Fletcher stepped back as soon as Entares had, though he did remember to close the door as he did so, well at least his side. They had been hoping for survivors to still be holed up within the keep yes, the legendary mage knights no less. But the general appearance of the keep had made that seem unlikely in the last minutes. Coming into this hall to find a Drow, and apparently having just killed another. The elvish bard back at the village had mentioned Drow. With a fair bit of spite, and definitely not unbiased, far from Fletcher to heedlessly trust elvish words on another beings disposition. But this time there had been others, humans, dwarves, a few books, that could verify what the Elves had said.

Besides, Drow lived in the underground right? The aberrant came from there, it would seem likely the Drow would have been either one of the earliest hit by the war, or make an alliance of some sorts with the creatures they shared caves with. If they had been the first hit, there would have been survivors to warn the nations above of what was transpiring, either voluntarily, or through interrogation after being caught. The lack of Drow fleeing a lost war, meant they had either been taken out extremely quickly, or they had made a deal. Everything he had ever heard about Drow made the first seem extremely unlikely.

Next to him, Entares hissed for a sword, and Fletcher passed it to him without question, and made quick to secure his boots. “Prepare yourself Spiderbro. Battle will soon be upon us. I do not think I have ever seen Entares so… scared?”

“Should have passed on the message for Entares earlier… But the time had not seemed right. Not like there’s anything we could have done had he been aware. I think. We shall see.” Fletcher thought to himself, as he closed his eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath. He quickly began a silent mantra in his head, starting the rhythm of battle for when the first blows are struck. It brought a calm to his mind, and made things so much clearer. If the Drow can be dealt with, Emberkith will see to it. If it can not…. it will be dealt with.

Entares’ grip weakened as he lost hold of the door handle and stumbled backwards into the hallway. A sickening feeling bubbled up from inside the mage and threatened to explode forth. Instead Entares managed to compose himself enough to take a knee on the red carpet.

Entares’ mind was reeling with that he was seeing. The world hazed over as only parts of reality seemed to permeate into the moment. Close by stood Fletcher who held a sword he had offered to lend Entares. The fact that it was a gift from Hathroc no longer mattered to Entares.

“S-s-sword!” Entares stammered out. Entares didn’t know what was going to happen next, but he knew he wanted a weapon in hand when it did. Fletcher gave a quick look of concern, passed the sword and drew his bow.

Entares’ hand gripped the black bladed sword and refocused his mind. Slowly reality rejoined Entares’ vision. The room stood still like a painting of some past horror. The dark skinned elf stood standing in the marble hall, holding an ornate sword in his hand. The colour of fate intertwined the scene, as eventualities and possible future permutations weaved themselves in the scene.

Time itself seemed to slow to a stop as past images and other memories ran through Entares’ head.

The first time it happened Entares had been only 5, telling his father to wear a raincoat because it was raining. The Lord of the Manor took the moment to look outside to see a bright sunny day. Dismissing the comment as being a child’s nonsense, the lord left for his council meeting. Of course, while in that meeting the weather had changed drastically, and a three day storm had begun. The occasion was not thought about again by anyone but Entares.

The next time it had happened had been more suspicious. It was the eve of Entares’ 8th name day. Lord Anderson was readying himself to inspect the town guard’s duty switch. Entares always knew how seriously his father took this duty and how stern he was with the men. Entares came to his father in the main entrance’s antechamber. It had been only one sentence, uttered with a casual but concerned tone: “please be kind to Gander father, his wife has just passed”. The comment was odd to Lord Anderson who had not heard of a death in the town. It seemed strange that his would know and he would not. That evening at the changing of the guard, Guard Gander seemed to be in fine spirits, his movements tight and deliberate. Lord Anderson thought perhaps Entares had heard wrong when a young page ran up and delivered a scroll. A quick glance at the words sent a chill up Lord Anderson’s spine as he glossed over reading only the important words. “…a still burning piece of ash… Mason Thompson’s horse… beast kicked… Liana Gander walking by… struck in temple… dead on scene…”.

Lord Anderson now begun to suspect that his son had certain abilities. Entares began talking with the town’s oldest and wisest members. Slowly they concluded that indeed Entares had limited seer abilities but they did not believe that sending him to a city or temple would yield much as the boy had no control over the ability and it seemed to manifest only rarely.

Entares was fourteen the next time he made a major prediction. Late one night Lord Anderson awoke with Entares standing by his bed crying. Bewildered, Lord Anderson inquired of his son what was wrong. Entares had had a bad dream, and talked of seeing Magaurn’s Library in Isis Keep burning. Entares told his father he was afraid that the same creatures which had attacked the Honastican city might also come to Oaken Glenn.

It was two weeks later that news began pouring in about a war that had started. Cities and towns across the countryside were being attacked. The specifics were few, as Oaken Glenn was barely big enough to receive regular trade. It took only another two weeks for accurate information to come in, and by then it was too late. Isis Keep was in siege and rumours came in of creatures roaming the country side. Some said it was devils, other demons, others still that Talib himself had returned. From that day on Entares’ visions or dreams were never taken lightly, least of all by Lord Anderson. It was soon after this that Aduin showed himself for the first time.

Entares had seen many things, some he was part of, most of which he wasn’t. Yet, no matter how dire or intense the prediction, nothing had hit him this hard. Over and over, the scene played out in Entares’ head. The marble floors, the ornate black sword, the dark skinned elf. The fear paralyzed Entares, as terror and confusion ran side by side through his veins.

Suddenly it occurred to Entares. The man on the ground was in the exact same position as Entares had been in his vision, looking up towards the oncoming death. Was the man on the ground here dead? Alive? About to die? Was Entares able to see from the eyes of others? Or more likely, was Aduin?

Slowly the fear began to recede within Entares, leaving behind only confusion. Who is this man standing about his foe? Who was the man below him? Is he still alive? Why had Aduin brought him this vision? Were these men of power? Was Entares to kill or befriend the victor?

Time began to catch up with Entares. Although only a few seconds had lapsed, the moment had seemed like a lifetime, and now time was threatening to speed up and carry the group towards calamity. Entares began setting his mind to slowing it all down.

Hey Pop,

I know you weren’t real happy to be see’n me go, but things have been alright here. We gots a good ways from them devils and such and have made it to Equestria. I keep feeling like I’m being called to the south, I feel like i know that the Stronghold still stands, now more then ever I am sure they could use our steel, but I am torn, duty demands I stay with the group, no matter how mean or spoiled some of them may be.

I’m sure everyone told you about the Bard City, it really creeped me out, they have food, and amazing machines that a dwarf there is building, but its creepy, some say Entarez is an apprentice, he says he’s not, but Fletcher and the Lord say he is… oh and Fletcher is a Baron now, but Emberkythe says he not, but from her arguments she’s not really a Lady now either, so… I guess I am confused.

Emberkythe wants to find some magic that goes with her sword, Ling said something about accessorizing but i am not sure what that means except we seem to be crossing Equestria and heading for an Old Keep that Mages used to live in. I will continue to uphold the name Armorpriest so long as this group works for the best of the town. Hope all is well with you, tell mom I miss her and could use some of her famous root stew these days, I’ll do ya proud pop

Oati Armorpriest

To OakenGlen Council:

I am sure others of higher rank and station than me have sent you communications about our group. But I ask that you consider my communication as well.

We encountered a group of male warriors, led by King Damocles of Arlia. They are going across the continent fighting demons/devils/aberrant. You may encounter them in your travels. If you wish them to join the village, they may be extremely helpful in the protection of the village although they have what one might consider more traditional views on leadership, honour and gender roles.

Hathroc from the Bard City has drafted some in our party to his service. He is trying to sway others including myself. I will be upfront to say that he claims he can help me with a serious personal problem*, but I’m not sure what he will ask in return if he is successful. I believe that everyone has the right to make their own decision, but there may come a time when people are forced to choose what is best for our group/the village and what is best for Hathroc. At present, our goals may be in alignment, but that could easily change.

If he has made an offer to the village, please take time before making your decision. Make sure you have full disclosure from him and others about what really happens in that town, i.e. Waiting room, vampires, undead, etc. Hatroc claims he can control his “undead,” but what if something was to happen to him or he was to die himself? This and other questions would need to be answered to your satisfaction. The town is also developing some useful technologies that might be helpful for the future and for transportation. You should know what you are getting into. The undead in the city, such as the vampires are strong and powerful and will likely be good at protecting the village from demons, devils, aberrant, etc. and help the Bard City and nearby settlements to rebuild and flourish, but one of their main goals in to grow the population so that they can have a stable food (blood) source, and it may only be a matter of time before the city needs to provide that “food” for them out of their own number.

I believe they are offering settlement in the Bard City or nearby Horse Kings Keep. You may wish to consider a trial period of settlement while we continue to explore other options. Just beware, the more you stay there, the harder it will be to leave and the more they will try to convince you to stay.

I hope that the village is doing well and that we soon will secure a good future for its people. I consider Oaken Glen my home and I hope to continue serving the village the best that I am able. I believe that the best future for Oaken Glen is in Equestria, but of course where the village should ultimately settle is up to you. My companions and I did our best to lead the demons/devils/aberrant away from the caravan and will continue to do so. They are all doing admirably and I believe we should all continue travelling together.

Ling Mei Wen

My Lord Father,

I send this missive in the hope that it and the carrier find you well. I bid you, trust Ra and her word as she has earned my confidence.

I will address the issues at hand in the order of importance, but please read through the entire letter before acting upon any information, no matter how dire.

Honoured Fletcher of house Stein has returned to us and has articulated the entire tale of his encounter with Hathroc. I want to stress first and foremost that Hathroc is not to be trusted, no matter what arguments were made by H. Fletcher. Although Hathroc believes himself just and prudent, he uses stratagem lacking honour, and without regard for the betterment of his people. Two of Hathroc’s chief servants are vampires named Brett and Jermaine and although charming, they will feed on those who stray far from a group.

Secondly, any promise that Hathroc makes about land or protection comes with a cost. Although he may agree to “give” Oaken Glenn a settlement, the conditions around his service and protection will be expensive, I am sure. Hathroc’s current citizenship, when larger, will be subject to a lottery in which he will cull those who are selected, thus allowing his vampires to feed. It has also been set that these same citizens will become undead slaves when they have passed. A disturbing thought, to be sure.

Lastly on Hathroc, he has proclaimed me his apprentice. This is untrue. I was offered apprenticeship and declined. Hathroc made a gift of knowledge to me to try and sway me. I have no intention to change my mind. There are dangers in Hathroc’s kind of knowledge that I do not wish to take on lightly, and I would advise the same caution to Oaken Glenn.

I believe that H. Fletcher has acted rashly in accepting a title from Hathroc and I do not believe that his duty to Oaken Glenn and his duty to Hathroc can stand together. Soon they shall come into conflict and I do not believe Hathroc will be a gracious master. Given this however, I do not wish you to think less of H. Fletcher. Hathroc is a convincing speaker; even I have found myself nearly swayed by his words. I will try to show H. Fletcher the error in his reasoning as we travel.

This brings me to my next issue. H. Fletcher has altered himself more significantly. The spider creature on his chest has grown substantially and I fear that it may start exhibiting more control or influence over the man. Additionally, H. Fletcher has given his eye as an open gesture to Hathroc. I know that the mysteries of the arcane are not your forte, but a blood or flesh sacrifice freely given has enormous evil power. I do not believe H. Fletcher knows the danger he may be in. Beware of him and Hathroc.

Lastly, there are a group of male warriors from a land very far away. They have an extremely strong culture that will feel very over bearing, but they are strong and they need a purpose. Their leader is lost, more emotionally than geographically, having lost his women and children to a devil attack. Please, I ask you to be compassionate and patient with this man. He may not join Oaken Glenn, although their strength would be worth the diplomatic stress. Instead the man may lead his company to embark on a suicide mission. It would be in the town’s best interest to convince him to do otherwise, although do not attempt to push him too firmly or you may find a violent reaction.

I suppose I erred when I said my last piece of discussion was the foreign warriors, although I will try not to waste paper as it is a limited commodity.

I have learnt and grown much myself since we last spoke. My draconic heritage has become more pronounced and I believe that it will attract our enemy to me. I am seeking a way to hide this before returning to Oaken Glenn. If I cannot, I am unsure what course of action I shall take. Furthermore, I have discovered what seems to be a very rare and very unique power. I cannot say more of it in this letter for fear that it may be intercepted. Although I am unsure as to the usefulness or power of this ability, it is extremely interesting and must be studied further.

I have one final thing to say before I finish this missive. As discussed earlier, my very presence endangers my party and draws our enemy to me. It is safe to say that there is something about me that they desire and I suspect that my draconic heritage and my casting ability are no small contributors. It is for this reason that I have decided that if the need should arise I will barter for my allies release with my own life. If my allies should return without me, and give this reason for my absence, know that they are telling the truth and that I have chosen my fate. If all goes well, I may still return to you.

I wish you, and indeed all of Oaken Glenn, the best. Say hi to the leshies for me and tell them that the man with the stick who cannot dig looks forward to speaking with them once again.

Written in my own hand,

Entares of House Anderson

P.S. Aduin is doing well, ranging further and more confidently than ever before. He cares deeply for our house and all of the town’s folk.

“Lee Ping, my loving husband. Sometimes I feel powerless to help you, to help our companions, to help the village. What do I have to offer them? I have no magic, no connection to nature or the divine, no non human bloodlines or special abilities.

I don’t know what we should do next. I feel that I should complete my last mission to deliver this scroll to the Lord of Danethelia. If there is still one alive. Mandolin said that the last Lord of Danethelia and other Danethelians fled to the elvish lands of Vietcune, maybe we should go there?

I know we need to look for that woman that put that spell on you. Harthok said it was a chaotic planar creature. I don’t know enough about the planes or magic to even begin to know what to do about this. Could we even somehow alter the spell so you could change form whenever you wanted to? You would still be able to carry me to safety but we could actually live a relatively normal life, as much as you could in times such as these. Do you think we should go back to the Bard City in 3 months for Harthok to try again?

I let myself get my hopes up in the Bard City, but the attempt to fix you failed. Harthok claims that he could do it in a couple of months, when he is at his most powerful, but there are no guarantees. Harthok says. Come back in 3 months but that man has many ulterior motives. He obviously wants all of us to stay in the city or at least nearby. He has already drafted some of our party to his service and has tried to convince others to join him.

These are strange and troubled times indeed when we are willing to work with undead and necromancers to achieve our ends. What is the saying? The enemy of my enemy is my friend? The devil/demon/aberrant invasion/threat is every present and we may be forced to work with those we would normally avoid or fight.

For the village to survive, we must seek allies and somehow carve a future for them and for this world.

I want you to know that I love you more than I can say, more than any words I could say. But I sometimes feel like a failure as a wife. I haven’t been able to find a way to remove your condition. I haven’t been able to give you children. I have to believe that we will have a future together; we just need to figure things out. What do you think we should do?”

“My dear sweet Ling Mei, my loving wife. We are only able to be together for such a short time. Each time I awake from that accursed state, I worry that you will not be there to greet me, that you will be dead or worse. We need to make the most of our time together. You are my loving and loyal wife who I love more than life itself. You have stayed with me throughout this whole ordeal. You stayed loyal to me, when others would have left. You could have left me and found another who could provide for you, who could give you children. I sometimes feel like it is I who has failed you as a husband. If falling on my sword would save you and ensure your survival, I would do it. But I must bear the badge of my dishonor. We will find a way to save the village that we have come to make our home. We will find that planar creature. We will find a solution, either this spell will be removed or somehow I will find a way to take control of the spell myself. Even if we have to travel to the ends of this world and beyond. This I pledge to you on the memories of my ancestors and my love for you.

Come, let me show my love for you in another way. Let me unfurl your flower while we can. Let me imprint myself upon you so you will never be lonely.”

“Yes, I turn to liquid starlight when you touch me. I go hotter than the sun itself. Let us make love until the sun rises and sets.”

Arcturis rose carefully from his throne and stared down the hall; the flickering lights played havoc on his dark vision and caused odd shadows to be cast across the intruder.

“Who goes there, you dare to challenge the only sitting Mage Knight on Argyle?” he called

“Dare? I positively insist” the last words came out with a cold cutting edge, the intruder stepped forward pulling back his hood.

“Dalathan?” Arcturis mouthed the words with a combination of surprise and relief “I thought you died at Brogans Bridge, I’m so happy…”

“Don’t… there is no one else here, we don’t have to pretend” he took a few more steps forward “Where is she?”

“Your devotion to that winter dalliance is truly pathetic, I have her tucked away, perhaps she could be fixed if you behave” Arcturis reached beside the throne grabbing his sheathed sword and clipped it to his belt.

“I have learned much father, and have become a fine wizard, I…”

“YOU ARE NOT HALF OF THE WIZARD I AM! YOU NEVER WILL BE!” Arcturis interrupted stomping down several steps

“Half of you is what I will always be stuck being, your time is over “Zor’Tecen!”” he called, the final word causing a buzzing noise. From behind the throne an object spun and turned as it soared through the air, the blade finally coming towards Dalathan and landing hilt first in his hand. “I have the last piece now; shall we do this with blades of magic?”

“Only a Mage Knight has the right to challenge by blade” the venom in the drows words was obvious “you are nothing more than a spoiled whelp with a stolen sword, a mistake I have left uncorrected for too long, until NOW!” with the last word lighting crackled as two mighty bolts fired across the great hall, they were summoned impossibly fast and were incredibly accurate.

The bolts hit the Half Drow and sent him flying backwards towards the blood oak doors, steam rose from his chest. Arcturis didn’t wait for a response to follow is lightening twin fireballs launched forth with a sonic blast hot on their heels, he grinned as his summoned his magic’s, he’d been expecting this battle for a long time. He covered half the distance of the hall as he plied his trade. He would soften him up with the larger spells first to weaken his defenses then bring forth the more insidious spells. Ice slammed into his son as a storm of epic proportions opened up around the half drow, all was lost for seconds to ice and snow, and then quickly cleared. The wizard was gone. “Slinking off to hide? You forget where I grew up, you cannot hide from me, now will I be surprised!” emphasis was placed on the last word as seven bolts of magic energy unerring slammed in to Dalathan, seeing through his greater invisibility.

Dalathan looked pained and summoned forth a globe of green energy to cover him. Arcturis smiled as he through several potent spells against the shield, each one visibly weakening it. “You are on the defensive now, you can’t win a battle from behind a prismatic globe, allow me to open it for you” he walked forward drawing his blade, it was obsidian and platinum with a gold hilt and even the most inept apprentice would feel the raw power and magic from the blade. He stabbed forth into the globe and quickly it winked out, drawing back he unleashed a swing before the half drow could draw his own blade and cut the boy in half. It was then that he felt the sting of steel entering his side.

“You always ignored illusion magic, said it was beneath you, I studied very hard to make sure it would have a part in your end you sick son of a bitch”

Arcturis grimaced and turned his blade connecting with his sons a half dozen times in quick succession. The time for talk was over now, each knew the others was deadly serious and breath was only wasted when mumbling the words to a spell or a counter. There would be death in the throne room, one way or another.

A man carefully crested the final switch back, finally it came into sight. He took a moment to appreciate it. He had lived many places, some of them wonderful, and many of them wretched, this place had been a share a both, but it was the only one he would consider a home. He adjusted the straps on his pack, he would still have hours of hiking to reach the keep but would be able to see it for most the rest of his journey, forward he went pulling his hood tighter to keep out the biting wind and snow.

“Sanctum Libelous Magus” The Mage Knight Keep, it looked in rough condition, parts of the northern tower were missing and the front walls had seemed to take a real beating from siege weapons, the normally grey and white granites were also scarred black from the Hell Fires. He shrugged and kept walking mildly impressed that the keep did not burn down; there were few magics on Argyle that could withstand what this keep undertook. Rumors had it a Hell Wyrm spent the better part of three days trying to melt the front walls to slag, and it merely left some scorches. Assuming the Mage Knights returned some apprentices would have a terrible time cleaning it but little else would come of it.

The southern towers seemed to fare worse though, one had been smashed in and all the quartz and gems that gave them their sparkle had been looted or destroyed. It was the nature of such beasts, to destroy that which was beautiful; part of him wished he’d been here for the battle and the exodus, most of him was glad he missed it. The hours passed and the light disappeared behind the western peaks, as he walked he contemplated. The General of the hellish armies must have been angry, must have been sent into a rage. To lose a conflict in open battle was shameful but understandable; to have your enemy deny you battle and leave must have been humiliating. He chuckled some more as he thought of the general assuaging his ego with the spoils of the keep, only to find it barren and empty inside, how many enemies had Argyle been spared when the general killed his own men in a fit of fury?

It was almost dawn when he reached the keep, the front doors still lay open, the claw marks of the Hell Wyrm still evident. He quickly hurried in and was immediately thankful that the spells of warmth over the keep were still in place. As second nature he hung his cloak on the post and changed out of his heavy boots. It was warm in here, but stunk of dragon excrement and blood. He nodded to himself, they would have had to do something, and they couldn’t have left it completely unscathed. It took an hour to cross the grounds, the only doors that stood were the ones magically enchanted to repair, all others were torn form their hinges and smashed to shards, tapestries that hung were coated in blood and vomit, others were shredded and lay on the floor, again the few enchanted to clean and repair seemed in good shape, but it saddened him to see such art and beauty destroyed, this had been his home. He walked through the mess hall, not because it was on the way, but because it was his favorite room in the keep, a room where all men were equals, where bards played to rank and apprentice alike, and where commanders shared jokes with custodians and where even the Platinum Mage Knight would take turns in the galley when his name was drawn, it had always been his most unspoiled memory, he was prepared to spoil it.

The long tables were broken, the benches had been smashed, the stage had been ripped from the corner and the old instruments that had been there were gone, either smashed or stolen he could not tell. The old banners had all been ripped down, he found traces of them in the hearth smouldered and ruined. He looked to the ceiling and choked back tears. The shields, they were gone. Every man or women who had ever served the Mage Knights or the Knights of Damie, whether they were a knight or not was given a coat of arms and a shield. Even if they were a commoner who had merely sheltered one for an evening, they had done a service and so were given a shield, these shields were hung in the mess raveled in a particularly genius piece of magic, that allowed an infinite number of shields to fit in the small room. You could always find your favorites hung up there, but you also could always find new ones as well. He remembered spending hours in the mess as a boy just staring at them trying to memorize each coat and name, trying to test the magic to see if he could find them all. They were perhaps one of his most favorite things, and now… they were gone. The Devils would not suffer that kind of honour and love, he knew this, they would have spent a long time getting them all, but would ultimately succeed and ruin this tribute to kindness. He gritted his teeth in anger and continued his journey up to the main keep and the receiving hall.

The hall itself was in good shape, the ornate blood oak doors were enchanted to repair and so stood proudly, most of this room would have similar enchantments. He pushed the great doors open and looked about a faint blue glow of fairy fires danced about the room, giving the great hall a larger look. There at the end, on a raised dais was the quartz throne of the Platinum Mage Knight and in it, wrapped in plush dark robes sat a drow.

The man steadied his voice and called across the room “Arcturus… you and I… we have unfinished business”

*
*To Be Continued

Entarez was stunned, not so much by the command of the deamon, but more by the response it seemed to elicit from Aduin, for then of all times to bring him such a confusing conflicted series of visions it was hard to put it all together without losing focus on the task at hand. His eyes glazed over as the vision replayed, this was new, usually he only saw them once

A man in dark robes with dark hands is holding an exquisite sword to Entarez’s chest, they are standing in a large dark hall, the wielder of the sword is angry and is intending to use his blade.

The skyline of Highport still looks good considering the siege, it pans down to see the fonts that pour from the tower of the speaker of the suns. The crystal water that pours out into the city rivers turns black, causing the beautiful blue rivers to turn a putrid gloom, elves begin to cry out in fear and panic in the streets.

A an elvish women kneels in a candle lit room, she wears robes of red and gold and carries the heraldry of Ra, the room is small and windowless, there is a thick smoke of incense that floats over the alter. The alter itself is solid gold and carries a chalice and other tools. The women in deep in prayer. A light dinging noise interrupts her reverie as she turns seeing a dusty black bell that hung alone in the corner. It now rings wildly and with abandon as if magically compelled to. She blasphemes to Ra as tears well in her eyes; she doesn’t seem to be able to look away from the bell. It takes a few moments for her to compose herself enough to move, then in a flurry of red and gold she fly’s to her feet and runs from the room, leaving the bell to keep ringing.

Six tall statues line the first circuit and first spoke in Don-Ton. The statues are of a Dwarven Warrior, and Elven Bowmen, a Gnomish Cleric, a Halfling Rogue, a Human Mage, and a Human clade heavily in metal armor but with no weapons. People and devils pass the statues going about their business; it seems at least in the first circuit of Don-Ton that there is no invasion. A young women happens to look up and lets out a cry of shock, soon devil and humans alike are staring as each of the statues begin to cry blood. Again panic begins, but here the people seem more confused than the elves, but the Devils seem to be genuinely scared, they begin to flee the statues or scream at them in anger.

Deep underwater in murky sands, light barley reaches this point, the earth begins to rumble a crack opens up and slowly there are bubbles and heat as liquid stone bubbles and pours across the field of vision.

A high elf clad in black robes opens a vault door, he coughs a few times as dust and stench reach in nostrils; carefully he steps forward mumbling something, lights appear and dance around his head giving the small room an eerie look. Weapons, staves, rods and wands line the room, an aura of evil and hate can be felt. The high examines a few slowly as he makes his selection. Then as if assuring himself of something important he turns storming out of the room and slamming the vault behind him leaving all in darkness.

A tall man clad in the heraldry of the Knights of Damie rides aloft a might amethyst dragon. In each hand he holds a glowing crystal. The two sweep through legions of aberrants and devils alike as if they were made of nothing more than paper and glass. Then as if struck by some invisible force the dragon’s wings miss a beat and the man drops his crystals clinging to the dragon for dear life. The two look pained. The mental voice of the dragon can be heard “GO!” the man nods fishing a blue crystal from his pockets and then disappears.

Enatrez looks up, his companions are still as stone, the Deamons have them surrounded, Alexis is unconscious and the Oni are surrounding them. He put the images aside for the moment and turned to Aduin “I need Emberkythe, NOW!” the familiar disappeared again and he turned to feet his probable end.

Title: Searing Light

I apologize in advance for how dry the last third is, however given that it’s an internal monologue from an overly analytic character with a 24 intelligence, I figured it worked.

Entares fell back hard, sliding across the stone floor to come to a stop as a smoking bundle of groaning robes. Heads poked out from inside the room wondering what the noise was, while a concerned looking vampire considered the singed wizard’s situation. A few meters away a man leaned against a stone wall with a slightly amused look in his eye, tallying up the situation. His amused look changed methodically to understanding and scientific concern.

“You see the trouble I’ve been having.” Hathroc gave the slightest of gestures to the door. Entares looked up, not sure if he was being comforted or mocked, and so decided to dismiss the comment entirely. Hathroc said a few more things Entares barely cared to listen to and then made his excuses to retire and left.

It hadn’t been that powerful a spell, really only a warning to most, but the shock of being rejected had magnified the pain and intensity of the discharge. Entares began composing himself and slowly with great effort rose to his feet as he considered what he had learnt.

The spell itself was likely no more than a searing light or a scorching ray attuned to be released upon those of undesired backgrounds or beliefs. Yet Entares could not see any difference, apart from the draconic blood, between himself and the rest of the party. Surely just being of draconic descent didn’t mean one lacked a noble spirit. Dragons in many of Entares’ history book had done extremely noble things. Legends said that silver and gold dragons were paragons of good and honour, fighting alongside the mightiest of Argyle’s heroes. Perhaps the creators of this ward had an aversion to dragons. That seemed unlikely and without evidence to struck Entares as a rather vain conclusion.

Even while leaning against the wall it occurred to Entares how weak he felt. It also suddenly occurred to Entares that there was a vampire still standing over him, with that same odd look of concern in his eyes.

“Bret?” Entares said quietly but firmly.

“Yea?” Bret blinked twice due to some long dead habit and came back to his awkwardly charming self, “Quite the fall you had there. Course if I had done it, I think I might of only stepped back. Don’t think I could have pulled off that whole over-acting thing as well as you did. But course, that’s your style isn’t it. Brilliant thing that. “

“Bret?” Entares interrupted the one sided dialogue.

“Hm?”

“Could you get me a chair by chance? Since I’m not able to join my friends.”

“Oh! Yeah, sure. Be back in a jiff.” Bret meandered away in only the way that both Bret and Jermaine seemed to have the ability to do, with complete style but without purpose. About half way down the hall Bret turned into a puff of cloud and wisped through the darkness in search of a chair.

Entares shook his head, unsure if he preferred the night of Talib’s day to this. At least those undead acted like undead. Something about undead campaigning for leadership and protecting a town just weirded out Entares. Of course, it was very intelligent in its own way; using undead to both protect a town and give the illusion of democratic freedom. Sinister, but intelligent.

The sudden sound of loud snoring came from inside the room. Entares pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on and limped over to the doorway, being careful not to get too close. He could hear several people snoring and the sound of someone shuffling around.

Entares called in, “What have you found?”

It was Ling’s voice that came back, “Nothing yet, but I’m still looking.”

“Let me know if you need any help. I can’t come in but I’m happy to give advice if you encounter anything strange.” Entares looked over his shoulder at the sound of a door opening down the hallway. Bret had returned.

“Chair delivery! Fee’d usually be 4 coppers, but, bugger all, business hours are over, so looks like this one’s free. Sun’s about to come up and Jermaine’ll be wondering where I am. Cheers”

“Thanks for the chair.” Entares called as Bret sauntered on his way, murmuring some off tune ditty about a racist dragon.

Entares position the chair a few feet back from the infirmary door and sat down, happy to rest.

“Entares, I found a talking lock…” Ling called out.

Never a dull moment, thought Entares, and he began working with Ling to work out another mystery.

Overall, the endeavour only took another half hour or so. Entares realized he knew very little of Ling’s skills and was impressed by how easily she navigated what sounded like a fairly powerful arcane lock spell. Eventually after hearing her argue with a voice, poke around with small tools and eventually pop the enchanted lock, Ling had proven successful and came out with a box of medical supplies. Entares commended Ling on her work and suggested she get some sleep with everyone else. Ling seemed only too happy to agree and off she went to indulge in the forbidden healing magic.

Entares only had to wait a moment before Ling’s gentle snores joined the choir, and only another moment before his own mind went back to his inability to participate in their slumbering gospel.

Entares reconsidered the words on the inscription and try to break down the jargon and rhetoric. It was clear that at the heart of things the room was meant only for those who were good aligned, keeping the evil and corrupt at bay. Entares had always believed himself to be a good person, yet he did not satisfy the requirements. It was unfortunate that Fletcher was not around, Entares was curious to see how the warding would judge the spider… and Fletcher at that rate! Still, given the information at hand, Entares believed that the warding must require those with good essences.

Entares decided the best idea was to assume this was true and move forward. Why was he not considered a good person. Entares knew how important to was to serve the town and how important it was to protect the common good. Entares chose his skills and almost all of his actions based on these ideals. Surely this selflessness was considered a good trait.

Entares listened to himself think, a skill that seemed only to have found him since his transformation. It was quite ironic to hear the word selflessness in such a self-reflective train of thought. The small bit of humour broke his thought pattern and revealed something much more important.

Why do I care? Entares understood that the ability to access this room would be useful, but it was unrealistic for him to reorganize his beliefs for a single static room. Especially in a place that they had already agreed was not likely a place they were coming back to once they moved on. Clearly the overall concept of good had some value for Entares, but why? And where did that value originate?

Entares thought of all the tales, legends and histories he knew of Argyle. They were spotty, given his accidental kind of access to historical texts, and often he had to guess as to what was written by first hand observers versus what was written by those clearly trying to change history for their own purposes. Some texts were the retelling of bards who, Entares was horrified to find, had altered events to make them more entertaining. It took Entares a good three hours of solemn thought, accompanied only by the various noises made by those who slept before he finally came to a conclusion. One that surprised him.

Good and evil are ancillary forces, no longer meant to be the main guiding factors of individuals in society. Where once good was a positive ideal that held together people of opposing views and cultures, it has become a virtue that ought to be desired but not held intrinsically valuable. A people overly concerned with the good were likely to be unable to make the choices necessary to ensure survival.

Similarly, evil had once been a destructive force that corrupted and decayed the fabric of a group. Now it is what reigns over the land, maintaining the order of those who stand against the rightful denizens of the world. Evil has become so prevalent that it has lost the mighty significance it once had. Of course, Evil is to be avoided because it deters from order but it had been associated with many acts only by the decree of the gods who abandoned the plane.

It is now Law and Chaos which fight on the forefront of our reality. The evil that exists seeks to annihilate our order and disassemble our survival, pushing us into a self-destructive spiral of chaos that will lead to our extinction. We cannot live aside them, nor can we defeat them without working together, thus we are forced to one conclusion. To bring order to ourselves, stretch that order over the land until we have become the dominant imperative. Then when we are strong, and they weak, we can focus on bring about the good to completely vanquish them from our world. Until then, the concepts of good and evil ought to only be considered in terms of what will bring order or help to delve us into chaos.

To harm each other needlessly cannot help us to work together, and ought to be avoided. While helping and caring for one another will strengthen our order and create trust and kinship. Undoubtedly this shift in ideals will require a greater amount of processing to consider all consequences of an action, but the effort is clearly warranted.

Entares suddenly realized he was no longer sitting, but instead was standing rigid, his hands clasped together in front of his chest and his eyes fixed on a point directly in front of himself. Entares had not meant to enter a formal meditation and worried how defenseless he might have been if someone had come upon him. Entares would feel much better when Aduin returned.

Entares relaxed, rubbed his lower back and sat down again, looking at the doorway where his companions slept. The wards bothered him less. It was good that the rest of the group were considered good. They would act as a good auditors towards Entares’ new point of view. If something bothered them, it was likely to bother the town. Entares made a mental note to consider everything they brought forward.

Entares decided it was time for him to get some rest, it would still be a long time before the rest of the party would awake, but he was certain they would be wanting to start moving again.