Quest for the Lyre of Orphaeo

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Clsoed to Breaker. Originally from this thread on 3.1.

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Tell me a tale now, oh best beloved, of knights on horseback and gallant battle. Of heroes who fought and villains that fell, of brave souls who claimed victory and those who died saving the many. Sing me a song of their courageous deeds, sing me a ballad of their romance and triumphs. I want to hear of their deaths and their children, of their legacy and their arts. Oh, tell me now, best beloved, of those heroes who lived before …

“Are you absolutely certain?” she asked.

“Yes,” the blonde-haired woman nodded, “this is the only manuscript that satisfies every criteria. It’s got to be the real one.”

“It mentions his wife?”

“Yes, and the daughter as well. As well as the fact he apparently had a dog.”

The questioner’s eyebrows rose. “A dog? What kind?”

The answerer frowned, “Unfortunately, that is not clear. It just says ‘canis’ so we cannot define anything more than other he had a dog.”

The hand that was resting on the open page of the huge old book slid down a little. Eyes followed it, moving from the blonde-haired lady to the words. They stopped when they came across the letters that spelled out ‘C-A-N-I-S’ and her mouth made a small round shape.

“Oh. Well.” Slowly she blinked, her mind now going wild with the idea that there was a dog involved, a breed of animal from the same genus as her own dear companion. “Hmmm,” she mused.

There was a pause as the sounds filled the low-ceilinged room, echoing off the exposed grey stone and the many lines of creaky bookshelves. No natural light shone down here, in the cellars beneath the main archives, so all they had were oil lamps that flickered idly, casting dancing shadows of mysterious quality onto every surface.

After a while, the questioner nodded, and she stood onto her hooves, pushing the chair back.

“So this is the best most conclusive directions we have to the lyre’s whereabouts. The edge of the Red Forest you said?”

She, Philomel van der Aart, stood tall and proud, with two blades visible beneath a long emerald cloak. Her hand that had been trailing the words of the manuscript now rested on the hilt of a long thick-bladed sword, and her hair that was the colour of ripe plums hung around her face like a gilt-embossed frame. Eagerly, she waited for the reply, her heart hammering as she realised that finally she was going to get an affirming answer. Finally she was going to know.

“Indeed, east of the red forest, towards the hills locally known as the Highfells. I can write you down more explicit instructions if you like?”

Inclining her head, the faun thanked her and told her that she would like that very much. The archivist smiled, and took up an eagle-feather quill and black ink to scribble down a rough translation of the old Raiaeran dialect that gave the directions to this most elusive of tombs. A place that had taken Philomel so long to properly find.

“Here,” she finished off the script with a flurry, and held it out. “I hope you find it.”

Philomel smiled. “Indeed I do also,” she said. “And I hope I find it soon.” A grim look came to her face. “Its taken me so long to do this, that I hope I am not late. So long to do her will when she said it was so urgent …”

Miss Melena, the archivist, waved a hand. “It is well and fine. If Drys asked you personally to get the lyre of Orphaeo, then get the lyre you will. I am sure she will distract the others from seizing it beforehand.”

The faun lifted up her gaze to look directly into the eyes of the other woman. Pausing for a moment, the two worshippers who were beloved of the ancient tree goddess acknowledged each other in the significance of all of this - this holy mission - before finishing off their greeting.

“May the goddess flourish,” Philomel whispered.

Miss Melena smiled. And repeated the same.

“May the goddess flourish.”

“Do you wish to live forever?” The Goddess asked, scraping all eight amber-enamelled fingernails down the warrior’s scarred chest.

Breaker arched against the soft bed of earth he lay upon, lifting the Goddess’ light and supple form as he drew breath through pursed lips. He sat up as he exhaled, breath tickling the nape of the petite brunette woman’s neck.

“Only if living forever means never leaving my Suravani’s inside.” Joshua Cronen wrapped his arms around the Goddess straddling his lap and lifted her effortlessly.

Suravani shrieked with pleasure and wrapped her legs around his hips, ankles locked and urging him deeper.

He pushed her against the soft sand wall and held her there as she kissed him and took away all concept of time. The room was one of her creation, specially designed for the two of them, and he could not say how long they had spent there. A day or more certainly… long enough for the mystique surrounding the deity to melt in the fire between them. She had told him things while she lay in his arms, how long it had been since she took human form, how long since she felt a lover’s touch, how long since she’d found a man worthy of tasting her sweat… It had been longer than the lives of many mortals. But Breaker was not mortal; not anymore… not quite. The power that flowed in his veins was partially granted by his Goddesses, but significantly due to his own dedication to mastery of the body and mind. When he touched Suravani and his energy flowed into her over the hours, the days… even a deity could not withstand such passion. They were immortals and nearly indestructible, ancient and experienced beyond belief. But their advantages made them overlook the one thing that would always bring them back to the mortal realm… their emotions.



Finally they nestled like spoons in a cupboard, satisfied if not spent, whispering and laughing softly. The petite slender form Suravani had chosen fit perfectly in Breaker’s ropelike arms. Her hair smelled perfect… the Gods had a fetish for perfection.

“So what will it take to bring my Goddess to such pleasure,” Josh asked, raking rough fingers up the inner muscles of her thigh to bring one last surprised gasp to Suravani’s lips. “Such pleasure that she’d choose a mere soldier to share her spot in eternity?”

Suravani’s laugh sounded mysterious as the winds through the dunes in her creation, her home continent of Fallien.

“A soldier?” She giggled like a young girl, still lost in the carnal experience, “how long has it been since you called yourself that Breaker?” She wiggled in his arms and rolled over to straddle his hips and press the soft skin of her forehead against his close cropped hairline and gaze into his endless hazel eyes. “You are a general, a champion, a great teacher and leader… you could be my champion. My partner in all this.” She swirled a dainty hand carelessly and the sandy walls vanished, leaving them floating on an earthen bed high above where the hawks or even the legendary griffins of Fallien could soar. The vast dunes and ocean ring surrounding the lonely continent looked like a well drawn map from so high in the sky

“So what would you have of me?” He asked, “what more?” He corrected the question, slapping the supple skin of her hindquarters to illicit another giggle and gathering her back into his arms. The skin over his abdominals stretched as he sat up and held the Goddess in his lap as they looked down her domain together.

“There have been.. sounds of shifts and schisms approaching amongst the Gods,” Suravani confided in him, “I am seeking new alliances and a distant sister of mine is gathering her power. If you can assist her… our influence would be all the greater when you take your place at my side.” She sighed and sands rose from the floor to spell a name out in the air.

Drys.

“Your sister?” Josh asked, kissing the nape of Suravani’s pale neck.

“Mmmmhmm,” she replied, “You must ensure the lyre bearer lives and assist her in any way necessary. Drys has arranged her own guard but I fear the powers that oppose her have a deadly card or three concealed in their sleeves.”

Breaker laughed, the sound whipping out into empty air. The Gods and their games.

“Do you know what these cards may be?” He asked, slow-stepping callused fingers along her hips.

“I may,” Suravani giggled, shivering deeper into his arms, “but I do not wish to make your test too easy… my champion.”

Before her words could lose themselves in the night air she vanished, and then the sandy bed swallowed Breaker into a tunnel of neverending darkness.

"Find the spot on the Red Forest’s fringe where the Fealotë bare their souls to the sky," Suravani’s voice echoed in his mind and all around him.

“May the goddess flourish …”

She set out, following the eastward stars. By the light of the moon a path was laid out for her, for it lit up the white-stone path like an eager beacon. Galloping on the back of her mighty beast - the leviathan of all travellers, the yak-like tera’k - Philomel girded her loins and prepared for a long night of steady journeying.

“Go meet the archivist Melena,” the voice in her dreams had said, “go speak to her and seek the lyre of Orphaeo. It must be found before our enemies find it first, thou must bring it to me in the forest before dark claws snake their way around its power.”

Miss Melena had been a good woman, a worthy rare human worshipper, a child of woodsmen who had somehow come to worship the tree-mother. Once the connection had been made between her and Philomel there had been little to stop them becoming best friends for life and automatically trusting each other with their lives. With the directions folded delicately and pushed into the folds of her belt, Philomel used nowt but her wits to keep her going for now.

Raiaera. They needed to get to Raiaera. First they would get to the harbour, and after the Fiesty Fox had set sail with its captain on board and a limited crew, they would come to the shore of the high elven homeland, ready there to gain what had to be gained before other dark masters came to steal it. The tera’k was fast and beautiful - he would carry Philomel successfully towards where she needed to go. Him, and only him alone, would carry her there.

For though there were other lovers of Drys, such as her brother and her mother, Philomel knew that this task was made for her and her alone. It had been clear from the time of the dream. The dream where the wild-winged and toe-rooted goddess had spoken the words that had caused this change in destiny.

Thump, thump, thump. His hooves made grooves and heavy holes in the path as it changed from stone to dirt. Soon enough there would be mud, for it rained often in the hills here, west of Concordia forest. It being night, there were very few others on the road, allowing the way to be clear. It avoided those who might berate the huge beast on the road, it left behind all those who might curse her as she tipped their cabbage carts.

“My cabbages!” they would cry, and cause horror. Philomel in any case would leave them in the dust, but at least night left all chance of it behind. Back in the realm of unreality.

____

The anchor laid with a splash into the Raiaeran harbour. From the ship strode the proud faun, with the fox quick at her hooves. Upon the ship, deep in its bowels, her tera'k beast lowed, eager to be away from the water.

Her heart hammered as she left her crew and army behind, striding by herself and her fellow earth-kin towards the land that would lead them to the pinnacle of their mission. Raising her chin to show her pride in this placement of her, going in the spirit of her goddess, for a mission of her goddess, she faced east and set off to meet the fated Breaker.

Darkness consumed Breaker's world, and he knew nothing but the gritty taste of sand beneath his tongue. He rolled over and spat and found himself prone on a woodland floor unlike any forest he had seen before.

The loam and roots writhed with maggots and worms, as if the ground were covered in rotting flesh rather than leaves. The trees had a positively unhealthy pallor, some twisted crimson, others bloated purple, but all with the blood-colored leaves that gave Lindequalmë its name. Strange cries and hoots, some hauntingly human, emanated from the shadowy depths. The sun permeated the leaves with a reddish glow in some places, while others remained in perpetual shadow.

Breaker rose slowly onto all fours and then stood, listening to the Red Forest breathe all around him. To his right, a waxy orange flower lulled insects to a poisonous demise. To his left atop a burst purple tree, a thorny vine snatched up a squirrel-like creature and sapped its blood. Thirty paces ahead, a large tree swayed against the wind. It was a young rowan, the type that would make a fine foremast for a mid-sized ship. If it were actually a tree. Josh unsheathed the black diamond dagger from his boot and threw it with an upward flicking motion.

Thwesh! The sound of blade striking bark was decidedly un-treelike, and the illusion of the rowan dissolved into a small pack of wolves. The dead one with the knife buried between its eyes must have been the alpha, for two of the remaining wolves bolted for the underbrush with forlorn howls and tails between their legs. The other two growled and advanced, separating instinctively before stalking and pouncing at Breaker simultaneously.

The demigod rolled beneath their fangs and kicked both Dur'Taigen in the skull without apparent effort. The shape-shifting wolves crashed to the ground, soundly unconscious.

Breaker had gone easy on them; his boots were made of a black metal harder than mythril and bore lethal enchantments. Josh recovered his blade and left the beasts where they lay and wandered through the forest, avoiding contact with plant and animal life as much as possible. Even so reddish moss rubbed off like chalk against the black clothing Suravani had been gracious enough to return to him. Before long Breaker found a pleasant clearing near the forest's eastern fringe, where actual sunlight filtered in. He stopped on the edge of the meadow, realizing not even the bugs ventured there.

Amongst the loam and long grass blossomed a patch of lush blue and purple flowers. Long, full petals surrounded a central fruit that varied in size from that of a plum pit to a small peach. And hidden within the folds of those leaves the venomous thorns lay waiting. For the Fealotë would always be hungry, and as their name suggested, the beautiful flowers did not sup on flesh. Soul Blossoms were amongst the most feared of all the Red Forest's dangers, for they could trap a being's soul for eternity.

Breaker hesitated only a moment, and then strode into the clearing. He sat down amongst the flowers and let his callused hands fall to the ground where thorns pricked his fingertips. He felt the poison seep slowly into his veins and let the plants pull at the fabric of his being. And then he summoned a single powerful thought.

No.

The plants did not understand resistance at first. Their venom had entered a body with a spirit; soon it would be drawn inside and devoured over six long days. As the spirit failed to arrive, the plants channeled more venom into the being's veins, emptying their reservoirs. And then they began to change.

Back, cursed creatures! Go back to what you were, what you ought to be! A dim white glow emanated from the pricks in Joshua's fingertips. It grew like the sun peaking over the horizon at dawn, glowed brighter until it consumed Breaker and the plants and the clearing, and then it vanished. The thorns retreated into the leaves as a few drops of Breaker's blood baptized them anew.

Josh sat in the clearing and meditated on lives long past, and on the life he had yet to live among the gods of Althanas. He had touched the Red Forest and let it flow through his veins, and he had healed this one small clearing. Never again would this patch of Fealotë steal the souls of the unwary... instead they would lift the spirits of any who came close enough.

"Here," Breaker declared, "is where the Fealotë bare their souls to the sky." He looked up through the hole in the crimson canopy and realized that the reddish glow was not only from the trees. Night would soon fall over Lindequalme. He decided to stay until the stars forgot their shyness... to see his Suravani.

Coming back here was like reliving a dream.

Once upon a time - once upon twice, Philomel had strode through these red, red woods, her hooves leaving imprints on the cursed soil. Once had been to restore the earth spirits deserved name in the history books, the other had been to aid the quest to rid this place of the Forgotten One Podë. Now, they said, it had been completed, that her essence had gone from these parts, yet the faun-lady of many trades could not believe that. The trees were still hungry, the bark still as rust-hued as dried blood, the atmosphere still as uncertain.

It was reliving a dream - rather, a nightmare - you had never wished you had had, but being forced to face it finally. Though the rumours spoke of new life and peace, the reality was something other. What had persisted for centuries could not be undone in a single moment of slaying. Pode's curse lived on in the roots, the beasts and the leaves here, only fading with the ability of time.

"Holy mother, protect me," Philomel whispered as she led her beast of burden deeper into the wood. Behind her, finally having joined her after the beginning of all this quest, strode her ever-loyal companion of heart and mind, Veridian. He padded on silent white paws, brush tail whipping back and forth against the foliage.

Drys does protect us, the fox-formed spirit said in reply. She always will.

Philomel titled her head back to gaze at the golden eyes. "I wish you had started back with me in Corone, my darling," she murmured, "but at least you are here now, and that is some comfort."

Veridian looked back at her solidly for a moment, before looking down to skip over a speckled grey rock. I am here now, let that be your comfort.

Rolling her eyes a little, at least in that moment comforted by his familiar stormy attitude, Philomel looked back to concentrate ahead. Her tera'k tossed his head as, distracted, she almost walked him into a tree.

"Oh shit," she said loudly, "sorry dear."

Still the tera'k roared in angst and irritation, nudging her side with his buffalo-like horn. Philomel laughed softly, knowing full well her guilt, yet amused by the entire situation. It had brought her out of her unease completely, and now she found the energy and want to full on cuddle the beast, the one who had carried her so far.

We should find somewhere to camp, Veridian said suddenly. The announcement caused Philomel to look up. True enough, the stars were beginning to shine out, the dusky sky settling to nothing. The sun had already gone, and it was only the faun's external, supernatural senses that had thus far kept her going. These days, because of her affinity with the earth and the ability to see through it, she barely noticed the light difference.

"Ah yes, of course," she nodded. "We should go. I think I detect a clearing somewhere."

She threw her attention into the earth, and over in the distance a good hundred metres away. True enough there was a clearing, a space in the woods, and a strange feeling - as if ... well. As if there at least the Forgotten's Ones old power had actually begun to make a disappearance.

Philomel started to head there, a sense of familiarity and purpose coming over her. She could swear as she and Veridian and her dear beast of burden set that way to settle for the night, that she could hear words on the wind. And they were in the voice of her great goddess Drys.

"Trust the Breaker," they said, "trust the one whom you are about to meet."

Breaker moved from one deep stretch to another as the sun set and the stars peeked through growing darkness. His body remained loose and limber and his mind at ease. His charmed Fealotë patch kept his heart warmer than the heat of a good fire, even though his skin felt the night's chill.

Creatures coughed and roared from the fronds of nearby vegetation but none dared approach. A spiny vine descended from a nearby canopy of razor leaves and swayed - despite the lack of wind - towards him.

Without abandoning his seated saddle stretch Josh froze it with flicker of magic, leaving a long arcing icicle decorating the clearing. He sat up and looked to the sky.

She appeared in a pale blush as the sky turned from azure to black. Suravani shone down on Raiaeara just as strongly as she did in Fallien.

You do well, lover. She said in a code of dancing moonbeams.

"You do good, goddess." Breaker murmured. "I have found the place you spoke of."

So they've bared their souls? The moon laughed in her light.

"They bared all for the Breaker," Josh chuckled in response. He could feel the moon's radiance caress the Y-shaped scars on his cheeks, "as you did, so you knew they would."

I suspected, Suravani said, but do not make light of my tests, champion. Now hist... clouds swept over the moon suddenly, but Breaker saw one word before her light vanished completely.

Drys.

Knowing the Raiearan goddess' agent must be near, Breaker stood and became one with the forest. As a master of the Dajas Pagoda he'd invited contestants to challenge him on a jungle-covered island, and he'd moved this way then. In Corone's civil war he'd flitted through Concordia like a shadow in search of the Empire's assassins. And in Dheathain's deep, dark forest he'd battled a small army of Drakari and emerged unscathed. Breaker had a way with the woods which not even Lindequalmë could disrupt. Without so much as stepping on a dead leaf he sneaked through the foliage in a quick-march grid search. Eventually the sounds of a large beast of burden reached his ears.

Josh paused. The animal did not sound native to this place... nor did it sound alone. He crept nearer and heard a female voice, and then abandoned all stealth and stepped out from cover in front of the faun and her companions.

“Hello, daughter of Drys.” He said in a warm, even tone. “My name is Joshua Cronen... but you may call me Breaker.”

Philomel's rose lips parted. She stared at the man before her, with deep hazel eyes, dressed in the usual garnments of a travelling man, bold and able to defend himself until the last breath left his mouth. A gentle wind picked up around the space between them, fluttering through the foliage and darting towards her, so the stray violet hairs at the front of her temples waved lazily. Still, however, she stared at the man, eyes narrowing slightly as she began to assess him.

Muscles. A strong jaw. Scars - the usual signs of an adventurist and warrior - peeked at the edges of his shirt and on his cheeks. There was a single dagger hilt poking out of his belt, but it was possible others were hidden. He looked with a slight smile, and it uneased Philomel slightly, for it was clear by the look of this individual that he could likely put up a good strong fight. The smile could be something malicious, hidden and deceptive, reeling her into a false sense of security before destroying all she held dear.

Yet. Yet - he hailed himself as, "Breaker." As the one name Drys' voice had just given her on the wind, and indeed he had just spoken the name of her beloved goddess. The great tree mother had told Philomel to trust this man. This was someone the faun-whore ought to respect.

Beside her Veridian crept forwards, his golden eyes glinting as he came from the shadows to fix Breaker with the same look. He took one glance at that handsome face, then sat back and gave his decision with a nod.

He is the one, he said.

Philomel took a quick breath in and stepped fowards, away from the tera'k who was now nosing some leaves, and from her precious companion. Beneath the soil she felt the presence of Delath the great earth beast snaking his way towards them. But she told him to bide his time for now, knowing he was likely not to be needed. SHe thrust a hand forwards, her expression remaining the same determined one, other palm resting on the hilt of one of her many daggers. Daggers, sword over her shoulder, Lover at her back, the crop Temptress at her other hip ...

"Call me Philomel," she told him. "Its what most call me. The Great Tree Mother told us to meet you here." She took a pause, then asked the question that had been loitering in her mind, the one she had somehow figured out. "You know of Drys?"

The man's smile seemed to grow, but it might have been a trick of the light playing on his facial scars.

"I know of Survani," he said in the same warm voice.

Philomel took a moment to think, then nodded. Survani was a desert goddess, a minor one also by all accounts, but on equal standing to Drys. Legend said she was also a creator of beings, and had a holy place somewhere in Fallien. Sand was her soil, oases were her clearings.

He shook her hand, solidly and briefly.

"This is Veridian, my companion," she gestured to the fox-form earth spirit beside her, "he is an earth spirit, a true child of my goddess. The lumbering thing there is my tera'k and beneath us rolls Delath."

"I am honored to meet you all," Josh said, bowing to the faun and her companions. His eyes twinkled in the moonlight. "I know of Drys. Suravani told me a tale from Althanas' earliest years, when the Gods were still fickle and young." He chuckled at the idea that the gods were no longer fickle, and beckoned for Philomel to follow as he returned to the Fealotë patch. "When Suravani brushed her hair with a sandstone comb by the light of the moon, Creator called her the most beautiful of his children." Josh turned and held his palms at chest height, facing one another.

Water sprang forth from the very air they breathed and took the shape of a beautiful woman, no larger than the hands that formed her. The moonlight made the liquid figure sparkle like diamonds.

"Am'aleh the ocean deity rose up in jealousy and cut several locks from the desert goddess' head with a salted knife of ice."

The woman of water vanished, leaving only her hair which floated and shimmered in the moonlight like a friendly ghost.

"The two nearly came to blows in a battle which might have ended the world, but then Drys came between them. She spoke of their sisterhood, of the many trials they would face in eons to come. In the end all three parted as allies, and Suravani gave Drys the severed locks in thanks."

Josh spread his hands and the ghost of Suravani's hair floated to the ground like a leaf on the breeze, settling amidst the roots of the soul blossoms and soaking into the soil.

"Drys planted her sister's hair, and from there grew the roots of the first trees. And life on Althanas continued as it has and will." Cronen's smile grew until it stretched the corners of his mouth and showed his pearly teeth, "or so the fable says."

Breaker knelt and plucked a soul blossom from the patch he had drained of wickedness. Its rich blue leaves and elegant purple stigma shone in Suravani's silver light, as if celebrating their separation from the rest of the forest. He offered the flower to Philomel with eyebrows raised, wondering if she would trust him enough to take it.

"The poison has departed from these, daughter of Drys," he said, "tell me what you know of Suravani. The night will be long, and we'd be wisest not to travel forth until morning."

Philomel turned from the vision of glorious beauty and her eyes flickered up to meet those of the ageless human. Pausing for a moment her lips made an oval before they settled into a soft smile.

He had immediately gotten onto the good side of the faun-whore. Complimenting her goddess was akin to bedding the fiery matriach without so much as an introduction.

"What I know of Suravani," she said softly, "is little. I know only what Drys has told me."

She lifted up a hand and swept away a stray loop of hair behind her ear. "I know she is a goddess of the desert realm Fallien, a place I and my ladies, my Lilies, have never set foot upon. She is a moon goddess, the main one of the people of the desert land and ... what, she has a being incarnate."

For a moment she considered, then laughed gorgeously to the man before her.

"I like the style of your goddess, the sister of mine. Her world is that of strong female leaders, and bold and wise words, much of that of Drys. Drys has told me of times when she and Suravani, in the young days of the earth, ran and played in the snows of the north and the sands of the south."

Taking a moment from the conversation she turned, and reached up to pull a rolled pack from the back of her softly grazing tera'k.

"I agree we should wait until morning. A good prayer or two would not help. And Veridian could do with some rest," she nodded to the fox-form creature, who had been sitting there the whole conversation, swishing his long tail and waiting for a chance to be noticed. When he was mentioned he aimed a swide, sharp-toothed grin at the two-legged (in comparison to two-hooved).

He looked up to Philomel.

Tell him I like his words and his jacket, he told her, and that any friend of Drys' is a friend of mine.

Philomel rolled her eyes a little and muttered quickly to him, "you embarress me."

Veridian chattered a foxy laughter.

She sighed and looked back to Breaker. "He likes you."

Breaker extended a callused hand for the fox to sniff, but made no attempt to pet the familiar. He found that such creatures often retained a measure of wildness, especially towards people they were not bonded to. He did pat the ter'ak on its broad back, admiring the beast's build.

"I've never seen one of these before," he commented, a mote of surprise in his voice.

The company of Philomel and her companions felt like it brought the attention of Drys. The dangers of the forest faded to the back of Breaker's mind and at last he let his guard down, if only for a few hours. Memories of everything Suravani had said sifted through his mind. He sat in the soul blossom patch near where Philomel prepared her bedroll. The trees listened closely. The moon watched with deep interest.

"You must tell me of our mission, lyre bearer." Josh suggested. "Suravani told me only of you, and asked that I assist you as necessary. I know not of the perils we may face, past my knowledge of the Lindequalmë. If we mean to venture deeper into the forest, I may suggest- what is that?" He shook his right arm out violently and stared. The reddish moss that rubbed off on his jacket earlier had burned through the sleeve and scorched his forearm. Cronen tore the garment off, pulled the black diamond dagger from his boot and sheered the sleeve off. He tossed it in one direction and the jacket in the other and sheathed his weapon.

"Of course," he said as a faint blush crept into his cheeks, "fire moss. I was about to suggest armor. I could make you a cloak as strong as steel but as light as silk," while he spoke Josh crafted a poultice of ice around the wound on his arm, cooling the burned patch of skin. "Something to protect you from dangers such as these," he gestured at the still smouldering sleeve and shook his head at his own foolishness. He would need to be more careful going forward, to keep the lyre bearer safe.

Despite the nighttime chill Josh felt warm in his lightweight sifan pants and short-sleeved laceup shirt. He placed his palms on the ground and breathed deeply, aware of his surroundings yet somehow also oblivious. He trusted Drys to protect them, at least on this first night. He needed a chance to know the goddess' agent better, and to learn what she knew of their quest.

Her head tilted to the side as she began to settle down for the night. Watching him was an intrigue, and indeed a blessing almost. The man had a way of moving, acting and speaking that seemed to draw her in, enabling her to trust him. It did not help, naturally, that he was called upon by a goddess almost as great as Drys, and therefore automatically held a high regard in Philomel's mind.

Lips pursing as she listened to him speaking she set down her bed roll, pulling a single cord. It unravelled like a spirited flag, aiming to catch the breeze and declare territory to all inhabitants. Promptly, without looking, she sat and Veridian took up a curled position beside her.

"The moss is not something I particularly care for," she said with a small amount of distaste in her voice, "but I would appreciate any clothing you wish to present me with."

Veridian flicked his tail and yawned a little. Philomel took a moment to pause.

"But we should talk of our mission I think. My sources tell me that the lyre we seek must be obtained before enemy forces come and take it. And the lyre itself lies deep in this forest, and many perilous adventures await us within." She scraped back a stray hair dangling in front of her face.

"I presume you are a fighter, master Breaker. Or a sorceror of some kind?"

The tera'k behind her huffed and decided the conversation was boring - or some similar, perhaps simpler, thought. Turning on hoof he twisted to begin lumbering off in search of sweet grasses and good grazing.

Philomel looked over her shoulder at the sound of the lumbering beast taking a-hoof. Laughing gently, she continued her speaking without allowing Joshua time to answer her question.

"Never mind him," she said, "we will find him come morning."

Josh sat cross-legged with his back straight and hands clasped loosely around his ankles, enjoying Philomel's presence as much as the night breeze. Her movements showed a practiced grace, from the way she unrolled her bedroll to the pensive purse of her lips. She smelled like only a beautiful woman could smell, and her soft actions told Breaker that she was schooled in the art of seduction. Under any other circumstance he would have allowed the natural attraction to draw him to her, but they had many things to attend to, and his own carnal appetite did not make the list.

"I am a fighter," he said after the faun finished speaking, and the words reminded him of the first time he met Suravani. He smiled, dimpling the Y-shaped scars on his cheeks. "And a lover, and a seeker of adventure." He had said the same thing to Suravani when first she graced him with her presence. It seemed appropriate to explain himself to this daughter of Drys in the same manner. His smile broadened as he stood swiftly and strode a few paces away, to stand in the center of the soul blossom patch. "And I have been called a sorcerer by some I faced in combat." He raised both hands in a wide arc and brought them together in front of his chest, palms pressed in prayer. "The Eternal Tap flows through me, as it does all things, and I have learned to harness its power."

Breaker splayed his palms suddenly, and water rose from his bare hands as if bidden from two natural springs. The twin streams criss-crossed and entwined like wrestling serpents, catching rays of moonlight and making the entire meadow glow. Breaker plucked soul blossoms from where they grew and introduced the blue-purple flowers into the writhing waters. The blossoms blended with the water, becoming one with the liquid and coloring it a deep violet. Contained within the petals, Drys' love lent strength and wisdom to the water. Suravani's light lent grace and power as it too was imbued in the liquid. Lastly Josh poured in a measure of his own brand of magic, and then one droplet at a time, the writhing water froze.

The water became molten ice, and shaped slowly into the form of a hooded cloak, suspended in the air. Josh reached out and grasped it with both hands. It was warm to touch, made so by Drys' love. It was light as silk, made so by Suravani's brilliance. It was strong as steel, made so by Breaker's might. And yet it fluttered in the wind like any fabric, as soft and fragrant as the Fealotë blended within. Josh folded the cloak neatly and plucked a final soul blossom from the patch, and then strode back to Philomel and sat facing the faun.

"This will keep you warmer than wool," he said, presenting the folded cloak, "as safe as a suit of steel armor, and yet as mobile as if it were silk." He reached out and tucked the final soul blossom behind a strand of Philomel's violet hair. Its dyed color matched the cloak well. "And all without compromising your beauty," Breaker remarked. He stroked his stubbled chin with callused fingers.

"It is a small thing, to protect you against the perils we are sure to face," Josh said, and flexed his powerful hands. "But that, so Suravani says, is my part in Drys' plan."

Philomel felt a slight amount of chagrin rise when the suave man, with the grace of a nobleman and the presence that could only be described as 'gentlemanly,' gifted her with the succulent flower. Eyelashes immediately fluttered, but not in a flirtacious way, more confused than anything - stunned. Her lips parted to say something, but no sound emerged as she tried to understand what she had just felt.

Flattered. Was that really it? She honestly felt flattered. Rarely before had she ever felt such an emotion as this. Curious and sweet, the sense of laudation was different from being admired or simply praised. There was a certain beauty and romance attached to it, all enhanced by the courteous nature of this singular man.

Her eyes glanced down to the soft fabric before her, trying to rid herself of the rose-tinted blush before it let her duty escape her. After all, she was here as a represenative of her goddess, and admiration was all good but it could not distract her or allow her to drop her guard. After all, this was the Red Forest, and in here spirits still raged like demons of old. Slowly taking in her breath she allowed herself the time to run a hand over the folded material before her, and calm the emotions that were quickly morphing into embarressment.

Fast, she swallowed, and her hand gripped the cloak as she forced her eyes back up, that moment of bashfulness dying away. Incling her head she instilled authority and strength back into her form and smiled simply at the man, once more cross legged before her.

"I thank you for this gift, Breaker of Survani," she conveyed in a capable tone. "It is one of beauty, and it is formed maginificently."

Carefully she unwrapped the cloak from its folds her on her lap and stood in with effortless ease. She swung the cloak around her back and over her shoulders, allowing time for it to fall to the ground. Perfect in size it brushed the top of her pasterns and shimmered with a glorious essence that reminded her somehow of the majesty of Drys. It was clear to her that it was the nature of the area around them, as well as the very flowers they pressed hoof and foot upon that made it so. She watched also the pool of water dying away, merging back with the soil and it came to her mind that Survani was more than a desert diety, but rather also a lifebringer in soul. Where Drys had fruits, she had oases as her gift to the world, and where Drys had roots she had the channels of water running through the Fallien wilderness. This was a gift, but no ordinary gift - it was the merging of two natures, two goddesses, two civilisations.

Slowly, once more with a fast beating heart and feeling the flattery rice again Philomel sat, this time not able to contain the tints of red to her face, the small gatherings of tears in the corners of her eyes. She nodded once more to Breaker and thanked him with a quiet voice.

"We should rest now, though" she said, "come morning we need to leave as dawn breaks and set as far as we can west. The lyre must be found before it falls into enemy hands. Until then," she fixed him with a steady but indebted-converying gaze, "I will thank you again."

"Let us rest then, daughter of Drys." Breaker said. "It is but a small thing," he assured her, ruffling the fringe of her new cloak, "consider it a gift from our goddesses, to safeguard the lyre-bearer." It did not occur to him to tell Philomel that he required little in the way of rest. Instead he lay down on the soft ground and looked up at the moonbeams filtering through the trees. Even with Suravani's brilliance in full bloom, he found the image of Philomel's blushing face lingering in his mind. She had turned positively scarlet when he presented the cloak and tucked that final soul blossom behind her ear. Her eyes had glistened like twin pools in the moonlight.

If I am not careful, Breaker thought, I may find myself entranced by this faun.

Shall I be jealous? The moon twinkled, and Suravani's musical laugh echoed in Josh's mind.

Can love between two mortals ever serve to make a deity envious? Breaker wondered. Only the wind in the trees answered the frivolous question. Once again clouds passed over the moon, and the demigod found himself alone with the sound of Philomel's slumber.

Perhaps I should sleep as well, Breaker thought, if not out of need then to pass the time. A small part of him, the part that always felt lonely around other mortals, longed to waken the faun and regale her with stories of his adventures. And to hear her tales as well. There may be time for that, much later, he thought, for now it is my duty to guard her, and her duty to rest so that she will be ready for tomorrow's journey.

Breaker lay still on his back and listened to the leaves quaking in the trees, to the branches banging against one another in broken rhythm. To the swish of long grass and bushes, and the far-off howl of hunting Dur'Taigen. Drys seemed to speak to him in those sounds, lulling him to sleep. Rest now, warrior, he swore he heard her say, for the perils ahead will leave you not a moment to close your eyes. Breaker's broad chest rose and fell as his breathing became deep and regular. The breeze quieted, and the clouds covering the moon thickened. The demigod's eyelids drooped shut, and he fell asleep to the rhythmic sounds of the faun slumbering nearby.

Soundly slept she, wrapped in the arms of Drys. She fell resting to the soft music of the wind playing in the leaves above, and to the great rolling presence beneath the earth of the earth-dragon Delath, the wyrm of soil and rock whom had been gifted to her by her goddess.

Some time in the night the creeping hunter Veridian returned from where he had gone, unnoticed, by the two bipedals, complete with hare between his teeth. He settled by the hooves of his sleeping beloved, and began to gorge on the meat he had caught. Golden eyes glinted in the firelight, catching those of the awake Breaker and he paused for a moment before raising his muzzle and giving the warrior a bloody, toothy grin.

Then he went back to his bone-snapping and devouring of the large rodent creature. Blood was splattered across the grasses, and if someone had been looking carefully they would have seen the blood slowly draining into the dirt, and in its place a small green blade shoot out and take over the place. Just a single piece of grass, but it was enough to toll a warning. A warning that despite the death of the Forgotten One here that spirits still flew and dark things still occurred, that poisons still were rife and evil still stirred in certain hearts. Beasts still roamed and death still reigned.

The morning slowly came and with that the fox, who had curled up with Philomel under the cloak, and the faun herself began to arise. She blinked in the light and looked over to the other two-legged. A soft smile came to her lips and she felt the same feeling that she had before - a tenderness and a flattery. Her hand ran over the fabric of her cloak, that which he had made as the sun's rays lit up their little camp, and life was coming back.

There was a lyre to get, but for the first time in this adventure she felt positive that it was possible, and maybe ... maybe ... she would enjoy it.

Carefully she got up, letting the cloak fall around her. As she did Veridian got up himself and smiled up at her and she leant to brush his fluff. He chattered to her as she yawned, forced herself with energy and began to roll up her bed. It was time to start, it was time to do things, and this was merely the beginning.

As fingerling rays of red-gold sunlight permeated the trees Breaker rose to his feet and yawned. He'd had a surprisingly dreamless sleep, for ordinarily his slumber showed him omens or messages from his goddesses. He flexed his shoulders and stretched his arms, sternum popping like a hollow oak. He raised his hands, palms uplifted, and summoned water and air to scour the dust and dirt from his clothing and hair. Within a moment his black shirt and breeches looked clean and pressed, his boots shone as if freshly buffed, and his close-cropped hair appeared freshly washed, neatly framing his scarred face. He bent forward to stretch the muscles in his back and legs and checked his dagger in its boot-sheathe. Everything seemed ready for the start of a great adventure.

"This way," Josh said with a knowing smile and a gesture. Together he and Philomel followed a trail of bruised and flattened foliage until they came across the tera'k where it grazed contentedly on some long grass. With the lyre bearer in the saddle once more, Josh led them west, away from the rising sun, deeper into the great forest. The fox Veridian scampered about his feet at times, popping in and out of the foliage like a ghost.

The dangers of Lindequalmë loomed all around them, and yet Breaker had little trouble leading the strange group safely. They detoured around a crimson tree that hung thick with bloodvines, and squeezed through a maze of boulders lined with fire moss. They trekked past nests of deadly serpents and avoided packs of Dur'Taigen disguised as harmless trees.

Breaker fell into such a rhythm of scanning his surroundings for trouble that he failed to notice a foul stench as they entered an unnatural clearing. He soon spotted the piles of bones though, belonging to everything from small rodents to wolves, and a few haunting human-looking skeletons partially petrified in the loam.

The clearing, it became apparent, was just a place where some giant had lain in some slumber. The flattened area, perhaps fifteen feet in length, was pockmarked with holes left by long vicious spikes, and surrounded by the bones of the giant's victims. A large red oak nearby bore brown tufts of fur and scratch marks where the great beast rubbed its back.

"Be very silent," Josh whispered, lifting a hand, hazel eyes scanning their immediate surroundings, "and move with care, lyre-bearer." Adrenaline spiked in his bloodstream. "It seems we have stumbled into the territory of a Maul."

Breath was captured in her chest for a moment as she stared at the companion adventurer. Her hand was around the reigns attached to her tera'k's horns and head, leading him on the ground. Upon the beast of burden's back was her bed roll, collected and tied tightly, but it did not seem to encumber him. For as she stopped fully to freeze in her stance he continued at a steady lumbering, until he got to the end of the tether.

He moaned, a quiet low, but she did not listen. Instead her lips formed a circle as her arm extended out, following the reigns. Yet, she remained as firm as she was, stuck there in shock.

"A maul..." she whispered.

Of course she had heard of them. In rumour. Great, lumbering creatures who had four arms and were close to apes in stature and build. Their backs, it was told, were covered in wicked spines of possibly posionous type. They were dim witted and had a rage within that was like a fire. A fire that spread fast and vicious, taking up the forest around it in a rapid burn.

"We should definitely leave," she nodded, quietly swinging out her sword.

It might be no use here, but at least it was a protection, for now, as she tugged her tera'k away. He groaned more, in protest, sending a noise shaking through the leaves, much more than she would have liked. She cursed under her breath and began to pull harder on the reigns, muttering how obstinate he was, and he began to object louder, as if telling her, no not that way, what is this? First you stop and now you want me to-

Suddenly. Somewhere. A terrifying roar of barbarious attitude. The very blood froze in Philomel's veins and she found herself beginning to shake. It had taken a lot to already get her out of the staring stupor when she had first heard the word 'maul,' but now the reality was hitting her. She began to see the signs - the scratched-up bark, the blooded grass, the fur caught high in the branches where no one could ever climb. Swallowing her breath she breathed in harder and used more strength than she dared to confess she had and fought over the tera'k who was now the one frozen still. In fear, like the prey animal he was.

"Now is not the time to play dead!" she screamed at the beast.

She flung the reigns up and over his head and ran around to begin scrambling onto his back. In her mind she delved down, and found Veridian, where he was sniffing about foliage. His ears were up, though, now, listening to the roar that shook through mother nature and was ... well gaining was the only right word.

We need to leave, she told him as she heartlessly kicked her tera'k into movement. He bellowed in terror, but followed her direction that pointed out of the way of the forest, away from the maul's screams.

Veridian nodded and turned tail, notifying her with his movements that he was to leave. Anxiously she looked back to Breaker and angled the tera'k's path towards him, and she held out her arm, for him to hold and then fling himself up behind her onto the bovine's mighty back.

"Come," she said, "let's get out of here."

Breaker reached up and clapped a hand to Philomel's wrist. Their fingers snared each others' forearms and he harnessed the tera'k's momentum to leap up behind her on its broad back. The terrified animal galloped beneath its burden, lowing like an Alerian foghorn as it wove between trees and boulders.

The very ground shook with the maul's pursuit, its great feet thrashing the earth repeatedly. Its roar shook the leaves in trees that parted like grass before its careening run. Despite the tera'k's best efforts the maul seemed to gain ground with each mighty step. Philomel worked the reigns with one hand, the other wielding her sword to chop away bloodvines that dangled across their path. The space between raging Maul and panicked tera'k shrank as the chase wore on.

Breaker released his light grip on Philomel's waist and lifted his weight on his hands, spinning around so he sat astride the tera'k facing backwards. The maul ran in their wake, its four arms flailing in rage, its four jaws dripping putrid saliva. Above the hooked mandibles glared angry bloodshot eyes, eyes that saw only invaders of its territory. Edible invaders.

Josh knew he needed to lighten the tera'k's load for Philomel to escape. He lifted a hand with fingers splayed and froze a thick beam of ice between two wide tree trunks. The maul smashed through the beam, not quite tripping but stumbling enough that its race became a headlong drive. Josh lifted himself on his hands again and crouched on the beast of burden's back. For a moment he watched the maul's stumbling run, calculating distance and speed and time.

Breaker leaped straight up, flipping forcefully while he twisted around in midair. He hung upside down, facing the careening giant, and his left leg lashed out. At the last moment before impact he activated an enchantment in his boot which became heavier by a hundred pounds. And then the solid metal shoe impacted the maul's skull, right between its bloodshot eyes.

The maul's momentum carried it forward and it crashed into the soaring demigod, bearing him to the ground in a massive whump of displaced earth and plant life.

Josh rolled away swiftly, his hip aching from the impact, and found his feet amidst the loam.

The maul lay several yards away, unmoving. Blood seeped from its cracked skull, the thick furry skin broken at the site.

Breaker had felled the beast with a single blow.

Blinded by intense fear the tera'k kept pounding his hooves onto the earth. Philomel clung to him, grinding her teeth as she switched between watching in front of her and trying to angle around to watch the fight occurring. The battle lasted naught but a few seconds, however those seemed like an age as the intensity rose. As soon as Breaker had departed from behind her she hissed darkly, but knowing it was for her own good. Veridian himself was barely holding on, claws dug in to the leather saddle. With numerous soft roars he kept yowling something between anger and pity for all that was going on. Clearly the fox did not care much for being tossed around.

Then, the noise stopped. Somehow, the tension lasted so few moments, and they had only gone a few hundred feet. It was enough for the faun to look properly around and spy that the great dark doom-beast was felled, right down onto the ground. Breaker himself was standing, or rather oddly crouching as he supported himself on a local branch to catch his breath. So little time, and such a great monstrosity ... never had she seen such a speedy death for a beast so beautiful as the maul.

However, her tera'k was still doing what prey animals did best in the time of fear - run, and keep running, no matter what. The speed and might of the creature served her well in travel, but not so much when it was time to stop and heal. To no avail did she try to pull on his reigns to slow him. Instinct roared through his veins, causing him to keep charging.

Probably until he was several miles away at least.

"Stupid animal," she cursed under her breath as she tried, for one last time to tug on the reigns, to stop or turn him. But it was to no avail. He was as stubborn as she was. Still her beast of burden fled.

Thus she did the only sensible thing - knowing he would just continue until they were away, far away from here and leaving Breaker too far behind. Focusing on her energy she picked up her fist, bringing in the mightiest of strength that she could muster - five times, some said, more than the average fighter - and slammed it into the apex of his neck. Just where the central nerve was, just enough to send him reeling, and then down.

He took a few steps to slow, and to suffer, and to fall. Without warning Veridian of what she was doing she underwent various moans such as, Why did you not tell - arrghghhh! as the tera'k collapsed beneath them. He was still alive, and perfectly well, but his steadiness went, his conciousness vanished and he descended to the ground under the influence of her hit.

Stay with him, Philomel told her beloved fox companion as she rather neatly and gracefully landed to the side, slipping off just in time to the music of the falling, dozed tera'k. Golden eyes just glared at her.

Giving him a sweet smile, then blowing him a kiss she twisted in the air, and the earth very naturally opened up beneath her. A portal shook into existence, whisking her from there and then away. Back she went a good few feet - or rather many few feet to be close to where Breaker was.

As if it was all part of natural circumstance the faun stepped out from the new earth opening, and strode towards the Maul-slayer. She kept the smile on her face.

"Well done, Mr Breaker," she said with a smirk, "I see that we will get on very well."

Breaker crouched at the maul's side, paying his respects to the fallen monster. He rose as Philomel approached, having sensed the arcane earth shift that brought her near. It seemed the lyre bearer boasted hidden talents. Josh smiled at the beautiful faun, dimpling the scars on his cheeks. A soft breeze played in her purple hair. The forest seemed so silent with the maul's fury gone.

"I had hoped we would," Breaker replied, his hazel eyes meeting her grey ones, "after all, we must work well together, in sight of our goddesses." He leaned down and plucked a handful of dirt, letting the coarse earth cascade between callused fingers to remind him of Suravani's touch. The sensation grounded him in their purpose, and he gestured in the direction of the tera'k's obvious tracks. "We should return to your friends before we attract more attention."

Side by side they followed the tera'k trail, pursuing bruised foliage and battered turf. For all that it had torn up the ground, the beast of burden left barely a sign when compared to the thundering maul.

"The trees are grateful," Philomel said with a sly smile, "for you stopped the giant from felling even more of them in its wrath."

"You can speak to the trees?" Josh wondered. He supposed he should not be too surprised. The faun seemed particularly attuned to the earth, but then, the chance she was having a laugh at his expense lingered.

"They speak to me, mostly," she teased, extending an elegant hand to point at a gently swaying red oak, "see how they dance? They are pleased by your presence."

"As am I by yours, lyre-bearer," Josh said quietly. He thought he glimpsed a dim blush on the faun's neck beneath her purple plait. "Though this forest is filled with dangers, it seems that together we make light of them." The deep violet cloak he had made for her shimmered in the wind, reminding him of the way the soul blossom had looked perched in her hair. The breeze rattled the leaves in the trees, and they seemed to laugh at him. Perhaps they conspired with Philomel.

The faun and the demigod arrived at the downed tera'k's side. Its flanks heaved mightily with slumbering breath, and the fox Veridian crouched at its side. Sunlight cascading through the latticework of tree branches cast irregular patterns over them all, and somewhere distant a Dur'Taigen pack howled.

"It appears your beast has fallen asleep on the job," Josh observed with a twinkle in his hazel eyes.

"He was overstimulated," Philomel said, brandishing a fist, "I put him to bed for the moment."

Josh chuckled and shook his head. She boasted many hidden talents indeed.

"Well," Philomel said after his harmless moment of laughter. The sounds of his merry chortling still rung about her ears. Strangely, it was a pleasant sound, and neother mocking nor irritating. In fact she seemed to grasp some hnour and pride out of the fact he found her funny - even though her egoism caused her not to comment on this fact, or even show it in her expression.

"Well," she repeated, a couple of seconds later, for the effect of not seeming easily impressed. "Shall we continue on our way?"

Breaker paused and looked rather pointedly at her unconcious beast of burden. Pursing her lips, Philomel had to confess he had a point, and so simply nodded, and sat right down where she was.

"We shall go when he wakes then?" she suggested, but really ordered. After all, her furry rear-end was already on the soft earth.

The maul-slayer inclined his head and agreed, taking his time to sit opposite her. It was done in a graceful way, and the faun could not help but be impressed by this god-favoured being. Certainly, he had the air of glory about him, a feeling of strength diginity. In her pleased heart she quietly contemplated him, his figure and demaneour, quite taken by him - but by no means taken aback. Rather, it was a joyous thrill to watch him - watch the bend of the knightly knee, the exquisite fold of the nimble hand. As her lips pursed and the faun lost herself in the measure of percieving him, Veridian chose the time to sidle up beside her.

Yes, he is very pretty, he muttered, somewhat in a sickened tone, into her head.

Softly, she blinked, and pushed away his pointed muzzle from where it gestured to her. Meanwhile did she never take her eyes off Breaker's seated form.

You can be quiet now, replied she, but in a high-strung, non-chalant tone.

Veridian snickered away. Brushing his tail against her knee he moved his head away from her, choosing instead to curl up near her hoof. In this position he was between her and the mighty horned head of the sleeping tera'k, purposeful to come to guard when the animal awoke. Likely to hefty bellows and copious thrashes.

~*~

Not too far to the north, hidden away in a chamber beneath the forest's darkness, there sat a man and a woman. Her face was half hidden in shadow, for the fabric of a cowl was thrown over it. He himself had little to hide his identity besides a mass of wild hair framing a strong-jawed face. Whilst she was thumbing the ridge of a maple elf-made bow, he dug the end of the shaft of a mattock into the ground. Across from each other they were positioned, between them nothing but a space of earth and small stones.

"So," said he in a very low, husky, but booming voice. "We are 'ere."

His accent, an urban backstreet one by the best of guesses, rolled into the gloom of the cave and tickled the curving, upwards entrance. A few mindless mites were sent scattering by the volume.

It caused the female archer to arch an eyebrow before she replied.

"Indeed we are," her voice was far more proper. Born and raised in a noble house it only made sense. "We finally meet."

"I am Feardon."

"And I am No-One," she quickly responded, the bright flashes beneath her hood that were eyes glaring at the man. "And that is what I am, and that is what you will know me as."

For a moment the man was tempted to burst into laughter, but something of the way she stared, and something of the way she fingered her bow and the nearness of her full quiver told her it would be a mistake. Pride placed aside, he inclined his head.

"Fine, then No-One ye'are, and no one ye shall be. 'Tis a pleasure to meet ye."

"And you too, I suppose," No-One raised her chin slightly, using her spare hand to scratch underneath it, eyes though never leaving him. "There is a lot I have been told, and a lot I am expecting."

Feardon smiled a small bit - or perhaps it was more of a smirk. His massive hands ran down the shaft of his mattock and hit the cold steel edge of the metal heads.

"Well it takes a lo' to be in service to a demon-god," he said in a sort of testingly idle way. At the sound of his frustratingly loud, irating tone No-one siezed, and it took more willpower for Feardon not to burst into laughter. Quickly, he continued his sentence to avoid her wrath. "... So I am guessin' you are rather expectan' of many people. Tell me, 'ave you ever worked with a professional barbarian before?"

"No, but I have killed your kind before," she said with no hesitation, "and I will do again, if you get in my way."

"But-" pointed out he, fast, before she could even begin to be tempted, "if ye do, then you will be alone in this. And the reports say there are two of them searchin' fer the lyre."

"The lyre which we will get to before," No-One said, her chin jutting up in pride. "Which we will take and track before they do."

"To use fer your god's purposes I suppose?"

Her head bobbed once, a decline and an incline to signify her acception of the question. "All for his purposes. As soon as my temple received word the whereabouts of Orphaeo's tomb has possibly been discovered, we knew we had to act. I was sent here, to work with you, my hired help, in order to get it before any others do."

"I am yer hired help am I?" Feardon raised a brow.

No-One pointed in a direct manner to the large, heavy pouch at his belt. The barbarian chortled somewhat, finally for a legitimate reason, as he cupped the clinking bag of coin with a hand.

"I guess I am," his grin spread across his magnificent, scarred face, "I guess I am then."

"We could pass the time with a game, if it would please you." Breaker waited awhile before speaking, for they had finally found a moment of peace amidst the journey's many perils. A breeze tousled his hair and danced in Philomel's longer locks. It swayed the long grasses and waved the dangling vines. The grasses did not try to grasp them, and the vines did not try to suck their blood. They just were. Breaker and Philomel sat together, and they were, as well.

"I am faun'd of games." Philomel said with a slow smile. "Usually. How does this one work?" She leaned forward, shale eyes examining him expectantly.

"It is called two lies and a truth," Josh explained, mirroring her movement like a panther perking its ears. "First I make three statements about myself; two of them must be false, and one of them must be true. It is up to you to decide which is which. If you can guess the true statement on your first try, you win. After that, our positions are reversed."

In the distance a bird gave a harsh cry, either dying or killing, and they both flinched toward it. He chuckled again, and after a moment she joined in his laughter. They shared a long look and then the faun placed her palms on her hips and straightened her spine.

"I like the sound of this game," she declared, "proceed."

Breaker grinned, and the dimples behind his Y-shaped scars caught the sun. "In Fallien, I rode between the wings of a griffin." His smile broadened. "In Dheathain, I rode between the wings of a dragon." His expression became somewhat somber. "In Salvar, I was arrested for being thick with ale." He held his hands out, palms splayed, and his smile returned. "What do you think, lyre-bearer?"

Philomel wrinkled her nose. "The dragons of Dheathain do not fly, to my knowledge," she said, "and you do not seem the type to overly imbibe. You have made this far too easy. Go again. Although I must ask, what is it like to ride a griffin?"

Breaker's dimples returned. "Like being a god," he chuckled, eyes glazing with the memory. "Very well. I did not realize you were so remarkably astute as well as magically gifted. I will go again." He took a deep breath and cast his mind back, and a cloud of sorrow passed over his face. "In Salvar, I slaughtered dozens of native warriors because of a misunderstanding." He waited a beat to allow the statement to sink in. "In Dheathain, I lost the love of my life to a mountain king." His eyes swam for a moment and then cleared. "In Fallien, I made a woman pregnant, and will soon return to her." He smiled again. Each statement appeared as true as the last.

The tera'k stirred and lowed softly.

Breaker raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to one side. "Shall we continue playing along the way?"

She pursed her lips as she thought, running her hands deep into the matted fur of her tera'k. The beast of burden, now calmed amid the absence of danger, lumbered beneath them as he carried them to their destination. For the current moment at least they were out amongst the cleaner area of the forest - a place that seemed to have been touched by the beginnings of the magical healings. After Pode had died it was said that certain parts of the woodland had begun to cling back to a more peaceful and natural existence. Here, birds sang high in the branchs, and the leaves of the trees were emerald green and saffron yellow. A soft breeze fluttered against their naked skin, and a silent satisfaction fell over the companions.

"I have never been to Dheathian," Philomel mused, having continued the game for some time now. The great continent had been mentioned several times, and she had begun to be impressed by the amount of travelling the demigod had done. "I have not had a reason to go at all."

Breaker smiled at her comment and kept looking ahead at their path. It was a clear one, for the trees did not grow thickly here, but rather sparsely. There was still enough of them for the landscape to be considered a 'forest,' yet few enough to see the gentle sun's rays softly encouraging life. "It is a place different to this one," he said, simply, but truthfully, "full of jungle, danger and new races."

She nodded slowly, "I have seen such strange creatures. New beings that legend only speaks of." She carefully brushed a hair from her face, and then laid down her hand again to cup around the form of Veridian. He curled up on the head of the saddle before both of them, chest rising and falling as he succumbed to a leisurely sleep. "Of course some would call Veridian and I mysterious and strange, but it is dependent where one comes from."

As if in response to her the tera'k suddenly let out a long, mellow low, huffing into the air. Philomel felt a smile come to her face and she breathed deliberately slowly to take in the cold, but refreshing air.

"Your company is well worth it, Breaker," she finally admitted, "and I thank you for it. The great Drys has been generous with gifting you to me as a companion."

~*~

"So ... the people comin' fer this ... thing are a man and a woman? A single man and a woman?"

Not for the first time No-One glared around at her 'hired help'. With a scarf pulled up around her mouth and nose and the rest of her head shadowed in a well-fitting cowl, her dark gaze was more intense. There was little hair or skin to be seen elsewhere on her body, and it caused him to feel slightly disturbed in the fact that he still did not know if she really was a 'she' ... or anything at all.

"Yes, now stop asking stupid questions."

"They're no' stupid if they give a needed answer," he shrugged. Pulling up his arm he hefted his mighty mattock and rested it against his shoulder. "And I needed tae know tha'."

"You needed to know what I had already told you?" she snapped in a cruel-barbed tone.

Undaunted by her, Feardon nodded, "Aye. Ye migh' have said 'a man and a woman' and mean' them with all their armies. Ye never know, do ye?"

"I said a man and a woman, and that is what I meant!" sharply, she turned back around, focusing her mind forwards.

Over the ground her feet trudged, wrapped in leather bindings and made her as silent as a hunting owl on wing. Feardon walked slightly behind her, larger by far in stature and size, but still feeling lesser. It was not common for him to feel so, despite the fact he lived as a professional barbarian for hire. Usually, in some way he could feel stronger - whether it was by strength, fighting ability or simple mass. Yet, with No-One there was an air of constant failure. There was something about her, by the way she talked, or acted, or was presented, that made him feel, in all ways, so very underwhelming.

"Are ye magic or somethin'?" Feardon spoke the thought that had awoken in his head.

No-One didn't stop. But neither did she cast her malicious stare. Instead, she kept walking, her pace exactly the same.

"Yes," she admitted, though she did not sound guilty. In fact she sounded proud. "I have magic from my god."

His eyebrows rose. He thought of her, and where she had come from - from the religious fantical culture of the demon-god Bark'al'tol. For those who had seen his hellish temple, and lived to tell the tale, there was everlasting prowess, but also darkness. He was a god of chaos, of horror and torture, worshipped by the angered few who thrived on such things. If No-One was a gifted one of Bark'al'tol it certainly meant for Feardon one thing - he should not cross her at any moment. It was said that his mage's could raise the dead, kill a man with a look, and fill your mind with false thoughts. Dire thoughts. Fearful thoughts.

"I see," he murmured quietly, and he looked away.

And for him that was that. The die was cast, the model set. For though he regarded himself as someone of power, of might and fear, he knew in that moment who led his expedition. And it was not because she had paid him.

"Suravani was equally wise in guiding me to your side," Breaker said. He did not deny himself the pleasure of being pressed against Philomel astride her tera'k. He could have kept pace easily afoot, but the faun seemed to welcome his close company. "I feel we may become connected beyond our hunt for the lyre." Josh had seen two birds hunting in the loam seize on the same worm, and took it as an omen of his future with Philomel.

Perhaps one day we will have a chance to share a cup of whisky.

The tera'k's broad back shifted beneath them as they rode, following an overgrown trail, but a trail nonetheless. Weeds and vines choked the dusty path, and the trees that bordered it reached toward the companions with branches that swayed in the breeze. The wind touched the natural green leaves, making them chatter at the strange trio traveling below. It combed through the long grass, making it hiss with pleasure.

"We must be drawing near," Philomel said as the path broadened, touching the hilt of her sword. Josh breathed deeply and allowed his great perception to venture ahead of them. He could smell danger on the wind, wafting through the earthy aromas of the forest. He could hear tiny animals skittering through the loam and larger beasts lurking at a distance. He could sense some form of magic being used... still far away, but drawing nearer with each of the tera'k's lumbering steps.

"I can sense some magic ahead," Breaker murmured, sliding out of the saddle to lope beside the beast of burden like a stalking panther, "I do not know if it comes from sorcerers, or from enchantments... only that it waits for us." As he moved Josh loosened his muscles, rolling his ankles and shoulders and twitching his hips. Hesitation did not touch his gait; only deadly anticipation.

Philomel's enchanted violet cloak streamed behind her as she heeled the tera'k slightly, increasing its pace. The cloak reminded Breaker of his purpose.

"I will defend you with my life, lyre-bearer." He said as they approached a bend in a path, "Hold there." He added, raising a hand. "It may be wise to leave your beast here," he said, gesturing at the nearby trees. "There may be more monsters ahead, or creatures even more terrifying. If the tera'k spooks again, we may not be able to control it, nor chase it down."

The faun considered for a moment, and then nodded. Her hooves thudded to the ground and she led the beast into a protected copse of trees. She returned to the path brushing hair behind her shoulders, her face a determined mask.

"From here," she declared, "we travel by hoof and boot." Veridian swirled about her ankles like wildfire, chattering his agreement.

Securing her sword in its sheath against her side, Philomel readied herself. Fists clenching and unclenching she breathed in as she looked around her. By her side Breaker stood, equal in prowess and in tension, and trusted beyond all measure.

Before them, admist the pale red and grey trees, was a low-lying building. Unimpressive at first glance, it had no place amongst the Red Forest, yet had harmlessly merged with the vegetation. Strong vines grew up its single-storey walls, then onto the tiled roof. Spare, ugly flowers burst into bloom at corners and on the verge, as if attempting to fill the world with joy, yet not quite having the personal enthusiasm to do so. The entrance was an arched, doorless gloom, and beyond that nobody could honestly know. Overall the building, nestled within the forest, had the doomed appearance of an aged tomb, a constructed barrow of terrifying delights, and were it not for the plain wording above the doorway that read, 'ORPHAEO,' Philomel would have guessed they were in the wrong place.

A flickering movement beyond, and the faun tugged Breaker deeper back amongst the cover of trees. The tomb was not so much built within a clearing as it had been shoved amongst the trees already there, and thus there were shadows aplenty around. It meant that the two warriors, plus their vulpine companion, could approach from a covered sighting.

Philomel crouched lower now, Veridian smoothly taking a place between her hooves. From the darkness of the area behind the tomb a shadow moved, lumbering slow. With baited breath she waited, Breaker close by, as the being, or beast, continued. Dim beneath the tree cover it was not certain who or what it could be. The form was somewhat difficult to make out, as if it was actually made from shadows itself, and so it took time beyond minutes as the companions waited.

Slowly ... finally, the form became real, stepping out from the gloom. And as it did, a lump formed in Philomel's throat, as ugly and as uncomfortable as a dead baby in a womb. Her body tensed, and very slowly she turned back to Breaker, catching his eyes with hers. Catching it, as another creature came, and then another with that. Three definite beasts that were horribly, horribly familiar. Beasts that skulked around the tomb entrance and roared with a low, dark rumble in the back of their throats.

Very slowly, she mouthed the word.

"Maul."

With as much unease as her own, Breaker nodded. Veridian slunk back against her, his tail between his legs. Silence fell between them all - stark, utter silence, that was eclipsed with a horror full of ages past. And it was not good. It was not light.

Nor was it delightful.

~*~

From the entrance of the tomb there was a ramp that began. It was a sharply descending, slightly twisting tunnel that led deep into the earth. Long was it, and lit by nothing but the natural light emanating from a trail of glowworms and fireflies grouping in their nests. Sometimes the flies would be spiralling in swarms, lighting the path in a brillance of glory, and other times there was no way of light save for a distant shimmer.

No-One, however, had other ways of illuminating their path. With her gloved hand outstretched before her she willed a small orb of white intensity. Floating above the heads of her and Feardon it provided the way with which to see by. Feardon noticed the individual rocks in the walls of the tunnel, and saw the few skulls littered about. He noticed the cobbles that made up the ground, placed their by whatever smiths had built the tomb in the first place, and also small written inscriptions on the walls. As they walked he picked out a few: "Take me home," "I am free," and, "life is an adventure."

Finally they descended into a flatter floor and the tunnel ended. Instead the space now expanded out into a huge, natural cavern. No-One's orb floated gently upwards at her command as she gave a flick of her wrist - and then it brightened up. Like a minature sun it pulsated gently, glowing more with each new beat. From where they stood a raised area extended out, a sort of natural stone dyke, surrounded by a sea of rocks. The platform drew away from the tunnel for a long thirty metres ahead - then it ended. And at its end there was a stone altar.

"We are here," No-One finally spoke out. "We are finally here."

Feardon looked over to her, his hands around the hilt of his mattock tightening. He breathed slowly in, eyes wandering around the collosal cave.

"We are," he said quietly.

Slowly, she turned around to him. Her singular eyes were glowing with a joy quite unlike any other, and beneath her mask she smiled, slowly.

"I will thank you, my companion, for coming here with me. You have been very helpful so far."

Feardon nodded slowly. He watched as her hand twisted, and the orb that lit their way twirled around.

"Yeah," he mumbled, "I wasn' too sure when ye summoned those Mauls from the fores', but I guess i' got you here."

Her eyes glinted, "it got us here, Feardon, and that is what important."

Confused at her sudden inclusion of his importance the barbarian paused, but nodded back, a small gesture in terms of it all. "Yeah, I guess. Us ..."

"Exactly," she nodded, now curling her hand into a light fist. The orb floated down, lower, making the light around them dim, and her appearance be lit by a more unearthly, uplit resonance. Feardon watched with cautious eyes. "Exactly." Underneath the mask, she slowly grinned. "Exactly. Us."

His eyes widened as he watched the fist suddenly tighten. Then close. The light shot out, straight at him, and it was the last thing he saw. It was the last thing he did. Feardon the barbarian fell, down, the orb becoming physical on contact and able to hit straight through him, outwards at the back. Blood splattered, the world went dark, leaving him to hear the last thing to his ears a dark, empty laugh.

The ground shook with the footfalls of the three mauls, and all the while Tap energy radiated from the tomb. Someone channeled powerful magic in there... someone else seeking the lyre. The calculation was a simple one; Josh and Philomel would need to separate in order to address both threats simultaneously.

"Some type of mage lurks within the temple," Josh whispered to Philomel, uncertain whether the faun could detect arcane signatures, "surely they seek the same as us. I will draw the giants away so that you may enter, lyre-bearer."

The matriarch stayed him momentarily with a hand on his shoulder, but then nodded. "Be steadfast," she said softly.

Breaker nodded and then wound through the trees which grew as densely as teeth on a comb. He stepped carefully, keeping his black boots away from dead leaves which would crackle and betray his presence. Dangling vines swayed in a breeze that slipped through his short brown hair, as if giving a tactile warning of the danger ahead. Breaker crept as near as he dared and then parted the broad leaves of a red fern to peer at the monsters.

The mauls stood in a rough triangle near the dark, gaping entrance to the tomb. Each stood taller and broader than the last one Breaker had slain, and each gripped a great warclub in their massive hands. The four mandibles of each of their mouths dripped putrid saliva, and their backs bristled with deadly spikes. They communicated in a dull, grunting language. It was odd to see three such creatures gathered together, for ordinarily they were highly territorial.

Whoever is within must have summoned these to guard the threshold. I will draw them away.

The demigod took a deep, steadying breath, and then stepped through the ferns into the open.

"Ahoy there, you too-many-jawed monsters! Fancy a ration of this?" He spread his arms wide.

For a moment, the dim-witted giants did not move. They exchanged labored glances, confused by Cronen's boldness. And then, almost as one, they hefted their studded warclubs and sauntered toward the intruder.

"You'll have to move faster than that!" Breaker crowed, and ran a neat loop around the mauls, forcing them to turn awkwardly, leading them away from Philomel. Their gait accelerated to a thundering run. If Josh thought the ground had shaken when the first maul gave chase, it positively quaked with three in his wake. The monsters tore directly through the trees and shrubberies which Breaker dodged around, gaining on the martial artist until he stopped in an open meadow and turned.

Got them away from the entrance. Now I must dispatch them and assist the lyre-bearer. It would be much more difficult this time. There were three mauls, and they were not moving at a headlong dash which Breaker could harness to crack their skulls. Where to find a weakness on such beasts? They were all cordlike muscle and leathery hide, and Breaker had only the dagger sheathed in his boot.

The mauls showed a surprising amount of acumen. They did not charge directly at their quarry. Instead they slowed and surrounded him in a series of long, loping strides. Their warclubs dragged in the dirt, tearing up earth like a trio of plows. Their eyes glared slow-witted anger, but somehow, a modicum of patience.

They waited until they had three distinct angles, and then hefted their clubs and with air-shattering roars, attacked.

Very slowly Philomel took in a breath. She watched as Breaker ran into the clearing, bellowing and cheering outloud to distract the mauls providing cover for the tomb's entrance. Just what forces had enchanted three of the most territorial beasts would be here was daunting as a simple thought, let alone a reality. Whatever, or whoever, had brought those things there was a high probability they were incredibly dangerous. And they were within the tomb. Right where Philomel was bidden to go.

Breathing in slowly she reached down and stroked a single finger down the length of Veridian's snow-white ear. He flicked his ears, and glanced up at her with gentle golden irises.

Are you ready?

Very slowly Philomel nodded, and she pulled her long white blade out of its sheath. Into her other hand she fitted The Lover, her not often now used emerald green dagger that could burst into flame. Flame and a mythril sword seemed to be the most apt to prepare for what foes lay within. That combined with the living hope of Drys, the knowledge that her goddess was with her, and the cloak of swirling purple majesty, gave the faun just enough willpower to believe that she could survive - and win.

So therefore, setting off at a low pace, as the sounds of Breaker's chants filled the air, she ran. Rapidly, and fluidly her hooves went from tree root to grass to earth and onto stone, making the noise of clattering but too fast and too distant for the mauls to attack. Behind her, and unlike her silent on paw, paced Veridian easy and gentle. His muzzle was agape, his eyes flickering around the entrance.

Still they went fast, straight into the mouth of the tomb, and down into the passageway. With it long and lit only by the natural light of the invertebrates, it was hard to percieve the correct direction. Yet the way was straight and obvious for the most part, and as they neared to an area that seemed darker, Veridian began to change.

Pounding ahead of his beloved he allowed the fire within to take over. Running all the while he began to expand in size, baring through the pain as easily as he did death. Common practise made it common pain, and he kept pace as his legs extended, muzzle grew wider and longer and his fur began to burn. The agony wracked down his spine as it split into shards, then reassmbled itself; but all in the easiest ways to allow him still to run.

Run, as his form transformed into something larger than a beastly wolf.

Run, as fire spiralled out from his coat.

Run, as Philomel built up the passion to yell their coming, and run - run as they charged into the battle for their lives.

Breaker dove between one of the mauls' legs as three clubs obliterated the ground where he stood an instant earlier. The demigod rolled to his feet as dust rose, having earned a moment's respite. As the giants turned laboriously toward him Josh raised a hand and a stream of brilliant white light shot forth, followed by another, and another. Like a trio of mythril-headed crossbow bolts they struck the maul on his left, two in the chest and one in the head, right in the space between its eyes. The beast fell like an oak, muscles still rigid as it hit the ground.

The two remaining mauls paused a moment to process what had happened. Great rusted gears turned within their thick skulls and, in rough tandem, they dropped the clubs they'd wielded so awkwardly. With feral roars and bared fangs, they charged the slayer together. Their many heavy, clawed hands snatched at him, their bulky bodies driving to crush him.

Breaker leaped up and over the slow-witted creatures, flipping above their spiked backs and landing heavily at the edge of the clearing. A towering red rywan tree stood nearby, its broad trunk rising two stories before splitting into branches. Josh picked up a small stone as he scrambled toward the tree. His enchanted boots clutched at the gnarled bark as he ran straight up its trunk, arching his back to watch the latest charge of the furiously roaring monsters. As he ran he poured a measure of his might into the simple stone, turning it into an impact grenade that packed a better punch than any Alerian gunpowder concoction.

With a backwards flicking motion he threw the stone, and then leaped off of the tree, somersaulting in the projectile's wake.

The stone struck the ground near the first maul's feet and exploded, tearing up a chunk of turf and obliterating the beast's lower leg. It fell with a roar of anguish. Breaker flipped past and collided with the second monster, once again matching his magic boots against the thickness of the creature's crown. Once again, his kick won out, splitting furred skin and cracking thick bone. The slain maul shook the earth one last time as it tumbled to its death throes.

The last monster, the one with the ruined leg, roared as Breaker approached. The demigod thought he saw fear behind the fog of pain and stupidity obscuring the thing's dark eyes. He pulled the dagger from his boot and cut its throat. Despite the black diamond knife's keen edge, he had to lean into the action, sawing heavily until he severed an artery. Thick black blood stained his hands, and he paused to wipe his blade on a fern before returning it to its sheath.

Back the way he had come, the presence of magical energy swelled.

I must assist the lyre-bearer... if I am not too late.

Slaying three mauls had taken him mere minutes, but in that time anything could have transpired between Philomel and her unknown adversary. Breaker turned and ran, out of the clearing, through the forest, and into the darkened maw of Orphaeo's tomb.

A soft giggle, filtering through the illuminated gloom. Bright, gleaming eyes from under the hood gazed back, as the lone figure stood atop the ancient stone coffin. Beneath her leather-wrapped feet the sarcophagus lid was cracked one third of the way, the remainder of the stone pushed back to shatter on the ground. Pieces of it littered around the thirty metre long avenue that was the road to the last resting place of Orphaeo, the praised bard of old Tel’Eldalie. All was uplit by a pulsating globe of white light, that hung by itself in the empty gloom behind the figure. Philomel ground to a halt, hooves carving a skidded path through the dust as she faced the horror that was No-One, and beside her the great firey mass that was Veridian bared his teeth, similarly coming to a stop.

"Beloved of Drys, I suppose," cackled the dark mage, sounding like the gnarled witches of legend. "Here to stop me?"

Breathing in a sharp intake, Philomel stared, eyes narrowing. Searching over the form of the unknown villain before her she tried to figure out who or what she might be, any clue to her allegiance or religion. For the first time viewer this woman was a tall fellow, with bright blue eyes and whisps of silvery hair peeking from under her hood. She wore dark, had the curves and build of a human, but with the proud baring of a noble. Carefully Philomel unsheathed her white glorious mythril sword and let it hung by her side, glowing with the shimmer of light with the flames dancing over Veridian's back. He was a behemoth beside her, nearly five metres from nose to tail, and, she hoped, a suggestion of the power she held. A suggestion that may leave this situation without bloodshed.

However, the faun was stunned to hear that the human girl seemed to know she was Drys'. That was a matter that Philomel had not even told her closest friend Vaeron when they had first met, until a couple of months into their companionship. And here was a complete stranger, telling all the truths.

Our enemy is powerful, Philomel whispered to Veridian through their mindful connection. The fox inclined his head, never taking his eyes off the enemy.

"Don't answer me then," the woman continued, dropping a long bow to the ground with a light thunk, "But know that I have conquered already. The lyre is for my god, not yours."

"The lyre belongs to no man, but to those who granted the bard it in the first place," Philomel declared, tightening her hold on her blade. "As it is written, Orphaeus is a servant of the Ancients, and it is those who chose who to gift it to."

Slowly the woman's eyes glowed, and she seemed to resonate with joy. "Ahh! You speak!" she cried, raising a hand. With a flurry of movement she threw back her hood, exposing her mane of beautiful hair. The curve of her face could now be seen, showing young features and sharp lines. Her mouth was a curve of amusement and quite suddenly she became animated in her speaking: "so glad to see you, my dear enemy who I am about to kill! For too long we have been following one another."

"I do not know who you are," Philomel hissed darkly, the violent tendancies showing in her eyes, "but you are treading very precarious ground here. My goddess sent me here to ensure the lyre did not fall into the wrong hands. And yours seem very wrong indeed."

Philomel! Veridian barked, Do not be hasty! Do not you see the globe of light? This woman is a mage, and we do not know where she gets her power from.

The faun growled, but knew he was right. She bared herself a little, and began to open her mouth again to try to rectify what anger she may have placed in - but their enemy was faster. A fake pouting frown appeared on her face, and she crossed her (now) free arms.

"Oh that is not very polite is it?" she crooned, "neither was my travelling companion. He knew too much, so then I had to kill him. Send him right into nothingness, into dust and ashes. Just what I will do with you."

Philomel's tactic of trying to be nice was forgotten then as soon as it had come. She knew she stood on dust - probably the same matter that had been this mage's apparent friend. Raising her sword, she stepped forwards, the new clock of brilliance flapping around her.

"You will do nothing of the sort," the Matriarch screeched, "the goddess will be praised!"

And with that she slammed down her hoof. The pathway, the cave, the tomb - everything - was suddenly flung into violent reverberations, the rocks clattering together as she shook the world. Across the upraised land the land began to splinter. It shivered, roared, and a rift was suddenly opening as the quake took it fiercely, severing the world in two.

The woman gasped slightly, eyes widening as she saw the world beginning to shake and swoon. Glancing around her she looked as if she feared the ceiling might cave in. Philomel saw her do so - so she was being distracted. Good.

Thud. Vehemently, she banged her fist this time on an upraised rock, making the very stalgamites shiver in their hold. Then, gathering herself, the faun blessed of Drys steeled herself to become what she had always desired. Powerful. Maginificent, beautiful and -

Suddenly, the witch-mage of whatever species was not so distracted. Standing at the end of the pathway platform, near the not splintered top of the great poet's tomb, she turned her attention back to the faun. Even though the stones from ground to ceiling sung of destruction and mortal end, she still would not be faltered. A slow grin appeared on the mage's face, as the caverns shook, and she cried in the loudest voice:

"You will not take me so easily ..."

And she beat her hands together. As Veridian bared his teeth and sped forwards. Down by the side of the dyke, as low as he dared, as fast as he dared, as the other mage turned her attention fully easily to Philomel. From her hands a golden light began to glow, as bright and as glorious as the mage light above. Except - well. By her words this was likely a spell, a weapon of some sort and it would only be beaten by equal magic.

Drys magic, honoured magic. The light streaked. Philomel fell to the ground as her body began to writhe from being overtaken by the beast that resided within her. The beast that longed to get out, to cause destruction and chaos. All the while Veridian ran, so small and secret that the light that was not aimed for him never got to him.

The ground shook with arcane reverberations as Breaker tore down the tunnel toward Philomel. He could feel the strength of her magic, taste the earthy tones of her wrath. The stranger's energies gathered in counterattack as Josh arrived amidst the battle. The faun thrashed upon the ground, her body growing and mutating. Horrid sounds tore from her throat, the bleat of demon-goats arisen from Haide.

The light. It blinded Breaker like the sun reflected in a glass, like a thousand candles in a box of mirrors. He reached for the Eternal Tap to counter the magic with his own brand, but his grasp fell short. The brilliance of the witch's spell struck his arcane voice dumb. But she could not alter his indestructible skeleton, nor sap the might rooted deep in his muscles. Josh dashed toward the sorceress, arm upraised to shield his eyes, and leaped across the chasm Philomel had opened.

The light-spell swelled and a mote of brilliance burst forth, a fireball as hot as the sun. Breaker intercepted it in mid-air, allowing the deadly attack to strike his hip rather than Philomel's chest. The force of the blow sent him spinning into the corner, slamming against the harsh stone wall.

The light faded, and only then did Breaker realize his other senses had been numbed. He could hear Philomel's rumbling breathing as she changed. He could hear the sorceress, cursing him as she gathered herself for another spell. He could hear his hip sizzling where the fireball struck it.

Pain did not greatly impede Joshua Cronen, but the heat of the spell forced a gasp from his lips. He rolled onto his good side and attempted to rise, finding his legs strangely uncooperative. The force of the blow had stunned him. It would have killed any ordinary man. It would have killed Philomel.

Protect the lyre bearer.

Josh crafted an ice-poultice on his charred hip and abandoned the idea of walking for the moment. He rolled to his front and crawled toward the sorceress. If he could lay hands on her, he could kill her in less than a second.

One form, and straight into another.

Closing her eyes tight Philomel screamed as she willed the aged powers into her form. Drys-blessed as she was, she allowed the formation of endless days into herself, going from faun to goat-headed beasts ... and onwards into a roaring, spitting form. Screeches of agony echoed around the halls as she took on the form of the enraged dire-goat far faster as she ever had before. The entirety of her body spasmed, shaking and spluttering ...

From the side - from the opposite edge where Joshua was creeping towards the sorceress No-One as the woman began to spin a larger than ever swirl of light within her palms - a streak of red and saffron brilliance emerged. Mighty, beautiful, flames pouring off him like streams of water, the firey form of Veridian now five times his normal size, ran. Jaws ablaze, eyes of gold gleaming, he rushed at the witch who threatened his darling beloved. As Philomel kept screeching, her weapons now discarded as her hands became hooves, he leapt, jaws wide, heading fire for the shoulder.

The ball of light, made for Philomel originally, found a new subject. That beast of earth and fire was met with an almighty crash of brilliance and flashing lights. But Veridian had already clamped his jaws, and as he fell heavily, the brightness piercing his chest, his forewarned bite flew from his maw. Illusions of his jaws, created pf the flickering fire that licked his coat, clamped around her shoulder. The witch began to scream, sweeping up a hand. As she did it seemed that the dust around her, that which Philomel had just moments ago caused to fall from the ceiling, began to shake. Though she was now burning from the fiery bite, her power was by far not dimmed. The dust rolled, swiftly curled into larger and larger forms.

First swirls, then tiny whirlwinds, then more and more -

Paws. Eyes, ears, fierce noises that belonged to another plain.

Another scream from Philomel, but finally - finally - she was getting back onto her feet. Her hooves. All four of them and her screams were turning into dark and darker bleats. Crying in rage for the barely breathing Veridian lying on his side. Or was he just resting. Could it be that -

Light reigns where fire cannot, he breathed into the fury that was Philomel. That was ... a hard hit. I know not what I can do anymore.

A savage bleat tore through the crevices of the world, shaking it once more. The woman, she was not looking at Breaker, instead she was concentrating on her dust forms as they came into being. One, two, three, four twisted strange beings born of light, wind and dirt. All with starry eyes that were glancing around for the next enemy. Veridian, the massive half a ton of magical goat that was gaining to its hooves ... Breaker. One saw Breaker.

And they charged.

The dust beings bore down on Breaker with single minded efficiency. From four different directions they approached, heavy shoulders swinging, headless bodies bent to their task of destruction. Their long arms looked like warclubs, shaped to rend flesh and shatter bone.

Breaker did not shatter so easily. Some feeling had returned to his legs, but nothing more than a tingle. He rolled aside as the first specter struck, and snared the ankle of the second. Or rather, he tried to. His hand passed directly through it. The thing's massive arm thudded into his ribs, driving the wind from his lungs. Still he rolled away and scrambled to his feet.

I cannot touch them... but they can touch me. The dust golems were ethereal, and yet not. They moved swiftly, in co-ordination, and surrounded Breaker once more. The cavern shook with their footsteps, and with the mad bleats of the transformed Philomel.

Josh summoned blades of ice, but the weapons passed right through their targets.

The dust golems beat him like a housewife cleaning a dirty rug, striking him from all angles in rapid succession. The body of blows forced Breaker to cover, arms upraised to guard his head. They battered his sides, his front, his back and his legs, but they could not force the unbreakable man flat.

I must destroy them at the source. Josh could not touch the creatures... but he could kill the witch that summoned them. Or at the very least, cut off her powers. He could not see the sorceress through the wall of golems surrounding him. Instead he searched for the source of her power, finding it bright and brilliant a short distance away.

With all of his own might and arcane knowledge, Breaker attempted to seize control of the sorceress' magic, to shut off her access to the Tap. She was too strong. It felt like attempting to dam a mighty river with a single driftwood spar.

Perhaps if Philomel can weaken her...

An uppercut from a dust golem slipped through Josh's guard and clipped his chin, drawing blood from his lip.

"Lyre bearer!" He cried, "Finish this evil one!"

As large as a terrifying Salvarian white bear and as vicious as a dragon, the twisted, beastial form of Philomel the dire-goat steadily gained to its hooves. Black to the skin, yet speckled in white and brown, she stood at seven foot to the shouder, mighty enormous horns spiralling seemingly into a void. With vivid eyes of silver that seemed themselves to glow, her mind was not of any reasoning creature.

The cry rang through her tapered ears.

"Lyre bearer," it screeched, "finish this evil one!"

Evil? Who, what? The goat let out a horrific bleat, the echoes filling the chamber. No-One the Sorceress turned her head away from her dust-creatures returning to the source what they had been. Her dark eyes slowly blinked, hands before her forming an invisible sphere between them. By her legs Veridian still was breathing, but barely. He had returned to his birth-firm, all the flames and muscles had gone. Mighty as he had been, now he was little more than a struggling pest. Eyes wide and golden he watched the witch's gaze settle onto the goat, Breaker just managing to gain his ground.

Only just.

And now between the hands, in the exact centre of that sphere, a tiny nodule of illumination was beginning to be created. A pinprick of the smallest star, an atom of light that was a single point but could easily swell into something more. The swirling storm of the settling dust was merely a sign of what the witch might do more. Even as she was beginning to smirk, eyes dancing with delight at the sight of the massive goat that was beginning to growl in a bleating manner, the dust around her shook, as if the creatures that had been were threatening to return.

Just defeated. Now, coming back. The whirlwinds of sand and black coloured dirt picking up pace, shaking, flittering, fluttering ...

Philomel! Veridian shrieked, please!

And he gave a cry of pain. Lacerating to the ear, haunting, spectacular, thundering it through their connected mentality into the goat's conciousness.

A roar. And Philomel the beast felt the source of the horror in this place, the agony of her companion pointing her directly towards the woman standing there, the pusalting orb of light growing, growing, growing ...

She began to run, charging with vehemence. Within seconds she had picked up pace, horns down and eyes the colour of death. Full of the blessing of Drys, and the anger of a thousand years of hatred.

Ready to face the sorceress whose dust storms had hands once again.

Roaring with frustration, Josh waved his mighty hands and summoned gusts of wind to batter the dust golems back. He staggered toward the sorceress, legs still refusing to work properly. The woman was charging her light-magic again, preparing to launch another glowing orb at her original target; Philomel.

But Philomel was gone, replaced by a great and rampaging dire goat. Its beard and pelt streamed with the wind of its charge, its curved horns lowered toward their target.

The sorceress continued gathering her strength.

Breaker could see her magic. She would be ready too soon. Philomel did not move fast enough.

"Lyre-bearer!" He called, and then she disappeared.

She re-appeared in the same instant, directly in front of the sorceress. Josh circled, trying to get behind the woman. Philomel's horned skull swung in a massive headbutt at the same time as Veridian the fox nipped the target's ankles. She fell like a toppled tree, hard and without ceremony.

Breaker pounced on the witch like a spider taking a fly. As his arms tightened around her body as her hands came up, glowing with deathly promises.

Too late. Josh squeezed until her spine cracked, and her eyes rolled back in her head. He left her body lying there and rose, watching the returning dust golems crumble to nothingness.

Philomel bleated and pawed at the ground. Breaker raised his hands defensively, lest the dire beast not understand him.

"You must return to yourself now," he said, "it is time that we find your lyre."

It is time.

It is time that we ...

The ruined remains of No-One, priestess and sorceress of the demon god Bark'al'tol, lay before her hooves and lowered horns. As her huge chest panted, eyes mad with savage beastial anger, she tried to grasp what had just happened. What her rage had brought her. Pain, that was clear. Heavily, the dire-goat spewed out a wave of vomit, made of the faun's breakfast and leftover blood and bile from the agonising transformation. Heaving, she could barely watch as the corpse seemed to wither away before her, the skin flaking off and writhing into the air like the dust golems she had so cunningly animated. Pale beauty became grey horror as right there Bark'al'tol claimed her soul, flesh and mind, stealing the youth that he had granted and casting her body straight into cremation. No flames came, but ash and smoke rose, spiralling beyond the wheezing goat's head.

Suddenly, Philomel collapsed to the ground, letting out a pained bleat as agony ripped through her. Siezing her form it made her instinctive mind once more aware of the horror Veridian was still going through, as the full force of the light energy still thrummed through him. The part of him that was Behemoth, the ancient fire whisp, fought with heart and glory against the dark light of Bark'al'tol, but it was a losing battle. Slowly, Veridian was fading, and though he had found the energy to bite at No-One's ankle and help them win the war, he was drifting away. Drifting into death and back to that ash tree where they had first met, all those years ago ...

Philomel, his voice gasped in her ear, Philomel, the quest is still not over. You need ... you need to ...

And into her mind he sent a glorious image of the goddess herself. And not just any goddess, but the goddess. Drys, the beloved, Drys, the tree-maker, Drys the mighty and mother of fauns and earth-spirits. Drys, who ruled over Philomel's and Veridian's hearts and had made them hers - her totem on the face of Althanas.

There, in all of her bright glory. Long, flowing fair hair drifting to the ground. Pale skin, like that of a beech tree, with leaf-green eyes. A gown made of the softest silk, as if sewn by spiders and made from petals, which flowed off her form and down, down to the ground where it seemed to merge with the ground and become nothing more than the forest floor. It parted, though, and showed those dainty, bare feet, hovering inches above the air as wings made from vines and branches spread out to the air, ground and atmosphere but unbeating in themselves ...

Oh my. Oh Drys ...

Gasp. Reach. Clasp. Grasp.

Calling out she fell to the floor, spasming and writhing as her mind awoke. Body shaking, the fur began to receded back to its original pattern - just around the legs. The tail shortened, the horns spiralled back, and the head began to mutate to present the skin once more. Skin under the goat, under the beast, that was ...

Humanoid. That was Philomel, and that was gloriously faun.

The Matriarch awoke, gulping in air as she lay there, naked and pure, eyes staring around. They looked to Veridian, who she could feel was on his last breaths, and they looked over to Breaker, standing there, crouching with an avid concerned look on his face. They looked to the now burnt remains of No-One who no one actually cared about, then briefly regarded the lumpy hulk of Feardon - long forgotten, long since unknown.

And then they looked up the now short distance up the dyke and over to the altar-like tomb with the partially shattered lid. With the weathered carvings, she could see now, of the life of a man who was a great musician. A man who had challenged a minstrel god to a contest and won. Won a lyre that, when played, could, if legend was true, force anyone to do his or her biding.

A tomb where she knew, because of the book in that downstairs library that now seemed so long ago had been mentioned. The resting place of Orphaeo, the legendary minstrel, he who had the lyre. The lyre that had been buried with him and had been sought by demon-god and barbarian alike and now ... now ...

Now was within her grasp.

Shaking, she began to stand and stagger to the final resting place of the final leg of her quest.

Naked and shivering like a leaf on the wind, she strode down into the shattered crypt. Sharp fragments of stone stabbed at her hooves with every step, but she walked onward as if unfeeling of them. Her steps carried her down the rubble, into the carved coffin where an ancient skeleton lay, clutching a lyre. It was fashioned from ageless mythril, and glowed to Breaker's eyes as if freshly polished and lit by a beacon. In truth, he was seeing its innate magic. He could see the great, and terrible potential within the instrument. It could be used to save lives or change the course of a war... or it could be used for great evil. And so it was that one such as Philomel must bear its burden, for the faun was pure of heart and sought only to please her goddess. Much like Breaker, he the guard of the lyre bearer.

Philomel crouched on her hooves beside the coffin and lowered her curled horns. She kissed her fingertips and touched them to Orphaeo's skull in a sign of reverence and respect, and then gently lifted the lyre out of his ancient arms. The bones rattled but remained intact as she rose and climbed out of the pit, enchanted instrument cradled like a babe in both arms.

"We have it," she said to Breaker, eyes glowing with tears of wonder. "After so much... we have it at last."

"Concern yourself with the treasure, lyre-bearer." Breaker said. He found the shimmering cloak he'd crafted for her lying among her possessions, and swept it around the faun's shoulders to warm her and hide her nakedness. "I will concern myself with you."

"There is such power within this," Philomel said, emotion bubbling beneath her voice. "I can feel it burrowing into my hands, my arms, my soul. It calls to me. With this power we could do anything, Breaker. We could cleanse the Red Forest. We could turn back the oncoming forces of Alerar. We could rise to the very level of Drys herself..."

"But we will not," Breaker reminded her gently. "It is for that that we were chosen for this mission. Breathe deep, lyre-bearer, and remember your true nature, and your purpose. Your goddess charged you with bringing this item to safety, not to use it."

Philomel nodded slowly. "You are right. I know you speak the truth, and yet... the power within pulls at me so. It is like an itch and an appetite all in one, begging to be scratched and slaked..."

"You are stronger than your desire." Breaker gripped the faun's shoulders and gazed into her eyes. "Only you can bear this burden, and only I can protect you." He guided her to a fallen pillar and sat her gently on the hard stone. "Rest a moment. I will gather your weapons." The faun nodded, a faraway look still haunting her eyes.

Breaker strode around the chamber picking up the various items and clothing Philomel had discarded during her transformation. He returned to her side and helped her buckle on the weapons. Her own hands never left the U-shaped instrument. Every so often she caressed the ageless mythril strings, but she never dared to pluck them. Who knew what even a single note from the ancient artifact might do?

"Are you ready, lyre-bearer?" Breaker asked at last. He stretched and twisted his torso. His legs were finally feeling like they properly belonged to him, recovering from the powerful light attack the sorceress had struck him with.

"Yes," Philomel said after a moment. "Let us leave this place."

Slowly Philomel lifted up her eyes from the white, beautiful lyre. Her fingers still stroked the air above the strings, but her gaze went away to the right where she had seen Veridian fall. Softly, in the light of the dying globe of light she looked upon where his body had been, and now where there was only empty space. Softly, she breathed in, knowing that in a few moments he would be back under the ash tree, far away back in Corone. Soon, their minds would touch again, and they would be as one. Connected as souls, each other's true family.

Rising from her crouch she watched Breaker coming over, his hands wrapped around her weapons. The cloak he had made for her fell around her, and she felt a smile coming to her face as she looked upon him. So beautiful, was he, blessed like she by a goddess, and truly wonderous. A warrior, a magician, a hero. With him she stood, nodding slowly and hugging the lyre to her chest.

"So the stories were always true," she said softly, "Blessed Orphaeo had a lyre, buried with him." She looked over to Breaker as they began the long walk out. "Did you ever think that we would find it?"

"I trusted that our godesses spoke truth," he said quietly, and Philomel found herself nodding.

"That is something that ... I fail to do sometimes," she admitted. "I fail to put my trust in Drys, even though she is wholly true and just. She created my race, and that of the earth-spirits, of which Veridian is one of. We sometimes feel but cogs in a machine, but it is at times like this that I remember that I am more than that. That I am ... not just a cog."

A small sigh came from between her lips as she saw the ragged remains of her armoured corslet in his hands. It was an expensive piece, but one that had been truly damaged in this period of fighting and strife. A spare blast of magic had torn a quarter asunder, brutal and harsh. Later on she would need to take it to a menders to get it fixed, but at least these days her coffers were not empty. Nay, not in the slightest.

They slowly climbed out of the tunnel, light flooding in elation and beauty. Philomel felt herself warm with the sight of the sun, hugging the lyre to her chest. As she did she silently said a prayer to Drys, thanking her for their survival and the ability to bring into safety such a treasure. She thanked her for the presence of Joshua, and the fact she had met such a wise man. Perhaps, later, they would rejoice under a starlit sky in a clearing in the safer part of the woods. Away from this mound, away from the mauls, away from all that -

"You are welcome," said a soft voice.

Philomel knew exactly who it was. As she gained out of the tomb, her body spun, eyes going wide. Breath escaped from her lips as she fell onto her knees before a beauty who stood there. Tall and fair, with hair the colour of a summer wheat field. Her eyes were bright, and she was dressed in a gossamar green gown, flowing and without end as it seemed to merge with the ground itself. A wreath of flowers adorned her crown and as Philomel saw her her face lit up in a gentle smile. Leaning forwards she - Drys, the goddess - placed her hand's on the faun's head and whispered gently.

"Today and forevermore, you are my priestess."

Then she kissed her head, and stood slowly back up. Philomel stayed down, her heart a flutter with pure awe as Drys looked to Joshua.

"Hello," she greeted him, "I am Drys. Thank you, beloved of Ama'leh and Survani, for aiding my Philomel."

Breaker warmed to the goddess' presence like a weary traveler sitting close to a campfire. Love and power emanated from the forest guardian, like the light from her eyes and the sweet smells from the crown of flowers she wore. His hazel gaze met her emerald stare evenly, yet with reverence.

"Thank you for your patronage, mother of trees." He said. "My lady Suravani bid me entreat you, and so I am at your service. What more would you have of me? Shall I slay every maul in the forest, or chase the wicked magic from the very roots of these?" He indicated a red-trunked oak nearby.

Her laugh was a fresh summer breeze playing in the loftiest, lightest branches of the trees. She kissed her fingertips and outstretched her hand to touch the scars on his cheeks, first one, and then the other. Her skin was softer than satin, warm and luxurious but fleeting as she retracted her arm.

"Your quest is at an end now, great warrior. I do not doubt there will be more to come... but for the moment, all I require is that you escort my priestess to safety. She is the lyre-bearer, as you call her, and she can bear the burden of Orphaeo's great instrument. Return now, to the place where the Fealotë bare their souls to the sky. Take her there, Heartbreaker, and I will speak with your goddess. An alliance with the mistress of the moon is not outside my interests... and she has sparked my curiosity with a contribution such as you."

She reached out with both hands, caressing Breaker's face with one and lighting beneath Philomel's chin with the other.

"Rise now," she said, "and return whence you came. I will use what influence I can in this place to keep you safe." There was a subtle shift in the breeze, and as the trees changed the angle of their sway, Drys vanished like grass on the wind.

"My goddess," Philomel breathed as she climbed to her cloven feet, "my sweet Drys. She has blessed us with her presence. No evil will touch us from here on. It cannot, for both of us carry her blessing."

"Even so," Breaker said, "we should make haste. This section of the forest will not seem so friendly after dark." The shadows had begun to stretch lazily, reaching a point where they stood longer than the trees that cast them. "Let us find your ter'ak, and return, as Drys said, to the garden of soul blossoms where first we met."

They found Philomel's beast of burden where they had left him, lowing softly between a stone outcropping and a ghoulish yew, munching crossly at some deadened grass. The faun climbed aboard his back, and after a moment Breaker joined her.

The ride felt too smooth and soundless to come from a great crashing beast. Breaker was reminded of soaring over the dunes of Fallien on the back of a griffin, for he was still beset with wonder from Drys' touch. No matter how many deities he spoke with, championed, or loved, the magic of their presence never wore thin. Wrapped in the security of the forest goddess' promise, they rode back through the crimson forest until the sun kissed the horizon, until the moon embraced the earth, until darkness shrouded them and the stars became their guide. Breaker felt nearly lulled to sleep, and yet he could not help but notice the familiar surroundings as the ter'ak trundled onward.

"Here, lyre-bearer," he said to Philomel, who still clutched the instrument with both hands. She guided her beast to a halt with her knees. Breaker climbed down first, his eyes seeing more in the darkness than an ordinary man could in full light. He recognized the shape of the trees, recognized the way the moonlight crept through the branches, and felt the seeping warmth of the soul blossoms he had repaired not so very long ago. "We have arrived," he said simply, and sat amongst the Fealotë.

Philomel came and sat at his side, still stroking the lyre like a newborn babe's downy hair. Her fingers lit close to the strings, but to actually pluck them, she did not dare.

"You have seen much of me," she said after a time, her head falling to rest on Breaker's broad shoulder. "And you have met my goddess. Guard me now while I gather a few moments sleep, and our kinship shall be cemented.

Breaker breathed deeply, feeling the weight of her horned head, and smiled up at the moon.

"Rest as much as you need, Philomel." He said. "So long as this forest surrounds us, I am your guardian."

The moon smiled back at him, and the trees chattered their appreciation. Soon steady breathing swelled the faun's breast, but her hands remained tightly clasped around the Lyre of Orphaeo.

Quote:

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Judge's note: as this submission pre-dates the rule change on judgments, it will be done using the old full rubric format.

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Judgment

Breaker and Philomel, I’d like to start by thanking you for what has been an excellent story to read. I have always enjoyed your individual work and so I came into this with high expectations. Neither of you disappointed me. Due to the quality of this thread you may find a bit of my commentary is nit-picky.


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Plot: 19/30


• Story- 7/10

I would like to open my commentary by saying I was absolutely astonished to find out that the story hadn’t really had any sort of pre-planned structure. It reads almost as if the thread was carefully thought out and planned, such was the cohesion, and that in itself is as high a compliment as I can give you on the structure of an “off-the-cuff” thread.

You opened with a scene that introduced the reader to a manuscript being investigated by Philomel, thus providing an immediate objective without giving too much away, before elaborating further via flashbacks. Early on I felt that the item hunting theme was perhaps a little “tropey”, and not particularly original, but I soon discovered this did not at all stop me from enjoying the flesh of the plot once I dived in, especially when Feardon and No-One entered the fray.

As the thread continued, you flecked your tale with action broken up by more muted but important scenes, which is something I think many authors overlook. It was those scenes that I felt perhaps most impressed by your infusion of Althanian lore into the story. On more than one occasion you eluded to the lingering effects of the Forgotten One Pode on the forest of Lindqualme, which dives into lore established back on Althanas 3.1, and made them relevant to the plot. As I expected, Am’aleh, Drys and Suravani were central to the driving of the plot and played important roles in not only driving the story forward when required, but ensuring there was a sensible and coherent method of communication between Philomel and Cronen that would otherwise have looked out of place. All of these bits were drawn from pre-existing lore and really enhanced the read.

Probably due to the length of the thread, I felt that the rising and falling action were a bit inconsistent. For example, Breaker’s confrontation with the Mauls were well written and over in a decent timescale but the rest of the action on the story was a little slow on the upswing. However, the thread made for a very easy read. Rarely was I bored, or bogged down by too much action, or too little; it just took a bit of time to get to those moments of juicy crescendo.

One last note: Breaker, whenever I do a judgment for you, one of the subjects I always bat on about is the lack of challenge you give Cronen. On this occasion, I felt that Philomel’s involvement helped to temper that and her own vulnerability (or mortality, whichever way you look at it) still presented enough questions to not make the thread too predictable or boring. I’m glad that you were able to demonstrate Cronen’s superiority in a way which didn’t detract from the plot.


• Setting- 6/10

Setting was a strong area for you both, and as such I won’t be providing too much feedback here bar a couple of points to think about. You both did an excellent job of describing the Red Forest, and one particular sentence by Philomel caught my eye:

“The trees were still hungry, the bark still as rust-hued as dried blood; the atmosphere still as uncertain”

I could feel as if I were there in Lindqualme as I read along and this is testament to both your skills in this area. On the flip side, while your setting was immersive, I did not think you really used it to your advantage and it felt as if you were “playing inside the box” rather than adapting it for your use. There was a post early on by Breaker which described him cleansing a section of the forest, but overall how could you have used the surroundings to tell more about your characters? You defined the setting, and your characters acted within it. What more could you have done to give your setting more meaning?


• Pacing- 6/10

As I alluded to in the story commentary, I felt that both the length of the thread and the general lie of it made it a bit inconsistent when considering the pace. Whilst the story ticked the most important boxes (a clear start, middle, end, or climax); I was never sure if I was to be rushing or taking a breather.

The opening posts dragged their heels a bit, but there were a few spots where pacing felt great, mostly the fight scenes. When it comes to combat, I stick by the rule that less is more. A few well-written sentences of action can be far more effective than an entire paragraph, keeping the reader along for the ride the entire time. Too much, and you leave your audience bogged down by what may be unnecessary drivel. I felt that your fight scenes were very well written, gifting the reader fast and exciting moments of action.

Finally, I felt that acquiring the Lyre was a bit rushed, when compared to the rest of the thread. Considering the sheer implied power of the artefact, and what enormous role it played in your thread, I feel it could have used a bit more attention. Part of this could have come from more information about it, whether that be its intended use, or Drys giving more background on the Lyre (such as what it actually does). Again, perhaps a little bit nit-picky, but my thoughts nonetheless.


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Character: 24/30


• Communication- 8/10

When it came to communication, I had very few concerns. Both of you write your characters well, and because of the connection between Cronen / Phi and their respective deities, the way that they communicate makes sense. I’d like to see more quirks, catch phrases, or unique speech patterns to give your dialogue some additional flare, but what you did have, for the most part, was solid.

I would encourage you both to check your characters for overly-cliche dialogue. A few lines in this thread just felt outrageously trope. Breaker, you are an incredible writer and a fantastic friend, but I couldn’t help but laugh when I read "Lyre bearer!" He cried, "Finish this evil one!" in post thirty two. It felt like something out of an old Masters of the Universe episode. Perhaps I am being a bit harsh, because Joshua is a straight arrow, but it felt as if he were expressing himself just a little too “knighltly”.


• Action-7/10

For the most part, your action was really good. You both did a fantastic job of exhibiting your powers and outlining your characters' weaknesses and limits, despite the challenge you had to overcome of being at the levels you are at. Limits are incorporated into character profiles for a reason, but more importantly, good writers know how to weave them and their strengths into a more believable tale. Breaker’s fight with the dust Golems, for example, was very well done. Considering that he probably could have drawn from an array of his talents to combat them, I felt you limited him just right here and used intelligent writing to fight them. Philomel, your combat scenes are always very well written and this thread was no exception. Everything from the enraged bleating to the way you describe her confrontations create this aura around her that makes the Faun a uniquely intimidating entity.

Your action score is a bit lower than you might like, however, due to the concerns that I raised in the commentary on pacing. There were a few cases when both of your action felt a bit drawn out.


• Persona- 9/10

Again, this will probably be an are with light feedback. Although I am well acquainted with both Joshua Cronen and Philomel van der Aart, I always try to focus purely on what the thread presents. Even forgetting everything I already know, I was able to get such a good feel for who your characters were, especially with the benefit of the longer story. The reflections on their goal, and their shared devotion to their respective goddesses were well done as well. As for consistency, which is equally as important, I would say you both did a nice job. There were a few parts that I really enjoyed, such as Cronen taking care of an exhausted Philomel, and the Faun’s persona changing in accordance with her various forms is a nice touch that always helps to add colour and depth to her overall character.



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Prose: 24/30


• Mechanics- 7/10

Though you are both excellent writers, and clearly care about mechanics, I found more errors in this thread than I would have expected and unfortunately the vast majority were by Philomel. There were more than a few obvious spelling and grammatical errors: "Embarress" was used instead of "Embarrass" in post nine. “Forgotten's Ones” instead of “Forgotten One’s” in post five. Even with a thorough read-through, these small elements might be missed and I always recommend a quick spell check to eliminate these types of errors.

That being said, Phi, the way you structured your sentences and paragraphs were actually very good indeed and helped to break up larger portions of the story. Breaker, the most praise is reserved for you here, as your posts were quite literally error free. You have a fantastic command of the English language and it is actually quite hard to give you any meaningful advice here so I’ll instead say “keep it up, sunshine.”


• Clarity- 9/10

The one thing I like about the both of you, both individually and collectively is the clarity of your threads. Rarely do I happen upon anything you’ve written and find myself re-reading a post to grasp a plot device, or feel unsure as to what a piece of dialogue means or refers to. Very well done here indeed. The only slight on the score stems from a scene with Delath near the beginning where I had to re-check exactly what he was doing, and even then I feel I’m being overly harsh.


• Technique- 8/10

When it comes to assessing your technique, this is the part I most enjoy about judging your writing as you are both absolutely fantastic in this area and I often use you both as inspiration for my own writing. As was the case with my previous judgments for you both, I really liked the techniques you both employed in this particular thread. I was very excited by the foreshadowing at the end of the first post with regards to the Lyre, especially as it was preceded by a lovely little recital from a manuscript. There were also some very nice metaphors (such as the one I highlighted above regarding the Red Forest trees), something you both have a knack for. You're also both very skilled at using that internal monologue to your advantage, although I would caution against being too generic with your tones – something which I think is exceptionally difficult to avoid, but done right is also an opportunity to really add flair to both your character and the overall quality of the read.


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Wildcard: 8/10

I’d like to use the wildcard to issue a little apology to you both. Reading back through my commentary, it comes across that I didn’t enjoy the Lyre as much as I actually did. Considering that the majority of this thread was an improvised collaboration, it was very well written and looked, at times, planned. Thank you for letting me judge this enjoyable story!

Final score: 75

Congratulations!


Philomel receives 4125 EXP and 283 GP, as well as the below spoil:

Quote:

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Philomel gains an icecraft cloak made by Breaker, composed of ice, Fealotë blossom and plant, and magic. It is described as follows: "The water became molten ice, and shaped slowly into the form of a hooded cloak, suspended in the air. Josh reached out and grasped it with both hands. It was warm to touch, made so by Drys' love. It was light as silk, made so by Suravani's brilliance. It was strong as steel, made so by Breaker's might. And yet it fluttered in the wind like any fabric, as soft and fragrant as the Fealotë blended within."

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Breaker receives 5510 EXP and uses his GP to pay for the spoil as requested!

In addition, this thread receives a JC nomination!