Sem, I'm going to take a few liberties with this post and see how it turns out. Just consider all the possibilities for character development and such!

Saidelora walked down the well-populated hallways of Da'ehl Ta. She walked past a room, taking a moment to glance inside.

The enchantress stopped. Backed up a few steps. And looked inside again.

By all that was unholy, was that. . . Bais? It was.

Walking inside, she said quietly, "Hello, Bais."

Bais looked up, startled, as did the woman next to him. His eyes widened, ever so perceptibly. "Said?"

And then they were face-to-face again. Less than a foot apart. Yet not touching.

Bais broke the silence. "It's. . . it's been a long time, Said. . . How are you?"

Saidelora smiled slightly. "I am well. And yourself?"

Bais grunted. "If being imprisoned in a divine arena for a thousand years is well, then I suppose." He thought of something. "Said. . . I hope you don't mind my asking, but. . . how are you still alive?"

Saidelora whispered, "I am an enchantress, Bais. As you are a mage. These different paths split us, once. But as enchanters emphasize the physical, so we also took pains to cast stasis spells on our bodies, so that we would not age."

"Said," Bais began, "I want this to be like before. . . but you and I both know that can't happen."

Saidelora nodded. "I know."

There was a silence. Then the enchantress said, "But perhaps we can still help each other. I need the power to cast a spell. And what of you?"

Bais was about to reply, when the other woman, an archer, Saidelora supposed, cut in. "Will someone please tell me what is going on?"

------------------
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 October 03, 2001).]

What is power?

That depends on your perception of what power is.

Power is the ability to alter surroundings.

And what defines the surroundings?

Perception. The perception that wins out over other perceptions is the perception with the highest will.

Thus, if I have will, I have power.

Exactly.

-----

Ebon Skull was in his shadow form as he darted along through the underbrush, following, Stanin eth Calenb and his compatriots. Yes. . . soon he would discover the matrix of Volsang, giving his master Satan advantage over the other two powers that be.

That, in addition to the Black Shadow, would guarantee his selection as Satan's champion and his subsequent victory in the Battle!

The air shimmered in front of him, signaling the beginning of mystical communication. Ebon Skull switched to his intimidating physical form to receive the call.

A member of the Shamoor Guard appeared, one of the demonically-possessed humans with enhanced strength and reflexes. They wore ash-grey plate armor and wielded the standard demonic weapon, Demon Axes.

Demon Axes were similar to mortal axis, except that they were much harder to break, and, whenever one struck an enemy, it released something of a nerve toxin to cause excruciating, debilitating pain in the victim.

The Shamoor Captain of the Guard appeared before the demon now, his helm off as proper demonstration of fear for Ebon Skull. "Speak," Ebon ordered.

The Captain, Xirivus, replied, "Yes, milord. Milord, the one called Saatch is walking through the dark realm unhindered, casting miraculous signs and bringing" - he gagged - "hope to the people. A contingent of Guardsmen are being dispatched to deal with him now."

"Hold," Ebon Skull ordered. "Do not apprehend Saatch or harm him in any way. However, my wizards of the Order of Bazaal may counter his signs. As for Saatch, allow him to come to the Citadel. Once he is there, however, capture him and bring him to the courtyard of doom within."

"Yes, milord," Captain Xirivus acknowledged the commands. His image disappeared as the communication ceased.

Ebon Skull licked his lips salaciously in anticipation of what was to come.

The matrix, the pendant, and the Black Shadow. . . Yes, this would be a glorious few days indeed.

-----

Fire.

Air? None.

Water? None.

Earth? None.

Fire? All.

Bathed in fire. Wreathed by flame. This was his existence. This fire was what motivated him, what urged him to escape from his torment, his own private hell.

It gave him will.

The will to escape, to be set free, to exact revenge on his captors.

The will that flowed through him. That gave him strength. That bestowed upon him power.

Yeeesss. . . Sweeeet power. . .

He would taste the blood of his wardens between his jaws. Of Gaea, of Semievil, of God Himself.

For he had the will to power. LIke none other had it. For none other had been in this soul-devouring fire.

Leviathan stretched, yawning. Soon, he promised himself, he would be free. . .

------------------
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 October 04, 2001).]

Saidelora and Krystal eyed each other critically. Finally, Saidelora spat and said, "I certainly hope you're happy, Bais!"

She turned and stalked away.

"No, Said, wait!" Bais called.

The enchantress whirled around, eyes flashing. "What, Bais? We are too different. You and I both know it."

Bais asked softly, "Then why are you jealous?"

Krystal jumped in. "Whoa, hold on a second - jealous?! Of whom?"

Bais and Saidelora looked at her. Bais seemed to be mentally kicking himself for what he had said.

Krystal got it. And laughed. "Ha! There's a thought for ya! Well, I certainly hope YOU'RE happy, Bais!" She walked over to Saidelora; then they sniffed at him and strode out of the room together.

Bais watched them go, wondering why the powers that be had put women into his life. . .

-----

As soon as they were out of earshot of the mage, the two women turned to each other and introduced themselves.

"Hello, I am Krystal."

Saidelora grasped her proferred hand and said with a small smile, "I am called Saidelora. Would you care to tell me what you are doing here in Da'ehl Ta?"

Krystal replied ruefully, "I would if I could. All I know is that we get caught up in the battle of some divine battle, and we wind up here somehow."

Saidelora's eyebrows raised. "Divine battle?" she asked, carefully concealing her excitement.

"Yeah. It's called the Eternal War. See, there are these three powers - God, Gaea, and Satan - and every ten thousand years they pick a champion to fight for them."

"I see." Saidelora smiled. "Are you one of these champions?"

Krystal laughed. "Not that I know of! I don't know if I would even WANT to be one!"

Saidelora asked, "Whose champion would be you be, were you chosen?"

Krystal responded, "Nature, I guess." A pause. "What 'bout you?"

"I serve the Shining One."

"God?"

"No. Lucifer. The one you call-"

"Satan." Saidelora nodded. Krystal stared at her, not quite sure what to say. "But-"

It was the enchantress's turn to interrupt. "Evil is not as evil as you might think. The primary difference between Good, Nature, and Evil is that of philosophy. May I explain?"

Krystal nodded numbly.

Saidelora continued, "God proclaims that there is but one way to fulfillment, and that way is through Himself. This is a very narrow-minded way, for it does not permit many entrance into His dwelling place, heaven.

"Gaia's doctrine is that there are several ways to wholeness, but that not all ways work."

"Now, my belief is that EVERY way is a potential way to wholeness. It's a matter of perspective: what is wholeness, and how does one get there? It's different for every person."

Krystal asked skeptically, "So. . . what is fulfilment for YOU, and your way to it?"

Saidelora returned, "For me, wholeness is to bring others to wholeness. I do this by promoting the philosophy of Lucifer wherever I may go. In fact, the spell that I need to cast will help me in this regard."

Krystal nodded, unsure of herself. "Then, ah, what makes you think that we, or any of these wizards, would help you?"

"Come now, one of the things that all three philosophies have in common is free will. To deny me is to deny free will."

"I see. . ."

Behind them, Bais came out of the room, gliding toward them.

-----

The dark man raised a wasted hand, taking the bowl of water to drink it.

There was silence in the room as he did so, except for the dark man's slight slurping. This was one of the inner rooms of the Citadel of Shamoor. It was composed of bare, wet stone, and only a single torch cast any light upon the room. On the far side of the oval room was the throne of the dark man. It was composed entirely of bones, the bones of executed Shamoorian peasants.

The dark man finished drinking, wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and said, in a dry and raspy voice, to the leader of the five men standing before him, "Yes. This is pure water. You have done well."

Strage, the first member of the Order of Bazaal, had come come from the land of Stanin, Gebohq, and Krystal, once, too. The demon Ebon Skull, however, had deemed that he and Bazaal were too ambitious to coexist, so had removed Strage from the land and brought him to Shamoor, to found an order of dark wizards, using the spellbooks and magical artifacts left behind by the wizards that had once inhabited Shamoor, before the shadow of Bazaal had fallen upon the land.

Strage spoke. "Yes, your highness. We are able to purify water, too, just as the one called Saatch is."

"Goooood," the dark man wheezed. "Now, contaminate the water in this bowl once more."

The five dark wizards in the room chanted some words of magic, and the water clouded, turning grey once more. "Excellent," the dark man hissed. "Now, do this to all the water in Shamoor, to undo what Saatch has done."

Strage nodded, and the five wizards of the Order of Bazaal bowed and left.

------------------
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 October 04, 2001).]

(NSP: I know you will all hate me for doing this, but I think I need to lay down some styles for magic before the lines between the three orders get erased totally. This is what they were intended to be, so I figure I should make this info available to you guys.

Enchanters first: No collumns of fire. No bolts of brimstone. In short, no fireworks. And yes, Highemp, this does apply to Said. And no, it doesn't apply to the Leviathan spell, 'cuz summoning is in a league all it's own, so have fun with that one. Enchanters focus on subtler magics though. If an enchanter wants to kill someone with fire, they won't watch 'em burn, they will do something small, like light a fire inside thier mind that melts their brain until it bleeds out their nostrils (makes a note to have Said do that). They make a minimum of fuss, and try not to let it be known that it was they who cast the spell.

Now mages: Same deal No spectacular fireworks. They do have more sparklies though- they just keep it focused. Mages are artists, and so make art of their magic- for example, if Bais wanted to kill someone with air (not an unlikely scenario) he might, if he keeps his cool, try sucking all the air out of their lungs and have them collapse, gasping for air. (makes annother note for Bais to try that some-time) The key to mage magic is creativity. Use the same spell in as many different ways as possible, and stay away from typical drab applications as much as possible.

And now the wizzard: FIRE!!!!! Well, no not just fire, but when a wizzy goes off in a room, hit the floor. Wizzys should be big, flashy, boomie. Say a wizzy wants to kill someone with.... water! The wizzy won't simply freeze them or drown them, the good wizzy will shoot a bolt of ice into their gut that explodes from there into shards that rain down as the corpse freezes and shatters to the ground with a loud crash as everyone else in the room scrambles for the door.

They can do prescision stuff too, like critical hits with bolts and shards of various magics, and of course basic spontanious combustion is always good, but generally they over-do things, just 'cuz they can or just to see what happens(scientist-disaster movie motivation). It doesn't make them at all more powerful, it just makes them go boom-boom

Also: the only spells that could extend life in mortals are those cast by higher powers and/or necromancy spells. Necromancy is simply the study of life and death, so this makes sense, but it has a natural stigma to it. It's something I should have put up earlier, as it would have affected things in the hospital [even if Bais didn't have necromantic magic cast on him, it would be assumed, and he has no way to prove otherwise] so from henceforth anyone who is over 500 years old whose age is known should have a social stigma to them to overcome. Of course, those over 500 years old will try to keep their ages secret and this stigma wouldn't apply to those who know the character well, just when first meeting someone)

------------------
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 October 06, 2001).]

Air. Glorious air. Escape from my troubles again, for the first time in ten thousand years.

More than just air-- sky! Clear, vast, wonderful sky!

Bais was floating high above Da'ehl Ta, sitting on a cloud. He'd made the cloud himself, they weren't hard to maintain up here, and he was holding himself up with some difficulty, but a child's dream nonetheless.

In this same spot... more or less... he had floated a dozen times before. Saidelora had suggested they meet in a neutral place... no-where near either of their cities would do, and Da'ehl Ta itself was horribly unromantic. So once a week, Bais had mustered the mental energy to make two people float upon a cloud for a few hours.

Her pretended ignorace of the Eternal War when talking to Krystal was just that. It was Said who had introduced him to the concept. Said who had tricked him into joining that fool crusade. Said who hadn't explained the rules, and Said who was responsable for his rotting in oblivion for ten-thousand years, hungry, afraid, and alone.

She seemed calculating and cold after all that time. Carefully plotting the best way to cut into Bais. Just like all her power-mad kind.

And now after all that, she would betray him again.

At least he was close to what remained of home now. He could take refuge there, and live out the remains of his broken, tattered life within his broken, tattered city. He'd wanted to see the devastation for himself anyway.

Don't leave Krystal to Said... no-one deserves that.

He would leave a note on Carrol's desk before leaving, telling Krystal where to find him. If she wanted to stay with Said, she deserved what she got.

If she came to him, or at least stayed with her cousin, at least Said would be foiled in some small measure.

Bais started out of his thoughts for a moment and looked down. He had somehow floated out over the ocean while he was thinking, in spite of the stiff breeze blowing to the contrary.

Good timeing I guess... I could use a swim.

He folded up and shot down towards the sea.

------------------
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 October 07, 2001).]

(NSP: Time for some action scenes! And stuff. First off--Stanin & co.)

"Is anyone else sick of walking all the time?" Noddo asked.

Neither Stanin nor Amry answered his question though, as they all trekked through the
hill-ridden jungle land. Stanin's magic blade sliced through the dense foliage. It was like a
dance of fire, leaping from one fallen plant to the next. The three suddenly noticed that
they had approached a clearing in the rainforest, which seemed odd, as none of them had
seen a clearing on their trek so far. Stanin took the lead, with Amry ready to follow by his
side, as she had during their entire journey. Noddo stayed behind, waiting on the edge of
the clearing.

"I think we should find another way around..." Noddo suggested.

Amry spun around, obviously frustrated by Noddo's lack of movement. Stanin continued
walking.

"Will you stop trying to make excuses to stop every five minutes?" Amry yelled at him.
Stanin turned to face Amry and Noddo, a sign of tiredness on his face, as if he had been
around rowdy children for too long.

"Look Noddo," Stanin began to offer, "If you want, we can stop and sit here. There's
even some water we can refill before--"

A streaking line of yellow whipped from below a rock and wrapped itself around Stanin,
electrifying him. Stanin, being nearly paralyzed with shock, dropped his magic blade, and
the tentacle-like creature around Stanin began to drag him back towards the rock from
where it came.

Shocked at Stanin's apparent lack of physical strength to fight back the electric assult,
Amry charged to intercept, despite the danger it would pose to her. A aura shimmered
around her hands as she reached to grab hold of the tentacle. Amry appeared unphased as
she squeezed on the tentacle, forcing it to release its grip on Stanin. In a fit of rage, Amry
yanked the tentacle away from its rock source, and something short of chaos came about...

(Ohhh! A cliffhanger! Yeah yeah, I'm lazy...but it'll boost da post count Hehehe...)
------------------------------
"I do not nullify the grace of God; for if justification comes through the law, then Christ died for nothing." ~Galatians 2:21

--+Gebohq+--

(Just a short little moody piece here, nothing more than a long BUMP, really. I'd thought I'd better post, though. )

Shaded from the pale light from of moon, a small bundle lay between the roots of a large oak. Wrapped in a long unwashed cloak that might once have been yellow in colour, the Northman called Krig tried his hardest to sleep. The icy cold of the night seemed to ignore the presence of Krig's cloak, and burrowed all the way to his very bones.

Though his eyes were closed, Krig was anything but asleep. His empty belly, bruised body, and tortured thoughts wouldn't allow the peaceful bliss of unconsciousness. He'd not eaten in days, long, chaos-filled days. Krig couldn't even really remember or make sense of what had gone on since he'd left his Northman friends, it had happened too fast, it was all too strange. Flashes of memory jumbled together in his brain, strange images of running through a city in pursuit of a cat, exploring an insane castle, seeing a cat (the same one?) turn into a man, and an unreal land full of shifting lights and roaring monsters. None of it made sense. Krig wished more than anything to be back with his friends.

He remembered what it had been like so long ago, before his life had been thrown into chaos, before he'd left home to do battle with smelly, rotting men, and to be attacked by men who made flashy lights and loud booms. His life had been peaceful, happy, and he'd always known what was what. He remembered fishing in the early dawn with his fellow Northmen, playing with the village children, hunting for deer in the woods, doing battle with the vile scum that inhabited the neighbouring villages to the East. Life had been simple; life had made sense. Now life was this confusing mess where things seemed to happen for no reason, and nobody would tell Krig what was going on.

As the dark leaves of the tree fluttered overhead, a lone salty tear slipped out of the unmoving Northman's closed eye, trickled through layers of dirt and dust, and crossed the sea-weathered face. Far away in the deep cold of the night, a wolf howled, the wind rustled, and the moon's unblinking eye looked down on the world.

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

Strage and his fellow Bazaalian magicians stood by the River Lethe, the current which supplied water throughout Shamoor. They chanted and pointed with outstretched arms at the water, purified by Saatch through the power of God. Multicolored lightning crackled from their fingertips, dancing through the air to strike the surface of the Lethe with a sizzle, sending a great hiss of steam up into the sky.

When the steam cleared, however, the water was still clean! Strage glared at it, then said, without turning, "Bek."

Bek stepped forward, clad in black leather chest armor, padded leggings, and cloak. Being one of the younger members of the Order of Bazaal, he had only one Ji'torian sex slave, to signify his low status.

"Yes, Master Stra-" He was cut off as Strage whipped around, grabbing him by the throat and hoisting him a good ten inches into the air.

Strage was angry at his apparent failure, and needed to vent his anger. Thus, Bek. With a crack and the snapping of bones, Bek crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Strage walked through the dozen evil wizards, back toward the side gate of the Citadel, and they parted like the Red Sea before him. Looking at each other, they hesitated, then hurried to follow.

-----

Saatch continued his journey through Shamoor. Everywhere he went, he fostered hope. Yet no one was bold enough to join him, Diaszu, and Jirverak.

Saatch listened to the voice that spoke into his heart, and he knew it was time for another sign. "Halt," he said to Diaszu, and the wielder of nature's power did so.

The blind old man went up to the nearest stream, an offshoot of the Lethe, and lay the tip of his staff upon the waters. For a moment, the waters stilled completely, then there was a brilliant flash and the waters churned - churned with life. Fish and aqualife had appeared in the water throughout Shamoor!

Saatch smiled tightly at Diaszu, and they continued onward, leaving the Shamoorians of the nearest village to gawk at the water life.

-----

Okay, so my posts aren't too good, but, hey, I've been weary and sick lately. So cut me some slack. Also, Geb, can you do the scene where Jirverak wakes up next? Thanks.

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

(NSP: A short thing--yet somewhat essential to the plot. I hope this is alright with Sem--if not, this may be subject to change. Also, I'm changing the word "plane" to "state" as I plan to use it when I get around to editing these suckas.)

Within the State of Power, Semievil, Judge of the Battle of the Ages and Mediator of all, sat reclined in a rather large chair. His feet were propped upon the executive alter made for his works. His eyes, what resembled of them at least, rolled up the marble walls and across the expanse of the unseen ceiling. His skeletal fingers kneaded and pressed upon one of his temples. Semievil wore the grim and tired expression of one who was battling with relentless and conflicting forces. As it was, Semievil was doing just that.

"No, I can not extend the dealine!" Semievil impressed, to whom the audience was was unclear. It was as if he was hearing voices. "It is clearly stated when the champions for each of the Eternal Forces must be chosen. You, as well as the other two Forces, are considerably pressed to choose, or I will be forced to invoke article 144 upon you.--"

Semievil was about to contiue when he appeared to be interrpted, though no sound was heard. Semievil looked discontent and impatient, to say the least.

"No Jehovah! You know I can not allow you to do that either. The fact is, Lucifer has broken no law as far as the Tome of Justice is concerned."

Several more moments of silence are heard, and Semievil appeared relieved.

"THANK you Gaia. SOMEBODY seems to be willing to see the other's point of view around here. And yes Gaia, the Eternal battlefield will be complete on time."

Semievil slid his feet off and onto the floor, his elbows now where his feet were.

"No, I--yes. No. No. Yes. No--yes. I can't--order, order, order..."

With the wrath and power of a god, Semievil strikes his fist upon the alter.

"ORDER! ...This case will be closed. Dismissed."

Rising violently from his seat, Semievil turned away from the alter, his skull supported by his hand. To mediate the most powerful Forces of all was no mere feat, and all of his slumber would not put to rest the eternal conflict.

Shifting from the dark corners of the room, Kronaemix looked upon Semievil. The angel's face was burdened with the words between the deities. The words which he overheard. The words that Kronaemix had never heard from a deity of the Forces himself. Kronaemix stepped foreward, ready to ask a question, when Semievil interrupted.

"It is not of your concern, Kronaemix. All will go according to plan. Go now, and serve Justice. Leave me be."

Kronaemix, with a sigh of defeat, bowed respectfuly, and shifted away, back into the darkness. The Eternal Judge, with his arms wide open, meditated, waiting for truth to find him.
-----------------------------------------

"Now I find myself in question
[they point the finger at me again]
Guilty by association
[they point the finger at me again]...

I wanna run away
Never say good bye
I wanna know the truth
Instead of wondering why
I wanna know the answers
No more lies
I wanna shut the door
and open up my mind."

~"Runaway" Linkin Park

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
<<<<GEBOHQ>>>>
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

[This message has been edited by Gebohq (edited November 04, 2001).]

(Thanks for the boost, Geb. A little introspective bit here, on Kronaemix's and Jim's relationship, which, until now, hasn't been touched on yet.)

With his new adjudicating powers, Kronaemix spirited himself away to the place he always went when he was in troubled times. It was a large cliff that overlooked a tumultuous valley. Toward dusk, the sun seemed to arc down the wide lip of the valley, giving it an extra degree of reflection and awe.

Kronaemix stood, looking out on the blazing sunset.

When he was a budding champion for Heaven, all those countless centuries ago, he would train here. Later, he practiced with Kinn-Akan, who taught him he more subtle, thoughtful techniques of combat. Thus, the valley had a special significance to him.

Kronaemix heard the sound of footsteps behind him, and noted, without much surprise, that Jim had found him.

"I never got the chance to thank you for saving me at the Rift." He laughed a little. "I was so close to death...but somehow, I don't imagine an angel dies. He just...ceases to be, I guess."

He paused, unsure whether to laugh or cry. Jim watched on, sympathetically. It was an unsettled moment for him-he felt a great deal of sympathy (Was it sympathy? Or was it pity?) for the fallen angel, but allowed him his dignity.

"Now that So'liq killed my father, Jim...do you suppose he watches over us now?"

Jim didn't answer. Kronaemix turned back, watching the sunset with flaring teal eyes.

"What did you come here for, anyway?"

Shame flooded into the other angel. He had to tell him.

"Kronaemix...God is, quite frankly, most concerned that So'liq has somehow found a way to cut andamite. Such knowledge could turn the tide of the war!"

He hesitated, carefully choosing his words.

"He has requested that...you talk to Semievil. Reason with him. God says he's getting harder and harder to talk to these days."

Kronaemix spun, glowering at his companion.

"That's all I am to Heaven now, aren't I? A lackey, an...an intermediary! Well, you go back to God, and you tell him that I am SICK and TIRED of running errands for him-"

"Why don't you tell him yourself?"

Jim's words were soft, but they shattered Kronaemix's empty rage like brittle glass.

"When was the last time you spoke to God, Kronaemix?"

Jim took a step closer to him.

"What happened to your faith? You are an angel, after all..."

Kronaemix bowed his head. Jim stepped in close, and slowly, Kronaemix matched his eye level.

"You are about to go through the battle of your life, old friend, and you must face it without my help. But that doesn't mean you have to face it alone. God is with you, always. But you have to let him in."

They stared at each other for a few more moments, then embraced. Neither of them held any illusions about safety; they were in for the battle of their lives.

With that, Jim nodded at Kronaemix, and made to leave. He stopped, and turned back.

"Kronaemix. Remember. The day is almost over, and when it is..."

He vanished in a gold flash, leaving behind only a whisper;

"...The night must come."

*mutters something about 14-year-olds not supposed to be having such writing skill*

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

Quiet, you

*waits for Geb to remind me what Amry's powers are*

*waits for Geb to post the scene where Jirverak wakes up*

In short, the story is waiting on. . . *drum roll* GEBOHQ!

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

(NSP: Really this is for TLTE, but I want the rest of you guys to see it as well (primarilly because I'm too lazy to use the copy/paste buttons)
part of the symolisim-type dealie I'm endevoring to try to pull together is with the andamantite- something totally indestructible, and made that way by profound hope. Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want, but I think it's cool. So if you want to cut andamantite, please make it something to do with a lack of hope. And if you really loved me you would do it with some sort of profound character development, and not just use the 'Souless Ancient Artifact of Hopelessness'. I suppose you can do it whatever way you want, but character development is cooler! *hypnotic voice* you will write spiffy character development! =)

(Woohooo! I just realized I got post 333! I feel special now. No, don't worry too much, it's really the AP Calculus talking=P )

------------------
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 October 25, 2001).]

Bais looked fondly across the vast, specked green sea of life that lay before him. In a thousand years it hadn't changed. The wind rolled in from the sea and swept the grasses and flowers which twisted back and forth in a chorus of joy-mad color.

After ten thousand years in a cave, however well furnished, it was good to be home. Yet there was something wrong here. Both of his parents had died before Bais could walk, but his father's house was in perfect condition. Bais couldn't imagine who had kept it up after he had left.

By the time he reached the door however, Bais had a pretty good idea of what had happened. Feebly trying to grasp at the tattered reigns that remained around his temper after the past week, Bais walked resolutely through the door, averting his eyes from the plaque that now adorned it.

"Good day, Sir! Welcome to the House of Winds, the oldest standing house from the Alpha period of the Awakening era. I can see by your sash that you are a student of the winds, perhaps you would care to see some of the architectural features which the last resident of the house, Bais, had added on- what's this!? Now see here, fellow!" The short, middle-aged, moderately overweight man who had greeted him, and now lay squaking and sputtering in the path was most likely on the staff of some museum or other offshoot of the Arcane Association. Good, Bais decided, when he files his report, he could catch up on his connections with the Academy.... In the meantime he would remove the museum display cases, retrive their contents, and settle back in.

------------------
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: The second half of this post, with the second half of the fight with Stanin &co, will be up sometime later. And this first half will be polished, as the dialogue is pretty cruddy right now. Hopefully, it's good enough to stand for something better than "Days of Our Lives". Remember folks--this whole story should be written like a rough draft, er, without as many typos. Flow is more important than the nitty-gritty, at the moment at least )

"I think he's awakening."

"Pull him aside. Now we shall find out if he will attack."

"And if he does?"

The stormy winds of muted colors swirled in front of Jirverak. He could not remember what had happened, or where he was, but the voices sounded familiar. The colors began to settle down, and Jirverak made out dull and lifeless surroundings of rugged hills. He felt that the place was almost welcoming, as welcoming as anything he seemed to have percieved feeling before. Jirverak then made out the two faces floating over him, those faces belonging to Diaszu and Saatch.

He remembered now. He remembered the righteous anger he felt towards them, of their ideals he once upheld foolishly. How he realized the true laws that governed life.

Jirverak, using his arms for support, began to stand, ready to bring their lives to an end. They backed away, the younger of the two preparing to defend, the other staring with odd eyes, odd even for a blind man. Jirverak stood, his sword ready to strike. His body suddenly gave way under his feet, and fell right back down.

"He fell, but...how?" Diaszu asked Saatch.

"He must have taken more damage than I thought when I knocked him unconscious," Saatch trailed.

"His ankles don't seem to be able to support him, it would seem, so he can't attack us effectively," Diaszu concluded, somewhat relieved.

Jirverak gazed with hatred at the two. He would surely be left here to rot, or be victim to unknown forces. But then, why did they take him in the first place, he thought. What would they want with him? Perhaps to be used as bait, or cannabalized for some other purpose.

"Diaszu, we will take him with us," Saatch said. "Perhaps there is someone who can mend him."

"Again?" Diaszu said. "DO you really think this...think Jirverak will not attack us again? It would seem logical that in such conditions, he would not hold back." Jirverak had to agree with Diaszu. He was not about to change his ways, not after what he knew and was able to percieve. "It is difficult enough to keep the field I made to protect us from this shadow...gas, whatever it is," Diaszu added. "It's harder still to do that AND drag that around," Diaszu ended, pointing at Jirverak.

"He will be free soon enough," Saatch said with an egnigmatic tone. "We must prepare for teh next sign," With that, Saatch began to walk once more on the rubble of a road, using his staff to find his way around. As if the effort was too much, Diaszu waved teh end of his own staff towards Jirverak and chanted some magic words. Jirverak's body lifted a few inches off the ground once more, and Diaszu motioned with the bottom end of his staff to push his body foreward.

Feeling helpless, Jirverak could do no more than let his mind wander.
---------------------------------------------

[This message has been edited by Gebohq (edited October 27, 2001).]

Hello, all. I'm a guy who's written on here before. I made Kogi and the Daemon lords and all that. I had hoped to add my little flavor to the thread, and, God willing, I will. I was reading TEW as a background so I would, at least, know what was going on before I wrote. I got lost somewhere on page 7...would someone mind explaining what has happened in the last two pages? It gets really convoluted and confusing.

Then Trini woke up. He said, "HEY IM NOT REALLY Diaszu! IM TRINI! IT WAS ALL JUST A DREAM! I BETTER CONTINUE MY JOURNEY TO FIND
THE LIVING BREATHING TREE. HE WILL HELP ME SEEK THE STONE OF GLOWING CHEESE!"
As he hopped out of his garbage can house, he jumped into his taco mobile and sputtered
down over the lush mountain of cheeseburgers!
"AHH HOW I LOVE FOODLAND! IT IS THE BEST PART OF WACKKY WORLD I KNOW! NOW I
MUST COMB MY AFRO WITH THIS FRO PICK OF GOLD AND FIND KUNG FU JOE!"
As he sputtered along on his taco tastic automobile he left a trail of guacamole. He heard a
voice.
"HEY ID LOVE A CHIMICHANGA RIGHT NOW!"
It was kung fu joe. Trinis long lost cousin, who is actually the father of his long lost brother
Tabago!
"Hop in Kung Fu Joe!" Trini yelled "I'm on my way to the Living breathing tree who will tell us
where to find the cow of saphire who will give me the ultimate fro pick so i may attain the
final leve of afrotude and oust Blargaloo from the throne of largalook.
"INDUBITABLY" Yelled kung fu joe as he hopped onto the moving cheeseburger mobile.
They sped along the highway until finally they reached the village of the crazies
The announcer said "The Village of the Crazies... They'll never make it out alive
"AY THATS A BUNCH A BLOOK FLAGGIN BLARNEY YA TINGLE FINKING DAISY KISSER" said
Hank.
"Yah youre right" trini said "dont listen to him"
"As they entered the village of the crazies an old woman yeled "MWA MWA!"
"HEY MON! THAT WAS CRAZY MON!" said kung fu joe.
"Then they entered the Giant Castle of Cows and...

(NSP: Feel free to join in Arbiter/Mandraoran, it'll be good to see you write again (not to mention we could probably use more than one "outside" source (J-Bob is the other one I'm refering too) to help out with keeping the "spirit" of the story *and you made SoD good too, big bonus*--you should be good to start out, as you've told me personally you wanted to do a "subtle" character, but if you have any specific questions, as Semievil, myself and highemp, and we can fill you in (I hope the summary I gave you before of pages 7-9 were satisfactory). To the reader--we're ignoring teh above post...and I'm just doing a short post, essentially a B.U.M.P., until I have proper time to write some real posts (like finsihing the fight with Stanin & co. and making my previous post better). So here it goes...)

Within the state of chaos
the man enters to tame
the ethereal beast within,
the loser of Eternals' game
the first of many to sin
in battle for ultimate fame
cast now by the Judge's djinn
into the state where ice and flame
exist as close as kin
exist one and the same,
the man sent by Heav'n
yet not in its name,
with him one can enter in
the state of chaos with aim
to free the beast and win
the war for power over us.

Saidelora could not believe her eyes. Here, deep within the depths of a library in Da'ehl Ta, was a book of poems, and in her long hours of hopeless searching, she found the first clue in unlocking the way to free Leviathan. The "man" was the key that she would need. This key would bridge the gap between what she could not touch within the State of Chaos and what she could, in this world. She thought that this must have been Lucifer's will, and that he knew of it, but chose her to free Levaithan, for it would be less noticable for such a small mortal such as herself to do it than the Great One himself. She hurried quickly in search of whom the "man" might be...

(NSP: OK, so this ended up being a 'real' post of sorts. Anywhos, let's hope to get this story back on the road!)
--------------------
"Art does not tolerate reason."

"The aim of art, the aim of a life can only be to increase the sum of freedom and responsibility to be found in every man and in the world. It cannot, under any circumstances, be to reduce or suppress that freedom, even temporarily. No great work has ever been based on hatred and contempt. On the contrary, there is not a single true work of art that has not in the end added to the inner freedom of each person who has known and loved it."

~quotes from Albert Camus (expect to see more from him hehe)

~)Gebohq(~

I am mandragoran, arbiter, and now, Gogeta. All the same guy.I have decided (with the blessing of, at leas,t Geb and possibly Sem) to add my two cents in the form of a character. I think it'll be cool, but you never know how grafts will take until you put 'em on. So, here goes...
=============================================

Damien couldn't understand. He had a roll of parchment rolled out on his desk. The candle flickered, a cold wind blew through the open shutters. The Prophecy can't lie. It says that a pure and noble warrior will be chosen as Heaven's champion Damien scratched at the stubble around his chin in thought Shouldn't something have happened? Shouldn't a chorus of angles come down and declare that I am God's chosen? If nothing has happened yet, that means someone else has been chosen. Damien's eyes glowed fiercely at this thought. No one was holier than he. He always did the right thing. Damien's eyes flicked to the sword hanging above the mantlepiece. He would have to correct the situation. His mind did not allow the idea that someone was more noble and purer than he.(Note: Don't get me wrong here, Damien really is a good person, he just can't accept that there is someone better (in this case, more holy)than he.) Damien saw no other way and went to get his armor and brought the sword down. He had no one to say goodbye to (a truly holy person was celibate), so, after an hour or so of packing supplies and readying his horse, he set off in the middle of the night toward the person who was holier than he. Damien had absolutely no idea where he was going, but he knew instinctively that he'd be able to find this man that was Heaven's champion. Oh yes, he would find that man.

(Hail and well met, fellow SoD writer! Thou art an welcome addition to TEW. And now, seeing as how I hath not posted in some time now, behold the following post! Oh, and J-Bob, if I've gotten some part of Cylerna wrong, be sure to lemme know.)

Horran sat on the rickety porch of his house on the edge of Cylerna, whittling at a small stick Normally around this time of day he would be in the local tavern, the Orc, but after last night Old Tem the barkeep had told him to stay out until the evening. Old Tem always had been a stupid old goat. Unfortunately, there was no other place to get good ale in Cylerna.

Horran frowned out from eyes sunken from sleeplessness at the rolling hills nearby, where a flock of sheep grazed. Like he needed another bloody thing like this in his life. Bloody Tem. Things had started going awry after that big meteor shower, Horran figured. First, that fool of an outlander, or whoever he was, had dragged his body into town, and went and died right in the tavern. The drunken half-wits had made him bury the man's body, because they claimed that he'd killed the man. Horran snorted. All he'd done was laugh at the bugger. These people were a lot of superstitious half-wits.

Horran had broken his best shovel burying the outlander. Bleeding rocky soil here abouts. Then, a few days later, that idiot farmer who always hung around in the Orc brought that--thing--into town. Horran still swore up and down that it was bad luck, that thing. After the menfolk got done gawking at the thing, it had somehow fallen to Horran to bury the beast. They'd joked that Horran was fast becoming the town undertaker.

Horran spat on the ground. Bunch of half-wits. And now Tem had kicked him out of the Orc because he supposedly "drank too much", whatever that meant. Dirty Jenkan and Frid got drunk way more than he did, Horran knew, Tem was just picking on him. Tem had never liked him, the old goat.

With a snarl, Horran threw the whittled stick away and got to his feet. He needed a drink. Surely it was close enough to evening, Old Tem would let him in. As he turned to head towards the Orc, something caught his eye. The sheep, out on the hill. They were milling around too much, and bleating. A wolf? At this time of day? Horran squinted at the flock.

There was something moving up there, all right, among the sheep, but it didn't look like a wolf. At this distance, he couldn't tell what it might be. He shaded his eyes from the sun.

"What you lookin' at, Horran y'old goat?" The voice came from behind him, along with a punch to the shoulder. It was Frid, one of Horran's drinking buddies. He must have just got in from his farm, his worn clothes were covered in dust.

"Somethin's movin' up in the sheep, an' I can't see what it is," Horran replied.

Frid squinted. "Looks like a man, to me. A mighty short one, though."

Now that Frid said it, Horran could see he was probably right. It was a man, although it looked half beast. He was coming towards the town, sheep scattering out of his path. He moved with an odd, rolling gait. As he got closer, Horran could make out his details.

He was short, that much was sure. Not more than half as tall as a fairly big man. He wore a big reddish beard, split into two braids, and his expression was hidden behind bushy red eyebrows. His clothes were nothing more than filthy rags, encrusted with dirt and grime. But strangest of all were what he carried and what he wore on his head. Covering his head, he wore a battered helm the likes of which Horran had never seen, with two horns like those of a bull sticking out on either side. In his hands he carried an axe, but it was no wood-cutter's axe. It was broader than that, and had two blades on it. This was a weapon of war.

Horran and Frid stared openly as the short man stumped past, without so much as a glance at either of them. As he did, a wafting reek hit their noses. It smelled like the man had waded through miles of swamp, then rolled around in a pigsty for an hour. The smell jolted Horran out of his reverie.

"Take a bath, you son of a mare!" He called after the short mess of hair. The stranger didn't respond, but instead walked a few more steps, sniffed the air, and then continued down the street. Eventually he came to the door of the Orc, and dissapeared inside.

Horran looked at Frid, who was also standing, looking at where the man had gone. First a half dead man, then a vile creature of evil, and now a man that seemed more beast than human. Horran shook his head grimly.

"No good can come of this. Foul things are afoot, mark my words."

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

Alone in Judge Semievil's Vision Room, Kronaemix advanced slowly on the glowing blue orb, which had the power to tap into the past, present and future. Silently, he touched it, and almost recoiled; Kinn-Akan gazed back at him.

Slowly, he relaxed. It wasn't his dead father. It was simply his own reflection. In times of late, Kronaemix had aged noticeably.

He couldn't really blame himself, though. Of his millions of years of age, he mused, this last one had been without a doubt the most harrowing.

He touched the orb again, and muttered silently.

"Show me..."

In his head, an expresionless voice returned; What?

"Show me...show me what has happened to me. Show me why So'liq can cut through andamite."

And suddenly, the vision was there; it was himself and Kinn-Akan, bathed in a pool of radiant light. They crouched, and Kronaemix could see, just barely, that beyond the light stood creatures of great menace.

Then, Kinn-Akan was rising, floating off the ground, and toward the source of the light. The vision of himself grasped at him, but could not hold him, and gazed up with unimaginable despair at his father. His shoulders slumped and his head bowed.

Kronaemix watched on, puzzled, as his vision self rose, and resolutely stepped out of the light, toward the dark figures. They started to advance toward him...

No!

And then the vision ended. Kronaemix was suddenly aware that he still stood in the Vision Room, no more sure of the solution to his problem than he was before. He considered asking again, but declined. The answer was there; it just wasn't apparent.

The voice from the orb reverberated in his head again; What is yours cannot be taken from you, Kronaemix. It can only be given away...

An idea had begun to form in Kronaemix's brain. It was the answer to his problem, but he was still unsure. He needed more clarification.

Again, he touched the orb.

What do you want?

"I want," the angel whispered, "to see what will happen to me and the others."

You may not like what you see...

"I must know, Orb. This is most important."

There was a silence, as if the Orb was debating whether to show him or not. Immediately, Kronaemix felt an amazing urge to wrench the Orb from its resting place and toss it against the wall, shattering it into oblivion. His faith in others had faded away quite a bit, lately.

And there was the idea again, buzzing loudly in his subconscious. He pushed it away, for a moment.

"Show me. Please."

Finally (almost grudgingly, Kronaemix felt), the Orb sent him another vision.

The first word-assosciation that Kronaemix received was Armaggeddon. He knew, without a doubt, that he was gazing at the final Battle between the three Forces; Heaven, Hell and Nature.

The Decimillennial War.

Three armies converged in the Arena. Blood flew; screams echoed repeatedly off the circular walls, a demented choir of agony and suffering. Kronaemix started to make out familiar faces; Jim, Diaszu, Jiverak, Noddo, Amry, and many others. He also spotted enemies; the figure of Dark Lancer sent a chill down his spine, writhing and contorting as he battled with his enemies.

He remembered Semievil's warning; "Kronaemix is to take part in the battle against Dark Lancer."

Kronaemix repressed a shudder. Dark Lancer would not be an easy foe to come up against.

Then, suddenly, he focused on the centre of the vision, what he was meant to see.

Despair flooded through him.

Kronaemix was on his knees in the middle of the Arena. His face and armour was soaked in blood; some of it, he knew, was his own, and the rest was the blood of his enemies. He was gazing up, through eyes half-closed in pain, at So'liq.

The demon was looking similarly battered, but his eyes were not glazed over with fatigue, but sparkling in triumph. His sword, Crimson Agony, was hovering inches from Kronaemix's neck. Abruptly, So'liq threw his head back and screamed in laughter and triumph.

Then, with a primal roar, he drew his sword back and-

Like a bad dream, Kronaemix was released from the vision. He was panting and sweating. He could hear the Orb's voice again, but he shook it away. It started to make sense.

So'liq didn't have some fantastical new weapon to cut andamite; it just didn't make SENSE. There was some commonality in himself and his father that made them susceptible.

Something that they lacked, but every other servant of God maintained.

But what?

His mind drifted back to his father's failed battle with So'liq. He remembered So'liq taunting them both, then revealing that Kinn-Akan was Kronaemix's father.

In his mind's eye, he watched his father's face fall. He was desperately unhappy, true, and depressed, but something else was there too...loss of...

Loss of faith.

Like a connected jigsaw puzzle, Kronaemix understood. Finally.

So'liq taunted them in their fights, made them doubt themselves-doubt their affirmation to God-and in that moment of doubt, they were physically vulnerable. That was the nature of andamite; indestructable because of faith in its indestructability.

So all Kronaemix had to do was believe. To remain faithful to God was to be bathed in his omnipotence. Of course, how Kronaemix was going to defeat So'liq, equally indestructable, was beyond him for the moment. He left that one, for the time being.

He had a new priority.

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

"WHAT?"

Semievil's shocked expression was rapidly turning to indignation and-only slightly-anger. Kronaemix resolved to be very careful; as safe as he was from normal attacks, he was not sure of his stability from a full assault from an angry Judge.

"I have to leave, Judge. I was never meant to do this sort of work. I'm an angel; I was meant only to work for God."

From his large seat, Semievil extended an accusing, almost ethereal finger at Kronaemix, who suddenly felt quite unsure of himself.

Uncertainty is what makes you vulnerable. Be decisive.

"You work for me primarily now, Kronaemix. God is only a sideline for you now."

He averted his gaze dismissively, expecting the argument to be over.

"No."

Eyes widening, the Judge gazed back upon his disciple. Being spoken back to was an extremely rare occurance for Semievil; even God, Satan and Gaea kept their respective tongues in check. Well, most of the time, anyway.

In a low voice, Semievil rasped; "What did you say?"

Realizing how imminent a confrontation was, Kronaemix changed tack. "It's not a matter of me wanting to disrespect you, Judge, it's just my calling. I'm growing weaker and weaker, now my connection to Heaven is faltering. I'm almost mortal. You must understand this!"

Semievil's eyes were flinty and cold. "You will not leave your position, Kronaemix. I won't let you."

Kronaemix prepared to run, but Semievil, anticipating the move, snatched up his Skull-staff and pointed it directly at him. The skull seemed to mock him, grinning widely.

"Don't make me kill you."

Just as Kronaemix was prepared to submit, a force inside him that he had never felt filled him with instinctive action. He rose his hands and a righteous Light poured from out of them, stunning the Judge and knocking him back into his seat.

Almost immediately, Kronaemix knew what had happened; he had displayed his committment to God, and God was now displaying his committment to him.

A voice echoed in his brain; You must go, Kronaemix! Now!

He turned, sprinting for the exit. Semievil roared at him, hurling his staff at him. It stuck Kronaemix as he half-turned back toward the Judge, and shrieked as it tore half of his breast-plate armour off, sending him crashing to the floor.

Semievil waved his hands, and the staff flew into the air, screaming toward the angel in a low-pitched whine, but Kronaemix grabbed its shaft and used its force to pull him onto his feet, tossing it back at Semievil. The Judge rolled away as the staff struck the altar he had constructed to communicate with the Eternal Forces, causing a huge sparking explosion.

When the dust cleared, Kronaemix was gone. Judge Semievil stalked over to the angelic breast plate he had left behind, holding it in his outstretched palm. His Skull-staff flew into his other hand.

"Run, angel."

He crushed the angelic-plate armour effortlessly in his skeletal palm, tossing it away.

"I'll see you again soon..."

"Why does He do this to me?"

Semievil spoke into the darkness, not really expecting an answer. Yet the answer did not surprise him when it came.

"For the good of humanity."

"Word." The formal greeting always seemed out of place, but it was somehow more convinient than the informal.

"Judge." The form of a man stepped out of the darkness and nodded. "Why is the Orb broken?"

"It took away my hope. Kronaemix is gone."

"It did not take away your hope, God did. You know Kronaemix could never replace you, and God needed him for other things."

"That's easy for you to say, God never took away any of your apostles!"

"No? What about Judas?"

Just when the Judge thought he might have won too...

"You took him away from yourself. It doesn't count." The Judge went and sat down in a pout. It was really futile to try to out-speak the Word.

"Isn't it the same? I suppose that is debatable isn't it? Never mind then. Has Krig been prepared?"

"As far as I know, wasn't that your job?"

"Yes, but I came to check in with the Orb. You know I don't like to use God's things. I suppose I'll have to now though."

"He is a good choice, I think. Compassionate, strong and sensible."

"I know, but the Father has a few others in mind. And, of course, it is up to the one being chosen. Our best champions have always turned down the battle."

The Word turned to leave. Semievil looked around nervously, then whispered after Him: "When?"

The form vanished, and a soft echo of "soon" floated back. The judge warmed slightly at this, then looked back at his work and fell into dispair.

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

Wow, new life! Anyways, a few things. First off, Geb, GREAT little poem! *thumbs-up* Krig, loved your post, very realistic and nitty-gritty - two thumbs up!

Hmm. . . Arbiter (that's just what I'm gonna call you, if that's alright with you), Damien sounds fine, except for a couple things. He can be a good person, like you said, but have that flaw of pride. However, that makes him very similar to Geb's character Jirverak. So I'd talk with Geb on how to make their characters different. Also, for this "holy man", you could have Damien find my character, Stanin eth Calenb, because Stanin (a candidate for Champion of Good) is going to discover that righteousness comes through grace, humility, and faith, not works or power, which is also a lesson that Damien needs to learn.

TLTE, excellent post! I'm really looking forward to them. I have one idea, one question, and one problem. Idea: since Sem has been emphasizing that the integral part of adamantite is hope, you can work up some posts on how hope is related to faith, since that's what Kronaemix's revelation dealt with. Question: What is the significance of the Kronaemix/So'liq conflict? How does it relate to the overall battle? I'm not saying that it doesn't relate or have significance, I'm just wondering how it does. Problem: (You DO know that Ebon Skull = Dark Lancer, right?) If Kronaemix acknowledges Ebon as a foe not easy to defeat, then why was he (Kronaemix) able to sweep the demon aside like a bowling pin at the Rift?

So those are my spiels. Now for a post!

-----

Saidelora considered the passage she had found. The first long half identified the passage as referring to Leviathan. The last third revealed that this man was the one who was necessary to freeing the beast. The second line and the third quarter of the poem identified the man.

A man who entered the state of chaos on God's command, but who is not working for Him? Saidelora thought. Who was an evil being whom God sent to the chaos plane?

She pondered this. There had to be more clues. Obviously, she, Saidelora, was a human, representing order, and Leviathan was a beast, representing chaos. That was why she was having difficulty with the spell to free Leviathan, because they were from two different poles. So anyone who could bridge those two poles would have to be a man-beast of sorts.

So, a man-beast whom God had sent to the chaos plane. Saidelora sighed. This was going to be a long day. . .

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

(NSP: Don't worry Highemp, Arbiter and I made sure his character would be different Also, the whole Stanin and co. fight wasn't working the way I wanted, so I'm taking a different approach in this post. I can't say it'll be Acadamy Award-winning, but it should do.)

The three stood, breathing heavily, at what they had conquored. The creatures did not seem to pose much of a threat, now that each was spread across the clearing in several pieces.

"Symbiotic creatures..." Stanin said to himself. "Who would have thought--"

"It ate my weapon!" Noddo yelled, kicking one of the pieces. "And now I can't find it!"

"What's the big deal?" Amry asked. "It was just two pointy daggars."

"They were nice pointy daggars!" Noddo said.

"We should make camp here for the night," Stanin said. "Over there. I'll go start a fire." Stanin then left the clearing in search of wood, leaving Amry and Noddo by themselves. The awkward silence lingered for several moment before it was interrupted by Noddo.

"Electric and gravimetric powers," Noddo said, mostly to himself. "The thing reminded me of something Bazaal would have created."

"Since when were you the scholar?"

"Hey, I don't get a hard-on from ignorance, woman. I just happen to like the exotic and unusual, that's all."

"Well, you don't seem to be nearly as picky about what and how you learn from life. Drinking, sleeping--with anything that walks--"

"It's not like you're so disciminating either, you know. You'll pick a fight with anything that walks--"

Amry was ready to strike Noddo when Stanin's appearance with wood interrupted the scene.

"You know," Stanin nearly sighed. "If you two are going to follow me on this journey, you could stand to be a bit more useful. I could use some help setting up camp."

Though both Noddo and Amry poured with bitterness towards each other, they could not but help, inside, to think how right each was, as if each helped clean the other's wounds with salt water. Still, Amry couldn't help thinking how attractive Stanin looked, especially for being so old. And Noddo couldn't help thinking of any other woman besides Amry...
---------------------------

"But to you who hear I say, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you." ~Luke 6:27

|)>Gebohq<(

(NSP: Whee! I have post 345 on TEW, and post 6969 on the ISB! How momentous Anywhos, a little something else...)

His dry, cold empty eyes darted back and forth on the walls as a hunted animal would. He looked at his rough, ghostly hand, reminding himself that his claws that were once strapped on, as well as his staff, were taken from him. The people, scientists in nature but not in spirit, he thought, had also swiped his hat away from him. Apparently, these people thought of him as a specimen to study and documented for all to see. He would show them something alright. He had spent enough time playing stupid.

Kupala stood up from his chair and strolled on over to the wall with the shielded entrance for a door. Putting some effort into it, he rammed his elbow into the wall, and the wall easily gave way. Some nearby guards, armed with something that looked like batons, stood worried to say the least, as they saw the wall give way. Before the dust could clear though, a primal growl was heard, and like a cheetah, Kupala struck one of the guards down. The other guard backed away, her baton held in front of her as Kupala mauled the fallen guard, quickly killing him.

Armed with only her baton, the female guard felt her stomach lurch inside her. Her stomach didn't seem to have the same paralyzed fear that she did. Kupala lept towards her, and with her magic, she strafed quickly to her right, using the baton to hit Kupala on the head. The move caught him off guard, and Kupala's body fell. Wasting no time, she rushed towards the alarm only a few feet away. She was almost there--

--A vice-like grip locked around her ankle, and she fell to the floor, only a few inches away from the reach of the alarm. She fel the life drain from her, and the last thing she experienced was Kupala laughing.

Kupala stood back up, in search for his weapons. Then he would find Bais, and he would make him pay...
---------------------------

"Discomfort, endlessly has pulled itself upon me
distracting/reacting
against my will I stand beside my own reflection
it's haunting, how I can't seem..."

~"Crawling" Linkin Park

`'`'Gebohq`'`'

(NSP: I'm posting it here instead of e-mailing it cuz 1) I've ran out of things to post on my own (well) and wanted to bump this up and 2) I figured it'd be good to have a visible reminder on the story itself. --The plots and such planned and directed towards have seemed to ignore Nature~and the whole 3rd Force thing is pretty important. I realize it's hard to do because the Eternal Force of Nature is fundamentally subtle, as stated way back, and none of us seem to be able to write with an empathy towards it, but we still need to plug it in. Therefore, in my later posts, I'm going to start focusing on the Nature characters (Noddo, Bais, Krystal, Diaszu and Orca) and maybe a bit of evil (Yarilo, Kupala, Jirverak, etc.) so I'll need the rest of you to help me write for Amry's part, as well as keep the forces of Nature and Evil in mind as equals (for the story). If you have any questions about this, please feel free to e-mail it ta me. Anywhos, can't wait to see how this story will soon progress before the contest!)

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~Geb

So very tired...

NSP: Pengun, may I ask what the comment meant in relation to why you posted it here on TEW? (and e-mail me fellow writers! I need to know if you're all stuck or if you just don't have the time to post or both...)

*Score once again for making a B.U.M.P....teehee*

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~Geb

Amry helped the other two set up camp absentmindedly. She couldn't help being impressed by Noddo's hard work, but she mostly thought of Stanin.

Argh! she screamed in her head. The first decent man I come upon has to be OLD! And he was decent. More than decent. Though he was a bit. . . strange, aloof, he treated everyone with respect - even her, a PROSTITUTE, for crying out loud.

And his white hair was so CUTE!

Amry could not deny it.

She was in love.

-----

Stanin was setting up camp with only half a mind. Maybe even less than that.

His thoughts dwelled on Melantha.

He couldn't put his finger on it, but he felt a link between the two of them. Why? he asked silently. There was something about her. Even the mere thought of her sent uncontrollable shivers up his spine. He cared for her.

He couldn't deny it.

Stanin. . . was in love.

No matter that she didn't seem to love him. No matter that his goal of ultimate power took precedence over all else.

No two ways around it. He couldn't stop loving her!

-----

Please forgive me;
I know not what I do!
Please forgive me;
I can't stop loving you.

Don't deny me
The pain I'm going through -
Please forgive me;
I need you like I do. . .

Please forgive me;
I can't stop loving you.

-from "I Can't Stop Loving You"

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

(NSP sorry for the late reply, but I've been busy with some problems here and there that have keep me from posting.)

This city has seen many tragedies, but the most recent seems to have taken its toll. Somehow I can't help but feel that it's similar to someplace from......long ago. The dark figured thought to himself as he walked through the streets of a once vastly populated city but now nothing more than a gravesite. In front of him stood a large monument that was built rather recently, made of mostly a light blue crystal and an enhanced metal. He stood there staring at it and suddenly falls to his knee's, grasping his head in pain. Images flood through his head, images of a vast city, fierce fighting in the city, a huge building at the center, and is ended by a huge explosion.
"Urrrahhhhhhhhh" He yells as he unleashes a powerful shockwave that expands, crushing and destroying objects around him. As the shockwave fades away, the monument stands there, apprently untouched by the wave. "What does this mean? Where is this place?" he yells out and looks around waiting for someone to give him the answers. "Hehe, I'll find out, even if I have to destroy every last thing on this planet to do so." he speaks out as he starts walking forward, "I will find out what my destiny is, and what my future holds." As he passes the monument, it begins to crack slowly and shatters.

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"I can become enraged like Vegeta, if i smile, run...................very fast."
-"Life is cheap.....especially mine." -Hero Yui
"Semper Fi"

A solitary figure hovered down amongst the devastated site of the Rift, his wings arching powerfully back and forth.

Kronaemix landed with a dull thud, and examined his surroundings. Among the rubble and debris created in the fight with So'liq earlier, it would be impossible to find his sword.

Unless...

Kneeling, Kronaemix bowed his head, chanting rapidly in dulcet tones.

"I pledge my allegiance and total devotion to the Lord almighty, God, ruler of all, and pray that He aids me in my task here, so that I may continue to work for Him and only Him, for now and forever."

There was an almost silent rumble, and then suddenly-astoundingly-Kronaemix's sword, Kinn-Akan's Justice, burst out from the wreckage and glided effortlessly into his outstretched hand.

His faith, it seemed, was looking after him now.

Kronaemix smiled, averting his gaze to the open sky. There were still more preparations...

And at that thought, the angel spread his wings and disappeared back into the night.

(NSP: yeha yeah, NSP. Honestly though, I'll get up a real post soon! For now though, here's something Sem and I worked on--just a little background info that may be useful/fun to know, namely, the different "degree fields" each magic school can offer a specialty in:

Magician--|--Enchanter--|--Wizards

Fire--|--Light--|--Enthalpy
Water--|--Shadow--|--Polarity
Earth--|--Crystalization--|--Entropy
Wind--|--Life--|--Kinetics

Mind you, none of these simply mean "fire-based magic" and such--it's more general than that, and keeping in mind the artist/politcian/scientist (respectively) part, something like crystalization would be something equivilant of an engineer, and something like polarity could help in the electrical business...etc etc.

And Highemp, give me jsut a little while longer for the Saatch bit--I relaly do have something Thanks)

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~Geb

[This message has been edited by Gebohq (edited November 28, 2001).]

(NSP: Alright, time to post Merlin-style! Well, as much as my poor lack of stamina of typing can withstand anywhos...

Note: Shawn, send me any info again on your general plans for your character in the story. (like where Shawn is at the moment) Thanks!)

Diaszu allowed himself to sigh heavily as he finished lowering Jirverak's body to the ground to stop momentarily. As always though, he had to keep the field barrier around himself and Saatch, to protect them against the dark shadow-like gas that permeated the lands like radiation from a nuclear blast. Diaszu sat, his staff resting horizontally across his lap, looking at the small collection of people that gathered around them. They were waiting for a sign.

Saatch, raising his staff, and said in a loud voice something about God. Diaszu didn't really know what, because he was not paying any serious attention to what Saatch did. Diaszu was more concerned about when these others, that the inhabitants of this land feared, would appear and stop Saatch's work. Permenantly. A person then yelled "look!" and pointed at the sky, and the heads of the crowd craned upward.

Diaszu gently looked up himself, and noticed a single, small bird, chirping cheerfully and gliding in the air with grace. Soon, a multitude of them began to gather in flocks, and larger birds such as eagles and hawks, began to join in as well. The sky was filled with animation, and the crowd cheered with joy.

"You will all soon be free, just as these birds are," Saatch said to the crowd. With that, the people dissipated back out of vision. Diaszu begun to stand back up.

"Free," Jirverak growled. "Ha!"

"Shut up!" Diaszu shot back.

"Or what? You're gonna kill me? Hahahahahahaha."

With his foot, Diaszu kicked Jirverak's head hard to the side, and sharp and wet crackling of bones could be heard. Slowly, Jirverak's head cracked back, facing Diaszu with a beaming smile. Diaszu prepared to bring the bottom of his staff through his skull.

"Stop!" Saatch commanded to Diaszu. After a long pause, Diaszu grumbled something inaudible and turned the staff away from Jirverak's head. "We have much to do still," Saatch concluded, waiting for Diaszu to do his part.

Twirling the end of his staff once again, Diaszu slowly lifted Jirverak's body a half-foot off the ground, though it appeared to be quicker and easier for Diaszu to do so than previous times.

"There will still be more signs to come," Saatch said to Diaszu, as they began walking again. "Only then will be able to enter the rulers' courts. There, you will be able to find those that can treat the young knight, and from there, a means of returning to the realm which we were in."

"Fool," Jirverak said. Diaszu spun, glaring at Jirverak. "What?" Jirverak continued. "Do I really tick you off that much?" Jirverak looked as is he was about to chuckle.

"What do you know?" Diaszu asked with a rhetorical tone.

"Nothing, young mage. But I would have thought you of all people would understand the importance of charging into a situation and supporting your beliefs of triumph on faith alone. Seems a bit illogical, don't you think?"

Diaszu turned back, purposely staring blankly in front of him. The bitterness swirled inside of him. The undead knight was right, and the thought only fueled his bitterness more.
------------------------

"To those who despair of everything reason cannot provide a faith, but only passion, and in this case it must be the same passion that lay at the root of the despair, namely humiliation and hatred."

"Ah, mon cher, for anyone who is alone, without God, and without a master, the weight of days is dreadful."

-Quotes from Albert Camus-

<^>Gebohq<^>

[This message has been edited by Gebohq (edited November 28, 2001).]

The Eternal Judge stood over his cauldron. He had procrastinated long enough. It was time to make the andamantite he would need to construct the new battleground for the Decimillenial contest. Pulling a large tome from thin air, Semievil peered down to consult the recipe.

To create andamantite, that which binds all that is immortal, one must have love, trust, hope, strength, resistance, serenity, fortitude, focus, resolution, stamina, durability, agility, rage, wariness, zeal, dexterity, charisma, and intimidation. The last and purest of these to be added must be hope...

Semievil then spread out eighteen vials, each hovering at his waist level. They were labeled with the following, each with their own shade of color:

Love~Krystal
Trust~Saatch
Strength~Orca
Resistance~Krig
Serenity~Krystal
Fortitude~Ebon
Focus~Saidelora
Resolution~Diaszu
Stamina~Saatch
Durability~Kupala
Agility~Saidelora
Rage~Amry
Wariness~Orca
Zeal~Kupala
Dexterity~Diaszu
Charisma~Amry
Intimidation~Ebon
Hope~Krig

One vial at a time, Semievil poured the ingredients in the cauldron, each in the order that he had layed them out in, saving the vial of hope for last. When the last drop fell, an aura of multi-colored light glowed from inside the cauldron. Semievil then consulted the ancient tome once more.

When the qualities of the Eternal Forces have been properly mixed, andamantite will have been created. To be able to mold and construct with it, the body of an undead servent of a Eternal Force must be added.

Note: Only the Deity of Justice can create adamantite for purposes of construction of the Eternal Battlefield and imbueing those deemed fit for involvement in the Battle of the Ages under code 12 section 9 subarticles 2 and 3

Semievil raised his skeletal fingers upwards, and between himself and the cauldron rose the former body of Kronaemix, shining still with brilliant golden colors like a precious gem. The undead angel's face was hollow, like that of a statue. Semievil gazed at the hollow face of the angelic body, matching the hollowness in his own face for a moment, before, lowering the body into the cauldron.

Semievil turnd to his side, weaving his fingers in the air with one hand. The Earth, about the size of the Judge's hand, spun there, the room it occupied acting as outer space. Semievil pointed a finger on it, and the Earth enlarged to the size of his body. A large body of water, on the equator line below a large bridge network, faced the Judge, a soft gray spot glowing where he had touched.

There the Eternal Judge would begin to construct the arena for the imminent battle.
--------------------------

"To insure the adoration of any theorem for any length of time, faith is not enough, a police force is needed as well."

"Do not wait for the last judgement. It comes every day."

"The absurb enlightens me on this point; there is no future."

-Quotes by Albert Camus-

=#Gebohq#=

[This message has been edited by Gebohq (edited November 28, 2001).]

"FINALLY! Civilization!"

"Honestly Amry," Noddo commented, "the nature walk wasn't that bad!"

Sighing heavily, Stanin took the lead again, entering into a small village. It wasn't much, just a dozen or so buildings and a small road winding through the middle of the village center and into the woods, trailng next to a river. There couldn't have been more than fifty people living in the place, yet the villiage was busy with commotion. People carrying bread, buckets of water, herding a cow, papers...

"On second thought," Amry said, "the quaintness makes me want to puke."

"Lovely mental image," Noddo commented.

"Oh shut up!" Noddo quickly found himself a lot more personal to the ground than he was a few seconds ago.

"Young'ens" Stanin muttered. "Stop the nonsense and see if we can aquire some supplies,"

After standing back up and brushing the dry dirt off himself, Noddo did as Stanin said. Amry meanwhile stood, looking at Stanin.

"Uh..." Stanin said. "You too,"

"Wha- oh yeah. Looks for things."

Amry took a seperate direction into the villiage. Stanin sighed again, and walked towards the town center.
---------------------------------
I must find this man...but how?

Damien, after exited the missionary in which he use to work and lodge in, was equipt only with his sword and armor, both hidden under his simple light brown robes, and his will. What he really needed was a sign from above to tell him who this man was that he was looking for was. That was when his train of thought was violently interrupted by a body running into him.

When he quickly orinted himself back, he found a young woman in front of him, wearing black, rough clothes, sharp bracelets around her wrists and neck, and a pale face with too much dark makeup and confusion.

"Sorry..." Damien began, when curiousity came over him. "You don't look like you're around from here, Miss...?"

"Amry. Sorry, I didn't mean to run into you like that. I'll uh-go on my way now--"

"Wait now! You look like you need some help. Tell me what brings you here..."
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"I'm sorry sir, I can not accept that as a form of payment."

"What do you mean?" Noddo blurted out. "Jitorian Express is accepted everywhere! Stupid credit history..."

The clerk was obviously befuddled, as a young man with dark skin and thin, somewhat flamboyant clothes stood on the other side of the counter, having brought some of the more exotic weapons off the store's shelves. The young man was certainly not a villager, that the clerk was certain of.

"I'm afraid you'll have to leave the store empty-handed sir, if you don't have an acceptable form of payment for the items you wish to purchase."

Fishing through his pockets, Noddo made a mental note to himself that he might have to hit up on Stanin for some money later...
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Inside the village bank, Stanin waited in line, hoping to convert the valuables he had into currency accepted in the village. He was also hoping that the person behind the counter would wake up sometime within the next century. Stanin was beginning to seriously consdier going up and waking the person up, when he heard the doors behind him slam into the wall. He spun around--

--to see a very odd sight. At the doorway, nine women, clad in tight pink and purple leotards stood, each armed with sais. The one standing most inside the building took a firm, low stance, and yelled "Hands up, you pig!"

Stanin rolled his eyes. Life for him just semed to keep getting odder and odder, and it always seemed to be because of women...
-------------------------------------------

"You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life."

"The need to be right is the sign of a vulgar mind."

-Quotes from Albert Camus-

_\|Gebohq|/_

[This message has been edited by Gebohq (edited November 27, 2001).]

Diaszu stumbled on a fist-sized rock, and nearly fell. Catching himself, he took a breath and wiped the sweat from his brow. He opened his mouth to ask Saatch if they could rest, then frowned and snapped his mouth shut. He wasn't as weak as that. Had he forgotten all of his training?

Drawing another deep breath, Diaszu strode forward and took his place beside Saatch again. Maintaining the shield about them, and simultaneously pulling Jiverak along had sapped his strength. If they didn't find rest soon, he knew he would have to drop the spells. It was either that or risk falling unconcious and letting the spells go wild, possibly killing them all.

"Hey up there! My feet are dragging on the ground again!" Came a shout from the undead knight.

With a growl, Diaszu turned his attention back to his spells, lifting Jiverak off of the ground once more. It was bad enough that he was trekking through this forsaken wasteland, but Saatch wouldn't even let him kill this festering blight on all living things that they dragged behind them. Saatch, the All-Knowing, Saatch righteous follower of God. Slave, was more like it. Letting this unnatural abomination survive wasn't Diaszu's idea of intelligence. One killed one's enemies and that was that, to do otherwise flew in the face of the very Order of Nature itself.

Diaszu silently fumed for a few more paces, then shook his head. He couldn't let this place get to him. Saatch had something up his sleeve, he knew it, something that would help bring the forces of Evil to heel. Like it or not, the world was dangerously out of balance, and the only way to save it was to side with the minions of Good. At least for now.

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

As the Eternal Judge Semievil poured his last vial into the steaming cauldron; in the village of Cylerna Krig stumbled and reached for the doorpost of the Orc Tavern to steady himself. Something was wrong, something had happened. He felt...wrong. Something was missing.

As the bartender and his lone customer looked up at the disheveled figure darkening a small portion of the doorway, Krig shook his head and continued on into the tavern. Probably he'd eaten something funny, or - the smell of ale and roasting meat caught his nostrils. Krig stumped over to the bar in his rolling gait, and pulled himself onto one of the high stools there, no small feat for a man his size. The bartender and the customer watched silently, not knowing what else to do.

Finally, the barkeep moved. "Ah, what can I get for you, good sir?"

"Food." Krig grunted.

"Ah, you're in luck, we've just roasted a portion of lamb for the noon rush. Would you care for some? It's only two crowns." The barkeep looked relieved that Krig was not going to demand money or break up his bar.

"Food."

"Ah, all right, the lamb then. A few moments, please." The barkeep rushed into the back room, where he could be seen speaking hushedly with the cook before the door swung closed.

Krig looked over at the other customer sitting at the bar, who was halfway through a plate of gravy-soaked meat and potatoes. Krig gave him a toothy grin. The man smiled weakly back, then quickly turned his attention back to his food. Small though he was, an axe-weilding man covered in dried mud and possibly blood wasn't something he wanted to agitate.

(I was thinking that, since Semievil now has poured the different attributes in to the mix (effectively destroying them as individual attributes), the champions should begin feeling their loss. Not necessarily physically as Krig did (did ya catch that part?), but their behaviour should subtly change. IMHO, anyhow.)

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When the blind leadeth the blind.... get out of the way!

[This message has been edited by Krig_the_Viking (edited November 27, 2001).]

(NSP: TLTE, I remembered. I just seem to remember early on that Kronaemix lost his original body when he first became a servent of Justice. SO yeah, you're still around, just in a more djinn-like state (dull skin, gray clothes...nothin I'm sure God couldn't fix up in a jiffy

And yeah, Krig's right. The attributes lost should show some effect on their respective possible champions. Krig should have fun with lessened hope.)

~Geb

(NSP: =/ Well Krig, ermn... I know I kind of left it untended for a while, but if we wanted to stick to the recipie, I don't think I'm quite done with you yet =P. We still need a selfless prayre of a pure and hopeful soul to add that last little touch. I dunno if you can work that in, if not don't worry about it, but something to keep open. My original idea was for all the heros save Krig to be seriously affected by the loss (and Krig to be affected by his loss of resistance), but that Krig had such a purity and strength of hope that he would still stand out in that regard. Food for thought really... I can't seem to dig out and write just now. =)

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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!

[This message has been edited by Semievil333 (edited November 28, 2001).]