can top who. We're trying to tell a STORY, a story of God, a story of the magic in people, the world, and life(double meaning intended). William Shakesphere once said "All the world's a stage, and men and women are mere players in it." As is life, this story isn't trying to tell us the characters, but how they play in the story, and what the story is telling us. As writers, we should try to bring the STORY out, not the characters. We need to work together and have the characters interact with each other. We need to develop the characters so the readers can identify with them and be able to say "I know what it's like to be them!", making the readers part of the story, and therefore, the magic that we're trying to bring to them.

With that in mind, I only have two things to tell all you writers when you write for this, which you may or may have not heard from me before:

1) Don't be afraid to bring elements of yourself into your character. MAKE yourself your character and think "what would I do in their situation? Why am I motivated to perceieve the way I do? How does that affect what I do, how I see other people as who they are to me, how I feel towards them?" This was advice a certain green elven man gave me when I first started writing, and I still feel its one of the best pieces of advice I've gotten when it comes to writing a character. (I hope I did your advice justice, green elven man ).

2) Have fun! Just like life would get boring if all you thought about was "what am I going to do now?", writing for the story is boring if you simply think "What's my next post going to be about?" Get into it! Describe the amazing sites and sensations and inner thoughts you have(through the story)! Think of those big questions that crop in your head everyday (or once in a while), like "Is there a God?", "How's religion part of my life?" "Does my religion mean a way of life for me?" "Why do I think something is good or evil or "nature", or NOT one of those things. Remember to keep what I said before in mind

I hope you will do as Sem and I are--move for at least one day without a post and EMPHISIS on communicating with each other. Understand anything we're unclear of, or even things we ARE clear of. I already talked extensively to Highemp tonight, and tomorrow if I feel its ready to go up them, I'll post what I got from him and what I empathized with into a story post. I seriously hope you all talk with each other soon. I know this Rift-battle seems strict and confusing, but keep in mind that's because a number of the writers talked it over with themselves EXTENSIVELY for the last couple months at least, and after the Rift, everyone will get a chance to be more creative and introduce your new character (to Shadowlord) or explore parts you didn't before.

As for those who soley read this, I hope you're getting as much out of this story as I am and as I hope the other writers are as well. Feel free to e-mail me or any of the other writers on your thoughts and how you're liking it

And PUH-LEASE! NO POWERPLAYING! If there's anything that ticks me off, it's that...(you know already if its considered powerplaying or not--if not, e-mail me and I'll tell you and give you help).

------------------
~Geb

WHOOPS, almost forgot to say: TLTE, you still have the go to edit your last post--it's strictly on posting new stuff we're taking a break from right now

[This message has been edited by Gebohq (edited September 07, 2001).]

(NSP: This post is a collaborative between myself and Highemperor *and that it's sort of a "how we felt-post* Let's get this show back on the road! Time to pull some emotional strings now...)

Stanin sat inside his cage, trying to make out the main battle. It was hard to make out the details though, for most of those that were left were a good half-mile away. His companions, and others like them, were fighting the undead man that had charged at him previously and killed the knight. But where was that woman that interrogated him earlier, or the demon? Stanin thought that he was getting too old for this kind of thing to happen to him. Or was he?

"How old am I?", he thought. "I feel ancient, but I can't be any older than... Life seems to be too confusing at times. In my search for ultimate power, the power to make sense out of life and its questions, I have only found more roads and dead ends, new dreams and nightmares, higher goals and risks. Why is it so hard to fill that feeling of emptiness in me? Why does Melantha make all these puzzle pieces seem to fit together? I can see the entirity of reality in its beauty and grandeur when I look at her. The joy in her face, like the joy found in a child…I feel I don’t need ultimate power when she makes me feel whole...”

Stanin’s attention snapped when the woman who interrogated him earlier, Yarilo, strolled by him once again. He thought he could see a resemblace between this woman and Amry...

“Well,” Yarilo said to Stanin, “it seems you have another chance to tell us where your matrix is.”

“I told you, I don’t know!” Stanin affirmed.

“Oh? I beg to differ.”

Yarilo holds up Stanin’s journal, which Kupala grabbed from him earlier.

“You seem to have passages in here that reveal the way to Heaven. They’re…cryptic though. You would know what they mean though, wouldn’t you?”

“No, I don’t—“

“DON’T MOCK ME! You’re a pathetic excuse for a man. You really think I’m that gullible?”

“No, I don’t—“

“THEN--…then I’m not getting very far with you, am I? You know, I really didn’t want to do this, but...”

Stanin’s vision outside the cage was blurred momentarily as Yarilo casted her hands over it. A few moments later, it dissapeared, and standing there was Melentha. Her eyes darted, her body low, her clothes disshevaled; she was a stranger in a hostile land. Melantha turned to see Stanin, and for a moment, she gazed at him. Their eyes brought them together for that moment, and the bars that separated them seemed to have dissolved...

Yarilo stomped back into the picture with an odd sense of gracefulness. She advanced towards Melantha, who in return, held a defensive position.

"Dear woman," Yarilo nearly sang, "Should we find out what secrets burn inside you?"

A sharp gust of wind shot past Stanin, who backed away from the bars, and past Melantha. A strap supporting her modest, delicate gown on her shoulder fell, revealing a good amount of her skin. Melantha looked with shock towards Yarilo--she had expected an act of violence. Stanin nearly jumped on the bars.

"STOP IT!" Stanin pleaded.

"Stanin, dear," Yarilo said, "what's the matter? Virgin eyes?"

Stanin leveled his eyes at Yarilo, and for a moment, Yarilo wondered if she had gone too far. Yarilo smirked, and with another shot of wind, tore the other strap off. Melantha grabbed at her gown, her eyes darting between Yarilo and Stanin.

Before Stanin could object further, Yarilo held out her hand as if to tell him to be quiet. Spinning around, her long skirt lifted, but instead of her legs, more and more of her dress appeared and twirled around her body. Yarilo then began to spin like a ballerina, and the waves of her skirt covered Melantha. When the currents of her skirt fell back down, Stanin saw what looked like two of Melantha.

Stanin also noticed a man standing to their side. It was Teroc; the man back at the tournament that caught Melantha's eye. The man that Stanin couldn't help but secretly wish was dead. By his own hands...

Melantha, one of the two that looked like her, ran towards Teroc as if he was a lifesaver. She clung to him, her arms wrapped snug around his waist, and he in return held her, while she muttered, "I'm with you again".

"I know that's you, Yarilo," Stanin said in the direction of Teroc and the one he embraced. "I know better than to think she would want to be with that man."

The Melantha that held to Teroc turned to Stanin, her eyes now miles away, shot through Stanin's mind now.

"Where do you think you get off like that?" she had said, her eyes piercing and bitter. "What makes you think I would be intersted in an old man like you? All you care about is power! You don't love me, you love how that void inside of you disappears! I can read you like a book, Stanin eth Calenb."

Her eyes stared at Stanin's, and her anger held strong. Her gaze faltered, for a second, and once more, she seemed to have found something. Some hint of doubt, like a dream that she had forgotten. It soon dissolved though, and her face showed pity, like one a rich person would have for a poor one.

"I'm sorry," the Melantha by Teroc said, "I don't know what else to say." She held on to Teroc stronger than ever.

"No...it can't be. It's a lie...it's one of your tricks, I know it Yarilo! Show yourself! Show yourself..."

The other Melantha, not by Teroc, glided up to Stanin, as close as the bars would permit.

"It'll all turn out for the better, Stanin. I believe in you."

Stanin looked at her like a hopeless romantic, and nearly fell where he stood. Yarilo's voice echoed around his cage, with no distict origin.

"You'll never know the secret of truth, Stanin..."

The three figures began to fade as they did when Melantha first appeared to Stanin by his cage.

"...you'll never know, unless you tell us what we want to know."

Stanin nearly broke down in tears from the emotional confusion. "I wish I could tell you...if only I knew..."

The mystifying, thick fog dropped like a curtain, and Yarilo stood there, alone, in her pruple dress.

"Stubborn old man..." Yarilo said. She spat at him, and walked away, fustrated by her apparent lack of sucess. Stanin tried with all his might to stab the confusion in his head with his fingers.

------------------
~Geb

[This message has been edited by Gebohq (edited September 10, 2001).]

Jirverak and Kupala now faced only two opponents. Noddo had been left behind in a mad-dash to the center of the triangle. Krystal had somehow been struck and was laying facedown in a pool of blood. It was not her blood- it had the sickly black color of the blood of the dead- she had taken something for her injuries. Krig now stood guarding her fiercely. The others were unaccounted for in Bais’ mind. Admittedly, Bais was preoccupied- he had held his own, more or less, against a knight in hand to hand combat. Bais knew that these were the effects of a recently raised undead and that the confused, wild blows would soon bring themselves to bear with considerable professionalism. Krig was having approximately the same success fending off Kupala.

“Krig, jump!” Bais half-yelled in that general direction. A stiff blow to Bais’ chest sent him staggering a few steps back, but the end was accomplished. The desperate north man parried, then struggled to leap as high as he could. With a sweeping gesture and a gust of air, Krig flew and brought to bear on Jirverak a kick that so disoriented the hapless knight that he went charging off in the opposite direction.

Too late Bais had realized his mistake- Krystal had been unguarded. Now Kupala had her and Krig was nearly fifty feet away, having tumbled and rolled quite some distance. Tossing her limp form over his shoulder Kupala slammed his claws into the darkened ground, which crumbled in response. Bais followed him through the hole and found himself in an uncomfortably familiar place. It wasn’t a real place- the physical spot where Bais found himself was an austere hall with six or seven doors, one across from the single stairway on which he now stood. The terror that gripped him was a fear of being left here, for a third time.

But Bais had to focus now, the furthest door stood open, and behind it Bais could see a large isosceles triangle brilliantly light for a moment and go dark. As he dashed through the door making for the transit line, he failed to take notice of the room as he entered, and paid for it in blood. Kupala’s claws raked his left arm even through Bais’ heavy robe and spun him around. Fortunately the momentum of the spin allowed Bais to bring an extra measure of force upon his opponent, and the fury of the impassioned mage’s fist stunned Kupala for a few moments, and left black, tarry blood streaming from his nose. Without missing a step, Bais spun around again and stepped into the triangle.

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

It took under five seconds for the two-meter wide fiber-optic cable to carry Bais to his destination, where he found Krystal sprawled out in the middle of the floor of an empty room. Picking her up, he smashed through the door into exactly what he had both hoped and subconsciously feared he would find- a massive hall like the one in the former Arena, filled with bustling people.

Or people who had been bustling- on their side of the wall, there had been no door until Bais had broken through, only bricks which had inexplicably vanished. The crowd gaped open-mouthed at the bleeding, raging spectacle before them, and Bais kicked the remains of the door shut behind him. Brickwork instantly sprang into place, seamlessly melded with the rest of the wall until the next person came through from the other side. “Medic!” Bais thundered in a commanding tone. “I need a Medic!” Bais half smiled to himself- the wounds on his arm had not healed, he was a mere mortal again, and though it wasn’t quite home, the shining city of Da’ehl Ta was as wonderful a sight as the gates of heaven itself.


------------------
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!

(NSP at the request of Geb, just to clear up what I tried to do with this: Kupala lured Bais ino the transitroom, and threw Krystal through to the other side. In the resulting fight, Bais manages to escape to the otherside. I left Kupala on the Arena side to let you all decide what to do with him. If anyone is going to write for Bais, note that now that he is out of the arena, he is rapidly going to start to starve to death, and both Bais and Krystal should be rescued and taken to a hospital.

Shadowlord: Now would be a good time to introduce your character over in New York. Fast. As in next five minutes. Ok, I'll give you the next five posts. Ok, I can't really make you do anything, but it'd be good to bring him in soon.)

(Of course that's what I meant! See, look back its right there, shaw... ermn Shadowlord, see!)

------------------
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!

[This message has been edited by Semievil333 (edited September 12, 2001).]

NSP: In the previous NSP--Sem meant that SHADOWLORD should introduce his character in the present day New York, which in this story, is the ruins of the enchanter center. Da'ehl Ta, where Bais and Krystal are currently, is the wizard's center (the only one of the three left standing and operating) over where the Mediterranean Sea is today (though is a land-mass in this story), and where SHAWN TEMPLER should most likely introduce his character as well now. The third, the magician's center, is also in ruins, and would be found in Iceland. A bridge network connect the three still, and in the middle, over the Atlantic, is the Arcane acadamy. I'd suggest that, unless you've talked extensively with Bais about it, to leave that part alone until bais introduces it in the story better, in story or as NSP-style. The enchanter ruins should be called "New Omay'guh" and the magician ruins should be named "Alpha"(yeah, all my creative juices went out teh door with that one ). Those two might be subject to change though, and is only mentioned for names of reference. If Antestarr joins the story, feel free to introduce your character as you see fit. That also goes for J-bob and Ping as far as how you tie in your characters with the other characters and plot.

And so there's no confusion of current character status': Bais and Krystal are in Da'ehl Ta via the transit system, Kupala is standing on the Rift/Former Arena side of the gate8located right underneath the mile-wide triangle the others to be mentioned are at* (left to decide whether to go or not), Stanin and Orca are still in their cages, and Amry, Noddo, Saatch, Diaszu, Krig and the (most likely getting out of "unconsciousness") Jim against Ebon Skull, Jirverak (now working for Evil as an undead on his OWN free will) and Yarilo (she's finished interrogating Stanin), with Kronaemix and Sol'iq fighting outside the center triangle area where teh jsut mentioned people are. I'm leaving it loose, but what should probably happen is that the Kron-Sol'iq fight should draw to a close, and at some point, Ebon tries to go for Saatch, but Saatch merely gets thrown into another dimension (Ebon in pursuit, perhaps with Jirverak and one other good or nature as well)--Jim will stick with Noddo and Amry (at least Amry) afterwards. At the "end" of the Rift battle, the Arena should start to fall apart (after the deal with Ebon and Saatch most likely), and everyone makes a mad-dash out (the ones not going to the wizard center should either be physically lifted out the way they came (the Rift above) or just take the transit system, but make a quick trip out elsewhere. There will probably be 3-4 different plots that diverge from this event--one involving Ebon, Saatch, Jirverak...in search for Saatch, one with Bais, Krystal, Kupala...in unwrapping the mystery of the different magic schools (why the other two fell, etc.), and one in search for the crystal that gives ultimate power (Stanin, probably Yarilo, possibly Shadowlord, and a nature--just to give you some competition Highemp, not to get the crystal from Stanin, just to throw a few wrenches in his way ). Robert and Ping_me can work their way into any of those plots, or there may be a fourth. Up to you guys After the Rift, it's all basically up to you until the contest itself (like I said though, if you're with Bais' party, talk extensively with Sem about it). *phew* Hope we can make the final bits of the Rift battle nice and action-packed .

------------------
~Geb

[This message has been edited by Gebohq (edited September 12, 2001).]

So, does this mean that I shouldn't post yet, despite what Semievil said? Just checking.

------------------
The Lord of Shadows lives ...

(NSP: For shame Geb! The artists end up with the least creative name? =P The magician city ruins shall henceforth be known as *drumroll*: Ah'el-Phaugh!)

------------------
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!

(NSP: Alright, I posted. I hope you're happy, all of you people.)

Krig whipped his axe up in front of his face, stopping Jiverak's sword from removing the Northman's head. Several more strikes of Jiverak's sword were narrowly diverted by the blade of Krig's axe, as Krig confusedly defended himself. Why was this man attacking him?

Krig disengaged from the combat and leaped back out of the range of Jiverak's sword. Holding his axe warily, he spoke.

"Why angry man try to kill Krig? Krig friend!"

The expression on Jiverak's unnervingly pale face did not change. He raised his sword and solemnly, swiftly, lunged at Krig once more. It was all Krig could do to divert the attack. However well he could wage war when enveloped in a battle rage, it was an entirely different matter to fight against someone who'd been, up till now, an ally.
An uneven piece of ground caught Krig's heel, causing him to stumble and fall onto his bottom, still clutching his axe in a death grip. Jiverak raised his sword over his head for a killing blow--and stopped. Jerkily, he twisted around to face his rear, a small throwing star sticking out of the back of his neck.

Amry and Noddo stood there, Amry readying another of Noddo's throwing stars. Noddo didn't wait, but charged forward, his new-found sai weapons in hand. He and Jiverak met in a clash of steel, Jiverak's blade glancing off of one upraised sai. Noddo swiftly plunged the second sai into Jiverak's gut, up and under his ribs. Jiverak's only reaction was a slightly startled expression, after which he whipped his sword down at Noddo's head.

Noddo leaped backwards agilely, leaving his second sai embedded in the former knight's torso. Jiverak's blade nicked his chest. Another throwing star from Amry sank into Jiverak's shoulder, but was ignored as Jiverak lunged forward with a thrust at Noddo's stomach. Noddo caught the blade between two of the prongs of his remaining weapon, and reflexively twisted, sending Jiverak's sword twirling away to land several yards off.

Noddo hadn't anticipated the gruesomely pale knight's swift reaction. A hard fist slammed into Noddo's face, a loud crunch coming from his nose. Noddo crumpled to the dusty stone floor, blood flowing freely from his nostrils. Jiverak turned suddenly as a third throwing star embedded itself into his lower back.

Amry, now weaponless, looked back at Jiverak with a combination of confusion and fear. This man, who'd she'd thought to be an ally, had just defeated two men single-handedly, and what was more, was now a virtual pincushion of steel. And he didn't seem to care. With something of a guttural growl, the knight lunged at Amry, grabbing her throat and forcibly slamming her to the ground. The world spun and dimmed as she weakly tried to pry the astonishingly cold hand off of her neck.

Jiverak looked down at his prey, a look of pure hatred, as he tightened his grip. He would crush her throat, and she would die, and all would be made right, he thought. But--for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Why? The Reyuan Code - 'A knight shall not bring harm to an unarmed woman.' The Reyuan Code? Where had he heard that before? Why should it matter? Hadn't he rejected his past?

Jiverak's tortured thoughts were cut short as the blade of a stout Northman axe sank into his back, ripping through flesh and popping ribs. Jiverak rose to his feet, leaving Amry gasping for air. He reached behind and pulled the axe from his back, the hairy Northman still clinging to it with an unbreakable grasp, his face a mask of fury. He tossed the short ball of rage to the floor, lifting back his foot for a wind-snatching kick.

Krig, on the ground, saw the kick coming. There was no doubt in his mind that this man was evil, no matter what he'd seemed before. No good man tried to kill a defenceless woman, a girl, really. Krig saw his opportunity and took it without hesitation, lashing out with his axe at Jiverak's ankle, the one that was still on the ground. There was a crack of bone, and Jiverak came to the ground with a hard thump. Even as Jiverak was falling, Krig was rising, on his feet, his axe coming down onto Jiverak's torso. The blade sank into Jiverak's stomach, ripping through unnaturally pale flesh, spilling the blackish blood of the dead. Incredibly, Jiverak would not stop. He grabbed the haft of Krig's axe and rolled, so that Krig was now on the bottom, straining desperately to keep his own double-bladed axe from sinking into his ribs.

"Little rat," Krig thought he heard Jiverak growl. "I should have done this long ago!"
Krig was strong, but Jiverak was nearly twice his size. Slowly, the axe blade sank towards Krig's chest, until the blade rested on his ribcage. Krig's arms shook, his knotted muscles rippling, as he laboured to keep the axe up.

Suddenly, there was a roaring, crackling noise, and Jiverak was torn away, flying twenty yards to Krig's right and skidding to a halt. Krig was on his feet instantly, axe in hands, ready to face this new threat. A man wearing brown and orange robes, like the trees in autumn, stood with a long staff held before him. His gaze turned from Jiverak to Krig.

"I don't know who you are, friend," the man's voice would have sounded stern, if it hadn't quavered at the end. "But I did know that man, though I didn't realize he was one of the living dead. I should have." His voice filled with disgust. "Unnatural abberations."

Krig glanced back at Jiverak. Amazingly, the man was rising to his feet, wobbily on his broken ankle, and pulling Noddo's sai weapon out of his gut and brandishing it as a weapon.

"Um, excuse me," the fall-clothed man said, heading towards the distant figure of Jiverak. As he did, he motioned with his staff, and a stiff breeze stirred up, flapping Krig's cape around his stocky legs as he followed the man.

As the mismatched pair approached the knight that, by all rights, should have been dead, Krig saw that Jiverak, while struggling to move, did not seem to be getting anywhere. The deathly pale man's hair and unarmoured clothes flapped about, a tremendously strong wind holding him in place, wherever he tried to move.

As Krig and the robed man regarded the trapped Jiverak, a gravely, crackling voice interrupted the relative quiet.

"Trapped him good, did you, Diaszu?" The voice said. Diaszu and Krig spun, to see an unarmed, scraggly-haired old man watching them, a strange grin flashing across his face.

"I have, Saatch," Diaszu said, the look on his face betraying that he wasn't really sure how he'd done it. "But not for long, unnatural scum like these cannot be suffered to exist. They are an aberration and an abomination of the worst kind."

"Learned that in the Citadel of Wizards, did you?" Saatch looked confused for a moment, as if wondering where that thought had come from. "Well, that may be true, but I think that this is not an ordinary creature of death. A semblance of life still clings to this one." Saatch's voice became grave, and fell to almost a whisper. "I've seen death."

Diaszu was turning to face Saatch to question him as to what he meant, when a flash of movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. The demon! They'd forgotten about Ebon Skull!

The massive demon, followed closely by Yarilo, roared into the little party, a searing explosion of flame sending everyone flying. Diaszu scrambled to throw up a shield around he and his two companions, but he succeeded only in protecting Saatch and himself. The Northman was not so lucky. The force of the blast sent him soaring parallel to the ground to the north, until he was nothing more than a dim figure, swallowed by the shifting lights of the eerie place.

While Yarilo inspected the fallen Amry, the massive demon stood before the two users of magic, letting his full power show for the first time. He fairly crackled with energy, dark red flames consuming his body, but not destroying it. He stared down at the two men, and his face broke into an inhuman grin; and a slow deep chuckle, like the rumble of thunder, shook the ground. Diaszu and Saatch readied themselves for the attack, Diaszu grim and Saatch expressionless, both knowing that they would probably not make it through this day. Ebon Skull raised a fist, a fist to which wreathes of writhing flame were drawn, and began to bring it down at the puny humans...

A flash of light slammed into the demon's side, propelling the roaring monster to the west, away from the mortals. The indignant demon, having forsaken all physical form, looked down in rage at this thing that had disturbed his moment of triumph.

You! Ebon Skull screamed in anger. It was not a scream of words, for a demon had no need for words when not communicating with mortals. It was a thought, an emotion filled with rage and frustration.

Beside the demon's dark form a glowing figure of light shoved the spirit of darkness still further from the mortals. Neither being had bothered to maintain the appearance of a physical body, instead, they had reverted to their more ethereal spirit form; a small, swirling being of golden-white light striving against a much larger being, a nebulous storm of black and scarlet.

The next time you engage a soldier of Heaven in battle, you'd best stick around to make sure you've actually finished the job! Jim growled, the words seeming to simply come into being rather than be spoken out of a mouth. The two ethereal beings clashed, and the battle was rejoined.
-------------------------------------------
Amry looked up at the other woman, the woman holding a short knife to her throat, in horror.

"Yarilo?" She whispered.
-------------------------------------------
Orca sat cross-legged in the middle of his shimmering cage. Though his eyes were closed, he was far from asleep. His mind worked rapidly, considering possibilities and discarding them seconds later. Sheer power had not worked on his prison. He'd tried that. The bars seemed to absorb his power and transform it into pain, directed at himself. There had to be something, though, there always was.

Orca's eyes suddenly popped open. It was so simple. How could he have not seen it?

Slowly, he floated off the floor and extended his feet to the ground. Snapping his cloak to free it from rumples, he began. It was so simple...a trickle of energy here, a whisp of a spell there...slowly, a low rumble began, not audible, but felt, in the vibrating deep in the chest. Slowly, the dissonance in the glowing bars built. Slowly, the rumble became a roar, louder and louder, building to a crescendo--and then it stopped. The glowing bars flickered and dissapeared.

Orca stretched out his hand and, finding it unhindered, smiled. He was free. And there would be hell to pay.
------------------
Read the Bible, it'll scare the hell out of you.

[This message has been edited by Krig_the_Viking (edited September 22, 2001).]

(NSP: Forgot to mention, I'd appreciate it if no-one did anything with Krig for a bit. I've got something planned, which is why I seperated him from the rest of the group. Thank you.

BTW, Shadowlord, Geb says that you CAN start introducing your character, but that it might be simpler if ya waits a couple more posts for 'teh' (Geb's word) Rift battle to finish so that what his character does is more in sync with the story.

That's what the man said. Thank you, come again.)

[This message has been edited by Krig_the_Viking (edited September 12, 2001).]

NSP to Krig: hate 2 break it 2 u, viking-boy, but Saatch has no magic. Hes just a blind old man with a cane who happened 2 inhabited by a demon and still possesses an evil amule3t that belongs 2 Ebon skull, though he has vowed not 2 use it but rather 2 keep Ebon skull from getting it back.

But I did dlike the part where ebon Skull appears to the group. Fun! :-D

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

I got the 300th post!

------------------
Play epic RPGs such as Dark Exile, or duel in the Interdimensional Arena @ The High Citadel

You don't love me.

He tapped his fingers.

You don't love me.

He grinded his teeth together, fiercely, clickety-clack, clickety-clack.

You don't love me.

"Leave me alone!" Stanin snarled at the voice that kept replaying itself in the back of his head. Melantha's words kept ringing through his head. Word after word. Time after time.

Piercing agony after piercing agony.

You don't love me.

He had the power to end his turmoil, he knew. He could think of at least two ways. One, end it now. But then he would go to his death without ever gaining what he sought, whether it be Melantha or the Crystal of Power.

You don't love me.

Stanin could also erase his memory - again - and forget about Melantha and his pain. Idly he wondered where that again came from.

You don't love me.

But he couldn't. Deep down inside he simply couldn't bring himself to forget. For if he forgot Melantha, he would forget the pain. . . but he would also forget how wonderfully he had felt around her. If he forgot only the pain, but not the pleasure, he would inevitably run into the same problem again as he was facing now.

You don't love me.

Was that the real Melantha that had said those words, or the fake? Had Melantha said that, or not? Did Melantha think that? Or not?

You don't love me.

Did it matter?

You love how that void inside of you disappears.

Melantha, Yarilo. Whichever one said it, it was true.

You don't love me.

He didn't.

You don't love me.

He loved the way she made him feel. He loved the way that he saw the entire universe in her face.

You don't love me.

He didn't love her.

You don't love me.

He perhaps had a desire to love her, but how could that possibly bring fulfillment to his life if it weren't for his being able to see the universe in her?

You don't love me.

So he really had no choice. He had to let go of Melantha. Forget this aside that had distracted him so badly that he had postponed his quest. Return to his quest - the quest for the crystal, the Crystal of Power.

You don't love me.

That was the only thing that could bring fulfillment into him, for with power one could do anything and everything. Especially the kind of power that was under consideration here. Ultimate power.

You don't love me.

I've made my peace with that, he told that voice within his head. Don't bother me. I know. I'm moving on.

The voice ceased. Stanin moved to inspect his surroundings once more. It appeared that Orca had escaped somehow. Stanin frowned; with his own ability to channel pure magic, he should be able to get out easily. But somehow his power was being suppressed. What was it? Was it something relating to the upcoming Decimillennial Battle? Some side effect of a loophole in a rule? A whim of a Power?

Himself?

But that was ridiculous. He wouldn't restrain himself - had no reason to. He WANTED to be free, to seek the Crystal once more.

Yet he couldn't shake the feeling, that perhaps, just perhaps, he didn't want that.

Don't go there, Stanin told himself firmly.

Perhaps. . .

No!

. . . just perhaps. . .

I'm warning you! Don't even think it! he addressed himself firmly. But it was no use.

. . . he wanted Melantha.

STOP!

With a superhuman effort, Stanin exerted his will to drive all thoughts of Melantha out of his head. He turned back to the bars, considering. Scrutinizing the battle, he realized that Evil was most likely going to win. He had to plan for the possibility of Evil winning the battle and he not getting free before then.

As he thought, a tiny voice whispered at the back of his mind.

You don't love me. . .

------------------
Play epic RPGs such as Dark Exile, or duel in the Interdimensional Arena @ The High Citadel

[This message has been edited by Highemperor of the Force (edited September 14, 2001).]

(NSP: I'll be posting the fight between Amry and Yarilo here soon. It won't effect anything else going on, so feel free to post on I jsut didn't want to be holding the line up.)

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~Geb

Everyone, please listen carefully, for what I have to say is of the utmost importance. This may shock you, or even hurt you. I don't know. I'm especially afraid of how this may affect you, Geb. But, I have to say this.

Dark Lancer, Shadowlord, and Highemperor of the Force. . . are all one and the same person.

Since I have five mental disorders and a deep sense of guilt and shame, I was trying to distance myself from them by putting the good parts of me into Highemperor, and the bad into Dark Lancer and Shadowlord. It was a psychological thingy that I was trying to pull off that didn't work. I never originally meant to trick you all. I was just wanted to trick myself. But it didn't work. On me, anyway. But I guess it worked on you.

I'm just tired of the lying, which I know is wrong, and that I shouldn't be doing. Therefore, I am repenting of my sin and confessing it to you all. I hope you will be able to forgive me.

Thank you,
Highemperor/DarkLancer/Shadowlord

------------------
Play epic RPGs such as Dark Exile, or duel in the Interdimensional Arena @ The High Citadel

... sooo, to which address should we send story news and stuff? Since it's not really practical to send it to all three =P

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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!

So there's all 3 good writers, are merely one?

That's dissapointing, and unexpected...

Hmm, the style and voice, of all three, were sort of the same...

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May the Windex be with you
-Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)

(NSP: Geb-Sem Inc. brings you annother collaboration. In fact, from now on, unless we say it's just us, assume we've collaborated, because it's getting really hard to come up with new, witty NSP's for the beginning here.)
-------------------------------------------

A sharp clap of thunder woke Bais from his sleep. Outside the window, a powerful storm swirled above the city of Da’ehl Ta. Bais rose from his bed and stood at the window. Directly across from him, the golden bulb of the Hippocrates Tower shone though the dark storm…

A woman, garbed in a standardized white robe, strolled in the room, holding a clipboard loosely at her side. Hearing the door open, Bais leapt back into the bed and pulled the sheets over himself, hoping in vain that the doctor would notice he had not been up.

“I just got off duty” She said, brightly “You’re not in trouble. Besides, you’ve recovered enough to be out of bed. I’ve never seen someone with undetectable blood sugar before… how’d you manage that?”

“I don’t want to go over it all just now.” Bais responded evasively.

“Okay, well, anyway, I just wanted to thank you.”

“What for?”

“Bringing back my cousin.”

“Wha?”

“I suppose you don’t know who I am… I should explain. The woman you… materialized with in the Am-Trac station is my cousin. My great-grandfather left the city and headed north, with the puritans when they broke off from the other wizard factions. According to our genetic records, she is my cousin.” The doctor broke off for a moment and then: “What’s her name?”

“Krystal… so this healing thing runs in the family then?”

“Apparently… so she’s a healer too?”

“She’s learning.”

“In any event… your free to go, though you may want to stick around for a bit. You captured the press with your entrance, and they can be pretty brutal. I guess your lucky though… the guy that came after you made for a nice diversion, your clothes are dated, but this guy… you know people say he managed to get an authentic old-world pith helmet? I bet the museum has him under lock and key by now…”

Bais had turned as white as the doctor’s robe. “Lord…” he breathed. “I need to see Krystal. Now.”

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

Amry sensed she was beginning to crumble under the pressure Yarilo was exerting. The knife at her throat was no real threat. Amry knew that even if Yarilo had the stomach for it, she lacked the physical strength to cut through the thick leather of Amry’s collar. At least she though it was no real threat.

Maybe? What if Yarilo twisted the knife up into her chin….. No! That wasn’t possible, Amry had her hand firmly on Yarilo’s arm. It could never twist up far enough. But what about the other arm? Amry had no control over it. Did Yarilo have another knife? She was bluffing! Was she? Could Amry tell? ENOUGH!

“I have you. You’re breaking. You know it, there is nothing you can do. I do have another knife. You know it. You are helpless. Come with me willingly, sister, and spare yourself the trouble”

Amry rose solemnly and accepted the ropes Yarilo tied around her wrists.

“Turn” Yarilo ordered.

Amry did so. Yarilo had no second knife. Amry broke down into tears.

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

The doctor lead Bais through the door, where they entered a small library that the medical staff kept in the basement. Bais immediately spotted Krystal, as she was the only one in the room. Apparently having fully recovered, Krystal’s head was buried in a book titled “Modern Battlefield Medicine”.

“Thanks, Carol,” Bais said to the doctor. She nodded, and as Bais sat next down to Krystal, he noticed Carol had followed him. Bais focused a somewhat icy glare on Carol as she approached, but she sat down in spite of it.

“Krystal,” Bais said softly. A little surprised, Krystal glanced from her book to see Bais and Carol sitting by her. “We need to talk.”

“If it’s about the Eternal War-“ Krystal began. Bais cut her off before she could say more.

“It’s not that. Kupala followed us through, Krystal. We need to take action.”

“Eternal War?”

“Has she told you you’re related to you yet, Krystal?” Bais said, hoping to get off the subject.

“What!?!?” Krystal yelped.

“Yep, ok, now moving on to Kupala…” Bais continued, hoping the melee would drown out the talk of the Eternal War.

“Let’s get the Eternal War straightened out first.” Carol said, instilling some calm into the conversation.

“Damn,” Bais said, reluctantly “do we really have to go through all this again?”


------------------
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!

Ebon Skull and Jim wrestled, pitting tons of ethereal power into their conflict. Hellfire radiated from Ebon Skull, striking the golden glow that was Jim. The angel returned the blow, albeit with less force, but with more force than the demon expected.

Their battle was a test of wills, as will.

You could never win, could you, Ebon? Jim's thoughts became words.

What the Devil are you talking about? Ebon Skull returned.

Oh, you know good and well what I'm talking about. You fell from grace. Failed as an angel of Heaven, despite God's mercy, through your bluster and pride.

That's in the past, Ebon Skull replied. He seemed more to be trying to convince himself rather than Jim. I have better things to do than be an angel under Him.

Like win Satan's meaningless and futile favor? By trying to secure a matrix of power stolen from your Dark Lord that rightfully belonged to the Author of the Universe anyhow?

Shut. Up. Ebon Skull spoke distinctly, bluntly.

That's how you fell from favor as a demon. A thousand years ago, you failed your Master, your own pride getting in the way, just as you turned your back on God.

I'm warning you. . .

You're just seeking redemption. Trying to find the matrix now, in time for the Battle of the Ages, to make up for your failure a millennium ago.

Ebon Skull's next words were not so much words as they were a scream, manifested in power that exploded throughout the Arena. I HATE YOU!

Ebon Skull disappeared in a flash of red flame. Jim returned to physical form, the damage done to him ethereally shown by scars physically. He smiled at Diaszu and Saatch, who were bedazzled by the awesome display of power they had just witnessed.

Suddenly a black hole, surrounded by bright red fire, appeared in the ground under Saatch, and the old man disappeared with a cry. The rift in reality closed up before Jim could do anything.

Diaszu turned to look at the angel as if to say, "Well?"

Jim replied with a wry look.

------------------
Play epic RPGs such as Dark Exile, or duel in the Interdimensional Arena @ The High Citadel

In a distant land, in a far off continent, in another world, there was an ancient city.

A city of towering yet ruined buildings of metal, with collages of stone and scrap metal trying to pass themselves off as keeps.

There was an ocean next to this city, with several islands. A sparkling blue ocean, that one could look into and forget all one's problems. Once, a millennium ago, there had been bodies and debris strewn about it, but they had long since been casted to the four winds. Now the waters were clear once more, and creatures below the sea thrived.

Creatures above the sea thrived, too, albeit on a different level.

There was a great copper statue on an island nearby, stretching more than 300 feet into the air. A woman, holding a book and a torch. An ancient symbol of a world long past, a symbol representing freedom for all.

As it still means today, Saidelora thought to herself as she walked the Bridge over Water. The Bridge was a tremendously long pathway over the ocean that led from this statue to the ruins of an incredibly tall sky-scraping building that had been called the Building of Empire or some such nonsense. Nevertheless, the Building of Empire and the surrounding structures were what was today known as New Omay'guh.

The Center of Enchanters.

It was a well-kept secret, and a well-guarded fortress. Enchanters were politicians with magic, emphasizing the physical aspects of life, while acknowledging that the spiritual did exist, though, to them, it had minor significance.

Saidelora was almost to the Great Statue. Her raven-black hair flew in the wind, and her silver eyes drank in the ocean. She was clad in a silver tunic and trousers, with no combat weapons visible upon her.

She gazed up into the sky, and frowned, as the sun was bright. Raising her hand, she cast a weaker shadow spell to create a shadow between her eyes and the sun. There. Now she could look around with being blinded.

She arrived at the base of the Statue. Yes. . . Freedom. Freedom from all the constraints of God and Gaia. That was the enchanter's goal. Well, hers, at least.

She summoned a torrent of water from the ocean to lift her up to the top of the torch. The head was long gone, and the torch would probably disintegrate in a few years. But for now, it was a potent focus for enchantment.

Saidelora would need that focusing power today.

She stepped into the torch and heightened her senses.

Yes. . . yes, she could feel the power. It swirled about her in dark currents, in a manner that would have overwhelmed any normal creature.

But she. . . she was an enchanter. The Lady of Shadows.

She smiled, revelling in the power.

She smiled, preparing to cast the great spell that had cost her so much to obtain.

She smiled. . . and frowned. Despite the awesome power latent within the torch, it was not enough.

She would have to seek help. The wizards, perhaps? Yes, they were powerful, and, so long as they did not know the true nature of her mighty spell, they would help her.

Saidelora returned to the base of the statue, then prepared for a taxing duet of spells. This would require speed - could she do it?

Of course she could. She was the Lady of Shadows.

She summoned a torrent of water, wearing away at the shoulder of the statue's arm, the one bearing the torch. The water tore at it, ravaging it with its force. The torch teetered. . . but did not fall.

Saidelora felt herself weakening, as her reserves were being depleted.

She would have to do what she had only done once before - call upon the Lord of the Flesh, the Supreme Master over All That Is Physical. The one that simple-minded beings called the Devil.

"Lucifer!" she cried. "Help me now, so that I may serve our cause better! Make me your spear, your hammer, your sword! Our cause is to uphold the supremacy of Us! The Self! The Flesh! I champion this cause, accept it, embrace it as my own!"

She felt the sweet power flowing into her, giving her strength. An outside power, a foreign power, one unimaginably strong, lifting her up.

The torrent of water striking the torch-bearing arm increased in intensity by five times! The torch teetered, more precariously now, and then. . . fell.

Saidelora quickly chanted more words and the torch transformed into a SHADOW, a humungous shadow. It quickly fled behind the Great Statue, fleeing from the burning light of the sun.

Saidelora smiled and said, "Here." Crooking her finger, she summoned the devilish power supporting her to bring the shadow within her OWN shadow.

There. It was done. The outside power withdrew, and Saidelora collapsed, drained, spiritually and physically. She would have to rest for a long time now before she could do anything else. . .

-----

Several days later, Saidelora awoke in her bedchamber, finally feeling refreshed.

The torch shadow safely tucked within her own, she stepped off the beach in New Omay'guh into the water. She then transported herself into a mass of living water and zipped across the ocean to Da'ehl Ta. The wizards' center.

She found someone who appeared to be a junior wizard, and said, "Excuse me, but can you direct me to one of the head wizards?"

The young man stared numbly in shock at her ravishing features, then remembered himself and pointed in a certain direction.

"Thank you." She flashed him that crooked smile that she knew how to use so well, and began walking past him.

"Um. . ." he appeared to be gathering up his courage, then burst out with a string of unintelligible information. "My name is Arthur Dunkarin, I live on the fifth floor, in the single residences-"

She cut him off with that same smile. "Peace. If I want you, I will find you."

Blushing beet red, he hurried off. Saidelora sighed. She couldn't really blame him. After all, SHE was the one who emphasized the physical aspect of life and was wearing suggestive clothing. It was her life and her flesh. She could do with it as she liked.

She continued down the hallway, meeting with more gaping stares on the way.

Okay, I don't really know where to continue it from here. Help, please?

------------------
Play epic RPGs such as Dark Exile, or duel in the Interdimensional Arena @ The High Citadel

[This message has been edited by Highemperor of the Force (edited September 19, 2001).]

High up above the still-battling heroes in the dilapidated Arena, two figures flew back and forth in mid-air, their weapons sparking and shrieking, their resolve unwavering.

Kronaemix was battling valiantly, hovering just below the surface of the Rift, his father's blue sword whining and clashing with the ominously thrumming red So'liq's.

So'liq. Kronaemix gritted his teeth. Somehow, his foe had survived again, returning even more powerful-

The Demon swung in close to Kronaemix, and smited him with the hilt of his sword to the angel's chin. The blow was so powerful, Kronaemix was launched upward, through the roof, landing above in a torrent of rubble and dust. So'liq opted for the easier route, flying through the Rift instead and arcing down toward his foe, his blade glowing in anticipation-

Luckily, Kronaemix rolled backward, and So'liq was greeted not with the agonised death-scream of his opponent, but a shower of blinding sparks. The Angel leaped to his feet and locked blades with So'liq.

"You know the futility of this..." Kronaemix hissed through clenched teeth. "I am made of andamite, as are you. It would take an extroadinary, divined power, the likes of such you and I will never see, to kill either of us."

In response, So'liq broke the lock and kicked Kronaemix to the head, sending him spinning head over heels for fifty yards before he finally hit the ground once more.

"Perhaps, Kronaemix...then again, perhaps not."

And then suddenly, without warning or reason, So'liq plunged his sword into his right shoulder.

The demon's scream shook the surface of the Rift, and Kronaemix found it hard to stand as he watched on in horror.When he pulled the blade out, though, Kronaemix's horror redoubled.

It was coated in blood.

Black, thick blood that defiled even So'liq's sword. It oozed down the hilt, to the Demon's hand. He sampled it in his mouth, and grinned-a completely insane grin.

"Behold, Kronaemix...the power of Justice! The ability to CUT ANDAMITE!!!"

Kronaemix felt terror for the first time in a millennia. So'liq had found the power to destroy him!

But how...?

It would have to be resolved later. Kronaemix renewed his resolve. He was a servant of Justice now-

And isn't that what was wrong?

For a moment, it was all clear. Then, he took his mind off it.

The task at hand.

Kronaemix ran toward So'liq, oblivious of the consequences. The Demon's sword slashed at him, but Kronaemix dodged and slashed at So'liq's head. The Demon ducked, returning with a flurry of quick blows. The Angel blocked all of them with quick wrist flicks, retaliating with a vicious low swipe, which So'liq somersaulted forward over, running forward.

Kronaemix leaped after him-

Falling completely into the trap. So'liq's cunning reverse-lunge caught him in the torso, and the Angel's teal eyes widened.

His sword, Kinn-Akan's Justice, dropped to the ground, forgotten.

So'liq turned and grabbed him by the neck, lifting him to the blackened sky.

"I could kill you now, Kronaemix, just like your father, but it would be ridiculously easy. Instead, I will leave you here, battered and broken, to reflect on your mistakes.
"When the final Battle in the Arena begins, I will be there. You will too, or your friends down there-" he gestured to the hole in the Rift-"will die."

"We will meet, and we will join battle again. For the last time. You will kill me. Or I will kill you. Or we will kill each other. Whatever the outcome, it shall be the last time in history the two of us will ever meet."

Kronaemix tried to break So'liq's strangling grip, but the Demon was too strong now. Far too strong...

"Sad, is it not? We have been fighting almost since Time began, and now our war shall draw to a final close..."

With this, Kronaemix was able to choke out a few words.

"Even...if I am condemned to...the fiery....pits...of the Burning Hells...it will be paradise, if...I never lay...eyes on you again."

So'liq nodded.

"Touching. I will see you at the Battle, Kronaemix. If you love anybody in this world, I suggest you bid them farewell. You may never see them again."

With that, So'liq pulled his sword out of Kronaemix's torso, and flung him over the lip of the Rift. Kronaemix tumbled through the air, limp, smashing down on the invisible barrier that So'liq had created with a loud crash.

Dazed, and half-conscious, Kronaemix cast his eyes up to the top of the Rift, where So'liq stood, laughing. Finally, he snatched his sword up, and tossed it down at the Angel. Weakly, Kronaemix rolled to one side, and the sword struck the barrier instead. There was a massive magical explosion, and amid the fire and crackling blue energy, the Angel dropped once more, to the floor of the former arena, landing with a thud.

There, Kronaemix lay still, broken, bleeding, and close to death...

(Tag any warrior in the Arena that can drag out Kronaemix's still form with him as he leaves. I was thinking someone of relatively large physical power, so maybe Krig? Or a group, like Amry and Noddo...however it's played, just please get Kronaemix out of the arena, and I'll post as to how he leaves your party. Cheers...)

[This message has been edited by The Last True Evil (edited September 21, 2001).]

(NSP: I think it's time for me to finish this god-forsaken battle between Amry vs. Yarilo now, and perhaps the rest of the Rift battle sometime later/soon. Hope you like it. In hopes that I can bring at least my own posts in the light I wrote them for The Shadows of Darkness...

and dang it, TLTE's post is too good to change, but I really like the imagry I used, so...just make a compromise in your imagination )

“After all these years, I can still pull your strings,” Yarilo mused.

“F*** you!” Amry tore from her brewing storm of sobs.

“And still you use force to try to expose an advantage," Yarilo said in a patronizing tone. "Honestly Amry, you should know
by now that you can’t push a door labeled “pull”, especially with family.”

“Every door can open, one way or another,” Amry growled.

Amry charged at Yarilo, leaping in the air and aiming to kick Yarilo down. If anybody
else was looking, they would have noticed a flash of surprise in Yarilo’s eyes. With a
quickness that matched Amry’s, Yarilo spun to the side, leaving Amry to fall on the
ground on her side. Eyeing around and behind herself, Yarilo took the time to draw a magical curtain of fog much like she used on Stanin’s cage earlier, around the two of
them. By that time, Amry was back on her feet, the rope that bound her hands broken, her eyes striking Yarilo. Amry then began to advance steadily towards Yarilo, hammering
away with questions.

“Why do you hide yourself, Yarilo? What are you so afraid of that you depend so much
on the security of deceit? Are you really the stereotypes you presume to be, or are they merely a shield to your true self--a self that you’re so obsessed about skin deep yet fear to embrace any farther?”

Amry stood face-to-face with Yarilo now, her body nearly trembling. Yarilo gazed upon
her younger sister, and images of themselves as children flashed through her head. If any
thoughts of doubt of their words and actions followed, Yarilo showed no noticeable sign,
save the eyes. Amry cracked.

“WHY WON’T YOU OPEN YOURSELF?”

Yarilo saw her moment. Using her powers of illusion, she pretended to sweep-kick Amry
off her feet. As Amry defended herself from what she thought was an attack from below,
Yarilo in reality jabbed Amry where her liver was. Amry crumpled from the blow, and
Yarilo prepared to blast her with a shot of wind--

KA-CHRRRSSSH[/b]

A deafening noise broke in the air, as if the light barrier was broken. Yarilo spun around, her magical curtain falling away. The shield that encased where all but Kronaemix and Sol’iq were fighting inside the Arena had appeared to be ...shattered, and she could see Kronaemix’s golden body zipping at the ground, as if a bolt of lightning struck right there. Realizing the impending condition that possibly laid ahead, Yarilo quickly made her way to where she hid Melantha and Teroc. Amry, now recovering, was too late to stop Yarilo from running away. Amry couldn’t help but curse, as she realized that the other battles were engulfing the space she stood.

Both left, unsure if the other might have been right.

------------------
~Geb

[This message has been edited by Gebohq (edited September 24, 2001).]

(NSP: All right, there were a few little bugs in my last post, so I've edited it slightly to fix them up. Saatch now doesn't use any magic, Diaszu behaves more like someone fresh out of Wizard's school should, and a few other little things.)

Krig's eyes fluttered open, and his eyes flashed back and forth, hunting for danger. There was nothing moving except himself...himself and the strange, ever-present multicoloured lights. He was alone.
Krig sighed and began to sit up, a strained grunt escaping his throat as his body was suddenly awash in pain. Krig wasn't sure what had happened, but whatever it was, it had hurt.

Pushing aside the pain for now, Krig rose to his feet, stiffly, looking around. Only the strange lights greeted his eyes, gently shifting colours as far as he could see in all directions. It was like being in the open sea, with no landmarks in sight, where every direction you looked was exactly the same. Only here, there were no stars to navigate by, no sun to point the way. It was unsettling. Not one to beat about the bush, Krig picked a direction, settled his axe in his belt, and began walking.

A small while passed before a long wall materialized out of the swirling lights. Krig quickened his pace; maybe he would find people near the wall. Krig reached the wall, and snorted in disgust. There were no people here. However... That was strange, the place seemed familiar. Krig walked along the wall until he came to a pair of ropes dangling down the side of the wall, reaching high up, beyond where Krig could see. It was the place that they'd entered this bewildering hole.

While other men might have been amazed that, of all places they could have ended up, they'd arrived at the way out. Some might even have wondered if the Divine had had a hand in it. But to Krig, it was no more amazing than sunshine in the daytime. What happened, happened.

In any case, Krig had had enough of this. Enough of the wandering around without so much as a howdy-do, enough battling twisted creatures and deranged friends, enough confusion. All Krig wanted was to find his friends, his fellow Northmen. They would be wondering where he was.

Krig grabbed a rope and began to climb.

------------------
Read the Bible, it'll scare the hell out of you.

[This message has been edited by Krig_the_Viking (edited September 22, 2001).]

Saatch fell through the rift in reality. It was strangely exhilarating, though frightening. He could feel cool air ripping past him. But it was all too brief.

With a WHUMP, gravity deposited him on the ground.

And it hurt. Terribly. His back was on fire.

Yet he had endured decades of being Ebon Skull's slave. He could endure any physical pain, after that.

He stood up. His joints creaked. His back screamed. But from his mouth no sound was emitted.

Saatch took a step forward, using his cane for support. Sweat ran down his brow.

Another step.

Another.

Another.

He settled into a slow rhythm whereby the pain in his back was eased somewhat.

He had started out in a deep, dark forest. Now, the forest thinned. But the darkness remained.

It was no ordinary darkness, more than an absence of light, but rather a PRESENCE of darkness, a tangible darkness. Saatch gave up all hope of his being where he had most hoped never go again.

Shamoor.

The dark dimension of death and despair. It had been a beautiful place, once, or so the legends said, a homeland for mighty wizards such as the great Merlin. But it had been corrupted by Bazaal.

Statues of Bazaal had been erected throughout Shamoor. Children were taught to emulate him in his evil. But most of all, obedience was demanded. Obedience to Shamoor's supreme master. Obedience to Shamoor's unforgiving tyrant.

Obedience. . . to Ebon Skull.

Some whispered that Ebon Skull had sent to rule over Shamoor by Satan. Others whispered that Ebon Skull WAS Satan.

Saatch knew the truth, having been the receptacle for the vile spirit for so many years.

Ebon Skull had come to Shamoor in his humiliated pride when he had been thrown out of Hell, twice-disgraced, by Satan. Ebon Skull played out his anger against his enslaved people. He also used them to prepare for his eventual re-exaltation.

Saatch knew that God had allowed him to be taken to Shamoor in order to free His people. He must be strong! For his sake. For their sake.

He considered. In Shamoor, teal was considered a symbol of hope. As was the snake.

"Lord," he prayed, speaking through dry and raspy lips, "work through me to reveal Your power! Give my people hope!"

He set his cane down upon the ground, and, for a moment, it did nothing.

Then, it twitched. And slithered. Its worn brown hue slowly changed to teal and its composition to that of a mighty cobra.

The teal cobra slithered confidently down the road ahead of Saatch. It would be a sign, he knew, to Ebon Skull that God was preparing to exact His wrath, and to his people, that redemption was night.

Far ahead of him, he began to hear the distant wailing of the banshees.

The harbingers of death.

Grimacing, he continued forward. One agonizing step at a time. He must confront Ebon Skull. At all costs, he must confront Ebon Skull. . .

------------------
Play epic RPGs such as Dark Exile, or duel in the Interdimensional Arena @ The High Citadel

Stanin eth Calenb was staring at the bars of demonic energy that defined his cage when they simply. . . disappeared.

Puzzled, he cautiously sent a stream of magic outward. They went past the spot where the bars had been unhindered. No trick. Looking around, he saw that all the evil beings had disappeared.

Smiling wryly, he figured that his guess had been wrong. Somehow, Good had triumphed.

Good ALWAYS triumphs.

Stanin frowned as he started walking away from the Rift. Where had THAT thought come from? He was always getting seemingly random thoughts such as that in his head. Why would Good always triumph, anyway? And how would he know it if such a thing were true?

He shook his head to clear it. He didn't matter. If he got to the Crystal, HE would triumph. Not Good, not Evil. He. Stanin eth Calenb.

Pariah Excelsior.

What?! he addressed the thought. His face screwed up in concentration. He was getting old, he acknowledged; his memory was not what it once had been.

It never was anything, not after the Great Change.

Stanin sighed. This was going to be a LONG journey. . .

-----

Stanin stopped, in a forest a few miles away from the Rift. Now that he had put enough distance between himself and those obsequious no-consequences, it was time to look back at his journal. He had picked up from where Yarilo had dropped it back at the
Rift.

He opened it up randomly. "Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole of man," he read. Now why was that IN there? It made no sense. Yet it seemed somehow familiar. . .

But no matter. It wasn't true. Only ultimate power was sufficient. And he would be the first and only person to become all-sufficient. Once he got the Crystal of Power, anyway.

Stanin frowned, a thought plaguing him. What if he DIDN'T get the Crystal? What if? The uncertainty maddened him, as it had maddened him for a millennium. He had no one to depend upon for this endeavor. No one but himself.

Stanin smiled tightly. Considering his ability to channel pure magic, that would surely be enough.

Throwing all doubts out of his head, he flipped a few pages, until he found the passage he was looking for.

The Crystal of Power

Far across the gracious seas,
Under bleak and stormy skies,
Where mountain meets mountain
In a ring of fire.

Surrounded by tree and bush and glen,
In a citadel of steel from days long past,
Where the wolves prowl by night
And haunt the blue corn moon.

Where the test of ages
Shall test you for all you are worth.
Where your skill is weighed
To determine if you are the one worthy.

Then the final challenge,
In which your greatest shames and strongest prides
Shall open up before you,
And open up your eyes.

Find this place, pass that test,
And you shall find what you
And every other soul in all creation
Truly seek.

Stanin looked up from his journal and considered. He was certainly across an ocean from where he had originally started out in. He had discovered many twin peaks, but they had never matched all the criteria.

How would he KNOW which place was the right place? It could take forever to search the entire known world. Of course, it had already taken a thousand years. He could stand a few more.

Stanin replaced the journal in his travel bag and placed his fingertips together, summoning the tendrils of magic woven around him. Taking apart his hands, a ball of glowing emerald magic appeared between his palms.

Stanin chanted a few words, and the sphere lifted up into the air, rising higher and higher until it was in the stratosphere.

What on Earth is a stratosphere? he wondered at the new random thought before dismissing it.

Stanin set up a modest camp in the clearing where he was, then placed wards around him to protect himself during his imminent vulnerable state.

He intoned some words, causing his eyes to glow the same shade of green as the magic sphere. He was seeing what the sphere saw.

Looking down across the world with a bird's-eye view was an absolutely exhilarating experience! He revelled in it, for it was amazing, then turned his mind back to the task at hand.

Looking at the surrounding country which the sphere could see, he found a triad of summits surrounded by woods. Hmm. . . That COULD be the place. He looked around some more but did not see any other possibilities in the area.

Stanin halted the spell, and the ball ceased to exist. He had found what he needed. Tomorrow he would head to the triple peaks. And hope against hope that the Crystal was there.

-----

Unbeknownst to Stanin, a dark creature, emanating scarlet flame, more ethereal than physical and definitely not human, watched from a distance. Following the old man to his destination. Following the pariah to the great crystal - and hopefully, to the matrix of Volsang as well.

Ebon Skull smiled grimly in the darkness. The Rift Battle had been a success in some ways. Yarilo had convinced Stanin to return to his quest, at the end of which he would undoubtedly have his memory restored and remember the location of Volsang's matrix. If he managed to get this "Crystal", probably some arcane device, too, that would be a bonus.

Then he would return to Shamoor just in time to confront the wayward Saatch. . .

------------------
Play epic RPGs such as Dark Exile, or duel in the Interdimensional Arena @ The High Citadel

Hey, I need some people to post, please, before I can continue. If you want to know about how to join the Saatch or Stanin subplots, email me at AZandertheFirst@aol.com for information! Thanks!

------------------
Play epic RPGs such as Dark Exile, or duel in the Interdimensional Arena @ The High Citadel

[This message has been edited by Highemperor of the Force (edited September 27, 2001).]

(NSP: Ignore my last post, I'll go back and delete it when I get the chance. If I spelled Kron's name wrong I'm sorry but I'm kinda short on time but I'll fix it when I get the chance.)

KRRRAAASSSSHHHH!!!!!!

The deafning sound was heard all around the arena. Some fighters stopped their current battle as they saw what had happened. Others simply stood in awe, while others still continued to battle their foe at hand. As the battle raged on their was one who couldn't do anything to help or stop anything that was going on. All he could do was lie their in his pain and stare at the circling surge of energy.

The Rift as it had come to be called, it was their in front of him. Then, he heard someone speaking to him.

Are they talking to me.....no.....couldn't be.

"You'll be ok."

who is this person?

"I'll do what I can to help till he gets here." she said.

"Who....are you....?" Kronamix struggle to say as he shifted his head upwards to look at his visitor. "Don't worry, I won't interfere with the battle at hand. I'll try to keep him from interfereing as well, if I can." she said to him softly but sincerly.

From what he could see, she was wearing a simple black cloak. The shadow's from the hood hide most of her face but he some how felt that he knew her from somewhere. He lifted his hand, shakingly, toward her cloak. Getting ever closer to her face. Suddenly the arena is blasted with a deafning sound. They both looked up at a dark shadow in the sky swooping down toward the Rift. The dragon swooped to a stop a few feet from the vortex and landed.

The rider, hidden beneath a cloak, jumped off the dragon and slowly approached the swriling vortex. He stopped a mere inches from the rift.

"If you want to stop me, then I guess you'll have to follow me. I don't intend on leaveing this plane without a good challenge on the next. Will you be that challenge matters not to me, but I will be the destroyer of that plane and find out my true destany." He said, and then stepped through the vortex.

"I'm sorry, but I can't help you. I have to follow him and stop him.....", "Stop him from what?" Kronamix said, cutting her off. What he saw of her facial features went sad as she put her hands to his wound and spoke softly. Her hands begain to glow a soft blue as she moved them over one of his wounds slowly. "That should slow the bleeding down to almost a stop, and then soon clot." She said as she got up.

She then walked slowly to the vortex and stopped. "I have to stop him from what he has become." She said, and then stepped through the portal.

(NSP: Ahh! Double post by Shawn! Anywhos, time to finish up the Rift stuff...)

Jirverak, with his sword back in hand, had brushed off the throwing stars and such stuck to him. Diaszu, Amry, and Noddo were preparing to surround him though, and Jim and Orca were following behind. Yarilo was nowhere in sight. Jirverak considered his odds, eyeing his opponents. In a sudden motion, he began to bolt for the transit room entrance. Despite the advice from the others, Diaszu pursued Jirverak. Jirverak kicked open the door to the room, and lept down through the hole. Diaszu, not wasting any time, jumped soon after.

Jirverak jumped through, hoping to find Kupala for aid, but instead found three gateways. The first was a simple room with markers in it and the second was a circular ring attached to some giant wire that was attached to the wall. The third, which seemed simplest, was a circle of black stones, built in a complex mecahnism that kept them together and had a lever attached. Jirverak stepped into the circle and pulled the lever. A series of noises that sounded familiar to magic words could be heard, and a bubble began to tear open, engulfing the space he stood on.

Diaszu, now stepping in the hall that the entrances to the three gates occupied, spotted Jirverak teleporting away in one. Rushing in there with his staff out, Diaszu began to chant a series of magic words, hoping to use his telekinesis to throw Jirverak out of place. As he chanted the ancient wordsof magic though, charging towards Jirverak, the bubble began to distort and flash. Jirverak held out his sword in defense, ready to strike Diaszu down. In desperation, Diaszu lept at Jirverak, hoping to physically knock him off. The tear-bubble began to close in around them though, and as Diaszu pummeled into Jirverak, the tear closed around htem, and they both dissapeared.
--------------------------------------------
Saatch was making his way in the realm of Shamoor when he heard a tearing noise. He looked up to see, about fifteen feet above him, a tear-bubble opening, and two clumped figures shooting out of it, falling to the ground. Saatch recognized them as Diaszu and Jirverak, and immediately made his way to them.

Jirverak was wearily standing up, ready to strike the unconscious Diaszu dead. Saatch held out his own staff in front of Jirverak, stopping his progress.

"Move out of the way, old man," Jirverak grunted.

"No," Saatch said, his staff held steady.

Jirverak approached, ready to push aside Saatch. Closing his eyes, Saatch held out his staff, swinging it down above his head. When Saatch didn't feel himself being pushed aside, he opened his eyes to see Jirverak out cold. He noticed that Diaszu was getting up now, ready to strike the fallen Jirverak. Saatch, sighing, stepped between Diaszu and Jirverak.

"Step aside, Saatch," Diaszu said. His brian recognized who he had just spoke to. "Saatch?"

"Yes, dear boy," Saacth said. "And you mustn't attack Jirverak."

"What? But he's going to kill us the moment he wakes!"

"That is yet to be seen, Diaszu. He still contains his free will."

"Well, what do you expect we do with him then?"

"We will take him with us."

Sighing, Diaszu chanted some ancient words of magic, with more care this time. Waving his staff up, Jirverak's body lifted a few inches from the ground. Diaszu and Saatch began to walk, with Diaszu using his staff to push Jirverak as if he was on a cart.

"So where are we going now?" Diaszu asked.

"You will find out in due time," Saatch responded, looking onward.

"Remind me to check my life insurance policy," Diaszu mumbled.
-------------------------------------------
"So should we--" Amry began, before Jim cut her off.

"No, Diaszu and the others are...none of your concern."

"None of our concern--" Amry started again.

"They'll be fine." Jim said with resolution. "We should be moving along now. I'll get Kronaemix while the three of you should make your way to free Stanin and stop Yarilo. We will meet again."

Before Amry could object, Jim flew away towards Kronaemix's side, and Noddo and Space Orca were heading towards the cage that Stanin was held in. Amry followed the two with reluctance. Orca stood next to Stanin's cage, and with his magic, Orca managed to take down the bars that held Stanin.

"I saw her making her way to the ropes," Stanin said.

"We have to go after her!" Amry insisted.

"I don't think we'll have the time..." Noddo said, using one of his sais to point to the entrance to the transit room. The ground was beginning to collapse. They could see at some distance Jim holding Kronaemix.

"We need to get out of here NOW!" Jim yelled. Not wishing to find out otherwise, Stanin grabbed Amry and Orca held on to Noddo, each using their own powers to shoot them straight up through the Rift above. The former Arena below slowly began to deteriorate, working from the center out. As they shot up, Amry spotted Yarilo climbing the rugged mountain peaks surrounding the Rift.

"Over there!" Amry said, pointing towards Yarilo. Wishing to stop at least one of their advesaries, the four flew towards Yarilo. As they passed the peaks though, they had lost her.

"Must of dissapeared," Stanin said, after having leveled to the ground with Amry. Quickly following, Orca dropped Noddo a few feet above the ground, still hovering himself.

"You three can do as you wish, but I have other matters to attend to," Orca said. Space Orca flew away into the distance, leaving the three on the northern side of the mountains surrounding the Rift.

"What now?" Noddo asks the two of them.
-------------------------------------------
Elsewhere, on a mountain top, Jim settled himself and Kronaemix down, using his own powers to start the healing process that someone appeared to try themselves.

"Dragon...woman...portal..." Kronaemix was muttering.

"He's really on the edge of non-existance," Jim said to himself. He then teleported himself and Kronaemix into Eternity, as known as Heaven.

(NSP: OK, I hope that's good enough to continue off the story with.)

------------------
~Geb

A pale, tattered wingtip thrust it's way out of the ground in what remained of the center of the arena. It was followed by two, then three more, six in all, opening up a space just wide enough to pull their sullen owner through.

As the broken form slowly knelt for the last time on the tip of the triangle, the most prominent point in the arena, shades of grey overwhelmed the swirling mist of colored light that hung about him. He had not recieved the answer he'd hoped for, and it had taken it's toll. Time and again he'd asked, time and again he was answered, always the same until there was no hope left.

The figure pulled it's wings inside and disappeared, leaving a single tear to fall to the floor of the arena. As it struck, a hazy, grey darkness shot out across the floors of the once great arena, reaching and climbing the walls, finally meeting where the highest point of the roof had once been. A light flashed, faded, and the arena turned to dust. The earth above caved in, and the rift suddenly widened into a fifteen-mile crater and began to fill with lava from below.

(NSP: Just in case you hadn't figured, everyone is gone from the arena at the point of this post in the very near future. That means if you had wanted to post how your characted left the arena, now is the time to do so, and we'll consider it as being before this post. I just wanted to make sure that I got to do the destuction of the arena, which Geb started without me > , because it's important to some of my later character develpment. If you don't want to, you don't have to, we'll just assume that everyone is out of there.)

------------------
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!

(NSP: BUMP!

I'm waiting for the Rift part to be finished so that I can continue on with Krig. Which is why I haven't posted of yet.)

------------------
Read the Bible, it'll scare the hell out of you.

(NSP: There seems to be some confusion here. The rift part IS finished now--everyone is out, and Sem even wrote the part where the former arena completely falls apart. I haven't written any because 2 of the three side-quest thingies involves characters of Highemperor's and mine alone, and his characters are the leading ones. As for the other (involving Bais&co.) it was assumed that Sem would be directing that, but I may need to help out more due to the fact that he has less time to write for TEW. Any other characters (J-bob's and Ping's namely) weren't in the Rift area to begin with. So by all means, post away Krig! Highemp, I need you to start on either or both of the 2 sidequests (if others join for whatever reason, we can work them in).

And let's do the best we can NOT to have any unnessesary NSP's--this story is staring to become more non-story posts than story Yeah yeah, yell at me too, hehe.)

------------------
~Geb

Amry, Noddo, and Stanin had stopped to rest in the forest, though Orca stole away on whatever business he had.

When Amry woke up, however, she saw that she and Noddo were alone. "What?" she demanded out loud. "We get dragged into some divine battle, and now they want us out? I don't think so!" she said dangerously.

She walked over to where Noddo was and kicked him. He grunted and rolled over. "Noddo!" she yelled at him, but he didn't respond. "Pig," Amry muttered. She kicked him again, harder this time, when he woke up.

"Ow, ow," he complained, waking up. Opening his eyes, he saw Amry's glare. "Ow," he said again, "maybe I should've just kept my eyes closed."

"Get up!" Amry ordered. "That weirdo Stanin What's-his-name went off without us, and I am NOT gonna be left out! Not after what they've put us through!"

Noddo stood up, rubbing his side and wincing. "Yes, your Majesty," he grumbled.

They went off into the woods.

-----

Stanin was walking along in the forest, slowly, trying to keep his age in check, and doing his best to keep Melantha out of his head, when he heard voices behind him.

Turning around and scanning the dense forest, he made out one of the voices to be female. Melantha? he wondered illogically, surging with hope.

Then a pair of people broke out of the underbrush. And they were anything but Melantha.

"You didn't have to kick me so hard!" Noddo said to Amry. "I could be able to walk faster!"

Amry ignored him and walked up to Stanin, placing her finger on his chest. "Listen, Mr. Calenb, or whatever else you may blamed well call yourself, we've been put through a lot, without any explanation. Well, let me tell, we're gonna GET an explanation. We're coming!"

Stanin opened his mouth as if to argue, but then realized that he didn't have the strength for it. "Fine," he said simply. "But any explanations you get you'll have to figure out for yourself. This is my quest. No one else's."

Amry stared at him, a bit surprised at the ease of his agreement, then managed, "Okay."

Stanin informed them, "We are perhaps a few days' journey away from our destination. Come, let us continue."

They set off through the countryside once more.

-----

Saatch led the way through Shamoor with surprising skill for a blind old man. He was good; Diaszu had to give him that. Of course, he wasn't the one who had to maintain a levitation spell to keep an unconscious undead warrior off the ground.

They reached a village.

Or at least, what appeared to be a village, by some stretch of the imagination.

Though there was a stream, it was grey and polluted. Though there was grass, it was brown. Though there were huts they were made of rotting wood.

And the people - they were worst of all. Their cheeks were sunken, their eyes drawn into their heads, their faces gaunt, their frames emaciated. And their eyes full of hopelessness and despair.

As Saatch walked through the village, they cringed before him, but he called out, "Fear not. I am no longer possessed by that foul demon, that blasphemous landwaster Ebon Skull."

They glanced at each other warily, suspecting a trick or perhaps a lightning bolt to strike this blasphemous old man. When nothing happened, they looked at Saatch again, seeing his small smile as he said, "I am now possessed - not by the spirit of Ebon Skull, but by the Holy Spirit of God! I come to bring you a message of hope! Fear not, for I go to Ebon Skull's citadel to demand your release!"

One of them called out, in a strange and wispy voice, "How do we know you're not delusional, old man?"

Saatch's smile never wavered. "I give you, and the Landwaster himself a sign. A sign of God's wrath for his enemies and mercy for his people."

He walked over to the dirty grey stream, wading into it. "Behold!" he cried. "The Lord of Creation gives thee pure, clean WATER!"

He touched the staff to the water, and a circle of blueness, of cleanliness, appeared around it, spreading, until the entire stream was pure blue water.

The villagers stared. Then they ran for the stream and drank. Drank like they had never drunk before. For they were thirsty. Thirsty for water. And for the Lord their God.

"I shall return," Saatch called to the joyous people. "Now I go to confront the demon of Shamoor!"

As they moved out of the village, the wailing of the banshees grew louder, by an ever-so-small degree. . .

-----

There, hope that's good enough to continue with. Geb, I was thinking that you can use the time as Stanin & Co. walk to their destination to develop Amry and Noddo's relationship, while Stanin is thinking of Melantha. Meanwhile, Saatch will walk through Shamoor to Ebon Skull's citadel, giving equivalents of Moses's signs to the people (for example, the staff turning to the snake and the water being cleansed, as opposed to being turned into blood). Thankee.

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