Gol'Bron Trade Quest; Forging Their Destiny (Closed)

[Mutant_Lorenor]

(Mod Note: Tough I started with a lower-level profile, I am finishing this up with my level 6 information. I am completing this as Solo Quest. Thank you)

Lorenor paced back and forth. It had been several months since their last mission as a group and the boy wanted some action. He wasn't anybody particularly important to the Gol'bron, but he had ambition. He'd made close allies with both Sorahn and Ranger Nailo forging a relationship that would last all eternity. The other members of the Gol'bron didn't see their growing group like the young immortal saw it. He knew that Sorahn saw the ambitions, and from working directly with Ranger Nailo, he knew that the Prophet of the Thaynes had his own ambition as well. But Lorenor was different. The Immortal was fueled by greed and he saw all this potential whenever he looked at the growing TOWN. The Gol'bron had a TOWN at their disposal along with a growing work-force ready to do whatever projects needed doing.

Lorenor looked at the site for the forging house he'd hand picked himself. Told directly by Sorahn's own mouth to take care of the task himself, Lorenor took the orders extremely seriously. He'd gathered a group of carpenters, architects and other skilled individuals fleeing the madness of Corone's Civil War. In a matter of days the small warrior without stop to get the project under way. After all, what was a Power Group without a steady place to forge weapons and armor? What was a Power Group if it didn't use its readily available work force to its truest potential? It had been many nights now since Lorenor last got any sleep but he was wide awake. The passion burned in his heart. It had taken several weeks, but a suitable site to work the forge was constructed in the growing township.

A building now stood before Lorenor as he guided the overseeing of the construction process. Once again, his growing leadership skills were coming to fruition. From time to time, the ghoul barked orders to this person or that person as he saw fit. Somebody might slack off, in his mind's eye, and the ghoul would reprimand that person for slacking off on the job. The job was hard, but everybody did their part. Though Lorenor took on a leadership role, he nonetheless assisted with every task that he could. He wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. Lorenor was surprised to find out just how many people were eager to sign up for the new job. Its just as the ghoul expected. The fire was there, it just needed the proper spark in order to ignite.

Lorenor knew that the Gol'bron was in direct competition with other rival Power Groups. He had to make sure that their group stayed active as much as he could. The Gol'bron had become the only family he ever knew. And as such he mimicked the movements of the carpenters. He learned the way of the lumberjack. He tried to do as many tasks as he could to assist in the construction of the smithy. Now, the last hours of the job were upon them. Lorenor looked upon the smithy with great respect. Sweat flowed down his body freely after the arduous labor. Many men surrounded him as they worked on various finishing touches. Securing the foundation of the building, preparing a sewer, other minute details like that. Lorenor had seen advanced societies before and the ideas that the Golems gave him were numerous.

Even his son, Number 5,325 pitched in to do his part. Thanks to his tireless effort and planning, the job was done in half the time. The Golem's unique perspectives on technology allowed them to build a structure that was efficient and well fortified. The Golem even introduced new materials into the folds of the Gol'bron allowing them to mix a substance that the Golem called concrete. It was a simple mixture of mortar and other substances that required very little time to create. The Golem showed them how to effectively create the concrete and bend steal into columns. The building was completed and the last shilling was placed on the rooftop. The last piece of tile placed into the gathering area.

The building was huge. It took approximately 100 yards by 100 yards and was one of the most impressive structures in the Gol'brons camp. The structure needed a name now. Lorenor, with paint on his hands and various other parts of his body rose to that task as well. He painted the name of the smithy shop on a signle wooden sign he'd constructed himself after a couple of hours work. The sign red Sword of the Hand. And thusly, the heart of The Gol'bron was born. A warm breeze smelling of honeysuckles came from the West as if to thank the work force for a job well done. A ladder was quickly erected and placed underneath where the sign would hang from. A few moments later the sign was bolted into place and the breeze made it dance back and forth. The men congratulated themselves for a job well done.

After the task was completed they all went to get a drink except for Lorenor. Now the warrior needed to complete one more task. It was the construction of his Smith's Hammer. He took some tools and some supplies and went to work on that taking advantage of the newly created Smithy. He went inside the structure and started construction of his Smith Hammer. He used base Steel Alloy and Liviol imported from the Liviol Sanctum for the construction of his Hammer. Other smiths in the town had their own Hammer and offered Lorenor one, but the small warrior insisted on using his art to create a new Hammer for himself. And thusly, work on the Hammer began.

[Sorahn]

The warm breeze felt comforting on Sorahn’s fur. He couldn’t ask for a more perfect day, so he decided to get out and enjoy it. The summer afternoon was picturesque. The sun cast a warm glow on the lush plants around him and warmed the air to a perfect temperature. He could smell the sweet scent of the flourishing plants and flowers around him.

Sorahn sat on a rock that was quickly becoming his most favorite retreat. It was a large boulder that sat perched high on the face of Mount Drakenthrone, at the top of a large cliff. He sat with his legs hanging over the edge and looked out to see the entire town before him, as well as much of the surrounding forest. It was probably the most breathtaking view Sorahn had ever seen, and it happened to be of his own clan’s town. That only adds to its beauty…

He could sit and gaze upon the town and the landscape for hours and just enjoy the peacefulness of nature. Since the rock sat up on the side of the mountain, it was surrounded by trees and other foliage that provided the perfect hideaway. To Sorahn, there was no better place to sit and sort through his thoughts and ponder decisions, as well as simply relaxing after a hectic day. So it was a natural choice on a day this perfect to spend some time here. He reclined on the rock with his back to a fallen tree and closed his eyes, just listening to the birds and woodland animals stirring around him.

“I thought I might find you here.”

The words caressed his ears like a symphony. Only one person has a voice like that… He smiled as he opened his eyes and they fell upon Rehnahlia, his mate and true love. She laughed as she stood over him. Sorahn couldn’t help but notice the way the sun shimmered on her deep red hair, which tossed slightly in the breeze.

“Of course! Where else would I be on such a beautiful day? Come sit with me.” He said lazily and patted the rock next to him. Rehnahlia sat down and slid in close to him as he put his arm around her. Her scent was the sweetest thing he had ever smelled, though he was sure it was a smell humans couldn’t even detect, let alone appreciate. He looked down at her and met her vivid blue eyes and felt a rush of warmth over him.

He nudged her muzzle a bit with his before kissing her softly. When their lips finally parted Sorahn felt like he was energized. They spent the next hour just sitting together without saying a word.

When Sorahn finally emerged from his daze of happiness he looked down on the town and noticed workers emerging from a huge building in the town. He knew this was the smithy which he had entrusted Lorenor to build. He had kept tabs on the progress every now and then but left all the construction and management to Lorenor. It appeared now that the building was finally completed; the workers heading off to get some well earned rest. Sorahn’s eyes narrowed. It appeared Lorenor himself wasn’t finished working. He had returned inside the smithy to continue working on something. Perhaps he was eager to start practicing his trade. He had to admire the boy’s ambition.

Trade… there’s something I need to work on. I’ve neglected my alchemy far too much recently in favor of managing the clan. How can I expect my men to eagerly practice their trade when I neglect my own?

He looked down at Rehnahlia, who was leaning on his shoulder; her eyes closed. She was so still she could be sleeping. Sorahn didn’t want to wake her if she was asleep, but she soon opened her eyes and looked back up at him, grinning.

“I need to do some work.” He said as tenderly as he could, but still winced at the bluntness of the statement in relation to their romantic moment. Instantly Rehnahlia’s grin turned to a frown. However to Sorahn’s great relief it turned again to an expression of understanding.

“You’re right.” She said. “You’ve been neglecting your duties and you haven’t practiced your alchemy in far too long.” She said with a pleasant smile.

Sorahn beamed at her. “My mate is an amazing woman.” He said simply, meaning every word. “Are you coming down?”

“No, I think I’ll stay up here for a while longer.” She replied, still smiling. Sorahn gave her a quick kiss, and then simply jumped off the cliff, arms spread wide as if flying.

Rehnahlia screamed as her mate flew off the cliff, plummeting toward the ground below. Suddenly a great black dragon flew out of the trees. Sorahn landed gracefully on his back and they soared off toward the town.

Nice catch, Nyris. Sorahn said to his dragon through their mental connection. Behind him he heard frantic shouts to the effect of “Don’t scare me like that again!” and “You’re in trouble!” as well as some other Ranoan words that made him fear going to bed tonight.

It was mere moments before they had reached the town below. Nyris landed gracefully on the open area near the smithy and Sorahn leapt off. With only a thought of dismissal Nyris took to the sky again, receding back into the forest.

Sorahn walked into the smithy and was instantly impressed by the craftsmanship. He felt proud of the skills of his men, and was already encouraged about their future projects. The woodwork was flawless and the attention to detail was apparent in the hinges and smaller refinements. He also didn’t expect the level of technology that was incorporated into the building. The Ranoans were a technologically advanced race, so he understood these improvements, but was surprised to see them on Althanas. It was a bit of a shock, as he had grown quite accustomed to the primitive Althanian life. As he looked around and inspected the new building, he found Lorenor and approached him.

“I must say I’m impressed with the work you and your men have done. I’m already satisfied with my decision to entrust this project to you.” Sorahn said, offering some well-deserved words of encouragement.

At first Sorahn was extremely skeptical about the boy’s abilities and loyalty, especially since he claimed to be a follower of N’jal, but after experiencing the boy’s devotion first hand, and after seeing this structure, he felt much better about this boy. In fact he believed this boy could be a star member of the clan. Already his deeds were shining far brighter than most others in the group.

“You’ve done well.”

[Mutant_Lorenor]

The UASU uniform clung tightly to Lorenor's epidermis like a second set of skin almost. A thin sheet of sweat glistened upon his person, dripping down freely as Lorenor worked. The sun was just beginning to set signaling that the night time was coming. Soon the realm of the Dark Mother would be upon them once more as is the truth for every day across the eternity. Some hours for the day some hours for the night. When the Dark Mother laid her grace upon the land, the creatures of Darkness like Lorenor would reign supreme. The boy looked upon Number 5,325 in his Drow form, the only companion he had with him at the time. So far, the other workers went to a nearby tavern that was established sometime ago.

"You are over-working yourself Father." The son said to the Father. Lorenor stopped what he was doing, but was eager to test out the construction processes that the Golem showed him. It was so simple. He was surprised no other construction team ever thought of it before. Lorenor stood up from the work on his hammer staring at the set of tools that the Golem fashioned for him. The energy powered drill was the most useful of the set. The small warrior also had a set of wrenches and other power tools to use to his heart's content. The high technology seemed out of place on the Althanas floor, almost perverse but then again, so was the Golem. Lorenor took a drink from the nearby mug of herbal tea that someone had prepared for him hours earlier. It was still hot somehow. He started to take a sip just as Lord Sorahn suddenly entered the room.

The warrior greeted Lorenor with a kindness that surprised him. He was praised for a job well done and this caught the small warrior off guard. He looked at Lord Sorahn for a long moment trying to figure out what to say to him. The room around them was by all rights, more advanced than it should have been for the technological levels that existed. Lorenor's plan was executed well and he was determined to use this newfound technology to upgrade the whole town in such a way. He envisioned moving carts that propelled themselves. Studying that Data Cube and hearing the sermons from Number 5,325, the small warrior's head almost became mad with the possibilities of the futures he saw. He felt strongly that Althanas' day of Enlightenment had finally come upon them and a new dawn was approaching.

There could be no time for rest. So he ignored his son for now who also turned to nod with respect towards the Lord Sorahn. "Greeting Lord Sorahn." The Golem whispered standing towards the right side of Lorenor a few feet away from him. For now, the Golem simply assisted with the construction of a unique Hammer for Lorenor. So far, Lorenor put together various pieces of the handle using different sized tubing of iron and steel. That's all that the miners currently had access to since the mine they'd discovered was still largely unexplored.

Lorenor let his leader's words linger in the air as he thought of an adequate response. He held the power tools in his hand looking like a freak of nature rather than an Althanas-native Ghoul. The white UASU uniform glowed with its blue tubings. Lorenor wore a baggy pair of leather pants and knew he smelled horribly. That was all right though, it was the scent of hard work, he could bathe later. Finally, Lorenor had an adequate answer for Lord Sorahn that would make him seem like he was with SOME knowledge of protocol and good manners. The small warrior wiped sweat off his well soaked forehead and took a nearby towel to clean himself off. He placed the hammer's handle down on the floor walking over to Lord Sorahn casually. His eyes were glowing with a much lighter purple than normal, revealing his level of exhaustion.

"Lord Sorahn. Thank you for our praise but it is not needed my friend. You are too kind. All this wouldn't have been possible if not for the team effort. I just motivated the spark that was already there. These men are skilled workers and I learned a lot from them. Basic skills like Carpentry for example are very useful to construction. My Son did a lot for us as well, thank him for the advanced nature of this building." Lorenor pointed to Number 5,325 for a moment and then looked back to Lord Sorahn seeing what the other had to say next.

"Thank you for letting me oversee the project, it was a worthy challenge."

[Sorahn]

Sorahn was rather shocked by the golem’s presence. He was certain he had never seen the creature before, even though Lorenor referred to him as his son. He nodded to him politely; not sure what to say.

It seemed as though Lorenor felt he didn’t deserve the praise which Sorahn gave him. Although Sorahn considered the design and construction of a massive, technologically advanced building to be quite an accomplishment, Lorenor was very modest, preferring to credit others in the aid of his achievement. He was quite satisfied with the boy’s sentiment. He had always been taught as a Ranoan warrior that one’s true strength lay not in himself, but in his comrades. A boastful person was not the sort of person he wanted on his side.

“A worthy challenge… and a worthy outcome.” Sorahn replied. “You’ve proven yourself yet again. However now that the smithy is complete it’s time to focus on the smith. You must spend time in your craft if you want to master it.”

Sorahn glanced down at the tool that Lorenor was making. “You seem to have wasted no time in crafting yourself a hammer. I would think that after such a long day of work that you’d be ready to rest. Perhaps you’re ready to start on some real work?

“Luckily, it’s possible to both hone your skills, and help yourself and the clan financially. Once you finish your hammer, I want you to make some swords. Once you’re finished we can take them to the bazaar in Radasanth and sell them. Our own men are equipped well enough, for now.”

Sorahn looked around the room, inspecting the spaces and accommodations it provided. “I need to take up my trade again, as well. It has been far too long since I have practiced my alchemy. So I’m going to set up in here for now until I get my own place completed. Maybe we can collaborate a little.” Sorahn smiled to Lorenor. He was eager to start work again and get used to potioncraft again. It had been months since he last crafted anything, and he feared he was getting rusty. He waited for Lorenor to respond, and then set off toward his tent to gather his equipment.

It was disappointing that he had yet to complete construction on his house, but he had more important matters to attend to. However he couldn’t wait forever. Rehnahlia was already becoming anxious to get into a house. She was sure to pass along hints to him in the form of blatant statements. She also reminded him that the cold weather was approaching quickly, and that she would not be very happy with him if she did not have a warm house to sleep in by then. He was glad she seemed to be content with a tent while the weather was warm.

Sorahn returned to the smithy carrying a cauldron filled with various jars and vials of mysterious ingredients. He set the large black cauldron down on the floor and began removing the jars and setting them on a nearby table. Suddenly he remembered that he no longer had his alchemy guide. The emperor took all of the possessions he was carrying and burnt them when he imprisoned Sorahn on Ranoa. He felt a pang of sadness, because the book was not only valuable for its content, it was a very sentimental possession as well. The book was written by Rask, a former member of the Red Hand back in its glory days, and was given to Sorahn by Ithermoss himself. The emperor had burned his own personal notes as well, which was more of an annoyance than a true loss, but disappointing all the same. All of his theories and personal spellcraft would have to be rewritten.

Guess I’d better get started then…

Sorahn produced a roll of parchment and a quill for taking notes, and then with a wave of his hand black flames burst underneath the cauldron, creating an odd fire underneath the pot.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Lorenor breathed heavily for a time. He stood up, feeling the exhaustion of his forced labor. He looked upon the tubing of his new hammer and sighed. The process was very difficult to grasp but he was accomplishing a lot on his own already. Number 5,325 helped him out where ever the help was required. He looked at his son and hugged him briefly before looking at Lord Sorahn. The Ranoan Warrior had more tasks for him. This lit up a fire within the small warrior.

For the next part of the process, Lorenor had to complete his hammer. He looked at the plasma casing for a long moment mentally picturing its final appearance in his head. The physical labor was good for his undead physique which needed to work harder to retain its original shape. The youth looked at the window-less room. A sturdy oak counter lurked there, near to his person. The minute details of the room were responsible courtesy of Number 5,325. He hadn't had a moment to realize yet that they stood in one of the most technologically advanced rooms anywhere on Althanas. The Golems' technology were light years ahead of anything that the Alerarians possessed.

Lorenor listened while the Ranoan warrior spoke. He observed the creature's white fur noticing that there were a lot of similarities between himself and his leader. They were both the subject of prejudices by an Althanas that shunned their kind. He wondered if that one organization, the Furry Proctorate, still existed to persecute the mutants of Althanas. Lorenor hated meaningless loss of life. The small warrior nodded as Sorahn spoke. He realized that he liked the warrior a lot even though they were from two different spectrums. One of light and one of dark. Two stars sharing the same destiny.

"I'm always ready for another challenge my friend. I just have to finish construction of Hammer. It'll serve dual purposes as a weapon and a tool for construction. There are many design aesthetics that I have to consider when making such a device."

The Immortal realized that he had a knack for construction projects. What this could mean, the ghoul didn't know. He only knew that when he put his mind and his hands to the task, they obeyed his every command. As he worked he felt the pain of undeath much less frequently than normal. Lorenor was changing. As Lorenor changed, The Endless within him changed as well. Lorenor eyed the various parts of his Hammer for a long moment.

Then he went to go make fix himself some more tea.

"You should try this tea Lord Sorahn its fairly delicious." The ghoul said.

[Sorahn]

For a moment Sorahn just stared at the empty pot, beginning to feel the warmth radiating from its iron body. He seemed to be staring off into space as he thought hard about what it was he actually wanted to make. Suddenly he thought of something that he often found handy himself: a temporary speed boosting potion. He actually already had the ability to give himself a temporary burst of speed by magic, and found it greatly helped in some situations.

Like a carpenter turning over the design of a new table in his mind, Sorahn instantly began to formulate the “construction” of this new potion. As ideas came to him he began quickly scrawling notes on the parchment written in Ranoan. He began writing faster, as if he only had a few moments to write down everything he needed or it would be lost forever. Every so often he would scratch out a few words, and write others in their place.

He was so engrossed with what he was doing that he barely heard Lorenor speak to him. He looked up from the parchment and stared at Lorenor for an awkward moment as he tried to make room in his mind to process what the boy said. “eh… tea?”

What exactly is tea? He thought to himself. Throughout his activities on Althanas he had never actually encountered the drink, as most of the locals drank various forms of alcohol, which Sorahn avoided. Not wanting to sound totally clueless, he went with the safest answer. “Um, no, thank you.” He hadn’t felt like so much of an outsider on Althanas in a long time.

Quickly shrugging it off, he returned to his work. He was already in the groove, and was eager to get started on the potion while the process was fresh in his mind. He reached for a jar of thick red liquid and emptied the contents into the bottom of the pot. It began to slowly bubble from the heat, making odd popping noises.

Without a single pause he reached for another jar that appeared to contain some roots floating in some clear liquid. He removed one of the roots and dropped in the pot, then poured a small amount of liquid in after it. Excitedly Sorahn peered into the pot, but quickly his eyes narrowed upon seeing the root floating anticlimactically in the liquid.

As if someone had switch on a light in his head, an idea dawned on him. He held his hand over the steaming pot, feeling the radiating heat, then spoke clearly. “Sahkeleth teshna sehranet dektehlaseth.”

An odd glowing symbol flashed over the liquid for an instant, then suddenly an explosive force nearly knocked Sorahn over. After the dust had settled, he righted himself and looked into the pot, smiling as his eyes met a satisfying blue colored liquid.

This was one of only a handful of times when Sorahn had experimented with Ancient Ranoan magic. The ancient language of High Ranoan was much more meaningful and powerful than common Ranoan, and as such a focused and magically talented Ranoan could often conjure spells with simple incantations. Since Ronah had provided him with a much greater understanding of the High Ranoan language, he was beginning to try his hand at these spells, primarily in his alchemy. It was nice knowing that an ancient magic specific to his race made his potions quite unique.

Having completed this major step, he turned to see how Lorenor was doing with his hammer.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

The Hammer came in several different sections. The most important parts of the hammer were the handle and the head. Lorenor envisioned a device using the plasma conduit that his son had shown him. Lorenor took several pulls of the tea so he could relax himself. Feeling the texture of the liquid flow down his throat the ghoul sighed. He was grateful that he could still drink and eat "normal" foods and liquids. Lorenor finished assembling his handle and looked at the raw construction of the steel.

It was a pure work of art. Number 5,325 showed him processes that weren't native to Althanas' current technological levels. These secrets were almost archaic in nature but they made so much sense to the ghoul that it was difficult for him to understand how society lived without these advancements before.

The three people in the room now had access to the most technologically advanced room currently available on Althanas. The entire Smithy was built with Golem aesthetics in mind which made the building advanced to every other structure in the Gol'bron's town. Lorenor felt a sense of pride in known that his son and he contributed to an important leap forward in Althanas history by making such important discoveries. Though they were using the information stored within Number 5,325's data banks, the principle application of that information was still discovery.

He finished assembling the handle and now worked on placing the different parts of the head together. The plasma conduit was a device like an advanced battery that would be used as the main power source of the entire tool. The conduit was a small structure shaped like a square. It had an inset in the middle where pieces of tubing flowed into a central unit. This unit contained the freely flowing plasma energy necessary to power a device of that nature. He attached the core at the heart of the hammer's head and turned it on just like Number 5,325 taught him.

He closed the main portion of the head and took the discs that he was going to attach to either side of the head when suddenly, there was a loud explosion in the room. The air was tainted with a foul order for a long moment until a new oder replaced it. The force of the explosion knocked Lorenor off his feet and unto the floor. He moved into a fetal position after a few moments and stayed there briefly until he was approached by Lord Sorahn. Once the energy subsided Lorenor blinked several times and stood up. He turned to face Sorahn.

"Well I've finished construction of my handle and I have the basic parts for the head of the hammer complete. I just put in the power conduit so I can get the process finished. Shouldn't be much longer now. The building of a Plasma Hammer is a delicate process."

[Sorahn]

Sorahn stared at Lorenor for an awkward moment as he tried to process all that he had said. Again, he wasn’t used to such advanced technology, but it also didn’t help that Sorahn wasn’t technologically inclined in the first place. He always considered himself a more basic person; desiring the simplicity of primitive life, which was one of the reasons he enjoyed Althanas so much.

Finally he decided to abandon the futile attempt to understand the device and rather assume from Lorenor’s tone that the construction was coming along smoothly. He responded with a painfully generic “good job” and left it at that. He had his own trade to attend to; one that he understood much better.

He was becoming rather excited at the progress he was making with his potion. For the first time he felt like an artist, and this pot contained his art. The common person couldn’t appreciate the delicacy of a potion. It was a complex and precise process, yet allowed creative freedom to develop a touch of personal quality.

Sorahn stood and thought for a moment, developing a mental picture of the properties of his potion, and what he needed to achieve this goal. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and smelled the mixture in the pot. Thankful for his sharp sense of smell, he was able to tell many things about the solution from its smell. He glanced to the notes that he scribbled so furiously, then grabbed the quill and scratched out a few things and wrote more Ranoan symbols.

Setting the quill down, he eyed the table of jars until he found a thick gray liquid that looked horrendous. Grinning slightly, he grabbed the jar and opened the lid. He stopped to smell the ugly looking slime because, surprisingly, it smelled very sweet. Still grinning, he emptied the contents of the jar into the pot and watched as it dissolved slowly.

Glancing to his notes once again, suddenly spoke loudly: “Sahnkeleth sah tehnkas rehnsatahres.” Another glowing symbol appeared over the pot, however, thankfully, no explosion followed. Rather the substance began to give off a slight glow. Satisfied, Sorahn folded his arms, with a content look on his face.

He looked down at the fire beneath the pot. The black flames licked at the pot and Sorahn could feel the warmth radiating from them. Lifting one arm, he held his hand toward the flames and they grew in size. Since the flames were produced from his magic power, he could feel the increased burden, but it was still relatively easy to maintain the flames.

That just needs to simmer for a little while. He thought as he crossed his arms again, watching the mixture as if it were extremely interesting.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

The hammer's head lay open at his feet. Lorenor allowed himself a brief moment to stretch his exhausted arms and then went right back to work. He'd been at this for a period of almost a week; non stop. He only stopped to gather some food for himself once a few days prior. The hammer's head piece was a simplistic looking metal object with a very specific series of measurements. The ghoul listened to the Golem as the mysterious child spoke guiding the Father.

Now that work on the basic pieces of the hammer were completed; Lorenor could work on the actual assembly of the product. Working much like an Engineer might; the ghoul barely fathomed the path that he was on. The plasma conduit fit in the casing of the head; a special series of connecting wires made out of copper and other basic materials that were needed to insulate the energy that would flow within the head were located inside. The Golem handed Lorenor the plasma conduit.

It was a square-like object. A few inches across in every direction; the object had a silver gleam and the energy core was locked within the casing of the object itself. Lorenor could see the power of the raw plasma flowing from the casing and touching the air itself. Connectors were located on the main circuit of the conduit for the attachment of the wires. Lorenor took the plasma conduit in his hands and felt the vibration of power coursing through his very vessel. A halo appeared around the ghoul constructed of the same plasma energy that was stored within the conduit.

"Careful now. You don't want to cause a breach in the conduit." The Golem said casually.

"The connection of the conduit is the most important part of this process. The plasma is used to bind molecules at the molecular level and make an object much stronger than normal. You are making a high-tech smith hammer. I'll show you how to work it later. It is very similar to the process of construction that we use on the Ark." The Golem added.

"I'll be careful. You were well to instruct me on this process for as long as you instructed me. It's been almost a month now. The planning, gathering the parts, and finally the construction of the hammer. There I think I got the last wire now." Lorenor said.

Lorenor felt a tension in his heart as he placed the last wire in its socket.

Once that process was completed. Lorenor saw the reaction that took place with the hammer. The cylinder like parts were filled with liquid plasma and began to glow with a faint blue light. It was the color of the tubes that caused such a reaction in the first place. Lorenor closed the circuit board portion of the head tightly and sealed it shut. He was using power tools given to him by the Golems. They taught him how to use the advanced artifacts and set things like screws and bits to hold objects together. The hammer was now complete. It was a complex steel alloy that was masterwork in nature. Lorenor finished the process by attaching the head to the handle and there was a glorious locking snap sound as the two pieces became one.

Lorenor felt the nearly weightless nature of the steel alloy in his hand. It was a complex combination of steel against steel bonded at the molecular level with Lorenor's own DNA. The work of art was as much a part of Lorenor as it was a living artifact. With the plasma flowing for all eternity across the cylindrical tubing; Lorenor took a few swings of the hammer to test out its weightless nature. Feeling the lightweight nature of the hammer in his hand made the ghoul feel particularly proud.

"You can add a color scheme to the hammer if you like." His son said.

The other Golems were gathered and observed Lorenor's craftsmanship with great pride.

"I think I'll leave it as is. The light is color enough from the plasma."

He felt the exhaustion that coursed through his body. Attaching his hammer to his utility harness; the ghoul sat down on a nearby chair. There was a huge mess from the construction process of the hammer. Spare parts that were left behind and unused; notes written by the Ghoul and dictated to him by the Golems, and tools that were advanced in nature. Lorenor looked at his son for a long moment.

"I could use a drink." The ghoul said and found himself able to laugh at his own comment.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

(Note: I'm gonna continue this and a few other projects as Solo Quests)

I could use a drink.

That thought coursed through his mind for a long moment as he pondered whether or not Sorahn had heard him. At some point during his experimentation, the mutant realized that he was completely alone now. It seemed likely that his superior officer went to go take care of some other errand when he was finished with his mysterious Alchemy. Lorenor didn't mind, he was used to working alone. He'd have the help of the Golems anyway.

Lorenor could see Number 5,325 staring at him for a long while before he responded. "Then let's go share a drink." The mutant nodded to his companions, feeling the weight of the new item against his hip. He stood up, stretched for a long moment and felt the blood rushing through his body once again. He was tired, his muscles ached. Quiet through the entire process, The Endless hummed a minor song of victory in the back of the mutant's mind. Listening to this call quietly, Lorenor thanked The Endless for its assistance in the process. A lesser man might've failed in the construction of the plasma hammer. Having the Golems handy was a boon to the mutant's education process.

He learned a great deal about the crafting arts from them, and was able to manufacture certain basic items with their assistance. Lorenor kept looking at Number 5,325 for a bit before mobilizing once more. The blacksmith shop in the township had doubled-up as Lorenor's house. He couldn't have chosen a better place to live. A small group of blacksmiths worked in the structure alongside Lorenor and the Golems. All benefited from the Golems' teachings.

Lorenor saw a great potential for profit as he worked alongside his extended family. The Red Hand had become a machine for profit. It was slowly being noticed by their enemies, and the mutant knew that they would be needing an edge of some sort against the empirical tyrants of new Radasanth. Out right attempting to join the empire never once crossed his mind. Corrupting the enemy from within was a perfectly acceptable strategy and tactic during times of open warfare.

Even though he'd finished completing his hammer, there was much work that needed to be done. There were projects around the town that needed completion. Lorenor, as a member of the council for the Red Hand, had to be certain that they were capable of defending against the many raids that were occurring. So a wall was erected around the Red Hand's township. He was partially responsible for the construction of the wall offering the Red Hand financial resources from his own purse. These many thoughts coursed through his mind as he stepped outside of the blacksmith shop with his companions. There were several Golems with him now that followed him at all times as his personal body guards.

The earth beneath him was tightly packed as he walked. Some grass grew on it, and several maple trees were visible in the area. Houses besides the blacksmith shop were also visible, but most of them were structures that dealt with the Red Hand's government. Lorenor understood this matter because the Golems were responsible for much of their speedy construction process. Some houses were seen in various stages of construction. People were working on them. One of the buildings doubled as a dining hall of sorts and people who were on break, ate and drank there at their leisure.

Walking with a deliberate pace, the mutant and his friends made his way towards the dining hall. Hungry and tired, Lorenor wanted to discuss the many projects at hand with the Golems. He entered the dining hall casually, smelling the various scents in the room. There was an intense smell of ale, tobacco, hemp, and other natural herbs. Foods were eaten by the various members of the Red Hand as they sat in conversation with their peers. People looking for work joined the Red Hand's work force. Some were refugees fleeing the ravages of Xem'Zund's The Scourge. Lorenor could hear various conversations in the room, and the closer ones were quite accurate as several individuals were talking with a somewhat audible pitch.

Lorenor looked around and recognized many of the workers of the Red Hand. Some worked in their army, some were hired mercenaries, others were part of the clergy and openly followed the Thayne. Not all members of the Red Hand were required to follow the Thayne, but many ultimately did so. Lorenor followed the controversial Thayne known as N'Jal. He greeted several individual workers as he guided his group to an empty table. They all sat down and a waitress greeted them properly.

"Ah there you gentlemen are. May I take your order?" She asked.

She was a perky youth of about 19 years of age. She had an athletic build, average sized bust, long, curly hair, and deep brown eyes. Her hair was currently tied back in a small ponytail. She wore a commoner's outfit consisting of a simple brown dress with an apron. A locket was visible around her neck. She didn't wear any other jewelry besides that. Her body smelled like various cooked foods that had their scents flowing from the kitchen areas. Lorenor thought about his order for a moment, he was hungry and needed a drink

"I'll have grilled boar sirloins, Jadet white rice, and maple syrup for my drink." Lorenor said casually. "I would also like a bowl of fruits."

The Golems placed their orders as well, capable of digesting food cooked by humanoids. Number 5,325 ordered a simple combination of food, and the others ordered similar dishes.

"I'll just have some Chicken with yellow rice and Clear Water." The Golem said calmly.

Chicken seemed like the order of the day with the rest of the Golems. The Medic Golem ordered Orange Melon Juice as his drink and the others ordered water, and chicken in various dishes. Lorenor chuckled at that. The Waitress went to take care of their order after writing them down on a pad of writing paper.

"So what is on your mind Lorenor?" Number 5,325 asked whilst the other Golems conversed quietly amongst themselves.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

"The village seems to be progressing well. We have managed to grow considerably right under the nose of the Empire. Though we have our enemies, we are still managing to prosper." The mutant said as he looked upon the form of his son, Number 5,325.

He knew that at hand, there were many matters concerning the Red Hand's mobilization. Knowing for a fact that his leader, Lord Sorahn, wanted to reacquire the old Pandemonium's Fist. That was the order of the day at the moment, but they were facing constant raids from opposition forces. The Knights of Dawn were actively attempting to eradicate members of the opposing factions of the Thayne. Lorenor knew this because he was a follower of the Cult of N'Jal. Many thoughts passed through the mutant's troubled mind as he considered all of the raids of recent days. Someone in their township was probably attempting to root them out from within. Despicable. Lorenor would see to weeding out the trouble-starters later on. In the meantime, his personal movements against the Empire would have to wait.

The town needed its leadership body. He noticed that Sorahn had left on one mission or another without telling the mutant where he was going. This more than trouble him deeply. But he didn't want to voice his concerns out loud where there were so many wandering ears. Most of the members of the township were good folk. Folk who were just looking for work, trying to escape from the ravages of the Empire. Lorenor knew this because he'd worked alongside most of the workers. Despite his hideous appearance, most of the people in the town had accepted him for who he was.

Lorenor knew this. Acceptance was an important part of the mutant's growth as a reliable member of the Red Hand. He'd found an family to call his own and a place to call home. Home. That word was funny to someone who came from rags in the depths of the cavernous wild in Haidia.

He allowed his words to linger a little bit. The waitress came back with their orders and the mutant paid for the small party without question. She smiled at the handsome tip. Lorenor turned his attention back to his companions often wondering what they were thinking.

Sensations from the chamber began to travel across his sensory grid. He smelled various forms of poultry and beefs, able to taste them in his mouth even from his distance to some of the people who were eating them. Sweat from the hard workers present tinted the air. It was a sort of strange feeling, like skin on one's flesh. That eerie feeling when you pressed up against someone who had a hot, sweaty body. Sticky and moist, the mutant shifted slightly uncomfortably in his seat for a moment trying to adjust to all of the scents and textures in the air. Some people were openly smoking in the dining hall, various forms of cannibus weed, hemp, and tobacco smoke. It created a thick cloud in the room that brought tears to Lorenor's eye sockets. Breathing the black smoke was like attempting to breathe in an inferno. Lorenor paid attention to his drink as he looked at his own reflection in the substance. Ripples in the goblet made him look more nightmarish than normal. A monster out of some childhood fable. Taking a deep pull of the sweet substance, he felt the thick liquid go down his throat.

It had a tingling sensation that warmed him and made him feel a bit better as he drank. He put the goblet down after a moment and looked at Number 5,325. Lihaklul Di Nihansquu was Number 5,325's cover identity. Only certain people were allowed to learn of the Golems' true names. And those individuals were sword to secrecy. Lorenor referred to Lihaklul as Number 5,325 in private for the most part.

"We will get to the source of the Raids soon enough. Worry not about that, we have Rangers in Concordia working to locate the base camps of our enemies." Lihaklul said.

"I know this. I just don't like waiting around doing nothing. It bothers me. Besides, there's plenty of work in the town for the time being. We must keep everybody occupied." Lihaklul picked at his food and ate a little bit of it, processing the nutrients as raw energy in his system.

He kept his eyes on Lorenor. The others observed in silence, but continued to talk amongst themselves in their silent language. They rarely made their voices heard unless something directly concerned them.

"There are always expansion projects in the town. We must keep everything going even whilst the storm is weathered."

Lorenor heard the man speaking and nodded.

"I agree..." He prepared to eat when there was a sudden disturbance in the room.

A strong scent of blood filled the air. Lorenor suddenly turned towards the source of the disturbance at the entrance of the dining hall...

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Several people in the dining hall stood up and looked at the injured individual. The man was bleeding heavily, and fell to knee as he entered the tavern. Several guards in the structure quickly moved to the man, and a medic was readily available. Lorenor stood up as well, and the Golem medic made his way to the injured man's position alongside the human medic. The human was a member of the Order of Ai'Bron and gifted in their healing arts. The Monk's hand began to glow vibrantly as it was placed on the injury.

"Be calm. I am attempting to heal you." The monk said. "The Bron will do the rest, just accept The Light into you."

Nodding, the injured man was laid down against the floor as the monk worked. One of the guards motioned for Lorenor to join the people there. Lorenor knelt down alongside the man.

"Who has done this to you, friend?" Lorenor asked.

The man was a member of the Red Hand's township, and thusly, he was an ally.

Lorenor could not abandon a fellow of the Red Hand in their time of need. Since he was recently promoted to being one of the Red Hand's Counsel Members, the mutant had obtained a certain level of responsibility.

Lorenor listened as the man strained to speak.

"We were on routine patrol. A scouting party. Six of us. We were spread throughout Concordia when we stumbled upon a camp of Syndicate people stationed out here. We don't know how many there were but we were attacked without question." The man said, blood trickling down his mouth. "The Syndicate is after our land, Lorenor. You must inform Lord Sorahn of this right away. We cannot loose our home!"

And the man passed out. He was sleeping as the monk induced sleep with his magics.

"Sorry about that Lorenor. But I need the patient asleep so I can heal him. You will have other matters to deal with." The monk said calmly.

Lorenor nodded in response.

"The Syndicate will be dealt with." Lorenor stood up and looked upon several guards that were stationed nearby. "You there."

The man saluted. "Aye sir?" He said after the stiff salute.

"Gather your finest men and a few magi. We are going to pay the Syndicate a little visit." Lorenor said with acid in his voice.

The guard nodded in response. "Would Lord Sorahn approve of this matter?"

"This is Red Hand business. Of course he would. The Syndicate have made themselves our enemy and we must act in accordance with swift justice." Lorenor said.

He wasn't the leader of the Red Hand, but he had enough influence on his own to make leadership decisions. He knew he would have to run this situation by Sorahn at some point, but the man was currently not with them. Blades in my spine if I allow this situation to become any worse than what it is. I shall act immediately, without Lord Sorahn's approval if need be. Lorenor knew that his leader acted when he needed to act, but that was not quick enough. Lorenor needed to make a decision now. That was the key. Lorenor had very little to go on, but he could ask the guard captain for a specific point of crucial data. Lorenor knew that to be true. Stalking off, the mutant went over to Golems' position. He looked at them.

"Prepare yourselves my friends. There will be a battle soon. Understand? I need you all by my side." Lorenor said, and his son stood up without question.

"Yes Father. We are ready to obey your command." The Golem said casually.

That was all that was needed. Lorenor smiled at that, and they all moved to prepare to move against the Syndicate.

***

A few hours later, they all gathered in the center of the town.

Lorenor stood in front of a small group of about twenty Red Hand warriors. Five were medics, five were Magi, five were archers, and the rest were swordsmen including the guard he spoke to earlier.

"You there. What was the Scouts' last known position?" The mutant asked, attempting to get a handle on the situation.

The guard captain answered.

"About five miles to the East. On horseback. they were on routine patrol gathering intel for the rest of us. Their duty was simply to see to it that refugees made their way to this place. The Syndicate had no business attacking such scouts." The man said.

Lorenor listened and nodded casually.

"Worry not my friend. They will be dealt with, I assure you that. We shall send their leadership body a strong message that the Red Hand is not for sale. We are the ones who will be doing the buying."

"Yessir!" The soldiers saluted Lorenor.

Some of the men were battle-hardened warriors who'd seen their share of fights in the Civil War. Others were survivors of the Gisella Massacre. Still others were simply mercenaries looking for work. Lorenor knew each of the town's members by name and had spoken with them at length at one point or another. Now, he was asking them to bleed for him and potentially die for them.

Lorenor sat atop a black stallion that was his particularly favorite horse. He carried his familiar, Figment, within a special satchel located at the side of his saddle. Figment wanted some action as well. Lorenor would let his familiar loose on the battlefield when the time came.

With a raise of the fist, the mutant prepared to march upon the Syndicate with a small squadron. Each of the cloaks, shields, and armor, were emblazoned with the symbols of the Red Hand. A blood-red fist wielded a single dagger to strike at the hearts of the Red Hand's enemies. The small squadron of the Red Hand, left the township and proceeded to make their way to the Syndicate's encampment.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Traveling through Concordia Forest was a delicate matter. On the one hand, you had the various zones and sectors within the Forest that designated each region within the maze of trees. Oaks, alms, and other sorts of trees were prevalent in the maze of Concordia. No road signs or other such markings denoted the locations of know passageways. One required experience to traverse the dangers of Concordia Forest, or they could become lost forever.

The maze of trees was often so daunting that a traveler could move around in circles within the forest for days on end without ever making progress. A certain knowledge of Concordia Forest was required to travel through it and make any sort of viable progress. Scouts were required for almost any expedition into the deeper sections of Concordia, as going in alone was almost certain death. No roads existed in the region that were known to any but the rangers and scouts that lurked there as there were no signs anyplace.

Moving up ahead, the scouts were utilizing their trade roughly a few feet ahead from the group deciphering the unique passageways of the Concordia Forest. A mist gathered in the forest, clinging to the floor. It generated a sort of heat that could feed the fungi and other plants that lurked on the bottom-most area of Concordia.

Lorenor's senses were uniquely attuned to Concordia.

As such, he concentrated on the many vibrant energy patterns that flowed through the tropical air. Lorenor saw the blue-hot energy of the tropical area burning through the air.

The mutant wore his thick hide cloak, a relic from Salvar, as he guided his horse through Concordia. His cloak was emblazoned with the symbols of the Red Hand, and various markings of his lordship in Salvar. A well-traveled man, Lorenor had seen many strange things in his day.

He kept a strong grip on the reigns of his stallion, his soldiers located behind him as they traveled. They traveled in two even lines. With two warriors taking point, two warriors in the rear line of the squad, and one warrior traveling alongside Lorenor. The rest of the unit was comprised of archers and magi in their respective positions. Magi were busily casting buff spells for the rest of the raiding party and this caused a unique magical signature to manifest within the air.

Lorenor could see the magical residue in the air as well. It made his skin tingle.

Lorenor looked upon the guard next to him as the man was staring at him for a long moment.

"What is it my friend?" Lorenor asked.

"Are you sure this is wise? Mobilizing against the Syndicate is a serious offense. Especially if we fail, we can put the entire power group in danger."

Lorenor sighed heavily.

"I've thought about that. But right now, inaction is the worst possible choice we can make. If we don't get the Syndicate out of our way now, then there is a possibility they may return with greater numbers. We must exterminate them now while they are still in a known possible location." The mutant knew that they had to act, and they had to act fast.

As one of the Red Hand's counsel members, he needed to make sure that he could make strong leadership decisions that were in the best interests of the Red Hand. Lorenor knew that. It would take a while of traveling, but they would soon be upon the Syndicate's encampment. The mutant didn't want the sound of horses' hooves to give away their forward advance. So he ordered the squad to move at a slow trot so that their horses did not make too much noise in the wild.

Lorenor kept looking around, and studied the Antifirmanent for any activity as well. He continued to move forward with many thoughts in his mind. He knew that the Syndicate would make a powerful enemy. They could not botch this.

"I understand sir." The guard said.

He kept his eyes on the road, ready for anything as they all were.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

As they moved forward, Lorenor prepared for the coming battle. He double-checked all of his equipment to be certain that everything was in working order. He did this with one hand to keep one hand on the reigns at all times. He was no expert horse-rider but his skills were decent since he's ridden a horse multiple times in his life.

"Gonna need all of those tricks Lorenor. The Syndicate is an ugly enemy." The rider next to him said casually.

Lorenor nodded carefully, he couldn't allow any sign of weakness in leadership. His people needed him. He was guiding some individuals that were exponentially stronger than he into a battle against a devastating foe. The Syndicate was known to ruthlessly crush all opposition forces. Very few existing factions in Corone proper could go head-to-head with Syndicate and live to tell about it. And even if the Syndicate suffered a deadly loss, the organization was capable of reorganizing members to make up for the loss. Very little was known about the deepest functioning of the Syndicate since nobody alive knew who the leaders of the Syndicate were.

These thoughts passed through Lorenor's head as his companion verified the danger they faced.

"We will just have to be deadlier than they." Lorenor said.

The mutant knew that they should have prepared larger numbers, but he couldn't leave the Red Hand's township unarmed against the constant raids that were ongoing. Lorenor knew he could only put together a small band of rag-tag warriors and magi. This would allow him to wage war against the Syndicate in secret, so that there would be no public knowledge of the Red Hand declaring war on the Syndicate. At least Lorenor hoped beyond hope that would be the case.

With his artifacts and weapons ready, the mutant wished he could have put the pages of the Necronomicon in play. Already, the mutant had several regrets about the mission, but he could not show weakness. He could never show weakness. He was a counsel member of the Red Hand and needed to be strong so those that were depending on his leadership decisions might have a chance to survive. Lorenor had fought several strong opponents in the past and managed to eek out a victory. He would need to fight with the same tenacity he was known for if he was to survive.

Once they were within range, the Scouts returned to the party. Lorenor drew his prevalida sword. He kept it at an angle, the sword's tip pointing to the ground. Lorenor would need to fight with every ounce of skill he could manage to muster. Every dirty trick up his sleeve would need employ in the coming battle. Lorenor knew that, but despite that, a feeling of imminent danger remained in the depths of his gut. Not a very superstitious person, the mutant paid no heed to the warning in his gut, he could not show weakness.

Returning to the main forward advance squad, Lorenor raised his fists when he physically saw the scouts returning atop their horses. The trees around them seemed to hide all of the secrets of the land. Lorenor growled when he saw the condition of the scouts. They were headless, and in some cases worse. Simply legs riding on the horses back to their positions.

"Swine! The Syndicate will pay for this!" Lorenor cursed.

Only one scout was allowed to live to tell the story. He returned pale-skinned. Leading the return charge back to the forward party. Lorenor halted the advanced of the squadron.

"M-milord. It was an ambush. They knew we were coming. T-there were so many of them!" The youth said and then collapsed.

"Damn." Lorenor thought out loud. He turned to look towards his companions. "You there. See to it that he returns back to headquarters. Inform them of what has happened here." Lorenor said prepared for the fact that he might perish alongside his unit.

The mutant pointed towards one of the guards closest to him.

"Aye sir. Come with me lad."

Lorenor watched as the guard placed the scout on his horse and headed back to the Red Hand's town as fast as they could.

The mutant now knew he was down to nineteen men. Nineteen against an army of shadows. That's when at the very edge of his sensory array, Lorenor felt something manifesting. It was a presence, a human one, but a powerful one as well. Walking towards Lorenor, the mutant kept his squad in place for the time being.

Dressed fully in black in the Syndicate's traditional war-time attire, the man did not wear any armor. He wore flowing robes made of vlince, and carried a prevalida weapon with him. Also, the mutant noticed that the man had some gun-holsters. Weapons from Alerar. As the man walked forward, several other presences manifested and walked towards the squad, following their leader. Lorenor counted at least ten more. That man also wore a cloak with the Syndicate's war sigils etched upon them as well. This was some sort of forward advanced party.

Lorenor tensed as he felt tremendous energy coming from the man. The mutant's heart raced. He now knew what they were up against. Once the man was roughly a few paces from Lorenor, the man grabbed the reigns of Lorenor's horse roughly.

"Are you the one called Lorenor?" It was a deep accent that reminded Lorenor of Jadet's port-city dialect.

Lorenor simply nodded, not thinking of anything clever to say.

Sensing the tension building up in his soldiers, the mutant did not attempt to stop them when they drew their weapons.

"This is a first time last time offer. The Red Hand is on the verge of extinction. Your leader is lost, your members hide in the shadows. Abandon the Red Hand and their cause, and join the Syndicate." The man spoke loud enough that all of the people gathered could hear him.

Lorenor heard hushed whispers that hinted at anger and disbelief. The mutant sighed.

"You know what I say is true. Slowly we have been working your military and your men question your leadership even now though they will never say it. What shall it be Lorenor? Life or death?"

Considering many matters, Lorenor closed his eyes. He really wished he could have called something from the Necronomicon, but he had no time to prepare. This was a be all end all event. Allowing his senses to expand to their fullest capacity, the mutant sensed Ruild all about his person. Waiting in anticipation, the trees seemed hushed of all noise. The forest made no noise. Lorenor knew what he had to do. The Thayne were watching.

Lorenor turned to face his men for a moment, and then saw them nodding towards his position. They were ready, he was ready.

"I shall see you in the Pyre, filth! For the Red Hand!" Lorenor pointed his weapon right at the chest of the man, and activated Argus' ring of flight. A green, five minute clock manifested in his head as per usual. And the mutant jumped off the horse in forward flip. He was now in flight, and could perform some incredible acrobatic maneuvers whilst in flight.

"You fool!" The man said, and prepared to counter the incoming movement, but it was too late.

Lorenor had stabbed downward with his prevalida sword and aimed for the man's chest. The attack shortly connected since the man had a slightly slower reaction time. Throwing his body forward, the mutant slid downward ensuring that his blade pierced the man's heart.

"Kill them all!" Lorenor yelled and his men dismounted, preparing to move against the Syndicate warriors.

With that, the battle began. Lorenor pulled his weapon out from the man's body and prepared to charge the enemy in mid-flight. He only had five minutes of the flight advantage, he had to use it to its full potency.

"For the Red Hand!" Lorenor yelled and flew towards the nearest enemy unit even as they charged at him.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

In one sudden moment, the battleground became alive with noise. Magi fired off Wizards' powers. Each of them casting the spells of their various specialties from the back of the group. The main assault party prepared their buffs, and launched debuffs at the enemy. Crackling with magical energies, the air became a chaotic maelstrom of temperatures. Light traveled through the air in differing colours in accordance to their elemental properties.

Lorenor heard the electrical sizzling of Wizard's Lightning, the raging inferno of Wizard's Fire, and the torrential burst of Wizard's Water. Lorenor's Magi were well trained, and fought for the Red Hand. Their mission was clear, the Syndicate had to fall to the last man. Lorenor flew towards one of the nearest members of the Syndicate keeping his weapon at the ready. This man was a blond man with brown eyes. He kept a sword at his side that was used to intercept the weapon that Lorenor wielded. Trees exploded with the bursts of magical properties. The ground shook from the horrible weight of the blasts being called forth.

A certain panic filled the mutants' heart. He knew that he was not the only one fighting for survival at that point. He knew that his people were giving him everything that they had, and then some. Medics cast the healing arts on the fallen making sure that they could rise anew and fight once again. These energies tingled the air with a warmth of sorts that soon turned into extreme heat.

Lorenor was hot, the battle was waging on fiercely as both sides met against one another in a charge. Magi and archers prepared the abilities of their trade. Some of the archers wielded crossbows imported from Alerar. Their bolts were loaded quickly into the firing mechanisms and launched against the enemy. The enemy. Apparently, the Syndicate was a boisterous lot because none of them wore any armour what so ever! They all wore black vlicne or leather or cloth suits. They did carry flintlock weapons and many of them were firing their rounds from a distance.

The heads of Lorenor's men exploded sending cranial matter everywhere as super-heated bullets came careening towards their positions. Not even the masterwork steel and better armor could save them from the dangerous bullets. Every so often, there were large explosions from some siege engines hidden deeper in Ruild. Large cannons erupted their wares at the enemy positions, and the mutant had not been prepared for the potential use of siege engines. He turned in mid air to avoid a huge cannonball explosion that erupted earth and debris nearby to his position.

The orb of death struck where he just was and exploded sending debris everywhere.

Some of it landing on his person. Lorenor paused as he'd just decapitated one of the Syndicate members. That feeling of panic came through once again. He realized he was alone and that the closest of his men was several feet away engaging the enemy. Bursts of the Wizards' powers flew through the air to create a physical storm of various energies. There was entropy in the air that caused chaotic effects on profile weapons.

Arrows and bolts of both sides flew off to the side at random. Guns, exposed to the manna residue, randomly exploded as gun-powder became super heated. Crates of gun powder also exploded as the cloud of archaic disturbances grew larger and larger. The Syndicate did not have any magi on their side, but the Red Hand did, and it was rapidly becoming a decisive factor in the battle as the old ways fought against the new ways.

Adapting quickly to the Syndicates' chosen method of attacks, Wizards sent fireballs, water spheres and waves, and rippling magnetic storms against the Syndicate. Bolts of electricity crackled through the air for several yards and impacted against Syndicate units viciously as they fell, they yelled cursed out to their deities. One by one, units of both sides fell in the battle.

Lorenor couldn't count how many casualties his side had suffered because he was too busy preparing for the challenge ahead.

The Syndicate warriors had a leadership body somewhere in the camp, and that was Lorenor's main target. There was no phalanx charge on either sides' behalf. The battle had become far too chaotic and ugly. Heads rolled across the field, people crawled as towards their legs as they cried for medics, and men held onto their intestines for dear life even as they were cooked alive. Lorenors' magi worked deviously and quickly to fell the opponents of the Syndicate. They knew the order, the knew the drill...it came down to the last man.

It was do or die now, the Syndicate would pay for awakening the Red Hand's fury.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Burning past his person, a wizard's fireball cascaded through the air. The bulbous form had a tail like a comet as it scorched from one position to the next. Screaming with its own energy, the fireball struck one of the syndicate members burning them alive. Lorenor heard a scream coming from that individual. Moving quickly, the mutant decapitated the burning man as a mercy kill. A moment later, the man died.

Still flying, the mutant maneuvered across the battlefield like a banshee. He killed whoever that he could quickly ending battles by taking out the distracted. There were many of those. Firing rounds of bullets into the ranks of the Red Hand, the mutant noticed what the problem was the closer he got to their line of skirmishing.

Lorenor decapitated another of the Syndicate warriors, but this time, he hesitated. Instead of moving forward with his flight path, the mutant hovered down above the fallen warrior. He quickly searched the man and found what he was looking for. As expected, the man carried a flintlock pistol and many rounds of bullets in a special container. Lorenor removed both items from the fallen. He'd seen the Syndicate warriors operating the pistols enough times that he had a rough idea of how the operation procedure went.

For a moment, he pondered removing his crossbow and loading it. However, the crossbow had too high of a reloading time. In a live-fire situation, the crossbow would be no good considering that the mutant was not yet an expert at its operation. Scratching the idea, Lorenor made sure that the gun was loaded. It was. Taking a holster from the fallen, the mutant quickly placed everything on his person. He held the gun in his hand briefly getting used to the feel of the strange weapon. Then, he placed the weapon away.

A few seconds later, a cannonball streaked through the air. Using his reaction time to its fullest capacity, the mutant dived off to the side and narrowly avoided the cannonball's impact on the ground he was just at.

Hearing a wide variety of shouts from both sides, the mutant focused once more on the task at hand.

Continuing the mad sprint in the direction that he was heading, Lorenor knew that his people would serve as the ultimate distraction. Too buy taking each other out, the mutant could sneak up into the front-lines of the enemy and take them out from behind. It was the basic most plan he'd come up with.

Crossing a hill, Lorenor stumbled upon three Syndicate warriors. They had not noticed the incoming mutant. Flying low to the ground, Lorenor realized that he had wasted a lot of precious time in the process of flying. He flew in a half-circle around the trio. Moving silently up to the Syndicate warriors, the mutant prepared his sword to shed more blood. Swinging in a wide arch, Lorenor managed to clip the heads of the nearest warrior, who died instantly. Landing briefly on the ground, Lorenor turned towards the other two who were shocked at the death of their comrade.

Someone launched a Wizard's lightning blast at the duo. With bolts of the energy cascading everywhere, Lorenor had to evade the incoming attack, lest he get hit by friendly fire himself! The mutant saw that one of the warriors was struck on the chest and died from the killing blow. Only one warrior remained. Lorenor moved on the last man as he prepared to fire off his weapon. The world seemed to slow down for the mutant as he rushed forward attempting to cut down the man before he could fire. Raising his arm towards Lorenor slowly, the motion seemed to take an eternity. Lorenor was already slicing in the general direction of the man's hands. A few moments later, the mutant had connected with the man. Barely registering the man's scream, Lorenor had managed to slice off both of the man's hands. He was rendered now useless to the Syndicate. The mutant then finished the job by rotating his weapon, running the man through, and removing his weapon from the man's corpse.

As Lorenor moved away from the scene, the bodies were still twitching on the ground.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Creeping closer together, either line of skirmishing was moving further up the battlefield. Hills rolled in every direction, trees exploded underneath the might of wizard's magic, and the ground itself seemed to shake. Above, the sky was starting to gather pregnant clouds. The smell of sulfur was intense in the air, as well as the intense smell of death. Palpable in the air was the presence of death itself.

Soon, Lorenor made it to the location that he intended to acquire in order to end this battle quickly. A quick swing and another syndicate agent fell. The battle was going smoothly. He saw the cannon-operators when he broke through their line of skirmishing. Several syndicate agents spotted the mutant and proceeded to engage him all at once distracting the enemy forces further.

Lorenor engaged the warriors as they came. He no longer cared about making strategic slashes, he was just trying to kill as many as possible. Swinging wildly, the mutant was doing just that. Men screamed as they were cut in half, or their heads were quickly severed from their bodies. Lorenor had a particular mission, and that was the most challenging mission of all. Destroy a Syndicate ranking officer to end this war with the Syndicate.

With the Civil War looming on in Corone, the Syndicate had largely gone to the sidelines and bid its own time before making a move against Corone.

Lorenor would see to it that that never happened. Kicking a warrior in the chest, the mutant decapitated another. His hand slashed across the face of yet another, and when he brought his weapon back around, he impaled the chest of the original man he attacked. The Syndicate was falling, slowly but surely, the Red Hand was proving victorious. Once the man before him had fallen to the ground, Lorenor fell forward with him. It was a deliberate and well-calculated maneuver. As he'd bought himself a moment of cover, Lorenor proceeded forward and bit the man in front of him on the neck.

He was waiting for an opportune target to assist him with spreading the infection he was known for. Blood sprayed everywhere tainting the air with its metallic-rust like taste. As Lorenor passed infection into the man's body, the man screamed once more. Lorenor drank his fill of blood, recharging his powers, and stood up quickly. He was just in time to deflect another incoming attack. The mutant knew that the ranks of the Syndicate were not infinite, there had to be a comparable weakness to the entire outfit.

Taking a few moments, infection spread quickly through the system of the fallen warrior. As Lorenor fought on, the man he'd just bitten rose from the ground as if a puppeteer were pulling the strings. His body was twisted from the affects of infection, he moved in a strange fashion. Limping towards the nearest of the Syndicate agents, the man reached forward and bit the living across the neck, catching him off guard. The agent screamed, grabbing at his neck. Lorenor's plan had worked! He could infect a few more of the agents in this fashion, and they could infect a few more, so on and so forth.

Infection would form a chain-effect that would quickly tear through the ranks of the Syndicate. Lorenor ran towards the cannon-operators. They were six of them all together and they were firing the death-orbs at his fellows. With blood flowing from his chin, Lorenor went to engage the operators. He stabbed the first one through the chest as the man prepared to draw a gun and fire it at the mutant. The guns were slow, cumbersome weapons and they were not fit for the field of battle. Lorenor knew they provided a deadly advantage, but even with that advantage, they were slow weapons. With someone as fast and agile as Lorenor was, their speed was a weakness he could take advantage of.

Lorenor removed his weapon from the man. Another man came at him from his left, and the mutant reacted quickly. He'd already run out of the five-minute flight time. Falling back on his reflexes and speed, Lorenor moved quickly across the field where normal men would take several hours to cover that same amount of ground. Lorenor struck with his enhanced reflexes, and each cut was a killing blow. He would give no more, and no less than perfection in his technique. Even if it killed him.

More wizard's magic flew across the battlefield, it was intensifying now. His allies saw that the cannons were beginning to fly at less intervals and were recovering their ground. Arrows and bolts flew across the field to strike down the Syndicate, as well as the various attack magics of the magi. A fireball came dangerously close to the mutant's position and it cooked two Syndicate agents at the same time. The magic bounced across the ground starting a small fire that quickly spread through the dry shrubbery. Fire touched a nearby cannon. The agent operating it saw what was about to happen, but he was still only a well-trained him. He did not have the powers of the undead to guide him. A beautiful explosion filled the air sending its noise everywhere, the man was instantly killed by super-heated debris. Lorenor had seen it coming and managed to evade the attack, pushing a second agent into the explosion's range so as to kill him as well. Only four more operatives remained, but they had stopped using the cannons and were moving against the target priority which had become Lorenor.

Decapitating yet the umpteenth agent, Lorenor's personal body count was steadily rising to impressive levels. He moved smoothly and in a controlled fashion across the field as he cut down whoever he could. His companions had broken through the line of skirmishing now that the cannons had stopped firing. Several of Lorenor's warriors caught up to the mutant and were fighting alongside him. Magi had moved up closer to allow the range of their spells to recover from their previous distance.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Moving slowly but surely across the battlefield, the battle became more contained to a specific area of about ten yards on the field. The Syndicate brandished shortswords made out of mythril and that was their best tactically offensive gear that they could brandish. On Lorenor's side, warriors brandished two-handed swords made out of damascus, dehlar, and other materials. A few wielded prevalida weapons like Lorenor. These units assisted the mutant in cutting down Syndicate agents. Men with dark suits and ties lay splattered across the battlefield. Lorenor's forces were down to the final ten men as they worked to cut down the remaining Syndicate agents. A single Red Hand squadron of specialized units had cut down a platoon of the Syndicate agents without any hope for reinforcements. Leading by action, the mutant moved in a phalanx formation. Warriors who brandished shields guarded the mutant with them and pushed the line of skirmishing forward. It was glorious. The best that the Syndicate had to offer were cut-down by the best that the Red Hand had to offer.

Charging alongside the phalanx, they were quickly making progress. Three powerful shields made of damascus were surrounding the mutant as they pushed forward. Lorenor's sword swung forward as they took down agent after agent. Without armor, the agents easily fell to the weapons of the Red Hand to the point where the enemy morale was quickly dropping. Less frequently came the waves of attack as the mutant and his people cut down the enemy.

Magi stood at a respectful distance as they charged their spells and launched them across the field.

Every time that the magics were launched, multiple Syndicate agents were felled. Lorenor knew the orders, his men knew the orders. The Syndicate would be granted no safe haven, no asylum, no mercy. "No mercy!" Lorenor yelled to his companions. "Grant them no asylum, for the enemy shall grant none! Use whatever means necessary to dispatch them!" His companions saluted in return. It had all become clockwork, Lorenor motivated, his men reacted. The soldiers of the Red Hand would go down in history.

And then it all took a turn for the worse...

[Mutant_Lorenor]

A single agent emerged from the darkness.

"What is the meaning of this noise?!" He called to his companions as he prepared to engage the Red Hand on his own. The man walked slowly down a hill as he gauged the damage that the Red Hand had already inflicted upon his face. "This is unacceptable! Crush the Red Hand! They are few, we are many!" The man commanded, not capable of foreseeing the level of extent of damage that the Red Hand had already committed upon them. Several agents of the Syndicated made their to the leader's position.

"Sire! We've lost many! The men are calling for retreat!"

The leader grabbed the officer by the collar and lifted the man up and off the ground. "Fool! There shall be no order of retreat. We shall get no reinforcements if we fall to these cretins! Gather your remaining men and show some fucking spine!" The leader tossed the officer to the ground snapping his neck and causing another casualty. "Weaklings! All of you! Gather around me now if you are capable!" The tall man yelled.

Now this man, their leader, he was a specimen of pure muscular power. A barbarian of the Comb Mountains, the man stood at an impressive seven feet in height. He weighed approximately four hundred pounds of pure muscles, his pectorals bulging through his shirt. He wore a baggy suit that was custom built for his unique physique. It was gray with pin-stripes. It was clearly the suit of a ranking officer of the Syndicate, he wore a pair of well formed shoes, and matching black gloves on his hands. He had many tribal markings from the men of Comb Mountains. His face was heavily scarred, and deeply furrowed. Wearing blue war paint on his face, his hair was blond. Braids extended from his side-burns, and the man had a well-kept beard. The man was a handsome warrior, but he had a darkness that clung to him. Lorenor could see a mysterious energy flowing from the person even as he drew a mightily impressive two-handed claymore. The rest of his body was hidden as far as Lorenor could see about the man. The most impressive detail of the man was his general physique.

A giant as far men went, the man could apparently break a skull with his bare hands.

"Destroy the Red Hand!" The berserker called with a heavy accent.

"Gather your ground men!" Lorenor called out to his own forces. "We have a new enemy!"

As Lorenor and his men fought, several of the infected were already gathered against the enemy. There were ten now, as the Syndicate had at least a hundred heads with them on the field. A crowd of screaming angry and infected warriors made their way through the field and started to rip through the ranks of the Syndicate. They clawed and tore their ways through the ranks of the enemy.

"What is this witchcraft!?" The berserker suddenly yelled. He took his sword and marched upon the Red Hand.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Grabbing his two handed swords with big, meaty hands, the berserker brought his weapon down upon the nearest of the zombies. He yelled as he struck, attempting to defeat the newly discovered enemy. Each of his swings were controlled and precise, but the man had long arms and a slow and cumbersome weapon. It had a wide reach of application though as it could be used to hack at opponents with surprising precision. The berserker's body moved with the motion of each skilled chop. He swung himself brutally in different directions with a sort of chaotic elegance that had to be admired. Friend and foe alike were cut down by those powerful swings. The berserker's war pain seemed to glow with his angry emotions as he attacked the environment around him. At that point there was no discerning between friend and foe. The berserker simply went into a rage and attacked everything around him with his giant weapon. Even his own men struggled to stay out of the way of the cleaving blade that the berserker wielded. The berserker was descending upon Lorenor's attack squad.

Lorenor moved quickly within the confines of the phalanx. He slashed at anything that got in his way whilst keeping an eye on the berserker. He was already forming a plan against the giant of a man. The mutant wondered just how thick the man's hide was. He pondered that his steel-like teeth could puncture the flesh quite easily.

Even at the cost of life and limb, the mutant would see to it that the Red Hand would prove victorious. Lorenor decapitated another of the Syndicate warriors then turned to look at his comrades with shields raised.

"I'm breaking rank, cover me!" The mutant cried out to his fellows.

The nearest of the warriors nodded in returned as the phalanx continued to push forward. Meanwhile, the onslaught of elemental attacks continued to descend upon the battlefield. By then, all of the cannons were taken out of commission. Large explosions resonated across the air, as the cannons were destroyed one by one. The magi continued to fire off their spells into the air, onto the ground, and through other means of the attack. One of the magi happened to be a psionic and was well-versed in the mental-manipulation arts. Rocks and stones were heaved through the air as the psionic used his telekinetic skills to great effects. Syndicate soldiers were crushed under the large boulders. More screams were heard from either side. It had taken the psionic sometime to build up his powers to combat-worthy capabilities. Archers were still launching their weapons at the enemies, keeping a distance from the main line of skirmishing. Arrows arched through the air, and bolts whizzed quickly to puncture the Syndicate right in the heart.

For the Red Hand, the most difficult challenge was descending upon them.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Breaking the formation, Lorenor ran forward towards the berserker with one goal in mind. One goal alone. The mutant judged that the weapon that the man wielded was made entirely of mythril. It was a very lightweight and effective claymore. Lorenor saw that the man was covered in blood by then as he descended upon the brave phalanx. Covering the ground quickly, Lorenor moved at fifty miles per hour. The mutant had considerable speed on the berserker whereas the giant of a man had size and muscle.

Lorenor was prepared to sacrifice life and limb for his plan to work. Are you ready to die, mother fucker?! Lorenor thought grimly to himself as he jumped atop the heads of several Syndicate warriors, giving himself the needed height leverage to attack the enemy. Lorenor ran atop the heads of the Syndicate agents, using his tremendous weight to cause blunt-force trauma upon the heads of the men. Preparing his weapon, Lorenor ignored all other threats. He leaped through the air.

Rotating the weapon in his hand he had it aiming to the sky for brief moment. Then, as he was prepared to face the giant-man before him, Lorenor started his attack. The Berserker saw Lorenor at the last possible second and began a slow striking swing upward towards the mutant's position. Time slowed down. Lorenor and the berserker both yelled inhuman yells at one another. By then, Lorenor was already snarling with a terrible growl, as the berserker cursed out loud in the language of the highlanders.

Both weapons swung through the air in majestic arches.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Lorenor's prevalida weapon struck downwards towards the neck of the berserker. In such a close proximity, the berserker had no hope of ever evading the attack that was coming. With a legacy of blood and carnage at its hands, the berserker's only hope was that there was some sort of intervention on the behalf of his comrades. There would be none.

Taking care of the Syndicate agents, the phalanx moved quickly to dispatch all that they could.

Magi spells still traveled quickly through the air. By then, the remaining magi converged upon the main portion of the battle. The lines of skirmishing were crossed as the two groups tackled one another dead on. Either side of the field was determined to grab a major foothold on the other. However, the warriors of the Red Hand were too well equipped against the Syndicate Agent's monotonous attacking patterns. Guns were stolen where ever a member of the Red Hand was capable of acquiring one.

Despite the apparent victory, Syndicate Agents were everywhere. More importantly, a mob of zombies was traveling through the group picking off Agents where ever they could. The infected were a byproduct of Lorenor's power. Syndicate agents sniped shots at the phalanx as it moved forward, who in turn attacked whatever they could find. The mob of undead moved across the field. Violently attacking their former brothers even as they shot at the wayward group.

Living agents were bit and clawed at violently to continue the spread of infection.

Magi on the side of the Red Hand attacked the Syndicate on both sides of the aisle. Undead or otherwise. Large orbs of fire coursed through the air and struck the ground violently. Bodies of both the undead and living agents were torn asunder from the explosions. In some cases, bodies flew apart as they were thrust across the field. Some as many as several yards away from their original starting position. Lightning was fired from the hands of the Magi as well. Some of the more powerful spells created a chain reaction that attacked several agents at once. If the Red Hand was destined to go down, they were determined to take the Syndicate with them.

As the war was waged, the time continued to slow down for the mutant and his opponent. Maybe it was an effect of all the chaotic magics in the air, or maybe it was just a higher awareness of the Firmanent. Both warriors were moving towards their individual destinies. The berserker's sword arched upward in a ground-air movement, whereas Lorenor's sword moved in a ellipse-like motion. Both movements were extremely controlled, flawless.

Muscles lurched forward as the bodies were eternally thrust in movement.

Lorenor's small body hurled itself easily through the air. The berserker's giant muscle-mass swung forward in an attempt to cleanly slice Lorenor in two even pieces. As the sword came ever closer, Lorenor was the first to connect. His blade swung downward. Blood burst through the air, which was already thick with the smell of the substance. Lorenor yelled loudly as he moved in a decapitating movement. It was art. The veins bulged at the contact of the prevalida weapon. Lorenor's own body felt the weight of the huge claymore coming against it. Even in the berserker's death the momentum of the attack was much too powerful. The muscles still against the mutant. When the berserker was decapitated, the mutant yelled triumphantly, and then in agony. The berserker's sword cleanly sliced the mutant in half forcing his legs to fall straight down, whilst his upper body was hurled several yards away. The titan mass of the berserker slumped down against the ground. Nearby living Syndicate agents saw the huge warrior fall down, dead. Shock and disbelief quickly spread through the ranks of the remaining members of the Syndicate.

All hell broke loose.

Lorenor laid on the ground, a pool of blood forming underneath him, and his intestines hanging out of his stomach. He stared up at the sky prepared to face defeat. However, with his body still at least partially intact, he was slowly regenerating.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Later--

With a decisive victory over the Syndicate, the Red Hand continued on to find all the agents that they could. Killing them all one by one, the Syndicate was given no political asylum in Red Hand territory. When their leader had fallen, the rest of the Syndicate ranks turned tail and became confused without a leadership body. Some fled the scene where they could, other stayed and fought on, and a few attempted to surrender. None would be shown any mercy.

After the battle was over, members of the Red Hand walked through the field granting out mercy kills where ever they found the dead or dying. In the aftermath of the situation, the Red Hand members lost sight of their valiant leader, Lorenor. The members of the Red Hand finished killing off all the rest of the men that were still dying on the ground. They also killed off any of the infected that got in their way, despite the infected playing a crucial role in their victory. As they moved, they searched for Lorenor's body.

A member of the warrior's side of the Red Hand assumed command of the mission with Lorenor's absence. He was a sturdy lad. Long black braids, brown eyes, and a square zygomatic arch. His chin was round though. He had large ears, and wore extravagant jewelry on his person. His armor was covered in blood as was the rest of his fellows. There were only a handful of warriors remaining, three archers, and mostly the rest of the magi that had survived the initial skirmish. Moving as a phalanx, the warriors were backed by the magi. The Red Hand was searching for their leader, Lorenor. Hours had passed since the battle was officially declared as a victory for the Red Hand.

Surviving Syndicate agents fled the scene to report the loss of the encampment to their superiors. The leader would not be happy.

As the warriors cut their way to the dying masses, the current leader of the Red Hand, a man named Albertus Flynn was moving through the Syndicate tents. He was searching for something crucial to the Red Hand. It was something that was discussed in private after the battle was over. The Syndicate had abandoned their temporary base and left whatever intelligence behind that they were unable to retrieve. Many documents were discovered by the Red Hand. One of the magi stumbled upon a chest in one of the tents, uses his powers to unlock it, and discovered something interesting. It was a book. On the cover of the book was the word, Sequence etched upon it.

Grabbing the book, as well as whatever other valuable documents he could find, the Magi left the tent. He waved his superiors over to his person.

"Guys, I found something!" He yelled out to them.

The rest of the fellows turned to look at the magi and walked slowly towards his person. By then, there were only the dead on the field.

Albertus walked over to the magi calmly.

"What did you find lad?"

"This book a some marked maps, and a few other documents. It could be what Lord Lorenor spoke about." The magi said with a look of excitement in his eyes.

"Very well. Hand it over here." Albertus said. And the magi did as he was instructed.

Lorenor's body was never recovered.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Epilogue.

In the end they did pretty well. Don't you think?

They have served my will. That is the important thing. You have your task as well.

But I was defeated.

Worry not, for I am with you my child.

I trust fully in you my Master.



A shadowy figure overlooked the battlefield from a hill top. It had a decent size and offered a panoramic view of the activities below. Corpses littered the ground of both friend and foe. Many of the corpses were horribly torn apart by the ravages of war to the point where they were unrecognizable as human beings. Some of the bodies were beaten to a pulp and others were torn asunder by magic. Many of the bodies were missing limbs, some were torn to pieces and others were simply grotesquely ripped apart. A devastating battle had taken place there with many lives lost.

The specter that observed the battlefield knew the sides well. They were the sides of Radsanath's Syndicate organization and the side of a Power Group known as the Red Hand. The night apparently had a decisive winner in the Red Hand which meant that Radasanth would be free of the Syndicate's wrath for a time at least. Through the night of tactical warfare, the Syndicate knew a devastating loss. One of its head commanders had fallen in battle.

The observer of the battle, had a cape that flowed in the wind. His form appeared like that of a wraith and he was not alone. A woman's figure watched the solemn battlefield alongside the man. The two had an immensely dark aura about themselves. Considerably shorter than the woman was the man.

"What will you do now?" The woman asked the man.

"They have grown strong. I will allow them to form their own future. I must go my own separate way now."

"So you were following your own agenda all along?"

"I had to feign death in order to sever my ties with that organization. I saw it had weak leadership and it needed to be allowed to fall." The man responded. "Now I can focus on following my own path. As you have set it before me." The man added.

"Do you know what that will imply my child?"

"I have become one of the Spider-Magi. But most importantly, I accept my destiny as a Demi-Thayne in your service." The man paused for a moment as he talked with the woman. "I agree to your terms of servitude." The man said.

"Excellent. Then you will bring about the New Order. You will be my High Priest as you usher Althanas into a new age of darkness. You will have loyal followers, like your friend. The one who has always been there for you."

"I know of whom you speak. The hour grows late my Lady. We must return to the Firmanent and ensure that all goes according to plan." The world was a gray void. The world of the battlefield and the hill. When those words were spoken, there was another momentary pause. The man looked at the woman longingly. "You are always with me my Master." He said. "By your guiding shadows will my destiny be known."

"The darkness will embrace all my follower."

And so, Lorenor awoke on the ground after the strange vision ended.

Miraculously, the mutant's body was intact.

Long after the battle was over, Lorenor rose from the blood-stained earth to continue his legacy anew. Though he had tasted certain death, the mutant had come out the victor after all was said and done. No long bound by the broken organization known as the Red Hand, Lorenor was free to follow his own heart. And so, Lorenor walked away from the Red Hand to form his own legacy.

The End.

******************

Spoils Section

1-Plasma Hammer-Made with parts provided by the Golems, this Item was constructed by Lorenor's own hands. Built using a complex form of fusion, the hammer is very sleek and technologically sound. One of the most advanced Items on Althanas, the hammer uses a Plasma Conduit to fuel its unique power. Boasting several different user settings, the Plasma Hammer is really nothing more than a hyper-advanced Smith's Hammer for a new age of Althanas. By switching user settings, Lorenor can imbue items with plasma energy channeled directly from the Hammer's Plasma Core. This is how more Plasma Core are constructed. Objects imbued with a Plasma Core are more technologically sound than normal objects. The Plasma Hammer is a unique Item that -only- Lorenor can wield. It is not suitable for use as a weapon. The basic materials of the Item are Iron and Steel. This Item can not be sold. Masterwork in nature.

2-Shadow Smith level 0 (Skill)-Learned entirely on his own, this is a unique version of the standard Blacksmith Trade. Lorenor applies the basic principles of Elemental Manipulation and creates Shadow Cores of Elemental Darkness. The Shadow Cores may be constructed with Lorenor's own energies Four Times A Day. (Applies to the Night as well which is Lorenor's primary time of activity) Can currently not exceed four times a Day or Night for the construction of Shadow Cores. Also, Four times a Day or Night, Lorenor may imbue these Shadow Cores into a single Object every time. Currently, only a single Shadow Core may be imbued in this fashion.

The Shadow Core is the primary essence of the Shadow Smith. With a single Shadow Core, Lorenor can create Objects that are imbued with the Living Dark. In this fashion, Lorenor can create objects that are Dark Weapons, Dark Armor or Dark Items. Objects imbued with the Living Dark can cause Double-Lethal damage to Objects imbued with the Glorious Light. Also, certain objects can be made that are able to Dispel Objects that contain Spells empowered by the Glorious Light. This can be used to effectively remove environmental Seals that would otherwise be impassable for Lorenor due to his weakness to the Glorious Light. Objects that are imbued with Shadow Cores are extremely valuable and may be Sold for profit. Shadow Cores are extremely precious and cannot be sold for profit. Shadow Cores may be combined with a Plasma Conduit/Core on a Single Object.

[Visla Eraclaire]

Sorahn fell out of this thread before anything happened. He will not be judged. He can lodge a complaint if he decides to show back up.

Story ~ 10

Continuity 5 Involvement of the power group, connection to previous character events, fair enough. There are some questions as to purpose, why certain things matter, and how they piece together. I'm not familiar enough with your lengthy series of quests and battles to know all that, and this quest doesn't help me that much in that respect. It's hard to fit everything into every thread, but if you make people have questions you're going to want to answer them. Also, as the links get more significant near the end, they also become more confusing.

Setting 3 I know where you are. You told me. I wouldn't have known if you hadn't stated it explicitly. Stating a setting doesn't get you many setting points. Also, when you mentioned the forest and how dangerous it was, I had trouble buying that. I dunno, with the massive profile and abilities you have I just don't buy the fear of a simple wood. Obviously there are guys in it and that's where the thread goes, but still...

Pacing 2 The entire first page is talking about a hammer and the quest takes off from there. I want to give you a break because that initial quest just fell apart, but stapling a second tale onto the end makes for poor pacing. We move quickly and suddenly which can work well but for all the action the plot doesn't seem to move forward except in spits and jolts that are very confusing.

Character ~ 10

Dialogue 3 Extremely stilted. Reminiscent of the Star Wars prequels. People just say things to move the plot forward with no consideration of their character, no subtlety, no filler, no banter. Just “Do this” “I will” “This happened” “I'll fix it”

Action 4 There's a lot of it compressed into the end here, but frequently it makes no sense. Inconsistent depictions between flying and not flying. Holding a crossbow, talking about a gun, I'm not sure what's going on a lot of the time. If you had a clear vision, it didn't come across. Action doesn't just mean things happen. It means they happen viscerally. The first page of this thread has nothing going on, the later action is difficult to follow.

Persona 3 Lorenor is... complicated. Your profile is a maze and this story doesn't leave any bread crumbs to help navigate it. You don't seem to act much like you're described in there, to the extent that you act like anything. Your pc and npcs, like your dialogue through which we know them, is flat. It's like a world made of cardboard.

Writing ~ 12

Technique 2 For every literary device there is a wall-banger of an odd phrasing. A forest with zones and sectors, using the terms power group and buff spell in character, and similar disengaging elements are throughout. It sounds like someone talking about a game or a story rather than someone in a story. Blunt statements like “Lorenor was hot” really don't help. This sort of thing can be used to effect, but when it's not done carefully it comes off like immature writing. Here's another section


Lorenor heard a scream coming from that individual. Moving quickly, the mutant decapitated the burning man as a mercy kill. A moment later, the man died.

Very awkward.

Mechanics 8 Relatively free of errors. Odd capitalization, missing commas.

Clarity 2 In every way that doesn't actually involve mechanical errors this piece is unclear and muddled. All the flaws described above combine to form a piece of writing that is dense, murky, and difficult to approach. Inconsistent tone pervades the piece. It pushes the reader away at every turn. Finally, what exactly is the point of a plasma hammer? You say its most important parts are a handle and a head. Those are the two parts of a hammer, the only parts, really. What does the plasma do? I won't try to list all the instances like this.

Wildcard 2 I'm sorry to see that you had a thread drop, but you would be best to start something new and make it meaningful than attempt to salvage this. It almost seems like a thread for the sake of a thread. If you don't have a story to tell, wait and think. Don't just go and fill up space, or it's going to end up like this.

Final Score: 34

Your spoils are a matter for the RoG. I take no position on them except what is embodied in my judgment.

Lorenor gains 1797 exp and 69 gp.

[Taskmienster]

Done and done.