[IronGuard] Knights of the West Storyline

[OSTBear]

((OOC This thread is for public viewing, but not public posting. This is the main storyline for Iron Guard and is by invite only. If you are apart of the IronGuard universe, feel free to request to join in))

Bear smiles deep as he smells the air coming off the orchard. The harvest is his favorite time of year. Not just because most of the farms pay homage to the Iron Guard and for a short time the Iron Guard and for a short time they eat the finest food in the land. But because of this right here. Sitting on the hills at the side of Fort Forger their base built into a mountain valley he smells grapes, and apples, and oranges and all of the delicious fruits of the harvest. The wind carries these smells to him as if a reminder before fall begins to take hold that the Iron Guard has done their duty once more. That these towns and these farms are safe for one more year.

He takes another bite from his jerky. He decides he might go hunting later that day. Take some of the new recruits into the Western Wood and test their mettle against the local stags. "That's a fine plan." he says to himself. "A fine plan indeed."

[Tormentia]

Tormentia frowns to herself, sighing deeply while she sits at the simple desk that adorns her quarters. The small room is dimly lit at the moment, a candle burned down to a nub at the corner of the desk. She is trying, quite unsuccessfully, to read a book she had borrowed from the library. She had quickly read through all of the few fantasy books kept there, and had moved on to the history books.

She sighs again. She had read this last paragraph three times and just couldn't find the motivation to keep going. Tormentia often found herself to be bored in her time here at Iron Guard. With no wars or crisis to be handled, there wasn't much work for the Guard to do, and even less work for her, as her skills were only useful for certain jobs.

Combing back her short hair with her fingers, Tormentia closes the book and stands up out of her chair. Walking over to the bed where she had haphazardly thrown her cloak, she lifts the black fabric and drapes it over her shoulders. She waves a hand at the candle as she lifts her hood over her head, and as she walks out the door the flame flickers out.

::~

A few moments later she finds herself outside the base, crouched down in a shadow cast by the morning sun off the walls surrounding Iron Guard. Tormentia holds her cloak close to her body, keeping it still against the gentle breeze as to not give away her position. She was doing what she always did when she was bored, spying on various members of the Guard. Today it was Bear, the leader of Iron Guard.

She didn't partake in this hobby for any particular reason other than to stay very knowledgeable of what was going on around her. She enjoyed seeing the looks on people's faces when she seemed to know what was going to happen before it happened. Very few people knew the extent of her abilities, and she liked to keep them in the dark, making it seem she was capable of more than she actually was. Fear was a powerful tool that she enjoyed using.

And while her spying was usually useful and sometimes even entertaining, this time didn't seem to be so. Bear didn't seem to be doing anything other than eating jerky and grinning to himself. Just as Tormentia was about to give up and try spying on someone else, she heard him speak.

"That's a fine plan." he says to himself. "A fine plan indeed."

Tormentia thought to herself for a moment, trying to decide if there were any plans that she should know about that he could be thinking of, but decided based on his tone and her information that it was most likely he was just thinking about his plans for the day. After another moment of thought, Tormentia stood up, decided now was a good time to make herself known.

Walking toward her Colonel and lowering her hood, she quickly thought up what she should say to explain her overhearing him, and also earn her his good favor.
"Good morning Sir, I see you're enjoying this fine morning outside as well," She paused for a moment, giving him enough time to notice her there.
"I couldn't help but overhear you while I was on my walk, but did you say something about plans? I find myself lacking in any plans today, and was wondering if maybe I could help you with yours?" She added awkwardly, "If you wouldn't mind, that is."
Even with all her years of training she still was awkward whenever made to talk to someone. She was never trained to talk to a target before she killed them, and even most of her intelligence gathering was done by spying, and included no talking. So as was usual when she spoke, she berated herself in her head for how foolish she sounded.

[OSTBear]

Bear's mood fluctuates south when he hears Tormentia speak, and sours even more when she requests to tag along. He doesn't dislike Tormentia. He dislikes her skulking around and spying on people when she thinks no-one is looking. He dislikes her disinterest in doing anything that isn't killing. But on a whole he knows she's a good person.

What he dislikes are the circumstances under which she finds herself here. "Yes, Tormentia, I was thinking aloud in my private time that I might enjoy-" He had turned to talk to Tormentia and could now see West down into the valley. Heavy plumes of dust were kicking up on the Highway into Ender's Hollow. "Torm, with me, now!" He takes off sprinting down the hillside towards the village.

As he gets closer he can see a coach pulled by six horses but nothing else due to the dust being kicked up. He tries to remember the duty logs that Roland handed him this morning but comes up short. He has no idea who is in the village but he can't figure it would be anyone of consequence; Not many people bring force of arms this close to Forge. "Tormentia! Flank them from the North! I will approach from the East up the main street!"

Tormentia might be fast enough to intercept the coach before it enters the city, but Bear knows he isn't. Without more information he can't risk a head on assault, so he plans his pieces carefully. Bishop to F-7, Knight to D-3.

He arrives at the end of the street across from the Shadow's Inn and draws his axe and shield. "Bearson! What madness do ye be-"

"Back inside Nak!" Bear commands without taking his attention from the carriage. "No one comes out until I give the-" He trails off as the horse and carriage come to an abrupt stop in toward the end of town.

He sprints up the road with his weapons still drawn and by the time he reaches the coach a women has fallen from the door and scrolls, hundreds of them, have begun to blow all over the street as they pour out from the doorway. He looks up at the driver, and has to look a second time.

He's dead.

He's been dead for at least a month, and now he sits slumped on the bench. That's why the horses stopped, the driver let go of the reins.

"What in the noine circles 'o' 'ell is this?" Nak, who was never known to obey anyone, had followed Bear and now stood agape at the whole mess in front of him.

Bear slings his axe and shield onto his back before turning to Tormentia. "Nobody touches anything. Grab the papers and bring them back here. Nak, go to Forge tell them I need Rex down here immediately." At that moment the women gasps and moans rolling over onto her side to puke. "And maybe see if we have anyone with some medical expertise..."

This is not good, Bear thinks to himself, not good at all.

[quantumrex]

Rex coughed, staring into the twisted remains of his old cauldron. A puddle of greenish, oily liquid was slowly spreading around its legs, and hissing into the burner underneath. The ooze hissed and bubbled, continuing to digest its former prison eagerly. With a sigh, he turned off the gas. Cracking his knuckles, he began to make broad sweeping gestures across his work surface. His hands never touched the desk, but the slowly spreading mess began to rise off the table, forming a floating molten orb. Within moments, the workspace was pristine. The orb of charred refuse proceeded to orbit his head like some primordial planet.

"Officer Heart. Good morning."

"Lieutenant...”

Rex holds up a phial of liquid in one hand, examining the remainder of its contents forlornly.

“Looks like I will have to find some more glowstone. This stuff is quite rare, you know.”

“Yes, sir.”

The old conjurer slowly turned to face her, his face ashen colored from the smoke. He did however seem in a good humor.

“Fancy a trip to the nether? I need to get out of the library for a while.”

“I would, sir, but the Colonel sent for you. There’s an urgent matter in town.”

Rex waved his hand again, and several levers on the wall flipped in rapid succession. A bookshelf along one wall slid away, producing several casks. The red priest mimed a throwing motion, and the orb soared across the room, splitting into several smaller portions, which he guided into each of the casks. There was a hiss and a shudder from each cask, but they seemed unharmed. In the meantime, the old conjurer walked over to the rack, where he retrieved his staff and backpack. One more wave, and the hidden compartment sealed itself with a dull thud.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Lets get going if it’s so urgent. Any idea what’s going on?”

“All I know, sir, is that he sent Nak to get you, when I heard reports that both he and Tormentia went tearing off down the hill earlier. I believe Sir Mort was planning to be in town this morning as well, but he is hard to pin down sometimes.”

They reached the outer door where they met Nak, who greeted them with his customary nod and wave. Rex gestured, and the pair began to walk off toward the village.

“Roland, you should stay, and send Mort if he is still here. I will contact you if there is anything we need. And forget about that bookshelf, by the way,” said Rex, leaning in conspiratorially. “It’s better if that stays undisturbed for the next fortnight.”

“If I may ask sir, what were you attempting to make?”

The red priest turned back to her, with a sly grin spreading over his face.

“Not attempting. That was the first good batch I’ve seen.”

“But what was it?”

“Beer.”

((OOC Figured I'd give Mem and in, if he wants it, otherwise, part 2 will follow, and feel free to continue in the meantime.))

[Memnarc]

I do so dearly enjoy a good bar fight early in the morn thought Wee Mad Mort as he sat in a dark corner of the tavern in town. And with Nak gone, I don't have to hear his incessant whining when a table get's broken.

Mort sidled up to the nearest drunk and proceeded to tie his boot laces together and also around his chair legs. Now for the finishing touch, Mort thought right about the time he dumped a flagon of ice cold water over the man's head.

The man flew out of his chair, or attempted to, and succeeded in staggering into another drunk. The fight was on then and Mort just sat back and watched the beautiful chaos. It was light enough now that the sky had turned orange and a glance out the window drew the attention of Mort. Is that smoke I see?

A quick leap out the now broken window and a few seconds to scramble up the stones of the chimney and Mort was on the roof. His metal eye gleamed in the sun as he peered toward the growing column of smoke. This looked like no campfire and could only be hoped to not be a forest fire. I suppose investigation is in order one way or the other. If it's those stinking kids again, I'm going to be making myself a new set of rugs.

While making his way off the roof he spotted Rex walking through town seemingly in the direction of the smoke. No point in traveling alone. Mort scrambled down the side of the building and ran to catch up with Rex. Upon reaching him, Mort ascended to his normal, if irritating, place on Rex's shoulder.

"Onward human, to glory!" shouted Mort as they continued along the path.

[OSTBear]

Bear looks over the pieces of paper Tormentia brought back, but he knows before he reads them he'll need Rex. He can read and write English better than most, he's a bit of an orator; text or words in any other language on the other hand are a mystery.

The girl moans again, propped up against the carriage by Bear shortly after she puked, and continues on with her usual babbling. She's speaking, and it is in English for the most part, but what she's saying makes no sense. "Doramu... Castle City... Iflegh habrona... Burning..."

Doramu, also known as Castle City, is an enormous metropolis located on the Western most tip of Paramor ((OOC I'll update the map later)) and is the trade center for the entire world. Home to the largest airship and watercraft docks, more trade and money goes through that city in one day than most other cities manage in a month. Forge, known the world over for her overwhelming fortifications, has nothing on the great walls and towers throughout Castle City. General Harbin who waged a 30 year war against Paramor but never managed to breach the city said that "No man, woman, or beast born will ever deflower Doramu."

The suggestion that the city may be burning is as foreign to Bear as fire is to water. "Rex," Bear says almost absent mindedly as Iron Guard's chief scholar aproaches, "we still have priests stationed in Doramu don't we? If the city were under some kind of attack we would have heard about it be now, right?"

[OSTBear]

((OOC Map has been updated))

[quantumrex]

“OY! Yew damn gnomish bastard!” Nak suddenly roared. He scowled up at the gnome’s perch. “I’ll have yor haed one o’ these days. Oi know yu done summat te me customers, an’ I won’ have it. Oi’ll be sendin down ta de fort fer tha’ window, an’ yer name’ll be first off me tongue.”

Rex looked toward the Shadows Inn, noticing for the first time the glass scattered about the forlorn looking windowframe. “Oh, we can’t have that now, can we? No harm done, I’m sure.” He raised an arm, pointing at the glass fragments on the porch.

Nothing happened. For a long moment, Rex just stared... first at the window, then at his hand. A second time, he tried the window... to no avail. Without another word, he turned on a heel and sprinted toward the wreck at the end of the street.

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

"Rex... we still have priests stationed in Doramu don't we? If the city were under some kind of attack we would have heard about it by now, right?"

"I have a grave suspicion this day, Bearson. Best not to give voice to it until I have investigated further."

The red priest deflected further questions by climbing the coach rails to reach the buckboard. He seized one of the mummy’s hands, and dragged it from the seat. Keeping a firm grasp on its right hand, he drew his left to its forehead. He muttered a few words, and with a shuddering breath, the corpse stirred, and was promptly lifted to its feet to stand before the old conjurer.

“SPEAK YOUR PEACE!”

“Quit yellin’, ya old bugger. And gimme mah arm back.”

“Who were you? How do you come here? What is your purpose?”

“And why should I tell you ****? Let go of me, dammit!”

The mummy tried to circle the old conjurer, seeking to evade his gaze, but his arm, up to the shoulder, remained set as stone in the red priest’s grasp.

“Alright, lemme go, and we’ll talk.”

…

“LET GO ye damn creeper!”

The mummy threw a sudden left, which stopped dead at the gnomish arm blocking Rex’s face. With a casual flick of the wrist, the gnomish armorer relieved the arm of it’s burdening torso, and slung the new-found appendage over his shoulder. Rex sighed.

“Hah! Ya damn foolish beggar. I knew I’d win. All I gotta do is wait now. I’ll be dust in a sec, and you still won’t get ****! And the best part? My masta’, Et...”

A stream of sand poured from his open mouth. He stopped, and stared at what remained of his innards on the ground.

“Bloody... I knew this body was goin’ widdershins... That... That HURT. You gotta let me go. It felt like I was dyin...”

As the creature choked up more sand, Rex spoke “Tell me the name of your master, and you may go.”

“Et... *HRRRK* Etrigan Omkuld...”

Before Rex could speak further, the mummy’s other shoulder gave way, and the body of the carriage driver lay, slowly turning to dust, in the middle of the street. The old conjurer did not speak immediately. He looked tired as he dusted his hands on his cloak, dropping the arm to lay beside it’s owner.

“Colonel. If what I believe has come to pass, the fall of Doramu may be the least of our concerns. My magic has failed me today, and if yon cadaver speaks truth, we may be facing the end of days. Our men in Doramu are almost certainly dead or, more probably, undead.”

((OOC Merry Christmas!))

[OSTBear]

Bear rubs his eyes out of frustration, standing over the dozen or so maps of Doramu. They took the girl and the scrolls she brought with her, but burned the carriage and the mummy where they were in the middle of the street. They tried to order a recall of troops, but it’ll have to be done by hand with all of the clerics having been disabled. A small handful of foot soldiers, Bear, Rex, Mort, and Roland were the only Iron Guardsmen left in forge. And Tormentia.

He had never allowed Tormentia into the war room before hidden within Forge’s expansive library, though he was certain she had been.

“Sir,” Roland says walking back from her desk, “I have tried the pearl twice now.”

“Captain Nemo?”

“He’s not answering sir.”

Bear turns and looks sternly at Roland, “We paid 2000 gold pieces per orb to the Mage’s Guild, you’re telling me they’re not working?”

“Sir, I am certain they’re working fine. Captain Nemo is simply not answering our call.”

“Does he kn-”

“Colonel, he can tell who is calling to him innately, it’s part of what the orb does, he is simply electing not to answer.” Roland hands the orb, about the size of a large pearl glowing a deep green, back to Bear who gives a cursory glance to it and shoves it back in his pocket.

“Thank you Mr. Heart.” Roland nods and takes her place at the table to Bear’s right. “Without Captain Nemo to ferry us there quickly or to collect reinforcements, we are forced to head to Doramu on horseback. Rex, Mort, I realize that neither of you care to spend much time doing field work, but if you’re right Rex, we’re going to need all the help we can get.” Bear clears his throat and turns awkwardly to Tormentia, “That includes you as well.”

Bear spreads the maps on the table further out and clears his throat, “Now, with the girl speaking gibberish-”

“I... forgive me, Colonel, I hate to interrupt but I don’t think she is.” Bear turns to Roland crossing his arms over his chest. He nods to her. “I think the girl is speaking in a cross between Common and some other language. There is a kind of pattern to her speech which doesn’t suggest confusion, rather exhaustion. She slips between -- well whatever language she's speaking -- and common because she is too tired.”

Bear smiles at his yeoman, “Spending time in Rex’s library I see?”

“Sir, I just... Well I think-”

“Relax Mr. Heart you sold me. Ride hard for Doctor Galow’s cabin, bring him here and have him see to the girl. Go.” With a salute Roland leaves the room and takes off for the stairs which lead back into the Library. “Now, gibberish or not, we don’t have much to go on. So, Rex, who is the Omkuld, and why is he after Doramu?”

[quantumrex]

Rex looked up from the scroll he was currently studying. His eyes gradually unglazed, and focused on the Colonel.

“Omkuld? I don’t know much about this man calling himself Omkuld, specifically, but that name has grave associations. It is part of the lore of Golkatha to the south. Omkuld is more of a title than a name. It means 'Deadbringer', in the language of the ancient Nomadic tribes. It signifies a man born with innate ability to communicate with the dead, and to reanimate the bodies of the deceased. In essence, an incredibly powerful Necromancer. At the moment, probably the only true Necromancer in existence.”

The red priest stood up and stretched. He then began to pace, quickly settling into a basic lecturing rhythm.

“This cycle is unique to the people of Golkatha, and gains them little good repute among the other nations. The practice of Necromancy in general is treated as taboo, so you can well imagine the plight of one born with this ability. Even so, Omkulds are always promoted to positions of power within Golkatha, and they are said to be the harbingers of great change. The population will follow one almost fanatically.”

At this, he stopped and looked back to the Colonel, and his voice registered a note of concern.

“I had heard there was a new one in our age, but little else. If he is here, then his people have surely followed him. I know not for what purpose he comes, but in light of current events, his intentions can hardly be viewed as peaceful.”

He glared at Mort, who merely grinned back, the human-sized fingernail he had been using for a toothpick hanging from the corner of his mouth.

“I only wish I had been able to extract more from the driver before my spell was disrupted. As you saw, it takes all of my power to maintain the animus given direct physical contact. I doubt that even at my full potential I could do much better. Necromancy is blood magic though, and has little to do with my divine abilities.”

“As to Doramu, and the current state of those abilities, I can only say that they are related. There are several divine artifacts within the city, chief among which is the Beacon, which they have housed in the great library. It was forged by the founders of my order. They were some of the greatest clerics this world has ever seen... and I doubt many people in the city even remember its purpose. They use it for a lighthouse flare, of all things! I am not familiar with a spell that could cause this, but the attack on Doramu was too coincidental for my liking. ”

At this, the old conjurer dropped into his seat and stared dejectedly at the scroll in his hand. He felt tired, and imagined that he looked it. The effort of calling up blood magics had drained him. The scroll in his hand taunted him. It was written in a series of magical runes, each of which could convey pages worth of information, but which required magics to translate. Many of the scrolls they had found were written thus. He had translated a few runes on this one, but they amounted to almost nothing, a page or two from a logbook at some ancient institution, detailing daily events centuries past.

“I believe this is as much as I can gather for now. I must rest, and regain what power I have expended today. Blood magics are far more exhausting than my usual craft, and limit me greatly in my abilities. I can continue with these once I am rested, but it will take me several days to peruse them all. In the meantime, I hope our guest proves to be more informative.”

((OOC Apologies for the wall-o'-text))

[Memnarc]

Mort slowly raised his eyes and looked at all the people around the table. The grave expression, without a hint of madness, on his face caught everyone's attention faster than any shout would. He spoke slowly and without a hint of the madness that seemed to plague him.

"I was there when the last Omkuld lived. It was a dark time of sorrow and strife unheard of in the time since."

He dropped his gaze and fell silent for a long moment. He looked up and when he again spoke, he seemed focused on a time and place far removed from the present.

"Recorded history only mentions the war that ended the reign of Omkuld. After the war, all recordings that could be found of his ascension and rule were destroyed, for it was feared that if someone were to understand how he came to power in the first place, they might try to follow in his footsteps and the world could ill afford another conflict."

"Omkuld came out of Golkatha with his army and swept all before him." Mort seemed to come back to reality, brandished his fingernail toothpick at all assembled and said, "It turns out that it is supremely difficult to fight a war when every fallen soldier gets back up and fights for the enemy. Keeps the juices flowing in them though. Makes it where they don't taste gamey later."

The people around the table were thoroughly enraptured by the tale until they realized what Mort had just said. "What happened then! How was he defeated!" demanded Roland. Mort turned a sharp eye on Roland until she settled back into her chair and fell silent. "I've seen more than my fair share hotheaded young officers like yourself die in more horrible ways than you can imagine. You may be able to give me orders, but I suggest that you find a civil tongue to put in your mouth before something less pleasant does. Your point is valid though, I shall continue."

"Omkuld and his forces made it all the way to Cadmaten before he was finally brought to halt. Once there, a terrible battle took place in the streets of the city. It was finally determined that all his efforts were bent on seizing control of the beacon in the center of the city. Much blood was spilled and in a last effort to slow Omkuld's army, the city was set on fire, but it was not enough. Omkuld gained control of the beacon and began trying to turn it to his will. That was when our clerics' magic started failing. The only thing that saved us from total annihilation was that we possessed the Key."

At this point, Mort motioned to Rex and said, "Rex mentioned that there are some powerful artifacts in Doramu. The Key at least was one of those artifacts. The beacon can be corrupted through the application of filters, but it can only be repurposed with the Key. This was Omkuld's goal, and this is what we had to prevent. The Key was sent away under heavy guard and the army rallied for a final push. The clerics gathered together and put all their remaining power into a spell to destroy all the undead in the city. With this spell enacted, the army was able to kill the remaining soldiers under Omkuld's command and capture the man himself. He was forced to reveal the location of all his forces and bastions and was summarily executed and the body burned."

"The city was rebuilt and renamed Doramu in hopes that Omkuld and his stain on the world would eventually be forgotten. The Key was recalled to the city and hidden somewhere in it. As far as I know, it remains in the city even now." Mort finished his tail with a visible sag to his shoulders.

"So, who's ready to go wreck Nak's bar?" exclaimed Mort, perking up. That broke everyone from their reverie with the exception of Rex. Roland was the first to speak and what she said was on everyone's mind, "So what do we do now?"

[OSTBear]

Bear sighs heavily and sits back in his chair, resting his head on his iron left hand. The sensation, of the odd iron sending it's odd responses to the rest of his body helps him think. When he touches things with his arm he knows he is touching things because he can sense it. As if a switch flicks "Knuckles on left hand" but when he touches nothing, he feels nothing.

He's never been able to explain it and that worries him. It worries him because he got the arm while walking in other worlds, and if the arm were ever to need repair...

"Roland, carry out your orders. Get the Doctor here, now, whatever he wants. Rex I need you rested. The scrolls can wait, presumably they won't vanish in the night. Mort, go to work. Every blade sharpened, every piece of armor maintained. We may not have an army in Forge right now, but the handful that are left are going to learn the ways of war soon enough."

Bear sighs, and leans forward. "As far as the overall plan?... The truth is we don't have enough information. Without communication via the priests, we're lost. Practically the entirety of IronGuard runs because we can talk to each other... So in the meantime we prepare, and that's all we can do." Bear stands. "The night is always darkest before the dawn, and even a ship lost in a storm only needs one glance at the stars to find her way again. You have your orders, dismissed."

The room begins to empty, but Tormentia does not disperse. She knows. He doesn't know how she knows, and that infuriates him, but she does. "I am a man of principle," Bear starts, looking at the maps sprawled out in front of him, "I always have been, even to a fault. When we took Castle Esselia and slew King Hagganboin... We didn't have to. We could have walked right there, me and my men, we could have started IronGuard and kept clear of him. But I knew he was corrupt. I knew he was doing terrible things to his people, even his daughter. And I knew, that if we laid siege to the palace, good men would die. And the cost was one of mine and Rex's oldest and dearest friends."

"Assassinating Hagganboin in his sleep would have ended the whole thing then and there, but assassination is the coward's path." Bear looks up at Tormentia making eye contact with her here to hammer home his point. "I am a man of principle, and though it would have saved lives to kill the king from the shadows and slip off in the night, it was not the right thing to do."

"Organizations like The Order, that is what they do. They kill in the night and in the shadows. That is their way, and there is honor in it. But it has never been the way of IronGuard." Bear clears his throat, a lump forming as he gets ready to say the next part. "But here I am outmatched."

"Doramu is nigh impenetrable and if the beacon inside the city is what is in fact bringing our clerics to a halt... I'm not sure what we can do against an army of undead. It would take months to bring a proper assault force to bear if Doramu has in fact been overtaken, and those are months we likely don't have." Bear reaches into his pouch and produces a pearl the same color as the one Roland handed back to him.

"This is used for communication, and if the Mage's Guild is to be believed, it is untraceable by anyone. If you hold the pearl in your hand and think of the recipient, if they too are holding a pearl they will hear your voice as if you are right beside them. I need you to go to Doramu and I need you to get me information." Bear grabs a spare piece of paper and writes out a note. "Give this to Sergeant First Class Dirk in the town of Swift between here and Doramu. It's orders to follow and obey you on your mission. He's a ranger, and formerly a very talented thief and archer. He's still sharp, or he wouldn't be a Sergeant First Class, but he might not be at... your level."

Bear sighs heavily again, "I... While your primary mission will be to get me information, and if you can disable the beacon... I told you all of that before because... because I have to ask you something. I have to ask you to do something. If... If you come across this Omkuld... I need you to kill him. If you think you can, I need you to assassinate him before this gets any worse."

[Tormentia]

Tormentia was never one to talk unless necessary. Sometimes she unnerved people with how little she spoke. She preferred to listen. So as the events of the day took place she was silent. Never speaking unless directly spoken to, and even then only a word or two. No, today was an important day, and she did not want to miss a single detail. She stayed off to the side and out of the way as much as possible, soaking everything in, using the magic granted to her by her eye color when her normal vision missed something. When everyone moved to the war room, she was still just as alert.

She had been in the war room once before, but hadn't lingered. Most of the information kept there were things she already knew from observation and following Bear around. When the conversation moved to discussing the change in Rex's magic she was glad when no one questioned hers, and she didn't bring it up. She had not felt any change in her magic and all, and that was no surprise to her, considering the source of it. One of the many secrets kept by the Order.

When the mad gnome started to speak she listened closely, despite her usual habit of ignoring him, because for once he was actually discussing something pertinent to her interest. Tormentia committed every word to memory, in case it might be of any use in finding Omkuld's weakness.

When Bear sent everyone else out to do their duties, she stayed, knowing that he would have a task for her. She simply looks up at him patiently and knowingly, waiting for him to speak. As she is given her orders she simply nods in agreement, continuing to stay silent, even when he tells her to have this Dirk fellow travel along with her. That would be a problem. Tormentia always worked better alone, and she wouldn't be able to use certain abilities of hers while he was around. But silent she stayed, because she knew Bear just wanted her to have a chaperone. While he tells her the rest of her mission she slips the pearl and the letter into a small hidden satchel she keeps on her person at all times.

"I... While your primary mission will be to get me information, and if you can disable the beacon... I told you all of that before because... because I have to ask you something. I have to ask you to do something. If... If you come across this Omkuld... I need you to kill him. If you think you can, I need you to assassinate him before this gets any worse."

At this point Tormentia is unable to contain a small smile. Not only does she finally have a mission for something that she trained for, but the target was a very powerful necromancer. The biggest challenge she's ever had. She stands, nodding her head slightly at the Colonel.

"Consider your will done Sir," Is all she says before she swiftly walks out of the room. The moment she is out she makes a fast pace toward the stables. She is entirely hidden within the many shadows of the fort, as she travels fastest in the darkness, and makes it to the stables in almost no time at all. Once she arrives there she heads straight for the one stall that isn't bathed in torchlight. Standing there is her loyal steed given to her by the Order, as all graduates are given horses. In the low light all you can see is the mare's slightly glowing silver eyes. The horse in the nearest stall neighs nervously.

Tormentia climbs up Dusk's dark, sleek hide and settles herself into the saddle. There was no need to pack, as everything she needs for any mission is always on her person and on her horse at all times. Whispering a few words into Dusk's ears, the horse takes off like a lightning bolt out of the stables. As soon as she is able, Tormentia turns off the main road, favoring the constant shadows of the mountain. She rides around the town rather than through it, and heads straight towards Swift. She ignores the roads and instead follows the secret paths of the Order, taught to her over many years, and the fastest way to get anywhere.

[OSTBear]

((OOC Updated map? Updated Map! Found, as always, here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=262804)))

[OSTBear]

~~ Day 2: Things get Better, and Worse ~~


The knock at the door isn't familiar to Bear causing him to jolt as he awakes. "Yes?" He calls to the door, a cold sweat still on his body.

"Sir, it's uh... I'm priva-"

"Spit it out soldier." Bear says looking over his bedding which appears to be soaked through.

"It's Roland sir, she's taken the doc to the uh... The prisoner's quarters."

Bear swipes his hands over the sheets and smells. It's sweat and most likely his... but why? He strains to remember what he had dreamed about in the night. An image of a wolf flickers from the back of his mind to the front, but is interrupted by the private asking if he has heard. "Yes, private, thank you. Tell Mr. Heart and Doctor Gallow I'm on my way." He realizes after the soldier has departed he didn't correct the soldier's reference to Roland by name and not by rank, and curses himself for it.

But why was he sweating like that?... Wolves... Something about Wolves...

Bear is dressed in his usual garb quickly and makes his way into the main hall. "You, private Derbishire."

"Yes sir?" The young private stops in his tracks caring weaponry from Mort's workshop.

"Assemble Lieutenant Rex and Chief Mort in the prisoner hold immediately."

"Yes sir."

Bear makes his way down the long spiral staircase to the prison and flips the appropriate levers to open the steel door. Rex and Mort had become experts in making the small combination locks that secure Forge, and IronGuard had been served all the better for it.

"Sir." The young sergeant stands and salutes Bear.

"At ease. Where are Mr. Heart and our guests?"

The Sergeant is about to point when a long loud scream echoes from the rear of the prison. Both Bear and the Sergeant sprint to the last bay of cells. As they arrive Doctor Gallow is thrown backwards from the open cell door landing on his back. "Owe."

"Doctor!" Roland emerges from the cell, "Are you alright?"

"I'd," he coughs and rolls onto his side, "say the patient is alert."

Bear looks into the cell seeing the young woman has now backed herself completely into the corner of her cell, panting. He turns to the Doctor. "Are you alright Doctor Gallow?"

The young doctor with premature grey hair groans, "I think... I think I'm going to lay here and bleed for a while thank you."

[Tormentia]

((Apologies for the ridiculous amount of words here, but this is what Torm's off doing in the woods.))

tormentwarrior: Tormentia arrived at Swift two days after she departed from Forge. She had tied her horse off at a safe spot outside of town, and as she made her way up to the main road she closed her eyes and concentrated for a moment. When she opened her eyes again, they were a much more innocent looking grey. She didn't want to make her presence as an assassin known anymore than it had to be. When she arrived in the town, she hemmed and hawed over whether she should go to see this Dirk guy before or after she ran her other errands. Eventually she decided to go grab her supplies she needed to get first.
When she was done with her shopping she headed toward the small Iron Guard outpost that was kept in this town. It wasn't much more than a few soldiers kept there for emergencies and communication honestly. Just a single building with the Iron Guard emblem posted outside. When she got inside she asked for Sergeant First Class Dirk, and showed the emblem on her breast to show that she was with the guard. She was sent into an empty office and told to take a seat and wait for the Sergeant to arrive.

OST: After the door closes Corporal Aguilar turns to Dirk, "Why the hell did you tell her to wait? You're sitting right there."
"How sure are you that Jimmy can't use his magic whammy?"
"Scared the hell out of 'im Dirk, I ain't never seen James act like that before." Dirk gives a serious look to his Corporal, "Hey, I know as well as anyone that he's prone to puttin' on a show to get out of duty, but I think it's serious this time."
Dirk ponders this a while, then turns his attention back to the door. "She's from The Order, I'm sure of it."
"Oh Lord... You don't suppose...?"
"Maybe, hell I dunno how they work, but Thomas swore up and down he was gunna get the Order on Luke, so better not take any chances. Find him, take him kicking and screaming if you have to, but get him out of town."
The Corporal gets up and grabs his cloak, "What about you?"
"No one ever told me The Order had such good looking women working for them." The Corporal rolls his eyes and departs. Dirk weighs grabbing a bow, and decides he wouldn't be able to draw with enough time, so he enters the office. "Sorry, your name again was...?"

tormentwarrior: "Tormentia, but my you can call me Torm if you wish. I have a letter for Sergeant First Class Dirk." She berrated herself for a moment. No one called her Torm, why did she say that?" Regardless as she spoke she reached into her pouch and pulled out Bear's letter, waving it back and forth to emphasise her words.

OST: "Torm eh?" Dirk snatches the letter from her hand with an uncommon swiftness and looks it over. "So, is Rex still running the forge with an Iron Fist? He's a hell of a blacksmith eh?" Dirk looks unassuming looking over the letter leaned against the doorway.

tormentwarrior: She looks slightly perturbed when the letter is suddenly no longer in her hand, and her eyebrows curve down in a look of annoyance. She didn't like when others one-upped her. "The only Iron Guard blacksmith I know of is a crazy gnome named Mort who spends most of his time in the pub." Torm knew what he was trying to do and answered his question easily.

OST: Dirk looks from the girl to the letter, then back to the girl. He hands her back the letter. "Well in that case, Luke is going to be super pissed in the morning." Dirk sits on the other side of the desk and puts his booted feet up on the corner, "Sergeant First Class Dirk, apparently, at your service."

tormentwarrior: Torm took back the letter and slid it back into her hidden pouch. She was slightly puzzled when he mentioned someone named Luke, but she assumed that it was irrelevent to the situation. "So you're aware now of the full situation? Or do you have any questions?" She hadn't bothered reading Bear's letter herself, as she was more worried about rushing toward her mission.

OST: "Orders from the brass are orders from the brass, and when it comes from the head brass I tend to listen. I'm to follow your orders... but I have Three Questions before we start. One, what is someone from The Order doing working with IronGuard?"

tormentwarrior: Tormentia considered how much she could tell him without giving away too many confedential details. "I have to obey orders from my "brass" as much as you do. And my bosses in the Order say I work for IronGuard now. I don't need to know the reason, I just follow orders."

OST: Dirk looks coolly at Torm for a moment, Fair enough. Second, you flashed the pin, but no rank. Care to explain that?"

tormentwarrior: "Colonel Bear never gave me an official rank. On an everyday basis, I'm basically a private. But whenever there is a particular job that he needs me to do, he gives me whatever power and rank I need to get it done." Tormentia rattled this off like a well-rehearsed speech. It wasn't the first time she'd had to explain her rank.

OST: Dirk considers this for a long while. He's been with IronGuard for several years, but something like this hadn't been done before. Civilians might be given mission priority, but never field priority... "Alright then. Listen in the event that we run into anyone else from IronGuard, I want you to identify yourself as a Captain. I'm your personal aid and I'll do most of the talking if anyone asks."

tormentwarrior: Tormentia nods in agreement and then chuckles a bit. "That sounds acceptable to me, but I highly doubt we'll find any other people from IronGuard with the routes we'll be taking," She pauses for a moment before continuing, "You said you had three questions? You've only asked two."

OST: "Yeah," Dirk stands and grabs his cloak, a deep blue that covers his whole person and appears to have considerable weight, "I was going to ask you if you were seeing anyone, but I figured it'd be more fun to hit on you and see how it turns out." He walks through the office door and opens the front door of the outpost. "Where to, Captain?"

tormentwarrior: Tormentia's eyes got big and she sputtered out what probably could have been words, if she hadn't been too shocked to form them. She took a deep breath and then tried again. "Well, we ah..." Smooth. "Ahem... I have already acquired any supplies we'll need, so we can leave right away." Tormentia decided to do her best to ignore the first half of what he said, even though her reaction had be quite obvious, she pretended it just didn't happen. "Don't worry about preparing your horse, we'll be taking mine. Any horse you have wouldn't be able to keep up." It took her a moment to realize she hadn't actually answered Dirk's question. "We're headed to Doramu of course, but not by the routes you're used to."

OST: "While I normally wouldn't pass up the opportunity to ride double with a single woman such as yourself, I don't go anywhere without Knave." Dirk rounds the corner of the outpost and approaches his black Stallion who neighs impatiently, as if sensing his master is ready to go. "We need to stick to the main road if we're heading to Doramu. My Cleric's been out of commission for a few days now and I sent a squad out. So I want to check on them." Dirk looks around, "Or maybe we will be riding double, I don't see your Horse anywhere nearby."

tormentwarrior: Tormentia was already starting to get frustrated with this man. He was going to cause her more delay than she had estimated. She tried to speak in a stern voice. "We will take the main roads only as long as we need to check on your men, then we'll be taking MY routes, unless you want it to take a week for us to get there." When Dirk brings up her horse, she laughs and pulls a whistle out from one of her many pockets and blows in it. No sound comes out, but she just smiles knowingly when a few moments later Dusk trots over and stands at her side. "Are you ready to go then?"

OST: "Girly, it's only 4 days from here to Doramu... And I don't know what that-oknevermind." Dirk stares agape at Torm's horse. He had always figured folks from The Order got around on horseback -- how else could they so efficiently murder people? -- but Dirk gets an unearthly feeling immediately. Knave however gives off a sense of honor, privilege, and this calms Dirk. "Alrighty then. I'll be right behind you."

tormentwarrior: "It's not just the fact that the roads are slower, as I'm sure you understand, my people don't like advertising where we're heading. And with the unknowns we're facing in Doramu, I would like to keep my travels somewhat secret." Tormentia explained as she climbed up onto her horse. She transfered the bag of supplies she'd gotten off her shoulder and onto the saddle, before whispering to her horse to walk. She wanted to make an easy pace through town, and not bring any more attention to her 'unusual' horse than necessary.

OST: "What is going on in Doramu?" Dirk asks sidling up beside her.

tormentwarrior: Tormentia recalled the information she had heard about the recent events, "We have reason to believe that there is a very powerful necromancer by the name of Omkuld who has attacked Doramu, and as that city is the home of many magical and ancient artifacts, many magic users who draw their power from there have been weakened or made entirely useless. We are going there to gather information, disable the beacon before he can use it, and then I'm going to kill Omkuld." Tormentia stated this calmly, as though she were just stating facts. She was confident in her skills.

OST: This gives Dirk some pause as they continue to the outskirts of town. Bear order an assassination? He hadn't thought such a thing was possible, but here she was claiming that's what he had ordered. Now most of all Dirk wished their clerics could still cast their spells so he could ascertain orders directly. "When's the last time you were at Doramu? Even if I did believe this Omkuld guy took Doramu, which I don't by the way, the city is still a fortress. How do you plan to so easily sneak in and murder this 'Uncle' Fellow?"

tormentwarrior: Tormentia smiled. "You don't need to believe me, you just need to follow my lead. And if you honestly think something as simple as walls can keep one of the best from the Order out, or anyone from the Order for that matter, you have a lot to learn."

OST: "Well I'm always happy to learn more about mysterious women, but seeing as how we're approaching the gate, and we only have a few more hours of daylight, I think I'll learn more when we make camp. Yah!" Dirk does not kick or spur Knave, but at the sound of his voice the horse takes off in a gallop down the road.

tormentwarrior: Tormentia grimaced at his words, and when he rushed off in front of her she immediately spurred her horse to catch up. When she came up beside him, she scowled at him and said, "Do you always do that??"

OST: "I don't believe in spurring a horse, so yes. I communicate with Knave, and he with me."

tormentwarrior: Tormentia scowled even more. "Not that, I meant do you always talk to women like this?"

OST: "That depends."

tormentwarrior: "On?"

OST: He smiles roguishly as he turns to look at Torm, "On the woman."

tormentwarrior: Tormentia decides now is a good time to stare intently at the back of her horse's head and not make eye contact. And she also decides that her cheeks are turning red because she's sick, not that she's blushing. Assassins DON'T blush. "Well, I think that it is probably unprofessional, or something." Why did she even bother speaking when she was just going to spurt nonsense? She clenched her eyes shut in embarrassment.

OST: "You're not actually a Captain, so it's not unprofessional it's more like... Roguish." Dirk grins turning towards the road, deciding to let Torm have her privacy.

tormentwarrior: Tormentia considered sticking a knife in his back when he wasn't looking, but then decided that would probably be overkill, literally. She hoped she figured out how to shut him up with his stupid flirtations soon, or she was not going to be able to keep whatever calm she had.
Their passage through the gate was uneventful, and when they were out of the town she spoke again. "We may be sticking to the main road for now, but I'm still choosing where we camp. So how late are you willing to ride?"

OST: "Experienced woods-lady eh? Fair enough. As far as I can ride, that's up to Knave."

tormentwarrior: "I wouldn't say that, but you'll see. We shall ride as long as you and your horse are able, my Dusk will never tire, so unfortunately you'll be setting our pace."

OST: "You know, your ways may be faster, but there is something to be said for enjoying the highway, especially if the company is worth keeping."

tormentwarrior: Tormentia contained a laugh at that last comment and replied, "I don't think you're aware of the danger waiting for us in Doramu, and how important it is that we get there and handle it quickly. But its fine, I was expecting the journey to be slower with you tagging along."

OST: "But way more charming." Dirk remains silent for the rest of the night until he can feel Knave start to heave underneath him. His horse needed water and rest. He followed Tormentia to where she wanted to make camp and started a small fire. "The Colonel is the best tactical mind on the planet. Matched, maybe, by none other than Captain Nemo. If he saddled you with me, it's for a reason." He grabs a piece of jerky and hangs it from his mouth so he can continue to warm his hands and chew slowly on the leathery elk.

tormentwarrior: Tormentia simply nodded as Dirk spoke, removing some gear off of Dusk while the fire was being built. When she had gathered the things she needed she set them down in front of the rather large fallen tree she had led them to. The tree was massive, as wide as a man was tall, covered in moss and looked to have been lying there for many years. Torm slipped her hand under an unassuming piece of moss and felt around until she heard a quiet click. A door hidden in the tree slid open quietly and revealed a rather cozy little room featuring a small bed and a desk. She cleared her throat loudly and gestured toward the hide-away, "Are you going to join me? Or sit out here in the cold all night?"

OST: Dirk blinked a few times in rapid succession before removing the jerky from his jaw, "Yeah, alright, sure." He gets up and follows Tormentia into the tree.

tormentwarrior: Tormentia chuckled at Dirk's reaction and grabbed her things that were sitting outside and set them next to the desk. She pulled out a small bit of parchment and scribbled a few quick letters on it before rolling it up and sealing it. "I'll be right back," she says before making a quick trip outside. She climbs up a nearby tree and rings a bell hidden up there. In a moment a small bird appears. Tormentia attaches her note and send the bird on it's way. While she's outside she moves some bushes and vines around until the horses are all but hidden. When she's done with her work she head back into the tree and takes a seat at the desk and opens one of the drawers to find a stash of dried fruits and other non-perishables.

OST: When she returns Dirk is sitting cross-legged on the desk continuing to eat his jerky. "Apparently I'm in the wrong line of work. So, your Order has these things hidden all over?"

tormentwarrior: Tormentia nodded, "Yes, everywhere we can manage. Each has at least a bed and a messenger bird, some have more depending on the location. Most of them have means of hiding horses too." She paused for a moment. "You're lucky, very few outside the Order know of these places." She smirked, "Not that it matters, because I'll have to kill you now that you know our secret." She kept a straight face for just a moment before she laughed, making it clear that she was joking.

OST: "Oh, she has a sense of humor after all." Dirk grins. "See I was worried I was wasting all of my charm on a cold hearted assassin."

tormentwarrior: "It doesn't take a cold heart to be an assassin. Actually, I think the ones who face our jobs with apathy are missing out on all the fun!" Tormentia laughed again. Oblivious to how her statement might be construed as creepy.

OST: Dirk stares at Torm for a moment. "Creepin' me out a bit there."

tormentwarrior: "How?" Tormentia says, looking genuinely confused.

OST: Dirk grins and shakes his head. "Never mind." He pauses for a moment, "So my charm is working then?"

tormentwarrior: Torm almost choked on the fruit she had just stuck in her mouth before recovering with a smooth, "Pshh! Nooo." Which she followed up with shoving more food in her mouth before she could say something else stupid.

OST: Dirk chides, "What, ladies in The Order can't admit they blushed?"

tormentwarrior: "Assassins don't blush!" She blurts out before she can think about it. She tries to recover by saying, "Besides, charm doesn't work on us. If we were so easily swayed we wouldn't be very good at our jobs would we?"

OST: "I don't know, you tell me, you're the one giving into my charms." Dirk prods again.

tormentwarrior: "Just because I'm bad at talking to people," Sh*t! Well, too late now, try to recover, "Doesn't mean your advances are working. Besides, you're not my type." Seriously? Tormentia was going to die from her own stupidity. She didn't have a type, she'd never even liked a guy before!

OST: Dirk smiles, "You're talking to me right now, so you're not that bad. Besides, if I'm not your type, who is?"

tormentwarrior: Tormentia had really been hoping Dirk wouldn't ask what her type was. "Uhm... Well I like blondes, with.. brown eyes, and I like younger men, who aren't into military stuff." She didn't really have a type, so she just listed everything that she was sure was the opposite of what Dirk was. "So see? You're not my type at all." That ought to stop him in his tracks, she thought.

OST: "You know what I think." Dirk uncrosses his legs and leans in close to Torm, "I think you Order Maidens are terrible liars," He grins, "I think I'm exactly your type." He hangs three inches from her face.

tormentwarrior: Oh, now Torm had to get serious. Order Maidens are terrible liars? This guy's about to get what's coming to him. Tormentia looks Dirk right in the eyes, and then finally she lets her eyes switch back to their normal appearance. Her slit like pupils always unnerved people. "Horrible liars huh? Well did you ever stop to think that maybe I'm only acting this way to humor you, and keep you in my pocket?" she whispered in the coldest and most emotionless tone she could muster. Not many heard her speak like this and lived to tell the tale. "Don't toy with me Seargent, you're dealing with the Master of this game." She smiled, showing off canines that only a few noticed were unnaturally pointed. Tormentia loved to win.

OST: "Sergeant First Class, thank you very much." Dirk leans back with an amused smile. "I don't sit in anyone's pocket, not really, I just wanted to see how far I could push you." Dirk keeps his poker face on and manages to calm his heartbeat enough that he doesn't hear it in his ears. "And hey, no harm in trying right? Maybe when this is over, I might even ask you out on a date." I really hope she doesn't eat me in my sleep.

tormentwarrior: Tormentia was pleased with herself. If she were a cat she would have purred. She could damn near smell his fear. There was only one problem; when she finally leaned back in her chair she couldn't get her muscles to relax. She supposed it was karma for getting herself all riled up. She laughed quietly, trying to get her voice to sound "normal" again. "You may try, but I give you no guarantees." At that point she got up and went outside, sitting by the fire that was now nothing but embers. While she was out of earshot from Dirk she took a few deep breaths to calm herself. It was the curse of those in the order. The joy that came from fear and death. She hid her actions by acting as though she were putting out and removing evidence of the fire, and when she'd finally lowered her adrenaline she came back inside, closing the door behind her.

OST: By the time Tormentia had returned Dirk had already rolled his cloak up like a pillow and was sleeping soundly on the desk. He slept the sleep of the dead, and he dreamed of Wolves.


tormentwarrior: When Tormentia came back inside and saw Dirk sleeping she almost felt bad. She couldn't really help what she had done, but still, he was a nice enough guy, and it wasn't like he was being mean or even rude. She thought for a moment, the she slowly placed a hand ever so slightly on his shoulder. He seemed to be in a pretty deep sleep already, so she didn't think he would wake up. Maybe it was just because the only time Tormentia ever touched a human being was for things like handshakes or when she had her hands wrapped around their throat, but the touch felt awkward to her. She sighed and shook her head before removing her hand, making her way over to the bed to go to sleep.

OST: "You need something?" Dirk grumbles groggily. "The horses ok?"

tormentwarrior: Tormentia feels really stupid, of course he would wake up. "Oh uhm, no, it was nothing, nevermind." She lays down and rolls over on the bed, facing the wall, grumbles then rolls back around. She can't even sleep with her back to a door when she's trying to be angsty.

OST: Dirk looks over at her for a long moment. "I was serious about that date." He closes his eyes and returns to sleep after saying, "And I know you were lying about your type."

tormentwarrior: Tormentia doesn't say anything, too embarrassed to speak after having been caught touching him. She just tries not to remember all the stupid things she said that day as she goes to sleep.

[quantumrex]

Doramu, aboard the Warship Tal-Rioh:

They led him into the chamber. Five steps to the threshold, five pillars along each wall, 5 pedestals for five knives, five priests for the five cuts required to complete the ritual. Five knives, five cuts, but only one victim. He had been here before. Four times. Today would be his fifth. Today would be the last. He was guided to his place before the altar. He knew his place, and he knew his purpose. He smiled as she was led in. She looked fearful. They always did. But he was not. He had lost the ability to fear death long ago.

His father had been first. He was just a boy then, and barely understood what was going on. When he saw the knives, and the men bringing his father in, his devoted had needed to restrain him. They had bound him and forced him to watch as his father received the five cuts; first the wrists, then the ankles, and finally the jugular. His father did not struggle, which had confused him. He begged his father, cried and pleaded with him to preserve his life, but his father smiled bravely and stood still, until standing was no longer possible. His body was laid on the altar, and the blood slowly pooled in the channels as it flowed away from him.

When the proceeding was done, the priests began to chant, quietly and rhythmically. “Khet sha-gath! Kath Om-kuld! Shod a-greth! Mord so-kai!” The priest who had made the final cut placed his knife upon the pedestal, and spoke: “Your father is not dead. Your father is death. If you are strong enough, he will walk in this plane with you. You can bring him back to us.” Triggin had tried to call upon the powers he barely understood, but his father had barely stirred. There was a sorrowful moan, followed by a cloud of dust from his lips. The trickles of blood had turned to sand, and the corpse lay motionless. His father would never walk in this plane again.

He had gone back to the remainder of his family, and they had comforted him. They accepted his failure to complete the ritual. They knew he would fail, but it was forbidden to tell. He cried, and screamed at them, for no one had told him about the ritual, though they all obviously knew.

But he was foolish then. The Order had taught him of his power, and his place. Death was his father, but his father was not yet death. The Order of the Risen corrected this. They did the same for his mother, and his two elder brothers. Now, they would correct this for his sister. And this time, he would fulfill his role.

His sister saw him smiling, and she smiled back. He was in his place, and she would take hers, because this was right. And the ritual would proceed, because the ritual was right. And she would be reborn, because that was right.

Etrigan waited patiently as the ritual began. He took comfort from the familiar gestures. His sister winced as she received the first cut, but she did not flinch away, and he was proud. She remained standing for all five cuts... his brothers had not managed that, and he silently praised her strength. Then her body was laid out on the altar, and the chanting began. “Your sister is not dead. Your sister is death. If you are strong enough, she will walk in this plane with you. You can bring her back to us.” He walked to the altar, past the pedestals and the priests. He knew this was a break with tradition, but he knew this felt right.

He looked at his sister’s pale visage, and smiled. He clasped her right hand in his own, but she did not stir. Her hand was like ice in his. He felt numb. This was wrong, this was not the way it went! He became aware of the chanting all around him, the voices getting louder, the chant coming faster. The priests began to circle the altar, each with their knife raised. He tried to return to his place, but the devoted had blocked the way. He tried to raise his fists to defend himself, but his right was still grasped firmly in his sister’s suddenly vice-like grip. He looked back to her. Her eyes were open, but the sockets were empty. She stared slack-jawed at him, skull-like, and her voice seemed to echo from within her corpse: “You have failed us. You let me die. You are not dead-bringer, you are not Omkuld.” And with her pronouncement, the chanting stopped, and the knives came down.

He awoke with a start. His mind groped for the truth, and he tried to reassure himself that this was the world, the one in which his sister still lived, and in which he was Omkuld, now and forever. He searched his memory for the events of that day, years ago.

His sister lay on the slab, he stood beside her. He clasped her right hand, and she squeezed back. Her head turned to him, her eyes opened. Brilliant, almond colored eyes, like his own. The color flooded back into her cheeks, and the cuts were gone, with only hair-thin scars remaining. He could feel her pulse, and knew she was not reanimate like his brother had been, but truly Risen. “Hello brother.” That was the memory, as it should have been in the dream...

[quantumrex]

Doramu, aboard the Warship Tal-Rioh:

Jrix makes the long walk up the SWORD tower soundless in his movements. Even his red robes only whisper over the stone brick. He boards the Tal-Rioh and the undead lancer guarding the boarding plank gives a salute. He salutes back and becomes unsure about the undead soldiers' new habit. He did request it, but it's odd from a soldier living between this world and the next. He enters the Captain's Quarters to wake Etrigan, discovering him bolt upright in bed, sweat gleaming on his body. "Etrigan?"

Etrigan Omkuld did not stir for a long moment. The dream had been so... vivid. Finally he spoke. "Greetings captain." He massaged his temples for a moment, trying to clear away the fog. "Sorry, I was only half here for a moment." He stood, and consulted the timepiece on his desk. "5:30... an early riser, as usual. What can I do for you this morning?"

Jrix eyes Etrigan for a long moment before answering "The last of the IronGuardsmen are locked up in the prison... I know you wanted to turn them... but I am not totally convinced they lose everything when they go... and frankly we cannot afford some of the best soldiers in the world turning on us... Lastly... I have searched every inch of this city Etrigan... but I cannot find the last of the Priories."

Etrigan: "That is unfortunate... but not unexpected. I do believe we have a majority. Very well... How do our forces stand? I felt several men de-animate several hours ago, but I believe I corrected that issue." He turned, and began to dress as he spoke, donning his raiment and armor with almost ceremonial gravity. "And what of the native population? Have they been subdued? I know I gave orders to avoid casualties in non-combatants. I trust your men were not too carried away fighting the militia and the guardsmen?"

Jrix folds his arms over his chest and leans against the desk. "No... we don't have a majority, not any more." Jrix sighs, "A few of the Priories tried to lead an Exodus into the city slums. They were successful, but in the process they were killed by an explosion. Apparently the gateway into the slums was rigged years ago, and some of the loose fire ignited the charges... You don't have enough..."

Etrigan froze, halfway thru donning his left boot. "Captain... This disappoints me greatly. I had hoped to use the local government to ease the transition, and avoid further bloodshed. Now it seems that will not be possible. I cannot bring back pieces. I will have to speak with the priests..." He resumed dressing. "Please continue."

Jrix sighs, "Most of the native population is now in the slums, which we can't get to because the only way in was blown to pieces. The militia is... taken care of." Jrix looks down at the floorboards for a moment in thought, unsure how to continue, "How go things with the key stone? Any chance on us moving on soon?"

Etrigan: "The order have begun their ritual on the beacon. The accursed taint will finally be removed from this land. The red-stained heathens..." At that, he spat toward the open window. "should have felt the effects by yesterday afternoon. But we have not yet found the key." He turned to the captain. "Make no mistake, this is your highest priority. Without the key to permanently destroy that vile beacon, all our work could be undone." Fully attired, Etrigan walked to his desk, to stare at the map he had come to know intimately over the past few years. All the planning and forethought, and it all came down to the next few weeks. "All evidence the Order has collected regarding the key suggests that is is still within the city, and comb its depths as we might, I despair of finding it without assistance from the local population. SOMEONE must remember the key." He turned back to Jrix with a grave expression. "Until the key is found, however, we will not relinquish this city. There is evil in this land, and we must be victorious."

Jrix listened to Etrigan's religious blather. Nonsense, he thinks to himself. But he knows the value of such men and he holds his tongue. All men have a road, and all roads lead to the same end... However... He grows tired of this particular detour. "You can turn the dead to our whims Etrigan... Surely once we re-fortify the city, we can leave a contingent here and move on, key stone or no key stone."

Etrigan: "The entire plan hinges on this city. If we fail here, then all is lost. What reason have we to move on, when we sit atop our goal? There are no records of the key in this land, or my order would have found them. This country's records were purged after the death of my predecessor. The only possible location for more information would be the grand library of Fort Forge... and if this city was said to be impregnable, then I can thing of only one place that would be more so." Etrigan shakes his head. "And the dead are the dead, captain. You yourself know that I can only raise them within a certain range, and except for the exceptional case of a true resurrection, which cost me great effort, they gradually deteriorate and die outside of my influence. Any company we left here would be entirely on its own, and would be dust within a month. And the Order will not stay without their Omkuld. I stand at their head, but they follow of their own accord."

Jrix walks over to the maps as Etrigan speaks, he sees where the conversation is going before it gets there, and he is close to interrupting when he speaks. "Then we need more people to search the city. If the Forge Library is as extensive as you claim, they'll be the first to figure out our play. I will wager Colonel Addicus will amass some kind of offensive within two weeks at most. Though you may abhor it, we need to kill some civilians and turn them. The tunnels and old mines are as expansive as they are dangerous and I don't have enough men to re-fortify the walls and search for the Key-Stone..." This moment here is important to Jrix. In all other situations Etrigan has found some excuse or another to avoid the killing of "Innocents" with the exception of the red clerics. He has questioned his leader's resolve before... now he waits to see it's strength.

Etrigan: "Captain, I have never had your stomach for killing. And I never will. Call it ironic if you will, that the man with the keys to the Gates of the Afterlife should flinch at killing... But I agree. We must gain the cooperation of the populace, and if that requires the sword we will use the sword. As I said, we WILL succeed, by any means necessary. But keep in mind, we are not the enemy here, and we must make them believe that. I will address them first, after I have spoken with the remaining Priories. If I can get their support, this will go much more smoothly. How are our prisoners?"

Jrix rolls his eyes, no stomach. "Our prisoners are cowering as they should. Stomach for it or not Etrigan, fear is the weapon we need to hold right now. We must win the war before we can win your 'Peace'." Jrix turns and starts to leave the Captain's quarters. "I will go aboard the passenger liner and start preparations for your arrival. The last thing we need is for the new world emperor to be assassinated while trying to win hearts and minds." Jrix leaves and closes the door behind him. He stand there for a moment and lets out a long exasperated breath before continuing on. "How can my fate be tied this way?" he mutters under his breath.

Etrigan watched the door for some time after Jrix left. The man was useful: a genius at strategy, and a strong fighter, a resourceful spymaster. But he was bloodthirsty, and Etrigan felt the constant strain of holding him in line... If this relationship was to continue... maybe the captain would need to join the ranks of the Risen. He smiled to himself at the thought. There might be nothing that could quell the man’s impatience and bloodthirst. First things first tho, he needed to speak with the Order... And maybe he would see his sister on the way. Just to be sure...