Bound in Chains, Torn by Grief

[Prophet]

This will be posted over many accounts, but is written by name of Kyle Prophet, Secondary Director of Arcanium. Open to one

The world had began so long ago when dust coalesced. And when we started existing.

Kyle walked up to the bar, his staff tapping slowly on the floor. Heading towards the chairs.

The planets aligned in a very strange pattern, one of rarity.

He ordered a drink as he sat down, looking at the sealed letter, bearing the marks of the Time's Troop, and a small name, written in a flowing script reading Kyle Prophet, Radasanth.

The alignment started a chain that created a world with extraordinary inhabitants.

He read the letter of dismissal with a heavy heart. The Time's Troop, was his life. He only had one other thing. And that was Arcanium. He whistled loudly, and a falcon dove through an open window, shifting into human form to accommodate himself.

The last thing that was gifted to the world was Magyk.

He cursed as Falcon came in. "You need to use doors. Falcons. Tend to be, frowned upon." He frowned and pulled out a letter.

The Magyk was powerful, and useful. Helpful, used often.

Falcon rolled his eyes and held out his hand, and was given a letter, sealed with Kyle's emblem. He walked out and a fae sounded as he shifted form and flew off.

Time passed, and the Magyk expanded, forming in different ways.

He walked out, and slowly allowed a wave of heat to flow out from him, warming the air around his body, and drying off the water from his suit.

The grey area. Not huge, but it had some promise, like the remarkable Jensen, Immortal Rogue.

Kyle walked for what seemed like forever, and ended at a small rickety shack.

The grey zone was barely populated, but it had some.

The door opened, and an old man with a black shirt and jeans raised an eyebrow and then nodded, like he was expecting a visitor. The fire in his home roared, and burned bright.

A man was borne long ago.

The elder talked to Kyle in a hushed voice and handed him a book and a box that jingled slightly. Not massively. But a little. He ushered him out the door quickly.

And that man's name, was Socrates

[Prophet]

Late that might a man stood in the town square, hands outstretched, as a firestorm raged around him. He stood like he was not bothered. His eyes, or the flames that licked his eye sockets, burning bright with fury. His hands moved slightly and the firestorm shifted into a form of swirling flame, encompassing the entrances to the area. But a jet of water burst forth and a man steeped through.

"Kyle Prophet. Really?" The man said as he clicked his tongue. He waved a hand and walls of force blasted forth. Kyle clenched a fist and they dissipated, leaving only a few rustled leaves. He retorted with a mess of fire and glass, projecting heat, focusing beams that glowed with the heat of a thousand stars.

"Tsk tsk, Charles, you always talk too much." Prophet muttered. He raised his hands and his staff blasted from the dimensional space it rested in. He took it and with some difficulty got to his knees and said a few words.

"We duel in the way or Argus. In the sky" He pointed up, and levitated, and an aerial melee ensued, Kyle striking with ferocity, Charles moving, dodging with fluidity. He blinked behind him, and pressed a cloth to Kyle's nose, and said

"You need to learn. I fight dirty."

And everything went black.











Some time later, in a forest.

Kyle woke slowly, he tried to move but was wrapped in a solid coccon of chain on some tree branch some five feet off the ground. No key to the lock in sight. He struggled but it came to nothing. There was no sign of Charles, or anyone for that matter.

It was some time before he passed out again.

[Silence Sei]

He had heard the rumors from several of his scouts. There had been stories popping up of a cocoon of pure steel being woven in the forest of Concordia. In a world rule by the mighty and the magical, such things seemed trivial to a big shot like ‘Silence’ Sei Orlouge. However, the idea of a steel cocoon caused worry within the Mystic. It had been several years since anybody had seen the N’Jalian Spider Mages in Concordia. The powerful beasts had all but disappeared after the towns of Corone had started expanding into the wilds of the forest.

The idea of the steel cocoon brought with it the fear that the spider mages, who gave even a warrior as powerful as Sei Orlouge a run for his money, was disturbing to say the least. People had stopped going out to trade; small villages within the confines of Concordia had started losing their supply routes. Even the Ixian Knights, the powerful army under Sei’s thumb, had seen a lot of its core members starting to get cold feet when it came to patrol duties.

Spider mages had become notorious for both their powerful strength, as well as their ability to quickly spawn. They could infect others, who would then in turn become spider mages within weeks of infection. Such an epidemic could not be allowed to come into Concordia once more, especially not now that the people had started building townships in the wilderness. Even a small fraction of spider mages could spell disaster not only for the Ixian Knights, but for the whole of Corone.

This was why Sei had decided to travel to the location of the cocoon. Rays of light peeped through the foliage of the forest, the elegant song of the bird’s melody a sign that all was calm. The suns beams glistened off of the steel contraption, blinding any who would dare look upon its unnatural splendor. Sei cautiously approached the cocoon, his heart racing with each step. Soon, he was within arm’s length of the thing, a hand reaching out towards the metal casing, trembling at the fear of becoming infected simply by touch.

Then, he stopped.

His hand drew still at the sound of the voice. It was faint, like that of a whisper, and calling for help. Sei had read the minds of the N’Jalian Spider Mages before, and begging for aid was not their typical thought pattern. Upon infection, dark thoughts of serving N’Jal and causing destruction typically plagued one’s head. This, however, was different, something Sei had not encountered before from the type. It became clear to the Mystic that whatever this cocoon had been made for, it was not of the spider mage’s ilk.

“…..Can you hear me?”

[Prophet]

Can you hear me?

Kyle, not knowing who he was or where he was heard this in the back of his mind, and thought frantically over it. He tried to move and jingle somehow, but was stuck fast, being unknowingly stuck by his own blood to the branch. He tried to speak, but nothing came out but air, and the ragged breathing from his lungs, as his chest couldn't rise and fall.

"Yes, yes, I hear!" He thought with the force of being yelled at in the ear. Mentally.

All he knew was for the last week he had been hanging here, practically roasting. Bleeding from many areas and growing slowly weaker. He had fallen unconscious for some time, a d knew nothing before that. He closed the dim light that was his eyes and tried sleep, but none came, so he resorted to yelling for help. And was all but unable to speak right now. And probably wouldn't be able to for some time.

A man walked up, and the shreds of memory left just screamed that he knew him. His eyes flickered and dimmed, as another wave of nausea hit him, and he fought back the urge to vomit. Instead he dissolved into a hacking cough.

"Who are you?" He thought no nobody in particular.

[Silence Sei]

The strangers mind was an open book to Sei. While the telepath did not pry into the more intimate details of the prisoner’s life, he did look into the past few days. There was a pain, both mentally and physically. The steel cocoon had been cooking the man in the sun like a pig in a spit. Sei’s hand remained outreached to the metal trap, something in the back of his mind stopping him from releasing the cooked soul.

He could pose a danger, not just to him, but to the whole of Concordia. What would he do after his release? From what Sei had seen in the man’s mind, he didn’t have much time left unless the Mystic showed him a shred of mercy. In the end, Sei’s own moral code took precedence over the possible danger this man posed. He sighed, closing his eyes and concentrating on the warm beams of the sun.

The birds in the area began to silence their songs, the other woodland creatures pausing in their daily routines as if to watch Sei’s display of power. He could feel the hot sun beating down upon him, his own internal temperature rising with that of the external humidity. Beads of sweat trickled down the back of his neck, his own insides feeling as if they had combusted inside of him. Sei opened his eyes and simultaneously, a beam of white light fired out from the palm of the Mystic, finding a home in the steel encasing. The sound of metal being shredded by pure heat echoed through the forest, Sei’s hand slowly moving down and bringing the beam with it.

As Sei finished his makeshift laser surgery, he reached towards the chakram at his side, throwing the bladed ring into the cocoon itself. The force of the impact sent a metallic cling throughout the woodlands, and forced the trap open. Out spilled the body of this stranger, a black haired male with his skin darkened from his natural tanning session. Sei stood straight up, his breathing labored, and slowly began to approach the motionless form of the man.

“My name is Sei Orlouge,” Sei said, his own body giving out on him and forcing the powerful being to his knees. “My Ixian Knights should be here to recover both of us shortly. You are safe now.”

[Prophet]

Judges, as of now, Kyle is an amnesiac, and no nothing about himself or the place where he is. He shall now be voiceless, or his voice will be the equivalent of listening to a guy with bronchitis and a mouthful of gravel. His only belongings now are a pair of pants. His gold, and his pen. And sword skills.

Kyle spilled onto the ground, his back and knees cracking loudly, his body rejoicing in the free air. He vomited, and clawed his way, slowly to the small pack lying on the ground. Inside there was an incoherent note, a pair of waterskins, and a small pen, and a few tubes of ink. There was little else inside, and what it was, looked to be useless, or disgusting so Kyle, sadly, left them alone, he sat there for a few minutes before picking up the note and looking it over.

C.X.I. the note read, before delving into unreadable symbols, Kyle closed his eyes, thanking the man, wishing he had been there so much earlier. But 'twas not to be, do he settled with thinking in a reverent, immensely thankful, sort of way. "Thank you..." he mentally mumbled, before

He thought of a day long ago, when he first woke up, giving into his pain, and collapsing from his knees, to just laying in a heap. He cringed, but relaxed and lay there, waiting for the so called Ixians to come. Hoping this man, Sei, was true to his word.

But hey. Who says heaps arent any better

[Silence Sei]

It only took thirty minutes before the other Ixian Knights arrived. At first, they had armed themselves, ready to dispatch this person who had hurt their Lord Orlouge so. However, Sei had roused for just a moment to explain things, before passing out from the strain of his powers. It wouldn’t be until two hours later that the Mystic would wake up once more, covered underneath the warmth of a giant blue comforter. There was a cold rag upon his forehead, which fell into his lap the second he had sat up.

Anita…. Sei thought for a moment, No….this is Ella.

Within seconds, a small girl busted into the room, her green eyes filled with tears as she rushed towards the bed and nearly tackled the orange haired Mystic. “Daddy, you scared us!” her petite voice spoke between sobs.

Sei smiled, placing a hand on the girl’s head. “It’s okay Ella, I am fine. Thank you for taking care of me.” The child looked up to her father and nodded, a smile returned to her freckled face. “Now, where is that man we had brought in with me?”

“Him?” Ella blinked for a moment, “Emma’s with him”

“She’s WHAT?!” Sei’s ‘tone’ caused Ella to cover her ears, a useless gesture all things considered. Sei instantly tightened himself up. “Misery!” The Mystic ordered his familiar to him, and within a fraction of a second, the three of them were in the medical ward. Just in time too, for it seemed that Emma Orlouge, the black haired, teenage daughter of Sei, was holding an unconscious Kyle at sword point.

[Prophet]

Kyle had been half walked, half dragged, a little over a mile to the Ixian castle, before being brought to the medical ward, settled in, waking up for a few minutes to get told that he needed bed rest. So he was to not to leave that room. Therefore he waited and then he laid down and promptly passed out. Again.

He dreamt of fire. Flicking light, burning, consuming, yet paving the way for new life. The lifeblood. The heart of the worlds. The stars.

In the ward, Emma scowled at Kyle in his restless sleep, and had drawn her sword silently, walking up to the bed slowly, before resting the tip of her sword on his neck. Sei burst in with his. Whatever it was. Plant monstrosity, 'Misery' he called it. Shouting mentally for her to put Kyle down. And with te commotion in an outside his head, Kyle woke with a start, almost stabbing himself in the process. So he remained rather still, and with a rather frightened demeanor, thought in Sei's general direction.

"Excuse me. Not to be rude, but, may i ask who is attempting to murder me?"

[Silence Sei]

“This….is my daughter, Emma,” Sei sighed as he spoke to Kyle, his eyes shifting over to Emma, “And she gets a little ahead of herself sometimes.”

“Father, he was strong enough to make you collapse,” Emma spoke, her eyes never leaving Kyle’s edams apple, as if it were a target ready to strike. “I’m not going to allow such a thing to happen again.”

Sei approached Emma swiftly, his hand resting on the cold edge of her blade and lowering the weapon. “You have your facts mixed up, dear daughter. That is not what happened.”

Within an instant, Sei filled the girls mind with the memories of the past couple of hours. Emma’s eyes widened as she shifted her gaze over to Kyle, bowing in apology to the stranger. “Forgive me sir. I did not know my place. It shall not happen again.”

Sei smiled, nodding towards the girl before focusing back on Kyle. “You may stay here with me and my Knights for however long you need to recover. Now, do you recall why you were placed in that deathtrap?”

[Prophet]

Kyle true to sit up and almost succeeded, but as he leaned forward, a shout escaped him, and he grimaced as the various lacerations on his back split open again. He swallowed, and settled for laying there, head propped up.

He then smiled at her apology, and nodded to her, attempting to say, "It's ok."

"If i can get some bandages, a pillow or two, and some help sitting up, i can tell you all i know. Do your daughters share your gift or thought communication? If so, i will tell them the path of events that brought me as far as i can remember. "

A longing thought. A wish for the apples on the table across the room. Food in general. And of course. With his luck, and his life. They floated.