Fragments of the Past

[Zerith]

One week ago…

The last thing he remembered was that he was exploring the ruins of Kithdur. He was hired to, otherwise there was no way he would find something going out into the desert. In fact he wasn’t even planning on going to Fallien anyways. However that changed the moment the Jya asked him for help. It wasn’t the job itself or the Jya that made him want to accept the job. Instead it was the mention of the reward. The amount of gold he would receive would be enough to give him a break from the job of being a mercenary. So what if he didn’t think he was the ‘warrior’ the Jya thought he was? For the amount she was paying, he’d call himself a warrior to anyone.

Everything went black all of a sudden in the middle of the exploration. He was just about to turn around a corner when he felt something hit the back of his head. He didn’t remember hitting the ground though, everything went black during the fall. It wasn’t like it was dark enough down in those ruins. How anyone could find their way around there was a mystery. The cold, empty corridors were filled with silence and the writing on the walls didn’t help the mercenary since he didn’t understand them at all. As he went further into the ruins the only things he heard were his own footsteps echo down the halls and the burning torch, his only companion in the creepy place. Earlier he had though that the torch would keep him safe, if only he knew how wrong he would be.

That was all in the past though, The job, the ruins, the torch and the dark hallways were all behind him. His head hurt now, a groan of pain escaped his lips as he was finally coming back to consciousness. The last thing he remembered was the hit on the head and the corner he was approaching. Yet when his eyes finally opened they didn’t see the corner, his torch or the symbols etched into the walls. Instead saw stared at the sea of sand around him, the black sky and the pile of his belongings that rested at his feet. He tried to bend over and pick up his things, but to his surprise he was unable to.

He was tied to a wooden post. The large amount of robe covered his torso and confined his hands behind him and out of sight. He couldn’t move his arms at all and when he tired he legs he discovered they were tied as well. Fear was taking over and he tried to thrash his body about but discovered he could only move his head around a little. Searching for answers he looked left and right for any clue as to where he was. In the end it proved nothing, the only things around him were the pile of his things, the night sky and the empty desert that surrounded him.

There was nothing he could do to free himself. He didn’t have any understanding as to what was happening and who did this to him either. Eventually when he began panicking he felt like he was being stabbed in the chest. The confused and frightened mercenary tired to calm himself, taking deep breath hoping that it would help get rid of the pain that filled his chest. Until he finally gave into his fears and screamed for help. Begging for someone or one of the gods to come to his aid and free him. The screams carried out over the sand until they eventually died, followed by the cries of a man who was afraid to die alone.

After he cried all he could and was left sobbing. The mercenary saw something move in the distance. The man looked as hard as he could, praying for another glimpse of movement. Then something beneath the cool sand moved again, and again. The mercanary screamed for help again to see if he would get an answer. He pleaded for whatever he saw to come save him and that he would be rewarded. Sure enough the shadow beneath the sand emerged, bring the man’s worst nightmares into reality.

A shriek escaped the form of the nightmare come to life. Filthy, stained wraps of silk covered it’s entire body save for a few sections where the rotted flesh was easily seen. Glowing orange eyes pieced the darkness and shed a small amount of light on a face that drove countless towards insanity. It climbed out of it’s grave in an instant and began to approach the terrified mercenary. The man tied to post screamed continuously, begging the creature to stop as he trashed about in an attempt to break the ropes and grab his things so he could fight the thing off. His eyes stared in horror at the glowing eyes of the Arta, watching helpless as the creature crossed the desert and shrieked again. The mercenary mustered up every ounce of strength that he could to try and break the ropes. Even as the deformed, dead hands of the Arta grabbed his shoulders he didn’t cease screaming and thrashing about. The horrific, orange eyes stared at the Arta’s newest meal until it finally began to eat.

The final screams of the mercenary were like all the others. They traveled across the sands for a good distance until they too died in the desert.

***

Two days ago…

“So you see Mr. Dracosius,” The Jya concluded. “It’s been a real concern to me as to what lies in the ruins of Kithdur.”

“Yes, I think I can understand how you’re feeling” Zerith anwered. “The fact that you’ve sent numerous people there and none have reported back to you his rather suspicious. It only logical that there has to be something there since you’re not getting any answers. Although I’m going to make sure that will change for you shortly.”

“Excellent. I will hire a few others to travel with you. On top of that, I’m going to send Kamura, one of Fallien greatest generals to travel with you as well. He’s what you would call a hero in this country, so I have no doubts that you should have no trouble returning to me.”

Zerith smiled, “I am honored that the Jya would take such measures to ensure my success. I will be sure to return to you with a full report.”

***

After travelling for two days, Zerith was still wondering just how much further it would be to get to these ruins. The heat was getting to him, and the thought of going into the ruins and out of the sun was rather appealing right now. He didn’t regret what he was doing, he felt honored that the Jya called him a warrior and wanted his help. She even went through the trouble of giving one of her greatest generals the task of travelling with them and escorting her newest group of warriors. All of which the halberdier had never met let alone work with before.

In the back of his mind he wondered just what was in store for him, Kamura and the other people the Jya hired. From what the Jya said, none of the other people that had this task returned. So if that was the case, what was the reason behind it?

“Kamura, what do you know about the Ruins of Kithdur?” he asked from atop his horse.

“Well from what I have heard, the Kehlat tribe supposedly dwells there. It gets even better though, apparently they tried to assassinate the Jya before and people are saying they’re plotting to do it again. Also, the Jya told me that she’s hoping to find some information about the Vadhya.”

“Okay, and just what is the ‘Vadhya’?”

“That, my friend, is a little hard to explain. When we get into the ruins I’m sure it will be easier for you to understand,” Kamura answered.

“Alright, fair enough. But how long is it going to take us to get to the ruins?”

Laughing, the Fallien general answered, “You ask that everyday Zerith. It’s not that much further though. We should get there really soon.”

“Good,” the halberdier responded. “Because this heat is killing me.”

As the four of them continued on horseback, he began to wonder just what the Vadhya was and why it was so hard for Kamura to explain. For some reason, the halberdier felt like he just didn’t know enough about what he was getting himself into. That in turn brought an unsettling feeling to the young fighter, uneasiness about what was hidden deep in those ruins. For if there was something someone was trying to hide, how bad could it be if it meant making others disappear when they got close enough. And what would happen if it Zerith and the others got close enough as well?

[Witchblade]

Two Days Ago

Witchblade stood in the ‘throne room’ or something similar to that in Jya’s keep. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her cloak was thrown away from her body and he hood wasn’t covering her face. She was getting quite a few odd looks and stares from the people gathered in the room but she didn’t care, they could gawk at her red eyes, pale skin, weird purple markings and the fact that her mouth was sown shut all they wanted to. She was here because someone had just happened upon her out in Fallien and decided that she was a warrior and that she would join some kind of valiant effort of some kind.

The Jya now stood before her; no she wasn’t sitting on her large throne she was standing before it, explaining to her the situation.

“So you see, we’re growing rather worried over the fact that we keep sending people to the ruins yet none of them return, not even so much as a message from them.”

‘Growing rather worried?’ Was there something wrong with this chick? Clearly all these men or warriors she was sending to these ruins were being killed. If she couldn’t figure that one out on her own then this chick had some serious issues.

”So, let me get this straight, you want to hire me to travel to some ruins with a few other ‘warriors’ you’ve hired to find out what’s been going on?”

“Exactly.”

The Half-line sighed and weighed her options. She could screw this crazy lady and go on her marry little way or she could stay and help, fight for the ‘good guys’. Good Witch, bad Witch, good Witch, bad Witch. Damn it, she didn’t know who to be and for crying out loud she wasn’t a warrior she was freaking murderer. These people had strayed far from their path thinking she could and would help them.
“I’ve already hired two men, one named Zerith Dracosius and other one goes by the name of Izvilvin.”

Yep, that Zerith guy sounded like some all-powerful warrior to her all right. Wait a minute…did she say Izvilvin? Now if he was in on this she might just consider joining up them.

“There shall be a reward, don’t think I won’t pay you handsomely for this.”

Witch arched a brow and looked back at The Jya.

”Do I look like someone in need of petty handouts and petty human money?” The Jya didn’t answer her and well she shouldn’t. ”I think you’re asking the wrong person to help you, I’m not a warrior and I’m not someone to fight for truth and justice and all that other bullshit you people spout to convince yourselves to do the right thing.”

Witchblade turned to go when The Jya finally spoke up again.

“Please don’t leave yet, whether you consider yourself a warrior or not doesn’t matter, we need your help. Others that we have sent have most likely met with certain death and I know not the dangers that await you in the ruins…but please.”


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

Witch rolled her shoulders as she readjusted her butt. She wasn’t used to riding horses anywhere, she preferred to walk or occasionally fly. Having been stuck in a saddle for the better part of two days was wearing away at her patience, she probably could have reached her destination by now on her own, but no she just had to tag along with the others in the group. Not to mention the fact tat she was told Izvilvin was going to be part of this little group and she hadn't seen a strace of him, she hadn't even sensed the little Drow. Her newest ally was no where to be found.

At least Daegun was enjoying himself. Her little while dragon was perched on the saddle in front of her, his clawed paws carefully holding onto the neck of the horse who didn’t seem bothered by the fact that a baby dragon was riding atop him anyway. He was gazing over the barren lands of Fallien as if he saw an Oasis before him instead of the sand, the dry dirt and the dust. She liked it though, his innocent eyes gazing out at a region of Althanas he’d never seen before.

[Izvilvin]

Three days ago

"And the poison was done away with. Suravani's Oasis will slowly recover."

His voice was low and pained. The city of Suravani's Oasis had been poisoned and Jya had sent him to deliver a small portion of antidote. The looks on the faces of the children were enough to scar his heart, but the collective misery of the town, and stench of decay that sifted through his nostrils at every moment, that was enough to wound him dearly.

Jya nodded, and to Izvilvin it seemed that she, too, was hurt. But it was a strong kind of pain, and though her face was sad, she stood straight just like a leader should. She was strong, the Drow knew, and it made him admire her.

"I can't imagine what would motivate someone, even those with angry hearts, to destroy an entire city," she said in her perfect grasp of the Drow tongue, before changing the subject. "You did well, gentle Drow, but I'm afraid that Sasarai hasn't given me the information you wanted."

His voice turned sour. Jya had promised him information in exchange for his help, and after enduring that difficult trial, he felt his side of the bargain had been more than held. "So what now? I need to know about that wizard, or something awful may come to me. If you can't get the information from him peacefully," he began, but stopped before elaborating. Jya got his point.

"I just need more time," she said gently. "In the meantime, if you want to make a little bit of money, I have another problem I could use a strong Drow's help with."

Izvilvin wasn't quite amused. Despite his relationship with Jya, which was positive and growing in strength, he was not pleased with her not keeping up her end of the bargain. After some time, he nodded. There was no sense in not helping her again.

******

The Drow could not adjust to the heat of this land, the unwavering misery that it brought on and the uncomfortable sweat it squeezed out of him, but he dealt with the discomfort as well as he could. Alerar's climate was perfect for him. It seemed that all these other regions of Althanas were either too hot, too cold, or too unwelcoming for Izvilvin, and he couldn't find a happy medium.

But a Drow warrior couldn't whine because of the heat, so he merely ignored it as he rode on through the long sandy desert, astride a powerful horse that seemed as adamant as him about getting to their destination. His sharp features were glistening with sweat as his dark skin absorbed the sun, and Izvilvin's stark white hair seemed even whiter in the light.

In time he arrived at the Ruins, about a day before the others. He'd wanted to get a head start on them so he could grow comfortable in the new area. Izvilvin was never completely at ease in a place that was new to him, and considering that he would be working with four others, the Drow wanted as much comfort as possible.

The sand absorbed him as he dismounted his steed, directed it to an area basked in the shade of a large pillar, and tied it.

He didn't realize that the little boy he'd met, whose name he didn't even know, would be coming along; nor Witchblade, the strange woman who could speak with her mind because her mouth was stitched shut. Perhaps his methods would have been different if he'd known.

With a calm focus, Izvilvin set out to explore the area.

******

The next day, Izvilvin was a bit more knowledgeable of the area, and thus a bit more relaxed. He was sitting comfortably in the cool sand, next to his horse, who moved every once in a while to keep in the shade given by the massive stone pillar that rose from the ground.

His eyes were focused forward as some figures appeared over the horizon. As they came into view, he stood up and watched, to be certain that they were the ones he was set to work with.

With recognition in his eyes, a smile formed on the dark lips of the Drow, though of course it was hidden behind his mask. He recognized two of them, the boy and the woman, and seeing them made him feel encouraged.

But the child. Wasn't it too dangerous for him here?

Izvilvin decided, then, that he'd need to keep a close eye on the young one.

[INDK]

Damon’s earliest adventures in Fallien had created an extreme reticence on the part of the boy to ever return, but now he felt as if he had no choice. A few days ago, he had heard rumors that the dark elven vampire, Raspien Evirus was moving through Fallien’s many ruins. Though the boy wasn’t particularly excited by the prospects of his return, he had to find out what Raspien knew about his past. Sevviel had agreed to come with him, and now the boy quickened past the gates requiring an exit pass, past Jya’s rules of order and straight into the most anarchic part of the desert civilization.

“I don’t particularly like this place,” Sevviel muttered as they first materialized. “It doesn’t feel like the kind of place that a vampire would call home.”

While it made staying seemingly useless, Damon had to admit that Sevviel had a point. They were surrounded by dust and sun, nothing that would appeal to a fancy vampire. The heat was also oppressive, and the ruins seemed damaged enough that they would provide little of the cool shelter that the clay houses of Irrakkam provided. “I guess we should still look around,” Damon muttered.

Sevviel sighed and agreed. It was apparent on her face that she didn’t care much for the desert. Her fair skin was already beginning to boil, and Damon had come to find that she was just vain enough to be concerned about developing freckles. She looked around, as if she was trying to point out some kind of positive among the endless collection of sand and dilapidated buildings.

“Well, at least it should be quiet for a vampire looking to lay low here,” Sevviel mused. “If he knew you were to be looking for him, he would have probably wanted to find somewhere inconspicuous to hide.”

“You’re probably right,” Damon said. He smiled at Sevviel, appreciative of her willingness to come along. Though perhaps it would have been safer had she stayed in Lornius, Damon felt that without her counsel, he would have been less likely to succeed. Their earlier problems in Haidia not withstanding, Damon felt that they were stronger together than either of them were apart. Plus, ever since she had nearly died when left in Letho’s care, Damon had felt a particular responsibility to protect the angel, even if it meant dragging her along on a mission of peril.

The two of them began to move through the ruins, picking each other’s brains to find out if either of them knew anything about Fallien. Soon enough, they both found they knew next to nothing, save for the fact that the ruins were supposed to be abandoned. Any noise they heard would most likely be Raspien Evirus.

Eventually, they had a clue. Horseprints in the sand. The rider had made no effort to cover them up, and they were fresh enough that they couldn’t have been left less than half an hour ago. “Sand would have filled them up otherwise,” Damon assumed.

“Come on,” said Sevviel, eager to be done with this mission. “I’ll fly you, we’ll move faster that way.” She grabbed onto Damon below his arms and lifted him up into the air. Soon, they found the source of the horse’s footprints, and noticed that there was more than just one person there.

“A deal?” Damon muttered. “Come on, swoop down!”

Sevviel obliged. They found that they had encountered a different pair of strangers than they had initially expected. One was particularly interesting; a lady with her mouth sewn shut and a little baby dragon. Damon tried not to stare, but it was something he had never seen before. In fact, he had only heard of one other person whose lips had been sewn up like that. The boy was excited, for he doubted that there could be another so blind.

“Ghauntyrr’stra?” Damon asked hopefully.

“No,” Sevviel replied. “That’s not her.”

Still, the fact that he had met two strangers in an abandoned ruin was enough of a curiosity for the boy. Thus Damon introduced himself and Sevviel. “I am Damon Kaosi,” he said. “And I’m here on an important mission. My friend here is Sevviel Lan’Tiros and she’s an angel. It is a pleasure to meet both of you.”

A masked dark elf arrived on the scene only minutes later. Whatever was happening in the Ruins that day was certainly interesting.

[Zerith]

Now he could see how the place got it’s name. Because as the three of them finally arrived, he saw that whoever named the place the ‘Ruins of Kithdur’ wasn’t lying. Originally, he thought that these so-called ruins would be nothing more than a four, crumbling walls that once made up a temple or something. In it they would find some sort of stairway leading to an series of cool, dark corridors and empty rooms filled with dust. Seeing as how that was what ruins sounded like in children’s stories.

Though now as he saw his destination with his own eyes. He so surprised at first that he thought he was seeing a mirage. Kithdur was actually the size of a city, yet all the building were reduced to crumbling walls that reach a maximum height of twelve or fifteen feet. There were no solid, stone roads to walk on, only more hot sand. Even then, they were few of what were once major streets, all connected by numerous alleyways a side roads. Yet without a map, there was no way tell where you were going, everything looked the same. Far in the distance, in the heart of the dead city stood only one massive monolith. It was like a lighthouse in a way, a giant beacon to point out to travelers where Kithdur rested. But from where he stood now, by the two pillars that marked the entrance into the forgotten city. That monolith seemed so much further that it actually way.

Perhaps the heat was getting the best of the halberdier. Or maybe the sand coloured houses and pillars that laid throughout the city depressed him, making him feel like the city really was dead and forgotten. “What the hell could we expect to find here?” he asked himself. Then suddenly Kamura’s voice brought him back to the real world, back to the barren, scorching desert.

“We are here, the Ruins of Kithdur,” the guide said, stating the obvious.

“I see,” the halberdier replied as he eyes settled on two more individuals. One masked drow and the other was a boy, most likely a teenager and was followed by…an angel? Apparently so, seeing as how the kid was quick to introduce both himself and his heavenly friend. “I’m Zerith Dracosius, the man beside me is our guide, Kamura.” He would have introduced his other companion but he didn’t know her name, yet he was sure he knew her from somewhere.

“Where have I seen h-? Oh yeah, The Cell! I tried to team up with her against Rheawien after I poisoned her,” he thought. “Shit. I hope she’s forgiving, otherwise I’m screwed.”

“Zerith?” Kamura called. “Perhaps we should head into the city and see if we can find something. From what I heard, the Kehlat live in seclusion underground.”

“Well then that what we’ll look for,” the halberdier replied. “For some sort of method to get underground and whatever else we find. If anyone has any ideas on where to look, they’d be greatly appreciated.”

Finally, his eyes turned to the drow, then to the horse by the pillar and finally back to the dark elf, “I’m assuming you’re here because the Jya hired you too. What’s your name?”

[Witchblade]

It had taken her the better part of the journey to figure out why the human she was traveling with looked so familiar. His name hadn’t rung a bell, but then again she didn’t make it a habit to remember human names, she didn’t really make it a habit to remember anyone’s name, however she did remember faces…sometimes. This human looked familiar, but she clearly hadn’t killed him and she didn’t remember ever journeying with him. Then it had dawned on her, as her eyes had looked towards the ruins of Kithdur and she’d seen a familiar face, the human had finally fallen into perspective. He was someone she fought briefly with and against, in the Cell.

The bastard had poisoned her too and if he hadn’t the outcome of that cell could have been drastically different. Still, she wasn’t one to dwell on the past, rather ironic considering she didn’t have much of a past herself, but thanks to the help of a Drow named Izvilvin, she had discovered some new things about herself, things she wasn’t sure should have been resurfaced.

Still, as they approached the ruins of the ancient city and she felt the presence of her ally, a slow smile couldn’t help but creep onto her face. She hadn’t seen him since The Cell and though she would never admit it to anyone except the inner recesses of her mind, she had missed the feisty little Drow.

Coming closer to the ruins she could see the horse the Jya had given him and hen her eyes wandered to his form hiding behind a pillar. Before she could say anything though the presence of two others caught her attention, neither of them she knew. She looked the seemingly boy up and down as he was set on the desert floor. He introduced himself as Damon Kaosi a name that should have rung bells considering her time in Althanas, but she’d never been one to care for the war against the undead and even those who had won against. The one thing she did know was that he was no ordinary looking child.

“Though you seemed to have mistaken me for someone else, I am Witchblade.” Witch used her telepathic link to communicate with all three of them simultaneously. It would simplify things for her, but might get a little confusing to the others, “The Drow in the ruins, Zerithis Izvilvin, I’m sure you’ll remember him from The Cell too…”

It was made pointedly, she wanted him to know that she remembered what happened there and she wanted him to be kept on his toes. She didn’t really care about it, she wasn’t going to seek any kind of revenge over what happened, she just wanted to make the human a little nervous.

Guiding her horse closer to the ruins, Witch dismounted and walked over to her old ally.

“It’s been a while…” She closed off the other telepathic links so she was only talking with him now, but really, she didn’t know what to say to the Drow. Witch was not one for conversation and she was definitely not one to slide up to someone on a bar stool and say ‘hey, how’s it goin’?’. It just didn’t fit in with her nature.

[Izvilvin]

Finally, he recognized the boy for who he was. He was the same one from the strange island where Izvilvin had met Arawn. Not only that, but he had met the boy again in the golden city of Gilette Sensor Excel, and in another place he could not readily recall. They had been together several times, though only recently in the golden Fallien city did Izvilvin give his name. The boy had strange powers of teleportation, which had originally baffled the Drow, who had little experience with magic of any sort.

The man with the polearm spoke at him, but Izvilvin could only shrug stupidly in the face of the common tongue. He simply didn't understand it. Thankfully, Witchblade intervened to answer his question, using a psionic method they could all somehow understand. Again, originally experiencing this way of communication when he'd met Witchblade in Salvar was strange, but he'd gotten used to it. It was rather useful in this situation.

The Drow scrutinized Zerith with his eyes, finally recalling him from the Cell. He had only glimpsed the man briefly, and remembered that he had come out of nowhere just before Izvilvin had been killed. Not a fond memory, but it gave him no negative feeling toward the man.

Thinking of the Cell reminded him of Rheawien, but the feeling was pushed aside immediately. He didn't want her on his mind.

Witchblade, thankfully, was there to help him along in forgetting about the warrioress. The Drow pulled his mask off as she spoke, and he tucked it into his belt. There was no need for it now, anyway. A smile came across him as she greeted, for he knew she was not the type to simply make conversation. It made him feel special.

"Hi," he said in the normal common tongue, taking some joy in saying it. It didn't last though, as he lapsed back into his native language. Knowing three words in a dialect didn't make for strong conversation. "Bwael ulu kyorl dos. L' xonathull zhahus naut natha bwael k'lar whol udossa ulu atsar phor."

He turned toward the city ahead. He'd spent quite a bit of time exploring the area, so he had a bit of an idea of where they needed to go. "Charnag wund l' che'el, gaer zhah natha beldraein drizlahrit taga l' v'dre. Ol zhah natha t'larryo beldraein drill ol fre'slan, lu' gaer ph' unboin wun olt draix nindel alu harl l' ves takrin. Usstan xunus naut alu ulu l' harlil, whol gaer zhah nau ssussun, drill Usstan tlun zhaunus nindel zhah vel'klar udos z'klaen alu."

*"Good to see you. The battle was not a good place for us to catch up."
**"Deep within the city, there is a building taller than the rest. It is a broken building but it stands, and there are steps inside that go under the very desert. I did not go to the bottom, for there is no light, but I am sure that is where we must go."

[INDK]

Damon felt as if he had suddenly stumbled upon a cell reunion. Once the halberdier Zerith had introduced himself and mentioned the tournament, Damon recognized the woman with sewn lips and masked dark elf. The dark elf was also familiar from an earlier misadventure in Fallien, and Damon now was remembering a bit more about him. “I think his name’s Izvilvin… he doesn’t really speak much common,” Damon recalled.

The boy was going to respond when Sevviel gave him a slight nudge in the side. Knowing that was the angel’s signal for him to stay quiet, Damon bit his tongue. However, in this case, Damon wasn’t sure why. Sevviel hadn’t been in the cell, and Damon hadn’t been particularly descriptive about what had happened. The cell had been a rather embarrassing tournament for the boy, he had succeeded in both of his initial goals in the tournament, but had fallen short in both cases. He’d been battered, hurt and beaten beyond recognition. To an extent, Damon hoped that no one else recognized him from that tournament.

“Please have Sevviel say nothing about it…” Damon thought. “I hope she’d know better… she’d just embarrass me.” He couldn’t help but be a bit apprehensive. Damon knew that the angel had considered battles to be the lowest form of civilizations and had never thought much of tournaments, or their champions. However, that might work a bit to Damon’s advantage. Especially if Sevviel would not want to be withdrawn from the rest of the group on the basis of the fact she had been the only one not to have competed in the tournament.

Thus, Damon was guardedly optimistic as Sevviel spoke. “I would like to say that I am pleased to meet all of you…” she said. “Certainly I can only speak for myself, but I do not doubt for a minute that my feelings are echoed by my friend here. I am Sevviel. There is nothing of concern to you about me, but you may know a good deal about my friend here. He is Damon Kaosi. He would probably like to boast about it, but I will save you from a rather long discussion of his exploits. Damon was a semifinalist in the LCC and a finalist in the Cell.”

Damon wasn’t sure how to receive that. He blushed embarrassedly and toed the ground. As impressive as both accomplishments might have sounded, especially since he had beaten quite a few competitors in both cases, Damon didn’t like talking about either of them around people who may have done better. By his recollection, the dark elf was actually an award winner in the Cell. He didn’t ever find out who had actually won the LCC, only that it had not been him. For all he knew, two of the others had been the champions of that tournament as well.

“I wouldn’t talk about it here…” Damon said. “It’s pathetic to talk about accomplishments in the past, especially when we have business here…”

Sevviel looked at Damon angrily, but the boy didn’t care. “Well yes,” she said, obviously flustered by Damon’s unsolicited commentary. “But I thought nevermind… anyhow, we are traveling through on a mission of archeological interest, nothing more and nothing less. We are well meaning and Damon’s recent actions in Gillette Sensor Excel have left him in good standing with the Jya. In the desert there is strength in numbers. Let us join you.”

At this point, staying with these people was the last thing that Damon wanted. They now knew he was a failure. It would have been better they thought nothing of his tournament history. At the very least, having never competed would have seemed more honorable than being a loser. He wasn’t sure what it was that had caused Sevviel to invite herself into this group, but Damon decided to stay quiet.

He only hoped that Sevviel knew what she was doing.

[Zerith]

It was surprising to see how things progressed. In just a few minutes, everyone discovered that they all had something in common or knew one or two faces. Excluding Kamura and Damon’s angel companion, the other three had all fought in the cell. When Witchblade mentioned the drow’s name and that he fought in the same cell they did, he began to remember. The halberdier remembered seeing the masked face shortly before he entered the fray. How long the drow lasted after that was a mystery, but he definitely wasn’t standing when Zerith and Rheawien clashed.

“Wait a second?” Zerith said as he came back to reality. He turned to Witchblade, “How did you do that? I swear I just heard you talk in my head.” The fighter never experienced that feeling before, the feeling of hearing another persons voice in you mind. It felt unusual, like someone was intruding on his thoughts. Then again it could be a really helpful ability, especially when you want to say something to a certain individual without anyone else hearing. Whispering? If Zerith ever learned to do what Witchblade did, he’d never need to whisper again.

The drow spoke next, giving a greeting in common before going back to speaking his native language. It may as well have been gibberish, either way Zerith had no clue as to what the words Izvilvin said meant. He turned and to face Kithdur and spoke some more, but it still didn’t help Zerith at all. Yet the drow and Witchblade seemed to know each other. If that was true, the halberdier would have to rely on the woman to translate.

Damon and his friend seemed to be busy having their own discussion. But not before the angel told the others that her companion was a semi-finalist in the LCC and a finalist in the Cell. At first Zerith felt the beginning of jealousy toward the boy for managing to accomplish such feats. The halberdier had yet to even see a second round of a tournament, and the thought of it frustrated him. He could have gone far in the LCC If it wasn’t for that bastard, Torin. The idiot didn’t know how to carry his own weight and as a result, Zerith lost in the first round. Next time he would do the right thing and partner with a more responsible person, maybe even one of the people here. If he saw Torin again…well he’d show Torin just where he could stick that sword of his.

“That’s quite a accomplishment Damon,” Zerith said to the boy. “I know that although I haven’t reached such a goal yet, I will eventually. You should be proud you got that far in two tournaments,” he added with a smile. He was right, it was only a matter of time until he moved past round one. With that realization the jealousy faded and was replaced with a sense of peace. The next tournament would be his next chance, but now he had to focus on the present.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Zerith exclaimed as he turned to face everyone. “Witchblade, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to translate for Izvilvin. It just seems like you two know each other, but if you don’t understand him either, then we’re going to have a problem. Damon, you and your companion are more than welcome to join us. We’re just going to investigate these ruins and see if there’s more beneath the surface.”

“Now the way I see it. We could split up and search the place, but I’m afraid we’ll only get lost in the process. So I suggest that for now we just head to the center of the city and then we can figure out what we will do from there. At least that way we get out of this desert. Alright? Let’s go.”

With all that said, Zerith dug his heels into Exarion’s sides and began to head into the city. The heat was really getting to him now, just as it was probably beginning to bother everyone else who wasn’t used to it. Hopefully, they would find a way underground soon, as the thought of having to explore these entire ruins was unappealing. For Zerith, the sooner things cooled down, the better.

“Next time I come to the desert, I’m going to remember to never wear chainmail.”

[Witchblade]

Witchblade nodded her head to Zerith as they began making their way into the ruins. Every building here looked the same. All stones crumbling into the unforgiving sand. A few more hundred years and there would be nothing left of this place but dust scattered throughout the land of Fallien. No one would remember what this place had been or what had happened here. It would fall through the cracks of history like everything else did to humans. The only thing that remained in the history books of humans were terrible and great deeds, all the little things leading up to those were always forgotten along the way as trivial and inconsequential.

“According to Izvilvin, there’s a slightly larger building in the centre of the ruins that has a staircase leading down. He doesn’t really know where it goes though, but unless intelligence has suddenly fled from me, that’s where we should head.” Her telepathic link was open to all of them, but she kept as minimal contact with their minds as possible, not really wishing to pick any unwanted thoughts up. She did, however, catch Zerith’s comment about chain mail. If she was one to laugh she would have at that.

Giving Izvilvin a rare smile, the halfling inclined her head to him and turned to go back to her horse and mount up. As she did, her little white dragon decided he had missed Izvilvin and jumped down from the saddle, skidded through the sand and ran over to the Drow, placing his paws on his legs.

“I think he missed you…” There was an underlying message in that. She’d missed him and she still remembered the last words she’d said to him as he left The Cell. Words she’d never spoken to anyone else, words she doubted she’d ever say again.

Leaving her dragon in the capable hands of Izzy, Witch mounted up and spurred her horse after Zerith, riding directly beside him. The further they got into the city the more it looked like they weren’t going to find much of anything. Most of the buildings were nothing more than walls, some boasted stairs that led to nothing but the sky. Others did have a second story not that she’d even contemplate climbing up to it. They looked like they’d fall down any second with just the slightest breeze—if only there was a breeze though, this sun was even starting to get to her. But finally they came across the larger building that Izvilvin had been talking about. It was crumbling, like all the others, but it had been a larger structure and as such there was more of it left standing at the moment. It didn’t exactly look safe but since when was anything in Althanas safe?

There was something left of a second story and even a little of a third. It looked like it might have been some kind of temple long ago, but other than that there didn’t appear to be anything unique about it. Dismounting, Witch led her horse over to one of the crumbling walls and tied the reins on a rock. Grabbing her rucksack off the saddle, Witch slung it over her shoulders and headed into the entrance of the temple. Sun light failed to reach inside here, the roof still intact and the darkness was a great reprieve and an amazing temperature difference.

[Izvilvin]

Izvilvin caught Witchblade's smile and returned it, raising his hand in a salutation, greeting her specifically. Daegun padded lightly over the sand to come to him, and with a chuckle the Drow bended and plucked the little white creature from the stinging grains. He was not heavy, thankfully, so Izvilvin took him in his arms as they began their journey. There was no doubt in his mind that his horse would remain where he'd left it, in what little shade was available.

Daegun coo'd at him, curled up in Izvilvin's right arm. He used his free hand to scratch under the dragon's skin.

They came to the structure he'd mentioned after only a few minutes of walking. The sun, coming from behind them, made it easy to see the details of the building. Izvilvin followed his friend inside, and after a moment of adjusting, his lavender eyes perceived the staircase next to the far wall. It was basically a hole in the ground, surrounded not by sand but by steel, which formed a slight barrier from the environment around it. It was a strange construct to observe in such a place. He imagined it was used as some sort of shelter, back when the city was populated.

"Nindol zhah ol. Usstan kestal a mzulst uss d' dos uriu natha d' ssussun," he said, explaining that he hoped one of his companions had a source of light, for vision down below was impossible without one. Witchblade translated for him.

With that, the warrior placed Daegun on the steel and took a high step over the square barrier surrounding the staircase, scooping the dragon back up when he could. The top few stairs were covered with sand despite the shield, so he took caution in stepping on them.

((Let's pretend Witch translates anything of importance that Izvilvin says :p With her posting right before me, it'd be too hard otherwise. Also sorry for the wait, forgot about this one.))