A Time of Prophecy. (Closed to participating RH Members)

[Mutant_Lorenor]

The Gol'Bron (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=5779)

An obscure portal-ring from Haide marked the only interesting object in that clearing. On the foot-falls of the mountain range of Southern Radasanth. The locales here barely ventured out to the depths of this wild area. The ring itself, an amazing piece of technology from a forgotten age. Spinning upon itself with increasing velocity the ring burned with power from its ancient archaic forces. The mysterious symbols all over its circular form lit up with a powerful glowing residue. This light touched the clearing giving it a mysterious glow. For a moment, the time and space between Haide and Corone connected together creating a sort of pocket-space. Combining the Firmanent with the Anti-Firmanent in one decisive moment.

As always there risk played into the equation when activating one of the ancient devices of Althanas. Jumping into one of the Portal Rings involved a certain amount of risk to life and limb. Even the ancients stated the well-known risks of jumping into a portal-ring. There were those on Althanas who measured risk versus gains. There were even those who were insane beyond any measure of normal rationality of insanity and logic. The individual using the unused portal-ring fit in the latter group. Once the gate opened itself the normal laws of space time no longer applied. Matter transfered itself from Haide carrying the individual across sub-atomic space in a sort of carrier wave signal. They said that the pain oft was legendary.

So was the individual that the Portal-Ring carried in its signal. Perpetually spit out from the dimensional portal, a single beam of sub-atomic energy burned and singed the ground in front of the ancient portal-ring. A singe solitary cry carried itself across the wind from the stranger. He materialized with the scream carrying with his person the air of Haide. For a moment, Haide and Corone became one. A tremendously powerful oder of sulfur burned the air for a long moment. The ground, now occupied by the stranger, burned to a cinder. Some rocks from Haide made their way through the air landing on the floor in a clutter. All in the area was uncharacteristically silent now.

On his knees, the stranger clutched his person in utter agony. The pain of sub-atomic travel never prepared him for the moment of re-construction. He stayed on the floor for a good moment puking his guts out. Some black blood flowed upon the ground. Within moments the connected space shattered upon itself and the portal closed. Its immense energies traveling back into the symbols that initially called them. Lorenor opened his make-shift eyes after approximately an hour of tremendous pain. The small warrior needed to regain his focus and remember the task that The Ancient Lady gave him. Standing up, slowly at first, Lorenor allowed his vision to adjust itself to the night of Corone.

The caves of Haide provided different light sources for the nocturnal agents of Althanas. Lorenor was one of these, once a member of the ancient Vampire people, now nothing more than an amalgamation of several different DNA strands combined together. The small warrior viewed himself as nothing more than a wretch. A wretch with delusions of grandeur and all the fame promised to him. Yet never received. Lorenor felt in his blood that someplace further away lurked Concordia Forest. Many life-times ago that ancient battle ground of Nature's forces served his home. Now, Lorenor served a new Master. The Master gave the boy a new mission. Now that I am here I have to seek the one they call Ranger. I have to see the new Red Hand.

Lorenor lacked leads to go on. Still though, that Portal Key and its current position a clear start. A blessing of N'Jal. Lorenor whispered a small prayer of thanks to the Dark Mother. Then he turned to face the Portal Ring to better gather some information about his situation. Clearly, some clue lurked about the position of this portal-ring. Lorenor knew there were no towns or settlements this far out into the countryside of Corone.

[Ranger]

((Shitty, but fuck it))

Ranger overlooked the land formerly his with a keen eye. Progress was being made, however slow. The men and women of the Gol’Bron were hard workers. They saw his vision, or at least believed in it, and took it to heart. It was only a short time till the main buildings were slowly being erected. The group would have an inn, most likely something of a barracks later. They would have a tavern to drink at, and a place to gather. More and more houses and shops would slowly give rise to more productivity and further activity… as it stood though, things were slow going.

At the heart of it all was a simple goal. He was the main proprietor of the goal, it was his vision carried by the Thayne that moved the wills of the people. The prophet of the Thayne smiled. The gods would be pleased with the progress they had made. They already seemed to be, since there had been relatively few accidents and incidents so far…

But something felt odd, like a power unknown and unexplored had suddenly opened up. The eerie feeling bothered the elf, making his skin crawl. He knew it was the work of the Thayne, for nothing else could possibly making him feel the same way. But, what it was that had occurred was devious, and dangerously disquieting. Ranger turned to another member of the Gol’Bron, a relatively unknown face. “G’ji,” he said, the Fallien native turned with his impassive face. “I am being called by the Thayne to seek another. Please deliver the message to Sorahn about my absence, and do not fret for this loss.”

“Done,” was the only reply that the man gave. Eloquence was not the Fallien natives strongest suit, but he obeyed without hesitation. The man started off, and Ranger turned towards the west. It was close, whatever it was. Something about the feeling was wrong though, as if it was not one of the most passive Thayne that summoned him. This was the feeling of the goddess N’jal, the hated and imprisoned.

He was forced to remind himself that his allegiances were with all the gods, not just those that were accepted by the majority of the population. To be selective was to be a hypocrite. As a prophet of the Thayne he would be required to follow her too, despite what his previous notions towards her might have been or social acceptance. “Thayne be with me,” he mumbled to himself as he retrieved his twin swords and started towards the west. “If this is the will of the dark goddess than I must follow it, like I would follow any others. I pray that this is not a mission of hate, or bitter undertones. Night has never given good intentions when dealing with her.”

The sun was setting slowly, already just a mere sliver on the horizon. The easterly winds were picking up off the shore and carrying with them the sweet scent of warmed grass and a hint of salt. He began walking towards it, leaving behind the security and safety of what he knew and what was comfortable…

[Mutant_Lorenor]

It took some time, naye, several hours and considerable amounts of effort. Once the task completed itself the young Immortal stood up cleaning his person of any unwanted bodily releases. Pain still bombarded his form. As each moment passed this ebbed away. Power still emanated from the portal-ring causing Lorenor to examine it a bit further. The large ring burned with power stood at approximately twenty meters off the ground. An impressive structure, Lorenor possessed no understanding of the markings on the ring. The series of markings lurked on the inner and outer bindings of the large ring. Whatever their archaic purpose Lorenor dared not even guess. Suddenly, Lorenor felt a sensation in his blood much like a pull. It felt as if some unseen force guided his eyes towards the West.

What is this feeling? With the powerful feeling, a sudden surge of the sing-song of The Endless within his person awoke. Lorenor heard of a song of recognition followed by an intense feeling of pain in his brain. Somewhere deep within his cerebral cortex. Pangs of agony shot up and down his spine as the song intensified its symphony. The crescendo reminded Lorenor of the opening to some opera. Strangely the thought crossed him that perhaps this song served an introductory purpose? Lorenor listened as carefully as he could to the feelings and sensation. Bright flashes of reds and purples crossed his peripheral vision as the symphony reached an archaic crescendo. Lorenor heard the powerful voice of The Endless within whispering sing-songs of a visitor from the West. One who promised an allegiance.

Lorenor barely noticed the migraine head-ache burning through his front lobes now. Sensations of pain like swords piercing his spinal column made their way to his frontal lobe. Lorenor knew not that blood flowed from his nostrils freely. So fixated the young Immortal felt by the song of The Endless that his energy-like eyes practically bulged out of their sockets. He stared to the West and sure enough, a presence made its way ever closer to his person. Lorenor saw a powerful radiance (A vision perhaps?) emanating from the individual and he immediately understood that a vision of the Dark Mother presented itself before him. Suddenly, Lorenor felt the inappropriate nature of his attired. Dressed in the ways of hobos, Lorenor knew that his scent must be just as awful. At this point Lorenor owned few resources to worry about his personal attire. The patch-work outfit he wore about his person just had to do--for now.

His cowl hid the strange appearance of his head. As he felt the approach of the strange more than saw it he felt something like a Quickening of the blood. Was this Ranger Nailo?

[Ranger]

It was odd. The Thayne chose the most simplistic of people to be their tools at times. It proved that the most eloquent and sharply dressed were not always the most useful. Ranger’s hands passed across his haphazardly assembled ensemble. He was plain, garbed in a simple pair of brown, burlap slacks and a tight gray shirt. Over it all was tossed a simple green, elven cloak. He looked like a simple traveler, but simple was the last thing he could ever be considered.

He passed a calloused hand across another tree, using the leverage to help him up a small incline. His thoughts were elsewhere than the quite wood and swaying trees though. So much had taken place in the past year, so much impacting not only his life but his very being. His soul had been touched by the less-than-godly powers of a mage from centuries ago. His soul had been nearly siphoned from his body, and not even the powerful mages healing spell could replace what had been lost. He felt less, thought less emotionally, and yet seemed to have a greater touch with the logical and analytical portion of the ethereal side of deities.

“Moonlit ventures through a cursed wood,” he thought as he found his way through the dense brush and unexplored forests. The sun had long since parted, and with it all sense of comfort. Ranger was a drow, not one to bask in the sun and love it’s often harsh embrace… yet he had followed a “god” of light for years. With the passing of the sun a looming sense of dread and unease had taken over the drow, leaving him wondering if working the will of a forsaken goddess was worth his path as a prophet. “I only assume that the great Mother has plans for me that I am far from willing to undertake.”

But like them or not, he would follow and put into the plans as much as he would the rebirth of the Gol’Bron. On the edge of his sight, through wicked wood and rough brush, he could see a figure. It was something eerily disheartening, yet the drow knew it was who or what he sought. As he grew closer it became more apparent what he would be doing, and who he would be working with.

The figure was a blob of black set in a background of darkness. It rested its body like a predator, and yet gave off an aura of trust for the drow. He could not understand how something with a powerfully dark aura could be… comforting. But it mattered little to him. Ranger looked past the things tattered clothes and shoddy appearance, looking to his face instead. “Good eve,” he said with a serious tone, “I do assume you speak the common tongue… if not the Forsaken Mother has given us both a curse. What is your name? And what do you seek?”

[Mutant_Lorenor]

All this time, many ages passed since last Lorenor faced another. For a moment the thought crossed Lorenor's mind that perhaps the stranger might be an apparition of sorts. Though The Endless quickly discarded that thought as unwarranted. Many lifetime's of death and reincarnations prepared the boy for this single moment. Even as he investigated the texture and materials that made the ring before him what it was. The strange possessed a mysterious a power, a power that seemed familiar to him. Very similar to another individual that Lorenor knew ages prior. Lorenor just vaguely recalled an image of that shadowy individual but it slipped past his peripheral vision. A shadow to be recalled for another day. Strangely enough, the one now standing before the boy asked questions. Prior to that moment Lorenor thought like an apparition thought. Now, he forced himself to think as mortals do. Trying to remember their mode of physical communication.

The young one knew that his appearance must be frightening, even disheartening to a degree. But the lad asked brave questions. The Endless assured him that this was the one he sought. Choosing to remove the mangled hood from the top of his head, Lorenor revealed himself. After the quick motion, he placed a hand back on the strange material of the portal-ring standing before him. Lorenor's height much shorter than Rangers revealing an alarming frailty and at the same time harboring terrible secrets of dark power. A fraction of what would be. Lorenor's eyes glowed an intense purple-amethyst from deep within the sockets--no visible eyeballs of any sort. His skull structure mysterious and misshapen. He had a well formed brow crowned with an intricate series of dreadlocks. Colored black in nature.

The bunch of dreadlocks ended at about the small of his back. Lorenor's nose sharp and pointed flared slightly around the nostrils. This showed the intense nature of a mutated development. Proud ears adorned the sides of his face as well as a hyper-developed jaw-structure. A single scar adorned the bottom of his jaw at the center of his chin. It moved down all the way to part of the front of his neck. Lorenor had dark-gray skin tone making him appear as though he might almost be a Drow himself. From his person, a foul stench of death and decay flowed into the air around him. Clearly, personal hygiene concerned the predator little at his point. His clothing all bore the resemblance of patch-work rags. Where this creature originated from was pure speculation. Lorenor's hands were bony and owned long fingers attached the phalanges bones.

No markings other than glowing purple eyes adorned the young Immortal. He stood there for a long moment letting the wind provide the only sound after Ranger's questions.

"With some remembering of former lives." Lorenor said in the common tongue remembering once again how to speak as mortals do. "The common speak as you say changes very little from incarnation to incarnation." The boy rambled for a moment. "Names? What is in a name that you ask?" The boy vaguely remembered an encounter with a handsome lad who owned a silver tongue--many lifetimes prior. The boy asked a similar question. "The Dark Mother communicates in riddles as well. So I can safely assume that thou art a servant of the Dark Mother in some way. For she guides me to you. Those that are The Endless whisper thy name to me. Are ye not the one they call Ranger Nailo? The leader of something called The Gol'Bron? The Dark Mother guides my destiny to thee. Name. Names--I've been called many names. But always the one that caused the most terror in the hearts of those daring to call themselves mine enemy was the name Lorenor."

"If thou needs a name by mortal standards thou can call me Lorenor."

[Ranger]

Ranger listened to the shrill wind as it picked up, a sad and sorrowful song resonated from the depths of the forest. It was a dark omen, but one all the same. The drow kept his distance and let the winds dance around him. The scent of the ocean and the soft grass had become but a lingering memory, overshadowed and overpowered by the scent of rot that drifted around this… aberration of N’jal. But the smell was not near as powerful as the taste that lingered with it, touching the delicate buds of the prophet’s tongue. He barely restrained himself from wincing at its acrid flavor.

Instead of responding immediately, the creature allowed Ranger time to think, to linger. His sharp, silver eyes drifted away from the menacing predator and to the odd ring near him. The object was ancient, scrawled across with runes that were far from translatable. He could not fully understand what the situation was offering, but did not like any of the idea’s that came to mind. The Dark Mother was far from the most pleasing of deities to follow.

Eventually his eyes returned to the figure, taking in his appearance without his hood. It was macabre being that stood before him. The drow lifted his free hand and touched his own face. It was a marvel that one so alien would be born of anything, much less what appeared to be the base of a drow or some form of elven creature. Ranger’s own cheeks were set high, his eyes sharp and alert, his ears peaked and pointed. He took in the thoughts of what he looked like, to himself, and what he was seeing before him. He prayed N’jal would never turn him into such a hideous and forlorn a creature.

“Lorenor,” he muttered under his breath. But it was a mere whisper. His voice was lost to the worry and concern that played through his thoughts. This Lorenor creature had made reference to The Endless, a theologically debated philosophy that had disturbed the drow. The parasitic influence was something that Ranger worried about, something that made him overly cautious when dealing with those of the original Haidia or any following the spider goddess. Instead of drawing attention to the reference, or attempting to pull any further information from the man, Ranger changed his course of thought. “The great goddess wields the threads of fate like few others. I would dare say she could challenge any of the Thayne with her presence and power. However, she has drawn me here as well, but for what purpose I am still unsure.”

Cautiously the drow took a few steps towards the man. His smell was not so bad once one grew accustomed to it, but to the elven tongue and sense of smell it was still horrible. If he did not know the will of the Thayne he hoped his companion would, or that it would come to them in short time. “My name is Ranger Nailo, prophet of the Thayne; I have given rebirth to the Gol’Bron and through my dedication have been rewarded with your… accompaniment.”

The elf’s tone was not overly snappy, but certainly not pleased. Being dragged into the sharp night was not his idea of enjoyment.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Though Lorenor kept careful observation of the object in front of him, his sensory array allowed him to observe Ranger without necessarily keeping his eyes upon him. He listened quite carefully to every verse spoken by the other for a long moment. Thinking about it, letting the verse flow in his brain for some time. Letting himself grow accustomed to the formalities of socializing in the way mortals do. Lorenor kept one of his hands, his right, upon the surface of the ring. His touch sensing the vibration of power lurking within the depths of that strange object. Moving in an almost pornographic way upon the surface of the ring Lorenor allowed himself to really touch the object. Much the same way one touched a loving partner in bed. The young Immortal coveted the power lurking inside the object but knew it was beyond reach. The man's words flowed into the boy's ears as honey.

The words spoken solicited a small laughter at the mention of the Dark Mother from the Ranger's lip. Lorenor spotted a discomfort at the mention of his mistress but such seemed the ways of those not well-versed in the lore of the Spider Queen. Still though, Lorenor admired the courage of the Prophet, and again, the lingering thought that he'd somehow come across another such Prophet many ages prior taunted him. Whenever he attempted to grasp that thought it fled from him, similar to chasing the Lady Y'edda. A fool's quest and yet the same as grasping sand in one's hand. Lorenor gave up on attempting to remember who it was that disturbed him so. The stranger waited for responses from his words. Admittedly, conversation was still a new concept to the boy and he didn't want to blunder into any mistakes.

Especially if Ranger Nailo indeed served the Dark Mother, if that were true, then the lad was an ally.

"From the ancient land of Haidia do I come. Now The Endless spake that a new name granted the country of mine origins. Now this new name a mortal bastardization whispered Haide. The Dark Mother bade me awareness of The Endless." Again, Lorenor uttered that cursed word.

"Through their communion I learned of thy identity. Through their communion did I learn of the Gol'Bron. The Spider Queen plots her descending from the Great Prison. I am but one of many of her Agents this knowledge privy only to those meant to know." Lorenor said in a dangerous way as if to reassure a price would be paid for betrayal of the secrets spake this night. "All I know is that the Dark Mother guide me to thee." Taking his hand off the ring now, Lorenor moved uncomfortably closer to Ranger's person standing but a mere few paces from in front of him. Lorenor took in the scents of the lad. "Nearby there is a place. Ranger Nailo. A place of great imporance to the Spider Queen. One forgotten by the Inquisition many eons ago. In this place lurks artifacts of great importance to us. If thou art without fear thou shalt accompany me to this place. The Endless whisper of its locale."

Lorenor went silent after offering the invitation and the true purpose of his arrival.

[Ranger]

He continually muttered about The Endless, a topic that irked the prophet. They were supposed to be a myth, a legend that only a few truly knew about. Their origins, both beginnings and purpose, were lost in time. No books or recordings remained since the inquisition had destroyed them, a group which had become a semblance of the Knights of Dawn with time. Ranger pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. They could smolder all they wanted to, as long as he was not distracted or put off by them.

Ranger wanted to step away as the man approached, finally leaving the odd gateway. But instead he held his ground. The drow was not going to be put off by sight or smell. But there was far more to the man before him than just that, he was an oddity. Anyone who would openly profess their affiliation with N’jal was one that was either extremely powerful, or mad. The prophet hoped for the first, the less touchy of the two evils. And he prayed to any god who would hear him, despite his current path, that the man was not both. Powerful and crazed was not the best of people to be around.

“Then, if our goddess commands it, we will obey. I must admit, however, that I am uncomfortable with associating with her. It is arbitrary to admit that the populace of Althanas is uncomfortable with those associating or already part of the Dark Queens hand.” Ranger was not afraid of admitting his fears and apprehensions, or his discomfort with playing the goddesses advocate. However, more was necessary as a response. He knew it. He felt the draw of the temple that so long ago had been a place of refuge and practice for those that followed N’jal. However, he felt a tug pulling him away from it. The thread towards it was far stronger though.

“I do not fear what path the Thayne guides me to do, be they of a neutral, good, or macabre path. I feel the pull towards it,” he admitted, “we shall need to begin as soon as possible though. The sun and day do not favor the tasks the goddess of the night command. And her face watches every moment we delay.”

Ranger looked to the sky, finding the sliver of the moon through the canopy. Lorenor was to be a tool, like all the others, for her release. He would attempt to bring the face of the moon to the world of Althanas, destroying it once again and recreating the world in the form of N’jal amidst the chaos. Silently the drow let his apprehensions slip and his mind find peace. Though his emotions were dimmed and nearly lost, he could still feel passionately about the ideal’s that had been instilled in him over time. Not serving the dark goddess was one of those ideals…

[Mutant_Lorenor]

A cascading sing-song of direction now flowed through Lorenor's blood. The Endless talked to the boy giving light of the next direction. Looking up, Lorenor saw the starry tapestry over head. Each twinkling celestial lantern in the sky serving as a guide in its own way. One particular star burned with an angry blood-red tint. This star seemed like an ugly stain upon the cosmos. Lorenor knew what secrets lurked in that particular place. Soon Dark Mother--all our times will come. Lorenor's destiny inexorably placed itself on a collision course with the Thayne-hood. The boy knew that serious preparation needed to take place. Currently, his skills lacked. Hopefully though his new allegiance with Ranger Nailo placed new resources at his fingertips previously not at his disposal.

A strong pull towards the NW caused the young one to look in that direction quite carefully. Things felt out of place. Lorenor eyed the portal ring for a long moment before proceeding. Ranger Nailo's comments obviously ringed true about keeping the Dark Mother waiting, but Lorenor knew of the Thaynes' patience. The Dark Mother waited for eons to free herself of her prison--she could wait but a few more lifetimes. Without saying another word, Lorenor started off in that direction. The boy sensed a power within Ranger Nailo that potentially could destroy the young Immortal. Yet, he didn't feel any sort of threat from the lad. Walking in the direction The Endless guided him Lorenor squinted his eyes to observe the structure he sought.

The Endless sang cryptic songs speaking of a spider's den bored into the side of misshape hill. Walking, Lorenor saw that several yards to the NW of the portal-ring such a hill lurked. Sticking out of the earth like a wretched beast of the deep the hill looked out of place. Mossy outgrowth adorned the top of the hill. Lorenor observed the nature of the limestone rocks seemed quite different from the rest of the earth around him. All types of sedimentary and non-sedimentary rocks adorned the countryside in this region. Limestone, here what could this mean? Lorenor remembered hearing something about limestone growing near water. Yet, present (At least to the naked eye) Lorenor saw no bodies of water. All around the large clearing within the hill-structure Lorenor's eyes caught faint spider motifs etched into the trees and etched into the walls of that huge hill.

The hill seemed to go on for miles and strangely stood at the footstep of the nearby mountain range. Lorenor noticed how the structure seemed to hug the base of the nearby mountains. All in all, Lorenor felt the entire thing contained an eeriness about it. A distinctive feeling of foreboding touched that clearing somehow. "This is the place." Lorenor said calmly without realizing much that he'd said it. Moving towards a particularly gnarled tree, Lorenor observed the lack of vegetation in this place. Only decay lurked here. The strong scent of mushrooms and other fungi swirled in the air along with ancient death. A battle took place here, not too long ago either. I would guess half a century. Lorenor thought to himself remembering mention of the Inquisition. What did he call them, oh yes the Knights of Dawn. They are the enemy.

"Be weary Sir Nailo. If in fact the Inquisiton passed through here, its possible they might've left traps and other things from their original attempt to purge this place. The Endless say that all of the Dark Mother's secrets weren't obtained by the Order of Dawn. So there is a chance that we might discover mysteries yet--such how to enter the Spider's Den. We only need to figure out how the Inquisition found their way in."

Looking down on the earth now, Lorenor saw clear signs of battle. Ancient foot-prints still buried in the mud told the tale of the warfare. The chaotic dance of foot-falls suggested a terrible battle to the boy. Lorenor knelt down examining the earth. On instinct, he took a sample of the substance in his hand, scooped it in, and placed it in his mouth. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, the action cast a shadow upon his person making the boy seem somehow darker than normal. Lorenor chewed on the earth and swallowed it feeling for the different imperfections in it. Lorenor wasn't an expert tracker by any means yet, but certain memories still lurked in the boy's brain. The Endless sang their response showing the battle of two fearsome enemies, Spider Magi and the Inquisition. Lorenor saw vision of a group of approximately six dedicated Spider-Magi.

Someplace on the grounds many ages ago there lurked a nest. Swallowing the tainted earth Lorenor let the vision pass through his mind. The boy stood up afterwards and started talking. Moving with his speech.

"The battle started roughly around here." Lorenor moved approximately ten paces to his left away from the gnarled tree. "Six of the Spider-Magi intercepted the group of the Inquisition. There were approximately fifty strong. Varying races. A coalition of Men and Elves suggesting a time not too ancient in Corone's history. The battle was swift and ferocious." As if in a daze, Lorenor moved again this time more to the north, five paces. "Approximately about here the first lives were lost in the battle. Blood is still thick in the air here." Lorenor mused still swallowing chunks of the earth. "The Inquisition gathered itself right about here." Lorenor said moving once again, this time slightly off to the East getting closer to the hill.

[Ranger]

Ranger followed the dark figure, staying a bit behind him, pushing through the reek of the immortal. It was not a chore though. He knew his destiny and the course and choices he had made, and knew them to be the right ones. He only hoped, however, that they would not disturb the guided path of the Gol’Bron, or tamper with the destinies of its members. “That place seems disturbed, apart from the rest of the world. Something is wrong with it, something… I cannot place it.”

It was a rare sight that the drow saw. At the foothills of the mountains, beneath an open clearing where no tree would dare grow, sat a long hill. It stretched far, touching the mountains themselves. Curiously it drew the prophet, pulling him towards what he knew to be his path. Yet it was odd. The place was hallowed ground for a less than hallow deity. It was cursed, but told a story hundreds of years old. It was all written in the flora of the landscape, and rot of the past. “I know,” he said to the man’s response about being there. He had sensed it already. “Start looking around, there will be clues from the dark goddess if we are truly to be here.”

The prophet himself began looking as well. It was a slow laborious process full of finding clues undiscovered for years, left for a mission that had long since passed. He passed calloused hands across chilling tales of dead and demise. He let his soft eyes pass over crude drawings etched into the very stone. The cave they were looking for had once been a bastion for the spider-magi, and more than a simplistic battle had occurred. Things were more than they seemed.

Barely listening as the man told the tale of what he saw, Ranger looked around him. He was missing details, things that could be taken as trivial. The drow was a prophet and a spinner of tales long since forgot; a scholar of the Thayne. Yet, this other, he was something transcendent. He surpassed the physical senses and toyed with the metaphysical. The man would have been a marvel to behold, if the looming shadow of the Dark Queen was not his shroud.

“Here,” Ranger suddenly said while the man was moving towards the hill. “The battle was one of deities, spurred by millennia of hatred. This was not a simple movement of the Inquisition.” The drow moved towards the line of trees, where the death began and separated living from cursed. There, at the edge, where growth of all forms of fungi. However, he noticed what most would not. “These mushrooms, this entire degradation of plant life, it is familiar. The Inquisition was spurred by the motives of Jomil the Hermitess. Follow these fungi, they stagger slightly but make a wavering line. I am sure we shall find our entrance by the same way the Knights once found theirs…”

Cautiously the man followed the line. Though unaccounted years had passed, and most had died and given rise to more, the line was still solid. Ranger plucked one of the heads off a mushroom. It smelt of death and blood. The hermitess was not an adversary to trifle with, and certainly not one to ignore… but even her influence from the tundra of Berevar could not be ignored.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Just on the outskirts of his sensory array, Lorenor listened to the sounds of a distant battle. A war waged itself in the back of Lorenor's brain. Listening to the sounds of the battle Lorenor could feel the conflict more than he listened to it. Observing the visions unfold before him Lorenor followed the tracks of the battle some more before pausing. The Endless whispered a tune meant to command the young Immortal so he obeyed. Lorenor stopped what he currently worked on to observe Ranger Nailo. The mysterious prophet's attention seemed to linger on something. Lorenor kept his distance while he observed the strange man's actions.

The lad whispered something Lorenor couldn't quite hear. For a moment he considered the fact that it might be gibberish. Still though, Lorenor attempted to pay the man appropriate attention. Moving his person closer to Ranger, Lorenor kept approximately a foot away from the man allowing him to work whatever mysterious craft that Ranger currently worked. Watching for a long moment, Lorenor observed the mysterious fungi. Then it hit him all at once like a freight train. Lorenor's sensory array caught the subtle hint of something hidden well beyond normal observation within that pile of fungi.

More of an instinctive reaction than a controlled one, Lorenor walked forward intercepting Ranger's path. "Wait." Lorenor asked of the man for a moment placing his hand out towards him. "Something is amiss here roughly around this patch." Lorenor's sensory array worked in this fashion for the first time. Something imperfect lurked near the patch of the mushrooms approximately a couple of feet away from them both towards their East. Lorenor normally wouldn't sense such a thing, but The Endless influenced acutely commanded the lad.

Paying extra attention to the imperfection Lorenor stepped forward, well aware that a possible trap might lay in wait. Lorenor observed the strange discoloration of the mushrooms. But the mushrooms themselves interested the young one very little. Its what was under the outgrowth that made all the difference. His sensory array picked up the imperfections within the soft earth. A perfect segment of earth felt like it didn't belong to the young adventurer. Kneeling down, Lorenor decided that if any of them should take needless risks--it should be him. Ranger Nailo's destiny was far too important for me to risk his personal well being. Lorenor dug his hand into the earth where the imperfection was.

"Stand back Master Nailo. The Dark Mother's Agents are clever and so are the Agents of the Inquisition. This thing I'm sensing might be a trap."

Lorenor said calmly. He dug up the imperfection before him. To his astonishment a perfectly concealed lever of some sort lurked in a ditch that contained it. The mechanism clearly seemed to be a part of some other nearby device. Lorenor wasn't sure if this was a good thing or a bad. Concerned, the boy looked up from his kneeling position towards Ranger.

"I seem to have located some sort of contraption. I don't know if this is our way in or not. What do you think?" Strangely, The Endless remained quiet at this point as if they wanted Lorenor to figure out this one on his own.

[Ranger]

Even the shrill winds took the degredations obvious warning to heart and blew around the area. The drow could hear its quiet warning and muted fears. He played with the cap of a mushroom, eventually letting it fall to the stiff ground. All around him the ground appeared scorched. The obvious sighs of fire were curiously absent though. More work of a vengeful and hate filled goddess? Ranger could not tell in the nighttime darkness, but felt it sure enough.

“Be careful,” the prophet warned. But he felt nothing in regards to danger, no impulses to stop the creature. If The Endless or whatever he thought were The Endless, told him to do it than Ranger would not interject. He was, however, very worried about the voices that guided the man, wondering if he was not simply insane. The man seemed aloof, somewhat apart from reality. He was a creature of transience. The idea of him being a part of the Endless still bothered the prophet though. “I do not feel threatened by this turn of events, but caution is always key.”

Ranger himself stepped away from the man, and the hill. He watched with curiously pristine eyes as the man reached down and pulled the lever that stretched out. It seemed that they were given the way in by the hands of Fate. The prophet, however, knew it was extensive study and the blessing of the gods to a wayward band of Inquisition that allowed them to enter. A fact that made the drow smirk as if enjoying the change.

The man pulled back the lever, and movement came almost immediately. The contraption was something beyond the current times; something that he would not imagine would be from hundreds of years passed by. The lever connected to a set of double doors that were cleverly hidden in the side of the hill. The circular doors were the same ones that the drow had seen moments earlier, with the etchings of the dark goddess scratched into them. He had not sensed that it would be the opening to the caves they were looking for though.

“Apparently the contraptions of old have neither rusted nor dulled in their long years of rest.” Ranger moved towards the opening, leaving Lorenor by the lever. He looked into the caves, summoning what power he commanded. It was an issue of trust that plagued him. There was no telling what would still be resting within the darkness, or what may have been left in case anyone decided to explore. What he saw was nothing particularly dangerous, simply the scene of the spider-magi’s home. Webs were strewn about the entrance, which was slopped towards the back. It looked like a trap-door spider’s den, a tunnel consisting and held open by the webs of the spider, an opening looking out in wait. “Come,” he continued, “This is our way in, let us take advantage of our good fortune and make our way while time and fate are still on our sides.”

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Feeling the lever's purpose vibrate through the very frame of his body, Lorenor shuddered for a moment. Strangely, the boy held deep respect for the contraptions of the past. As a culture Lorenor knew some of the stories of the ancient's paranoia. Their desire to lay traps protecting homes from intruders and forces of nature. Lorenor held onto the latch for a long moment listening to the words Ranger spoke. Letting his eyes closed The Endless sang sad tales of lost civilizations. Finally, after paying homage to the events of the past, Lorenor let the powerful lever go. It reminded him of the particular sensation of liviol wood.

When activated the mechanism, the hill itself seemed to come to life. Lorenor felt a connection to the machine somehow. A deep connection he couldn't quite explain as if some part of him understood the importance of machines. The smaller machine itself only a piece of a much larger contraption. Lorenor observed the ground shaking briefly as well as the hill. Some sort of combination of technology and archaic forces caused the very air around them to shimmer with power. For a moment, Lorenor lost himself in the chaotic surge of power once again. It somehow reminded him the portal-ring.

Lights filled the battered clearing for a brief moment as the mechanism revealed it purpose. A doorway revealed itself one cleverly hidden by the earth. Lorenor felt the aftershocks of the vibration burn through his body briefly as he instinctively covered his eyes from the magical lights. Strangely enough the sparks of light didn't seem to be harmful to the creature of the night. Letting himself sigh momentarily, the boy stood up looking down at the hidden mechanism once more. A few more minutes later the clearing returned to some semblance of normality. The brilliant sparks of light gone now.

By now, Ranger followed his own instincts and entered the doorway. Lorenor decided to hang back a moment longer to be on the safe side. Sensing that the other didn't completely trust him yet. Lorenor observed the clearing for a few moments longer to ensure their isolation and the proceeded after Ranger Nailo only when the boy felt completely safe. Entering the den, Lorenor approached the first large sanctuary room. Webbing lurked all over the distinct smell of time filled the room. Lorenor walked so that he now lurked in front of Ranger Nailo. Stopping for a moment, the boy turned towards Ranger. As if to emphasize the boy's actions--suddenly the door closed with a loud reverberating slam of its own accord.

The boy frowned. If the door is closed can we find another way inside? What if there is no mechanism in here? Lorenor thought about that briefly feeling anxiety creep up his spine. Still though, they entered the den for a purpose. All around the boy he felt the weight of the den. It seemed like the structure went in every direction for miles on end. Especially, Lorenor sensed that hollows in the walls lurked in the ceiling structure and in the floor beneath them. Furniture from an ancient time (In the fashion of the spider-magi) lay strewn about all over the floor. No lights seemed immediately noticeable. Thought that didn't concern Lorenor at all. Walking over to a strange structure that seemed like a chair, Lorenor observed it's frame broken but not knocked down.

"I think this might be some sort of gathering area." Lorenor said noticing several of the strange chairs all around. Spider-Magi motifs lurked on every wall carved in the stone.

[Ranger]

Ranger moved uneasily through the opening. His mind was lost in the clever disguise of the entrance as well as the architecture that was used to build it. The tunnel turned into a square hall with rounded corners. Wrapping the walls was lines and lines of webbing, hanging and falling like torn and forlorn banners of old. The drow reached up with a calloused hand and passed his fingers through a knot of soft, silky web. He felt the need to wince, but knew there was no place for it.

The prophet let his eyes fall to the man before him, cautiously taking in what he could from the stalking predator. Suddenly he felt threatened, as if this was a trap by the little beast. As if to play on his randomly spurred fears, the door closed loudly and sent a wave of sound and dust towards the two. He ducked and buried his face in his folded arms, letting the dust and grime from years of non-use wash over him.

As soon as he did so his brow broke out with a single bead of sweat. His eyes were closed, his hands were covering his face, and the darkness of the caverns was much deeper than natural. All of that was coming to him at once, but what worried him was the scratching and heavy stench of Lorenor. Ranger picked his head off and shook his long silver hair, letting draughts of dust fall to the floor. His platinum eyes opened and he looked about, seeing the stalker slip away.

He followed as quickly as he could with his yet adjusting eyes. The darkness was nothing that could ever occur naturally. It was deeper than black, colder than a shadow in Salvar. He brushed his hands across his arms and moved after the other. When he came to the room he sighed. The man was simply scouting, not setting a trap. As quickly as his fears had come they had been resigned and he could hardly believe he had felt them at all.

“Gathering of what? The spider-magi and others cursed by the Dark Goddesses teachings? Or a gathering of those wishing to speak and dwell with them, those willing to give up their own sense of good will for a bit of gold?” Ranger’s voice was low, deliberate. He did not wish to offend N’jal, but the truth was the truth. He was looking at either a meeting hall for those that came to talk to the spider-magi, or a throne room for them to sit and dwell. “Whatever it once was it has been destroyed by the Inquisition. Tell me, Lorenor, what can you see?”

The drow had a sense himself, a sense that the man could feel more than see things. He thought that the senses of the mutant were acute, sharper than his own, but not in the physical sense. In the looming, assumed magical, darkness Ranger would need to rely on the man’s abilities as well as his own. But he needed to know the extent of them.

“I see a broken room, a shattered past, and a fallen tome to a goddess who many hate. I do, however, see passages along these walls…” Ranger moved, his mouth shut tight as the dust kicked up by his footfalls danced around him. He lifted his hands and pushed through the strands of loose webbing, opening up a passage to a new tunnel. Turning he caught at least another seven, all set into the walls and covered with webbing. “Come, there are bound to be places that the meager force of Inquisition could not find.”

[Mutant_Lorenor]

As the cloud of dust traveled through the darkness, the boy didn't really mind it at all. The young immortal didn't need to react like mortals would. Ignoring the sudden upheaval of dust, the lad had a greater task at hand. Ranger Nailo commanded him to scout out the rest of the region. To his current knowledge it seemed like the Inquisition felt deep disarray when they entered the chamber for their first time. Having no maps to guide them with their best trackers wandered off into the dark and fell prey to whatever mysterious contraptions and surprises the Spider Magi set. The only give away for the boy's current position seemed the eerie glow of purple energy where eyes once sat. Acting upon the whim of The Endless the lad did find something in the room out of place.

While many of the chairs seemed broken in some ways or otherwise violated by the wrath of the Inquisition the boy saw something else. All around the walls where intricate patterns of webbing lay, signs of battle lurked too. His sharp eyes caught burn and singe marks. Even to this day residue of powerful archaic science tinged the darkness at spots. The boy saw particular locations that seemed to be send-off points for the spells of the Inquisition. In some places the Spider Magi used their arcane forces as well tinting the darkness to a greater effect. Nailo spoke for a moment but rather than immediately respond, the lad gathered what information he could. Moving towards the wall as The Endless guided the lad placed his hand upon some of the particularly intricate tapestries of webbing.

Each of the sets of tapestries had particular motifs to them integral to whatever was spider-magi culture. It seemed they kept records of the past in the webbing no mortal eye could see. Lorenor noticed an impression that had the texture of a switch hidden behind a particular tapestry of note. This tapestry spoke of a time many ages ago when a particularly powerful Spider-Magi took over as leader in this den. The Spider-Magi seemed native to these mountains and took on the form of dangerous poison-spiders. The boy observed the tapestries stories. It revealed the origin of a dangerous sort of Alchemy native only to Spider Magi culture. Moving his eyes to another part of the tapestry he saw that the Spider Magi worked on some sort of device to further their cause. Somehow, archaic magics from the Inquisition cut off the rest of the webbing since spider-silk on its own was very powerful.

The Endless whispered a positive result might come from the newly discovered switch but a more important task lay before them. In the corner of the large gathering area the boy's senses caught the imprisoned body of one of the many remaining Inquisition corpses. It was cleverly placed underneath some rocks, but the boy spotted it well. Moving towards that far corner of the room the boy leaned down towards. A powerful aura of energy still tainted the darkness at that location even to this day. The boy hissed when he saw the glowing nature of the corpse. At this point he could go no further. Equipment still lurked around the corpse's position. Turning towards Ranger Nailo the boy answered now.

He motioned to the body for a moment keeping a good distance from it. Even at a distance of roughly ten paces the boy could feel the holy energies flowing off the individual's corpse. A lantern in the darkness that the young warrior dared not pass. The glowing halo around the corpse preventing the immortal from going any further into that corner and revealing whatever secrets therein lay.

"I found one of the corpses of the Inquisition. Its been webbed up pretty well but I can't pass to it. We need to remove all these corpses from the den and dispose of them properly. Whatever you find of interest that I can't touch probably will be of use to other members of The Gol'Bron. I'm sure these Inquisition fellows have artifacts pertinent to the rest of the Thayne on their person. And useful equipment."

The boy went silent after that observing the glowing corpse. Around the body the magicks kept Lorenor at bay for about ten paces all around in a circular diameter. The boy admired the spider-magi's abilities to adapt to such ferocious holy power. Instinctively, the lad moved back away from the light a few more paces to keep himself at a safe distance from the light. The closer he attempted to move towards it, the lad knew, he'd feel pain coursing through his person. A strong desire to avoid contact with that light filled the boy's gut. He wondered if Ranger could observe the powerful spells in place around the corpse.

"Its remarkable that even after all this time such power still holds effect. I admire the effectiveness of the Inquisition though they are enemies."

[Ranger]

Ranger let his body move without will behind it. His curiosity and the will of a Thayne alone guided his steps, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Silver eyes flitted from tapestry to tapestry, searching their historic scenes, but not understanding any. Runic script was threaded into them, around them. It seemed the words created a picture of the past, and with surprise the lurking creature could make out something in it all. The prophet was surprised, but showed nothing through his facial features. He would not be seen weak and worried.

He moved closer to the hanging webs, letting his calloused hands grace its ancient surface. Tears and gouges showed the obvious disgust the Inquisition held for the spider-magi. He was in awe, though. The power they once commanded, the strength they summoned, the hate that drove them, to not only destroy the den but too the possibly centuries of history was incredible. Ranger knew they held all rights to ravage the caves, blessed with the will of a fellow Thayne, but history was always something that he cherished more than a show of strength.

The endless may have been muttering in the mind of the young predator, but it was confusion and fear that danced behind the platinum eyes of the drow. He turned to the boy’s voice, looking to the edge of the room. The thing was standing just off from a webbed, rounded figure, as if afraid. The prophet slowly released his hold of the spider silk and moved towards the webbed figure. It was placed along the rock wall, looked like little more than an overly large boulder. Without the boy’s senses, he would have never seen it.

“We will remove them,” Ranger said as he placed his hands on the corpse. He could feel it pushing, resisting his light touch. The powers of the Inquisition were far from gone, though faded they may have been over time. “It is a task I shall do personally. These men were as much part of the Thayne’s will as any, and they deserve equal respect. But lead on, it is a dire need that spurs us. We should continue into the depths, search what the depleted forces of the Inquisition could not.”

Enemies. The single word, spat from the mouth of the loyal yet curious member of the Gol’Bron, made the hair along the drow’s arms rise. Enemies to him, perhaps, but not to Ranger. He was a prophet of all the Thayne, listened to and followed the wills of each individually. But this thing, this boy Lorenor, he was solely a follower of the dark mother. What problems would he cause? What issues would others have with him? The questions irked the prophet, and thoughts of how he would be accepted by the others of the Red Hand were close to mind.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

((Nice to see you back in action dude))

The large chamber surrounded them making the task at hand somehow seem that much more important. Lorenor studied the spider webs a little bit further whilst Ranger worked to get rid of the bodies. Lorenor admired the level of respect that Ranger had towards the Knights of Dawn but the ghoul simply couldn't muster such a respect in kind. The Spider Magi, as far Lorenor knew, were also his kindred. There was something located in the depths of this spider den for Lorneor to find.

Some ancient secret that was just within his grasp. Lorenor went back to the location of the switch. The Endless sang songs of investigation letting the ghoul knew that the switch was remotely safe. He turned away from Ranger for a long moment to handle this task. Vibrations of battle were still thick in the chamber even after all this time. Lorenor was standing in the midst of history. He knelt down and saw the various signs of battle all over the walls and upon the floor.

Scratch markings of all sorts, various burn scars to the ancient edifice's structure and magical residue of all sorts cascaded across the air. Lorenor had to make sure to avoid certain of the particularly dangerous archaic energies he encountered in the wall. By the switch, there was a strong feeling of regret and indecision. Lorenor wasn't sure if he was hallucinating this or not but apprently The Spider Magi fought with great skill and talent until the forces of the Inquisition revealed their powers. Their natural weakness to Elemental Fire revealed itself around this point of the battle.

The Inquisitions' Mages concentrated on using a lot of Wizard's Fire. Even to this day the air crackled with power in the large chamber. Lorenor lifted his hand up and allowed the currents of energy to flow past his hand thick as an ocean might be. The energies passed harmlessly across his hands and he knew these particular reserves to be the powers of the Spider Magi.

Elemental Fire or certain other elements would've caused the ghoul great amounts of harm. Lorenor moved his hand towards the hidden switch he'd discovered earlier and triggered it. From the walls there was a loud reaction and the cavernous chamber rumbled for a moment with the ancient power of some Spider Magi construct at the work. For the most part, Lorenor remained quiet whilst he worked. He was in too much of a state of awe at the Spider Magi's courage and bravery to fight the Inquisition in such small numbers to say anything at the moment. Nothing seemed appropriate anyway other than giving the Inquisition proper burials.

That seemed more for the sakes of his personal safety. He was certain that the Inquisitions' corpses were probably buried near places of great personal interest to the ghoul. He couldn't cross those barriers at this point in his personal development yet. As the hidden machines did their work, a few feet away from the entrance to a new chamber revealed itself. A section of the wall moved of its own volition revealing the new passageway. The Endless sang songs of exploration. Lorenor eyed Ranger's progress for a moment and he knew it was too dangerous for him to go in there alone.

Even after all this time, there could still be members of the Inquisition lurking about.

[Ranger]

Ranger moved the bodies alone, for the most part. Each had an aura about it, each still held power long since unused. He could not see the magics, could not see the light that surrounded each corpse, but could feel the throbbing of the light and the holy energy. It was his neutrality that allowed him to touch each, his separation from the preconceived notions of evil and good. He was not tainted by the shadow, not a pawn of the Dark Goddess; he was not a man of any holy entity either. He stood nearly alone in his detachment.

Using his manipulation of light, he formed a wedged head and began to dig. The corpses were heavy, wrapped in silk over their armor, weapons, and whatever else they had on them, but the miner’s muscles were well developed over time. Each dead Inquisition was thoroughly covered, but the throbbing white light had kept their soul from being taken… whatever that meant, Ranger wasn’t sure, but he felt it was the correct thing to assume.

A few were different though. A few of the dead were more rotten, more a slush than a singular solid object. The light aura that surrounded them was shifting, changing, broken. The shield was cracked, as if the darkness of the magi’s minds had pushed through just enough to break the seal. The tainted magics of N’jal’s children had slipped through the crack, but even after so much time it had failed to break the light.

“Amazing,” he marveled as he moved the bodies, placing each in its own grave. He made no headstones for the men, made no markings. They had entered the depths of the caverns not expecting to all make it out alive, and he would not spend any more time than necessary. There was more to do, but the shattered shields were interesting, a manifestation of the powers of light, a power he professed to be mastering quickly. “To harness and use a strength that could last possibly forever, centuries at the least, what blessings the Thayne bestowed…”

Sweat beaded on the heavy brow of the dark elf. He wiped it away, but felt more and more bud. Dirt smeared his brow with the use of his dingy hands. He cared very little. “Lorenor,” the corpses were not completely finished burying, but the will of the Dark Goddess was telling him to move on and finish later. “What have you found?”

The cave quaked; more doors slid aside and exposed more passages. Ranger let his night vision adjust from the holy auras to the unnatural darkness once again. He moved away from the half buried and open holes and towards the lurking stalker once again. The prophet feared the boy, but felt that he was intricately woven into the same threads and fate as him, fated to move into the same path. As he moved through the room he felt the use of powerful magics, powerful fire. He muttered to himself, pondering over what it would have been. Whatever it was, it was dangerous, something that should not have been used. The magic used was something that had split the spider-magi from the weave of fate. It was a sharp reminder of the hatred the Inquisition felt, and a show that they cared more for the eradication of the Dark Mother’s children than the possible unraveling of life itself.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

"A switch." Lorenor replied calmly. "It has revealed our next destination afore us." Lorenor said as the truth was revealed by the ancient device. Lorenor pointed to the newly discovered passageway. The ghoul felt air passing through the uncovered tunnel as if a the den itself was an organic beast living and breathing. The air felt almost as a sigh might. Lorenor could feel ancient angst within the air as it flowed through the den. Various scents of death and battle filling the air as it passed his deformed nostrils.

The ghoul decided to take the initiative and step forward into the passageway. It went down into the earth as Lorenor expected it might. The ghoul looked at Ranger and nodded towards him that this was the direction that they needed to go in. There were many more hallways to explore but there was a particular path that Lorenor needed to follow. The goul walked in a confident matter into the darkness descending downwards regardless of if Ranger followed him or not.

He was glad that the Inquisition members were buried in the ground. He only regretted not being able to help him. The damned holy barriers prevented him from crossing the exalted grounds where the corpses lay buried now. He knew he would have to get Ranger to help him with the tasks that he couldn't complete himself. That was the nature of team-work. He felt confident in his leader's capabilities. The Endless were strangely quiet as the Ghoul listened to the vibrations in the darkness.

The passage was carved into the earth. Lorenor could see more of the spiderwebs in this passageway coating the walls around them. More entryways and passages went off into every direction. The ghoul guessed that many of these hallways were traps to confuse intruders and not all of them needed exploration. Lorenor knew that whatever treasures awaited them, they would be found deep within the spider den. Walking down for several yards into the descending hallway, Lorenor suddenly stopped when he felt a movement in the air. Something moving in the dark waiting ahead for them. The ghoul frowned as he knelt down to the earth beneath him preparing himself for potential battle.

A strange sound filled the air, like the clicking of spider's legs. Lorenor felt a creeping sensation flowing up and down his spine. He placed a hand up against the wall next time as he waited for Ranger to catch up. Feeling his flesh growing colder than usual, the ghoul felt danger ahead. He looked back towards Ranger for a moment and pointed towards the area ahead. He gave some hand signals that clearly was a warning of danger. Lorenor knew he better not speak because any noise would alert whatever lay ahead of them.

[Ranger]

Words seemed pointless. The depths of the caverns were opened before the two like a rusted chest long since touched. Worry danced across the conscious of the man, and crawled over his skin. His light hair stood on end. The new passageway reeked of malice and pain, undoubtedly a projection of the Spider Magi against wielders of light. Ranger continued on anyway, watching as closely as he could the younger man’s decent.

He followed, though far from as quickly as the stalker. Instead he concentrated on the surroundings, taking it all in and assuming what he could. His hands slipped across the wide walls. They were not overly wide, the tips of his fingers touching both sides with his arms reached out fully. He focused on one side though, leaning towards it, stroking the smooth rock walls. They were webbed over, with a thick, heavy thread, though it did not fasten to his palms. “Not a trap, a home of sorts,” he thought, since the webbing was not meant to fasten to intruders. But, underfoot, there was no webbing, simply smooth rock.

“Lorenor, we should…” his words came out in a croak, despite his normally fluent and strong tongue. Tapping echoed through the hollowed chamber, like nails against slate. The sounds furthered the intonations of dis-ease, triggering an alarm within the mind of the prophet. His arms fell to his sides; his fingers stretched out, and at the tips of each five glowing orbs appeared. “We are far from alone. Something evil still lurks in the depths of these halls…”

The darkness was slowly pushed away by the stolid light at the tips of his fingers. Though it fled like darkness did to light, it was unnatural. The shadows shifted uneasily despite the unwavering glow, moving and threatening to overtake the orbs. Ranger’s eyes never fell to the battle between the darkness and the light. Instead they were firmly forward, piercing, rigid. The darkness was growing, deeper, but through it something was moving. He could see an eerie light, the soft glow of malice in the face of an ancient denizen.

The eyes of a Child of N’jal stared back at both.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

"Who disturbs my slumber?"

Came an ancient whisper, powerful and full of rancor. Lorenor paused, keeping his hands away from the webbing. A terrible icy cold filled his heart as he breathed the cold air of this place. Death was powerful here, an old death, an ancient death. Lorenor looked back towards Ranger. The other held up powerful supernatural lights forcing Lorenor to retreat into the darkness. His companion still didn't understand the rules of the game. Lights hurt the ghoul, all types of lights. Magical lights were no different. He instinctively covered his eyes.

He wanted to say something but that powerful voice prevented him from doing so. As the light pierced darkness their position was revealed to whatever lay in wait in the hallway. Lorenor saw Ranger touching the webbing and wanted to chastise his friend for being so careless. The webbing was part of the intricate network of sensory capabilities that the Spider Magi owned. This WHOLE PLACE was a trap. Lorenor wasn't even sure how the Inquisition was able to get as far as they had.

He guessed a LOT of brutal archaic powers had been involved. Sensing that the Spider Magi was nearby, Lorenor felt confused as to how to proceed next.
They needed to work some sort of diplomacy out if they were going to make it out of this situation alive. And then, Lorenor saw it. Glowing red eye and a foul scent penetrated his nostrils threatening to overwhelm him.

The presence came closer to them sounding off all types of alarm bells within the ghoul. In order to prove that he was no enemy, Lorenor knelt down upon both of his knees. He saw those ancient red eyes staring at him with a questioning glare.

"A gesture of submission. This is not the tricks of the Inquisition. Who are you that you bow in such a way before the Children of N'Jal?"

"WE ARE NOT YOUR ENEMIES!"

And their diplomatic efforts began. Lorenor knew that attempting to fight against the fully trained Spider Magi was useless.

[Ranger]

The words of the ancient were little more than whispers, but eked a promise of power. The archaic tongue and harsh tone of the beast were more menacing than anything the two had encountered. Ranger, holding the light, watched his companion duck out of the glow but never let his silver eyes stray long from the magi. He was staring down a creature of legends, a thing feared and respected. Like the endless that spoke in muted sighs to the lurking Lorenor, the prophet could feel nothing but overwhelming distrust and insecurity.

“We truly are not your enemies,” Ranger’s voice was not his own. It was solemn, mystified, and lost. His eyes fell from those of the spider. In the world, though he was unsure if the dark child was the same, meeting eyes with a predator was an attempt to establish dominance. There was no dominance to be created, or forced. The prophet was sure the beast’s age and abilities had sustained it for what could have been centuries, putting it as the obvious dominant predator. “Great sage of old, child of the darkness, we have come to your sanctum on the will of the Great Goddess N’jal.”

The prophet let the light at the tips of his fingers fade; let the darkness overtake him once again. He was a drow, born of the Aleraran darkness, and despised it. However, he let the engulfing shadows absorb him. They overtook the light like a rabid pack of wolves on a wounded buck. With it the clicking continued, the approach of the heavy drider continued, and the drow was left in the darkness without his night vision having returned.

“Why do you not bow, Ilythiri?” The beast used the old name for the drow, in the native Lloth tongue. The words spoken were in a dialect far from common, an idiom not pronounced for hundreds of years. Ranger could understand it, could conceive that the language of the drow had changed very little over time. He, however, did not like being referred to as a drow, as a cursed and despicable race of elf.

“I will not willingly submit myself to a fellow follower of N’jal.” His words were spoken with reverence, but where nonetheless able to be taken as offensive. Ranger did not care, and gave little heed to what he said. Instead he concentrated on how he said it. “I am a prophet of all Thayne. I am a wielder of the wills of all, including N’jal. I follow she who brought the Inquisition, and she who fought them. If you are willing, let us begin an exchange of words, between brethren. I do not propose to be your equal, for I know my power does not hold a promise of equality against your own. However, I do propose to be a fellow follower, and with that alone pray that you hear us…”

He looked to Lorenor, seeking a fellow voice. If he was left alone to speak to the powerful drider, who could command the shadows and darkness like a drow, and the spider-magi powers of pain and suffering, he worried at the outcome of the meeting. Most of all, he worried about his survival and returning to the lands he once claimed as his own. The Gol’Bron needed him and Lorenor both, and being caught in the depths of a N’jalan cave would not bode well for how he would be remembered by the next generations.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

The Endless whispered maddening songs of kinship to the Spider Magi. He was looking at a brother. They shared a common connection to the Dark Mother. He let the tendrils of the darkness examine him as hairy legs passed over his person, inspecting and investigating. Lorenor heard the exchange between Ranger and the Spider Magi. The words passing between the two of them made Lorenor worry deeply about their personal safeties.

When a long moment passed and the sulking creature lurked in the darkness without speaking for five minutes, Lorenor wondered if they'd passed the test of the Spider Magi. He also wondered if they'd earned clearance to head into the deeper parts of the Den. When the response from the ancient creature finally did come, it wasn't in a way that Lorenor expected.

"You bring tidings from N'Jal with you do you?"

And suddenly, Lorenor felt a piercing leg penetrate his pectoral region on the right side. The ghoul screamed loudly as he was lifted up off the ground and raised a few feet. He felt something sucking a part of his very atma out of him. There was a glow of energies as the Spider Magi syphoned away a piece of his very strength. The Endless screamed loudly in terror as a black mass of their dark form surrounded him suddenly.

The Spider Magi laughed as he pulled a piece of Lorenor away. The Endless was shredded down to size and the pain was tremendous. When the Spider Magi had taken its tidings away from Lorenor he tossed him to the side, away from Ranger's person and deeper into the hallway. The Spider Magi eyed Ranger with malice. He stood up to his full height of ten feet.

"You bring a gift to the Spider Magi of The Endless. You are a wise individual Prophet. You have the blessings of the Spider Magi to proceed further into the Den as Followers of N'Jal. But proceed with warnings Prophet. Others have come here as both enemies and allies. They have fallen to the devices of my few remaining kindred. The Spider Magi in these tunnels will not take kindly to mention of certain of the other Thaynes. You would do well to remember that when you proceed."

With that, the Spider Magi moved to the side and entered one of the many spider holes on the Eastern wall. It easily climbed the wall and made his way into the comfort of the hole in the wall. It quickly moved out of sight almost as suddenly as it had come. Lorenor lay on the ground several feet ahead having been flung aside like a large pile of garbage. He moaned in agony at what had just been done to him.

All around the darkness laughed at the ghoul's second rape at the hands of one of the Thaynes.

Tears of agony flowed down his empty eye sockets somehow.

[Ranger]

The spider magi moved with a majestic and deadly speed, much faster than the prophet could have ever expected. The tips of his long legs clicked as the razor claws danced across the cave. Ranger, instantly fearful for his own safety, squatted and shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. The beast was deadly, quick, and held power that the ancients feared. But his movement was not aimed at the prophet, but instead his eerie companion. With a swift motion a near lethal blow struck the side Lorenor, tearing a piece of the endless’ tool and tossing him away when finished like a used rag.

The boy’s cry of terror and pain split the calm reserve of the drow. He winced, trying to keep himself together and the calm reserve intact. It was split though, the proverbial shield that masked his emotions threatened to fall and reveal the dangerous depression that was barely reserved. Wise?. The words made him question his commitment to the children of darkness; question his ability to serve the ruthlessness and degenerate mental stability of N’jal herself.

He made no motion though, no argument. He had been granted passage at the expense of his companion’s health. It was a heavy price for the other to pay; Ranger could only offer muted prayers to whatever Thayne might still be with him. His eyes followed the figure as it quickly skittered into a new passage, the silver orbs of the drow having adjusted to the magical shadows of the spider-magi’s labyrinth. He sighed as the upper half of the magi entered a tunnel, leaving the engrossed spider half still moving with staccato clicks in his vision.

“Lorenor.” The prophet whispered, unsure if his companion was still living, still holding breath in his twisted body. He moved quickly to the man, seeing the thick blood slip from his side effortlessly. It was a disgusting sight, but a worse smell. Lorenor held the scent of rot normally. The wounded version, with his life’s blood and spirit slipped from the gaping wound, offered a smell that caught the lungs of the drow and burned. “Speak boy,” he said as he turned him gently, laying him on his back. “I must delve, must seek the threads of life that hold you. I can heal you, but first I MUST know what form of being you are, how my spell will react, and what damage or benefit it may cause.”

Ranger did not wait for a response, but instead placed both of his battle worn hands on the chest and stomach of the wounded boy. He was new to healing, but powerful in its practice. A blessing of the Thayne, a curse to the undead… what problems it would cause with Lorenor where unknown. He worked anyway, summoning the delving spell and searching the body.

The first, shallow feelings came instantly. Grave and dangerous pain lanced through the endless’ body, coursing from the wound and pulsing through his very veins. The pain was not caused by anything more than the wound; no poison traversed his thick blood, which much brought a thankful sigh to the prophet’s lips. However, the man was nothing like he had ever encountered before. He was a subsidiary being, a subclass of undeath. The light spells would have to be changed and modified so that it did not burn him. More pain would probably slip him past the edge of consciousness and into the spirit realm.

With steady and careful study, Ranger allowed himself to understand Lorenor and adjust the spell of healing that he would need. The shadows danced around the pair, embracing them, welcoming them. He was like them, dark, mysterious, and held power that few would understand. Ranger himself did not fully understand them. But he could change it anyway, could figure it out. The light that would have normally surrounded his holy hands appeared, but was very different. Instead of a bright yellow or a glowing white, they were formed of a shadowed appearance. Around his hands he embraced the healing spell, let it flow through him first and then into his companion. The power touched the material weave that had been used to create Lorenor, and slipped through the veins and nerves, cooling at first, and then mending…

[Mutant_Lorenor]

I'm falling. Where am I falling? Why am I falling? Whence has my body gone to? I felt a dark place when the Spider Magi touched me and pulled a portion of The Endless out of my very atma. I felt drained, I felt pain and agony course through my veins like boiling magma. I don't know where the light has gone to. I fell into an abyss of darkness. Lorenor's person twitched in agony as the injury of the Spider Magi coursed through his vessel.

The Spider Magi chose not to use its powerful organic poisons upon Lorenor's person. Despite that, the wound was a terrible wound opening up through another ancient scar. One that he'd received at the hands of a powerful warrior long ago. The hole at his chest burned with dark energy. It didn't grow on its own, but the pain flowed out in a spiraling motion across every fiber of his being. Lorenor suffered greatly. His body twiched and convulsed as tears flowed down his eyes.

He tried to see the voices that called out to him but only darkness responded to his sight. His sensory array was fractured under the terrible trauma of what just happened to him. Lorenor bled profusely from the injury. It was a circular piercing mark that went from his back side to his front. A clean hole lurked where flesh and bone used to be located. The injury was nearly fatal to the boy. I'm falling. I'm falling. Lorenor thought to himself as he continued to convulse from the agony he felt.

The blistering pain was intense. Tears flowed like rivers from his empty eye sockets somehow. Moans and other pitying sounds escape his lips as he moved from consciousness to unconsciousness. In the distance, the boy saw a strange sort of light. Gathering some strength from within and from The Endless, Lorenor traveled to the light. Slowly did he move at first, but gradually, his movements picked up speed. Soon, a flash of energy overwhelmed the ghoul.

Lorenor sat up coughing black blood in pain. Terrible aches passed from where the injury occurred. However, the hole had somehow closed in on itself thanks to Rangers' help. Lorenor blinked several times as his sensory array re organized itself and the sphere consolidated about the ghoul. I was falling but now I'm back. Just what the hell did that thing do to me? Was I wrong? Am I wrong? I shouldn't have come here. I feel agony, I feel pain and I touched death. Lorenor saw and felt the power flowing from his friend Ranger Nailo. Coming back from the brink of death, the ghoul moved to wrap his arms around Ranger in a warm hug.

Ranger had saved his unlife. The ghoul now owed his friend an eternal life debt.

[Ranger]

Disgusting, an aberration of life itself, Ranger could not understand what he was feeling. The spell was coursing through his companion, a man he would likely call friend sooner than later. But understanding this ‘friend’, his vitality, how he worked and how he survived… it was nothing like he had ever felt. The weave of humanity was an intricate design of the gods. It was infinite, always growing, always changing. With his delving skill he had the ability to tap into the weave, tap into the spirit, body, and psyche. However, if he moved too deeply he found things unhealable.

Lorenor was the worst he had ever felt in his naïve studies of healing. He was being healed, being pulled back. The prophet could feel his friend’s vitality returning, yet could not help but move deeper and attempt to fix everything. What he found scared him. Words spoken in an unknown tongue danced through his mind. Unknown commands flooded him, telling him to act on feelings that were not his own. He had gone too deep. He had found the Endless that tormented the boy, which used him like a tool for their wicked deeds.

His eyes lost their light. The platinum coloration dulled. A stolid gray replaced it.

But the boy was awake, moving, and embracing him in a friendly hug. The touch of the cold, retched man snapped his mind back. The scent of rot, so close and so real brought him from the delving spell. He released it as soon as he was able. The endless’ tool had been healed enough, brought back to health and ‘un’life. Ranger could not help but feel refreshed and relieved when the embrace was over and he no longer had to lay hands on the boy. It was a horrible feeling knowing that he would rather not touch his friend for the sake of his own sanity, but he knew it was for the better.

“It is good to have you back,” he said with a smile, “I feared for your safety and your life. I apologize deeply for your sacrifice, though we have been given free reign of the caverns…”

Ranger rose from the ground, wiping his hands on his old robes. It felt like the taint of the man, the endless’ words and calls, the darkness that consumed the ragged mind of the boy would never be washed from his touch. “I fear what we may find though,” he added, his words quiet in case the ears of the magi were still with the two. “If the ancient spider magi still thrives, than what more could have lasted the same amount of time may no doubt still threaten our path…”

[Mutant_Lorenor]

The cavernous reach of the underground tunnels surrounded the ghoul making him feel like he was trapped within a cage. All around he saw the granite walls of the natural caverns that were dug into by the Spider Magi. They'd cleaved their way through the earth to make this den eons ago. Lorenor looked around for a moment seeing the many holes in the wall suggesting other passageways to different areas within the vast network of caves. Some were natural, some were not. Lorenor also saw the webbing all around him attached to the walls and he looked at a nearby pattern.

The webbing was intricately designed just like the patterns of the webbing he'd found in that other chamber. Lorenor observed the spider web motif for a moment trying to see if there were further clues as to where they should head to next. His chest hurt from where the Spider Magi attached him and syphoned out a piece of the Endless from within him. Lorenor clutched at it feeling the pain surging across his person. The voice of the Endless was quieted down to but a hushed whisper.

Examining the spider web for a moment Lorenor saw images and scenes appear before his very eyes. To the untrained observer, the spider motifs all would seem the same. But subtle fluxuations within the motifs revealed intricate artwork within the lining of the webs. Lorenor had seen it before and he was now looking at it again. The webbing had stories etched into them written by the hands of the Spider Magi. Lorenor saw a scene of Spider Magi building their den and moving in. He also saw a scene of a particularly large Spider Magi wearing a crown etched into the center of the deeper part of the den. Lorenor understood that this was meant to be a map of some sort.

He studied the webbing for a long moment staring at the large Spider Queen for at least a minute of his time. Lorenor stood up after he was certain of what he was looking at. "Our leader is somewhere within these halls after all this time. The few remaining Spider Magi protected her from the Inquisition's wrath." Lorenor pointed further down the tunnel. "We go that way. There will be another series of tunnels and then we must make our way to the Spider Queen." Lorenor spoke with great pain in his voice and considerable effort. He made no attempt to hide that he was in constant agony after the Spider Magi violated him. His hand still clutched at his chest where he was attacked moments earlier.

[Ranger]

The prophet watched the man stand. His face was drawn, his eyes piercing, the boy was something else, something possibly beyond dangerous. Ranger was worried about his own safety, if the situation arose where the man was no longer an ally. His flickering silver eyes danced across the endless’ tool, watching the man cautiously. He was something different, something very different, and it had not been until the prophet had delved into him that he truly understood.

Instead of talking, the boy’s eyes danced across a thick web. It was like the spider silk tapestry in the entry room. Lines were strewn in an intricate design, woven by the most meticulous of minds. It was another picture, but did not depict a chose magi or a scene of war. It was not meant for the worship of the moon goddess. Not meant for the depiction of rules, regulations, or their code of life. From the angel that he was looking at, it was a map of sorts, a depiction of how the den was built and constructed. At the center was the most intricate of details, a spider-magi with a crown atop its head.

The boy spoke of seeking out the queen of the magi, the leader of the den of darkness. The prospect thrilled the elder elf, but scared him at the same time. They had been granted passage by a guardian of the magi queen, but to seek out the most powerful of the lot… it was a passage that would possibly end in disaster.

“The Spider Queen?” he voiced his concerns with the tone of his voice alone. “If she is going to attempt to tear another piece of your being out, I am unsure that I will be able to mend you again. I fear that we may be placing ourselves in a dire situation.”

Ranger, however, did take a step towards the way the map signified. Tunnels stretched throughout the cavern, deep darkness enveloping each. He sighed as he glared into each passage, quietly pondering where they would lead the two. “Your senses are going to be needed for this. I do not want to use my light spells. They could anger the magi, and the wrath they could call upon would be deadly in their own home.”

[Mutant_Lorenor]

"I understand Ranger. I will do my best all things considered."

The ghoul said softly to his companion. He started to make his way down a certain tunnel that was nearby to their location. Lorenor walked in a generally Western direction now as he headed through the blinding darkness. In his element, the shadows seemed to cling to the ghoul as he maneuvered through them almost as a ghost might. Lorenor memorized the map. He carefully observed each of the distinctive hallways and where they might lead to.

Some lead to the private dens of the few remaining Spider Magi, and others lead to trapped rooms. A few even lead to treasure vaults. These, Lorenor kept in the back of his head in case he had the audacity to try to raid this place for himself in the future.

Lorenor made his way through the darkness searching for proper footholds in the rocky surface beneath his boots. It was difficult to maneuver with all of the webbing and sharp, rocky surfaces all about, but the ghoul took his time. He knew that this wasn't a race to the finish line. They'd been granted full passage through the dark tunnels and weren't forced to take the den with military might.

He doubted they could do such a thing anyway. After all these are adult Spider Magi we are dealing with. Though I bare common markings with them I am still not one of them. I still haven't completely devoted my loyalty to N'Jal. I don't know if I ever could do such a thing considering what the Thaynes have done to me. Lorenor walked and crawled through the tunnel for what seemed like an eternity. He checked certain pieces of webbings on the walls from time to time to ensure where he was and to read more of the history of N'Jal. The webbing stood out to the ghoul every few rooms that they came across. Some of the tapestries told stories of den's history whilst others were simply visual poems telling the stories of the lives of various Spider Magi families living within the den.

Some were hundreds of years old within the den. The Queen, Lorenor found out, seemed to have been alive for many ages of Althanas' history. It seemed that she was currently in some sort of hibernation state. It also seemed that Lorenor and his companion, Ranger, were expected. The ghoul came across webbing containing a story about a man with purple eyes who would visit the den at the turning of an Age of Althanas. The man was prophesized to be a prophet himself. A prophet of the Thaynes. Eerily, the man in the pictures resembled his companion, Ranger Nailo.

"Master Nailo. I found something interesting." Lorenor began as he whispered towards his companion. "Take a look at this series of webbing over here. It seems that they have legends about our arrival. There are figures that resemble us. What do you think about this Ranger?" Lorenor asked fully aware of his partner's abilities of prophecy.

[Ranger]

Ranger followed at a distance. The shifting shadows gave a dissonant aura, as if alive. He had not noticed earlier, but once given passage they seemed to change. They were not clinging to him like a thick mud; sharp twinges of pain did not jab at the pores on his arms. They were cool, comforting. As a full entity they thrived and moved, no seam splitting one from the next. It was a magical entity created by the spider lords, a living and thriving thing that twisted through the halls. He extended his arms, his fingers splayed, absorbing the darkness and letting it pass over him without a hint of hindrance.

“These shadows are touching, deep. They are delving through my body; I feel them touching me in the same manner as I touched Lorenor earlier.” It was not a feeling of discomfort that rolled over his skin though. It was a feeling of knowing, like understanding and acceptance. As a prophet of the Thayne, he was obligated to accept it, but it was deeper than that. He accepted it on a personal level. The shadows were not the opposition to the light; they were a piece of the light… not the opposite, but the balance. To accept the darkness was the next step in the understanding of the light, as far as he could understand it.

As the tunnels narrowed his hands brushed the soft webbing. They were strong, resilient and resistant to tearing. He closed his eyes and absorbed the experience. Enjoyment from the darkness and the soft touch of the magi’s webbing, both feelings were foreign, and previously undesired. At that singular moment, he understood why he followed all the Thayne without fearing the repercussions of the other Thayne. They would use him, focus their wills on him in time, and each presented a full experience that was unique.

“Let me take a look,” Ranger said as he sidled next to the dark child. His eyes were focusing, but it was difficult to make out what the weaving of the webs meant through mere sight. He looked at his companion, the boy he had saved, and smirked. He had called him master. It had not dawned on him when said initially, but the afterthoughts made him wonder. What was he to the boy? Was he his elder, a figure to look up to and exemplify? Or was he simply a prophet that the same gods he served had placed him with, a man with the ability to focus on the wills of N’jal?

He turned back to the webbing on the walls and focused. There were depictions of two men, one with colored eyes like those of Lorenor, and the other obviously a drow. But he could not understand what they willed and spoke of. They were prophesies so old that he could barely make out what they said. Instead he closed his eyes, and let his hands stroke the patterns. Visions came to him, ancient words of power flitted through the back of his mind. He could not understand them, they were beyond his ability. The only thing he could understand was that they were meant to be there, they were meant to traverse the hallowed, yet shattered halls.

“I… I cannot make sense of these prophetic visions. I can understand that they prophesied that we would come, that we would be here at this time.” He took a step back, his head spinning, the lingering effects of the webbing still whispering in his sharp ears. “Imagine, prophesying your own downfall by your dire enemy. They saw the destruction; saw the light of the Inquisition tearing through their halls. They did nothing to stop it, did little to prepare for it. Accepting their fate because the dark goddess told them it was coming, it is something I could not yet do so easily.”

“However, we need to follow this passage. It will narrow further, till it is large enough for a single magus to pass through at a time. It should not be an issue for us,” he said with a sigh. “But once through we will enter a tomb like room, a place of resting for the fallen magi. In that room, surrounded by the graves of the dead and slain, will be the queen…”

[Mutant_Lorenor]

In his insanity, the words made some sense to the ghoul. His words ring true to me. I don't know why but they somehow make sense. The intricate carving on the spider web suggested that there was something big ahead to me. Maybe its the Spider Queen we're looking for. Either way there's only one way to find out and that's move forward. Lorenor nodded towards his lone companion and started to brave the unknown once again.

The air felt alive. A vibration passed through the air flowing through the caverns of the large spider den. Lorenor wasn't sure if the vibration was wind or something far more sinister. The very rocks felt alive. So close to their organic and inorganic nature, the ghoul felt as if the tunnels were a living presence all around him. Soon, the tunnels started to become smaller and smaller until Lorenor found himself ducking down into the passageway he was following.

He consulted his mental maps remembering where he had to go next. Having the photographic memory helped out quite a bit. "Follow me this way Ranger. Stay close, I don't want us to get separated." The ghoul said calmly fearing the secrets of these catacombs. Soon he was crawling on his stomach, clawing at rocks in the darkness. Sensing with his sensory array, the ghoul pushed his way through the dark, looking back at his companion from time to time as if to make sure Ranger was keeping up with his pace.

Lorenor worked quickly through the dark, not wanting to stay in any one particular branch of the tunnel for too long. Part of it was his fear of the Spider Magi. Another part of it was a developing desire to see what lurked ahead. He wanted to see what the Spider Queen would be like. As he crawled through the dark, those thoughts urged him forward. The air grew considerably colder the deeper he went into the earth. The level of coldness increased for a while as he crawled through the tunnel, and just when clouds of frost were flowing from his nostrils, the ghoul noticed the air gradually grow warmer. They started to ascend now instead of descend.

The ghoul paused for a moment to allow his friend to catch up with him. He could see the glow of a well lit chamber several yards ahead of him at the end of the long tunnel.

[Ranger]

As the pair closed on the chamber that would bring finality to their shadowed endeavor, Ranger could feel little more than a strong will other than his own. The voices were slowly becoming mute, yet they raged little less. If he concentrated on them they became as real, or more so, than his own thoughts. If he pushed them aside they dwindled slowly. He continued to listen to them, as if listening across a room to a whispered conversation. He never touched them too much with his conscious, but just enough to keep them intact, alive, and muttering. The prophet feared he would need them, have to use them, speak some sort of incantation to revive the slumbering queen.

How right he had been.

As the cavern narrowed he kept closer to the boy’s lead. In his wake he left a stench of rot, but the drow was growing more and more accustomed to it. Besides that, he was more concerned with the shadow’s lively nature. The closer they grew the more they seemed to touch, prod, and feel the intruders. Through the darkness waves of throbbing power grew stronger, giving life to the shadows he assumed. The waves moved in pulses like the ebb and flow of the tides, only much quicker, and in short staccato vibrations. They washed over him and his companion, never seeming to be broken by the boy’s lead before washing over him too.

When the child of the endless gave pause, the drow stopped suddenly. Something powerful was ahead; the path that they had been following was growing to a close. The end of the winding, difficult proverbial road held danger and satisfaction. Ranger lightly touched the shoulder of the man, pushing slightly on it to have him move to the side. He moved around him and took the lead, continuing on with his hands leading him through the smooth narrow tunnel.

The two moved only a short distance further before the tunnel suddenly opened into a gloriously massive room. The walls were as smooth as marble, glowing softly with a phosphorescent gleam emitted from leaching algae that clung to the walls. It grew from the cracks, spread like wild vines across the walls, and formed elaborate patterns. The prophet did not doubt that the magi of the spider queen had taken the natural growth and heightened its strength and growth, forming further artistic weaves.

However, light was something that the man was not accustomed to since he had buried the corpses of the Inquisition. They had held a shield of light, most still intact, some shattered, and some defiled by the twisted darkness. To suddenly be in the light made him squint, ever so slightly. He brushed aside loose locks of platinum hair, pushing them back behind his sharp ears. He took steady steps into the room, letting his soft eyes look over the entire scene. In the very back of the smooth stone semi-sphere shaped room was a small hole, another magus tunnel. However, across the ground were hundreds of small patches of webbing. Each one had a completely unique base of webbing on it, and growing from it more webbing creating a three dimensional picture also unique.

“A graveyard,” Ranger said in a tone of reverence, his voice barely above a whisper. He kneeled just inside and said a silent prayer to those that had fallen. This was the where they were supposed to be. His mind was racing. Without concentrating on the thoughts of the deranged prophecy the words became more real than his own thoughts, tearing at his conscious, screaming in their incoherent babble. “Lorenor, this is where we were meant to come. This is the room the prophecy spoke of, the one we were supposed to find…”

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Up ahead she lurked. Lorenor looked at the dangerous creature with its huge head topped with an organic crown of armored hide. Lorenor's eyes went right to the location of the Spider Queen. It breathed steaming air from its maw as she observed the various portions of the den containing her eggs. More Spider Magi, TRUE Spider Magi were manufactured in this chamber. Lorenor looked down and stepped on a particularly powerful woven series of webs. This is where we are meant to be? The ghoul questioned the sanity of his own actions for the very first time in this adventure.

It was already too late for them to turn back. Lorenor sensed something creeping up from behind and saw that their only escape tunnel was suddenly filled with the presence of another Spider Magi. Lorenor looked around and saw many tunnels that lead into this chamber but all of them seemed to have occupants in the form of the Spider Magi. They had no choice but to move forward.

Some of the holes in the ground contained buried corpses of various bodies that'd been dragged to the Spider Magi Queen. The creature seemed to wait for them. Lorenor felt a powerful presence in his mind as he looked at this physical incarnation of N'Jal herself. Glowing red eyes, a series of thousands of them, observed Lorenor from the face of the creature. Its powerful maw opening and closing with each breath it took. Lorenor did not doubt for any moment that this creature could destroy them both at any moment.

Lorenor carefully walked around the various holes in the floor so that he didn't accidentally fall into any of the mysterious chambers. He wanted to be absolutely certain that he could at least put up a fight if the need arose. He felt a sudden closeness to the Spider Magi Queen, as if he were a loose part of the den coming back in contact with its creator. The wayward ghoul made his way back towards his creator. Lorenor felt familiarity as he made his way back to the chamber of his creation. Lorenor felt as though he'd always been in this place. This place is so familiar to me. It feels like I've been here before.

Lorenor turned back towards his single companion. "Watch your step my friend, try not to fall into any of these separate chambers. Otherwise we're screwed. There's all kinds of things in here." The young Spider Magi made his way towards the Spider Queen. Once he was well within several paces of her, he knelt down before his Queen Mother. A physical vessel of the Dark Mother N'Jal. Her eyes upon the physical world of Althanas. The ghoul felt a powerful darkness flowing from the Spider Queen. The Queen had many legs and many arms, the trademark of an arachnid. Though Lorenor easily saw hundreds.

She stood at many stories high, her well constructed leaned forward until it was inches afore Lorenor's face. Several deep breaths from the creature suggested that she was smelling him. The thing leaned backwards suddenly and the ghoul felt a powerful presence flowing through The Endless and penetrating his very mind. The young Spider Magi looked up at his Queen Mother for a moment and waited for her to finish piercing his mind.

When the penetration was over, the Spider Speak commenced. "Welcome back home. You two are the promised ones." She began. "Though before all things can begin, we must prove your worth." She moved one of her many limbs and Lorenor looked at the direction that she pointed at. "You've gained permission to enter this chamber now it is time to test you and see if you are worthy for the powers of the Spider Magi." The Queen said to both Ranger and himself. Lorenor nodded casually and stood up turning to face his challenge.

One of the many chambers suddenly opened up with an organic suction sound flowing from it. A light burst up from within. A light that hurt Lorenor's eyes from the intensity of it. Lorenor saw a presence rise up from the individual chamber and gasped when he realized powerful Necromancy was at work. He felt the darkness permeating throughout the chamber, once the light pierced it Lorenor saw that the darkness was kept at bay around the single follower of light. Deep, raspy breathing flowed from the reanimated member of the Inquisition. It reached down and grabbed his blessed longsword and prepared for battle. Spotting its chosen enemy, the Inquisition soldier looked upon Lorenor and ran towards him, anger in its ghostly face. Lorenor suddenly drew his longsword and prepared for the battle to begin. He shot a glance towards Ranger. Then returned his panic stricken face towards his opponent. The being of light would be his greatest challenge ever. The moment his enemy came within range, Lorenor already began to feel pain flowing through his person.

This was it. It was now do or die. The creature swung at Lorenor and the ghoul intercepted with his sword. The sound of two blades clashing filled the air, and the journey began. Nearby, a second member of the Inquisition rose up to challenge Ranger.

[Ranger]

Tears budded at the corners of the drow’s sharp eyes.

Understanding was being befuddled by the raw emotions filling the void of his own thoughts. He could not touch the voices or push them away, could not remove the overwhelming trouble he was having with prophesy from a deranged deity. Possibly thousands of years old, and touching it alone was the trigger that set his mind alight. Ranger knelt down and let the world wash away. His senses were flaring further, something big was coming, something extremely powerful.

He turned his head skyward, or where it would have been had they been outdoors. What he saw astounded him. It was the queen magus, the beast that was given the powers to create more followers of N’jal. It was her that had birthed those that had built the endless caverns, and her that had received prophesy of their demise. The elf was looking into so many eyes he could not begin to count them, a beast that no longer held the inklings of a previous humanoid. Luckily it did not want to move so closely to the prophet to give him a kiss of the dark goddess.

“Home,” he said in a huff, despite his lost thoughts. They were screaming in glory, praise. They were singing tales of darkness, malice, and of the rebirth of the den. It was on his head, literally, on his mind and it would be the pair of them that would bring back an age of glory to the N’jal magi. He smiled a wicked smile, the cruel intent of the magi ravaging his mind. This was home, he knew it. The feeling of comfort was overwhelming, being within the throne room of N’jal’s kin and her avatar in material form. “I do not seek the powers of a magus, but the understanding of the will of another Thayne. N’jal, your mother and deity, is a Lady I follow…”

His pleas and outcry fell on deaf ears. Instead of listening the queen brought forth the reincarnation of two Inquisition paladins. They were men of stature, fully armed and armored. Ranger turned away from his companion to the shadowed figure, an amalgamation of the former glory of the Inquisition’s warriors and dark powers of the magi. The man he faced had a façade of indifference. It was blank, offering no aspect of his former self. Instead of seeking the prophet as an ally against the spider kin that lined the walls or the egg sacks that hung from the ceiling.

It drew the sword at its side, and charged. The drow kneeled, waited for the man to draw close, and summoned the swaying shadows that he still had little command of. His hands were surrounded by darkness, a swirl of black and white mingling to make a smoky gray. The blade came down in a high arch, and without thinking a primal dark rage took over him. His hands rose and smashed aside the blade with his outside arm. Spinning, he struck out with the other in a wide arch at his opponent.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Facing the threat before him, Lorenor stood as an empty hollowed out vessel. A host to the Endless. Once something glorious, the ghoul was merely a shadow of his former self. Using his emerging skills the ghoul concentrated upon using his greatest skill; his senses. Closing his eyes, Lorenor knew that they could deceive him when his opponent possessed such a vibrant halo about him. Light often played tricks on ones' eyes.

With their gathered audience observing the conflict at hand, Lorenor felt multiple sets of eyes upon his person. Millions of them. The Endless sang songs of destruction whilst the ghoul danced with his chosen enemy. Pale face staring at Lorenor with icy cold blue eyes, it moved with astounding speed. Astounding agility, Lorenor fought hard just to keep up. Without breaking a sweat or gasping for air, the ghoul pressed on.

He was forced into a reactive situation. Attempting to become the aggressor against such a superior opponent was an impossible situation. Instead, Lorenor knew that he had to rely upon his resolve, his willingness to be the dirty fighter. Lorenor felt the pious nature of his opponent even after so long a time locked in death. The ghoul felt anger flowing through his black art as he observed the very nature of the necromancy that brought this warrior back to life. Am I the victim of such archaic forces? Was this the way I was brought back to the mortal coil? But then how did I end up in Haidia?

Lorenor's mind filled with questions. Questions about who he was and what he currently faced. Questions about the very nature of N'Jal herself. The vessel of the Queen Mother lurked just ahead with the answers that Lorenor needed. This is what I'm fighting for. The answers to my past, the knowledge of who I am and why I was brought back to begin with. This is my story as much as it is Ranger's. I have to stay alive long enough to... And in his distraction, the ghoul missed a key parry.

Lorenor cringed in agony as the sword pierced through his right shoulder region forcing open an old injury. The ghoul felt his black blood flowing from the injury to the blade of his opponent. Everything slowed down. Lorenor eyed the glowing sword of light as it burned his person harshly. Is this it? Is this finally the end for me? NO! I've beaten and cheated death before, why do I have to submit to my fate now?! Lorenor held on, even as his body burned and black blood poured from the injury he'd received.

The blood is the way. The blood is the life. The blood is the path. He suddenly head the Endless calling to him, helping him. The Endless writhed in pain at the contact of the weapon, unable to protect the host. But Lorenor was not without help. Letting blood flow to his hand, the ghoul suddenly launched a spray of his own blood right at the Paladin's ghost's face.

[Ranger]

The blow landed, but the prophet’s hand almost assuredly was in more pain from the blow than the reanimated Inquisition. His blade like hand clashed against the lower back of the armored man. Instead of a call of pain, like the drow desired, the man stumbled forward and took a steady step to turn back for another attack. Silver eyes met black eyes, and for half a second Ranger could see into the warped soul of the ancient warrior. He saw pain, anguish, and a desire to be free. As a prophet and a being of the benign, Ranger willed for little more than the freedom of the tarnished soldier of light.

The voices of the prophetic vision were screaming, babble that he could not translate nor escape from. He was overwhelmed and at peace at the same time. It was a balance the drow could neither grasp nor accept; a delicate difference that extended over both sides of a razor thin barrier. Ranger was walking the razors edge, feeling both sides together, the path before him was clouded and hardly easy.

His thoughts wandered as the imminent threat before him approached once again. The warrior was quick, despite his armored shell, and left no time for his opponent to dwindle. Before he could ponder further over his problematic thoughts, he raised his hands and let the swirling darkness sharpen to a blades edge. His newfound control over the shadows was yet being honed. The darkness that enveloped his hands was weak, the coloration of a stormy sky. But it moved as he commanded and willed.

His hands reached out together, batting away the blades downward strike. Instead of rolling away, however, Ranger took the advantage of the Inquisitions reach away from him. He took a heavy step in, and pushed himself on his opposite foot. One hand struck the reanimations neck just below the jaw, snapping his head back. The other flew wildly to the other side, missing as it spun away despite the jarring blow.

On fleet elven feet the prophet danced away. His agility and grace made it appear that he was but a ghastly figure floating over the magi’s graves. With his opponent momentarily pushed aside he took the quick second to turn to Lorenor and look at his younger companion’s progress. The ghoulish figure had thrown his own blood at his opponent, blinding him with a spray of thick black liquid. He did not appear to be faring as well as Ranger, and the drow could not help but feel the need to assist.

He placed his hand on the ground quickly, letting the darkness seep into the cracked earth. It spread out. As the veins of darkness moved they took a turn around the young companion and beneath the figure of dimmed light. Unfortunately the thin threads had picked up a brighter hue, more light than shadows, and yet the drow only worried a tiny bit about Lorenor. With a violent thrust Ranger pulled at the threads, commanding them to rise. They did as he commanded, and in half a second the half blinded opponent was standing on an unstable platform of shattered stone and dimmed light.

“Hurry Lorenor,” the drow yelled as he turned back to his own opponent. The man had risen, taken up a defensive stance, and seemed less than patient about the magical assistance that Ranger had offered.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Almost at exactly the same time, Lorenor's cursed blood connected with the reanimated specter he currently fought. With twisted thoughts in his head, and the guidance of The Endless, the ghoul reacted as quickly as he was able. He heard the words of his companion, Ranger, who fought his own battle and managed to move a bit before the earth shattered underneath the weight of his companion's attack. Lorenor took several steps backwards evading the brunt of the attack.

Even as a blinding light flashed upward from the ground, Lorenor's eyes were shut. The burning light caused the ghoul to experience some pain, but it was dampened by the darkness. Lorenor saw a silver glow flowing from the earth and was able to handle it to some degree since it was a form of archaic lights, and not necessarily true light in the normal sense of the word. Lorenor was thankful that his friend hadn't tried to use a completely light-based attack or he'd be screwed. I gotta remember I'm not the only one fighting right now. I'm glad that he is here with me, I would've never made it past that Spider Magi. Lorenor thought to himself for a moment as Ranger's attack separated the specter from his person.

Lorenor looked through the uprooting energy and saw that his blood indeed connected to the reanimated. He smiled to himself with a hint of satisfaction on his face as the specter reacted exactly as he thought it might. As the corrupted substance attached itself to the specter, the nano-virus reacted in a strange way. It quickly flowed across the paladin, darkening its once brilliant light. A light to smite the undead like Lorenor. His own blood continued to trickle down his hand as he looked upon his opponent.

Finally, the substance completely covered his foe. The specter cried out in utter agony like a banshee in the wind. The Spider Magis' gathered congress took a step back as if shocked by what Lorenor had done. The Spider Queen's stance changed as she stood up just a bit to better observe the field before her. Lorenor hadn't noticed this. With the solidified form of the specter before him, Lorenor had a chance! He proceeded with his weapon and lunged forward towards the solidified specter. He swung with a mighty blow towards his chosen enemy. A few moments later, since the specter was stunned, the creature shattered underneath the weight of the ghoul's attack.

Lorenor's sword dripped with the black substance it had captured from the attack on the specter. The ghoul rotated his blade slowly and stood triumphantly over his destroyed enemy. Lorenor saw that the specter burst into a pile of dust and faded away into the wind. He turned towards Ranger at that moment...

[Ranger]

It was hardly wise to let one’s attention slip away from the danger at hand, especially when the threat was holding a sword. The intentions of the reanimation were obvious. The soul not yet at rest beneath the surface most assuredly wished for a different opponent, such as the magus that lined the walls. But neither the drow nor his opponent were offered much choice in the matter. Both knelt closer to the ground, widening their stances, drawing their heads level to meet eye to eye.

Ranger cocked his head slightly. It was a signal enough. The two rushed forward, the Inquisitions blade high, the prophets arms outstretched. Distance was cut quickly, and in a flash the two were in combat once again. Lorenor would have to deal with his own problem, for the drow was weaponless and had spent far too much effort creating the rift of shadows. The swirling darkness that engrossed his hands was dancing, wavering. If he had to resort to the light of the false god in order to finish the battle it may be detrimental. He did not know how the magus would respond, and knew that it would possibly kill his companion.

Instead he focused further, sharpened the shadows. They thinned to the tip of his hands, instead of wrapping to his wrists. The ends curved into a wicked hook, and with the small change the style of combat shifted. Instead of strike for strike, deflecting and parrying, it became a game of dexterity versus brawn. The reanimation’s swings were brute force. Ranger’s hooks were catching and pushing aside, instead of taking the blow. Openings were being forced, and in them the second hand would strike.

Blow after blow landed. The shadowed hook of the off-hand, whichever is happened to be per exchange, would rip into the sides of the armored man. His flanks, under his arms, twice across the neck; with a fluid movement and quick thinking Ranger had even sliced behind one of the knees. It was a matter of moments before the holes opened up across the soldier were wider and wider, enough for the shadows at the prophet’s hands to slip in and corrupt.

It was not to destroy the soul that he had planned, but to release it. The spider queen had played her little game, had forced them to fight. Whether she knew the past of the drow or not, and his former allegiance to the light and its warriors was unknown. He, however, would not allow himself to destroy the soul of the imprisoned Inquisition. The next opening that was allowed he slipped the shadow in, spun to the man’s back, and closed his eyes… it took a split moment in time, but a small pop and the body collapsed to the ground.

It struck the ground, an empty container. From is a wisp emerged, but dissipated when it passed over an inch from the body. The soul was free, the magus would most likely be unhappy with Ranger’s outcome, but he did not let it concern him. The prophet turned to the devious Lorenor and nodded, seeing his assistance was not required. He sighed, the shadows at his hands fading away, the energy it required to create them and manipulate them drained from him…

[Mutant_Lorenor]

The Spider Queen stirred in her throne, clearly excited by the outcome. She observed the situation at hand with great interest. It was most entertaining to her, and Lorenor could sense the general feeling of approval in the room. "I can see that you have begun to discover the secrets of sanguinamancy young one. You have returned home. You have earned a place amongst your people, young Spider Magi. I have a give for you. A gift that you have fought long and hard for. One that has the teachings of the Dark Mother that we all serve."

She turned her gaze towards one of her minions. Perched upon the organic walls, once natural stone, the Magus responded to his master's command. He crawled into one of the many adjacent chambers, Lorenor watched this with great curiosity. Emerging from the chamber a moment later, the creature had some objects in his hands. It leaped powerfully into the air, let loose with an organic cable, and slid across it until he landed upon the ground gracefully. He crawled towards Lorenor on many limbs, quickly covering the distance.

"The gifts from the Spider Queen, young Apostle. Spread the teachings of the Dark Mother."

Lorenor accepted the gifts of the Dark Mother. Their trials had been long and hard, and finally the ghoul had some answers. He understood that he had a place amongst the Spider Magi. This provided the ghoul with some key answers of his own existence. Who was he? What was he? What was his purpose in life? And in one fell moment, the ghoul had acquired some of the answers he sought. Long and hard, he'd journeyed across the subterranean chambers with Ranger Nailo. Long and hard, he fought alongside the prophet lo and behold, the ghoul emerged triumphant. Lorenor noticed that there were two bundles handled to him. One, was an ancient volume of text that was written in the language of his people. The Spider Magi. The cultist was prepared to accept his destiny now. The Endless sang songs of success in his head, providing him with eternal companionship. Lorenor walked over to the Spider Queen with his two objects in hand. He'd placed both of the bundles in his possession. The ghoul wanted something more from the Spider Queen's presence. He wanted the comfort of having a companion.

The huge creature looked down upon her servant for a moment. Confused as to why the insect was approaching her. A moment later it was clear. The ghoul reached out with both arms to embrace his the physical representation of his Mother on Althanas. Seeing the gesture, the Spider Queen adjusted her stance a little bit, and allowed her arms to wrap themselves around the ghoul in a gesture of embrace. "My child. Welcome home. There is promise for you to be the greatest one of us all. Uncover the secrets of our people. And your journey towards becoming a Full Spider Magi will be complete."

"I understand Mother. I will do my best." And with that, Lorenor continued to embrace the Spider Queen until she let him go. The ghoul walked over to Ranger Nailo. "What will you do now, Ranger?"

The End.

****Spoils*****

001-Second Book of N'Jal. An extremely rare volume written in human blood and carved in human flesh. Masterwork in quality. It is written in an ancient dialect of the Spider Magi and is the second volume in a three book series that Lorenor must acquire to complete the transformation into a full fledged Spider Magi. The text contains many incantations, rituals, and spells that are meant to further the power of N'Jal and the individual Spider Magi studying the text. Mastery of the verses within the text requires a lifetime of study. The book is not sellable.

002-N'Jal's Talisman. An amulet necklace encrusted with pure gold and of Masterwork quality. It was forged with the secret arts of the Spider Magi and imbued with the powers of the Spider Magi. The necklace has the mysterious symbols of the Spider Magi written upon the amulet's pendant section meant to invoke some of the powers of the Spider Magi. With a carefully spoken incantation, (The written verse etched upon the surface of the pendant) thrice a day, Lorenor may conjure a cloud of venomous poison that can cause some sickness to an individual. The poison cloud is considered as a blight of infectious substance. The cloud is roughly a foot across in diameter, and not very potent for the time being. For right now, the poison cloud merely causes weak reactions against an opponent such as stinging the eyes, irritating the skin, and causing stomach aches and headaches. The infections are not permanent, but take a while to dilute. It takes a full turn for Lorenor to conjure up this venomous cloud. ((Extremely valuable, not sellable))

[Ranger]

What would he do now? His journey with the decrepit figure had come to a close, his interest in the deities touched and fueled like wood to a fire already consuming him. His pathway to the understanding of his gods was budding quickly, and he had assumed a new enlightened state to the Dark Mother. However, the words of the wicked yet throbbed behind his glowing platinum eyes. The prophecy that had consumed him, taunted him was relentlessly screaming in his mind. Would it ever wear away? Would time allow for its departure, or would it remain and throw him helplessly into a scattered world of insanity?

He could only pray that the other gods would grant him paths of their own, companions to complete their will with, and a way to distract him from the cravings that the Magi Goddess willed.

“Ranger Nailo,” the words pushed through the screen of cacophonous thoughts, pushed deep within his very soul. He let his head rise; his eyes meet a scattering of the hundreds of eyes that painted the grizzly face of the spider queen. “Your path is before you. Two more tests remain. The Great Mother has seen you, has taken note. You follow the Others, the Thayne that imprisoned her, yet you follow all Thayne unashamed. Remain in this mindset, do not let the Others wills steer you from the dark path you have been given.”

The prophet did not fully understand. Was it some form of blessing, or a curse? His thoughts remained his own though, for to speak such blasphemy after the trial and the passage through the tunnels would surely account for his demise. Worry twisted his noble features, a look easily caught by the queen before him. “I see all within my chambers. I see your confusion. The Dark Mother knows the thoughts that tug at you, threaten to tear you apart. Know that she is with you, Prophet, know that she will guide you when the time comes.”

“Until then, you have been shown the ways of the shadows. Your abilities dwell in the light, an abysmal set of abilities used to wound us. You are now a brother to us, a fellow shadow. Learn to harness your new gift, fulfill the prophetic visions you have in your mind, and the blessings of N’jal shall be yours.”

Ranger took a step aside, away from the queen, away from Lorenor. It was not fear, but comfort, he was following the path to becoming a true prophet of all Thayne just as they willed… each in their own way. “Come Lorenor,” he said without looking at the rotten child. “We have much work to yet accomplish with the Gol’Bron. This is but the first step, there are many more that we are to follow regarding the Thayne… and yet more regarding the upkeep of our great clan. Let us leave this place.”

~*~

Spoils:

---Base Spell--- Shadow Manipulation: With the blessings of the Dark Mother the prophet Nailo has been granted the ability to wield the shadows. Currently his strength with them is about average, but requires consistent concentration in order to fully form and manipulate, unlike his abilities with the light. However, whereas the light wounded creatures that fear it, the shadow wounds those that fear the darkness.

[Call me J]

Well, it’s very good to see an institution on Althanas older than I am back up and running again. Good work guys.

Total Score- 61

• STORY ~ 19/30

Continuity (5) ~ I really felt this story could have benefitted a great deal from the rich history the Gol’bron have with the Spider Magi. I was disappointed to see how little of a focus that was here.

Setting (7) ~ I think you both did a good job at coming up with some creative settings, though I didn’t always feel as though Ranger gave me enough of his character’s reactions to them. A character walking through a park without caring much is normal. Not in a den of spidermages.

Pacing (7) ~ The end came a little out of the blue in terms of Lorenor’s use of sanguinmancy, but it came out well and really brought the thread home in terms of rising action.

• CHARACTER ~ 15/30

Dialogue (5) ~ Lorenor, work on separating the way you say things from the way your character would a bit more.

Action (4) ~ This also gets at continuity, but Ranger’s spirituality didn’t seem to make sense given where he had left off in his history. Perhaps you’re working on another quest that would have had this make more sense, but if that is the case, you should have made that clear. As it is, Ranger’s willingness to serve as a vessel for the Thayne just struck me as strange.

Persona (6) ~ Good work here by both of you.

• WRITING STYLE ~ 21/30

Mechanics (8) ~ A few mistakes here and there.

Technique (6) ~ Lorenor, there a few places where you use capitalization where it really comes off as unnecessary. I know you’re trying to emphasize certain words, but many of these words you are emphasizing are either emphasized already by the flow of the sentence, or the capitalization is perfunctory for other reasons. I would avoid doing this, or at least reserve it for very special occasions. You may want to look at the way Godhand bolds certain words, because he does a great job of pulling that off, and you could incorporate some of that into your style.

Clarity (7) ~ Lorenor, the comments I made in the previous judging still stand.

• Wild Card (6) ~ Nice work, I look forward to seeing where the Red Hand goes from here.

Spoils
Mutant_Lorenor gains 2600 EXP and 366 GP
Ranger gains 2925 EXP and 366 GP
Spoils granted.

[Karuka]

EXP/GP added! You both level up!