The Salvar Operation (Solo)

[MetalDrago]

MetalDrago walked silently through a frost covered valley. Memories haunted his mind like a perpetual nightmare, and he sought to put an end to them. The Dragonian Paladin sought no counsel from his mentor and brother among the wicked, the Forsaken of N'Jal. The power within his heart was one of darkness, and no nightmarish dream should have been able to disturb him. Somewhere deep inside, he knew there was something that threatened his very existence, perhaps the existence of the entire clan of the Forsaken in the ruins of former Valinatal, now known as the Narenhad among Raiaerans. The man drew his cloak close around himself, seeking to fight off the biting cold of the lands of Salvar. He had come here with a purpose, a dark intent he would not relinquish. Spies had infiltrated the new homeland the Forsaken were building for themselves, and they would have to die. The Dragonian 'Lord' of the Narenhad looked forward to this with an almost jubilant glee.

The ice cracked beneath in the sunlight, a dry, despicable sun that offered no warmth. He cursed the day he'd ever decided to travel to Salvar to seek the rogues who'd made off with that vial of N'Jal's Unholy Water... If the guardians of the Eye of Fate were still alive, MetalDrago would be sure to ensure that wouldn't last long. Abandoning their post would be bad enough, but letting some group of thieves or spies or whatever they happened to be get out of the village with a vial of the Taint was unforgivable. Whoever was responsible, if still alive, would be taught a harsh and unforgiving lesson. The Paladin again ceased his walking to think. Of all of his allies, he had chosen only to allow his second, Terramat, to know what he was up to, just in case he needed backup at any point in time. The problem with trusting a man like Terramat was to determine how to play it to be in his favor to help the Forsaken in their goal. Terramat was a fan of Chaos and Discord across the land, and did everything in his power to ensure that the constant wars for power in Althanas kept going. MetalDrago played it off as if the Forsaken could keep that very goal within easy reach of the Deceitful Assassin, as he was known to his enemies. Also, the wrath of N'Jal, should the Forsaken be successful in releasing her from her prison permanently, was not something to scoff at. It was out of a combination of fear, greed, and respect for MetalDrago that Terramat had ever kept his promise to serve the Paladin for as long as he had.

Around the a corner in the valley, the Captain heard some people talking. He wasn't sure who they were, but he was not about to let the very people he had been chasing detect his presence, not yet, at any rate.

“We've been traveling these bloody frozen wastes for days now, and still no sign of civilization to be had. Our perishable wares have all but frozen, and we're in danger of having the same happen to us, Heinrich. Our responsibility may be to our customers, but foremost it's to our own lives. How in the hell are we supposed to deliver the goods if we die of hypothermia in the process?” the one who spoke was kneeling before a simply made fire, toasting his hands and looking miserable, and his voice echoed that sentiment. The leader, the man named Heinrich, was obviously a trader who made his profits by procuring things for places that were far out of the way. He was dressed practically, too, warm furs adorning almost all of his clothing. The clothes themselves were serviceable, if not regal, and were more fit for practicality in the wastes than the flimsy clothing of simple Corone make the other man was wearing. Obviously, Heinrich's partner had not ventured out into the wastes very often in his life, if at all. His clothes were more suited to the tropical climes of Concordia than anything else.

There was a third man with them, but he remained for the most part, silent. He would look from one to the other from time to time, but would not comment one way or another. When he had finally noticed the other man, Heinrich had started to speak. “A frozen waste indeed. I warned you that those clothes and those meager provisions you brought with yourself wouldn't be enough. You're lucky Goodwin even bothered to build a fire for you, I'd have left you out in the cold, freezing your knickers off.”

At that, the younger man ran his fingers through his hair and shut up. It was at that moment that Goodwin motioned to Heinrich and pointed in the Paladin's direction. “Whoever's out there, show yourself. We're armed, I warn you.”

MetalDrago emerged from the shadows and raised one hand in salutation, glad that his cloak's hood was covering his face. “I'm not here for your goods, merchant.”

The younger man snorted. “There's little other reason for a man to be wandering these wastes alone. Tell us why we shouldn't slit your throat for eavesdropping on us and skulking around in the shadows.” The Paladin knew the young man was in a foul temper, and though he felt like backhanding the little sod, he decided against it.

“I'm here seeking to retrieve an item that was stolen from my village in Raiaera. It might not look like much of an item, but it is very dear to the people of my village. We are a very religious people, you see. The item is a vial of water that appears almost metallic in nature. It is a symbol of great power to my people, and we will stop at nothing to bring the thieves to justice. I was merely eavesdropping to see if you were the culprits, is all.”

“A very unlikely sounding story, and it doesn't sound very well rehearsed either. But there is truth to your words, and you don't seem the type to accost simple trading caravans for no reason... no, you have far too much mettle for work such as that. I will take you at your word.” Heinrich motioned for him to join the younger one by the fire. “I can also see that you are no human. Your features look almost Draconian, but... no, you are not one of them either. A cross-breed between a Draconian and a hume, perhaps?”

The Paladin was weary from his travels, and merely assented, knowing the man had guessed correctly. “You are very perceptive, sir. People like myself are labled Dragonians, people of more human blood than dragon. We carry powers similar to dragons, but maintain mostly human characteristics. It depends on the blood. I've seen many of our kind who have human skin, but who have wings and claws that could slice a man up as surely as any sword.”

“Of that I have no doubt. Sit with us, and tell us where you're headed. We might be travelling the same way, and I'm sure Goodwin would welcome another sword.” The silent man merely nodded, peering serenely off into the distance. “Do not mind him. He rarely talks, but when he does, he has a habit of piercing into the heart of matters. I'm Heinrich, and the young man too stupid to bring winter clothes over there is called Breezy. It's a nickname, but one he answers to readily. Anyway, share our camp, at least for now, and take a load off.”

“Thank you, Heinrich. It will be nice to melt the snow in my hair, at any rate.” With those words, the Dragonian took down his hood and rested his palm easily on his knee. Goodwin came and sat down next to him, nodded, and handed him a handful of tough jerky from his pack. MetalDrago nodded in return and forced down the rough meat. He'd brought provisions, but didn't know how long he'd be out here, so sharing with these kind folks for now meant he could save his own provisions for the hunt.

“Now that I think about it...” Goodwin spoke for the first time. The Paladin looked at him, his brow furrowed slightly. The man's somewhat regal tone threw him off. “...I did see someone pass through less than an hour ago. He was surrounded by no less than three guards, and he wore a vial around his neck. It could be the item your searching for. He was headed to the very same castle we're going to be visiting to peddle our wears.”

The Dragonian nodded and said, “Then allow my sword to accompany you. I need to find this man and stop him from delivering that vial to his masters, no matter the cost.”

Goodwin merely nodded and took a bite out of his own jerky. “Fine with me.” Heinrich said. Breezy said nothing and breathed into his hands before rubbing them together. “We break camp in twenty minutes.”

[MetalDrago]

Four hours later, MetalDrago and the others had set up another camp. Heinrich and the others had been watching him, as if waiting for him to let down his hood. He enjoyed being a mystery to people. He was a very quiet person, and thus stayed with Goodwin more often than not, as Goodwin didn't speak very often, and left him alone for the most part. The Dragonian enjoyed the company of another such as himself. He was not unused to mercenary work. He had made his living as such for many years while searching for Terramat, back before the two ended up joining forces.

“Heinrich, I know you're curious about me, about why I'd be so possessed in finding a man carrying a vial, as well as why I refuse to reveal my face. The fact of the matter is that my face is considered frightening by many in the world. I do it because I do not wish to scare the people I accompany.” What he spoke was a half-truth at best, but he knew it was believable, nonetheless. He was leaning against a snow-covered boulder as he spoke, his red-scaled hands gripping the elbows of his other arms lightly. It was his way of crossing his arms.

Heinrich looked at him with a surprised expression. “I'd no idea that you were so observant. I guess it's to be expected. Yes, we're wondering about that. You don't like people to see your face, but I gather that's not the entire truth of it. You follow a path that most fear to tread, a path that is lined, by my guess, with arachnids, spiders.” He brushed a lock of his light blond hair out of his face and surveyed the Paladin with his steel-blue eyes. “I've seen enough of those who bear the mark of N'Jal to know one such as you. You carry a weapon imbued with Her essence. A thing of evil magick, it is, and though you do not draw it against the innocent or those you can use for your own purposes, it is a weapon of Dark Power, nonetheless.”

The Paladin growled and placed a hand on the hilt of his sword and Heinrich held up his hands and backed away a few feet. “We have no dispute with the Dark Goddess, Dragonian. Do not turn your weapon against us because I made an observation...” A throwing dagger slipped out of the man's sleeve and into a waiting hand. “...or things might just turn out not to your liking.”

The Paladin smiled and let go of the sword. “Fine, but put up your weapon as well.” Heinrich did. “How did you know what I was?”

“We've had some dealings with the Forsaken. We heard that one of the Paladins that presides over the Forsaken in the Narenhad was something called a 'Dragonian'. I'm guessing you're him... Which makes you one of the strongest of the Forsaken. The only one who I've heard of that's stronger than you is the High Priest of N'Jal at Narenhad, someone named Lorenor. I always wondered about the two of you... I guess now I know... whatever that thing was, it was a relic of the Dark Goddess, wasn't it?”

The Paladin couldn't do anything but nod. “And that means that whatever it is, it must have some extremely powerful destructive capabilities.”

“Not... exactly. It's more than that dangerous in it's own right. I will not get into specifics. Only those chosen by N'Jal are allowed to use that item, and should anyone use it without her blessing, they shall become cursed. I have to stop them from using it at all costs.”

Heinrich looked at the sky and said, “If we leave now, we'll make it about an hour before nightfall. Let's pack up.” He then looked at MetalDrago. “Remember this if we ever find ourselves in need of safe harbor, or in need of someone to trade with.”

“I will remember this even if you choose to become one of my kind. The Forsaken are not everything they are feared to be.” With that, they set off once again.

By the time they reached the town, the sun was almost done with its downward descent. The Dragonian had some idea of where his quarry was going, but he would not say. If he found them where he thought they'd be, there would be some hell to pay for the Church of the Ethereal Sway. As he strode confidently into town, two shadows seemed to follow him...

Things were about to get interesting in the town of Had-Loriag.

[MetalDrago]

As they approached the town of Had-Loriag, with the sun slowly descending below the mountains to the north, MetalDrago began to feel strange, as if something was trying to dig its way into his mind. He was familiar with this sensation, but it was one that he hadn't faced in nearly 1000 years. He shivered, not because of the cold, but because something was really wrong. He stopped in his tracks, and turned to look at Heinrich. “What is that presence that I feel?”

Heinrich met his gaze with a half-smile. “I have a monopoly on the trade with this particular village, because of an ancient legend. It is said that anyone who remains here for more than a week will be driven mad by an ancient presence. I think they said this town was cursed some one thousand years ago, with what people call the Plague of the Mad King. No one knows how it happened, but most of the people in this town are certifiably insane. Those who have lived here for generations are immune, but those who come in instantly feel that something is wrong, and they have a week to leave before they become one of the Cursed Ones. I only come up here once every six months because of this, but they rely on my trade, and will not harm me.”

“No one knows the cause of the Curse, then? This is far too convenient.” The Paladin closed his eyes and felt for the source of the presence. It obviously wasn't within the town itself, or else someone would have discovered it... If only he had Lorenor with him, he'd have no problem finding the cause, but instead, he was forced to rely on his own senses, and he felt pulled to the top of the cliff to the east of the town. “What about the cliffs to the east?”

“That's where the Curse hits full force. No one who ventures that far comes back with his mind. Some people claim to have seen a sword trapped in the ice at the top of the highest cliff, but no one can be sure. It's not considered safe to seek out the source, because those who do end up either dead from hypothermia or insane. So don't bother with it. Just reclaim your precious vial and leave that Curse where it is.” The caravan began moving again, towards an old, abandoned-looking inn in the center of town. “Trust me, whatever lies up there is not worth going after. If you have any brains you won't even consider it.”

MetalDrago nodded absently, but did not tell Heinrich that the presence was one he was all too familiar with. One thousand, three hundred and sixty-five years earlier, the Dragonian had encountered his father, a Draconian known as Yumei Sinreaver. He fought his father with an intensity he didn't think was possible, but the Draconian warrior was too strong for him, and fought with a savagery that eclipsed anything he'd ever experienced. All the time, he emanated that same aura... the aura of madness. The sword he wielded was the source of the aura, he was sure. It was a black katana with a black blade that held a blood red edge. However, as MetalDrago used his old Dragon's Fury longsword, the other sword met him blow for blow, leaving considerable damage on the blade that MetalDrago had to have repaired.

The Dragonian Paladin looked to the far cliffs again and knew that he had been brought here for a purpose, to retrieve that sword to be used for the Dark Lady N'Jal. He still had to complete his mission first, however, and left the caravan to head towards the local headquarters of the Church of the Ethereal Sway. They were still a huge power in Salvar, and he couldn't let them deliver the vial to St. Denebriel's Cathedral. If the old woman got her hands on the vial, it could spell catastrophe for the whole world, the Forsaken included. He could not allow this to happen.

_____________________

The church's door came off its hinges easily enough, and the Paladin saw the priest in charge of the church sitting before him. He was clapping as the Paladin stepped into his sanctum. “Well, well, I didn't expect you to actually show up. This vial...” he held up the vial containing the N'Jal Protocol, “...must be much more important that I originally thought. Tell me, follower of N'Jal, what exactly is the purpose of the water in this vial?”

The Dragonian clenched his jaw and said through gritted teeth, “None of your business, priest. Now, return the vial, and I will spare you the humiliation of being killed by the follower of a Thayne.” His voice echoed off the spartan walls of the Church, through the pews and into the corridors off to the side.

“I had originally instructed my agents to find and steal the Necronomicon from the High Priest of your Order, but from what they reported, he never parts with the books, so they took what they could from the inside of the inner sanctum, and apparently it was something important if you've come to claim it...” The priest began to laugh and stood up, and MetalDrago could see it within his eyes, a madness inflicted not only upon the mind, but also on the soul. “I think... We'll just have to see... just how powerful... haha... you really... heheh... are!” At that moment, the priest's robes seemed to dissolve off of him and a scythe made of what appeared to be ice manifested in his hand. “I am the reaper, the gatherer of the crops. And your life has reached fruition. It's time to reap the fruits of your labor!”

Only a second passed before the others the priest had hired appeared from the side halls. “...Four on one? That hardly seems fair...” At his words, the two shadows that had been tailing him appeared from within the darkness of behind the Dragonian. A pair of cloaked Forsaken, one with a whip that seemed to be made of a vine from the pits of Haidia and the other with pair of shortswords that seemed to be made from the darkest obsidian, appeared at the Paladin's side.

“Two Forsaken guards...” A flash of sanity appeared in the priest's eyes. “You can't be... the fearsome General that they call the Captain of the Dark Dragon Corps?”

“I prefer the rank of Captain to that of General. At least then I still get to have a little fun.” The Dragonian couldn't help but smile evilly as he watched the priest's eyes fill with fear. He crouched low, his katana, the Dragon's Betrayal, unsheathed and hungry for blood. “Listen to me, you pathetic priest. If you value your life, you will relinquish that vial and return to Saint Denebriel with news of your defeat. But, if you're going to let the madness infest your mind, feel free to attack, and I will take pleasure in your painful death...” As he spoke, his voice fell to a hiss, hinting at the bloodlust running rampant through his veins.

As the two maddened combatants faced each other, both knew the answer that would come. The priest smiled wickedly and his scythe cut into the ground as he climbed on it. “I will take pleasure in the pain you bring to me, wicked one! Repent your sins as I take you to your grave!” All fear was lost again within the madness infesting his soul as he ran towards the Dragonian, pulling his scythe violently out of the ground, laughing.

[MetalDrago]

MetalDrago prepared himself for the counter attack and silently nodded to the two Forsaken guards that they were free to attack the others, but the priest was his and his alone. Once those silent communications were done, the bloodlust gripped him, full strength. Unlike most who are gripped in the midst of a bloodlust, he was able to keep his rational thinking abilities, those. His was a controlled madness, one that could be utilized, as a tool, instead of using him. As the priest approached, the Paladin caught the blade of the scythe on his own and spun into the oncoming attacker. He had not fought a scythe user since back when he'd fought Maera Makia, the Nightmare Thief, but he did know one thing, the closer you fought with them, the less likely the blade was to hit you.

The priest seemed to notice his maneuver and jumped back, throwing the scythe back over his shoulder. The madness seemed to grant him preternatural strength. He swung the scythe as he would a toy sword, but the Paladin knew it was only a matter of time until he would grow tired, due to the heft of the weapon. He closed in on the priest and dodged inside another keen blow. The pews on either side of him we limiting his range, and the priest looked leery of accidentally hitting anything inside of the church. That would be to his advantage. As the priest tried to move back, away from the impending attack, he gripped on of the pews with his claws and pulled it out, watching as the priest threw yet another open-arc attack on him, this time downward, hoping to cut him in half. The scythe cut into the pew, which slowed it down just enough for him to jump forward and bash into the priest, forcing him to release his grip on the scythe, flying back into another one of the pews, fracturing the back of the bench-like seat. It knocked the wind out of him, gaining another precious few seconds for the Paladin.

He gripped the priest by his shirt and smashed the hilt of his sword into the man's nose, only to be met at the back by the blade of the third mercenary the priest had hired, who had escaped from the Forsaken bodyguards just long enough to launch an attack on the Captain. The blade, made of iron, cut into the cloak, but did not break through the steel scalemail underneath it. However, because of the special properties of the cloak, MetalDrago did feel pain, as if one of his wings had just been cut into. He laughed and turned to the man behind him, drawing up his own blade and attacking with ferocity. The mercenary had never been attacked by someone like him, someone who didn't hold back, and as he tried his best to block the blade of the other man, he was met with a quick downward fist to his head, stunning him for only a moment as the Paladin twisted his own blade in his hand, landing a fast hilt-hit to his abdomen. The merc staggered backwards, the air robbed from his lungs.

The Paladin smiled and turned back to the priest, who was just starting to stand back up. “Last chance, give me the vial or pay with your life.”

The priest's only response was to laugh, which descended into a coughing fit, blood spurting out and down his shirt. He clenched his fist around what appeared to be air, until the scythe magically appeared in his hand. He spun the scythe in one hand and brought it down on the Paladin, who barely dodged out of the way, his cloak again getting caught in the blade of a weapon. This time, he screamed in a mix of pleasure and pain as he flipped his sword back around to attack the priest.

And then, a moment later, it was over. The priest's scythe lay in the floor next to him, his right hand still gripping it tightly. The priest coughed and sputtered, trying to talk through the blood filling his mouth from his broken nose. The Paladin gripped the vial hanging around the priest's neck and ripped it from him, a cruel smile on his lips. He slowly sheathed his sword as the priest tried to grab the vial back from him, and then with a sudden strike of his left hand, hit the man directly on his windpipe, crushing it and robbing the man of the ability to breathe altogether.

The mercenaries, covered in wounds and barely able to stand, staggered out of the room, but the Forsaken guards caught them as they tried to run, killing them in cold blood. The vial had been recovered, and the Captain was alive, if not entirely in one piece. MetalDrago drew his cloak around him as blood ran down from the cuts the two weapons had made in it. He cursed the day he'd ever enchanted his wings to turn into a cloak, without figuring out the counter-spell which would give him control over the transformation. Soon, soon... I will learn the secret, and then my cloak will no longer be a weak-spot.

As he walked slowly out of the church, the Paladin felt a wave of the Curse wash over him. The sword was reacting to the violence that took place in the church, feeding off the madness of the slaughter, gaining strength. “Guards, you are dismissed, but be ready at my call.” His guards, accepting the request, disappeared into the shadows to invisibly tail their Captain again.

It was time... time for him to reclaim the item left as a curse to all beings by his father... The Nocturne of Madness.

[MetalDrago]

The cold harsh winds of the cliffs really bit into the Dragonian. His teeth shattered as he drew his cloak around his body more tightly. Night was falling swiftly, and he wanted to finish this while darkness covered the sky. “This is getting better by the second.” He said glumly. He could feel the wind trying to catch him, to stop him from going any further, but he would not allow it to prevail. He would reclaim the weapon that his father could not command, and he would force it to obey his will, or die trying. That was his resolve.

The unforgiving Salvarn winter had long set in, and the Dragonian was beginning to wish he still had his old Fireball ability. Using that power, he’d have been able to keep himself warm, at the very least. He cursed silently under his breath as he continued the mind-numbingly boring trek to the top of the cliff. His footsteps made nary a sound in the fallen snow, save a little crunch here and there from treading on fresh powder.

Then, suddenly, he could feel it. The sword was nearby. The source of madness was near, and it was trying to unlock MetalDrago’s bloodlust with all of its might. He fought against it, unwilling to release his bloodlust without victims nearby. He continued up toward the nearest ice cap and rested for a moment, since the wind had died down. The fresh white snow was evidence that no man or beast had passed by in quite some time. He smiled grimly. This meant that the sword’s influence would only grow stronger as he approached closer.

He stood and continued to climb the ice cap. He was nearing the epicenter of the madness, and he knew his strength wouldn’t hold out much longer until he succumbed to his bloodlust. Then, miraculously, he saw it, a black blade embedded in the ice. However, there was something just a little off. It was too easy to get to the sword, considering so many had died trying to find the source of the curse. Turns out, it wasn’t as easy as it seemed.

Sitting atop the ice cap, not really paying attention to his surroundings, was Seraius, the Diamondbreaker. He was cleaning his claws out with an iron dagger, possibly one from one of his recent kills. When he noticed his younger brother, he pushed off the ice cap and landed with a loud crunch that cracked the ground beneath him.

“And who are you supposed to be? Some kind of demonic draconian, a servant of N’Jal, maybe?” The big brute known as Seraius was a behemoth of a man, large bulging muscles covered by smooth, dark amethyst scales. One of his eyes was blue, the other red, and each glowed with an inner light. He was quite the intimidating sight for most ordinary adventurers. However, MetalDrago was no ordinary adventurer.

“You really are stupid, aren’t you?” the Dragonian hissed at the vastly larger man. For some reason the wind had stopped, and the Captain held his nose with both fingers. “Your smell certainly hasn’t changed much, my half brother.” The last two words were spoken with venomous spite behind them.

[MetalDrago]

The bigger man looked confused for a moment, and then he laughed uproariously. “MetalDrago, my runt of a brother?! Is that really you? My… you’ve certainly changed, and developed a backbone, it seems.” He patted his brother’s head in a mocking brotherly sort of way, and then stepped back a few steps. He dusted his hands off and picked up the sword that had earned him his nickname, the Diamondbreaker Blade. He swung it a couple of times haphazardly, pretending to get used to its heft, and then threw it over his shoulder. “So, what are you here for? Serving N’Jal, from your appearance.”

The Dragonian tensed up and drew his own blade. “You’re as smug and observant as ever. Your dumb brute act never did fool anyone who actually knew you. So, what? Guarding father’s sword?”

Seraius laughed. “Guarding it, no… Using it, yes. You see, the unique madness aura of the blade shields me from the Eyes of N’Jal. I don’t even appear to be anywhere in existence at the moment. I won’t let anyone take this blade, simply because it protects me from the wrath of a certain Thayne.” He spread his legs and bent down, both of his hands wrapping around the greatsword. “Meaning I can’t let you report back to her, either.”

“Seraius, grow up…” another voice said from beyond the ice cap. A thin dark elf appeared above the two arguing brothers. Dressed in regal royal purples, blacks, and reds, the smiling lightning-blue eyed drow stood silently, waiting to be addressed.

“Terramat… So, you’ve found me, and you’ve blocked yourself from being manipulated by my powers… No matter, I can easily take care of you and my younger sibling here without any help.” The giant Draconian spoke with an evil glint in his eyes, waiting for either of them to make a move.

“I doubt we’ll have to go that far… I don’t want to reveal my powers in Salvar yet, and MetalDrago is no match for you in your current form. So… let’s even the odds a little.” Terramat smiled and lifted his finger, pointing it at MetalDrago. The Paladin wasn’t sure what was happening until his eyes began to glow black and a voice spoke through him that was not his own. “My former servant, Seraius Diamondbreaker, I strip you of the strength and powers that I gave you… Your life, your power, is all forfeit for betraying me.” The voice of N’Jal echoed evilly as it filled the ice cap with thunderous power.

Seraius couldn’t run, he couldn’t even move… Slowly, his body seemed to shift, as a dark purple light seemed to radiate out from his body and into MetalDrago’s outstretched blade, from his behemoth form to that of his former self, a large Draconian man.“No, no! I will not let you do this… Now you die!” He hefted his greatsword, showing that his strength was still nothing to underestimate, and ran towards the Paladin. Terramat disappeared, leaving the siblings to work out their differences themselves. He always has this strange habit of showing up at just the right time to make things interesting. The Dragonian couldn’t help but think to himself as Seraius continued to approach him.

[MetalDrago]

Seraius was surprised to find nothing but air when he swung his blade down for an attack. His brother had gotten much stronger since last they met, and quicker, as well. “Damn you, brother…” he said, his eyes glowing with the ferocity of his anger. MetalDrago almost felt sorry for his brother. Considering his sudden lack of strength, he would tire under the weight of his blade before too long. However, this was not about family feuds. This was strategy. The Dragonian lifted his sword and parried a rushed stab from his brother’s greatsword.

“If you insist on fighting this way, at least put some thought behind your attacks. You can’t possibly tell me that when N’Jal robbed you of your powers, she also robbed you of your intellect. You’re smarter than this!” The Paladin drove the last point home by slicing Seraius’s shoulder open through a hole in his defense. “Think before you fight, or this isn’t going to be any fun at all!”

The hulking Draconian bellowed in rage at his younger sibling drawing first blood. The younger brother couldn’t help but sigh as his brother rushed towards him with a look of dark vengeance in his eyes. “If you’re not going to take this seriously, then I suppose I won’t either…” He deflected the half-assed downward chop of his brother’s blade by smacking it off to the side in mid-flight with his own sword. The larger blade veered off and hit the ice below, cracking it open slightly with its weight. “Don’t let your emotions control you, or you’ll end up dead before you realize what’s happening.”

At that moment, a pang of bloodlust ran through his veins. He jumped toward his brother and sliced open the length of his left arm before he had a chance to reign himself back in. He jumped back from his attack and looked over at his father’s blade, the Nocturne of Madness. “I’ll be damned… It’s starting to affect me too. I wonder what would happen if…” his monologue was cut short by another half-assed attempt at attacking by his brother. The Dragonian Paladin barely dodged out of the way, and landed on his feet right next to his father’s blade. He could feel the madness energy pouring into him, and without thinking about it, grasped the sword from its hilt and pulled it from its icy prison.

At that precise moment, everything changed. His eyes went from an orchid to an almost white-blue and an evil smile crept onto his face as the sword’s twisted energy ran rampant through his veins. He could feel the energy that ultimately led to his father’s demise pouring through him, unlocking depths of madness he had never experienced before. His bloodlust had reached a new dimension of madness. He laughed coldly as he held the Nocturne in his left hand and the Dragon’s Betrayal in the other. “Madness and Betrayal… Two such beautiful words, wouldn’t you agree, brother?” He said, half laughing each word.

Seraius, on the other hand, seemed to calm down. His rage wasn’t as powerful as it had been a few moments ago. The sword had made him lose all reasoning, and now that the effects were lifted, thanks to his brother lifting the sword out of the ground, he could at last think clearly again. He should have been thanking him, but he still wanted revenge for MetalDrago being the instrument through which his powers had been taken from him.

The Paladin, on the other hand, had much more sinister plans in store for his brother. The pure bloodlust that had taken over his mind made him intent on enjoying this battle as much as possible, piece by painful piece.

[MetalDrago]

The bloodlust was frightening. MetalDrago gripped both katanas deftly in either hand. His eyes still had that eerie, almost white glow, and that crooked smile and laughter would send chills down just about anyone’s spine. He looked up at his brother and winked at him before rushing him from the front. Seraius brought up his own blade to defend, but his brother was already one step ahead of him. He rolled underneath the poorly mustered defense and came up behind the larger man, facing his back. He brought both blade and sliced in an X-shape across his back. He couldn’t stop smiling. This was so much fun he couldn’t stand it.

The Diamondbreaker turned and swung his sword at his brother, but was met with much more resistance than he thought. The Dragonian Paladin caught his brother’s blade on the Nocturne of Madness and stopped it dead in its tracks, laughing the whole time. “This sword… this wonderful sword… I’ve never experienced anything like it. I love it.” The Paladin said gleefully. His eyes met his brother’s and Seraius could tell that this fight was over. He was being toyed with.

The Paladin kicked his brother in the chest and sent him sprawling on the ground. The greatsword flew from his grip as he landed. He tried to stand up, but couldn’t find the will under his younger brother’s stare. He’d been bested, for the first time in his life. He couldn’t believe it. The shock was almost too much to bear. “Seraius… my brother…” MetalDrago seemed halfway lucid for the first time since he picked up the sword. “You’re going to beg for death by the time I’m finished with you.” The last sentence was beyond frightening to the older brother. It wasn’t the words themselves, but the manic, depraved, and joyful way in which his younger brother said it.

MetalDrago took a few steps closer to his brother and leaned close, within whispering distance, before taking the serrated blade of the Dragon’s Betrayal across the skin of his uninjured arm. Seraius howled in pain and tried out of desperation to get his brother off of him, but to no avail. The white eyes of the Dark Paladin locked into his brother’s as he smiled, dragging the blade slowly across the flesh of his arm and up to his shoulder. It tore the flesh open and spilled blood like a dam, broken under the strain of years of abuse.

Then, the Paladin went crazy. Blood spattered the white snow, the smell of defecation filled the air, and the cries of a man in unbearable pain filled the air as he slowly and methodically severed each extremity of his older brother, all the while wearing that wicked, twisted grin on his face. First, the fingers, then the fore-arms, then the upper arms. Piece by painful piece, the Paladin ripped his brother apart, laughing and grinning with unrelenting joy with every sound of pain that escaped his brother’s lips.

“Please…” a bare whisper escaped Seraius’s lips, “…please just let me die.” Those were the magic words. MetalDrago slit his brother’s throat with ceremony, dragging the blade slowly, from one side of his neck to the other.

It was over. MetalDrago sheathed the Dragon’s Betrayal and pulled the scabbard of the Nocturne of Madness from the ice wall next to where the sword was once embedded into the ground. He sheathed it as well, and felt the bloodlust immediately leave him. He attached the sword to his side, and walked away, reeling from the sensations of euphoria that he’d gotten from fighting his older brother.

[MetalDrago]

The effects of the blade had been all too real, nothing like what he had expected. He expected the blade to destroy his mind like it did that of his father. With the sword in its sheath, the Dragonian Paladin could feel nothing but his own madness. The sheath seemed to guard the mind from the effects of the sword when it wasn’t being used. The man laughed, as the old him would have tried and destroyed the sword. Yet now, he desired nothing more than to keep it, to use its power for himself. He knew he could use the powers of the sword for a purpose at some point. The madness aura it projected it stuck in the ground was legend in this part of the world.

As he approached Had-Loriag, he noticed that people seemed to be acting more rational as he passed. This meant that he had not only taken his father’s sword for himself, but had also freed the city from the curse. A part of him desired to go and show them that he had been their savior, but the darker part of his soul warned him against it. He could not be a hero to these people. He had much more important business to take care of.

He continued past the city, ignoring the crumbling rooftops and the broken doors of the local Church. He was going home. His hands grasped the vial of N’Jal Protocol closely to his chest. Despite all that had happened here in the last twenty-four hours, he still had a mission to complete. He came across the traveling merchant, Heinrich again as he walked past the tavern on the outskirts of the town.

“Heinrich,” the Dragonian said, shaking the man’s hand. “I’d thought you’d have left by now. It’s almost daybreak.”

“I have every intention of leaving as soon as possible.” The shorter man said, drawing his fur cloak around his body tightly. “This place has always given me the creeps.” He looked at the Dragonian and seemed to notice for the first time that he was carrying two blades instead of one. “You have a new sword.”

The Paladin nodded and said, “I don’t think the madness will infect the village for much longer. This sword once belonged to someone I once knew very well. This…” he put his hand on the pommel of the sword, “…was the source of the madness infecting the village. While it remains in its scabbard, it will remain harmless. You have my word on that.”

“The word of a man I hardly even know, you mean.” The merchant said, a bit of venom in his voice. “But I will take you on your word. Besides, I have no reason to doubt you. But tell me, how do you intend to use that sword, when its power is that of madness?”

A smile escaped the taller man’s lips. “I know and embrace the madness within me. The sword cannot control me through something I already accept as a part of myself.”

Heinrich shrugged. “If you say so.” He turned to survey his caravan. “I’m travelling to Raiaera shortly. Perhaps you’d be so kind as to allow me and my men to stay at your village, sir?”

“You may call me Captain, or Paladin, or just MetalDrago.” The Dragonian laughed lightly. “Though, between you and me, I prefer the latter.”

“Very well, MetalDrago. May we stay in your village as guests?” He asked again.

The Dragonian nodded. “I will also allow you exclusive trade rights with our main citadel. You may feel welcome in our city for as long as you wish to stay. If you’re ready, shall we gather Goodwin and Breezy so we can leave?”

The merchant nodded, his eyes gleaming at the thought of an even greater profit than he had ever had before. He would be able to control trade with the Forsaken. This was almost too good to be true. “And your conditions for this monopoly on trade?”

“Simple,” the Captain replied. “Keep your prices fair and reveal to no one anything you might learn within the walls of our fortress. If you can keep that promise, I see no problem letting you keep a monopoly there.” Once again, the shorter man nodded his assent. He gathered Goodwin and Breezy and they were off.

On the ride back to Raiaera, the men enjoyed their time together. MetalDrago was surprised to see that Breezy had bought himself warm clothing to wear on the way to Raiaera. When he got there, he would likely have to change again. Raiaera was a very temperate climate, and Mosil Z’sarug was a bit on the strange side for many travelers to pass.



Three Weeks Later…

MetalDrago crossed the threshold of the Eye of Fate and knelt down on one knee in front of his commander, the High Priest Lorenor. He held up the vial of Protocol and kept his head down, waiting for the shorter man, and leader of Mosil Z’sarug to take the vial from his hands. When he felt the familiar hand touch his shoulder, he stood and embraced his closest friend and ally.

“Lorenor, it’s been too long. There is much to discuss.” The Dragonian Captain said. “But first… you should attend to the duties of re-consecrating the Protocol in the vial, so that it may rejoin the rest in the Eye of Fate. We will talk in the meeting hall soon. I’ve some travelling merchants to put up, and I don’t want to keep them waiting.”

With that he walked out. He spoke to Heinrich at length about their agreement, welcomed him, Goodwin, and Breezy to Mosil Z’sarug, and told them to make themselves comfortable. Then, he went up to the meeting hall, the place where Lorenor and MetalDrago most often met to discuss the ways of the world and what they should do to mess them up. He sat down in his high-backed chair and clenched his fingers over the familiar snake heads that adorned the armrests. When Lorenor arrived, there would be much to discuss.

Lorenor's participation in the rest of the thread has been discussed and approved, thanks!

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Retrieving the vile from MetalDrago Scorpio, the mutant nodded at his comrade. Without saying another word, Lorenor knew the importance of the task. Someone had the audacity to rob from the dark lady, and that someone was destined to pay dearly. Lorenor's senses looked at the vial and studied the liquid within it. It was a clear substance that seemed to glow with a mysterious light. His eyes were capable of seeing the secret that lurked within that substance, The N'Jal Protocol. Billions of self-replicating nano-machines were present within the vial. Lorenor knew what MetalDrago meant. The vial's substance was desecrated by the hands of those who had no idea what they were toying with. Listening to the word of N'Jal, Lorenor knew that its missing extension needed purification.

Lorenor walked over to the wellspring which was The Eye of Fate. This wellspring contained the secrets of N'Jal. Lorenor took a vial from one of his pouches and dipped it into the wellspring, taking a purified form of The N'Jal Protocol into the vial. As suspected, the liquid within the clean vial glowed brilliant compared to the filthy vial. Lorenor would have to take care of the substance at once. Moving quickly, the mutant unscrewed the vial and turned to the gathered congregation.

"Behold!" Lorenor suddenly called out with a booming voice. "Our enemies would rob a secret that we give freely. When this secret is tainted, it becomes a corrupted substance, impure, but manageable. It is this secret which must now be purified!" Several kneeling individuals, both humanoid and undead, prayed to the great goddess. All eyes looked towards the high priest as he continued the fevered sermon. "We must not allow our enemies to gain footing over us! The awful price of treason against N'Jal, is death!" Many within the audience began to clap at Lorenor's decree. Several were whispering excitedly to one another.

From his position near the wellspring, the mutant was capable of seeing all with practiced talent. His flowing robes moved elegantly with each motion he took and every gesture he made. Knowing the next part well, the mutant took the purified version of The N'Jal Protocol and poured it into the corrupted vial. Shaking the vial after closing it, there was an instant chemical reaction. A brilliant light shone from deep within the substance in the corrupted vial.

When the light subsided, the mutant stood there with a grin on his face. He had learned a valuable lesson. N'Jal was capable of resetting the nanites that were corrupted from external sources. Such was N'Jal's power. The mutant saw the familiar glow of the wellspring within the vial now and the volatile chemical reaction from within the vial had subsided. Studying the end results carefully, Lorenor displayed the glowing vial to his congregation, showing them the power of N'Jal. Greedy eyes studied the vial without really understanding the deeper meaning of what had just occurred.

"And now, torn from the dark lady, to the dark lady ye shall return. So it has been and so it shall be once again. Fragments become whole once more, and the gift of the dark lady is ours once more. Let it be so!"

He said loudly, and gestured grandly. Walking over towards the powerful wellspring, the mutant poured the contents of the vial into the wellspring so that the two strands of The N'Jal Protocol could unite. A few moments later there was a brilliant glow shining from within the wellspring, and Lorenor could see the clouds of the nanite culture mixing together in perfect harmony. It was time for those who had not yet learned the secrets of N'Jal to learn them...

***

Stepping into the meeting hall sometime later, the mutant had an exhausted expression on his face. Congregations and sermons were not his favorite act in the world, but being so close to The N'Jal Protocol made Lorenor's black heart feel alive. The mutant spotted MetalDrago Scorpio sitting at his favorite chair. He also spotted many other individuals eating and resting within the cafeteria like section of the grand meeting hall. Lorenor walked towards MetalDrago and sat down in front of his long-time companion and friend.

"Forgive the late hour. Your patience is always appreciated. So tell me my friend, what matters strike the occasion? Perhaps we can share a drink over the news and current events." Lorenor said casually inviting his friend to a much deserved dinner and drink. After all, the two were allies for a long time coming now, and what a better way to exchange information than over a pitcher of fine liquor?

[MetalDrago]

MetalDrago allowed himself to smile as he watched his closest friend and comrade sit before him. When he was offered food and drink, he gladly took some. He lifted a glass of wine and took a sip while looking at Lorenor with a curious gaze. The man seemed tired, but that was not surprising. He didn’t like sermons or talking to large groups of people unprepared. As MetalDrago set his glass down, he scratched one of his claws against the wood grain of his chair.

“We’ve been seeing more and more trouble up in Salvar. To think that a member of the Church would have been so possessed as to try and control a portion of the Will of N’Jal. I thought it was just some order from a higher up, but it seems this particular priest was acting of his own accord.” The Paladin leaned forward and whispered to the mutant, “He originally wanted to get his hands on the Necronomicon, but because you never let them out of your grasp, they went and stole the Protocol because they figured it to be the next best thing.”

A few minutes passed between the two as they ate and drank their fill. “The cause of everything that was going on in that village was…” he placed the Nocturne of Madness carefully on the table, “…this sword.” He did not mention that it belonged to his father, for Lorenor had already heard the story before. The katana’s black sheath glistened in the darkness. “This sword intensifies the strongest psychotic trait of the person who wields it. At least, from the effect it had on me, that’s what I’d gathered.”

The sword seemed to almost shiver in the candlelight as Lorenor looked at it. A most peculiar reaction… The Dragonian thought. It seemed that there was something about Lorenor that the sword recognized. He could only wonder what it was. Things kept getting more and more interesting as the night grew on.

“This is one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you. This sword is the Nocturne of Madness. I’ve mentioned it to you before.”

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Observing the weapon that was suddenly plopped on the table between the two old friends, Lorenor's eyes went wide. Indeed, there was quite the mysterious reaction. Clearing, Lorenor's mind suddenly began to reveal images to him. Images of something that he done, or at will do sometime in the near future. Seeing the images for a moment, he understood that the vision was shown by N'Jal. Lorenor clutched at his head for a moment or two, closing his eyes. A shadow befell his face. The mutant felt pain rushing through his skull as the images materialized, forming a supernatural phenomenon of sorts. The sword was a paradox coming back home. When Lorenor came in contact with the madness energy stored within the sword, the mutant suddenly understood what he was going to become.

Madness incarnate, one of the very fallen ones of old. The mind's eye rippled outward revealing various matters regarding the sword...

I see the future. N'Jal has blessed me with such a gift. And now, coming in contact with that sword, something has happened to me. But what? I see my future self, studying the ways of the ancient blacksmith and enchanter. However, I have become a blacksmith skilled in the ancient arts of Madness. Lost long ago. I have constructed this sword with my own hands, I know this now. But how can that be that I am staring at it? What exactly is going on here? Lorenor's mind showed him matters of great import by then. He was staring at a future version of himself, instinct told him it was a true vision. By then, Lorenor had learned to discern hallucination from true vision, the word of N'Jal. This vision was the word of N'Jal.

As one of her greatest disciples, Lorenor had intricate knowledge of The N'Jal Protocol. He and MetalDrago were amongst the first of the new generation to fuse with N'Jal. Lorenor allowed the vision to run its course making sure he understood the severity of it. Troubled greatly, Lorenor looked away from MetalDrago for a few moments.

"It seems I have built this sword..." Lorenor began. "But what troubles me the most is that I have not built it yet. I will not build it for another hundred years or so, after I have mastered something called Madness Incarnate..." Lorenor said casually. The vision had made him exhausted, it placed a weight on his shoulder. The weight of knowledge. He looked at the mastercraft nature of the sword. His eyes studying the scabbard, the handle, the make of the weapon. Symbols suddenly popped out before the mutant's eye, symbols of The Spider-Magi, and of N'Jal. It was a script written by Lorenor of the future, a message, written to the Spider-Magi of the past.

Lorenor, instinctively, began to read the symbols as he entered a trance-like state. By then, the various clientele within the meeting hall had stopped what they were doing. They were all looking at MetalDrago and Lorenor's position. At the moment, the sword was glowing brightly as it came in contact with the creator. Lorenor read the words of The Spider-Magi so that everyone gathered could hear them.

"Behold! I am your future. I am the omega-man, Madness Incarnate, the one who will bring about the great Fourth Age of Althanas. The Third great Age of Althanas will yield a terrible disaster. A disaster that must be prevented.

It is within your powers, Children of N'Jal, to prevent this disaster from ever occurring. Study the signs carefully o ye of the faith. The disaster will not be long after the omega-man is born. Remember these words, and mark them into your souls. For this will be the only warning ye receives."

Lorenor suddenly slumped down on his chair as the visions faded from his mind. He shook his head several times.

"What the hell is Madness Incarnate? Omega-Man? What does that mean?" Lorenor asked suddenly, he had never heard of these matters before and half-expected MetalDrago to have some answers. "MetalDrago, it's saying that I made the sword...somehow. I don't understand how this can be?" Confusion settled in his heard. Lorenor felt a fellow walk up to him and place a hand upon his shoulder. Lorenor nodded towards the man.

"Master Lorenor, we heard everything. What can we do to assist you and MetalDrago?"

"I don't know what we can do. It is clear that this sword is the key to a much larger puzzle. MetalDrago, what say you about what we have just learned?" Lorenor asked his friend hoping that his Captain could have some answers...

[MetalDrago]

Madness Incarnate… MetalDrago had no idea what that meant, but his mind was already attacking the question from multiple sides. Something about the sword told him that Lorenor had indeed forged the sword, though how he could have done that in the future was far beyond his ability to understand. The art of forging swords from Madness Energy was all but lost, as far as the Dragonian Paladin knew. He studied the sword for a few minutes, completely lost about everything that had been said. He knew that this sword was meant for him, which was certain. He was one of the only people in the world which embraced his madness and learned to utilize it for his own ends. He smiled as he thought about everything around him that had happened.

Then, suddenly, something felt different. There was someone in the citadel of Mosil Z’sarug that wasn’t there before… someone familiar. Then, a black-cloaked figure sat down next to both of the Paladins and let his hood down. “You two really have no idea what’s going on, do you?” Terramat asked. His jade-green eyes surveyed the two of them carefully. He picked up a cup and poured some liquor in it before taking a sip. “We all know that this sword should not exist in this timeline, yet it does. This poses a serious problem with the time stream. If my guess is correct, Lord Lorenor, you will eventually gain the power to transcend time and space, and will bring that sword back in time to be used.”

MetalDrago couldn’t help but wonder how anyone could gain the power to transcend time and space. It wasn’t impossible, but it seemed highly unlikely for anyone to gain that kind of power, unless… His head snapped around and he looked at Terramat intensely. “You can’t possibly mean…?”

“Yes, if I’m correct, Lorenor will become a god, possibly one of Madness Incarnate. I’ve lived over one hundred times longer than you have, MetalDrago. I’ve seen men become gods, and I’ve seen godlike men fall… Things can happen quickly in this world, things that no sane person would ever consider happening. I’ve seen it all. Xem’Zund was not the first man to gain that kind of power in this world, nor will he be the last. We’ve all experience many strange and wonderful, some not so wonderful, things in our lives on Althanas. Let’s face it, the three of us together have far outlived most among the mortal races. We’re all, for lack of any better term, immortal. Even if we were to be killed, the likelihood of any among us staying that way is unlikely, not with N’Jal looking out for us.”

He rested his hand on the Dragonian’s left shoulder and smiled. The Dark Elf had lived many lifetimes in relative solitude, but he’d come to trust the younger Dragonian commander. “We are in a unique position of knowing one of the possible futures of Althanas. As much as we desire power for our own ends, we must also realize that a cataclysm on this world would only be contrary to our own goals. Destruction for destruction’s sake serves no one, not even the Dark Lady. What we need is a plan of attack to prevent whatever is going to happen from happening. But until we have some inkling as to what this is, I suggest that we simply wait and watch while still going after our goals.” He smiled more deeply, his glistening white teeth a stark contrast to his black face. “That is merely my own opinion and advice, take it as you will or leave it.”

Terramat sat back in his chair and looked at the two Paladins once more. “You two are powerful in your own rights, and I’m happy to have found such company in the thrall of N’Jal, despite old alliances…” he glanced at Lorenor, “…and old rivalries.” He glanced at the Dragonian. “We are here, allies in the war against the good of the world, and no matter what may happen to us individually, we will not falter to continue the mission we have been given. That is our bond. That is our word. We’ve done a lot to one another in the past, but now we work together, and I for one couldn’t be happier. You two are such fine examples that there really is new evil in the world that we can rely on.”

Then his eyes widened. “I think I have it… the very thing that we should do. We must gather allies. We evil folk cannot stand alone forever. We must gather allies and use those alliances with one another to create the largest standing force of evil in the world, whether they worship N’Jal or not.”

MetalDrago nodded once and looked at Lorenor. The High Priest’s command was above anything else. If he agreed, they could try it, if not, then they would go it alone.

Spoils
Nocturne of Madness: A sword with the power of madness. The sword has the ability to intensify the madness of the wielder, in MD's case, his insatiable bloodlust.

If it hits an opponent or NPC of a lower level, it will slowly begin to intensify their strongest insane traits (if used on a PC, it will only work with the permission of the opposing character's player).

If struck into the ground, the sword sends out a madness aura that affects a 5 foot radius to begin with, which grows by two inches every post up to a maximum of 10 feet. This effect only works if the blade is stuck into the ground, and affects everyone within the area of effect by intensifying their madness. Again, if this is used on a PC, it only works with the player's permission. All effects are temporary and cannot last longer than ten minutes, IC, or until the sword is sheathed.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Seeing the old rival-turned-comrade, Terramat appear before him, Lorenor studied the fellow as he spoke. Listening to the words carefully, there was mention of Xem'Zund, a man that Lorenor despised completely. Word of his death had spread quickly through Raiaera as an old enemy, Devon Starslayer, returned to slay the fell Necromancer. As Lorenor listened to the men speaking, the mutant understood what had happened. He understood, as his mind calculated various matters, what needed doing. Already, the children of N'Jal had gathered into one mighty stronghold. A stronghold of darkness. Whatever the future held, the war against that event would begin with the children of N'Jal. Lorenor stood up carefully as he took on the mantle of leadership. Whatever would be done, would be done by his command.

As a High Priest of N'Jal, the mutant held considerable influence over those around him. Though he was ugly physically, his word was silver-tongued for it was the word of N'Jal. Those folk gathered to serve N'Jal listened to the mutant as if he were their Father. As Lorenor stood there, he looked around the chamber, hopeful eyes were locked upon them. He felt more people venturing into the meeting hall, waiting for what was about to happen. The mutant's mind was calculating possibilities, and as always, his own death was a constant problem he tried to avoid at all costs. Each time Lorenor died, it was a set-back to N'Jal. He had to find a way to grow more powerful than what he was already. Knowing that, he knew that he could not take out the Letho's, Elijah, and Godhands of the world. For someone at his stage of his evolution, he was still dreadfully weak.

By then, all ears and eyes were upon him. The defacto leader of their undead town. Lorenor could feel the tension in the air, the whispers of concern touching his sensory grid. Nodding to himself, Lorenor looked at MetalDrago, then Terramat, and then addressed the growing crowd. Word that a coming decree from N'Jal had spread quickly amongst those who were touched by N'Jal. Hundreds of individuals now filled the meeting hall. It had turned into an official gathering. Feeling anxiety in his heart, Lorenor calmed himself by taking a sip of the strong liquor he drank. Then, he addressed all that were gathered.

"Friends. Fellow followers of N'Jal. Comrades. One and all. All of us serve the will of N'Jal. All of us follow the word in our own special way, from the lowly carpenter, to the executive of The Magi Guild. We all share a common bond." Lorenor took a deep breath. "Today, a great mystery has been revealed. The mystery of the future and our place in this world that hates us." Lorenor suddenly raised his voice louder. "The hour has come where all of you must now choose your place amongst the fold of N'Jal. A decision must now be made. One which requires the consensus of all of us as a people!" Lorenor suddenly stood up on the table after clearing it quickly. He made a grand, sweeping gesture so that all eyes were upon him. "Soon, a great disaster will occur. This disaster can be prevented with all of us working together! So, my family, I ask of you on this hour, would you fight the coming disaster with me!?" By then, the mutant was using his powers of Unholy Command over the crowd. He was speaking grandly, and each baritone fluctuation of his voice was moving.

One man suddenly stood up and raised his sword to the sky in a piercing gesture. "Hail! Lord Lorenor!" Soon, the crowd was on its feet chanting hails to the mutant signaling one of the most important events of Althanas history. The day the undead united under one banner...

...And to the pyre with anybody who stood in their way.

Fin.

[Taskmienster]

Continuity 4

Setting 5

Pacing 4

Dialogue 6

Action 6

Persona 5

Technique 5

Mechanics 8

Clarity 7

Wild Card 6



Score: 56!


Rewards:

MD :: 1100 exp | 150 gold
((The Sword is approved, with the material of Delyn. Be careful with it’s effects.))

Lorenor :: 1200 exp | 50 gold

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added.