The Messenger

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Garah, Telgradia: 22 years ago

He stood in a daze, gripping his new weapon Enpera tightly within the grasp of his pale, chalk white hands. The swaying chestnut hair and panicked golden eyes looked somewhat out of place against the otherwise stoic like face of the young Shinsou Vaan Osiris, his cracked lips pounding back and forth heavily with every painful breath.

The sword was much too big for the Telgradian, being only a boy, and weighed him down greatly as he tried to run. He bore the brunt of the blade like a crucifix, wincing in pain every few seconds from the cramp he was suffering in every muscle in his arms as he struggled to follow Captain Riisa Endymeon through the thick white fog from the flames of the of the Jal Shey attack. The Council of Five's greatest warrior's white battle mask seemed to dance before his eyes in slow motion and the man turned to hurriedly beckon to Shinsou. A thundering cry erupted from the giant's mouth as the Telgradian boy was sucked back into real-time, the sounds of screaming and roaring fires suddenly jumping back to life, surrounding and smothering him in a blanket of fear. Before them, three Jal Shey assassins phased from the thick smoke and materialised ahead, their characteristic hissing drowned by the raging chaos around.

Shinsou dropped his blade by his side, preparing to face his aggressors.

"Do not face them, child. Your father would never forgive me! This way, we should make for the forests!"

All was a blur. Together, Riisa, with Shinsou in tow, dived from the roads and into the thick forest edge. He did this to dodge a nearby patrol of the more dangerous of the Jal Shey who sprinted like lunatics around the burning city of Garah, torching any buildings in their wake and slaying its defenders with contemptuous malice. There were hundreds of them, perhaps even thousands crawling over the city's vast architecture like a swarm of locusts tearing apart a season's crop. As he struggled to followed Riisa through the trees and foilage, what angered Shinsou most, even as powerless as he was and despite being armed for battle, was that not a single Jal Shey had raised a sword to him. They were only interested in Riisa, in the Captains. They deemed him not worthy of battle and to suffer the deliberation of tormentors as despicable and amoral as the Jal Shey made the young Shinsou burn inside with a blinding fury.

After what seemed like an age in their living nightmare sprint, the pair reached a clearing. Shinsou was clutching his sword with every spare drop of energy he had left inside, adamant that if he could do only one thing within his power, it would be to bear this great burden, almost as tall as he and about as heavy, as far as he could. He would die at the hands of the Jal Shey before he’d let go. Riisa lunged with grace and ease through the thick foliage, and then ushered his young Telgradian apprentice in front of him. His eyes grew cold, a hint of sorrow scouring through, and he spoke with that inevitably dense tone of one saying a sad goodbye.

"You must go to your father Telos now; he will take you the rest of the way. He has great hope for you in this time of pain for our people and he knows it is you who is our future. You are no fool, boy, and I do not lie to you. You know now where I must go. I must stay to the end. Goodbye, Shinsou."

The words had barely left Riisa's mouth before one of the trailing Jal Shey assassins leapt from the treeline. A small cohort of his men stood strategically at points around the clearing, dressed, as if being the sole bearers of their people's legacy; in the dark relics of their tribes, swathed in age old tunics. They had all come for Riisa.

The boy could suffer this no more. All that followed was an ear-splitting cry of anguish as raw, powerful dark magic swirled and manifested around Shinsou in his rage, forming a multitude of crude looking spears that crackled furiously as they flung towards the men.

The first black-robed Jal Shey warrior danced upon the murky forest clearing floor with great fluidity, but it was too late. He drew his thin sword in vain just before he was disemboweled by one of the vicious dark matter lances. Shinsou made no sound as hot tears streamed down his cheeks, but simply swooped his arm left to right, seemingly anticipating the clumsy, slow motions of the other assassins who followed their obliterated leader without any degree of fluency. With two strokes the Telgradian severed the head of one of the men with one spear, and then drove another into the lungs of the other, who fell, choking to the ground, blood spattering upon Shinsou's face as the assassin fell just short of striking distance.

There was what could only be seen as a well of emotion in the boy’s countenance as he surveyed the results of his work; rage, satisfaction and sadness. He had overcome his pursuers, but it wouldn't be enough to stop the war.

The astonished Riisa embraced Shinsou, a gesture which the young Telgradian was too choked to appreciate or even enjoy, having had no affection from any living thing for so long. The aged warrior looked spiritedly into his eyes; the man scoured for sorrow, but Shinsou would honour him by showing none. He had to show strength, even as the lithe, gentle hand of his father suddenly gripped his shoulder reassuringly from behind. Amidst all of the chaos, Shinsou had failed to notice the arrival of Captain Telos Soltair, his dad.

With a knowing nod between the two captains, Riisa drew his two giant blades and leapt back along the forest path. A final cry of hope denoted his departure.

"Do not cry, Shinsou! Even death can never steal our freedom, which these murderous beasts so envy! Honour be thy blade, dignity thy shield, young Shinsou. Learn to harness that power you so valiantly displayed!"

Shinsou felt himself pulled away by the stern hand of his father, the image of Riisa growing smaller along the treelines, yet his voice boomed on and echoed around the boy's head. The forest wobbled before him as he walked backwards, defying the Captain's wish as tears streamed down his face and he sobbed openly. The young Telos, with his black hair tangled and matted in blood, simply walked on, having the discretion and courtesy not to speak or attempt to console his young son.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Concordia Forest: Present day

"...Shinsou, are we close?"

The question came from a nimble, dark haired youth trudging a couple of metres in front of the Telgradian, hurdling fallen trees and stomping flat the long grass that whipped around in the warm Concordia breeze. It was the first time that Shinsou had really noticed his pointman; a volunteer from the Brotherhood’s scounting patrols if he recalled, so the enforcer sized him up while he still had the time. The boy was around five and a half foot tall with a slender complexion that one would guess belonged to a man of his mid twenties and bore hazel brown eyes that glimmered in the filtered summer sunlight of the forest. By his side he carried a quarterstaff of some impressive craftsmanship; a smooth bore steel pipe with two three-foot long blades welded on either side to an almost perfect connecting joint. The weld-work was barely even visible to the naked eye and such showed that somebody had put a lot of time and effort into crafting the weapon.

Although it was plain, with no markings or inscriptions of any sort aside from the worn letters "BoC" printed in italics in the centre of the hilt, it looked extremely dangerous. It also distinguished the bearer; the weapon was a gift from the Brotherhood, which meant the owner had earned it.

"I think," The Telgradian answered quietly, “We’re two miles north of where we need to be.”

Shinsou, who had not had time for a haircut in weeks, brushed his long brown hair back behind his head so that the tangled mess would no longer obstruct his view of the faintly marked map he had unfurled in front of him. His golden eyes flashed quickly over the red inked markings he had made that indicated the estimated positions of the enemies that they had been searching for over the past two days. The ink spiralled in a winding pattern down the parchment, clearly indicating the frustrations that had followed as their targets eluded their progress.

You’re out there, you Jal Shey bastards, making preparations for your incursion into Althanas from Telgradia. I fucking know it. When I find you…

Growling to himself under his breath, Shinsou stopped dead amongst the foliage that now entangled itself around him, snaring his feet in thick vines and pricking his skin with spiny branches that extended from almost every direction. The sensation in his stomach told him that something was happening close by.

Got you.

The small band of black and grey clad Brotherhood foot soldiers also stopped and stood bolt still, waiting for an order to be barked or, more hopefully, a break to be announced. However, having served in the Brotherhood for many years before Shinsou’s involvement, they collectively thought that the latter was unlikely.

"Have you found something?" enquired the lead scout once more, twirling the quarterstaff around in his right hand and slashing at the long grass that had enveloped his heavy, boot clad feet.

With this, a thin grin parted Shinsou’s dry lips and his eyes flashed back down to the ground.

"We’ll move on for a mile in this direction and see what we can find,” The Telgradian barked at the platoon behind him, “Spread out, keep it low profile and let me know if you see anything move or glow. I have a feeling the rats scurried this way and I’m in the mood to kill some vermin!"

His men immediately set about their work. The back lines separated into a bigger chain that spanned a distance of a hundred foot across the breadth of the woods, each man acting as his neighbour’s messenger through the chain. The lead scout paralleled the movements as they traversed the obstacles of the forest of Concordia together, awaiting the sight of anything that looked unfriendly.

The apparently fruitless venture went on for another ten minutes and Shinsou was starting to grow impatient.

You’d think that the intelligence reports had lied to us. I know for a fact that our recon guys had been here and seen the portals being set up. How is it that a group of Jal Shey could simply go missing without a trace? Especially when I can sense them?

His feet crushed the leaves underfoot as he walked in the seemingly endless Concordian forest, his band of men in cautious pursuit behind him. The Jal Shey could only hide from him for so long and he knew it.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

"Stop."

One simple, solemn command from Shinsou was enough to halt the line of his men, who had raked the foliage with a forensic effort without result. The young scout that the Telgradian had come to know as Mandal stood still, flickering his eyes in the bright sunlight that filtered in through the gaps in the leafy canopy overhead as he tried to scan the area for whatever his leader had seen, but he found nothing until he looked to his left.

Just ahead, the trees seemed to part to a clearing, almost as if by design, but it looked as if no one had been here for years. The undergrowth was undisturbed and silent. The trees flourished in these parts of the forest better than any other, and in more volume as if growing conditions increased the further into Concordia one travelled.

Osiris stared to his left, his eyes transfixed on something ahead. Although he had no clear line of sight from where he stood due to the overhanging branches that obscured his view, the sensation in his stomach was enough to identify what appeared to be the reason for his coming to Concordia ahead.

But…

"What is this?" He muttered to himself in a slurred tone, his mind racing and digging for an explanation for what he saw. In the back of his mind the image of the Jal Shey’s invasion portals pressed upon him. He remembered how they looked to the smallest details, as if one of them were in front of him now. But what was this? This structure was different; larger and generating more power than anything Shinsou had ever come across before.

Even stranger, where the fuck are the guards?

His greasy chestnut hair bustled in a sudden breeze, falling about his face as he paced towards the black stone structure of the monolith. Its bulky chassis stood atop the crest of a small mound, cleverly constructed so as not to disturb any of the wildlife that populated the area. Long grass surrounded the pedestal base, but did not climb it.

The spire of the odd relic twisted into the air and felt almost alive to Shinsou, who could sense some sort of magic being emitted from the top. Runes were carved into the side of the spike. Upon closer inspection, they seemed to be in the shape of a large black dragon that had curled itself around a planet in what seemed to be a bid to consume it and upon the base of the henge read a large golden plaque, scratched and worn but legible. Its text was Kratas, the language of the Jal Shey, but the message read loud and clear.

It read “The Magician”.

This has just escalated to a whole new fucking level…

Shinsou struggled to contain himself as he remembered, or tried to remember, the meaning of that message. Each of the Jal Shey lords were named after a Tarot card; with him once being the servant of Temperance. Now, it seemed, the Magician had made footfall on Althanas, or was preparing to.

Shinsou looked back at his men, all of whom would not yet understand the impact of the odd relic in front of them.

They soon would though.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Concordia forest, 01:00hrs

Shinsou's decision to set up camp for the night had been widely welcomed.

The gentle caress of the evening on the thick, bushy leaves of Concordia's great forest created a zone of comfort in the silence of the night. There was nothing alive that was awake at this god forsaken hour in the morning aside from the Brotherhood; not even a dark navy blue hint of dawn, not a shred of light appeared in the inky sky.

It had rained heavily during the night. The sodden earth on the soil of the forest bed consisted more of the soaking wet autumn leaves than of dirt and this placed a lot of emphasis on the sheer volume of trees emerging, even at this late stage in the year. The odours of the greenery mixed and swirled with the scents of the fresh and healthy forest soil. Adding to the maelstrom of smells was that of the smouldering campfire. Three or four groups of men slept at once, with two pairs of guards picketed out on the perimeter of the camp.

However, no matter how hard he tried and how much he convinced himself the camp was secure, Osiris could not get his head down for even just an hour of sleep.

Fuck it. Might as well get up and do a patrol.

The heavy night’s gusts made his white coat flap in the wind like the sail of a ship and his messy hair tumble about the wind in heavy, twisted saturated strands. Shinsou strode over the leaves and through the blanket of branches through the forest as quietly as possible. He was light footed despite his weight and rarely allowed a single twig to break underneath his heavy leather boots, perhaps a trait of being on the hunt for so long.

"Sir..." Crept a voice from the centre of the camp.

One of the men sat up, apparently also unable to sleep in these conditions, and supped a cup of murky brown liquid. He unscrewed the lid of the tankard from which he had poured it and tossed it a short distance towards Shinsou, who caught it in his right hand. The Telgradian removed the bottle-cap and swigged the liquid from the container, smiling as the bitter but warming alcohol punched the back of his throat. He replaced the cap, and tossed it back, thankful for the stomach warmer.

"Thanks, Jacen."

The partisan named Jacen nodded and rose to his feet, perching himself on a log nearby to Shinsou who was still enjoying the strength of the drink.

"You like it, sir? Its home brewed Coronian whisky. I made it back on the ranch near Radasanth during my time as a farmer. It matured in a beech-wood cask for eight years, single malt..." Jacen rubbed the scratched black sides of the canteen with the sleeve of his uniform, breathing onto it and polishing it furiously. Shinsou could hardly make him out in the dark, but noticed his blue eyes shining back out of the night. He was of elven descent, picked up by the Brotherhood during a mission three months back. Mandal had found him half dead in Concordia forest with three stab wounds after bandits torched his house and killed his mother and sister. Jacen had killed four of them in the ensuing fight with only a knife...

"It's good. Got the right bit of kick to it." Shinsou cheerfully stated, wiping his burning lips free of remaining whisky with the back of his sleeve. He coughed as the fumes of the drink hit his senses. Jacen chuckled to himself, taking another large swig from the bottle. "It's not for the faint hearted, Sir. This shit could knock the back of your head off. That means it’s a 'Brotherhood-only' drink, sir, if you get my meaning..." There was a long pause. Jacen was thinking, and eventually broke the deadlock of silence.

"What do you think happened here anyway?"

Shinsou shook his head. He had an idea, but could only begin to hazard guesses as to where an entire garrison of Jal Shey soldiers and the Magician could be taken without being spotted and how far. He also still hadn’t told the men the entire truth of what they were dealing with yet. The Telgradian tried to get his thought processes in order. He sat on the log next to his partisan and sighed.

“They aren’t around here, that’s for sure. If we want to find out we’ll have to go a bit further into the forest I fear.”

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Kratas Outlands, Telgradia: 16 years ago

Explosions rang out all around Shinsou, ringing across the concrete parapet of one of the last Kratas border outposts.

The humming of the Jal Shey warp portals vibrated harshly, churning the air into a hummingbird sonnet. A small gathering of surviving Telgradian soldiers stood strategically at points around the outpost perimeter, dressed as if being the sole bearers of their people's legacy. Above the sound of the portals, and the shrieking, a voice cried out from above which carried itself across the wind to Osiris. The besieged Telgradian looked up, his white, blood flecked face full of malice as he gripped tightly on Enpera’s hilt. The being the voice belonged to, the Magician, was faceless and smothered in a black hooded robe that covered its entire body. It looked down at him as it levitated almost ten feet in the air.

"Don't you see? Soon, there will be nothing left here!” The Magician’s voice boomed over the considerable background noise, “We will drag out the carpet from underneath your feet and leave you nothing more than your own shadows to fight. Soon we’ll be gone and in our place a true empire will rise!"

The Magician was in the process of collapsing all colonies and settlements of the Kratas Outlands in an attempt to wipe its civilisation's very history from record. Its existence had become obsolete now and such a volatile and unrefined nation of tribes becoming synonymous with the design for the new Jal Shey Empire was an outcome that the dark Jal Shey lords could not let be. The Emperor had ordered the genocide of any remaining life forms in Kratas and the destruction of all evidence that their people had ever existed before commanding that all Jal Shey retreated to the outlands.

Kratas was being systematically destroyed and the only people to care were a rogue band of surviving Telgradians, dragged together by Shinsou and living as fugitives from the nation of Telgradia itself. How could the nation be saved if its annihilation was accepted without question by Telgradia?

More of the assassins came to Osiris, their tell-tale hisses shrill and chilling on the wind. Bearing his pearl white teeth in rage, the white-clad warrior waltzed through the murky night gracefully, bringing Enpera’s blade to his side as he turned. His attack was silent as he simply swooped left to right, seemingly anticipating the comparatively clumsy motions of the assassins. Despite being the tip of the Jal Shey’s military spear, the assassins had great trouble fighting at close combat with any degree of fluency and with two clean strokes Shinsou severed the head of one of the black-clad mercenaries before then driving the blade into the ribs of the other. The latter fell, choking to the ground, as blood spattered upon Osiris's face. There could only be satisfaction seen in the swordsman’s countenance as the corpses piled up behind him.

The last of the retreating Jal Shey scrambled as fast as their feet could take them back towards their portals. Shinsou’s short lived victory drifted away before his eyes as the evil Magician held the crystal controlling his own portal and warped away in a blinding flash. The stronger Jal Shey cohorts moved in to secure the area and search for any sign of life they could brutally extinguish.

Shinsou knew it was already too late.

None of this had ever happened. There had never been a Kratas, as far as anyone in Telgradia was concerned. They didn’t give a shit. A shattered colony outpost, identical to hundreds of others across the continent, marked the hollow shell of this, and there was no one left but him and his fugitives to witness the death of a civilization.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Concordia forest: present day

The humidity climbed further through the early hours of the morning and coupled with the warmth emanating from the remains of the campfire, this created a heavy, uncomfortable atmosphere as the Brotherhood partisans slept on through the night, tossing and turning in the heat.

The ground was rough and hard and hardly anyone in the group could sleep more than a couple of hours undisturbed. The journey to Concordia had been hard enough over the past two days, traversing the hazards of the forest and taking the risky voyage through what they believed was enemy infested territory, but these conditions were becoming near unbearable even for the Brotherhood’s best. However, even whilst being subjected to these conditions, no man dared to show weakness by voicing a complaint. It was against their nature.

They were professionals.

Shinsou was completely without the desire to sleep. He walked at a slow pace, weaving in and out of the small groups of sleeping soldiers quietly, his feet pressing silently on the leaves of the clearing edge. His eyes surveyed each face of the sleeping Brotherhood contingent individually. It was nice, once in a while, to be reminded that these were people. Each had their own aspirations and dreams. Each had hopes and fears. Each one could be broken in one way and motivated in another, yet, together, they seemed to glue. They seemed almost immune to defeat. Osiris could not care for the tales he had often listened to about the men back at headquarters. The Telgradian had long since kept his eye on the main bulk of the partisans he commanded and had never found himself to be disappointed with their decision making, or had ever once regretted recruiting particular individuals.

The ever alert and never sleeping Jacen walked a few feet in front of the Telgradian, his fists tightly clenched by his side. They were drenched in sweat from the unbearable humidity, yet his youthful face never once showed a sign of complaint. The fierce warrior was exceptionally defensive of his pride and was never one to show pain, even in the face of death. Perhaps that was why he was one of the ones who Shinsou was most concerned about.

As the young human officer snaked through the seemingly endless groups of man, he began to hear something. He started to slow his pace, looking around into the dark reaches of the shadows and into the edges of the clearing. The sound of a faint rustling of leaves rippled into his rosy ears and his blue eyes flickered from left to right as he tried to identify the origin of the sound.

"Shinsou..." He whispered to his leader, who was now stood deadly still by his side. "...Can you hear that?"

The sound became louder and louder and grew nearer with every passing second. Deeper into the woods a small humming noise could be made out over the snoring and grumbling of the sleeping soldiers. Jacen and Shinsou skipped over their counterparts and silently rushed to the edge of the grey Jal Shey monument to scout the sounds.

"Yeah, keep it down for a minute..." Shinsou commanded, which Jacen obeyed instantly.

It seemed whatever was causing the noise would emerge at any time through the thick foliage of the forest and yet the slumbering partisans were still unaware of the events unfolding. The point of origin of the sound seemed only about ten feet wide. The strange noise then suddenly differed. Its monotonous tone sharpened into the sound of scraping, like someone or something was dragging an iron girder through the deadwood of the forest bed. It seemed something was headed their way and, by the sounds of it, something big or something carrying something big. He did not know why, but Osiris felt a sudden anxiety surge through his veins and up his spine. Was he just tired and hallucinating? He glanced sideways at Jacen, and noted his expressionless face. Was he hiding the fear? Or was he truly numb to it?

Glad he’s so fucking calm…

Jacen softly looked both left and right and then back to Shinsou. It, whatever it was, very close. Shinsou knew there was something not right about that scraping sound. First, he had dismissed the noise as nothing, perhaps a fragment of his imagination or something as a result of his inability to sleep. But then it came again. And again. And again.

What happened next, Shinsou could not explain.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

The scraping of the iron continued to ring over the forest, over and over again in small, heavy intervals. One by one the partisans began to awaken to the sound, some of them still believing themselves to be dreaming, others beginning to grasp the reality more quickly than others and leaping to their feet, instinctively grabbing at any weapon they could find close by, even if just for comfort. Every moment that went by as that ethereal shrieking of metal continued was adding to the tension. Jacen could not stop looking from side to side like some sort of deluded paranoid maniac, thinking about whether he had made the right decision to come to this place. Now every little feeling of fear he would have usually kept under lock and key was starting to leak through his usually invincible demeanour.

It was then, as that metallic scraping got so loud it seemed almost upon them, it stopped. An eerie silence covered the clearing and each and every soldier waited for an order or instruction from their leader. Shinsou did not issue one, nor did he make a single movement. His golden eyes were locked in some sort of trance like stare and his head remained firmly in position as he gazed into the sheer black outline of the forest to the west. At first the partisans, including Jacen, had thought Osiris had gone mad with fear but after a short while they soon discovered the reason.

At the forest’s edge, the silhouette of a large humanoid could just be made out. It stayed completely still, all for its breathing, and appeared to carry something in its right 'hand'; perhaps a metal bar or something else that couldn't be identified in this light. Suddenly, without warning, the Telgradian began to pace forward. Even the silent pleas of his troops went un-noticed as one black boot followed the other off of the edge of the cracked pedestal onto the leafy clearing below, eyes still firmly clapped onto this terrifying figure ahead.

Shinsou, what the hell?

Jacen cursed as he his frantic waving and silent pleas fell on deaf ears.

Shinsou could see more of it with each step forward. His right hand, wrapped around Enpera’s hilt, clenched tightly. The ‘thing’ was dressed in a body length, blood-soaked black smock, complete with a black, faceless war helmet that made Osiris feel he was peering into a black hole of despair and hopelessness. A humming noise was still audible, albeit faint, and this only added to the tense atmosphere enveloping the now isolated Osiris. It was at this time, aghast the pitch black background of Concordia Forest, Shinsou had come his closest to experiencing real fear. It flowed through his body like blood, his hands quivering at the very thought of what he knew was stood in front of him. He had tried to explain what he saw without success. Surely it couldn't have been what he thought it was, standing almost unresponsively only a couple of feet away from him. There was no way. It was impossible...

His trance like state was quickly broken when his frightening counterpart suddenly jerked forward, loosing a deep throated growl. Its right 'arm' thrust from left to right and a whistling sound of the Concordian air being slashed accompanied a brutal attack that sailed just inches above Shinsou’s head. The Telgradian threw himself to the muddy floor with all of his might as the beast in front of him revealed its mighty weapon, the Maul Scythe. Slowly an overhead swing from the right brought its massive curved blade over the beast’s head and Shinsou just had enough time to quickly roll out of the way and see the point pierce the leafy clearing floor an inch to his left with a gargantuan thud.

"Everybody get out of here, NOW!" Shinsou screamed at the top of his lungs, evading another slash from the lumbering humanoid. It seemed too slow to hit him but was still so determined, showing no signs of hesitation and yet no urgency in its strikes, as if it were enjoying the fight. "If you want to live, climb the trees!"

Before he could finish his cry of warning to partisans, he felt the butt of a wooden object smash into the back of his skull. He fell to his knees, as if the connection to his brain had been severed in an instant, and collapsed face first into the dirt.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

There came a stressed groaning from the supports of the Magician’s throne as the repulsive, faceless monster sat his cloaked 'body' further back into the upholstery. In the sultry air of the dark palace between worlds, a place one could only reach through Jal Shey portals, a bloodied and beaten Shinsou was forced to his knees by the gesture of a cold steel spear being pressed to his neck and a cold leather boot locking against his shoulder blade. The Jal Shey lord smiled an unseen smirk, when most ironically its situation held little to smile about.

"What is your name?"

Shinsou looked up through his mass of blooded, knotted brown hair. He had remembered that voice, and then noticed, rather to his surprise, that his sword Enpera hadn’t been taken from him and still swung and clattered around his waist underneath his filthy greatcoat. Osiris allowed himself a moment of satisfaction, knowing that the cultural significance of that would at that very moment be sickening to the Jal Shey lord, whom without the smile-mask as a restraint would have dived from his ill gotten throne to tear it from him.

"That depends," droned Shinsou, altering the pitch and intonation of his voice not once from the first word to the last. “Do you want my real name or the name your little filthy nation of rapists and murderers gave me?”

The Magician huffed in the way only greatly powerful, self-absorbed Jal Shey lords can do. He loved to hear this answer and felt more and more sure of himself every time its verse was sung flatly and in such dull tone by a Telgradian.

"Tell me, please. How many of your kind do you believe have knelt where you now kneel? I have heard this kind reply many hundreds of times. You cannot surely tell me that the Jal Shey stormed your homeland before a single one of you was named? Your name is Atlas Revaan Soltair, son of Captain Telos Soltair of the Council of Five. Don’t fool yourself into thinking I know nothing of your past. It insults the image I grudgingly bear of you..."

Shinsou sank once more with a disenchanted breath. He seemed to collapse entirely inside, not exactly at the words of his tormentor, but more at the implications of his question. The Magician was right. Hundreds would have knelt here, or somewhere much less civilized. Oh how he begged now to be in some soaking wet, dark cell. How he begged to be away from the throne room of this dark palace and its occupants. Osiris pleaded in his mind for the thud of a heavy baton across his shoulder or face, the lash of a barbed whip upon his naked back; anything but this. It didn't draw this hateful spew of truth that began to surge into his consciousness. The truth did not make one truly see that hope was, in fact, nowhere in sight, but that it was truly, truly lost. He summoned some strength to talk, if only in order not to be silenced.

"I am. My father named me. My mother was killed in the fires of Kratas by the Jal Shey. You know this, and therefore know that I do not lie. Had I lied or told the truth, in any case, what difference would it make?"

Some shape came to his voice as Shinsou posed his question for the Magician, who appeared to be devoid of any expression of emotion at all. He raised a chalice to his obscured face, and allowed the liquid to pour into the void underneath his hood. It simply evaporated upon contact, and Osiris was unsure if this devil-like creature was actually consuming it or simply using it as a device to antagonise him further.

"None whatsoever,” Came the Jal Shey’s reply, “I care little whether or not any of your kind died before or after you were named. I have all the satisfaction I need in that one word within. They died. They are past-tense, as will soon be all that you cling to on that pitiful planet Althanas after Temperance is done with Telgradia. You, however, will convey to humanity a message."

The Magician stopped, and sat forward in his creaking, straining throne.

"You are the only one who knows of the coming flames. If your world does not surrender, then whatever you have salvaged from the wreckage of your life will be razed along with it. I know that if you have any compassion for a single living soul there, you would never allow this to happen. You are fiery little wretch, not entirely unlike your father, yes? But choose not to lie to yourself, Telgradian, and accept that you will not be able save yourself or any of your people. I could have you killed at any moment of my choosing and you could do nothing, and I am but one lord."

The devil looked at Shinsou's defiant form with false, cowing eyes, as if appealing greatly to him. In a second his 'face' erupted with laughter.

"You are now only alive to be the living message of what’s to come. Telgradia will fall. Your proud and prestigious people are now nothing more than angry, ugly slogans painted upon the property of the Jal Shey. You give no name as you kneel, ready for death because you deserve none. The Council of Five won’t even be able to protect you. You have lost. You, self professed saviour of your world, of Telgradia, of your legacy, have lost. Althanas will submit to the Jal Shey or will be consumed by an inferno, a maelstrom of death.."

A prayer for the broken was answered at last, as the heavy oak butt of the spear struck the back of Shinsou’s head, the force knocking his face into the thin carpet at his knees. The Magician whisked a hand in the air to order the warrior to be removed, with no hope of tracing his journey from the premises of the dark temple. The terrible lord lolled his head back, his weight forcing the throne to creak loudly once more.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

The first winter’s snow drifted its way through the forest canopy, blanketing all surfaces no matter how irregular, as Osiris made his way to the clearing. In the dead of night he came, the densely-packed trees and the moonless sky shrouding him from the eyes of the watchful Jal Shey. Ever since the slaughter of the Brotherhood men and Shinsou’s meeting with the Magician over seven months ago, they had continued to monitor the areas within the entire woodland area and were said to regularly patrol its deep and silent tracks for miles, to the very heart of the forest itself.

The Telgradian moved like a shadowy wraith amongst the firs, his heavy white cloak whipping the dense snow as he went. He tucked his head deep into the hood of his coat and brushed aside a supple branch blocking his way, unsettling the cold white powder that had gathered and weighed it down awkwardly. Shinsou stepped forward to see the smouldering orange hue of a campfire and a second later caught its strong scent, the bittersweet smell of burning wood. The figure that crouched by its fading warmth jumped up in a second and brought the menacing point of a spearhead up to his side quickly; its polished metal surface alien in contrast with the subtle greys of the sleeping forest. As Shinsou dived aside to evade the startled figure, he noticed the tight black uniform that clung to its frame and also the shining insignia inscribed on his right shoulder.

'Jal Shey Executor'.

A sharp and accurate throw caused the javelin to sail through the trees, bringing an avalanche of powder from the heights of the fir trees to cloud the Executor’s vision even more so. Breathing hard and weaving at great pace through the trees Shinsou went, trying to get a better angle to confront the beast. Suddenly, the thought hit him. He had never been in combat with an Executor and had absolutely no other experience to rely on in such a situation.

A feeling rushed back through Osiris’s body, coursing all over his skin and making the flesh creep as he breathed heavily and wrenched the green talons of the trees from his face. He had not felt this way since he had felt his hands turn white, his knuckles protrude up like horrid sores as he attempted to hold on to his towering sword, back at the city as he was led away by Riisa as a boy. The feeling had to be ‘hate’. Such emotions had never been taught or entertained by the people who had educated the young Telgradian, as they were frowned upon as undignified and damaging. Yet as the embossed black mark of the Jal Shey insignia fixed itself in Shinsou’s mind, he understood for the first time the meaning of this ugly sensation. This was hate. This was real, undeniable abhorrence towards another and its sting kept his limbs pounding and this thirst for death unquenched.

Just inside the clearing the Executor swung back and forth wildly, as if blindfolded, startled by the many sounds of the forest which pulsed out into the night from every which way. As he turned, scouring the tree-line, Shinsou sprinted from hiding and leapt silently into the cold air, knocking the soldier to the ground. An ash-like eruption of snow filled the air as they landed and Osiris tore at the black mask over the man’s face, clutching his pallid neck as he did. A second later he questioned his reason for doing this, but in dragging the sock-like garment away he saw a youthful, cringing face staring back at him in rage. The Executor could have only just passed training, maybe a year or so older than he.

Thinking no more of this he drew Enpera from its sheath and stood up before the young Jal Shey initiate could move, snow sliding off in sheets from his heavy attire as he rose. Enpera was much heavier, Shinsou noticed, when its entire weight rested in ones hand alone. For months he had carried it sheathed upon his waist, but never had he wielded it openly. Shaking, he kicked at the shaft of the javelin which had landed dangerously close to the reach of his enemy, which carved up a bank of snow and rested out of reach. Then, throwing back his hood, he spoke, gasping for breath, to his captive.

"Well, you have found what you were looking for, and now what of it?!"

The cheeks of the young initiate puffed in and out as he sat back from the point of the sword, pressing his hands deep into the packed snow. He sat forward slightly, and upon doing so he raked a path of snow with a heavy studded boot in an attempt to bring some stature to his pose. An uneasy, yet not high-pitched voice answered Shinsou’s question.

"Kill me. Do it now! It doesn’t matter; you will never have peace now. This world belongs to the mighty Jal Shey, and us, the guardians of our empire! If I die, I do so struggling to the end to kill the despicable enemy of our kind. What better end could there be?"

The anxious eyes of the warrior narrowed into a creased grin, his flustered red face coated in a thin film of sweat even in the damning cold of the night. Sitting up, he reached out for his discarded spear, but Shinsou motioned the sword’s edge to his throat, barring his path. Upon this the stricken enemy of the Telgradian lashed out, sweeping Enpera from the Telgradian’s’s unsteady hand from where it plunged into the deep snow. Like a pouncing guard-dog the soldier cannoned into Osiris, knocking him to the ground in a flurry of wet slush. Writhing around on the ground the two struggled constantly, the soldier pulling a boot-knife free from its sleeve and forcing it down towards Shinsou’s guts.

In a single moment – the Executor barking his cloudy breath into his face with sheer effort – it dawned on Shinsou that his opponent was becoming exhausted. The man’s gritted teeth occasionally emitted a spray of saliva as he struggled to keep his advantage over the fur-clad warrior. His bright eyes seemed to be swollen, as if bursting forth from the sockets, and his whole body shook with effort. Every second though, he stabbed and stabbed like a man felling a fatted beast at the neck, endlessly willing the short knife to punch into the Telgradian’s belly. He struck seemingly not even just to end the ordeal, but simply to satisfy his cruel lust for the death of the Jal Shey’s enemy. It was obvious that the crazed soldier would not stop.

It dawned on Shinsou what he must do to end it.

Grasping the Executors’s empty hand, the Telgradian threw back his assailant’s arm and rolled him onto his front, locking the arm back as he did so. As he forced the man down, thrashing with every bit of strength as he was held, he couldn’t help but feel as if he were dragging some poor sobbing slave-girl to her knees; the resistance became less and less until the man simply had to submit, groaning through pursed lips in frustration at his weakness; his utter helplessness.

With fevered eyes the son of Telos Soltair ran his gaze over the uniform of the man. It was identical to those worn by the horrible fleeting figures of the Jal Shey that one morning brought death and slaughter to the Kratas Outlands and to the city of Garah when he was a boy. A sudden surge of this new-found ‘hatred’ coursed like some memory-triggered catalyst into Shinsou’s arms; his hands now white again as they forced the man’s face down.

Again and again those hands wrenched his head back, smashing the warrior’s face to a pulp on the corner of a snow-cloaked stone. Through the cries and the struggling, choking, coughing of blood Shinsou throttled the Executor, dashing his head harder still upon the now gore-soaked rock. In no way could he stop; even as the twitching of the man’s leg ceased altogether, he lolled wildly at his prey, eyes wide and unaware of the misshapen mass of eggshell-like bone he now gripped between his bloody hands. At this, each blow became more protracted, as Osiris lifted the limp body and drove it down onto the snowy altar, until he fell, lacking the strength even to kneel, upon the silent carcass.

The air was thick with the falling of a blizzard now, and the two opponents lay as if sleeping, one upon the other, and all the while the forgiving blanket of snow did its utmost to cover over the bloody sins that painted the forest ground, where the blind hatred of two had prevailed against all else.

This was the world he had left behind come full circle.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Shinsou Vaan Osiris receives 3850 EXP (AF bonuses included) and 185 GP!

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

All rewards added!

This thread will now be submitted to the workshop!