MysidiaDrakkenbane

They stayed the night up at OracleTower and in the morning, they were refreshed and ready to head out towards WindstalkerVillage.

James and Aust had bade their farewells, which left Mysidia to give hers. She gave a long warm hug to Tain. She went inside one of her pouches and handed him a small bottle with a dark purple liquid inside.

Tain took the crystal bottle in his hands and gave Mysidia a very curious look. “What’s this?”, he asked looking the bottle over.

“It’s my last bottle of my brother’s strongest brew. You had expressed that you wished you could have experienced some of my culture first hand. We enjoyed strong ale almost as much as we enjoyed our art. But don’t drink it all at once. The last elf that tried went blind. My brother had a tendency to brew it stronger than usual.”, Mysidia said and gave a half smile. It pained her to know that the last threads of her family were being kept in a fragile crystal shell.

“Oh, I don’t think I could take this from you…”, Tain said humbled at the gift.

“Please. I want you to have it. It’s nice to know that there are a few people left willing to keep alive old traditions…even if its through miswritten history books.”, Mysidia said. You could hear the tempered pain in her voice. No matter how many years had passed, it still stung a little.

Tain took the top off the bottle and ran it under his nose. He blinked a few times as the pungent aroma filled his nostrils and for a moment, you could see his pupils dilate.

“Oh…my…”, Tain said and started to sway in place. The Erudite wizard held him up for a few seconds while Tain regained his ground.

Mysidia laughed as she mounted her horse. They all waved to one another as the three of them cantered down the dirt beaten path.

It was nearly mid day when they finally were well into their travels. Mysidia was just drinking in the sights around her trying to remember the land that once was. For brief moments, she could recognize the world she knew in various boulders she remembers passing so many years ago. But like with most everything else Time touches, the terrain had changed and she was trying to learn where she was. Getting lost was not on the top of her To Do List.

When they rounded the corner, the wind picked up and carried a scent that was all too familiar to Mysidia. The scent was pungent enough to be that distinctual. It hung thickly to the wind like a tight hug. The moment it hit her face, she snorted and turned her head. The scent of Death usually does that to people.

“What’s wrong?”, James asked noticing her reaction.

“Ugh. Death. What could possibly be out that way for there to be such a stench like this? I don’t remember hearing about any recent battles…”, Mysidia said wrinkling her nose.

“They’re undead, Mysidia. After the gods turned their backs on us, several people formed sects and began to worship whatever suited their fancy. Some of the religious sects were peaceful, some were violent, and some were perverse, however, none of them lasted long. People need something to believe in, even if somewhere in the back of their minds, they know it to be false. All Norathians crave unity of some kind and faith can be a powerful thing that way. It’s easier to unify under one belief than anything else.”, James explained.

“You don’t have to tell me that faith is powerful. Entire races have been decimated for “faith”.”, Mysidia said in a snarkish tone.

James knew what her tone was about but didn’t really ask for her to specify. He knew what she was, but he didn’t really know who she was. And had her situation been his, he probably would have felt the same way, which is why he let the comment go.

They trotted up a large hill that overlooked a valley below. Mysidia rode her horse under the large tree to give her horse some well deserved shade. The sun was rather warm that day and she could smell the sweat coming off her horse.

Out in the distance, Mysidia could see a black plume of smoke. It was too small to be a simple campfire and it was large enough to send the warning signals it needed to.

“Where is that?”, Mysidia asked, jumping off her horse. She walked over to the saddle bags she had made from furs she got along the way and opened a few of them up, getting out her armor.

“That looks like it’s WindstalkerVillage…”, James said numbly. He knew deep down, that it was the village. They had problems with bandits before. Several humans broke off from Qeynos and Freeport to form their own alliance. They vandalized, robbed, and even pillaged some of the smaller villages on the outskirts, but Windstalker always had remained safe due to the guards that lived there. The bandits had tried to raid in the past, but their numbers were always held back because of the guards. Could it be that the bandits had risen enough numbers to pull off their biggest heist? James looked worried.

Aust turned around and saw Mysidia nearly dressed in her armor. She swung herself up in the saddle after watering her horse. She tightened her bracers on her arms and looked at them both.

“What are you planning?”, Aust asked.

“To see if they need any assistance. Plumes like that means whatever was done is over with. Black smoke means aftermath. How far is it from here to the village?”, Mysidia asked.

“Twenty minutes, fifteen if we ride hard.”, Aust said.

Aust had turned to James to ask if he was ready to leave. When Aust turned around to acknowledge their decent, Mysidia was already gone, tearing up the ground with fast moving hooves.

It took Aust and James nearly the entire run to catch up to Mysidia. She was flying her horse hard, trying to get to the village. The closer they came upon it, the graver the situation had become.

The stench of charred flesh, heat, and burning wood clung thickly to the air. Warped lines of heat distorted the view making it difficult to focus on the chaos around them. What Mysidia could make out was various people trying to find safety and helping those that could not walk on their own.

Mysidia quickly jumped off her horse and tried to help any and all she could. She looked at several of the women, who were badly beaten. Their open wounds on their faces were aggravated and bleeding. Scorch marks on their skin suggested they escaped their burning buildings with their lives.

She bent down to one that was in better shape than the rest and handed her several potions from one of her packs.

“Are you a cleric?”, she asked the woman. The woman shook her head. Mysidia quickly went over the particulars of how to apply the potions and what to look for. She then shouted to the women and asked who were clerics, shamans, and druids. A few of them raised their hands and she helped them attend to their wounds so that they could attend to the others.

“You all are going to have to set up triage. Work on only the ones you can save. Don’t waste your time on anything else.”, Mysidia said in a serious tone. She then turned to one of the younger women who appeared to be in shock at the carnage around her.

“Hey, what’s your name?”, Mysidia asked in a soothing tone.

“Sheena”, the girl said. Her voice was quiet and small, nearly lost among the dim of the chaos around her. She held her hands close to her dirt and tear streaked face. Her lip, bleeding, trembled under her building hysteria.

“Sheena, I’m going to need your help, okay? I need you to gather several long sticks to make litters for the wounded. Do you think you can do that for me?”, Mysidia asked placing a hand on her shoulder, hoping to knock Sheena out of her fog. The girl numbly nodded as the tears budded up in her eyes.

James and Aust came riding up moments later and Aust automatically went to see if any bandits were looting from the burning homes. James looked up at the Rydian woman, confused and stunned.

“How could this happen?”, James asked looking around.

“Later. I need you to tie the horses together and attach the litters that are going to be made. You are going to put the wounded on the litters and help take them to safety. That girl”, Mysidia pointed to Sheena, “will help you carry the wounded. The cliff we were on is safe enough for everyone. I have a healing team already tending to the wounded so you shouldn’t have to carry that many. I will meet you there when the threat here is over.”, Mysidia said and turned away.

Whether it was five hundred years or a thousand, time couldn’t change the nature of man. Where there was chaos, greed prevailed and usually controlled the desperate. Survival is a dangerous thing to play with. The moment you survive your catastrophe, life itself isn’t good enough and the greed immediately sets in. It explained the bandits that raped the village blind. It explained the two factions between good and evil. It explained a lot of things, including the motion of the world itself. Time will never change the nature of man so long as the spirit of competition still resides in them.

Mysidia withdrew her sword and walked deep into the thick of the carnage. Thick billows of smoke blew across the blood drenched path. Mysidia could barely make out a few strong bodied men, walking in a line, towards her. They fanned out across the path creating a body shield roadblock. They were bandits, and they had planned years for a raid on Windstalker. They were not about to give up their prize so easily.

The fact that the woman approached them alone intimidated some of them. She was either insane or just that good. Judging by her armor, she appeared to be Druid, and Warden or Fury, which alone is worth apprehension. If you can taste it, feel it, see it, hear it, smell it, see it above you, or stand on it, they can control it or manipulate it.

Mysidia didn’t say a word. She didn’t falter her steps nor did she speed up her movements. She simply walked up to one of them and sliced outward, gashing one of the men across the chest. The sound of metal slicing through bone meekly made it over the rushing sounds of fire. The man grabbed his profusely bleeding chest as he dropped to his knees.

The leader of the line of men growled at Mysidia and his dirt lined face sneered into a grimace of contempt. “That there was my brother, missy.”

“Oh…really?”, Mysidia said looking down at the man, “sorry to bring him into past tense.”

The bandit yelled on the top of his lungs and charged Mysidia, brandishing his daggers along with it. Mysidia swung her shield up to block his hand and shoved her arms to push the larger man back.

Aust and James both watched Mysidia and James shook his head in disbelief. “She has no fear, that woman.”

“No, an’ she never did either.”, a voice said behind them. Aust flashed around and unsheathed his weapons, not expecting to hear anyone behind him.

The man was larger than most Barbarians, Aust had ever seen. He easily towered over the Kerran and had short black hair and a scar over his right eye. His armor was dusty and blood stained, although by the looks of the man, it was probably more from his victims than it was from him. And his two handed sword was strapped securely to his back.

“How would you know?”, James asked, annoyed. He didn’t exactly like it when people snuck up behind him.

The man grinned and chuckled a bit at the rat. “Because… I’m ‘er brother, Kryimsson.”

__________________

MysidiaDrakkenbane

It was pouring in Freeport and the sound of wet scraping boots echoed through the dirty streets. It was a cold rain and the breath of all the inhabitants could be seen. The cold water pricked the flesh just enough to let you know that it was indeed a winter rain. Not cold enough for snow but warm enough just to keep the water right above freezing.

A dark elf woman, poorly dressed, ran through the streets. Her dark black hair hung in light curls as the water beaded off the strands and dripped onto her soaked woolen cloak. Her clothes were torn and tattered on the ends and her blue-black skin was darker than usual due to the temperature.

White ghost vapors poured out of her nose and mouth as she frantically ran through the streets, trying to keep her bundle in her arms as dry as possible. She bounded up the path and skittered down a dark alleyway, thrashing her back to the wall, trying to catch her breath.

She pushed a black strand of hair away from her face and sank down to her knees, feeling her pulse race through her body. Her silver gray eyes scanned the street out in front of her before uncovering her bundle. A soggy loaf of bread and a bit of dried meat lay in her lap.

She hungrily tore at the bread and stuffed her face, while keeping a sharp ear to the noise around her. She should have been more careful. Granted, she stole the food she was eating, but she should have been wiser in choosing her victim. In her line of work, there were only two kinds of assassins, those that were paid well for what they did, and those that starved. And being that she held on to her family’s curse, it was rare she was paid for her profession.

As she bit into the chunk of meat, she heard a few guards voices echo off the buildings around her. She sank deeper into the darkness and unsheathed her daggers for protection. It wasn’t that she wasn’t very good at what she did. She was, it was just that her family name wasn’t what it used to be and people didn’t want to deal with that kind of reputation.

She watched the guards run past her and she smirked smugly in the dampness around her. She lived to see another day, yet again. Bristlebane was watching out for her. She flipped the dagger up in the air and caught it before putting them back in their sheaths. She stepped out into the street to watch the guards turn the corner and she chuckled as she realized she had won again.

She turned around and started to walk when a huge ogre blocked her path. She froze solid, realizing that it was his meal she stole. She swallowed hard feeling the white fear creep up into her throat as her eyes widen.

The huge ogre raised his fist and pounded it on the top of her head, causing her to fall unconsciously in the winter rain.

When she came to, she began to feel the headache that the large lump began to bring on and she groaned slightly. She felt the chains on her wrists and ankles and she grumbled realizing she had been captured. Much like everyone else in her life, it seems Bristlebane had turned His back on her too, leaving her at the mercy of the law… Whatever law that was in Freeport, anyway.

“Good, you’re alive.”, she heard a man’s voice say. She looked up sharply to see a human male sitting in a chair by the door. He took his iron gauntleted fist and banged it on the metal door behind him.

The woman scooted herself towards the slime covered concrete wall that helped form the cell she was in. She rubbed her dirty hands over her hair to feel the large knot, causing her the pain. Grumbling, she folded her arms and just waited patiently.

Moments later, a dark elf male dressed in a vibrantly purple and yellow robe, came in and waved his hand to dismiss the human. The dark elf woman rolled her eyes and began to grow uncomfortable being in that cell.

The ogre walked in just as the human was leaving and this caused the woman to curse under her breath. The dark elf male turned around and growled at the woman, causing her to cower a bit.

“I told you not to harm her.”, the dark elf male said in a strict voice.

“Look! She lives.”, grunted the ogre. The dark elf male scowled.

“What am I doing here?”, the woman asked.

The male turned around and barked at her, “It must NOT speak! It must learn its place!”

He walked over to her and took her chin in his hands forcing her to look up at him. He looked her over for a moments and grunted in some kind of acknowledgement.

“There is no denying you, child. You are your mother’s daughter.”, the male said. He pushed her chin away and walked back towards the chair, taking a seat.

“You knew my mother…”, she said softly.

“Yes. I knew your whole family before The Rendering. Before the Tier’Dal turned their backs on you.”, he said smugly. She knew he was in his glory. It wasn’t often that a Tier’Dal male was allowed to berate a female so. Usually, it was the females that were superior, but situations being as they were, this male had and edge over her due to her family name, dishonored as it was.

“What is it you want with me?”, she asked.

“Since this has bearing on your situation, I will permit the question. You carry your mother’s namesake in both first and last name, Akahsha. The Darkskye’s have been disowned from the Tier’Dal since your mother aligned herself with the Rydian Empire. A pity she never cleared it before she died.”, he said waving his hand at her.

Akahsha blinked at him through waves of contempt. She hated her race almost as much as her mother did. Arrogance made her blood boil.

“However, what if there was a way to reclaim the standing of the Darkskye namesake and place you back into the ranks your family once was before the dishonorment?”, the male said and grinned wickedly.

“Who are you?”, Akahsha asked.

Seeing the annoyance flicker in the male’s eyes, she quickly broke her gaze and bit her lip.

“Val’eth Sulkar.”, the male said. “Now, do you want to clear your family’s name or not?”

Akahsha laughed. “How is that possible?”

Val’eth got up and back handed Akahsha across the mouth. She yelped and tears began to form in her eyes. She licked her lips and swallowed the blood she tasted.

“Do not mock me, you insignificant whelp!”, he said angrily. His red eyes burned like fire against his black skin. Akahsha made a mental note to place his name on the list of people she would be getting back to at a later date. She had a special torture in mind for Val’eth. Something with hot pokers and diseased ridden rats came to mind…

“The queen lives, I’ve been given word. I thought you would like to know that…”, he left his words hanging. She looked up sharply and her ice silver eyes shined evilly in the darkness.

“Ah, that got your attention. Yes, Her Majesty is alive and well, and wandering through Antonica last I had heard.”, Val’eth said, his voice almost a purr.

“She is heavily guarded. An attack on her won’t be so easy.”, Akahsha said licking away her blood.

Val’eth folded his arms and sat with an oily smug smirk. “She is without her Catta Thaeja. She is vulnerable and ripe for the picking.”

Akahsha toiled over the news in her mind and tried to hold back her excitement. If she appeared overeager, he would give the job to someone else. Under eager and he would think she didn’t care.

“What do you get out of this?”, Akahsha asked.

Val’eth grinded his teeth at the lack of manners from Akahsha, but years on the streets would do that to anyone, so he allowed it to pass. “The Overlord currently has a female Tier’Dal for his right hand. The Overlord fears no one, but knows full well that news of the Rydian Queen would stir up some of the older Iksar and just might start a rebellion. He likes his control right where it is. If something were to happen to the fallen queen, his majesty might look upon my family a bit favorlier than N’Velex.”

Akahsha grinned. For the first time in years, she felt the calm evil spread across her body like a warm comforting blanket. She hadn’t felt this calm in a very long time.

Her voice, in a velvety purr said, “Where might I find this queen?”

Val’eth grinned in return. “Excellent.”

__________________

MysidiaDrakkenbane

The bandits kept coming and it didn’t look like they would be letting up any time soon. The leader, the brother of the one Mysidia killed, kept calling for reinforcements, and like magic, they kept showing up. How long could ONE Warden hold out for? It seemed she had the stamina of a warrior running through her blood. Oh…if they only knew the truth..

But truth be told, nearly an hour into the fighting, the beads of exhaustion started to form on Mysidia’s brow, and she began to feel herself grow dizzy with it. Between the heat, the spell casting, swinging her one handed blade, and defending with a large round shield, it was apparent that five hundred years of sleeping did nothing to keep her in shape.

One of the men got a lucky shot and slashed at her thigh, she cried out, dropping to her knees. Saying a quick healing spell, she began to feel her skin stitch itself so that she could continue on her fighting for survival. Sparks flew as she used her blade to block an oncoming blow from one of the larger men.

She yelled as she pushed back and the leader was actually surprised as the tenacity and ferocity the Warden fought with. There was just no giving up with her.

There were three men standing around her, including the leader, and Mysidia could see more coming in the distance. Austforbeer and James were no where to be found. They were knee deep in getting the wounded to safety.

Mysidia began to see the severity of her situation. She didn’t think she could hold out for much longer. Her eyes scanned the crowd for someone to help her and the tears of desperation clung to her eyes.

It was the same situation all over again…

In the thick of summer, nearly 500 years before, the Rydian army had pushed back the Iksar all the way to the mountain ridge. The final battle would determine the outcome for the Empire, one way or the other.

Each side had rounded up as many as they could find. For the Rydians, their numbers had suffered greatly between the invasion years prior and the war itself. Mysidia had rounded up elves, humans, and barbarians to help her. She was pooling in all of her resources just to keep afloat and they appeared to be working.

The dust clung to the humidity nearly choking out the sunlight. The stench of sweat and stagnant earth filled the nostrils of the men and women willing to die for the Rydian cause. Sweat poured down the face and neck of Mysidia as she trotted her horse, Thaeja, through the lines of troops.

Her speech was unforgettable, yet no one wrote it down for posterity. And the fighting began as it always did and continued well into the evening hours. Bodies of the injured came pouring in and the Healing Team Mysidia set up was working over time to keep the warriors upright. When Team A was exhausted, she switched out with Team B and kept it going. There was constant buffing and healing going on from the support teams she had set up.

The Rydians were winning and the Iksar were ready to retreat into the caves they once came from hundreds of years ago. The morale of the Rydian army was high and the whoops and hollers of the fighters could be heard dotting over the sounds of the Iksar screams and the metal clanging. Lightening bolts shot from the wizards fingers. Roots sprang up from the ground to hold the Iksars in place. Wolves, bears, and tigers swarmed from the Shaman, Druids, and Beastlords and arrows danced their silent song across the sky. It was an impressive sight.

Mysidia sat proud on her horse and witnessed the glory of her kingdom. Kryimsson rode up on a large grey charger and sat close to Mysidia. He too had a very large proud grin on his face.

“We are making history today, brother.”, Mysidia said. “Soon, our dream, our home, will officially be ours once again.”

“The Tribunal is pleased to see justice done.”, Kryimsson said nodding.

“Tunare is overjoyed, I’m sure.”, Mysidia said.

“Coming down to join in on the fun? I hear the Iksar are down to their last 3 commanders.”, Kryimsson said grinning.

“In a bit. I was going to ride down to see if Mardock’s team needed anything.”, Mysidia said.

Out of the corner of her eye, she looked up towards the horizon and saw what only could have been a mass black cloud of evil. Her face blanched as she saw the gathering oozing over the plains below her vantage point.

“Gods…what the hell is that?”, Kryimsson asked looking at the moving mob of blackness.

“I’m…not sure…”, Mysidia said as she tried to peer closer. For a moment, the mass moved as though it were compiled of separate entities, but for the majority of it, it moved slowly and fluidly as though it were made of black ooze. Once the land was touched by the blackness, it was no longer seen since the mass had stretched back that far.

Machene thundered up the mountain pass to get to Mysidia. His armor was blood stained and his horse panted under the summer heat. He wiped his brow with the back of his gauntleted hand.

“Orc! Thousands of them! We must pull back, Mysidia. We can’t fight the Iksar and Orc together. We need to pull back and regroup.”, Machene said.

“Orcs? Here??”, Mysidia said confused and shocked. “What are they thinking…?”

Mysidia sat on her horse and her eyes darted around on the ground as though she was thinking quickly, and she was. She looked up sharply at Kryimsson and Machene.

“Kryimsson, gather as many men as you can spare and form new ranks on the right flank. Machene, ride hard to Xerbius’ troops and have him meet me behind the new ranks. I will ride to the rangers and have them replace the wizards at a further distance so they can still hold the left flank. The two of you will meet me there. GO!”, she said and snapped her horse into a hard charge down the mountain.

There was no way in the nine levels of hell she would pull back, not when she had come so far..since THEY had come so far. She waited her entire life for this moment. Her people waited longer. She couldn’t give up now. All those lives would have been lost in vain.

She thundered down behind her troops and rode Thaeja hard towards the rangers. She almost reached them when Thaeja reared up, throwing her from the saddle. She got up and was about to mount when she saw what caused Thaeja to rear.

A thick band of orcs came charging towards her, weapons at the ready. Before Mysidia knew it, she was surrounded and fighting for her life. This was different than all the times she had charged into battle. Her back was against the wall, proverbially speaking, and she had no one around her to help her. Everyone was starting to get confused with the Orcs being around. At least the good news was, the orcs didn’t discriminate against the Iksar, either.

“Your age is over, Rydian. Throw down your weapons and die mercifully.”, the orc sneered at her.

“I will do no such thing. I will die fighting for what is rightfully mine!”, Mysidia screamed as she began to carve her way into the orc hoard. Sweat beaded off the dirty blonde strands that hung in her face. Tears came down her cheeks as she knew deep within her heart that today was the day she would greet Tunare in the afterlife.

Machene had made his way to Xerbius and had delivered the message. He was riding back when he caught a glimpse of Mysidia surrounded. She was no longer holding her own and was in grave danger in losing her life.

A scream tore from Machene’s lips as he charged his horse into the hoard around her. But it was no use, the numbers were far too thick and he could only watch pitifully as Mysidia was overrun. A large orc kicked Mysidia down and his hammer met the side of her head. Mysidia lay limp and motionless.

And as quick as it happened, it was over. “The queen is dead, long live the queen!”, an orc mocked. The rest of the details were inconsequential, not that Machene remembered much after that anyway.

The stories that were passed down stated that the Rydian army was run through and everyone had scattered to the four winds for their own survival. What wasn’t spoken of was the Beastlord named Belle Darkfury that scooped the barely breathing Mysidia and took her to safety to nurse her back to health.

And it seemed the cycle was about to repeat itself and Death came back to claim the life that was cheated from him 500 years ago.

Mysidia had a blade at her throat and she was using all of her strength to try and push the blade back, but the leader of the bandits was much stronger than her and it was taking all her strength just to keep herself alive. She had closed her eyes, waiting the fate that she knew was coming. She said a prayer in her native tongue.

What she thought was going to happen, didn’t. She heard a muffled cry from one of the bandits and both leader and she turned their attentions towards one of the other men in the bandit group. A very large barbarian slashed the human across the back of his knee and used his boot to stomp down the human in front of him. Using the human as a stepping stone, literally, the barbarian walked over the bleeding body and with a quick twist of his ankle, the barbarian snapped the human’s neck in half.

“Ah, no need to be prayin’ to Tunare now, Siddie. I dunna think she would be too ‘appy with ye tossin’ around frivolous prayers.”, Kryimsson said and grinned.

“Kryimsson!!”, Mysidia cried out and her heart filled with extreme joy. Her insides wanted to burst out with the elation she felt. Kryimsson took one swipe and cut one of the bandits in half. Then he pointed to the leader of the bandits and pointed to the blade that was at Mysidia’s throat. He moved his hand casually in a “shooing” manner to get the leader to back off.

The bandits had their hands full with the Warden. They knew full well that with a properly armored warrior, there was just no beating the two of them. They all dropped their weapons and ran off towards the hills.

Mysidia bolted and flew right into Kryimsson giving him a huge hug. Tears of happiness fell off her face as she sobbed. She held on to Kryimsson as though her life depended on it and just sobbed like a broken hearted child.

“Siddie, it’s alright. Calm down now.”, Kryimsson said in a soothing tone. He knelt down to look into Mysidia’s tear filled eyes.

“I..I thought you were dead…”, Mysidia said confused. “I…I saw your grave… I saw it! I did.”, she said between sobs.

“What ye saw was a headstone with me name on it. I have been to strange places, Siddie. Places most don’t know about. The Tribunal sent me on a pilgrimage for me to pay for past sins. When’a come back, the place had changed. I figured everyone else started over, why not me? They buried some other man in me place. New world, new life.”, Kryimsson said giving a brief explanation.

“Come on. Less’ get ye out of th’ heat. Yer face is beat red.”, Kryimsson said. Mysidia jumped into his arms again and he carried off towards the hill of the wounded.

__________________

MysidiaDrakkenbane

It had been a few weeks since the Windstalker village had been pillaged. Mysidia tried to get them back on their feet as much as she could. All of them, Kryimsson, Mysidia, Austforbeer, and James, helped them rebuild their houses and farmlands. Mysidia began to help the women tend to the crops and she shared her Old World knowledge with the women in creating potions and salves to help with every day bruising and healing.

The village was no where near to where it was before, but Mysidia felt confident enough that she gave them a good head start in getting back to where they were.

That night, they stayed their last day in the village. And the villagers, being so thankful for all of their help, held a banquet in their honor. There was a huge roaring bonfire next to the lake and the families that could, and did, play instruments, all brought them out to the bonfire and began to play their music.

Kryimsson leaned against a fallen tree and watched the bonfire with heavy eyelids. James was passed out cold next to him and Aust calmly sat next to Kryimsson on the other side holding a small cup in front of him.

Mysidia looked over to her companions and recognized right away the symptoms. Kryimsson was back to brewing his Rydian Ale and it appeared James couldn’t hold his liquor.

She walked over to them and sat Indian style off to the side. “Kryimmie, is that your personal brew?”, Mysidia asked smiling.

“Aye.”, he said giving her a sloppy smile.

Mysidia held her tankard out and Kryimsson gave her a healthy pour. She took in the aroma and allowed the tangy liquid to pass her tongue. She sighed as she felt the familiar warmth creep down her throat and crash into the pit of her stomach. She licked her lips for a moment and her brow furled a bit, slightly confused.

“Something is different…”, she said moving her tongue within her mouth.

“Aye. It appears th’ bushes dunna have th’ same berries I used to use. I had ta improvise.”, Kryimsson slurred. He took a long swig from his tankard and chuckled to himself, obviously drunk.

“Methinks I broke ‘em.”, Kryimsson said looking at James. Mysidia looked at the ratonga, drooling onto the ground beneath him.

“He’s going to be hating life, tomorrow.”, Mysidia agreed. She looked over at Aust who took the sips from his cup slowly.

“Is something wrong, Aust?”, Mysidia asked.

“Yes. I can’t feel my tongue.”, Aust said looking into his cup, confused.

“Kryimsson does brew it a bit strong. Have you ever been drunk before?”, Mysidia asked, not sure of Austs drinking habits, if he had any at all.

“Yes, I have. However, not after three sips from my glass.”, Aust looked over at Mysidia, his eyes glazed over.

“Drink it slowly, then. It’s bad enough James is going to be hungover tomorrow morning. The last thing you want is for him to complain and you to be hurting.”, Mysidia said finishing up her tankard. Aust whistled as he watched Mysidia down her glass.

Kryimsson winked at Aust saying, “Siddie’s had more practice.”

Kryimsson, not wanting to start a scene, asked Mysidia in their native tongue questions as to what happened.

“Where’s Machene?”, he asked in Rydian.

“He’s alive, thank Tunare. He is in Thundering Stepps last I heard. Aust tells me I’m not strong enough to venture in there, yet so until I am, I wander out here.”, she replied.

When Kryimsson heard that Machene was still alive, he stopped using Rydian. He wasn’t sure how Mysidia would react if he brought up something as painful as Machene’s death.

“What happened, then, Siddie? Last I heard, ye were buried with Rydia in the Shatterin’.”, Kryimsson said, his eyes full of tears.

“If it weren’t for Belle, I would have been. I was surrounded by Orcs, the moment I went to the left flank. I never reached the Ranger troops in time.”, Mysidia said looking at her tankard.


”I was surrounded and brought down before Machene could get to me. I imagine he thinks the same as you thought.”, she paused for a moment. “From what was told to me, I slipped into a deep coma and just slept through everything. I woke up one morning to find myself in a strange room, in a strange bed, and my personal effects were gone. I expected to wake up on the warm grasses of the Plane of Earth with Tunare smiling at me. I was not prepared to find out that not only did She turn away from me, but that every god and goddess abandoned Norrath and fell silent to our prayers.”

“Who could have seen this comin’, Siddie?”, Kryimsson asked. For a brief moment, you could see a moment of lucidity flash across his eyes.

“I don’t think anyone could have seen this coming. Not even Mardock.”, Mysidia said sadly.

“Mm… Mardock th’ Wise?”, James slurred as he sat up. He wiped the drool off his mouth and swayed in his seat.

“He was last time I checked. You know him?”, Mysidia asked gravely serious.

“Yeah.”, James said and burped. “He lived in Castleview Hamlet for a while. I juss know of ‘em. I… I’m tired… I’m… I’m gonna sssleep now.”, James said and fell over to the other side. Small vibrating snoring sounds could be heard shortly after.

“I think I will join him. I’m not feeling so well.”, Aust said and decided to turn in for the night. Mysidia watched him stagger off towards his tent and collapse shortly before entering it.

“Now why did you go and ruin perfectly two decent adventurers like that, Kryimsson? You know what kind of a mess they’ll be in, in the morning.”, Mysidia said and shook her head.

“Bah.”, Kryimsson scowled playfully. “Hangovers are good for th’ soul, Siddie.”

“Then yours will have no problems staying on the good side of the afterlife, brother.”, Mysidia chided.

Kryimsson’s face grew serious and sober for a brief moment. He shook his head and looked down.

“Ye canna believe what’s beyond this place, Siddie. There are… strange places. Other realms…”, Kryimsson said.

“I knew something happened to you. What made you turn away from pickpocketing and make you pick up a sword and board? You were proud to say you were the best backstab this side of Halas…”, Mysidia said.

Kryimsson sat up straight and shifted uncomfortable in his seat. He mulled over his thoughts for a moment before speaking, and he decided to use the Rydian tongue again, so that it wouldn’t cause unwanted ears to give attention.

“After you fell and the Rydian army ran through, it didn’t take long for me to visit The Tribunal. They were less than happy with me.”, Kryimsson said in Rydian.

Mysidia laughed. “I’d imagine so. You were a cut throat and a thief, Kryimsson. I don’t imagine that’s looked highly with The Tribunal. You were insane to take them as your patron God.”, she replied in Rydian.

“I explained that to them, Siddie. I only killed those that deserved it and stole what I needed from them, and not a penny more. Mardock came and spoke on my behalf and presenting my case to them. It was looking bleak until Mardock came through. So, to make up for past sins, they sent me to another realm to finish quests and help others. I decided that my life as a rogue ended the moment I was summoned to them, so I chose the life of a warrior instead. When I came back, I came back to this…”, Kryimsson said and waved his hand around.

“I tried to find you, but alas… I’m a Bezerker, not a scout.”, Kryimsson said took another long swig.

Mysidia looked up sharply when she heard several people sing extremely loud and very off key. She looked as they all swayed sitting down. She looked over at Kryimsson and scowled at him.

“Kryimsson! You went and gave them your brew, too??”, Mysidia said cross.

“Aye, jus’ a wee bit.”, Kryimsson said, returning to the Common language. He grinned widely from ear to ear, causing his scarred eye to glisten in the firelight.

“Now the whole town is going to need a tonic. You can’t be handing out your brew, brother. We can take it, but most common folk can’t. And now, I’m going to be up early brewing the tonic so that the people will at least be able to function tomorrow. Who knows what ailments they’ll have in the morning. Really, you must think ahead before doing something like this. I…”, Mysidia said rambling on, scolding her brother.

Kryimsson popped the cork to a bottle and held out his hand. “’Nother round, sis?”

Mysidia stopped and held out her tankard. “Huh? Oh,…yeah.”, she said and nodded.

__________________

MysidiaDrakkenbane

It had been a couple of days out from Windstalker Village. Austforbeer had told Mysidia he had to return home with the pelts they had collected so that he could get them tanned and on the market before the first frost had settled into Antonica. He left her in the capable hands of Kryimsson and James.

Mysidia hated to see Aust go, but she knew that he had a family to take care of and she probably kept him a little too long away from his tailoring duties anyway. They parted ways and Kryimsson, Mysidia, and James continued down the path.

The passed The Coven forest and rode quietly up the path ahead of them. Kryimsson looked at the bears and wolves in the distance with a worry on his face. Mysidia looked over at him and shook her head.

“Don’t worry about them. So long as James carries that torch, they’ll stay their distance. Nature may have gone awry, but basic survival instinct still causes fear of fire in animals.”, Mysidia said looking out into the darkness.

The air hung heavy, as if something foreboding lie waiting up ahead. There was a snap of cold that clung to the moisture in the air and Mysidia found herself pulling her cloak around her, tighter.

Since her near run in with death at Windstalker, she had been giving her magical studies a bit more attention. She had been trying to remember her spells of yesteryear, hoping that one of them carried over into this new life. She could conjure fire, strike down foes with an ice bolt, freeze enemies, and even call the power of earth to wrap vines around their ankles. Everything else, was a complete and new mystery with her.

She didn’t count “wolf form”. She had a feeling that, that particular ability would never leave her, no matter how mad things have gotten. Wolves may have forsaken her, but she would never give up her affinity for them.

In riding down the path, Mysidia began to concentrate at her hand, hoping to bring forth barbs, like she once did many years ago. She snapped her fingers, trying to feel the tiny spines prickle up on her fingers, but no.

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Instead of trying to “align” with the power that resided in earth, she decided to go with the flow of the chaos, hoping that this would “unlock” the spells she once could do.

Chaos is a strange and powerful thing. Delve into it too much, and it will consume you. Stand apart from it and you will never understand its true meaning. Chaos brings change in some form or another. Be apart from that and you will always remain static. And stasis in Nature means extinction.

Mysidia remembered those studies as a child. She remembered the Druidic Clan she resided with while Mardock went to find out if the Iksar was looking for her, then. Mardock was as much a father to her as anyone else could be. When her mother gave her to Mardock for him to raise, he had to take on the fatherly role.

Mysidia wasn’t too much younger then. She was alive and could remember vividly her mother and father being forced over a stone altar and watched horrifically as their hearts were cut out and thrown into fiery cauldrons. The Iksar were savage then. They worshipped savage gods that had savage appetites.

To keep Mysidia safe, Mardock had a powerful enchanter place a mind block on her, to block those memories out as well as a few other vital tidbits. Mysidia followed Mardock blindly for years before the block finally broke. She was never angry at him, however. She understood why he did what he thought he had to do. Some memories you really don’t ever want to keep and some information is simply too dangerous to know.

Mardock had brought her to the Tribal Elder, Belle Darkfury. Mysidia had known about the Vah’Shir, but never had seen one until then. She looked up at the tall graceful looking cat woman and smiled. Belle had taken her under her wing to teach her the ways of the Druid and to polish her developing fighting skills.

“Each tree, each rock, even the blades of grass, they all tell a story.”, Belle used to say. “You simply have to “listen” to it to hear them. Try again.”

“It’s so hard, Elder Belle. I can’t seem to grasp the energy, like you said.”, young Mysidia said.

“You have been blessed by Tunare, child. Feel that energy within you and use it to fit into the energy around you. It is the ebb and flow I speak of. The rhythm of all life.”, Belle said as they both sat on a grassy hill overlooking a beautiful valley. The wind gently ran its invisible hand over the tall grass, causing it to sway and fold under its touch.

“How is it you know so much about this? You are a Beastlord.”, Mysidia asked confused.

“My mother was a Druid and I understand the energy that you use. I simply feel it in the beasts around you. You feel it in all life. You have to listen to the heartbeat of Nature. Feel her blood flow through you.”, Belle said looking down at Mysidia.

Mysidia closed her eyes and concentrated. She began to feel her own energy ripple on the waves of nature around her. She didn’t fight the alignment, she simply blanketed hers over it. And for a moment, the alignment cradled her.

She heard everything! The ants whispered. The trees softly giggled and sang as the wind tickled their branches. The birds joined in a beautiful chorus. Belle was right. Every living creature had a story to tell, if you listened hard enough.

Now Mysidia had to align with a different kind of energy within Nature. Nature can be benevolent but you cannot have one extreme without having another. Nature is based on balance. Disrupting the balance causes chaos which forces change. Mysidia had to keep herself centered while trying to find that even flowing rhythm deep within the chaos.

And for a split second, she felt her inner soul move to the same dance that she was so familiar with. As if deep, underneath all the chaos from The Shattering, Nature was waiting to right the wrongs and become whole again.

“Mysidia!”, she heard James’ voice yell. She opened her eyes and released her mind from her meditative work. When she did, she felt her body pull ahead of her and a hue of red light surrounded the three of them. An astral lion roar could be heard in the air around them and Mysidia flashed around confused.

“What did ye do, Siddie?”, Kryimsson asked.

“I’m… not sure…”, Mysidia looked at herself, holding her hands out in front of her.

“I feel..different.”, Kryimsson said looking at himself. “Like I could take on a whole troop of… somethin’…and not be hurt.”

“You just may get your chance, there, big guy.”, James said and pointed into the distance.

Mysidia recognized the smell immediately. Death. And from the closeness of it, undead were nearly on top of them. She could hear the faint sound of bone hitting stone in a walking pattern.

Mysidia grunted. “Skeletons.”

“We’re close to Stormhold. It doesn’t surprise me.”, James said looking out. He took the torch and threw it into the distance, off to his side.

“What ye go do tha’ for, rat? I canna see!”, Kryimsson exclaimed.

James nudged his horse over to Kryimsson and waved his small paw like hand over Kryimsson’s eyes. Kryimsson blinked and tiny orbs of light danced around them for a few moments before disappearing.

“Now you can.”, James said.

“Sister, this could get messy.”, Kryimsson said dismounting his war horse.

“With you, it always does.”, Mysidia said dismounting hers. James followed suit.

With the horses at a safe distance, Mysidia shadowed herself into wolf form. Her image shimmered for a few moments before four paws and fluffy tail took her place. Her violet eyes scanned the darkness ahead of her to easily see a small troop of undead milling around in the distance.

“We’re in for quite a fight”, Mysidia’s voice said into both of their heads. One of the tricks she made it mandatory to learn, was how to communicate to those around her while in wolf form. The visit to Oracle Tower proved to be more than useful and did a great deal more than simply teach an eager pupil of her history rich past.

A small leather bound book, hidden back in one of their book shelves provided Mysidia with just the instruction she needed in order to accomplish this task. Unfortunately, it took a great deal of effort and she found herself drained of her energy if she continued to use it. She decided that short sentences would be the best option at that point, until she found a better method of communication.

“How many do ye see, Siddie?”, Kryimsson asked trying to adjust to the spell placed on his eyesight.

“Twenty. Maybe more.”, Mysidia echoed in his mind.

“Ye best stay back, rat. I dunna think th’ cloak yer wearin’ gives ye much support against those undeaddies.”, Kryimsson muttered.

James took a defensive stance behind Mysidia. Kryimsson adjusted his head from side to side to crack his neck and Mysidia lowered her wolven head, teeth bare.

Undead are funny creatures. They all seem to be off their own world until you are close enough for them to sense your presence. It took the skeletons until the three of them got within 20 feet for all of them to turn their heads at once.

Kryimsson wasted no time in jumping in and he swung his two handed sword over his head, toppling one of the skeletons to the ground. All of the skeletons attention was on the three of them, now, and an ear piercing shrill exited their skinless skulls in a demonic unison.

James began to blast his spells away, causing several to catch fire and a few more to have several bones crack.

Kryimsson jumped back and kicked one into the ribcage, causing it to fall back. He placed his sword behind him to catch the skeleton from hitting his back. He whirlwinded around him slicing through dry bone, but it did little to deter the swarm of undead. They feel no pain, so the shock to their system was non existent.

Mysidia was busy on her own, weaving spells of healing with those of damage. When she was done with one, she was starting on the casting of another. She was starting to see herself become overwhelmed.

“Sis, if ye got a fancy trick in yer pocket, I sure could use th’ help o’ here.”, Kryimsson said with his voice serious.

Mysidia looked over and saw the swarms of undead continue on their relentless path to make the three of them fresh converts.

“Get close”, Mysidia echoed in their heads. The two of them stayed close to Mysidia’s side as she lowered her head and concentrated with her violet eyes shut. She began to align herself with the chaos of the land, like she had done before. This time, she forced her energy on the plants around her and hoped they would comply.

Her entire wolven body shimmered with a brilliant green light. Hundreds of tiny green orbs hovered around her body and began to meld with her fur, attaching themselves to her body. When the last few orbs became part of the green light armor she had, she lifted her muzzle to the sky and howled out as loud as she could. Kryimsson and James covered their ears at the ear drum piercing sound.

Huge thick vines shot up out of the ground and skyrocketed towards the stars above them. The moment the vines got their “Breath” of fresh air, the swooped down towards the skeletons and began to quickly weave themselves between the skeletons’ legs. The skeletons, not realizing what was going on, tried to walk forward, but found themselves tied to the ground, literally. A few of them reached down to use their skeleton fingers to try and pry themselves from the overgrown vegetation, but it was no use. Mysidia had all of them exactly where she wanted them. Stuck and frozen for them to pick off.

Kryimsson and James stared at her for a moment and then stared at the ground where the vines shot up.

“Impressive.”, James noted.

“Neat trick.”, Kryimsson agreed.

“It’s not easy keeping this up, gentlemen.”, Mysidia noted and her entire body, still cased in green light, shuddered under the pressure of holding the spell. Wolves can’t sweat like humans can and had she been in her humanoid form, sweat would have been beading down her brow. Instead, thin lines of transparent drool dripped generously from her growling muzzle.

Kryimsson swung his sword up ready to fight and James raised his paw hands above his head, summoning a huge group of lightening bolts to shoot at the skeletons around them. Several of them turned to dust and several more were in a mangled enough position for Kryimsson to finish them off with little effort.

When the last of the skeletons were defeated, Kryimsson went around collecting whatever treasure that dropped and Mysidia fell back on her haunches, lowering her head with her ears down, and panting.

James looked at Mysidia and placed a hand on her head. “You did well, Mysidia. I think you are getting the hang of it. Take a few minutes to catch your breath. I imagine that was quite a feat for you.”

With Mysidia still weakened, she slowly lifted her head and watched Kryimsson pick up the spare coins that were littered about. James watched him for a few moments and raised an eyebrow.

“Old habits die hard?”, James noted sarcastically.

Kryimsson shrugged. “We all have our burdens to bear.”

__________________

MysidiaDrakkenbane

Raevenwolf Bloodfang was a sneaky and calculating Swashbuckler. Ask her of her profession, however, and she’d cough uncomfortably and mumble out the word “Merchant”, then quickly carry on her way.

Truth be told, she was a lucrative pirate back in her day. She was mighty Captain Wolf of the Siren, and she was extremely proud of her ship. You see, the crew, was entirely made of women. In her mind, a woman can do a job as well as a man. She understood that men were more physically apt at certain things, but stealing? A woman could be better at this than men. Flash a smile, hike up a skirt, laugh at all their jokes and before you know it, you have their pouch of coins in your hands.

She was good at what she did and she lived a rather rich life. But like with most things in Norrath now, her ship wandered too far to Zek and before she knew it, it was completely overrun by Orcs. She watched with a heavy heart, her ship burning on the sea in front of her on the beaches of Zek. As a sore reminder, she carries a scar on her left cheek.

Other than her facial reminder, she was rather pretty for a pirate. She had red hair that she always kept back and piercing blue eyes. She was half elf. Her mother was an Elvish Druid and her father was a Dwarven blacksmith. It would explain her foul mouth and short temper as well as her height..and her distinct affinity for deep rich ale.

The Bloodfang family lived in a secluded haven deep within the mountains of what is now Thundering Stepps. With The Shattering, her village fled for safety within the mountains. The Dwarves accepted her for a time. They realized it was far better to be alive than to keep up a petty squabble between the Elves and Dwarves.

Raevenwolf grew up as other Dwarves did. She learned the blacksmithing trade and even picked up a few wood working skills from the neighbors around her. Her mother’s Druidic arts, however, she had no interest in. Having a skill with a blade pulled her fancy more and before anyone knew it, she was deadly with duel handed fighting.

Like with all children growing up, getting away with anything they could always seemed to be on Raevenwolf’s To Do List for the day and one way or another, her mother would have to scold her for whatever she took from whomever’s path she crossed.

Eventually, her village sent her out to hunt and capture what she could. One day, she met a human Captain bringing over refugees from a near by island. When she saw his ship pull in, she knew then, that a life on the seas was where she wanted to be. And nothing was going to stop her.

She built The Siren with her own two hands and with the guidance of her neighbor woodworkers. They would give her suggestions of how to do something, but they let her finish her task. As long as her hands were busy, she wasn’t getting into trouble of stealing anything. And for a while, this satisfied everyone in the village.

The time came where The Siren was finished and Raevenwolf was determined to set out on her own. With the money she stole off of travelers she came across, she hired herself a crew and off they went. It took them seven days to sail out of the caves they were in. The river they were on narrowed in various places and it made it hard to maneuver the ship.

That was twenty some seasons ago. Raevenwolf was determined to build a bigger and better ship and resurrect the spirit of The Siren once more. She needed help to do so..and money.

Raeven rarely snubbed her nose at Fate. She knew that things happened for a reason and when a golden opportunity fell on your lap, you took it! She never thought, however, that the opportunity would present itself in a Barbarian named Machene.

The moment she met Machene, she liked him. He never said much but always finished the job, and in some cases, record time. She would hire Machene to go out and collect certain things that Raeven could mark up in price at the market. He never asked what they were for and in turn, she never asked about how he got them. It worked out for everyone.

When things were secure enough in her shop, she decided to head out with Machene and join him in hunting down the curiosities she sent him out for. This started the long discussions she used to have with him.

“You never follow me on a job, Raeven.”, he muttered.

“Tha’s ‘cause I ne’er had th’ time to.”, Raevenwolf said. When she spoke, she spoke with a rich Dwarven accent, obviously proof of where she lived. And in looking at her, it was strange to see a Half Elf with such a distinct dialect. It was part of her character, however. She never bothered to try and change it and Machene didn’t really care.

“Why this one?”, Machene asked boarding a ship.

“Why not?”, Raeven asked and winked. “I dunna make ye nervous, do I?”, she chided.

“Hardly. I just don’t like having people looking over my shoulder when I work.”, Machene said.

And it came to pass that this particular hunting mission, several Shamans expressed their need for griffon feathers. So, like usual, Raeven and Machene negotiated his fee.

“Are you serious? I’ll be lucky if I can make rent this month with that amount.”, Machene said cross.

“Yer rent is four times lo’er tha’ that, Machene. What ye do with the rest o’ th’ money is not me problem.”, Raeven said raising an eyebrow. “An’ besides, wha’ is it ye do with all tha’ money? I dunna see ye at th’ tavern as much any more.”

Machene grunted but didn’t reply at first. He twisted the ring he had on his left hand and said. “Saving for a trip.”

Raeven watched him for a few moments while Machene mulled over his ring. She guessed it was a wedding band but Machene made no mention of a wife. She knew better than to ask so she left the topic alone.

They set sail for Thundering Stepps and reached the salt blasted docks a few days later. The wood creaked under the armored boots of Machene. Seagulls shrilled in the crisp sea air and Raevenwolf walked off the ship and took in a deep breath, catching the scent of salt and fermented seaweed.

“I miss this.”, she said with a large smile on her face.

Machene walked a few steps and placed his large hand on his stomach. He had a green tinge to his face as he looked at the short red headed woman.

“You’re cruel.”, he managed to get out.

“I told ye. Ye shouldn’t drink tha’ much on a choppy sea. Winter is a cruel wife for a sailor.”, Raeven observed.

“But the beer was good.”, Machene said pleading his case.

Raeven burped rather loud and placed a fist to her chest and held a satisfied smirk. “Aye. ‘Twas.”

Machene looked up into the sun beaten sky and muttered something as he dug through his pack. He took out a crude container and screwed off the top. A thick bleached white substance clung to the walls of the container and Machene took off his gauntlet and smeared some on his hand. Raeven watched curiously as the huge bald man slathered up his head with the white cream.

“Wha’ in Cazic-Thule’s name are ye doin’ to yer head?”, Raeven asked.

“Keeps me from getting sunburn. Here.”, he said handing her the jar. “You might want to use some, yourself. Fair skin and sun don’t exactly mix very well. And once that sun gets a hold of your skin, your armor is going to become extremely uncomfortable.”

Raeven took a hold of the jar and gave it a sniff. She wrinkled her nose and snorted as the scent of old oil wafted into her nostrils.

“No thanks.”, she said handing it back. Machene laughed.

“Suit yourself.”, he said putting it back into a bag of his.

They walked all day to get to the griffon fields. Machene had remembered this place to be flat lands that received entirely too much rain. Now the lands held the scorch marks of Luclin and craters left in it’s angry wake. But Nature flourishes no matter what and Life always manages to find a way. It continues to go on, whether you’re ready to or not and where there were craters and scorch marks, grasses began to dot on the barren earth.

Centaurs kept to themselves due to repeated hunting from the humans. Their trust for bipedal species lessened greatly and learned to simply become isolationists. Still, you could catch a few of them scampering to make a kill to bring home to their families.

And up in the sky were the large beasts which Machene was paid to hunt. Their heart stopping screeches were heard for miles around and their unmistakable sound of large feathers flapping echoed off the rocky mountains around them.

Machene looked at the weapons Raeven had on her and he went into his pack and handed her two small one handed swords.

“Here.”, he said giving them to her. “You’re better off using these.”

“Wha? Where’s th’ merchant we’re goin’ to steal th’ feathers from?”, Raeven asked looking around.

“We’re not.”, Machene said securing his sword to his back. He paused for a moment and looked down at the tiny woman. “Did it ever occur to you that I actually obtain your goods through legal means?”

Raevenwolf paused for a moment and looked up at Machene confused. Machene shook his head and grabbed his bow and arrows. He knocked one in the bow and pulled back, taking aim on a huge griffawn in front of him. The large beast hovered in the air having its attention turned to a lioness on the ground.

“Are you ready?”, Machene asked not taking his attention off the flying beast.

“Aye.”, Raeven said softly, unsheathing her swords.

Machene let lose the arrow that found its mark square in the beast’s shoulder. The large flying animal screamed as it angrily looked right at Machene. Swooping in and screeching to the sky, it landed with a mighty jolt to the ground, causing a few vibrations. A large gust of wind kicked up dust and debris and Raeven found herself holding up her arm to block any from getting in her eyes.

Machene unsheathed his two handed sword and charged the large hybrid, making sure he stay clear out of the way of the beast’s large beak. The beast’s body was large and muscular and carried the deadly claws of the lion that made up half of its linage. A fury of feathered paws swatted at Machene as he tried to take a swipe at it with his sword.

Raevenwolf crept along the back of the beast and took no time in burying her two swords deep within the back haunches of the griffawn. The animal screamed and flashed its head around to see what caused it such pain. Raeven cursed and darted out of its eyesight.

“Wait until I get its attention before you go and piss it off!”, Machene yelled. He slashed down and caught the side of the griffawn’s neck. A large steady stream of red blood gurgled out of the fresh wound and the beast turned his head and swiped at the Barbarian with its paw.

Sparks shot out as the claw scraped down the front of his armor. Machene tried to jump back quickly but was too slow in reaction. He looked down and looked at the large dent where the claw was. He raised an eyebrow and considered his luck. That could have been his chest. He made a mental note to thank the dwarf that made him the chest piece weeks earlier.

Raeven took a running jump and leaped effortlessly on the back of the animal and with her swords shinning in the afternoon sun, she drove them deep into the thick muscled back of the griffawn. The beast swung its body to the side and Raeven yelled as she felt herself being tossed to the ground. She fell off and smacked her backside on the unforgiving earth beneath them. She grunted as she felt the fresh bruise cover her lower back. And for a moment, the pain caused her eyes to blur.

Machene drove up with his sword, causing a quarter of it to be driven into the lower jaw of the beak. And he quickly unsheathed a dagger from his belt and drove it deeply into the throat of it in a quick and fluid motion. The bird beast screeched, lifting its head and calling out to the sky. Then it swooped its head down and snapped shut at Machene’s head.

Machene narrowly missed having his head snipped off, but felt the tip of the beak cut the back of his head. He could feel the blood trickle the back of his neck and stick to his armor as he moved. He couldn’t see the gash, but he knew it was big enough to cause him great discomfort.

He jumped and grabbed his sword, slashing down as he landed. A huge wound sliced down towards the chest area of the hybrid and blood poured out, soaking the ground beneath them.

Cursing, he placed his gauntleted hand on the back of his head and pulled it to his face to have a look. A large red stain covered his hand and he scowled for a moment. He would live to see another day, but he was dreading the headache that would ensue this incident.

Just as the griffawn was about to come about Machene again, Raeven jumped up on its back once again, and swiped her swords up. She quickly plunged both of them into the neck bone and felt the animal stiffen at the sudden paralysis its body was in.

In a thunderous stumble, the beast collapsed to the ground causing yet another vibration in the earth underneath them. Machene took his sword and swung it up, having the tip point at the ground and drove it deep into the throat of the beast. Death quickly came to the suffering animal.

Raeven sheathed her swords and walked down the head and beak of the griffawn and landed right in front of Machene.

“Tha’ was intense.”, she amused and a wild fire caught her blue eyes.

“I take it you approve.”, he said grinning. He took his sword out and a final spray of blood splashing against his armor.

“Who knew legal could be so much fun?”, Raeven said grinning wildly.

Machene gathered the feathers that Raeven requested and they began to make their way towards the village for the night.

The moment they reached the village, Machene made camp and threw up his tent. He spent the last hour before bed cleaning his armor and examining the damage he took during the day. He took out yet another salve and applied it generously to the wound he took on the back of the head.

“Yer an odd Barbarian.”, Raeven noticed as she gingerly took off her armor. She frowned as she saw the distinct red mark of sunburn on her arms and hands.

“What makes you think that?”, he said wiping the blood off his armor.

“Yer a Berserker and yet ye ‘ave more salves an’ potions than most Shaman’s I know.”, Raeven said as she eyed his pack.

“A few tricks I picked up.”, Machene said in a tone that he didn’t want to explain anything further.

“Knowledge like tha’ canna make ye a lot of money, Mach.”, Raeven said yawning.

“Money means little in the grand scheme of things, Raeven. It’s nothing but a distraction.”, Machene started to explain, but Raeven was already dead asleep.

Machene laid his head down on his pillow and looked down at his ring that seemed to gleam in the firelight from the campfire. He looked up into the night sky and gazed at the fragmented Luclin that shone its eerie shattered light. For a brief moment, he saw two familiar violet eyes looking back at him and he pictured the smile that went with it. Then he heard Pergy’s words…

“Find your purpose.”

He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

__________________

MysidiaDrakkenbane

“Are you sure this is the place?”, Mysidia asked as she stood before the slanted wooden doors.

“Yes. This was Stormguard. The people now call it Stormhold.”, James said next to her as they looked at the doors.

“I dunna like it. Fer one thing, it makes me dizzy standin’ here, all lopsided. Fer another, dead things should stay dead.”, Kryimsson said and rubbed his stubbled chin thoughtfully.

“A lot of things have changed since Luclin’s destruction.”, James noted.

Mysidia looked at the dilapidated stronghold with judgmental eyes. The entire structure looked like it was about to fall over. Old wooden doors were covered with slime and moss and in several places, you could make out where axes and various other sharp weapons, tried to break through. The area reeked of death and decay. Several of the boulders from the walls from various blasts, were slathered with lichen and buried deep within the ground. One could almost mistake it for uneven ground, rather than the boulders themselves.

The sound of undead milling around was all around you, enveloping you in the destruction that took place here. A cold and unforgiving wind whipped through the chasm they were standing in, as if some unheard of undead god threw on the theatrics for added atmosphere.

Kryimsson gulped softly as he felt the hairs on his neck rise. Mysidia looked over at him and placed a soft hand on his shoulder.

“It’s all right, brother. The sooner we get in there, the sooner we can leave. And..”, Mysidia said smiling brighter, “..the sooner we can head to Thundering Stepps and rejoin Machene.”

Kryimsson grunted disapprovingly. Kryimsson hated undead. It was unnatural and simply not meant to be. Mysidia knew his fear and comforted him as much as possible.

Mysidia reached for the door and gave it a good solid tug. The old rotted wood moaned as any undead thing would. A waft of must blew in their direction from inside and Mysidia held up her arm to block whatever dust and debris would be caught in her eyes.

“Shall we?”, James said and walked inside.

The torch James carried provided light, but seemed to crusade the efforts with futility to the unbending darkness. The darkness itself was unnatural. Mysidia surmised it having to do with the curse that was placed on the keep.

They saw an Erudite behind them talking with a small group of adventurers and Kryimsson seemed to relax a bit when he saw that they weren’t the only ones alive in that place.

The moment that Sir Valinayle started to talk to them, Kryimsson froze in his steps and the color ran from his face. He turned and saw the ghost motioning to them. Kryimsson’s eyes buldged and he promptly turned around and started to head out.

“Ah no. Ferget it. There’s no way I’mma gonna stay here with them…things. They’re dead anna supposed to be dead. So stay dead, dammit.”, Kryimsson said as he marched towards the entrance.

Mysidia’s hand snaked out and grabbed Kryimsson’s neckhole in his armor. She held firm, holding her place and Kryimsson stumbled in his steps. He turned around clumsily and a flicker of annoyance fired off in his stone blue eyes.

“Please, Kryimsson. I can’t do this without you and neither can James. I promise, we won’t stay here any longer than we have to. Please. You know I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t desperate…”, Mysidia said and gave him the “little girl” eyes.

Kryimsson tilted his head and looked scoldingly at Mysidia for giving him that look. “Yer cruel, sister.”

Mysidia gave him a bright smile and kissed his cheek. They all rounded together and made their way to the first hallway. Kryimsson looked around and saw the crawling slimes on the ground. He shrugged slightly and pulled out his two handed sword.

“Let’s get to business.”, he muttered.

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

Machene walked onto the docks of Greystone Yard and gave a good hearted laugh as Raevenwolf was finishing up her story.

“Raeven, let me buy you a drink. I haven’t laughed that hard in some time.”, Machene said giving a Raevenwolf a pat on the back.

“Aye, tha’ sounds like a good idea. Lemme finish up inventory and I’ll meet ya in.”, Raeven said and smiled.

Raeven didn’t know Machene for very long, but it was good to see the man laugh. He was always brooding about one thing or the other.

Raeven walked down the dock with her bag hefted over her shoulder. She passed by several stands with the merchants shouting their prices for their goods. When she passed a mirror, she wrinkled her nose a bit as she saw her skin was peeling from the sunburn she was healing from.

She began to rub at her nose when the merchant came up to her.

“Are ye gonna buy that, lass, or simply stare at yerself all day?”, a big red headed Barbarian said.

Raeven looked up and growled at the man slightly, obviously showing her distain. She huffed herself and turned around to see Pergy handing something over to Machene. Pergy’s face held a smile brighter than Raeven had ever seen.

Machene’s face suddenly drained of color as he held in his hand a tiny ring, it looked like to Raeven. His hands began to shake and he gave a numbingly shocking look to Pergy. Raeven walked up to Machene and placed a hand on his arm.

“Are ye alright?”, Raeven asked looking concerned.

Machene didn’t say anything at first. He just looked at the ring in complete disbelief.

“Where… where did you get this?”, he asked finally.

“A woman claiming to be your wife, gave it to me and told me to give it to you.”, Pergy said with a happy smile on her face. To Raeven and Pergy, the story made sense now. He had lost his wife and now, he found out that she was alive.

“That’s impossible.”, Machene managed to say.

“I don’t know, Machene. You never really talked about her before, other than you had one. But when she found out that you were still alive, she cried.”, Pergy said in return.

“Aye. She had the most unusual eyes for wood elf. Tall too… most wood elves don’t come in her size.”, the Dwarven quartermaster said as he heard the conversation in passing.

Machene looked down at the Dwarf with a questioning in his eyes. As if the quartermaster read his mind, he grunted and nodded.

“Violet. They were violet.”, he said and kept walking.

“She’s alive…”, he whispered. For a brief moment, everything stopped around him. He couldn’t hear Pergy or Raeven give him congratulations. He didn’t hear the seagulls screeching overhead or the sea lapping up against the shore. Nor did he hear the merchants still chanting the prices of their wares. The only words he heard were what the quartermaster said to him.

“Violet. They were violet.”

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

Kryimsson, James, and Mysidia managed to make their way down into the lower parts of Stormhold and Kryimsson was trying desperately hard not to just turn around and bolt out of there.

“They give me the heebie jeebies.”, Kryimsson muttered.

“With your hate of them, I thought you’d enjoy smacking them around.”, James said walking behind the large man.

As far as looks go, Kryimsson looked like a Barbarian. He was big, broad chested, had huge shoulders, and seemed to tower over everyone else. His face, however, was very angular, too much so to be a pure Barbarian.

In truth, Kryimsson was half. His mother was Barbarian. His father was Rydian, which is the same father as Mysidia. They were half brother and sister. Kryimsson was very young when Mysidia was born. And it was ongoing joke with them since Mysidia always took the “older sister” role with him.

When they reached the chessboard room, Mysidia gasped as she saw someone laying on the ground, very much alive. She looked around for a moment to see if anyone was around to help him.

The room was completely abandoned, save a few crawling slimes slithering across the floor. The floors were uneven due to rot and the twisted magic that ran rampid through the hold. Each step creaked and moaned as if the floor itself had life.

The moment Mysidia placed a foot in front of her to walk, the boards creaked and the figure on the ground flinched slightly. She could see that the figure was in bad shape.

Slash marks riddled their backside and small pools of blood collected underneath their blue robe. From the size of the figure, Mysidia deducted that it was a man.

“Kryimsson, take a defensive position around me. I’m going to help him.”, Mysidia said and made her way over to the man.

Kryimsson held his sword at the ready, darting his light colored eyes around the creepy hall and prepared to slay anything undead that moved.

James helped Kryimsson cover Mysidia as he too, looked around ready to strike. Mysidia knelt down to the man and gently turned him over.

When she saw the man’s face, she gasped and her eyes bulged with shock. The words barely escaped her lips.

“Xerbius!”, she exclaimed.

Xerbius opened up his deep blue eyes and blinked a few moments, trying to shake the mental haze he was in. Once his eyes focused on Mysidia’s face, a warm smile spread across his.

“Thank the Seven Hammers, you’re alive.”, he said weakly. Mysidia smoothed some of his tousled hair away from his dirt smudged face.

“Close your eyes.”, she said softly and placed her hands over his bleeding body. She began to chant a few words quietly, and from what James could tell, it was in her native tongue.

A soft green light encased Xerbius’ body and the wounds began to close themselves. Whatever leaves that were scattered in the debris in the room, seemed to swirl up in an invisible small twister around them. Mysidia’s white streak seemed to glow with its own inner fire.

When Mysidia opened up her eyes, all of Xerbius’ wounds were healed and a sigh of relief spread over his face.

“Better?”, Mysidia asked smiling down at him.

“Much.”, he replied trying to get up. Mysidia held out her arm and began to help Xerbius up on his feet.

Once up on his feet, he gave Mysidia a very long bone crushing hug. Mysidia, not minding the hug, returned the favor.

“I thought you were dead.”, Xerbius said looking into her face.

“I thought I was too, for what it’s worth. It’s a long story, Xerbs. Once we get out of here, I’d be more than happy to explain it to you. But what happened with you? And why are you in here, of all places?”, Mysidia said looking around.

Xerbius laughed uncomfortably and scratched his head a little. “Well, that is a bit of a story in of itself, Sid. As for here, I was helping out a friend of mine get a pallidum torque for a quest of his. There were a few zombies that were giving me some trouble…”, Xerbius said and paused as he pointed to a few that happened to be dragging their legs behind them.

“Is that a fact?”, Mysidia said and smirked evilly. “Need some help?”

Kryimsson walked beside Xerbius and cracked his neck. He loosened up his shoulders a bit and tightened his grip on his two handed sword.

“Just like old times, Siddie?”, Xerbius said and grinned.

“Of course.”, Mysidia replied.

Mysidia unhitched her two handed staff from behind her and put her saber and shield aw